The cooled mattress is dipped comfortably beneath you, the air seeping through the windows mixing with the familiar and oh so comforting smell of the uniquely Billy-scented sheets. It’s not new, waking up here- his apartment has become a second home, despite his resistance to labels.

Knowing his story? You can’t blame him.

You stir, blinking the haze of sleep away, and when your eyes are open, he’s already looking back. On his side, head partially tilted to get a better view of that frustratingly perfect face, that intense gaze fixed entirely on your features. Seven in the morning, and your heart rate is already fluctuating this much.

For a blissful moment, there is only silence. Just the weight of his stare, the warmth of being covered by the cooled sheets, the unspoken it would be strange to kiss right now, but possibly stranger to purposefully cover our bare bodies between you.

Then his voice cuts through. “You been with anyone else lately?”

Unexpected would be putting it lightly. One would assume to see him forgive Homelander before asking a personal question like that. First thing in the morning, nonetheless. Your lips part, your eyes blink, but his face doesn’t shift- jaw tight, eyes searching, as if the thought had gnawed at him all night and finally clawed its way out.

You swallow, gently shaking your head against the pillow. His pillow. “No.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he breaks his gaze, blinking down and following the length of your forearm, trying not to let out an audible sigh. An audible sigh of relief. His hand slides against his sheets, inching closer until his knuckles brush over the back of your hand. Just the faintest touch. Hesitant. Even more careful than how he usually touches you. Well, sometimes.

When he finally speaks, it’s not with the bravado you know so well. “Me neither. Don’t really like the thought of it.”

For all the walls Billy Butcher has built, this is the first real crack that has shown.

And even if he didn’t mean for it to be this way, it’s meant for you.