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“Team Steam, this is all you,” Robert was saying into the comms. Chad rolled his eyes. “Stop calling us that, it’s not a thing.”
Herm chuckled. “I like it.”
“You would," he spat, then he stormed off towards the commotion.
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Chad squinted around the building. There was so much smoke that for once he was grateful for the dayglow yellow wetsuit Herm insisted on wearing, even after Royd offered to design him something less hideous.
“Over here!” Herm called to him. “Look!”
Chad covered his mouth with his hand and bent double to run across the room.
“What is it?”
“I think there’s people upstairs. I saw someone near the window of that office. But I can’t go-make-get up there,” he finished, gesturing to the now crumbling staircase.
“Just fling yourself up with your water.”
“I don’t want to waste it. There’s still so much-a lot of fire!”
Chad grumbled. There was so much fire. Where the hell was their back up?
“Okay, I’m going.”
Herm leaned back as Chad burst into flames, rocketing himself onto the landing above. Briefly he watched Herm jump into action again, dousing as much of the blaze as he could. It was impressive. Chad’s powers only led to destruction, this kind of destruction, but Herm was built to be a hero.
Chad coughed as the smoke and ash from Herm’s latest attempt swirled up into his face. “Shit,” he muttered, spitting black phlegm on the ground and running towards the office.
“Back up!” he shouted. And then he kicked down the door.
Chad was not a firefighter. Of all the trades his parents tried to get him involved with, that seemed to be the most counterintuitive. So when he kicked down the door, he hadn’t realized it would create a vacuum, engulfing him and the five people cowering inside in thick, black smoke.
“Get down!” he demanded, dropping to the floor and army crawling to the window. It was long way down, too far. With no fire escape in sight. If only Herm could get up here.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, meeting two sets of eyes of the people surrounding him now, almost totally obscured by soot and ash, grabbing at any part of him they could reach.
“Don’t leave us!” a woman demanded. Chad would’ve sighed if he could breathe. Which he found, he could not.
“I–” He coughed. “Need...backup. Get-going-for help...”
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Chad woke to the sensation of cold wet grass poking him through his clothes. He looked up into that long, angled face, gray eyes wide and unblinking, goggles pushed up into hair so dry it took Chad by surprise.
“Oh, good!” Herm practically yelled. “Oh, god. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.” He repeated the last words like breathing, or like he was catching his breath still. Chad lifted his head and looked down the nature strip where he and five other people had been deposited, each being tended to by an EMT or firefighter.
“Here,” Herm said, holding out a cup of water. Chad grimaced at it. “Is this from the sink or your body?”
Herm smiled tightly. “Just drink it.”
Chad shook his head, but he steeled himself and knocked it back like a questionable dive bar shot. At once his throat eased and relaxed, the burning sensation lessening just a fraction. He averted his eyes from Herm’s intense stare to look at the pile of rubble that had once been a textile factory.
“Fuck, Waterboy,” Chad choked, wheezing slightly as the smoke cleared his lungs. “You saved my life.”
Herm blinked at him, looking as surprised as Chad felt about this turn of events.
“What?” he finally said, ruffling under Herm’s stare. Those eyes, like slate, or granite. Smooth and solid. Get a grip, bitch, Chad told himself.
Herm chuckled, almost to himself, then said, "Two, t-two years. And that’s the first time you ever called me Waterboy.”
“Okay, well, Wetwipe, can you get us the fuck out of here? I’m too cooked to fly.”
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Chad sat on a bench, sipping a bottle of water while Herm put in a request for an SDN pick up. He winced at the crunchy feeling in his throat. He was fireproof, his skin did not burn, but his lungs could fill with smoke and ash and carbon monoxide. He wasn’t immortal. Sometimes he forgot that.
“They’re on the way,” Herm said, collapsing next to him on the bench. He was pretty dried out now, all of his water being doused on the building and on Chad. He held up his hand and noticed the cuts had all but healed now.
“Waterboy?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks again, for saving me.”
Herm laughed as if this was a stupid thing to say. “Of course I was going to save you. I-it's what I do, and you–you’re…”
Chad leaned closer. “I’m what?”
Herm’s head turned towards him, their faces only inches apart. “You’re my friend.”
Chad didn’t have time to consider what Herm said, because he leaned in and kissed him. Shit. This was stupid. This was a majorly stupid, idiotic idea. But Chad knew somewhere in his brain it was just hero worship, that thing that happened when someone was saved and all of a sudden you were God’s gift and they wanted to fuck you every which way from here to Timbuktu. That’s all this was. Herm had saved his life, and fuck, he was still kissing him, his cool, moist hand pressed to Chad’s jaw, the trickle of water soothing the searing pain in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to swallow him down, to consume him.
Chad noticed a faint blue and yellow light approaching and pulled back, wiping his mouth. Herm stared at him wide-eyed, completely shocked as to what had just happened. Chad was a rather shocked himself. This was a mistake. A stupid mistake. The hero blindness or whatever was wearing off and now he was face to face with Herm Fischer, SDN’s lamest hero.
Even though he’d only thought it, Chad still felt bad. Herm wasn’t lame, or even if he was, he was Chad’s friend. One of his closest friends.
“Van’s here,” Chad said lamely, standing and, with a crack in his lower back he didn’t want to deal with now, dragging himself across the grass towards the approaching van.
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Chad didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but every member of the Z-Team was still at SDN when they returned, even though it was well past the end of shift.
“Fuck, mate, what happened?” Mal said, staring at him as if she’d seen a ghost, which, maybe she had.
“Too much smoke, not enough fire. Waterbitch almost killed me,” he joked. He didn’t have to look at Herm to see his smile falter, his body retreat in on itself. He felt horrible, saying that, but what was he going to say? ‘Waterboy saved my life and now I have a huge boner for him’?
“Smoke inhalation,” Herm said flatly. “You should go to medical.” And then he left. He didn’t stammer or stutter or wait for approval or a pat on the back for a job really well done. He just turned and walked away. Chad winced as his throat contracted painfully.
“Yeah, he’s right,” he said lamely. “I’m going to medical.”
“But–” Alice called, “Drinks!”
He pointed at his throat and shook his head, then scurried down the hall in the direction of the janitor’s closet.
But Herm wasn’t there. Chad wandered the halls, peering into open offices and conference rooms until he saw a few drops of water by the fire exit. Gotcha.
He climbed the stairs, every once in a while another darkened bit of concrete signaling that his Waterboy had been here.
Chad paused. His Waterboy?
Fuck, I’m fucked, he thought, pushing open the door to the roof.
“Don’t jump,” he called. “I can’t save you right now.”
Herm tensed then relaxed, looking over his shoulder at him.
“I don’t need you to save me.”
Chad grimaced and crouched down to sit on the edge of the roof. “Look, sorry, okay? It was just a joke. And, fuck, I was–and you know, how people get. You save them and then they go brain dead. They think you’re the hottest thing on Earth. I was, it was...” He trailed off. He didn’t want to say that it was a mistake. Even though it was. Wasn’t it? It had to be a mistake. This couldn’t be a thing.
Herm faced out over the city again, a small smirk on his face. “That doesn’t happen to me.”
“Really? I can’t believe that. I bet there’s loads of Waterboy fans online, cranking it to all your hero footage.”
Herman laughed lightly, his cheeks rosy. Chad had to stop himself from reaching out to touch his face, to feel the coolness there, even though he was blushing.
“You’re a hero,” Chad said. “You’re my hero.”
Herm’s head spun round. “I don’t need you to make me feel better. I know I saved you. I hate that you said I nearly killed you. That was so-such a mean joke.”
Chad’s first instinct was to argue back, to tell him to stop being so sensitive and storm away, but he didn’t have it in him. “I’m sorry.”
“I did. I almost-nearly killed you. I didn’t–couldn’t put the fires out c-completely. I couldn't do it. And all that smoke…”
Chad couldn’t resist anymore. He grabbed Herm by the shoulder and pulled him in against his chest. “Fuck, don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. You saved so many people tonight. Including me. I was just being stupid. I was making a joke because I’m freaking the fuck out right now.”
Herm leaned back to stare at him, those cool gray eyes picking up the lights of the city beyond. “You’re okay, Chad. You don’t need to freak out. I know it was scary, but you’re safe now.”
Chad smiled at him. “That’s not why I’m freaking out idiot.”
“Oh.”
And for the second time that night, Chad kissed him. But it wasn’t a mistake, it was the only thing he was actually sure of.