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His skin was always so dry. The heat and flames cracking his fingertips and palms. Coconut oil boiling on his skin as he swore under his breath and itched at his wrists. Skin flakes peeling off and floating to the floor.
That was until him.
Until his wet skin touched the heated cracks. Reaching out without thinking. Taking a glob of oil and massaging it into his palms, between his fingers. Almost absent mindedly. Stiff muscles from clenched fists melting away as he could feel the moisture returning to his skin.
Herm yawned.
All done, Grandma.
And walked away.
Then there was the hair.
He had so much of it. Always in his face, always stuck to his lips, his cheeks. So it was pulled back, tucked away. Getting caught in orange elastic and pulling at his scalp.
That's why it came down at the bar. Always down after work was done when he could just sit and drink and make rude comments that pulled a snorted laugh from Victor's stupid face.
But Herm was light weight. And a touchy drunk.
The party died down and headed to Robert's apartment. Dizzy from overpriced whiskey and shitty beer. Cans of bud light being passed around while Alice mixed up some strange concoction of vodka and whatever kool aid packets Robert had in the back of his cupboard.
Sat on the floor as Herm stretched out on the shitty couch. Too drunk to worry about soaking it through. And tangled his fingers through his hair.
Nails scratching at his dry scalp, fingers pulling at and combing through half formed knots. Humming away in a half asleep state as Chad tensed, then melted. Head lolling to the side, eyes fluttering closed as he bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down content moans.
If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything.
And Herm was too drunk to remember anyway.
It only got worse.
The need, that is.
He never needed to be touched until Herm started doing it. He didn't need the slide of finger tips against his skin or the scratch of fingernails on his scalp. But now he craved it. Begged for it. His skin prickerling, his cheeks twitching.
He wanted to be touched.
Properly.
Intimately.
In ways that didn't involve a condom and a hangover.
And he wanted Herm to do it.
But he didn't know how to ask. He didn't want to ask, full stop. He wasn't desperate or needy, and he refused to come across that way. But how could he just ask to be touched without him knowing how badly he needed it?
So he asked in the only way he could.
"You got fucking chapstick or something? My kissable lips are about to bleed"
He dug around in his locker for his hair mask. Pushing aside folded street clothes and empty deodorant cans as brunette strands dripped down his back. Towel slung low on his hips and lips curled into a small, subtle smile as he hoped Herm would treat his mouth in the same manner he did his hands. The soft pad of his thumb swiping over his bottom lip. Cold palm cupping the stubble peppering his jaw.
But Herm didn't do either. Or any.
"Oh uh-yes! Just-in my locker"
He dug around in his own messy locker to pull out a fresh tube of lipbalm and passed it over with shaking fingers.
Chad looked down at the red tube. Cocking a still growing back eyebrow.
"Flavoured?"
"I-I like cherry"
He took the tube. Fingers brushing against one another just enough to gather a few stray drops. Opening the lip with a pop and a pout that he would blame on application. Soothing cracking skin with a few soft slides.
He held out the tube, lid still in his hand.
"You need some? Since it's out"
An indirect kiss. That could work too. Maybe he could make the move. Cup his wet fucking face. Swipe a warm thumb over dripping lips. Make his legs shake, his heart flutter. Transfer the butterflies out of his stomach and into Herman's.
"Oh ah yeah no, I'm moisture-moisturised already"
Herm vaugly gestured to his still intact suit, dripping all over the floor. Dude never showered here. He always got on the bus in that same fuck ass suit. What was with that?
Chad pulled the balm back towards himself, re-capping it and staring down at the little red lable.
"Then why do you have this?"
"Because you-your skin is-with the heat it's...dry"
His eyes snapped up, Herm pulling his goggles off and rubbing at tired eyes with a shy half smile that was quickly falling under Chad's unreadable expression.
"I have a spare inhaler for Courtney...as well. And-and make up wipes for Alice"
He was back tracking now. Pulling out a small plastic bag wrapped in another plastic bag with a clear make up bag inside. Filled to the brim with different items for different team members. The aforementioned inhaler and make-up wipes sitting on top of a spare packet of underwear in Colm's size, bandaids for Janelle and her weird obsession with cutting her palms open and an unopened epi-pen for Victor and his weird bee thing.
He wasn't just thinking about Chad. He thought about everyone.
"Oh, cool. That's...yeah, that's nice"
"You can keep it. I have-I'll buy some more. As back ups. Any-any preferences?"
He shoved the tube into his locker. Finding his shirt and pulling it over his head to hide the weird mix of fondness and disappointment that threatened to fill his face. Jeans following soon after. His hair could wait.
"I like cinnamon"
"O-okay! On it Flam-Chad"
He mumbled it so quietly he didn't even know how Herm had heard him. But as he tucked himself away from the sharp zipper teeth and looked back up at the dripping locker, he was gone.
His lips still felt dry.
He tried again.
And again.
And again.
Complaining about dry hands only to be handed a tube of sandalwood scented hand cream. Whining about his hair tie breaking only to have a full bag of varying orange, red and yellow elastic ties and silk scrunches passed his way. Using up all of the cherry lipbalm only for a new tube of cinnamon flavoured butteryness to be tossed his way.
He wanted his hands massaged, his hair pulled back and gathered, his lips smoothed over by soft thumbs.
But all he got was a self-satisfied smile from a man far to pleased by being helpful.
That was until, on call, he slammed into a wall and put his shoulder out. The joint popped back in place by the SDN medi team and secured to rest in a sling. Grumbling in the break room as he waited out the last hour of work, too pissed at himself to leave just yet.
But his muscles ached. Tense and sore and pulling at his neck. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he nursed a cup of shitty break room coffee and nawed at the last protein bar in the vending machine.
"Did you-are you...alright?"
He grunted into his snack. Throwing the empty packet down on the table with a sigh. Good hand coming up to scrub at his face. He needed a shave. His stubble was getting bad again.
"I'm fine. I just feel fucking stupid"
And he did. It was fucking stupid. Tripping over his own feet like a fucking toddler. His chest still felt warm with shame, knowing Robert had seen everything on the CCTV he was monitoring to keep Chad one move ahead of their villian.
"It wasnt-you're not stupid. Just...just a bit clumsy"
He really wanted those words to be comforting. He really wanted Herm's stupid little stuttering voice to melt away all his self-doubt like an ice cube rolling down his spine. But his neck hurt, and his stomach twisted. He just wanted it all to be over.
"Can I...? Looks-you look uncomfortable"
He didn't register Herm walking behind him. Gloves sitting next to his half full coffee cup and water droplets sizzling where they fell above his shoulder. Waiting for permission to touch.
And Chad would never deny him that.
"Sure, whatever"
He dropped his hand, let herm push the knot of the sling aside and dig his thumbs into the tense muscles it found. His head dropped, lips parted. Pain then bliss coming in waves as he slowly worked his way through. Down his shoulder, over the blade in his back and up, up and up his neck.
He hissed, jaw tense as Herm found it. A bundle of searing pain.
"Here?"
All he could do was nod. Breaths short and swallow.
"Yeah, there...there is-it's sore"
To his credit, Herm was gentle. Very gentle. Skirting around the edges and working his way in. Untangling the knot he found step by step until he was shivering, shaking in pure relief.
"Sorry they're-I'm-cold-cold hands"
"S'fine. I run warm"
Herm didn't stop. Still easing the muscle, still setting it up for relaxation as his water dripped down Chad's chest and spine. Pooling in his clavicle and sinking into his suit with a bubble of steam.
"Better?"
The hands had stilled. Ready to retreat. And as much as his body screamed for them to stay. Begged to have the slide down his chest, over his pecs and stomach, dig into his thighs and grip his hips. He gave a stiff nod. And let them slip away.
"Yeah....thanks or whatever"
He rolled his shoulder as Herm pulled his gloves back on. The joint felt like butter.
"I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Bright and early, water bitch"
He could still feel his hands on his skin, kneading into tense flesh for days after. A cool spot that sent a shiver through his skin whenever he rolled his shoulders back or cracked his neck to the side. So he glared at his hand cream, melting off his fingers, and huffed a puff of smoke into the air.
Maybe he could injure himself again. Become and invalid in need of daily physical therapy and go live with grandma on her plastic covered couch. Herm fawning over both of them. Helping him eat and wash and take a piss.
It was a stupid idea in practice. But amazing in imagination. Sponge baths and hair wash days plaguing his dreams. Phantom fingers pressing against his spine as he smiled into his pillows at night. His bed so big and empty all of a sudden.
Then the hallway was crowded. The bathroom rush during breaks squeezing him into the thrum as he tried to make his way to the locker room for another hair tie. His spare snapping off his wrist mid flight.
And Herm was leaving the locker room. Squeezing in behind him and laying a wet palm against his waist, sliding down the hall with a sheepish smile. Fingers squeezing for just a moment, just long enough for Chad to know it was him. It wasn't some office perv trying to cop a feel. It was just Herm, on his way to his next call with a half eaten apple in his hand.
That spot sizzled for days.
Filled his throat with steam and made his eyes prickle late at night as he stared up at the ceiling and listened to the pipes creak.
He had never felt so alone.
Teeth clenched, spine stiff and cock hard.
He wanted his hand held above his head, fingers laced together and pressed firmly into soft pillows. He wanted his legs wrapped around a delicate waist, thighs trembling and stilled by a flat, cold palm. He wanted to be kissed and praised and loved. He wanted it to take hours, not minutes. Slow movements and curious fingertips. Lips leaving wet trails over his body, memorising every hair, every sun spot, every scar.
He wanted Herman.
And it left a dark pit in his stomach.
He didn't even want to go to this stupid dinner. All the higher scoring teams would be there, looking down on them as they spiked the punch and talked too loud as Blazer praised the ground their fucking feet walked on. It was stupid and humiliating.
And mandatory.
So he steamed his hair dry, threw on some deodorant, and scratched at the polyester of his only good dress pants. Fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons as he tried to iron it smooth against his skin.
He was going to be so fucking warm all night. Collar already uncomfortably tight and his blazer, hanging inside his locker, just full of overheating promises.
He wasn't going to do a bowtie. Fuck that. It was stupid and made him look like a penguin. The suit was good enough. It was clean and simple and formal, just liked she asked.
He was presentable.
Or so he thought.
"You-um-you missed one. Here let me..."
Those same wet hands reached out, pushing a wayward button back into place around his stomach. Brushing heated skin as he set him to rights so casually. Like he wasn't making Chad's heart try and run out his chest.
"Oh...thanks"
"No-no problem. You shirt is-it's untucked...there"
He followed the point of a wet finger down to where his shirt tail has slipped from his belt. Hanging over his zipper, just below the same button Herm had just correct.
"I'll just-I'll let you get that one"
Oh how he wished he wouldn't be such a fucking gentleman. How he wished he would just slide the fabric over his hips and under his belt. Tuck it in against his underwear and lean in so close he could smell the soap on his skin.
But he was already backing away. Fiddling with his tie and mumbling some kind of rhyme to remember how to do it up.
Chad smacked his hands away. Taking the tie himself and pulling him back from the few steps he had taken. Flicking dark blue cotton back and forth and through until he had a neat Windsor resting against his adams apple.
"Did you need a ride?"
"Oh! Um no that's-it's ok. I can-I'll just walk-"
Chad moved back to his locker. Pulling down his blazer and finding his keys. Slamming the door shut and spinning the combination lock. He took one look at the white fabric stuck to his skin. Getting more transparent by the second, his undervest on full show, and cut off that train of thought.
"You're already fucking soaked. Unless you want to start dancing on tables for money, take the offer"
He stared him down until he sunk a little. Hands coming up to rub at his neck. The corners of his lips slowly upturning into a smile.
"Ok, thank you"
Chad slipped on his blazer. Cursing as the sleeves got stuck around his shoulders.
"Can...can I change my shirt first?"
Oh course he'd have a spare. Bet he was expecting this. Soak one get another. Stupid powers. But this shirt was fine, just a bit wet. And they were going to be late. So he pressed a palm to his chest and spread a soft heat through his torso. Drying the shirt inch by inch until he was much more presentable.
"You should really try silk. Less transparent"
Herm was frozen. Just staring down at his hand, still pressed to his chest. Feeling the chill of his skin evolve into a room tempature warmth. Cheeks more rosy than ever.
He gulped.
Chad snatched his hand back.
"Hurry up or I'm fucking driving off without you"
It wasn't his proudest wank.
Cock pulled through the fly of his slacks, shirt pushed up over his stomach, blazer and shoes abandoned at the front door as he collapsed on the couch in a heap. He was tired, so fucking tired. And drunk, thanks to the flask of fireball hidden in Mal's cleavage.
That's what he was blaming anyway. The fireball.
That's why his head had fallen back against his couch. That's why his eyes had shut and his hands had slid up his thighs. That's why he had recalled wet fingertips pushing plastic buttons back into place, radiating a chill that made his heart still. The meat of his chest firm against his heated palm. That's why his mind had wandered. Those same hands sliding down his stomach, undoing his belt, untucking his shirt and unzipping his fly.
That same hand wrapped around hot flesh, cooling it with shimmering droplets. Hushing him, praising him. Holding his hand and pinning it above his head, pressed into soft cushions, as he bucked and whined.
That chest bare above him. Shirt pulled open and undervest pushed up. Rosy cheeks burried against his neck. Moist and supple lips laying wet kisses against his pulse as he bucked and moaned.
Spilling over his fist as he fucked into it. Flesh too warm, skin too dry.
The shame hit him like a brick. Pulling sticky fingers free and cleaning them on his slacks, grimacing at the dry cleaning bill he had just created.
He had just jerked off to the thought of Herm. The wet dog of a fucker he worked with, fought with, that he had barely tolerated for the first few months on the team. Who noticed when he was sore, when his skin was dry. Who touched him only when he knew he could see him, knew he could tell him to fuck off and keep his wet paws to himself. That, no matter how nasty he had been to him in the past, still treated him with a respect and care he had never experienced before.
He groaned, hands covering his face, smelling like sex and sweat and sandalwood, and resisted the urge to scream.
"I'm so fucked"
To say the week had gone well would be a lie. The Monday starting off rough with half the team hungover, missing on their calls as they each took a turn puking in bushes and trash cans. Bruno and Alice downed before lunch. Chad picking up the slack just to avoid hearing Robert bitch about responsible drinking and not staying out on a school night.
Tuesday, he got rained on while flying back. Extinguishing parts of his body and leading to a rough landing in a mud puddle conveniently located in the SDN parking lot.
Wednesday he forgot his lunch and had to live off vending machine food between calls. His stomach was queasy, leaving him tossing and turning all night as sheets tangled up in his legs. It explained a lot about Robert, that was for sure.
Thursday he almost drowned in a fish tank when some numb nuts villian dragged his head under and tried to tangle his hair in the filter. He was sure he hadn't swallowed any goldfish, but the churning of his stomach was not easy to ignore.
By Friday he was ready to quit. To just throw in the towel and give up. Live in a cave in the woods, far away from dumb ass villians and hidden from the weather. Go full feral, maybe finally grow a beard. But he couldn't, he would never do that. Because this program meant too much. It represented too much. He was a good man, deep, deep down. And he had to prove that. Not only to the press, but to himself.
So he had a shower, stood at his locker in his towel, and bit back tears as he tried to remember what he had come here for. What he needed. Was it clothes? A hair tie? More fucking hand cream?
"You did-you were good...today-this week-good this week"
He blinked up and over to Herm, standing there in the stupid suit. Hands wrung in front of him and goggles perched on to the top of his head.
"What?"
He took a few steps forward.
"It was-I saw how tough-rough this week was for you and I just wanted to say that you did...did well"
The image in front of him was blury. His throat stinging. He couldn't tell if Herm was raising his arms towards him or dropping them down to his sides. But he knew which one he preferred to believe.
"I don't think you get told that enough"
It was quite. Almost a slip of the tongue. Echoing off the tiled walls, over the sound of the showers and right through the dam. Smashing it to pieces as all the water just spilled out. Over his cheeks and down his chin. Clogging up his throat and blocking his nose. Air pulled in through desperate gasps as he stepped forwards once more, hands curled into tight fists at his sides and head bowed. Mear inches for Herms chest. Hair loose and cascading as he silently begged for it. All of it.
His hair to be tugged, his cheeks to be wiped, his lips to be parted. Hands on his shoulders, around his back, gripping his waist and hips.
Anywhere and everywhere.
He just wanted to be touched. To prove it was real. Everything was real. Herman was here and he did see him, all of him. His hard work, his struggles, his fears. His fucking dry skin.
He saw it.
"Wha-you-what's happening-"
Herm was still as a statue. Hands frozen on their way to an instinctual hug. Not expecting the sobbing coming from the man in front of him. Herm didn't even know he could cry. But he was, and it was loud and desperate and broken.
He had no shame left to hold him back. So he begged.
“I don’t know and I don’t care — I just want your hands on me. Please.”
He felt two palms slide up his arms. Feather light, as if giving him permission to pull away. But he leaned in. Let his head finally fall to his chest. Wet hands gripping his back. Shaking along with his chest.
"Oh...ok, just...here"
And then he was being moved. Herm taking a seat on the wooden bench between the locker rows, pulling Chad to his knees and tucking him between his thighs. Head cradled to his chest, fingers combing through damp strands and hushing him so softly it could have been the wind.
"C-comfortable?"
The floor was cold and wet and full of God knows what germs. But he didn't give a fuck. Bare shins taking on the imprint of the grout as he wrapped his arms around that skinny waist and held on so tight he felt Herm's back crack.
But he nodded anyway. Tilting his head to meet long fingers as they pushed the hair away from his face, checking in on him as his breathing slowed, his tears dried up.
And then they sat there. For...he didn't even know how long. Until he was so tired his bones hurt and his legs ached. Until Herm had moved on from his hair and was now drawing light circles onto his back as he rested his chin on the crown of his head.
He might as well have taken a second shower with how fucking wet he was.
"Take me home...please"
It was a mumble at most, spoken into yellow fabric as he pulled away. His shame coming back just enough to stand himself up, pull his towel from his hips and dry off as he headed for his locker. Pulling out fresh clothes and digging for his car keys.
"Yeah, s-sure. I can-I'll do that"
He could hear Herm scrambling to his feet, finding his own belongings and fumbling with his phone. Presumably texting his grandma that he would be home late as Chad ran a brush through his hair. Pulling free the knots Herm had made.
He tossed the taller man his keys, and he barely caught them in a slippery hand. Looking down at them like something foreign as Chad shoved his wallet and phone in his jean pockets. Pushing his locker shut.
"I can't-I don't have a licence. We can get the bus or-or call an uber-"
Of course he couldn't fucking drive. That's why he was always on the fucking bus, walking through the fucking park, waving at duckies and bouncing on his heels like a god damn cartoon character.
"For fucks-....Fine, I'll drive. Just...hold my hand or grip my thigh or something. I will cry and crash the car if you don't have a hand on me somewhere at all times"
He snatched the keys back. Curling them in his fingers as Herm broke out in a smile. Slipping a wet palm around the curve of his waist, holding it there while Chad lead them out of the room and down the hall.
"D-deal"