Work Text:
To say that Waterboy was lean was an understatement. The same way you could call him tall, or skinny, or just generally long, and still have all such claims be understatements.
Growing up, Waterboy– or, well, Herman at the time– was always the tallest in and outside of school. He grew to be taller than his grandma at about eight years old. As the weeks went by, he tracked his height on the wall with chalk. He grew by an inch each month. At the time, he recalled his grandma telling him that he may one day outgrow the very roof they were housed under.
In school, he was always at the back during class photos, back of the classroom, or being offered basketball tryouts at every corner. One day, as he rounded a corner of his campus’ hallways, he felt a bit more confident than usual. He tried out only once. He slipped and broke his ankle. Conveniently, around the same time, people stopped advising him to try out for the varsity team. Since then, he has yet to even touch a basketball.
Due to his height, Herman rarely fit in anywhere. Physically and emotionally. He was often the first person you saw when you entered a room, which you can imagine, didn’t help with his social anxiety. All the extra height did was make him feel outcast and awkward. There were many spaces that weren’t even accommodated to someone of his size. Everywhere he went, he was significantly more claustrophobic than anyone else in the room. It plagued him every week, every day, every hour.
People often liked to call his height a gift. As if it was something to be proud of. Something that God Himself cast upon him as a stroke of kindness from the heavens. He laughed it off almost every time. Someone like him wasn’t one to put his height to use. He often wondered that, if He did, God gave him this “gift” as some sort of sick joke.
It felt like a curse most days.
As if his stutter wasn’t enough.
As if having the most inconvenient superpower wasn’t enough.
As if being who he was. Wasn’t enough.
Waterboy sighed, picking up the same mop to wipe the same spot he had been cleaning for the past ten minutes. A discontent frown clouded his features.
He wasn’t going to get anywhere thinking like that, he told himself. If anything, it would just worsen his anxiety. Waterboy placed the mop back in his janitor’s cart, beginning to move towards the elevator. Maybe a change in environment was all he needed.
-
It was raining. It had been raining for a while now, actually.
You were in the break room, looking out the window. The streets of L.A. seemed to calm down, taking a break from all the flashing lights and bright signs, if only just for this short, foggy morning. Seemed fitting enough for the day you were having.
You held onto a warm mug of steaming coffee, two hands cupped fully around the porcelain. You had made it sweeter than usual, feeling as though you probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything bitter today.
You had asked Blonde Blazer if you could call out sick, but she was quick to inform you that you had run out of both sick days and PTO time for this year. You groaned. It was May. Of course, you could’ve skipped anyway, but that meant no money. And you really, really needed money right now. And so, here you were, forced to come to work in the most disheveled state you had been in since.. what, January? Point was, you looked like a fucking mess. Which was why you really needed this coffee break.
For the most part, you wished you weren’t here. You would rather be at home, in bed, rewatching your favorite season of your favorite show, eating your favorite snacks straight out of your pockets. Instead, you were here, with 85% sweetened coffee, a Twinkie, and nothing but a five dollar bill in your right pocket.
However, there were pros and cons to everything. Cons of staying home from work would be, most notably, no money made. But mainly, you were worried about further deteriorating your mental state from rotting in bed all day. So, in that regard, you were sorta-kinda-not-really glad you came into work today.
As for the pros of going to work, besides what was already mentioned.. really, only one thing came to mind. Or, rather, one person.
But you didn’t want to think about that right now. You already had a pounding headache, you didn’t need a pounding heartache as well.
No one else was in the break room at the moment. Probably because it wasn’t even breaktime yet. That was probably something you should’ve brought up earlier. You were, in a way, ditching work to sit and watch the rain in the break room. You had only intended on staying for a few minutes, but those few minutes quickly turned into almost half an hour. You still had no intention of leaving any time soon.
The rain came and went sporadically. A downpour one minute, a small drizzle the next. It was relaxing to hear it shift back and forth. So much so that you struggled keeping your eyes open, despite already drinking half of your coffee. Speaking of which, all that sweetener probably wasn’t doing you any good in keeping you awake. Maybe you should switch to black coffee.
As you got up to dump the rest of your coffee in the sink, you began to realize something. Nobody has come in or out of the break room in over thirty minutes. Typically, people were skipping with you, or heroes were resting here as they waited to get dispatched once more. And yet, you hadn’t seen anyone thus far.
Right as you sat back down, however, you were immediately greeted by a pair of soft, round eyes. Eyes you had grown far too acquainted with, far too quickly. Others would call it coincidental timing. You called it a curse.
Of course he had to see you like this.
-
Of course you had to see him like this.
Turns out, a change in environment was not what he needed. He had just spent about half an hour in the janitor’s closet, crying his eyes out after a minor inconvenience. God knows why. It just all got to be too much, and all it took was one domino falling to sink the rest of his composure down to rock bottom. This was what happened when he got on his own case, Herman told himself. When it really came down to it, his biggest bully was himself. He just wished it didn’t hurt as bad as it did. He just wished he didn’t have to feel like shit every time he made a mistake or tripped up on his words. He just wished he wasn’t an inconvenience on himself more than he was to anyone else.
However, if there’s one thing he could count on to cheer him up– even just a little bit– was the break room vending machine.
All he had wanted was a break. That was what the break room was for, wasn’t it? Instead, here he was, face to face with you. The same person who stared at him like he was some sort of miracle, one he knew he could never live up to. After all, it was Herman you were staring at, right? The one with red, puffy eyes, tear stains streaking down the sides of his cheeks, and hair in disarray?
-
Oh, he looked rough.
However, you didn’t look at him with disdain or disgust, or, rather, any look he thought you would give him. You tried not to look at him with pity, the one look Waterboy fully expected, but it was evident by his appearance that he had been crying.
The very thought ripped your heart to shreds. If you hadn’t had a single ounce of self control, you would’ve already leaped into his arms, giving him the best hug you could muster. It was all you wanted to do, the longer you stared. But you refrained.
The two of you stared at each other in your beautiful, disheveled states, for about fifteen seconds. One of you had to speak up at some point. It happened to be Waterboy.
“O-Oh!” his voice cracked. He coughed, quickly wiping at his eyes, “H..Hello. I did not– didn’t not.. know anyone else was.. there– here. I’m uh, I’m sorry If I- ..intruding? Am I doing th-that? You..”
You were still staring at him. His cheeks grew slightly warmer.
“You… You know what? I can ju– I’ll.. just go and– go.. leave you, uh, alon-”
“Hey,” the sound of your voice halted him before he even reached the doorway. "Don't do that. You weren’t intruding on anything, don’t worry about it. I’m just..” You glanced at your form, eyes shifting from your untied shoes, to your unwashed clothes, then finally, to your jacked up hair. Yup, still looked like a zombie.
“...Tired,” you concluded.
“Oh! I, uh, I see…” Waterboy clung onto his mop with both hands. He didn’t look like he had anywhere to be– not anymore, at least.
“Did you wanna.. sit down?”
You lazily kicked out one of the chairs across from you with your foot, silently offering him a seat beside you.
He stared down at the seat, his expression shifting to something solemn.
“You’re– Are you sure? I don’t wanna– want to-”
“Just sit,” you insisted, “I promise I don’t mind.”
Waterboy gave you a quiet, grateful smile, that made your heart flutter just as silently.
“...Okay.”
For the first few minutes, the two of you sat in silence together. You still watched the rain out the window, but you could feel Waterboy’s gaze lingering on you. He was waiting for something. Either for him to gain enough confidence to speak up, or for you to do so first.
When another minute passed by and you still hadn’t peeped a word, Waterboy finally resigned. He sighed, resting his head on his palm as he stared out into the foggy abyss. With you. He felt like that detail was very, very important.
“You doing alright?”
Waterboy let out a shameful squeak, jumping at the sudden conversation as if regretting ever letting his social guard down. He hastily shifted positions, from relaxed to something a bit more tense. He straightened his posture, holding the edge of the table with his fingers.
“Yeah– I mean, yes! I– I’m.. good– fine. I’m doing.. fine.”
You tore your gaze away from the foggy windowpane to meet his eyes. Waterboy rapidly began looking anywhere but you. Suddenly, the floor tile composition seemed really, really interesting.
A concerned expression painted your face. His nose and eyes were still pink. His gray eyes told a million stories that you could never dream of deciphering, but right now, they looked hurt. It made your heart want to crumble into a million pieces.
You knew he was lying. But you weren’t going to pry an answer out of him.
..Just once.
“... Are you sure?”
Waterboy looked taken aback, as if he had never heard such a question. In a way, he hadn’t. No one ever took the time to second guess something like that. Normally, if he said something, people would believe it and move on with their lives. No one would dig deeper. No one but you. It made lying really easy. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy with you.
“Why wouldn’t– would.. I...”
His words got caught in his throat before he could even finish his sentence. He swallowed them down just as quickly.
The look you gave him should’ve killed such a weak-willed man. He practically collapsed in on himself under your soft, tender gaze. You looked at him with such care and concern, like he was a fractured, wet shelter dog that you happened to come across out in this very rain. His already rosy cheeks somehow saturated further. Oh, the things you did to him.
Waterboy looked away again. He was sure that if he continued the eye contact for a second longer, he would most definitely pass out, and that wasn’t the greatest look for him.
After debating with himself for fifteen long seconds, he shook his head “no.”
“Rough day?”
Well, he was already in it now. Might as well be honest.
“Ye- Yeah… you?”
You nodded solemnly.
…
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Not– ..Not really,” he frowned.
…
You got an idea.
Pulling out a five dollar bill from your pocket, you nudged Waterboy. He glanced up at you from the ground, then to the bill that rested gently in your fingers. He seemed confused, that was until you twitched your head in the direction of the vending machine. Suddenly, his mood seemed to make a u-turn.
“Oh!” Waterboy’s eyes lit up, and a smile began to tug at your lips. However, the sparkle in his eyes left just soon after it arrived. “Oh. B-But I.. I can’t– I have– I would just make it.. y’know.”
He gestured to his dripping hand.
“I can get something for you, you know.”
“Really? I mean, you.. you will– ..would?”
“Sure thing,” you smiled gently, almost failing to hide your adoration. Standing up, you walked over to the vending machine, taking a quick glance at its contents before looking back to him. “What do you want?”
Waterboy beamed, muttering a quick “thank you” before scanning over the items jailed to the machine. His gaze then snapped to the wooden table, noticing a half-eaten Twinkie near where you once sat.
“Um… Could I, uh- …Twinkie?”
You chuckled at his dorky smile. Who knew something as simple as a snack would cheer him up this fast? You nodded at his request, quietly storing such information in your mind for the next time you stumble upon the vending machine.
“Mhm. I should have some change left over...” you mused, “I should get an extra one for Robert.”
“Good! Um.. idea! Good idea!”
Reaching down, you took the two packages of Twinkies from the gaping mouth of the vending machine, tossing one of them to Waterboy. Surprisingly, he caught it. He looked quite shocked himself.
“Hah,” he breathed out, “Thanks– thank you! So much!”
“No problem,” you grinned, returning to your seat beside him.
The Twinkies were gone in under a minute. He must’ve been hungry, you thought. That explained his enthusiasm.
The two of you spent the next ten minutes in the break room lazily watching the rain, thinking to yourselves- sometimes out loud- and looking at just about anything else in the room except each other. Waterboy became lost in the time spent with you, seemingly forgetting all about his day job. As you stared out the break room window, as you have been for a total of twenty minutes now, there was one thought that you couldn’t get out of your head. You tried your hardest to keep it in, to preserve the peaceful silence you found yourself and Waterboy in, but the thought couldn’t help but breach containment.
“I used to dance in the rain as a kid.”
Waterboy perked up, curious. You flinched at the sudden attention.
He didn’t speak, silently inviting you to continue. You accepted the invitation.
“It wasn’t any good, obviously. I got a lot of bruises, cuts, scrapes.. I was never that careful out there. My parents had to lock the front doors to stop me from hurting myself every time it rained.”
Waterboy giggled. You smiled in return.
“It didn’t stop me most of the time, since I knew how to pick locks. Even if I got hurt– and uh, fell on my ass like twenty-something times– it was still fun.”
“Rainy days were days that I got to get out and cause some trouble, y’know? They were days where I could feel active and alive, despite it all. I haven’t danced like that in a while. I miss it.”
Waterboy nodded in understanding.
“It’s different now, of course. I’m actually more of the opposite nowadays– staying home on most, if not all rainy days, just so I don’t have to put up with it on my way to work. I was actually gonna skip work today, again, because of the rain. That, plus the me-being-sick thing.”
“Why..” Waterboy carefully intercepted, “Why did you not– didn’t– you? Stay at– stay home, I mean.”
You grinned mischievously. You were probably gonna regret saying this later, but you didn’t really care at the moment.
“I wanted to see you.”
Waterboy choked on the arising water within his throat. He held a fist to his lips so as to not accidentally spew water everywhere. Part of him wanted to believe you only said that to get a rise out of him. Right as he was becoming more comfortable, you reduced him right back down to a stuttering mess. The other part of him wanted to believe you meant what you said. It was that part of him that was screwing him over.
“I– I, uh.. okay? Oh.. okay! I, I mean– Th-Thanks! I.. I guess? That– That means the worl– ..a lot, means a lot to..”
You giggled. Then, you chuckled. You chuckled until it turned into an endearing laugh.
“...me?” Waterboy concluded. A pool of water began forming at the soles of his shoes. He couldn’t tell if that was a good laugh or a bad laugh, and it was driving him insane. God, he hoped you weren’t making fun of him.
“Sorry, sorry!” Your burst of laughter receded back down to a giggle. “You’re just…”
He held his breath. Awkward? Annoying? Weird? …Pathetic?
“..Really cute.”
Waterboy paused.
Then, he flushed bright red. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He was unsure of what he could’ve said to that, anyway. He swallowed down another large gulp of water that just barely threatened to spill. Okay, you knew what you were doing to him, and he knew you were doing it on purpose. He hated how effective it was.
Waterboy gave you a sorrowful, embarrassed look, that needed no words to accompany it. Not like he could provide any, anyway. That very look almost made you regret teasing him. Almost.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” you grinned, holding back another fit of giggles.
“Please do,” Waterboy pleaded, volume just above a whisper as he held his burning face in his hands. His powers weren’t doing him any good for cooling him down.
Slowly, he peeked out of his hands, laying just one eye on you. You had returned to watching the rain outside, but now, with a content smile on your face. Your eyelids fluttered half-shut. You seemed happy with yourself, despite the living hell (heaven) you just put him through.
He smiled. You were being surprisingly nice to him… even if you were a little cruel at times. He swore that he could’ve almost thrown up in front of you just then. He cringed at the thought. He was shocked he was even able to keep it down.
You continued to stare out the window, a somber expression replacing your content one.
Waterboy frowned. You were right in the sense that rainy days felt more tiring now than anything. Tiring and depressing, given the gray that shrouded over the skyline whenever a storm was approaching.
He watched you as you sighed like a bored dog on a lazy summer’s day. He thought back to the events of today. Nothing he wanted to remember, he determined. Other than, maybe, the time spent with you.
…
Waterboy got an idea.
“Do you– Would you want to.. try.. it again?”
You lifted your head from your palm.
“Hm?”
He gulped.
“Da– Dancing? I-In the.. outside– um, rain?”
…
“Oh.”
All he needed was that one word to flip his nervous system into overdrive. His newly found confidence left just as quickly as it came. Not quick enough, he thought, to prevent him from asking such a stupid, stupid question. Despite that, he still attempted to defend his reasoning.
“Apolog– s-sorry! I just, y’know, I just figured– You.. You said you mi- missed it, so I- I thought…”
You were giving him that look again. He could feel a rise of water approaching. He swallowed it down, his cheeks slightly shifting to a warmer hue.
Waterboy chuckled nervously, “Hah.. Haha! You, uh– You know what, bad– weird question, I should not– shouldnt’ve.. N-Nevermind! Just forget I even–”
You laughed. Of course you did.
Unpredicted by him, however, was you shooting up from your seat and grabbing ahold of his hand to practically drag him out the door.
“Are you kidding?” you grinned, “God, I haven’t done this in forever! I might be a little rusty, but–”
Before you could pull him out of his chair, he tugged back, causing you to halt to a stop.
“W-Wait! I–” Waterboy first looked up at your eyes, then back to the floor. “I.. I don’t think– I won’t be that.. good at it, and–”
“So?” you interrupted, “I won’t be, either.”
“I’m– What I’m saying is.. you’re– you’re not worried about?– Are you sure you’re okay with me being.. Well, you know tha-that my powers make me… w-wet, and–”
You gave him an unimpressed look. He gulped.
“Wh-What’s.. What’s with that– look.. at me?”
“Waterboy,” you grinned teasingly, “We’re gonna be dancing in the rain. I don’t think your moisture’s gonna matter all that much. We’re both gonna be soaked,” you chuckled.
Waterboy laughed nervously, “Ye-Yeah, I guess I.. forgot about that.”
“C’mon, dork.”
-
Robert had just finished his first shift of the day with the Z-Team when he heard a loud slam of a door from behind him. He muttered a quick farewell into his headset before sliding it off his head, standing up to try and locate where the sound came from.
Down the hallway, practically sprinting to the elevators, was you and Waterboy. He noticed that Waterboy was more so being dragged alongside you, stumbling into a few cabinets along the way. He seemed much too focused on his hand being actively held in yours to pay attention to his surroundings.
It looked like you were just about to make a run for the elevator before you stopped in your tracks, seemingly remembering something. Pulling out a Twinkie from your pocket, you turned to face Robert’s cubicle.
“Hey, Robert! Catch!”
He held his hands up in the air as you threw it across the office space. Robert just barely caught it, giving you a playful grin. He also caught a glimpse of Waterboy, who seemed to be giving him an apologetic, helpless look, as if seeking some form of advice. Robert simply gave him a thumbs up. Waterboy, although not completely understanding what that meant, nodded anyway.
Taking a quick glance at the Twinkie, Robert noticed it was a bit misshapen and smushed, probably from being in your pocket for a while. It wasn’t completely inedible, though.
He looked back up, watching the two of you scurry down the hallway to the elevators.
“Be careful!” he called out. The warning fell upon deaf ears, however, as the two of you were already long gone.
Robert chuckled under his breath. What a lucky guy.
-
The moment you stepped outside, a gust of cold air assaulted your skin. You immediately stepped out into the rain, your clothes soaking almost instantly under the storm. Waterboy lingered under the canopy of the second floor, staring out into the storm ahead of him. He was used to the constant feeling of being generally moist, but he hasn’t felt raindrops on his skin in years. He already dreaded being wet 24/7, so naturally, he avoided the rain like the plague, making sure to bring extra large umbrellas with him everywhere he went on days like these.
But, as he watched you from this distance, as you kicked a few puddles and reached out above you– as if doing such a thing would help you feel the rain more– he felt like he wouldn’t even mind if you dragged him into the storm right now.
Your eyes landed on him, dry– as dry as Waterboy could be– under the canopy, and gave him a mischievous grin. It seemed like you read his mind.
“You scared?”
“Wh–What?” Waterboy stumbled, “No, I just.. It’s been a while, I-I guess?”
“I would’ve thought that, of all people, you would dislike the rain the least,” you teased. “C’mon.”
You latched onto both of his hands with both of yours, pulling him out of the canopy and into the pouring rain with you. Laughing, you spun him slightly outwards.
Waterboy’s heart warmed. He looked up at the dark gray clouds that blanketed the sky. He felt the rain drip onto his skin, his suit, his goggles… It felt.. surprisingly nice. Nicer than he had expected, that was for sure. It was pleasant to feel that, even if just for this moment, that he was soaked head to toe because of the rain– and the rain only. It wasn’t a condition that was thrust upon him unwillingly at birth, but rather, a choice. A choice to be out here, with you, holding hands with you in the rain.
Wait.
You hadn’t let go of his hands yet, he noticed. Or, rather, he fixated on.
You seemed to notice, too. However, instead of pulling away, you gently tugged his hands towards you. You glanced down at his hands, then back up to him. You furrowed your brow, silently asking him permission for something. Despite not knowing what exactly he was agreeing to, he nodded.
You moved his hands to your sides, then, wrapped your arms around his neck. Bashfully, you smiled up at him.
Oh. That’s what he agreed to.
Waterboy sensed a wave of anxiety crash throughout his body. His knees felt weak, his face flushing a bright red at the contact. You were somehow finding every way to make him forget how to function around you.
“Wa– Wait!” Waterboy’s hands tensed, “You– You do know th-that I haven’t… dance– done this before, I–”
You giggled, “Yeah, I know. I’ll teach you.”
“I– Oh.. O-Okay!–” he folded under seemingly zero pressure, “You just– You, uh.. l-lead the way, then!”
“Of course.” You swept a string of drenched hair out of your face. “And, uh. I’ll try not to step on your feet. But no promises.”
And so began your mini dancing lesson in the freezing cold rain. Not like it bothered either of you. You decided to just teach him a simple ballroom dance– nothing too complicated– guiding him where to step and when. The process was a bit more difficult than it would’ve been without the rain, but you would argue it was worthwhile. After about ten minutes of trial and error, he had finally started getting some idea of a rhythm going. Not long after, and the synchronized movements you were performing actually began to resemble a dance.
You did, in fact, end up stepping on his feet. A lot, actually. He never seemed to mind, though, simply laughing it off each time. You don’t know what you did to deserve to be dancing with such a forgiving soul, you thought.
For as lean he was, by all means, you would think his movements would be more graceful. Of course, you would only be thinking this if you’ve never met Waterboy. If you have, then you would know by now that he was the least graceful person you could ever meet. And yet, here he was. Being led into a dance in your arms. His body didn’t feel like his own, as if he had abandoned it the moment you hooked your arms around his neck– the moment you looked up at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes that told him “I’m not going to let you go until you learn how to dance.” And god, he really hoped you didn’t.
It wasn’t until around his fifth mistake that he began to doubt himself– that is, if he wasn’t already doubting himself the moment he stepped into the rain.
“Am I.. doing this right?”
“Yeah,” you smiled, heart lurching at the accidental puppy eyes he was giving you. “You’re doing great.”
“Cool!” he blurted out all too enthusiastically. He cleared his throat, “I mean, uh.. Cool.”
You laughed heartily, staring up at him.
He looked away from you. Again. You were getting a bit tired of that.
Slowly, you came to a stop. Waterboy halted alongside you, suddenly curious about your next move.
You carefully shifted your hands from his neck to his face. He shivered. All words failed him in that moment, getting caught in his throat before he could say anything stupid. You reached up to the ends of his goggles, cautiously pulling them up above his head.
Woah.
You always figured he had blue eyes. Turns out, his eye color happened to be an illusion caused by the blue-tinted goggles. They were a light gray color. Similar to the stormy clouds above you. Finally, you got his eyes to stare into yours.
There were a million things you could’ve said in that moment. That his eyes were beautiful up close, that he was beautiful up close– you could’ve asked about his eyes, if they were that color at birth, how rare it was, if he loved them as much as you did, et cetera. You landed on just one thing, the one thought that was predominantly taking up the most space in your mind.
“They look like.. the rainclouds.”
Waterboy’s breath hitched. Somehow, he managed to voice a few words.
“M-My eyes?”
You nodded.
“Is.. Is that a good thing?”
“Mhm,” you hummed. “They’re beautiful.”
Beautiful.
Beautiful, he repeated in his mind, until the word was derived of any or all meaning.
Waterboy felt like he could cry. Even if he did, you wouldn’t have been able to tell, drops of water already streaming down his face from the rain.
…Beautiful?
He felt a sudden wave of confidence. He decided to act on it.
“My, uh. My name,” he stammered. You perked up.
“It’s... Herman. Or just, y’know, Herm.”
“Th-Thought you should.. know that.”
You met his eyes.
“Herman…”
His confidence disappeared.
“Is.. Is it not– ...m-maybe I don’t look like a Herman, o-or–”
“No, no,” you hastily corrected, “I like it. It.. suits you.”
…
“It’s nice to meet you, Herm.”
“..Ye-Yeah,” Herm smiled bashfully, “To– To you, too.”
-
Staggering out of the rain and back into the SDN lobby, your entire body shivered at the warmth of the AC. You could feel your cough and sniffle slowly coming back to life.
That was definitely not gonna help with your cold.