Chapter Text
Life should be good, great even in comparison to much of Herman’s life, but his nerves and his brain could never quite get with the program. The end of his straw was chewed beyond saving, the plastic mangled to the point of uselessness; a sad little lump clamped between grinding teeth.
The feeling would pass, or so he told himself.
The team had gone out for drinks that night, too much energy split between them all after a boring day at work that had nowhere to go but to the bottom of a shared bottle. This was potentially the most pretentious bar they’d been to yet, a self proclaimed speakeasy tucked into a side street with low lights and doorways framed with plush red velvet curtains. Herman might have liked it on a better day, liked its quiet unhurried vibe, but at this particular point in time it all made him sick to his stomach. Well everything did, but that was besides the point.
He’d wanted to be left alone to his thoughts in the safety of his own home, maybe eating dinner and watching a show with his grandmother, but there really was no telling the Z-Team no. He’d been dragged out as soon as their evening shift ended, and plopped down at the bar with a pathetic little splat.
So there Herman stayed, finger tracing the rim of his glass as he drowned out the world.
“Babe, you’re really bumming me out.” Malevola took a seat next to him at the empty bar, replacing the untouched whiskey he'd been given with a new drink. It was shockingly blue and sweet, but oddly soothing on his stomach. “Like, what's up with you?”
Everything? The needless nagging of his stupid little brain? He’d tucked himself away in a hopeless ball, wishing to avoid this exact line of questioning
“Nothing, definitely. I-I’m perfectly…I’m perfectly okay.”
He gave a weak thumbs up, face smushed uncomfortably into the wet bar top in an attempt to hide himself again. This place was fancy, yes, but it was still just like any other bar if the tacky film of dried liquor and chipped varnish were any indicators.
“Riiiight, because this screams okay.” She gestured at him vaguely with a manicured finger, expression deeply unimpressed.
“Would you believe me if I said it was the music?”
It wasn’t necessarily untrue. The deep warbling of Sinatra over the speakers had never really done it for him. It earned a sharp little snort out of Malevola, a feat he took pride in every time it happened.
“You’re such a snob. You know I paid for that song?”
“You just-” He laughed, wet and coughing around the nervous trickle making its way down his throat. “You just think he’s cute.”
She shook her head at him, fond as she signaled the bartender for another drink with a wink.
Malevola was all charm. Cool confidence that was only enhanced by the warm wall lights and her happy, boozy honesty. If Herm were a more callous man he’d be jealous, and perhaps in some ways he was, but it was impossible to sit in her company and not be content.
“Fuck you, his music is classic.” Even her smeared lipstick was charming as she smiled at him, smacking his shoulder so hard he almost fell off his chair. “But seriously, what bites?”
“I, um, forgot if I gave my gran her medicine before I left this morning?” Low hanging fruit and a bold faced lie, but hopefully an effective one. It was a valid concern that needled at the back of his mind everyday to be fair. “It’s just eating me out- up inside. Yup.”
Their little sphere was silent except for the impatient tap of Malevola's heel and the clink of glassware behind the bar. Herm could feel a lump forming in his throat.
“Uhuh, and so you decided to mope at the bar about it instead of calling or hauling your ass back home. Likely story. You never forget that shit.”
He looked down at his gloved hands, rubbing nervous circles into squeaking latex. Of course he’d been called out. He was horrible, no downright awful at lying.
“Look I know I’m a nosy bitch who wants to know everything, but right now I just wanna make sure you’re okay. You’re my friend Herm.” Malevola accepted her new drink from the bartender with a silent thank you, giving him a flirty wave as he walked away. “You’re my very soggy, very sad friend, and goddammit I wanna know why. You’ve been really weird like all month.”
Herman sighed and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling like it might make this any easier. Or at least less embarrassing. He took a look around the bar, eying the dimly lit crowd for any sign of his current problem, and upon finding him absent returned his sweaty anxious face to his friend.
“Just…promise you won’t laugh?”
“I promise I won't do it out loud?”
Good enough.
“Okay, so…” He ran his hands down his face, steeling himself as best he could. It was hot, flushed from the alcohol or the stress he didn’t know. “Well I, um, I may have…”
Malevola scooched in closer, dragging her chair towards his own with a loud scrape of metal on tile.
“May have what?”
“May h-have…you know…with uh, with Robert.”
If a person could look like a loading bar, Malevola would come exceptionally close. The lack of pupils certainly helped.
“You what?” She asked through confused laughter.
“Canoodled. Bumped uglies. H-how else do you want me to say it?” He blurted it out, eyes unfocused and perhaps a little crazed. He definitely felt crazy as his heart rate spiked. “It happened and- and I’m losing it a little.”
Herman had been losing it for the better part of the month, burrowing himself in the feel of pockmarked skin and the low rumble of Robert's voice as he buried his face in his neck. He’d fall asleep on Robert’s couch to the sounds of Chino Moreno’s singing drifting from his record player in the kitchen, legs tangled together under too short blankets. It felt as amazing as it was utterly horrifying.
Malevola, however, was even more frightening as her yellow eyes glowed in the dim light. He’d really gone and done it now. Opened the proverbial can of worms in front of an insatiable beast.
“Herm. Hermy, you gotta tell me.” She pulled him in close by the shoulders, nostrils almost literally flaming. “When?”
He swallowed nervously, water dripping increasingly faster down the neck of his suit. “I- after your party. The one at the…the docks. It’s happened a few times?”
It was more than a few, but lord knew this was already bad enough.
“Well shit, he actually shot his shot.” She whispered more to herself than to him. “Was it good?”
Oh if only it wasn’t, his life would be a lot less confusing.
“Yeah…”
“That's not a fun yeah.” She frowned, grip tightening on his shoulder. “What’s the catch?”
The catch, or to put it more bluntly, the thing that was driving him past the point of a mental break, was the fact that Herman had made a home for himself in a place with no promise of longevity. The inside of his head looked like Robert’s worn sheets and the crooked smile he gave when he was tired. It was the sounds of tiny paws on concrete before his record needle scratched violently through the speakers he’d hauled to Robert’s apartment at his insistence.
It was a miracle that Herman felt was bound to slip through his fingers any day now.
“It’s just that I p-practically live at his place half the time now. Which is great! But most of my room is there, and- and I don’t know what…I don’t know what that means. He’s never said…never s-said what this is.” He slumped over again, the side of his face lay wet and defeated on the bar. “It’s stupid. Right? I’m stupid?”
He could hear the exasperation on her face, a short, frustrated exhale through the nose before she spoke again.
“Damn Herm, the fuck? Have you even asked him what he wants from all this? Like at all? Ever?”
He hesitated, feeling the reprimand coming before he even opened his mouth.
“No?”
“Herm, babe no. How are you gonna assume the worst before even asking?” She shot back the rest of her drink and pinched the bridge of her nose. He could see her tail flicking behind her in annoyance. “Don’t answer that. I already know how.”
Was it bad to assume the worst when you’ve never had the best? Or even semi good even. Truthfully, Herman had never had anything beyond timid college make outs and a string of failed first dates before Robert. An actual, real relationship just simply wasn’t in the cards for him. Even if he wanted it.
God did he want it so badly.
“It’s b-better this way. Really.”
He took a long sip of his drink, the taste of coconut washing over him as he willed away the pit forming in his gut. With no warning, a hand shot out and yanked his liquid lifeline right out of his hands.
“No can do my boy.” Victor said as he took his place next to Malevola, setting Herman’s drink down between the two. “Only one of us is allowed to get shit faced and I’ve already called dibs.”
“How’d you-” The shock of his sudden appearance had momentarily distracted Herman, until a new, much more mortifying thought popped up. “H-how much of that did you hear?”
With a flick of his ears he said, “Oh I heard every juicy detail, don’t you worry. And I gotta give you props man. Didn’t think you’d have the cajones to fuck our boss of all people.”
“Don’t be a dick.” Malevola reprimanded, though it was hindered by a soft smile. “He was standing behind you. His hearing is actually shit.”
“I take offense to that.”
The pit in Herman’s stomach opened wide, ready to absolutely devour him. This was mortifying. Catastrophically bad even. He hoped his grandmother could forgive him for keeling over dead in his own, sad little puddle.
He reached for his drink desperately, but was slapped away.
“We’re not doing that.” Malevola insisted, setting his drink far out of reach. “You’re not gonna mope, or whine, or whatever. You’re gonna buck up and ask for what you want.”
Victor nodded his head beside her, a partner in her Crusade against Herman’s fragile nerves.
No. No, absolutely not. Talking with Robert was exactly the thing that would kill any sort of connection he’d flailed himself into. He’d get over this, whatever it was, and be happy with what he had. He’d make himself be happy with whatever Robert wanted to give him.
“I just…I can’t.” He hid his face in his hands, that tired feeling falling on his shoulders like a heavy familiar blanket. “I promise it’s fine.”
Herman expected his friends to fight back and yell, to tell him he was being an idiot at the very least, but they didn’t. Malevola wrapped an arm around him and squeezed, bringing him in for a one armed hug.
She didn’t complain about the damp suit or his perpetual drip, instead sharing a small moment of comfort. If he hadn’t wanted to cry before, he certainly did now.
“I get it. I’ve been there and it’s- well it's difficult.”
The idea that anyone would deny Malevola anything was baffling to say the least. Perhaps it was because she was his friend, one of his best at this point, but it was hard to respect anyone that would willingly tell her anything but an enthusiastic yes.
“You?” He asked, letting himself lean into her embrace. “That’s- that’s wild.”
“Happens more than you’d think. I get the kinky ones most of the time, not the long term relationship type of guys. It’s fun, but gets a little tired sometimes.” She gave him a sad little smile. “But, and I really need to stress this to you, I don’t think Robert’s like that.”
He knew that. Robert was kind and generous when he wanted to be. He always was with Herman. Perhaps sometimes too much so for comfort with how easy it came to him, always offering encouragement or a soft kiss. It was too good, too pristine. It felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Herman was incredibly good at convincing himself of that with literally anything though.
Maybe he was overthinking it.
“Do you think so?”
“I mean I can’t tell you for sure man, but like we know Robert. He doesn’t do anything like this if he doesn’t want to be doing it.”
“He doesn’t do much of anything.” Victor coughed into his hand.
Malevola jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Not helping.”
And there it was, that stupid little nugget of hope lodging itself into Herman’s brain. It was dangerous. If he was smart he’d rip it out and throw it far, far away.
“I-I’m cursed. From…this whole thing is c-cursed.” He eyed his glass longingly across the bar, counting each thump of his heart as it pounded in his chest. “I just know it.”
“How ‘bout this.” She said, sliding his drink further away like the horrible traitor she was. “Let me watch for a while. Feel out the vibe or some shit.”
“N-no, you don’t have to do that!” It was said more out of embarrassment than anything, the gentle flush that painted his face so often coming back at full force.
She held her hands up like he was a spooked animal. It was so mortifying he wanted to scream.
“Just trying to help.”
The offer hung there, dangling in front of him like a carrot on a stick. Nauseating in how vulnerable it made him feel, but tempting all the same. The corner of Herman’s eye twitched, his conflicted mind sending his facial muscles mixed signals.
“You- you won’t say anything? To him I mean?”
The excitement rolling off Malevola’s entire body as he spoke was frightening; overzealous and kind in equal measure.
“Won’t tell a soul. Swear on our lives mate.”
“Ours?” Victor asked, slamming his shot glass down with a harsh clink. “Why am I involved in this?”
“Because everything I do, you do? And if I die you’re coming with me. You’re my emotional support friend.” She shot back like it should all be blatantly obvious.
He put a hand over his heart and wiped away a fake trail of tears.
“Damn. You do love me.”
“Of course I do, dumbass.” She smiled until something caught her eye, craning her neck to look over Herman’s shoulder. “Oh, lover boy at your six o’clock.”
Herman resisted the urge to turn around and look, knowing full well that his face would give everything away. He wasn’t ready. Wasn’t capable of playing it cool or pretending he wasn’t actively dying on the inside. His heartbeat picked up painfully with how excited he felt anyway.
He was a lost cause, his wires too crossed to live like a normal human being.
A hand materialized at his waist, firm but gentle as it wrapped over his hip. The warmth of it seeped through his suit, sending a full body shock up Herman’s side. Every muscle clenched tight, and then relaxed as he leaned into the touch.
“Sorry. Line for the bathroom was a fucking mess” Robert whispered, face hovering close to his ear. It was all soft stubble and the smell of whiskey. “What’d I miss?”
This was certainly…different. The closeness in public. The open, easy show of physical affection. Herman could feel Malevola scrutinizing every detail, her face split into a smirk when he chanced a glance.
“Nothing much really.” Malevola watched on as she drank, throwing back the remnants of Herman’s drink. “Just shooting the shit.”
“Having a little tête-a-tête if you will.” Victor added. “Nothing to worry about Bobby. Nothing at all.”
“Right.” Robert gave them a skeptical look, brow raised curiously as he signaled the bartender for another drink. “Crown and coke please.”
“You got it boss.” The bartender gave him a quick nod. “Last call for drinks if the rest of you want anything.”
Victor leaned over the bar, bravado and the dribble of liquor on his lapel on full display.
“Your number maybe?”
“How about the check?” The bartender stood unphased, collecting dirty glasses as he eyed the group. Condensation dripped off the glassware, joining the small pool of water that’d collected under Herman’s hands.“We together or separate?"
“I-I’ve got mine.” Herman answered, very, very much looking forward to getting out of there. He was ready to get home and scream bloody agony into his pillow.
“No, let me.” Robert took out a battered debit card from his wallet, a flimsy scrap of leather that could barely hold itself together, and slid it across the counter. He was quick to wave away Herman’s protests. “Don’t know what tab he’s under, but I’ve got it.”
The bartender left before Herman could get a word in otherwise, leaving him frustrated and flustered by the gesture.
“You don’t…that wasn’t necessary.” Herman mumbled, checks flushed from a mix of emotions he was helpless to untangle from each other. It felt horribly stuffy all of a sudden. “I don’t even know what I got. It could- could have been expensive.”
“So?” Robert leaned back in his space, hovering over the back of Herman’s chair to look him in the eyes. “I don’t care.”
Like every other time Robert met his gaze, it felt like his brain was flouting away into the sky. Herman slid further down as he tried his best to look away, his insides melting as his knees hit the underside of the bar top. He glanced over at Malevola again, his own curiosity getting the better of him, and saw a look of unfiltered glee.
His attention was ripped back to the man beside him as Robert leaned in closer, his hand coming up to soothe Herman’s rigid shoulders.
“Does it bother you?”
Robert was full of surprises this evening it seemed.
“No. It doesn’t.” Herman insisted, confident in his words for the first time since they’d reached this horrible bar. “Just let me- I-I’ve got it. Next time.”
Robert graced him with a smile, lazy and sweet. It looked so much like the ones Herman had only ever seen in private that it made his head spin.
“Yeah, alright. Whatever you want.”
“Here’s that for you.” Herman jumped as the bartender approached, sliding two checks and a short tumbler towards their little group. “Have a good evening guys.”
He left as quick as he’d appeared, vanishing behind a curtain. Malevola grabbed her ticket, pausing as she went to stuff it in her pocket with a manic little laugh.
“Fuck yeah dude, look.”
She shoved it in Victor's face, swaying in her chair and kicking her heeled feet. He snatched it from her grip, bringing it to his face with squinting eyes.
“Shit, nice. We going splitsies?”
“You know it.”
It was an odd scene, watching the two of them huddle together over what should have been an innocuous piece of paper, whispering to each other in hushed tones. They gave off the same energy one might expect from a lawyer, serious and oddly heated.
“You guys gonna share, or…?” Robert waved a hand in a questioning circle.
“Check it out dude.”
Victor held up the ticket, flapping it in Robert's face with a self satisfied flourish. On it was a phone number, written in a neat hand and accompanied with a short note.
Meet me outside. Bring your friend.
Herman laughed into his elbow, more than a little surprised. “How did that- pfftt- how’d that work?”
“We don’t question the universe and her gifts man.” Victor said as he slipped out from his chair. “We’d invite you fine gentleman out for another drink, but we have business to attend to.”
“Oh I’m sure.” Robert scoffed. “I think I’m ready to call it night anyway.”
Now was an excellent time to slip away. He could run home and put an end to this horrible, travesty of a night, but the hand on his shoulder made him pause. It wasn’t forceful or possessive. Its presence felt more like a question, a quiet plea to stay just a bit longer. Herman, like always, couldn’t help but at least consider it.
Malevola swooped out of her chair with as much drunken grace as she could muster, stopping to hug them both goodbye.
“Don’t get into too much trouble without us, yeah?”
Herman hugged her back, arms circled happily around her neck. She pulled him in tight and whispered in his ear.
“He’s so fucking whipped. Ask him.”
With that, she let him go, giving him a reassuring smile before she dragged Victor out the door by the sleeve of his suit. Herman was left there in his rickety chair, his mouth hung open stupidly as he watched them leave. She had to be joking, surely.
Then again, Malevola wasn’t really the type to pull that kind of joke on him. Not anymore at least.
It couldn’t be that simple, could it?
When he turned back, Robert was staring, his head resting in his hand as he drank. It was savoring, that look, taking him in like this was something he wanted to commit to memory.
“They weren’t bothering you too much?” He joked, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
“No. They were just, um, keeping me company? It was nice. Yes, nice.” Herman shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he held in a laugh. “They’re good to me. Promise.”
“Good.”
Robert tipped forward, his nose ghosting over Herman’s cheek until lips met skin. He kissed him softly, reveling in the contact despite the crowd or the fact that the rest of their coworkers almost certainly could see them. It lit up Herman’s nervous system, hot and hopeful.
“Let me walk you home?”
He felt the scratch of stubble on his face and crumbled. He was dunzo. Supremely, utterly, fucked.
“We could- I’d like to come over. If you’d like?”
If he was going to follow Malevola’s advice and do the most stressful thing he’d ever done in his life, bar saving the city and his gran’s health scares, it had to happen now. Or tonight rather. Maybe in the morning, he didn’t know.
“Yeah.” Robert answered, taking his hand in his own and squeezing. “I’d like that a lot actually.”