Chapter Text
Guillermo did not mean to burn the moment War Machine walked into the New York Department of Powered Beings offices into his mind, but it was kind of hard not to. War Machine wasn’t officially known as War Machine, the nickname was considered kind of rude, but “The Swordsman” didn’t quite capture the raw terror he inspired in the general population. His face was entirely covered by a metal mask, hinged at his jaw and edged with sharp metal teeth. He’d never been seen without it; nobody was really sure what was underneath it. Even Guillermo’s coworkers, who ran his reports and rubber-stamped his permits, debated whether he was really human. One time on the way to the coffee machine, Guillermo overheard Shanice hiss to Jenna that she had heard a rumor that there was nothing beneath the mask, that the only person to remove it had just seen a black void underneath.
War Machine himself skulked into the office around 5 p.m., when Guillermo was just about to log out of his computer. So of course, he halted right in front of Guillermo. Guillermo once again wished that their last receptionist hadn’t quit, because he really could have used some warning.
“Can I help you?” Guillermo said, as politely as he could manage three minutes after the technical end of his shift.
War Machine loomed over him for a second, still as stone, before reaching into his cape and rustling through the compartments on his uniform for something. God, he was so tall. It wasn’t like he was lanky, either. His shoulders were so broad beneath his cape, his hands were so big. Guillermo felt hyper aware of himself, suddenly. He wished he had a mirror.
Finally, War Machine pulled a few bent pieces of paper from his suit. “I need to file these. Your website is not working,” he said. His voice didn’t sound anything like Guillermo expected it to. Not that he’d thought about what War Machine’s voice sounded like. He just hadn’t expected the hint of a whine that lilted his words.
Guillermo looked over the documents. “Are these from last night?” he asked.
“Yes. I tried to file them on the computer in the morning but the portal where I click through all the questions would not let me through,” War Machine replied.
“Oh, it was down for server maintenance.” Guillermo turned back towards his computer and placed the papers by his keyboard. “I’m just surprised you filed a report that quickly. I have to spend weeks emailing some heroes.” He typed in a rather unfortunate number in the box next to “buildings damaged”.
War Machine huffed. “That is because they are not very good at their jobs,” he said.
Guillermo looked at War Machine right in time to see him roll his eyes beneath his mask. There was something surreal about seeing the whites of his eyes. He had a sudden aching need to know his face.
He turned back to the report. “Well, I appreciate it.” He could hear the fondness creeping into his voice.
He frowned. “Did you really put three of Rat King’s guys through a window? If it was the same window, you only need to account for breaking it once.”
“No, I used three different windows. They were in three different places, trying to sneak up on me. Fucking guys,” War Machine said, motioning with his hands in some way meant to indicate sneaking around.
Guillermo hmmed in response and tried to tune out how War Machine was shifting his weight and staring at him. He had to try very hard not to get distracted.
“Alright, I just submitted it. You should be good to go,” Guillermo said. He smiled at War Machine, who stiffened.
“Is something wrong?” Guillermo asked, smile sliding off his face.
“No,” War Machine said. “Nothing is wrong. I will be leaving now, and putting my reports in through the portal.” He spun around and stalked out, cape fanning behind him.
If Guillermo had known he was going to run into War Machine at the Middle Eastern grocery store and deli, he probably would have changed out of his gym clothes, and maybe showered as well. As it was, he had decided to pop in after his workout and grab a sandwich for lunch, and was browsing the shelves, parchment-wrapped sandwich in hand, when something about the man standing in front of the dairy cooler caught his eye.
The man didn’t look particularly fearsome, clutching a glass bottle of something that looked like milk, other arm looped through the handles of a shopping basket, clad in jogging pants and slide sandals with socks. His hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and Guillermo noted appreciatively the thickness of the strands tied back in the hair tie.
It wasn’t War Machine, decked out in his cape and metal mask, but Guillermo saw the man’s slouching shoulders and the way he held his hands in front of him awkwardly and he just knew.
And it was as good as confirmed when the man turned in his direction and spotted him. “Fucking guy.” he muttered under his breath before his eyes widened. Those same dark eyes that burned through the cuts in his mask, the ones that were as dark and cold as the night sky.
Guillermo stood, facing War Machine in his civilian casuals, in front of the dairy cooler at his local deli.
War Machine’s eyes skittered around the room before landing back on Guillermo. His shoulders curled in even more, as if he could shrink his broad chest and firm biceps down to civilian size by doing so.
Guillermo didn’t want to stare, but he couldn’t help himself. No gloves, no sleeves, no mask; War Machine was practically standing naked before him by his usual standards. It didn’t look like War Machine was being particularly polite with his eyes either, gawking at Guillermo like he expected Guillermo to see by motion.
Their moment was broken by the bells over the doorway ringing and a sharp voice echoing throughout the store.
“Nandor! Hurry along already! We don’t have all day to wait for you to get your milks and yogurts for your old man digestive system.”
The Piper and the Nightingale were standing in the doorway, dressed less like civilians than a pair of gothic tropical birds. Guillermo barely kept his jaw shut. Should he do something? Should he be arresting them? What the hell were they doing in Guillermo’s neighborhood in the middle of the day? Wasn’t the Piper supposed to be in prison?
“I am coming! I do not complain when you leave me outside the music store, I do not,” War Machine replied from behind Guillermo. War Machine? Nandor? Was that his real name?
Their moment broken, Nandor hustled over to the cash register, decidedly not looking at Guillermo again. It wasn’t a particularly impressive break, considering the cash register was about five feet away from where he had been standing, but Guillermo could guess by his stiff shoulders that Nandor wasn’t looking to make conversation with him.
He… needed some time to digest this information. And he needed to go home and shower.
“He has seen me in my civilian disguise, and now, thanks to nothing to you two, he knows my civilian name. If it were not for you two, he would just be a little desk man bureaucrat. But now? I am now being afflicted.”
“Nandor. You are blocking the television, and Antiques Roadshow is on,” Nadja said, tilting to try and see around him. Laszlo looked up from where he was winding wires on his guitar.
Nandor stomped his foot. “This is important. And besides, this episode is from,” he turned to look at the screen, “2004.”
“We’re trying to watch it before Colin Robinson gets home,” Laszlo said.
“Nandor, you are panicking because this little desk man has given you a dick boner. You are embarrassing yourself,” Nadja said.
“He did not give me a dick boner! No one has given me a dick boner!” Nandor had, in fact, waited until he had gotten home from patrol to masturbate to the image of the bureaucrat man bending over his desk and begging Nandor to put his cock in him. “And it is a problem. It is a security problem, because as I have just said, he now knows my civilian identity.”
“Well, then you can just avoid him and eventually you will forget about him and he will forget about you, or he will die and that will be the end of that,” Nadja said.
Nandor frowned. “But I do not want him to forget about me.” What if the little desk man got in trouble and Nandor saved him and he stuttered out a thanks and quickly walked away like the rest of them, without even smiling at Nandor again?
“Then I cannot help you. Are you done blocking the television? This woman is trying to sell an extremely hideous chair.”
As a matter of fact, Nandor was not done. “No. I have acquired another bird feeder, and I require your assistance to place it on our property.”
“We cannot do it tonight. We are going to perform at a musical club after this.”
Nandor paused. “You two have warrants out, I thought.”
“Don’t worry about it. We will not be performing as the Piper and the Nightingale. We have booked ourselves for this evening as Nancy and Larry, the mortal civilian musical group,” Laszlo replied.
“I have an idea. Why don’t you invite your little desk person over, fuck him thoroughly, and then afterwards-”
“If he can still walk,” Laszlo interrupted.
“-he can help you hang your new bird feeder. Now move out of the way of the television, please.” Nadja said. Nandor grunted and headed back to his room. He should have known better than to think these idiots would show any remorse for the problems they had caused for him.
The next time War Machine, or rather, Nandor, as Guillermo had taken to calling him in his head for the illicit thrill of it, stopped by the department, Guillermo was alerted by the hush that fell over the surrounding desks. Most people had already left the last time he came around.
He also figured out why he had been so startled by Nandor’s appearance the first time around. He had come in not by the elevator, but from the stairwell around the corner from the elevator bay. Guillermo guessed that made sense; when you were several hundred years old (Nandor refused to divulge his actual birthdate, which apparently caused a huge headache every year for the licensing department when his registration came up for renewal), elevators must seem like an uncertain new technology.
Nandor swept in in all of his horrifying glory, and Guillermo’s heart leapt into his throat. Even knowing he actually had a face beneath that sheet of metal did little to inhibit his menacing mien.
He stood in front of the elevator doors and glared out over the desks. He couldn’t be- lost, could he? He’d just been by Guillermo’s desk the other day to file his report.
Guillermo decided to speak up when Nandor slunk by his desk. “Are you looking for something?” he asked.
The mask really did something to Nandor’s eyes. Somehow it lessened the “startled animal” effect when he swung his gaze around towards Guillermo.
“I am here for the training conference,” Nandor announced, straightening his posture and folding his hands in front of him.
“That’s on the third floor. This is the second.” Guillermo said in response. He really tried not to be distracted by the way Nandor kept wringing his hands and shifting his weight. Guillermo wasn’t sure why he was doing it, but it drew Guillermo’s eye towards the creases in the leather of his gloves and the cape draping itself over his chest like a besotted lover. God, he was wearing so much clothing. So many fabrics, and Guillermo wanted to run his hands over all of them. And maybe choke on his cock a little too, while he was at it.
“Room 300. The big conference room? They’ll have signs everywhere,” Guillermo added when Nandor continued to stare. Presumably there had also been signs on the first floor, but Guillermo didn’t mention that.
Nandor stood there for a second more, then grunted out a “very well then” and skulked back towards the stairwell. Somehow his skulking looked a bit like fleeing.
Guillermo turned back to his computer and tried not to pay attention to his coworkers’ stares. He lost himself in his work for a while. For all of its monotony and bureaucracy, his work felt consequential. Filing damage reports and meting out compensation felt like a way to really help people. It’s not like Guillermo wasn’t interested in field work; he signed up to be on the emergency backup team every year, only for his application to get rejected each time, for some reason.
He expected Nandor to be long gone by the time he left to go home, but there was that unmistakable silhouette in the lobby. He didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry to go anywhere.
“Hey,” Guillermo said, like they were friends or something. Nandor didn’t respond.
“How did the conference go?” Guillermo tried again.
“It went… all day,” Nandor replied. He did not actually seem to be trying not to talk to Guillermo, which was a start. That seemed to be his genuine answer.
Nandor’s stomach growled.
“Do you- Do you want to come over for dinner? I could make something,” Guillermo said. Or rather, some part of his body that had lurched far out ahead of his brain said.
Nandor looked at Guillermo out of the corner of his eye.
Guillermo lost a moment thinking about whether he’d want him to keep the mask on during sex.
“I will need to eat dinner.” Nandor sounded like he was considering it.
“Well, I could make something” Did- did he even eat regular people food? Wait, Guillermo had seen Nandor buying groceries. He had been buying yogurt. He almost certainly did.
To his surprise, Nandor actually accepted. And then tried to stride fearsomely into the early evening, before doubling back because he didn’t actually know where Guillermo lived. Which is how Guillermo ended up standing at the bus stop next to War Machine. The bus was running late, which gave Guillermo plenty of time to try not to stare at how muscular his thighs looked in that armor and also to consider what he’d just done.
Would it be weird to sit next to Nandor? But also, would it be weird not to sit next to Nandor? Guillermo thought he got relief from that question when the bus doors opened to full seats, but then just about everybody vacated the bus when they saw who was boarding with him.
It turned out that Nandor didn’t sit at all, even though there were now many, many vacant seats on the bus. He didn’t even hold on to the side rails or the hanging straps, and he somehow didn’t fall over when the bus lurched at every stoplight. Guillermo really didn’t know what to make of that.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t until Guillermo was toeing his shoes off in the entryway that he remembered that he’d forgotten to go grocery shopping that weekend. Was it rude to invite someone over for dinner and then order takeout?
He let Nandor follow him into the kitchen as he assessed the situation.
Guillermo had, in his refrigerator: carrots.
Guillermo had, in his freezer: frozen dumplings.
Opening the doors to the refrigerator again did not magically make more food appear.
“So, I actually don’t have that much food in the house right now, but I’ve got some menus in the drawer if you’d rather have takeout,” Guillermo said, turning to face Nandor, who had frozen in place, mask in his hand like he had just taken it off. It didn’t look like the thing had any straps, and Guillermo wondered, not for the first time, how the hell it stayed on his face.
“Your refrigerator food will be fine,” Nandor said, after spending another moment frozen in place.
Guillermo had to steam their servings separately, because his steamer could barely hold a dozen dumplings at a time, which left him awkwardly standing at the stove for an extra eight minutes while Nandor gazed around his kitchen from his seat at the table.
“So did you… enjoy the training?” Guillermo asked once he had sat down with his own plate. Nandor hadn’t touched his food, and only picked up his fork once Guillermo picked up his own.
Nandor grunted. “It is the same every year, only now it is longer. It used to be a half day in the nineteen-sixties, and now it is all day long.”
Silence. Nandor didn’t seem inclined to continue. Guillermo tried again. “So if it’s the exact same, how have they stretched it to a full day?” he asked.
Nandor put his fork down and started explaining with his hands. “Well, they have added things. The computer things, the sexual harassment in the workplace things, separate from the whole other day on sexual harassment. They took years to add a section on how you were supposed to not hurt animals when you are in the line of duty, even when I kept telling them they needed to add it. Heroes going around like ‘oh, it is fine if I hit a pigeon when I am throwing energy bolts around.’ No, it is not fine just because it is a little bird,” he said, motioning with his hands in a way that was apparently meant to punctuate his words.
“That was you? Adding the collateral damage part, I mean,” Guillermo clarified, before Nandor assumed that Guillermo thought he shot energy beams from his hands.
“Yes, and it only took them a few decades to listen to me,” Nandor said.
“That’s sweet of you,” Guillermo said.
Nandor froze, carrot stick partway to his mouth. “What?”
“It’s nice that you care about animals.” Guillermo couldn’t help but grin. Sitting across from him was a man who had turned people into finely ground hamburger, who was apparently also deeply concerned about the plight of common small birds.
“Yes. Well.” Nandor bit into the carrot and didn’t meet Guillermo’s eyes.
Guillermo’s couch did not look very comfortable, and it was not very comfortable when Nandor sat down on it, either. Guillermo had offered to do the dishes, and Nandor did not know how to offer to help, so he allowed Guillermo to point him towards his little sofa room.
It was one of those small apartments in one of the buildings constructed as temporary housing for people whose actual housing had been destroyed by supervillain destruction, but Guillermo had shoved some bookcases against the wall and overfilled them, and the coffee table and side table had been cluttered with half-burned candles.
“My mom keeps sending me those. She says she’s just trying to make it more homey here,” Guillermo said. Nandor quickly placed the candle with the label proclaiming it smelled like fresh linens back on the coffee table. “We can light one if you want. Not that one, though. Smells way too much like laundry detergent.”
“No. Your house is fine-smelling,” Nandor said. Guillermo was likely already unsettled by Nandor’s presence in his apartment. It would not do to indicate how much Nandor would like to settle in there for the evening.
Nandor wondered, as Guillermo settled in next to him, far too close due to the constraints of the couch’s size, whether the Department of Powered Beings had accidentally hired someone who was very stupid. This little office bureaucrat showed no fear of him. He had smiled at him, twice now, and was clicking through television shows on the television like he was completely unaware that Nandor could snap his neck, could crush his skull, could rend him limb from limb, before his weak civilian senses could even notice.
He was not cowering or waiting in fear for Nandor to leave. He, an ordinary desk bureaucrat, was asking Nandor which episode of Planet Earth he wanted to watch, and then asking Nandor if he wouldn’t mind watching the desert one instead, since he had just watched the caves one last week.
Guillermo looked at ease. Nandor could reach out an arm and pull him into his lap, a solid, warm weight. He could pin him to the couch and tear his clothes open like he was a present from the universe, make him wrap his legs around Nandor and scream his name, bite him where his starched shirts could not hide the mark of his belonging to Nandor. He would melt so sweetly under him as well, arching his back and taking Nandor’s cock like he was born to do it and moaning like he was on stage at some sort of erotic sex show.
It sometimes seemed as if all of the other heroes had made a heroic rescue of a fawning civilian that had led to love or at the very least sex. Nandor understood that when the bureaucrats talked about how to avoid terrifying civilians, they were addressing themselves to him, even if they did not make eye contact with him directly. And he was tormented, too, by flashes of the teeth of his mask sinking far too far into Guillermo’s soft flesh, of screaming and sobbing and eyes wide with panic.
It would only end in pain.
Nandor tried to enjoy himself watching the lions hunt. It had been a very long time since he had seen a lion in person, though that had been in the lowlands of Al Quolanudar. He did not watch Guillermo watching the program. Finally, he allowed himself to sneak a glance at the man sitting next to him.
Guillermo had drifted off to sleep, his head slumped down onto his own shoulder and his cheek pressed against the back cushion of the couch. His hair had fallen out of its carefully coiffed curls and his lips had parted slightly in his slumber. He was idyllic, cherubic. Nandor suddenly understood the force that compelled vandals to decorate walls and desecrate gravestones, the compulsion that drove Zeus to steal Ganymede from his flock. The urge to ravish him and the urge to destroy him both welled up in him like a spring polluted with saltwater.
The show ended, and was threatening to rapidly show another episode. Nandor fumbled with Guillermo’s tiny flimsy remote only succeeded in pulling up a menu of all the shows, which immediately started playing another trailer at top volume. Guillermo blinked awake.
“Was I sleeping? Sorry, sorry, drifted off,” Guillermo said sleepily. His eyes were still heavy with drowsiness.
“Yes, you were,” Nandor replied. It would be rude to not be looking at Guillermo when he was talking to him, wouldn’t it? He would be so warm, if Nandor just leaned in and tucked his face in the crook of his neck. He had placed his arm on the back of the couch at some point, and his fingers dangled perilously close to Guillermo’s shoulder.
“I must be off. I have patrols to do. Goodbye.” He left before Guillermo could ask anything like when they would see each other again, or whether he had enjoyed himself, or any other questions that would require staying there and looking at him in the dim light of the television.
Nandor was halfway down the dingy hallway of Guillermo’s apartment building before he realized he had forgotten his mask.
He turned back- he absolutely could not be seen in public without his mask on. He already felt like his face was naked without it on it. The apartment door might still be unlocked- he could slip in and reclaim it off of the kitchen table without alerting Guillermo to his presence.
Nandor was not quite quick enough. He was still only a couple of doors away from his goal when Guillermo careened out of the doorway of his apartment, mask in hand. He seemed incredibly relieved not to have to chase Nandor down.
“You forgot something,” Guillermo said, that infernal smile on his face, like something emerging in his reflection in the dark, like it was taunting him with what he could not have. Nandor took the mask from his hand.
Guillermo did not return to his apartment. Rather, he was just standing there, looking at Nandor. Nandor wracked his mind for a way to escape the conversation. If Guillermo invited him back inside, Nandor would follow, and Nandor could not do that.
“Thankyoufordinner,” he said, and promptly turned on his heel and departed back down the hallway. He firmly affixed his mask to his face and banished any thoughts of things that were not his patrol out of his mind.