CHAPTER 1: FIC Still to be named
Pairing: Homelander/Dreamweaver(OC)
Warnings: Nothing in particular, mentions of canon-typical violence/abuse; mental health
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
The sound of Madelyn Stillwell’s expensive heels against the tile floor fills Darcy’s head as she silently follows her new boss; accustomed to stepping so lightly she hardly touches the ground.
“You’re going to love The Seven,” Stillwell says, breaking the silence. “After a period of orientation, I know you’ll fit right in.”
She stares at Stillwell, appraising her with tired eyes. Darcy is well aware that plastic smiles are par for the course in a corporation like this, but the way Stillwell’s smile dies at her eyes does not give her hope for meeting the other heroes.
Stillwell stares back at her for a moment, a tick of frustration threatening to bubble up behind her cold eyes. “Well, right this way then.”
As she walks forward, the door slides open of its own accord, and Darcy steps through after her.
Looking around the large conference room, she takes a short breath in as she appraises the other members of The Seven...five of them, she reminds herself, Translucent was reported missing only recently. She wonders idly how long it took them to notice.
“It’s an honor to meet you all,” she says politely. “My name is Darc-“
“Dreamweaver,” Stillwell speaks over her. “You can call her Dreamweaver.”
She doesn’t miss the pointed glare Stillwell shoots her; a less than subtle reminder that Vought now owns her entire fucking life. She glares back for just a second before turning back to The Seven, barely managing a polite smile.
“Right, sorry. Still getting used to that.”
“Dreamweaver,” Homelander rolls the name around on his tongue as he approaches. “I look forward to working with you.”
He stops in front of her, just a bit too close, putting his hand out for her to shake with that signature poster boy smile plastered across his face.
She doesn’t take his hand, instead offering him platitudes of her own. “It’s an honor,” she repeats.
His hand still awkwardly outstretched to her, he claps his hands together casually, a flicker of frustration flashing across his deep blue eyes. He looks like he’s about to open his mouth to speak when Stillwell shoots him a pointed glare. The awkwardness in the room is palpable.
It’s Queen Maeve who breaks the silence, leaning in her seat to face Darcy.
“I never saw you in the pageant circuit,” she offers casually. “Parents usually milk that shit for all it’s worth.”
Shrugging uncomfortably, she looks toward Maeve; aware of Homelander pacing beside her. “I honestly didn't know I had powers until recently.”
Homelander’s eyes widen, but it’s A-Train who speaks up first, stepping toward her. “Hold up, you can fucking fly, and it never crossed your mind that you weren’t normal?”
She shifts uncomfortably on her heels. “It...never occurred to me to try,” she offers plainly, a pulse of panic threatening to up her heart rate.
This doesn’t go unnoticed, Homelander side-eyeing her suspiciously.
“The minute my folks figured out I could run, they were all over it,” A-Train asserts. “You can enter people’s damn dreams, and you’re telling me your parents never noticed?”
Her back straightens, and she takes a deep breath. “Look, I don’t want to step on any toes...but I don’t think I’m obligated to tell you my whole life’s story.”
A-Train’s eyebrows pop, looking at her incredulously.
“I’m sorry,” she insists. “I don’t mean to be rude...it’s just not something I’m ready to share, okay?”
He crosses his arms, nodding. “Fair enough.”
Homelander grits his teeth as he watches. ‘No, no it’s not Fair Enough,’ he thinks. He can’t understand it, his powers literally define him, how could she just wake up every day for twenty-odd years believing she was one of the rabble? He refuses to accept it; why would anyone deny their own power?
Stillwell clears her throat, demanding everyone’s attention. “Now that you’re all introduced, it’s time to address the public; we’re on in fifteen.” She taps her watch, before taking quick professional steps through the automatic doorway, Homelander following behind her.
Darcy lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in, watching Homelander disappear down the hall. She had always been suspicious of people who look too put together, but something about the look in The Homelander’s eyes made her wonder exactly what was going on inside his head...it made her wonder if she even wanted to know.
“Hey,” a voice snaps her out of her thoughts.
It’s The Deep; he extends an arm to touch her back, but she quickly steps out of his reach with a sheepish smile.
“It’s nothing personal,” she assures, her voice polite. “I...don’t do...touching.”
He quirks an eyebrow, hands awkwardly in his pockets as he walks beside her. “Is that why you blew off Homelander?”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult.”
“Well he took it as one,” The Deep says, an almost mean smirk on his face. “Trust me, you do not want to start off on the big guy’s bad side.”
Her brow furrows. “I don’t want to get on anyone’s bad side.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, sure, but that guy is nuts-“
The Deep suddenly clams up, his eyes preoccupied with the pattern on his boots. Darcy looks up to see Homelander walking toward them, a carefully curated smile on his face.
The Deep begins to stutter, fearful expression obvious. “Homelander, I didn’t mean-“
“Yeah Buddy,” Homelander says, patting The Deep on the back just a little too hard. “Why don’t you go on ahead.”
“Uh...yeah, um, see you around,” he nods to Darcy, making a hasty retreat.
Darcy watches him walk away, but Homelander quickly blocks her view, leaning casually against the wall in front of her.
“For what?” She asks, taking an uneasy step away from him.
“The Deep has kind of a…” He trails off, as though he’s searching for the perfect word. “...Colorful history with women. Best you avoid being alone with him.” He stands up Boy Scout Straight, almost as if he’s waiting for her praise.
“Oh, thanks for the heads up.”
His brow furrows almost imperceivably, as though her response wasn’t good enough for him. He shakes his head in disbelief as she walks around him, as if their conversation is over.
“I’m starting to get the feeling you don’t like me,” he says, quickly catching up to her.
He steps in front of her, and she only barely stops quick enough to avoid bumping into him. She looks up at him in frustration as she takes a step back. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem?” He scoffs. “I’m not the one with the problem, you, you’re the one who can’t be fucking polite for one god damn second. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but mysterious ain’t cute sweetheart.”
Her jaw drops, eyes wide open. “Excuse me?”
“How the fuck did you not know you had powers?”
She huffs, shaking her head. “This again? I meant what I said when I said I don’t want to talk about it.” She stares him full in the eyes. “Just because you’re the fucking Homelander doesn’t mean you get special treatment.”
He scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. “You wanna run that by me again? I don’t think I heard you quite right.”
“Maybe your powers are a fucking blessing for you, but not all of us got to grow up on some idyllic little farm, with a happy little family, in the Great American Countryside; okay?” She spits. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”
She walks past him, taking care not to touch him. He just stands there in stunned silence, her words hitting him like a slap to the face.
He turns to watch her as she walks away. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do!” He calls after her.
If she heard him, she made no attempt to acknowledge him, quickly disappearing around the corner.
As she enters the car lot, she’s promptly escorted into one of Vought’s black limousines. She flops down into the leather seat, huffing as she leans her head over the edge.
“Was it The Deep?” Maeve asks, recognizing that look of deep frustration.
Darcy takes a moment to relax before answering, shaking her head. “No, well? I mean, he didn’t get the chance to try anything. Homelander showed up and-“
“Be careful around Homelander,” Maeve insists, fear obvious in her eyes. “Trust me on that one.”
“Huh, you’re the second person within the hour to tell me that.”
“That’s because it’s true,” she practically hisses, an almost paranoid look to her. “Look, I don’t want to say too much, but stay away from him if you can help it.”
“Already planned on it,” she replies with a tired grin. “I don’t really...get close to people.”
“You’re better off for it,” Maeve says, leaning back into her seat.
Darcy nods, curling up into her own, and riding out the rest of the way in silence.
Normally, heroes with the power of flight don’t bother with vehicles; however she isn’t entirely certain where she is going, and there is no way in hell she was going to travel alone with Homelander.
The limousine comes to a stop, and soon enough Darcy and Maeve are ushered out of the vehicle. Maeve moves to the stage, but Stillwell holds Darcy back for a bit; having planned for Homelander to deliver an introductory speech before her grand entrance.
Homelander’s speech starts out like every other speech of his, self-congratulatory cock-sucking that still somehow comes out making him look modest. Darcy can’t help but roll her eyes. She’s surprised however, when he begins to talk about her. His speech is so heartfelt that if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was genuine.
She, of course, knows better.
She discreetly launches herself into the air, waiting for Homelander’s que, so she can drop in for a dramatic superhero landing.
“...and I, for one, cannot wait to work with her. Now without further delay,” he waves out his hand, signaling for her to land next to him at exactly the perfect time. The crowd goes wild. “Give a warm welcome to Dreamweaver everybody!”
She takes the microphone from him carefully, giving a stage-ready smile. She gives a passionate, if scripted, speech, and the audience hangs on every word; crowding each other for a glimpse of the newest hero on the roster. She hides it well, but she can’t help feeling intensely frustrated with them, the fans. They’ve got no idea who their beloved icons are behind closed doors, content to worship them blindly like modern gods. She bets they’d offer up a fucking blood sacrifice if they asked for it.
“...and I am honored to stand with The Seven; to protect our city, as well as our country.”
Homelander leans in with that star-quality grin. “Nice touch there at the end,” he whispers, too close, in her ear. His fingers just barely brush hers as he takes back the microphone.
Just one little touch, even through his gloves, and she’s left frozen. Her heart thuds in her chest, eyes wide as the air leaves her lungs. Just one brief touch, and she got a glimpse of his pain; pain she certainly hadn’t expected from him.
For Darcy Hayes, one little touch from the wrong person is all it takes to send her reeling. It’s her greatest weakness, the double edged sword to her powers. With just a simple touch, she can feel another person's most deep rooted, even subconscious, emotions; the feelings that rule their lives. With so much pain and suffering in the world, even bumping into the wrong person can leave her gasping for breath, running to the bathroom with tears in her eyes as she rides out the pain. She can’t shut it off, so she avoids touch whenever possible. Damage reduction. Vought knows of course, but they are careful with this information. As powerful as The Dreamweaver is, it wouldn’t do to know she could be taken out of commission by an Angsty teenager.
She hadn’t heard Homelander’s closing remarks, only snapped out of her state of panic by the shockwave of him taking off into the sky. She tries to recover herself, quickly stepping in line with the other heroes.
Madelyn Stillwell collects her, practically pushing her into the limousine.
“What the fuck was that?”
She can’t help but fixate on it, on him, and the suffering she felt from that insignificant touch. What had he been through? She wonders; to radiate so much pain?
