Chapter Text
Soft bars of daybreak seeped from Herman’s blinds, rolling gently over the contour of his figure, lodging themselves in the creases of his nightwear and shimmering ever so slightly in reaction to the marginal moistness of the fabric’s already waterproof and reflective surface.
The feathery shrill of an alarm clock quickly crested to rapid-fire beeps, succeeding in knocking Herman from the comfortable kilter of his sleep.
He raised a hand into the thick air of Summer’s dawn, torpidly dragging it over to the sealed box that determined his rise.
The protective cellophane coat encompassing Herman’s alarm clock rustled in distaste as gangly fingers reached for the snooze button, promptly before falling back down to Herman’s side as he buried his face deeper into the solace of his bedding.
Heaving his body slightly upwards against the wall pressed a groan from Herman, who was now unable to find the comfort that his bed held a length ago, with no choice but to rise from his bed, the plastic layer desperately clinging onto his bare skin.
A frightened glance at his calendar indicated that today was the day he'd anticipated for over two weeks.
First day of work.
It’d been two weeks since he received a proposition from Mandy—Blonde blazer, and he’d been drowning in his own consciousness since encountering the offer.
What was he to do when he was known across the entire unit as the “wet janitor boy” who doesn’t and can’t do anything else but hurl water in the most egregious way possible. Still, it didn’t deter Herman from rising up and off of his bed and clumsily making his way into the bathroom, steps still laced with the faint residue of sleep, to pep up for his first day on the Z-Team… With Mecha Man.
Herman had known about Robert—his boss, his second life, and being Mecha Man since they’d met before Herman’s janitorial interview.
Contrary to what seemed to be such a marginal moment to Robert, Herman, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it every measure of his every day since. Mecha M… Robert’s… Face, flecked with freckles in various sizes; Herman had been so close to Robert that day when he’d been helping with his tie.
He could’ve sworn he was close enough to count every last one of Robert’s freckles, which he did, and ended up with a total of twelve freckles.
Five on the left of his face; seven on the right. He counted them over and over again in his head, every time that mental image of Robert from that specific moment would occasionally pop up in his mind, dreams, and daydreams.
And as if that wasn’t satiating, not to mention Robert’s touch… The way his calloused yet gentle hands—an aspect from his years of hero work— would brush gently against Herman’s chest from time to time as he swiftly maneuvered the tie into barely comprehensible knots that would’ve killed Herman if he’d tried to do it on his own.
Oh, and his breath. The way it drifted so languidly down Herman’s neck, steamy and nipping at his sensitive skin.
But what plagued Herman most was that rustic, musky, coffee-tainted scent of his, topped off with a tantalising and sweet pine undernote that Herman had picked up quite easily during one of the rare instances that he and Robert crossed paths. Nothing would separate his mind from the hazy memory of Robert’s perfectly balanced scent.
An involuntary chuff made its way through Herman’s frame as he recalled the delicate fumes spiraling around him, a saccharine reminder that from now on, he’d be working alongside his childhood idol, with his childhood idol.
He wanted to see Robert more than anything. He wanted to smell Robert, touch Robert, taste Robert. No—Maybe that was too far…
Would he consider himself a pervert for thinking so obscenely about his boss? Definitely.
And Herman was completely aware of his petulant turpitude, even going as far as to being ashamed.
God, he hoped working under—with, Robert really wouldn’t hinder his efficiency.
He would have to learn not to fujoshi out any time he had to approach Robert, and most importantly, any time Robert needed to approach him.
—
Desperate to impress Robert—and the team— Herman had done some practice beforehand with suppressing the often revolting sounds that turned up whenever he needed to use his powers, lest he disturb anyone.
And surely the practice paid off, because the day started off well, consisting mostly of Robert introducing Herman to the team, as if he didn’t already know them and fawned over them all for the reason of Robert being their dispatcher, and guiding him through the basics of their missions and special procedures.
They all seemed moderately fond of Herman, some even joking about him being slightly more impressive as he was witnessed in person.
But one member of the Z-Team stood out to Waterboy throughout the day.
Flambae.
He would constantly toss out snide remarks any chance he could get, followed by boasting disregard for respecting the rest of the Z-Team, yet on his off-time when he wasn’t on duty or fulfilling missions, he and Robert seemed to share something on the cusp of a mutual respect for each other, and Herman couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of their acquaintanceship.
How could somebody so discourteous grab the attention of one of LA’s most famous and looked up to as a hero so easily? And why did Robert just tolerate it? He could’ve just as easily gotten those who disrespected him along with the team, fired as fast as he'd hired them.
But why was it that he and Flambae shared such a positive relationship outside of work? Did they have a dynamic Herman wasn’t aware of?
Herman scattered somewhat discreet glances at Robert throughout the day and found out that he’d been doing it either unintentionally or subconsciously, nervously chuckling and brushing it off as “first day anxiety” whenever somebody happened to notice and ask about it (which the whole Z-Team did).
Robert was the only one to try and console Herman about said “first day anxiety”, kicking off the conversation with a firm pat to Herman’s shoulder, who discreetly shivered into the touch.
Thankfully, Robert hadn't noticed, so the conversing went quite well between the two. Other than that, not much was said for a first day, but Herman quietly hoped that maybe more would be said later.