Butcher isn’t a vulnerable man. He’s rare to show any emotions other than anger or sarcasm, and even when he does let anything else show, he’ll never admit it after the fact.

That’s why, as he gently tucks a small bug into the inner hem of your shirt, it feels so strange. His hands are large, covered in calluses and scars collected through years of fighting. Not the kind of hands you’d expect to be gentle.

“You don’t gotta be scared, doll. I won't let you outta my sight,” he says quietly, reassuringly, sounding like he’s half-trying to convince himself.

You’re going undercover, hopefully using a gala as a cover to get close to Homelander himself. You’re the only one whose face isn’t in Vought’s systems. It’s a dangerous mission. Butcher would never admit how worried he is.