Chapter Text
There's a frantic sort of tension that paints the rhythm of their footsteps. It's percussive, in a sense. Herm's legs are longer, so his are more spaced out, less frenetic—while Robert is practically sprinting, two steps for every one of Herm's. It’s grounding, in a way. Calming, even though Herm’s heart threatens to pound right through his ribcage.
Robert's warm, calloused hand is still fastened tightly around Herm's wrist. Water drips over the broken skin on Robert’s knuckles, and Herm can see the wounds beginning to knit together.
Herm doesn't know where Robert is taking him. By the looks of it, Robert doesn't know either.
“Where are we—”
Robert slows down, before coming to a complete stop.
“I…” He clears his throat. “Well, I was kind of hoping there'd be a convenient, like, nice place for us to chat, but…” He gestures at their surroundings, a greasy, dilapidated alleyway that looks exactly like the type of place a villain would jump out and shank someone in. A dark figure shifts in the shadows. Herm winces.
Herm grits his teeth. “I, uh… no offense, Robert, but I don't think this is… a good place. For a heart-to-heart.”
Robert shrugs. “There's worse out there.” An enormous rat scurries past the two of them, carrying a normal sized-rat in its mouth. “You know what, maybe not. You know any places?”
Herm blinks, his eyes flicking around the area. “W—we could try vaulting over that? To get to the roof?” He points at the dumpster behind the taco place. “It's not very high.”
Robert huffs a laugh, elbowing Herm. “Okay, Mr. Six-foot-four,” he snorts. “The Lakers just called. They want their centre back.”
Herm shoots him a watery smile. “Is that a…”
“Fuck, man, I don't have any better ideas. After you, big guy.” Robert steps aside, gesturing expectantly.
If Herm slips and falls on this one, he's actually going to lose his mind.
Taking a deep breath in and screwing his eyes shut, he clenches his fist before launching himself at the dumpster. In two swift movements, he pushes off and hooks his nails over the ledge, scrabbling for purchase on the gravel. With no small amount of difficulty, he pulls himself over.
Oh, thank God.
“Nice one!” Robert calls from below. Before Herm can even register anything, Robert's already next to him. He stumbles slightly, and Herm is suddenly reminded that the guy is probably concussed half to hell.
“Superhero training's paying off, huh?” Robert grins, nursing his arm. “Proud of you.”
Herm feels his face heating up in the cool night. Putting his hand to his mouth and letting some liquid escape, he gestures for Robert to move closer. “T—thank you. It's all—all because of you.” Gingerly, he rolls up Robert’s sleeve and drags his hand down the marred skin, a satisfied feeling blooming in his chest as he watches the bruises disappear.
“”S’all you,” Robert waves him off. He flexes his healed arm, smiling slightly. “Thanks. You should start charging for that. You’d make a fortune.”
Herm huffs a weak laugh. Robert chuckles. “I’m serious! Knew someone who used to do that back when I was a kid. Blew a stupid amount of cash on him.”
Herm winces. “That’s…"
“A waste of money?”
“I was going to say, uh, s—sleazy. But, uh, yeah, that too.”
Robert snorts. “That’s a nice way to put it.” He sits down on the gravel of the roof and looks up at the sky. Herm takes a seat next to him and looks up too.
The sky is a deep, smoky purple. There are no stars. Decades of light pollution and emissions have smothered them up.
The moon is visible, though. Not quite full, but almost there. Waxing gibbous.
A slow, languid silence stretches between the two of them. A thread pulled taut that neither of them want to snap. There's a weight there, something that the two of them want desperately to talk about but don't have the words for.
Robert is the first to find them.
“You know,” Robert murmurs, his voice a deep velvet against the night. “This is a little morbid of a spot for our re-meeting.” He isn’t looking at Herm, his gaze faraway, deep in recollection. Like he’s lost in thought.
Herm glances to Robert, blinking. “R—really? I think it's… fitting.” He looks down, wringing his hands. “Like we've come full circle. Except we're different now. I guess.”
There's another beat of silence where Robert thinks of something to say. Then a sharp, random bark of laughter from him that scares the wits out of Herm.
“Shit,” Robert chuckles. “That's spot on. We're different now. You're still here. And you're a fucking superhero.”
Robert lies down fully, cushioning his head with the palms of his hands. “Fuck. You're still here. I used to think about you before I slept, you know?”
Herman chokes on his own spit. “Ex—excuse me?” Robert's slurring his words a little. He doesn't seem to realize the implications.
Robert just blazes on. “Just a constant, constant fuckin’... worry. Concern. Just a nagging voice in the back of my head, always. ‘What's that kid up to?’ ‘I wonder how that kid's doing.’ ‘I wonder if he's still…’"
He trails off, his gaze going a little distant.
“Alive,” Herm finishes for Robert.
Robert chokes on his own laugh. “Yeah, man. Alive.”
Herm blinks. “It can't have… been that special of a case. I mean, you like… you fought a kaiju that day, right? Surely you, um… surely there's more s—sig—um, I don’t know. Memorable. moments.”
Robert just shakes his head.
“That was the first time,” Robert says slowly, as if the words are unfamiliar in his mouth. “I've ever saved anyone like that. From themself, and not from a killer death robot, or a wack-ass villain, or any sort of threat that I could beat the crap out of.”
Herm stares at him.
“It was a weird feeling,” Robert snorts, turning to stare up at Herm. “The powerlessness of it. I never got used to it. I don't think I could forget it if I tried. First month of being Mecha Man for real, you know? Wasn't really sure what I was doing.” His gaze clouds over, slightly, losing focus in his introspection. “Was angry a lot back then. At the world. At my dad. At—I don't know. Myself.”
A jagged sigh tears itself out of his throat.
“I guess meeting you just—” he cuts himself off with a groan. “Fuck, I'm so bad at this. Reminded me there's a lot more out there than the fight. ”
Robert blinks, sitting up a bit, before wincing and clutching at his solar plexus. “I'm concussed,” he slurs. “I'm saying too much, aren't I?”
“No,” Herm murmurs. “You're not.” After a beat of silence, he lies down next to Robert, and takes in the deep violet of the night sky.
“I'm glad you're still here,” Robert whispers. “I was worried I wouldn't make a difference.”
His voice is trembling, slightly. Scarily vulnerable. Raw and naked in the brittle air. Herm slowly realizes that it really might be the concussion talking, and mentally reminds himself to heal Robert up after this.
It's a little selfish, but… he'll do it after this. After the talk. He wants to savor this moment, before Robert walls himself off again.
“After I—after I met you,” Herm whispers quietly, his voice an octave lower than it usually is, “I got close to doing it three more times.”
Robert's eyes widen slightly. Herm hears his breathing pick up.
“But every time I got there—stood by the edge, or had the—the pills in my hands, or—” his voice breaks, “—the knife, um, positioned, I just… I just couldn't do it. I'd just see your—your face in my head, and I'd think… ‘my God, what a waste of his time.’”
Herm barks out a wet laugh. “Because that's—that's what it'd be. A tr—tremendous waste. Of your time. If I ended up doing it anyways. So I just… I just kept going.”
He's terrified of looking down, terrified of what expression he'll see streaked across Robert's face if he turns his head.
“For you. I kept—I kept going for you.”
But he looks down anyway.
And he sees reverence.
There are no stars in the sky. Decades of light pollution and emissions have long since blanketed them, hidden them away. Herman has accepted that he will likely never in his life see them first-hand.
But reflected in Robert's blown-out pupils are speckles of elysian light, glittering in a way Herman has never seen before. There are gold flakes in his eyes—flecks of amber that glow faintly under the dim streetlamps of the city.
In the moment, Herm realizes that… maybe it's okay if he never gets to see the stars.
As long as he gets to see this.
‘For me,’ Robert's mouth says, but not a sound comes out. He’s beautiful. He’s always been beautiful, but Herm is really seeing it now—in the striking smear of blood against his pallid skin, in the way his mousy hair falls over his forehead, in the naked wonder in his eyes as he stares at Herm like he’s something special.
“It's… stupid. Kind of. Like, I was devoting my life to a guy who, um, didn't know me. And I didn't know if I'd ever see him ag—again.”
Robert smiles shakily.
“But here I am,” he says.
Herm cracks a weak grin back.
“H—here you are.”
And then it’s over, and they’re thrown back into silence again. Herm can hear the rest of the Z-team laughing and yelling from below, and tries to focus on their voices to calm his racing heart. ‘Be normal, Herm,’ he wills himself. ‘Don’t have a heart attack and die at the most important moment of your life.’
“What did it for you?” Robert finally intones. “What drove you over the edge that night?”
The question is so shocking that he doesn’t even respond for a second.
“Shit, is that overstepping? You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” Robert runs a hand through his hair, huffing. “You’d think I’d gain some tact after all these years.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” Herm says. He bites his lip. “It's, uh, it’s stupid.”
“Can't be that stupid.”
“N—no, really, it's… um.”
Robert reaches out and interlocks his fingers with Herm's. They're warm, rough, calloused, bloody. Beautiful. He’s trimmed his nails, though some of them have cracked right down from the force of a heavy punch. They’re still far more brittle than Herm would like them to be.
“Please.”
Herm purses his lips, before he heaves an exasperated sigh. “I had a math—math test. The next day.”
Robert barks out a laugh. Herm yanks his hand away and covers his face, flushing in embarrassment.
“I told—told you it was stupid—”
“You're so fucking real for that,” Robert giggles. “Fuck, when I was in school… man. You should've seen me every time there was some bullshit assignment or test the next day. My dumbass never studied.”
“O—okay, it wasn't just the math test,” Herm grouses. “That was just the, I don't know, the final straw.” It still hurt a little bit to think about, but it was more a dull ache from an old scar than anything. “I just—ugh. You can probably infer that I, um… got. Teased. A lot. As a kid.”
The humor drains out of Robert's face. “Not just as a kid, bud.”
“This is n—nothing,” Herm replies. “Trust me. Everyone is so nice at SDN. Kids are… kids are cruel.”
Robert pats the ground next to him, gesturing for Herm to lay down. Dutifully, he carefully lowers his head onto the roof, placing his palms underneath to cushion from the rough gravel.
“It was a pretty—pretty rough time,” Herm murmurs. “Some family drama was going on, so I lived with my grandma, but then she had a—stroke. Ischemic. Caught it in—in time, but it was just me for a while. And my thoughts.”
Robert shifts slightly next to him, but Herm is getting too lost in his memories to notice. He scratches at his palm, focusing on the sensation of his nails dragging across the skin.
“And I had, um… well, not a lot of people were… there were two students. Who were… real nasty. Really hated me. Maybe they—I don't know, maybe they had something going on. I don't know. Whatever it was, they took it out on me.”
A plane drifts lazily across the horizon, a blinking light amongst the clouds. Herm’s scratching worsens.
“It was… pretty bad one afternoon. Took my math textbook and… yeah. Cornered me on the way home. Rough—roughed me up a little. Textbook was a sopping wet mess by the end of it.”
Robert sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Jesus Christ, Herm.”
“They took my—my textbook, Robert,” Herm hisses out, suppressed anger from a decade ago suddenly bubbling up to the surface. The scratching turns into clawing, and the skin of Herm’s palm starts rubbing raw. “It's like—like a hundred dollars to replace. I didn't have that money. And I had the test, and—how are you supposed to study without a textbook?”
Herm's volume creeps louder and louder with every word.
“So I was—was basically over a hundred dollars in debt, I was going to fail my test, and I was going to have to deal with those—assholes—” The word grinds out of him like nails on a chalkboard, “for the rest of my high-school career. So I just… I just snapped. I guess.” His palm is starting to really sting, and he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ground himself on the feeling.
All the rage drains out of him. “Just… couldn’t… yeah. And then I met you.”
A rough hand closes itself around Herm’s wrist and pulls it silently away from his bleeding palm. Nearly immediately, the wound begins knitting itself together. He really, really needs to thank Blazer properly for the refinement of his power. It’s the most useful thing that’s ever come from his water.
“Thank you for telling me,” Robert says, subdued, his hand still around Herm’s wrist. “You…” For once, his confident, self-assured voice sounds almost hesitant. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
“Oh. Um. Thank you. It’s, uh, it’s okay, though, it’s been a really long time—”
“It’s not okay, though,” Robert says, his grip around Herm’s wrist tightening. “Christ. It’s not okay.”
Herm doesn’t really know what to say to that. So he doesn’t.
"I—It is what it is," Herm says, distantly. He's accepted it as a fact of life, and the pity he gets at this point is more grating than anything.
"Yeah, fuck, I know. It shouldn't be, though. I wish it wasn't. You're too good a person for things like that to happen to you."
Herm feels himself flushing a bright red. "Thank you. You're a... you're a good person too."
Robert sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth, laughing awkwardly. "Going into philosophical territory there, bud."
"I—I'm serious! Deathly! Serious! You're the best person I've ever met!"
"I bit off a man's thumb today."
"And that's ok—fine! That's fine! Y—you can bite off people's thumbs and still, uh, still be a good person!"
Robert chuckles, but there's a self deprecating note behind it that Herm can't stand to listen to. "Thanks. I'm really glad you didn't see me in action when I was younger, 'cause..." he whistles. "Did some things a little worse than bite some thumbs off."
Herm tilts his head, smiling. "Um, R—Robert, I know. I'm, um... I have internet access."
Robert blinks. “Shit, then. Fuck, how can you know all that and still think I'm a good person?"
"M—maybe because you are," Herm mutters stubbornly in reply. Robert snorts.
"Meeting you back then did a lot of good for me. I was in a pretty dark place around that time,” Robert sighs. “So, um, thank you. For everything. You probably stopped a bunch of villains from getting their dicks blasted off.”
Herm looks up, tilting his head. “Huh?”
“Shit, I’m no good at this whole feelings thing. I said it before, but I was angry all the time, y’know? Grieving. All I did was fight. It was like I'd forgotten how to do everything else. Just endless, brutal violence. It was all I thought I’d ever be good at.” He puffs a breath through his teeth, breaking eye contact with Herm. “I always thought I’d be one of those heroes who were indistinguishable from a villain, y’know? A vigilante.”
“B—but you’re not.”
With a dry laugh, Robert massages his jaw with his newly healed hand. “I guess not. Even as Mecha Man, I was still lost. It gave me a purpose, sure, it gave me something to do with my life, but I just… I never figured out anything outside of that.” He runs a hand through his hair, a few strands falling over his eyes. “I don’t know, it just feels like for so much of my life I’ve been Mecha Man that I just don’t know who I am without it. It’s just like most of me is gone. Like, I’m Robert, sure, but there’s not a lot to Robert, you know?”
Herm isn’t good with words. He’s not eloquent like Robert is, can’t spin his words like silk to make people feel better magically. But God, he hates seeing Robert like this. So he at least has to try.
“Mecha Man wasn’t always my f—favourite hero,” Herm starts.
Robert looks up, incredulous. “O…kay? Thanks?”
Huffing, Herm smacks Robert gently on the arm. “I w—wasn’t done. Do you kn—know why Mecha Man Blue became my favourite—favourite hero?”
Robert raises an eyebrow. “‘Cause I saved your life? That’s not a—”
“Because you looked at me like—like a person while you did it.”
Robert’s sentence cuts off halfway out of his mouth.
“I liked you because I saw—I saw you. Your face. And your, uh, your voice, and everything under the big mech—mech suit. And it was… it was different. Less clinical. And, um, I know that difference, because I’ve been, um, I’ve been saved by other… other heroes. Before. It was different. With you.”
Herm’s the one to take Robert’s hand this time. Water trickles down the man’s hand, and Herm traces the pads of his fingers along Robert’s knuckle, smoothing over the ugly cuts and bruises that paint his calloused skin red. The new skin that forms is soft, smooth.
“You’re k—kinder. More genuine. There wasn’t a script, or a pre—pre-programmed list of things to say.”
Chasing a spark of bravery he’s not entirely sure where he got from, Herm lets go of Robert’s hand and cups the man’s jaw. With his thumb, he brushes over a burn on his cheek, watching as Robert’s eyes go wide and his hand hovers in the air like he’s forgotten how to move it down.
“You’re—youre patient. Resilient. You encourage people when they’re—theyre down. Lift people up. You’re determined. Always—always know the right thing to say. And, you’re, um…”
Herm tilts up Robert’s head and traces the pad of his thumb over a scratch on Robert’s throat, taking delight in the way the man shudders almost imperceptibly at the touch.
“You’re a good person, Robert. Th—that’s who you are.”
And then he lets go.
“Fuck,” Robert breathes after a second of stunned silence, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He traces over his cheek, his throat, every damp patch of skin that Herman had touched. “Fuck, you don't know what you're doing to me.”
He did, a little bit. But the breathiness of his voice was slightly concerning. Herm glances down at Robert. “Are you… okay?”
The man doesn’t reply to his question. “We’re pretty fucked up, aren’t we?” he chuckles, solemn.
“A little,” Herm agrees.
“You were my last connection to my humanity,” Robert murmurs. “You know that? A reminder that I was still living.”
Herm looks at him. At all of him.
“You were… everything.” He eventually replies, strained.
Robert closes his eyes, and takes Herm's hand in his.
For once in his life, Herm's entire body is warm.
“Ain't no fucking way he crying right now.” Prism's incredulous voice breaks through the strained silence.
“Shh!” Sonar sniffles, his ears twitching. “Oh, God,” He whines, his voice cracking as another tear slips out of his eye. “They’re disgusting.”
“Can you tell us what they're saying already?” Malevola snaps. “My life is on the line here.”
“Are they going crazy on each other's dicks?” Visi asks, desperation practically dripping from her voice. Her hands are clasped together, and she looks like she’s about to drop to her knees. “Please, please, please tell me they're going crazy on each other's dicks."
“I don't think he'd be crying if they were,” Golem drones. Visi sighs.
Sonar's ear twitches one final time before he relaxes.
“Prism won,” he sighs.
“FUCK YEAH, BABY!” Prism hoots, shooting a firework into the air. “PAY UP, HOES! I TOLD Y'ALL, I FUCKIN’ TOLD Y'ALL! Gay people NEVER flirt normally, they always gotta do shit like this!”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT DOWN THERE?” A distant voice calls, and everyone looks up to see Robert’s head poking out over the roof.
Through several stacks of cash, Prism grins up at him. “DON’T YOU WORRY YOUR PRETTY LITTLE HEAD ABOUT IT, BOBBY BOY,” she calls back.
Punch up whistles. “Twenty that they fuck within the next week.
A yellow and blue sleeve pulls Robert back over the edge, and Malevola smacks Punch up in the nuts with her tail, leaping out of her seat. “I’ll do you one better. Twenty that Waterboy tops.” She says. “Scratch that. Fifty.
“No way that loser tops. I bet he can’t even get his dick to work properly,” Visi huffs.
Prism raises an eyebrow. "Girl, you were just talkin' bout them going crazy on each other's dicks."
Malevola jumps to Waterboy's defense. “He’s a tall white guy, you don’t know what he got slinging!”
Punch-up nods. "And you know what they say about men with big noses."
Visi rolls her eyes. "Okay, yeah, he's got a waterhose in his pants. So what? Just ‘cause he’s hung doesn’t mean he tops!”
“They ain't fucking within the next week,” Golem interjects. “I bet they won't even get together by the end of the month.”
“Bullshit!”
“It's yearner for yearner, Visi. We've got a long storm coming.”
"I'm with mudslide," Sonar says. "I don't even think they know they're in love yet."
Prism sighs, shoving her fat stack of cash in her glittery wallet. “Fuck, ‘Bae ‘gon be so mad he missed this.”