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✎ S1E6 ⇢ ˗ˏˋ PART 2 , 2019
|"THE INNOCENTS" "That amateur fuck...does he not know how to set up a fucking set!?" Dean stares, unfazed as Homelander paces back and forth under a barn, muttering to himself about the recent commotion. Someone had left a possession of his that seemed to give him a sense of dred, making him think about his past while setting up for the home set.
He knew what it was, and Homelander told him about it long ago. He didn't want to judge his brother, but he didn't fully understand the feeling he had towards it, even though he was given the explanation.
Dean takes out the cig from his from his mouth, exhaling the smoke that resided in his mouth. Holding it between his middle and pointer finger in his right hand, letting it linger off the side as the remains slowly fall to the dirt ground. Leaning against the wooden pole that held the farmhouse together, he looks to his right towards the painting like scenery. Tress, grass, plants and insects going about with white picked fences, the perfect family yard.
Shifting his weight, he leans on his right shoulder, clearing his throat. "The man just got confused, not everything is perfect John."
Homelander quickly turns his head to Dean and stares with his blue emptiness eyes before speaking. "Well- It's their fucking job. They should know how to do it." He spoke, with his hand gesturing outward.
He looks up and down at Homelander before walking to him. Looking towards nature, Homelander doing the same. Hearing him breathe erratically, he glances before turning away. "World's not perfect John, and it's just a simple blanket from your child years. I don't understand why-"
Homelander scoffs, and whips his head taking some of his blonde hair strands out of his face. "Obviously Dean, you don't understand. You weren't even there..." Dean eyes John, seeing him looking down at the ground with a face fused of anger, sadness and confusion. It was rare to see him like such, most of their moments were full of hatred. He seemed vulnerable right now.
Homelander casually gazes at Dean before catching eye of his cigarette. He raises an eyebrow, face full of disgust. "And since when do you smoke?"
"Uh," Dean quickly puts it off by throwing it on the ground, smashing it with his shoe. He knew John wasn't really fine with it but to accommodate to this sudden vulnerability from him, Dean puts it out. "Until recently-look," Dean started. He places a comforting hand on John's shoulder, his hand touching the cold metal eagle that made John's shoulder stand out more.
Homelander looks to where he put his hand and slowly places his own on top, without looking Dean in the eye.
"People are fucked up, we're fucked up as much as you hate to admit it. And you're Homelander man," He pats him a few times, earning a quick stiff laugh from John. "America's number one and only hero. Who better has earn that title than you huh?"
