Chapter Text
It’s been three days since Robert and Flambae’s…well, Robert’s not really sure what to call dry-humping with your coworker, having your back suddenly give out, and then having to be tucked into bed like a child by that same coworker.
Honestly, he was a little worried about things being weird at work. Flambae’s not someone who can be called subtle in any way, shape, or form, so he half expected everything to be public knowledge by the time he clocked in the next morning. Not that Robert cares much whether people know about them (although the ribbing from the team is sure to be annoying and excessive when they do inevitably find out).
It’s just that the Z-Team has really hit their stride lately, and he doesn’t want anything endangering that. Especially not something like this. Dispatching is the first thing Robert’s really excelled in since Mecha Man, and it would be laughably stupid to throw it away over a moment of horny weakness.
But when he clicked on his headset and greeted the team the next morning, he was met with only the normal amount of teasing and shit-talk. The surprisingly mature choice to exercise discretion only made Flambae that much more appealing—and Robert that much more eager to make good on his plans to get him in his bed.
Unfortunately, chronic conditions don’t give a fuck about plans. His back was still in no shape to do anything.
Strictly speaking, waiting three days was probably a little overly cautious, but Robert wants to make sure his back is in perfect condition (or as close to it as possible) before he does anything with Flambae—he has the feeling it’s going to be an intense workout, and the lingering twinges in his back didn’t bode well for that.
And Robert was fine with waiting a couple more days in order to give himself and Flambae a better experience. Or at least, he thought he was. Now he’s not so sure.
The problem is now that he’s let himself think about Flambae like that, it’s hard to turn it off.
He sees Flambae’s perfectly contained hair and thinks about it laying in messy waves over his pillow, strands sticking to his sweaty face. He sees his hero suit and thinks about peeling it off of him slowly. He sees the swells of his pecs and thinks about biting them. He sees those bright eyes and thinks about making him cry.
It’s a fucking problem, and Flambae definitely isn’t helping matters.
The first day, he kept finding ways to touch him. A warm hand on his lower back in the breakroom, fingers trailing across his shoulder when the man walked past his desk, shoulders brushing when they passed each other in the hallway. Several times, Robert had to curb the impulse to just pull him into the nearest closet and have his way with him. He wouldn’t have been able to do much with his back the way it was, but there were a couple things he seriously thought about subjecting poor Galen’s ears to.
Yesterday, there was less touching, but a lot more looking. It felt like every time Robert glanced up, there were amber eyes on him. It was unsettling, almost—like glimpsing the yellow glow of a tiger’s stare deep in the jungle. He could feel Flambae’s impatience like a physical touch, and Robert wasn’t any better. Again, he seriously debated just blowing him in the men’s room to take the edge off.
Ultimately, what kept him from following through was the thought that this might be his only chance with Flambae. Yeah, the man admitted (reluctantly) to having some kind of non-sexual interest in Robert, but after a decade and a half of operating as Mecha Man, Robert’s gotten used to planning for the worst case scenario.
There’s a chance, even if it’s small, that Flambae won’t be interested in anything more than a one-time thing. In all the months Robert’s heard him talk about his sex life, he’s never heard him mention the same name twice. He doesn’t think Flambae lied to him when he said he liked him—he seemed far too embarrassed for that—but sometimes feelings are fickle.
It’s entirely possible that Flambae will be satisfied after one taste. And if that’s the case, Robert won’t waste it on a rushed blowjob—he’s going to give Flambae a meal to remember.
Luckily for his dwindling patience, he woke up this morning in only the normal amount of pain, and after a few careful stretches, he determined that he was good to go.
Immediately, he started getting everything ready. He made plans to send Beef home with Chase tonight, he made sure his extra set of sheets was clean, and before work, he went out and bought condoms and lube for the first time in almost a year.
He can’t remember the last time he was looking forward to something this much.
Unfortunately, Flambae’s being such a goddamn pill that he’s rethinking this thing entirely.
To be fair, the day didn’t start off great anyway. Waterboy called in, which he almost never does. Between bouts of what sounded like some truly horrific projectile vomiting, he managed to convey that he’s sick with a really bad flu. Robert wished the poor guy a quick recovery before hanging up and letting the team know that he’d be off the roster for today, and probably tomorrow as well.
Unfortunately, that put a couple people off their game—particularly Prism, who spent the better part of the first shift distracted and irritable, and only cheered up after coming back from lunch. Robert suspects she called Waterboy to check up on him herself. He clearly underestimated how close those two have been lately, if Waterboy being sick is enough to throw her off this much.
Anyway, the point is that Prism started off the day in a bad mood, and that in turn set Flambae on edge. Or at least, that’s Robert’s best guess at the moment—it’s not like Flambae’s being forthcoming.
It started small—an insult here and there, sharper than he’s been with any of them in a while. There were a few shots back, but mostly they were all willing to let it go.
And then somehow he managed to pick a fight with Malevola, who—apart from Golem—is the easiest going member on their team. Robert still can’t quite figure out how that one happened. He got on a private comm line to help Sonar with a mission, and by the time he got back on the group line not even five minutes later, they were at each other’s throats. Well, Flambae more than Malevola, but she’s not the type to take shit lying down.
When Robert tried to mediate, Flambae snapped at him, and promptly got sent on a sewer maintenance mission as payback. And yeah, Robert probably shouldn’t have done that, but he’s not exactly a saint himself. Despite his hero persona’s noble reputation, the man inside the mech has always had a petty streak a mile wide.
The rest of the morning continued in the same vein. Flambae jabbed—usually at Robert, but sometimes at one of the others—and Robert, in an effort to not snap back at him, sent him on the most menial, grating missions he could find.
Flambae spent the entire first shift snippy and defensive and petulant, and Robert spent it desperately fighting back annoyance, telling himself that Flambae just got off to a weird start. That things would be different after lunch.
He was kind of right—things are different during the second shift, but it’s only because that’s when it all comes to a head.
Robert’s hacking into a smart fridge for Visi’s mission, trying to get it shut off after a virus left it blasting water out of the little dispenser on the door. He can’t decide how he feels about all these new appliances being connected to the internet. On one hand, stuff like this happens way too often for his liking. On the other hand, it’s relatively easy for Robert to fix remotely. And then back to the first hand, he wouldn’t have had to fix it remotely if it wasn’t a smart appliance in the first place. Still, all he needs is a little time and concentration to get the problem sorted out.
Not that Visi seems inclined to give him either—she’s spent the last five minutes talking shit and doing little else. Robert chose to keep this mission on the group line so he’d be able to mediate any arguing amongst Flambae and the others, but right now he’s sorely regretting it; the entire team now has front row seats to Visi’s shit talk, and she always does better with an audience.
“Seriously, Rob, are you even trying?” she huffs. “The whole kitchen’s fucking flooded and this little old abuela is blaming me! I tried to tell her that it’s all my idiot dispatcher’s fault, but I think there’s a language barrier ‘cause she still looks mad as hell.”
“Well,” Robert starts, his voice sounding a lot more patient than he feels after all the grief Flambae’s given him today, “that might have something to do with the fact that you took a broom handle to her fridge and made everything worse, despite the fact that your idiot dispatcher is directly in your ear and could have talked you through fixing the problem instead of exacerbating it. And in fact, now that idiot dispatcher has to fix not only the original problem, but also the brand new problem you created.”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” she says, hastily backtracking in an effort to escape the lecture. “Just get your dick out of your ass and do your job.”
“Definitely not appropriate to say in front of Abuela, but thanks for that uncomfortable image,” Robert says dryly, returning most of his attention to the work he’s doing.
“What,” Visi says, the smirk audible in her voice, “not big enough to get it in comfortably?”
There’s a chorus of ooohs from the rest of the team, and the only thing stopping Robert from rolling his eyes is the need to focus on the line of code he’s typing.
“Bobert’s too small to fuck his own ass,” Sonar heckles.
“I feel like being small would be a good thing, though,” Golem points out. “Then it would fit easier.”
“Yeah, but it still has to be long enough to reach the asshole,” Visi argues, “so the perfect shape would be long and skinny. Which honestly might be worse than just having a small dick.”
“Ol’ Skinny Penis over here,” Sonar quips.
“When I want your opinion on my dick, I’ll ask,” Robert says flatly. He’s found that the more uninteresting he can make his response to the team’s borderline sexual harassment, the more quickly they’ll get bored, and the more quickly these conversations wrap up.
Usually, not always. Case in point:
“Who’s to say I haven’t already seen it?” Visi asks. “I could be anywhere, like a ghost.”
He knows better than to take her seriously—Visi may be an annoying asshole, but she’s come a long way since her peeping tom days. Plus she’s using that ridiculous voice she puts on when she’s just saying shit to rock the boat. He can just picture her waving her hands around like she’s telling scary stories around a campfire.
“If you willingly choose to spend your free time hanging out in a men’s locker room—or worse, a men’s bathroom,” he says distractedly, “that really says a lot more about you. Most people are just trying to get in and out of there as quick as possible.”
He enters the last lines of code he needed, successfully shuts off the smart fridge, and turns his full attention to the conversation.
“You know, you used to be a lot more fun to tease,” Visi’s saying, an audible pout in her voice. “I can never get a rise out of you anymore.”
“Ooh, Visi wants to get a rise out of Robert,” Sonar jeers.
“Hey chucklefucks, maybe shut the fuck up on the group line so the rest of us can fucking concentrate,” Flambae seethes. Looks like lunch hasn’t tempered his bad attitude at all.
“Yes, thank you,” Malevola mutters from where she’s mediating a meeting between two opposing cults. “These guys are enough of a pain to deal with without having to hear Rob and Visi’s weird flirting.”
“I don’t mind,” Golem chimes in. “It’s kinda like listening to a radio soap. I wanna know what happens next.”
“We’re not flirting,” Robert says, only to be talked over by Flambae.
“Well find out on your own fucking time,” he snaps. “Some of us are busy here.”
Robert clicks on his profile to check up on him in case he needs assistance, just to find his tracker back at SDN, having already completed his mission.
Sonar, also resting at SDN, pipes up, “Dude, you’re not even doing anything right now. You’re literally just in the rec room. I know because I’m sitting across the room from you.”
“Keep it that way if you don’t want your fur burned off,” Flambae mutters.
“Damn, what crawled up your ass and died?” Visi asks. “You’ve been on one all day, dude.”
“She’s right,” Punch Up adds, grunting as he takes out one of the museum burglars he and Coupé were sent to incapacitate. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you’ve been actin' off, lad. Surely you can’t be that torn up about Waterboy being sick.”
“No, he was acting off yesterday too, just in a different way,” Coupé notes. “He walked past Robert’s desk about thirty percent more than usual.”
“I too visit Robert when I am feeling sad,” Phenomaman says brightly. “Making love to him helps me feel better.”
“Phen, you gotta stop saying it like that,” Robert says, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Just call it a hug, buddy.”
“Is that why you were visiting Robert?” Phenomaman continues. “You needed comfort?”
“He needed something, alright,” Prism snickers. As Flambae’s closest friend on the team, Robert has no doubt she knows exactly what happened between them the other night, and that she’ll be the first to hear every sordid detail of any future encounters.
“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re pissy,” Visi says incredulously. “Because I talked to your crush? Didn’t realize you locked it down already.”
“Visi—”
“If you didn’t want anyone talking to him, you should’ve just staked your claim like a normal person. You know, a bitemark somewhere noticeable, a cum stain in the shape of a flame on his work shirt. That kinda thing.”
Robert sighs deeply, wondering where to even begin addressing that comment.
Prism gets to her before Robert can. “Girl, we already talked about this. There’s a time and a pl—”
“Everybody just shut the fuck up,” Flambae snaps.
“I know you didn’t just tell me to shut up when I was defending your sorry ass!”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Flambae continues. “I’m not pissy or off and I don’t need comfort. I’m literally just trying to do my fucking job.”
“Again, I’m sitting directly across from you in the rec room,” Sonar points out. “You’re not doing anything but glaring at the floor, man. If you’re that down bad, just shoot your shot like a normal person. Nobody likes that pining shit, dude.”
“Actually—” Coupé starts, but she’s interrupted by the telltale whoosh of Flambae lighting up, and Robert quickly pulls up the camera feed to the rec room to find Flambae standing menacingly over Sonar, hands alight.
“Hey whoa,” Sonar yelps, jumping up from his chair and backing away. “I’m warning you right now—if you come at me, this is gonna become the wreck room, with a ‘w.’ Because someone’s getting Wrecked, and not in the fun way!”
“Flambae—” Robert starts.
“Bestie, it’s not worth it,” Prism interrupts. “If you get his ass right now, you’re just gonna smell like charred rodent for the rest of the day.”
Robert sees Flambae hesitate and hurries to add, “Flambae, that rec room is full of alcohol, it’s not safe to use your powers in there.”
“Like you care about safety,” Flambae scoffs, though his hands do go out. “You’re the one who let this bitch back in after he beat the shit out of you on Shroud’s orders.”
The rest of the team goes silent, and then Sonar says quietly, “Dude. Not cool.”
The last of Robert’s patience abruptly fizzles out, and he feels an eerie calm wash over him.
“Flambae, go to the weight room,” he says coldly. “Work out your anger before your next assignment.”
Flambae must know he’s crossed a line, because he doesn’t argue. Robert tracks him through the cameras to make sure he makes it to the gym, and then clicks back to Phenomaman’s current mission, sighing heavily.
There’s admittedly a little hurt. He doesn’t think Flambae actually doubts Sonar’s trustworthiness—he was just as eager to welcome him back as the rest of them—but the implication that he thinks Robert would be cavalier with the team’s safety still stings a little. Robert wouldn’t have let Sonar back on the team if he thought it would put the rest of them in danger, even if he did wholeheartedly believe that the bat deserved another chance.
More than anything, though, it’s immediately clear that Flambae was just trying to get a rise out of Robert and went too far. Usually, that’s more Visi’s thing, but most of them have done it at least once. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not a huge deal; it’ll probably be forgotten by tomorrow. It’s still extremely fucking annoying, though, considering that Flambae’s shitty attitude has effectively ruined Robert’s plans.
Not that Robert’s totally in the clear here, either—he should have pulled Flambae aside earlier when he noticed a pattern in his behavior, but he was too irritated. If he’d just done the mature thing, it never would have escalated to the point where Flambae brought up Shroud. Which isn’t just a sore subject for Robert.
Speaking of, he puts himself on a private line with Sonar. “Hey, you alright? He was out of line.”
“I’m fine,” Sonar says quietly. Robert checks the cameras and finds him still in the rec room, sitting with his forearms resting on his knees and his head down. “It’s not like I don’t deserve some shit. Honestly I feel kinda relieved—I’ve been waiting for someone to bring it up. Little too friendly around here lately.”
Robert tells him the same thing he told Visi months ago. “Look, man, you did villain shit when you were a villain.
“But that’s over and done now,” he says firmly. “We’re all past it. Flambae only brought it up because he knew it would get a reaction.”
“Yeah,” the man says glumly, and then he straightens up a bit, lifting his head. “Yeah, you know what? I’ve been rising up the ranks lately. He’s probably scared I’m coming for his spot! Well he’s not gonna throw me off my game, I’m gonna crush the rest of this shift!”
“Atta boy,” Robert says. Of course, he meant that Flambae wanted to get a reaction out of Robert, but he’s not about to ruin Sonar’s moment.
They manage to get through the rest of the shift without anything else going wrong, although the air’s notably a little awkward. Sonar’s putting his all into finishing the day strong, seemingly having bounced back better than ever. Flambae doesn’t pick any more fights, but he’s a lot quieter than usual.
Without having to mediate, Robert has some time to think—namely about how he’s suddenly not sure that this thing with Flambae is a good idea.
It’s a conflict of interest, first of all; even though Robert doesn’t think of himself as above anyone on the Z-Team, he is technically their superior. He’s in charge of them during work hours, and their behavior reflects on him as their dispatcher. Throwing a relationship into that—even just a casual fling—could have far-reaching consequences.
Another issue is their ability to work effectively with each other. Robert likes to think he wouldn’t exhibit any favoritism, but how can he be sure? If he was involved with Flambae, wouldn’t he naturally want to give him better missions? And there’s also the other end of the spectrum to worry about: if they got into a fight, what are the odds that they’d be able to keep it out of the workplace? Flambae has a temper, and Robert just spent all morning displaying his own pettiness. He can’t trust his own ability to keep things professional, nevermind Flambae’s.
What the hell was he thinking?
No matter how he looks at it, he can’t deny that there’s a chance this will get very messy. Does he want to risk it? Considering the way Flambae acted today, he’s not sure.
But if he considers the way Flambae acted a few days ago…
Well, he’ll talk to him and figure out where to go from there.
He corners Flambae in the locker room after the last shift is over. Which, you know, probably isn’t the wisest choice if he’s trying to think rationally. But it is the best chance he has to get him alone. Flambae’s showers are notoriously long—ostensibly because it takes some effort to get the thermo-gel out of his hair, but Robert knows that he also takes long showers after he works out, so it’s possible he’s just one of those people. Anyway, everyone else is usually long gone before he’s done, eager to leave work at the soonest possible moment, so Flambae will most likely be alone in the locker room.
Robert thought about just meeting him in the parking lot, but he doesn’t want any witnesses to what’s probably going to be a very personal conversation, and the locker room is one of the most private places in the building.
And yeah, okay, Robert does sort of want to see him fresh out of the shower. In all the months he’s worked here, he hasn’t let himself take even so much as a peek at Flambae in the locker room, and now that he’s allowed to, he very much wants to see him dripping wet.
Still, he does try to be professional when Flambae steps out of the shower area, despite how his eyes itch to follow the path of a particular water drop from the end of his dark hair to the edge of the towel slung low around his waist.
Flambae jerks to a stop when he sees Robert sitting on the bench in front of his locker, very obviously waiting for him. Robert watches his eyes dart from his face to his relaxed body and back up again, and very consciously keeps his own eyes on Flambae’s face.
Because he’s looking so closely, he sees the moment Flambae bristles, the moment surprise turns to annoyance.
“You come here to give me a talking to?” he sneers, crossing his arms over his ample chest.
“Something like that,” Robert murmurs, his eyes dipping down for a moment. He forces them back up just in time to see something victorious glint in Flambae’s eyes.
“Well pack it up, bitch,” the hero says, opening his locker and promptly dropping his towel to the floor. “I don’t have shit to say to you.”
Robert quickly turns on the bench to face the other direction, but not before catching a glimpse of a perfectly sculpted ass. He takes a deep breath, willing his body not to react. Okay, maybe he should have gone with the parking lot idea instead.
“Listen, Flambae,” he says seriously. “We need to talk about what happened the other ni—”
“You mean when your pathetic body gave out before we could even get to the exciting part?” Flambae snarks over the rustling of clothes. “Not that it would have been that exciting, considering what I felt against my hip. Kinda sad, Bob-Bob. Probably don’t even know how to use it.”
And maybe it’s weird that this comment, over anything else, is what almost makes Robert call it quits.
It’s not that he’s self-conscious about his dick and its capabilities—he’s got a pretty decent setup and he knows how to use it—but he’s not much into degradation, especially when it hasn’t been discussed beforehand. It was one thing when Flambae made jokes about his body before, back when it was just some ribbing between coworkers and didn’t have any repercussions. But it’s the kind of thing that very easily gets into uncomfortable territory when it’s said in the context of a sexual relationship.
Robert’s tried the whole degradation thing before—there isn’t much he hasn’t tried over the years, to be fair—and it never did much for him. He likes bantering and bickering as much as the next person, but there are certain things he considers over the line, and blatant insults are one.
To put it simply, Robert’s not looking for someone to put him down during sex, and he’s not looking to put his partner down either. And if he didn’t know Flambae as well as he does, this is the part where he would have just said, “This isn’t going to work.”
But he does know Flambae—he knows that he hides some pretty big emotions under near lethal amounts of bluster. He knows that he’s loudly rude and quietly caring.
He remembers how willing he was to follow orders the other night, how surprisingly pliant he was after Robert took charge. How even after it was clear he wouldn’t be getting laid, he still stuck around to try and take care of Robert to the best of his ability. How any insults were half-hearted at best, an obvious coverup for uncertainty.
And maybe most importantly, he hasn’t forgotten what Flambae said all those months ago. “Nobody sabotages me but me!”
Robert hears the locker close and turns to look at Flambae, now fully dressed in his hero suit again.
He’s watching Robert closely, his amber eyes practically alight, but he doesn’t look angry. He almost looks anticipatory.
All at once, everything clicks, and Robert understands what this is. Why Flambae’s been such a pill all day, why he’s been picking fights with everyone and making jabs at Robert, why he just made that comment about Robert not knowing how to use his own dick.
He understands, and he’s nearly overwhelmed with equal parts exasperation and reluctant fondness and the sudden, almost irresistible urge to roll his eyes.
Jesus, this fucking idiot.
Well, fine. Robert will give him what he wants, but it’s going to be on his terms.
He gets up and walks out of the locker room without another word, trusting Flambae to follow him.
Sure enough, he hears hurried footsteps a moment later.
“Uh, where the fuck are you going?” Flambae demands, half-hazardly shoving things into his bag as he falls into step beside him.
“To your car,” Robert tells him blandly. “You’re going to drive me home, and then you’re going to come inside with me.”
He turns to look at Flambae—at the faltering attitude, the wide eyes, the slight flush high on his cheeks.
“And then we’re going to talk.”