You really did expect him to laugh it off. To scoff and roll his eyes. Think it was a joke and brush it aside. Maybe even remind you he's straight and he's not comfortable with all that. But he didn't. And now...well, now you're stuck in the middle quite literally.
(Threesomes, sub reader, sub Herm, dom Robert, Herm is a munch, Robert had ED, PV sex, finger sucking, messy make outs)
Prompt 3 of Dispatching Pride
When you suggested it to Robert, you expected him to laugh. To think it was a joke and nudge your shoulder, telling you to knock it off before realising you were serious and then gently turning you down. Because you didn't need it. He didn't need it. Having each other was more than enough.
But you couldn't get it out of your head.
A dirty little thought that circled the gutter of your mind.
A dirty little thought that could go very badly. That had so much weight even outside of just spicing things up in the bedroom. Because asking to invite someone in was implying that he wasn't good enough. That you wanted something he couldn't supply.
A working cock.
But he didn't laugh. Didn't get upset or insecure. Didn't turn you down or give you heavy looks that filled your face with shame.
No.
He smiled.
Wicked and excited. Lips curling in a calculated way as he double-checked you were sure, went over boundaries and asked for any first choices.
But you didn't have any. You just wanted someone he could trust.
So he picked.
And oh God he picked well.
Tall and wet and oh so eager. Laying on his stomach between your legs as Robert held you. Nipping at your throat and playing with the soft flesh of your belly. Flicking pert nipples and fondling your breasts. All while Herm's tongue slid deep inside you. Sucking and lapping. Drinking you down with pleading eyes and muffled whimpers. Your hands tangled in wet locks and hips squirming.
"You're doing so good, Herm. Keep going, just like that. I can feel her getting close"
He bite your neck. Lapping at the indents, smirking at the way your breath hitched. Herm pulling away, just for a second to catch his breath. Pupils blown and looking up at Robert with the worse cause of puppy dog eyes you had ever seen. Your clit twitching at the sight of his chin soaked in your slick.
"T-thank you, sir"
And then he was back. Tongue deep. Nose rubbing your clit and moans vibrating through to your very core. Panting and sobbing out pathetic little noises as your head rolled back on Robert's shoulder. Hips jerking and bucking. Squirming helplessly as you felt it. That familiar tightness.
"Robert...please"
It was a whisper. A whimpering plea. One that he liked too much. Smirked too devilishly at. Hand rubbing down your arm. Finding your fingers and clamping them down harder on ginger locks.
"Go on. Hold him down, make him drink it all up"
And with that, you were gone. Screams caught in your throat, gurgling out your lungs as you came. Juice flowing down his wet throat. Panting at how he moaned and sucked. Burried in it. Lost in it. Humping the matress. Sucking your very core until you felt like you would break. Pushing and pulling against Robert's grip until he let go. Let him come up for air. Gulping it down as Herm watched him pull you in for a kiss. Sucking on your tongue and biting at your lips. Your body shaking and twitching. Arms limp and weak. Thighs trembling.
"You're so pretty when you cum"
Herm nodded. Licking his lips. Roberts eyes trailing down his body. Sat on his knees with his cock leaking down to his balls. Tip red and slapping his stomach. Face covered in slick.
"But I think Herm is looking a bit neglected there. So hard and untouched. How about you help him out?"
Your eyes couldn't stay open. Exhausted and spent. But you knew what that meant. You knew what Robert wanted. So you spread your legs over his knees. Let him keep you open and exposed as you reached down and spread your pussy lips wide open.
"Oh lor-fuck. Can I-am I allowed, sir?"
Robert hummed. Kissing your neck. Stroking your arms. Soft praise and love unspoken as he prepared to push you to your limit.
"Of course you are, Herm. You've been so good. You deserve it"
And he did. He really did. Throat coated in your slick. Cock bobbing and hair a mess. Asking for permission and thanking you both so well. He was such a good boy. So easy to train.
He picked well.
Robert always picked well.
So well that Herm hesitated, licking his lips as he lined up. Tip pushed no more than a centimetre into your cunt before he was stroking your belly and thighs. Trying to soothe you.
"It's-I'm really very-quite big so I just...I don't want to hurt you"
He was pulling back. Looking between you and Robert. Scared almost of how raw you looked, how long he was. Slender and dripping. Worried about it being too much. Of pushing you too far. Almost silently telling you both that he was happy to stop here. To pull away if you couldn't handle it. That it was ok.
But Robert smiled. Soft and warm. Reaching down to run calloused fingertips up his shaft. Listening to him gasp and shiver as he gripped the base. And guided him deeper.
"Here, Herm, allow me. I know how much she can take. I'll let you know if we need to stop"
And all Herm could do was nod. Hands slipping on your thighs. Knees snuffling closer as Robert went slow. Deeper and deeper until you hissed and moaned. Feeling him in your stomach. Filling you to the brim.
And then there was no more.
Just curly wet hair pushed up against your skin. Balls resting against the swell of your ass. His thighs shaking worse than yours as Robert's hand slide away, lacing through his fingers and pulling his palm down to press on your belly. To feel the buldge he had made hidden beneath your soft skin.
"Can you feel it? How deep you are? How good she takes you? Isn't she so good, Hermy?"
He whimpered. Raw and yearning. Like he was in heaven. Tears welling up in his eyes. Bottom lip trembling as you sqeezed him. Buring hot and tight. Twitching against the same walls that he has tasted moments ago. That still lingered on his tongue.
"She-she is very-the most-really-oh f-fuck"
And he was lost. Sobbing and fucking. Rythum uncertain and clumsy. Robert pulling him down now for his share of kisses. Licking your slick from his lips, stucking it off his tongue. Swallowing down wet moans and drinking the water that dripped down both their chins.
And you were stuck there, watching tongues tangle and water be swapped. Messy and needy. Roberts hand cupping his jaw so tenderly as he fucked you deeper. Harder. Crying his eyes out as it all became too much. Too good.
"Sir can I-inside or...?"
Robert hummed. Kissing his cheeks, lapping up salty tears. A hand moving around your body to find your clit. Stroking and pinching it as you felt it building all over again.
"Anywhere you like. You've earned it. Drinking her so good, fucking her so well. So good"
Herm was nodding again. Moaning and panting. A million choices running through his brain before he decided to pull out, stroking himself until he cried and came all over your stomach. Watery wet loads. Pearly white and spluttering down your cunt. Over your tits. Peppering your thighs as Robert kept stroking, kept flicking and pinching. His other hand caressing Herms lips, slipping his thumb in that wet mouth to be sucked as he milked out the last few drops watching you come undone. Shaking and whimpering through it. Hole gaping. Clit twitching. Chest heaving as you all just sat there. Taking it in. Taking it all in. The smell of sex in the air. Roberts cock soft against your back. Not even undressed. Just sat there in his work clothes as he bent you both to his will. Bare and exposed like puppets for him to command.
And command he did.
"Mmm we should do this again sometime. You two have great synergy. Who would have guessed?"
He pulled Herm down, tucking him against his side as your legs finally closed and you curled up against his chest. And he kissed the tops of your heads and admired the mess he had made of his best hero and the love of his life.
our lady of the underground - watergirl (trans!wb) x trans!reader
word count: 5.5k
contains: reader is a trans man and watergirl is a trans woman, herman to heather pipeline, jewish!watergirl, childhood friends to lovers, mention of parental death, flashbacks ofc, both reader and watergirl have medically/socially/legally transitioned, bar fights, mention of injury, miscommunication, yearning hours, mention of transphobia, happy endings
summary: almost a decade after your childhood friend moved away, you find them again, both of you different in many ways but still the same at your core. will you resume where you left off, in that airport where you shared a brief kiss, or has the fire of romance burned out after so many years apart?
a/n: this has been in the works since february but seeing that @patheticwhitemenlover is hosting their dispatching pride event with a T4T category, it gave me the push i needed to finish this. ofc watergirl’s design is based on this amazing art by @death0rchids :) anywho, i hope you all enjoy!
High school was hell, but Herman Edelman made it worth it.
The two of you were thick as thieves, two losers against the world. Your mothers were best friends, even planning on having babies at the same time, which meant you two were best friends since the womb. From birth and onward, you and Herman were inseparable.
Then his parents died.
When your mother opened the door to the police officer, you and Herman were playing Mario Kart in the living room like you always do on Friday nights, laughing and trying to make the other lose. You only paused the game when you saw the tears flowing down your mother’s cheeks.
A drunk driver hit them, they were dead at the scene when the paramedics arrived.
You remembered cradling your best friend in the bath tub, his whole body slumped over in your arms and leaking water through every pore of skin. All the pain only amplified his powers, water flooding the tub with ease, as you tried to console him.
Yet, it was no use, the water wouldn’t quell and his sobs haunt you to this day.
You remembered standing by Herman at his parents’ gravesite the next day, as per Jewish tradition. Your arms were intertwined for stability while both you focused on the rabbi reciting the Kaddish. Dressed in modest black attire with your hair covered by a veil while he donned a soggy suit and yarmulke, both you and Herman could only stare at the matching shrouded caskets in the dug out holes.
When asked if he would want to shovel, Herman could only reply meekly that he was scared his powers would make his parents’ burial sites too muddy.
So you grabbed the shovel and placed Herman’s hands over yours, shoveling dirt over the graves together.
The day Shiva—the seven day mourning period in the Jewish faith—concluded, you stood before Herman at the airport’s boarding gate. Being only fifteen years old, Herman couldn’t live on his own, so his grandmother took custody of him. Yet, she lived all the way out on the West Coast in Los Angeles, so far away from your little no-name town in the Northeast.
“I don’t- I don’t wa- wanna go,” sniffled Herman, tears already coating his steely blue eyes. He only had a few more minutes before he had to board the plane to LA.
“I don’t want you to go either,” you murmured to your best friend, tears of your own glistening, “But we can still talk. We can call and I could see about visiting in the summer.”
“Prom- Promise?”
“Promise.”
Herman looked down at you, being over six feet because of his growth spurt. Gangly limbs, ance scattered about his sharp cheeks, glasses threatening to slide off his face at a moment’s notice.
He was the most beautiful man you had ever met.
“I love you, Herman.”
Herman’s eyes widened at your words, opening his mouth to reply but the stewardess had cut him off with the announcement that it was time to board.
“I- I love you. Th- Thanks— Thank you for everything.”
The two of you embraced as long as possible before he was forced to pull away, needing to board now or he would miss his flight. Without a second thought, you pecked Herman on the lips.
A full body blush broke out on his pale skin, as he touched the spot you kissed. You smiled at him and he smiled back before finally walking through the gate and vanishing.
Your first and last kiss together.
Days of no contact turned into weeks, then to months, and finally to years.
Herman Edelman vanished from your life, most likely to move on from the pain of the past and to start a new life in LA.
Meanwhile, you were stuck grieving for the boy you had loved since you were in middle school.
Yet, you couldn’t let heartbreak define you. You made it through high school, graduated from college with honors, made friends, dated on occasion, and so on. Most importantly, though?
You became your true self, the man you were always meant to be.
You always knew that you weren’t a girl, your parents affectionately referring to you as their little tomboy through your life. Yet, it clicked when you went to New York City Pride with a few friends.
It was easy to accept that you were bisexual, having dated all sorts of people while in college. You befriended many of your fellow queers, some of whom would become your lifelong friends. Said friends eventually invited you to NYC Pride, where you saw a group of the most beautiful men walking in the parade. The group had a sign up while they made their way through the chaos and excitement of the event.
Trans Men 4 Liberation
“I can be a man,” you whispered to yourself with the biggest smile, “I can be a man like them.”
Now, here you are, nursing a cocktail at one of LA’s most premier queer bars Our Lady of the Underground, a mouthful of a name, but perfect for a mouthful of a club. You had moved to LA after getting hired at one of SDN’s—Superhero Dispatch Network—newest branches as a biomechanial engineer, your work on a body-compatible power dampener sparking their interest in you.
What made you create this? you remember one of the SDN higher ups asking you about the device at your onboarding meeting. Surely, there’s not really a market for it, right?
I made it because of someone very dear to me, whose powers would benefit from such a device. I don’t care about its profitability, I care about its ability to make people’s lives better is what you told them.
You haven’t started work yet, but you’re excited to. As of this year, you finished your transition: all your legal documents up to date with your chosen name and gender marker, five or so years on HRT, top surgery done, and so on. Sure, you had to deal with transphobes from time to time, but hopefully less so in LA than back home. Here in LA means a new—
BAM!
A beer bottle heads towards your face, but you block it with your arm. It shatters upon impact, glass shards embedding into your skin and foamy beer staining your clothes.
“Motherfucker!” you curse, slamming your fists against the table and jumping to your feet to see who’s responsible for your next hospital bill. However, you quickly abandon your revenge quest when you see that an all out brawl has broken out. Chairs and drinks fly about the room, as normies and supes alike square up against one another, chaos lit up under pulsating neon lights.
A rhino hybrid in fetish gear runs up to you, ready to impale you with his horn, but you manage to put an energy shield up in time, avoiding your fate of becoming a kebab. You’ve never considered yourself to be super until that very moment, as you could only muster small energy shields in exchange for immense focus, a power you inherited as a late bloomer at age sixteen.
Nonetheless, your energy shield is enough to send the enraged hybrid flying across the room, a sickly thud echoing when his back collides with the wall. You attempt to transverse the battlefield of drunken leather daddies and twinks, but the exit is blocked.
“Follow me!”
A voice calls out to you, as you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. You don’t think twice and let the stranger drag you out of the club, throwing up the occasional energy shield when need be. Finally, night air kisses your skin upon your escape, the coolness a nice contrast to the bubbling heat of the club’s interior.
“Holy shit…” you let out a weak laugh and try to catch your breath, “You seriously saved my—”
The stranger’s hand is still around your wrist, their fingers pianist-like and nails painted baby blue. There’s a small scar under the first knuckle of their thumb, one you surprisingly recognize.
“Are- you sure this is safe?”
You open up the little pocket knife your father gifted you for your eleventh birthday.
“Of course, it is!”
“Can you go— Go first then!”
“Okay, I will!”
You crave a singular letter—an initial—under your left thumb and hold the wound up.
“Now, you gotta lick it.”
“No— Wh- What?! Lick it?!”
“We won’t be bonded otherwise.”
There’s a slight pause before a tongue laps your wound up.
“Okay, your turn!”
You hand the pocket knife over.
“Can’t you… do- do it for me?”
“Aw, don’t be a crybaby!”
“I’m- I’m not! I trust you more…”
You hold the pocket knife up.
“Okay, then I can do it for you.”
You crave the initial of your first name under the right thumb and quickly lick up the blood.
“There! Now we just gotta say the promise.”
“The promise?”
“That no matter what happens, we will always care about the other.”
The two of you exchange smiles.
“Do you promise?”
“I- I promise!”
“I promise, too.”
You intertwine hands together.
“Then we’re bonded for life.”
Under the stranger’s right thumb, the scar’s your first initial while the scar under your left thumb is that of a H.
“Her-” you look up with hope in your eyes, only for your words to die on your tongue.
Before you stands the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Tall as an Amazonian with ginger hair draped over a spaghetti strap party dress, she looks back at you with concern. She possesses a hooked nose and rosy cheeks, a lively flush to her otherwise pale body. The droplets of water that roll off her skin glisten under the moonlight, the miscellaneous freckles that cover her body like constellations and her bluish grey eyes amplified.
“Are- Are you okay?”
The same stutter, the same scar, the same person you loved since middle school.
“What do you go by now?” you ask.
She’s taken aback, bewildered by your question. You get back on your feet and show her your scarred thumb, “I still hope it starts with H, or else we’re gonna need a redo. Don’t worry, though. My first initial is still the—”
The ethereal woman before you breaks out into that familiar smile of hers and embraces you tight, squishing your face against her perky breasts. She holds you for what seems like hours, as you slowly wrap your arms around her sides and hug her back.
“It’s- It’s you,” her voice cracks, “It’s you.”
“It’s me,” you whisper back, “A little different now, but still me.”
She pulls back and cups your face, examining your features. All you can do is smile fondly at her, your chest full of warmth and joy.
“You’re bleeding,” she then comments with a frown, to which you merely laugh and reply, “Shoulda seen the other guy.”
“I can- I can patch you up,” she reassures you, pulling a small first aid kit out of her purse and procuring some tweezers.
“At least, tell me your name before you do that,” you request.
She smiles wearily, “You’re… still th- the same as ever, huh?” and you nod, earning a small chuckle from the ginger.
“Heath- Heather. Heather Edelman.”
You sit on the curb outside of the club while Heather carefully plucks the glass shards from your arm. The bar fight quells down, but the club’s owners decide to close early for the night, as SDN heroes come by to escort folks to the paddy wagon on disorderly conduct charges.
“Why didn’t you ever call me?” you suddenly ask Heather when she plucks the remaining glass shards from your skin.
“I tried,” she answers before licking her hand and slapping it over one of your cuts. You shiver a bit from the sudden coolness of her spit, only to be amazed when it leaves your skin perfectly healed.
“And now you got healing spit?” you comment with a tiny laugh, “Cool.”
Heather returns your laugh, but quickly elaborates to you, “Grandma… Grandma got sick soon after I moved in. I had to take care of her, the cats, school- but I did try… my phone- my phone got waterlogged and I couldn’t- I couldn’t afford a new one and I didn’t have your number memorized—”
You abruptly pull her into a hug and bury your face in the crook of her neck.
“I missed you every single day for the past nine years.”
Heather slumps forward in your embrace, sobs hiccupping from her diaphragm.
“I saved up- I saved up so much money to get- to get a flight to visit you- in the summer like we promised… but by the time I could afford it, I had- I had started my transition…” her voice trails off, “Your dad th- threatened to shoot- shoot me if I didn’t leave right then and there.”
You remember that day, it had only been a week or so since your college graduation when you witnessed a confrontation between your dad and a stranger outside your house. Of course, you couldn’t hear what words were being exchanged, but whatever your dad said was enough to scare them off.
“Fucking hell,” you curse under your breath, anger bubbling up in your stomach. How could your father—the man who bandaged your boo boos, who cried with joy when you won engineering competitions and graduated from school, who comforted you after breakups and failures—do such a thing to the child of his late best friends?
“I’m sorry,” is all you can say to Heather, “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she whispers with a weak smile, “It’s in- It’s in the past,” the ginger then gestures at you with a small frown, “Does he… know? Ab- About you.”
“Yes,” you confess.
“Did he… accept you?”
“Yes.”
Relief floods Heather’s face, “Th- Thank God,” she smiles softly at you, “That’s— What a relief.”
“Yeah,” you hum, “Took him some time, though. Mom was accepting right off the bat, but Dad was definitely… shocked? Angry? No clue, but he went to a support group for parents and family members of trans kids, that helped him understand.”
“I’m- I’m glad,” murmurs Heather.
“How about your grandma?” you ask.
Heather grins at you, “I was worried- scared that she wouldn’t accept- accept me because of her age… but she- she was part of— She was there for the Stonewall Riot! Friends with drag- drag queens, other trans folks… she understood immediately.”
“I’m glad,” you rest a hand on her cheek, a timid smile gracing your lips, “I’m really glad, Heather.”
Eventually, Heather gets you all patched up, any injuries you sustained fading into light scars. The two of you get back on your feet and look around the outside of the bar, most of the patrons either shipped off to some holding cells or left the property.
In a bold move, you try to offer getting a drink together to Heather, “Do you wanna get a proper—”
“There you are, Wet Fart Girl!” an accented voice cuts you off, as a long-haired man in a fishnet crop top and a woman with colorful Afro puffs approach the both of you, “Been looking everywhere for you!”
“Sorry!” laughs Heather sheepishly, “I- I was helping an old— my friend.”
Your chest tightens when she refers to you as her friend, grateful that she still considers you one but your heart craves more… much more.
“Oh, he’s cute,” comments the other woman. You see Heather open her mouth, but quickly closes it; you swear that her cheeks are a darker pink.
“Eh. He’s fine,” retorts the man with the ponytail. You playfully scoff and decide to introduce yourself to the two of them, assuming that they’re friends of Heather. The woman with the Afro puff soon gawks at you and questions, “Wait, are you that new guy Blazer hired?”
“Blazer?” you quirk an eyebrow at her.
“Our- Our boss,” elaborates Heather.
“Overheard her yapping with Royd about some new guy from the East Coast joining the roster or something,” the other woman shrugs, “So you the guy or nah?”
“I mean, I did get a job at one of the California SDN branch,” you think back to your job acceptance letters, “The… Torrance Branch? I think.”
“That’s- That’s our branch!” exclaims Heather, her eyes sparkling with excitement, “We- We get to be coworkers!”
You break out in a big smile, “Oh cool! You guys engineers, too?”
The man beside Heather snorts, “Oh, hell no. We’re bona fide heroes.”
Your smile widens and turn to Heather, taking her hands in yours. She always dreamed of becoming a hero since elementary school when the two of you witnessed the hero Waterspout putting out a five alarm fire in your neighborhood with ease.
“You did it,” you squeeze her hands, not minding the moisture, “I’m so proud of you, Heather.”
Her cheeks redden, unable to get the words out for a response so she opts to smile and nod. Suddenly, your phone rings and you let go Heather’s hands to check it.
“Shit, I gotta go,” you sigh, “I get at least a few hours of sleep before my first day tomorrow,” you look up at Heather and flash her one more smile, “See you tomorrow?”
“See- See you tomorrow!” she exclaims.
You order yourself an Uber and bid the three of them goodbye, heading back to your new apartment. Your chest fills with joy and excitement, thanking the universe for such a wonderful reunion with your childhood best friend.
Outside the club, Chad and Alice watch Heather’s lovestruck expression linger after you take your leave, the two of them snickering at their coworker and friend’s reaction.
“Oh, she’s so whipped.”
You park outside SDN Torrance, coffee in one hand and some generic breakfast sandwich in the other. Your messenger bag swings with each step you take, as you approach the entrance to your new workplace.
“Hi there,” you greet the lobby receptionist after finishing your breakfast, “Do you know where I can find Blonde Blazer?”
“Right here!”
You whip your head around and see a tall, muscular blonde in a yellow and blue superhero suit. Politely, you give her a nod and introduce yourself to your new boss.
“So good to have you on staff,” your new boss comments while the two of you walk to her office, “Royd has been looking for a lab partner for months.”
“Royd? Not Roy?” you ask.
“He can explain it,” chuckles Blonde Blazer, “But let’s head inside my office. I have your work shirts there.”
You nod and enter a sleek office with your boss. Blonde Blazer heads to her desk and holds out a box of work shirts, a mix of dress shirts and polos.
“You can go change in the locker rooms downstairs. Besides the uniform shirt, we have a business casual dress code for non-hero personnel,” explains your boss, as she slips the box into your bag, “The lab is on the same level, too. Royd should be inside. Have a good first day!”
“Thanks, Boss,” you give her a nod and exit her office without another word, excited to get the work day started.
You turn the corner to get to the elevators, but unfortunately collide with someone in the process. Losing your balance, you brace yourself to hit the floor, but a wet hand grabs you by the wrist and holds you tight, "Got you— I got you!"
"Heather?" you peer up at the tall woman, taking in the sight of her hero attire. She dons a similar color scheme to Blonde Blazer, a bright yellow and blue wetsuit with knee and elbow pads. Her hair is done in two braids and a pair of swim goggles rest on her forehead.
"Watergirl," she answers, "We— Heroes aren't really allowed to go— to use th- their civilian names when— while on the clock."
"Gotcha," you nod, "It's fitting."
"Yeah?" her lips curl up into a giddy smile.
"Very," you hum before readjusting your hold on your bag, "I gotta get going, but can I get your number? If you have a new phone."
"I do!" she exclaims with pride, "Royd— He made me a waterproof one!"
You two then exchange phone numbers and part ways, but now with a pep in your step. After ten or so minutes, you get into your work shirt and find the lab, the automatic doors opening with a hiss. At one of the work station, the biggest man you’ve ever seen is welding something, sparks flying while his tools buzz.
"Uhm, are you Royd?" you ask the man in the lab.
He stops what he's doing and turns to face you, lifting up his welding mask to reveal quite the handsome face. The man sets his tools down and stands up, his height just as huge as the rest of him, "That me, brotha! You da new guy?"
You confirm with a nod, only to be surprised with a powerful pat on the back from Royd. For a second, you swear his strength forces that one stubborn knot out of your muscles from prolonged slouching at your desk.
"Welcome to the lab!" your new work buddy moves onto giving you the tour of the lab. You marvel at the miscellaneous blueprints that lay about, as well as the various works in progress. The smell of metal and sweat comforts you.
I'm gonna like it here.
You and Royd hit it off almost instantly. His positive attitude is infectious, as it rubs off on you while the two of you jam to a band you have a shared interest in. While Royd works on his latest assignment, he requests you to review some confiscated blueprints and see if you can modify any for SDN.
“Saw your prototype,” the Samoan comments aloud, “The power dampener. Great invention. Cortex’s ‘prints might be of use to you.”
“Cortex?” you ask.
“Big brain villain,” hums Royd, “Wanted to empower non-supes and enslave them for world domination.”
“Weird,” you purse your lips together, “But maybe his stuff can help me.”
You proceed to unwrap all the blueprints in the box labeled Cortex and begin dissecting the various inventions. Nothing seems to peek your interest until—
“Holy shit,” you let out a laugh of disbelief, holding the prized blueprint. It’s of a mind control collar, but the premise is functionally the same as your power dampener prototype, “Yo, Royd! Do we have any mircoleads?”
“Middle drawer labeled the medical equipment,” answers your lab partner.
You rush to the designated drawer and gather the rest of the necessary materials before heading to your work station. It takes two or so hours to make, but you fashion a metal bracelet with a variety of buttons around it. You snap the bracelet around your wrist, wincing a bit when the needles pierce your skin.
“I think I did,” you voice to Royd.
“Did what?” he asks.
“My power dampener,” you hold up the bracelet.
Royd grins, “Let’s test it!”
The two of you head to the testing zone in the lab and Royd puts on his glasses, pen and notebook in hand to document the results.
“Test One,” you set the power dampener to a 25% decrease. You take a deep breath and summon an energy shield. It’s stable, but not noticeable weaker. Royd takes note of that and you set the bracelet to 50% before creating another energy shield. This time, you see it flicker, still stable but visibly weaker.
“Okay, it’s working,” you can barely contain your excitement at the success.
“What about a 75% decrease?” voices Royd.
“Oh, yeah,” you make the shield vanish and change the setting, “Let’s see.”
You summon one last energy shield, this one barely visible. Before you can celebrate your success, the bracelet begins to heat up and spark before combusting around your wrist, filling the room with smoke.
With his super strength, Royd pries the power dampener off you and contain the fire, as you clutch your injured wrist.
“I think I need to go to the hospital.”
You have second degree burns around your wrist, your skin hot and blistering. Thankfully, one of the nurses has healing powers, shining your burned skin in golden light until you’re left good as new.
“Thank you,” you tell the nurse, grateful that you don’t have to deal with such a burdensome injury.
The nurse gives you a thumbs up and allows you to return to your work duties. You exit the infirmary, only to run into Heather again, “Heather-”
The words die in your mouth when you see the tearful look on your best friend’s face. With a frown, you act on instinct, reaching and cupping her face in your hands, wiping away her tears, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“N- No,” she shakes her head, “I- I was going— I went to the lab to ask if you wanted— if you would have lunch with me, but- but Royd said you- you got hurt,” more tears roll down her cheeks.
“Oh, Heather, I’m okay. I promise,” you reassure her, reaching up and wiping away some of her tears.
“You promise?” she looks at you with pitiful eyes.
“I swear on Mr. Turtle’s grace,” you inform her, invoking your only childhood pet’s deceased nature to highlight the seriousness of your promise.
“Okay,” she pulls back to take care of her remaining tears, “Wh- What happened, th- though?”
“I’ll explain at lunch.”
The two of you soon head up on the roof of the branch building, partaking in food from the nearby Tex-Mex food truck.
“I got hired because of my engineering thesis project,” you open the story to Watergirl between bites of your burrito bowl, “It’s a power dampener, an alternative to the power nullifying collars used in prisons.”
“A power dampener?” the ginger gawks at you.
“Yup,” you hum.
“Why?”
“Why? Why what?”
“Why make th- that?”
You pause, as Heather adverts her gaze and stares down at her heavily wrapped burrito.
“Because of you.”
Her eyes widen, “Because of me?”
“Yeah,” you set your meal aside and explain, “I know how difficult controlling your powers was for you growing up and the only things available for that help are nullifiers, which are either used in correctional facilities or are priced ridiculously high.”
You peer over at Heather, who’s now staring you with curiosity, “But I know that the nullifiers can make supes pretty sick and that a lot of supes want to be able to adjust their powers’ intensity whenever they want or need to… so I made a power dampener.”
“Th- That’s amazing!” exclaims Heather, her eyes twinkling with awe and excitement.
You chuckle at her and add on, “It’s actually how I got this job. What I made just a prototype, though,” you pause before mentioning to your friend, “I was able to make a newer version by reworking some old blueprints from Cortex, but it’s why I ended up in the medical wing.”
“Wh- What exactly happened?”
“It worked at a 25% and 50% decrease, but overheated when I turned it up to a 75% decrease. Gave me second degree burns.”
Heather goes silent, as do you. Still holding your burrito bowl, you go to take a bite, but your friend speaks up:
“You could’ve gotten really hurt.”
Her voice is strained, as if she’s ready to cry at any second. You frown and inform her, “I had to test it on myself—”
“No!” the ginger cuts you off, much to your surprise. A bit of steam wafts off her body, something you haven’t seen since she witnessed middle school bully Jimmy Wilson pushing you down the stairs.
“Heather, it’s okay—” you try to reassure her, but to no avail.
“No, it’s not!” Heather balls up her fists, more steam rising from her body, “Wh- What if you got more hurt? Or- Or die? Like Mechaman.”
You want to question what Heather means by that, but you opt to set your meal aside and hold out your hands to her. She stares at them for a minute before relaxing her hands and taking yours.
“I’m sorry for scaring you, I didn’t realize…” you trail off, “I’m sorry.”
“I just- I just got you back. I don’t want you to get- to lose you again.,” she confesses.
“Heather…” you squeeze her hands, “Heather, I-”
Your phone suddenly rings, your alarm going off to signal that your lunch break is over. Wordlessly, you let go of Heather’s hands and turn off the alarm before grabbing your burrito bowl and standing up.
“I’ll see you later,” you murmur to her.
“See you… Yeah,” she replies.
Without another word, the two of you part ways and return to your jobs.
That day’s See you later turns into a week with no interaction between you and Heather.
At first, you chalk it up to her being busy with hero work and you with your lab duties. Yet, whenever you got a chance to see her, Heather would find some way to evade you. Her avoidance scratches at the old but present wound of your almost decade long absence from each other’s lives.
So with a little help from Royd, you manage to corner Heather in the lab during the lunch break.
The ginger idles before you, bewildered. She then asks, “Royd— He said he had something for- for me? Do- Do you know where— Is he here?” to which you reply, “No, I asked him to get you down here for me.”
Heather frowns, slouching even more while she stands in place. You cross your arms and state, “We need to talk.”
The heroine doesn’t respond, but the increase in her water output betrays what she’s feeling.
“Why are you avoiding me?” you question Heather, “You just told me—” your breath hitches, “You told me you didn’t want to lose me again.”
“I’m sorry,” is all she says.
“Then why are you avoiding me?” you reiterate.
Heather begins to pull at her braids, “I- I got wrapped up with hero work, I’m sorry.”
“Heather,” you take a step closer and guide her hands off her braids, “Please, please tell me the truth.”
“I- I love you.”
Those three words shoot straight through your heart like Cupid’s arrow.
“What?”
“I- I- I love you,” Heather’s bottom lip quivers, “Th- That’s why I’ve been— I was scared, I am scared— I don’t wanna lose- I don’t wanna ruin everything,” she stammers, more and more droplets rolling off her body and onto the floor.
You’re silent while she continues to ramble, “Seeing you at the club— Seeing who you’ve become but at the same time, you still being you— Then having you work here— God, everything, I can’t—”
“Heather,” you grasp her hands.
“Yeah?” she whispers, her voice tight with emotion.
“I love you, too.”
Heather looks at you as if you grew a second head, but that expression morphs into one akin to winning the lottery, as she breaks out into a huge grin, “You do- You really do?”
“Yes,” you nod and squeeze her hands, “I’ve loved you since middle school, Heather Edelman.”
Like an excited puppy, Heather captures your lips in a sweet—albeit clumsy—kiss, her lips soft and tasting of blue raspberry chapstick. You move your hands to her face and cup her cheeks, holding her gently.
You remember the kiss you shared at the airport, how brief and fleeting it had been. You had spent countless nights during your youth wondering if you’d ever feel her lips against yours again, if it would be different than that single peck.
And now you have.
And it’s better than anything you ever imagine.
You lose track of how long you’ve been kissing Heather, only pulling away once you need air. A thin string of saliva connects your lips to hers, an anchor of your love for one another.
“I’ve loved you since- since elementary school,” the heroine sheepishly admits.
“Really?” you chuckle, surprised.
“Really!” she exclaims, “I always… I always had- I hoped that you- that I would find you again.”
You kiss Heather once more on the lips, longer than a peck but shorter than the earlier kiss. Pulling back, you murmur to her, “Well, you found me.”
Heather smiles widely at your words, “I found you,” she repeats back, pressing her forehead against yours, “I found you.”
A comfortable silence falls upon the two of you, as you place your hands on Heather’s waist and hold her still. You share a tender moment of unspoken connection, grounding both of you to this new reality.
a bit of waterbae for Dispatching-pride. I have no clue which one to put it under, so uh... take your pick! I had an idea for prompt 2, but I just wasn't able to recreate my thoughts. So have this instead! heh..heh.. anyways. Bye-bye! *runs away back to my cave to draw something else for P2*
Not a personal fan of Waterbae, but I like doing things that I don't like, so other people in the fandom know I support them :3
a waterboy x oc fic (sfw!) for @patheticwhitemenlover's dispatching pride event! subconsciously i incorporated about half the prompts i think but the main one is happy endings :D
word count: 10.8k
-waterboy's pov, italics are thoughts!
A/N: this is the first time putting any writing of mine online so go easy on my amateur ass lmao. this was supposed to be in the ballpark of 2k but it got away from me (most of it just being build-up for the last part) and now here we are💀 I had fun with it though :]
How he had even managed to show up on time was a mystery.
The cats had been kind of moody lately, probably due to the near constant rain of the past few days that showed no signs of stopping. He had to spend significantly more time tending to them, which only made them less cooperative.
On top of that he had accidentally misplaced one of grandma’s medicine bottles the night before and had to turn the whole house upside down before he found it only a foot away from its normal place.
And if that wasn’t enough already, the only formal garb he owned that he had decided on wearing for this party had still been in the wash. He should have remembered earlier but grandma and the cats came first.
Those last ten minutes before he needed to leave to catch the bus he’d spent pacing in the hallway in front of the laundry room, willing the washing machine to hurry up. Grandma had joked that he’d wear out the floorboards like that.
The only positive was that he didn’t have to bother drying the clothes. With the added stress he was dripping more than usual, which most people didn’t exactly appreciate.
He let out a sigh, staring into his drink.
Why did I even go to this party. I could be doing something more useful.
He kept trying to be positive and talk to people, maybe get to know a few things about his colleagues, but he never seemed to learn. It always ended the same; with him, alone. And it was always his fault, he’d come to notice. He got someone wet. He made it awkward. He was dismissed. He said the wrong thing. He stuttered too much. He tried too hard. He made someone slip. He was gross. He was ignored. He was in the way. He was clumsy. He seemed desperate. He stumbled over his words too often.
It’s how he ended up somewhere next to the wall a bit away from the rest, clutching his glass and watching other people have fun. He was used to it by now but... that didn’t make it sting any less. Why couldn’t there have been cats here? Scratch that. One cat would suffice. Or any other animal, really. At least they didn’t—
“Not much of a party person?”
He jumped at the voice suddenly at his side with a frankly embarrassing yelp. Forcing the water back down that threatened to spill out of his mouth, he swiveled his head towards the voice.
“Sorry! Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” a woman next to him apologised, holding up her hands placatingly.
He... had seen her around a couple times at the office in passing but couldn’t think of what exactly she did at SDN. Wasn’t she a hero or something, now out of costume? Or maybe she had a job as dispatcher?
“I-It’s okay–! Fine! Uhm. I didn’t. Drop– Spill my– drink– a-anything, so...” he trailed off, holding up his glass with a crooked smile and wiggling it around a little.
What was that?!
“Good, good! You didn’t answer my question, though.”
“Oh.”
...What was the question again?
He felt his face heat up.
“U-Uh. Question! Yes, aheh. What did you– I-I. Was– Huh?”
Smooth. Really smooth. The wall looked very headbashable right now. She was laughing at him, but didn’t leave. For some reason.
Maybe she wants to make fun of me some more before she gets tired of me and leaves.
She leaned her back against the wall, next to him, looking out towards their colleagues. “Relax. I asked if you’re not much of a party person.” She glanced his way briefly.
Relax?!
He had to take a moment to fully absorb what she asked. “...I-I-I don’t know! I’ve never really been to. Such a gala– celeb–. P-Party...”
“Me neither.” A pause. She looked left, then right. Leaned a little closer to him, lowering her voice like she was telling him a secret. “Listen, between you and me? I just came for the free drinks. And the food is... palatable, so. You know.” She shrugged, backing off again.
No I don’t?
“Yeah, the drinks sure are duh... D-Drink-able.”
What am I even saying? I should just stop talking.
She halted her glass she was in the middle of lifting to her lips and squinted, side-eyeing him. “Why did you say it like that? Did you poison them or something?” An accusing eyebrow lifted.
“No!” he exclaimed, one hand waving in denial. “Nonono! Why woul– I. I d-didn’t–!”
She batted a hand at him. “It’s alright, I was joking!”
“Oh... Hah, ye-yeah...” He dropped his arm.
Right. Just joking. Not serious. Why didn’t I catch that?
Fully turning her body towards him, she asked: “What’s your name?”
“Uh, W-Waterboy is how they. Call me, but–”
“And how do you call yourself?”
Should I...? Ah, why not. She won’t remember me anyway.
“...Herman.”
“Ah, well–” she laughed again, more quiet this time, eyes crinkling with mirth, “I actually meant if you had come up with a cooler name than that for yourself?”
He felt himself heat up again with embarrassment, shrinking in on himself. So she thought he was a loser, got it.
“Oh,” he said. “Uhm. N-No?”
Does she really think ‘Waterboy’ is a lame name? Or my real name? Or both?
“And for this party?”
“Wh-What?”
Why is she still here? What is she getting at?
“I suppose I should just call you Waterboy, right? Since it is a semi-formal party from work.”
“That uh, yeah. That-That might be for bet– for the... b-bester. Yeah.”
Can I get one normal sentence out PLEASE.
He took a sip, polishing off his drink to give himself a moment to breathe. Copying her earlier action, he shifted to look out over the considerable crowd of people that had shown up for this company get-together.
Shouldn’t she have left by now? There’s a ton of other people here. ...Has she even introduced herself?
“Wh-What about you?”
“Hm?”
“Your nam– I mean, h-how do– what’s is your. Name.”
“I. I didn’t mention that at all?” Her voice climbing in pitch, put-together attitude showing some cracks with her being caught off-guard.
“No?”
“Really? I’m so sorry, it’s–” She seemed to change her mind mid-sentence. “Well, you’re a new hire, right?”
He didn’t understand her angle but nodded. “A few d– This week. I-I was hired. This week. As an uh. A-A janitor.”
“Okay, then you might’ve heard the name Rapunzel thrown around at least once or twice?”
He had to dig a little in his memories until it resurfaced. The first day of his new job he’d been tasked with dusting the mail room. He’d also been threatened to do it properly and not get anything wet or ‘Rapunzel’ would strangle him with her hair. Maybe he should have been able to tell that they’d been joking but he didn’t want to find out, just in case, y’know? The mail room had been the cleanest place in the entire office that day (plus negligible water damage when he saw the amount of fan mail Phenomaman gets).
Better to not get on her bad side, in any case, to be sure.
“I-I have! Yes, I. Yes.”
“Yeah well that’s me. See?” she said, taking her hair from behind her back and letting it fall from her hand. It swung side to side a few times with the momentum.
How had he not noticed that? He could see why she earned the nickname. It reached her knees, tightly braided. He didn’t know much about braided hairstyles but it seemed rather complex to him.
Is it all real? How many years did it take for it to grow that long? Must be a lot of work to care for it. I wonder if it touches the floor if she has her hair down.
He was so deep in thought that he almost didn’t hear the rest: “I don’t really like that nickname to be honest with you...”
That’s unexpected. He was always under the impression that the Disney princesses were generally well-liked. “You– Y-You don’t?”
“No,” she replied, expression sullen. “Makes me feel like that’s the only thing I’m recognizable for. I don’t even have any powers.”
She waved off her own statement, forcing a smile. “Ah, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear any of that. This is an office party, not a pity party! Can I get you a refill of uh... whatever you wanna drink?”
He filed the information away; clearly she didn’t want to talk about it, so he took her offer for a change of topic. He stared into his glass. What had been in this again? Just punch or something, right?
“Some uh p-punch, please. Yes,” he added quickly, remembering her actual question, and handed over his tumbler.
“Okay! Be right back!” she told him over her shoulder, walking over to the ‘bar’ the office had set up.
...Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. Can he even trust her, this random stranger? He fiddled with his gloves to give his empty hands something to do.
She’s not totally a random stranger though, he argued with himself. We’re practically coworkers. We work in the same building. That’s something. Maybe she just needed an excuse to leave, though. Wouldn’t be the first time.
But she returned, bringing back not only their two glasses but also a bag of chips.
“Figured we could share,” she answered his unspoken question, continuing somewhat unsure, “If you like these?” She held up the chips for him to see the flavor with a slight twitch in her face. Can’t go wrong with good old plain potato chips.
“O-Oh, yeah! I do! Like them, I-I mean. Chips.”
I really shouldn’t. How can I politely refuse without her getting angry? And also could I get a dialogue option other than ‘Oh’?? This conversation is going on for longer than I thought, so come on, focus!
She opened the bag and held it out for him. He reached for it on autopilot but stopped. His water would ruin the entire bag, in spite of him wearing gloves. He knew this. He shouldn—
He noticed something else, then. Her arm was held up at a slightly awkward angle that he could tell she was trying to hide. Should he ask? She probably already hates him.
Can’t make it much worse. Right? She hasn’t yelled at me. Yet.
Her eyes widened a tad, chip bag crinkling when she lowered it.
“I’m... surprised you can tell. But yeah, you are right.”
She was looking down at the floor. He wasn’t able to see her expression, fearing the worst. He tried to backpedal, thumbing behind him and taking a step to move away.
“I can get out of– l-leave, if–!”
Her head shot up. “What? No, no! You don’t have to do that! Unless you have somewhere else to be.”
“...I’d like to, stay– k-keep. Keep being. Here. If-If you’ll uh, let me, heh!”
Did that sound too hopeful?
“Permission granted,” she told him with a playful curtsy. “It’s not you, by the way. Uh. If you were concerned about that. You don’t make me uncomfortable.”
Good golly was he glad to hear that.
“It’s this dress,” she continued, holding the skirt part out further before finally letting it go. “I bought it, with the thought that I could... um... shit, the word’s escaping me...” She frowned. “Tailor?” She looked at him for confirmation. “Is that it? Tailor a dress, like sewing and modifying and stuff?”
“I-I think– so. Yeah!”
Right? Yeah probably.
“Okay, great! So! I bought it to tailor it later. But that later still needs to happen, because I put it off and then I was busy all the time and suddenly this party was tonight,” she explained, swirling the liquid of her glass with a gentle motion. “So now I can’t move my shoulders to its full extent otherwise I’ll rip the fabric. Have you seen Brave, the Disney movie? I kinda feel like Merida right now, in that scene where the three guys from the other clans have to shoot an arrow and she just goes and does it herself?”
It’s been years but he understood what she was referring to at least.
They were both quiet for a moment. Laughter from other attendees echoed through the room. Glasses were clinked together cheerfully. Music that he didn’t particularly cared about sounded from speakers in the far corner.
She quickly raised her eyebrows suddenly. “Oh, right! Do you still want some or...? Sorry I completely forgot I had this,” she said, holding the chips out to him again.
“Yea-Yeah! But... I– I shouldn’t, I’ll get all the– ev-everything. Moi– Wet.”
“Hm. How about I eat half first, and then you can have the other half?”
Why is she so persistent? I’m not that important—?
“Hey Rapunzel!” another man’s voice cut through his thoughts. Walking over with a wobble in his step, beer bottle in hand. “Our resident princess of the mail room, there you are! Can I offer you something to drink?”
Being just a shadow in the background to most people in daily life made him quite a proficient people watcher. Not in a creepy way, he hoped. He didn’t want to toot his own horn but he’d like to think he got pretty good at it; at observing.
The guy had had a couple drinks already. That much was obvious. He looked tipsy; face flushed, high confidence and on the verge of slurring his words.
Rapunzel on the other hand reeled back her initial reaction of dang near bristling when she heard the man’s voice, and instead turned to smile semi-politely at him.
“No thanks Paul, I literally just fetched some.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, look it’s still full.” She held her drink higher up for him to see.
“You kinda look thirsty to me...”
“I’m not really.”
Paul tried a different tactic, “Have you ever been told your hair is gorgeous?” he complimented with a wink.
“Quite often actually, you’d be surprised.” It was spoken as a fact, bordering on bored.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to buy you a drink?”
“The drinks are free...? That was the main selling point of this whole party.”
“Do you like gambling, Rapunzel?”
“Where did that come from? And uh no, I think it’s a waste of my money and my time.”
Like this conversation. Can’t he take a hint? Even I can see she has no interest.
“Sooo... I don’t have a chance of getting lucky tonight?”
“How should I know that?” She sounded genuinely confused at that one. “Buy a lottery ticket or something if you wanna find out.”
“...Hm. I see.”
“Can you leave, now? I was already in the middle of a conversation.” She flicked her eyes to him and back to Paul.
Paul looked surprised to see him standing there, as if he hadn’t noticed his existence up until now. That tracked. He was either invisible, or in the way. No in between.
Paul scoffed, straightening his back in order to look taller. It didn’t do much. Paul gestured to him loosely. “This wet guy? Really? Wha’s he have that I don’t?”
“Better conversational skills.”
Both men gawked at her.
“Yeah you know it’s not great when the guy with a stutter does the better job at talking.”
Paul opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he didn’t have a clever rebuttal ready. Deciding to cut his losses he left, slinking off to no doubt try again with maybe someone more willing– Never mind. He grabbed another drink to drown his disappointment and went to sulk in the corner.
She slumped like a weight fell off of her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to be a dig at you. I just wanted Paul to get lost.”
“Was– D-Did you... mean that?”
“Which part?”
“Th-That I’m– I. I can. Talk better...?”
Get it together.
“Well yeah. Paul comes down to the mail room a couple times a week to... I don’t know, kill time? Waste mine? I don’t know what he wants from me. I just can’t talk with that guy. I’m not sure how to describe it,” she said, “but I don’t have that with you.”
Biggest compliment (from someone who’s not grandma) I’ve ever gotten!
“Ssso you do uh... post– m-mail?”
“Well, I sort mail, yes. It’s uh. Quite boring, actually. But you know, it pays alright and my coworkers are nice, so I won’t complain. You said you are one of the janitors, right?” she asked, taking a large gulp of her drink.
He hummed in confirmation. “Yea-Yeah, I had a– was hired uhm. Th-This. Week.”
She swallowed. “Right right, you mentioned that.”
Did I? Dang it!
She went on, hesitant, thumbing the edge of her glass, “Say, this is probably going to be a stupid quest—”
The sound of glass getting smashed interrupted her.
Both of them whipped their heads around to the noise. One of their colleagues was on the floor, with liquor and blood dripping off their face, looking dazed. Glass had shattered and was scattered all around. Another employee was shouting at them while they got their bearings; two others were holding him back.
He didn’t recognize any of them; probably heroes who are out on the field most of the time.
She clicked her tongue, eyebrows set in a disapproving frown. “I’ve never understood that...”
He hummed questioningly.
“Oh, that people start drinking way past their limit when the drinks are free. And then they’re completely out of control and start getting aggressive for some reason. Like come on man, you’re ruining it for the rest of us.”
“Hah, yeah.”
“Say, I’m not planning on getting hit with flying projectiles or whatever powers they have, if any, so let’s get some distance from them,” she suggested. “If you’ll join me?”
They kept talking through the entirety of the party. He kept stumbling his way through it, but she didn’t leave. He started to believe she might even like his company. They had moved to one of the tables strewn about. With the party finally winding down, they were still sat there, still talking, until he expressed he needed to get going. Grandma was waiting for him.
“Th-Thanks. For the uhm. Heh. Thanks...” he said, pushing back his chair to stand.
She gathered their glasses and moved to stand herself. “It’s alright, you don’t have to thank me for that. I had fun! You’re good company.”
Woohoo!
With the glasses given back to the appointed ‘bartender’ and a short ride on the elevator they were now stood outside, parting ways.
“Catc– See you on the... l-later side–? Flip. Side. Then? Maybe? Miss uh. R-Rapunzel?”
Never mind I’m taking back that earlier ‘woohoo’, that was awful, holy spit.
Her name sat uncomfortably on his tongue. He didn’t know why.
“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Mr Waterboy,” she said with a wave, turning around to leave but then paused. “Wait, do you even have work tomorrow?”
He blinked.
...
His mind blanked.
...
Uh oh.
His brain didn’t do too well under the pressure of sudden unexpected questions.
Dang.
He needed to say something.
Now. Quickly!
“Uhm. Wh– Uh. What to-today is it? T-Today?”
“Friday, I think? Lemme check.”
She whipped her phone out of a hidden pocket of her dress and clicked it on. “Yes, it’s Friday. Hold on, then tomorrow is Saturday. ...I don’t work on Saturday. So never mind! I won’t see you tomorrow!” She facepalmed. “Anyway! I’ll see you... some time at work and we can grab a coffee during break then or something.”
She wants to what? I’m not a fan of coffee though, I don’t think. Surely she doesn’t want me to join if that’s the case.
“I-I’m not really– not much– I don’t. Really like coffee? S-Sorry!”
“Oh. Is it the bitterness?”
“Maybe...?”
She hummed and thought for a bit. “Have you tried instant coffee?”
“Uhm. I. Don’t think. So?”
The only coffee he had tried was a latte(?) once years ago, which. Well. Was expensive, for one. ‘Eh’ on the taste. And buying everything needed for home brewing which he might not like at all felt like a waste of money. Money he could not afford to squander; we was barely getting by as is.
Another hum from her. “Do you have sweet tooth?”
What is this, an interrogation?
“O-Occas– Occasion– Sssometimes?”
“I can make something you might like then.”
A couple days later the two of them had met up in the break room after work hours on her request. Outside, the sinking sun cast the city in a warm orange glow. He never particularly cared for the color orange but he had to admit that sundown was quite a sight. He liked dawn more, though. The quiet (well, as quiet as a big city like LA gets), some birds chirping their songs facing the new day with vigor. The—
“Uh, Waterboy?”
He quickly turned his head from the window back to her. “Huh? Yeah! ...Nnno? Sor– I’m-I’m sorry. Can you...? I-I wasn’t...”
“Don’t worry! I haven’t asked anything yet!”
“Oh, oka– a-alrighty, heh!”
She put up a finger. “But pay attention, because now I’m about to ask something: do you prefer sugar or honey?”
That was not the question he expected, although maybe he should have. She had asked if he had a sweet tooth after all, at the party.
“Uhm. S-Sugar?” he replied, with a half shrug.
“You don’t sound very sure of yourself, but that’s okay. Took me a while to find out how I like it too.”
She had spread out the ingredients on the counter, some brought from her home. He had offered to pay for the expenses she might have made but she didn’t want to hear a word of it. Giving them a once over she nodded to herself.
“S-So uhm. What are we. Cook–Cooking? Or making?” he asked.
“A recipe!”
...
I mean...
She seemed to realise what she said and made a face. “Yeah, that’s not really an answer, is it? I mean to say, a recipe that I came up with for instant coffee made with milk and a sweetener. Which is kind of... well, it’s not really anything innovative but. Uh.” She paused, blush overtaking her face, hand coming up to grab her opposite arm. “You know, now that I say it out loud it just sounds stupid...”
“No.”
“No...?”
“I-It’s. Is not stupid. Easy– s-simple maybe. Yeah. But. N-Not stupid.”
She struggled to find the right words for a moment. “Okay. Thanks. I uh. Yeah. You still want to make it?”
“I would– I’d love– like to! Yes!”
Too enthusiastic?
Maybe. But she didn’t seem to be bothered much. In fact, it even seemed contagious, trying to hype herself up perhaps?
“Alright!” she exclaimed. “Okay, let’s get started then!”
He nodded with the same fervor, awaiting instructions.
“So. Step one: boil some water.” She looked around the small kitchen area, that couldn’t really be qualified for a kitchen, eyes settling on the big coffee machine. “We... don’t seem to have a kettle here but it’s fine. We’ll just use the hot water function of this thing,” she said, pointing to the machine.
“Oh-kay!”
“Step two: get a mug and a teaspoon.”
He rummaged around in the cupboards, pulling out the requested items. “Got– I found it! Them.”
“Nice. Step three: put one teaspoon of instant coffee in the mug, and hmm... let’s say two teaspoons of sugar.”
While he did so, she continued, “Oh and shake it from side to side so it mixes. I don’t know if that does anything, to the taste or anything, but it looks nice.” She added with a shrug: “Up to you though.”
He decided to follow what she said, gently swirling around the mug and mixing the dry powder and sugar grains.
“Then we wait for the water to boil, which we don’t have to. So step three– four? Which one are we at? Ah whatever doesn’t matter.” She took the mug and held it up. “Next step, we put a little bit of boiling water in here. Enough that it submerges everything.”
Just a little?
She set it down in the designated cup space of the machine. With a tap of a button, it began groaning loudly to life, pouring out scalding hot water. She kept an eye on the amount, pulling the cup away when she deemed it enough and showing him.
“Kind of like this. And then we stir! While we uh, waste the rest of the water...”
The machine was still dutifully spitting out what it was told, only now coming to a stop with another loud groan.
“Ok– Alright!” He took both the mug and the teaspoon she held out to him from her and carefully mixed around.
“The stirring in a splash of hot water is to prevent everything, well- mostly the coffee, from clumping up, in case you wanted to know why we’re doing this.”
Ohh, yeah that makes sense. ...Is she sure she doesn’t have powers? I hope she can’t read minds if she does.
“When it’s all smooth, you can pour the milk in and tadaa!” she did jazz hands, “You’re done!”
He took the milk she brought and poured it in, smiling at their creation. Giving it another stir so it became one smooth blend, he brought the mug to his nose. It smelled nice. The instant coffee on its own was quite intense, but with the milk and added sugar is was much more tolerable. Sweet.
“Now, did you write all that down?”
His face fell, worry returning. “Uh. S-Should I? Have?”
“It’s not that difficult to remember I think but you also don’t have to actually, because I have written it down for you. Wait here.”
He watched her leave.
...What? She’s already written it down...? Why?
He was of two minds about it. Grateful that she’d taken time out of her own day to do that for him. And apprehensive on the other hand, knowing that he would ruin the paper the second he touched it like always.
Well. He’ll just have to push through and try to be careful then. He didn’t want to disappoint her.
Rap came back– Rap? That doesn’t feel right. Pun? No, that sounds weird, that’s just a word. Zel? ...Huh. He never realised how awkward of a name it was to nickname. He’ll have to think of something else later.
For now, she was back already holding a piece of plastic in front of him.
Oh?
Correction: a plastic ziplock bag. She shook it a little, encouraging him to take it. He reached out tentatively, as if it would disintegrate if he so much as grazed it.
It didn’t.
Of course it didn’t; it’s plastic, duh.
There was a carefully torn notebook page in the ziplock bag. ‘Recipe for a Brown Dairy Cow’, it said at the top.
What kind of weird name is that...
Below it was a list with ingredients not unlike the ones they used just now (including some variants) and then of course the instructions. A few doodles were drawn in the margins of the page. Clearly she put effort into it, the page as a whole.
Hold it together. Do not start–
He sniffed, bottom lip wobbling.
–crying. Come on, pull it together! It’s just her being thoughtful! Why? Why did that set me off? Stop that!
She looked up alarmed and launched into an apology immediately.
“I’m sorry! Is it the name? My parents used to joke to little me that chocolate milk came from brown and white cows compared to the normal milk from black and white cows and this kinda looks like chocolate milk, it isn’t and there is no chocolate in this, I mean you can put some in if you want to, it’s quite nice also. I-I know it kinda sucks and it’s not original, at all, but I had to call it something! I take sugg—!”
It was impulsive, perhaps, but he didn’t know what else to do. He put his arms around her in an embrace, halting her ranting. Just as fast he realised what he was doing and pulled back.
Shit. I shouldn’t have done that. I drenched her clothes and now she must be uncomfortable and she hates me and—
She was stunned for a brief moment, but quickly wrapped her arms around him when she felt him moving away.
Carefully, slowly he accepted the hug. He kept apologizing, voice all over the place with his crying.
“Hey, don’t,” she whispered, rubbing his back. “No need to say sorry. You’re only human. Breathe.”
He couldn’t muster up a good enough answer; the best he could do was a, even to his own ears, pathetic sad sob, muffled by her shoulder. Was he glad it was after hours.
Why does she care?
Long, tear-filled minutes passed. Eventually he started to calm down.
“Your uhm. Drink is getting cold, by the way,” she gently reminded him with a nudge. “Well, colder. It was already not that warm, but. You know.”
He quickly let go, looking down, ashamed, hands fidgeting. How could he ever look her in the eye again after this? This outburst? His legs were itching to leave, but he couldn’t do that. Not yet. He hadn’t even tasted the drink they’d made specially for him. He’d feel awful if he didn’t do the thing she asked him to do and waste her time.
No one has done this for me before...
She moved the mug, sliding it in front of him on the counter. “Give it a try! Tell me what you think.”
She’s not upset...? Why is she being so nice?
He sniffed one final time, wiping his hands over his eyes.
“I do think it tastes better when it’s warm and not cold,” she said, “but we have to make do with the resources we have.”
He wrapped a hand around the drink, still avoiding eye contact, and took a sip. All that crying has made him thirsty. He smacked his lips, running his tongue over his palate a few times.
I think this could be nice with oat milk instead. And maybe honey, not sugar.
The coffee itself was still quite strong for his tastes however.
She cleared her throat. “So, what’s the verdict?”
“Kind of– Pret– uh pretty good!”
“You know what, I’ll take a ‘pretty good’!” she said, patting his shoulder.
Over the course of a year and half and some change, he became close friends with her. That first meeting and recipe turned into sharing breaks, turned into hanging out after work, turned into trying more recipes together, turned into occasional movie nights and sleep overs, turned into... whatever this was now.
He felt... conflicted. He was on cloud nine and in misery all at once. Was this what falling in love with someone felt like? If so, now what? He wanted to let her know, but also not? What if he messed up their entire friendship because of it?
Should he ask for advice? Who would he even go to for that? Grandma? Too embarrassing. Robert? No. He should be able to figure this out himself. Or maybe... He trusted Robert. He would probably know what to do, or at any rate give better advice than he could give himself.
He’d never felt this... this intensity before. It kind of scared him and he wanted more of it at the same time. The team was teasing him relentlessly over it even before he himself realised. And after, he thought he was being subtle. But apparently it was super obvious to anyone that he liked her as more than a friend. To anyone but her, it seemed.
He was currently sprawled out on his bed and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom with a frown, sighing. How many times had he found himself in this exact same position now?
Am I selfish? That I want her to feel the same?
A notification sounded from his phone. He didn’t hear it.
...Would she think I’m creepy that—?
Another ping echoed through his room. He caught it this time, looking up confused who would message him at this hour.
Her.
Of course. He should have known.
[ Is movie night still on? ]
[ I’d like to watch The Batman, if you’re okay with that? Lemme know! ]
He shouldn’t, couldn’t, let his feelings get in the way. What kind of a friend would he be if he let that happen?
[ Yeah! ]
[ At your place this time right? ]
[ Also shouldn’t you be asleep? ]
[ Yes, at mine! ]
[ And idk what you’re talking about, it’s only like 3 AM!!!!!!!!! ]
[ I’m so tired. ]
He chuckled quietly, shifting to be curled up on his side. More messages appeared.
[ But I think a better question would be why YOU are still up ]
[ Can’t sleep? ]
Better to just roll with it. It wasn’t a lie.
[ No 8–( ]
[ Hmm... ]
[ Here, maybe this helps ]
[ Hold on ]
Not a minute later she sent a video titled It’s Bedtime - NSP. He huffed amused at the title; he’d expected maybe a relaxing video game music playlist or something, instead of whatever this was going to be. He clicked on it nonetheless, lowering the volume until it was as quiet as possible. Putting his thumb over the speaker just to make sure. He didn’t want to accidentally wake grandma.
It was a song.
Starting calm.
He closed his eyes, moving to lie on his back again.
It was nice.
...
Well.
That lasted for about thirty seconds until tonal whiplash came barging in with the song changing genres from lullaby to rock. He almost dropped his phone on his face, and fumbled to put the song on pause.
[ You tricked me <8–( ]
[ GO TO SLEEP DUDE ]
...He might as well finish the song first.
It sounded cool, he liked it. The video clip was animated which was also nice to see. The band was not familiar to him, but he loved discovering new music so now curious he clicked on their channel. His eyes widened when he saw what the letters stood for.
Ninja Sex Party? ...Is she trying to tell me something? Oh. It’s a comedy band. Huh. Maybe I’m looking too far into this, I mean it’s just one song she sent, nothing else. We’ve sent songs to each other before.
He went to see what their most popular videos, or songs he should say, were. Scrolled through them. Most, excluding some covers he recognised, seemed sexual in nature, which he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised about considering the band’s name. It honestly wasn’t what he had expected of her though. She had never brought up the topic. She’d made comments sure, in jest, dirty jokes, but had never spoken about any past relationships either.
Maybe this was her way of–? No no I shouldn’t think that. I’m just seeing the things I want to see. I shouldn’t be thinking of her like that. What would she say, if she knew? She probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore— Okay, me, let’s not go there again! Let’s just do what she said and actually go to sleep now.
He put his phone back in its place on the night stand and slung an arm over his face. He wanted to reach out to her and never let go. He wanted to curl up in a ball and die. Everything was confusing.
His heart ached, feeling empty.
Maybe I need to go see a cardiologist or something. ...Oh and Robert, I should go talk to him tomorrow, I shouldn’t forget that.
He laid tossing and turning for another hour or so, brain torturing him with mental images of her until sleep finally claimed him.
She opened her door, perking up when she saw him (which totally didn’t make his stomach flip, no siree), and stepped aside for him to enter. Once inside and the door was closed, he stooped to allow them to softly bonk heads with each other.
He didn’t remember when or why they started doing that. He did remember he was the one that initiated it that first time, though. Boy, was he mortified when he realised what he’d done. But she had just laughed it off and said it was ‘kinda cute’, which had made him blue screen for a minute. She’d divulged then that she did something similar with her parents back when she was still living with them. In return, he had reluctantly admitted that he did that with one of his cats; the one who liked water, or at least didn’t mind it. None of the other cats unfortunately ever came too close to allow him to pet them.
She smells nice– Stop! Do not. Not now.
“Hi!” she greeted. “Was the bus trip alright? You’re kinda late.”
“It’s– It was fine,” he replied, taking his goggles to wipe off the excess water and put them back on, letting them rest on top of his head. “It’s still raining, but. Wasn’t busy, heh.”
Usually the bus was packed with people on rainy days, but he lucked out for once today on that front.
“That’s good. People usually get more irritable and asshole-y with the rain. Anyway, you want anything to drink?”
“Yes please.”
She’d walked over to the cramped kitchen, while he went to sit down in his usual spot on her couch.
He had gotten a better grip on his powers since he was promoted to hero and started training. He didn’t have complete control and he doubted he ever would, but his quality of life had improved significantly. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he cried that first time when he touched toilet paper and realised it didn’t get soaked through immediately. Although he was still kind of damp and still horked up water whenever he got really nervous, he would never regret joining SDN. 70% control compared to 10% the day he was hired was nothing to sneeze at. The blanket currently draped over the couch for him to sit on was therefore mostly just in case.
“How’s gran?” she called out, voice somewhat muffled from inside the fridge.
It’s what she always asked. No matter if she’d just seen him yesterday or not.
“Doing better! Better than l-last week.”
“Glad to hear it! And have any of the cats been adopted now or no?”
“Not yet. Uhm. We’ve had two people, who were interested. But not– No uh. No takers, yet.”
She hummed, returning from her quest for beverages and gave him a glass of orange juice, the pulpy kind and no ice. His favorite.
The faint brush of her fingers handing him the juice should not give him heart palpitations. But his heart was never one for rationality.
“Thank you!”
If she heard the break in his voice she didn’t address it. Only holding up her own drink in a toast as if to say ‘no problem’ and took a sip. He still thought that Brown Dairy Cow was a silly name for her drink, but they hadn’t been able to come up with anything better, so the name had stuck as it was.
He had foregone his gloves and hero costume, it was weekend after all. Instead he’d opted for some cargo shorts and a plain t-shirt.
They talked for a while, catching up with some anecdotes from work. With the last story told they prepared their usual set up for movie night. It wasn’t anything elaborate. Just something to drink and something to munch on for during the film. A blanket at the ready in case they got cold. Nothing special. The only thing left to do now was to pop a DVD in and press play.
Over the years she had amassed quite an impressive DVD collection. He loved seeing the passion with which she spoke about physical media. Both old and new films were proudly displayed on shelves in the living room.
She ran her finger across the spines until she found the one she was searching for.
Her butt looks good in that. Too bad her hair covers some of it.
...
WHAT?? Oh god what is wrong with me? We’re having a movie night and that’s where I’m going, really? If she knew what I was thinking, I don’t think she wanted to see me again. There’s no such thing as a thought crime–! Shut up! I might’ve given it some leeway, had she been wearing something risqué (why would she??), but it’s just louge wear! Pull it together darn it! Why am I making this so complicated?
He was only half listening to what she was saying. Something about Victor? What the self proclaimed ‘all freak’ had to do with their movie night, he didn’t know. He should get out of his own head. Easier said than done.
She finished setting up the tv, pressed play and cozied up in the corner of her couch, him still on the towel in the opposite corner. He wanted to curl up to her side. Was that so bad? His elbow dug in the arm of the couch, resting his head in his hand. It took considerable effort to force his eyes on the tv when they kept drifting back to her.
Frustration bubbled to the surface unannounced.
This is dumb. Why? Why can’t I do anything?
Robert’s words from this morning echoed in his mind: ‘Don’t force it. If she’s not into it, do not push it. And communication is important.’
Right you are, Robert. Easy for you to say.
But getting semi-mad at his boss whilst arguing with himself wasn’t going to help him much. He just wanted to be close to her and hug her and maybe kiss or something if he was lucky? ...Was that childish for an at this point 26 year old ‘grown ass man’, as Courtney had called it? Shouldn’t he be wanting for sex too or...? That was usually the end goal, right? As far as he’d heard from others. And the team and movies and songs and whatnot.
Do I even want that? Hm. Out of everyone I know I trust her the most, apart from grandma of course, and Robert. So–
You know, maybe I shouldn’t have a crisis about this while I’m right next to her. Can she see that? I hope not.
He sighed.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Okay that sigh was too loud. Be normal.
“Just... Just tired.”
“I can see that.”
Is it that obvious...?
“Do you want me to turn off the movie?”
“N-No! You don’t have to. Do that.”
“Alright,” she replied with a shrug and turned her attention back to the television.
He did the same, but he had spent the past ten or so minutes agonising over himself so he’d completely lost the plot.
What movie was this again?
He tried to keep up with the things happening on screen but his mind just wouldn’t stop pestering him.
Would she even want to do that with me? Would it be gross? It’s just water, but... And everything would need to be waterproof or else it’s just going to be soaked and uncomfortable. Or I guess a table or the dang wall would be an option technically but some cushioning would be nice. How would we even go about it though? As far as I know neither of us has done that before. It’s not like I don’t know what to do at all, I mean. I’ve seen pornography, I know what I like I suppose, but... those always seem kinda fake? I don’t know. Superficial mayb—
An explosion went off on the tv, startling him.
“...Herm?”
Is this an action movie? I thought we’d be watching a comedy, since we usually...? Well, I guess those can have explosions too. Wait, is that... Robert Pattinson–? We’re watching that new Batman movie?? Since when? It’s actually already a few years old I think, but still! Has she told me which film we were gonna see? I don’t remember.
“Herm?”
I need to watch it some other time for myself, I’ve no idea what’s going on. I hope she’s not going to ask for my opinion on it later. Does she have anything planned for after this? What should I do? I don’t know. I don’t wanna go home yet. But I should leave before she realises anything is off. Should I though? I don’t wanna mess anyth–
“Herm!”
“Huh?! ...I-I mean what– did you, say? Something?”
“...”
She regarded him for longer than he felt comfortable with, face neutral giving him exactly zero information on what she was thinking, making him squirm. He was about to ask what was wrong, but she opened her mouth to speak.
“You know,” she began slowly, “we don’t have to watch this movie. You can just say it if you don’t like it. For the past, what, fifteen minutes? Twenty? You’ve just been scowling at my tv,” she gestured to it.
I have?
It was only now that he realised it was put on pause.
When had she done that?
She continued, “You don’t have to force yourself through it just because I like it. If you’re not having fun, then I’m not either. You know that, I hope. So, I want you to be honest with me.”
He looked down to his lap, trying to keep his face neutral but he knew he was failing. Beads of sweat and/or water, who knew which, started to actively rolling down his face.
Oh no. What do I say. She said to be honest but, I can’t bring up that. She’d send me out immediately. Break contact forever. Is it hot in here?
“...This isn’t about the movie, is it. Something is bothering you.” Not a question. A statement.
He winced, caught.
Then she was quiet. No follow up, no changing subjects. Allowing him to answer on his terms. He both loved and hated that she was able to see through him so easily.
Minutes ticked by in silence. She was patient. He knew that. Heck, if she wasn’t she wouldn’t have stuck around for so long.
He could hear his blood rushing in his ears. He was losing the battle against his own powers. Worrying his lip between his teeth. Her gaze on him was nerve-wrecking. The room felt cramped, too small. His thoughts were a jumbled mess at this point.
“Ilikeyou,” he blurted out when he couldn’t take the pressure anymore. And he regretted it immediately.
Shit shit shit I should not have said that nonononononono I need to walk into the ocean she’s going to shoot me on sight if—
She was taken aback. “What...? I mean, I like you too? I... didn’t think we needed to specify that...?”
Of all the times for her to be oblivious. She didn’t understand what he was implying. ...That meant he could still back out.
...
“I l-like you,” he repeated. “A lot.”
No! Stop talking!
She tilted her head, still confused. “Me too...? I don’t...”
Please don’t look at me like that...
But she kept looking at him like that, and he crumbled. On impulse he shifted closer, taking her hands in his trembling ones.
Soft don’t make this weird it’s already weird I should never have done this I wish I stayed home no I don’t I’m not subtle at all she knows there’s no way she doesn’t I don’t wanna mess this up I...
“I d–... I-I don’t wanna lose you...”
“What?!” she said incredulously. “I’m still here aren’t I? What is this about? Now I’m actually getting concerned.” Her thumb swept over the back of his hand in soothing motions.
The sweet action overclocked his nervous system. Words were not cooperating anymore. He made a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, morphing into a whine at the end. He let go of her hands. Changing strategies, he flopped down on her, taking her with him and buried his head in the crook of her neck.
At that, she seemed even more lost going by the surprised and confused noise, but reciprocated the hug anyway.
They laid there on the couch for a while, again in silence. Him, on top of her and almost afraid to breathe, mind dishing up all kinds of doom scenarios. Her, arms still around him, so close yet so far. A small water droplet fell from his nose, his body dampening her clothes where they touched. Her heartbeat was steady, calm. The complete opposite of his own hammering away in his chest.
I’m ruining her couch. Get up. I’m making her uncomfortable.
This time she was the one to break first, voice soft, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” She pulled back a bit, just enough to be able to nuzzle his hair briefly to emphasise her words.
His grip tightened and he sighed heavily through his nose, eyebrows set in a worried frown.
Anything except this.
“I can’t help you if you won’t say anything.”
You can’t help me with this.
More heavy silence blanketed the room. If not for his whole ordeal he might have fallen asleep at some point. Instead he felt like a living pressure cooker.
This is dumb. Why can’t I say anything. Should I do something instead? Should I just kiss her so she’ll get it–? Nononono that’s a horrible idea! What’s wrong with me?! She doesn’t want that! Probably. I should ask first. Grandma told me– But no I shouldn’t do that at all! Bad idea!
Suddenly he felt a change; she tensed, her heartbeat picked up speed, accompanied by a moment’s delay in breathing.
Wait.
Uh oh.
“...Herm, when you said you liked me, did you mean romantically?”
A whimper forced itself out of his throat before he could stop it.
“Dude, that’s not an answer. I’m gonna need a clear yes or no.”
“...”
“...”
“...Y-Yeah. Yes.”
“...”
AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH
Somehow this was even worse. He didn’t have the benefit of the doubt on his side anymore. No more gray area. At no other point in time of his entire life did he feel as vulnerable and small as he did now. He held his breath in anticipation of her reaction.
Welp I’m dead. I’m getting kicked out. It was fun while it lasted I guess. Way to go me.
“Back up a bit,” she said, lightly pushing his shoulders. He complied without a word. When she had sat up a little straighter, she grabbed the remote to turn off the tv.
Meanwhile he stared a spot on the rug. Mhm. Very intriguing.
Yep. Yep I blew it. Why is she still holding my shoulders. I should leave. Maybe I should just quit SDN while I’m at it and look for a new job. I can’t show my face there again now that—
She squeezed him firm enough to get his attention. “Hey. Look at me. I believe you’re way overthinking... this.” She gestured between the two of them.
Huh?
Apparently it was obvious on his face, because she huffed, smiling fondly. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his warm cheeks. Hers seemed to have some more color to them as well. It made him slightly more at ease, knowing that she wasn’t completely unaffected. Probably.
She pet his cheeks gently, fingers catching stray drops of water. He couldn’t place the exact look she was giving him but it was intense, too much. And yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away. If he had the ability he would be positively steaming. He didn’t dare move and risk breaking whatever this was.
What is she doing? Her eyes are pretty. Should I say something? Her eyelashes are longer than I thought. That’s a weird compliment. Is that even a compliment? Are we still friends?
Normally he hated being the center of attention or in the spotlight. However, he could stay like this forever. His gaze roamed around her face, dropping to her mouth and away a few times until it settled there.
I want to. Does she? Probably not. I hope so though. I shouldn’t think about this. What would she think if I thought—
The soft press of her lips on his cut off any remaining coherent sentences in his head. It was unhurried. Chaste. Lasting only a few seconds.
His mind was filled with a bunch of static and dial-up noises for what felt like hours. When most of the shock wore off he was surprised he hadn’t instantly collapsed. Instead he was stiff and locked up. Staring, lips slightly parted. He had to remind himself to breathe.
“...You alright? Was that not...? Uhm.” She pulled up her shoulders, unsure.
“Wuh... Wowzers...”
She snorted, relieved, pulling him back down in a hug. “Okay, Inspector Gadget,” she chuckled.
“Wh-what? Is– Was that– Not– Hey...”
Still smiling she shook her head. “I thought it was quite enjoyable too.” Then quieter, “Didn’t think I would, honestly.”
“You...? No?”
Then why did she...?
“No. I uh... This– hm...” she moved to sit up, him following. She fidgeted, pulling up her legs for comfort, contemplating about something for a moment.
Then she continued, “This probably sounds a bit weird, but... I’ve never really felt the need or want to kiss anyone up until now? So I thought that just wasn’t for me. But– I don’t know. The only person I trust with that is you, so... I just did what felt right? I guess? Does that make sense...?”
He nodded along, still a little out of it. “You. You’re not. Mad?”
“No? Why would I be mad? I mean I was stressed because you were so quiet. I thought something bad happened! I didn’t think– wait.” She stopped, glancing to the side. Blinked once. Twice. “Holy shit, they were talking about you weren’t they.”
“Wha– Who?”
“Coupé and Prism. They have been on my ass for weeks now, going on and on about some guy! And I have been thinking that they meant Paul all this time because of course I did. I shut them down every time, but they kept coming to me and giving me looks I didn’t understand, asking me weird questions and were also mildly threatening? But at a certain point they were just in it for the drama, I’m sure, because I think they were being vague on purpose.”
Ah. So that’s why Punch Up had given him ‘wisdoms’ out of nowhere multiple times in the past weeks.
“Well anyway,” she went on, waving her hands dismissively, “the point is: I’m not mad. I can never be mad at you.”
He had to take a minute to process what that meant. Multiple trains of thought layering over one another.
Not mad. What? Okay. Kissed me. Awesome. She likes me back...? Doesn’t mind kissing me. What are we? Was it okay? She kissed me. Felt nice. Is this happening? What do I do now? She k—!
However that had to be put on hold when he felt an all too familiar sensation bubbling up. He quickly clambered off of her and the couch and bolted to the apartment’s small restroom, hand to his mouth. The tension that had ruled over him with an iron fist since he stepped through her door (who was he trying to fool here, this has been going on for months) finally snapped. It snapped in the way he had hoped it wouldn’t.
He was just in time. It was only water coming out of him luckily, courtesy of his powers. Still, it made him wish he didn’t have to deal with it. But grandma always said beggars can’t be choosers.
She had followed him and was now leaning against the door frame, one hand against the wood. “Did you get it out of your system?” she asked. It sounded somewhat jokey but he knew her well enough by now to hear the concerned undertone.
He was sat in front of the toilet, waiting for his stomach to calm down. It didn’t take long. He nodded to answer her, rinsing his mouth with some water from the tap, more out of habit than getting rid of anything nasty. Reaching out to flush, she stopped him with a quiet: “Don’t bother if it’s just water.”
Why am I ashamed? She knows me. My powers.
He leaned on the dresser, face tilted down to the sink as if that held all the answers. “...I’m okie. Dokie, I just. J-Just. Uh. Nervous.”
That sounds stupid.
“You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me,” she said, suddenly much closer than he thought she still was. She circled her arms around him to hug him from behind. He tensed for a moment, not expecting it, melting into the touch shortly after.
...She’s right. She’s used to me. And my... everything.
The relief coursing through his body felt better than any of the drugs he’d never taken. He tried turning around to hug her back properly, but she held him tighter.
“Let me go, I. I-I wanna see you,” he said, poking her arm twice.
“Oh right sorry!” She quickly let go, an abashed quality coming through in her words.
He spun around. She was looking up at him in that way that always made his heart skip a beat. Or several. Smiling in that way that made him feel like he mattered. Her cheeks dusted with color.
“What?” she said through a laugh.
He could feel the corners of his mouth curling upwards to mirror her. “N-Nothing.”
It’s not nothing, it’s everything.
Without consulting his brain, his legs decided to take the next step for him, arms joining their scheme. He surged forward, pulling her up into a bear hug. She seemed just as surprised as he was with the sudden affection of his own making, but he wasn’t going to complain when she put her arms around his neck holding him just as tight.
Hopped up on oxytocin, his next brilliant plan was to spin her around. Which was fun!
...For all of two seconds, when he accidentally knocked her leg into the dresser he had forgotten existed.
Multiple expletives flew out of her mouth in an instant. Guilt gave him a punch to the gut, anxiety lining up to also get one in for good measure. He put her back on the floor, very gently just in case, asking if she was alright and apologising in the same breath. His own distress betrayed any attempt at casualness.
“I’m okay! Didn’t actually hurt!” she reassured quickly. “But uh how about we go back to the couch, before we do get seriously injured, hm?”
“Y-Yeah okay. Good uhm. G-Good plan.”
As much as he wanted to carry her there, he thought it would be better to just. Not.
They sat back down next to each other in the living room.
What was I thinking? Not at all apparently. I should’ve known better. And now I got her hurt. Ruined everything. Again. Nice going, me.
He went to apologize once more but got distracted by movement to his left. She was absent-mindedly rubbing the bruise on her skin, a slight indent in the middle from the dresser. She noticed him looking, followed his gaze and stopped trying to soothe the sore spot.
She sat motionless, face blank.
He was about to ask what was wrong but the first syllable got cut off by her making a circle with her forefinger and thumb, the rest of her fingers pointing down to the floor.
One of her hands flew to her face to hide behind, shaking her head. She chuckled, “Sorry. Stupid meme....”
Recognition sparked and he let out a snort of his own despite it all.
“I shouldn’t. L-Laugh. At this. You.”
“I’d rather you laugh than cry.”
She’s way too casual about this...
“W– Yeah o-okay, but. I h-hurt you.”
At hearing that she took off his goggles, tossing it beside them. Combing her fingers through his hair, coming to a stop at his nape. “I’m alright. It’s just a bruise. It’ll heal.”
!!! I can heal! Why didn’t I think about it earlier!
He pointed to his tongue, halfway out of his mouth already. “I-I can—!”
“No.”
“But—”
“No. You’re off-duty. I’m not gonna make you work during the weekend. ...So you can put your tongue back in your mouth now.”
Suddenly self-conscious he retracted it. “...What about after. The weekend. M-Monday?”
“No,” she said, rolling her eyes but still smiling. “How do you expect my body to fight infections and diseases if you keep healing everything? My white blood cells will get lazy.” She wiggled her fingers with a mock haughty look on her face.
I don’t think it works that way.
But he relented nonetheless. If she had set her mind to something, she wasn’t easily swayed, even if he only wanted to help.
“If I’d broken a bone, that would be a completely different story. But this?” she pointed at the spot. “It’s fine.”
“S-Still don’t. Like to see you l-like this...”
She moved to put her head under his chin. “I know.”
His arms came up to embrace her again, shifting so she was practically in his lap. They stayed like that for a long while.
At least she’s not mad. But it was an accident. Still. Shouldn’t have happened.
He mulled over the rest of their movie night, lazily stroking her arm in thought. Halting when he reached the part where they’d kissed. He was half convinced he hallucinated it. But no.
‘The only person I trust with that is you, so...’
Just me...?
“Hmm?”
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He took a breath.
“I-I. You said that uhm. Y-You only trust me with. This.” He gestured, mimicking her earlier vagueness.
She pushed herself up to look at him and tilted her head. “Well, yes?”
“If-If that’s all, uh, true. What you said, then... C-Can uhm...” He cleared his throat, glancing at her mouth a few times. “Can we do that again?”
“...Eager are we?”
He didn’t have an excuse to refute it, so he just looked at her with a mix of sheepishness and pleading.
“Okay, okay!” she gave in, lightly shoving his face away. “Don’t look at me like that with those big gorgeous eyes!”
She thinks they’re gorgeous...?
He grinned so wide at her compliment his cheeks hurt, filling him with giddy energy. She giggled at his reaction, “C’mere then.”
He leaned in to match her, lips just a hair’s breadth away. In a split second decision he took a detour to pepper kisses all over her face. Her surprised laughter was music to his ears.
Maybe the team was right when they said I’m ‘whipped’. I don’t want this to end ever.
He now had confirmation that they were both going with their gut feeling and make things up on the spot. Unless weirdly real feeling dreams counted, he had zero experience with any of this. He just hoped he made up for it in enthusiasm.
When most of the sudden burst of giddiness in him had died down to a simmer, he pulled her into a proper kiss. Taking his time, trying to figure out what felt good for the two of them. Although hints of orange juice and sweetened milk and coffee weren’t exactly a stellar combination, he really couldn’t find himself a reason to care. She slid one of her hands in his damp hair, scratching lightly, coaxing a sigh out of him.
At some point the need for air could no longer be ignored and they broke apart. Out of breath, panting. She squeezed his cheeks, for reasons unbeknownst to him.
“So uh. Now what?” he asked after a good minute of catching his breath, carefully sweeping a loose lock of hair out of her face. “Wh-What do you– What are we?”
“Uh. I don’t know! I mean, I don’t feel any... different about you, than before. Do we have to give it a name per se?”
He thought about it.
Just friends? No.
Relationship? Also no.
Friends with benefits? No.
Friends+ maybe? Closer, but also no.
It didn’t matter, anyway. As long as he was with her, he’d be happy.
“Nnno. Not really,” is what he settled on.
“Good, good!” She touched his nose with hers, humming happily. Her expression turned thoughtful. “Because I don’t know about you but I see this as...” she tapped a vague rhythm, thinking “...an extension of what we already had, instead of something new? Uhm. So, I suppose we’ll figure out whatever comes after together?”
He copied her nuzzle. “Together,” he agreed, beaming with joy.
more author's notes:
-i wrote both my oc girlie and waterboy with the aroace spectrum in mind; rapunzel leaning towards aro and wb more towards ace! i hope that came through clear enough in the writing itself but here it is just in case black on white (or green on black, or orange on dark brown, or whatever other tumblr theme you have active lol)
-some of the things wb says are inspired by my own social fuck-ups :D did i make him awkward and weird and cringe enough
-also yeah that's a real recipe and a real song!
-can you tell i like making these two hug yet?
-i tried to adhere to the american spellings but i was taught the british way, so a few words might have slipped through
-english isn't my first language either, so if some sentences sound clunky... whoops i guess. at least i didn't use ai
-thank you for reading all of this, hope you liked it <3
dividers are not made by me btw, credit for that goes to @/rmstitanics
A collaborative prompt project across the Dispatch fandom to celebrate the queer community. 10 pride month themed prompts to inspire your creativity in June!
1. All contributions must include dispatch characters in a queer relationship/setting.
2. You don't have to complete every prompt, and you can post anytime during June. If you do not want to include the prompt directly on your art that's fine! Just include it somewhere in the post so I know where to pop it in the master list.
3. All fics/art is welcome (Drabbles, headcannons, comics, one shots, sketches, anything!)
4. Any ships, OCs, reader fics, polyclus are welcome (as long as they are of age, consenting and queer)
5. Must tag 'Dispatching-Pride' to be included on the below masterlist
Key
🌈 - SFW
💅 - NSFW
1. Exploring gender
Trans!Waterboy - Art by @st4rb0yart 🌈
2. Exploring Romantic attraction
Unrequited (Waterboy x Robert) - @patheticwhitemenlover 🌈
3. Exploring Sexual attraction
What in the world (Waterboy x Flambae) - @ubywkaa 💅
Encouragement (Waterboy x F!Reader x Robert) 💅 - @patheticwhitemenlover
4. Don't fit the binary
5. Saffic love
6. Ace umbrella
Aroace Golum - Art by @st4rb0yart 🌈
7. T4T
Our Lady of the underground @thehoneycrypt (T!Watergirl x T!Reader) 🌈
8. Platonic Queer Love
9. Don't need no labels
Waterbae steaming up the break room - Art by @st4rb0yart 💅
10. Happy endings
Watermech happy ending - Art by @st4rb0yart 🌈
A recipe for...what exactly? (Waterboy x OC) 🌈 - @chains-gears-n-wires
🌈My first post for Dispatching-pride! Exploring Gender, apologies for the rush job, i had an idea for supportive grammy. I dont personally subscribe to transHerman but i will admit it's adorable
And yes. He is a fish, so is Grammy i just didn't draw that
