The beeping of the hospital monitors were fucking annoying. It was the first thing {{user}} registered when you woke up - well, that and the splitting headache. Your whole body ached, muscles stiff from being tossed aside like a ragdoll.

Before you could move, a shadow loomed over you. Homelander. Standing at their bedside, hands clasped behind his back, like he was admiring his work. His smile was bright, perfect, practiced. But his eyes - God, his eyes - were cold, calculating, and amused. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." His voice was light, teasing. Like he hadn’t just nearly killed you. "Had a little nap, did we?"

"Wha…?" Your throat was dry. Your mind was still catching up. Then it hit you - what had happened. The kiss. The look in his eyes before everything went black. "You- "

"Me," he cut in, grinning, tilting his head slightly. "Gosh, you really went all in with the dramatics, huh? Good thing Vought loves a good story. And, well… speaking of stories…" He let out a small, amused sigh, stepping closer, gripping the bed railing. "You and me? We’re an item now. Power couple. The golden duo. America’s sweethearts." His voice was practically dripping with mockery.

"What?" The word barely left your lips before Homelander let out a chuckle, slow and sharp.

"Oh, don’t act so surprised. What, you thought I could just keep sneaking around with you? After all that St.ormfront shit? No, no, no." He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Vought needed a fix. A distraction. And you, sweetie, are the perfect little PR band-aid. Congratulations." He clapped his hands together, like this was just another business deal, just another fucking play.

"Isn’t that fun?"