Chapter Text
“Well. I guess we’re done here,” Robert said, glancing around the meeting room.
Flambae had stopped rubbing awkwardly at his own cheek about a minute ago. So now, he was pretending that hadn’t ever happened.
He looked down at Robert, condescending and amused: “oh, really? You sure, Bobert?”
The time on the clock was 15.31. Robert’s phone was already buzzing on the table stronger than the averagely spiteful vibrator, as he tried to close out Flambae’s meeting as neutrally as possible. He glanced down to it quickly, and put it casually on mute with a flick of his wrist.
“Are you busy on Sunday?” he asked.
Flambae paused. He looked pretty blatantly interested, but Robert thought there was some wariness behind his eyes still - like he still didn't quite trust Robert to have made up his mind.
“...I could be free.”
“Cool,” said Robert, “I was wondering, if you wanted to come to IKEA with me?”
Flambae blinked.
“Robert,” he said.
“...Chad.”
“Robert, look at me,” Flambae said, gesturing down his body again in what was becoming a habit. “That’s your first date pitch? You need to try harder, baby. I’m not a fucking U-haul lesbian.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Robert replied, smiling. “And honestly, I wasn’t suggesting it as a date. I’ve been meaning to ask someone round here with super strength for some help, ever since my overtime paycheck came in. I can’t get shit like that up my stairs - I need someone to help me carry everything back to the flat. The delivery is insane."
At Chad's continually unimpressed look, Robert raised his hands: "But don’t worry, I understand: this ‘acts of service’ thing of yours dries up, once you finally manage to lock a guy down.”
“I'm doing nice things for you because I enjoy nice things. Not because I'm into doing errands for you like a fuckin' lapdog.”
“It's ok, man, I get it. If you really don’t feel like helping me out, or being useful, then I guess I can just ask Phenomaman instead. He’s been watching instagram reels on interior decorating. Plus, shared appreciation of depression chic, so that was honestly my original plan...”
"If this is you making some kind of reverse psychology play, or something, then it’s not going to work.” Chad told him, visibly wavering. “I’m a stone cold baddie, Robert. You don't take me, to fucking IKEA. I'm a Michelin star restaurant kind of a bitch.”
“I guess I just thought, that on some level, you might have some personal investment in my future bedframe,” Robert sighed dramatically, play-acting a shrug. “But hey! That’s ok - if you want a Michelin star restaurant, then I guess I can save that purchase til next month, and use the money to-”
-And that was how they ended up at the IKEA out near Carson, early on Sunday morning.
Chad had, apparently, skipped the gym.
He’d also offered to drive them. But the Firebird’s trunk wasn’t big enough to house a body, never mind an unwieldy box of flatpack. This already took Chad's enthusiasm out by the knees - but he became even more horrified, when Robert explained that he’d already been planning to borrow one of SDN’s vans, for the purpose. Then, he reached downright disgust, when Robert explained that only Dispatchers were insured by the company to drive... so he’d be the one picking Chad up, ths time.
Things only got worse, once he was inside - and realised that not only did Robert have a license, but that he maintained it by, you know, obeying traffic laws.
“Why the fuck did you let that glacial fucking bitch merge?!” he said, outraged, at one point on the freeway, “we’ve been in this fucking queue for fucking ever, we’re not going to move anywhere if you just keep letting people in in front of you! No one wins a Miss Congeniality award for driving in fucking LA, Robert!”
“No, you see, that's definitely a thing,” Robert replied, calmly. "It’s just nobody bothered telling you about it. Because you had no chance in hell of ever getting nominated.”
Robert had said this wasn’t a date. And so, he’d dressed appropriately casual - in one of his softer dark t-shirts, and jeans. If he’d shaved a little cleaner than usual, or found his one decent cologne somewhere in the back of his depressing closet, then that was nobody’s business but his own.
Chad, meanwhile, stepped miserably out of the van and onto the sun-baked store parking lot, looking - as always - like a supermodel. His jeans were tight and high-waisted, his crimson shirt had a sheer hint to it that suggested his taut silhouette underneath, and he was wearing sunglasses like he was hoping he wouldn’t get recognised, at fucking IKEA. He’d clearly put effort in - Robert was genuinely flattered. His hair was also down, and really, that was all that was actually needed for him to make the kind of impression that would be imprinted on Robert’s memory, if he happened to think about this moment again later, at night. The rest just became an added bonus.
“You look nice,” he told him, as he hopped out on the driver’s side. He’d been parked on a dicey bit of curb - in Bae’s very nice neighbourhood, where such things mattered - when he’d picked him up, so there’d been no real time for him to say it before now.
“Damn, bitch. Yeah, of course I fucking 'look nice'. Don’t strain yourself, trying to give me too big a compliment about it or anything. Is this your idea of flirting?”
Robert snorted. Clearly, the drive at exactly the speed limit in an ugly front seat had taken its toll.
“Listen,” he said, “only one of us has ever gotten accused of negging, here. But I’m sorry. You look good - I should’ve said so earlier. I’m sure you’ll be the hottest-looking runway model, at 10am in this random furniture store.”
“Fucking right,” Chad muttered, though something about his pissy demeanor felt forced. “Youlookfinetoo, I guess.”
“...Wow.” Robert laughed. “Words of affirmation still loading, I see. Guess we’ll have to stick with acts of service, for now.”
“Whatever, Robert. Let’s just get this fucking over with.”
“We could get some food, if you like?”
Chad paused, scandalised.
“We are not eating in the IKEA cafe, Robert.” he said, dipping his sunglasses to glare at him over the rim. “Only white people think that cafe counts as culture. The food is not good. The acoustics are worse.”
“I more meant… maybe stopping at the little food shop, at the end,” Robert explained, vaguely. “You know, the one with the cute European groceries? Mandy told me they have some nice stuff. And less screaming toddlers, as a rule, apparently?”
Chad recalibrated, and then looked vaguely mollified. He eventually gave a non-commital shrug, and Robert smiled, having set up that portion of the conversation with this eventual response in mind. Chad had been forced to suffer through the van, and this was so clearly a favour he was doing rather than anything remotely his style. So Robert had been trying to think of ways to make this more worth his while, and maybe also lighten the fucking mood.
He reached out and casually took the other guy’s hand, to lead him up towards the store entrance.
“...What are you doing?!”
Robert glanced back, and saw Flambae looking down at their joined hands, as if panicked. He said apologetically. “Oh, sorry. I thought you said you wanted clingy, and I didn’t think there’d be any problem, so long as we’re not at work. Sorry. I can-”
But as he began loosening his grip to let go, Chad’s grip at the other end tightened on instinct.
“Nah bitch, it’s fine. Just like, warn a guy next time, you know?”
“If I had to ask you, every time I wanted you to hold my hand,” Robert observed, “I’d give myself three attempts before you called me a teenage girl or some shit.”
“Well ok, then. It’s fine from right now, ok? Full consent for all fucking future hand-holding, or whatever.”
“Aww, same here, Bae,” Robert grinned back at him over his shoulder. “I'm touched. Not only are you willing to be seen in public with me, you’re being seen in public with me in a place you think is lame. Cute.”
“I -” Flambae finally started moving more willingly, trailing after him, “shut the fuck up, bitch.”
It was only about here, that Robert realised he’d accidentally picked up the hand with two missing fingers. He noticed the way the missing fingers felt against his, as Chad started to intertwine them tighter together, and with more certainty.
Robert was left-handed - he really hadn’t meant anything by it. He’d just picked, on instinct.
A wave of aircon hit them both as they walked into the store. It was very… white.
Robert didn’t mean that in the way Chad would say it. Just very sterile - like a hospital. But in an almost friendly way.
Robert had actually never been in one of these before. He’d typically gotten the few pieces of furniture he had free off of Craigslist. Given that he now had access via Royd to the SDN lab, and its big walk-in freezers that could kill almost any potentially gross biohazard, he had been planning to kinda do the same thing with his bedroom -
But this place was a big enough brand, that it had its own metahuman line of furniture - nothing flashy, just a few reinforced options on sofas, chairs, beds, tables, stools, for individuals who had increased muscle or bone density. There were also some other little alterations, for durability. Robert obviously had no need for them, himself, but… the fact remained, that he did need a bed frame. His mattress was currently still on the fucking floor.
And if he was quite literally reading the room right, then it might be useful to… you know… future proof.
…He only realised how embarrassing and fucking presumptuous that entire thought process was on his part, when he somehow found himself and Chad stood in a literal sea of mocked-up master bedrooms. He was stuck trying to formulate a polite version of the question, ‘so, which of these do you think is more functionally and structurally appropriate, for our currently non-existent sex life?’
“You really just need a bed?” Flambae asked him - looking out across the vista of Robert’s accidental come-on without making eye contat with him, not even once. “Your apartment is still like, serial-killer bare, Bob-Bob.”
“If we’re talking budget-wise, I can extend to maybe one bookshelf? Or a coffee table - at least, until next month. Maybe also a clothes rail, or something? Unless that’s a little too domestic.”
Chad looked down at their still clasped hands, then back up at him, and Robert flushed, realising what he’d just said. He didn’t need any more closet space - he was still filling out what little he had. and he knew that the Z-Team had nosed round the entire apartment on the night of the housewarming, and so they also all probably knew that to be the case. So any extra wardrobe space he proposed simply wasn’t for him.
He might as well just offer Chad half a bathroom cabinet and a toothbrush, whilst he was at it.
…Maybe he needed to google what a ‘U-Haul lesbian’ was.
But… the soulmate thing had outlived the fucking bond being severed! Apparently! Which meant it would probably last a while, right? He was just being practical. He needed to make sensible economic decisions, with what little he had!
Chad studied him, for another second. Robert couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking, behind the shades he had insisted on still wearing indoors.
“...Metal,” he muttered, to the thankfully still-unspoken question. “You should get one of the metal ones.”
Robert’s shoulders lost a tension he hadn’t realised he’d been accumulating, and he smiled wide, unable to resist leaning in, “Oh? Do metal bedframes work better for you, aesthetically?”
Flambae glowered back at him, but for all he seemed unimpressed, there was a flush to his cheeks that was so strong it couldn’t bleached away by the fluorescents. He scratched at the back of his head, with his free hand.
“The cheap plywood shit here catches super easily. And it smells fucking foul, when it burns. Just… you know. FYI.”
“Right, right,” Robert nodded sagely. “You know, I hear they also have the metahuman reinforced stuff? Mandy said they kept trying to push her for a sponsorship deal, back when she was still Blazer, and you know, had the whole overlapping colour scheme thing going on. Don’t think they’ve asked Chase, yet. But then, he keeps swearing in every live TV interview, so..."
“I only have enhanced strength, bitch, so just what the fuck do you think we’re going to be doing with this new bed of yours?” Flambae asked, raising an eyebrow. “Unless you’re talking about their weight scaling, and just calling me fucking fat.”
“Well, I don’t know exactly what we’ll be doing, yet,” said Robert. He pulled himself in a step or two closer by their joined hands, looked directly up into Chad’s face, and added: “so… you know… you tell me.”
Flambae blinked down at him, a little flustered, as if he hadn’t quite expected him to take the bait.
The thing was, Robert really didn’t have much game - at least, in his own opinion. He would readily admit that he mostly just… coasted by. On his voice; on having a decent rejoinder when other people happened to approach him first; and on the fact that far worse things had happened to him in his life, than getting ghosted by a stranger two- or three hook-ups in.
But… he had also spent the last nine months, fucking terrified of Flambae. He’d been scared, at least 90% of the time he was around him, at least when sober. First, he was afraid of getting found out as Mecha Man. Then, it was his guilt. Then the weird cold shoulder period, and the anxiety hangover from discovering that even after all of his caution, he’d been accidentally harming Flambae for months.
Now that he wasn’t running on any of those responses, the default of his usual calm, unruffled demeanour had slotted firmly back into place.
Robert didn’t have particularly good game - but what he did have, was confidence.
“I’m just trying to do everything right, you know - cover all the potential angles. Do I also need to invest in a CO2 extinguisher? Maybe a fireblanket?” he teased when Chad couldn't summon a reply. He feigned genuine, innocent curiosity by making his eyes big, and searching, as he stared up into Chad’s face. “Is there a OSHA module somewhere, for me to complete? I’m invested in becoming a very safety-conscious boyfriend.”
It might’ve been his imagination, but he swore the hand he was holding got warmer, by a couple of degrees.
“Plus,” he said with his most winning smile, “only your ass is fat, in my opinion. But I can tell you work hard for it, so…”
Then, Chad’s other hand came up to Robert’s face… palmed his whole forehead like a bowling ball, and shoved it backwards, out of Chad’s personal space.
“You’re real fucking stupid, Robert. Words just seem to come straight out of your fucking mouth."
The insult came out in a short burst - like Bae was just glad, simply to get sentences out whole.
And Robert - who had recently learned how to spell ‘tsundere’, and thus googled the term successfully - couldn’t help but laugh, as he ducked back.
“Ok, ok,” he said in surrender, before letting go of Chad’s hand, in order to walk over to the nearest metal queen-sized frame.
It had a dumb name, with an egregious number of umlauts in - and two iterations, for normie or metahuman specs, with different bands of pricing. Robert ducked down to read the tag, and thus missed the downtrodden expression on the man behind him, as Bae flexed his now empty hand.
“So… what do I do now?” he said. “Do I just… ask them, for this one? I thought it was supposed to come flat-packed. Is there a flatpack bit? I don’t know if I can pronounce that word, at the desk.”
“Bitch,” Chad groused, fishing his phone out of his pocket and going into his camera so they could get the barcode, “you’re in your thirties - just how the fuck don’t you know how IKEA works? I swear, sometimes it’s like you were raised by fucking wolves.”
✧⋄⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋄✧
In the end, Robert was talked into purchasing a bedframe, a coffee table, two photo frames, a set of six glass tupperware so Bae could apparently school him in the untold wonders of ‘meal prepping’, and a clothes rail that he could screw into his closet wall, that neither of them were discussing the very meaningful ramifications of. He’d also let Chad pick out a throw for the couch, tricking him into it by pretending they were in an argument. Robert stood by what he said at the time: he didn’t actually need a throw. But maybe Chad did. And it would be comfortable for Beef, even if neither of them ever used it.
He’d let Chad pick whatever he wanted, all beneath an illusion of reticence. Things had been going almost too smoothly - he’d started some drama, just to keep Chad occupied. Entertaining him operated on the same kind of logic as a dispatch shift - though even Robert knew better, than to say that out loud.
Chad carried all of it to the car. Robert was left with the bag of frankly overpriced groceries - mostly just some nicely spiced cookies, and a peculiar array of savoury and sweet jams.
“If this shirt snags on anything, you’re fucking dead to me,” Bae muttered, holding all three cardboard flatbacks and the rug in one arm whilst several more masculinely-presenting men in hetero couples gawked at him as they passed, “and I am not building any of this shit for you.”
“Don’t worry,” Robert hummed, “I remember how that one mission went, my first month here. That was one of your biggest fails, wasn’t it? So… you know. You literally were never going to get asked.”
“...Hey! Fuck you!”
“Well, easy there tiger. That probably has to wait, until the bedframe. Did you see the slats in the headboard? Those looked fun.”
Flambae tried his best to reply, but mostly, he just sputtered. He almost got a full word of an insult out, but then Robert touched his bicep appreciatively through his shirt on the flexed, ‘carrying everything’ side, as he used the key to pip open the SDN van. His skin was warm, and the muscle firm but with a pleasing give. Robert squeezed a little, despite himself. Chad’s one word was lost again.
Robert was amazed this man had ever once been considered a playboy, by anybody - including himself.
Silently, they shut the doors, then both got in the van.
Now it didn't hold a threat of violence or embarrassment, Robert was quite content with the silence. He enjoyed it, in fact. Which meant he started the engine, and was ten minutes out of the parking lot, humming to himself, before he realised they hadn’t spoken once since he’d made that comment. Robert’s flirting was not that good - and if Flambae was vanilla enough to be startled by it, then hell had frozen over and was also serving the ice cream.
Robert properly began to worry, when he let a grandma who was hunched so close to the wheel that even he wondered if her glasses prescription allowed her to drive out in front of him, and Flambae didn’t have a single thing to offer up in commentary. Something was clearly amiss.
“Do you want to google matcha places?” Robert asked, casually. “We can stop for some on the way back.”
“...You don’t even like matcha.”
“Well, I haven’t really drank it before. But… I hear it’s highly caffeinated. So I’m sure I can make do.”
Chad fell silent again. When Robert glanced over - when he really should’ve been watching the road - the other man looked oddly thoughtful.
“Robert…”
“Yeah?”
“Did you really just buy all this shit for me, before we even started dating?”
“...Ouch,” Robert joked. “We’re not dating? I don’t just kiss anyone on company time, you know. I’m not some kind of floozy.”
“But like… is that what we just did?”
“I told you, I already needed the bedframe. I knew I was borrowing the van, at some point. It was a completely planned purchase.”
“We both know you'd be fine with some fucking haunted thing from a serial killer on fucking Gumtree. Or you’d just continue sleeping on the floor, for like, the next year.”
“And yet I worried, that something either of those options might make me less than attractive-”
“So... it is for me. Robert.”
“Ok, well. I guess I maybe already had everything I felt I needed,” Robert said with a shrug, “but… I know my levels of comfort are different, from other people’s. It was just common sense, to think about what you might need, as well.”
Chad went all silent again.
Robert sighed. “Listen, it’s not that deep. We both know the months of bitching I've saved myself from, just by making the investment early.”
“...Months?!”
Well yeah, Robert thought, we’re soulmates. I’m hoping we last longer than a fucking fortnight.
When he didn't say anything, Chad looked at him, adding, “...and you just assume we're going to use it?”
The glance Robert gave him this time was equal parts unimpressed and extremely entertained. Was the physical chemistry something they were just supposed to pretend wasn't there - like it wasn't something they supposed to act on? Who did Chad think he was kidding?
“Well, sorry for hoping that months of having to listen to you brag about every notch in your bedpost before my second coffee might have an upside, any time soon.”
“Bitch… are you saying I'm easy?”
“I'm a gentleman, so I would never.” Robert replied, smoothly. “I'm just saying that you want me.”
Chad spluttered, in a way that would've been a spit take if there'd been matcha to hand. “I- bitch-”
“Or at least, I hope you do, because I want you,” Robert continued. “It would be very convenient for me, if that was the case. Makes a bunch of things I've got going on right this second way less awkward, if you know what I mean.”
Chad had nothing to reply to that with. Robert could've said more... but he seemed to be digging himself a big enough hole as is, so he stayed silent.
Could’ve pointed out that Chad said he wanted him obsessed - and that this was just logistical processing, not irrational madness. But, no. Robert was protecting his peace.
“It’s just… you’re kind of different, you know? And it’s sudden.” Chad blurted. “Kinda getting fucking whiplash, over here.”
“Really?” Robert said, though he didn’t see it himself. “Well. You take whatever time you need to process it, I guess. As long as it doesn’t bother you. And no pressure - I can just drop you home, if you like.”
They returned to sitting in silence. Robert told himself he was ok with it - he probably would’ve preferred questions or something, but his answers only seemed to make Chad freak out more. So, he tried to like the silence. Silence that was so… neutral. And safe.
They immediately hit some traffic, as he exited the freeway. The van slowed to a gridlocked crawl, the moment after Robert took their first right. Then one block later, they were forced to stop in place entirely.
Robert sighed, putting on the break, then glanced out of the window as he surreptitiously adjusted his hip in the seat. Though he’d never admit it out loud, the van was way more comfortable than Chad’s torture instrument of a vehicle. But unfortunately for him, that didn’t mean sitting through a LA traffic jam wouldn’t-
Then suddenly, Robert wasn’t looking out the window anymore.
He’d been tugged bodily around. Practically manhandled.
And Chad had dragged his upper body half-across the centre console to meet him, smashing their mouths together inelegantly.
Ten out of ten for enthusiasm… but Chad was a man with superpowered strength. Robert nearly got choked out, in the most supremely unsexy way, by the way his seatbelt tried to strangle him in response to the sudden onset of G-Force. He told himself that that was why he gasped straight into Bae’s mouth, open and needy, only to have his bottom lip bitten hard in response.
A second’s distraction, to tug at the tight band across his chest, readjust, and give himself a bit more reach to work with - and then Robert cupped both hands gently to Chad’s face, and kissed him back. It became neater, with his level-headedness schooling Chad’s apparently aggressive impatience. Still deep and filthy, though. Enough to make Chad let out a wrecked, involuntary groan, when Robert bit back.
“So… that’s that processed, huh?” Robert said, pulling back and grinning at him like a fucked-out Cheshire cat.
“I fucking hate you,” said Flambae, almost like a reflex.
“Um.” Robert paused. “I’m sorry but… I don’t think that’s a thing that’s going to work for me, anymore.”
“Fine.” Chad scowled. “I… don’t hate you. But you’re being a little shit.”
“Damn, really?” Robert murmured, dropping his gaze to Chad’s lips and starting to lean in again, “and here I thought I was being nice. If only there was somebody round here, to put me in my place.”
…They only broke apart, when the horns got obnoxiously loud behind them, and Robert realised they’d been sitting on a green with no one in front of them for like... forty-five seconds.
The silence was different, after that. Might have been the way that Robert couldn’t seem to stop smiling, or how a wallop of endorphins around the face was probably enough to drown out the pain for at least ten minutes, which was all that was left in the drive. It was a slightly charged, but a comfortable silence.
Robert had been dreaming of achieving a comfortable silence with Chad, for months.
And the kiss-bruised sting to his mouth felt almost… luxurious.
Hell. It felt good.
When they pulled up, Chad was out the passenger seat and opening up the back of the van at lightning speed, before Robert had eased his stiff-ass self from the driver's seat and down onto the pavement. “Let's get this show on the fucking road.”
Robert snorted. Had something about the drive made him more enthusiastic, about helping? Was there suddenly increased investment, in Project Bedframe?
“Uh, you might want to-” Robert started.
With a short, concise jet of flame from under his body, Flambae cleared the fifteen feet up leap to Robert's balcony with an armfull of flatpack, in under three seconds, leaving behind only a slight hint of char on the paving slab. He had not let Robert finish his sentence.
Robert looked up into the sun, shielded his eyes, then sighed heavily.
“...The balcony doors are still broken!” he yelled up, from street level. “Because of you!”
“I… Motherfucker!”
✧⋄⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋄✧
He led a frustratedly pouting Flambae up the stairs to his apartment, then unlocked the door.
“Heyy, Beefy,” he murmured, as his beautiful son yipped at his ankles. “We’re back.”
If Chad’s outfit had looked out of place in the furniture store, it looked even stranger here. He was a burst of technicolour, in what was otherwise a sea of grey.
“Damn, I forget that this place looks like the setting for a Samaritans advert,” he muttered, mirroring Robert's own thoughts as he moved to put the furniture down by the side of the door. “Or like, one of those homeless animal charities. Only you’re the homeless animal.”
“Damn, the wolves who raised me must not have loved me, if I’m getting thrown out on the street. Could you put the bed in the bedroom?” Robert asked, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to move it himself. Chad looked at him, deduced the same thing, then nodded, picking up the box again.
When he was done, Robert handed him his bag of groceries.
Then, they awkwardly stood opposite each other for roughly ten seconds, until Robert realised this didn't mean Chad was leaving.
“...Are you fucking kicking me out?” Chad asked, incredulously.
“I just figured you wouldn’t be interested in the next bit,” said Robert. “If you don’t want to help, I was giving you an out.”
“Damn, bitch, I can still like, sit somewhere. Looking pretty. Could pet your fucking dog, or whatever. While you do the work.”
It was then Robert realised Chad didn't want to go. He still wanted to spend more time with him... which meant this 'not-date' was going well. He fought a smile.
“Do you want some coffee?”
Chad followed him into the kitchen, to the coffee machine he’d bought him. Even though it had only been here a few months, it was now clearly well-loved and well-used, with a bag of bougie roastery beans on the side from a place that Mandy had recommended.
“Damn, the only thing worth shit in this apartment, and I fucking bought it for you,” Chad snarked.
“Yes. It was a very thoughtful gift,” Robert replied, with full, direct eye contact. He inwardly preened as all of Chad’s attitude was immediately gutted out of him, and diffused.
Was it really this easy? He was just starting to properly enjoy himself, realising how much fun there was to be had at Chad’s expense.
“...You know,” Chad said, as Robert started getting mugs out of the cupboard, “if you wanted, I know a really nice coffee place out in Silverlake. We could go there, some time. I’m not saying it could be a first date, but it could be like, another pre-game.”
Robert hummed, nodded, then glanced over. “Well, for first date, I was actually thinking we could go to a bar. Some place that does karaoke.”
Bae looked at him.
“Robert. We already do that, like, practically once a week. Do you need some fucking help with this? I can do the planning, if you like?”
“Well, you make shit complicated, and I don’t see why we need to complicate anything. You like karaoke, I like karaoke. Apparently, serenading is already your idea of making a first move.” Robert said, with a shrug. “And given that I’m constantly being made very aware of how out of my league you are, I thought it might be nice to remind us both, of the one thing I’ve got you beat on.”
“Bitch, you have not-”
“-You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”
And, just like he’d waved a magic wand, all the fight went out of Chad once more. The endearment was like, a super-powered version of what had come before. Robert would’ve been worried, were it not clear that it was his hackles that were being lowered, rather than any of his personality being erased away. Man was more fucking defensive, than Robert had ever realised.
At least his silence was right on cue for the coffee machine to make an obscene amount of noise.
“But if you prefer coffee,” said Robert, once it was done. “We can do that. It can be a first date, at my end. I’m not a Michelin star bitch. I’m pretty easy to please.”
“....No. We can do that. The karaoke thing.” Chad muttered. “It doesn’t fucking matter anyway. I guess this is our fucking first date, after all.”
Robert glanced over his shoulder, amused. “Oh, it is, huh? You’ve decided?”
“...You got upgraded.”
“Really?” Robert turned back to the cups, still smiling. “Well, shit. I thought I’d have to pull out the stops, but turns out you’re kind of cheap date. One 'sweetheart', and you’ve folded? Maybe you are easy.”
Silence, from Chad's end, so Robert just kept talking-
“Unless it’s the flatpack. Who knew flatpack would be what gets you going? I haven’t even built it yet.”
The temperature had been climbing slightly, in Robert’s vicinity. He assumed it was a physical manifestation, of Chad’s deep emotional struggles. Which meant it came as a surprise, when strong arms came suddenly up and around his waist, and he realised that it was actually a proximity thing. Chad pressed his chest to Robert’s back and - in a way that couldn’t be ergonomic, but then those things didn’t matter to him - rested his chin on Robert’s shoulder.
Robert had been frozen, for most of the process. His first instinct was that Chad was going to drag him back or move him, for some reason - that pure jolt of fight or flight. But even though Chad was undeniably strong, the arms at his waist remained gentle, non-threatening. It was... you know… just a hug.
The heat ramped up a little, though. Chad was tall, so it was all along his back. Robert felt the slight tightness in his hip start to ease immediately. His mind swam, as he thought of how he never seemed to be able to get the heatpad as hot as it had been that first time, in his microwave at home. This information extrapolated itself out into a very intriguing set of future possibilities. Had he been a weaker man, he would’ve dropped his head back onto the other man’s shoulder and just called it a day.
“You’re the one who called himself my boyfriend about ever being fucking asked,” Chad muttered, almost defeatedly, into Robert’s neck.
Oh, shit.
Robert hadn’t even realised. He actually felt kind of embarrassed for himself. Was he just super old-fashioned? Chad dated a lot more than he did. Was this the... talking phase? Or just a hook up? Did he have to wait until they 'defined the relationship'? He'd once heard Prism, Mal, and Visi talking in the breakroom about double-texting, but he hadn't paid attention long enough to work out if that was something he should or shouldn't do.
Confidence. Robert thought. It was all he had going for him.
“Well, that’s actually a much more casual commitment, than ‘ex-soulmates’,” he said with a hum that he knew Chad must feel through his own chest, given how they were positioned. He started moving again, pouring milk into the steamer. “I’m playing it cool, over here.”
“If this is the first date, that means we’re official,” Flambae murmured to him. “Day One.”
“You that desperate to lock me down?”
“...Maybe?” Chad buried his face in his neck. “Shut up.”
Robert snorted, to try and hide the ways his hands tensed on the countertop, at the sensation of breath all along his neck.
“Sure,” he said, in agreement. “Day One.”