Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When anyone asked, Soldier Boy would tell them that Crimson Countess was his girl. His partner for life. His one true love. It was a well rehearsed story, and he cared for her some, but not enough for him to call it love. When she got hurt he carried her back to the Vought building, but it was more out of distrust for the medics than it was love for her.

He didn’t know why he told Butcher the truth. Maybe it was because he’d already told him about his dad, he figured another small secret wouldn’t hurt. He was sat at a small table with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s held firmly in his large hand. He brought the bottle to his lips, tipping his head back as the alcohol burned its way down his throat.

Butcher watched him with a steady gaze, taking a sip from his own bottle. “Somefin’ on ya mind?” His accent was weird, like Dick Van Dyke in that movie with the magic babysitter. Fuckin Brits. 

Soldier Boy grunted, swirling the bottle in a circular motion, watching the amber liquid create a small funnel. “I gave my life for those assholes.” He muttered quietly. “I gave my life and they took… everything.” He felt an unpleasant heat start to rise in his chest and he closed his eyes, willing it to go away. This new exploding thing was not his jam at all. 

Butcher nodded in acknowledgment. “At least ya got a bit of time wi’ a pretty dame, yeah? Countess was gorgeous back in the day.” He sat across from the Supe, kicking his legs up on an empty chair between them.

Soldier boy’s face screwed up into a scowl. “I guess so. Tried not to look at her so much.”  He kept staring down the alcohol in the bottle, debating whether he should take another swig. 

Butcher’s head tilted in his peripheral vision. “No? I thought you two were best fuckbuddies, di’ ya love ‘er?” 

Love. What a word. He felt awful even associating the word with Countess. It almost disgusted him to have that word spoken in the same sentence as her name. 40 years later and still no one knew. Vought had kept the lid on his lover. His very much not female lover.

“No. I didn’t love her. She was.. for show.” Soldier Boy set the bottle down in front of him and gave Butcher a tight smile. Not real, just enough to lighten the mood. Butcher gave him a smirk in return, before drinking from his bottle. 

“So.. no one special, then? Lonely life as a supe, eh?” Butcher was digging. Soldier Boy didn’t know why, but he was. 

Then again maybe he knew. Maybe he knew and he just wanted Soldier Boy to say it out loud. But how would he know? Vought probably deleted all traces of his best guy as soon as they murdered him. Murdered him along with Ben’s heart and joy and will to live.

“The hell’s it matter to you?” He grunted, his eyes falling to the table as he leaned forward on his elbows. He squinted at Butcher, who seemed a little too relaxed. 

Butcher only shrugged. “Just gettin’ to know the new meat, s’all.” 

Ben huffed something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Yeah, I had someone.” It was the first time he’d ever acknowledged his lover to anyone else out loud. When Stan Edgar had come to his house, with concerns of publicity drop if the media were to “ in some way find out about his preferences”, there had been no identifying words used, just vague threats, implications and immature hand gestures. Edgar was so fucking confusing when it came to business. 

Butcher leaned in, seemingly very interested in this mystery person. “A pretty, little dame from the countryside?” He guessed, smiling at the nostalgic look on Ben’s face. 

Ben shook his head. “Quite the opposite.” He took another swig of his bottle, setting it back down with a small clink. 

“A city gal, then. You’ve got taste, gov.” Butcher smiled. 

Ben looked at him, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Not quite.” 

Butcher’s eyebrows knitted before his whole face fell slack. “No..” 

“Yes.” Ben nodded, taking another drink. “I’m a fucking faggot.” 

Butcher’s face was frozen for damn near 10 seconds before he shook his head. “Well..isn’t that somethin’.” Ben felt a flare of panic in his chest, the unpleasant warmth returning. 

“We got a problem?” He asked, gripping the bottle tightly as he gauged Butcher’s reaction.  

“Hm? Oh, no, no, no.” Butcher waved his hands in front of him like he was trying to summon a fucking demon. “Not at all, Gov, in this century, queers are celebrated.” 

The warmth settled as Ben was taken aback. “Celebrated?” 

“Oh yeah, we got parades and everythin’ for you lot now.” Butcher winked at him and Ben felt as if he couldn’t breath. 

Parades. They had fucking parades. He used to worry about his guy being murdered and now…

What if he was born thirty years later? God, the things he could’ve had. He wouldn’t have had to hide. 

Butcher snapped in front of his face and he was pulled back into the moment. “Don’t do that.” 

Butcher leaned forward, unbothered. “Tell me about ‘im, then.” 

The warmth that flooded Ben’s chest this time wasn’t because he was about to explode, but because he felt seen. 

Tell me about ‘im. 

For so long he hadn't been able to talk to anyone about him. 

“Well.. his name was.. Anthony. I called him Tony.” He looked to Butcher, who nodded, a smile on his face. 

“And.. well, we met at a club at some afterparty. He was the prettiest person I ever saw. Eyes bluer than the ocean, jawline like a steel knife. He had this awful, contagious, loud laugh. He was a Supe too, so he could match my strength pretty well.” 

“Bet that came in handy, eh?” Butcher winked at him and Ben surprised himself by letting out a huff of laughter. “Sure did.” 

“Anyways, we got to talkin’ and uh.. well, next thing you know, we’re sleeping together on the regular.” Ben shrugs. “I usually slept around, so no one questioned why I wasn’t at the tower at night. I usually leave a one night stand and never come back, but he was.. really good.” He smirked, Butcher returned it. 

“Yeh, I’ll bet he rocked your world.” The Brit took a sip from his bottle, though his eyes remained on Ben the whole time. Ben nodded. 

“He was.. special. He liked me, y’know? He saw who I was under all this crap.” Ben gestured to his Soldier Boy outfit. “I always liked being Soldier Boy, the hero in the story. But I guess even heroes can’t have everything. Because right as I was getting comfortable. Started actually taking him out, y’know? Vought decides it’s time for me to learn my place. Homosexuals aren’t exactly good for publicity ratings.” Ben’s expression turned bitter, remembering the visit he got from Stan Edgar. 

“It’s simply bad press. Payback can’t have a queer leader, the public isn’t ready for it.” 

“So, I thought that maybe I could just keep seeing him in secret.” Ben’s eyes stung, but he had to tell someone. Butcher was listening so intently. 

“It was stupid, I put him in danger. Vought found out that I’d been.. sneaking out to see him. Well, you know how they are when you don’t do what they say.” Ben swallowed painfully. “We had a fight. Vought planted some goddamn panties on the bed while we were both away. He thought I cheated on him, of course, with my reputation. Who wouldn’t?” 

Ben looked at his fingernails, picking at his pointer finger with his thumb. “We fought. Until we realized that it was Vought, because we weren’t fucking stupid like they thought we were.” Ben slammed his fist on the table, his eyes stinging more intensely. 

“We made up, made out. The next morning, I got called in early. He was upset because it was our anniversary. I had promised to get the day off. I forgot. It was such a dumb fucking mistake, I-” Ben cut himself off, scoffing as a tear fell down his face. “And we had this stupid fight over it. I told him that I had to go, that I couldn’t look at him right now because he was being so fucking dramatic. I walked out that door, thinking we’d make up later, when we’d both cooled down, y’know?” 

Ben paused, drawing in shaky breath. “When I came back… it was all ash. They burned his fucking house down with him inside it.” Another tear fell down his face and he wiped it away aggressively. “The last thing I ever said to him was that I couldn’t look at him. Funny, I guess, because imagining his face is what helped me make it through all those goddamn music videos and tours they made me do, helped me get through Russia.” Ben shook his head. “He deserved better than that. Better than me.” 

He’d never told anyone the full story. Countess could care less, despite being his so-called “true love”. Getting it off his chest was like an elephant stepping off of him. Even if he’d just told the shadiest motherfucker on the planet. 

Butcher’s face had become solemn now, his eyes glued to the table, seemingly lost in thought. “I’m sorry, Gov.” 

Ben’s head snapped up, looking at him. “Yeah.. yeah, me too.” 

Ben was silent for a moment and then he spoke again. “You wanna know what really fucks with my head?” 

Butcher hummed in question. 

“They never found a fucking body.” 

Chapter Text

The plan was simple. Walk into Vought tower and beat the shit out of Homelander. The fact that the Supe was his son didn’t deter Ben as much as he thought it would. He’d always wanted a kid, wanted to raise someone better than his father. He hadn’t gotten to raise his son, they were both trapped in labs halfway across the world from each other. 

God, Ben knew he could’ve been a good dad. He’d make pancakes on Sundays and go out to his kids baseball games. Of course, this fantasy also included Tony. In his dream, they were a happy couple, tough as nails. The kids he could’ve raised with Tony, God, they’d be so badass no one would even think to say a goddamn word about their two dads. 

But he hadn’t gotten the chance with Homelander. From what he’s heard about the Supe, the guy’s basically a sadistic sociopath. He’d killed a bunch of people and was now trying to take over the world or something. Ben could care less about the reason, but the way his blood was boiling, he needed a fight. Homelander was supposedly able to match his strength, so it should be a good challenge.

Butcher, a hot redhead called Maeve, and Soldier Boy went in through some secret entrance that the skinny pussy’s girlfriend (Starla or something?) found on a blueprint. Ben wasn’t expecting the amount of dramatics that Homelander seemed to put up, wanting to get straight to fighting. 

“Where’s Noir?” He asked as they entered the room. They were on the top floor of the building and Ben wondered in the back of his mind if he’d survive a fall that high if it were to come to it. He couldn’t fly, after all. 

Homelander’s answer was quiet. “Dead.” 

Soldier Boy’s brow furrowed slightly, wondering if this was a trick to catch him off guard. “Why?” 

“Because he didn’t tell me about you.” Homelander levelled him with a gaze that could only be described as desperate. “I’m alone, I just want to talk.” He held out his hands placatingly and Ben relaxed his stance slightly. 

He heard Butcher and Maeve’s hearts beating wildly at his sides, it felt good to be backed up. Like he was part of some kind of team again. As rag-tag as it was. 

“I know what it’s like to have your team betray you.” Homelander’s words were poisonous and low. Ben almost scoffed. Sure he did. He didn’t know what it was like to have everything stripped from you, though. To be in love and then have him ripped away from you. To be tortured for forty years straight, unable to move in those goddamn restraints. Then again, he supposed he knew pain. Homelander was raised in a lab without a mother or father. It explained some of his less desirable traits like envy, greed and the starving need for affection.

A pit formed in Ben’s stomach. They really were alike. 

“But with you and I together,” Homelander continued, “they wouldn’t stand a chance, nobody would.” 

Soldier Boy shrugged, walking closer as he spoke. “Unless we kill each other first.” Which is what he came here to do. 

Homelander put his hands on his hips as Soldier Boy stopped in the middle of the room. “That’s true, but why? What- because he says so?” He nods to Butcher and Ben’s brow furrows. “He’s nothing. He’s human.” 

And what a poor choice of words that was. 

“He’s nothing.” Stan said, munching on some goodman trail mix in a way that made Ben’s head spin. 

“He’s everything.” Ben snapped, before marching out that fucking meeting room like it was filling with poisonous gas. 

Butcher must've noticed his hesitancy because he stepped in right away. “Don’t you listen to this fucking twat. He ain’t your kid.” 

And as much Soldier Boy wished he was right, he knew he wasn’t. 

“Yes, I am! I am your son!” Homelander pointed at him. “I am your blood! That’s all that matters.” He heard Butcher and Maeve come closer to his sides, again feeling comforted  at being backed. 

“Maybe.” He said, taking a breath.

Homelander stepped towards a door and Soldier Boy let the confusion show on his face. The Supe stepped back out of the doorway, bringing a kid that couldn’t be older than 14 with him. Ben swallowed. What the actual fuck? 

He heard Butcher whisper a name under his breath. So this was a thing. He knew the damn kid. 

Homelander spoke as he put an arm around the petrified looking kid. “This is my son, Ryan, your grandson.” 

And if that didn’t pull at the few heartstrings Soldier Boy had left. Goddammit. A family. Everything he wanted. Right there. 

His eyes flicked down to the small boy. “Hi, Grandpa.” 

Ben felt his heartbeat in his ears. Goddammit. God fucking damnit. Why did this have to be so fucking complicated? He heard Butcher’s heartbeat elevate at the sight of the kid, he closed his eyes briefly.

“You see? You have a family. You have him, you have me.” 

The words Ben wanted to hear for so long, uttered so easily. He swallowed, stepping closer. There was still a missing piece to the puzzle. His Tony wasn’t here. How could he be a part of a family when Tony wasn’t there with him? 

Homelander continued, “There’s something else.” 

That made Ben stop in his tracks, tilting his head. “What do you mean? Does he have a brother?” He gestured to the kid vaguely, who offered him a naive smile. His heart stuttered.

“Not exactly.” Homelander went back through the doorway, this time rolling out a large metal box. Ben looked over to Butcher, who shrugged. 

There was a glass window on the end of it, making it easy for someone to peer in. Or out, depending on which side you were on. Ben was suddenly reminded of his captivity in Russia, the fucking boxes they kept him in. Warmth simmered in his chest.

“What the fuck is this?” His tone was enough for Homelander to offer a placating hand. 

“I looked into you after I found out you were alive. Found out about this guy.” Homelander pressed a button and the top of the box opened. 

Ben’s mouth ran dry. There he was, in all his glory. 

His lover from all those years ago. 

His Tony. 

Chapter Text

Ben stepped back, his blood freezing in his veins.

“What the fuck?” His breathing was heavy and he felt the warmth in his chest grow hotter. 

“Oi, Gov,” Butcher put a hand on his shoulder, “gotta simmer down, eh?” 

Hoemlander only watched as Butcher pulled him aside. Maeve stood, staring the other Supe down as Butcher tried to get his head back in the damn game. “What’s wrong, Gov?” 

His voice was quiet as he spoke. “That’s him, Butcher, that’s fucking Tony.” 

Butcher’s eyebrows shot up to the fucking sky. “Wha’?” 

Soldier Boy looked over to the box, Tony lying there. He was shirtless and had some sort of gas mask on. “Oh my fucking God.” 

“Thought you said Tony was dead, mate?”

“Obviously he’s fucking not.” He hissed, gripping his shield as he rubbed a hand over his face.

Butcher didn’t seem convinced. “Could be a trick, Gov.” Butcher’s hand on his shoulder was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. 

That’s when Homelander cut in. Goddamn Supe hearing. “It’s not a trick.” 

Soldier Boy looked over, not saying anything. It really did look like Tony. Everything down to the scar on his left eyebrow from the dog attack when he was a kid was there.

“Ryan, why don’t you wake Tony up, so we can show Grandpa how real he is?” He spoke to the kid softly. The boy gave a small smile, walking around the box to lift the gas mask. 

As soon as he did, Ryan looked over at Soldier Boy. “Should we leave the room.. so you two can, like.. reunite?” 

A lump was stuck in Ben’s throat.

Homelander smiled. “Excellent idea, Ryan. We wouldn’t want to intrude.” He walked to the door where Soldier Boy, Maeve and Butcher had entered. “After you, Butcher.” 

Butcher glanced at Soldier Boy, who nodded. He’d be fine. 

Butcher and Maeve walked out with Homelander and Ryan. 

Now it was him and an unconscious Tony. He knew they weren’t really alone. You never were, in the tower. 

He set his shield down, walking closer to Tony. He heard a security camera whirr and he assumed it was zooming in on him. He couldn’t care less. 

He reached out and realized his hand was shaking. He made a fist and put it back to his side. Tony was bruised. It looked like he’d been beaten a lot, his ribs shown more than they used to. Ben swallowed, fighting back tears. He didn’t want to show his goddamn pussy side in front of these cameras. He took a breath, trying to steady his rapid heart rate. 

“Tony..?” He whispered into the air, finally laying a hand on the man’s shoulder, caressing the warm skin there. 

Tony’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, his brow furrowing. Ben let a tear slip down his face, his lip trembling. “Tony?” 

Tony woke up slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the light. Ben stood there, feeling paralyzed. Tony’s eyes flitted around the room, finally landing on the man standing above him. His eyes widened. 

Tony blinked a few times, trying to register the sight in front of him. It can’t be.

“Ben?” 

Ben smiled through his tears, his voice shaking. This was real. This was his long lost love. “Hey, Tones.” 

Tony sat up quicker than his body would have liked, his back cracking as he wrapped Ben in a desperate hug. Ben returned the embrace strongly, his whole body trembling as he muffled a sob in Tony’s shoulder. 

“I’ve got you.” Tony pet his hair, grabbing the back of his neck like he always used to. Ben shuddered against him, his tears sliding down Tony’s bare shoulder. He pulled away slightly to press their foreheads together. 

“I thought you were dead, they told me you were-mm!” Ben’s quiet rambling was cut off as Tony grabbed his face and crushed his lips into his. Ben gripped Tony’s shoulders hard, if the latter wasn’t a Supe, they probably would’ve shattered. 

“I’m right here, baby.” Tony whispered, peppering Ben’s face with kisses. Ben let out a breath. “Fuck..” 

They smiled at each other for another moment, Ben’s gaze traveled down Tony’s body. “What did they do to you?” His finger traces a large bruise that started at the bottom of his ribs and ran all the way down to his left hip. 

“Captured, experimented on, the works.” Tony shrugged, Ben’s beautiful, stubborn bastard of a boyfriend knew they were being watched. He would ask for more details later. “What about you? Last I heard, you died in Nicaragua.” 

“They told you that?” Ben raised an eyebrow, leaning into the way Tony was rubbing the back of his neck. His former boyfriend nodded, cupping his face. “What happened, love?”

And if that nickname didn’t make Ben melt into a goddamn puddle. He stared at a spot on the wall behind Tony’s head. “Payback handed me to the Reds. Same story as you, experimented on and all that fuckin' jazz.” 

Ben glanced at the other man’s eyes, they were wide and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, Benny.” 

Ben only shrugged, pulling Tony in for another brief kiss. 

Tony rubbed his neck more firmly now. “Nightmares?” 

Ben nodded. “You?” 

Tony gave that goddamn dazzling smile and nodded. “You know it, big guy.” 

A gnawing feeling made itself known in Ben’s stomach. “All this time.. you were here? In the tower?”

Tony nodded solemnly. 

Ben felt as if he’d be sick. All that time, when he was mourning Tony, he was in a lab in the goddamn basement. 

“I shoulda looked for you. Goddammit, I coulda found you.” Ben felt the warmth grow in his chest again and Tony cupped his face again. 

“Hey, hey, hey. This is not your fault, Ben, ok?” He gestured to himself. “Vought is just really fucked up.” 

“I-I could’ve-” Ben didn’t stutter, but he was a whole different person when it came to Tony.

“Done what? What do you think would’ve happened if you found me? They’d kill me for real that time.” Tony shook his head. “There was nothing you could’ve done for me. And look, now I have you.” Tony smiled, brushed Ben’s hair behind his ear. “My beautiful boyfriend.” 

The warmth simmered out easily under Tony’s reassurances. Ben usually hated being called “beautiful”. That was a word used for women and pussies that wore dresses. Ben only wore a dress once, on a dare, thank you very much. But when Tony called him things like that, his heart felt full. 

“I love you.” Ben whispered, staring into those beautiful eyes. 

Tony smiled, kissing his boyfriend’s scruffy cheek. “I love you too.” 

Their reunion was cut short as a sharp voice cut through the air. “As touching as this is, we really should be getting back to business.” 

Fucking Homelander.

Tony’s eyes widened fearfully at the sight of the man before him. Ben’s protectiveness flared up.

What did Homelander do to his lover?

Chapter Text

He turned around, facing Homelander. His eyes flicked to the door, Butcher, Maeve and Ryan walked back in slowly. 

Tony was gripping Ben’s bicep. “Why the hell are you talking to Homelander ?” He hissed into Ben’s ear. 

“Nice to see you too, Tony.” Homelander gave a shit-eating grin, wrapping his arm back around Ryan. Butcher and Maeve made their way to Ben’s side of the room. 

Tony’s fist clenched and his eyes flashed orange, hinting that he was about to lose his shit. 

“Hey, hey, we’re just talkin’ to him right now, cool it.” Ben put a comforting hand on Tony’s fist, getting him to loosen it slightly. 

“No, no , Ben! You don’t know what you’re dealing with. He’s a monster.” Flames lit up Tony’s fist, but Ben didn’t let go. “Cool it, c’mon, we’re just talking.” 

“You heard lover boy, Tones, just talking.” Homelander still had that god awful smile on his face. 

“Don’t call him that.” Ben grunted, picking his shield back up. Tony’s fist simmered out and Ben shook his hand out, the burns would heal in a minute. 

Homelander raised a hand in mock surrender. “Of course, Pops, no problem.” 

Ben saw Tony tilt his head in confusion. “Pops?” He glanced at Ben, who looked at the floor. 

“That’s right!” Homelander laughed enthusiastically. Fucking psycho. “Soldier boy is my daddy… which, by extension, I guess, makes you, Tony, my step-father.” 

Tony’s jaw was nearly on the floor. “Ben?” 

Ben only nodded. “Lab experiment. Obviously gone wrong.” 

Tony took a shuddering breath and Homelander’s smile dropped slightly at his words. 

Through ground teeth, Homelander spoke again. “You can get the family back together, Soldier Boy, it’s everything you ever wanted.” 

And Ben hated how he was right. He had always wanted a family. Raise a kid or two. He couldn’t raise Homelander, but Ryan.. Ryan was still so young. 

Him, Tony and Homelander raising a kid. Goddammit why did he like that idea?

But then he glanced at Butcher, the determined set of his brow. Maeve’s clenches fists. Tony’s heart rate going a mile a minute. 

“What’d you do to him?” His voice was quiet, demanding. Ryan’s face flickered with something akin to fear. He almost felt bad. 

Homelander raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Tony. What did you do?” Ben wasn’t stupid, he knew a trauma response when he saw one. 

Homelander laughed lightly. “Oh, we just had a bit of fun together, didn’t we, Tones?” 

Ben could hear Tony’s teeth grinding.

“I told you not to fucking call him that.” His grip on his shield grew tighter. The warmth in his chest returned, Homelander’s smile looked a little less real. 

“Oh, ok, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Homelander gestured a placating hand at him. “Obviously, this family thing isn’t going to work out. As a gesture of a good son, I’ll let you have him, though.”

The apology admittedly took Ben off guard and he let the warmth simmer into less of a bubbling rage and more of a quiet anger. 

“You’ll let me have him ?” Ben repeated, dumbfounded. Who the hell does Homelander think he is?

Homelander nodded. “I just need one thing from you before I let you waddle away.” 

Ben scoffed, he was here to kill him after all. “And what’s that?” 

“Proof.” Homelander said, an evil smile blooming on his face. 

“Proof?” Ben repeated, smirking. “What proof?” 

“Well, that you two really love each other of course. I can’t just let my favorite experiment leave with anyone, now can I?” Homelander’s smile widened as Ben became more confused. 

“Hey, Ryan, why don’t you go sit in the hall for a minute?” Homelander rubbed Ryan’s shoulder and guided him into the hallway, before closing the door and locking it. 

Ben looked over at Butcher, who only shook his head. 

Whatever he tries to make you do, don’t do it.

That’s what Butcher told him before. Don’t let Homelander get the upper hand. The thing was, though, he already had it. He had found Tony. He brought him to Ben.

“Now, where were we.. oh, yes, proof.” Homelander’s eyes flicked from Tony to Ben and back again.

Ben said nothing for a moment, just tilted his head. “Proof.” 

Homelander nodded, placing his hands behind his back. “I want you to fuck him.” 

Ben closed his eyes briefly, sure he had heard wrong. “What the fuck?” 

“No, not what the fuck, fuck him.” Homelander pointed to Tony, a giddy smile on his face.

“You sick fuckin’ cunt-” Butcher started, taking a step forward. Maeve gave a shocked laugh, before covering her mouth. 

Ben shrugged. “No.” 

Homelander raised an eyebrow. “No?” 

“You think I’m gonna fuck my boyfriend for your sick fuckin’ entertainment? You’re fucked in the head, you piece of shit.” Ben’s chest was overheating and his glow was lighting up the room. 

“Ahh, careful, don’t want to blow up your friends, now do you?” Homelander gestured to Butcher and Maeve, who looked like they were already mentally preparing for a fight. 

“Fuck you.” Ben snapped, and finally, he threw a punch. It hit Homelander square in the left side of his jaw, and the Supe crashed into the wall behind him, laughing. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben hit him again, this time an uppercut that made him smash into the ceiling. 

Why was he making this so easy? He knew, based on their previous fight, that Homelander could’ve thrown him across the room at this point if he just got up slightly faster. Why was he being so laid back?

Soldier Boy tugged Homelander down by the cape and started pummeling him. Homelander laughed the whole time, choking on blood. He said a word, quietly, under his breath.

Confusion and anger radiated off of Soldier Boy as he hit him over and over. His knuckles were chafing on his gloves and he wondered how many punches it would take to wear through them.

“Oi!”

Butcher’s voice cut through his haze, he turned around, his fist raised. 

Tony was seizing on the floor, his muscles taught. He practically jumped off of Homelander, rushing over to Tony and turning him on his side so he didn’t choke on the foam coming out of his mouth. 

“Tony?” His voice was desperate as he caressed the hair of his lover. 

The laugh that Homelander gurgled made him irrationally angry. “What did you do?!” His voice was panicked and Maeve was helping him support Tony’s head. He gave her a grateful glance and she nodded. 

“What the fuck is wrong with him?!” He stalked up to Homelander, hoisting him up and pinning him against the wall. “What’d you do to him, huh?” He slammed the blonde against the wall, it cracked, running through the ceiling and making the lights flicker. 

“WHAT-” 

SLAM

“-DID-”

SLAM

“-YOU-”

SLAM

“DO TO HIM?!”

Ben was seething now, his chest felt as if it was about to explode and his hands shook where they gripped Homelander’s suit. 

Homelander smiled at him, teeth bloody. “There’s a trigger in his fucking brain.”

Confusion rose into Ben’s expression, mixing with the rage that was already there. “What?” His voice was dangerously quiet now. 

“He’s dying right now. I can stop it with a simple word, audio commands.” Homelander’s smug expression suddenly made sense. 

“You son of a bitch, you set this up. Fucking pussy.” He slammed Homelander against the wall again and the other Supe let out a quiet oof. 

“Yeah, I did. I’m also the only one that can save your beloved Tony.” Homelander smirked, knowing he had the upper hand. 

Goddammit. God fucking dammit. 

Soldier Boy released his grip on the Supe, who slumped against the wall. Ben’s breathing was ragged and he glared at Homelander with a gaze that could kill. 

“Fix it.” He pointed at Tony, who was still writhing on the ground, obviously in a lot of pain. Maeve supported his head and had found a rag to wipe the foam off his mouth every so often. 

“Fine. But then you have to do what I told you to. Fuck or I’ll trigger him again.” 

Ben gave a fake smirk, glancing over at Tony. “Just say the fucking word.” 

Homelander walked over, too slow for Ben’s liking, and whispered it to Tony. The seizing immediately stopped. Ben felt a rush of air go into his lungs and he walked over to him. He knelt next to Tony, who was catching his breath. 

“You’re ok, it’s alright.” He whispered, gripping his lover’s hand. Tony held back with all his strength, which wasn’t very much. 

“Now, let’s get this show on the road.” Homelander plopped down into a spinning chair. “C’mon, Daddio, let’s see just how much you love him.” 

Ben didn’t even glance up at Homelander as he answered. “You’re disgusting.” He caressed Tony’s face gently, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’m gonna get you out of here, alright?”

Ben looked at Butcher, then at Maeve, then at his shield. They seemed to pick up what he was putting down and nodded in a subtle way that a victory-drunk Homelander didn’t catch onto. 

Ben stood up, picking Tony up and putting him back inside the open metal box. He was sat up, facing Ben.

“I said fuck him, Soldier Boy.” The smug bastard leaned back in the chair, kicking his legs up onto a table as he eyed the pair. 

Ben huffed and pretended to comply, kissing Tony gently. Butcher and Maeve made sure to look uncomfortable, so the relaxed Supe wouldn’t be suspicious.

Homelander laughed, shaking his head. “God, you really are a fag, aren’t you?”

Tony ground his teeth, addressing Homelander briefly as he pulled away. “You’re the one gettin’ your rocks off to two guys kissing.” Ben huffed a laugh and kissed him again. He heard Homelander’s heartbeat speed up. 

Ben’s hands came up to Tony’s head, threading into his hair as they put on more and more of a show, their kisses becoming deeper. “Do you trust me?” Ben whispered to him. Tony pulled away slightly to look into his eyes. “Always.” He nodded. 

Butcher and Maeve slowly made their way towards Homelander, closing in from either side. The Supe was too horny to notice, palming himself through his suit, unashamed.

Ben smirked, kissing him again. Homelander moaned and he tried not to grimace. Then, his hands came up and covered Tony’s ears firmly. He couldn’t be triggered if he couldn’t hear. 

“NOW!” Soldier Boy shouted, springing Maeve and Butcher into action. Maeve hit him with a right hook as Butcher lasered him through the wall. The effect was immediate, he flew back, breaking through the wall. 

Ben picked up Tony, grabbing his shield and sprinting down the stairs. His legs screamed at him, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

Homelander growled, his eyes laser red. Butcher shot him down just as he stood up again, the gold lasers pinning Homelander down.

Ben ran, jumping down flights of stairs. He burst through the glass doors below, shoving Tony into the van that was waiting for them. 

“Who the hell is that?” The skinny geek (Hughie or something?) asked. 

“Long story, keep him safe, plug his ears, I’m going back up there.” Ben demanded, gripping his shield and taking a breath before running back into the building.

Hughie stared after him, then at the man that was on the floor of the van. “Ok, let’s get you up.”

Homelander grabbed Butcher, throwing him into the ground and stomping on his chest. Butcher wheezed, a scream clawing its way from his throat.

Maeve ran at him and threw an uppercut at Homelander, it knocked him off of Butcher. He shot his lasers at her, which she blocked with her wrist cuff, her arm straining. 

“Dad!” Ryan’s voice was the last one Butcher wanted to hear right now. His normally ocean-blue eyes were glowing bright red. He shot them at Maeve, who blocked them with her other wrist cuff. She screamed, the heat seeming to burn through the metal and sear her skin.

Ben seemed to show up out of nowhere, horribly out of breath, but determined. He rammed into Homelander’s side, taking him down. Ryan’s attention switched to him and Maeve was given a break from being melted alive.

Soldier Boy was on top of Homelander, bashing him with his shield.

BAM

BAM

BAM

Ben felt something warm on his back. He turned slightly, to find the kid lasering him. It wasn’t strong enough to knock him off his target, though. Butcher was up again, he got a hold of Ryan, who screamed and tried to fly away. 

Ben turned his attention back to the bloody Supe under him. Homelander’s hair was in disarray, bleeding from just about his whole face. 

He tried to laser Ben, but was blocked by the shield. Ben hit him in the head with the front of it, before tossing it aside in favor of his fists. 

He felt eyes on him, he knew they were watching. Waiting to see the real Soldier Boy. Why not show them?

He punched over and over, Homelander’s blood feeling refreshing as it splattered against his face. 

The son he wished for so desperately, turning out to be a psychopathic murderer. 

You’re a fucking disappointment. That’s what his father had said. He didn’t deserve that. But this douchebag under him, well that was another story.

He grabbed Homelander’s face, bringing it close to his. “You’re a fucking disappointment.” He hissed, watching the desperation enter Homelander’s eyes with sick satisfaction. He slammed Homelander’s head on the ground. Again. Again. The Supe was nearly unresponsive now. 

Then he lifted the Supe by his neck slightly and tore his head clean off. He was heaving as he threw the head against a wall.

For Tony. 

That was for Tony.

Butcher whistled. “Damn, mate.” Ben looked over, the blood running down his face making it harder to see. Butcher was hiding Ryan’s face in his shirt. Maeve stared at Ben with a kind of understanding. 

And Soldier Boy.. Ben.. felt nothing.

Chapter Text

Ben stood slowly, the blood felt sticky on his hands. His suit was too tight and his chest felt warm. He slowly stood up, stepping away from Homelander’s lifeless body and picking up his shield. It felt heavier for some reason. 

“Let’s fucking go.” He said quietly, walking out the door without checking to see if Butcher, the kid and Maeve were following. Broken glass crunched under his boots and his eyes stung. Pussy.

Pull yourself together, boy. What are you, a fuckin’ pussy? His dad’s voice. He'd been drunk the night he said that. He came home to Ben watching a TV show. The main character’s dog had died and Ben, being ten years old, had shed a tear. He never cried at a movie again after that.

I can’t even look at you right now. His last words to Tony. Right before Vought ripped them apart with fire, smoke and ashes. Ben had managed to scavenge and keep a picture that survived the fire, if barely. It was cracked and the frame was half burned, but he stowed it in his tower room anyway. Tony looked happier than ever in that picture, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his smile wider than a half-moon. Edgar had found it. Then that was burned too. And he had nothing but the memory of Tony to even verify that he was real and not something Ben made up in his head because of his shitty life.

As he jabbed his thumb into the elevator button, he thought of how Tony had been happy to see him. Relieved , even. Did that mean he was forgiven? For leaving when he should’ve been there to celebrate them? A weight settled itself in his gut. What if it was all a heat of the moment thing and Tony would remember when he was more clear headed? And he would scowl and refuse to talk to Ben? He would be distant and cold. Ben didn’t think he’d be able to handle that. He clenched his fists. 

He stepped into the elevator, the lights flickered, he assumed some wiring had been damaged, or the bitches that were stowed in the van had started to get antsy, the blonde bitch that controls lights among them. He looked over his shoulder, Maeve, Butcher and Ryan followed him. He pushed the first floor button, leaning against the wall. A distorted track of music he didn’t know started to play.

He felt the kid’s eyes on him. He couldn’t look. The only blood he had left now that he’d killed his son. He killed his son. Something he’d wanted for forever. A family. He blew it. That kid wouldn’t want to be within 100 feet of him now. He was probably scared out of his mind. Ben hoped he hadn’t seen how he’d killed Homelander, if only to spare him the knowledge that he died brutally. 

Why the fuck do you care? You don’t know that fucking kid. But they’re still related. They’re blood. The kid has fucking laser eyes and who knows what else.

He didn’t exactly know how the kid felt about Homelander, but no matter how you feel about your parents, you always feel different when they’re gone. He remembered his mother’s death, she died before he was sent to Russia. She loved him, he knew she did. Even if she was drunk a lot of the time, she always tried. Which was more than he could say about his dad. He was pretty sure his dad hated him. Or was indifferent to him. He wasn’t sure which was worse. Being hated by his father or having his father treat him like he was an intern at a job instead of a son.

The thing he remembered most about his mother was her hands. She’d always touch him as if he was still just a kid. Even when he came back home after the V trials. She cupped his face and hugged him softly. When his dad refused to get him a birthday present because he “doesn’t deserve it, Susan”, his mother had slipped a mixtape into his hand and winked when he looked up at her in surprise. He had every song on that mixtape memorized. Word for word. Note for note. 

She made sure he knew that at least she was proud of what he’d done. Worked so hard for. He was the face of Vought American for Christ Sake. He was a superhero. It was never enough for his dad, though.

The only time his dad was ever proud of him, even just a little bit, was at a soccer game when he was 14. He remembered that day so clearly. It was the second half and the clock was running out fast. He was on midfield, but the two forwards were guarded and there was no way to pass without the ball being intercepted. He ran the ball down the whole field and shot it into the goal right as the buzzer sounded. They won. His team lifted him on their shoulders, but his eyes searched for one face in the crowd. His dad. When he found him, his dad wasn’t exactly smiling, but he was wearing less of a scowl than usual. Good job, son. That was the first and last time his father had ever said anything like that to him. He remembered his eyes stinging. Thanks, Dad. He ducked his head to hide his tears before his dad could call him a fucking pussy crier. He held onto the warm feeling that welled up in his chest. Because he thought maybe if he was good enough, worked hard enough, that maybe he would hear those words again. But he never did. Especially not after mom died. 

When he showed up at her funeral, all V-ed up and dressed in an expensive suit, everyone kept their distance. He knew what they were whispering about, he could hear them. Supe ears and all.

I can’t believe he left his family just like that.

I bet you he sold his soul for fame.

He shouldn’t be here. He’d punched that guy in the face, because Fuck you, she’s my mom. 

His dad never contacted him again after that. He tried not to care, and he was usually able to forget about it, with all the vices he had at his disposal. Sex, drugs, alcohol. He tried to never think too hard. If he smiled in pictures and dried his eyes when they stung, which seemed to be more and more often lately, no one would ask questions.

The only time he’d ever folded was the Christmas after Tony was “killed”. About 5 years after his mom’s funeral. Countess had a “girl’s holiday” planned and the rest of the team had actual families. He’d called his dad and surprisingly, the bastard had picked up. 

“Dad?” He tried not to let his voice shake.

“Ben? What is it?” It was exactly what he expected. The response was clipped, nothing like the fatherliness he so longed for. 

“I was.. wondering if.. I could come home for Christmas this year?” His voice shook slightly and he realized his hands were trembling. He swallowed and took a breath as he awaited the answer. 

“This year really isn’t the best time… maybe next year, ok, Ben?” His dad’s response was immediate and his tone suggested he would rather be talking to anyone else. 

“Yeah, yeah I figured that, I just thought I’d ask.” His eyes stung insistently now and he ran a hand over his face. 

The line was silent for a minute and Ben wished his dad would say something, anything. Ask how he was, or what he’d been up to.

“Ok, well, I gotta go.” The dial tone sounded immediately, not waiting for a response from Ben. 

“Ok.” Ben spoke to the dead line anyway, his voice breaking as a sob broke through his chest. He set the phone down and sobbed into his hands. 

Was he just like his father? Ripping away any chance at a relationship with his son because Tony called him a monster? Maybe he should’ve talked to him more, figured him out for himself. 

Tony’s seizure suddenly flashed through his mind and he closed his eyes. 

There’s a trigger in his fucking brain. 

Homelander had been mocking him. He set it up. He could’ve killed Tony. He’d tortured him already, Ben was sure of that-

He felt a firm nudge against his shoulder and he looked over to see the redhead chick. Maeve. Butcher had told him. She’s into broads, so don’t go for the pants, yeah? She quirked an eyebrow at him, You ok?

He shrugged. Does it matter? 

She shrugged back. Yeah. 

He blinked. I don't know.

He looked at her for another moment before returning his eyes to the wall in front of him. He was tired. Not like he hadn’t slept in a day tired. Like bone-tired. Like he could pass out for a damn good while. 

God, he just wanted to peel off his suit and curl up with Tony. He knew that wouldn’t be for a little bit at least. They had to find somewhere to lay low and the the team of pussies would have a fuck-ton of questions about Tony. 

Why the fuck did you save a random guy if you’re a heartless fucking sadist? Would be the most likely question, though the fucking blonde girlie would phrase it differently. 

He hated people like that. That didn’t say what they meant. The semi-judgmental sentences that weren’t enough for them to be punched in the face, but enough to make Ben want to punch them anyway. 

The elevator dinged and they stepped out into the empty lobby of Vought tower. Soldier Boy trudged ahead of them, not wanting to share a meaningful glance with anyone at the moment. He heard them follow behind him and stalked over to the van. 

He opened the door roughly, the skinny cum-guzzler jumped out of his fucking skin. The rest of their little “team” was in there, all of them looking at Ben with a different emotion plastered on their faces. They all wore a hint of curiosity as they took in the four people climbing into the van. 

They all sat down heavily. There was barely enough room for all of them, so Ben found himself pressed side to side with a passed-out Tony. He swung an arm around him and held him close. He smelled awful, but enough like himself that Ben closed his eyes briefly just to inhale him. He was warm, like he used to be, Ben remembered that. Ben was always cold, even after the V. Tony always had ways of warming him up, though.

The blonde star girl spoke up first. “So..” She looked from Ben to Butcher to Ryan to Maeve. “What the fuck happened?” 

The silence was tense, but obviously temporary. Maeve looked at Ben. Butcher looked down at Ryan, who had his head in the man’s chest. 

Butcher sniffed. “‘E won’t be bothering us again.”  He hugged the kid closer to his body. 

MM squinted. “So what? You put him in a box or somethin’?” He looked towards Ben, who held his gaze. 

You killed my family.

“I ripped his fucking head off.” His rough voice seemed to echo through the small space. The French guy gave a little “oh” and Ben saw the black haired woman use her hands to tell him something. Cum-guzzler’s eyebrows raised halfway up to his god-fucking awful hairline and his girlfriend’s eyes widened. They looked at Butcher, who shrugged and held the kid even closer. Ben could just barely pick up the sound of the kid crying.

He looked over, checking to see if Tony had any visible injuries. He was passed out hard. Ben was suddenly very fucking glad he thought to bring him down to the van before fighting. His hair was mussed, but no new injuries seemed to have appeared. The old bruises stood out harshly against his skin. He wondered what you had to do to bruise a Supe that bad. 

He wasn’t conflicted about it anymore. Homelander needed to die. 

The French guy volunteered to drive and the hand-woman went with him. They walked around to the front of the van quickly and sped off to where Ben assumed was the direction of some safe house. 

He knew they were fucking watching him, watching how he held Tony. Not that they fucking know who he was. 

Blonde bitch was the first to speak. “So.. are you going to tell us who that is?” God, she sounded like his fucking mom. He heard the cocksucking twink shush her. 

He thought about ignoring her. He was fucking entitled to. But he really didn’t want to deal with this later anymore than he did right now. 

Ben sighed. “Tony.” 

Silence as they all exchanged glances like some fucking psychic siblings. Butcher was ignoring them, his focus on Ryan. 

“Who the fuck is Tony?” It was MM that asked the stupid fucking question this time. 

Ben lifted his gaze only to glare at him. He felt the blood on his face starting to dry, assuming it took on a more rusted color. 

“I-I think what MM meant is that..um..we’ve never seen him and uh..well, we’re just wondering who he is and stuff, Soldier Boy.” Cum-guzzler spoke, always the fucking mediator. 

“He’s just fucking Tony. He was tortured by Homelander, I got him back. Leave it the fuck alone.” He felt his chest warm slightly, only dulled by the pressure of Tony’s head on his shoulder. 

“How do you fucking know him?” MM - Ben was going to call him Beefcake (in his head, anyway) - asked, earning a warning glance from the twink. 

Ben sighed through his nose. The blondie’s fists were clenched, not that she could fucking do much in a van with little to no electricity. 

“He just killed fucking Homelander, if he wants to rescue some guy, let him, give it a fucking break.” Maeve spoke up, making Ben’s eyes snap to her. She didn’t look at him, her head leaned back against the side of the van she was sitting against, her eyes closed. 

“He could be a fucking security risk.” Beefcake didn’t look towards Maeve as he spoke, his eyes darting from Ben to Tony and back again. 

That sparked multiple fucking replies. 

“Hey, let’s just calm down-” Twink.

“MM is right-” Blondie. 

“He’s not a fucking security risk, you dumb-” Ben.

“They’re fucking boyfriends.” Butcher.

That caused a goddamn wave of silence to wash over the van. Ben felt his face heat up. He stared at the man who just fucking outed him. 

“What the fuck, Butcher?” Maeve’s jaw was almost on the floor. Ben felt fucking dizzy. 

The Frenchie chimed in from the front. “What ze fuck did you just say, Butcher?” He was looking through the rearview mirror, and the hand woman had completely turned around in her seat. 

“Soldier Boy and Flame Boy over there are head over fucking balls for each other, yeah?” He sounded fucking tired, like it was common fucking knowledge and he wasn’t destroying Ben’s fucking reputation.

Faggot.

Fairy. 

Poof.

Silence again. They were all looking at him. Blondie’s eyes were wider than the bottom of a fucking Coca-Cola bottle. Her fucking boyfriend’s eyebrows were flying away again. Redhead’s jaw was clenched so hard he thought it might fucking snap, glaring into the side of Butcher’s head. Beefcake was gazing at him with a furrowed fucking brow. Even the fucking kid was looking at him, wide eyed now. God, he liked it better when they all fucking hated him. 

“Oh..” Twink started. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben growled, turning to press his face into Tony’s hair. It was soft, as if recently washed. 

The rest of the ride was silent as the fucking grave. 

Chapter Text

When they arrived at the safe house, he picked Tony up, along with his shield, and marched right in, kicking the door in. Butcher made a dissatisfied noise behind him. 

That’s what you get for telling everyone, you fucking prick. 

He walked down the dingiest fucking hallway he’d ever seen. He found a random room that seemed unoccupied, not that he fucking cared at this point, and laid Tony down on the bed. He pulled a blanket over him gently. He let his shield fall somewhere in the middle of the room when he had walked in. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at Tony, willing him to heal faster. His suit felt heavy and the blood was sticky against his skin. It was uncomfortable as hell, but all he could do was stare at him. 

Tony’s hair was fucked up and Ben found himself reaching up more than once to smooth it down. There were more bruises than he initially thought, his arms and chest looked like a fucking Picasso painting. He was awfully pale and the bags under his eyes were the kind you could only get if you’re forcibly kept awake. Ben would know. The Russians did that all the time. Fuck up a victim’s sense of time and everything starts to get fucked as well. 

There were marks on his arms. Needle marks. The sight made Ben swallow. What the fuck did they inject him with? His eyes traveled upward. Tony’s neck was bruised and reddish. 

Did they fucking strangle him? Ben’s eyes stung, and he took a breath. Homelander’s smug fucking face flashed in his mind and he had to close his eyes for a moment, letting out a growl. 

Tony. 

Kissing Tony. 

Homelander moaning. 

Homelander mocking. 

Homelander laughing. 

Homelander getting his fucking head ripped off.

For Tony. 

Just for Tony. 

He took Tony’s hand in his, careful to avoid touching the gash that ran across the bottom of his palm. He looked at his lover, passed out on the bed. 

“I’m sorry, Tones.” And those must’ve been the magic fucking words because tears started spilling from Ben’s eyes like goddamn Niagra Falls. He pressed the hand he was holding to his forehead as his tears came. He was hunched over, on his knees by the bed at this point. “I’m so fucking sorry.” A sob wracked his chest, tearing its way out of his throat. He felt himself shaking, Tony’s stillness making him aware. His sobs only became more frequent when he tried to stop the strangled sounds coming out of him. He squeezed Tony’s hand like he could disappear at any moment.

He fucking hated crying. It was a pussy fucking move. But he couldn’t take this. This was never supposed to fucking happen. He’d rather stay with the Russians for a thousand years than let anything happen to Tony. He’d let him down. He’d failed him. 

He was right under Ben’s fucking nose the whole goddamn time. Ever since he “disappeared”. All those nights Ben stayed up drinking and staring at that one picture of him, the one where his eyes shined like fucking stars, until he passed out in the early hours of the morning. All those days he was taking out his anger and pain on his teammates by screaming in their faces and beating them up. All that time he was smiling for Vought’s cameras. They were fucking torturing him. Bruising him. Cutting him. Injecting him with shit. 

Ben was right there. A few floors above him and he couldn’t save him. He was grieving someone who wasn’t even dead.

Ben failed him fucking spectacularly. 

You just can’t do anything right, can you, boy? 

I’m sorry, Dad.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” It was barely a whimper, and he wasn’t even looking at him. His eyes were shut tightly, his head bowed. The hand he was gripping for dear life might’ve broke if Tony wasn’t the strong, perfect fucking Supe he was. 

Tony made a noise and Ben shot up, sitting on the bed and cradling his face. “Hey, hey, hey.. Easy..” Tony opened his eyes slowly, swallowing. Ben stared at him, waiting for him to thrash around or something, thinking he was back in the lab. 

But Tony stayed still as he looked around, his eyes settling on Ben. “Hey.” His voice was quiet and it made Ben’s heart skip ten fucking beats in a row. Ben let out a small smile. “Hey, Tones.” 

Tony licked his lips slowly, simply looking at Ben. Ben thought that if Tony looked at him like that for just one minute, he’d die happy. Tony’s eyebrows drew together. 

“Were you crying, babe?” Tony raised a bruised hand and cupped Ben’s cheek. Ben could barely bring himself to answer. The feeling of Tony’s hand to his face brought more fucking tears to his eyes. 

“You blame me?” A tear fell from his eye and his voice cracked. His eyelashes felt wet. God, the things this man did to him. He gasped as more tears made their way down his face like no one’s fucking business. “I fucking missed you.” Just like that, the sobbing was back. He put his face in his hands, gasping for air every now and then.

Tony pulled him down to his chest, Ben cuddled as close as humanly fucking possible. His face pressed into Tony’s skin. It smelled like him. It was him. It was all fucking Tony. Tony. Tony. Tony. He shuddered when he felt kind hands brushing their way through his hair. His greasy fucking hair that still had Homelander’s blood caked into it. Being gently caressed by Tony. The love of his fucking life. 

Ben sobbed into him, his face eventually finding the crook of Tony’s neck. Tony shushed him softly, though his own tears were falling steadily. That’s Tony. Always fucking caring about people when he’s falling apart. 

Tony was here. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ben just killed his captor and he was here. He’s not going back. He’s here and he’s real and he smells like Tony. 

The wrecked noises he was making quieted into softer grunts and whimpers, he never took his face out from the crook of Tony’s neck. There was a hand on his nape now, brushing through the shorter strands of hair. And he thought that that was the best fucking feeling in the world. Second only to an orgasm, of course.

Ben’s back started to ache after a while of hunching over his man and he moved to lay down beside him. Tony made room for him, wincing as he moved over slightly. Ben swallowed at the sight, hesitant to get too close, but Tony beckoned him, so he went. He laid on his side, facing Tony. Tony had managed to maneuver into a comfortable-enough position so he was mostly on his side, facing Ben. He scooted as close as humanly possible, cupping Ben’s face. Ben knew he must look like hell, but the way Tony was gazing at him, you’d think he was made of gold. 

“‘S ok, Ben, I’m not going anywhere.” Tony said it with such certainty that Ben had to press closer, making another sound that was suspiciously close to a whimper, which he hoped no one else would hear. 

“I love you so much, Tony.” His voice was tired and cracking to his own ears. Tony smiled and Ben’s brow furrowed. He had a chipped tooth. 

“I love you too, Benny.” Ben scoffed at the nickname, but then Tony pulled him into a soft kiss and all complaints went out the fucking window. It was slow and careful, like Ben was the one who was injured and Tony was worried about hurting him. Tony’s tongue swept his bottom lip, asking permission. Ben gladly gave it to him, opening his mouth and letting Tony’s tongue glide against his. He grunted softly at the feeling, tilting his head to deepen it. 

Tony propped himself up on his elbow, cupping Ben’s jaw as he guided the other man’s mouth in a slow, loving dance. He kissed him again and again, each one more sensual than the last. Ben grunted each time he pulled away and groaned when he was kissed again. He’d always said that Tony’s mouth was one of his best features. Ben swallowed as Tony pulled away slightly to kiss along his jaw. He knew all the spots that made Ben gasp and grunt. He knew exactly where to touch to make him moan. 

Tony kissed his neck, sucking a bruise that would fade in two minutes. He bit down on the spot behind Ben’s ear and the other man gasped, feeling heat rush down, down, down. “Tony..” He whispered, trying to get the attention of the man currently nibbling softly on his earlobe. 

“Wanna show you just how much I missed you.” Tony kissed him again, still soft, still sweet. Ben felt the tension in his shoulders start to dissolve. Tony was practically on top of him at this point, half dressed.

Ben was hesitant, even now. “I-um- wait..” 

Tony pulled back, humming a question. He traced soft little patterns on Ben’s face and it was hard to focus.

“You’re still hurt, Tones.” He said, his voice rough and laced with desire. 

Tony smiled at his concern. “Well, I wasn’t going to do anything too taxing.” He brushed a strand of Ben’s messy fucking hair back. “Wanna make you come, though.” He whispered that, staring Ben right in the face with those pearly blue eyes. 

And Soldier Boy does not blush. But Ben.. Ben blushes sometimes. Not a lot. And usually during sex. But sometimes.

This is one of those times. He felt heat flare into his face and Tony gave a ‘Gotchya now’ kind of smile. 

“Ok.. if you’re sure..” Ben swallowed, horny and concerned at the same time was not fun. Tony kissed him, Ben moaned around the tongue that was almost immediately in his mouth, he grabbed onto Tony’s bicep with one hand, the other was interlaced with Tony’s and pinned above his head. “Fuck.” He grumbled into the kiss as Tony got to work on removing the Supe suit he still had on. 

He’d never thought there were that many buckles and zippers on his suit. When Tony took his time with each one, though, it was fucking torture, being undressed like this. “Tony..” 

He knew this was part of Tony’s teasing. He, himself, could take off the suit in a few minutes. So, when he still had the whole suit on after ten, he started to get worked up. 

His cock was hard in his pants and Tony was deliberately avoiding any accidental contact. Deft fingers undid his belt at a snail’s pace and it took everything in him to stay still. He clenched his fists and his jaw. 

“You alright, dear?” He heard the teasing note in Tony’s voice on the first word. 

Goddammit, they hadn’t fucked in over 40 years, how the fuck was he this patient?

“Tony, c’mon..” He swallowed as his suit was peeled off of him, again, very slowly. He regretted wearing pants, a shirt and boxers under it. Boxers by themselves would’ve been fine. 

“Someone’s impatient.” Tony tsk’d and Ben bit his lip, looking away. 

“It’s been forever, I need you, Tony.” His voice was quiet and desperate, he was so hard it hurt. The bulge in his pants was very obvious and he groaned when Tony cupped it. 

“I like it when you say that, Ben. You’re doing so good.” Tony rubbed his hand back and forth and Ben pressed into the touch. God, his hands were big. The praise made him dizzy and even more desperate for his lover. 

“Need you, Tony, please.” He spread his legs, his knees up. Tony leaned up and kissed him, soft as ever. 

“Shirt off.” He whispered against Ben’s lips. Ben complied immediately, the hand on his crotch electrifying him. He threw the undershirt in the same direction his suit had landed. Tony straddled him, rubbing him more insistently through his pants. 

Ben made a noise and swallowed, looking up at Tony with desperate eyes. “Tony..please, I-” He was cut off as Tony squeezed him softly, he shuddered and pressed into his touch as best he could. 

“You’re so beautiful, Ben. So good for me.” Tony’s voice was soft as he leaned down peppering Ben’s face and neck with sensual kisses. Ben moaned, nodding. “Good for you..” 

Ben felt Tony’s lips on his collarbone, then traveling lower. He cried out as Tony’s lips wrapped around a nipple and sucked hard. His hand flew to the back of Tony’s head. Tony’s hand consistently massaging his dick was not helping him think straight. Not that anything about this was straight. 

Tony’s lips kept moving lower, now mouthing along Ben’s V-line. He took in a shuddering breath as Tony licked a stripe up his abdomen. Frustratingly, Tony teased the waistband of his sweatpants with his free hand. 

“Tony..” 

Ben really hoped the door was locked. And that the walls were thick. Thai was nobody’s fucking business but theirs. 

Tony pulled down Ben’s sweatpants slowly, Ben groaned, realizing his boxers were still on. Tony really wanted to play the fucking long game, huh?

His dick was throbbing, the stimulation up until this point had almost been enough to push him over. But Tony knew exactly how to keep him on the edge. Every touch, every kiss, it was perfectly placed. 

Ben looked down as Tony kissed his way up his legs. He moaned when Tony sucked on his inner thigh, just below where his boxers ended. He covered his mouth with one hand, the other one preparedly gripping the sheets next to his hip. 

“Relax, baby..” Tony whispered, his mouth hovering over Ben’s clothed cock. It was all Ben could do not to squirm. He was shaking a little bit, watching Tony intently. 

“Wanna take my time.” Tony said softly. He rubbed Ben’s legs until his grip on the sheets loosened slightly. Suddenly, he started mouthing Ben over his clothes. His lips and tongue danced around on Ben’s confined cock. 

Ben made a high pitched noise and pushed into the contact. Only for Tony to pin his hips down and pull away slightly. 

“Tony.. please, you can’t do-ugh-this to me.” He was flushed and panting. Shaking and fucking desperate. “I need you so bad.” He tried to move his hips, but Tony’s grip was iron. And Tony.. Tony was fucking smiling. 

“There’s my good boy.” His voice was so fucking smug. Ben felt his face flame with embarrassment. His vision was blurry. He needed Tony’s mouth on him right fucking now. Arousal hummed through his body, he was taut like a fucking wire. His muscles were tense and he was shaking. He was sweating profusely, his muscles ached. 

Tony really fucking knew how to get him going. “Ok, ok.. I think you’ve earned your reward. You’ve done very well, dear. I’m proud of you.” His voice was so fucking soft and perfect. The words made Ben tear up. He was desperate for release and more reassurances, more praise. 

Tony tugged down his boxers, and Ben hissed as the cold air came in contact with all of him. 

“Just as pretty as I remember.” Tony breathed, hovering over Ben’s cock teasingly. His hands rubbed Ben’s thighs slowly and Ben knew he’d be teased a lot more before this was done. 

Then, Tony’s mouth was on him and he moaned, arching into him. Tony’s hands were now pinning his thighs open, as wide as they could go. Tony took all of him in one, bobbing his head like he was eating a fucking popsicle. Ben swore Tony learned to suck cock from a fucking porn star or something. The first time they messed around, he’d seen stars over and over again. He knew exactly how Ben liked it, suctioning at different spots and licking the tip when he had to come up for air. 

It wasn’t long before Ben was an incoherent fucking mess. His hands laid uselessly by his sides, gripping the sheets tightly. The ones in his left fist had already ripped three times and he was trying to grab another handful when that hand suddenly had to go to his mouth to cover a sinful moan.

Tony was cupping his balls with one hand and pumping the lower part of his cock with the other as his mouth worked the tip. He twisted his wrist and Ben arched violently. He was mumbling incoherently in between moans. Plead after plead, promise after promise. 

“Need you so fuckin’ bad-” 

“Please- Tony-”

“AH-Tony-!” 

Ben felt Tony’s throat close as he sucked harder and harder. Tony moaned around him and only then did Ben realize that he was getting off to this. He was getting himself off to pleasuring Ben. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-ing-ah-” Ben’s eyes rolled back, his hips jerking as he came down Tony’s throat with a hoarse moan. His legs shook and Tony sucked him through it, milking every last drop of pleasure from him. His muscles were sore from being tense for so long, and as soon as his orgasm settled, he was limp in the bed. He heaved, trying to catch his breath as Tony kissed up his body. 

“Did so good for me.” Tony whispered in his ear before planting a firm kiss on his lips. Ben melted into it. He could barely kiss back, but he had a feeling Tony knew how he felt. “I love you, Ben.” 

Ben smiled at him lazily. “Love you too, you fuckin’ tease.” His voice was tired and hoarse from the sounds Tony had pulled out of him. Tony kissed him again. 

He hummed into it. God, he was fucking happy. He had Tony. That's all that mattered.

Chapter Text

Badum.. Badum..

When Ben woke up, he groaned. His body was sore and he felt dirty. The dried blood was still covering his face and hands. He also hadn’t showered after his and Tony’s thorough reunion. 

Tony.

He grumbled, his face was buried in a warm pillow. He shifted. No, not a pillow. He slowly opened his eyes, pushing himself up with one arm. His face had been buried in Tony’s chest, right above his heart. 

Badum.. Badum 

He let a smile flick over his face as he took in his lover with slightly bleary eyes. His hair was a mess, that was Ben’s fault. His injuries were already healing nicely, Ben assumed they’d been inflicted the day of the fight, some sort of torture before he was presented to Ben. The thought made him nauseous. Tony was a fast healer in general. His bruises were faded to a yellowish color and Picasso had a little less to be jealous of. 

Tony’s eyes were closed, his breathing even. He looked so peaceful, God, Ben had missed this. Waking up together. They could only do it so often when he was working for Vought. So many early mornings for commercials and movies and public appearances. He kissed Tony’s shoulder lightly, making his way up to his ear. 

The man under him made a small humming noise and it made Ben’s heart swell. I love you. I love you. I love you, Tony. He kissed just below the other man’s ear. Tony finally grunted, his eyes opening. Ben watched as he came to realize their position. Tony smiled, turning to look at Ben. Their noses were touching, like some shot out of a Marilyn Monroe movie. 

“Hey.” Tony’s voice was low in the mornings, his vocal chords scratchy (and so fucking sexy). Ben huffed a small laugh. “Hey, Tony.” He closed his eyes as Tony swooped in and planted a kiss on his lips. He smiled against the other man’s mouth and kissed him again.

Tony made a noise that had Ben pulling away to listen. “Yeah?” 

“Need a shower more than anything right now.” Tony sighed, his eyes flickering around Ben’s face over and over again. 

“So do I…” Ben gave a smile that he hadn’t smiled in fucking forever. “Guess we’ll have to.. shower together.” 

Tony smirked. “Oh, that really is too bad.” 

Ben hummed and kissed Tony again, his lips were a little dry, but Ben didn’t mind. 

Tony sat up slowly, Ben clinging to him like a fucking koala. Not that anyone would ever know. Tony wrapped an arm around his waist, picked him up - Ben definitely did not make an unmanly sound at that - and walked over to the bathroom. Ben had been so lucky as to storm into a room that a bathroom was connected to. No way he was gonna be carried through the fucking hallways. 

Tony turned the water on. Ben tugged away, urging him to put him down. Tony ignored him. 

“Babe..” He grumbled, pushing off of Tony’s shoulders now, their bare skin pressed together at nearly every angle was awfully stimulating to his cock. 

Tony continued to ignore him as he stepped into the shower. He pressed Ben’s back against the wall. His legs were already wrapped around Tony’s torso, so when their cocks rubbed together, he really shouldn’t have been so surprised. He let out a soft groan and Tony smiled, his eyes glued to Ben’s face as if he needed to see every emotion crossing it. 

Tony pressed a kiss underneath his jaw and Ben immediately tilted his head upward, granting the other Supe better access. Tony moved his hips slowly, teasingly. It had Ben spreading his legs further and biting his lip. 

“Tony.” The name was a gasp, a plea really. Tony silenced him with a firm kiss, his tongue pushing into Ben’s mouth almost immediately. Ben moaned, rocking his hips in time with Tony’s. The hot water made everything feel more intense, the steam building at nearly the same rate of the speed of their thrusts. 

Tony raised Ben slightly, his cock finding its way to Ben’s hole. “Still loose?” He whispered, nibbling at Ben’s earlobe. Ben moaned, nodding, even though he probably wasn’t, Supe healing and all. He didn’t mind a little burn. But, Tony slipped in easily, they fit together like two puzzle pieces. Fucked up puzzle pieces, but the metaphor stood. 

Tony groaned, kissing Ben’s neck as he started moving his hips, thrusting into the pliant body pinned against the wall. Ben was moaning, his hands shaking where they held onto Tony’s shoulders. 

“Tony-” The name was punched out of him as Tony found his prostate, hitting it from the perfect angle. Tony always knew his body so well. His lover watched his face as he picked up the pace, Ben’s face going slack with pleasure. On a particularly hard thrust, Ben’s eyes rolled back and he moaned loudly. 

 
“You’re so fucking perfect. So good. So beautiful. All mine.” Tony growled, kissing Ben roughly as he slammed into him harder and harder. Ben was a mess now, blabbering about being good and begging for release in between moans and gasps. Electricity-like pleasure ran through every vein in his body and it was all he could do not to scream.

Tony pushed Ben’s thighs to his chest and Ben let out a fucking whine , his mouth wide open, turned to the right as Tony plowed into him. 

“Fuck-please-” He gasped, he felt heat spread throughout his limbs, his eyes rolling back. He gave a small moan with each of Tony’s thrusts now, arching into him. He was almost there, his grip around Tony’s shoulders tightening hard enough to bend metal. Tony remained unharmed, though. 

He groaned Tony’s name as he came, shaking violently. Tony fucked him through it, watching his face as he went over the edge. Tony sped up, chasing his own release, still relentlessly pounding Ben’s prostate. 

The pleasure had turned slightly burning now, but Ben only moaned again, sagging against Tony as he felt the other release inside him. He felt lips on his face and he tilted his head so they met his own in a gentle kiss. 

He hummed into it, fucked out and limp against Tony. His lover chuckled, pulling away only to kiss his cheek. “You alright, baby?” 

Ben made a small noise, burying his face in the crook of his neck as he hugged him closer. He felt calloused hands trace patterns onto his back. If he blew up right now he thought he’d die happy. Actually, the explosion wouldn’t kill him. Scratch that.

Tony’s grip on his thighs loosened ever so slightly, letting Ben stand on weak knees. He leaned into Tony, the other holding some of his weight. He sighed at the feeling of hands in his hair, distantly realizing that Tony was washing it for him. 

“Babe, I can-” He shouldn’t be this helpless. Tony was the one who was just rescued. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Tony shut his stubbornness down immediately. “You saved my life, Ben. It’s the least I can do.” 

Ben figured the hands in his hair felt pretty nice, the small amount of tension in his shoulders dissipated when Tony’s fingers started working. He made a small noise of content that made Tony chuckle. 

“You feelin’ ok?” Ben asked, his words slightly muffled by Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony hummed, rubbing a spot on Ben’s head that made him even more weak in the knees. “Better than yesterday. You took good care of me.” 

Ben sighed, satisfied with the answer. “I can’t believe I let them take you.” He said quietly, immediately regretting it when the hands in his hair stilled. 

Tony nudged him, cupping his face. He looked into Tony’s eyes. Blue. Like a hail storm. “Hey. It wasn’t your fault, Ben.” Tony said it like it was common sense. Like Ben saved him. 

Ben swallowed, his eyes darting away from the blue. “I know, I just..” But how was it not his fault? He chose to go to that bar. He chose to take Tony up on his offer to go home with him. He didn’t cut it off even when he thought it would be dangerous for them to be seen together. He’s the reason Tony was ever tortured in the first place. 

The hot water suddenly seemed scalding and his breath came quicker than normal. His knees buckled and he heard Tony shout his name, somewhere off in the distance. It was getting hazy. His vision blurred, dizziness, he thought, or was he crying? He couldn’t tell. Everything was too hot. His chest glowed slightly and he felt the heat in his chest building and building-

The water turned cold and he gasped. He was on his knees on the floor of the shower, Tony was cupping his face, in front of him. He blinked, his vision clearing. Blue. His eyes. Blue. 

“Hey..” Tony whispered, he was wiping Ben’s face. The shampoo, it must’ve gotten in his eyes. “You’re ok.” 

Ben liked it when Tony said that. He always said it like a fact, instead of a question. He nodded in answer anyways. 

“Let’s finish up, ok? Then we’ll eat.” Tony suggested, slicking Ben’s hair back with his fingers. 

Ben nodded. “Yeah, good plan.” He tried to stand, but Tony pulled him back down. 

“I’ll wash you while you sit, just relax..” Tony kissed his cheek and Ben couldn’t have protested if he wanted to. He nodded. 

Tony finished washing his hair and then started on his body. He helped Ben through it, so much that Ben was almost offended. He wasn’t an invalid, he could wash himself. Then again, when was the last time he almost fainted? 

Tony touched him with such care. It had been so long. He couldn’t find it in himself to resist. Ben let him maneuver him any way he needed to, only flinching slightly when Tony washed the cum out of his ass. Fag. He twitched.

Tony’s hands were soothing as they worked out the remaining tense muscles in his back. His touch was firm and comforting, always leaving Ben wanting more. He groaned as Tony knuckled a particularly tough knot, leaning his head onto Tony’s shoulder. 

The shower probably took an hour longer than they had planned it to, but when it was done, they were both washed up. Ben felt like a new man. He kissed Tony in thanks and grabbed a towel, tossing Tony one as well.

“So.. this new fancy team of yours..” Tony started, shaking his hair out. 

“Not my team. Common enemy.” Ben grunted, really not looking forward to the confrontation that would take place soon. 

“Right, well… You been playing nice?” The question was gentle, like he already knew that Ben wasn’t. Ben almost felt bad admitting that he hadn’t been “playing nice” at all. 

He only shrugged, he knew Tony wouldn’t have anything to say about it. He didn’t even know anyone on the “team”. 

He watched as Tony came up behind him in the mirror. He tilted his head to the side, letting him kiss his neck. It brought a small smile to his face. 

“Play nice for me?” Tony asked in a deep voice. 

Goddammit, Ben had not been this horny in a while. Consistently, that is. He just had his brains fucked out last night and again in the shower. At this rate, his legs were going to give out. 

Ben sighed playfully and turned around to face his lover. “If you insist.” 

Tony only kissed him firmly in response and Ben hummed into it, following him as he pulled away. 

“They got a kitchen? I’m starving.” 

Chapter Text

Ben guessed he should’ve been expecting the stupid fucking determined-but-also-scared look on all their faces when Tony and him walked out of the (stolen) room with wet hair. 

Tony paused in the doorway, but Ben marched right in. He slammed open a cupboard and found bread. He looked over, pointedly ignoring the stares from the others. They’d all gone dead quiet as soon as he marched in. There was a toaster. He shrugged, taking the bread out of the bag and shoving two pieces into the rusty thing. It sparked when he pushed the lever down. 

Tony was slowly walking in as well, making his way towards Ben. Ben could fucking feel their gazes bounce between the two of them. He ignored them, staring at the toaster stubbornly. Tony leaned on the counter next to him silently. 

“So..” Fucking Butcher, of course. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben knew Tony cut him a glare, but he wasn’t about to give Butcher any time to talk. He fucking outed him.

“Listen, Gov-” His tone was rougher now, fishing for an argument.

“Butcher, maybe don’t-” Hughie was interjecting, God, did Ben look that pathetic? 

“He’s being a fucking girl abou’ it,” Butcher threw his hands up, gesturing to Ben.

“You outed him, Butcher.” Maeve said, in a cool voice. “He doesn’t want to fucking talk to you.” 

Ben’s eyes remained on the toaster, but he practically heard Tony’s mouth drop open as his lover whipped his head to look at him. He totally forgot to tell him that. He clenched his jaw, not moving his eyes. His fingers dug into the counter, the wood splintered.

No one said anything for a glorious moment. 

Then, Hughie stood up. “You must be Tony. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Hughie.” 

The toaster popped and Ben grabbed the two slices of bread, slathering on some butter before handing one to Tony. 

Tony took the toast and smiled at Hughie. Ben lifted his eyes away from the toaster, turning to face everyone. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He pressed his shoulder against Ben’s. Ben took a bite of his toast, glancing at Hughie. 

“I’m Annie, or Starlight.” The blondie said, thankfully not sounding that much like a bitch. She stood up, next to her cocksucker boyfriend. They looked like those virginal couples at bible camps that Ben was forced to speak at during his time with Vought. Projecting a “christian image” was good for publicity.

“Maeve.” The redhead sounded bored, but shot Tony a smirk. She was drinking whiskey at nine in the morning. Ben decided that he officially liked her.

“Mother’s Milk, MM.” Beefcake muttered, giving a nod. 

“Frenchie, and this is Kimiko.” Frenchie gestured to his girl, who waved silently. 

“Butcher.” The British fuck almost made Ben see red from that one goddamn word. His grip on the counter tightened again until Tony pressed his shoulder more firmly to his. 

“Nice to meet you all.” Tony nodded, glancing around the room. “Thanks for managing this one.” He playfully nudged Ben and the latter smirked softly. His grip on the counter loosened.

More silence. Tony took a bite of his toast. Maeve took a sip of her whiskey. Butcher clicked his tongue.

“I-if you don’t mind me asking, how long have you two been together?” Hughie asked, nervously glancing between them. He was shaking in his fucking boots. 

“Why?” Ben asked right away, squinting at him. Why the fuck did they want to know that?

“I just-” Hughie floundered, waving his hands defensively.

“Ben, it’s fine.” Tony urged, softly. “We were together for a few years before we got.. Separated.” Ben swallowed as he felt a hand on his back, rubbing soft circles. 

Separated. What a way to say that they faked his boyfriend’s death by setting his house on fire and then captured him and tortured him for forty years while simultaneously torturing Ben in another country. Yeah…. Separated.

Maeve whistled, taking another swig from her bottle. “Damn, committed.” She winked at Ben and he smirked. 

Tony turned to gaze at Ben lovingly and Ben did his best not to melt into a fucking puddle in front of everyone. 

Just then, the kid wandered into the room. Bedhead and all. Ben immediately tensed and he felt Tony’s gaze sharpen, burning into his head. The hand that was rubbing circles on his back now pressed flatly into him, the feeling was warm.

“Ryan, you’re up.” Butcher said, standing up to greet the kid. He ruffled the already messy hair and made a few breakfast suggestions. 

The day before, Ben couldn’t look at him. Now his gaze was stuck to him. He could see the shape of his own face in the kid. There really shouldn’t be that much resemblance because they were a generation apart. 

The kid’s eyes met his for a moment and he looked away. 

“Who’s that?” The kid’s voice was soft, innocent as fuck. 

I killed your dad. Was the only thing that was going through Ben’s head.

“Tony. Nice to meet you, Ryan.” Tony smiled, despite the obvious tension in the air. 

The kid looked between Ben and Tony for a minute. He tilted his head. 

“Do you know Grandpa?” 

And if that didn’t steal the air out of Ben’s fucking lungs. Hi, Grandpa. Goddammit. This kid doesn't know him, but so readily accepts him as family. He doesn’t deserve that kind of devotion from an innocent little fucking kid. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Family. Fuck this. Fuck Ben. 

Ben scrubbed a hand over his face. Everyone remained silent, watching the interaction play out. The hand lady was signing something to her French boyfriend and Ben was suddenly a little bit dizzy. 

Tony nodded in response. “Yes.. we’re together, Ryan.” He gave a small smile as the boy’s eyebrows knitted. 

“What do you mean?” The way he tilted his head was so similar to one of Ben’s that Tony had to pause for a moment. 

“Well, your grandfather and I are dating.” Tony told him. What a weird goddamn sentence. The hand on Ben’s back resumed the circles. He sighed and took another bite of toast.

“Oh. That’s allowed?” The kid looked up at Butcher, as if wanting his approval for accepting their relationship. Not that Ben blamed him. It wasn’t common, especially considering what he’d heard about Homelander’s perspective on gay people. He was probably brainwashing the kid. 

Another reason you had to kill him. Stop feeling bad already.

“Yeh, you bet, Ryan.” Butcher said, giving a toothy smile. Ben glared, shoving the last of his toast into his mouth. 

Fuck you, Butcher.

The kid said “huh” and shrugged, going to get yogurt from the small, sparky fridge. Ben watched him, he accidentally ripped the handle off of it and it made an awful croaking noise. 

“Shit.” Butcher muttered, taking the broken piece from Ryan. 

Ryan apologized softly, looking like a damn puppy as Butcher told him to go eat his yogurt. The domestic scene was too much and Ben walked right out of the fucking kitchen, Tony ran after him. 

I killed my son. I killed my son. 

“Fuck!” He kicked their room door down, walking in and falling onto the bed. He buried his head in a pillow that smelled like Tony, feeling is eyes sting for the millionth fucking time in three days. God, this family shit was already starting to puss-ify him. 

Tony walked in after him calmly, shutting the (now broken) door. 

“Babe?” His voice was calm and fucking perfect. “Talk to me.” 

Ben felt him lay down next to him. He shook his head. 

“This is just..” He took his face out of the pillow, looking at Tony. “So fucked.” Back to the pillow his face goes, because if he looks at those eyes too long he breaks. He doesn't want to break again. Not today, anyways. 

“Yeah..” Tony’s hand is on his back, drawing small patterns. 

“I used to want.. kids.” Ben sighed, again picking up his face to look at Tony. So much for not breaking. “A few.. little boys.” He smiled barely, his gaze somewhere far off. 

“I’d teach them how to throw a football and you’d teach them how to.. I don’t know.. fucking sew or whatever that patchwork shit is..” 

“Embroidery.” Tony supplied, his patterns never stopping. 

“Eh, that’s what I said.” Ben shrugged.

They shared a smile for a moment. Blue. 

“I always thought I could do it better than my dad.” Ben looked away, picking at the edge of the pillowcase. It was fraying into a thousand little strings. “Hell of a job I did.” 

You have us. You have me. 

Fuck. 

“Hey.” Tony’s hands were in his hair. “You did what you had to do.” Tony tilted his face so he was forced to look at him. “What he turned out to be was not your fault. That was all Vought, honey.”

Ben swallowed, nodding slightly in his lover’s grip. “I know.. I just..” His eyes unfocused, picturing Homelander as a naive fucking kid. In a fucking lab. Doctors instead of parents. If Ben was there, he’d have never let that happen. Not in a million fucking years. 

But he wasn’t. He was being tortured in fucking Russia of all places. Convenient fucking timing. 

“I just wish I could’ve.. raised a kid. Turns out my only son didn’t even fucking have parents.” Ben swallowed. “And I know he was bad, I know that.. Fuck, he fucking hurt you.” 

It was quiet for a moment, he could hear Tony’s heartbeat. It was slightly faster than normal. Anticipating something.

“But?” Tony asked, caressing Ben’s cheeks. 

“But how could they fucking do that to him?” Ben felt his face scrunch. “It wasn’t his fault he was so fucked in the head.” 

“I guess so.” Tony said, sounding hesitant. The hands on his face began to pull away.

“Still glad I killed him. No one hurts you and lives, you know that.” The hands were back as soon as he said that. Tony was what mattered. Tony was his family.

Tony kissed him. 

He kissed back. 

“I love you, Tones.” 

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Tony was resting. Ben had insisted on it, as the Supe’s injuries still weren’t fully healed. He was practically on top of Tony, his head on his chest. It was times like this that Ben wished he didn’t have Supe hearing. He could hear every fucking word of the conversation the fuckers in the kitchen were having.

“Tony seems nice.” Hughie said, sounding like he was trying to be cheerful. That was what initially drew Ben to listen in on their conversation.

“Yeah, he does.” Ryan’s voice made Ben’s chest tighten slightly. “Does he have powers?” The kid asked, Ben bet he was darting his eyes between all of the adults, trying to get a read on their collective reaction.

“Yeah, ‘e does, some flamin’ shit.” Butcher was probably preoccupied with something if he wasn’t talking to Ryan like he was the most precious thing on earth. Ben felt jealousy spark in him. Ryan was his grandson. If anyone was watching out for him, it should be Ben.

“Fire powers? That’s so cool!” Ryan sounded starstruck and Ben smiled, just to himself. He was glad Ryan approved. He was also glad no one was giving him shit about liking men. So far, anyway.

Beefcake spoke up. “I think it’s good he has someone to keep him stable. Won’t have to worry about him blowin’ up all the goddamn time.”

Butcher made a disagreeable noise. “Eh, that cunt blows up because of his PTSD, but I guess he hasn’t blown up since we found his bloke, ‘eh?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. He did not having fucking shell shock. Fuck Butcher for bringing it up.

Maeve’s voice pitched in. “He has PTSD? Like for real?” She sounded only slightly surprised, like she had just assumed Ben was insane or something. She also sounded concerned, Ben chose to ignore that part.

“Yup, I guess they played music while they chiseled away at ‘is unbreakable form, or somefin.” He was speaking quietly, like he didn’t want Ryan to hear. Ben had to strain to hear him.

“Wow, tough guy, I guess.” He heard the bottle swish as Maeve took a sip of alcohol. Ben huffed into Tony’s chest, stilling when the other stirred.

Tony settled and Ben hugged him closer. He was so fucking warm. Ben always thought it had something to do with his powers, but Tony insisted that he had always run abnormally warm, even before his V injection.

Ben didn’t mind one bit. He would be content if he could snuggle into Tony and sleep with him forever. Drifting far away from this awful, fucked up world that they happened to be fucking born into.

Unfortunately, his stomach had other plans. It had been almost five hours since he’d had one singular piece of toast for breakfast. He was a big guy, and eating only one piece of toast was a bad fucking idea. He could feel himself craving something solid. A meal. Oh, and water. He had not drank any water today.

“Fuck me.” He mumbled into Tony’s chest.

“If you insist.” The waking grumble startled him slightly and he pushed up on his arms slightly.

“Tony, hey, babe.” He felt a cheesy fucking smile spread across his face. He leaned in and kissed him.

Tony reciprocated enthusiastically. Ben swore that having Tony’s tongue in his mouth would always be the best feeling ever. Tony’s mouth was definitely one of his best features. Ben groaned as Tony held him, not letting him break away from the kiss until he desperately needed air.

Ben was panting slightly, looking down at him. “What was that for?” He smirked, gazing into blue eyes.

Tony rolled over, so Ben was underneath him. “Just showing you how much I love you, Ben.” Tony kissed him again, deeper this time. Ben moaned quietly, letting Tony’s hand spread his legs.

“Tony-wait-” He grunted, moaning when Tony palmed him through thin pants.

The hand stilled, but didn’t relieve any pressure. “Yeah?” Tony nuzzled at his jaw, planting soft kisses.

“I-mm” Ben shifted, wiggling his hips slightly. “‘M hungry.”

Tony perked up at this. “Wanna make grilled cheese sandwiches together?” His hand was still resting on Ben’s cock.

Ben smiled, nodding. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Tony’s smile took on a more mischievous shape and Ben swallowed. “Can I make you cum first?” Tony whispered in his ear, his tongue flicking out to wet Ben’s earlobe.

Ben made a helpless noise. He nodded eagerly.

“Words, baby.” Lips behind his ear, right fucking there.

“Yeah- yes, please.” Ben did not fucking whimper, but his voice was a little bit high pitched when he spoke.

“Manners, such a good boy.” Tony said, pulling back to look Ben in the eyes as he massaged his clothed cock.

“Ah- Tony..” Ben gasped at the feeling, warmth spreading throughout his limbs. “F-feels good.”

“Gonna give you a handjob, and you’re gonna look at me when you cum, ok?” Tony said it so matter-of-factly that Ben could do nothing but nod and moan.

Tony pulled Ben’s pants down, so the waistband was at the midpoint of his thighs. “You’re so pretty. My beautiful boy.”

Ben felt heat creep up his neck. He fucking loved it when Tony talked to him like that. Like he was a fucking treasure.

“I love you so much, baby.” Tony wrapped a hand around his dick and Ben let out a breath he’d been holding. His breath was becoming shallow. Tony’s face was so close to his, he felt like he could dive into the fucking blue puddles that were his eyes. But Tony wasn’t kissing him, just talking, telling him everything he knew made Ben hot and bothered.

“You’re such a good boy..” Tony started moving his hand, slick from something, Ben realized he hadn’t been paying that much attention. He groaned softly, opening his legs wider.

“You saved me, I need you, Ben.” Tony kissed along his jawline, Ben bucked into the hand as it sped up, he made a whining noise that he wasn’t particularly proud of.

A hand came up, gripping his face softly. “Can you say that you’re a good boy?” Tony’s thumb caressed his cheek and the hand on his cock was speeding up steadily.

Ben hummed, his eyes half lidded. “I’m a good boy.” He said quietly, his cheeks flushed. He held onto Tony’s wrist with one hand and the other laid uselessly by his side, twitching every now and then.

Tony smiled kindly. “So perfect, baby. You’re so gorgeous.” He kissed Ben softly, tenderly. Ben fucking whimpered into it, his shoulders sagging.

“I fucking love you.” He gasped out as soon as Tony pulled away from this kiss.

Tony chuckled. “I fucking love you too, Ben.” He sped up his hand, Ben’s mouth dropped open and his eyes shut at the new pace set. The pleasure made his body pulse with arousal, his cock was leaking and Tony’s hands were so fucking warm.

Only a few minutes later, Ben felt warmth building in the lower part of his abdomen. He moaned, thrusting into the warmth of his lover’s hand.

“Tony.. please.” His free hand gripped his lover’s shoulder as his body tensed.

“Asking so nice, baby.” Tony’s voice was so low and sexy and patient and kind, it had Ben right on the fucking edge. “Look at me.” The hand on Ben’s face squeezed slightly.

Ben’s eyes blinked open. He locked eyes with Tony, waiting for something that gave him permission. Blue.

“Please-” He gasped, his grip on Tony’s shoulder tightening.

“Cum for me, baby boy.” Tony licked his lips, staring at him.

With that, Ben came hard. He tried to maintain eye contact, but his eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head and around again like a fucking merry-go-round. He let out a noise that was between a gasp and a groan, thankfully not the most audible of noises, but one of pleasure nonetheless.

He knew Tony was watching him the whole time. Once, Tony had recorded his face during sex, just to show him what he looked like when he came. Ben was fucking embarrassed about it and made him delete it right after, but he could say that he looked like a fucking God when he came. He was already hot, but the pleasure on his face just looked right.

Tony’s hand didn’t stop until he was milked fucking dry and moaning the syllables of Tony’s name.

He sagged as he was finished, his toes uncurling and his muscles relaxing. Tony peppered him with kisses. He swallowed, feeling boneless. He was on fucking cloud nine. He had the best fucking boyfriend ever.

“Love you.” Ben said, in between his panting breaths.

Tony pulled back and hit him with that dazzling fuckign smile again. Blue.

“I love you, Ben.” Tony planted a kiss on his lips, which he was happy to return. “So how about that grilled cheese?”

Ben chuckled, kissing Tony again.

Tony cleaned him up, Ben still feeling like he was floating.

His stomach growled as Tony kissed his shoulder. Tony chuckled, smiling up at him. Ben smirked, sitting up.

“Let’s get you a sandwich, baby.” Tony tossed his shirt and Ben groaned when it hit him in the face.

They walked out into the kitchen once they were dressed. Ben ran a hand through his hair, taking a breath.

It always brought his mood down, coming out here. Everyone either hated his guts or was afraid of him. Except for Maeve, she seemed to match his energy pretty well.

Ben barged into the kitchen like he was hurricane Katrina, a box of cereal fell off the counter when he passed by. Tony caught it and put it back.

“So what’s the goddamn plan, huh?” Ben’s voice was loud as he addressed the few people still sitting in the kitchen.

It was Maeve, Butcher and Ryan. He didn’t fucking care where the hell the others were. The blonde bitch and cocksucker were probably fucking in the car, if they weren’t both still virgins. Beefcake wasn’t fucking here, probably doing some meditation bullshit so he didn’t swing at Ben for murdering his family.

Fuck.

What if he was unstable?

Tony’s hand on his shoulder distracted him from that train of thought.

“Fuck do ya mean, mate?” Butcher asked, glaring at Ben.

“I mean are we fucking staying here or what?” Ben asked, scrounging around for a fucking pan. Why were there no fucking pans?

Tony found one in a cupboard near the oven and handed it to Ben. Ben gave him a smile that no one else could see.

He felt the others staring at him like he was in a fucking zoo.

“Well, we’re laying low, gotta see what Vought says about Homelander.” Maeve said, crunching a peanut between her teeth.

Ben nodded, turning on the oven and throwing some bread onto the pan. Enough for two.

“What are you making?” Ryan looked up from a giant textbook Butcher was pointing at.

Ben froze, still facing the stove, away from the table.

The bread sizzled, Ben distantly though he should add the cheese now. He didn’t move.

“Grilled cheese!” Tony said cheerfully, only pitching in when he realized Ben couldn’t answer.

Ben nodded, turning back around to get some cheese. He added it slowly, with measured movements, like he was disabling a bomb instead of making a sandwich.

“Can you make me one?” Ryan’s voice was small, shy. Like he thought the lack of eye contact from
Ben was a cue to shut up.

Tony didn’t answer this time, looking over to Ben.

Ben’s throat was dry but he nodded. He turned to the side so Ryan could see his face well enough. “Yeah, sure.”

He glanced up and the small glimpse of Ryan’s smile made his chest tighten. He turned back to the oven so the kid didn’t see how he smiled back.

Best if he doesn’t get close.

He added more bread to the pan, clenching his jaw as it sizzled.

Tony was watching him, a strange look in his eyes. He squinted and tilted his head, like he was trying to read Ben’s mind.

Ben glanced at him, flipping the sandwiches over.

It was weirdly silent until Ben was done making the sandwiches, cutting them in half and putting them on plates.

He took a breath before turning around and walking over to the table. He slid a plate over to Ryan, who smiled. “Awesome!”

His mouth ticked upwards, nodding.

“Can you get me some water, Soldier Boy?” He looked up after taking a large bite of the sandwich.

Ben’s eyebrows raised and his brain stuttered. “Uh.. yeah.”

He walked back to the cupboard, getting a glass and filling the cup from the fancy fucking implant in the fridge. Tony showed him how to do that.

Ryan giggled when Ben cussed out the thing for spitting ice everywhere.

Ben’s mouth quirked up again and slid the glass of water over to him. He stood there for a moment, watching as Ryan took a sip.

“Ok..” he mumbled to himself, going to get plates for Tony and himself. Tony kissed his cheek and he grumbled again.

Maeve smiled at their antics and crunched another peanut between her teeth.

Ben caught her eye and huffed. She smiled wider.

“Wow, mate. Didn’t know ya could cook.” Butcher commented, seeming impressed.

Ben didn’t answer.

“Yeah, he’s still fuckin pissed at you, Butcher.” Maeve chuckled.

Butcher huffed. “He’ll get over it.”

“Get over what?” Ryan asked, mouth full.

“Nothing.” Ben said, stuffing his own face with his sandwich as he turned the stovetop off.

Tony smiled sympathetically and rubbed Ben’s shoulder. Ben glanced at him, chewing and sighing at the same time.

“Has Vought really not said anything?” Tony asked quietly, like he was afraid to end the peaceful moment.

“Bunch of bullshit, nothing about Homelander.” Maeve reached for the remote. The TV was set up across the room, a sofa in front of it. She twisted her wrist to angle the remote the right way and clicked it on.

And just Ben’s fucking luck, Stan Edgar was giving a goddman speech. He clenched his jaw.

“This threat is not one to be taken lightly.”

That sentence made them all focus on the TV. Stan’s voice was suddenly the only thing echoing around the room.

“Homelander was severely injured by the terrorist group known as The Boys.” It was clear he didn’t take the name seriously, a small, smug smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. Ben grit his teeth. He hated that fucking smirk.

“Injured?” Ben whispered to himself. Did Homelander survive? His breath picked up.

Goddammit. God fucking dammit.

Tony rubbed his arm, Ben couldn’t fucking breathe.

“This group consists of a few former members of the Seven, Starlight and Queen Maeve, a British criminal known as Butcher, a man called Mothers Milk, and Hughie Campbell who is the boyfriend of Starlight.”

“Shit.” Maeve said, the peanuts in her hand crumbled when she clenched her fist.

“They also have captured and are holding hostage multiple persons of interest. Including the Homelanders son, Ryan, a Supe by the name of Tony Novak, and the former leader of Payback, the war hero Soldier Boy.”

That got a reaction out of the crowd, the people at the press conference started firing questions like fucking bazookas.

“Jesus fuck.” Ben facepalmed and Butcher let out a disbelieving laugh.

“So.. he’s alive.” Maeve looked at Ben, who met her gaze with a resigned expression.

“Fuck.” Butcher said, his voice quiet.

“Fuck.” Ryan repeated, his mouth was still half stuffed.

“Fuck is right, kid.” Ben said, sighing. “Fuck is right.”

Chapter Text

“So..” Hughie stuttered “H-he’s not dead?” 

They were all gathered in the kitchen, Beefcake was hovering in the doorway. Cocksucker sat at the table, his face pale and his voice thin. His girl had one of her unbelievably small hands placed on his shoulder in some kind of lackluster comfort. Maeve was still crunching her peanuts, if more angrily. Butcher sat with his elbows on the table, pressing his chin into his folded knuckles. Ben and Tony leaned against the counter, facing the table. French bitch and Finger Lady were leaning against the ratty couch.

Tony was pressed so far into him that they’d gotten a few weird looks when the others had come in. 

Ryan was sent to his room. It involved him, sure, but that didn’t mean he should have to hear this shit about his dad. 

“How the fuck is he not dead?!” Maeve slammed her fist on the table and Hughie jumped. 

Ben was silent. 

How the hell could Homelander have survived? He ripped his head clean off. Blood was still staining under Ben’s fingernails, He shook his head. 

“Maybe you didn’t kill him as much as you thought you did.” Beefcake spoke up, crossing his arms as he looked at Ben. 

“I ripped that bastard's head clean off.” Ben snapped. “It was completely separated from his body, I thought maybe that would fuckin’ kill him.” 

“Oh yeah? How do we know that?” Beefcake’s voice started to rise and Ben grit his teeth. 

“Saw ‘im. He’s tellin’ the truth, gov” Butcher said, raising his voice enough to be commanding. 

“Yeah.. he was definitely ripped up.” Maeve threw a peanut against the wall. It made a small dent. 

“How the hell could he have healed from that?” Star-shine-blondie sounded exasperated, like she was demanding to see the manager after an underpaid McDonalds employee fucked up her vegan hamburger by taking out the vegan part.

“Maybe some of his powers are like Kimiko.” French guy spoke up, as his girlfriend waved her hands around like she was at a fucking rave. “Regeneration.”

Ben facepalmed. That was the last thing they needed. Indestructible and regenerative. 

“I can’t believe this.” He grumbled, Tony traced a line down his arm.

“You and me bof, gov.” Butcher tossed out, digging one of his knuckles into his temple. 

For a moment it was silent except for the sound of the fridge creaking as it automatically made more small cubes of ice. The same sound that Ben had entered the kitchen to this morning. So much was different now. 

How would he face him? He’d ripped his only son's head off. Killed him. Or almost did. 

Ben felt a swirling in his chest. Hate, guilt, yearning, longing, something he might consider akin to love. 

How was he supposed to feel? Homelander was a kid compared to Ben, if equally powered. In everything else, he really didn’t know how similar they were. He didn’t know the kids favorite food or what time he used to go to bed. He didn’t know if he ever got to go outside when he was a kid or if they kept him shut in the lab until he was old enough to slap on a fake smile. He didn’t know if blonde was his natural hair color or if he bleached it because Stan Edgar told him to. He didn’t know his mother, not well anyways. From what he hears, Homelander didn’t know her either. 

And Ben wants more than anything to know those things. To have memories of tucking him in, playing catch in the yard, unlike Ben’s dad, who never did. “Too busy” he’d say and Ben would throw the mitt against the wall - his dad wouldn’t even notice the dent it made. 

He wants to learn the kids favorite food and hear about his time growing up in an awful place. He wants to ask him what haircut he wants while they’re driving in the car on their way to the salon. He wants to protect him and shield him from anything that might hurt him. 

But then there was the problem. Ben had hurt him. He ripped his head off. Because he hurt Tony. 

And that’s what it all circles back to. 

He’d chosen Tony over his only son. Over the family he’d desperately hoped for for years. He’s chosen his blue over his red.

There was no going back now. So no matter how much his chest ached when he saw that fake, white smile. No matter how much he saw his own image in Homelander’s self assured bravado way of carrying himself. No matter how much he wished he could’ve stitched his head back on himself, he can’t give in. Because that man isn’t his son. He was made in a fucking lab. He’s not his. Not really. That’s what Butcher said. 

Since when does Soldier Boy listen to fucking Butcher? 

Since he’s right. This one time. He’s right.

Then he thinks of Ryan and it gets complicated again. Because if he says Homelander isn’t his, then Ryan can’t be either. But Ryan has Butcher. He doesn’t need Ben, not really, anyways. 

Ben tries to separate the two mini-hims in his mind. Ryan isn’t like his father. Not yet. Ben can still… still what? Be there for him? For how long? What if Ryan gets ripped apart by his own father because Ben sabotaged his belief in family? 

Ryan is not his father. Just like Homelander isn’t really Ben’s. It’s a technicality, an environmental aspect. Ben jerked off into a cup, he didn’t lovingly fuck Homelander’s mother like people do when they’re trying to make a child. 

Then again, maybe that’s why Homelander’s so fucked up. Because of the disconnect from the very beginning. If Ben had fought against his own team a little harder, maybe he could’ve been there. Maybe he could’ve saved him from growing up like an animal and feeling the need to become one to survive. 

Ben shook his head. This was all too much. Why’d it have to be him? All he wanted was a few rugrats running around and Tony kissing his neck in the morning. He’d make pancakes and the kids would screech in delight. And Tony would hand him his coffee and they’d watch their kids chow down on pancakes as they made their lunches. 

Being a Supe sucks. Ben should’ve just died in Russia. It’d be better if they just found a corpse rotting in that tank. Then none of this would happen.

Then again, they’d probably all be dead. Without Ben, they were powerless against Homelander. And then Ryan would be like his father. And it would be Ben’s fault for dying. 

“What are we going to do?” Maeve asked the room, her nails digging rivets into the wooden table. 

Tony frowned, pitching in. “Well if we can’t kill him..” He looked at Ben. “We’ll have to knock him out.”

Ben’s eyebrows knitted. The gas.

“We don’t even know if that works on him.” He pointed out gruffly. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to try.” Tony said, looking at Ben like he was searching for something in his eyes. 

“What? What won’t work?” Starshine happy pants demanded, looking like she wanted to strut over, but hesitating. Pussy. 

“The gas that knocks me out.” He grunted, looking down at her. “Novichok gas. Kills normal people, but it’s a fuckin’ nap for me, not sure how different this Homelander is, but… it might work.” He shrugged, looking around the room. 

Beefcake snapped, pointing his finger at Ben. “That’s the shit that knocked you out in the video.”

“And the shit you were gonna knock me out with earlier, yeah.” Ben glared, if they were gonna act like they weren’t trying to kill him before he helped with Homelander, fine. But he wasn’t. 

Beefcake squinted his dark eyes and raised his chin defiantly. Starshine’s face turned a little red. Maeve smirked. Cocksucker huffed. Butcher rolled his eyes. Frenchie cringed and Kimiko made a face.

“They did what?” It was Tony.

Ben didn’t hear Tony angry often. In fact, he was typically the one who kept Ben’s head on. Tony was soothing and strong, and his eyes were blue. He was steady where Ben was rocky and he was calm where Ben was temperamental. 

Except for when Ben was threatened. If there was a threat to himself, Tony took it lightly. But Ben was his world. There was no one else but him. If Tony were to hate everything about everything, he would still find a way to love some aspect of Ben. He worshiped his body as it was meant to be, Ben was the most beautiful person Tony had ever seen. He soothed and he calmed and whispered sweet things into Ben’s ear that made his stupid fucking man-bravado crack into a soft smile and a slow, desperate kiss. He said things that made Ben’s eyes light up and he knew just how to keep him on the edge and make him beg with high pitched whines before letting him tip over. 

When Ben was threatened, Tony changed into a different person. He felt the rage sizzling under his skin. It slowly turned external, his fist lighting up in a ball of fire. 

“What did you do to him?” His voice was dangerously low and Ben’s eyes fell to the floor. Even he couldn’t stop Tony’s wrath. Tony’d teach him a lesson for not telling him sooner when they were alone later. Ben swallowed as he thought of what was awaiting him. 

“He’s an unstable motherfucker, we were gonna.. subdue him.” Beefcake said, obviously unbothered and angered by the display of power. 

“Subdue him? You were gonna put him back in that fucking box, like the goddamn Russians did?” His gravelly voice seemed to echo through the small space, the flame in his hand growing larger. 

Starla’s eyes flickered yellowish-white, the lights above head went in and out. “Tony.. let’s calm down.” She was clenching her fists. Ben had to keep from snorting. As if she could beat Tony. 

Tony’s eyes blazed to life, fire swirling in his iris’. “You were going to hurt him.” 

“Oi! But we didn’t, yeah, mate?” Butcher yelled, waving his hands to capture Tony’s attention. “Soldier Boy, get your bloody attack dog.” 

“Because you need him.” Tony growled, his hands held the flames consistently, the smell of smoke rose into the air. “What happens when you don’t anymore?” 

Next is the hair, Ben thought. And he was right. Tony’s midnight-colored hair lit up like a match, his dark locks standing straight up. He stayed silent, Tony couldn’t burn him. He wanted to know the answer to the question. 

“Hey, just- calm down.” Hughie stood, holding his hands out placatingly. 

“Answer the question.” Tony demanded, his flames flaring for a moment before coming down to more of a simmer. His whole body was lit up, like a bunch of small candles decorating his body. 

“We don’t know, ok? We haven’t planned that far ahead.” Beefcake said, his voice now rising, realizing the intensity of the situation. 

“Not good enough!” Tony stomped his foot and flames flared outwards, only enough for everyone to flinch back and for Ben to feel his sweatpants get singed. 

He decided now was probably the time to step in. “Tony.” He put a hand on a flaming shoulder. The flames flared, Ben’s hand felt excruciatingly hot. If he could burn, all his skin would have been stuck to Tony when he peeled his hand off his shoulder. “Tony we’ll figure it out, ok?” He whispered, leaning in even as the flames licked his eyebrows. 

Tony’s flames died down slightly, but he was still vengeful, his glare seeming to burn holes in each person’s head. Frenchie and Kimiko had crossed to the other side of the room. Maeve stared at the two of them. Hughie hid behind his bitchy girlfriend, who was still lit up like a virgin on rapture day. Ben’s hand burned. Well, not really, but it certainly felt like it. Tony burned red and yet, he was still blue, he was still Ben’s blue. He was still there. They were still there. They were ok.

The flames died down slowly, Ben didn’t take his hand off of his shoulder, squeezing once or twice. He’d burned off most of his clothes, save for half his shirt and his boxers. His boots were scorched beyond repair and the bracelet he’d been wearing (twist ties, a gift from Ryan) had sizzled into charcoal and fallen to the ground. 

“You will not touch him.” His voice was clear and definitive. A command, a powerful declaration. Like he was a God disgusted by his own creations. 

“You got it, gov.” Butcher said with a sigh, undoubtedly glad the intense exchange was over. 

A bead of sweat dropped down MM’s face, he made brief eye contact with Ben. 

Fuck.

Chapter Text

When Ben first met Tony, he was 26. 

Ben was sat on a couch in the middle of a bustling club, in the middle of a pile of drop dead gorgeous women, one of which was pouring a shot of vodka into his mouth. 

It was the celebration of winning the war. Neon letters lit up the sign on the wall; “September 12, 1945”. The war had ended only ten days before. There was some official fucking gala beforehand that almost made Ben fall asleep. The after party was where it was at.

Ben was high out of his fucking mind. He’d taken pills, smoked a few joints, he was feeling fucking fantastic. The women cooed and giggled as he took shot after shot out of the glasses from their painted fingertips. 

He gave the closest dame a rugged smile and a wink as he knocked back another- she was the most blinding kind of blonde and she wore a black dress, which contrasted nicely with her pale skin. Ben might’ve noticed how gorgeous she was if he cared at all to look. She kissed his neck as his head tipped back, letting the liquid burn its way down his throat.

He made a noise as the shot glass was taken from his lips. He closed his eyes and tilted his head down to capture her lips with his. She smiled into it and kissed him eagerly, all tongue and scraping teeth. It was messy, but normal for him. No one wanted a sweetheart out of Soldier Boy. 

He felt another dame start mouthing his neck and all he could think about is how fucking hot this room was. He was still fully dressed in his Supe-suit and thankfully his cowl had been discarded. 

He heard a whistle from somewhere to his left and he pulled away reluctantly. That was how the suits got his attention. Like a fucking dog. Fuck them. 

He opened his eyes and someone he probably saw before was glaring at him. It was an old, balding man with big fucking belly. Ben thought he’d seen him at some meeting at Vought one time. 

The man beckoned him over and Ben sighed. What does it take to let him have a good time?

He grunted and kissed the girls both one more time before lifting both of them off of him and setting them on the couch. They shrieked and giggled, it grated on his eardrums. 

“Sorry, sugar, honey, duty calls.” He gave them both a wink and sauntered over to the suited guy, who had glasses bigger than his fucking face. 

“Whaddaya want?” Ben asked, his head was still fucking spinning. He was so fucking drunk. And high. 

A water bottle was shoved into his chest. “Sober up.” The man sounded impatient, and it made Ben raise a stubborn eyebrow. 

“Why?” The one word was slurred, his vision was hazy. 

“We have a certain.. guest that would like to meet with you.” He said awkwardly, looking around the room like someone was gonna faint and he needed to catch them. 

“A guest, huh?” He chugged half of the water bottle and wiped off the excess on his lip. 

The man nodded. “She is a.. big fan, but she is also.. well known. Respect is a core thing to consider when conversing with her.” 

“What are you, a fucking Brit? Converse? Shut the fuck up.” Ben’s head was clearing slightly, his Supe metabolism working overtime to clear the alcohol. 

The man pursed his lips. “She’d like to meet in a private room.”

Ben smirked, his mind immediately going to his mouth on hers, skin against skin. 

“Not-! Ok.. just, follow me.” The man sighed and led Ben to a room where the party music seemed far away. He could think again. He did not like thinking. 

The suit opened the door and walked inside, beckoning Ben to follow him. 

He stepped inside. It was a small fucking room, a bed and a nightstand crammed into a corner. The walls were as plain and fucking boring as snow in winter. 

In the middle of a room stood a small woman. She was all made up, with a dress and gloves, real ladylike. Ben didn’t think much of her. 

Then he realized who it was. 

“Cindy Kaper?” He whispered, his eyes widening. She was his favorite fucking movie star. He wasn’t quiet about it either. 

He looked at the suit, who was now smirking. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He walked out. Ben set his water bottle down. 

“Wow.. uh..” He looked at her again, she looked like the star she was. 

“I’ve been dying to meet you.” She smiled at him, her teeth were fucking blinding white. Her teeth were good for a Brit.

He nodded, usually he’d be all over her. But he was a little star struck. “Really?” 

“Yeah.. you’re real brave, fighting all those Germans.” She looked at him, stepping closer. “I um.. I think you’re quite handsome.” 

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” His bravado was making its way back to him, slowly, but surely. 

She giggled, setting her pearl-colored bag next to his water bottle. “Why thank you.” 

They stared at each other for a moment.

He kissed her hungrily and she gasped, latching her claws onto his shoulders as he picked her up, pressing her into the wall. 

The sex was rough and desperate. Clawing and biting and using each other for their own pleasure. Ben’s thrusts were dramatic and her moans were louder than she meant for them to be. He kissed her like he did all the women he’d ever kissed, demanding and deep. She didn’t let him take her over so easily, kissing back with just as much dominance. 

He suddenly felt dizzy. There was something wrong. Jesus, his vision was going fuzzy. He pulled away slightly. They were both naked and panting. He was still buried inside her. 

She grunted, unsatisfied. “Why’d you stop, baby?” 

He swallowed, his tongue felt like cotton, his eyes suddenly so heavy…

He blinked. Her blinding teeth were there. “Oh is it finally kicking in? I didn’t think it’d work on you.” 

His brow furrowed as he made a confused noise, unable to resist as she pushed him onto his back. 

“The water, love.” 

His hazed mind found some clarity as she told him. She drugged his water bottle.

What the fuck? He wanted to ask out loud, but his mouth wasn’t listening to him. 

“I just wondered what you’d look like when you’re all open for me..” 

He scowled, he wasn’t open for anyone. No one got to see him that way. 

“An aphrodisiac mixed with a strong, strong drug for a strong, strong man.. well it’s just perfect.” She started moving against him again, making him arch into her. It felt so good. 

He made a noise that was strained, his hands laying uselessly by his head as she intertwined their fingers. 

“Relax, dear. I’m your favorite movie star, aren’t I?” She licked along his throat and he let his eyes roll back. 

“Eh-huuu uh- wh-“ he grumbled, trying to say something, anything, yell to get someone’s attention. 

“Shhh” She kissed him as she sped up her movements, riding him faster and faster. She pulled back to smile at him as he bit his lip. 

Damn, this feels good.  He thought, soft moans finally making their way out of his mouth. He was almost there. He was panicking but delirious with pleasure at the same time.

They finished simultaneously and she climbed off of his limp body. He couldn’t do anything but shiver as the cold air hit his torso, where she’d been pressed against him. 

She stroked his beard and kissed his unmoving lips. “You did so good, lover.” Suddenly, she was cleaning him, pulling his boxers back up his hips. 

He was raging on the inside. His mind swirled with fantasies of shoving her head into the drywall until the expression of horror on her face was implanted in the boring fucking wall and framed as a picture. He wanted to rip her guts out and hang her with them. To tear her apart limb from limb. 

But he couldn’t fucking move. Why the fuck couldn’t he move? 

She laid her wigged head on his chest and drew small patterns with her fingernails. They were painted red, the color he imagined her blood to be. 

His nostrils flared and she giggled, kissing his nose. “You’re so beautiful, I couldn’t resist.” She whispered, licking the shell of his ear. He shuddered slightly and she smacked his chest lightly. “So dramatic.” 

He kept his empty gaze fixed on the ceiling. He felt his eyes sting. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so helpless. Out of control. Like he was someone’s pet. 

When he woke up, only a few hours later, he was alone. No Cindy fuckin Kaper to be seen. He realized he had mobility in his arms and quickly pulled his uniform back on, his hands shook slightly.

His gaze settled on the water bottle on the desk. 

Fucking bitch drugged me. 

How the fuck do you even drug a Supe?

His gaze focused in and out for a moment. There was a note next to the bottle. 

He opened it, his hands shaking with rage. 

“Call me! 000-274-0091! I recorded it just for you.” 

What the fuck. What the fuck? What the fuck? This fucking bitch. His favorite fucking movie star. Is a goddamn- 

He hesitated on the word.

Rapist? Had he been…? 

No, he was a man. 

Men can’t be.. can they? 

Fuck. 

He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and headed to the balcony. The party was still raging, the music faded. He glanced at his watch. 

4:07 AM 

Jesus. He’d met up with that chick at 1:00. He still felt her hands on him, caressing, smoothing. Her voice in his ear, whispering sweet nothings that he panicked over. Her blinding fucking smile that he saw when he flicked on the white balcony light. He had to shut it off, only the light of the city keeping him company. She was still here. Still haunting him. 

He lit his cigarette with shaking hands, cussing when the lighter sparked. 

“Need a light?” The voice was deep and soft. Ben fucking jumped. He didn’t know someone else was here, he was off his goddamn game. 

He turned and looked at the guy. The most gorgeous fucking guy ever. Ben swore his heart fucking stopped and started again. He was wearing a silk shirt, the same color as the girl’s dress. 

Now, if Ben saw him in the street, it might’ve been different. Or in a meeting room with the lights so blinding that everyone looks fucking dead. But with the dim light of the city shining on the man’s face, lighting up the jewel-ish blue of his eyes and contouring his cheekbones, he was rendered speechless. He nodded for the light. 

The man was fucking drop dead fucking gorgeous. Ben thought the women on his lap were fucking pretty, damn sexy. But this guy.. they didn’t hold a torch to him. 

His smile was calm and.. kind. Gentle in a way people usually weren’t with Ben. He was as tall as Ben, their eyes found each other at the same height, anyways. 

The mystery man lit up Ben’s cigarette, smiling wider as Ben blew a puff of smoke in the other direction. 

Ben nodded his thanks, looking at his shoes. When he looked back up, the man was searching for his eyes, his head tilted downward to mimic Ben’s. They held a staring contest for a minute, both seeming to search for something in the other. 

“What?” Ben grunted, forcefully furrowing his brow. Gruff. He knew how to play gruff. 

The guy shrugged. “Just looking at you.. Soldier Boy.” There was a teasing glint in his eyes, his voice lilting and warm. 

Ben huffed, blowing smoke into the air. It mixed well with the polluted sky. 

“I’m Anthony.” The man - Anthony - held out his hand.  

Ben grasped it firmly. “Ben.” His hand was calloused, but warm and Ben held on for a second longer than was needed. 

“I’m honored.” Anthony said, nodding. He sounded sincere, his eyes were still warmer than the fucking sun even though they were ice fucking blue. 

“Yeah.” Ben chuckled, ducking his head again. 

“Last I heard, you were the life of the party. What are you doing out here?” Anthony - nah, Tony - was leaning against the railing now, Ben tried not to let his eyes wander to the exposed collarbone that was only a foot away. 

Ben shrugged. Hands raked down his chest. “Smoke break.” 

Tony hummed, like he didn’t quite believe him, but he didn’t push. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for a reason or a story. Just nodded and hummed, letting his warm, icy fucking eyes wander to the skyline.

“You?” Ben grunted, inhaling more toxic air. 

“Needed the air.” 

“Sorry to ruin it for you.” He smirked as he blew out another puff of smoke. 

“I don’t mind, Ben.” 

Ben. God, Ben liked how he said his name. Slow and gentle, like he didn’t have anywhere to be, had nothing to do but look at Ben like he was worth something. 

Ben swallowed, putting his cigarette out on the railing. 

Tony watched him, they were silent for a moment. 

“You’re awfully- forgive me, but..” Tony smiled softly, seeming to offer a placating hand. “You’re awfully beautiful.” 

Ben’s eyes snapped to Tony’s. Beautiful? What the fuck? 

Ben was not fucking beautiful. He was a whirling tornado with hail spewing from its winds. He was an all consuming fire, burning all the life it could touch. Ben’s identity was built on destroying. Destroying Nazis, destroying suspicion of the American people, destroying egos of Supes that dared to challenge him. He was a destroyer.

Of course he’d always heard about the "beauty of destruction” and how there was something pure about it. Perhaps that’s what Tony meant. Not beautiful like a woman, but like a tsunami, gorgeous and dangerous, wrecking everything in its path and carrying it away to stow like lead in his chest that weighed him down when he slept. 

“I.. what?” Ben asked, backing up slightly. 

Tony sighed, stepping forward. “I didn’t mean-“

“I’m not a goddamn fag.” Ben growled, lying to Tony and to himself. Had he had urges? Of course, he figured everyone did. But he would never touch a man like he would a woman. He would never say that he loved a man. Not out loud, anyway. 

Sometimes when he thought of beauty, of what he really wanted. Mind you, he was typically drunk enough to fall off Vought Tower, he didn’t always think of a wife. Sometimes.. just sometimes he’d think of a man. A husband, maybe. A secret lover. Smooth, toned chests instead of soft breasts. Being pinned instead of doing the pinning. Being told what to do. Men. He thought of men. When he imagined a family it was him, kids and another man. 

A husband. Who he kissed and hugged and fucked all the time and no one could say a goddamn thing about it because he was fucking Soldier Boy.

But that isn’t how it was. Not in real life. He was pretty sure this was a set up, anyway. Just like Cindy. Just like the water bottle. This man only wanted one thing from him.

“I didn’t say you were, Ben. Calm down, please- let’s talk.” Tony approached him and Ben breathed heavily, glaring holes into the others gorgeous eyes. 

“I just- I don’t think you let yourself have what you want.” Tony said, so softly Ben might think he was talking to a scared dog. 

Why did everyone treat him like a fucking dog? 

Ben’s glower darkened. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He was getting mad. This guy didn’t fucking know him. 

“I’ve been.. seeing you around and.. well- how do I say this… You don’t look entirely taken with the women you appear next to in paparazzi photos.” Tony smiled like he made a joke and Ben’s head tilted, not saying anything.

“See, I think you know that you’re a fairy. But you just really, really hate that about yourself.” His tone was kind, but the words made Ben see red. 

He swung at this asshole. He clocked him right in the jaw and Tony grunted in surprise, his head swinging to the right. 

“Ben-“ 

Ben pinned him to the wall before he could say anything else. “You think you know me, huh? You don’t know shit- you fucking -“ He cut himself off. Tony’s eyes weren’t wide with fear. They were calm, the hands that held onto where he gripped the other’s jacket were gentle. He slammed his lips into Tony’s, desperate and hungry. 

Tony smiled into it, cupping Ben’s face as he kissed back. He suddenly turned them around, pressing Ben’s back against the wall. Ben inhaled quickly, surprised. 

Tony’s lips were on his again. But it wasn’t like before. Desperate and rough and fighting. It was slow. So slow that Ben forgot to kiss back for a moment. 

Tony kept it slow, Ben wondered when he’d speed up and demand for him to take off his clothes so he could fuck him while the other party guests were none-the-wiser. 

But that didn’t happen. Tony took his time, dominating Ben’s mouth with a slow dance of tongue and lips, his teeth kept to himself. 

Ben sighed into the kisses and almost melted when Tony gripped the back of his neck firmly, guiding his face to wherever he needed it. 

He grasped Tony’s arms wherever he could reach, moaning as he felt a knee between his legs. He ground down onto it, wishing it would push harder. Make it hurt. 

But Tony remained gentle, his knee moving slowly into Ben’s crotch, drawing sounds out of him that Ben himself had never heard. 

Tony pulled away slightly, holding Ben’s face between his hands, just to look at him. Ben was panting and flushed.

“Tony-“ 

“Like I said.. beautiful.” Tony’s thumb caressed his cheek, he leaned into the comfort. 

His hips pushed into Tony, begging for more. 

“Something you want?” God, Ben was being teased. When the fuck did that ever happen?

Ben doesn’t beg. He’s never begged in his life. Ever. And definitely not during sex. 

But something about Tony made him fucking whine. 

“Want you.” He managed to gasp out, tilting his chin up in hope for another kiss. Tony’s lips stayed just out of reach, smirking. Ben huffed. “Tony.” It was a desperate calling, they were so close, Tony only needed to close the gap. 

“Yeah?” He whispered, his lips hovering closer to Ben’s. His eyes were shining with mischief, he had the most powerful Supe in the world in his hands and he was teasing him. 

Ben swallowed. “Please.” It was ragged and hopeful, pleading and demanding at the same time. “C’mon, please.” He whispered, closing his eyes and tilting his head upward, hoping to close the gap. 

Tony hummed, as if in thought. “Alright..” 

His lips were still so fucking gentle. Caressing Ben’s like he was sacred. Ben moaned into him, feeling the other’s tongue explore his mouth. 

Tony’s hand snuck down to his waist and pulled him closer, making Ben arch against the wall. Their cocks were pressed together in a way that made Ben groan. Tony encouraged him with a growl of his own, moving his hips slowly against Ben’s. 

Ben broke the kiss and let his head fall back against the wall, gasps and moans mixing together. Tony started on his neck, suckling and kissing slowly. He found a sensitive spot beneath Ben’s ear and a whimper made him pause. He smiled against Ben’s neck as he felt the heat of embarrassment climb the Supe’s neck. 

“So gorgeous.” Tony tried to look at him, but Ben crashed his lips into his before he could see the beautiful red flush on his cheeks. Ben’s hands were cupping his face now, grabbing desperately at his jaw for some traction. 

“More, need more.” Ben gasped out, moaning as Tony pressed their hips together more firmly. 

“Wanna go back to my place?” Tony licked his ear and Ben’s eyes rolled back with his head again.

“Won’t make it that long.. Just..” Ben looked around, seeming to realize how out in the open they actually were. “I know a place.” 

He waited a moment, Tony had yet to release him from the wall. He kissed him softly again, his tongue invading Ben’s mouth like it was meant to live there. 

As Tony pulled away, Ben’s lips followed his until he met resistance. He smiled at the desperation on the other man’s face. “You’re so good, Ben.” 

Ben’s knees went fucking weak. Good good good. Good for you. He let out a ragged breath at the praise and Tony smirked. 

“You like that, huh?” His eyes were scanning Ben’s face again, watching each reaction carefully. Ben had never felt so fully dissected by anyone. Not even by his father’s glare, staring right through him. Nor his mother’s hazy stare as she petted his hair and told him to run and fetch another bottle. 

It was like Tony was seeing who he really was. The fucked up trauma, the superhero facade, the broken spirit, the hopefulness, all of it. Ben nodded his answer, biting his lip. He made a noise so small that Tony’s smile grew about an inch. 

“How about you show me to that room, sugar?” 

That night was the best Ben had ever had. Ever. And he’d had a lot of nights. Nights full of coke and party lights when he’d go home with a nameless chick that would moan his name performatively every time he touched her.  Nights where Countess would declare he fake fucking love and give him a half-assed blowjob. 

Tony never became demanding. He was slow and gentle and held Ben like he was made of fucking china. The invincible Supe being cradled. It was like a bad fucking joke. Ben couldn’t find it in himself to complain, though. 

When they were done, done touching and feeling and loving, Tony batted Ben’s arm away when he tried to push away from the warm embrace. Ben found himself being hugged closer without a say in the matter. 

When a hand raked through his hair, his breath stuttered and he buried his face into Tony’s neck with a tired grumble. Tony chuckled and the fingers raked through the soft strands again. 

They fell asleep in that room. Intertwined like a steel-string bracelet. 

When Ben woke up, he was warm. Really warm. 

His eyes opened slowly, feeling someone’s skin under his lips as he shifted his head. He grunted lowly. 

He felt a pair of lips trace their way down his jaw and he felt a smirk tug at his lips. Then the realization kicked in. Who he was looking at. A man. Tony. He slept with a man. 

Fuck. 

Ben sprang out of bed like it was his birthday, making Tony hum in confusion. He didn’t even have time to apologize, buckling his suit as fast as he could and hightailing it the fuck out of there. 

He ran all 13 blocks back to the tower, wind whipping through his hair and making his eyes sting. He burst into the doors, drawing the attention of too many fucking people. 

“Soldier Boy, sir-” 

“Oh my god-” 

“Soldier Boy? W-”

He pushed past the raid of security and assistants with clipboards asking him if he was ok, if he needed coffee, what he thought of the new movie pitch (it was ass). He booked it to the stairwell and leaped up each flight. The door of his room nearly cracked the wall with how hard he slammed it. 

His feet carried him across the room, back to the door and back again, over and over and over. His knees seemed to collapse in on themselves and his back fell against the wall. His hands reached for his hair, tugging and tugging, willing the thoughts to go away. 

Thoughts of Tony, of his hands, his lips, his perfect fucking face. 

I got fucked by a guy. I let a guy.. fuck fuck fuck. 

His breath was coming too fast, his eyes stinging too much. 

Fag. 

Fairy. 

Queer. 

He was breathing faster and faster. And then.. Ben couldn’t breathe. It was like all the oxygen had been swept out of the room, leaving Ben gasping, coughing for air. Tony’d taken all the air with him. The wind swept towards Tony, flowers bloomed when he passed, Ben fucking smiled when he did. He was fucking magic. He made Ben feel things that he never had. Good things. Warm, fuzzy things that would otherwise make Ben want to throw up. 

But he was a boy.

He was a man. Ben could not be caught with a fucking man. He could not love a man. 

He stripped off his suit and stepped into his shower, which was set to a boiling temperature. Anything to burn the warmth of him away. He scrubbed desperately at his skin, rubbing it raw only for it to heal in the next second. 

He looked at his hand, spotting something that made him pause. 

It was faded ink, a series of numbers. 

Tony

Tony wrote his goddamn number on him, marked him. It brought pause to Ben’s furious scrubbing. He shut off the water. The sizzling reached his ears, his invincible skin reddish from the heat. 

Call me ;) 

His number sat just below the messy handwriting, obviously scribbled in between stolen kisses. Ben swallowed. He stepped out of the shower. 

He shook his hair out, the chill of the room seeming to catch up to him. 

He sat on his bed, wrapped in a soft, expensive robe. The number was still there, if more faded than graffiti on the side of a highway. He could make out each individual number. 

He got out his phone. He called him. 

When Ben lost Tony, he was 45. The argument happened and Ben stormed out, his face on fire. Tony always had a way of making him more passionate than he wanted to be. 

It was their fucking anniversary. And Ben had so fucking stupidly forgotten to take off work. He couldn’t bear to look at Tony’s fucking puppy dog eyes any longer, storming out with his Supe suit half on. He raked his hands through his hair after he finished buckling it up.  

His bike came to life with a determined growl and he swerved through traffic like he had nothing to lose. 

He wouldn’t, if he lost Tony. His eyes stung again as the wind blew furiously past him, he distantly realized that he forgot to put on his helmet. 

That day was slow, a bunch of meeting where he had to pretend to like the cheesy movie pitches of these desperate corporate fucks. He’d nod along, raising an eyebrow or two. If he didn’t, Countess would elbow him in the side and look to Liberty to get him in line. 

He would huff and make a sarcastic comment that earned him another jab. His head wasn’t with them, it was swirling with thoughts of Tony, Tony, Tony. He should apologize, beg Tony to forgive him. Make him some pasta, penne was his favorite, and kiss him softly until Tony smiled his gorgeous fucking smile. 

At lunch, Liberty was side-eyeing him.  

“Fuck’s your problem?” She barked, sounding more like a Drill Sargent than a squeeze. 

“None o’ your goddamn business.” He huffed, shoveling some of the cafeteria crap into his mouth. Sandwich day, but he wasn’t sure what meat it was. It was all rubbery and mostly the same anyways. 

“Well you’ve been making a bad impression on these people that want to hire you, so start making some sense, soldier.” She demanded, shifting herself to face him fully. 

“I said mind. your damn. BUSINESS, lady!” He shouted, attracting the attention of, again, too many fucking people. Too many eyes. Too much exposure. 

Your image represents the company, don’t disappoint. 

Frederick Vought, a voice in his head like a cowbell he was trained to bark at. 

To his satisfaction, Liberty flinched and recoiled, murmuring an apology. 

Only then did he realize that he had thrown his tray across the room, meat and mustard splattered on the wall. A puddle of chocolate milk formed on the floor, the carton wilting and broken. 

The wall was cracked where the tray had hit, the large painted “V” on the wall now split in half with an ugly crevice. 

He huffed a breath, trudging to the elevator, eyes following him. 

Before he pressed the button, he closed his eyes. His hand hovered in the air. 

“Fuck.” 

He turned around and ran out the door. 

Tony. Tony. Tony. 

He started his bike and raced to Tony’s apartment. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, his hands clenched the handlebars so hard that the metal creaked. 

His nose crinkled. The closer he got, a smoky scent seemed to cloud his sense. 

“The hell?” He muttered to himself, speeding up and hoping there were no cops around.

The scent of the smoke only got stronger. He was only a block away when his Supe hearing picked up the sound of crackling, the sound of screams. His eyes started to water, the wind slapping his face relentlessly. 

When he arrived, he thought for sure he’d stumbled onto a movie set, that he’d turn around and there were extras in makeup chairs getting the charred look for their next scene where they lied unresponsive. 

Because this couldn’t be real. 

Tony apartment had exploded. There was nearly nothing left, the fire raged, destroying the already crumbled portion of the larger building. Almost like it was targeted. 

Ben couldn’t even find it in himself to cuss, jumping off of his bike and sprinting into the flames. 

“TONY!” 

His breath was ragged, more and more smoke invading his lungs. He felt his suit singe as the flames danced around his invulnerable body. He ripped apart the debris, looking under burnt couches, smashing the fiery walls and shouting himself hoarse. 

“TONY!” 

He rummaged the scene, ignoring the calls of the firefighters telling him to get out of the way. 

Where the fuck was he? 

He couldn’t find him. He couldn’t find him. He couldn’t find him. 

Maybe he was safe. Maybe he wasn’t home. The thought made him pause, a broken picture frame in hand. 

Maybe he’s the one that’s calling for me out there. 

His head whipped around, hope gave him breath again. 

“Tony?!” His voice was fried, strained and yearning. The firefighters ushered him out, dousing the fire. He still gripped the picture frame, he didn’t know if it was cracked before or if his own panicked grip had caused the glass to give way. 

“Have you seen him? The guy that lives here?” He pulled a worker aside, gripping him by the collar with his free hand.

“Sir-“ 

“Where is he?!” He was hysterical, shouting at passersby and those standing outside of the fire, staring in shock. 

Ben scanned the wide faces for Tony’s, his eyes, his stubble, anything to make sure he was safe. 

Vought arrived shortly after, with their helicopters, newscasters and show-superheroes. Ben wasn’t supposed to be there, he wasn’t assigned this showing. But reporters ate it up anyway. 

SOLDIER BOY HYSTERICAL AT SCENE OF FIRE

SOLDIER BOY FOUND IN FIRE

SOLDIER BOY ARSONIST? 

He could envision the headlines already. He didn’t care though, his eyes stung because Tony wasn’t fucking there. Tony had taken off work, like Ben was supposed to. 

A microphone was shoved in his face. “Soldier Boy, what happened here?” She yelled over the loud spray of hoses, and clattering of other televisions shows that vied for his attention.

He couldn’t say anything but “I can’t find him.” 

“Sorry? Who?” 

“He- I can’t find him. I can’t find him.” 

Her brow furrowed, the Liberty took over. “A stressful day for all of us. Let’s go, Soldier Boy.” 

She dragged him out of there by his arm, he was too stunned to resist. The picture in his hand was tucked into his shirt. 

She slapped him. “Pull yourself together, what the hell is the matter with you?”  

He slapped her in return . “Fuck you.” 

He pulled away from her, sulkily walking back to the tower, the bitter, stinging smell of smoke still stuck in his nose. 

His eyes watered, but he waited until he got back to his room to cry. 

Tony wasn’t there. He couldn’t find Tony.

That night, he watched the coverage of it. The footage of him had been cut, most likely a higher up having seen it and calling the news station before it was released. 

“One assumed death, a Supe known as Tony Novak has been assumed to be dead. He seems to have disappeared after the fire.” 

Tony. Tony’s gone? No.. he can’t be.. 

Ben picked up his phone and dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail. 

“I’m sorry, this number has been deleted.” 

His landline, right. 

He tuned the radio to their walkie talkie station. There was nothing but static. 

He put out the code. “Soldier to Fire, this is soldier to fire, pick up.” 

He tried every hour on the hour. For three weeks. 

Nothing. 

It took forever until he fell out of the habit. Only tuning the radio to that station when he was drunk out of his mind.  

He lost him. 

Tony was gone. 

Ben thought about him every day since. 

Ben was 103 when Tony found him again. In that pod that Homelander brought out. He could almost feel him before the lid was open. 

A familiar scent filled the room that Ben only registered in hindsight. That’s why his heart had been beating so loudly in his ears. Recognition. 

His instincts knew it was Tony before he did. They were in tuned to each other. 

When Tony was tortured, Ben would wake up in his bed, 30 stories up, in a cold sweat. Shivering for no reason every time Tony was burned. 

Ben would shake his head and splash some water on his face. He’d try to forget what he woke up from. Why it felt so much like Tony. 

Now he knew. It was Tony. Every time he screamed, Ben would feel it in his gut. He’d grunt as something tore in his chest. 

But now he had him. Not safe, exactly. But here. With him. They were together again.