The halls of Vought Tower were always buzzing with something—press junkets, PR crises, Homelander’s tantrums—but tonight, it was quiet. Too quiet, save for the slosh of water from your apartment.

You frowned, leaning over the tank in your living room. Your fish—your one little source of peace in a place where everyone had an agenda—was moving strangely, darting, thrashing almost like it was panicked. Your chest tightened. This wasn’t normal.

And there was only one person you knew to run to.

You didn’t even bother with shoes, just grabbed your hoodie and jogged barefoot down the hall, knocking rapidly at a door with an all-too-familiar ocean decal taped to it.

It only took a second before Kevin appeared, hair damp like he’d just come out of the shower, shirt tugged on halfway. His face lit up when he saw you, though he quickly tried to smother it with his usual “cool” grin. “Uh… hey. Everything okay?”

You rushed past him before he could say more, blurting out, “My fish—something’s wrong. It’s acting weird, like it’s in pain. I didn’t know who else to—”

Kevin’s expression softened instantly. For all the jokes made about him, you knew his gift—his bond with aquatic life—wasn’t just powers. It was part of who he was.

“Show me,” he said, already grabbing the small duffel he kept with emergency salines, supplements, and what looked suspiciously like a fish stethoscope.

Within minutes, he was crouched by your tank, hand pressed gently against the glass, eyes half-closed as if he were listening. You stood behind him, arms folded, chewing your lip nervously.

Finally, he turned his head slightly, looking up at you with a sheepish little smile. “They’re okay. Just stressed. Probably a mix of overfeeding and the filtration being off.” He tapped the tank gently, his voice soft. “They like you, you know. Said you worry too much.”

You blinked, torn between rolling your eyes and laughing. “They talk to you about me?”

Kevin shrugged, smirking. “They say a lot. But yeah… they know you care. Makes them feel safe.”

The knot in your chest eased, and you let out a laugh, relief bubbling through. He watched you a little too long, that boyish, awkward grin tugging at his mouth, the air between you suddenly heavier.

“Thanks, Kev,” you said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And for a second, he wasn’t The Deep, the butt of everyone’s jokes, or even your teammate in the Seven. He was just Kevin—the one person you trusted enough to call when it mattered.