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Chad re-racked his weights and flexed in the mirror. He couldn’t really see his progress in this shirt, but he certainly wasn’t taking it off.
He shook the thought from his head and grabbed some plates, loading his bar and getting into position. Yes, he should get someone to spot, but his usual gym buddy wasn’t here.
In fact, Chad hadn’t seen Herm in over a week. He knew he was busy, with his grandmother, but a text might have been nice.
"Is that my shirt?"
Chad froze, the bar he was holding wobbling a bit. He steadied himself, lowered it and returned it to the rack.
"Sup?”
Herm’s cool gray eyes lifted to meet his for only a second before dropping back to his chest.
"That's my favorite shirt," Herm muttered. "I've been looking for that."
Chad grimaced. "I just grabbed it, last time I was over. I needed some civilian clothes."
This was only half true. He had needed some civilian clothes, but he didn't need to take a shirt that Herm had so recently worn. One that smelled like him.
Herm’s brow furrowed. "I want that back." And then he walked away towards the leg machines.
"Shit," Chad muttered, scrambling after him.
"How's Agnes?"
Herm threw some weights on the leg press. The force of which he was doing this told Chad he was pissed. And he had every right to be.
"She's okay. Healing fast."
"Well, she's got you so—"
"Why do you even care?" Herm blurted. "I haven't heard from you in almost two weeks."
“I texted you,” Chad muttered.
Herm rolled his eyes, a bad habit that he’d picked up from Chad. It would be annoying, but he looked so cute doing it. “‘Granny good?’ and a thumbs up isn’t exactly the support I need right now,” he snapped.
Chad frowned. "Figured you didn't need...or want...um." Fuck he was worse than Herm these days.
"I didn't want what? You? Yeah, because why would I want the emotional support of my supposed b-boyfriend when my grandmother is heal-recovering from surgery?"
Ooh, the sarcasm. Chad felt bad, but also, yum, sexy.
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm no good with emotional shit."
"Unless it's anger," Herm spat, throwing himself down onto the leg press and doing eight clean reps.
"You need more weight," Chad said, already grabbing the plates.
Herm waited while Chad placed the weights on the press.
"I've been wearing this a lot, you know,” he admitted. “I miss you."
Herm frowned at him and did another set. He let the leg press down loudly and caught his breath, wiping at his damp face. Chad wasn’t sure if he was losing control of his powers or just sweating.
"More," Herm said.
"Weights? Okay."
"No. More groveling."
Chad chuckled. He watched as Herm did another set, panting and puffing as he soaked through the towel draped around his neck. Chad swallowed roughly, his mouth suddenly dry, or drier than usual.
"I've been wearing it every day," Chad admitted. "It's got a little burn mark actually, sorry." Herm faltered in his set for only a second to look at the shirt.
"I miss you so much. And I knew you'd be angry, that I've been avoiding you. But I hate seeing you sad, especially when I can't fix it."
Herm let the leg press slam down.
"I don't need you to fi-fix it!" he said, his voice warbling only slightly. "I don't need Flambae, I need Chad."
"You need me?"
Herm narrowed his eyes. "Are you joking right now? Because I don't have the patie-time-fuc-ugh! I don't have it, whatever it is, I don't have it!"
Chad played with the hem of the shirt. "Not a joke. I don't know if anyone has ever asked me for anything. Except to just stay out of the way."
Herm leaned forward, long arms resting on long legs; still so spindly, even with the added muscle.
"Flambae is a hero," Chad muttered, "but Chad is a fuck up. You know that."
Herm's mouth pulled into something like a half smile.
"I'm so annoyed," Herm finally said.
"I know, I'm sor-"
"At how good that looks on you," he finished, reaching out and tugging on the shirt to pull Chad closer.
He smiled. "Well, it's actually my size."
Herm shook his head. "It's a little too small. Especially in the arms."
Chad cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?'
"Yeah, you should probably take the sleeves off."
Herm stood, grabbing the bottom of the shirt. "And it's way too long, you'll have to cut it."
"Cut it? Where?"
Herm tucked his hand underneath the shirt and ran his fingers over Chad’s stomach. He had to remind himself that they were having a sweet moment. Not everything was the opening scene to a hardcore porn.
"Here,” Herm said, poking him just above his navel.
"But then the band's name will get cut off!"
Herm’s face relaxed a bit and he laughed. Chad’s heart swelled. He'd been missing that most of all, making Herm laugh, seeing him relaxed and happy. It was so rare, and when he did it, it felt like he'd won some kind of prize.
"You don't even know Bathory."
Chad scoffed. "I don't know Bathory! You mean 80s Swedish metal band often said to be the blueprint for Scandinavian black metal? I believe you said they were, ‘The perfect blend of dark, experimental, Viking metal and mainstream heavy metal.’ RIP," he added.
Herm stared at him, part surprised, part impressed.
"I listen," Chad said. "And I'm listening. I will be better. Be around, if that's what you want."
Herm nodded. "Thank you."
"This isn't just because the lift is broken and you need me to carry Agnes up the stairs?"
Herm chuckled, his hand automatically going back to tug playfully on Chad’s ponytail like he always did. Chad’s body stirred. They needed to get the fuck out of here before this was the opening scene of a hardcore porn.
"No. I fixed it."
"You fixed it?"
"Robert fixed it."
Boner gone, Chad thought. Robert had been around. He'd been helping Herm when Chad couldn’t.
"Right. Finish your workout. We're going."
"Going? Going where?"
"Pharmacy, grocery store, then home. I'm making pulao. We can watch Miss Congeniality and then I’ll do Agnes’ bath."
Herm draped his long arms around Chad's neck. "My hero," he whispered.
"Be careful, or the rest of your workout is happening in the locker room."
Herm grabbed Chad by the neck of his shirt and practically pulled him off his feet as he steered them towards the showers.