Chapter Text
“This might be a bit too much of a thinker for me.” Robert said around the rim of his glass, the two of them camped out on the balcony. Music flowed through the open door loud enough to bother the neighbors. “I’ll be real with you, Herm. I don’t know that I’ve got the brain power for this.”
The song in question was all quiet synth, soft despite cranking the speaker volume up as far as it would go. Herm thought it was a pretty easy one to zone out to, but one could be forgiven for overthinking at three in the morning. Lord knew he usually did.
“It's not- you’re not supposed to think. It's about shutting off.”
He realized the irony in that statement at the same moment as Robert, the pair of them giving each other knowing looks.
“Hows that working for you?” Robert had asked, a fond smile on his face.
“Not…not so well actually.” Herman admitted, and he felt the heat rise up his neck as he remembered why he was there in the first place. “I’ve been a little, um, dis-d-”
Robert turned towards him fully, the sound of scraping concrete horribly clear in Herman’s ears as their knees touched.
“A little what?”
A hand rested on his leg. Unmoving, but the intent behind the gesture was clear. Unnervingly, excitingly clear.
“Distracted, R-Robert. I’m…distracted, yeah.”
It was a pathetic answer wholly unworthy of the satisfied look he received, but honesty had gotten him this far. The hand that had settled on his leg went higher, barely touching him as it traveled past his chest and up his water speckled neck. It settled under his chin, coaxing him to look Robert in the eyes.
“I can see that. You gonna do anything about it?”
Direct eye contact might just kill him. It was like a psychic punch to the gut.
“I, uh, I could.” He stumbled out, gaze drifting down against his will. “Or I will! I mean- just…”
He didn’t know where he was going with that thought, frustration bubbling up at the back of his throat as the words left him. Robert waited there patiently, swiping a thumb across his jaw. It was meant to be comforting, but it left Herman scrambling that much harder to find the right thing to say. Anything that wasn’t an apology or broken, useless vowels.
Keep it simple Herm. Simple.
Something in him gave up, tired of the usual song and dance of his own speech as he lunged. The kiss, if you could call it that, was the complete opposite of their first, more clanking teeth and bumping noses than the solid contact of skin.
From there, his first night with Robert turned rushed and a little desperate; tipsy hands dragging him back inside through the door and slamming it closed hard enough to rattle the frame. Herman had distantly heard yells from down the hall before his brain shut off completely. There was only so much he could focus on when he was back first on the couch, shirt hiked up and a hot tongue tracing up his stomach.
He could remember each freckle and bundle of scar tissue down Roberts back. Each rough patch of skin under his fingertips and the sharp shudders that came with them. It seemed impossible looking back how free he’d let himself be in the moment, all curious hands and words where he was usually…well not reserved, but hesitant. Terrified, really. For Robert though, he would always try.
He tried again, and again, and again as the days passed and little pieces of himself tagged along. A shirt or two stuffed in the back of Robert’s closet. His 3DS sitting on the beat up nightstand no one could remember leaving there. And most important of all, his turntable.
Each time Herman came over, a new (or quite old in reality) record would come with him. He started off with Coven, a choice he’d made for shits and giggles which earned a resounding no from Robert. Too 60’s and too many chimes for him he’d said. In his exact words it was like listening to Barbara Streisand sing about DnD. It was a horribly inaccurate take that somehow, some way, still tickled Herman to pieces.
He’d moved on to easier listeners after that, flipping through the mass of classic rock in his father’s collection that hadn’t been touched in years. That at least seemed to be a winner, Robert nodding his approval as they’d eaten the world's most mediocre pizza on the kitchen counter one evening.
It felt special sharing each one with him, watching Roberts expressions as he laid needle to record. Some were focused and curious while others were absolutely appalled. It was like carefully working through a puzzle, clicking together the different elements of Roberts' tastes to find the perfect album to share. Herman hadn’t found it yet, but he would. He was determined. And If he’d caught Robert listening to one of his recommendations at his cubicle, he’d tell no one but himself. The sight of him sitting at his desk during his break, headphones on and foot tapping to the beat as he drank his coffee, was too precious to share with anyone else.
The real kicker, the thing that had turned Herman's mess of infatuated feelings into full blown, embarrassingly intense affection had been when his pile of records mysteriously moved into a little cubby on the kitchen counter. It was stupid and simple, but touching all the same. He was sent completely over the edge when sleeves he’d never seen before started popping up. Some Billy Squier here, a few Dire Straits albums there. They were new, still wrapped in plastic and so outside of Herman’s own taste that they could only have been for Robert.
They made his heart flutter in the silliest of ways; his dad’s old scratched up records sitting next to something new. Like an unexpected gift that left him covering his flushed face in embarrassment even when he was alone in his own room.
It was honestly, factually, the best time of Herman’s life. But the uncertainty, not knowing what Robert’s end goal was, killed him bit by bit everyday that passed. Malevola was right. Something had to give.
He decided that as he woke up the morning after they’d left the bar, legs twisted in Robert’s damp, scratchy sheets. Said man was plopped unceremoniously on Herman’s chest, still asleep and drooling. He looked peaceful. Younger even in the early morning sun peeking through the balcony door. It made Herman want to reach out and trace each curve of his face. To memorize it by heart.
He could. He wanted to, but his hand wavered as he let his head fall back onto the pillow with a wet thwamp. It pulled a tired, unhappy, groan out of him. The rising sun outside didn’t help either, turning from a dreamy golden shine into a drab gray that sped along Herman’s impending headache.
It did nothing but affirm to him his own cowardice. Saying what he wanted shouldn’t be this hard, but doubt wriggled its way in whenever he tried to muster the courage.
It always did, sticking to him like a leech and bleeding him dry. Every moment of his day felt like a slow descent into a void of indecision, his brain set in its pattern of questioning each move he made and every word he said. It was easier to be himself with Robert than with anyone else, but…was that enough? Was he enough to warrant the kind of affection he wanted?
The underside of a pillow was looking very inviting right then.
As carefully as he could, he shimmied his way out from the bed, sliding Robert off with practiced ease. It ended with him sprawled starfish style, face smushed deep into the pillow. Herman laughed at the sight as he grabbed the cleanest set of clothes he could find, making his way blearily to the kitchen; a pair of boxers, one of Roberts shirts that was definitely too short for him, and a set of horribly neon yellow slips.
The worry crept in again as he sat himself on the counter, keeping his voice low as he did his morning check in over the phone with his grandmother.
You sleep okay?
Slept like the dead.
Did you take your pills?
Of course, dear. I’m old, not an idiot.
It was part of their rhythm. Their daily routine for as long as he could remember, but as he went through his mental checklist, Herman couldn’t stop the wandering thoughts.
This place, this life, wasn’t his. Wasn’t something he could just casually ask to cram himself into. Would Robert want him to, or would he scoff at the very idea of something so intimate as commitment? Herman hadn’t really had the forethought to ask how he’d felt about…relationships, not before jumping headfirst into whatever this was.
Malevola had told him not to worry, but she could always be wrong. As horrible and untrue an idea as it felt, Robert could be like this with anyone he saw. This attentive. This caring.
It didn’t sit well with him.
The idea was thrown away, swift and mercilessly as he said his goodbyes to his grandmother with the promise of Yes I’ll be back tonight, I promise. He desperately needed to distract himself. Anything to drag him away from the man in his periphery by giving his hands something to do.
Breakfast. He’d make breakfast. That would probably help.
He ignored the knot of anxiety in his stomach (and the one million frowny face filled texts Malevola had been sending since last night) for the simple task of cooking. First bacon, the slow drip from his fingers popping every so often as water fell down in the grease coated pan, then eggs.
The sound of the bed shifting came quicker than he’d anticipated, a soft yawn and shuffling footsteps coming closer and closer much to his dismay. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist, dragging him back into a sleepy hug.
“Why’re you up so early? It’s like the ass crack of dawn.” Robert yawned, flopping his head onto Herman’s shoulders and nuzzling closer. “Come back to bed.”
Herman laughed to himself as he scraped the bottom of the pan, only a few stray water droplets landing with a sizzle as he scrambled eggs. Neither of them were particularly morning people, Robert especially. Though he was more of a no time of day is good unless I’m asleep kind of guy.
“It’s six th-thirty. Seems reasonable to me.” He shrugged, enjoying the gentle squeeze of arms around him. It was unnecessary. Almost domestic in a way that hurt. “I’ll die if I don’t have- if I don’t get something in my stomach before work.”
“Urghhhh, don’t remind me man.” Robert groaned. “Why the fuck did we drink so much before a work day?”
“You did. I, wild c-concept I know, didn’t drink much.”
Not that he hadn’t tried of course.
“No need to brag.” Robert ran a hand down his side, fingers curling under his shirt before retreating. “My head’s fuckin’ splitting.”
“Helps it with-” He paused mid sentence, reworking his words mentally as he piled food out onto waiting plates. “Guess what helps with that.”
Robert hooked his chin over his shoulder. “Lemme guess, breakfast?”
He couldn’t help himself. He giggled.
“Yes, that. Exactly.”
“Well shit.” A small kiss was pressed into the side of Herman’s neck. “I get a prize for answering right?”
“Coffee?”
He pointed his spatula over to the end of the counter where a scuffed little single serve coffee maker stood. It’d been Roberts first official purchase for the apartment a while back, offered up for inspection like a new born child to the rest of the team. No one had been surprised or particularly impressed. A cup sat there, steam wafting off it in slow waves.
“Oh yeah, that’ll do.”
Robert moved in a rush to the fridge, pulling out creamer and dumping it unceremoniously into his mug. The coffee went from black to blonde, sugary sweet and frankly disgusting. How he could stomach it, Herman had never been able to figure out.
Leaving him to sit in silence was bad. Cataclysmic levels of bad as thoughts flooded to fill the empty space. He should say something. He should keep his big mouth shut for the rest of his miserable little life. He should turn tail and walk straight into the Pacific. Ocean life could be great if he didn’t drown first. All the color, and the trash, and…the silence.
No, that was the stupidest idea he’d had yet.
“You think I could get the neighbors to move out with this?” Robert called out, bringing Herman’s spiral to a sudden, decisive end. “Just set it up next to the wall and blast Halloween sounds till they think they're haunted?”
He could hear the drop of the needle before quiet jazz played. It wasn’t endearing. Not at all.
“You’re, um, you’re branching out. I see. Jazz?” He said, passing over a plate as he hopped up on the counter beside him. Robert gave him an appreciative squeeze on the arm and shrugged.
“Seemed appropriate is all.”
It was a suspiciously noncommittal answer, given behind mug and steam like it would hide the smile on his face. There was no lying to himself, it was very endearing. Charming to the point that Herman’s chest constricted uncomfortably.
“Do you- I, uh…”
How in the world did people do this so easily? Should he just rip it off like a bandaid? Chuck it in his face like a live grenade and duck for cover? He swallowed nervously, throat dry the one time he really, really needed it not to be.
He shoved a soggy piece of toast in his mouth instead, defeated and deeply frustrated.
“Nevermind. I’m not- It's nothing.”
“Hey now. What’s on your mind?” Robert scooted closer, bumping their shoulders together. “Whatever it is can't be that bad. You hear the kinds of questions I get all day. I mean shit, Visi asked me yesterday if my dad ever yanked it to himself.”
“That’s- heh.” He wheezed. “That’s gross.”
“Exactly. I hear heinous shit like that all the time. Nothing you could ask would phase me.”
He said it so matter of factly Herman wanted to believe him. This, however, was different. Personal. But it was difficult to look at that easy, lopsided grin and not see something. The crease of his brow that sat there like a daily reminder of how fucking tired he felt was gone. The whole of him really, had lost the constant tension that almost defined Robert. Was it wrong to hope it was because of him?
“O-okay.” He breathed out, shaky and anxious. “It’s just- I, um, I-I…”
He shouldn’t do it. It was a patently horrible idea. Before he could reason his way out, however, a hand wrapped itself around his own. Robert gave it a reassuring squeeze, warm and unmoving despite how clammy Herman felt.
“You see, I um- I wanna know if maybe, and s-stop me if it’s t-t-too much, but…” He clamped down on Robert's hand. “What- what is all this?”
“What’s what?”
Robert looked just as confused as Herman felt.
“This-“ He flapped his empty hand uselessly between them. “T-this whatever it is. I just- I don’t get it.”
The confusion turned sad, questioning. He hadn’t expected that. As quickly as the emotion settled, it vanished. If Herman hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it.
“What’s there to get? I don’t understand.” Robert continued, his voice comically casual. It was fake. Put on for god knew what reason, and Herman wanted to puke.
It was too late to turn back now though. Bandaid it was then.
“W-what do you want? I just- I can’t, no I won’t do this if I don’t…just tell me please.”
It came out garbled and messy. Almost incomprehensible, but he hoped, good god did he hope, that the message was clear.
Robert sat there, face blank but obviously thinking. Thinking quite deeply in fact as what felt like minutes passed. His hand had never let go of Hermans though. If anything it had only gotten tighter in its grip.
“Herm.” He started and stopped, lips pressed together so hard they almost vanished. “Are you…Is this some elaborate way of breaking up with me or something?”
“Huh?”
He couldn't have heard that right. It made no sense. None at all.
“Like I get it, I’m difficult.” It was a sad little sentence that breezed past him like it was meant to be funny. It really wasn’t. “Suppose I could’ve seen it coming, but like…why?”
“But we aren’t- we were never together? Y-you never asked?”
Silence again, quiet enough that he could hear the gears turning in Robert’s head before it clicked. The only response he got, and he could only describe it as such because nothing else would come close to accurate, was a look of abject horror.
“You didn’t- you don’t know?”
“No…? That’s why I asked?”
“Fuck.”
Robert released him to press the meat of his hands in his eyes, repeating the same one word sentence as he leaned back onto the counter.
“Fuck. Jesus Christ I’m a fucking idiot. Do me a favor and kill me alright? I’m not gonna live this down.”
He was honest to god blushing. It was a strange sight, one that Herman probably shouldn’t enjoy as much as he did. It was surreal watching Robert physically melt down in a way that Herman would only ever attribute to himself. This shouldn’t be happening, but it was, and it set him off bad.
“Dude, what- don’t laugh. “ Robert lowered his hands to glare, but he could see the hint of a smile. “This is serious.”
“S-sorry.: He covered his mouth, sputtering around an embarrassing giggle. “You’re just- you’re cute.”
“You can’t be saying that right now.”
“Why not?”
Robert scoffed, wide eyed in disbelief.
“Because I’m a dumbass, that’s why.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.” Robert insisted. “How long have you been in your own head freaking out about this?”
Herman almost argued on reflex that it was fineeee, but decided against it. Robert shot him a look.
“That’s what I thought.” He sighed, sliding further down the counter. The backside of his shirt was damp from the nervous puddle growing on the fake marble top. “I just…I assumed, for some fucking reason, that we were both on the same page about what this is.”
“Which is?”
At this point he knew the answer, and felt stupid levels of giddy about it. The thrill of it went to his head more efficiently than any of the drinks he’d had the night before.
Robert groaned, his face a delightful shade of pink.“You’re getting a real kick out of this, huh?”
“Robert…”
“Right, right.” He stared up at the ceiling and huffed out a unsteady breath before turning to Herman. “To make it clear, and hell I’ll put it down in writing if you want me to, we’re dating. So long as you want to be that is. You do, right?”
“That’s- that might just be the silliest question I’ve ever heard. I-I mean I wouldn’t be like this,” He gestured at…well at his general demeanor and sweaty face. “if I didn’t. Would I?”
It earned a smile, soft and just for him. It was a sight he really, really wanted to get used to.
“Yeah you would.”
Herman gave him a half hearted kick to the shin.
“Shit.” Robert pulled his leg back as he laughed. “Guess I deserved that. Probably deserve worse for what I put you through.”
“I don’t want that. Know you- you didn’t know.”
“Why aren’t you upset? I would be.”
Maybe he should, but if Herman was honest, he just didn’t have it in him. His focus was entirely set on the foreign, toe curling sensation of being wanted.
He shook his head, entirely too smitten for his own good.
“Because in weird- in a weird way I get it. Brains are stupid.” He smiled down at Robert, a bit lost in the mix of his flush and freckles. “I-I would know.”
This once, this one blessed time his brain had been wrong. Laughably so, and wasn’t that the best feeling in the world?
“Besides, I’m…I’m just really happy.”
Contrary to popular belief in the office, Robert could be quite expressive. Now was a wonderful example as he flashed through a veritable rolodex of emotions. He landed squarely on flustered. Aggressively flustered.
“Come here.”
He reached out, hands grabbing at Herman’s sides. Herman obliged, leaning over only to be yanked hard. He landed on top of Robert, hands bracketing his head as lips crashed into him. It was frankly horrible, all pressure and demanding clingyness that pinched his skin, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it. Robert's stubborn determination to keep him close left him light headed.
The sound of static feedback as the record ended was the only thing to drag his attention back to the present, and unfortunately to the clock. They were definitely going to be late.
“Robert-” He tried to pull away only to be dragged back down by the arms around his neck. “Hey, we- work. We’ve got work.”
It came out more as a question than a statement, his willpower stretched thin as a leg brushed up against him.
“We got caught in traffic. Mandy won’t mind.”
“You don’t even-” He laughed, his hands slipping further down the counter. “That’s a horrible excuse. Everyone knows you walk.”
“And?” he felt a hand pull at his waistband. “They’ll be fine without us for a second.”
Herman’s willpower was shot. Stopped in its tracks before he could even attempt to be a responsible adult with a job.
“Fifteen. F-fifteen minutes.”
“Make it twenty.” Robert said with the face of a dirty liar. “I’ve got plans.”
Herman could only hang his head in (not so) reluctant acceptance, wrapped up in warm arms so tight he’d have no chance of making it back out. Not that he wanted to anyway.
The official reprimand they got after showing up a full hour late was more than worth it.