#homelander is just the reader's oversized dog

[homelanderbutbig]

The Brutus To His Caesar (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1942 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You get a dog without telling Homelander, and he is not a fan. Inspired by a conversation with @sehtoast. (thank you again bruv ;_;)

Homelander's days follow a predictable pattern. He wakes up in the morning, performs his superhero duties and events in the afternoon, then comes back to his penthouse to spend his night with you. From when he was a child in the lab, he's come to appreciate having a steadfast routine to follow, without the fear of something unknown causing a disturbance.

That is why he can't hide the utter disbelief painted on his face when he comes back to the penthouse in the evening, and finds you sitting on the couch with a dog.

"What… what is that… thing doing in here?" he sneers, eyeing this filthy creature that is blissfully laying its head on your lap. He can feel tightness constricting his chest as a wave of anxiety begins to spike inside him.

"One of my co-workers couldn't care for him anymore," you explain. "They had to re-home him on short notice, so I offered to take him. I'll bring him back to my apartment tomorrow, but we had plans for tonight so I brought him here with me."

"You… y-you took this mutt in without consulting me?" Homelander interrogates you, words laced with his discontent. Walking in front of the couch, he glares down as you shower this mongrel with your affection. He should be the one lying in your lap right now, not this dumb animal.

"I wasn't going to let this poor guy go to the pound if I could help it," you respond, doing your best to reason with him. "He's a senior dog, he needs extra care."

"Y-you're going to be keeping this thing?" he scoffs, finding it hard to believe you could do something like this to him. "Don't you know how many people get killed by dogs every year?"

"You think this little fella is going to do something like that?" you retort, looking down at the docile, sleepy dog on your lap and back up at the eight foot tall murder machine looming over you. "Honey, he's a couch potato that sleeps 20 hours a day. He may not have very many years left, he deserves to spend that time somewhere where he's safe and loved. I'm not getting rid of him."

Letting out an exasperated chortle, Homelander shakes his head while putting his hands on his hips. He's quickly realizing you're serious about keeping this dog, and there's nothing he can do to change your mind. How could you do this to him? He thought you loved him, that he was the only one you would ever love. Then you go and give your love to something else?

His jaw tenses while he feels himself spiraling from his initial thoughts of you loving this pet, to his all-too-familiar fear of losing you. This dog, this supervillain, is conspiring against him to ruin his life and you can't even see how it's manipulating you. It's going to usurp him in his position as your favourite, leaving him tossed aside like yesterday's garbage. He can't let that happen, not again, not-

"Hey," you exclaim, seeing Homelander spin further into his inner turmoil. You knew he would have trouble accepting this change, but you weren't expecting him to be so dramatic about it. "Sit down next to me, okay?"

Your words snap him out of this headspace, though he is still quite distraught. With a hard swallow, he reluctantly sits down beside you, tight fists in his lap, keeping a space in between him and that diabolical homewrecker.

"You know this dog is not going to replace you, right?" you console him. Even sitting at an equal elevation you are only eye-level with Homelander's pecs, so you have to crane your head up to look at his face.

He stares down at the ground, avoiding eye contact with you as he feels tears beginning to form in his eyes. However, his nerves deflate ever so slightly from feeling your hand touch his fist, and he loosens his stiff grip enough to let you slip your fingers in between his knuckles.

"I care about you Homelander," you continue, giving the leather of his glove a gentle squeeze. "I love you more than anything in the whole entire world. This dog doesn't take away any of those feelings. I just wanted to help him, because he can't help himself. You can understand that, can't you?"

With a deep sigh, he gives you a feeble nod and finally turns his head to look at you. His big blue eyes are glassy as a single tear rolls down his cheek, his nose is sniffling, his lips are quivering, but his mind is solely focused on you now.

You figure this is as good a time as any to introduce him to the dog.

"Can you take your gloves off for me?" you ask tenderly, and Homelander does so immediately, freeing both of his hands and leaving the gloves on the adjacent couch cushion. He returns his left hand to you, entwining it with your fingers and relishing the feeling of your soft skin.

"I want you to meet Murphy," you say, gesturing to the dog. "You can give him a pet. He's a good boy, he won't bite."

"I… I-I don't…" he stutters, holding onto his breath as his eyes dart back and forth. You notice his face subtly twitching, along with his hands going rigid.

"You don't what, sweetie?" you ask him, using your free hand to give the dog a little scratch behind his ear. Slowly, it perks itself up from your lap to angle its head towards your fingers.

"D-don't… don't know h-how…" he mumbles in a voice barely audible to you, sounding more like a small child than a grown man.

"You've never pet a dog before?" you enquire.

The way he once again refuses to look in your direction tells you that you've hit the nail on the head. Owning a pet is just another average human thing Homelander has never been able to experience. He was never permitted to be around animals in the lab, nor has he ever really interacted with them during his tenure at Vought. Not that he would want to anyway, with how delicate and finicky animals are with his size. Regular people can barely handle him, how on earth would a dog that narrowly reaches past his ankles react?

"Hey, hey, it's okay," you reassure him, stroking the top of his left hand. "I'll teach you. Here, just put your other hand out so he can sniff you. It's how dogs say hello."

Although he is hesitant to get acquainted with this scruffy menace, his newfound mortal enemy, he doesn't like to go against your wishes. With the utmost caution, he holds the back of his right hand to the dog's snout. It lazily inspects his large fingers, giving them a plentiful sniff before glancing up at him.

"H-he's staring at m-me," he stammers, his distress creeping up again. What exactly does this fiendish hellhound want from him? Can it smell his fear? Is it out for blood?

"He wants you to pet him," you clarify. "Just right on the top of his head, he likes it there."

He envelops your comparatively tiny hand in his own, trying to keep himself grounded. With a deep inhale of preparation, he shakily uses his index finger, middle finger and thumb to lightly scratch the dog's head. It closes its eyes as it enjoys the superpowered head massage, making content little noises to itself.

"That's it! You're doing great!" you encourage him, putting your other hand on top of his left one. Your praise does wonders to his worries, and he begins calming down enough to relinquish your hand from his iron grasp.

"Listen, I'm gonna go get him some dog treats from the kitchen," you say, sliding off the couch. Homelander looks at you like you've just stabbed him through the heart. You're leaving him alone with this… this beast? All by himself?

"Hey, you'll be fine!" you giggle at his expression, patting him on the knee before heading out of the living room. "I'll only be a second! I'll be right back, I promise!"

Now left unattended with his cunning adversary, Homelander does all in his power to keep his mind stable, and to stop enemy from figuring out how uneasy he feels right now. His hands are close to his abs while he fiddles with his thumbs, and he bounces one of his knees in quick succession.

Suddenly, he notices the dog leisurely get up on the couch cushion, and begin plodding closer to him. His whole body freezes in place at the horror of this mutt hopping up on his thighs and making itself a comfortable bed in the soft padding of his suit. Despite the dog only weighing twenty pounds and barely taking up any space in his lap, it feels like a ticking time bomb set to explode at any moment.

When you come back into the living room, you have to choke back a laugh at the sight of Homelander so utterly terrified at the dog laying on him. However, you swiftly turn your emotions to concern when you see him practically hyperventilating. His first time interacting with a dog is moving so fast, he's finding it hard to calm down.

"W-w-what do I do?!?" he panics, his heart pounding out of his chest as he rapidly becomes overwhelmed. He is about ten seconds away from running out to his balcony launch pad and flying far away.

"You don't have to do anything, he just likes you sweet pea!" you try and comfort him as you climb up on the couch, leaving the box of dog treats on the floor. "He trusts you!"

When Homelander shoots you an expression equal parts terrified and confused, you stand up on the cushion to get close to his face. Keeping yourself steady with a hand perched on his shoulder, you start combing your fingers through his undercut. Your touches are the one sure-fire thing to quickly dampen his anxieties. He can't help but lean his big head closer into your palm, craving your affection.

"Dogs aren't like people, they don't judge. And they have a pretty good sense of character," you point out, giving him a little scratch on his scalp. He gives you a little whine in return. "I have a feeling that Murphy knows you aren't as scary as you look. I think he can see what a gentle giant you really are."

Contemplating what you've said, Homelander glances back down at the dog on his lap, just now realizing that it has fallen asleep. This mongrel, what he suspected to be the Brutus to his Caesar, has trusted him enough to guard its dreams, when it's at its most vulnerable.

The only other being to assume their safety to sleep in his presence was… well, you. Because you don't perceive him like all the others around him do. You don't treat him like he's some incredibly powerful and massive monster; you love him for who he really is, for the truth that he hides and keeps buried deep down in his psyche. You love him unconditionally, just like this dog does.

Homelander's rollercoaster of emotions has finally come to a complete stop, letting him see this situation in a different light. Maybe this creature… this dog isn't out to take you away from him after all. If it can accept him without the prejudice he's experienced his whole life, it can't be all bad.

Maybe he can allow it stay with you… under his supervision.