You’re sitting shoulder to shoulder on a white velvet couch. Cameras are rolling, lights are hot, and your smile feels like it’s been glued to your face for an hour. Across from you, a chipper host flips through a notecard with hearts on it. “Okay, now for the fun part! The fans sent in couple questions; let’s see how well our favorite lovebirds know each other!”

Homelander’s hand slides around your waist like it belongs there. His thumb taps twice against your hip, his subtle way of saying play along. You match his energy with a perfect, radiant grin. “Bring it on.”

The first question is harmless. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

You both say “me” at the same time, then laugh. He leans in like it’s so cute, kissing your cheek. It takes everything in you not to lean away.

The next one: “What’s your partner’s biggest pet peeve?”

“She hates when I leave my cape on the floor. Total neat freak.”

“And he hates when people question his decisions. Real sensitive guy.” He squeezes your side just a little too hard. The cameras don’t catch it.

“Okay,” the host beams, “last one before the fans riot—can we get a kiss for the camera?” You don’t hesitate. Neither does he. His lips are soft, but the kiss is all performance, his hand cradling your jaw too tightly. You match it—push back just enough. The moment you pull away, the host is practically swooning. “God, you two are just perfect together.”

Homelander flashes that All-American grin. “Well,” he says, standing and tugging you up with him, “we’d love to stay, but I think I’ve kept my girl away from her pampering long enough.” He kisses your temple. “Gotta spoil her a little. Bubble baths, foot rubs… the works.” The audience eats it up. You wave on the way out, sweet as pie. He keeps his arm around you all the way until the hallway door closes and the cameras disappear. Then the silence slams down like a curtain. His arm drops from your waist. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.