Work Text:
Slow Tide, Salt Air
Mandy could tell right away.
She could tell from his stiff shoulders, from how he gripped his glass. How his eyes snapped to the door whenever someone new entered the bar.
She could tell he was trying. He would toss her crooked smiles now and then to show he was still present. But seeing him seated like someone had crammed him into his chair, she was having second thoughts about bringing him here. He scanned his surroundings again, eyes landing on a group of college kids flocking around the bartender. She watched him as he regarded them briefly and then drew his attention back to his beer. He raised his glass slowly, almost mechanically, pausing only when he met her eyes.
He set his glass back down, the somber look on his face molding into what he probably thought would pass as mischievous. “Is there a fly on my face or do you just like what you see?”
She felt her lips twitch despite herself. “I was just thinking that florals look good on you,” she said.
He looked down at his black aloha shirt, a recent addition to his new wardrobe that she had helped put together. “Well, it certainly screams ‘overworked-dad-on-vacation,’ but I think I pull it off pretty well."
She snorted. “Right, all you need is a sagging gut to really tie everything together.”
He leaned back, tapping his stomach. “Working on it. Just give me an airfryer and like fifty boxes of Twinkies, and you’ll have more than enough of me to hold on to.”
She laughed, and he tipped his glass at her before taking a long drink from it. “Man, that’s better than good,” he drawled in his horrid Brad Pitt impersonation.
But when he smiled at her, she could see it didn’t reach his eyes. In any moment his gaze would sharpen again, noting faces, tracking sounds, scanning for exits. He would grow rigid so he could focus on what he did best—calculate, respond.
She drained the last of her cocktail through her straw. How could she blame him? If anyone else had spent the better part of their youth bearing the weight of a crumbling family legacy, spent 15 years flirting with death all alone in the cold confines of a mechanized suit, they’d be just as wired as the man sitting across from her now. She couldn’t imagine how she would’ve dealt with it all if she and Robert had swapped places. Would she have even survived?
Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of glass shattering. A commotion brewing by the bar. As if on cue, Robert snapped to attention, eyes narrowing at the rowdy kids and the bartender trying to cut them off. Already she could see the questions running through his mind. Was it an altercation or a mishap? Any risks of escalation? Criminal elements involved? Intervention necessary? She watched him as he quietly assessed the scene, his hands curling into fists.
She sighed as a platitude crossed her mind. Something along the lines of taking the man out of the mecha but not the mecha out of the man. She longed to get through to him, to let him know that the only risk they had to consider was a toss-up between racking up a big tab or making it back to the hotel without getting sand in their shoes.
She turned her head and looked out the window. Pockets of bonfires and lanterns cast the beach in a warm, surreal glow. The waves were rolling in, the sea breeze gentle and soothing. Conversation and laughter drifted in the air, and Mandy was struck by how isolating the mind could be when set against a world that carried on without a doubt in its own serenity.
She looked back at Robert. The bar situation had resolved with little incident, but she could tell he was bracing himself. For what she wasn’t sure, but she was certain of this—just for tonight, she wished to make him forget about everything beyond the space they held between them. She wanted nothing more than for him to show her the truth of his being, the Robert that was left when all the walls were torn down.
Was it selfish of her to want this? Maybe. But a part of her knew that Robert needed it as much as she did, if not more.
She reached over and took his hand. His eyes flicked up and held her, as if he’d just realized she’d been there all along. Under different circumstances, she would’ve found his expression quite adorable.
She tipped her head toward the window, toward the world outside.
“Wanna get some air?” she said.
—
The wet sand felt good beneath her feet. She walked along the edge where water met the beach, humming a low tune. She glanced behind her and saw that he wasn’t too far off. He was toeing the same edge, his sandals hanging lazily from his fingers.
She turned around and padded back to him, stopping when she was but a foot away. He looked at her, his face stoic but his shoulders seemingly more relaxed. His gaze softened as she stepped closer and lay her hands on his chest. He responded by wrapping an arm around her waist.
“This is nice,” she said.
“Yeah,” he replied, his eyes straying toward the sea. She followed his gaze.
The tide broke gently, sending foamy ripples of salt water over their feet. Beyond the waves lay darkness, impenetrable but calm. His hand felt warm against her back.
Then their eyes met. Brown against blue. She’d told him once that she had fallen for his eyes first and the rest of him second. There was something about them that made her feel deeply for him, something at once pure but melancholy, like an elegy to a foregone dream.
He brought up his hand and gently placed it on the nape of her neck. “I ever tell you?” he said, the low timber of his voice sending flutters through her chest.
“Tell me what?” she said.
“I haven’t been to a beach in ages. Last time I went, some coked-up mutant fish-person tried to shank me with a rusty nail. Apparently I looked at him funny or something. It was pretty gnarly.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Not exactly what you’d call postcard material,” she said.
He pulled a dry grin. “Right. I did get a pretty sick scar out of it though.”
“Well, I certainly hope there won’t be a repeat of that tonight.”
“Yeah? Why, you don’t think scars are sexy?”
She rolled her eyes. “You of all people could do with less.”
“You can say that I’m a connoisseur of sorts.”
“Maybe you should be a connoisseur of something less related to pain. I heard wine is a good option.”
He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. But no promises.”
He gave her his trademark look, the vacant half-smile that reeked of irony and feigned insouciance. She shook her head, pursing her lips to hold back her giggles. “You’re hopeless,” she muttered.
“I try.”
She shook her head again, then leaned into him and pressed her ear against his chest. She heard his heartbeat, and for a moment she felt a closeness to him like never before.
Then she heard him sigh. “You think there’s such a thing as too nice?” he said.
She looked up. “What do you mean?”
He pulled his mouth into a thin line. Then he brushed a few loose strands of hair from her eyes. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, this is all pretty new to me. You know, just standing here in the middle of all this sand and sea. Just… existing.”
She could hear a tinge of regret in his voice. Was he grieving the memories that had been lost to his career? She wondered how many birthdays and holidays and anniversaries he had cast aside in the name of duty. And as brave and selfless as he was, when was the last time he had truly allowed himself to see the world not as Mecha Man, but simply as Robert?
She raised her hand and laid it on his cheek, feeling the small line of scars along his jaw. Up close he looked so worn out, so haunted.
Sadness curled in her chest. In her mind, she saw a younger Robert—barely filling out his uniform—wrestling with the controls of his death trap with all the grim determination and efficiency that was entirely out of place for a boy his age. What horrors had he witnessed in his early days? How had he coped with his rise to fame? What about when things went wrong? Has anyone been there for him on the days when he couldn’t pick himself back up?
She sighed. No amount of words could undo the symptoms of the past, she knew that much. Still, she figured she could try.
“I like it,” she said. “Just existing. With you.”
It was only for a moment, but she caught something stirring behind his eyes. Then he smiled, and for the first time that night, it seemed genuine. He drew her close, resting his cheek on her temple. She closed her eyes, savoring his warmth. Behind them, the shadow of their embrace played across the sand.
They stood like that for a moment, the foamy whispers of the sea the only sound between them. She shivered as she felt his breath on her neck, the longing in her heart growing unfettered. Slowly, but surely.
“Sorry,” he suddenly muttered into her hair.
She drew back, eyes widening slightly. “What for?”
He looked away like he was embarrassed. “You know. For being… me.”
Her chest tightened again. “Robert, that’s—”
“I know, I know,” he said, waving away her protests. “But you gotta admit I wasn’t exactly Prince Eric this whole evening.”
She blinked. “You… you watched the Little Mermaid?”
“Uhh… yeah. It was long ago when I was babysitting some kid–anyway, that’s not the point. What I want to say is… whatever’s been going on tonight with me, it’s got nothing to do with you or us being here. I’m just… working through some shit, is all.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But yeah. I’m sorry you had to deal with all that. Especially given how this is the first time we’ve gone vacationing together. Like, a real vacation.”
Desperate words of reassurance began forming in the back of her throat almost immediately. But he had more to say, so she held back and listened.
“And… you’ve been so patient with me for the last couple of days,” he continued. “And I’ve been trying to get out of my head so I could just, you know, be in the moment with you.”
He grew quiet, looking at the water once more.
“I just never imagined it would be this hard,” he finally said.
Another wave of saltwater broke at their feet. Somewhere on the far end of the beach, a band began to play.
He could give her all the reasons. He could try to push her away. What he couldn’t do was stop her from trying. It’s not like she expected a smooth ride. Life offered no such thing. And yet there was no one in the world who could keep her from dancing too close to the fire. She couldn’t care less about getting burned.
She suddenly felt possessive. Every bit of him was hers to take. Even the broken shards.
“Hey,” she said, gently tilting his chin so he was facing her again. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He stilled, and for a moment she wondered if she had overstepped. But he smirked. “You say that now, but it might circle back and bite you in the ass,” he said.
“I’ll take my chances,” she huffed. “Besides…” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re cute when you’re brooding.”
“So you find chronically depressed men with daddy issues attractive? Duly noted.”
She laughed, the sound of it ringing through the dark like silver chimes, and he met her with a throaty rumble of his own.
She heard the faint sound of cheering and looked behind her. In the distance, a crowd had gathered around the band, the tiki torches flanking the stage appearing like beacons. The night had more to offer.
She turned to Robert and took his hand. “Wanna go check that out?”
He took a moment to scan the crowd. His gaze held an emotion that she couldn’t label. Still, she could tell he was doing less of analyzing and more of simply looking. Of being.
He squeezed her hand, a brief but tender acknowledgement. “Sure,” he said.
—
The music was vibrant. A woman crooned into the microphone over a sensuous Amapiano groove as people melded together in dance. Friends, lovers, and strangers all swirled into one passionate space.
Mandy felt it too. She closed her eyes and drew her arms behind her head, swaying her hips lightly to the beat. The heat of the crowd reached her, and she felt all the tension drain from her body. She raised her arms up and tipped her head back, a lax smile growing on her lips. If this wasn’t freedom, she didn’t know what else could be.
She spun around slowly and sashayed toward Robert, tugging at the front of her maxi skirt in short playful jerks. He held a fist to his mouth and chuckled, but she could tell he was enjoying the view. Without a word, she swayed into him, taking his hands and pulling him close.
She remembered the first time they shared a dance. It had been at his housewarming party, a cobbled-together affair that the Z Team had all but strong-armed their dispatcher into hosting. He’d spent a good part of that evening simply watching everyone else, as if he couldn’t quite believe that his apartment was capable of holding so much life. Then she had pulled him in, breaking him out of his bubble and allowing him to claim her space as much as she’d done with his. She remembered the awkward smile he wore as he tried to match her energy. That alone had been enough for her.
They'd come a long way since then.
The tempo of the beat hastened a notch, and she brought her hands up to his shoulders. She guided him through the music, letting him ease into her rhythm. To her surprise, he followed through without missing a step. She looked up and smiled, to which he answered with a cocky smirk.
Her movements grew bolder. She spun around and leaned into him, humming in pleasure when his hands found her waist. She reached behind her and ran her fingers down his jawline and to his chin. From the way his hands tightened, she could tell he liked that too. Then she felt his lips brush against her neck.
She drew in a breath. The heat between their bodies ramped up, leaving her feeling heady and restless. She twirled away from him briefly, then closed in again, her face merely a breath apart from his.
In that moment, the rest of the world was lost to her. She gazed into his eyes. They were no longer cold. No longer surveilling. No longer unyielding.
Instead, they burned for her.
She looked down at his mouth then back at his eyes. Her breath quickened. He cupped her cheek, and she wet her lips. Then he dipped his head, closing what little space was left between them.
She melted into him. Breathing his scent. Tasting his mouth. His hands roamed over her waist. Her back. Her neck. There was an urgency to his touch.
She felt his breath tremble as she bit his lip. Then she deepened the kiss, cradling his face with both hands. A low groan escaped him, flooding her with tingles.
They finally drew apart. They took a moment to regard each other, breathless but very much in tune with one another. She brushed her thumb over his lips slowly, gauging the yearning look on his face.
“Shall we head back?” she whispered.
“After you,” he replied.
—
Her back was against the wall before the door could shut behind them. He kissed her hungrily, one hand gripping her chin while the other was snaked around her waist. She responded in kind, running her hands under his shirt. Her skirt became undone and pooled around her legs.
They moved to the bed, never once breaking apart. She pushed him onto the mattress and climbed on top of him. Her hands made short work of the buttons on his shirt and soon his torso was laid bare. She began trailing kisses on the scars that ran from his chest and down to his stomach. A jagged delta that seemed to soften from every touch. She felt him shudder.
She sat up and looked at him. His gaze was dark and intense. She brought her hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb over his mouth like she’d done before. He caught it in his mouth, drawing from her a breathy laugh.
She drew her hand back, sighing as he felt the slope of her breasts and then the curve of her thighs. She slowly peeled off her top, letting it fall on the floor where the rest of their clothes soon joined in a messy pile.
“God, Mandy,” he whispered.
She bent forward to claim his lips once more. The kiss was slower this time. Delicate. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close.
“Is this what you’d call ‘too nice’?” she said as her hand slid down to his groin.
“I take it back. With you, I can’t get enough.”
She smirked, then ran her tongue over the crook of his neck.
“Good answer,” she purred.
—
When she awoke, he was still asleep. Sunlight gently slipped over his face as she lifted her head to watch him slumber. His lips were parted slightly, his chest rising and falling in slow, even motions.
She reached out and cradled his cheek, wishing for this moment to linger for as long as the universe would allow, for the rest of the day to be filled with those small, quiet instances that bridged their hearts.
Outside, the morning brought in the high tide. Blue water caressed the shoreline and lapped at the beachrock. A salty breeze drifted from the horizon, feathering across the water, the sand, and up into the air like a bird out of a cage.