Disclaimer: This is a crackfic about the different Bobsonas, based on actor Robert Downey Jr. and his questionable fashion sense. It also includes some hints on other people and things related to the MCU. For more info about the Bobsonas and their respectful creators, please check the link below!
Warnings: rated T, no Bobs were harmed in the making of this fic, mentions of (use of) drugs, swearing, I used the slur “frog eater” at one point, this is a mobster fic set in the noire genre so blood, weapons and violence might become a thing, skipped the typical homophobia and racism tho but a lot of people use roids and crystal
Summary: When Bobster Di Seta, one of Twunky Town's most feared mobsters, finds out that Boberto Laineux, brother of Bobster's arch enemy, Robert "The Bobfather" Laineux, was elected the city’s new mayor, he needs to put an end to the reign of the french mafia. To infiltrate the Laineux family and increase the sales of his own drugs, he orders his handsome underling, Steeb, to seduce the only heir of the Bobfather: Bobling Laineux, the doe-eyed billionare playboy. But just when Steeb discovers that there's more to the young mobster than good looks and sassy one-liners, their blooming romance is put to the test by a cold-blooded murder. Will the only unbribable cop of Twunky Town's police force solve this case before the city falls into war? Or will the rivalry of the two mobster clans turn everything into ashes?
A Story based on the RDJ spectrum
Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
Chapter One - A Game of Bobs
Some people might say this is a love story. Some might call it a thriller. Most people would consider it a waste of ink and paper. To be completely honest with you, it’s probably a mix of all three. It’s the story of how I lost not only my job and my sanity, but also my glossy natural curls.
It’s the story of my last case.
The year’s 1947. I was a young and ambitious detective at the Twunky Town Police Department, just recently promoted to work at vice. The two rivaling mobster clans, the Di Seta’s and the Laineux’, ruled the city with a firm grip, and the vice squad had their vision plastered with enough bribe to just clean up the aftermath of the drug wars. But not me. I was determined to not become some gangster’s puppet. I joined the TTPD to serve law and justice and not some french mafioso in a scarlet mink and a collection of ridiculous fedoras.
But let’s begin with the day it all started going downhill.
The shattering of glass cut through the peaceful atmosphere, followed by a pressed “goddammit!”. Hay rustled when some of the alpacas shifted nervously, moving to the outskirts of the wide, luxurious stable and further away from the angry human and his spilled drink on the fenced patio.
“Mr. Di Seta? You need some help?” A young, blonde man appeared in the top half of one of the dutch doors, hesitant to enter.
Bobster Di Seta, head of the mobster clan, turned down the volume of his oversized mahogany radio and inhaled deeply, one time, two times. He resisted the urge to snap at his subordinate, took one last deep breath and turned around, calm and contained.
“Steeb. Yes, clean up this mess. Make sure to pick up all the shards. I can’t let anything happen to these fluffy little beasts. They cost me enough money already.”
Steeb didn’t bother to open the bottom half of the door and just casually hopped over it, his broad shoulders only one inch from getting stuck in the frame. Bobster caught himself staring a second too long at his employee carefully picking up the broken glass with long, slim fingers. The boy was as meaty and handsome as he was eager to please his boss, and Bobster had to admit that he’d like to give the boy a... promotion. For his good work of course.
“You need anything else, Sir?”
The sound of Steebs voice retrieved Bobster from his daydreams, back into the barn with his whiskey spilled on the tiles and the radio silently humming in the background. He almost forgot what made him drop the glass in the first place. Bobster reached over to the small bistro table he usually took his lunch at and grabbed one of the empty crystal bowls, holding it out to Steeb and gestured him to drop the shards into it.
“Can’t have you cut your pretty fingers, right boy?”, he hummed as he placed the bowl back. Steeb, uncertain what to do with his now empty hands, shoved them into the pockets of his slacks, watching his boss strolling over to the railing that separated the patio from the rest of the stable, filled with the most exquisite alpacas in Twunky Town. He’d always wondered why someone would want to brunch in a barn filled with llamas, but he assumed you had to be somewhat extravagant to lead a mob.
Bobster let his eyes wander over the peaceful scenery, the sturdy little camelids cuddled up in heaps of hay, grooming each other or just enjoying the warm patches of winter sun that the broad windows casted on the floor. And that was when he came up with his plan.
“You heard the news already, Steeb?”, Bobster asked as he turned around and faced the nervous blonde after minutes of silence. Steeb frowned.
“Uhm... you mean the election results? Boberto Laineux won with absolute majority, right?”
“Damn right you are, boy. Boberto Laineux, new mayor of Twunky Town. No way this whole election wasn’t rigged. I’d bet half my alpacas his older brother Robert just killed all the voters he couldn’t buy. You heard of him?”
“The Bobfather? Sure did”, Steve blurted, but fell silent when Bobster inhaled sharply with a pained look.
“Don’t- don’t call him Bobfather. His ego is overfed already. Double-faced little bastard. None of my products could ever stand a chance against his Bonguettes and Crystal Crêpes, but did I blame him for that? No, I did my research, I ran tests, and put all my heart and money into a high-end designer steroid based on alpaca saliva. And what did that greedy little frog eater do? Flood the market with down-washed dumpster roids. Swoleabaisse... what kind of name is that even?!”
Steeb shifted nervously. He already heard that Alpacked, the high society’s new anabolic, didn’t sell as well as intended, the french mafia still having the upper hand in drug sales. With the Bobfather’s brother in the mayor’s office it would be even harder to compete against Swoleabaisse’s immense success.
Steeb had been a part of the Di Seta clan for barely two years, but he felt like he owed them something for taking him in. A few weeks more on the streets and he’d probably been forced to sell his body for food and shelter. Seeing his boss fed up over these bad news made him quite desperate to help.
“So... what’re we gonna do about Boberto?” Steeb asked. Bobster raised a brow and flashed him a smirk.
“How considerate of you to ask what we are doing about this, Steeb”, he hummed. Slow and smooth he approached the taller man, came to a halt mere inches from his broad chest and looked up, tilting his head and savoring how the blonde’s cheeks flushed under his glare.
“Tell me, boy, if I’d ask you to help me put an end to the Laineux’ reign, would you help me?”
“O-of course, Sir!”
“And if I asked you to do so by infiltrating the french mafia and seducing Robert’s only child, would you still help me?”
Steeb frowned for a second. He had heard of the Bobfather’s heir, Bobling Laineux. Handsome, intelligent, but more interested in throwing parties and crashing venues at his father’s nightclubs than in running a mob. Steeb was well aware of his effect on other people, but he was sure that Laineux Junior was still way out of his league.
“Well, I could try... I guess?”
Bobster threw his hands up so suddenly that some of the alpacas nearby startled and stared at him indignantly.
“Then it’s settled. Go and meet with Maria, she’ll take care of.. well, whatever you might want to call this outfit. Get yourself dolled up and meet me for dinner at the manor for more details.” Bobster patted Steebs arm and couldn’t resist to give it a light squish. Then, before things could start to get awkward, he quickly strut over to the broad wooden stable door and slipped out into the chilly February afternoon, leaving Steeb with his thoughts and a herd of equally confused llamas.
I didn’t know it then, but young Steeb and I were at the very same venue that night. It was an open secret that Robert “The Bobfather” Laineux had every cop, starting from patrol way up to the chief, under his wing - and he made sure to keep it that way by pampering us every now and then.
And that’s how I found myself crammed between Twunky Town’s rich and famous, pompous chandeliers dangling over my head, faintly glistening in the smoke-filled air of the ballroom. With my colleagues gone the minute we entered and nothing to hold onto but my ideals and a scotch worth a months salary, I roamed through the maze of leather chairs and heavy brocade tablecloths. I found a seat at the very brink of the dance floor, slightly hidden by a huge bouquet of exotic flowers; perfect to sit all by myself and brood over my drink. At a corner table, several feet from my location, a certain young fella was about to make a move.
Steeb ran a hand through his hair for what must’ve been the hundredth time this night. Thank God Maria had used more pomade than he did all week - most of it was probably gone by now. He nipped on his drink and let his gaze drift through the ballroom again, stopping at the corner table like he did all evening.
There he sat, surrounded by a hoard of coquettishly giggling guys and gals, ruffling their opulent gowns and tinkling with heaps of colourful gems. But the young mobster didn’t need any of this. The creamy white suit, hugging his slim shape perfectly, made him stand out like a pearl in an ornament of glass beads. The colour of his dress shirt was the same deep scarlet tone as his château, and the teasing glare he shot over the brim was of the same chocolatey brown as his curls.
Goodness gracious, Steeb really was way out of his league.
But, he was here, he was all dressed up and he had a mission. Just as he decided to down the rest of his drink and finally make a move, his target excused himself and got up. While his admirers continued their chatter, he made a beeline for the bar Steeb was sitting at, casually leaning on the counter next to him.
“Hey, sailor. Don’t think I’ve seen you here before?”, Bobling Laineux hummed with a small nip from his wine, sizing him up cheekily.
Steeb felt the mobster’s eyes trace every hint his navy blue suit gave away, and to be honest, it made him tingly. He shifted in his seat, signing for another drink before he faced the handsome mobster, flashing him what he hoped to be a playful smile.
“Nope, my first time here actually”, he answered. Bobling cocked an eyebrow, eyeing the tall blonde up and down a second time. Steeb felt his hands get sweaty. Damn, Bobster really set him up with the sharpest guy in town. Too bad it was all a scam.
“Well, I’d be thrilled to ask you for the first dance then”, Bobling smirked. He didn’t wait for a response, took Steebs hand and gently pulled him on the dance floor. A few other couples were already dancing around them, and they smoothly fit into the fast rhythm of the swing band.
Steeb wasn’t much of a dancer, but with Bobling, he forgot time and place. They twirled and twisted, only inches from the other guests but somehow miles away. Neither of them spoke much, small talk felt superfluous when each others company was more than enough. Long, intense glares, an occasional smirk and a hand lingering on the small of his back just a few more seconds than necessary, it didn’t take more to make Steeb feel all flustered after the third song.
The band paused and the lights dimmed slightly, a spotlight illuminating the center of the stage. Accompanied by cheers and applause, a lady dressed in emerald green joined the band. Steeb and Bobling mimicked the other couples drawing nearer, slowly swaying to the soft tunes of a ballad. Way closer than before now, Steeb caught a faint hint of Bobling’s exquisite cologne that sent shivers down his spine. He gave his beau a small twirl, and when he tucked Bobling back in, chests flush against each other and his stormy blue gaze meeting shimmering obsidian, it felt like there was no one but the two of them.
“Well, sailor. I don’t think you’ve told me your name yet.” Bobling sounded as suave and playful as always, but the soft pink that tinted his cheeks gave away his true feelings.
“Dorito. Steeb Dorito. A pleasure, Mr. Laineux.”
Oh Jesus, did his voice really sound that croaky? So much for playing it cool. Why didn’t he ask Bobling to leave bite marks on his neck straightaway? That would be way less obvious. Bobling just smiled and said nothing for a few more twirls. But when the song ended and all the other couples stopped for a round of applause, the mobster’s gaze remained on Steeb before he spoke.
“Tell me, darling, if you’d flutter with those long lashes of yours, would I feel a breeze on my skin?”
Steeb smirked. His hand gripped the younger man’s waist more tightly as he leaned in just a few inches, his voice dark and husky as he answered.
“Why don’t you come closer and find out yourself?”
Will Bobling continue to be a thirsty hoe for Steeb?
Will Bobster’s evil plan succeed?
Will the author get carried away by RDJs everlasting sexappeal again?
Will the plot remain a wild mix of cringy crackfic and blooming romance?
Will the alpacas ever overcome their trauma?
Will there ever be a person, drug or location with a name not mutilated to the point where I should slap myself for writing it?
Find out in the next chapter!
A/N: English is not my first language and this is actually the first piece of fiction I didn’t write in German. Therefore my punctuation and grammar might be a bit off sometimes but cc is highly appreciated!
Disclaimer: This is a crackfic about the different Bobsonas, based on actor Robert Downey Jr. and his questionable fashion sense. It also includes some hints on other people and things related to the MCU. For more info about the Bobsonas and their respectful creators, please check the link below!
Warnings: rated T, no Bobs were harmed in the making of this fic, mentions of (use of) drugs, swearing, this is a mobster fic set in the noire genre so blood, weapons and violence might become a thing, skipped the typical homophobia and racism tho but a lot of people use roids and crystal
Summary: When Bobster Di Seta, one of Twunky Town’s most feared mobsters, finds out that Boberto Laineux, brother of Bobster’s arch enemy, Robert “The Bobfather” Laineux, was elected the city’s new mayor, he needs to put an end to the reign of the french mafia. To infiltrate the Laineux family and increase the sales of his own drugs, he orders his handsome underling, Steeb, to seduce the only heir of the Bobfather: Bobling Laineux, the doe-eyed billionare playboy. But just when Steeb discovers that there’s more to the young mobster than good looks and sassy one-liners, their blooming romance is put to the test by a cold-blooded murder. Will the only unbribable cop of Twunky Town’s police force solve this case before the city falls into war? Or will the rivalry of the two mobster clans turn everything into ashes?
A Story based on the RDJ spectrum
Part One | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
Chapter Two - A Clash of Hunks
Unlike Steeb, I went home alone that night. Not even a whole bottle of fine scotch could wash away the bitterness of watching my fellow detectives goof around with Twunky Town’s mafia elite, joking like they were old friends from college. None of them even batting an eye on the vivid fluctuation of happy pills, most guests way too tipsy to even try and be discrete about it.
This remained the schedule for the next couple weeks. Robert Laineux baiting vice squad with fancy venues and parties, my colleagues shutting their eyes and ears for the sake of free booze and an occasional tête-á-tête, and me occupying the most secluded table for me and my bitter thoughts. Why I still showed up even if I had no intention to become one of the Bobfather’s footmen? Well, because the reward for openly declining the french mafia’s generosity is a tailored pair of concrete boots, and I’m more the slipper kind of guy.
One cold and damp morning in April I woke up even more hungover than usual, dragging myself to the PD to let this city drain some more of my mental stability. My colleagues were already at their desks, chatting gleefully. We would be off for another day of surveilling people that weren’t a real threat and doing anything but our actual work; maybe arrest some poor fella who tried to mess with the wrong mafioso, but that’d be it. Or so I thought.
When chief Prime entered with a stern face and two men in suits at his flank, I couldn’t help to feel somewhat hopeful.
Steeb woke up to something soft tickling his cheek. He blinked sleepily and got confused for a second. Right, this wasn’t his tiny downtown apartment. He hadn’t slept in his own bed all week. In fact, he had spent all his nights in the largest bedroom of a neat little townhouse owned by the city’s most feared mobster, trying to seduce his son. On behest of his boss, the mobster’s fiercest rival. Well, way to start the day, Steeb.
Early April sun found its way through a small gap in a pair of heavy royal blue curtains and illuminated the pristine features of Bobling’s face resting on his chest. A sheepish smile snuck on Steeb’s lips as his fingers gently combed through his sweetheart’s tousled locks. The younger man sighed and cuddled deeper into Steeb’s side, his breath warm and soft on bare skin.
Steeb remembered their first night together, almost two months ago. From the ride home in Bobling’s crimson red Bentley to waking up tangled in silk sheets and feeling pleasantly sore, it was nothing but heated, sensual and passionate. And staged, so that Bobster Di Seta could outsmart the Bobfather.
But to be honest, Steeb thought while placing a soft kiss on his beau’s temple, he began to savor waking up with the young mobster next to him. On their first few rendezvous’ Bobling was ridiculously enchanting, flirting shamelessly with him, perfectly aware of his effect on the blonde. He only learned about his softer side on their sixth date, when Steeb took his sweetheart for a nightly stroll through the park and Bobling fawned over a kitten that crossed their way.
Watching the heir of the Laineux family kneeling on the pathway in slacks worth a small fortune, cooing and speaking softly with his new furry friend, it did something with Steeb. When they returned back to the townhouse that night, it was the first time that he forgot the purpose of his charade and just indulged in the touch of soft lips caressing his neck and the sensation of delicate fingers tracing his hip bone.
While Steeb was still fighting to admit how smitten he was already, Bobling woke up, gaze slowly focusing on the bare chest he was resting on. He stretched with a small yawn and placed a sloppy kiss on Steeb’s lips - or at least he tried.
“Mornin’”, he mumbled against the blonde’s cheek. He felt Steeb shift, harboring him in his big and strong arms. Definitely something Bobling could get used to.
“Morning, sleepyhead”, Steeb chuckled. He left a small trail of pecks on the mobster’s jawline and was just about to nuzzle his face into soft brown curls when a loud knock on the door made both of them jump. The person outside didn’t deem it necessary to wait for being asked in but just rushed inside with large, urgent steps.
“For God’s sake, Barney, didn’t your maman teach you any manners?”, Bobling yelped. Barney Bucket, head of his security guard, strode over to the windows as if he hadn’t heard his boss. He opened the curtains with a resolute tuck before he turned around and faced the two men, completely unimpressed by their bewildered state and lack of clothes.
“You have to get up, Sir. Your father needs you in his office as soon as possible. The chief of the TTPD called half an hour ago; I’m afraid it’s something serious.”
Bobling sighed and crawled out of the huge four poster, scurrying over to his walk-in closet. The moment he went past his guard, Barney turned and shot Steeb a disapproving look. The blonde already had a hard time untangling the sheets to cover at least some of his exposed skin, and the other man’s piercing glares didn’t make it any easier. He felt like an intruder. Well, technically, he was, or at least he was supposed to be one.
Bobling returned fully dressed and ruffled his hair a few times to get rid of his bed head. He rushed to the door, followed by Barney, but came to a halt abruptly to turn back to Steeb.
“Love, I’m sorry, my father’s not the kind of person you keep waiting. Feel at home and ask Barney if you need something. He’s gonna get you some breakfast and will drive you back home. I’m afraid this is going to take some time”, the young mobster said with a resentful look. Steeb flashed him a smile and nodded.
Barney didn’t seem all too pleased with his new task, but remained silent until his boss left and hurried down the hallway. With the sound of Bobling’s steps fading, he turned back to Steeb, casually leaning on the door frame and piercing the blonde one with menacing stares.
Steeb tried to not take it personally. He got up, holding the sheets awkwardly draped around his hips with one hand, and picked up his clothes with the other. Barney seemed to have no intention to leave; he just stood there and watched Steeb’s every move. Only when he finally found the other sock and headed over to the roomy walk-in the guard switched positions, now leaning in the closets door frame, forcing it to remain open. Steeb sighed, dropped his clothes on one of the chairs and turned back to him, one brow raised.
“Care to wait outside while I change?”
“Why? Got something to hide, golden boy?”, Barney snarled. Something in his tone told Steeb that they were not talking about inches.
“Actually, yes. I don’t know what your problem is, but last time I checked this wasn’t a cabaret. So mind your own business, please.”
“Oh don’t worry, I do.” Barney snickered, but his brows remained furrowed. “It is my business to keep Mr. Laineux and his family safe, to protect them. Especially from scum like Bobster Di Seta and his beefy little henchman here.”
Steeb gulped. Who was this guy and how did he know about his connection with the Di Seta family? He tried to keep his pokerface but the brunette must’ve seen him flicker for a moment. Barney left his spot at the frame and closed the distance in two slow, calculating steps.
“D’you have any idea how easy it’d be for me to just kick in your pearly whites and make it look like an accident? You’re not the first piece of trash I dragged out of this room. You’re by far not the first labagiu trying to get to Mr. Laineux through his son’s pants, and I’ve had enough of it. Put your clothes on and get the fuck out of here.” With this he turned to go back to the bedroom, but Steeb wasn’t having any of it.
“Listen here, Freundchen, I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with your boss’ love life, but miss me with the bullshit. We’re both two grown men and so is the guy who, by the way, gave you an order. I don’t care for the people that were here before me and especially not for you and your paranoid conspiracies. I’m here for Bobling because I want to, not because I was ordered, and if he’d ask me to, I’d leave and never come back. But until then, I’ll come if he wants my company. And if you’re still so bitter about my presence here, go and tell him your cute little story, let’s see how funny he finds it.”
Barney didn’t move an inch, didn’t even blink. Steeb had dropped the sheet when he strode over to Bobling’s guard, stopping only inches in front of him, using the height difference to tower over the brunette menacingly. His nudity did his intimidating appearance no harm - in fact his bare muscles flexing made his speech even more threatening. Barney’s face remained stern and unmoved, and without a word he turned around and left the bedroom, closing the door a tat too harsh to pass as relaxed.
Steeb took a deep breath. That was close, way too close. He wondered if Barney actually believed him, or if he would tell Bobling about his suspicions anyway. However, he had to get dressed and back to report to his boss, so he skipped the shower and just slipped back into his clothes, giving his reflection in the gold-framed mirror a quick scan before heading out for a cab. Orders or not, he wouldn’t let Barney drive him anywhere. The guy would probably crash into a bridge pier just to get rid of him.
While the cab driver navigated through the lazy morning traffic, Steebs thoughts kept wandering back to what just happened. He straight up lied about his true intentions to the french mafia’s head bodyguard. Didn’t feel like a lie, though. There was no point in denying that he felt oddly close to the heir of Laineux family, and that Bobling was quite fond of him, too. They went from passionate, light-minded nights to morning kisses and cuddles so fast, and just thinking of holding the handsome beau in his arms, reveling in the sweet scent of his skin, made it hard for Steeb to focus on what he was about to do: Meeting Mr. Di Seta for further instructions on how to fool the man he obviously had fallen for.
Robert Laineux’ office was decadent, to put it nicely. The dark, noble bookshelves looked like someone spent all day to polish them; a neat little fire burnt in a fireplace the size of my car, covered in ornaments. His desk made a king-sized bed look like a cot, and I’m convinced you’d need two people to lift one of the leather-covered armchairs scattered all over the room.
Chief Prime and I followed Mr. Laineux’ butler to the head of the room, where he already sat with who must be his son, Bobling. The latter remained in his seat, eyeing us suspiciously while Chief Prime shook the Bobfather’s hand.
“Bobtimus. I did as you said and asked Bobling to come as fast as he could. Now if you’d please tell us why we’re all gathered here? On the phone you sounded as if someone died.”
“Well, that’s because someone did”, Chief Prime answered with a grim expression as soon as the butler had left the office. He took a seat and gestured me to do the same.
“Robert, your brother Boberto has been found dead this morning in the mayor’s office. The coroner assumes it was a heart attack, but given his young age and fit condition I have my fair share of doubts. I had a forensics team secure evidence in his office and ordered the department to treat every aspect of this with the utmost confidentiality before I called you. With your approval, I’d like to run an autopsy and have Detective Bob Downey here investigate the case.”
The Bobfather and his son sat there motionless, faces blank. No one spoke for a solid minute. Chief Prime shifted in his seat, probably thinking he went to far with his precautions. When the Bobfather finally moved he just tilted his head, eyes resting on me, piercing me with an intensity that it felt as if he looked right through me. Now it was my turn to shift nervously.
“Detective Downey, you said? Well, Bobtimus. My brother’s dead and you come rushing in here telling me you believe it’s a bloody murder and that you started collecting evidence before even telling me. And now you want me to sign off the case to a cop that doesn’t even work in homicide and, on top of that, still refuses to work with me?”
Well, that’s one way to say I didn’t let your drug money make me docile.
“Robert, that’s exactly why I picked him. Not only is he one of my finest detectives, he’s also the only one you could possibly trust to actually find out the truth. The rest of the bunch is more interested in their own benefits, and that was fine until now”, the Chief proclaimed, “but something’s fishy about Boberto’s death and I wouldn’t want anyone on that case who took bribe before.”
“Everybody’s got their price”, muttered the young Laineux and we all turned our head in surprise. He looked me straight in the eye and proceeded: “What’s your price, Detective Downey? What could be in for you to help your enemy?”
“I wouldn’t call you my enemy.” Oh yes, indeed I would you little brat. “But frankly said, we’re not on good terms either. I joined the police because I believe in justice and want to do what’s right. And if Mayor Laineux died by someone’s hand, then I’ll find out who did it.”
“Fine”, Robert said after the two of them eyed me up and down once more. “Go and see what you can find out. If someone killed my brother, I want his head. And Bobtimus”, he snarled, glaring at Chief Prime, “I want to be the first one to know when there’s even the slightest bit of new info on this case, you got me?”
“Of course, Sir”, the Chief hurried to answer. The Bobfather didn’t respond and just dismissed us with a small nod.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Chief Prime walk that fast.
“Goddammit!”, Bobster yelled for the third time this day. Steeb had an odd déjà-vu, standing on the patio and watching the alpacas slowly moving away from his furious boss. Mr. Di Seta paced up and down the railing, brows furrowed and deep in thought. Only minutes before Steeb had arrived at the mobster’s manor, a little bird had brought the news of Mayor Laineux’ death. At first the blonde deemed those great news for the Di Seta family, but Bobster’s reaction taught him otherwise. Now he just waited nervously for the mafioso to calm down and give him further instructions.
“Okay boy, here’s what we do: You keep that little game of yours up.” After what seemed an eternity, Bobster finally stopped and talked to Steeb. “If we retreat now, it’ll look suspicious. But we can’t make any more moves either. Not until we have more detail about Boberto’s death. Just keep it calm, fly below the radar until things get sorted out a bit more.”
“Alright, boss. But-”, Steeb hesitated, “may I ask why you’re so upset? Shouldn’t it be great that the mayor’s office isn’t occupied by the french anymore?”
Bobster huffed. “Steeb, there’s so much more to a dead brother and mayor than to a son sleeping with the enemy. My goal was to either estrange Robert from his son by finding out about your little affair in the worst case, or to manipulate the Laineux through your influence on the little dipshit in the best. I never wanted war. I just wanted my fair share of clients and income. Boberto as mayor wasn’t an ideal situation for us, that’s true, but a murder investigation is way worse.”
And murder it was. The coroner called me the next day to let me know how the autopsy went. Chief Prime was correct: Boberto could’ve lived up to a hundred years, his organs were in great shape. But he found some herbs in the mayor’s stomach and ran a few tests. Turns out someone added a rare pufferfish poison to his favourite tea, making it look like Boberto’s heart just failed. Without the leftovers to be tested, nobody would’ve ever found out.
So we knew it was definitely murder, and we had the murder weapon. Two days later I was going through files of possible culprits when the phone on my desk rang. The head of forensics called to inform me about the fingerprints on the tea box. They belonged to no other than Baebert Ullen, Robert and Boberto Laineux’ stepbrother.
“Oh Steeb, I’m so glad you had time”, Bobling exclaimed as he opened the door to let his sweetheart in. He rose to his tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss on the blonde’s lips before they went inside. Steeb followed him through the hallway into a light-flooded living room.
One of the broad velvet sofas was occupied by two men, one of them reading to the toddler in his lap. The other one looked up and immediately hopped to his feet when he spotted Steeb and Bobling. Equally amused and bewildered Steeb recognized the man’s pants as Lederhosn, something he hadn’t seen since he had been deployed in Germany. It oddly fit the aesthetic of dark rimmed glasses and a plaid button down in powder pink. Taking a second glimpse at the three men and the toddler, Steeb also noticed that big, dark eyes and curls the colour of coffee seemed to run in the family.
“Bobling, honey. Is that your boyfriend? My, he’s handsome. Isn’t he handsome, Bobbo?” The man referred to as Bobbo looked up from the book and gave Steeb a curt nod. Steeb had no time to repay the gesture though. The man in Lederhosn, without a doubt Bobling’s uncle Baebert, grabbed his face and pressed a kiss on each of Steebs cheeks.
“Pleasure to meet you, son. Bobling told us so much abou-”
“Uncle, stop. And he’s not my- just... just stop”, Bobling interfered. Baebert smiled knowingly and gave Steeb a quick hug before he clapped his hands.
“Whatever you say, darling! Anyway. Bobbo, can you fetch Bobbae’s jacket? We should leave those two lovebirds to themselves. And Robert said the attorney would be at his place around five, so we should get going anyway. But it was so nice to finally meet you, Steeb dear.”
Steeb got pulled in for another hug and round of kisses and before he could even think of an appropriate response, the three of them were already at the door. Bobling let them out before he sank down on the couch next to Steeb with a small sigh.
“Sorry”, he mumbled against Steeb’s shoulder, “uncle Baebert is a bit.. special. Loves to kiss each and everyone. Quite a hugger. Bit eccentric from time to time.”
“He seemed lovely”, Steeb chuckled as he pulled the brunette into his arms and lay down with him, his thumbs rubbing small circles into Bobling’s skin. The younger man hummed in approval.
“Thank you for coming over. The last few days were nothing but crazy, I didn’t even have the time to give you a call.” The mobster wrapped his arms around Steeb’s waist and nuzzled into the crook of his neck before he spoke again. “First they tell me that my uncle died, then they find out he was murdered, now they’re trying to arrest my other uncle for said murder. You just met Baebert. Does he seem like a murderer to you? Something’s off with this story. Father always had been on great terms with both of them. They think uncle murdered Boberto because he was only their stepbrother and therefore no heir to the Laineux family, but father said none of them was ever bitter about that. And Bobbo is a famous architect, he practically designed half of Oslo. There’s no need to go after Boberto’s money. D’you think uncle Baebert would kill someone? He’s got a kid and a husband. I think he has better things to do than murdering his own, let alone a mobster’s brother”, Bobling mumbled into the hem of Steeb’s shirt before letting out a small sigh. “I’m sorry, love. You sure got better things to do than to listen to me ramble.”
“No problem. Isn’t that what boyfriends are for?”, Steeb asked with a saucy grin. Bobling’s cheeks went as pink as his uncle’s shirt and he tried to hide at Steeb’s shoulder, but the blonde cupped his face with both hands and gently forced his sweetheart to look at him.
Bobling held his gaze for a few moments before his eyes fluttered shut. Slowly, almost shy, he leaned into Steeb’s touch, pressing a little kiss on the taller man’s wrist. Steeb’s thumb ghosted over his cheekbone, down his jaw and traced the outlines of his bottom lip. And when Bobling opened his eyes again, there was nothing left of the frivolous, flirty beau, just a tired and sad boy asking for comfort.
“Care to stay with me tonight?”
And when Steeb bent down to place a kiss on the spot his thumb just marked, there was nothing lustful, nothing passionate to it. No faked feelings, no ulterior motifs, just a lovestruck idiot longing for his dear one’s touch.
“I’ll stay as long as you want.”
Will Baebert be arrested for murder, or his fashion sense?
Did the author discover that there is a Bavarian Wikipedia while looking up the correct spelling of Lederhosn?
Will Steeb and Bobling establish a healthy relationship or will their romance turn to dust?
Will the author ever not get carried away by fluffy Dorito boy pining for his beau?
Will the author ever get tired of using the word beau?
Did the author accidentally create a new Transformers AU while writing?
And why do Americans refuse to use the accents on french terms?
Find out in the next chapter!
A/N: (labagiu is Romanian for wanker according to Google, Freundchen is basically friend in German, but is mostly used to address someone in an angry, disrespectful way, like you sometimes do with buddy or pal. I figured that both Steeb and Barney went to war and that they learned some phrases there that they now used to look cool and eloquent to the other. They both failed, obviously)
position/occupation (whether at the bob or not): Shift manager for the Chug and Squeeze, Always there, Never leaves, he has no life.
appearance: He’s mostly a typical halfling with a handful of battle scars, though his stocky frame means he wears a dwarvish small in most armour. Has the well known Frecklenose freckled nose.
any relationships with canon characters: Is very used of Carey and Killian, mostly because there are only so many date spots on the moon. About as aware (very aware) of the THB as the rest of the Chug and Squeeze and Fantasy Costco Employees. Avoiding the Director. Mostly, he keeps to himself.
backstory:
Coming from the Frecklenose clan, Very fine ceramicists, that all but disappeared from the world, Kaspar was a Fighter out in the wilds for many years. He was originally brought to the BOB to work as a Regulator, however that fell through after a couple of months, and a rather spectacular wine fuelled breakdown on the floor of the Director’s office. The reality of the work and the return of the memories of what happened to his clan proved too much.
He’s unsure how he got a job at the Chug and Squeeze, apart from walking in and proclaiming he needed one, but turns out it’s a pace that appreciates a good (and expansive) taste in wine, a good knowledge of ceramics, and the strength to carry said ceramics too and from the kiln.
Few on the moon base have seen his fighting skills, baring anyone who refuses to leave at closing.
---- "a rather spectacular wine fuelled breakdown on the floor of the Director’s office" -- so goddamn valid i love your Character and the design so much
