Work Text:
Herman’s relationship with Robert doesn’t change much, in the days following the embarrassing incident at the bar (and everything that happened after).
The rest of the week had gone something like this:
Sunday, he wakes up in Robert’s bed, legs half hanging off the edge. After realizing he’d woken up first, he does his best to lie still, to let Robert sleep. He must not do a very good job being subtle with all the glances he’s been stealing, since Robert blinks awake a few minutes after him.
They talk. Herm doesn’t remember everything they talk about, days later, or exactly what they had said, but he does remember bits and pieces. The important parts, mostly.
“So,” Robert starts, voice still gravelly with sleep. Herm can’t help but to find it attractive, and he knows he must be blushing, just a little. “…I suppose this is the point where we have our ‘what are we’ talk.”
Herm swallows. “I-I-I-If- t-this doesn’t have to - to change anything,” he says immediately, trying to appease, before he remembers himself, “I-I mean, I’d l-l-like it to, a bit! B-b-but w-what you want i-i-is mor- I-I mean, just as i-i-important, t-too.” Robert rolls to face him fully, and he feels a hot wave of shame, before a broad and calloused palm reaches up to smooth down his bicep. Herm finds it soothing, and is sure that that’s why Robert does it in the first place. He’s a perceptive kind of guy.
“Hey, we’re both important here, Herm. How about this? You tell me what you want, from… all of this, and I’ll tell you how I feel about it.” And goddammit, he really is too perceptive. He knows that Herm would agree to… well, not anything, but most things he might suggest. He feels embarrassed about getting clocked like that, and anxious about being put on the spot, but he tries to choke it down, to think.
After a moment, he realizes that this is probably also be Robert’s way of apologizing for Friday night, letting him take the lead, and that helps. It helps a lot, actually. It’s a sweet gesture. He chews the inside of his lip for a moment, considering.
“I’m… not ready for a relationship, r-r-right now. I-I-In general. But… I really l-l-look up t-t- I respect you, Robert. I l-like you. A lot. I- I’d be really h-h-happy — I’m very l-lucky to get to - to call you my friend. So… I’d like to - to - to keep doing that. And m-m-maybe doing, y’know…” He gestures between them, helplessly. “…More of, of this. S-s-sometimes.”
Robert hums, a soft smile on his face. “Hm. So, you’re suggesting… friends with benefits?”
Herm cringes, but nods anyway. It sounds childish, coming out of Robert’s mouth.
“You’re just full of surprises. But… that sounds perfect. No, really,” he adds when Herm just stares, his astonishment written all over his face, “Last night was fun. A lot of fun. And I’m lucky to know you too. You’re just… you’re a good guy, Herm.”
They sit in silence, for a moment.
“Alright, enough of this sappy shit. Help me strip the bed?”
He does.
They walk Beef under a gray November sky. They talk over coffee and frozen Eggo waffles. They clean the apartment. The whole thing feels like the morning after a sleepover, lazy and content, where even the chores are fun because you have company. Herm has been to Robert’s apartment before, has even hung out with him one-on-one a few times, but the easy rhythm they fall into is new, foreign to him outside of work. It’s… nice. Really nice.
He takes his leave maybe two hours after they wake up, when Robert looks like he’s contemplating laundry and Herm feels like he’s starting to overstay his welcome.
He makes it home in time to make lunch, and spends the rest of the day smiling, even as his grandma teases him and the cats scratch at his shins.
Monday isn’t so lucky.
He drips into his coffee more than usual when he wakes up, and it’s watered down and bitter. There’s a tear in his favorite hero wetsuit, the one that fits him best, and he has to wear a spare that’s gotten too tight around the shoulders. His bus is eight minutes late, and he loses another ten to unusually bad traffic on the route to work.
All little things. But they add up, and throw off his morning. He feels itchy and off balance.
That is to say, when Blonde Blazer manages to seek him out before he’s even halfway through the lobby of the building, he panics.
“M-m-m-miss Blazer, I am so so sorry I’m l-l-late, m-m-my bus got - I, I mean, I - traffic, a-and-“
“Woah, woah, Waterboy, slow down, it’s okay!” she interrupts, eyes wide. Herm snaps his mouth closed. “You’re not in trouble, I honestly hadn’t even noticed. It’s only…” She peers over his shoulder, to check the clock on the wall behind him. He cranes his head to look. “…Six minutes past the start of your shift. No big deal.” She smiles at him, and he smiles back, wobbly with relief. His shoulders slump with it.
“T-t-that’s good, to hear. But, um, if not that, t-t-then what…?”
“Oh! Right. I actually needed to talk to you about something. In my office, if you wouldn’t mind?“
“S-s-sur- okay!”
Herm trails behind Blazer when she leads the way, and shakes his head to clear it, hard, when she’s not looking. When water droplets get flung from his hair at the motion, he tries not to feel too much like a wet dog following its owner, and mostly succeeds.
She gestures to the chair across her desk, and waits until he drops into it with a thump before sitting down herself. She crosses her arms, shifting slightly, and won’t quite meet his eyes. It’s odd - Herm doesn’t think he’s ever seen her nervous before. She’s always so composed, at least around him and the team, no matter if she’s Blonde Blazer or Mandy that day. Seeing her hesitate like this makes her feel more human, in a way. That’s probably why, after a moment of watching her dig her nails into her skin, he decides to break the silence. He’s been there, after all, and sometimes a push is all he needs.
“S-so…?”
Blazer jolts like Herm had shouted in her ear, eyes snapping to his face, and it makes him flinch a bit in response. She softens a bit.
“Right. So.” Her eyes leave his face again, focusing on the space by his left ear. She visibly steels herself, and Herm’s heart skips a beat. “I wanted to talk to you about… about Friday. And what happened at the bar.”
Oh. Ohhhhh.
“I know the Z-team isn’t always the most… well behaved, and I’ve been trying to work with them on that front, but I just wanted to check in with you about the whole thing. Robert is your supervisor - technically your boss - and if anything happened that made you uncomfortable, I want you to know that you can come to me for help. I can always put in a transfer to move you to a different team, or file a title nin-“
Herm cuts her off, and he’s sure that the horror he feels is written plainly across his face when he speaks, panic back in full force. “Wha- no! N-no, no, no, a-a-absolutely not, please do not do that.”
“Are you sure?” She asks gently, but Herm can see the way she loses tension in her arms, in the lines of her face. She likes Robert, as much or maybe even more than he does. She doesn’t want to do anything to hurt him. She’s just doing her job.
“Y-y-yeah - yes. I am. Sure, t-that is. We - me and Robert - w-we talked. After. E-e-everything is good. Great, even.” He does his best to sound convincing, which shouldn’t be that hard, because it’s the truth.
Blazer scans his face for a moment, assessing. She must find what she’s looking for, because after a moment she slumps in her chair, blowing out a long breath.
“Thank goodness. I really wasn’t looking forward to filing that paperwork.” She runs a hand through her hair and shoots him a grin, which he only partially succeeds in returning. He’s still shaky with nerves, and she must be able to see that, too, because she schools her face back into something almost resembling professionalism. “Take fifteen to relax before you start your shift. I’ll let the team know you were busy. Oh, and Waterboy?” She adds when he moves to stand up, swiping fruitlessly at the wet spot on the back of his chair. He looks down at her, and sees nothing but compassion in her gaze. The face of a real hero. “If you need anything at all, and I mean anything, my office is always open to you.”
He feels his ears grow hot, water rolling down his face in droves, but his smile stretches a little wider, more genuine this time. “I-I’ll take- keep that in mind. T-t-thank you.”
Herm drops off his wallet in his locker, then detours to the break room and takes his time making a new cup of coffee, taking care to hold it away from his body this time. He sips at it carefully. Still bitter, as all break room coffee is, but not watery.
He holds it protectively while he walks to the rec room - the hero rest area, where they wait to be sent out and relax between calls. He barely has time to grab his earpiece from its designated spot on the shelf before Punch Up is there, giving him a backhanded thwack to the shin that makes him cringe and his coffee slosh in its mug. “Gah! Col- Punch Up, what-“
“Good ta see ya alive, lad! T’was worried that after yer meetin’ with Blondie, there’d be nothin’ left of ya by the time we started work today.”
Prism laughs from halfway across the room, light and loud. “Miss Blazer told us that she had to pull you aside to talk to you about something - you ain’t getting fired on us, are you?”
“N-n-no! No - or, uhm, I-I-I hope n-not, wait, do you t-t-think I’m getting f-fired?”
“No, you idiot,” Flambae snorts from his seat on the couch next to Prism, “They’re just fucking with you.”
“O-oh.” All three of them laugh at that. Herm feels vaguely like he’s getting hazed - like he does most days at the office. He chooses to shuffle into one of the chairs at one end of the room, a good distance away from where everyone else is congregating. It’s hard plastic, and therefore uncomfortable, but it’s miles better than getting yelled at for leaving one of the couches a soggy mess.
He takes another sip of coffee, then slots his earpiece into place, turning it on. “T-this is Waterboy, r-r-reporting for- clocking in!” Someone over the team line laughs, and someone else whoops.
“Good morning, Waterboy.” Robert says in his ear, and Herm tamps down on the smile that threatens to break out on his face, resting his chin on his hand instead. Half the team is in the room, and therefore they can see him, and he doesn’t want to be teased for smiling about something as simple as a good morning.
The first half of their shift goes by fast, after that. He’s sent out twice - once with Golem, to deal with flooding on a minor highway, and once with Malevola and Sonar to catch a group of robbers escaping a bank. There’s no failed calls, no injuries. Just happy chattering when they break for lunch. Herm is just starting to feel like the rest of his day may be salvageable, free from the string of bad luck that had plagued his morning, when Chase corners him on his way to get his lunch.
Herm’s shoulders creep up towards his ears without his say-so when the older man stops in front of him, then drop into an exhausted slouch when he points a single thumb behind him, towards the conference room in the hall. He longingly glances towards the fridge, but Chase remains firm.
“Okay,” Herm mutters, resigned.
Chase pats his arm, firm, before taking the lead. “Good man.”
Much like that morning, once they’re in the conference room Chase gestures for him to take a seat, and waits for him to sit down before following suit. Herm feels oddly exposed, despite the way his suit covers him all the way up to his chin. He desperately rakes a hand through his hair, and the wet strands cling to the sides of his face when they drop.
Chase sighs, looking at him.
“Look, kid, I’m not here to put the fear of God in you, or to talk to you about all that HR bullshit. That’s Mandy’s job. I just… Robert is family. I know him better than anyone, and I know how he can act sometimes. I wanted to make sure he hadn’t hurt you, is all.”
Herm’s chest feels warm. He scrubs a hand at his eyes to try and keep them from burning, straightening a bit from his protective hunch over the table. Chase just looks at him while he pulls himself together, patient, waiting. He breathes in.
“I - we, R-Robert wouldn’t - … Thank you, Chase. That… it means a-a lot, really. I’m - I’m good, though. Me- w-we’re good.”
He scans Herm’s expression in the same way Blazer did, that morning. They’re scarily similar. Chase must see something that she didn’t, and Herm doesn’t even know what it could possibly be, but instead of looking relieved he groans and slaps a palm over his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Rob.”
“W-w-what?” Herm asks, more baffled than anything.
“Fuckin’- nothing, kid. Go eat your lunch.” He shoos Herm out of the room with one hand, and Herm goes.
He peeks over his shoulder as he pushes open the door, though, and sees Chase pinching his brow between two fingers, muttering to himself.
Well. Not his problem.
Tuesday arrives, and it may be his problem.
Herm gets to work 10 minutes early, as he does every day (he prefers to have a buffer, sue him), and catches snippets of an argument in the hall as he fiddles with his locker combo. It’s too quiet to hear anything more than muffled voices, though, and bickering between heroes is more than common, so he doesn’t think anything of it. Honestly, he’s just relieved that he’s not involved.
That all goes out the window when he leaves the locker room and realizes that he is deeply involved, because the argument is about him. He only catches the tail end of it, but he’s not stupid. And they’re not being subtle.
“-thought you said you didn’t want to be involved.”
It’s Robert and Chase, standing around the corner, both looking tense and angry. Robert’s back is to him, but he can see the restless way he shifts on his feet, and how his hands clench at his sides. Chase’s eyebrows are drawn tight together, a scowl exaggerating the lines around his mouth. Neither of them notice him.
“You’re damn right I did, but that was before I knew you’d drag the poor kid home!”
“He’s not a kid, Chase-“
“You’re both kids, shut the hell up-“
“Oh, alright, Grandpa, why the hell do you even care-“
“Don’t you sass me like that, you-“
“-what I get up to in my free time, I don’t-”
“H-h-hey-“
“-piece of shit, you call me crying like a little bitch-“
“-even know why I bother with-“
“-begging for advice, like you’re not a grown ass man-“
“HEY!”
Herm’s shout leaves him shaking. Repressed anger has boiled up to the surface, and he works his jaw for a moment in the wake of it. Chase and Robert turn as one to look at him from where they’ve frozen in place.
Chase speaks first. “Well, shit.”
He blows out a breath, trying to let some of his frustration go. “W-why - what the hell is t-this.”
“Herm- Waterboy, it’s not what it… Okay, no, it’s exactly what it looks like,” Robert mumbles, and Herm can see the tightness in his eyes, the way his sparse freckles get lost in a dusting of pink on his cheeks. Most of his anger washes away in a wave of guilt (and a bit of amusement). “Chase can read me - both of us, apparently - like an open book, and he was worried about you. It… got out of hand.”
Chase looks contrite. “Sorry, Waterboy. Shouldn’t have done this at work.”
“No, y-you s-s-shouldn’t have,” Herm murmurs, plucking at the fingers of his gloves, “Ga-Galen p-p-probably heard all of - of it. S-Sonar, too.” Robert and Chase both cringe.
He takes another deep breath, letting it out slowly. “B-b-but it - it’s really sweet. That you both care. S-so t-thank you. Just… don’t do it a-again.” Robert opens his mouth to say something else, but Herm continues before he can, fighting to keep his expression firm. “A-and… for the record, Chase? It was m-m-my idea.”
He spins on his heel to leave, and catches a glimpse of Robert’s jaw dropping open, looking as flustered as he’s ever seen. Chase’s howling laughter follows him down the hall.
The day goes by… relatively smoothly, after that, except for the fact that Robert keeps trailing off in the middle of a sentence on the comms. It makes Herm smother a smile underneath his palms, every time it happens - and it gives the rest of the team more than enough material to rag on their dispatcher with, even if they don’t know the reason for his distraction.
Sonar doesn’t comment on it, which means he must not have heard the argument, but Galen catches his eye in the break room and sends him a wink over lunch, which makes Herm want to melt into the floor. An unhelpful puddle appears under his feet, as if his powers are helping him try.
He goes to bed that night with his head buried in his pillow, heart pounding in his chest.
On Wednesday, he gets downed. Hard.
He honestly doesn’t remember how it happened. He was on a simple mission with Punch Up and Coupe - a small skirmish that he was assigned to mainly as backup. One minute, he’s tugging at his sleeves by the door, waiting for instructions from his team. The next, he’s blinking awake in Coupe’s arms, the frantic beat of her metallic wings in one ear and Robert’s staticky voice in the other. Herm groans, and feels dried blood pull at his lip at the motion. He pats at the side of his head until his hand finds the button to turn on his mic. His fingers come away sticky.
“I-I’m okay,” he mumbles, and hears a simultaneous breath of relief from at least half the team.
“Coupe, Punch Up, status report,” Robert’s voice says over the line, no room for argument in his tone. Herm’s head feels fuzzy, and he lets it roll to the side, powerless to stop it. Coupe adjusts her grip, holding him tighter.
“They had three hundred pounds of hired muscle as backup waitin’ outside,” Punch Up says, sounding gruff, “Didn’ know he was comin’ til Waterboy got dropped. Sorry, lad.”
“‘s okay,” Herm slurs, and Coupe shushes him, not unkindly.
“Save your strength and rest. We’re taking you back to medical. With any luck, you’ll be recovered by the end of the day.” Herm hums something that might be agreement, and lets himself nod off. He trusts his teammates to take care of them.
When he wakes up again, it’s in the SDN med bay. His brain is still foggy, but this time it’s with the haze of painkillers and accelerated healing, rather than unexpected head trauma. He spots another person in the room, and blinks blearily to clear his vision. It’s Robert, hunkered down in a chair with a lap desk, doing paperwork. Herm shifts, and the movement makes the plastic sheet draped on the bed crinkle loudly. He winces. Robert pauses his work to look up at him, and a relieved smile paints his face.
“Hey, Herm,” he starts, voice low and gentle, “How are you feeling?”
He swallows, his mouth filling with water automatically to help soothe the ache in his throat. “A-alright,” he says, honest, “mostly just… fuzzy.”
Robert cracks another smile. “Yeah, that makes sense. You managed to avoid getting a concussion, but you did break a couple bones, so they had Recoveryman heal you the rest of the way. You’ll probably be pretty out of it for a few hours.” Herm nods his understanding, so Robert continues. “I had someone else cover the last hour of my shift - I figured you’d want to see a familiar face when you woke up, and you need someone to drive you home. We’re cleared to leave whenever you feel well enough to walk.”
Herm takes a second to process this. “What time ‘s it?”
“5:10 - shift just ended. I’m just finishing up the incident reports from today.” He gestures at the stack of papers still spread out in front of him.
Herm chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, considering. He feels a bit flustered being waited on like this, even though he knows, objectively, that Robert would do it for any member of the team. Has done it, a couple of times. “…Give m-me ten?”
Robert waves him off. “Take all the time you need, I’m in no rush.” He returns to his paperwork with grace, and Herm relaxes, relieved to not be the center of attention.
Finally aware enough to take stock of himself, he blinks. His left wrist feels numb, the joint almost sticky, and Herm can only assume that this is where the broken bones had happened. Maybe from the fall. He spends his ten minutes stretching out his limbs, trying to get his brain back to something resembling functional, and fighting to push down a rampant blush when he sees Robert casting glances his way, even though he knows it’s just because the plastic covering the bed is far too loud. Herm’s face feels warm anyway, but that may just be the drugs.
When he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed, Robert’s attention snaps to him like a magnet, papers tucked away in his bag and a supportive hand on his arm before Herm can so much as wobble. “Easy there,” Robert breathes into his ear, an arm wrapped under his shoulders, and Herm know he’s lost the battle with his composure. He turns crimson so fast he can feel the heat radiating off of his cheeks, but if Robert notices, he does Herm the kindness of ignoring it. Just another in the long, long list of ways he’s helped him, right next to “Let’s get you to the car.”
Their journey is slow and patient, Beef yipping at their heels as they walk through the building and to the parking lot. Herm walks mostly on his own, but Robert keeps pace a half-step behind, ready to catch him if he stumbles. They make idle small talk, saying things he’s already forgotten with his brain mostly offline. Robert doesn’t seem to mind, helping Herm into his beat up old Camry with a guiding hand. Beef jumps up into his lap, and his arms tighten around the dog automatically, holding him close to his chest. The door clicks shut beside him, and then Robert is sliding into the driver’s seat, ears looking oddly pink in the fading afternoon sun. There’s an expression on his face that Herm’s addled brain can’t quite decipher, and it’s hurting his head to try, so instead he rests his cheek against the cool glass of the window while the car sputters to life around him.
The drive home is… peacefully quiet. The dog falls asleep in his lap before they even get on the highway, and Herm is halfway there himself by the time they roll to a stop in front of his house. He blinks awake when Robert parks and the rumble of the engine cuts off.
“Hey, sleepyhead. Think you can make it inside on your own?” Despite Robert’s wry tone, there’s a crease between his eyebrows, barely visible behind his bangs, that tells Herm he’s genuinely asking.
“‘m good. I-If I pass out on - on the lawn, you can p-pick- come help.” Robert snorts, relaxing, and Herm moves to tuck his hair behind his ear without thinking, from where it’s fallen into his eyes. They both freeze for a moment, and then Herm jerks his hand back like it’s been electrocuted, mortified. “I-I-I’m so sorry, I, I d-don’t know w-why- what I w-was thinking-“
He gets cut off by a loud laugh and a hand tousling his hair, sending his own limp bangs into disarray. Water droplets splatter the dash. “No worries, Herm. Now get out of here, before your grandmother starts to think I’ve kidnapped you.”
He nods, absurdly grateful for the change in topic, and slips out of the passenger side, depositing Beef onto the seat in his absence. It’s only once he’s set down the dog that he realizes there’s a towel on the seat, and it’s been there the whole ride. It makes Herm pause.
He knows he didn’t see Robert put it down, which means that Robert must have gone out to the car at some point while he was unconscious to lay it out, in anticipation of driving him home. The simple kindness of the gesture makes him feel unbearably fond, and it must show on his face, because Robert gives him a small, genuine smile in return and waves him off. Herm shuts the door with a click, and turns to head inside.
He sets out food for the cats. He reassures his grandma that he’s alright, that there’s no lasting injuries from the day, and she reassures him that she can handle herself for the evening and that he should go rest.
Herm falls asleep unreasonably early that night.
He wakes up at 2:30 in the morning, sheets tangled around his legs like a snare, drenched in sweat and water, with a raging boner. And a headache.
“Ohhh my god,” Herm groans into his pillow.
He’s so fucked.
Thursday.
Herm manages to get another few fitful hours of sleep, and wakes up feeling far more lucid than he had the day before, aches and pains a thing of the past.
He has a hot date with a cold shower, but it does painfully little to quell the rising frustration in him, the desperation. He can feel it roiling under his skin, in the grind of his teeth. It’s been a long week. Without really thinking about much beyond the itch in his fingers to just do something, Herm sends off a handful of texts, then tucks his phone away. Maybe cleaning his room before work will prove to be relaxing.
It helps him settle into his routine. Tidy up, get dressed, clean the litterboxes, make breakfast. Herm sits with his grandma at the table while they eat, and she runs delicate fingers over his knuckles, like she doesn’t care about how his skin will make hers prune. A cat winds around his shins, and another tries to paw at him from the counter. It’s a good distraction.
“How are you feeling today, Hermy? Nothing hurting after yesterday? I’m sure they’d let you take the day off, if you asked…”
“N-no, grandma, I’m fine. All better, and I - I want to do something with my day. Get out of the house.”
She gives him a searching gaze over her glass of juice before her mouth twists up into a knowing smirk. “Alright, just let me know if you’ll still be ‘out of the house’ by the time I go to sleep.”
“G-grandma!”
She laughs at him, relentless, then shoos him up the stairs to get ready for work.
Herm arrives at the office in short order, and has barely slotted his comm into place when a harried Robert is sending him out on his first call of the day. It’s a busy, relentless morning, a warm front from the midwest combined with unseasonably dry weather making it easier for a string of fires to crop up around Torrance. It soothes something in Herm, to know that he’s useful, to see his skillset needed.
Herm doesn’t get a chance to do more than use the bathroom between dispatches until the morning shift is almost over, the team taking pity on him after so many back-to-back calls. No one comments on the way he sighs like a deflating balloon when he slumps into a plastic chair in the rec room, and Prism claps him on the shoulder with a smile before leaving for her next call. She doesn’t even comment on the fact that he gets her hand wet. It’s nice, and it makes him smile shyly back at her.
The smile drops off his face, replaced by flustered mortification, when he opens his phone and sees what he left it open to: a series of desperate texts sent to Robert at six thirty in the morning.
>Hey
>can I come over
>tonight, I mean
>Please.
And a single text back, which doesn’t make him feel less flustered in the slightest:
>Sure. :)
An unexpected chuckle from his left makes Herm jolt, scrambling to close out his messages when the waterproof case nearly slips through his fingers. It only makes Malevola chuckle louder. “What’s got you so red, mate? I thought that was supposed to be my thing.” She watches him fumble for a moment longer, eventually just slamming his phone face-down into a puddle on the table. “You looking at porn or something? Anything good?”
“No!” Herm shouts, louder than he meant to, and sinks further into his chair when a few heroes sitting nearby turn their heads to look at the commotion.
“I’m just joshing, babes,” Malevola says, punching his shoulder with a smirk for emphasis - friendly but still hard enough to sting. She draws back her arm and shakes out her hand. It sprays a few errant drops of his own water back into his face, and he stares at her, wilting when she stares back, one eyebrow raised. “But seriously, what is it? You look like a sad, wet puppy. It’s kind of pathetic.”
Herm makes a mildly offended noise in the back of his throat, but doesn’t argue. “I… i-it’s just. It’s been a - a long w-week,” he says, faint. “And I keep… em-emb- making a, a fool of myself.”
Malevola sighs. “Is this about getting knocked out yesterday?” He shrugs weakly in response, averting his gaze to pick at the hems of his gloves. “Alright, listen, I don’t know what’s going on in that soggy brain of yours, but I’m only saying this once, so you better be paying attention.” He glances back up at her, and she has a gentle look on her face, though she’s not smiling. “You’re doing good, Waterboy. Really. The whole team knows it. So don’t get too in your feelings now, alright?”
Herm feels warm, even as water beads up on his skin, chilled under the AC. “I.. it’s not - I wasn’t… I… thanks.”
Malevola ruffles his hair, then tries to wipe her hand off on his wetsuit, making a face when the latex only smears it over her skin. He laughs. “But seriously though, what was on your phone?”
He’s saved from having to answer by a click on his comm, Robert’s voice over the team line. He’s simultaneously relieved and even more flustered, because, well… it’s Robert. The person who he texted, (who he’s trying not to think about lest Malevola read it on his face,) speaking directly into his ear.
“Alright, Waterboy, break time’s over. There’s a fire in a dumpster behind the In-N-Out on Hawthorne, all yours.”
He garbles something that could possibly be considered a confirmation, then stands up to leave. Malevola’s tail flicks the side of his thigh on his way out.
Herm tries his best not to think about it - he’s at work - but the restless feeling creeps back anyway. He leaves puddles in the breakroom during lunch, and is thankful he’s mostly sent solo to deal with more fires during the afternoon shift. At least there, the water rolling off his skin is helpful, and the way he shifts on his feet can be chalked up to readiness for action.
By the end of the workday, his heart is thumping staccato in his chest, and he’s equal parts jittery and exhausted. That might be why he jumps about a foot in the air when Robert calls his name from his cubicle as Herm is trudging through the office. He puts his hands out, palms up, like he’s soothing a wild animal.
“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to ask - did you still want to…?”
Herm burns up. If he was Flambae, he’s sure the carpet beneath his feet would be ignited by now, but instead it just gets soggy where his boots leak. “Y-yes - yeah, I just - locker! I-I need my things- objects- my stuff. Yeah.” He barely manages to choke out the words, swallowing helplessly at the water pooling up in his throat. Robert’s eyes lock on to his adam’s apple for a moment before snapping back to his face, a contrite smile playing at his lips, and it only serves to make Herm flounder more.
“Yeah, no problem. I have to go pry Beef from Chase’s clutches anyway,” he soothes, before adding, “Would you maybe want to grab a bite to eat on the way? I’m starving.”
“S-sure, I - yes!” He spins on his heel before he can embarrass himself further, trying to ignore the way Robert chuckles at his retreating back, all too fond. Too many people have been laughing at him - no, with him, recently. It’s nice to not be the butt of a joke, but the attention doesn’t help his nerves, only serving to make him feel electrified. His suit pulls at his skin.
Herm retrieves the contents of his locker and is back at the desk in a few scant minutes. Beef pants happily at his feet, and he can’t help but crouch down to give him attention. Beef, the perfect boy that he is, doesn’t even care that his hands are getting his fur wet - he just leans into the touch with a happy whine.
“Ready to go?” Robert asks from somewhere above him, and Herm nods, straightening from his crouch. “…Huh. I like the jacket, it looks good on you.”
Herm shudders a bit, biting his lip to keep from making a pleased sound at the compliment, and gives Robert another nod in acknowledgement instead. It’s been getting colder outside at night, even with the heat during the day, so he’s been bringing his favorite jacket with him to work. It’s black leather, smooth with conditioning, and his grandma had taken the time to sew a raincoat to the inside lining, to keep the fabric dry.
Robert pats him on the shoulder, the jacket crinkling under his touch, then leads the way out of the building. Herm trails a step behind him until Robert glances over his shoulder at him, eyebrow raised, and hooks their arms together.
“So,” he starts, once they’re outside and pointed in the right direction, “what did you want to eat? I was thinking we could get takeout on the way.”
Herm, somewhat calmer in the cool evening air, hums in consideration. “Chinese? O-or Thai, m-maybe. I - I don’t know which - what’s on the w-way.”
“Perfect - there’s a great Thai spot two blocks from my place.”
They walk in amicable silence for a minute or two, until Beef stops and squats over a patch of grass and Robert goes to pick up after him. Voice low, facing the ground, he speaks again. “…You know, you really scared the hell out of me yesterday. When you stopped responding for a minute, before Coupe found you, and I… I thought we’d lost someone important. … I thought I’d lost a friend.” He looks up, and his eyes are glassy, though they’re not red. Herm feels twisted up and wrung out, looking down at him. “I’m just… I’m really glad you’re okay, Herman.”
He can’t resist, really, not with the restless itch to just do something still under his skin. He leans down and kisses Robert, brief but firm, sighing against his lips and cradling the back of his head with a gloved hand, before dropping it to rest on his shoulder. Robert looks bewildered, blotchy flush creeping over his cheeks - a rare sight, since he’s notoriously hard to fluster. “S-sorry,” Herm says, almost a laugh, “I-I know we’re i-i-in public, I just - I’m really glad, too.”
Robert blinks hard, taking a second to come back online. Herm just smiles back at him, playing at patience, even as the fingers on his free hand twitch at his side.
“I - okay. Good,” Robert says, looking lost. After a moment he clears his throat, awkward, then changes the subject entirely. Herm lets it happen without protest. “So, what’s your favorite thing to order from a Thai place?”
They settle into conversation easily, after that, making small talk as they walk, at the restaurant, in the stairwell of Robert’s apartment. The conversation only dies out once they’re sprawled out on the couch, boxes of takeout spread over the coffee table and Beef crunching his kibble in the kitchen. Herm watches Robert eat out of the corner of his eye; the quiet, happy noise he makes when he he tries a bite of satay, the way he licks his lips to chase the flavor.
He notices his glances eventually, setting down the mostly-gone container to look at Herm fully. He can’t bring himself to be embarrassed, hands curling in his lap. Robert tracks the movement.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
Herm swallows, shakes his head. His eyes don’t leave Robert’s face. Robert hesitates.
“…Alright, what is it, then?”
“I-I just.” He starts, then swallows. Gathers his courage. “I need you. So badly. I, I-I’ve been t-thinking about you. All week.”
He can feel the blush burning its way down his neck, the water pooling under his collar and oevr his tongue, but all he’s focused on is the way Robert’s breath just hitched.
“…okay,” Robert says after a moment, sounding a bit like he’d just gotten punched, “I- okay. Alright.”
“I n-need you to - to want it. Too.” His hands clench again, the leather of his gloves creaking. Robert’s eyes lock onto his knuckles like homing missiles. He can see the moment when Robert connects the dots - the teasing, the car, the early morning texts. The way Herm was always restless, fidgeting, leaving puddles in his wake - only some of it from anxiety. The way that, even now, he’s just barely holding himself back from pouncing.
Robert swallows so hard it almost sounds like a gulp. He stands up, walks away, and Herm is left to stare as - oh.
Robert sits down on the edge of the bed, legs slightly splayed. He pats the side of his thigh in invitation. “Come here,” he says, voice thick.
Herm scrambles to comply.
He slots himself between Robert’s knees, leaning down to kiss him with both his hands hooked under his jaw. He feels hungry, desperate with want, and Robert is pliant and willing beneath him. The shorter man gasps into his mouth, breaking the kiss for a moment to breathe. Herm tastes peanuts and salt when he licks his lips.
“I like seeing you so confident,” Robert murmurs into his chin, hot breath ghosting his cheek, “when you ask for what you want.”
“I want,” Herm starts, punctuating the thought with a nip to his jaw, beneath his ear, “to - to make you feel g-good. P-please. Please.”
“Okay,” Robert breathes, repetitive, tilting his head to capture his lips in another kiss. His hair is already soaked where Herm is leaning over him, and it makes something pleased and needy unfurl in his chest. He tugs on one of the locks curled behind Robert’s ear, and is rewarded with another gasp for his efforts. His other hand sinks down, glove smoothing down the column of his throat, feeling the pulse beneath his fingers, before he drops it to the buttons of Robert’s shirt. He keeps up the kiss, licking into Robert’s mouth with fervor while his hands fumble with the plastic buttons, searching out the scars underneath.
Herm is achingly, dizzyingly hard, just from this, but he’s far more focused on the way Robert is sliding his shirt off his shoulders. He drops to his knees on the cold concrete floor, head level with his chest and his ribs bracketed by Robert’s thighs, his pants wetly clinging to the lean muscle underneath. He faintly hears a muttered “Jesus Christ-“, but his attention goes to running his leather-clad hands along the scars scraping the edge of his ribs, tracing the path with his tongue.
The touch makes Robert keen, a full body shiver accompanying the sound, and that’s what gets Herm to pause. Hands still on his ribs in a loose hold, he tips his head back until he can meet Robert’s eyes, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that his pupils are blown wide as dinner plates. “You okay?”
“Am I-“ Robert starts, voice breaking, “are you serious?” Herm has less than a second to worry he did something wrong, that it was too much, before Robert is smoothing a hand down his hair, making Herm shudder in return. The look on his face is wild-eyed, bewildered, and hot as hell. His gaze is intense, and that rare blush is back, only reaching his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His freckles, Herm notes, are swallowed by the color. “Where the fuck did you learn to do things like that?”
Herm huffs a laugh. “College.”
“Of course,” Robert mutters, shivering again when he thumbs one of his nipples. Herm blinks up at him. He doesn’t stop his wandering hands.
“Do - do you l-like the l-leather?”
Robert squints down at him, half-lidded, before a spark of realization shines in his eyes. Remembering the finer details of their last hookup. “You cheeky- hng, motherfucker.”
Emboldened, Herm settles back on his knees, chasing Robert’s reactions with deft fingers. The scar on his ribs seems to be the most sensitive, only beaten by the chip in his ear that he’s sitting too low to reach. Herm tries his best to keep Robert dry, but his mouth betrays him, leaving a glistening trail after his tongue. He doesn’t seem to mind too much, leaning into his touch, Herm watching the muscles under his skin twitch as the water cools.
Herm doesn’t know how long he spends like that, just nipping marks into the other man’s skin, worshiping it, listening to the sounds Robert makes and feeling his calloused hands digging into his shoulders, pet his hair. When the noises coming out of Robert’s mouth eventually go from quiet huffs to moans and muttered curses, Herm takes pity. The man is squirming underneath his fingertips even before he drops a hand to his inner thigh, palming at the sensitive skin through Robert’s slacks. Herm can see the way he’s straining against the zipper, and the thought of it being because of him makes Herm dizzy. He feels greedy.
“How l-long?” Herm asks, not bothering to look up to meet his eyes. He dips his chin instead, pressing his lips to the side of his chest, hiding his impish smile by scraping his teeth across sensitive skin.
“Wh- huh?” Robert sputters, sufficiently distracted.
“Y-your refrac- how long it t-t-takes you to, to get hard. Y’know. After- after I m-make you cum. Round t-two.”
“Jesus,” Robert hisses through his teeth. The sound sears itself into his brain. “Fucking- I dunno, twenty, thirty minutes? What the fuck are you planning? There hasn’t even been a round one.”
“Like- like I said,” Herm starts, “just w-wanna make you f-feel good.” He punctuates his sentence by licking down Robert’s abs (!!!). Water leaks out of the corner of his mouth, dribbles down his tongue, and he swallows against the flood he can feel in his throat. Some of it might be drool.
Robert makes another sound, low and almost needy, and his knees press into Herm’s ribs in a constricting hug. He can feel the firm muscle of his thighs tense under his hand, even through two layers of fabric. “Do your worst,” Robert groans, and Herm takes it as permission to undo his fly. He’s wearing navy briefs, and there’s a barely-visible spot, front and center, that’s growing damp with Robert’s arousal. A noise slips out of Herman’s throat at the sight, closer to a whine than he might want to admit, and he can’t resist taking a second to mouth at it, to get a taste of the fact that Robert is wet because of him. Quite literally, in fact, since when he pulls back a moment later Robert’s underwear is half-soaked with water. Oops.
He palms the man for a moment in apology before moving to pull off his slacks, and Robert groans again, wordless, in response. Once his pants are discarded on the floor somewhere behind him, Herm kneads his thumbs into Robert’s inner thighs, leather to bare skin, then moves to suck a quick mark low on Robert’s stomach, nose brushing his happy trail when he tilts his head. He’s practically squirming now, hot puffs of breath down Herm’s neck where Robert is hunched over him, and Herm would feel guilty if he didn’t feel so maddened instead. His wetsuit feels constricting, still fully zipped, tight around his throat when he swallows and tighter at the hips. Herm squeezes his thighs together for a moment for some semblance of friction, letting up with one hand to pull the zipper down, letting it hang just under his pecs. His lap gets flooded with the water that had pooled underneath his collar, adding to the growing puddle underneath his knees, but the sensation is so familiar that Herm just bites his lip in response.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” Robert practically whines, and Herm honestly hadn’t realized that his eyes were still open. A warm hand slips under the latex of his suit, brushing his chest with calloused fingers, and that only serves to make Herm bite his lip harder, leaning into the touch. “Such a pretty boy,” Robert murmurs, snaking his hand down to brush a nipple, water bubbling out of the teeth in the zipper of his suit at the motion. “You’re being so good for me.”
“W-what do you w-w-want?” Herm manages to gasp, forehead ducked against Robert’s abs. He sounds choked up at the praise, even to his own ears. “What- how do you like it?” His fingers hook into the waistband of Robert’s boxers, but he doesn’t do more than hold them there, waiting for a response. He gets a close-up view of Robert’s cock twitching to attention at his voice for his troubles, and it makes Herm sigh, somewhere between delighted and desperate.
“Shit, uh. Firm. Not too fast, I guess.” Herm kisses his bulge through his boxers in thanks before pulling them down. Robert helpfully lifts his ass to assist, although he’s so worked up at this point that he’s not much help. One hand is still thumbing at his nipple, even with the awkward angle. “You’re- ngh, you’re really talkative like this, huh? Like hearing- hah- hearing my voice when I respond? Like listening to my demands?”
Herm flat-out whimpers, and Robert’s other hand kneads at his shoulder in reply, soothing, even as he smirks at Herm from above him. “I- f-fuck, yes, yeah, but I-I also just l-like… knowing that- knowing you’re o-okay with it. You- t-that you l-like it.” He swallows, mouth feeling suddenly dry despite the fact that there’s a steady stream of water dribbling down his chin.
“Ah,” Robert says, considering. His thumbs still for a moment from where they were rubbing circles into his skin. “Well,” he begins, voice low, “if it, ah, helps, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this worked up. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this hard in the last decade.” Herm stares up at him, struck dumb, and Robert chuckles low in his throat. His hands spur back into action, the one on Herm’s shoulder slipping under his wetsuit to rub along his ribs, his zipper pulling further down at the motion. “C’mon, don’t leave me waiting.”
Herm nods frantically, remembering his hands are still curled into the waistband of Robert’s boxers only a moment before prying them off. He flings them behind himself so fast that he’s almost sure they hit the opposite wall with a wet thwack. Definitely sure, if Robert’s surprised laugh is anything to go by. Herm’s only got eyes for the way Robert’s dick has sprung free, already smeared with precum and bobbing tauntingly against his stomach. He brings his glove to his mouth for a moment, just long enough to wet his fingers - easy, since his mouth is watering at the sight - before taking Robert in a loose grip. Herm’s hands are big enough that he can take almost the entire thing in one hand, and Robert squirms underneath his hold. Robert was right - he’s rock hard, unyielding even when Herm gives a light squeeze to the base. Like before, the fact that it’s because of him makes Herm flush. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the feeling.
“Keeping the gloves on?” Robert pants, as Herm gives him a few slow pumps. More of a warm-up than anything, really.
“As, as long as you l-like it.”
Robert’s hips buck up at his tone, seemingly involuntary, and Herm can’t stand it anymore. He pushes himself up off the floor, his free hand braced on the bed to support his weight. Robert’s hands slip out of his suit, settling on his hips instead. He has to lean over far to get face to face with Robert, their height difference made more dramatic by Robert sitting while he stands, but Herm doesn’t care, even as his knees creak. He just dips forward to kiss him like a man starved, moaning into Robert’s mouth when he kisses back with enthusiasm.
They spend a few minutes like that, trading sloppy kisses while he jerks Robert off. Eventually, Herm accidentally times a swipe of his thumb across the tip of Robert’s dick with a swipe of his tongue across his lips, and Robert makes a sound that Herm’s never heard from him before. So he does it again.
“Fuck, fuck, you’re so good at that, ngh, shit.” Robert says, swallowing a mouthful of water, but Herm thinks he mostly sounds choked up from desperation. “Herman, fuck, I’m gonna- Herm-“
Herm captures his lips a moment before he comes, uncaring of the way Robert dribbles down his gloves. Instead, the way Robert moans his name into his mouth when he comes finds a spot in his brain right next to the hiss of his teeth as he curses. He works him through his orgasm, twisting his wrist in time with his upstrokes until Robert takes a sharp, shuddering breath through his nose and pushes at his chest to get him to stop. Herm does so immediately, moving his hand to his hip instead, rubbing in sticky circles with his thumb. Robert snorts and bats at his hand, then tips back to fall onto the bed in an ungraceful splay of limbs. Herm goes with him, landing on his elbows with his chin tucked into Robert’s collarbone. He takes the opportunity for what it is and turns his head to nip at his neck, sucking a mark into the delicate skin between his pulse and his adam’s apple.
“Holy shit,” Robert breathes, “you are insatiable.” Herm just hums an affirmative, pleased.
Robert’s hands lift to smooth down his sides, but after a moment he pauses, fingers clenching into his ribs. Herm raises his head in time to see Robert’s astonished blinking, and then their eyes meet again.
“I didn’t- you’re still fully clothed, Jesus.”
“I d-don’t care,” Herm says, firm and frustrated. Robert still doesn’t seem to get it. “I, I just want to make you f-feel good. I need you to, to want it - no, no, I need to do w-what you want. Does t-that… m-m-make more sense?”
After a moment of silence, he props himself up further to get a better look at Robert’s expression. He looks gobsmacked. (And really, really turned on, which is what Herm is going for.) The room is silent except for their heavy breathing and the squeak of Herm’s wetsuit as he shifts on his feet.
“…I’ve never been with someone like that,” Robert says slowly, dazed, “with someone who cared about what I want to do. I remember - last time, when you… but this isn’t the same. This isn’t an insecurity thing.”
“N-no,” Herm says, fond, “it isn’t.”
“You actually just want to get me off.”
“Yeah.”
“Ha. Wow.”
Herm was going to pause for a moment, ask if Robert wanted a break or maybe wanted to talk about it, but that train of thought is interrupted by something brushing his thigh. He glances down and is more than a little surprised to see Robert’s dick stir, making a valiant effort to get hard again only a few minutes after he came. Robert chuckles, sounding a mixture of embarrassed and surprised himself, and Herm rakes his eyes back up to his face.
“…Guess that really did it for me, huh,” he jokes weakly, and Herm can’t help but tip down to nip at the skin of his ear, just under the scar. He relishes in the way Robert shivers at the touch, and then again when Herm mumbles in his ear between scrapes of his teeth.
“T-that’s… that’s so hot, Robert, o-oh my god,” he breathes, in something approaching a reverent whisper. “Oh my god, I-I- wow. I- what else do you want, t-tell me, please, please-“
“Take this off,” Robert replies all at once, like a breath punched out of his lungs, tugging at the edges of his wetsuit with shaky hands, “I want to see you.”
Herm moves to comply, then remembers himself as he’s guiding Robert’s hand to his zipper. “W-wait, I need- should get t-towels first-“
“No need,” Robert says, smirking now, like he’s got the upper hand in a game Herm doesn’t know they’re playing. He plucks at the sheet draped over the bed with the hand Herm isn’t holding by the wrist, and now that he’s paying attention he can see it’s a shimmery looking gray, almost glossy. “Got a waterproof blanket.” He pauses for a moment, and his expression drops to something a bit more vulnerable, though his smirk is still firmly in place. “…Two, actually, but the other one’s a bit nicer. I got it in case you wanted to sleep here again.”
Herm makes an entirely undignified noise in the back of his throat, still clutching Robert’s hand to his chest, but he doesn’t care. He can’t remember the last time someone has done something so… effortlessly thoughtful for him, at least aside from his grandma. Certainly no one he’d ever slept with.
“O-oh my god,” he says, repetitive, and he’s sure that Robert can see the roaring blush burning its way across his face, creeping down his chest and back. Even if he can’t, the tidal wave of water pouring off his skin is probably a pretty good clue. Robert just laughs at him, sounding delighted.
“So… can I unzip this now?”
“Um. Yeah- yes. Please.”
Robert grabs at the pull and tugs it down, Herm’s fingers still loose around his wrist. Warm water cascades all down his front, dribbling down Robert’s arm where his fingers get caught in the spray and soaking the floor. Herm takes a heavy breath to remind himself that it’s okay - the bed is waterproofed, apparently, and Robert has the kind of sealed concrete floors that are impervious to pretty much everything. There’s even a drain embedded near the kitchen island. He blinks hard, bringing himself back to the present and getting water out of his eyes, and then shrugs his shoulders out of the suit, peeling his arms from the sleeves. The soiled gloves go next, finally joining the pile of Robert’s wet clothes near the foot of the bed, and then Herm is stepping out of the legs of his suit and kicking it aside.
Robert gives him an unabashed up-down, gaze dragging up his lanky legs and lingering for a long moment on the outline of his dick straining against his boxers before moving up his chest. Herm fights the urge to squirm. Robert doesn’t leave him waiting long, though, reaching up to grab the back of his neck and reeling him in for an incredibly sloppy kiss. A muscular thigh makes its way between Herm’s legs, and he hisses at the contact with his hard-on, grinding down into the warm skin through his briefs. With Herm on top of Robert like this, water must be making its way into his mouth - supported by the awkward half-coughs he makes when they get a moment to breathe - but he doesn’t seem to care, leaning back into the make-out session with uninterrupted fervor. And Herm has always loved an enthusiastic partner.
Although the contact is intense, it’s unhurried this time, the worst of the urgency staved off by Robert’s orgasm. Herm lets Robert take the lead, running a hand through the other man’s hair and trying not to drown him when he licks his way into Herm’s mouth. He’s so warm he feels humid with it, sticking when the two of them touch skin to skin. After a few minutes of lazily swapping spit, lapping at each other, it seems like it’s Robert’s turn to remember a trick from their last night together - he bites Herm’s bottom lip at the same time as he winds a hand into wet hair and tugs. Herm’s hips jolt without his permission and he squeaks, a desperate, high pitched thing. His spine tingles.
“R-Robert! You, you can’t just-” Another tug cuts him off, and he pants instead, losing most of his leverage and ending up laying on Robert’s chest, face tucked into his chipped ear. He sucks at the shell of it in retaliation, right on top of the scar, and Robert just keeps pulling at his hair, and then they’re making this ridiculous, petty game of it - humping each others’ legs and moaning into ears like teenagers.
It’s so distracting that Herm almost forgets what he was doing. When he adjusts to get a better angle after a minute or two, Robert’s dick grinding a new spot on his thigh at full mast is a pretty good reminder, though.
Herm almost moves to pull Robert’s hand out of his hair, then fitfully decides he doesn’t want to, instead making his best attempt to gather his willpower to move. He finds it after a moment, swinging one gangly leg over so he’s standing between Robert’s thighs instead of straddling them. Robert full-on whines at the loss of contact, loud and needy, which is so hot that Herm needs to take a second to catch his breath, heart thudding like a jackhammer in his chest.
“Where- why’d you stop?” Robert huffs between breaths, talking into the hair at the crown of his head. His other hand digs into Herm’s hip for purchase.
Herm wets his lips with his tongue. “Gonna suck you off. P-please. I-I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Robert must hear the genuine want in his voice, or maybe he just likes having his dick sucked that much - good - but either way he ruts up into Herm’s lower stomach like he can’t control himself, and that’s hot too. His grip tightens in Herm’s hair, not quite pulling, and he struggles to keep his eyes open at the pressure, lids fluttering.
“God, yes, please. Please do that.”
Herm doesn’t bother kissing down Robert’s chest, or sucking marks into his thighs - they’re both so worked up at this point that it would probably make him less horny. Instead, he just drops to his knees again, joints creaking from where he’s been half-standing over the bed since the last time he’d gotten up. He’ll probably be sore tomorrow. It doesn’t matter at all. What matters is the way Robert’s hand hitches in his hair when he moves, the other man slow to sit up.
It only takes a few seconds for them to get settled, and then Herm is taking the base of Robert’s shaft in a gentle hold, the flat of his hand brushing his balls. He swallows down the water pooling under his tongue in vain.
“I-It’s gonna be m-m-messy,” Herm warns, too busy making eye contact with the head of Robert’s dick to bother looking up at him.
“Good,” Robert says fondly, and then Herm is taking him into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the leaking slit, tracing the shape of the head, catching the bit of cum still clinging to his skin. Robert tastes good, or maybe Herm just likes the taste of it, salty and bitter and a little bit sweet. Probably from all the coffee and twinkies. He moans into the motion, and then again when Robert’s other hand shakily joins the first in his hair. “Holy shit, you’re good at that too. Is - hah, is there anything you’re not fantastic at?”
Herm hums a negative low in his throat, mouth still working, and is entirely too pleased when the sound makes Robert hunch over with a quiet groan. “I- hngh, I can’t believe I ever, ah, thought you were a virgin. Holy, hah, holy shit. Good boy.” He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, unable to do much else between the praise and the nails scraping his scalp. He takes Robert deeper, warm water leaking out of the corners of his mouth and dribbling down his chin when he runs his tongue along the sensitive underside.
When he cracks his eyes back open, it’s to Robert looking down at him with one of the most intense expressions he’s ever seen, a mix of bliss and fasciation. He scratches at the base of Herm’s skull, threading his fingers through the hair there, and then gently guides him deeper still, hold loose and easy to break. Herm doesn’t, letting Robert guide him down, moving his own supportive hand out of the way when his lips get close to meeting the base. A cascade of water spills down his chin and splashes Robert’s thighs. Robert’s dick, like most other things about him, is almost painfully average in size - which means it’s not particularly difficult for Herm to take a breath and swallow down the last inch of him with a pleased sigh. “Fuck,” Robert curses above him, heartfelt, “Good boy, you’re so- ngh, you take it so well, Jesus. That wasn’t even hard for you, was it? So good for me.” Herm just hums again, mostly because he knows it’ll feel good for Robert, and is rewarded with another curse for his efforts.
After a moment, Herm pulls his head back a bit to breathe, tongue dragging back with him, and Robert jerks into the motion, chasing his mouth. “Fuck, hah, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he’s almost babbling as Herm pulls off completely, turning his head to the side to cough, clearing his throat. “Are you okay?”
Herm blinks back up at him, eyes impossibly wide. “Please. Fuck me. I, I can t-take it.”
“Oh my god,” Robert says, eyes just as wide, and doesn’t ask him twice. He just hooks his hands behind Herm’s jaw, waiting until Herm’s taken him back in his mouth to give a shallow thrust, testing the waters. When all that does is make Herm moan and send a spritz of water into his lap, he does it again. They find a rhythm quickly - Robert rolls his hips shallowly, clearly doing his best not to be too rough, while Herm squeezes at his thighs and works his mouth around the length. The pace Robert sets is firm. Not too fast. He’s so thoroughly invested that the brush of Robert’s foot against his boxers nearly startles him, even though he’d felt his leg move. When a heel grinds into him, he gets with the program, moaning appreciatively at the pressure and rolling his hips up to meet it. He’d almost forgotten how hard he was.
Like this, Robert’s dick bobbing heavy in his mouth, moving in a sloppy tandem, it doesn’t take either of them long to get close. Robert starts to lose his pace a bit, his movement stuttering, though he seems like he’s trying to hold himself back from going too deep. That’s not what he wants, not at all, so Herm slides his hands further up, thumbs pressing into Robert’s hips, and pulls him deeper on his next thrust. He chokes a bit, but doesn’t pull off, just swallows around the feeling. Robert shouts. His fingers tighten their grip on Herm’s jaw. “Fuck! Fffuck, god, Hermy, you’re- nghh, so good, perfect, fuck, I’m- you’re so- can I-“
Herm wants Robert to cum in his mouth so desperately, brain fogged with the need, but he can’t talk with his mouth full. Doesn’t even have the air to hum with Robert pushing into his throat, so he does the next best thing and pulls the man as close as he can, frantically dragging his tongue against the shaft. It seems to be permission enough, because a second later Robert is hunching over him with a filthy moan, coming in hot waves down Herm’s throat. After the first spurt, he pulls back a bit - not completely, just enough that he can catch another taste, before his mouth waters too much and it disappears. Robert lets him, breathing hard and staring with half-lidded eyes as he finishes. He looks completely and utterly wrecked, which just makes Herm grind up into him more desperately.
“Jesus Christ, okay, okay, c’mere, you did so good,” Robert is saying, and his voice sounds rough, like he was the one who had been sucking dick like his life depended on it. That train of thought is lost a second later, when Robert pulls Herm off of him and up to his feet by his hair, oh god, and reaches a hand in between Herm’s legs. He doesn’t even bother with Herm’s underwear, just working him through the fabric. Herm whimpers helplessly. “You took such good care of me, sweetheart, so perfect, now let me take care of you, c’mon, c’mon-“ and Herm is coming into his boxers harder than he has in years, maybe in his life. Robert’s hand is still fisted in his hair, his voice filtering back in. He realizes distantly that his ears are ringing.
“-yeah, just like that, good job,” Robert is saying breathlessly, pausing when Herm opens his eyes to look at him. (Herm doesn’t even know when he closed them.) “You back with me yet?”
He doesn’t bother trying to talk, just gives Robert a thumbs up and a lopsided smile. The other man pats the bed next to him, an invitation, and Herm flops bonelessly into the sheets with a groan. Robert is still panting when he lies down to join him.
They both spend a minute just laying there, trying to catch their breath. After a while, Herm blindly reaches for Robert’s hand and manages to find it, giving it a squeeze. Robert squeezes back.
“…How are you feeling?”
Herm cracks an eye open to look at him. Robert’s head is tilted towards him fully, his expression expectant.
“Th-that was so fucking h-hot.” His voice cracks on every other word, and he brings a hand up to massage at his throat. Robert snorts a laugh.
“Yeah, it sure was. Do you want water or something?”
He shakes his head with a smile, flicking some of the water on his hands at Robert in demonstration. They’re sitting in a pool of it, in fact, gathered in an indent in the bed. Herm feels another wave of gratitude for the waterproof blanket. “M-maybe a- some towels?” He makes a face and plucks at the waistband of his thorougly ruined underwear. “A-and something clean to, to w-wear. Eugh.”
Robert cracks an unrepentant grin. “Towels and clothes, on it.”
“Th-th-thank you.”
Herm gets up once Robert leaves to rummage through the bathroom, digging through discarded takeout containers on the coffee table to find his phone. By the time Robert comes back, Beef at his heels, Herm is furiously texting and his ears are burning red. He takes the warm washcloth Robert offers with a grateful smile and drops his phone on the bed, shucking his boxers off so he can wash up.
“Who were you talking to?”
“M-m-my grandma,” Herm mutters, swiping at a sticky spot on his inner thigh. “She- she’s t-teasing me. Asked me to, to t-tell her i-if I was staying out. I-if that’s o-okay, I mean,” he says, eyeing Robert questioningly.
Robert just smiles at him. “Of course it is, Herm. I’d be an idiot to kick you out after the best sex I’ve had in ages. That wouldn’t be a great way to show my appreciation, huh.” He pauses to consider. “…Well, I wouldn’t kick you out even if it was bad, but the point stands. And anyways, I bought a blanket specifically for you to spend the night. I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. Hell, I wouldn’t even do that for me.”
“T-thanks, Robert.” Herm smiles back at him, and his chest feels warm. They spend a moment just looking at each other, in a weird sort of trance, before Beef yips and paws at Herm’s leg. He giggles and squats down to pet him. Beef leans into the touch. “W-where was the- this little guy, a-anyway? I-it seems like h-he goes- dis-sappears a l-lot.”
Robert suddenly looks abashed, breaking eye contact to stare at the wall over Herm’s shoulder. “…To be… entirely too honest, I trained him to leave the room when I’m having sex with someone.”
Herm barks a laugh, so loud he nearly falls on his ass from where he’s crouched on the floor. “N-no! No way! How d-did you even d-d-do that!?”
He groans, embarrassed, but there’s still an upward turn to his lips. “Trial and error."
“Now, c’mon,” Robert says, extending his hand to help Herm up. “I don’t think you want to spend the night ass-naked on a cold, wet concrete floor.”
Herm takes it.
Robert’s hand is warm in his own. So are the clothes he’s given - a well-worn band tee and soft cotton boxers - and so is the blanket Robert pulls down from the closet. It’s chestnut brown, flannel and sherpa with a sleek layer of waterproofing in between. Almost like the ones he has at home.
Herm goes to bed holding Robert to his chest, and that’s warm, too.
(And if Friday comes with Robert stumbling into work on exhausted legs, and if Herm can’t stop smiling like the cat that got the cream, well, that’s no one’s business but their own.
Even if it comes with relentless teasing from Chase and Grandma both.
It was worth it, anyways.)