Work Text:
Soldier Boy stumbled through the long hallways toward the sounds of wreckage.
He slipped on his own feet a few times, catching himself just in time. His head was drozy, his limbs jiggly, but he needed to get there. Needed to get to get to Homelander.
He walked in to the sight of Butcher holding a crowbar over Homelander’s face. He was crying, blood and tears mixed together. His arms flapped around like a toddler.
Without another thought, he immediately got out his gun and fired three shots into Butcher, landing in his ribs and thighs. The man stumbled, falling over and letting the crowbar slide out from his grip.
Soldier Boy ran to Homelander’s side, kneeling down to his side to wrap an arm around his waist. He flung Homelander’s shoulder over his, opting him to shakily stand.
“Can you walk?”
“What—what are you doing here? How’d yo—you get—“
“Answer me, goddamit!”
“Yes,” Homelander quickly shut his mouth.
“Then fucking walk.” Soldier Boy gripped Homelander’s waist and tried to walk—run as fast as he could with Homelander’s weight mostly on him. He spared a quick glance toward Butcher, who was knocked out cold.
They left the Oval Office, skimming over the blood splattered white walls and the stained carpets. Screams of terror could be heard from people scurrying for their lives. Ceilings had large gaps in them, walls barley holding together. Smoke alarms filled The White House..and Soldier Boy had to wonder just what the hell had happened.
“What the fuck did you do, John?”
-
Soldier Boy lightly dapped along Homelander’s nose. He trailed down slowly, wiping his son’s blood smeared mouth. It was dark in colour and dried with cuts by now, making it all the more difficult to clean Homelander’s skin without him subtly flinching away every few seconds.
He found out his name while looking through ancient Vought records. You expect him to not know a thing or two about this kid he found out was his? It was hard finding any records, the girl—Ashlyn?—was adamant she wasn’t aware of any information regarding his birth records, or his name for that matter. No one knew anything, so Soldier Boy took matters into his own hands, and did the fucking job. John. He wasn’t going to continue calling the fucker Homelander to his face. It sounded like a kids action figure.
John couldn’t tell whether to look at the ground or at him, Soldier Boy concluded. He could feel Homelander’s eyes on him as he concentrated on cleaning the batted, bloody skin. He could see him out of his peripheral vision glancing at him every couple of seconds, and just as quickly snapping his gaze away like he’d been burned. Rinse and repeat.
“Stop fucking moving.” Soldier Boy muttered, not glancing at Homelander. He pressed with more force than necessary to a deep cut along his jawline. Homelander hissed, almost pulling back. Soldier Boy knew his way treating cuts and deeper wounds, especially before he become Soldier Boy. You had to be trained for that back then. He forgot sensitive their skin was, how fragile and delicate normal humans could be.
He hasn’t treated his own wounds in so long, maybe since Russia. No, no, long before that. He wasn’t allowed out of his restraints by strict protocols. The most he could attempt to soothe his burning nerves was blowing steadily on the scalding, aching skin if he was close enough to reach from his drug-filled haze while pinned down.
He grinded his teeth at the bitter memory.
“Don’t toy around with the bandages. I don’t wanna waste more, so do me a favor and leave them be.” Soldier Boy finished tying up the last gash on Homelander’s face.
Homelander muttered a confirmation, gaze fixated on the ground.
“What’s going to happen now?” He spoke up, voice quiet and slightly high pitched. Soldier Boy’s eyes drifted to his son’s lap, where he was fiddling with the blood crusted around his finger nails. He looked almost small, tinier in size. His face looked so innocent and pure it could almost be pathetic if not for the nagging guilt swirling in Soldier Boy’s chest at the sight.
He pushed the feeling down, hard.
“Hell if I know.”
“We should—they’ll come looking for us.”
“Yup.”
“We should leave.”
“Yeah, but not now. This is the safest place for you to stay low for a bit.” Soldier Boy made an emphasis on you. “Now, what the fuck happened?”
Homelander stayed quiet. He averted his gaze to his fingers again. “They destroyed the V out of my blood.” He replied with a quiet, dead voice.
Soldier Boy got that much. “Huh.” He leaned back against the steel chair, and crossed his arms.
“I feel so light.”
“Trust me, you’re not.” Soldier Boy chuckled dryly. “I almost fell over multiple fucking times trying to hold you up.”
“No, I mean..without my powers.” Homelander didn’t bother elaborating more.
“You’re lucky I got there in time.” Soldier Boy said instead.
“Why’d you help me?” Homelander looked up from his lap, his brows scrunched and eyes oh so vulnerable and exhausted. It pulled his heart in confused strings.
“Did you not want me to?”
Soldier Boy got a dry look in response.
“Ah, I wasn’t going to let some fuckers kill my offspring. Crazy as he is.” He muttered. His son was an insane, dreadful mentally ill person and he knew that, but how different is Soldier Boy if he leaves his only remaining relative? His kid, a shithead as he is? It wasn’t because he had grown tolerant of him, he told himself repeatedly. It wasn’t because the feelings of affection would break their way for him through the buried box he put them in. No.
“But..I don’t have my powers anymore.” Homelander’s voice cracked. His eyes shone with tears.
“What does it have to do with what I said?”
“Because I’m—how? I’m—“ he babbled.
Soldier Boy frowned. He got up. “I’m not letting my kid die because he’s a powerless dickhead now, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Homelander’s head snaps up at word kid.
It what breaks the dam in Homelander. He starts crying pathetically, like a toddler waking up from their nap.
Before Soldier Boy could think about it, he walks up to him and wraps his arms around him. Homelander freezes.
“You’re supposed to hug back.”
Homelander slowly wraps his arms around his father. Soldier Boy pats his back a few times, before opting to rub slow circles. Homelander immediately melts, resting his head on Soldier Boy’s shoulder like a baby.
“Listen the fuck up. We’re going to get out of the country. Better yet, the whole goddamn continent. They’ll come after you like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth, and you won’t be able to do shit about it.” Soldier Boy’s words were harsh, yet his tone carried no such weight. His hand continued patting. “So, try to not to get in trouble?”
“Yeah.” Homelander drove his head deeper into his shoulder. “By the way..how did you know my name?”
Oh, he forgot about that. “…I went through your records a while ago.”
Homelander didn’t say anything, little did Soldier Boy know, he wanted to be called John again by his father.