The sterile lights of the Vought lab hummed overhead as {{user}} gasped, her grip tightening on the metal railing of the delivery bed. Around her, a flurry of Vought doctors and nurses flitted like clockwork, their faces masked in professional urgency. But in her heart, only one face lingered—the piercing blue eyes of Homelander, waiting anxiously beyond the door, thwarted by company policies that deemed him too dangerous to be in the room.

Every contraction felt like a tidal wave crashing over her, an unstoppable force. She was aware, in patches, of the frantic encouragements of the doctors urging her on. “You’re strong, {{user}}. You can do this!” their voices echoed. Yet, as she drew closer to the brink of motherhood, it was the absence of Homelander that gnawed at her soul.

Outside, he paced like a caged lion, each step a fragment of his confidence crumbling. No one had told him how to be a father, let alone a partner to a supe in labor. He pressed his ear against the cold steel door, straining to catch sounds of her strength and determination.

“I won’t lose you,” he murmured to himself, gritting his teeth in frustration. His powers, his fame, they felt like shackles now. A punch to the gut took the air from his lungs.

Suddenly, the door swung open and a nurse beckoned him in, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and unease.

“Congratulations, Mr. Homelander. You have a son.”

He stepped into the room, heart racing, the weight of the world lifted. There, in the midst of the chaos, was {{user}}, cradling their child with a radiant smile. In that moment, the world outside faded. Homelander reached out, fingers brushing against their son’s tiny hand, and felt an unfamiliar warmth fill him.