Chapter Text
The first time it happens is an accident. A drunken, very embarrassing, accident.
Going out to the bar with the Z-team was an unofficial weekly occurrence. Without any real discussion Friday nights had become 'get drunk and try not to get banned from this next bar' nights, the shift coming to a close with everyone congregating together to decide on the new place.
Robert didn't always join, while he did love his family of misfits some nights he needed his quiet time, but tonight the big wet eyes of Watergirl melted his resolve.
Though they didn't stop him from choosing to stand off to the side, watching friends and strangers alike instead of interacting with them. The bar they'd chosen was more like a club, dim besides the occasional flashing lights, wide open space in the middle where people could dance, tables pushed to the walls. It was nice for people watching, gaze flicking from face to face back and forth like a pendulum across the room.
Every so often Watergirl, or Hester now that she was out of costume, would linger in Robert's peripheral, various earrings clinking together giving a tell-tale little jingle that he had learned to isolate from the cacophony of bar noise.
"Having a fun- good, a good time, si-sir Robert?" Her words were sloshing together, stammer unrepentant even with the social lubrication of alcohol.
Robert smiles, a genuine pull of the underused muscles, "I'm doing alright."
The response doesn't quite assure her of his well-being, and so Hester lingers a little longer. Rocking on her feet (heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe), occasionally joining in on the people watching if only to not so obviously stare at Robert's profile. To an outsider's perspective she'd look a tad strange, looming behind the shorter man, all black attire blending into the wall broken up only by the glint of the goggles over her eyes reflecting the strobe lights. Robert didn't mind, her presence always had a soothing effect on him, a fact he chooses not to examine too deeply.
A song ended, and then another, the night getting older, and Hester hadn't moved from Robert's side. Despite her demeanor Hester did enjoy being around people, a trait she and Robert did not share, but after a long week at work she too had her limits. Achy joints and too many sounds from music she wasn't particularly into draining what little battery she had when they'd all tumbled into the joint.
"You ready to head out?"
Hester had to refocus her eyes to see Robert giving her a sidelong glance, lazy smile on his lips but a worried crease in his brow.
She hummed, the weight of her exhaustion settling in to devolve it into a groan, which made Robert chuckle.
"Yeah same, mind if I walk you home?" He rolls his shoulders back, loosening up the muscles that'd gone taught from standing in place.
Hester wanted to say yes, to get a short while with Robert alone even if it'd be mostly spent in amicable silence, but she wanted to not be a bother even more.
"You don't need- have to do that, I live close- not far, I don't live too far from here."
"You'd be doing me a favor, I need an excuse to ditch these assholes." Robert says the insult with mirth, a subtle note not easily picked out from his impassive tone.
They walk out together, much to the amusement of the teammates they pass on their way out. Hester was fairly certain Malevola winked at her, a gesture that made her face go from its usual pink to bright red.
Thankfully her flush was concealed by the cold night air chilling them both, though only Hester shook with it. They walk down the street side by side, steps a little wobbly, but as they're about to turn the corner Hester suddenly stops.
Eyes unfocused, water dribbling out of the corners of her mouth, she drawled. "I don't feel good- so good."
Robert looked up to her, and before he could ask what was wrong she was vomiting, directly on to him.
Robert had tried, really tried, to keep his inner pervert under wraps. Every time Watergirl would retch or gag, whether it be in his ear over comms, or echoing down the halls when she continued to keep up with her prior janitorial duties, he always tactfully looked away right before the water pushed past her lips, but even then heat would find its way to his cheeks, an obnoxious want stirring awake in his stomach.
It'd been easy to ignore then, to throttle any lingering thoughts with the mantra that he was her boss, that she wasn't interested in him that way. But now Robert was covered in it, in her, water dripping down his face, his shirt clinging to his skin, the slight burn and residual stickiness of the fruity cocktails she'd been downing all night making him tingly all over.
He saw Hester apologizing, mouth stumbling over the words, her eyes wide and hands frantic, but all Robert could hear was the sound of his thudding heartbeat. He took a steadying breath, focusing back on the task at hand.
"It's only water right? I'll air dry, let's just get you home." Robert flashed a half smile, hoping she wouldn't see how it was strained.
A gargle, and then a thick swallow preceded Hester's next sentence. "Are you sure I can get a towel- some napkins to dry you- let you dry yourself off?"
"I'm sure," Robert chuckled, stilted as he tried to will away the heat somehow pumping through his veins in spite of the cold. "Come on now, or else we'll miss the last bus."
Getting her home after that had been simple enough, one bus ride that soaked Robert's left side from where Hester had leaned against him, and then a short walk up to her front door. She'd sobered up enough during the drive to get the key in the lock with little issues, and with a smile and a series of gratuitous thanks she was on her way to bed.
By the time Robert was walking through his own front door he had mostly dried off, at least outwardly. Shucking off his clothes to take a quick shower had him peeling off an unmistakably damp pair of boxers, which were promptly tossed into the heap of dirty clothes on his bathroom floor.
The shower didn't help at all, surprisingly getting covered in a stream of water after being sickeningly turned in by that exact thing didn't dim his arousal at all. He'd sobered up on the walk home, enough to have the coherency to know that he shouldn't do what he did next.
Two fingers rubbed slow deliberate circles against his achy t-dick, his other hand pressed against his mouth to stifle any noises that would otherwise bleed through the paper thin walls. A whine seeped through his fingers with every drop of water that dotted his skin, a familiar voice and series of gags filling his head.
He came in under a minute, unsettled and needy for clammy hands and a pair of wet lips.