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After the Z-team had thoroughly proved themselves in the fight with Shroud and the Red Ring, they had been allowed to start doing full-time shifts. The team had expressed mixed feelings, but they'd gotten into the groove of things as quickly as when Robert had joined them in the first place. Robert found himself looking forward to even the longest shifts, and the synergy between everyone was at an all time high.
It had been yet another evening of friendly verbal abuse on the dispatch call, and at 9pm the familiar alarm indicated they were done for the week. Whooping and a cacophony of weekend plans filled the channel as they all returned to the home base.
"Alright!" Robert yelled over the noise and clapped his hands. "Good work again, everybody. Enjoy the weekend, yeah?"
It warmed his heart to hear a mixed bag of "Bye, Bobby!" and "See you Monday!" from the headset. He couldn't have dreamed of such feedback when he'd been introduced to the team.
Before everyone had time to disconnect, he rushed to switch the channel to one-on-one. "Wait, Flambae."
"Hm?" came the response through the headset. "Whaddaya want?"
Casual, a little tired, a little flirty. Classic Flambae. They hadn't talked about their post-housewarming one night stand since it had happened. Robert didn't blame either one of them for it; it hadn't exactly been the best time to start discussing relationships when his closest family member had been on his deathbed and Shroud breathing down his neck.
But, now everything was okay, and the burn on his neck almost healed, which was a blessing. He hadn't heard the end of it for weeks — since everyone had held back from commenting on it after the Chase fiasco, every jab and joke had burst out of them the second Robert was free meat for bullying.
With all that in mind, he decided to bite the bullet.
"I was gonna head to the gym, and…" He smiled, leaning back in his chair, "As we've established, I need a spotter."
Flambae groaned dramatically. "And you can't get anybody else to do that?"
"What, you busy with something?"
"Yeah." Robert could tell from the strain on his voice that Flambae was stretching, probably walking back to the lockers as he did. "I have a date."
Robert almost leaned too far back and tipped his chair over, just barely saving himself at the last second. "What?" he asked, heart beating in his throat, and adjusted his chair. He looked around; luckily Chase wasn't there to see his tomfoolery, having already left hours ago. "A date?" He wanted to choke himself for sounding like a pathetic bleating lamb.
Flambae hummed solemnly. He stretched it out, until… "With The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills."
Robert slumped into the backrest. "Oh. You bastard," he lamented over the ugly laughter from the headset.
"Really had you going there, didn't I, Bobert?" Flambae asked and sounded so proud of himself that Robert couldn't help his smile of annoyance.
He played along. "You have a date with all the housewives?"
"Mmm, yeah. They're obsessed with me."
"I guess you shouldn't keep them waiting then," Robert chuckled and blew his bangs off his face. He hadn't had a haircut since months before joining the SDN. It was going into the Shaggy territory now. "I'll see if I can find somebody. Have a good weeken–"
"Oh, fuck off, I'm fucking with you!" Flambae interrupted him. "Rec room in ten. See ya." His tracker went offline before Robert could say bye.
Robert sighed and looked at Beef who'd been watching his shenanigans from the comfort of his new, bigger bed. Chase had been spoiling him even more than usual lately. "Don't ask," he said to the dog and got up.
Flambae was already there by the time Robert had rushed to the lockers, changed into his training gear and stepped into the rec room. He was cleaning gym chalk off of the bench press with a scowl, in his civvies for a change. The tight t-shirt looked a bit too good on him.
"Hey," Robert greeted him. "You already do a rep?"
"No," Flambae spat and threw the towel on the ground next to a whole pile of white powder. "Some fucker's left chalk all over the place."
Robert looked at the mess, brows furrowed. It didn't behave like any chalk he'd seen. It was almost like powdered sugar. He kneeled and wiped the material with two fingers. He sniffed it from a safe distance and choked, quickly retreating. "That is not gym chalk."
"Huh?" Flambae leaned in and had a whiff, too. He was less careful and ended up inhaling the thick coat of powder right off Robert's fingers.
"Oh, fuck!" He pulled away and coughed. "Did I– Did I just snort coke?"
"Yes, that is exactly what you did. Jesus Christ." Robert swiped some paper towels from a nearby table and pushed them into the other man's hands. "Blow that."
Flambae stumbled to sit on another bench and looked up at him, a bit out of it. "What are you telling me to do right now?"
"Blow–" Robert realized what it sounded like and grimaced. "Fucking hell, blow your nose. Maybe it won't have time to absorb."
While Flambae tried to do as he was told, Robert rushed to find Sonar's number on his phone. He called the bat and put the phone on speaker, nervously pacing back and forth.
The phone sprung to life. "Bobbyyyy. What's up dude," Sonar's deadpan voice came through. The erratic beeping and the Doordash alarm going off in the background made it easy to guess he was sitting at a McDonald's.
"Yeah, hi," Robert snapped and rubbed his forehead. "Did you happen to dump a massive fucking pile of cocaine in the gym today by any chance?"
Sonar was silent for a bit. "Ooooh… So that's where I left it. That makes so much sense."
"How does that make sense?"
"Had to get my swole on. Why, you wanna hit?"
Robert hissed and gripped the phone. "Not important. Was it laced with anything?"
"Nah, just good old snow, man."
"Thank fuck…"
He glanced over at Flambae and was glad when he did, because the man was on fire. "Hey!" He hung up on Sonar and rushed over to him. "Dude!"
Flambae's eyes snapped up to him. "Huh?"
"You're about to torch that bench," Robert pointed at the leather smoking under his ass. He took a step back when Flambae stood up, a feral look on his face.
"That's a great idea," he said, already igniting a proper flame on his palm. His eyes glinted, and Robert wasn't a psychologist but even he could tell the man was manic. "Let's do some arson."
"No, no no no!" Robert grabbed Flambae's bicep when he was about to run off, but immediately pulled back when the skin of his palms got burnt from the touch. "Oh shit, ow…"
Hearing the exclamation of pain snapped Flambae out of his coke-induced need for destruction, at least enough to stop him in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder, and his eyes quickly shifted from deviousness to confusion. He pouted like a puppy and shuffled closer.
"Don't touch," Robert said when the other man's hand came up to him. He hadn't meant to sound so snappy, and regretted it when hurt flashed in Flambae's eyes. It didn't help that his drugged out pupils swallowed the orange of his eyes completely, only making the sad dog expression worse. "Just… sit… on the floor. It's concrete, you won't melt it."
"I'm not a kid, you can't put me on time-out," Flambae argued with a scowl and crossed his arms. He absolutely did look like a kid.
Robert wanted to fight back, but the sting on his hands was getting worse. "Please?"
After a quick staring match, Flambae groaned and obeyed. He sank on the floor right in front of Robert and crossed his legs. "Now what?"
"How do you feel?"
A simple question, really, but a logical answer didn't seem to come to him. "My… insides are lava and it's making… everything really bright."
"Great," Robert said, and almost wanted to slump on the ground too. "Can you cool off just for a minute, please? I'll just… Yeah."
He felt bad, and a little scared, about leaving Flambae alone in such a state as he ran to the nearest bathroom to get his hands under cold water. The bandages he'd put over his knuckles had taken the brunt of the heat, but his flesh still turned up flashing red underneath when he removed the wrappings. He dumped them in the trash can; they were not getting any working out done in this situation. He put his hands under the running water and pressed his forehead against the cool mirror.
After a couple minutes, Robert felt the presence of another person looming behind. He wasn't surprised to look through the mirror and find Flambae leaning on the doorframe. The man stared at Robert with the same ferociousness as before.
"I'm horny," he announced unprompted.
Robert blinked slowly and it took everything in him to not laugh. "Yeah, that's pretty common with stimulants," he said and turned the tap off. The skin of his palms would surely start peeling soon, but he didn't feel pain anymore.
"And hungry," Flambae continued, watching his movements. "When was the last time we ate?"
"Must've been lunch."
Flambae's brows furrowed. He looked genuinely offended by the prospect. "I want to eat and fuck."
"Can't help you with the latter, at least not here, but we can go grab a snack," Robert offered with a careful smile. "But just a warning, I think your hunger is about to turn into hanger."
"Hanger? Like… a coat hanger?"
Robert couldn't help but snort. He dared to get a bit closer when he noticed no heat radiating off of Flambae, at least not to the same extent as before. "No, like angry hunger. It's only been fifteen minutes, but that was a tiny amount you sniffed. You're gonna crash."
"Oh." They were only quiet for a few seconds before he continued, "Oh… Fuck, you're right." He latched onto the doorframe as he spoke, vertigo overtaking him now that the adrenaline was leaving.
"Sit your ass down, I cannot catch you if you fall," Robert ordered and ushered him out of the bathroom. Flambae hugged the wall with a whine that would've sent blood into Robert's dick under any other circumstance. "Sit. Sit, come on," he kept speaking and felt like he was training Beef all over again.
Flambae parked himself onto the same scorched bench he'd left earlier. "What the fuck is happening?" he muttered, gripping his chest.
Robert disappeared back into the bathroom. "Baby's first coke hangover," he spoke over to the rec room. He returned with a plastic cup of water and shoved it into Flambae's hand. "Drink. You gotta stay hydrated."
"I don't want any fucking water," Flambae growled and almost knocked over the cup. He leaned on his thighs, looking paler than usual. "I'm tired… Give me another hit?"
"Absolutely not," Robert said and sipped the water himself. He crouched on the floor to keep his eyes on Flambae. His ponytail was unravelling and the strands mostly hid his face from the position he was doubling over at.
"I'm going to kill that fucking bat," he muttered and pushed his knuckles into his eyes.
Robert did his best to keep the moment light. "I'll look the other way," he promised.
"Why does my jaw hurt?" Flambae asked, voice muffled by the hands over his face. He pulled away enough to look at Robert who was kneeling in front of him. He had to shake his head to not get distracted at the sight.
Robert shrugged. Their faces were close to each other, close enough that he could tell Flambae's pupils were already retracting and allowing the orange back in. "You might've unintentionally clenched every muscle in your body during the high," he explained. "Just be happy you didn't snort all of it. That would've been bad."
"Hospital trip for sure," Flambae replied dryly and scowled. His hands were jittering on his lap a bit, in tandem with his leg bouncing nervously. "Why does anyone do this to themselves? I feel like shit."
"You can beat that information out of Sonar on Monday."
They stayed like that for a little while longer, Robert getting to experience all the five stages of grief flashing on Flambae's face. He hadn't realized he'd subconsciously put his hand on Flambae's knee and stroked his thumb along his thigh until the man finally straightened up with a groan and Robert's hand slid off of him.
"Okay, enough of this," Flambae ordered and stretched his neck to look at the ceiling.
Robert hastily got up and dusted himself off. "You good to go?" he asked and was certain he was red-faced.
Flambae nodded and stood, swaying slightly. "Fuck, feels like I got hit with an anvil. And I'm starving."
"We can get takeout?" Robert suggested, hand hovering in the air from where he'd almost tried steadying Flambae. He shoved it in his pocket when they started walking out of the rec room.
"And where are you suggesting we go eat it?" Flambae asked and pulled his already half-loose hair off the ponytail that had been fighting for its life.
"...Your place?"
Flambae barked a laugh and immediately grimaced. "Loud. Headache." He shook his head, long hair cascading over his shoulders. "You're just inviting yourself in?"
"You can't drive yourself home anyway," Robert pointed out, and emitted the fact he had been planning on suggesting Flambae's apartment even before he'd snorted cocaine. "So, I'm thinking, we get Taco Bell on the way–"
"Nonono, I want Jack in the Box."
"We get Jack in the Box from the Boulevard," Robert said, "and then I drive you home, and we eat there, and I make sure you don't crash out before getting to bed."
"Fine, but what about my car?" Flambae asked and stopped in front of the door expectantly. Robert opened it for him with an eyeroll.
"What do you mean?" he asked when they stepped into the locker room. "I just said I'm driving you."
That seemed to finally properly wake Flambae up, because he physically jolted upwards. "You're not driving my car!"
"I have a license, but no car. You have a car, but no way to drive. What's not clicking?" Robert shot back, pulling his hoodie over his head. He opened his locker and started stuffing the hoodie into the gym bag he took out of it.
"Bitch, I just got it back!" Flambae threw his hands in the air, sending sparks everywhere. It was true: he hadn't stopped talking about the fact he'd gotten his Pontiac Firebird back from the shop since Tuesday, how difficult it had been to find parts for such a rare gem and how he'd almost resorted to arson again when there had been multiple delays. "What if we crash? I'm not dealing with another repair job!"
"I'm no mathematician but I'm pretty sure you have a bigger chance of crashing it yourself while coked up than me driving sober," Robert said, amused by the exaggerated fury on the other man's face.
Flambae looked at him up and down, brows furrowed. "Can you even drive a manual?"
"The Mecha Man suit is a manually operated vehicle, so yeah, obviously."
To that, Flambae had no rebuttal. He seemed annoyed by it, kicking one of the benches and groaning. "Hurry up, then."
They changed out of their gym gear and set off to the parking lot once Robert had fetched Beef from the office floor. Flambae glared at him at every turn as they got into the vehicle, just to make sure he wouldn't scratch the paint job. Robert had to admit the repair shop had done a good job on the Firebird; it had no signs of getting crashed into by a 300-pound alien.
He had to adjust the seat forward to even reach the pedals, while Flambae slumped onto the passenger seat and stole Beef off Robert's lap, replacing him with the car keys. The dog settled on top of his thighs, happy about the warmth, while he started gathering his loose hair into a bun.
"Navigate for me," Robert said and turned the key. He was a bit pissed by how effortlessly Flambae had created the perfect hairdo without even looking in a mirror.
Flambae rolled his eyes, but took the phone Robert was offering him. "You got any tasteful nudes on this thing?" he asked and opened Google Maps to find the nearest Jack in the Box.
Robert side-eyed him. "Mine or others'?"
"Yours, duh. Sharing other people's isn't cool."
"The answer's no. Sorry to disappoint."
He focused on getting out of the parking lot without hitting anyone. It wasn't that hard, even if he hadn't driven a car since his early twenties. They got on the road successfully.
Flambae pulled out his phone, too, and went to find the menu. "I want at least five shitty tacos, a burger, eh, fuck it, another burger, too…Where're the drinks…?"
"How many calories do you eat a day?" Robert asked and slowed as they neared an intersection. He poked the other man's thigh. "Come on. GPS."
"Left here," Flambae said, a little too late for Robert's liking who had to make a swerve into a different lane. Friday nights in Torrance were no joke, everybody looking forward to getting out of the city to party and paying no mind to anyone else trying to do the same thing. "Uhh, I dunno. Five thousand? I stopped counting years ago."
"Jesus. I eat… a thousand, maybe."
"Well, you're shaped like a cigarette so I'm not surprised."
"Wow, thanks."
They locked in for the rest of the journey and ended up ordering an obscene amount of junk off the drive thru. Flambae had had to wrestle Beef back on his lap so the dog wouldn't get his paws on the food. Robert tried to ignore how adorable he looked while baby-talking to the pup so that he wouldn't crash the car into the wrong lane.
Flambae had returned his phone and guided Robert to his place without even looking at the road. He was snapchatting Prism by the looks of it, front flash going off every couple minutes for a selfie and Flambae snickering to himself.
"Straight through the next lights, and three houses to the right," he said after he glanced up from his phone.
"Huh, short ride. Pretty expensive area, no?" Robert asked, looking around as they stopped at the red light. "Does SDN really pay for a pad in Delthorne?"
"No, I robbed a couple banks before you busted me and now I'm living off that." Flambae looked over to Robert who was squinting at him and trying to figure out if he was serious. "I'm a valued employee, Bobert. They pay well enough. So stop worrying about it."
"Maybe I should be worrying about my own salary," Robert huffed a laugh and shifted gears when the light turned green. "Still under 'pending' in my dispatcher portal. Like, I know the Suit was supposed to be my payment but I'd love a bonus."
"Blazer– Mandy, I mean. She's pretty charitable. She's probably just forgotten about it," Flambae shrugged and pointed at a building. "There. Just park on the road for now."
They stopped at the side of an apartment building, an eclectic mix of dark red brick and freshly painted light wood. The lawn was pretty, hedges cut and orange-red flowers blooming. Robert was still busy curiously ogling when Flambae stole the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. Beef hopped off his lap excitedly and ran off to sniff around the grass.
"Don't look so surprised," Flambae said once Robert stumbled out of the car and stretched on the sidewalk.
"I'm not– That's a lie. I'm a bit surprised," he admitted and started loading his arms with the bags of food from the backseat. "You sure this is your place?"
"The fucking audacity," Flambae scoffed with a smirk.
He began leading them to the apartment, and almost completely bodied an old lady stepping out of the front door at the same time he swung it open.
"Oh!" He rushed to grab her arm when she tried to grab the air and steadied her. "Mrs. Johnson. Hi."
"Lord above, Chad! You startled me," she chuckled and patted his arm. Her looking up at him seemed like a monumental task with her being about half of his height but she persevered. Robert took note of how Flambae did crouch a little. A tactic to appear less threatening? "How are you, dear?"
Flambae smiled at her while ushering Robert into the building with one arm. Beef slipped in from between their legs. "Oh, you know, the usual. Work's busy. How's that washing machine holding up?"
"Oh, you did so well with it. Works better than it did fifteen years ago!"
"Well, that's wonderful, madam." Robert watched as his smile shifted into the trying-to-get-out-of-a-conversation type. "You know I hate to run off like this but, eh…" His eyes wandered onto the food Robert was struggling to contain in his grip, "Our takeout is about to go cold, so."
"Of course, of course," she said and squeezed his forearm. "You'll be there for tea this Sunday?"
"Would not miss it for anything."
"That's a good lad."
She bid them farewell and Flambae rushed to close the door after her. Robert grinned at him once they started ascending the stairs. "Popular with the neighbors?"
"Not always." Flambae alleviated Robert's struggle by grabbing the drinks off of his person and lifted Beef off the floor when the dog was struggling with the stairs.
"Word spread of an ex-con moving in. They were pretty wary. Not Elise over there," he said and nodded downstairs. "She's always been nice, and I don't think it's just because I fix all her broken shit and carry her groceries. Her husband's chill, too. He's in a wheelchair, and has these like… plant manipulation powers? He's the reason the front yard always looks good. But yeah, uhh, where were we? Right. Sometimes I get into impromptu forty-five-minute conversations with her."
"Are Sunday teas a habit?"
"Yes. She brews this delicious herbal shit. I was apprehensive about it at first but I think it changed my life. I clear my schedule every week so I don't miss it."
He bumped the drink container against his hip and placed Beef back on the floor to reach for the keys once they got to the third floor. His apartment was nestled at the end of the corridor and looked unassuming from the outside. There was a burn mark on the wooden door.
"Accident," Flambae muttered when he noticed Robert eyeing it. "I was so drunk I thought my hand was the key and tried to open the door with my finger and almost ripped off my nail."
"I thought you didn't drink?" Robert tilted his head, recollecting their conversation from the housewarming party.
"This," he said and knocked on the mark, "is why I tend not to." He turned the key and pushed into the apartment.
Robert's eyes widened when he stepped over the threshold. Flambae's place was stunning. His apartment was built against the brick wall of the building, automatically creating a darker atmosphere and the creamy light brown of the rest of the walls complemented the brick. It looked to be a large studio apartment with an open kitchen. The kitchen island divided it from the rest of the apartment, which featured a lot of brown and black as well as a burnt orange couch facing a large wall-mounted TV. Flambae's bed was somewhere behind a corner, seemingly in an alcove. The walls were covered in framed art posters, unsurprisingly with flame motifs sprinkled in. The whole place just screamed warmth, and a little sexiness.
Flambae didn't notice Robert's shock, already at the coffee table loading their drinks there. He moved to the kitchen and pulled a fresh bag of takis fuego out, alongside a bowl to throw them into.
"Can you close the goddamn door?" he asked, turning to face him. He quirked a brow at Robert's expression. "What?"
"Oh," Robert snapped out of his trance and kicked the door shut after making sure Beef wasn't in the hallway anymore. He sure wasn't, already having made himself comfortable under the coffee table. Robert rushed to deposit their food by the drinks. "Nice place."
Flambae wheezed and popped a takis in his mouth. "I try."
Robert dove into their food while Flambae shuffled over to the other side of the table. He crouched on the floor and began rummaging through his belongings inside the TV stand after turning the television on. Robert hovered to sit on the edge of the couch and ripped open the burger wrappings, really not caring whose burger it had been at the moment of ordering; they'd already promised to share everything, anyway. He stuffed an onion ring into his mouth after a burger bite for good measure and tried not to stare at Flambae's ass when the man slipped his whole upper body on the floor to properly get a look into the cabinet. The arch of his back was… impressive.
"Where the fuck…?" He crawled a couple steps forward and moved Blu-Ray and DVD cases out of the way to see the row behind them.
"Y'know," Robert said, mouth still full of food, "You could just get Netflix."
"Fuck that, I'm oldschool," Flambae grumbled, chin against the floorboards. "Hah! There you are." He pulled two massive box sets of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills DVDs off the shelf and stood up.
"Which season d'you want?" he asked and shook both sets in his hands for emphasis.
"Oh god, how many even are there?"
"Twelve in these." Flambae shook the sets in his hands. "Season thirteen is still airing."
"Okay, well, I've not seen a single episode so I'll trust your judgment in this," Robert said and bit into his burger.
Flambae almost dropped the box sets in his haste to put them down and grab Robert's shoulder. "You kidding?" he asked, eyes glinting.
"N-No," Robert got out with a cough, almost choking on the mouthful he'd swallowed wrong. Flambae pushed a Dr Pepper into his hand, still shocked by the revelation.
"You're stuck here now, Bob Bob," he said and singled out the box for the first season. "Full season, no bathroom breaks, we're on this couch from now until noon." He patted Robert's head before moving away to put the DVD in the player, effectively making every thought and argument disappear from Robert's head.
Robert sighed and got more comfortable on the sofa. "This is the only type of marathon I can even attempt," he said and chomped on another onion ring.
"I ran one once."
"Of course you did."
"Total bitch, do not recommend. Also, the fuck's that supposed to mean?" Flambae asked with a slanted smile and hopped onto the couch. He pulled the coffee table closer to them and dug into his food.
Robert spoke with his mouth full of burger, "It was a compliment."
He didn't want to admit it, but by the time the second episode started Robert was already deeply invested in the petty drama of middle-aged women from a decade ago. His eyes were glued to the television while he loaded his mouth with delicious mediocre fast food. Flambae's commentary was likely the main reason he was having such a good time. There was something so hilarious about watching him get so heated about staged reality TV fights he'd surely rewatched a dozen times. So he couldn't say no every time Flambae asked "wanna watch another?"
One episode turned into two, two into five, and Robert's eyes were starting to get heavy. The food was long gone, destroyed in record time apart from the takis. Flambae had laughed at him when he announced takis fuego were too spicy for him to handle, and then shoved fifteen in his mouth to prove a point. Nevermind that there had been tears in his eyes as he swallowed.
He wasn't sure when, but at some point between episodes six and eight Robert had slumped against Flambae and started snoring. The man's body was like a hot water bottle surrounding his own, especially when Flambae had moved his arm off of the backrest of the couch and onto Robert's shoulder instead.
Flambae didn't have the heart to wake him up right away, or, god forbid, push him away. He couldn't remember a time when Robert wouldn't have looked on the brink of collapse, even if some color had gradually returned to his face over the weeks after the big battle. He needed the rest. Deserved it, after everything he'd done. So Flambae made sure he was comfortable and not sleeping on any of his limbs and kept watching the show.
It was easier to rewatch something alone than in company, being able to skip to his heart's content and fast forward less interesting bits. It took him just over an hour to speed through the next four episodes. Flambae ran into a dilemma after episode ten; the DVD needed to be switched. He glanced at Robert, then back at the television. Even if he could keep watching without the other man… was the point of a guest not to engage socially with them?
He sighed and made the decision to ruin Robert's sleep.
"Hey." He gave Robert a gentle nudge. "Robert."
Robert awoke, slowly opening his eyes and lifting his head enough to look up at Flambae. His eyes widened upon seeing the man's blurry face inches from his own.
"Shit," he muttered and pulled away, still groggy. He yawned and rubbed sleep from his eyes, all the while feeling Flambae's bore into him.
"Were the Housewives that boring to you?" Flambae asked as he stood up to go change to a new disk.
"No, it's actually kinda interesting," Robert said, and wasn't lying. The petty side of him was loving all the exaggerated reality TV drama. "That burger took me out. I didn't drool on you, did I?"
Flambae glanced at his shoulder. The t-shirt had a little wet patch. "You actually did."
Robert laughed, until he realized Flambae was serious. "Ah, damn it. I've had that habit since I was a kid," he sighed and wiped the corners of his mouth in case any spit residue was hanging off his jaw.
Flambae returned to the couch after putting in the next DVD in line. He sat a safe distance from Robert and grabbed a palmful of takis on the way. They were quiet as the familiar intro played. Robert had already lost track of what episode they were on, but he was moderately invested nonetheless. Even if he yawned again.
"You know, I was joking when I said I would keep you here until the finale," Flambae broke the silence and looked at Robert with a slanted smile. "It's late. Like… 3am? I can drive you home. Return the favor, you know. I don't like to be in debt for the likes of you."
Robert pretended to be offended as he adjusted his position, pulling his knees up on the couch and leaning on the backrest with his elbow. "I figured it was a joke, yeah," he chuckled. "But, honestly, I… I don't know. I like hanging out like this? It's Saturday tomorrow, or, today I guess, so it's fine. Unless you're trying to discreetly kick me out, in which case I'll go."
Flambae gave him a look. "Stay overnight. The couch is a pretty comfy spot for sleep, according to Punch Up."
He didn't want to admit it, but jealousy flashed inside of Robert for a split second. "How does he know that?" he asked, feigning a playful tone.
"He used to crash here a lot when he first joined the team, before the first few paychecks came in" Flambae shrugged, scratching his jaw. He snickered, "I offered to buy him a pet bed and he almost pulled my nuts off."
"Glad he didn't," Robert said and managed a genuine grin. The strange feeling in him had passed. He rubbed his own chest a bit; hopefully it had just been heartburn. He seemed to be getting that a lot lately.
They quieted down again and focused on the show. Pretended to, anyhow, yet Robert could tell Flambae was distracted and suspected that the man felt the same aura radiating off of him. They managed to drag the awkward silence out to almost five minutes, but ended up cracking at the same time.
"So are we gonna talk about–" "I think we should discuss–"
They looked at each other, and Flambae's expression made Robert crack. He let out a laugh and covered his face with his palm. "You first."
"I have a hunch we were about to say the exact same thing," Flambae said and properly turned away from the television, mirroring Robert's pose the best he could with one leg crossed over the other. "But okay. I think we should discuss that night."
"Fuck, I was really hoping you'd say something different and I could back out."
"Not gonna happen. We do this now, before it's too late and it gets too weird to mention again."
Robert scratched his stubble and tried to look anywhere but at the other man. "Well, uh… What should we discuss, then?"
"You tell me," Flambae shrugged. "Contrary to what you might think, you're the first coworker I've had a one night stand with."
"That can not be true."
Flambae squinted. "Are you calling me a whore?"
"If the boot fits?"
"It does, but that's besides the point. Do you tend to sleep around an office?"
"No!" Robert yelled a bit louder than he'd meant to. "I've literally never even had any coworkers!"
"Wow. Took the first chance you got, huh?" Flambae snorted.
"Were you not the one who flirted with me the whole night?" Robert asked, feeling a little crazy. What if Flambae hadn't been flirting and he'd just read into it in his inebriated state?
"Were you not reciprocating?" Flambae cocked a brow.
Robert pushed him a bit. "Stop answering my questions with more questions."
"Fuck, obviously I was flirting, bitch," Flambae rolled his eyes and pushed a strand of hair that had escaped his bun behind his ear. "I flirt with everybody."
The statement made Robert feel like he'd been struck with lightning. He tried to hide the way his heart had fallen out of his ass and failed miserably. "So I'm not special?"
"Oh my fucking god." Flambae buried his face in his hand, shoulders shaking from restrained laughter. "What the hell d'you want me to say to that?" he asked once he'd calmed down a little.
"I don't know?" Robert crossed his arms and tried to ignore the stomach ache he'd suddenly gotten. "Get back on topic."
"Which I just said was your job to articulate on."
"But you were the one who–"
"Fuuuck!" Flambae interrupted him with a scream and leaned on his knees. "We're getting nowhere like this, just– just talking in circles!" He was getting frustrated, and Robert couldn't blame him.
"I know! I know that. Also, can you turn that shit off?" Robert asked, pointing at the television. Flambae sneered at him over his shoulder and grabbed the remote. The silence after the button press was deafening. Robert hugged his arms and swore in his head.
"Would you like music instead?" Flambae asked, and was clearly exercising his patience judging by his carefully constructed tone of voice.
Robert slumped against the backrest and felt like a jerk. "Yes, please. Just not ABBA or Whitney Houston?"
"Sure."
"Thank you."
Flambae got up again, this time to turn on the stereos. An instrumental song began playing at a low volume after he was done connecting his phone to the speakers. Not lo-fi, not quite classical. Something weird that Robert was happy with. Flambae slumped back onto the couch and pulled his hair out of the messy bun he'd tossed it into. Robert watched him massage his own scalp and wished he had the guts to ask to do it instead.
"Sorry. I don't know how to navigate relationships," he said and huffed, because the prospect sounded so sad, "Of any kind, really, but especially romantic. I don't know what I'm doing."
Flambae straightened up with a slow exhale. Robert couldn't help but wonder if he'd learned that technique at therapy. "Tell me what you liked about it," Flambae ordered.
"What?"
"What you liked about that night."
Robert scoffed. "I really don't need you compliment-fishing right now–"
"No," Flambae interrupted and grabbed his shoulder. His hand was hot even through Robert's shirt. "I'm serious. It will help you get your thoughts out and not choke on them like a little bitch and die."
Robert stared at him. Flambae stared back. Robert looked down, and wished the other man would do the same. He didn't.
"Okay," he swallowed, "Okay. I–" He bit the inside of his cheek. "I liked… seeing a different side of you that others don't. I liked feeling that you, I dunno, gave a shit about me. I felt respected as a person. As…"
"As Robert?" Flambae offered when the words wouldn't come to him. "Not Mecha Man?"
"Yeah, exactly."
"Well, that was probably helped by the fact that I hate Mecha Man's guts."
Robert chuckled, strained, and nodded. "I liked that you… ah, fuck."
"You liked that I fucked?" Flambae repeated and snorted. "Yeah, I'd hope so."
"Stop! I'm trying to be serious!" Robert pushed him, which resulted in nothing but his palms getting warmer. Flambae's face was still just as close to him. Eyes just as intense. "Serious," he repeated with a stern look.
"Then, what else?"
"...I guess I did also like the sex itself," Robert shrugged. "You were good. That what you wanna hear?"
"I want to hear what you want to tell me."
"Don't do this to me."
"Do what?"
"Be so fucking nice!" Robert exclaimed over the music, startling both of them and even Beef who stuck his head from under the table and glared at him. "I don't know how to talk about this stuff and it'd be so much easier to not talk about it if you were a dickhead but you're being so nice about it…"
Flambae thought for a moment, brows in a deep pinch and fingers tapping Robert's knee absent-mindedly. It wasn't helping Robert feel any less like he was going to jump out the window.
"Okay," he finally said. "Let's switch it up, then. Be mean to me instead."
"What? That's not what I–"
"Don't care. I'm protecting my inner peace, so you're going to have to be the one to be the dickhead if you think it will help us."
Robert looked at the ceiling like it would give him the answers. He wanted to cry, which was becoming a concerning pattern when spending time with Flambae. He only looked down when Flambae moved his hand from his knee over to his upper thigh. It felt familiar. Robert could almost see the rec room around them.
"What is it you're scared of?" Flambae asked, voice a low murmur, accent wrapping around the syllables like a purr.
Robert blinked. "I'm not– scared of… Well, I'm scared of some things but…"
His mutterings were interrupted with a soft kiss. It was brief, shy even, just a brush of Flambae's lips against his, but the second it happened Robert wanted more. He leaned in after Flambae, who put a hand on his chest to hold him in place.
"Did you come here tonight in hopes that I'd fuck you again?" Flambae asked, slow and clear, hot breath ghosting on Robert's face.
Robert laughed, because that was apparently all he could do when he felt emotionally threatened. "I dunno. Maybe? Sue me."
"That can be arranged. The sex, not the suing, I mean." Flambae tilted his head, and didn't even try to sound flirty. "All you got to do is answer my question first, Bob Bob."
"Why?" Robert whined and knew he was sounding like a desperate bratty bottom. Not that he minded, really, it was accurate, but the mix of suggestive and serious conversation was making his head spin.
"Because I feel fucking weird about all this."
That flabbergasted Robert enough to sit back down instead of hovering awkwardly on his knees. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is you're giving a lot of mixed signals," Flambae sighed. "What is it, man? Friends with benefits? Lovers? Partners? Besties? Give me something."
Robert wanted to puke. He hated confrontation like this. Hated thinking that he'd hurt Flambae with his antics. Hated that Flambae wasn't angry, just disappointed. Hated everything he was feeling in the moment.
"I. Don't. Know. Okay?" he spoke, nervously messing with the collar of his shirt. "I– I've never felt like this. And nobody ever taught me how to speak about my emotions so now when I do–" His breath hitched. There it was. He furiously wiped the corner of his eye. "I start crying. See? And you hate it."
"Oh my god, stop saying that," Flambae said and gently swatted Robert. "I was joking! Lying, even! Cry all you want, I fucking hate that macho man bullshit."
"I'd say you're pretty macho," Robert muttered and sniffled. "Weren't you pretending not to cry just the other day when that old lady pepper sprayed you thinking you were an accomplice to the perp instead of there to help?"
"That's different," Flambae said, and was about to go on a tirade about that specific incident but stopped himself at the last second. "You're deflecting. I know that because my therapist said the same thing the first five sessions we had together. What are you feeling?"
Robert pinched his eyes shut and tried to focus on his breathing. Flambae's presence so close to him was making his body confused, his fight or flight response in a knot. The warmth was comforting. The situation wasn't.
"I have been… scared. Like you said," he spoke, eyes closed. "But not like any type of fear I've felt before. And that has made me come off as cold, maybe? I don't know, has it?"
"You've been avoiding me, but that's nothing new," Flambae said. Robert felt his hand move back to his thigh, this time brushing the fabric of his jeans.
"Yeah, I have. Been avoiding this conversation," Robert sighed and eased his facial muscles a bit. His eyes remained closed, but it wasn't a strain anymore.
"I've been a bit confused, and angry. And everything happened so fast. The whole Chase thing, me getting kidnapped, the big battle… And after that it quieted down so quickly that it gave me whiplash. We were just expected to get back to work like nothing happened? And honestly, I hadn't been so sure I would make it out of the fight alive so stepping into the office on Monday and immediately running into you was terrifying."
"Yeah, I can imagine. Hadn't shaved that morning."
Robert nudged him with a smile. "Shut the fuck up. Anyway. You seemed to have such an easy time getting back to it, doing your job, that I didn't want to get in the way of all that."
"That's called 'burying your trauma'. Don't recommend it," Flambae said with a fleeting grin that Robert couldn't see.
"Trust me, I know about it. But yeah, the Z-team was doing amazing. I was really proud of all of you. Talking about relationships felt like throwing a wrench into that. So… I let it simmer, and hoped you would bring it up if it was bothering you. Which never happened. And today I finally gathered up the courage to do it, which was clearly an amazing decision because half an hour later you had a nose full of coke."
"Sorry about that. Talk about wrenching a plan."
"I don't think that's an expression."
"It should be, but I digress. Why were you confused and angry?"
"Confused, because… I'd never had a drunken one night stand with a coworker who'd hated my guts up until that day?" Robert suggested, but frowned. "Angry? I had a hard time figuring that one out. It happened even before that night. Like that one time you mentioned making out with a British guy?"
"I've mentioned that many times. But who's keeping trac–"
"Every time you talked about a hookup, or flirting, or any other shit," Robert interrupted him, "I felt like I was gonna puke. I thought it was internalized homophobia for like, three days, but then I realized how stupid that sounded. I think– I think it was jealousy."
He finally opened his eyes. Flambae's expression was unreadable, which was rare for him.
"You know what, fuck that. I know it was jealousy. Even just now, when you alluded to Punch Up staying here overnight, I got mad." He was getting fired up now, too much so to care if he was coming across as a weirdo anymore. "I was like, how many men has he had over? Am I just– just something to have fun with for a bit and then toss to the side? Does he care about me? Want me? Love m–"
He hadn't meant to say it, he truly hadn't. The rest of his words died in his mouth, but it was too late. Flambae stared at him. Robert couldn't tell if it was deep passion or intense hatred.
"Love you?" Flambae finished the sentence for him. He cracked a smile, and to Robert's surprise it wasn't one of malice. "A little early for that, don'tcha think?"
"I didn't mean it," Robert said so fast it could've been one word. Flambae raised his eyebrows, clearly not falling for any of his bullshit. Robert gave him his best pleading look. "Please say something 'cus I don't know what else would come out of my mouth right now.
Flambae leaned back, leaving a slightly charred patch of denim on Robert's thigh where his hand had rested. He thought for a moment. "Somewhere in the ballpark of eighty, no, yes, yes… undetermined right now."
Robert blinked. "What?"
"Your questions," Flambae shrugged. "I answered them. The count could be a little off on the men, I usually go to their place because it's easier to slip out of the building after they've passed out. No, you're not a toy, yes, I care, yes, I want you…. You get the idea."
"But…" Robert searched his eyes desperately, "What about the L-word?"
"The L-word? Are you fucking twelve?" Flambae snorted, effectively making every bit of tension between them vanish.
Robert grimaced. "I don't know why I said that. The love thing."
"What about it? It's just a word, I say it all the time."
"To who?" Robert asked way too quickly and flushed.
Flambae wheezed and slapped his knee, turning properly around to sit normally on the couch. He slumped enough to hit his head on the backrest and grinned up at Robert. "Fuck, you were not lying about the jealousy."
Robert shrugged and turned away from him, too. Flambae was a little too pretty from that angle and would surely distract him. "Answer the question, Chad."
"I say it to my madar, my dad, my aunts, sisters, niece, the nice stray cats outside the local deli," Flambae rolled his eyes, "And, now I guess I can say it to you too if you feel so adamant about it."
"I'm below the cats on that list?"
"Should I put you above my own fucking mother, too, while we're at it?" Flambae asked, or more-so bitched for the sake of it.
Robert laughed, genuinely this time, and it felt good after such a heavy conversation. He couldn't help but feel foolish over the whole thing now. Something in Flambae's words did catch his attention, though. "Wait. Didn't you say your dad was a deadbeat back in Herat?"
"Oh, yeah. I mean, my birth father is. Was. Dunno." Flambae shook his head and smiled a little, genuine. "Madar remarried when I was twelve. His name's Juan. I started calling him my dad within a year. He's… a really fucking good guy. He got me into arson."
"Those two sentences should not be back to back, but… happy for you?" Robert said in a questioning tone and returned the smile. "Didn't take you for a family man."
"Are you kidding? I fucking love my family. I'd kill and die for them." There wasn't an inch of jokiness in Flambae's tone. Robert believed him. He couldn't help but wonder what the other man's family looked like; for some reason he imagined them all with the same unruly strand of hair. The thought almost made him laugh, so he moved on.
"So now what?" Robert asked and leaned forward to grab his drink from the coffee table. It had long gone stale and warm, but he took a sip anyway. Not the worst thing he'd consumed.
"Fuck if I know. I was bullshitting that whole 'being the bigger person' part of the convo." Flambae stretched, little embers flying out of his hands from the strain. "Maybe you can tell me what we are now."
"Oh fuck, I forgot about that part," Robert said, lips against the soda can. He put it between his legs to think. The way Flambae glanced at it, and his crotch, did not go unnoticed. "Definitely not friends with benefits."
"We could be friends with drawbacks. Just like, cause a lot of ruckus for no reason to pay the price of being in close vicinity."
"That is literally what we have been doing, dude."
"Oh yeah…"
Robert sighed and chuckled. "I don't know if… I want any kind of official workplace relationship. If we," he paused, bracing himself for what he was about to say, "start dating, let's keep it out of the office, yeah?"
"Yeah." Flambae shrugged, seemingly happy with the notion. "Nothing has to change."
"Great, 'cus work relationships always end up in flames. More literally if it was with you."
Flambae's mouth twitched, and he tried to hide it by scratching his stubble. Robert noticed it anyway. "What?"
"It's just funny. Prism said the same thing when I–" He froze, mouth half-open.
Robert looked at him with eyes the size of plates. "When you what?" He already knew what was coming.
"When I… mentioned it to her." Flambae's tone of voice indicated he knew he was in danger. Robert couldn't see himself but was sure he looked ready to jump him.
"What exactly did you tell her?" he asked, and failed miserably at keeping his cool. "And– and when?"
"When you were showering, and I called her…? I said we talked, and fucked, and whatever."
"Oh my fucking god, no wonder she's been giving me those looks post-Shroud," Robert moaned and buried his face in his hands. "I thought it was just about the burn! Not that!"
"That's my bad," Flambae admitted, "But she promised not to spill, so we're all good."
"It's Prism! Of course she's gonna spill!" Robert yelled. He must've looked completely insane because Flambae straight up laughed at him.
"Relax, man. It's not like we've been subtle anyway."
"The fuck do you mean? I've been so subtle," Robert argued, trying to wrack his brain for any memory where he would've suddenly fallen into Flambae's arms and kissed him silly in front of the whole office.
"Mm-hmm," Flambae hummed and sank back into the couch now that it didn't seem Robert would jump him.
They both sat in their thoughts for a moment. Beef's snoring could be heard from under the table. The thought of the dog making himself home already made Robert smile. Maybe this could work. Maybe he had been worried over nothing, as was the norm for him.
He looked over at Flambae. His eyes were closed, a neutral but relaxed expression on his face. It was a nice change of pace. Robert was so used to seeing his brows furrowed, teeth gritted… He really was a beautiful man, so much so that Robert felt a bit crazy even thinking that said man technically belonged to him, now.
He licked his lips, uncertain. "...Zahir?" The name still felt odd coming from his lips. He wasn't sure if it was something he was allowed to say, even when Flambae had bestowed it upon him.
"Mm?" Flambae asked, not moving an inch nor minding the name drop.
"Can you kiss me?" Robert asked, gaze travelling across Flambae's features. The man opened his eyes upon the request. Robert flushed red. "I didn't really… get to focus on it, before."
A grin broke Flambae's sleepy indifference and he perked up enough to reach Robert's lips. They kissed again, slower this time, more purposeful. Robert's hand snaked into Flambae's open hair while Flambae's own brushed along Robert's skinny waist. It remained purely romantic, neither of them deepening the kiss into a full-on makeout, and to Robert's surprise he found himself being fine with that.
They pulled apart with a sigh. Flambae's pupils had once again swallowed his irises entirely. He was like a feisty cat, Robert thought, and smiled.
"You're a good kisser, even if you taste like takis" he muttered and cupped Flambae's face, brushing his thumb across his jaw.
"Mm, so I've heard," the man smirked and leaned into the touch. Yep, definitely a cat.
"Don't even start that again."
In a moment of confidence, Robert rolled over and onto Flambae's perfectly awaiting lap. He poked the man's chest. "I never want to hear or even think about you kissing anyone but me."
Flambae's brain looked to have short circuited from the motion, from Robert's ass perfectly on top of his sweatpant-covered cock. Robert watched in amusement as he got his mouth to work again. "Should we talk about boundaries?" he asked.
Robert's stomach dropped. "Oh. Shit, sorry, I–"
"No!" Flambae startled him with the volume and grabbed Robert's waist at the first sign of the man being about to get up. "That came out wrong. Get your ass back here. Literally."
"What boundaries, then?" Robert slumped back down and began playing with a strand of Flambae's hair.
"Maybe that isn't the word… More like, what you like in the bedroom? Anything off-limits, prefe– That's the word, preferences."
"Oh, right. So this is fine?" Robert nodded at their current position.
"More than fine." Flambae flashed a smile. His fingers were almost able to interlock around Robert's waist. The thought nauseated both of them in the best way possible. "Okay, anyway. Are you exclusively a bottom?"
"No, I– I can top," Robert uttered, distracted by the other man's hands. "I mean… I haven't really done a ton with men, and with women I… top, but does that even count? That's like the norm? What I'm trying to say is I'm a switch."
"Aww, twinning," Flambae said and sent Robert's eyebrows up to his hairline.
"Seriously? You bottom?"
"Your tone is derogatory, Bobert."
"I'm just surprised. There's men bigger than you out there?"
Flambae huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. "You don't need to be bigger to top. Fuck, I'd let you top me if you wanted."
Every other thought vanished from Robert's brain at that moment. He stared at the other man, mouth agape. "Deadass?" he got out.
"You're salivating," Flambae joked, then shrugged. "Yeah. Why not? Unless you're too intimidated by my ass."
"Literally every man would be, have you seen it?" Robert chuckled, earlier awkwardness over the subject matter melting away. "Um, I mean, yeah. I'd love to. Maybe not tonight, though. I feel like I need to mentally and physically prepare myself for all that."
"I'll be waiting."
Robert traced the v-neck of Flambae's shirt with his finger to distract himself from the feeling of Flambae's dick against his ass. "Do… you have any kinks?" he asked. He swore he could feel the other man twitch beneath him. ”I like choking, personally.”
"I'm kind of a… everything goes, kind of guy," Flambae said, modest. "Anything you can think I've probably tried or am willing to try."
"You don't know what my sick mind can come up with."
"Okay, edgelord. My only no-no is scat."
"Ew! I was not thinking of that!" Robert made a face and shook his head to get the thought out of his head. "Bondage?"
"Plenty of experience with that," Flambae nodded. "I can show you my gear."
Robert jolted up. "Gear?"
Flambae ushered him off his lap, and Robert missed the warmth he hadn't noticed while sitting on top of him immediately. Flambae led him around the couch and towards the alcove. He crouched, once again giving Robert a grade A view of his ass, and pulled out a trunk from under the bed. Robert's eyes almost fell out of their sockets when it was opened.
The trunk, more-so a treasure chest, was lined with dark red velvet and was bursting with fetish gear. Plugs, including a tail one, a couple dildos, ball- and ring-gag, nipple clamps, anal beads, something he suspected to be used for sounding… Some of the things he'd never even seen before. On top of everything laid a leather hood with a snout and ears, decorated with intricate orange flame decals.
"What the fuck," Robert said and didn't even make it sound like a question.
Flambae looked up at him, still kneeling on the floor, and grinned upon seeing his flabbergasted reaction. "Been collecting for a few years… or, a decade, I dunno." He pulled the puppy hood out of the pile and tossed it to Robert. "Designed it myself. Sewed, too."
"...I can tell," Robert slowly replied, examining the item. He suspected the hood perfectly matched the colors of Flambae's suit. It was well made and didn't feel like completely normal leather. "Is it fireproof?"
"Everything I own is fireproof." Flambae got up despite his knees cracking in protest. "So. Whaddaya think?"
"This is insane. Not– not in a bad way, just… I figured you were a freak, but I don't even know what some of this shit is used for."
"Nobody has ever outfreaked me," Flambae said and sounded proud about the prospect.
"In what situation could you possibly even need this?" Robert asked and handed the hood back.
"Take a wild guess. Here." Flambae reached into the chest and pulled out something thin and equally leathery. "Got a matching collar."
Robert ran his thumb across the engraving on the little pendant hanging from the dog collar; Flambae. "So your puppy play buddies know your hero identity? No alias, no nothing?"
"What's the point? They'd recognize me anyway."
"Who's they, exactly?"
Flambae took a seat on the edge of the bed and tossed the hood out of his hands. "There's this BDSM lounge for supers over on Long Beach. Their whole schtick is pairing normies with guys with powers and doing what they please with them. A lot of people like the power dynamic. All in good fun, obviously."
"Huh," Robert said, taking in the information as he also sat down on the bed. "And you're a regular there?"
"It's a great way to relax after a shitty week."
"What? Crawling around pretending to be a dog?"
"Don't judge me, bitch, you wanted to know," Flambae scoffed sassily and kicked the trunk shut.
"I'm not!" Robert was quick to say, even if it was a blatant lie. He had been judging. "It sounds intriguing."
Flambae squinted at him, looking for more lies. They didn't surface. "If you can get over your jealousy, we could go together."
"I don't know if that's for me. My knees aren't what they used to be."
"Okay, first of all, you're acting like you're an eighty-year-old," Flambae countered, "And, I didn't mean they'd be putting you in a bitchsuit, dumb fuck."
"What? I'd just be a cuck, then?"
Flambae sighed dramatically and flopped backwards onto the bed. "They could show you the dom ropes, is what I meant," he muttered and rubbed his tired eyes.
Robert lied down next to him, yawn escaping his lips. "Could we discuss this at a later date?"
"Sure." Flambae dragged his hand across his face before tilting his head in Robert's direction. Both of their legs dangled off the side of the bed. "So. We fucking or what?"
Robert turned to his side and kicked his legs onto the bed into a fetal position. "I want to just cuddle right now. Is that okay?"
Flambae mirrored him and leaned on his elbow. "Obviously. D'you want PJs?"
"I usually sleep in boxers."
"The bold and only correct choice." Flambae sat up with a groan and ruffled his hair. "Get cozy. I'll clean up and shit."
It would've been difficult not to get cozy in the dim alcove. Robert kicked off his jeans and threw his shirt in the mix and starfished on the bed after pulling back the bedspread. He enjoyed the cool sensation of Flambae's black silk bedsheets and knew he would get nice and toasty in just a moment.
"Can you bring Beef in here?" he asked into the quiet apartment, not having a clue where Flambae was at the minute. "I don't want him to be lonely."
The man in question came into his view after a moment, naked apart from a very tight pair of white briefs and Beef happily in his arms. Robert kissed the dog on the forehead as he exchanged arms.
"Damn. No kisses for me?" Flambae asked with a slanted smile and climbed into bed.
"Settle down, I'm getting there." Robert placed Beef carefully. The pup shuffled to the foot of the bed and slumped down, looking like a Thanksgiving turkey.
They settled under the covers and fell silent for a moment. Flambae broke the serenity. "So where are they?"
"What?" Robert asked, already drifting off.
"The kisses. Where are they?"
"Oh," Robert exhaled through his nose and reached over to peck the other man's forehead. "There you go."
"Thanks."
To Robert's surprise, one of Flambae's hands found his own under the comforter. It made him smile, and he gave the three digits a gentle squeeze. Something flashed in Flambae's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had arrived.
"When did you first catch feelings for me?" he asked out of the blue, voice low and raspy.
Robert thought about it for a moment. "Honestly, first day on the job, I think. Well, even back at Crypto Night I thought you were hot, but I don't immediately fall for every attractive person on the planet." He chuckled, "Plus you hated my ass so I didn't exactly think I'd have a chance even if I kept my identity hidden."
"Shit, I thought you were hot, too. That pissed me off," Flambae muttered. "It was like, 'Fuck you, Zahir, take these psychosexual issues, 'K thanks bye, sincerely your brain' and I wanted to rip you to shreds right there at the club."
"Pretty sexy if you ask me," Robert said with a smug smile. It felt good to know that he'd gotten such a reaction out of his then-nemesis. The grin on his face faded a little. "I'm sorry I called you a shitty villain back there. You were actually a pretty good one."
Flambae, eyes lidded, raised a brow. "Just pretty good?"
"You were good. Above average. But to me every villain who got busted up was shitty," Robert admitted, grimacing. The more he thought about it, the less he liked the version of himself from a few months ago. "I was still in the Mechami– Mecha, Man, mindset. Jesus, that's a mouthful. Almost said Megamind."
"We should watch that movie. My niece loves it." Flambae let out a huge yawn, peppermint-scented breath ghosting on Robert's face and making him realize only one of them had brushed their teeth. "That guy's the greatest villain-turned-hero ever."
"Yeah. He would've done great in the Z-team," Robert snickered. "Fuck it. Let's have a movie night and watch Megamind, Shrek and the whole Madagascar trilogy."
Flambae grabbed Robert's chin with his free hand and jerked it up to meet his eyes. "Hope you're not joking, bitch, 'cus I'm dead serious."
"I can be serious! Jeez, didn't know you were so into cartoons." Robert swore in his head at the twitch of his cock upon the manhandling. "Let's do it. Your place is really nice, at least compared to mine, so it's like being at the movie theater."
Flambae made a dismissive noise and let go of his jaw. "That's not saying much. Literally even a landfill is nicer than your place."
"Hey!" Robert slapped him lightly on the chest. "I'll have you know I bought a carpet for the living room, a wall clock, and… A fake plant, that's the one."
Flambae laughed, and it was warm. "Well, fuck me then, huh? Might as well burn my place down since it's no match to your interior decoration."
They giggled under the covers like a pair of schoolboys at a sleepover for a little, until Robert yawned again. "We should sleep."
Flambae's eyes were already closed. "I'm trying to but you keep talking."
"Oh, my bad."
Robert was sad for a second over the other man's hand disappearing from his grip, only to feel it snake around his waist instead. Too tired to play coy, he leaned into the touch and pressed against Flambae's chest. He didn't care if he woke up in the afternoon drowning in sweat from the body heat as he sunk into the embrace, a smile ghosting against Flambae's collarbone.