The routine never changed. Homelander didn't want it to change, change made his stomach turn and skin prickle uncomfortably. No, everything was perfect the way it was right now and it had to stay that way. He wanted your roles together to remain frozen in time.

Homelander had been reluctant to love you at first. Vought had set him up with you as a PR stunt, said it would "look good" for him to date a non-supe. For a long time he'd just been going through the ropes to keep everyone happy. Go out with you in public, smile, kiss you every once in a while, talk about how wonderful you were in interviews. It was working, his ratings were through the roof and people were gushing over you all over social media.

It wasn't until you'd properly moved in that things started feeling real. Every evening when he returned you'd help him out of his hero suit to be cleaned. Dinner was always warm and you made things he enjoyed, not the bland diet Vought had him on. You'd always hold him before bed and let him burrow close like a rabbit in a nest.

You'd sit and listen while he ranted and raved over whatever bullshit had upset him that day. His pale blue eyes would find yours, his face set in a childish pout. You knew what he wanted, and Homelander knew you'd give it to him. As soon as you reached for the top buttons of your blouse a blanket of satisfaction took the edge off his rage. Yes, he quite liked this routine.