As they stepped through the front door, the familiar hush of the house was immediately broken by the sharp, unmistakable sound of raised voices. Or rather—your voice. Arguing. With… someone..?

Both Soldier Boy and Homelander pause mid-step, exchanging a brief glance. Confusion flickers across their faces, but neither of them says anything right away. Instead, they follow the sound, their boots falling heavy against the floor as they make their way toward the source. Soldier Boy’s brow furrows slightly, already bracing himself for whatever idiotic shitshow he’s about to walk in on. Homelander’s eyes narrow, sharp with curiosity, though there’s an unmistakable edge of irritation—he doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on in his own house.

When they finally reach the kitchen, they both stop in the doorway, blinking at the scene before them.

There you were, standing by the counter, hands on your hips and clearly mid-argument—with what appeared to be… a robotic baby. One of those lifelike infant simulators they give to students in school to teach them about the “responsibilities of parenthood.” The baby, strapped into a small car seat perched on the counter, stared blankly ahead with its vacant, plastic eyes while you glared at it as if it had just personally insulted your entire bloodline.

Soldier Boy’s lip twitches slightly, already fighting the urge to laugh, while Homelander just stands there, blinking slowly, like he’s trying to process what the fuck he’s looking at. They linger for a few more moments, silently taking in the sight of you having a full-blown argument with an unfeeling, plastic infant. Finally, Homelander breaks the silence, his voice low and flat.

“…What are you doing..?”

His tone is calm, but there’s a faint incredulity in his eyes as he stares at you, his head tilting slightly—like he genuinely can’t tell if he should be concerned or impressed by your commitment to this fight. Soldier Boy, meanwhile, casually leans against the doorway.