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When he was younger, Robert never understood why his mom was so worried about his dad fighting crime. His dad was Mechaman, a hero, the stuff of legends! The same Mechaman who took on foes with nothing but a steel suit and a dream. Robert thought his dad was untouchable until Shroud killed him.
Suddenly, he was nothing but a cold body 6 feet under.
His mother took it the hardest, crying her heart out most nights. Not in front of Robert, though, she took her grief in silence.
She had every right to worry about his dad back then.
For Robert, feeling that kind of worry didn’t help him or anyone. So, he never truly felt what his mother felt. Until today, when Robert shot up from his seat at SDN, watching the cameras as one of his own team ran into a burning building across the street, where he was dispatched for a different assignment.
Waterboy had been at the right place at the right time when the fire started.
“Waterboy!” Robert yelled. “That building is about to come down! Do not engage!”
“B-but people are–” There was screaming and crashing in the background. Then, what Robert dreaded the most, he heard static on the other line.
“Waterboy! Waterboy!” He yelled, and still nothing. His mind was running a million miles a minute, switching to every camera within the block, all of them capturing the building falling apart, but he was powerless to help.
The suit! He needed the suit! Or send anyone to backup Waterboy!
Before he could radio for backup, the comms crackled back to life, and a very frazzled voice came through.
“I-I am okay!” Waterboy cough. “The fire is out. T-They’re all safe, wet, but safe,”
Robert practically sank back into his seat, a sigh of relief escaping him. He checked the camera nearest to the site and saw the nearly collapsed building with its fires nearly out, panicked firefighters, and Waterboy ushering the crowd to safety.
“Back to base, Waterboy,” His voice sounded tight, and he heard a whimper from the other line, but he was far too frustrated to make note of it.
He pulled his headset off, throwing it onto the desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. He counted to ten so he could think straight again.
Waterboy nearly died under his watch.
Fuck.
It hit home more than he liked.
‘If only I were Mechaman, then he would have–’
He stopped the train of thought before he spiralled. If he thought about any of the Z-team dying, it would have been too much. The life of a hero is always full of danger; it's what they signed up for, but he couldn’t help but feel useless when they risked their lives and he could provide nothing but his words and wit.
Sometimes, they don’t even follow that.
Thinking about Waterboy, he was bright, clumsy, and charming, and Robert, naturally, gravitated towards that kind of positive energy. It balanced his own cynical side.
Robert, the walking HR violation that he is, stole glances at him, shared smiles, and casual touches with Waterboy. Friendly enough, but for the first time, Robert wondered what it would be like to go on dates with him, share kisses, and even be intimate.
Maybe Waterboy felt the same.
The alarm went off, snapping Robert out of his thoughts, and he stood up to get some lunch in the breakroom. Once he got there, instead of having a relaxing lunch, Waterboy was nervously waiting for him.
His hands fidgeted at his suit, eyes not meeting Robert's. Robert didn’t mention it and tried to give him space while he got a cup of coffee.
Waterboy took a shaky breath and approached him, almost towering over Robert. He forgot how tall he was.
“I-I am sorry. Your orders, I disobeyed them. I-I had to–” Waterboy started to ramble, and once he started, it was impossible to stop.
Robert smiled, sadly looking him over. He memorized the blush on his face, the way his eyes light up, and that smile…And Robert almost lost him.
A terrifying thought.
Was this what his mom saw when she was with dad? Did she feel the same dread when his dad was out fighting crime while she stood on the side?
Robert gripped Waterboy’s hand. Though his palm was clammy and cold, he didn't let go. The touch made Waterboy’s mouth snap shut.
“Good job, kid,” He failed to say before.
“Y-You too,”
For a brief moment, Waterboy’s gaze flickered to him, meeting his eyes. Slowly, their fingers thread together, an intimate gesture none of them was willing to acknowledge.
“I was worried for a second there,” Robert said.
“The mission was a success–alright–I did it…a good job,”
Robert shook his head, forgetting that Waterboy always assumed the worst expectation.
He leaned into his space, his forehead meeting Waterboy’s damp shoulder, and Robert felt him freeze at his touch. And in a low voice, he tried to make Waterboy understand.
“I wasn’t talking about the mission. You nearly died out there,” His hand shook, still intertwined with Waterboy’s.
“...Oh,”
“Yeah, oh,” Robert chuckled painfully. “I know you’re trying to prove yourself, but it doesn’t have to cost your life.”
“W-we’re heroes. It’s–it’s what we–it’s what’s expected.”
Of course, he knew that, more than anyone, but it was different if someone he loved was on the line.
“Promise me, you won’t run into that kinda danger without backup.”
“People were in danger–I needed to–They weren’t g-going to make it,”
“I know, just promise me not to do that. We could have found a better way to help them.”
Waterboy paused before swallowing and said. “Would you–would M-Mechaman promise the same thing?”
His silence was his answer. He knew if lives were on the line, Robert would have given anything to protect people, even his life. Hypocrite.
Robert leaned back to look into Waterboy’s soft eyes. For the first time, his gaze was unwavering. He smiled at Robert, cute and awkward.
“I-I wasn’t worried, I had you with me, helping me.” His voice sounded steadier. Waterboy was comforting him, of all people. It was usually the other way around. It goes to show how Robert was truly afraid that he would be comforted in this way.
“Always with you, kid, for however long you’ll have me,” He promised.
“Forever,” Waterboy said without thinking, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
Robert let out a chuckle that sounded more like choking. “Forever? A bit forward, don’t you think? At least ask me out to dinner first,”
Waterboy abruptly shot up, his eyes were panicked, and words spilled out, trying to correct himself. “I-I, no, yes! I want–dinner, with me, I mean, if you–you don’t have to–”
“Waterboy,” Robert interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Ask me to dinner,”
“R-Robert, please, have dinner with me?”
“Of course,”
They were still holding hands while the water dripped onto the breakroom floor, a puddle forming between them. Waterboy’s gaze flicked towards Robert’s lip for a few seconds, just enough for him to notice.
“C-Can I k–No, never mind,”
“You’re not going to say the wrong thing. So, whatever it is you want to ask, ask it.” Robert reassured.
“Can I kiss you?” Waterboy asked again.
Someone could walk into the breakroom right now, and Robert wouldn’t care. “Go ahead,”
He hesitantly bent down to meet Robert’s lip, and when he took too long, Robert threw his hands over his neck and dragged him down. Their first kiss was wet, sloppy, and gentle. What Robert didn’t expect was the sound of wet lips and Waterboy’s whimpering being loud, muffled, but still loud enough to hear if someone passed by the breakroom.
Once the kiss got heated, Waterboy leaned forward, trapping Robert between the counter, and he practically melted into his mouth. He gripped the edge of the surface when Waterboy broke the kiss and trailed his lips to Robert’s jaw, then to his neck.
“Fuck,” Robert moaned, his shirt getting soaked.
Fuck the HR Violation, this would be a cause for termination.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” Robert asked.
“Internet,”
“Something we could try on our first date?”
Waterboy blushed, hiding his face in Robert’s neck and licking it. He nearly loses it right then and there.
“N-Not on the first date…” Waterboy said innocently while placing another sloppy kiss on his neck. “But maybe, on the second,”
This kid is gonna kill him.
Blonde Blazer was just about to walk into the breakroom when he saw half the Z-Team loitering outside of it. All of them were either listening in or guarding the closed door.
Blonde Blazer said. “The breakroom is–”
“Off limits,”
“Closed.”
“Broken,”
“Contaminated,”
Punch Up, Coupé, Sonar, and Flambae spoke over each other; none of them gave her a straight answer. She didn't have her lunch in the breakroom that day.