"Robert, I want exactly ONE THING for my birthday. This is literally the ONNNNNLY THING I want, from YOU specifically, on MY birthday"
"Uh ... ok sure, what is it?" Robert asks casually sipping his coffee, thinking it was gonna be either a really expensive piece of clothing, collenge, even a sex marathon.
"I want THAT ASS, YOUR ass, on my face. For as long as I want" Chad says fully straight faced and still hopeful at the same time.
Robert's coffee drips out of his mouth and on the floor he's so flabbergasted.
There’s an absolutely idiotic event taking place at SDN. Robert would like nothing more than to not participate.
“Basically,” he bores. “It’s like secret Santa. Dispatchers pick a random number, get a hero, spend a week together to ‘create a a stronger and warmer working environment.’ Yay.”
And Robert gets Flambae. Because of course.
“Just to let you know,” Robert catches him just before they head home, already feeling a throbbing headache pulse. “I’m not up for flying. Or karaoke. Or Flambae-related things.”
And Flambae raises a brow. “Bitch, you know you have a say in this, right? What do you even do for fun?”
And it’s always awkward. Trying to scrape together an explanation as to why he has no exact source of enjoyment.
“…I like watching Beef chase after stuff.”
“Fuck. Me too. Man, I really wanted to argue,” he sighs, but that little determined smirk is already on his lips, handsome and broad. “I know exactly what to do with you.”
Robert anticipated a week full of chaos, migraines, and mild to severe death.
Instead, he gets Flambae wakes him up at 6 AM for the farmer’s market.
They fight over radio rights. Flambae sings horrendously when it’s his turn. Robert ends up laughing over the lyrics.
On day two, they go to a dog park.
Beef runs after a pampered poodle with all his rotund might. Flambae chases him for 10 minutes. Robert makes sure to film him trip.
On day three, he learns how to cook dumplings at Flambae’s place.
When he’s done laughing at him, Flambae actually guides his hands into the correct position. They’re warm.
“Why were you so against this thing, anyway?” He murmurs, “I mean, it’s total corporate bullshit, but still.”
He shrugs, trying not to think about how safe he feels, with Flambae’s hands around him, and a nose dusted with flour.
“I just…don’t like the idea of people being stuck with me.“ He thinks of bullets, cold metal, and a death he can’t fix. “No one should have to deal with that.”
And maybe Flambae’s quiet for a second.
Because maybe he’ll never understand Robert, but he does understand that.
“Well, that fucking sucks. Cause I like dealing with you.”
And maybe Robert hopes the end of the week slows down.
There’s an absolutely idiotic event taking place at SDN. Robert would like nothing more than to not participate.
“Basically,” he bores. “It’s like secret Santa. Dispatchers pick a random number, get a hero, spend a week together to ‘create a a stronger and warmer working environment.’ Yay.”
And Robert gets Flambae. Because of course.
“Just to let you know,” Robert catches him just before they head home, already feeling a throbbing headache pulse. “I’m not up for flying. Or karaoke. Or Flambae-related things.”
And Flambae raises a brow. “Bitch, you know you have a say in this, right? What do you even do for fun?”
And it’s always awkward. Trying to scrape together an explanation as to why he has no exact source of enjoyment.
“…I like watching Beef chase after stuff.”
“Fuck. Me too. Man, I really wanted to argue,” he sighs, but that little determined smirk is already on his lips, handsome and broad. “I know exactly what to do with you.”
Robert anticipated a week full of chaos, migraines, and mild to severe death.
Instead, he gets Flambae wakes him up at 6 AM for the farmer’s market.
They fight over radio rights. Flambae sings horrendously when it’s his turn. Robert ends up laughing over the lyrics.
On day two, they go to a dog park.
Beef runs after a pampered poodle with all his rotund might. Flambae chases him for 10 minutes. Robert makes sure to film him trip.
On day three, he learns how to cook dumplings at Flambae’s place.
When he’s done laughing at him, Flambae actually guides his hands into the correct position. They’re warm.
“Why were you so against this thing, anyway?” He murmurs, “I mean, it’s total corporate bullshit, but still.”
He shrugs, trying not to think about how safe he feels, with Flambae’s hands around him, and a nose dusted with flour.
“I just…don’t like the idea of people being stuck with me.“ He thinks of bullets, cold metal, and a death he can’t fix. “No one should have to deal with that.”
And maybe Flambae’s quiet for a second.
Because maybe he’ll never understand Robert, but he does understand that.
“Well, that fucking sucks. Cause I like dealing with you.”
And maybe Robert hopes the end of the week slows down.
Flambert road trip AU, post Mecha Man reveal, but make it soft angsty.
It’s been a few months. The schedule is split. Robert carries what he can, then carries more.
He expected several things from Flambae. Distance wasn’t one of them.
There’s still quips. There’s still banter. There’s still that grinning snarkiness Robert came to look forward to.
But only around the team. Almost like they have to do it. Maybe for them, or themselves.
And when he gets into the elevator with Flambae, he realises it’s been so long since they were alone, he has no idea how to act.
“I can hear your pulse,” Flambae has that end-of-shift rasp to his tone, eyes ahead and tired. “Chill out. I’m not gonna kill you.”
“…Not right now, or?”
“It’s not funny, Robert.”
“Right.” Robert doesn’t know why he keeps talking. Maybe he just doesn’t want to let silence win. “So… Two weeks off. Any plans?”
Flambae’s eyelashes blink at him, question all over those smoked gold eyes. “What the fuck do you mean? We’re going to Miami. “
“Miami?”
“Yeah? BB’s gonna drive her mom van. Prism has a playlist for everybody. Vic’s gonna eat in my fucking car, because he knows I can’t say no to him. We go every year. Didn’t those assholes let you know?”
They didn’t.
And they both understand why. The practicality behind it.
Robert says it’s fine.
Flambae says he’s going. If he wants to. And only then.
And Robert, to his own surprise? Really, really does.
It’s fine.
He owns 10 pair of jeans and shirts that look identical to his work uniform. It’s fine.
He spent half his salary on thrift stores. It’s fine.
He googles ‘road trip tips’. It’s fine.
Flambae and the others pick him up at 6. He loads Robert’s bags in Mandy’s car without question. Robert can’t quite stop himself from staring.
“I didn’t know your hair was curly.”
And Flambae’s shoulders raise and drop, securing the luggage safely. “No powers on the trip. No gel.”
“Looks good. It suits you.”
And as it turns out, Mandy’s car is conveniently full. So is Prism’s. So is everyone else’s.
And Flambae rolls his eyes, and looks at Robert almost like he’s apologising. “You can have the car and I can fly. Whatever you want.”
Robert wants them to go together.
There’s a certain tranquility, in the way Flambae drives. Like him and the road have this mutual understanding neither will betray the other.
That used to be him and the sky, Robert thinks.
“So. Why Miami?”
Flambae always has this eternal gentleness, when he speaks of his father.
“My dad and I used to travel a lot, when I was young. Miami was my favorite. He bought me a vacation home there, for my 30th birthday. It was my turn to pick this year, so.”
“Wow,” Robert teases, “Don’t pull a muscle with that flex.”
And Flambae scoffs a laugh, brief but honest.
“Well. It was supposed to be my last one. He went all out, I guess.”
For the remaining mile, neither of them speak again.
They all stop at a motel, and the staff knows them all by name. Prism is the one who explains they bunk.
Two people. One room. Cheaper.
Robert doesn’t even get to open his mouth before Flambae tosses the room key his way, back retreating to his car, despite Prism’s groans.
And Robert doesn’t know why he calls after him. He just knows his chest throbs with this strange, sweet warmth.
“You know, I don’t have cooties!”
It grows when Flambae calls back without glancing back.
“I’ve seen your 7 in 1!”
It grows when Robert watches that annoying, arrogant, cocky, infuriating meteor of a man sleep in his car, just so Robert can have his own room.
And he has a feeling it’ll keep growing till Miami.
Helloooo, feel free to take this and run with it, but I'm a huge sucker for Robert and Chad being ridiculous mushy flirts with each other after they're together. Like they were yearning so bad it made them stupid and now that they finally got together it's only WORSE. Like constant goo goo eyes when the other isn't looking, soft lingering touches, but then the second someone points it out, Chad is like "what are you talking about? I'm soo not devastatingly in love" while literally clinging to Robert who just looks at him like he's the sun and moon and stars. Bonus points for cute aggression on either side!
I had to really chew on this one for a bit. What does mushy look like for these assholes. I love the idea of them being Obnoxious. Feels right. Makes me think about This Vine. They are the Couple and Z-Team is the one filming. That's it. That's the vibe. Lol. My kingdom for an artistic rendition.
--
Birdcage Levels of Over The Top Homosexual Behavior...
It’s new. That’s gotta be why. Robert’s not a virgin. He’s had sex. Casual partners. A lot of stupid situationship adjacent stuff back in college. But he inherited Mecha Man young, and that changed everything. First of all. Identity fuckery? Hiding an entire part of his life from someone for his own safety and theirs? Feels bad. The concept made Robert’s insides churn and his skin crawl. Second—The inherent danger of having someone to lose, for both Robert, and that someone. That just wasn’t an option.
Robert didn’t have a safety net to back him up if shit went sour.
So this? Whatever the hell this is that he’s doing now? It’s new and he’s getting sugar-sick off it. He can’t stop himself. It slides into every soft, squishy crevice he has and floods him with feel-good chemicals. Call it NRE or lovesick or whatever the hell you want, but Robert’s got it bad.
And, much to everyone else’s horror and dismay, Chad is just as bad, if not worse.
Robert’s been so touch starved for so long he leans into every casual brush like it’s the only thing he’s breathing for. And many of Chad’s touches are less than casual. He’s like a man possessed by the concept of possessing Robert. Holding him. Standing over him. Blocking anyone who might look at him with the breadth of his body, cornering him in the halls, in the breakroom, between shifts, reeking of smoke and sweat and his expensive cologne.
It’s intoxicating. A blissful high. To be pursued and wanted and hear Chad’s desire for him between missions. In person. On a private channel. In the locker room. Chad’s got more shame than Robert about most things, but in this, they’re a matched pair. Feeding into each other’s longstanding need for someone who wants this as much as they do.
Chad brings him coffee in the morning, purrs sweet, filthy bullshit in his ear and winds around him, all his heat enveloping Robert from behind. The firm grip of Chad’s arm around his waist turns Robert’s knees to jelly.
“I missed you,” Chad murmurs, his tone as thick and warm as cigar smoke. Robert leans back into his chest, tilts his head up, a grin tugging one corner of his mouth askew.
“You drove me here,” Robert points out, and Chad groans, the sound resonating through Robert’s back as suddenly he’s got the entirety of Chad’s face tucked into the sweep of his neck. He can pretend to pout all he wants, the sensation of Chad’s lips and his teeth and his breath along Robert’s throat all tell a very different story.
“You say that like it means anything. You were in a meeting and I had to get into costume. That’s practically an eternity, Robert.” Chad’s particularly handsy this morning, and Robert enjoys the way he clings while he stands at his cubicle and sips his coffee.
“I’m gonna start a fuckin’ PDA jar for you freaks,” Courtney says as she rolls up to the scene of the crime. The crime being how flushed Robert’s face and neck are from the attention and ambient body heat from his personal walking furnace.
“Jealous?” Chad lifts his head and props his chin atop Robert’s skull. Holds him tighter around his shoulders. There it is again. Possessive.
“Of what? Your Birdcage levels of over the top homosexual behavior?”
“Caaaareful, Visi. You’re on your last microaggression before write up,” Robert warns, but he knows she’s not serious, and neither is he. She gives him a little look, this earnest thing that shows she’s relieved. And then it’s right back to disgust.
“Worth it. Get a room, losers.”
Chad scoffs.
“They changed the door codes for storage and records. Take it up with Blazer.”
Courtney just might. In fact, Robert would not be surprised if the entire team rallied together to petition for a closet to be allotted for this exact reason. So they’ll do this somewhere less in everyone’s faces, since the Phoenix Program contracts were not as ironclad as some others.
“How long do you think it’ll take HR to finalize the updated contracts and add a fraternization policy?” Robert asks while Chad squeezes him again. Counting down the minutes until shift start.
“Who cares? I’ll send it back and tell them I won’t sign unless they give me healthcare and PTO like you little pencil pushers get.”
“Buy my discretion. Give me Health Care and I’ll Stop. Sounds about right,” Robert melts into one more embrace. Savors it. “Hm. Time to go. Miss you already.”
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