Chapter Text
Prism—Alice—had not planned on waking up absolutely soaked. Hell, Prism had not planned on a lot of things last night. Especially waking up next to the super soaker himself. Waterboy. Of course, it wasn’t the first time she had woken up next to a coworker after a night of drinking. Chad being the most frequent. In addition to being her workplace bestie/spouse, he cuddled like nobody’s business. So, often, they were in each other's beds. He was her go-to bed warmer. Flambae was too perfect. Whichever man eventually tied him down would be the luckiest mofo. It could be Robert but they both be playing too much.
Sometimes, Malevola. Sometimes, Coupé. At other times, everyone who went drinking together stumbled into the same bed. Drunken pile and whatever.
Only problem was… She never woke up butt-booty-ass naked with any of them.
Until now.
So, lost in confusion, Prism stared at her equally undressed bed fellow, wondering just what the hell had happened last night. It had been a while since she had gotten blackout drunk. Last thing she remembered… She had challenged Miss Blazer in a drinking contest. Apparently, she had lost spectacularly. At goddamn Chili’s of all places. She would be blaming all of this on Roberto Robertoson.
Not only had he suggested Chili’s in the first place—considering most or all of them being banned from real bars within a hundred-mile radius of SDN—Robert also had been the one cheering Miss Blazer on. Traitor. Not to mention, yesterday’s shift had Prism feeling all types of excellent. Like the baddest bitch on the team. Coupé could argue with the wall. Robert had sent her out the most, and she succeeded the most. Even with less than satisfactory partners, she was the best. But homeboy was working on it.
Maybe it explained the current situation. Boy had shortcomings in spades, and it took forever and a day to pry replies out of him, but Prism saw the improvement. Maybe liquid courage gave him enough of a spine to approach her. But. She didn’t remember him being drunk. She didn’t remember him participating in drinking at all. But the alternative just didn’t make any sense. Her going after him? Never. Because as a wise man once said: Chase a check, never chase a bitch. And that’s on God—something she stood by no matter how drunk.
So, how did this particular bitch wind up in her bed?
And this was her bed. Her, probably ruined, satin sheets told her so. Prism sat up with a heavy sigh, immediately regretted it due to the pounding in her head, and Waterboy’s arm slipped from her chest to her stomach. He continued sleeping, curled like the letter C and facing her, unaware of her scrutiny.
Huh. This was the first time she witnessed him so relaxed. Always tense with a furrowed brow. Always stuttering with a forced smile. Always sweating and secreting or whatever the fuck his power did when the nerves hit like a freight train. Which was all the time for him. A pool noodle with eyes. But now, he looked so relaxed. Prism wondered if he would instantly turn into a ball of panic if she woke him now. The boy needed a blunt or two. On second thought, maybe that would make it worse.
Despite the lingering headache, a chuckle slipped out of her mouth as her fingers reached to flick hair from his forehead. Not waterlogged like normal. Waterboy scrunched his face in a twitch but quickly relaxed again. Cute. The thought lingered like her headache. Prism removed her hand and let out a deeper exhale.
Cute, she had thought more than once honestly. But obviously, he wasn’t her type. Not the type to ordinarily evade her space for a night anyway. Physically and socially. Ethnically too. But here he was, torso practically covered in her iconic lipstick. Jesus. Were those teeth marks too? She would not be challenging Miss Blazer again. But alcohol had been the only thing that possessed her for this? Couldn’t be.
Once again, Prism reached for Waterboy. This time, she lifted his knee. Her eyebrows rose considerably. Boy was packing serious wood. That wetsuit of his left everything to the imagination apparently because she had no idea prior to this moment. Not that she had looked in the first place but damn. Maybe this was the reason? Nah. She didn’t typically care for the size like some people—well, unless they had acorns. But Waterboy went around with a whole Titanic in his wetsuit. Who knew?
She dropped his knee, and it audibly smacked against his other leg. Waterboy huffed in his sleep, and the arm against her stomach tensed. His hand gripped her side, and he pulled her towards him. Prism let out a surprised yelp as their bodies collided. Okay. Deceptively strong. Yeah, superpowered people were always physically stronger than non-superpowered people but it usually slipped her mind when it came to Waterboy.
“Smell good…” he mumbled, lips against the skin of her forehead. “Just a few… more minutes.”
To her surprise, or exasperation, heat flooded within her chest and cheeks. Now, she stared wide-eyed, seeing Waterboy in a new light. It could have been the slow, drowsy voice, or the lack of his usual stutter, but she might have been into this. So, was that it? He got drunk, lost the stutter, and approached her with an intent to fuck, so she decided fuck it and let him lay down the pipe? Possible. But again, she hadn’t seen him drink anything.
Alright. Enough was enough. Prism had spent way too much time in her head, trying to figure out the cause of this situation. And not enough time nursing this hangover. Or kicking this latest one-night stand to the curb. Even if he was a co-worker.
Prism moved to turn, intending to slip out of bed. But Waterboy’s grip on her tightened and pulled her even closer. Mouth to his chest. Scowling, she brought up her hands between them and shoved. “Boy! If you don’t let go of me…!” she exclaimed, more heat rushing throughout her body now. She snapped her head up to glare into his open eyes. Apparently, she had jostled him enough to wake.
His focus, though, remained unclear—not fully awake yet. Huh. His eyes… Prism had always assumed his eyes were blue. Normally, his eyes were covered by tinted goggles. Or maybe fogged up goggles. She would have never guessed grey. The type of grey that reminded her of pencil lead if melted down in a batch. Or maybe that liquid terminator from that one old movie… Either way, it… kinda worked for her too. Combined with his sharp jaw and strong nose… Maybe… Her lowered inhibitions had been onto something.
Waterboy blinked slowly. “I’m… still dreaming,” he mumbled, smiling softly. “You’re a dream.” More of that heat crawled across her skin. Despite the compliment, Prism frowned. No he did not have her body reacting like a middle schooler just because. She was a grown woman damn it. And she had heard more titillating flirtations that did not cause the same effect. So what thee fuck?
“No you ain’t,” Prism said. “Get your ass up.”
Then, Waterboy blinked several times in rapid succession as his gaze finally sharpened. No further warning, he threw his arm—his entire body—away from her. Prism rolled her eyes as she sat up. In response, he tumbled from the bed and onto the floor. He shot back up a second later, hand covering his eyes as water formed and already slipped down his face.
“Mi-Miss P-P—Ali—Prism…! How are…? Top of the—nice…good morning,” Waterboy greeted.
“Could you tone it down a little? This headache is kicking my ass for real,” Prism told him.
“Right-Right—affirm—correct,” he sputtered, whispering like a good boy. “Lots of—many, many drinks last… yesterday.”
“And stop covering your eyes,” Prism demanded. “You look ridiculous.” Waterboy slowly lowered his hand but stubbornly kept his gaze on the edge of the bed. “Boy, you have already seen my titties. Don’t act all shy now.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Oh, did we not fuck?” she questioned with a raised brow.
“We… uh… did not—no,” he replied. The other brow joined the first. “Too many… You pa-passed—fell asleep before sweet—getting that fa-far—close. The li-lights—didn’t turn—too dark. Seeing not—wasn’t… able.”
“But you wanted to?” Prism teased. Mostly to herself but the way Waterboy nodded rapidly pried a chuckle from her mouth. “Course you did. Who wouldn’t want to look at all this?” He didn’t respond to that, but she could see the rapidly growing flush of his skin making a streak down his neck and chest. Just how long had he been trying to look?
Prism chuckled again and finally got up from the bed on the opposite side. She grabbed her pink silk robe from the nearby chair and slipped it on. Then, she headed to her closet and flung open the doors. “Sooo,” she began in a drawl as her eyes darted around for the towels. Maybe she should invest in those fancy waterproof sheets. “I don’t ‘member shit. Did I win against Miss Blazer?”
“Y-You don’t…? Uh, no,” Waterboy said. “You dr-drank a whole—an entire—pitcher-”
“Damn, no wonder I can’t ‘member shit,” Prism remarked. Good thing it wasn’t rum. That shit tore her stomach up. She grabbed several towels and turned around. Without much warning, she tossed them at Waterboy. They caught his head and knocked him to the floor with a startled oof. “Whoops…!” She couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. “My bad, Hermboy.”
“It’s ok—fine,” Waterboy said, sitting upright again and awkwardly attempting to dry himself.
“So, I guess Miss Blazer told you take me home?” Prism mused. “Then what? How’d you get me naked?”
“I-I didn’t—wouldn’t take your—remove your clothes myself…!” Waterboy practically screeched out. Water leaked like a faulty faucet now. “Without permission—never—wouldn’t…”
“Damn, boy, chill.”
“… So… apologies,” he said, lowering his volume again.
“So, I took my clothes off? Did I take your clothes off too?” Prism questioned. Waterboy nodded. “Why? What’d you do to get that?”
For several moments, Waterboy did not speak. He also did not move. Did he even breathe now? Furrowing her brow, Prism stepped closer, moving around the bed and sitting on the edge in front of him. “You… You took off your glasses,” he finally said, words clearer than before. “I don’t… I mean, I don’t think I ever… saw you without them. Brown—beautiful—pretty brown eyes. I thought I thought that. But I blurted—said it out loud.”
Prism blinked slowly. Pretty brown eyes. It resonated and echoed within her. Throughout her life, from early adolescence on, she had gotten all sorts of compliments. Her body was tea, and her ass would not quit. She knew it herself. She purposely flaunted her assets and took praise as fact. Because it was. Maybe somewhere along the line though, sexy, gorgeous, and hot had become petty flattery. But no one had ever complimented her eyes. Nor referred to her… anything as beautiful.
“Yep, that’ll do it,” Prism murmured. Apparently, just his accidental sincerity was enough for her to want to peel off his wetsuit. She dropped down to the floor, knees pressed against the hard floor and in between his legs. Waterboy, of course, stammered out something, probably overwhelmed with her sudden proximity to his naked form. Prism made a mental note to go slow. “Okaaay, Professor Oglevee. You wanna keep doing that? I’m down.”
“Do… Do?” Waterboy lifted his head. “What do? Doing wha-what? With you?”
“I don’t remember last night,” she reminded with a shrug. She placed her hands on his shoulders. He didn’t flinch as expected though. “So, obviously, I’d need a repeat. Wanna keep kissing?” Waterboy stared at her, probably with the same awe as last night. Damn shame she couldn’t remember, but Prism had no problem making new memories. His grey eyes were pretty, she decided. He was pretty cute. Despite his social impediment. Well, maybe it felt a bit more endearing now. “Cuz I wouldn’t mind, Hermboy.”
Maybe temporarily to see what he was working with. She hadn’t been with anyone—not seriously—since she joined this Phoenix program. And it might be nice to be treated like the queen she was for more than one night. Waterboy seemed like just the right—an actual good—person for that. With growing improvement, he just might surprise her by staying loyal and taking her as she was. Unconditionally.
It took him three tries, but he ended up giving up words and simply nodded. His entire face turned a brilliant shade of red as she slid one hand from his shoulder and up his neck. Prism softly pressed her lips to his and curled her fingers around the back of his neck, nails lightly sliding into his damp hair. It was leisure but somehow, the kiss made her insides tingle. He knew how to kiss her just right and clearly followed her lead. She very much liked that he didn’t try to shove his tongue in immediately and waited on her to make the first move.
Her tongue darted out, sliding against his lower lip. He shuddered and then mirrored the motion. Nearly vibrating at the brush of their tongues, Prism leaned into the kiss, deepening it and coaxing a low moan from Waterboy. His hands touched her sides, palms wet and sliding down to her hips. Fingers gripping—a bolder touch than expected—he pulled her towards him. Prism wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed, shifting between slow and quick, clearly enjoying each other and learning a long the way. Kiss was so good, she forgot to breathe right a few times. No matter how wet, everything within felt like flames grew and spread throughout. Every nerve was hyper aware of his lips and touch. Had it been like this last night or had he just learned so well since then?
She was almost surprised by her own enthusiasm even as she felt her silk robe dampen beneath his careful massage. Almost. Maybe in the back of her mind, she had wanted to kiss this pathetically cute pool noodle all along. Why else would her drunken self have her way with him over a simple compliment?
Prism reared back, lips lingering a second longer before completely halting the sweet, wet kiss. She licked her lips. Maybe she wouldn’t have to get used to that. Almost refreshing. Certainly hydrating. She grinned. There was so many play on words and innuendos to use now. How red and wet could he get just from flirting? She couldn’t wait to find out. Definitely had to invest in fancy waterproof sheets. And maybe some large dog pee pads too—extra absorbent.
“Don’t call me Prism when we’re like this,” she said. Her real name might be easier to say. “Call me Alice.”
“Y-Yes—acknowledged—I-I know.”
“Whatchu mean you know?!” she reared back further, narrowing her eyes in accusation. “Don’t assume…!”
“You told me—said—demanded yesterday,” Waterboy replied, nervously throwing up his hands. He looked so pitiful shaking like a leaf on a windy day. She now understood the teeth marks on his skin. She wanted to nibble on his trembling skin. “After I pro-promised hangover flap—pancakes. You-You fell asleep right… right after.”
“… Oh.” That did sound like her. Mildly embarrassed, Prism cleared her throat and relaxed. “Well, hop to it then, Hermboy.” She stood up and then peered down at him. Waterboy gasped and hastily covered himself with both hands. She almost rolled her eyes again, but she felt a smile creep up on her face. “Where is your wetsuit anyway?”
“On the—near the lovesea-couch,” Waterboy replied.
Prism let out a loud laugh even if it didn’t agree with her headache. “Damn, I really didn’t wait for shit,” she giggled out. She normally kept sex and such out of her living room, keeping relations strictly out of it. She had some fucking decorum after all. But she hadn’t waited and obviously wanted him as soon as possible. Maybe he had insisted on the bedroom instead. A traditional, polite man. She would have to break him out of that box. At least for counters or floors. “Guess that means this ain’t so temporary.”
“Tempo-Temporary? You only… We’re only… kissing temporarily?” Waterboy meekly questioned, a bit of a pout formed. A laugh from the depths of her belly shot out. How cute he was.
“Temporarily? Nah, bitch, you mine foreva.”
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