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“Looks like you’ve got an admirer.”
Blonde Blazer’s voice is laced with amusement as she props an elbow on Robert’s cubicle, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.
Robert follows her gaze to the other side of the office, where Waterboy is awkwardly pretending to mop a wall, while shooting not-so-discreet glances their way.
Robert squints. “Uh, are you sure he’s not looking at you?” he asks dryly, because that would make much more sense.
Waterboy waves then, realizing they’ve caught him staring. In doing so, he drops the mop on his own foot and lets out a small squeak which echoes faintly across the room.
“Nope.” Blonde Blazer grins. “He’s definitely looking at you.”
Robert’s gaze lingers on the kid fumbling with the mop and tripping over a bucket of water like a slapstick routine come to life.
“None of my business,” Blonde Blazer says, crossing her arms and giving him a pointed look. “but what’s that all about?”
Robert hesitates, scratching at his stubble idly. “…I helped him tie his tie. Before his interview,” he guesses. It’s not much of an explanation, but it’s the best he can come up with in the moment.
Then again, he’s also the only one around here who doesn’t treat the kid like an unpaid intern. And judging by the way Waterboy keeps looking at him, maybe that meant more than Robert thought it did.
Blonde Blazer raises her brows. “Aw. That’s so nice of you.” Her tone drips with amusement.
Robert rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch. “Give me a break,” he mutters, before shooting another glance at the clumsy janitor. “He’s a good kid,” He adds, a little more earnestly.
Blonde Blazer responds with a soft hum.
Lunch ends soon after, and they both part ways. Robert slips his headset back on just in time to be greeted by the familiar onslaught of shouting and bickering. He sighs, letting his eyes flicker one last time towards Waterboy from across the office, before forcing his attention back on the computer.
That evening, Robert is sitting in the middle of the dark office with Beef on his lap. It’s dim and quiet, with only a few computer screens glowing in the dark, casting faint lights across empty desks.
He half-heartedly tosses a ball, which he knows Beef will entirely ignore, and watches it bounce once, then roll on the floor, before it bumps into something with a soft squeak.
The quiet is broken by the faint, uneven squelch of wet shoes on concrete. Robert sits up. He knows that sound well enough by now, and can immediately tell who the footsteps belong to.
“Kid?” He calls, voice low.
Waterboy steps into the weak pool of light around Robert’s cubicle, hair damp, goggles slipping down his nose, grin crooked in that way that’s too innocent to fake.
“He— hello! Hey, Um. Sir.”
Robert can’t help the low chuckle that slips out. Sir? No one calls him that. And definitely not with that much nervous sincerity. It shouldn’t sound charming, but it does anyway. “Robert, please.” he corrects, waving a hand dismissively.
“Robert.” Waterboy repeats, with a kind of careful reverence. He fiddles with his goggles, the elastic catching on his hair as he tries to get it to sit right. “What— I mean, what’re you still doing…here?”
Robert gives a small shrug, scratching behind Beef’s ear. He thinks back to the empty husk of an apartment he calls home and winces. “Not like I’ve got anything to look forward to at home,” he says, and immediately regrets it. The words sound heavier than he intends, and he thinks why the fuck did I just say that, before quickly adding, in his usual sarcastic tone “uh, besides, I just love the ambience of this place.”
Waterboy’s face flickers through about six different emotions; concern, sympathy, mild panic, before he settles on his usual expression: slightly blank, mostly earnest. “Oh,” he mutters softly, before glancing down at Beef.
The dog barks once, hops off Robert’s lap, and trots over to Waterboy, who in turn lets out a small startled sound, bending over to scoop Beef up. “H-hey, little guy,” Waterboy murmurs, petting him affectionately. Beef leans into the touch, tail thumping, basking in the attention.
Robert just watches for a few moments, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching upward. Beef licks Waterboy’s face, and the kid laughs like he doesn’t mind one bit. It’s…disarming.
The word cute also crosses Robert’s mind uninvited. He exhales, then clears his throat, trying to push it away.
“He loves the attention,” Robert speaks up.
Waterboy glances at him, their eyes meeting for a brief, steady second before he looks away, cheeks pink. “W-what’s his name?” He asks.
“Beef.”
There’s a pause, then Waterboy snorts. Actually snorts. And once it starts he can’t stop, a full, ungraceful laugh bursting out of him. He tries to stifle it, but that only makes things worse, his shoulders shaking with it.
Robert just stares, amused and a little disbelieving. “That’s…a noise.” he mumbles, but he’s full-on smiling now, despite himself. He’s never seen someone laugh like that. It’s not a pretty laugh by any means, but it’s real. Something about it makes his chest tighten.
“It’s funny,” Waterboy says through another snort. “He’s, a dog and…he’s called Be—Beef.”
Beef, now thoroughly drenched, wriggles free from Waterboy’s arms, landing on the floor with a soft thump, before shaking himself dry. Robert jerks his legs back too late, and the water splatters on his shoes. His only good pair of shoes, which were now soaked.
“Perfect.” He says flatly.
“Oh! I-I-I’m sorry.” Waterboy stammers.
Robert kicks his shoes in the air and shakes his head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” He replies, but Waterboy quickly interrupts.
“No, no— I’ll clean it up, I’ll—” Waterboy says, voice pitching up as he steps closer. He’s suddenly standing in a puddle of his own making, water rippling outward with every flustered word that tumbles out of him.
“Kid—” Robert starts, but it’s already too late. There’s a sharp squelch, followed by Waterboy’s foot slipping. He lets out a startled yelp as he loses his balance.
Robert reacts without thinking, lunging forward and catching him just before he hits the ground. His arm hooks around Waterboy’s waist, while his other braces his back to keep him from falling over. For one long, absurd moment, they’re both frozen there, locked in a ridiculous dip like they’re in a bad Hallmark movie.
Robert’s chair rolls backward with a high-pitched squeak.
For a second, neither of them moves.
They’re close enough that Robert can feel Waterboy’s breath, quick and shallow. The other man blinks up at him through fogged goggles, eyes wide and startled.
Then gravity wins. Robert loses his grip and both of them slip on the expanding puddle, crashing down in a tangled heap of limbs.
Robert ends up half under him, his shirt wet and uncomfortably clinging to his chest. Waterboy is nestled right against him, dripping wet and blushing furiously.
Robert finds himself laughing, because everything about this situation was completely and utterly ridiculous. “Shit, you okay?” He asks breathlessly.
“O-oh god— goodness. I-I’m so sorry I’m…usually more in control of- of my— of the water. Wet— wetness.” Waterboy stammers. Robert lets his head roll back, grinning. Beef barks, then proceeds to jump on top of them, causing them both to groan.
Waterboy stammers out a string of apologies as he attempts to untangle himself from Robert, bracing his hands against the floor before clumsily pushing himself upright.
Robert runs a hand through his hair, watching Waterboy kneel next to him, trying to soak up the puddle with a handful of napkins that immediately fall apart as soon as he touches them.
“Don’t bother,” Robert says, half amused. “At this point we’re just contributing to the mess.”
Waterboy freezes mid-motion, napkin limp in his hand. “I—uh—yeah, you’re probably right.” He glances around helplessly. “I c-can grab the…the mop.”
Robert chuckles softly. “The one you used to clean the wall this morning?”
Waterboy lets out a nervous sound, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, that one.” He stands up too fast, nearly slipping again, before giving an embarrassed smile and disappearing down the hall.
Robert gets up and drags the runaway chair back, dropping into it with a slump. Beef trots over and sits beside him, tail wagging, looking far too pleased with himself for the dog who caused this whole mess.
Robert gives him a look. “Try the innocent act on someone else, buddy.”
When Waterboy comes back, mop in hand, his hair is sticking against his forehead, damp as it always is. Robert notices the way one drop trails down his temple, and God help him, Waterboy does look cute. The kid looks like a drowned cat, and he still manages to pull off the adorably awkward look.
“S-sorry,” Waterboy says quickly, eyes darting everywhere but at Robert. “It’s been a while since I’ve—uh—cleaned up this much of my— of a mess.”
Robert raises a brow, smirking faintly. “You’re really selling yourself as a professional.”
Waterboy presses his lips together to keep from smiling. “That’s— it’s— not my strongest pitch, I’ll…admit.”
He starts mopping, slowly, carefully, trying not to make things worse. Robert watches him for a moment, half wanting to help and half entertained by how seriously he’s taking it. Eventually, he grabs a towel from his desk drawer, and kneels down beside him.
“You missed a spot,” Robert says. Waterboy starts to protest, kneeling down as well, just in time for their heads to almost bump. They both freeze, the distance between them is barely there.
“Sorry,” Waterboy whispers quickly.
“Don’t be.” Robert replies, surprised at how gentle his own voice sounds.
They stay like that for a few seconds, close enough that Robert can see tiny droplets clinging to Waterboy’s eyelashes, and hear the way his breath catches before he glances away again.
Robert can practically hear Roy’s voice in his head, muttering about how badly this looks from an HR perspective. The thought makes him clear his throat and take a polite half-step back. “So what about you? You always stick around this late?”
Waterboy blinks, clearly caught off guard. “M-me?”
“No, the other guy who floods the office after hours.” Robert replies.
That earns a tiny laugh. Waterboy shrugs, gripping the mop handle tighter. “I, uh, just like it better when it’s quiet. At home it’s…loud.”
Robert hums. “Roommates?” He asks. And it occurs to him then that he knows nothing about Waterboy. He’s seen him almost every day since he started working at SDN, trading smiles and the occasional chat over lunch, and yet, he couldn’t tell you a single thing about his life.
Waterboy hesitates, then smiles a little. “My grandma. And her cats. T-thirteen of them.”
Robert blinks. It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting, but somehow, it also made complete sense. “Thirteen.” He echoes, more than a little surprised.
“Well, t-twelve and a half,” Waterboy says quickly, cheeks pink. “One— um, doesn’t have a tail.” He points awkwardly toward his own back end, as if Robert might need a visual aid.
Robert lets out a sharp laugh before he can stop himself, then straightens, trying to reel it back in. “And you live with them?” he asks.
Waterboy nods. “Y-yeah. Yep. Th—the cats and grandma” He fidgets a little with the mop before adding “A-and me.”
Robert shakes his head, still smiling. “That explains a lot.”
Waterboy just rubs the back of his neck, a nervous little laugh slipping out, somewhere between a chuckle and a confused hum.
Robert huffs and pats the other man’s shoulder, his palm coming away soaked.
“You’re something else, kid.” He says, and Waterboy’s awkward grin fades to something softer.
Beef chooses that exact moment to bark again, and it’s loud enough to echo across the empty office. Waterboy jumps a little, nearly dropping the mop, and Robert bites back another laugh.
They finish cleaning in relative silence after that, only the sound of the mop gliding across the floor, the hum of computers, and the faint squeak of Beef’s toy as he gnaws on it nearby.
With the puddle gone and the floor gleaming faintly, Waterboy leans the mop against a desk, fidgeting with his goggles again. Robert can’t decide if the repetitive habit is adorable or mildly obsessive.
“There,” Waterboy says, looking proud despite still being drenched. “D-Disaster averted.”
Robert would argue that the disaster already happened, but he doesn’t protest, only responding with a brief hum. “Barely.”
Waterboy grins, sheepish but sincere. “Thanks for, uh…catching me.”
“Anytime,” Robert responds, and thinks maybe he could say it again and mean it just as much.
They stand there, suspended in a silence that feels charged and fragile. Robert tells himself to move, to say something, to at least stop staring at the damn kid, but his eyes keep finding their way back to Waterboy’s face.
His stupid, dumb, utterly adorable face, with his hair curling at the ends, clinging to his temple, and his smile, small and uneven.
Robert clears his throat, pretending he’s not aware of how close they’re standing, and how warm the air feels now.
Waterboy clears his throat first. “Well, um… that’s— I have to..you— have…” he stammers, and Robert watches him patiently until he settles on “Goodnight, Robert.”
Robert nods, smiling at him. “Night, kid.”
Waterboy visibly hesitates, shifting his weight like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives a small, uncertain wave and turns to go, footsteps squelching faintly as he disappears down the hall.
Robert exhales slowly, glancing down at Beef, who’s blinking up at him, tail thumping against the floor.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Robert mutters.
Beef just yawns and flops onto his makeshift bed. Robert sinks into his chair with a sigh, clothes still damp and cold against his skin. His gaze drifts toward the hall, at the faint trail of wet shoeprints. He tells himself that he’s just lost in thought. Just tired.
Still, his eyes linger there longer than they should.