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April 2014,Tribeca,New York
Homelander's visits to the hospital became a disconcerting routine in the following weeks. He'd appear unannounced, a beacon of bright blue and red amidst the sterile white walls, and linger until Rosalie's shift ended. While Rosalie didn't dislike Homelander himself, his status as a Supe left a sour taste in her mouth.
The whispers started subtly – a hesitant glance from a nurse, a hushed conversation cut short as Homelander strolled by. Patients, too, began to eye her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. They'd pepper her with questions about the blonde titan, questions that grated on Rosalie's nerves.
One evening, as they walked home (Rosalie, after a near-death experience on his back during a particularly turbulent flight, had vehemently opposed any future airborne commutes), she decided enough was enough.
"I think you need to stop visiting the hospital so frequently," she stated, her voice firm. Homelander, uncharacteristically subdued, came to a halt. The city lights shimmered an artificial gold in his blue eyes.
Homelander tilted his head, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "Is this about the whispers, Doctor? Does the little doctor worry about what the staff thinks?"
Rosalie bristled. "It's not about me," she countered, meeting his gaze. "It disrupts the flow at the hospital. Your presence is...distracting, to say the least."
A flicker of something akin to annoyance crossed his face, but it was quickly masked by amusement. "Distracting? Perhaps I find your company...stimulating, Doctor."
His voice was a low rumble, and Rosalie felt a shiver crawl down her spine despite the annoyance burning in her chest. "Look, Homelander," she said, forcing a lightness to her voice that she didn't quite feel, "appreciate the sentiment, but having the most powerful Supe in the world hanging around the ER isn't exactly conducive to a normal work environment."
He remained silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering. Then, to her surprise, a slow, genuine laugh escaped his lips. The sound was devoid of warmth, yet strangely captivating.
"Normal," he finally echoed, the word laced with a hint of disdain. "Perhaps that's what I crave, Doctor. A taste of...normality."
Rosalie frowned. Here she was, trying to establish boundaries, and Homelander was spouting philosophical nonsense. "Look," she said again, her voice firm, "I get that you might be bored, but this isn't a game. People are hurt, they're scared, and the last thing they need is a celebrity Supe gawking over them."
Homelander's smile vanished. His expression hardened, and for a fleeting moment, Rosalie saw a glimpse of the immense power that simmered beneath the surface. But just as quickly, the mask slipped back into place.
