Work Text:
Rain hits the concrete like paint. It slathers the ground, pushing streams down drains and water through walkways. Every puddle forms a step, every drop causes a splash. Unavoidable, the weather becomes a hazard within minutes.
The wind, however; the wind breezes calmly, as though it knows little of a storm. It earns favour in the way it pushes soft strokes through the air. The dichotomy of the elements makes it difficult to navigate what sort of preparation would've been needed, and yet you'd made none in the first place.
You hadn't even noticed the weather until you'd stepped outside, if you were completely honest.
Meeting rooms had been your place for the day. Several different meeting rooms, all hosted by the same dispatcher, and yet it still felt as though the conversations were completely separate.
Conversation of your place within the team had come into question. Not because of your ability— frankly, you took the job quite seriously, especially considering your roots— but instead, the way you took little effort in getting involved with your team.
You'd learnt that not everyone appreciated a hushed individual to work with in pressing times. And, as you'd been forced to admit, you were silent for a majority of the time you worked, which surprised you when it came to how much people struggled to work with a being so drowned in quietude.
Perhaps it was because your team were talkers, or perhaps it was because they felt as though they knew nothing of you. Truthfully, when Robert mentioned something about speaking up more, you were ironically stunned into a deeper silence regardless.
It wasn't something you could easily train for, nor was it feedback you could self-reflect and improve on within a week. Rather, it was a mirror of your core that was being taken into account, and when it came to that as opposed to your ability, you weren't sure where to start.
Not that they gave you much of a guideline in the first place.
So here you were, several meetings later regarding your distance, facing the rattling downpour.
And here you were, unprepared for the rain, debating on waiting it out for the unforeseeable future.
You glance down the parking lot. Perhaps walking wasn't always the better choice, but you took it for the most part. A few cars still remained at the end of the day, yet those included the ones who spent their nights working.
If that's what you'd call it, anyway.
"Thought you'd gone home."
Your posture shifts as you turn. Your eye meets the pearlescent white of Victor's, and you immediately flicker your gaze away. A brief thought of the same going for him in terms of being home runs through you.
Taking another look out to the rain, you give a general gesture to it. Feeling him move forward beside you, he inhales curtly before allowing an 'ah' to slip.
"I didn't think it was this bad," he half-mutters, before raising back to his usual tone, "You didn't, like, drive here? Or something?"
Or something, you think.
Out of most people in the Z-Team, you were most surprised by Sonar.
He seemed to have a bit of an ego at first-glance. Boasting about Harvard, insisting he was on a certain level of intelligence because of it. Not to mention his strange habit of letting people know he's never putting in his 'full potential' when he fails at a task; your first time working with him made you wonder if he was ever telling the truth or not.
Then you got to know him more. Overhearing silly conversations between him and the others was always entertaining, and beyond the strange little comments he made regarding a plethora of topics, he'd never pressure you to respond— which, when taking into account a few of the others and their odd desire to hear you more, was refreshing.
You weren't sure if Sonar understood why you were the way you were or if he was simply aloof about you as a person, but he hadn't done a thing to put you off. In actuality, you appreciated him being around, believing him to be a wonderful part of the team.
Working alongside him has made a positive difference. Not only to you, but to him, too.
With a shake of your head signifying a no, Victor hums in thought. He stands beside you, still, and his direction of view lays steady on the water-coated parking lot. For a minute or so it's silent between the two of you, a weight of tension laying down. That is, until a movement from his direction pulls you out from underneath and extends itself to you.
You take a chance to look at him. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his posture casual. He isn't exactly looking in any one way anymore. When you note something extending from his back, you wonder if that's for a reason.
One of his wings— which, in truth, you hadn't known him to utilise often in his 'typical' form— holds a stance over you. It covers you like a shelter, large enough to stop anything from landing on you. You take a good second looking at it, inspecting the way it holds above you. For a moment you're not sure what the implication of it is.
He doesn't say anything. You're weirdly thankful for that, the sudden warmth to your face making it difficult to think. The rain continues on, and experimentally, you step forward. He does the same. You don't say anything.
Recognizing he's doing something for you takes a second, but when it hits you, you're restraining a smile. Sonar isn't selfish in any regard, though maybe he does make it difficult to realise at times— but you still find it surprising that he's doing this for you. A selfless task; one that will have him covered in rain rather quickly, mind. Somewhere within you has the gut to ask him why he'd do such a thing, but as you mull it over, you decide against it.
If he wants to, he will. If he regrets it, he will. You're not the decider of his actions (which, ironically, is a very thankful thought).
When the two of you begin to walk, little conversation is made. You stand closer to him than usual, hopefully making it easier for him. A part of you feels bad that he's receiving the brute of the downpour, though he doesn't appear to think much of it. Upon giving him a glance every so often, he looks at you briefly before offering an amused look, signifying something of a 'what?'. You nearly smile once more.
Getting home doesn't take too long. He remains for the duration nevertheless, his suit soaked. You gently grasp his sleeve in a gesture to ask about it at one point, though he takes the movement as a request to get closer to you. For whatever reason you cannot muster, you find you care little when his arm presses against yours. If anything, it's welcome.
When you reach your apartment block, you properly look at him. He tilts his head only just, one of his ears flicking.
"Thanks." Your voice is quiet, untrained. He seems to perk up, possibly not expecting to hear anything from you. The way he does it feels unintentional. A part of you thinks it's cute.
"Yeah." He responds curtly, only to continue with increased haste, "I mean… Obviously. No sweat."
An entertained look crosses your face. He matches it with a twitch of a smirk.
When you head inside, you give him a close wave before closing the door. He responds with a weak one, evidently not knowing what else to do. It's strange to see him so unsure of himself, but you don't exactly dislike it either. It's just another part of him to know, if anything.
Once he knows you're in and without an eye on him, he shakes the water out of his fur like a dog. He turns to face the weather again, the rain having barely calmed. A short sigh leaves him.
At least he got to do something for you. That's all that plays in his mind when he makes the trek back.