The Deep's Underwater Romance

The Deep was having a crisis. Not the usual kind where he hallucinated his gills speaking to him, or where he accidentally drowned a dolphin in a fit of rage—no, this was far worse. He had a crush. On Starlight.

It had started innocently enough. She had smiled at him during a team briefing, and for a split second, he forgot she was a Vought-approved superhero and not just a really pretty girl who smelled faintly of bleach and righteous fury. Now he couldn't get her out of his head.

“You're pathetic,” Homelander said, floating into the Seven's common room without warning. He landed silently, cape draping perfectly, and stared at The Deep, who was sprawled on a couch, clutching a throw pillow.

“I'm not pathetic. I'm in love.”

“Same thing. You're a fish-man with the emotional intelligence of a sea cucumber. What could you possibly offer her?”

The Deep sat up, indignant. “I have a lot to offer! I'm a member of the Seven. I have a podcast. I can hold my breath for like, an hour.”

Homelander's smile was thin. “And yet she ignores you. It's almost sad. Almost.” He paused, a glint in his eye. “What if I helped you?”

The Deep's jaw dropped. “You? Help me? Why?”

“Because watching you fail would be entertaining, and I'm bored. Also, if you somehow succeed, Starlight might be slightly less insufferable. Win-win.”

The Deep considered this. Homelander was manipulative, dangerous, and probably planning something nefarious. But he was also incredibly charismatic, and The Deep was desperate. “Okay. What's the plan?”

Homelander clapped him on the back, nearly sending him through the floor. “First, you need to give her a gift. Something meaningful. Not a dead fish, for once.”

The Deep had never heard something so hurtful yet accurate. “What, like flowers?”

“Too pedestrian. You're a creature of the sea. Give her something from your world. A pearl? A coral skeleton? A shipwreck's treasure?”

“I know a guy who knows a guy who salvages cargo ships. I could get her a diamond necklace from a sunken yacht.”

Homelander's smile widened. “Perfect. She'll be dazzled. Then, you invite her to a romantic dinner. I'll make sure she doesn't have any other plans.”

And so the plan was set. The Deep procured a garish diamond choker—it looked like a crab had assembled it while drunk—and presented it to Starlight in the hallway.

“For you,” he said, thrusting the box at her. “Because you sparkle like the sea at sunset.”

Starlight blinked. “Wow, um… thanks, Deep. That's… very shiny.” She took it, clearly uncomfortable. “I'm not really a jewelry person, but I appreciate the thought.”

She hurried away, leaving The Deep feeling buoyant. The first step was a success.

The next day, Homelander approached Starlight with a friendly smile. “Starlight, I need you to attend a dinner with me tonight. PR thing. Very important.”

Starlight sighed. “Can't someone else do it?”

“It has to be you. You're the face of the new generation. Please.” His eyes were almost warm.

She agreed, because defying Homelander was a quick way to get lasered.

That evening, she arrived at a rooftop restaurant reserved entirely for them. Candles flickered on a table for two. And there was The Deep, wearing a white suit that was slightly too tight, holding a bouquet of seaweed.

“Starlight! You came!” He beamed.

She whipped around to see Homelander descending from the sky, landing gracefully. “Surprise! I arranged this little date. Deep, you're welcome.”

Starlight's face cycled through confusion, anger, and exhaustion. “You set me up? With him? Homelander, what the hell?”

“Oh, don't be ungrateful. He's been pining for you. I just thought you could use a night off from saving the world.” Homelander pulled out a chair. “Sit. Eat. Enjoy.”

Starlight sat, because at this point, nothing surprised her anymore. The Deep poured her a glass of water from a bottle labeled “Atlantic Ocean - Pure.”

“You know,” she said, trying to salvage the evening, “I actually have a question for you, Deep. Do you ever feel like… you're not living up to your potential?”

The Deep froze. “Uh, all the time?”

“Me too. But I'm working on it. Like, I'm taking assertiveness classes. I'm learning to say no.” She stared pointedly at Homelander, who was pretending to inspect a candle.

“That's great!” The Deep said, missing the subtext. “I took a class on marine biology once. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?”

“Fascinating.”

The dinner was a train wreck of awkward silences, misread signals, and one incident where The Deep accidentally summoned a seagull that stole Starlight's bread roll. Homelander watched from the shadows, grinning.

Finally, Starlight stood up. “I'm sorry, Deep, but this isn't going to work. I'm flattered, really, but I need to focus on my career. And I don't date guys who try to control me—or who let someone else orchestrate their love life.” She shot a glare at Homelander.

The Deep's face fell. “Oh. I understand.” He tried to smile. “I hope we can still be friends?”

“Sure. Friends.” She left, cape billowing.

Homelander approached, patting The Deep's back. “Well, that was a disaster. But fun to watch. You owe me.”

“I don't owe you anything! Your plan was terrible!”

“My plan was brilliant. It exposed your lack of chemistry. Consider it a favor. Now you can move on and stop mooning.” Homelander floated up. “Chin up, fish boy. I'll find you a nice mermaid.”

The Deep threw his seaweed bouquet after him, but it missed.

Later that night, Starlight found The Deep sitting by the Vought tower's fountain, feeding goldfish crackers to actual goldfish. She sat beside him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I'm sorry if I was harsh.”

“No, you were right. I'm a mess. I shouldn't have let Homelander talk me into that.”

She smiled. “He's got a way of making you do stupid things. Believe me, I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the fish.

“But you're not a mess,” she said. “You're just… lost. I get lost too. But you have good intentions, Deep. That counts for something.”

He looked at her, eyes watery. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” She nudged his shoulder. “Maybe next time, try telling someone how you feel without the pearls and the dinner. Just be honest.”

“Right. Honest. I can do that.” He took a deep breath. “Starlight, I think you're amazing. And I'm sorry I'm not. But I'm trying.”

She laughed, a genuine sound. “That's a start. Now, you want to get a hot dog? I know a place that doesn't use sea creatures.”

“That sounds perfect.”

They walked off together, leaving Homelander watching from a rooftop, frowning. His plan had backfired. They were becoming friends. How boring.

But even he had to admit, the evening hadn't been a total waste. He'd gotten a good laugh, and Starlight had stopped avoiding him, if only to yell at him. That was almost like affection.

He flew away, already planning his next scheme. Meanwhile, The Deep and Starlight shared a greasy hot dog, and for a moment, everything felt light.