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English
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Published:
2025-10-31
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Like a heated, weighted blanket

Summary:

Flambae finally learns the trick to getting Robert to go to sleep: laying on top of him.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Every single room in the apartment is dark, silent, and cold… except for the bedroom. Although the overhead light is off, the far walls are illuminated by a phone screen set to max brightness. The person holding the phone is scrolling through short-form content that fills the room and his own laughter at a few videos. And because this person is Flambae, the room obviously isn't cold. The ambient air absorbs and disperses the excess heat his body naturally produces, stretching out to meet every place the light and noise is, too.

When he comes across funny or disgusting videos, he sends them to Prism. Not often, but sometimes, he'll send a video to one of the others on the z-team. He would feel bad about sending them messages this late, but he doubts any of them are asleep right now despite the late hour. It just isn't who most of them are, including Flambae if his doom-scrolling is anything to go by.

At a particularly hilarious video, Flambae tilts his body slightly to the side. He drops his phone onto the edge of the singular pillow on the air mattress. "Bobert, look."

Robert—for that's what his actual name is—doesn't respond. Flambae shoves the phone closer, speaking louder to get the man's attention, "Bob. I'm talking to you."

Though Flambae has used Robert's least favorite nickname, the man still doesn't respond. Flambae huffs, craning his neck to find that Robert's eyes are completely shut. His breathing is slow and even. It's very quiet, but when Flambae shuts up and pauses his video, he thinks he hears Robert snore. Flambae's nose wrinkles. Knowing damn well that he isn't going to get an answer, he still asks, "Are you really asleep?"

Flambae continues turning his body until he's slipped off Robert altogether. This wasn't his idea. Robert was the one that tiredly asked Flambae to just lay on top of him. Flambae was certain the only reason Robert asked was because sleep-deprivation knocked a few brain cells out of his head. But, despite being back-to-back with Flambae, the dispatcher actually fell asleep. Flambae was so certain Robert was going to call uncle after the first ten minutes, and pass out if he lasted any longer than that. He's almost disappointed by this turn of events, but mostly, as he sees Robert shiver slightly and get that annoyed twitch on his face, he's intrigued.

Since the three-second clips are no longer going to hold his attention, Flambae turns his phone off and sets it on the ground beside the air mattress (that was a battle and a half to get Robert to accept, but Flambae knows thinking about it any longer is a direct path to anger). He lies on his own stomach right beside Robert, holding his upper body up with his forearms. As his eyes are adjusting, he notices Robert's expression twisting more and more as the cold comes to claim him.

Or, Flambae thinks, maybe it's the weight of a grown-ass man suddenly being off of him.

A nerd would test it properly to satisfy their own curiosity. Flambae just scoots himself back onto Robert, putting his front against the smaller man's back. He tries layering everything as precisely as he can, limb over limb and chin tucked over Robert's hair. Flambae has no idea what the quiet noise Robert made means, but he thinks it's a good one. It must be if Robert's body is actually relaxing. Now, this is something he has no clue about because he definitely wouldn't want anyone lying on him like this. It seems too claustrophobic and suffocating, too much like a trap.

This wouldn't be the first Robert has thoroughly perplexed him, though. Normally, he would get angry about it because he doesn't like being confused, but this just-so-happens to coincide with Robert showing him something new that he likes. A few somethings, really, because Robert doesn't sleep often, and Flambae likes seeing it. He doesn't normally get to touch Robert in non-sexual ways, either, but his fingertips are tracing the scars along the back of Robert's hand. And there's something strangely comforting about covering Robert completely, knowing exactly where he is and being so close without any pretenses or egos to drive them further apart.

Of course, Flambae is only doing and thinking all of this because there's no one to see him. The darkness hides them well; their only witness is the occasional sliver of the city's lights from the windows when the curtain sways just right. The paper-thin walls allows the late-night traffic and coughing of Robert's neighbors to coast along the silence, but Flambae focuses on the breathing happening right beside his ears. The cold can't find them at all even when Flambae's relaxation brings the temperature down to a pleasant warmth instead of a heavy heat.

Since not even Robert himself can judge him, Flambae allows sleep to overtake him in this odd position.

The sun is spying at him now. Flambae glares to the left of it because he doesn't have his sunglasses, but he's certain the sunlight knows who he's angry with right now. Well, he's angry with two people, but clearly, it's different amounts because he's glaring at the sun and he's doing nothing to Mr. Robert Robertson, who is somehow still asleep despite the assault from the celestial body.

Flambae has been awake for… a while. He's not calculating the seconds, but it's been long enough that Robert should be awake right now. But obviously, awake or asleep, Robert will find every way possible to piss Flambae off. The pyromaniac should be crueler. He should get up and leave the entire apartment. He shouldn't feel anything about the frown—the fucking pout—Robert wears when Flambae shifts even an inch off of him.

He shouldn't, but he does, and now he's fucking stuck.

Thankfully, Robert hasn't dropped into a coma over the night. He starts to rouse himself slowly, humming and pulling the thin blanket he calls a comforter further around himself. Flambae huffs in annoyance. It isn't a particularly loud noise, but it does pull Robert the rest of the way into wakefulness. Heavy eyelids flutter open slowly. He winces at the sunlight (Flambae feels more vindication than he should over that). Then, Robert's eyes flick toward Flambae. As fogginess is giving way to recognition, Flambae tells him, "It's about time you woke up. You've been sleeping forever."

Robert's brows furrow together. He doesn't answer Flambae immediately. He just tries to push himself up, so Flambae rolls off of him. He lands on his back, feeling the air in the mattress shift around to accommodate. Robert sits upright, blocking the sun from Flambae's face. It scatters around his silhouette instead. It doesn't dim even when Robert lifts his (or Flambae's) phone to check the time. He arches a brow. "Huh. I have been sleeping for a while." Brown eyes flick to Flambae, scrutinizing him briefly. "Guess I should invest in a heated, weighted blanket."

"Are you talking about replacing me in front of me?" Flambae incredulously asks.

Instead of jumping straight into an argument this late in the morning, Robert tosses Flambae's phone at him. As the former villain dodges it, Robert rises from the air mattress. Flambae sways as the air adjusts. Robert is already at the door by the time Flambae settles. He slips into the hallway. Flambae can hear him whistling, and it doesn't take long for Beef to come running toward his master. Flambae checks his phone while man and dog aggressively greet each other. When Beef comes to annoy him, Flambae knows that it's time for him to get up for the day.

The hallway is brightened by a light peeking out from under the bathroom door. Flambae can also hear the shower, so he knows where Robert is. Since shower-and-leave is no longer an option for him, Flambae goes into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for himself and himself only and if he happens to make more food than he can eat, he's not just going to let his amazing cooking go to waste and Robert better not let it, either.

Then again, how 'amazing' can his cooking be when Robert has, like, three ingredients. Flambae can already see another argument coming, but for right now, he decides to just silently accept that he's cooking scrambled eggs right now and they are going to go shopping at some point regardless of vehemently Robert disagrees. If push comes to shove, Flambae is setting the store on fire and stealing what he needs.

As he's finishing the first batch of scrambled eggs, Beef hurries into the hallway, letting Flambae know that Robert is out of the shower. He can't hear what Robert's saying, but he seems to be conversing with the dog. He stops, though, when he's swings around the hallway to look into the kitchen. He frowns and arches a brow, "You're still here."

Flambae lightly glares at him. "I'm not leaving until I eat."

Robert hums. He continues around the bar into the kitchen. He leans against Flambae's upper arm, staring down at the scrambled eggs. "You making enough for me?"

"Why would I? I'm the one whose cooking. If you want eggs, make them yourself."

Robert rolls his eyes. "You're literally using my food and dishes right now. You're making enough for me."

It's no longer a question. Flambae still argues against it even when he clearly makes enough for the two of them. Robert indulges him, as he always does, that stupid smile making his face look slightly less ugly than usual.

And maybe he's smiling as stupidly when they're eating breakfast together.

Notes:

Not my best work, I'll admit, this was more of a headcanon than a proper story

This fandom needs more tags, tho, I suck at coming up with my own