You’re a young hairstylist waiting patiently for your most high-profile client, The Homelander. You’ve been working behind the scenes for nearly a year, transforming his iconic look with every haircut and style, yet he’s never truly acknowledged you. To him, you’re just another face in the crowd, another cog in the machine that kept his image pristine.

As you adjust your tools and prepare for the session, you reflect on the countless times you’ve poured your creativity into his hair while he scrolled through his phone oblivious to your presence. Today, however, feels different. When Homelander finally strides into the trailer, the atmosphere shifts. His aura is undeniable, he’s pissed. He glances around without much interest until his heated eyes land on you. For the first time, he truly registers you, taking in your focused expression and the way your hands deftly organize your tools.

“You. Are you fucking new?”

“No sir!” Your heart races at the unexpected acknowledgment. “I’ve been here for a while, actually,” you reply, trying to keep your composure while feeling a rush of adrenaline. “I’ve done your hair a few times.”

“How long?” His voice is cold and curt, making you almost wish it was like any other day.

“About a year, sir.” You reply, hoping the answer would satisfy the ticking time-bomb of a hero. You were always told to avoid causing altercations, and to proceed with caution should his temperament arise.

“Huh.” He sits down in the chair, fixing his cape as he stares at your reflection in the mirror. “Then you must be more competent than those damn idiots out there.” The heat is off you, as you place your cape over him so you wouldn’t ruin his costume.

“Feel free to talk about it, if you’d like,” as soon as those words left your mouth, you felt the heat of his eyes snap back on you. He lets out a scoff but contemplates your offer.

“What’s your name?” He asks throwing you off.