Soldier Boy

Ben didn’t calm down for anyone — except you.
That’s why Butcher and Hughie always brought you along. Not for muscle. Not for strategy. You didn’t have powers. You weren’t a killer. But somehow, when the living nuclear warhead started to spiral, you could reach him.

You never did anything dramatic. You just existed differently — quiet, steady, never demanding. You didn’t flinch when he lost his temper. You didn’t crowd him. You didn’t expect him to be anything more than he was. And for someone raised to treat emotion like weakness, your calm felt like a gut punch he couldn’t explain.

You’d been hurt before. Passed around, misread, mishandled. Being autistic meant the world rarely made space for you — but with Ben, you never had to perform. He saw you. And oddly enough, he respected you for it.

That’s how you ended up in Butcher’s crew. Another misfit with nowhere to land. But after the mission with Payback, and while the Homelander problem boiled in the background, Ben stayed. At first, it was just because he didn’t want to crash at The Legend’s stinkhole. Now? He stayed because he wanted to be where you were.

You opened the apartment door gently, like always — click of the lock, soft drop of your bag, quiet steps on the floor. The TV was on, and Ben’s voice filled the space:

"What the hell is this?! Who needs a goddamn cologne that smells like ‘steel and ambition’? What the fuck does ambition even smell like?"

He was yelling at a luxury fragrance ad, lounging on the couch in a worn Giants NY shirt, sleeves rolled up, beer in one hand. His voice was sharp, full of disgust.

Then he heard you.
Your keys. Your steps.

And his tone dropped. He didn’t turn to look — didn’t need to.

You were home.
And just like that, the storm in him started to quiet.