Chapter Text
There's this constant unease in his chest ever since Waterboy– Herman– confessed to him last week. About the thoughts that plagued him. Victor tried to keep his head down, focus on what he could do for the younger man, like being an ear for him, offering to be paired with him if Robert couldn't pick, and bringing him lunch– a human lunch and not what he usually ate. Herman seems more relaxed, less jumpy, less stutter-y around him, which he counts as a win. Not a huge win, but one nonetheless.
Then Mal pulls him aside during lunch today and he can see the upset in her body language, even if her face was a careful neutral. Very careful. Her tail flicks as she corners him, literally, backing him up into the space next to vending machine. "Vic, you know I love you, but you gotta untwist those panties of yours."
"Do they have that saying in Australia?" He asks, ignoring the actual hidden question.
"Does it matter? You're understanding me now. So untwist them or I'll untwist them myself."
He snorts, "Don't threaten me with a good time."
A carefully manicured hand grips his bicep, her face finally showing the upset, hurt, and worry her body holds. "I'm worried about you, mate. You've been out of sorts for, like, a week now. How are you holding up?"
"I'm not using, if that's what you're wondering."
"I wasn't, but I'm glad you're staying on the straight and narrow."
Victor looks at her hand, where it stays. He can't, won't spill what's eating him alive. Herman looks better, just a bit. He kept a close eye on him, watched to see if he was super happy, like creepy levels, because that's when it's most dangerous. A little paradoxical to some. Why would a depressed person be so happy? Because they'd soon be free from all the hurt, they wouldn't have to deal with the pain and bombardment of life anymore. Herman isn't quite at those levels of happy. He's like Robert levels of happy, a depressed sort of happy. Just not an actively suicidal, with a whole plan fully thought out and ready to go, happy.
"Victor."
Victor frowns, "Malevola, since you want to use full names."
"You gotta give me something to work, babes."
He peels her hand off him and she doesn't fight him. "I'm doing fine."
"You're not. Flambae or Prism did or said something to get you pissed at them. Just tell me."
Oh. He didn't realize he was lashing out at them. He certainly has beef with Flambae, but Prism must be collateral in his anger. They're best friends, just like he and Mal. The unease starts to build in his chest again, just thinking about the bastard. None of them had been particularly accepting to the newbie on the team, but he's carved out his spot, made a name for himself and Victor would be damned if the spot went empty again.
"Being a bastard counts, right?"
"What did they do? Just talk to me. It's like pulling teeth with you."
"He was a bastard," he reiterates. "Still is, actually."
Mal sighs and takes a step back. "When you're ready to tell me, you know where to find me."
Victor nods because he does; they live together. Maybe he can get Herman to come over, talk to her so she'd understand. Maybe she can help him, too, pull him out of the dark more.
Mal nods, turns, and leaves him alone in the break room. She has every right to worry about him. And he has every right to worry about Herman. Peeling himself out of the corner, he turns to the machine and punched in the code for Twinkies. Still a dollar. Good. Because if they jump price, he may riot. He gets his delicious snack cakes and is about to leave when the bastard shows up.
Flambae frowns right back at him. "What the fuck is your deal?" He snarls, taking the few steps closer to close the distance. His hands are already alight.
Something in Victor snaps. How many times had the pyro done this to Herman? How many times had he used his fire to intimidate the poor thing? How many times had his anger flared out to make his friend hide, fear for his safety? Herman, for all his confidence around Victor, can't look him in the eye for more than a second or two at a time.
Rearing back, he punches the bitch in his jaw. Flambae stumbles, takes a step back, rubbing his jaw, and glares at the hybrid. "You motherfucking bitch."
Flames burn and Victor jumps him before he could blast him. He knocks the taller to the ground and his hands, human, quickly find their way to the bastard's throat. Blood rushes under his fingers as he squeezes, and squeezes hard.
Flambae wheezes and struggles under him. Flames lick at Victor, singeing his hair and clothes, but he doesn't care. It just fuels him, makes him squeeze with all his might. He wants Flambae to feel helpless, despair, and like death is right around the corner and it's all because of him. He wants the bastard to be scared of death, scared of him.
The fire starts to ebb. The man under him stops trying to get him off. No, he starts grabbing at his hands, then pawing at them, batting at them weakly. Then nothing. Flambae finally goes limp under him. He doesn't immediately let go. No. He counts to ten before he does.
Victor eases the pressure rather than immediately letting go. A shuddering breath under him tells him all he needs to know. Standing, he retrieves his smashed twinks (they're still perfectly fine to eat!) and walks out of the break room. Walking over to Robert's desk, Chase, who's leaning over, stares at him.
"You look like you got in a fight with a lighter and lost," Chase points out, without all his cursing. Very weird to hear, honestly.
Robert spins to get a look at him. "Sonar, what the fuck happened?"
"Nothing. But Flambae is passed out in the break room. You might wanna check on him," Victor points his thumb back to the break room. "Also the ceiling might be a bit singed, too."
The dispatcher's face hardens. "Follow me. Now."
He knows he doesn't get a say and obediently follows behind. Back into the break room. He opens his twinks to start eating them. They might be confiscated! Flambae is still on his back, wheezing. He's awake and alert if the muttered, wheezy 'bitch' is anything to go by. Robert kneels next to him, hands hovering before his head snaps back to Victor.
"Sonar. Tell me what happened. Honestly."
Victor stares down at Flambae, who's still resting on the ground. Good. "Choked him out. He threw fire at me."
"Pun-ch," Flambae hisses out.
"Oh, yeah, I also punched him."
Robert sighed. "Why in the hell would you do that? What other steps am I missing here?"
"Flambae's been a bitch, and I just snapped. Nothing more to it."
"You're benched."
"What?"
"Sonar, you're benched. Until I know more, until I actually know why, you're off my team."
His memories shoot back to when he was fighting with Coop to stay on the team. When they were both up to being kicked off. They both did their best, but Coop was still cut. How similar is being benched to that? Can he come to the office? Can he still talk to people, still watch out for his friend?
"You can't–"
"You could have killed him!"
Victor doesn't argue that he made sure he didn't. That he was only scaring the firebug. But that won't make a difference. So he bites his tongue about it. "Define benched."
Robert helps Flambae sit up, scanning for other injuries. It's just the fist- and finger-shaped bruises on his cheek and neck that are already forming. Red and angry. They suit him. It'll be a good reminder. Victor keeps his gaze locked on the ones on his neck and flexes his fingers. The blood rushing past, trying to after a while, will be a memory he doesn't forget anytime soon.
"You're not working. No missions, no talk about missions, no listening to missions. You're not allowed to loiter around anyone on the team," Robert lifts the pyro to his feet. "Without supervision" is clearly tacked on because he knows he has friends on the team he'd talk to anyway. "I don't want you to go rogue on me and attack others."
"Alright, Robert."
"Good. Go to Blazer's office and wait for me."
Victor does as he's told. The hero (former hero?) is a bit surprised by his entrance, but lets him sit. She begins poking at him, verbally, trying to figure out why. "I choked out Flambae!" He snaps when she leans on her desk. He pulls away, scratching his cheek, "And also punched him."
"You what?"
"And Robert's benched me and told me to wait here for him."
"Sonar," Blazer starts, tone both soft and sharp. He's surprised she's managed to balance the tone so well. Must be a hero thing. "What possessed you to choke him out?"
"Stress," he lies, looking at his hands. They flex and they still feel so good, so powerful. He'd do it again, too.
She hums and starts typing something on the computer. "Are you sure it's just stress? You've never attacked anyone and your crimes are pretty white collar compared to the rest of the team."
"Drug possession and extortion are not white collar crimes."
"You were never arrested for assault, arson, or murder. That's pretty white collar to me."
"I've also definitely attacked people before."
"No one on the team," she clarifies. "And the sabotages are different to this whole thing. Sonar, please just tell me. Maybe I can tell Robert to un-bench you, even if he can't technically make that decision without me."
"Fine. But you're sworn to secrecy. Seriously. You can't tell anyone anything. Not even Robert."
Blazer pushes her keyboard to the side, giving her space to lean on her desk. The humor from last time is completely removed from the room. "Alright. You have my word. Mum's the word."
"I really hate him. Like really hate him. He's… He's just like me, a bully."
"You hate that you see yourself in him?"
"Because he's cruel to my friend."
"Malevola?"
"No." He swallows and locks eyes with her. "Herman."
"Wait, Waterboy?"
"Yes. Waterboy. He just…" He groans and then tries to muffle a frustrated scream in his hands. "Flambae isn't exactly conducive to the whole team thing. Not when he knows how cruel he truly is. He deserved it. I would do it again, no hesitation."
"Sonar, this is probably why Robert's seeking to bench you. No hesitation is not what the team needs either. You need to get this anger in check. What if it's someone else? Are you going to attack everyone on team if you think they deserve it?"
"No, of course not! He– It's only Flambae."
"You seemed pretty annoyed with Prism, too."
"Just collateral damage."
"Well, until you can prove you have your anger under control, I'm agreeing with Robert. You're benched."
"And what does that mean? What am I allowed to do?"
Blazer leans back in her chair, typing away on her computer. "You can't go on missions, obviously. Regardless if you would go rogue or not, we can't risk sending both you and Flambae on a call and you attack each other. I'd rather you not participate in calls all together. No listening, no talking, no giving Robert advice."
"Great. I know what I can't do. Robert said the same."
"You will be allowed to come to SDN and use the facilities. You need to stay in shape and I'm sure you'd just break in if I tried to bar you anyway. You'll be on an emergency line, on the off chance a disaster hits and we need you."
"Good. Good. I can work with that."
"Lastly–"
"Fuck, there's more?"
"Yes. I'm going to send you to a therapist. There's one that can help with your anger. I decided I need an outside source that your anger is under control."
Victor huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine. Whatever. I'll talk to the shrink."
"Good." Then Blazer softens, "Sonar, do know that I'm proud you're trying to stick up for your friend, even if you did it the wrong way."
Then a knock and Robert's walking in, no permission needed, apparently. Even though, he very much wanted privacy. He glares and Robert glares right back.
"Blazer, talk to me. What the fuck happened?"
She glances at Victor and he shakes his head. She can't honestly tell him after promising not to, right? If she spills–
"Sonar has some anger issues he needs to work on, so he's benched until further notice."
Robert raises a brow. "You have anger issues? You nearly killed Flambae."
"I made sure I wouldn't," Victor weakly defends. "I know how to choke people out. Kink stuff."
"Okay, I didn't need to know how you knew. But seriously. You really hurt him."
"That was my goal."
Robert sighs. "You're benched."
Victor nods. "Blazer told me. I know what I can and can't do. I'll be good."
"You better or I'm finding you a different team to be on."
He doesn't know if he could actually do that, without Blazer's permission, but he knows the threat isn't something to take lightly. He pulls out his ear piece, placing it on the desk. "Let me know when that appointment is, Blazer. I'm going to tell the important people I'm benched."
Mal takes the news without much fanfare, just asking why. Victor swears up and down he will tell when they get off, probably. He needs to talk to someone else before then.
Unsurprisingly, he finds Herman sitting in a bucket, eating fruit, in a supply closet.
"Vic- Victor, hello, hi, uh, care to join?"
Victor nods, shutting the door. "Listen, I've been benched."
"Benched? What does that mean?"
"I'm not going on calls, can't listen to them, can't do anything really. I can still come by. I'll still see you at lunch and stuff. Just won't be on calls with you."
"How did you, what made you get benched?" Then he offers the container of fruit, holding it up. "Fruit in these trying, hard times?"
It melts him and he picks out a strawberry. "Thanks. And I choked out Flambae. With my hands."
Herman stares at him, a mix of awe and fear. "What?"
"He's an asshole and he deserved it. Anger got the better of me after I punched him. I was only going to punch him, but… yeah. So I'm benched until a shrink says I'm all good."
"Why did you…" Herman eats another piece. "Did you do that for me?"
"Of course I did. No one fucks with my friends."
"Thanks, Victor."
"Of course. Why don't you come to my place? After work. Mal promised lasagna."
"Oh! I, uh, I need to talk to my grandma. Thank you, but I just, she's older, you know?"
Victor pats his shoulder. "Yeah, of course. She's priority. If you're free, then you should come by. We'll even send you with leftovers."
"That's, uh, that's very nice."
"I'm trying to be better at being nice." He opens the door and snags another strawberry before he leaves.
Mal appears around the corner a few seconds later, a rather smug smile tugging on her lips. "So Waterboy, huh?"
Victor couldn't give any less of a shit, not with her. "Yup. Might be coming for dinner."
Her smile fades, tail flicking. "Dinner. Dinner we're making that isn't exactly a romantic dinner."
"Lasagna can be plenty romantic, but he knows it's not a date-date. Just friends coming together."
"What the fuck happened?"
"I'll let him tell you, if he comes by. Not my story."
It's 8 PM when a knock echoes into the relaxed atmosphere of the apartment. Victor peels himself off the couch and answers the door. Herman stands in the doorway. His eyes go down to the container in his hands.
"Oh, uh, Grandma told me to bring something, so, um, I brought cookies. Store bought–"
Victor moves over and gestures to the flat, "Come in. Lasagna is still cooking. We were pretty stupid about timing–"
"Nah, babes, that's all you. Telling me to do one thing at a time so I wouldn't fuck up," Mal's voice calls from her place on the couch. "And thanks for the cookies, Waterboy."
"Uh, Herman, you can, please call me, use that," he corrects, stepping into the apartment.
Victor closes the door, "You can leave the cookies in the kitchen right there. Bathroom's over there. We're playing Mario, if you want to watch."
"Thank you. I'd like, I appreciate that."
He guides his friend back to the couch after he drops off the cookies. He was smart and got a shower curtain to lay over the chair. Is it offensive? Probably, but Herman would feel way less awful about getting water into places. Picking up his controller, he unpauses the game. Co-op mode, which is far more competitive than cooperative.
It's a few minutes of play before Mal talks over the game sounds. "So, how did you two become friends? Not saying ya can't, just wondering how."
Victor glances at Herman, who fidgets with his hands. "Had a talk at lunch last week."
"And that's why you attacked Chad, huh?"
"Yup," he pops the 'p'.
"What sort of talk leads to attacking a teammate?"
"Talking about suicide."
Mal pauses the game to look at the two men, eyes flitting between them. "Suicide?"
"Yes, Ma'am, uh, Malevola."
"Considering you're still here, I assume the talks went well."
"As well as they could," Victor agrees.
"And Chad factors into this how?"
Herman shifts nervously, the shower curtain squeaking. "I, uh, um, the thoughts, the bad ones, they, he says them. Not, uh, to me, just in my head. My own thoughts, his voice."
"Wow, he really is a bastard, huh, Vic?"
Victor nudges her, "I told you he was. And we're trying to work on it. Herms got a therapist lined up. I'm going to anger management. It's fine. Good, even."
Mal sighs and leans back. "You've always been messy, Vic. Glad to see you haven't changed."
"And you love me all the same."
"Unfortunately." Her eyes drift back to Herman and so do his. "You're not allergic to anything, right? I'd rather not send you to hospital."
"Oh, no, nothing. I'm, no restrictions, dietary issues either."
"Good. Hope you can handle spice, white boy."
"I can. Grandma is Cajun and loves the peppers she grows."
"You're Cajun?" Victor asks.
"I'm, what, a quarter Cajun? I don't think that really, actually counts."
"Huh. New information. She got any recipes? I haven't found a good Cajun place near us."
"Oh, yeah, um, I can type them up for you. She'd kill me if I touched her cards."
"Thanks, babe," Mal chimes in. "I'll make sure he cooks something as a thank you."
"Why are you volunteering me?"
"You want the recipes. You cook them."
"Fine." A moment of silence passes before he adds, "So, we're gonna gloss over everything?"
Mal shrugs and unpauses the game. "I mean, you're both getting the help you need. What's there to say? 'Oh, I'll beat up Chad, too, if it makes you feel better'? I think Robert would explode if I tried it."
"I still can't believe you, uh, actually did something like that for me," a whisper says.
Victor nods, "Of course. I'd do it again."
"Oh my god. Please don't," Mal says, elbowing him. "I'll beat your ass if you do."
He just laughs. Telling Mal was the right thing. Herman's got more people to lean on now.