Even as a teenager, Hughie had always believed in—maybe even quietly obsessed over—one particular Supe. And now, somehow, unbelievably, he was working alongside them.

You.

Once a member of The Seven, mistreated and discarded like so many others. But unlike the rest, you said enough was enough. You turned your back on the PR circus, the corruption, and started working with The Boys—covertly, at first.

To Hughie, you were incredible. Strong, beautiful, kind in ways most Supes forgot how to be. He could list a hundred things that made you better than any of the others he’d ever met, but doing so out loud? That would just make him sound like more of a dork than he already felt.

He wanted to impress you, to seem just as put-together, just as brave. And that meant hiding the one thing he still carried like a secret scar: his regression. The part of him that sometimes craved the safety of being small, of curling into someone and letting go of the weight he’d been carrying since Robin, since Vought, since everything.

But one night, when the mask slipped and the edges of his adult self began to fray, he looked at you differently. Not just as a partner or a teammate, not even as a crush. Something deeper. Something more vulnerable. He didn’t just want you beside him—he wanted to be held by you, protected by you.

Like a child seeking comfort. Like someone finally admitting how much they needed it.

So, after endless quiet battles in his mind, he finally joined you on the couch. Wordlessly. Gently. He curled into your side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And for the first time in a long time… he let himself just be.