Chapter Text
“Deep?”
Kevin startled from his nap, turning towards the familiar voice despite his eyes not adjusting to the light. His body was sore, and his gills throbbed occasionally in pain, making any sort of movement produce a hiss of pain out of him. This being one of those times.
Kevin scrambled up when the flash of blue and red passed his vision and crouched by the couch he was curled on, rubbing his eyes vigorously.
Opening them, his eyes widened in disbelief. “H- Homelander?” he stammered, looking the other supe up and down. The man was impressively tall despite his crouching stance, those striking blue eyes staring at Kevin's own. Kevin caught himself staring too long at them. Homelander didn't comment, but his lips pressed into a thin line. What was he doing here? Kevin didn't recall getting a call that he can get back to The Seven or anything of the sort. He was still banished, as far as he knew.
Homelander stood up again, hands on his hips placed purposefully. His entire posture radiated disappointment; Kevin couldn't help but shrink under his gaze. “Did something happen? I mean if it did, I could like, help out!” Kevin grasped at wheat straws; there was hope in his eyes that made Homelander's face turn into a scowl.
“No,” the taller man stated firmly, “this is a check-up.”
Kevin paused, brows furrowing in confusion. “Check up?”
“Yes, Vought requires—get up when I'm talking to you.” Homelander looked antsy in a way; Kevin couldn't blame him. He was a disgrace to Vought and the entirety of The Seven.
Kevin hurried to stand up to his feet, physically recoiling when his gills whined in agony. He tried to tough it out despite the sweat now running down his face. Those light blue eyes could do so much; they could sear through him right here and now.
Homelander took a deep breath, shifting his weight to his other leg. He must be in a hurry. “With someone like you, check-ups are needed. Do you understand?” It wasn't a question.
Kevin nodded, trying to give a sheepish smile paired with a thumbs-up.
Homelander looked around the room, appearing unimpressed with it. There were signs of Kevin's earlier encounter, if the blood on the couch was anything to go by. “Right...” Homelander drew out; everything about him screamed held-back urges. Kevin noticed the way his hands tried to keep from clenching. “Are you getting along with everyone?”
Oddly specific.
Why not, for example, ask, “Are you doing well?”
Kevin swallowed a lump in his throat he didn't notice appear, bringing a hand to scratch the back of his head. God, he could feel the tender gills brush against the fabric of his shirt. “Uh...” Kevin tried to keep his eyes on Homelander. “I guess,” it came out unwillingly. “Yes!” he tried to repeat with more enthusiasm.
Homelander raised a questioning brow. “Are you lying to me?” he asked. The tone was devoid of any actual malice; Kevin knew better. That was burning hot violence waiting to unravel.
“No! No, not at all, sir!”
This had to be the worst week of his life. He was done for.
“Nobody likes a liar, guppy.” Homelander warned, placing a hand on Kevin's shoulder. Kevin stiffened, especially when Homelander's grip became crushing. “Are you faring well, Deep?” Homelander all but hissed out.
The silence became increasingly uncomfortable; Kevin couldn't move from his spot, not even if he wanted to. Those eyes would slice him in half; he knew they wanted to. They were burning to. The flash of red was all it took to freeze him entirely.
Only when Homelander pushed him a little with his hand, still keeping him rooted to the spot, did Kevin blurt out, “I fucking hate it here.”
Homelander paused before letting out a hum. “I see.”
The grip released, Kevin let out a small sigh of relief which stung a little; his gills kept complaining, but he didn't want to tell anyone what had happened. It was embarrassing. Though it was a possibility that half of the girl's friends knew she dominated the prince of the sea just like that and that he let it happen. So fucking embarrassing.
“Take off your shirt,” Homelander stated plainly.
Kevin flinched. “My—?”
“Take it off.”
Kevin hesitantly obliged, closing his eyes shut as he slowly peeled it from his body. His entire body was quivering occasionally from his nerves, insecurity and pain. An odd combination that made him sick to his stomach.
Kevin could hear Homelander physically pull his lips back in a disgusted expression, those canines baring like a saint at the unholy. Kevin wished he were like Homelander; the man was amazing, terrifying, and everything that Kevin wasn't.
He fully pulled off his shirt and crumpled it, throwing it behind him on the couch in case Homelander was too disgusted by him and Kevin needed to quickly shield the other from his gills.
His gills were pulsing occasionally, an already unattractive trait that even Homelander recoiled at. Still, now they were uglier. They were bruised and damaged. Dried blood was all over him because the hotel's water didn't soothe his pain. He swore he'd clean up but forgot when he succumbed to sleep.
Kevin didn't expect Homelander to reach out for them, moving back a step.
The two stopped at that, Homelander's hand staying still in the air. Kevin's breath caught, more startled by his own movement. He stepped forwards again, letting Homelander's hand graze over his gills. He couldn't suppress a whimper; it was pathetic and humiliating, but it hurt so bad. He wanted it to stop, though he knew that was futile to wish for. He was cursed with the gills; even though they gave him the gift of speaking to sea creatures and breathing under water, he was cursed with them.
“Looks like the little guppy was fighting, and they knew your weak spot!” Homelander commented absently, a finger brushing over the filaments, making Kevin bite his tongue to fend off a choked sob. Homelander looked directly at Kevin. “Who?”
Kevin was too in a daze to even register the question; only when Homelander's fingers stopped the poking did he crack an eye open to look at Homelander. The question dawned on him a second later.
“Some asshole.” His voice was strained; it wasn't technically a lie, though.
Unprompted, Homelander pressed a finger inside one of the slits, causing Kevin to cry out.
“Be specific.” Homelander kept pressing; tears built up in Kevin's eyes when the tender flesh got ripped again, a drip of blood trickling down his slit. Kevin shook his head, biting his lower lip to keep from further cries. His head reeled and throbbed with the overwhelming emotion. Homelander pulled the finger out, visibly uncomfortable at the slimey residue the gills left. He could name many comparisons from the top of his head; every single one was better than what Kevin had.
Homelander wiped his hand off on Kevin's shirt pettily, rolling his eyes at Kevin's continued pants and gulps and sniffles.
Homelander sat down on the table in front of the couch, his posture still so straight and proud of himself. His hand inspected the bowl of mediocre plastic fruit, an addition to the boring room around them.
Kevin was doubled over, trying to wait out the lingering pain, squeezing his shoulders in a poor attempt to divert the pain to the rest of his body. After what seemed like an hour, with a shaky sigh, Kevin wiped the tears from his eyes. Trying to gather his thoughts was hard, especially when Homelander was there. Unmoving. Watchful. Towering all the time.
“I…” Kevin tried to search for words. “It was a girl.”
Homelander tilted his head, keeping silent.
Kevin's gaze wavered. “She came... I thought... I thought I could score, you know,” he mumbled.
“You often do.” Homelander waved off his self-pity.
“She, I don't know, just, it was meant to be a quick hook-up and then—but then she fucking touched them!” Kevin's voice rose all of a sudden, gaining that spark of anger that followed him after the assault; he hysterically pointed at his gills with shaky hands. “She got off on it. I told her to stop, I told her to quit – and she didn't! Fucking bitch!” Kevin fumed, running a hand through his hair as if that would ground him. He was mad, so so mad; he couldn't recall what he did to deserve it. Not really. He was here entirely because he chose to save a fish in the way over some guy during a shark attack. God forbid!
Homelander looked like he was thoughtfully considering Kevin's words, his expression fully blank.
Kevin unconsciously kept his arms crossed over his gills, as if that'd keep the other from getting what he wants if it came to it.
“A girl,” Homelander mumbled, face unchanging or hinting at any other emotion; he was good at it. Kevin was jealous of that ability.
The words hit harder than they should've, making Kevin defensively shake his head and, surprisingly, stand his ground. “She's not just a girl, she's like...a freak!” his voice shook a lot today.
“I didn't say she was,” Homelander kept his voice monotone. It was awfully worrying to Kevin's dazed mind. The blood trickling from his gills was slowly dripping on the floor. It wasn't fatal, but he'd already lost enough of it yesterday.
All he wanted to do was sleep again.
“You'll be away from The Seven for a while more, little guppy.” Homelander pushed Kevin back until he was sitting on the couch by his discarded shirt. Kevin gaped at Homelander. “What did I do?!” he cringed at how loud he was.
Homelander's brows furrowed, displeased. “Be grateful that you weren't officially kicked out. Keep your spot to get back in and shut up; don't let this shit happen again. You're a supe, not some boytoy for everyone's attention.” Homelander spat at Kevin; the aquatic man shrunk in on himself. “Yes, sir,” he muttered in defeat.
“Well then!” Homelander's tone was suddenly cheery. “Tell me more about her.”
The two sat in silence for another moment, as it seemed to be a common case in this encounter.
Kevin didn't take long to let it spill; this was Homelander, after all. The man deserved to know.
Homelander nodded along with the descriptions, though providing little engagement. Kevin found it hard to recall her exactly—it had been one singular hook-up, and he was sure he lost brain function before the halfway mark.
Homelander left wordlessly at the end of the rant, either unamused or no longer interested in talking to Kevin.
Kevin didn't offer a good bye, either, feeling kind of distracted by his own thoughts.
And, oddly enough, comforted by the fact Homelander chose to personally check up on him. Maybe he even cared.
Kevin spent his time gently soaking up the fresh blood with tissues, throwing it away in the trash once he was done, which consisted of empty snack bags and beer cans. Then, exhausted and dizzy, fell back down onto the red-stained couch, immediately falling into a slumber.
Kevin woke up later in the afternoon with a groan; the sharp smell of metal tingled his nostrils. With a sigh, he sat up, looking down at his torso.
“Shit...” It was worse than before; he must've moved too much during sleep because there was blood smeared all over his stomach. Looking back at his couch, the situation was the same. He didn't have the energy to clean it, he decided.
He went to grab another tissue from the tissue box on the table, but a glance told him he already went through the entire box.
He glanced over at the door to the bathroom; however, only one thought of how much it could burn made him reconsider.
Wobbling over to the kitchen, Kevin grabbed bread and some peanut butter. The smell of food churned his stomach, yet he persisted because it was the only thing he had in the fridge. Otherwise, it was plain empty.
He found himself on the couch again, on a spot that was not covered in his fluid. The suffocating air of the house didn't irritate Kevin to no end, which is why he kept everything closed despite how humid it was getting.
He turned on the TV, not exactly watching whatever was on the news. His mind was elsewhere.
He guessed that's how Homelander wound up in his peripheral vision.
“Enjoying your meal?”
Kevin bolted up, sucking in a sharp breath at the complaint his gills gave. He should go easy on them, but it was a hard task to do when Homelander was lurking.
What was he doing here again? It hasn't even been a full day, he was sure. He checked.
“Come on,” Homelander beckoned him with a hand, moving towards the front door of the poor excuse of an apartment.
Kevin mouthed out the sentence silently in complete astonishment. Come on, where? In this state? He looked down at himself again, and he flushed in embarrassment. “A second, Homelander.” He hurriedly grabbed his shirt; it was a black one, thus the fact it hadn't been cleaned for a bit wasn't noticeable. As long as no one smelled him up close and personal, of course.
He followed Homelander outside of the apartment, keeping a rather stoic face even though walking wasn't exactly the most satisfying thing to do after being majorly injured.
“You were right,” Homelander initiated a conversation loosely as the two men found themselves in front of a restaurant not too far from Kevin's current place of residence, a neat little thing with that type of decoration which prefers cosiness over looking respectable for the wealthy.
“Huh?” Kevin felt so lost these days. He followed Homelander to a table inside the restaurant, feeling oddly shy now. They stuck out like a sore thumb, especially him; it didn't help that some people were present too; they were now pretending to eat yet trying not to get noticed while they took pictures of Homelander all the same.
Kevin tried to gauge what Homelander was thinking just from his expression; he didn't have the heart to ask.
“She was really pretty; what a mind-blowing lady.” Homelander nodded at Kevin, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.
Kevin's face paled a little, unsure if he got that right. He attempted a small smile at the other supe. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Homelander stared at him like he was an idiot, that proud look twisting into disappointment.
Kevin felt ashamed. Did he say something wrong?
“No, you idiot!” His voice rose; some people turned their heads but looked away quickly. Homelander took a moment to compose himself, taking a deep breath. “I got rid of her.”
“What?!” Now it was Kevin's time to shout, genuinely shocked by the revelation. Homelander definitely did care. Kevin could've sworn his heart skipped a beat.
If Homelander noticed it, he didn't comment, merely raising a brow in his direction and pursing his lips. “Because,” he said slowly. “You being temporarily off The Seven doesn't mean you're back on the market.”
Kevin scooted closer on his chair to the table, grinning like a fool. “Holy shit, you're the best—I mean, literally a god. You're...” Kevin didn't know what to say; the relief was overwhelming.
Homelander snorted, rolling his eyes. “Besides, if everyone got to finger your gills, I don't think it'll be as effective of a punishment in the future.”
Kevin blinked, a frown returning to his face. “Oh.” He didn't know what he was expecting.
Studying Kevin's mood change, Homelander shook his head and opened the menu on the table. “Anything you'll eat?”
That stumped Kevin once more, feeling like a stupid high school girl talking to her crush. Except he was a grown man who was deemed a hero, and his crush was the complicated feelings towards his superior. “For real?” Kevin leant back in his chair, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.
Homelander let out a low hum, looking around the restaurant. Many people filming looked like they wanted to approach; it was odd they didn't. “Pretty much. So?”
“Uh, you don't have to, you can—”
“Deep.”
“I'm not hungry; I just ate and everything, you know? But I appreciate you so much—”
“Deep!”
Kevin gulped, looking down. He tried to be humble to suck up, so accepting was his next best thing. “I'll take... I don't know, ice cream?”
Once more, Homelander nodded. “We can do that.”
Kevin didn't know what he exactly expected, but dinner went disturbingly normally. Almost friendly.
At one point Kevin felt brave enough to throw in an inappropriate joke: “People are gonna take pictures and say we're dating or something. It'll be a whole thing.”
“I'm aware,” Homelander said, not looking up from his meal. He picked out something fish-related, much to Kevin's dismay.
Kevin didn't know why it happened, how it exactly went down, or if he consumed enough alcohol for it to not matter, but at some point he found himself brushing his teeth in a bathroom at Homelander's penthouse in the Vought tower, towel wrapped neatly around his waist. He took a shower, and the water was way better than the one in Sandusky, so it was easier to hurry it up and clean his gills of blood. He felt so much lighter after it, and seemingly that helped a lot because his gills didn't hurt as much when he walked.
Kevin gurgled water in his mouth before spitting it out in the sink along with the toothpaste residue. He set aside the toothbrush, not that it was his, and exited the bathroom.
The bedroom he was in was warm but not overwhelmingly so; Homelander was no longer in sight either.
He plopped down on the bed, insanely soft under his fingertips. The blanket was weighted and cool, a heavenly contrast to the warm room.
This might be the best sleep he'll get in a while, so he took it with the same level of desperation as a starving mutt.
Homelander does care.