✪ 20+ | minors/blank bios/empty blogs dni (i am a grown adult. i do not want your interaction. thank you.)
✪ this is a sideblog; i cannot follow back from here and my main is private. that’s why i rb! gotta show support somehow.
✪ hello i am really bad at writing but i can't seem to care or stop. that is now your problem! i will not be consistent with uploads as i am very much a hobbyist and honestly really lazy. also i might stop writing a series if i get simply get too bored with it.
✪ i mainly write drabbles, imagines, or oneshots (are they still called that?) but occasionally i get struck with enough motivation to write like... maybe 3 chapters of a fic so! let's go gambling!
✪ currently latched onto dispatch (mainly robert but i don't mind trying to write for other characters)
✪ rbs, comments, and likes are very appreciated
ao3 | masterlist (you can also find my basic guidelines of what & how i write)
you can send requests, but know that i don't have an obligation to write it unless it strikes my particular fancy. send it anyway, i don't mind.
i am also open to just bouncing ideas with you, if you're brave.
do not repost, edit, or feed my work into a.i., thank you.
consider: Robert who cries during sex sometimes, esp post crash and coma. it's not that he's upset or anything, he just gets a little overwhelmed (both physically and emotionally) and reader is endeared by it. 👀
oh do not even get me started (no wait do)
you know the drill. MDNI
tags - cw pretty nsfw, crying during sex, no physical descriptors for reader
wc - idk writing on the tumblr app. not very long?
It’s unfair.
You already feel envy over the thick lashes framing Robert’s tired doe eyes.
Already feel the curling green vines of jealousy whenever he’s below you, said lashes fluttering and pupils blown wide as he stares up at you in a daze.
So, it’s incredibly fucking rude of him to look so pretty with dewy tears clumping his lower lashes, fattening with each half-baked blink.
His furrowed brows deepen the sweet expression on his flushed face, bite-plump lips parting around each trembling exhale that leaves him.
It’s unfair how the copper of his irises almost glitter in their wetness, especially when his eyes roll and stutter shut when your hips give another slow grind against him.
“Fffuh–ck.” Robert chokes out, fists twisting in the sheets fitfully before they release the fabric to blindly fumble for purchase on your waist, “Sl–ow down.”
The envy continues curling in on itself until it reinvents, blooms into an almost aching adoration as you watch him. The hand you have braced on his chest skims his collarbone on its trajectory to his throat.
Your fingertips make contact with the sweat on his neck before they travel up, up, up to his jaw. They form a cradle against his heated cheek, his head easily tilting back further at your gentle direction.
“Look at me, Robert,” you murmur sweetly, thumb drifting over to press on his bottom lip with light pressure, a soft low sound puffing around it, “Open your eyes.”
He sucks in a stunted breath through his teeth before they peek open, just barely able to focus on your face above him before they’re rolling again when you reward him with another grind.
The resulting wheezing groan that punches from his chest vibrates from his jawbone to your fingertips, the tendons in his neck flexing as his head presses further against the pillow it rests on.
It’s almost sinful—how the tear that falls from his lashes adds so beautifully to his thoroughly debauched demeanor, how his eyes struggling to stay open send another wave of broiling heat to your stomach.
do you have a guidelines post or anything for requests?? like topics that are and aren't allowed. Ive got lizard brain but I wanna be Respectful™
i’m fast tracking a faq page to the top of priorities of writing :)
for now, the basics are i don’t tread dead dove/dark topics. that’s really it. other than that, it’s up to my own discretion of what i want to post so go nuts!!! (obviously, within the bare minimum boundaries)
hi it's my dumb ass again YOU SEE MY VISIIIIOOONNN THANK YOU
I raise you this: Robert who is, in fact, deeply betrayed by reader leaving him, but does not push back for their sake because it's finally apparent to him how much his self destruction has also destroyed them in the process. :3
your brain is beautiful and so big and very full of wrinkles you are more than welcome to come back as much as you want are you kidding
i couldn’t help the angst aspect, that’s been a long time coming i’m afraid
god, this could branch in so many directions also.
like would he just accept it? almost anticlimacticly?
maybe reader had a whole speech about it, finally able to get him to listen to them for the first and last time. their concern, their fear for his life, “Robert, you’re killing yourself. You aren’t the mech. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this, you’re going to get hurt. And I can’t just sit idly by while you do it anymore. I can’t. I love you too much to.”
a simple, “…okay.” that’s it. he can’t even look at them when they pause, almost laughing in disbelief. “okay.” like the thought of even absorbing their words would allocate too much energy that could be used on tracking this toxic guy down.
no “you’re right.” no “i can be better.” no “please, i need you.”
no matter how much he wants to say it; knows he should say it.
he keeps those words burning like a live wire connected from his auditory cortex and his frontal lobe, burning white hot until it crisps itself. by that point, they’re long gone, having offered one last crumb of support that he won’t be seeing for a while.
“be careful.”
or could it be a bit more vitriolic?
instead of pushback, it’s straight up pushing.
the walls he’s learned to build from the early days of mecha man raise on instinct. his nervous system can’t tell the difference between a hulking giant villain trashing downtown and his partner gently asking him to slow down, to be careful.
to slow down is to lose track of his mission, to lose track of his mission is to run the risk of shroud getting away, shroud getting away is… not an option.
his brain sees this intervention as being cornered in a fight, and when he’s cornered in a fight, he’s learned to fight dirty.
and so he does.
he isn’t foaming at the mouth, but he’s cold. he’s already closed the reinforced hatch to his mental fortitude.
what hurts about what he says is that they’re fundamentally true, that they cut deep in a personal way only years of being together can be. and with each word, with all the forced indifference, he can see them try to remain above the cutting board.
so he keeps on. he keeps running his mouth until he knows he can’t come back from this. until they’re staring at him like every memory they’ve had with him were wiped from history’s playbook. selfishly, until he knows they are hurting without a doubt, just to bring them to his level.
the borderline horror in their eyes as they stand with a gaped mouth twists his stomach sharply, guilt and regret beginning a dizzying tango in his gut until he shuts that out too.
“you don’t want to get involved?” he asks rhetorically, knowing damn well that is not at all what they were trying to say, “fine. leave. don’t get involved. this has been a problem for me long before you become one.”
that was it. that was the last thing he said to them until they meet again after the explosion.
okay okay not your usual brand, BUT please consider: Robert and a reader who are rekindling their romance because being Mecha Man was putting a strain on the relationship and it came to a head when his suit went down. consider 👀
i almost feel bad for a few fics i have planned because all i've posted so far has been nothing but tooth-rotting sweetness and i know the whiplash that will come with the posting of said fics... almostttttt ;) this actually isn't too far off to one in the works! it's gotta little twist to it, perchance kekekeke.
oh, i very consider this.
this concept drives me up the WALL in the best possible way. there are so many avenues it could take (albeit, with the subject at hand, usually not good ones lol) and it makes such a good mental jawbreaker.
undercut because i am insane and write with the guidance of visions and the like
like how long did reader put up with the self-destruction that got progressively worse and harder to ignore? what was the breaking point? would robert be resigned to it and let them walk out without a fight (already tunnel-focused on leads on shroud and thus blocks the mental & emotional space to confront his feelings)? would he feel almost betrayed by the only pillar of support and love he had left in his life seemingly giving up when he was so close to his goal, causing a more defensive pushback? would he be bitter until he almost dies? would he hit the bottle again?
what was the tipping point for reconciliation? reader can only stay around for so long with no change, i don’t think they’d make the move to reconnect. after settling into sdn, i bet chase would smack him upside the head after he recounts the timeline of events while drinking together, calling him a dumbass and to reach out. i think he’d be nervous. he never deleted their number, no matter how many late nights he laid on the floor staring at the contact while a thumb hovered over the block button. he has no excuse. he’s mecha man for fucks sake, why is he borderline terrified of texting an ex. has he even grown or changed to healthier habits enough to deserve the chance? he’d like to think so but some vein of thoughts he has to bury occasionally makes him feel otherwise.
would they almost fall back into old routine, without the self sabotaging? like they were never apart? or would there be a period of relearning the other? either way, the love that he thought he had stomped out with a heavy heel immediately starts thrashing and clawing in his chest when he even sees them again.
holy text wall my apologies but THANK YOU. now i am scheming. oh goddd what if i edit what i have so far. fuck oh god you are feeding the worms in my brain.
hello hello! I just wanted to say how much I love your dispatch fics. they're so soft in such an intimate way- like, in hypotheticals, how Robert and the reader are cuddled up and joking felt so real and intimate I felt genuine yearning.
I would love to bounce ideas off each other sometime, if you'd want to chat!!! have a nice day 🧡
ahhh thank you so very much!! :) this takes away some of the worry i had with hypotheticals lol. if the yearning is strong, then i accomplished what i set out to do >:) #yearner
and absolutely! my askbox is open for any concept or thought! i love volleying ideas with others a lot and will absolutely jump at the chance haha
teeheehee…..for the fic wip word thing….. teeheheee……..peaceful or shaky !!! <- smiling and beaming and kicking my legs so happily and so curiously teeheeheee ^q^
— rar
awww!! rar, hi!!! this is what i have :3cc
It was late in the evening— and to any outsider, the two of you were the picture of peaceful on the couch, and right where you wanted to be. He was lounging, one of his arms slung over the back of it, while he read his book, looking from you now and then. But if you were being entirely honest, you could have sworn he was more infatuated with the book itself instead. And with your feet resting over his lap, with practiced care, continued painting your nails, one finger at a time. He said the scent didn't bother him in the slightest, though you kind of doubted that.
i know it's says a single sentence, but i like including the whole paragraph teehee
idk why i’m just now realizing that robert’s little line of “getting black out drunk on a bottle of mezcal” after a bad break up is almost certainly (to me at least) a reference to the fact aaron paul literally co-owns & runs an artisanal mezcal company with bryan cranston.
in my heart and mind, the specific brand is now dos hombres.
You don't have powers, but you've always kind of known when people need someone. Always a realist, you chalk it up to being sensitive to subtle body language that you only notice on a subconscious level.
The past few weeks, you've been bringing extra food to work because the guy across the bullpen just seems off. He always looks tired, to be fair; always has. But it's worse lately. His eyes are just a little heavier. He slouches just a little bit more. He deadpans jokes with just a liiiiitttle extra touch of cynicism.
You've only ever seen him eat from the vending machine.
You started bringing things for him when you realized you hadn't seen him with a twinkie in two days.
Your lunch breaks happen at the same time, so it's easy to be casual about it. It's not like you came and found him specifically. You're just offering something to him because you can hear his stomach from the microwave, when your home cooking fills the space and starts another fight between his appetite and whatever is going on with him.
It gets you talking about what you prep every week. It's so easy, so sneaky of you; you're not making him feel like someone's worried about him and trying to get him to eat. You're just a coworker that is happy to share and is excited someone likes their cooking.
So you keep bringing extra.
He starts looking more himself. The mildly tired, sardonic-but-friendly Robert Robertson. You didn't think this is what he looked like when he was bright and chipper until you saw him sinking lower. He starts, even, looking less morose than his old default.
And one day, it's just you and him in the break room. He shifts a little; something's on his mind. And he doesn't tell you what was bothering him. He doesn't make a big speech. He doesn't open up and pour his heart out.
He just pulls you close and hugs you. It's the kind of hug you get when you're dropping a good friend off at the airport, or seeing them again after a long time apart.
Then he pushes his face against your shoulder like he's trying to somehow get closer; he squeezes tighter, holds the back of your neck in his hand. It's clear he's lost in your scent, the warmth, pressing as close as he possibly can while you try to be less flustered. Because goodness, you're blushing.
"Thanks," he mutters, sagging into you when you hold him back. "For being here."
It goes on longer than friendly. In fact, the man has trouble pulling away.
Later, you're on his couch. He's nestled between your legs, arms around you, face buried in your torso, rapidly falling asleep as you card through his hair. Beef's wedged himself into the pile. You're heavy-lidded yourself, under all that pleasant weight.
Visits become sleepovers. Then he doesn't want you to leave at all. It's easy, with him. So strange, too, that it feels like you've always been here with him. He absorbed you so effortlessly into his life, the time before him feels like a fading dream.
Life's funny. You'd tried and failed on all kinds of apps to get this kind of love. You changed yourself for people, you tried new hobbies, you went places out of your comfort zone.
Turns out all you had to do, apparently, was make an extra sandwich on a whim one morning because the dude at work seemed a little sad to you.
"It was a good fucking sandwich, though," he says, every time you tell the story.
You don't have powers, but you've always kind of known when people need someone. Always a realist, you chalk it up to being sensitive to subtle body language that you only notice on a subconscious level.
The past few weeks, you've been bringing extra food to work because the guy across the bullpen just seems off. He always looks tired, to be fair; always has. But it's worse lately. His eyes are just a little heavier. He slouches just a little bit more. He deadpans jokes with just a liiiiitttle extra touch of cynicism.
You've only ever seen him eat from the vending machine.
You started bringing things for him when you realized you hadn't seen him with a twinkie in two days.
Your lunch breaks happen at the same time, so it's easy to be casual about it. It's not like you came and found him specifically. You're just offering something to him because you can hear his stomach from the microwave, when your home cooking fills the space and starts another fight between his appetite and whatever is going on with him.
It gets you talking about what you prep every week. It's so easy, so sneaky of you; you're not making him feel like someone's worried about him and trying to get him to eat. You're just a coworker that is happy to share and is excited someone likes their cooking.
So you keep bringing extra.
He starts looking more himself. The mildly tired, sardonic-but-friendly Robert Robertson. You didn't think this is what he looked like when he was bright and chipper until you saw him sinking lower. He starts, even, looking less morose than his old default.
And one day, it's just you and him in the break room. He shifts a little; something's on his mind. And he doesn't tell you what was bothering him. He doesn't make a big speech. He doesn't open up and pour his heart out.
He just pulls you close and hugs you. It's the kind of hug you get when you're dropping a good friend off at the airport, or seeing them again after a long time apart.
Then he pushes his face against your shoulder like he's trying to somehow get closer; he squeezes tighter, holds the back of your neck in his hand. It's clear he's lost in your scent, the warmth, pressing as close as he possibly can while you try to be less flustered. Because goodness, you're blushing.
"Thanks," he mutters, sagging into you when you hold him back. "For being here."
It goes on longer than friendly. In fact, the man has trouble pulling away.
Later, you're on his couch. He's nestled between your legs, arms around you, face buried in your torso, rapidly falling asleep as you card through his hair. Beef's wedged himself into the pile. You're heavy-lidded yourself, under all that pleasant weight.
Visits become sleepovers. Then he doesn't want you to leave at all. It's easy, with him. So strange, too, that it feels like you've always been here with him. He absorbed you so effortlessly into his life, the time before him feels like a fading dream.
Life's funny. You'd tried and failed on all kinds of apps to get this kind of love. You changed yourself for people, you tried new hobbies, you went places out of your comfort zone.
Turns out all you had to do, apparently, was make an extra sandwich on a whim one morning because the dude at work seemed a little sad to you.
"It was a good fucking sandwich, though," he says, every time you tell the story.
hiiiii I’m sorry if I missed a request page somewhere I looked around for one but couldn’t find one aaaaa but I was wondering if you did head canons and if so could you do some simple head canons about just dating Robert and what that would be like? Thankyou ❤️
haha that’s absolutely no fault of your own, don’t worry!!! i really need to buckle down and write that ;; just send in your ideas regardless for now!
i’ve been adding on and off to this, and a lot of it is just based off of my own headcanons i’ve already got written down so i hope that’s alright.
(edit: i’m realizing now that these aren’t super romantic, but i find the everyday aspects of somebody more intriguing & charming. idk maybe i’m being weird about human interaction again idk IDC i’m having fun. if you’d like more actual romance stuff, let me know!! :) )
no physical descriptors for reader / gn reader, not many tags to add, these are mostly just random thoughts cobbled together, can you tell i daydream about just texting this man a lot, loved doing these soooo if you have any requests hit my lineeeee ^_^
enjoy whatever these are!!!
✪ I know I touched on this a bit in my previous fics (or at least attempted; not sure how the execution was) but he is actually such a little pain in the ass.
For fun! Obviously, he doesn’t truly intend to actually irritate or upset you; he’s good at keeping a bit running but absolutely knows when to drop it. He just feels comfortable with you enough to be a bit more playful than usual; he doesn’t have a reason to play the ‘cool, straight man’ around you.
Because of that, you will find yourself wanting to wring his neck every once & a while and he fully knows & enjoys it. It just fuels him further.
✪ Robert is very observant (another thing I’ve tried to incorporate). It most likely originally stemmed from his time as Mecha Man in the beginning, having to be on constant guard and hyper-vigilant, lest he has his ass handed to him.
Now that he’s manning the desk, he has to find an outlet for that restless energy somehow. And what better way than to learn your habits, likes, dislikes, etc.? It seems the healthier choice, rather than constantly checking & counting exits and potential blind spots repeatedly.
Plus, getting to look at you all the time is a pretty good deal to him.
✪ Dating Robert makes you privileged to random photos of Beef at any hour of the day.
Sure, yeah, you get the usual cute ones—Beef given up in his bed while half tangled in a blanket and falling asleep; a higher view of him absolutely doing his best to weaponize his big brown eyes at his dad; a decent candid photo of him investigating a tumbling leaf during his potty time out in the SDN courtyard.
And you adore them. But you also really enjoy the ugly photos Robert does Beef SO dirty with.
An awful angle taken right after waking up, Beef sat heavily on Robert’s chest and his chin doubled as he stares down at the camera; so many 0.5 photos of Beef up close, wet nose smudging the camera lens and bright eyes unfocused; an entire collection of him caught mid-yawn, the motion blurring adding a sense of chaos in an otherwise cherubic dog.
These are usually sent at the latest hours of the night, when Robert can’t sleep. And you have a feeling that he’s almost delirious with giggles when he sends them.
Most of the god awful ones have become inside jokes, turned into reaction images. You find yourself getting an ugly Beef reaction to your question about if the eggs are still good. So, not very helpful but still funny.
✪ You may also get random audio messages sprinkled through his texts. Some have actual purpose.
“Hey. Hands are full right now; we still on for dinner tonight? I can have Chase take Beef.”—“Forgot to tell you before I left for work. Love youuuuu.”—“Heads up, traffic’s absolutely hell on Elgar Ave. Avoid at all costs, I repeat. Avoid at all costs.”
The others… well, sometimes the audio message button just gets in the way. And to be fair, all it takes is a small brush of a finger to activate it.
So, you have started saving all of them. All of them.
“… Oh, shit, it’s doing the thi—”
“–ake it outside. I’m serious. No, I don’t care. Don’t fucking fight in the office. (fabric shifting) Christ almighty. … Is this recor—”
“–so, not my first rodeo.” “Uh huh. …You fuckin’ simp. You textin’ ‘em during work hours?” “Okay, first off, nosy. Second, a few texts aren’t going to doom the whole of Torrance, Chase.” “Mhm.” “I miss them, okay. Sue me. This is, like, the only human interaction I get throughout the day that doesn’t drive me insane.” “We both know you ain’t got the fuckin’ money for court. And, uh… you know that thing’s going, right?” “… oh, fuck. Sorry. Sor—”
✪ Does. Not. Use. Chapstick.
Not for any ‘macho-man’ reason; we know Robert is secure enough in his masculinity to not give a fuck about that.
Be it a texture reason, sensory issues, whatever, he simply refuses to use any. And he needs to.
His lips get chapped from the slightest breeze. And he lets it get to the point that it has to hurt; his skin is cracking, bleeding, and he’s wincing whenever he smiles too wide. He’s also chewing off the dead skin.
And, to make it worse, when you asked him why he doesn’t use chapstick (y’know, like any sane person would), he simply shrugged and—100% serious—said, “I’ve got spit. I just have to lick them a bit and they’re good.”
Robert did find your appalled expression a bit funny, but overall didn’t get why it was such a big deal.
He figured it out quick when he realized it was the main reason he was being denied kisses. (Not out of disgust, mind you—okay, maybe a little, but mostly out of concern.)
Either gets a small tub of vaseline (read: had it chucked at his head by Chase when he was lamenting about his lack of kisses) or just a generic Carmex stick. Doesn’t really fuck with any specific flavors until you introduce him to your favorite.
Then he doesn’t have such a problem with chapstick.
Summary: ever since you and robert have gotten more acquainted, working in the same building has caused a chain-effect of increasingly bizarre situations. unfortunately, finding a healthy balance on dealing with said situations is where things seem to go sideways. in the fun kind of way, of course.
Content tags + warnings: Very Suggestive, though not explicit. (18+) HR!Reader, workplace dynamics and jargon, loosely based on events of the game, expanding and inserting headcanon where otherwise blank, skirting around coworkers, a couple of steamy scenes (accidental voyeurism), robert's def a smartass, potential butchering of robert’s character, language, some more puns and double entendres, probably.
Note: 8.4k wc - so hey, guys. are we still reading dispatch stuff? because...almost a month later, and here it is. and i've got like. another five solid oneshot ideas, and at least one more part i'm starting to outline for this short lil series. i love this game so much, i've gotta finish my fourth playthrough soon.
this is part ii. part i can be found here!
also, if you want to read more robert stuff, please, please, please check out @rarware, their writing and characterization of robert is amazing.
It had literally been less than 24 hours since going over Robert's benefits together, and it was technically off the record, and yet he still had not elected to go with any of the options. And as much as you would have loved to have reminded him there was a timeframe availability for this, you also didn't want him to think you were actually referring to anything else.
Despite it all, you seemed to be able to handle your workload so much better for some reason, and ontop of everything, even with all of the visits you were getting from staff around the building, you felt like you were able to deal with it. Though, it was never a question that you weren't already capable to manage several things at once, yet— you felt like you had a total mood shift— a boost?
Blazer had been the second, or maybe third, who said something along the lines, 'You look like you're in a good mood.' 'Sleep well?' or your favorite, 'Already on your third cup?'
Had it really been that long for you? You swallowed, hand hovering over the mouse as you worked on some of your reports, and emails, all that jazz. Suddenly, work didn't seem all that bad, but it also didn't feel particularly interesting, either.
Was it possible that Robert was helping you become a more functional person? Nah, that didn't seem likely. Whatever it was, you figured it might be that he brought something new, and interesting into your life.
After yesterday evening? Well — okay, technically there were some gaps inbetween, so you guys were kind of reconnecting, but even now, it felt so out of order. As if, just maybe, it shouldn't have happened the way it did. Timing always a weird way of integrating itself in your life, but you knew better than to dwell at this point.
Especially, since you were absolutely past the point of breaching the previous lines — and it was clear to you, that you were open to exploring whatever this was, safely, of course.
But for one thing, you couldn't help the fact that you felt even more drawn to him now. Though, you must admit it was going to be a challenge, especially since while you were in a lot better mood, you also had a certain thought nagging at you throughout the day. So for now, you decided it would be best to keep your distance.
You reconsidered if you should even pay him a visit while at work, or if it were preferable to wait till after. It's not like you guys had exchanged numbers. But you also figured that maybe you should just be patient and let it happen naturally. Besides, he might see you now, and decide not to engage. Perfectly fine, and even expected for a one night stand.
If that was the case, maybe it would be better to just shelve it for now, and not expect anything. You were technically, kind of in a position where hooking up— a relationship, or whatever else— well, it was completely unprofessional.
Oh well. It was then, as you had stood up from your desk, using the copy machine in your office to print several sheets of the 'job expectations' for some of the candidates coming in for interviews later that week. It wasn't always your favorite part of the season, then again, the job had a somewhat active turnover rate for some positions. And with your mind, still shuffling through your tasks for the day— well you couldn't quite shake the image of Robert rudely interrupting your thoughts.
And then, in the middle of your mind replaying the ridiculous, but unfortunately alluring things he'd said to you the day before— there was a beep alerting you to an error. And with the copies having stopped about halfway, on the small led screen "Change Out Ink Cartridge."
Blinking, you could have sworn you must have taken care of refilling it just last month. The next move, and you were pulling at the drawer of your desk, where you normally stashed things so you wouldn't have to leave your office regularly. Well, as you shifted through paperclips, loose pens, half used post-it-note stacks, and assorted other things you didn't need at the moment, you realized you would have to leave your office.
So naturally, you hurried to make your trip down to the floor where the most of the supplies were stocked. Mentally, you were pacing yourself, thinking of all the things you might say to Robert the next time you'd see him. You were already imagining where the conversation might branch off— as you quietly mouthed a response to yourself. You had it all figured out.
Except, no, you really didn't.
You pulled down on the lever of the supply room, though your hand froze over it shortly after. And wouldn't you know it? As if you had simply manifested him from all your earlier thoughts. Robert, who didn't seem to even notice who just opened the door, as he continued searching through the contents of an unlabelled box. Clearing your throat, and with caution, you began to approach him.
You stepped in, and the door clicked shut on its own, which finally alerted Robert, his head craning towards your direction.
"Oh, hey." he greeted you. The closed smile gracing his face should have been a fireable offense, it looked so natural, but laced with something only the two of you would discern.
You cleared your throat before you cautiously began to approach him, and before you could even properly greet him back, he decided to tease you further.
"Are you following me?" he asked, slight rise in his brow.
You scoffed, crossing your arms briefly as you looked from the metal shelving rack he was stationed by. "Yeah Robert, I know exactly where you are all the time." you replied, playful sarcasm evident in your tone.
Robert lowered his eyes back to the shelf he was examining, scooting around a couple of more things. "So what do I owe the honor," he drawled.
You were a bit bothered by the way he casually created chaos amongst the organization, especially when everything was labeled… accordingly. Mostly.
"Printer's out of ink. And, you?" You were still in anticipation, wondering just what was going on in his head even now. Had you left him so unaffected? Was it just you going through the new emotions?
Well, of course… you couldn't simply think that far ahead. Now that an itch had been mutually scratched, it was probably for the best not to seriously consider anything more.
"Ah, yeah— looking for a stapler." he mumbled. Robert couldn't help but wonder when the last time the inventory was counted here.
You just watched him, not quite intervening to offer your help just yet.
"Are they an endangered species around here?" he asked, recalling Sonar's persistent accusations just the other day.
"I'll be sure to add it on for the next supply order." you defended.
Robert then unexpectedly brought up the elephant in the room. "Hey, you doing okay?"
You hadn't realized your arms were still crossed, presenting body language that very much screamed just how wound up you felt. You immediately retreated them back to your sides, leaning your weight towards one of your heels. "What? Yeah, of course."
His eyes narrowed, and a curious twitch of his lips as he continued. "Sure."
You tapped your foot, inhaling a breath and releasing it shortly after, and it was quite clear there was some obscurity that needed defining here. "Peachy, infact." Maybe you were a bit too insistent.
Robert was watching you, and there was much too long of a pause for this situation to just mean nothing to either of you. His eyes were unshy to flit down to your lips, and then back to your gaze, rather smooth— natural, to be seen by him.
"Look— I," you began, already folding.
And of course, you had every intention to divulge your thoughts on where you stood with him, and just when you were about to start— you heard the lever shift, and someone was entering the room. Quickly, and with purpose, you yanked him with you, retreating into a blindspot. So there you were, cramped into the hidden corner, bodies pressed right into each other. Though, you likely may have shot yourself in both of your feet, there was no way you were quick enough to explain yourself out of the predicament. You could feel each silent breath leaving him, his mouth closed, jaw tight with his eyes still set on you like you were his target.
Whoever had entered, quickly located what they needed, since they were in there not even for two minutes. Yet, for you, those were the most excruciating two minutes you had ever experienced.
Robert, not moving from the position quite yet, his lips veering into something smug. "You were saying?"
He wouldn't dare close the distance even more by kissing you, knowing that was likely crossing boundaries you weren't exactly enthused about during work hours. Though, his mind was whirring, flirting with the idea of restrictions officially lifted once the two of you were clocked out.
"There's an office supply store a couple miles from here. If it's so urgent." you said, changing the subject.
"That's fine, it's not for me." he paused, figuring out the rest of his reply, "I'll just make sure to check in for the next shipment, then."
Slipping out from the warmth of his body, you proceeded to head over to the door. He cleared his throat rather abruptly, which caused you to turn back. And a groan nearly left you. But this time it was strictly professional, and he was holding out something. You realized it was the actual reason you came here.
In his hand was the black ink you needed, so you took it from him quietly, feeling too embarrassed to comment on the mental hiccup.
"Thanks." you said, keeping your tone polite.
Still, you felt an inching anxiety resting under your skin, especially since you were no closer to having addressed the day prior.
Once you were out, you could feel how tense you were, your face felt a rush of warmth settling, making you feel like a teenager for the first time, in a long time. You may have claimed this kind of feeling was unwanted, but you couldn't help shake the effect he had on you. At least not yet.
You were a little more than halfway into your shift now. After having your lunch, you were currently sitting in on a video call that was essentially an over glorified board meeting. And though you knew it was a mandatory one, it wasn't like you hadn't heard it all before. Infact, you were mostly on auto-pilot, simply looking up now and then between your note taking. Again, they were nothing more than bullet points for you.
Another ten minutes rolled by, and the higher ups, ones you hardly ever actually met in person, went over the previous quarter— and then began to evaluate the current one. If anything, you were certainly aiming to be on your best behavior, especially since Blazer was also present during the call. Part of you did think it was kind of amusing for the thumbnailed suits droned on about civilian perception, while she was the only masked up hero on screen. Then again, it all seemed to make sense why she was personally invited, once the topic of the Phoenix program came up.
Blazer unmuted herself and politely intercepted in behalf of the program she was overseeing.
"It's completely understandable why it's a concern, but believe it or not, they've been making strides in improvement."
One of them quickly countered her. "There's already an ongoing lawsuit about one of them setting an employee's car on fire. Which, doesn't exactly instill confidence to continue such a program."
"Okay, that's. Well— yes, we are certainly working on that, sir."
You nearly made a face, but you didn't want to push any buttons or interrupt her. And while it was certainly an incident, like she explained, you silently agreed that there had been improvement. Though, it further irritated you that she had to plead their case, as professionally as she could muster. Asshole.
"Working on it, how?" he pressed.
She composed herself, keeping her tone as unaffected as possible. "We've already had to cut one of them from the team. While it was not an easy decision, we're taking these issues very seriously."
You certainly began to slowly understand just how much was riding on this program working out, and how Robert had been handpicked for this. She had the confidence in him, and so did you.
"Look, I understand they may seem like a liability, but there's also room for growth. SDN is one of the first to even attempt something like this. Yes, criminals should be held accountable, but given the chance— if under different circumstances, we can't assume anyone is beyond help."
They didn't seem to be interested in excuses, but she was also someone with a kind of presence that made many willing to hear her out.
"Yes, maybe we've bitten off more than we can chew, but that just means we'll put in the extra effort required." she firmly continued, "And I have faith in our team, and our dispatcher is already breaking new ground."
You smiled, silently supportive of her passionate defense. No longer taking notes, you simply admired the fact that she truly believed it was not a waste to help them grow. She believed in people. You could sense the sincerity in her tone. It was honestly pretty refreshing, further backing up your conviction that you truly appreciated working together.
"We'll give you another two weeks. In the meantime, put together an action plan you intend to execute. We can't continue to fund something so unproductive."
"Understood." she simply said.
Was she somewhat worried this would fail? Maybe. Even so, the way she handled it was certainly respectable.
Snapped from your thoughts, your personal superior spoke up, calling you out by name. "Did you get all that?"
You pressed to unmute as well, giving a practiced smile. You hoped this might mean it was nearing its end. "Yes."
"Good, I think that just about wraps everything up. We'll check in again, and send a summarized email of what was discussed."
Once you hung up, you ran a hand over your face, realizing just how much was riding on this. You didn't want to have to be the one to break the news if it meant terminating the whole team, along with Robert, which seemed to be part of that implication.
Just then, right as you were gathering up your notes, you saw someone standing outside of the window of your office. Speak of the devil.
She gave a friendly wave, and you acknowledged her presence, giving her the okay to open the door with a motion of your hand.
"Bosslady, was wondering if you had a sec."
"Malevola, you don't need to call me that." you simpered, a bit amused.
"Well, Mal's fine, too." she added casually.
"Mal," you corrected. "what can I do for you?"
"I'm starting to feel like there's a bit of favoritism going on around here. And I thought you might be the one to talk to about that."
"Of course. What's going on?"
Within your chest you felt a pang of worry, wondering where exactly this was going— especially since it was all too apparent that you did favor a certain someone.
"Ever since Robert started, the vending machine is always stocked with those sponge cakes— and the guy who usually comes by once a week doesn't bring the trail mix anymore."
Patiently you waited, letting her continue since you figured there most be more to this. "Okay, and get this, there's literally two spaces full of them now. Who does that?"
You looked at her, obviously a bit confused at first, especially since you were expecting something more serious.
"What? It's got protein and the…little chocolate candies—" she started, almost innocently explaining the contents.
"Well, we honestly could just stock the cupboard with them. I'll send someone out to pick those up, it's not a big deal." you offered, finding it almost kind of cute. It seemed like such a small issue, but she was polite enough that you were willing to take care of it promptly.
"Sweet." She seemed rather satisfied with your answer, but before she turned to leave she decided that she had to air out another pressing issue. "Oh, one more thing, actually."
"Yes?" you asked.
Part of you hoped that wasn't a knowing look on her face, though you resolved to keep your cards hidden. Shit, how were you going to last in this position if you were constantly worried people knew what was going on. Especially with your suspicions about what Visi had likely seen by now.
"So. Since you're HR and all, we were wondering if you know Robert's, like… superhero identity?"
"Excuse me?"
"So we actually have this betting pool on which hero he was. But haven't figured it out yet." she groaned, remembering his avoidance on the matter recently.
"Mal, I can't give out information like that." you carefully said.
"Shit, that's fine. Thought I'd try, thanks again."
Out she went, as you then looked back at the job description print outs you were stapling together earlier. Almost done.
Another hour in, and you had gone out for a bathroom break. Though, as you made your walk back, you noticed a post-it note stuck on the door of your office. Scouting the area briefly, all you could heard were the clicks and clacks of keyboards and work discussion, though the further you looked, the more you couldn't pinpoint any particular suspect across the cubicles. You sure as hell weren't about to start asking random people, 'Hey did you see the person who left this here?'
'hope you stay good yeah. your smile, so bright!' - R (with a big smiley face hastily drawn near the signature)
You smiled to yourself, rolling your eyes playfully as you peeled it off and went about the rest of your day.
Cute. you thought, nearly begrudgingly, but regardless left you feeling flattered.
Well, things seemed to run a bit smoother for the remainder of your time there, all things considered. Especially since that note was a bit unexpected, but entirely welcome.
And by the time you're making your way out of the office, the sun was nearly set now; you had put in a bit of extra time today. Taking the elevator back down to the ground floor, you rolled your neck a bit, stretching yourself out as you pondered over the somewhat eventful day, at least from the moments that stuck out to you.
But like a sore thumb, you picked out Robert immediately lounging on one of the couches in the lobby. Was he waiting around for when you were leaving?
That gave you enough pause as you cautiously watched him, noting the way he slowly turned, hearing your familiar footsteps approaching. Your lips nearly parted, and you could feel the ghost of a word lingering on your tongue, though you refrained from doing so. Robert got the hint, figuring that if you wanted to talk, it would be somewhere more private.
Robert fell in step from behind you at first, and then picking up his pace to catch up to you by your side. A slight quirk of your head, and you were trying to refrain from being sassy, but ultimately failed, "Are you following me?" echoing his own words toward him.
"Look, I figured you might want to talk. Just get things out in the open. You know… on the same page." he said, a genuine earnest in his eyes.
You kept walking till the two of you reached your car, fiddling with the contents inside of your bag, so that you could fish out your keys. "I… well," you attempted.
"We also don't have to, we don't even need to address it, if that's what you prefer." he expressed, sighing with his whole body, shoulders slumping forward for a moment. The weight of the day must have gotten to him.
You looked him over, feeling a tad guilty for likely adding onto it. "I would like to talk. I do, I just… I don't want this to get out of hand." you admitted.
Robert nodded, his lips pressed together thinly, as he realized what you were likely leaning towards. "And, I respect that. It was never my intent."
You nodded and then looked over your shoulder, hoping there were no passerbys who might start asking questions. Again, it was natural that you felt paranoid— it wasn't everyday you risked your job for someone.
Mulling it over for the next few moments, you gave in, realizing that if you were ever going to either 1) get closure or 2) explore this in a healthy way, you had to talk. There was no escaping that.
"Let's talk."
The private setting? Well— you chose your home, again. It seemed like… the safest, somewhat. But you were still on high alert from what happened yesterday. Though, this time, you were here to actually discuss where this might lead, like the adults that you were.
"This probably sounds crazy, but I can't stop thinking about… it."
Robert nodded, knowing exactly what you were, or moreso who you were referring to. "Right, yeah. It didn't cross my mind. How something like that… would happen. But we're already working on that."
"Okay." you simply said, as you both sat there at your table.
There were two mugs of hot tea, as you gingerly sipped on your own, hoping to ease your nerves.
"Things are… looking promising." he offered.
"That's good." you quietly said. Your eyes were cast down at your tea, fingers tapping it gently as you seemed to be stewing on his comment.
"Whatever happens, I'm taking full responsibility. Since she is under my watch." his tone, serious. "Besides, I know she's a little on the difficult side. But I can tell there's something there…"
You definitely sensed you could trust him, especially since he took the initiative to make sure you felt at ease, and did not keep you hanging. His communication, while sometimes seeming cagey, or questionable, may have been something you conjured up during your anxious bouts. Though, in spite of that, your mind painfully reminded you that discretion was vital.
"Well, I think that maybe, we should lay low for a while." you said, choosing your words carefully.
"Yeah?" he echoed, searching your eyes for any underlying message. "In or outside of work?"
Even now, and especially now, with what you hoped meant that you were the only two here— you couldn't tear your eyes away from his own.
And that's when it happened, with the last strings of restraint snapping, it led to a sudden race to your bedroom. Hands in his hair, as the two of you were kissing as if you'd never do it again, as if there weren't any force strong enough to break you apart. Oxygen? That's what your nostrils were for. Fuck, things weren't making sense.
Though, in a sense, this seemed to be the only thing that was keeping you afloat, willing to keep pushing forward. You hadn't been this passionate, this interested in someone— not since forever.
You turned the knob of the door, pressing your back into it to open it the rest of the way, and carefully we walked you backwards, helping you onto the bed gently. You laid there, with Robert settling ontop, still quite invested with your mouth.
"Hey," he breathed, parted from your lips temporarily. "you looked nice today. Am I allowed to say that?"
You squirmed a bit, noting the way he held himself above you, careful to keep his weight from being fully pressed into you. But the comment itself had you feeling rather bashful, though you didn't want to admit it. Your defense mechanism? Shut that shit down. Playfully, of course.
"Well… we all have free will." you teased.
You were easing yourself up the pillow a bit more, as you laid your head there, smirking up at him.
"Alright, you know what I meant." His eyes narrowed, though he was just as amused, and should have expected the retort. "I wanted to tell you earlier, in the supply room,"
"Why didn't you?" you probed.
"I don't know, you kind of threw me for a loop when you grabbed me like that." he swallowed, thinking back at the moment. Obviously, he was a man. Of course he was turned on. "And, you left in a hurry."
"I wasn't—"
"Couldn't stop thinking about you…" he admitted.
"Shut up." you retorted, clearly affected by him, and probably a bit shy over being the one he desired.
"Shutting up." Who was he to argue?
Especially not with the way you were leaning up towards him, arms loosely draped over his shoulders, bringing him down closer to reacquaint with you.
Within moments, one of your arms retreated, hand next running up his chest, and then back down, untucking his godforsaken shirt fully. That was way too distracting, why couldn't he just commit to it? Instead, here he was, looking like a beautiful disaster and it was driving you insane. He was just effortlessly your type, and that annoyed you to no end. You didn't want to be attracted to ridiculously inconsequential details like that. Though, what you hadn't realized was that Robert did initially tuck in his shirt, it just got loose throughout the day, and he couldn't be bothered to retuck it. Infact, he never really thought about it, especially with his behind the scenes kind of work.
Another minute or so passes, and there's a particular stray thought gnawing at you. "Hey," you murmured, lips pressed into his.
"Mmhyeah?" he said, in a daze. He was blinking his eyes open, to show you he was listening.
"I got your funny little note today." you purred. Your lips just then missing his own, as they landed right at the corner of his mouth.
It threw you off guard, as he lifted his head back, squinting his eyes as he looked down at you.
"What note?" he asked, seemingly clueless.
You looked thoroughly confused as well— and he couldn't exactly focus in on it, especially with you lying there, lips parted and glossy from his saliva.
"You left it on my door." you paused, "R?"
"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."
Okay, well now you weren't letting this go.
Robert's mind was piecing it together slowly, and he then started laughing lightly. "Sorry, I just…" then, he gathered himself. "Do you remember what it said?"
As you slowly phrased it out, and as you said it aloud, you realized just how it sounded. Well, Robert seemed to be having a genuine in a fit of laughter, obviously amused by this.
"Yeah, Royd leaves sappy notes like that for everyone." he said, recovering now.
"Suddenly…that's making a lot more sense."
Robert, slowly moved to lie on his side beside you, sensing the mood having shifted. You were somewhat disappointed, but it gave you two the time to talk. And with your conversation unfiltered now, you were simply thankful that you were getting more than just a glimpse into his life.
The soft timbre of his voice, describing what it was like growing up for him; the seldom moments he cherished and held onto. He especially had a lot of good to say about Chase, and all of the fun they had. Which, once you really thought about it— was in part, where he must have developed his sense of humor.
You didn't think to ask about his dad outright, instead Robert, volunteered it instead. Though, to you, it largely sounded as if he viewed it through the lens of an outsider. Despite lacking any substantially positive memories— most of the painful ones, he seemed to hold back from speaking on. Though, where he felt connected to his father, it almost felt superficial. And besides leaving behind his own name, as well as a legacy he was uncertain he could ever truly live up to. It also just seemed like the only plausible thing for Robert to do— shoulder it on himself.
And sure, he likely fucked up a lot on the way up to this point, and even more recently. But Robert was simply wired this way, he was never one to stay down. Even if it meant killing him in the process. Which, was probably why he stumbled upon becoming a dispatcher in the first place. It was clear that Robert was still affected to this day, and hearing a more in depth version of it, made you realize just how damaged he was.
Robert was quiet now, and just so he knew you were really still there, you continued to lightly trace over his arm with a hand, as the two of you lied facing each other on your sides.
"Still want to stick around?" he remarked, voice rough, with a hint of something else.
Almost like he loathed himself.
"Well, yeah. It's kind of my place." you answered. You figured, if you kept it light, he might discern that you were certainly not one to judge him.
You had your own issues, and things to work through, too. Your sense of purpose seemed to have run out on you lately, and you were uncertain if you would find it again.
Robert's eyes playfully rolled, as he groaned, stuffing his face into your pillow briefly. "You can be really fucking irritating sometimes. You know that?"
You started laughing, and he picked his face back up, the sound of you absolutely contagious.
"Right back at you. Do you know how many times I've been flagged for things your team has done?"
"I don't want to talk about workkk…" he drawled.
You could tell that Robert was passionate, and though he was calling it work, it was clear that being their handler was not just a job to him. He was integrating so well, and especially navigating each of their personalities, any truly sane person would have lost it already.
Feigning a sigh of defeat, you squeezed his arm, leaning in closer to peck his cheek. "For what it's worth, and if no one's already said it— you're doing great."
"Not sure how to take that, especially coming from you." he laughed, teasing you.
"It's a compliment. Just take it." you chided.
He simply nodded, letting that be his answer for now. You were watching him, the tired seem to be settling in his bones just a bit more, as he seemed genuinely comfortable in your bed.
"Fuck…I don't want to leave, just a few more minutes." he murmured.
His eyes were heavy, and just as he was about to speak something else, his mouth parted and remained open. And since you weren't about to let him start drooling, you gently cupped his chin, hoping you'd be able to close his mouth.
Just like that, Robert was out. Ironically, you expected a different reason for him staying overnight, it tickled you to think that he had felt comfortable enough to doze off. Then again, you truly had no idea how fucked his back and everything else was from his current living space. Your bed was like heaven, even though he hadn't said it out loud.
When Robert woke up the next day, he had to adjust his eyes as he began taking in his surroundings. He hadn't really paid it any mind when he first entered your room last night. But now, with the sunlight peeking through the window, he slowly pulled himself up, stretching as the night prior came back in segments. He was still in his work clothes. Damn.
You were already up doing something in the kitchen, which was apparent from the scent of coffee in the air. And after teasing him about his bedhead, he mumbled incoherently, and took a seat nearby. Once you offered him his own cup, the English he knew began to boot back up as he stirred awake.
Then, ever the meticulous one, you insisted that he would leave for work first. There was no way in hell you were giving him a ride, or would even consider showing up at the same time, in the same car. So, just to be safe, you exchanged numbers, just so you'd know when he arrived, that's all. Not for any other reason, of course.
So, even though you were noticeably late to work, you felt very much well-rested. And your mood, a lot less fickle than the day prior.
Infact, you felt relieved enough to make an appearance on his floor again. You had some things to post on the bulletin boards, and even checked in to make sure certain snacks were stocked for the week. If they'd even last that long.
And as you were walking out from the breakroom, you noted the way Robert turned the corner, crossing paths with you. You nearly stopped, but decided to just walk a bit slower, and once you were a few steps closer, your eyes curiously flicked down to his shirt— half untucked, again.
"Coming back from the bathroom, Robertson?" you asked, a bit too casually.
He stopped, likely thinking there would be more to the interaction, but you continued walking, shoulder gently brushing past him intentionally. Robert stood there a beat longer, as he blinked. To try and catch you in time, he turned his head, smirk threatening to curve up, with an eye twitching. Looks like you two were back to being playful. That, and he clocked the forced formality of his name immediately, though it was anything but.
"What, a guy can't take a shit around here?"
No response, at least not a vocal one, though before you stepped into the elevator, you turned back to glance at him. The look on your face, absolutely criminal. He knew you were getting a kick out of this.
The smile on your face was wide, and as you rode the elevator back, others probably were wondering what had you looking so smug. Though, your reputation was well known enough as being work-focused, and while you were personable enough, it didn't mean you attempted to be part of any inner circles. Definitely not required for the job. So naturally, they knew better than to probe you for answers.
Robert was back at his desk, and he was tapping his fingers ontop of the desk methodically. Just as he was about to move to slide his headset back on, Chase popped up from his cubicle.
"Chase." Robert voice droned, clearly not amused with whatever it was he was going to say.
"Look, I can't say you should. But also, I'm not saying you shouldn't." he started, motioning his hands as if weighing out the pros and cons for Robert.
Robert groaned, realizing that he was not going to live it down. Even if, hypothetically Visi hasn't spread anything yet, he knew that Chase was also very well aware of what was going on.
"Hey, I've been around long enough, I think I know my shit."
"We probably shouldn't talk about it here." Robert said, his teeth pressed together, attempting to answer him without moving his mouth too much.
"I know, that's why I didn't fucking say any names."
"Yeah, yep. Got it. I'll be sure to pick up the bread after work." Robert said, emphasizing his words, covering up the conversation with a fake one.
"Word of advice, just don't get caught."
Robert paused, holding his breath, though his whole face deadpanned. Silence.
"You got fucking caught." Chase said, huge sigh incoming. "I'll get you a box for your things."
A forced laugh escaped his throat, as he shook his head, finally putting back on his headset to resume his shift.
After work, you're home and fixing dinner. And with your phone laid there on the counter, you were starting to wonder if texting Robert would be a good idea. I mean, you had enough lasagna for several servings, so it just made sense to share, right? Except, you most definitely did not accidentally use your extra large dish lasagna, the one you reserved to use for gatherings.
Honestly, you weren't really sure what he ate. You weren't really around him long enough to know, besides noticing the desk littered with wrappers or in the bin by his desk. Sneaky as you were to even pick up on that, at least. Yet, little did you know, Robert's diet seemingly consisted of prepackaged and criminally processed foods; lots of junk food. And in reality, you were definitely rewarding his stomach a courtesy with a homecooked meal.
So once it was done, steam coming off from it still, you decided to snap a picture of it to send to him.
"Do you like lasagna?" you texted, being direct.
Shortly after you sent it, you noticed that he read your message, and then the three dots came up, indicating that he was already typing. It was like that for the next 20-30 seconds. And then it stopped.
You waited a bit longer, and then his response came through. A simple thumbs up emoji: 👍
Rolling your eyes, you then replied once more. "I'll bring it tomorrow then."
You cut into it, giving him at least two generous helpings, making sure to leave enough room for some steamed veggies for a side.
The next morning comes, and your goal was to make it into work a lot earlier than your normal schedule. Plus, less people to bump into on the way to his floor's breakroom. And as discreet as you could be, left the plastic container inside of the fridge. Just to be sure, you placed a post it note with his name on it.
And for the first half of his day, Robert had been anticipating his lunch hour, and by the time it rolled by, he was careful to guard the microwave as it warmed.
Well once he's pulled it out from the microwave, the others lingering in there were instantly intrigued.
"Shit, that smells good. Is that you?" Prism asked, looking up from her phone.
Robert shut the microwave door a bit harder than he planned, and he quirked an eyebrow. "What? Me?"
"Uh… well yeah." Malevola added. She was leaning against the wall as she eyed him curiously.
"Huh. I dunno." he said, tone disinterested. Robert then lifted his arm, the one not holding onto the container, pretending to sniff his armpit. "Yeah, no. Probably not."
The two of them looking at each other, and then back at Robert. What a shithead.
"Are you eating someone's lunch?" Prism probed, needing to get to the bottom of this.
"So you're the thief?" Malevola asked.
"Yeah no, guess it's still a mystery." Robert sighed. "Good luck with that."
He honestly was indifferent if there was an actual lunch thief, he didn't have anything to bring that could get stolen anyway. So he just walked out, deciding to have his lunch elsewhere. Leaving the two of them just as clueless as they were moments ago.
Once he was back at his desk, and he took that first bite. Well, you can imagine. Food normally tasted good, but when you were starving? It was a whole 'nother definition of the term. And though he may have been biased— imagining the work you put into it, made it even more enjoyable. Robert was also seemingly unaware that his enthusiastic hums and mmms alerted a few others nearby. Not that he would mind either way, it took a lot to embarrass him these days.
It was the same day, now bordering into the evening, and you were pulling quite a bit of overtime again. Especially with your current workload, ontop of the extra tasks you were delegated to take care of by today. Your goal? You were simply trying to get ahead of the game and ensure you would meet your deadlines.
And as frazzled as you may have been, if you could just organize the rest of the upcoming week, at least in a way that you could manage— sparing any unexpected mishaps, you would be golden.
You weren't entirely miffed or anything that Robert didn't say anything about the food. Which was fine, you didn't expect it to be some kind of transaction. But you were hoping… even if he had just texted a simple thank you, to indicate that he even ate it at all, it'd probably make your day. But you had to shelve the thought for now, assuming he was likely not much of a texter anyway.
Eyes shifting to the clock mounted right above the door of your office, you squinted, watching the minute hand tick down. Sighing, you then gently rubbed at your eyes, realizing that you really should just take off for the night soon.
Just. Thirty more minutes max. You wanted to be make sure your scheduler was updated so you could look it over the next morning with fresher eyes.
Right as you were typing away on your laptop, you heard your phone's notification alert you. You ignored it first, but it's when you hear at least three more come in right after each other. "What is it now…" you said out loud, frustrated.
You froze, eyes glazing over the messages with rapt attention. From Robert, no less.
"Hey. -7:35 PM.
I know you're probably busy. But could you check something out? -7:36 PM
There's a little problem here in the locker room. -7:36 PM
Also, yeah. I'm still dressed, so don't freak out." -7:36 PM
"What the hell…" you muttered quietly to yourself.
You bit your lip, as you looked back at your laptop's screen, and though you were caught in a slight conflict, you ultimately decided you should probably find out if it is actually serious. Might have to log another workorder…
You hurried over, and with your instincts kicking in, you quite literally came right in without knocking— though, you probably should've.
Robert was standing there, near his locker, shirt mostly halfway unbuttoned, as he looked at you. "Oh, you actually came."
"Of course. You told me there's an issue, what's going on?" you blurted out. To be fair, you were a bit high strung, especially since you were running on fumes, mentally at least.
Robert led you to one of the stalls, and the water pressure appeared to be so low, you could only assume there had to be some kind of buildup or clog somewhere. You sighed, making a note of it on your cell. "Okay, we'll get something scheduled."
Robert gave you a half smile, looking a bit fatigued himself, but also appeared to have more to add.
"That all?" you asked.
"Well… thanks again for lunch, by the way. I owe you one."
"Oh, no need. But I'm relieved… I was worried you hated it."
You both stood there a bit awkwardly, the silence deafening since there weren't any others lingering about at the moment.
"Well, I should… probably let you get to it." you finally said. "I mean, the rest look like they're available, anyway."
"Wait," he murmured, voice low.
You tilted your head, wondering what he could possibly want to say now.
"Since there's no one else around…" he started.
Swallowing, you looked at him, trying to gauge what he was trying to say. You could sense the suggestion in his tone, especially with the way his eyes dropped, and it's like the two of you remembered the same thought— how the night prior left the two of you wanting, and your activities postponed.
"It's pretty roomy in there, almost like it's meant for more than one person." he suggested.
You nearly choked on your next response, trying to remain calm about the insinuation. "It's more than likely because they're ADA compliant…"
Robert wanted to roll his eyes. Though, it was honestly kind of… a tempting. You never would have expected to consider doing anything like that in public, and certainly not here of all places.
You could feel the temperature rising, as if someone turned up the heat, though you knew it was just him flicking your switch on. It probably didn't help that you likely were subconsciously giving him a vibe— or even in the way you simply looked at him.
Even with your comment, Robert pressed on once more, and though he was about to let it go, he couldn't help but slip one more joke in. "You know, since you're all about… going green, save the trees— water conservation."
You wanted to counter that, but you were speechless for a few moments more. "Are you… fucking insane?" you whispered.
"Clinically, or for you?"
"Robert, you are such an ass… I swear." you muttered. Though, even though your patience was running thin in more than one way, you began walking forward, closing in on the space between the two of you.
He shrugged, but you had him cornered back near the benches, he looked down at his bag.
"If it helps, most of the office has already filed out." he reassured you.
You sighed, sorting through your options, and it was getting worse because you were actually starting to consider it to be the only choice.
Closing the gap, you began kissing him, cupping his face along with you. His arms casually slid down to hold you by your waist, keeping you with him.
"I don't even have a spare change of clothes…" you mumbled, still kissing him.
"Just uh," he started, still very much invested with the way your tongue felt against his, "put them back on when you leave…"
"Gross."
Yet, there you were, continuing the trek down his shirt, plucking apart the last couple buttons. Maybe without it, you would think less about him being employed in the same building.
"I am not… wearing the same underwear." you said, pulling back.
Robert reached his hand a bit further, grasping your ass in the process, "Who said you have to put them back on?"
You were about to smack the shit out of him for that, but… decided to help him out of his shirt instead.
"You are terrible." you muttered.
Why were the two of you arguing playfully each time, as if it was your foreplay? You had to admit it was kind of exhilarating, and you were not actually complaining.
So once more, you would pause now and then, looking behind your shoulder for anyone else before you began undressing. And making a race of it, you decided to stuff the remainder of your clothing inside of his gym bag.
"Get over here." he breathed, tugging you into one of the stalls.
It was only a matter of minutes, before Robert had you pinned against the shower wall, and part of you hoped it was cleaned regularly, and daily as it should. But those thoughts seemed to melt away, since Robert was actively and particularly engaged behind you, open mouth over your neck as the heated water seemed to add to the sensation.
"Rough day?" you asked, a bit breathlessly.
Robert's eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to be concentrated on the motion of his hips, the smacks of wet skin echoing off the walls, finally replying back to you. "What gave it away?"
A soft huff of a laugh left you, and you could feel the way his hand laced through the one you had on the wall, planted on for purchase.
You tried your damn hardest to keep yourself quiet, but you couldn't help the few moans that did escape you, especially since Robert was rather insistent on working you all the way. How suiting for a couple of absolute workaholics.
Unfortunately, for the two of you… what you failed to realize was that Waterboy was working the nightshift and one of the his last tasks. Well, as you can imagine, were to disinfect the locker rooms and showers. And technically, they shouldn't have been in use even now.
He could have sworn he heard Robert say he was going to hit the showers like, over 30 minutes ago, which should have been plenty of time.
And he nearly dropped his mop since he wasn't entirely sure what was going on, not till it was confirmed for him, as he heard the mutual groans and soft moans. In the thirty seconds it took for him to decide he should probably hightail it out of there, it was so quick… he had forgotten to also bring his cleaning cart back out with him.
Well, after some time, the two of you were out and drying off with a couple of towels. Then looking towards the doors, you noticed that there was a cart left in the corner. "Hey, was that there…earlier?"
"Probably." Robert responded, not looking up since he was getting dressed.
Though, that wasn't a particularly comforting thought, especially as you stared at it a bit longer, trying your best not to be so paranoid. But you really couldn't remember it being there when you walked in originally.
Regardless, the two of you agreed to leave separately. Robert about fifteen minutes ahead of you. And once you checked your phone, you decided that it was probably long overdue for you to get going too.
Once you were out in the hallway, making your way over to the elevator, you noticed Waterboy lingering by the area. You greeted him with a smile, and let him know that he's been doing such a good job.
Which causes him to stutter more than he normally did, especially as he noticed your damp hair, and the way he could have sworn the flats you're wearing now were the ones he saw by the lockers.
"T-Tha… Thanks! Have a good night!" he sputtered. His ears were burning up as well as the rest of his face, immediately connecting the pieces together. Not a word. He would never speak about this to anyone.
It wouldn't be long till the whole building knew that Robert couldn't keep his hands off of HR.
something, something two's a company, three's a crowd. so what about four and five?
Summary: leon invites a couple of guests over, and you feel underprepared. but once you meet them, you realize why leon wanted it to be special
Content tags + warnings: fluff, re9!leon, re9 spoilers, wife!reader (40s), you tease your husband, found family - feat grace and emily.
Note: 3.2k wc this probably isn't very original, but i did have fun... so um, have this. hopefully it's okay-ish. i fret over my characterization, like only all the time. and i really love these characters... and i just wanted to write something sweet.
You were currently chopping up some herbs— fresh rosemary from the garden, by the counter, humming along to a tune as a pot of potatoes were boiling on the stove. There was a very delicious roast simmering in the oven, but you kept the heat low enough so that everything would be ready in time for when Leon came home. He seemed rather insistent on it, though you didn't make a fuss of it, simply because when he was hungry, things hardly ever went to waste. But you still wondered about it, even now, it seemed like a bit much for only the two of you.
Come to think of it, you were also starting to worry why he was taking so long, you had only asked him to pick up some butter. And just then, as you heard the front door open, you were anticipating him to join you in the kitchen.
That, he did. Leon was holding something else in his hands, something you hadn't expected, but it helped you feel even more appreciated, once you realized what had taken him so long. "Leon," you started.
"It's your favorite." he simply reminded you.
He brushed by you, leaning over to give you a brief peck. "You're not exactly helping with my sweet tooth." you protested, hardly. You would never become immune to his charm.
Your eyes darted to the cake he'd placed on the table, and then back at him with a slight narrow of your eyes. He always found your expressions exceptionally cute, and you heard the soft wisp of a laugh leave him.
You both kissed again. Then, Leon's hand hovered by your waist, settling to squeeze your hip. This caught your attention, and keeping his wits about him, decided not to grope your ass, as he readied his ask.
"Hey," he started. "are you in a good mood?"
"Leon." your tone was inquisitive, but patient. "What are you suggesting?"
"Hold on."
You seemed even more curious now. Leave it to this man to have you try to figure things out; being married to him always kept you guessing.
Sighing gently, you hoped it wasn't because he forgot the butter. But as he reentered the kitchen, bag in hand, and a couple of fresh bouquets of flowers were presented.
"Babe, what did you do?" Ah, a bargaining chip.
He allowed you to admire them, as he waited for you to pick the one you preferred, one he assumed must have been for yourself, since he was going to be using the other bundle for the table. As you stood there, paused from finishing up what you were doing. Knowing better, you shifted the dial lower on the potatoes so that they wouldn't overcook.
Opening one of the higher cabinets, he found a vase for the other flowers you hadn't chosen, rinsing and filling the vase shortly after with water from the sink. You were slowly beginning to piece it together, but you were willing yourself to wait until he outright said it himself.
Well then, Leon simply opened the oven, the sudden blast of heat and a savory fragrance emerging. "It looks amazing. Should be enough, right?"
Your eyes widened as the realization hit you, and it was something you weren't fully prepared for. Especially with your current state of dress— your shirt had a couple of stains on it, one you normally reserved solely for home, in addition to your pajama shorts.
Leon, once again, came over close to give you a rather generous kiss this time, lingering. "Hey, I'm going to tidy up the dining room."
"We're having guests?" you said out aloud. "Who?"
Leon managed a slight quirk of his lips and inhaled before answering. Though, he realized there was likely no way he was getting out of this without easing your nerves. But sometimes it was honestly less stressful if you didn't fret about the details. "They're going to love you."
You let out a soft sigh, and smiled more to yourself than anything else, resuming what you were chopping for the potatoes once you mashed them. You resolved to allowing yourself to relax, knowing you could trust Leon, like with everything else.
It had been ages since you entertained guests, and normally it was just Chris, amongst others you had met throughout the years. But things had changed somewhat recently, and it wasn't a common thing to get together lately. Things had quieted down for the most part, and you could sense that was the case as Leon seemed more prone to hunker down at home when not on missions. But you also summed it up to age— it wasn't wrong for anyone to get to a point where silence, peace, even if isolating, was treasured now.
And if anyone had the excuse, the justification, it was Leon.
Though, it was once he was already another room across, before you called out, "How much time do we have?"
The only response you could discern was that Leon was likely pulling out a couple of chairs out from storage to arrange at the table, especially with the sounds that meant he was scooting furniture around.
You let out a sigh, shaking your head and smiling to yourself, preparing for the impromptu visit.
Once you had most of the food ready, you left it warming, shortly after hurrying upstairs to manage yourself looking at least halfway decent. And well, you knew they were likely people you've never met before, but you wanted to leave a good impression.
You just took a few minutes to yourself, finding something casual, but nice to wear. And after touching up in a few subtle ways, you began heading down the stairs. Though, as you descended, your steps landed a bit slower once you heard a couple of voices you hadn't recognized. They sounded young, and as you followed the sounds, you felt your heart skip with excitement. You knew that if there were guests, especially Leon's, they obviously meant a lot to him.
And as you rounded the corner, you saw Leon there by the entry way with a young woman, and someone much smaller, a child with pale hair. Your eyes immediately recognized them from the pictures— and it dawned on you, just who they were.
Leon noticed you must have been standing there from the way Grace's eyes lit up once her eyes met yours from behind him, and that's when he turned. And before he could properly introduce all of you, you were already warmly greeting the two of them.
It was likely in the back of Grace's mind to go in for a hug once she saw Leon, but she was reserved and read his body language, figuring he might not be much of a hugger. And though she was taken aback at first, she didn't mind the way you hadn't hesitated to embrace her. Infact, she felt safe and cared for, even if it was the first time you had met.
"Thank you so much for coming." you said, voice full of warmth. "Both of you."
As you pulled back, you leaned down slightly to greet Emily next. "Hi there, Emily. I've heard a lot about you."
Shy, and fragile, but after seeing your interaction with Grace, Emily seemed a bit more willing to speak with you, even if just in snippets.
You offered your hand, and Emily looked up at Grace at first, and then back at you. "You know my name?" her voice came out a bit quiet.
Cautiously extending her own hand, she accepted yours, and gently shook your hand. Though, she was not used to such gestures, she had been reminded by Grace on their way over that if she felt comfortable, it was something people did when they first meet.
"Of course, this guy right here, believe it or not… talks a lot." you joked, indicating with a nod of your head towards your husband.
Grace smiled, eyes twinkling as she looked at Leon. "I think I can imagine it."
Leon simply huffed, realizing the situation he set himself up for— these three? He was outnumbered, and though he was disarmed figuratively, especially here at home, he knew the reunion was long overdue. And he figured, even though Grace hadn't expressed it in words, she was waiting on his offer to catch up. He'd been postponing it for a while, but one day as you asked him about meal ideas, it didn't really spark for him at first, not until he saw you prepping the roast the day before. And it only really clicked once Grace had called him that afternoon, and suddenly he realized the timing would be perfect.
"Alright, this way. The food's going to get cold." Leon urged.
As you two lead the girls into the dining area, Emily couldn't help but take in the sight of your home. It was cozy, and she had so many questions, though she withheld herself from asking for now. But you could tell, even as she sat at the table, that she was curious about her surroundings, and seemed to fixate on a couple of your decor— particularly the animal figurines lining the top of fireplace she passed.
You couldn't help but notice it, especially knowing her condition before, and how she's only regained her sight relatively recently. Even if it had been months now, seeing new places and people, would likely continue to interest her.
As you passed the bowl of salad over to Grace, you noticed the way Emily's head was pointed upward, mesmerized by the chandelier above the table. Her little legs seemed to be swinging up and down as she sat, and you had to suppress the wide smile that was likely to transition into a laugh. It was simply so endearing, but you also didn't want to put her on the spot.
"Mrs. Kennedy, everything looks amazing. Thank you for all of this." Grace said, as she passed the bowl back to you, snapping you from your thoughts.
You found that rather sweet, "Please," you started, reminding her it was easier to just refer to you by your first name, or a shortened version of it. "Kennedy's got too many syllables in it, anyway."
You heard Leon's knife clink the plate as he cut into the piece of meat, and you could sense the shift in his eyes towards you, and without comment, a nearly imperceptible sound left him as he chewed. You knew he was amused by that, but he was also too hungry to throw it right back at you.
Then again, it always tickled your ears to be referred as Leon's. And if anything, it was just your natural effort to keep the tone light and help others feel at ease and comfortable in your shared home.
There was no focus on dredging up the traumatic experiences the either of them had gone through, instead you made it a point to talk about things that interested them. You were genuine in your attempts to get to know Grace and Emily, and that was clear to everyone at the table. Infact, you even elected details about Leon that would have them giggling and asking him if it was true. Most times he would either shrug, or avoid giving a direct answer.
The countless times you caught him, first thing in the morning, snoring and with drool dried on his pillow, to where it became a necessity for you to change them out every morning. Or the time, you were getting ready to go out for dinner, and his slacks split somewhere down the seam of his ass, and it threw him for a loop. He mumbled something about moths, but you were sure it was something else. There were more, but you decided to hold off for the rest of the night.
Leon could discern what you were doing, and you had his silent support, so long as the two of you were being hospitable. Though, he'd act like it was embarrassing as he groaned, or place a hand on part of his face, playing it up. Which seemed to make Emily giggle even more, as she leaned closer to Grace at times to whisper something.
"I thought the only roast we were having was this." he said, motioning his hand towards the dish in the middle of the table.
Instead, you decided to shift the focus into talking about some of the things you enjoyed, to hopefully open up the discussion even more. Well one question led to another, and it didn't take long to uncover that Emily enjoyed putting together jigsaw puzzles. Which was great, especially since you had acquired so many over the years, some still unopened and stowed away somewhere. You would definitely not mind parting with some of your collection.
Emily gently tugged at Grace's sleeve, which had her fork suspended before she could take another bite. "Could we… is it okay?"
Grace nodded. "Of course, just make sure to say thank you."
Emily looked down at her hands across her lap, then Grace, and finally, you. With the sweetest smile, "Thank you."
With her fork, Emily poked at one of the baby potatoes that marinated with the roast in the oven, and she bit into it, looking rather satisfied. Even though she hadn't vocalized it with words, she seemed rather enthusiastic as she ate, and the look on her face was enough for you.
The rest of the dinner went well without so much incident, besides perhaps a bit more teasing coming from you towards Leon. And after cleaning things up, you served everyone a slice from the cake, but there were only three dessert plates on the table. And, when it came to Leon, you served him a generous slice. And Grace looked over, noticing it right away but didn't question it. At least, not until she noticed how he scooped up a small enough piece with his fork, cupping his other hand under it. By then, she couldn't restrain the knowing smile— the way you leaned into closer to him so that he could feed it to you.
"How's that?" he asked, quiet but not really thinking about if the girls overheard him or not.
"It's good." you answered, eyes closed and savoring it. You claimed it always tasted better when he fed you, and though he knew that was total bullshit, you both reveled in your little rituals.
"Okay, the rest is mine now." he murmured.
"Wait— one more," you asked.
"You could always have your own slice." he reminded you.
"I know, but it's one extra dish to wash." you lied.
Grace felt slightly embarrassed just watching the two of you, not because of the act itself, but because it was an intimate part of his life she wasn't expecting. She wasn't sure what she had imagined before getting a glimpse of Leon's life outside of… well, the Leon she'd met back at Rhodes Hill, and then on. But she felt privileged to get to see this, regardless, even if she wouldn't outright say it. It meant that, Leon, likewise trusted her.
Leon continued. "That's what the paper plates are for."
"Do you seriously think I'd bring those out with our guests here?" you scolded.
You then realized that you weren't by yourselves, and you covered up with a practiced cough. "Um, I'm sorry. Grace, can you believe this?"
Grace was speechless for a moment, realizing that you were likely asking for backup. "I mean… it is a big slice."
"You'll have to forgive us, he doesn't normally misbehave like this." you were half laughing, trying to get the words out.
"Oh, I'm the one who misbehaves?" he clarified, pinning you as the guilty one.
Leon, defending himself, was just about to feed you another piece, missed your mouth completely, letting it touch your cheek instead. He just furrowed his brows, as if he was saying 'oops' with that look.
Emily didn't even seem interested, infact you could have sworn she was moreso focused on scraping off the whipped cream from the slice with her fork, wanting her dessert to last.
And Grace, on the other hand, she was past the point of restraining herself. She couldn't help but start laughing, especially as you resolved to just grab the fork yourself now. But the sound of it caused both of you to stop your shenanigans. Leon looked pleased, and this time, not for tormenting you infront of others— but helping the two of them feel relaxed. Absolutely worth it. And you couldn't agree more.
How long had it been since she last laughed like this? Too long.
After dessert, you guys sat and talked for a while, and once it was time to leave, Grace thanked you both again. She nearly misspoke, catching herself before calling you Mrs. again, only to finish with your name instead.
Just as they were heading towards the door, Emily turned back and approached you. She extended her arms and hugged your waist, looking up at you with the an adorable little smile. "Thank you."
And with Leon standing right next to you, she then moved to give him a similar hug. He looked stunned, his body a bit rigid before he could process it. He looked from Grace and then you, his features softening as he very carefully placed his hand to pet her head gently. Despite it catching everyone off guard, and especially since Grace knew that reasonably, Emily was not keen on being touched or touching others—so this was definitely a huge deal.
At the end of the day, though he had roughened over the years— his life constantly filled with the highest stakes— things like this, it had him feeling that maybe he's done alright.
That same night, the two of you were in bed, getting ready to sleep. Typically, you both had felt more comfortable sleeping back to back, facing opposite walls. Though you could feel Leon rustling the sheets, to get comfortable as he began spooning you from behind. You started giggling softly, feeling the brush and graze of his facial hair on your neck, as he pressed a firm line of kisses against your skin.
"You're in a good mood…" you said, somewhat amused. You reached back, gently mussing his hair, though your hand retreated once he grunted.
"I am, I get to have you in my bed every night." His tone had a couple of stray shivers passing over you. He could always get under your skin.
You only smiled, your cheek pressed into the pillow now, voice slightly muffled. "How'd I do?"
"Perfect. But I was worried at first." he trailed off for a moment, "didn't know what to expect, honestly."
"I'm glad we did this. We should invite others over more often." you cooed.
Leon didn't respond, though you could tell by his breathing he was most definitely still conscious.
"Hey, don't ignore me—" you started.
"We'll see." he laughed, his voice sounding even deeper from the fatigue. It was likely just what came with age, but he could at least be given some leeway, after all he's been through. It was a miracle this even happened tonight.
Thankfully, it had likely only been a week, and you were already discussing the cooking magazine you were subscribed to, showing him something you'd love to try sometime. And just like that, Leon was already planning the next get together at his place.
