Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ghosted your dad, he was clingy. Took all his cash, it was easy.” 

Prism’s voice echoed out of the speakers, her enthralling performance coming to an end. The two iridescent duplicates flanking her exploded into glittery rainbow fireworks which thankfully, did not blind anyone. Prism struck a pose and cued the rest of the Z-Team to applaud. 

She was swiftly rewarded with cheering, clapping, and other congratulating call outs. “That’s my fucking bitch right there!” As he presented two thumbs up, fire shot from the tips of Flambae’s thumbs in his best rendition of sparklers. 

“Hey, I know it’s called pyrotechnics but you don’t have to burn the place down,” Robert gently reminded, not wanting to run up the bill. This was the first time Mandy had entrusted him with the company card. 

“Aye, pretty sure she’s not supposed to be on fire in the literal sense, lad.” Punch Up chimed in. 

Flambae rolled his eyes with a grin still plastered on his face, smiling so wide he flashed most of his teeth. Robert had offered to pay for the dental work, but Flambae refused. “Have some fun, Bob Bob, you think I can’t control these flames well enough?” 

Robert raised an eyebrow. “So all those fires that you accidentally set, was that just you being lazy, or having PPD?” 

His thick eyebrows scrunched together. “PPD? What are you talking about?”
“Power performance dysfunction, were you having trouble keeping your abilities up?” Robert deadpanned. The other heroes erupted into laughter. 

“I’ve heard that Vanderstenk is in the works for a type of viagra but for super powers if you’re really having trouble, I’m sure he’d appreciate a test subject.” Sonar said, gesturing his shot towards Flambae. 

Flambae tsked, and shook his head. “All of you, shutthefuckup. Of course you would know about something like that, Bobert. Fucking… bitch.” His words were venomless, and despite how his arms crossed in a pout, the smile did not falter from his face.

“Alright, alright, enough bitchin’, who is going next?” Prism waved the microphone around. “Don’t make me hog the spotlight, cuz I will.” She dramatically splayed her hand across her chest.

Coupé rose from her seat, a bit tipsy, but not entirely wasted, yet. “I can do it.” Her monotone voice offered a hint of enthusiasm. With her participation, the celebration continued without a hitch.

At some point, Robert awarded a speech to the Z-Team. He once again voiced how proud he was of them for their improvements, their hard work containing the power vacuum left after he killed Shroud, and the synergy they had all developed together, not just the duo teamwork that had already been there. Phenomaman insisted that he needed to make love to Robert after the speech, even though Robert had already explained to him that it was called a hug. Most of the others clamored in zealous agreement. It was unclear if Waterboy cried. Robert was simply grateful he was able to speak without being interrupted. 

Slowly, the night began to wind down. Sonar, Waterboy, and Phenomaman all departed prematurely in order to attend Midnight Magic Madness, a late night magic tournament. Once Sonar had discovered some of the prices for the cards, he was all too eager to participate in what he previously deemed as ‘nerd shit’. Waterboy found confidence in playing. Finding hobbies that were accessible to him had always been difficult, but with the more serious players using protective sleeves for their cards, he had no reason to worry about accidentally ruining the game. 

Coupé’s inability to hold her alcohol resulted in Punch Up and Golem hauling her off to the nearest 24 hour diner. Punch Up was happy to babysit his friend, and Golem was happy to get milkshakes. Plus, Punch Up owed Golem an arm wrestling rematch. 

Much to Flambae’s astonishment, Prism actually made her move and propositioned Malevola for a date. He owed Sonar ten bucks. The two women left holding hands. Robert wasn’t sure if it was the booze playing tricks on him, but he swore Malevola's skin had become more pink. 

Robert was waiting for the server to come back with the company card and the receipt, and Flambae was, to Robert’s surprise, sticking around. He certainly wasn’t complaining. Alcohol swirled in his stomach and exhaustion threatened to consume him at any second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been like this in public. There was a panic that thumped in his chest at the notion of being so vulnerable- no mech, dulled reflexes, in an area he didn’t know. But, Flambae was here, letting the anxiety and paranoia that caused him to take such measures as sniffing drinks for poison, calmed a bit. 

“So, Bobby, what are you doing after this, ready to hit the clubs?” Flambae threw himself down onto the long couch next to Robert and put his feet up on the table. 

Robert snorted. “Oh yeah, definitive- definitely. That’s… exactly my scene, a s’per crowded room where you never know where is who… I mean who is where.” He shook his head, hoping that rattling around his brain might clear the fog inside of it. “And um and who has what. Augments- weapons, all of it, all of em, can be so tiny these days.” Everything felt heavy; his eyes were already half lidded. He should have known better, a part of his mind warned him. Alcohol was a depressant; it would slow him down. A slow hero was a dead one.
He remembered drinking with Chase for the first time, how he had been a funny drunk, and nearly made Chase piss himself laughing. Maybe if he had been sleeping more than a few hours a night that’s what would have happened, he thought to himself. 

Robert didn’t see Flambae’s concerned countenance. In fact, he was losing his vision all together. He fell on Flambae’s arm, his warmth making it that much harder to fight sleep. 

“Hey, Bob Bob, this isn’t your sad fucking apartment, wake up.” He tossed his arm around Robert, squishing his smaller frame against Flambae’s brawnier one. 

Robert groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open in a way that made the inside of Flambae’s chest feel weird. “Huh? Right, yes… I mean no, I was just… resting m’ eyes.” He half slurred half mumbled. The gentle light of the blue LEDs that lined the ceiling granted no reprieve from the sudden crushing wave of drowsiness. His head bobbed up, and he managed to keep himself steady for a moment, before slumping along Flambae again. 

“You’re a fucking liar. Resting my eyes, what are you? Every dad taking a road trip? Fucking ridiculous.” Flambae’s hand gently rubbed Robert’s shoulder, wanting to keep him conscious. It wasn’t like Robert would be the first guy Flambae had helped home, he didn’t have a problem with that. Drinks were the one thing Flambae had passed on tonight, singing an album’s worth, but even with his sober mind he struggled to parse his own reasoning behind wanting Robert awake. He was unable to admit just how much  he enjoyed Robert’s company. He claimed Robert still had plenty of work to do to be less of a bitch to him, since he had given up on punching Robert in the face early. 

The excuse he went with for himself was that he wanted Robert awake because he knew Robert’s paranoid bitch ass would want to be awake. It had nothing to do with the fact that Flambae had no idea what to do about the bizarre floaty sensation in his stomach at the sight of Robert cuddling into him.  “Seriously, Robert? You’re making Coupé look good, don’t tell me you’re that much of bitch when it comes to booze.” His voice was softer than he intended for it to be. 

With his eyes shut, Robert peeled himself off of Flambae and stood up. “I am… not asleep, or that drunk, alright? If anything,” he paused, catching himself on the wall, “I’m just exhausted from carrying your sorry ass at work.” Red bloomed across his face, threatening to crawl up to Robert’s ears. It was so embarrassing, stumbling in front of anyone, especially Flambae. He attempted to completely open his eyes. Somehow, he swore they felt heavier than the damn weights when Flambae had saved him. Shame ate at him every time he failed. He feared it would lose him the respect he had fought so hard to earn. 

Flambae tossed his head back and cackled. “There is nothing sorry about my ass, trust me. It’s the best ass in the city, probably the country. Hell might be the best ass out there, not like your sad flat one. We really have to get you doing squats if you're going to keep your desk job. It is bad for you back, you know, sitting without proper cushioning.” 

The server returned while Flambae was prattling on about his, as Phenomaman would say, dumpy. Robert managed to snap to attention long enough to safely tuck away the card and sign the receipt. He left a nice tip, or at least he hoped he did. The numbers wouldn’t stop moving across the paper. Robert made it out of the building with his dignity, only to trip over the slightest rise in elevation in the sidewalk outside. However, the concrete didn’t catch Robert. 

“Damn, didn’t realize normies had this much trouble walking.” Flambae said smugly. 

Robert hung limply in Flambae’s grasp, unable to think about anything except for how pleasant Flambae’s warm hands felt holding his waist. While being put back on his feet, Robert grabbed onto Flambae’s arm to steady himself. “C’mon on, you um… know I have a special relationship with, fuck… what’s the thing called?” He screwed his eyes shut. “Gravity! Yeah. Loves to pull me down, but doesn’t have the balls to kill me.” His laugh carried an edge of sadness to it. 

Flambae scowled. “You’re bumming me the fuck out. Let’s just get you home before you decide to say some other sad shit. Where’s your car?” 

Inch by inch, Robert unwittingly shuffled closer to Flambae. “I took the bus.”

Flambae’s head fell back and he groaned. “Are you shitting me? How lame are you? You’ve stopped how many villains and still don’t have your own fucking ride? What are you in debt?” His free arm dramatically waved around his hand. 

Robert offered a half hearted shrug, then began resting his weight against Flambae. “It’s eco-friendly.”

“Oh, great, my hero.” Flambae scoffed. 

“Yeah, well, you’re mine, asshole.” 

Flambae blinked down at Robert. “What…?”

Robert hummed a noise of confirmation. The cool night air would have made him shiver. “Yeah, you’re….” he yawned, “You’re my hero. You’ve um… saved m’ life after all, there when I needed you. Maybe I always kinda need you. ‘S nice… your spark.” Robert had reached the point of exhaustion and intoxication where words just fell out of his mouth. All the thoughts he preferred to keep bottled up in his mind were uncapped and flowing freely. He felt himself being lifted; he hadn’t heard a response from Flambae. He wondered if he was dreaming, and this was the flying part. 

The words echoed throughout Flambae’s core so intently it was as if Prism’s speaker was directly plugged into his mind. He had no ability to process any bit of what Robert had said. He knew Robert was exhausted and smelled of booze, but the latter could have been from when Waterboy lost his grip on his drink. 

Whatever, it didn’t matter. Robert needed to get home, and Flambae had a car. He could be Robert’s hero again, and shove it right back in his face. That’s the only reason he was doing this, he thought to himself.

Except, as Flambae buckled Robert in, he had the strangest thought of not wanting people to know about this moment. A frown had etched itself into his face. He wasn’t ashamed to have Robert in his car, he didn’t care if people knew. Flambae caught the door in time before it slammed; he successfully shut it the second time without causing a ruckus. He huffed and grumbled, stomping around towards the driver’s seat. 

“Bobby, what’s your address?” 

Robert believed he was able to utter out the location to his apartment, but unfortunately, the only thing Flambae heard was a string of unintelligible grunts.  

“Fucking… stupid fucking fuck.” Flambae hissed under his breath. He drove them back to his place, with his grip on the steering wheel so tight it turned his knuckles white. The muscles in his leg strained. Robert ruined Flambae’s chance at beating his previous speeding record; this was the perfect time of night to gun it down the highway. However, with Robert’s fragile ass in the car, Flambae felt obligated to obey the speed limit. “This better not be one of those decisions I regret.” 

Flambae set Robert down on his feet, shaking him until Robert roused enough to hold himself up. “Stupid fucking elevator. I’m paying too much to have that fucking machine break. How do you even break an elevator?” Flambae grumbled while unlocking his front door. “You should be so fucking happy I’m like so fucking strong” 

Robert stood there, swaying like a tree limb in a gentle breeze. “So strong… pretty too.” He said in agreement, a dumb smile on his face. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Bobert?” Flambae grabbed Robert’s wrist and dragged him into the apartment. “Do you have enough sense in you to take off your shoes or do I have to do that for you? I would compare you to a kid, but even my niece is competent enough, so really it would be an insult to her.”
“Nothin’ ‘s wrong, ‘m perfect.” He shot Flambae a finger gun. “I got ‘em.” He bent over to pull off the black chelsea boots he bought when SDN’s future was assured. He had figured it was wise to at least present himself more professionally, even started tucking in his shirt every day. However, instead of his boot ending up in his hands, Robert found himself face down on the hardwood of the foyer. He grunted, and after some floundering, slid upright to finish the job. There wasn’t a lot of thought left within him, but he had enough sense to remain seated on the ground. With his task completed, he started to doze off again. Robert lifted his arms and lowered his eyelids, expecting to get carried somewhere. 

Flambae watched in pure astonishment as he put his own orange handmade boots onto his red poplar shoe rack. Seeing Robert raise his arms, Flambae tilted his head and squinted. “Wha-? Oh, you have got to be fucking- whatever. I don’t want you bleeding all over my stuff whenever you inevitably fall and bust your stupid nose. Do you know how fucking expensive some of my things are?” Flambae scooped him up with a hand on his back and under his knees. 

“Ha, more like most of my things. This rug was imported, you can tell because the stitching actually has detail, unlike the shit in America. Why is everything fucking beige?" Without realizing it, Flambae found himself making a right turn into his bedroom, standing in the doorway with Robert in his arms. It felt wrong to suddenly turn back and chuck the guy onto the couch. He glowered. Robert was laid onto custom ordered cotton satin sheets; the fabric had been treated to make it flame retardant. “You’re going to have to sleep in your jeans, I don’t have anything that fits your small ass body. You really need to stop doing so much fucking cardio, it’s not going to build muscle, and actually eat something else besides twinkies. Stupid.” 

The maroon sheets were cool to the touch, and Robert was eager to snuggle into the plush pillows. The lavishness of the bed made Robert’s mind not immediately recognize the loss of the heat that radiated off of Flambae. 

“I’m going to have to get those dry cleaned after you leave, you have all those gross dog germs on you. Beef is cute or whatever, but I can’t believe people let those things inside. They fucking eat their own shit, and other things shit, and you just let them lick your face? Fucking… gross.” Flambae crossed his arms the more he considered the inconvenience of this whole situation he put himself in. His jaw clenched watching Robert fall asleep. Robert had never looked so peaceful before, and the visage of him nuzzling into Flambae’s bedding tugged at his heartstring in a manner he couldn’t decipher. His eyes narrowed as he stood there brooding. 

Right as Flambae was preparing to head towards the couch, Robert’s head popped up like he was a meerkat. His eyes weren’t open, but he swiveled it around, looking for something. 

“What is it now?”

Robert whined softly, a noise that made Flambae’s heart race, and pawed around blindly. 

“What, forget your nightlight? Is there a fucking blankie you need to sleep or something?” It took Flambae perhaps too long to realize Robert was searching for him. 

He huffed. “Fucking… needy ass bitch. I’ll be back, don’t fucking cry about it or whatever.” He stomped over to his walk-in closet. It didn’t take too long to change into his silk pajamas, which were a similar orange as the border of his suit. 

He opened the door to his closet to see Robert curled up and shivering. “Ohmyfuckinggod.” Flambae dragged his hand down his face, but couldn’t suppress the adoration bubbling up from his stomach. “You’re more pitiful than Pisho, and she needed to be hand fed for weeks.”  

“‘S cold.” Robert said, voice soft. 

Flambae tossed the rest of the sheet over Robert, both to try and help his skinny ass warm up, and provide a barrier. He didn’t know how coherent Robert was; he did not want Robert to wake up thinking Flambae took advantage of him. Relief usually blanketed him the moment he laid down in bed, but the undetermined emotions left an ache gnawing at him.

Robert hummed, happy with Flambae’s return. Yet, he wasn’t exactly satisfied. He wormed towards Flambae, still loosely wrapped in the sheet. With great effort, he was able to wiggle his arm free to toss over Flambae, scooting his head up onto Flambae’s chest. A content sigh heaved from Robert, along with a groggy, “Thank you.”

Silence fell over the apartment, the only audible thing was Robert’s breathing. For the second time tonight, Flambae was at a loss for words. Jumbled insults and a variety of catty complaints bounced around his head. They all died in his throat. 

It was peculiar, watching his three fingers comb through Robert’s soft hair. Robert had cut off his fingers, made him lose a tooth, and humiliated him however many times. Flambae had almost killed him, twice. Did that make them even? Did it even matter? Robert didn’t have powers, yet he was fighting harder than most superheroes did to make the world a better place and protect anyone who might need it, knowing that he was just as vulnerable as the people he was attempting to save. Flambae seethed.

The worst part was, as much as Flambae wanted to bitch and moan about the situation, Robert’s weight on him was comforting. It made it hard to stay angry. Slowly, his thoughts became more sluggish, and sleep finally took him.  

Chapter Text

With the absence of activity, the hum of the fluorescent lights ceased. Robert considered flailing his arms around again, but it was a distant thought as his eyes flicked intently over his monitor. The reports of the calls Flambae had been assigned to over the past week contained no helpful information. Robert was beyond desperate. 

The party at the karaoke bar had taken place four days ago. Robert possessed some clear visages of the night, but some chunks were a complete mystery. He remembered singing “I Want it That Way,” and the speech that he gave, there was a fuzzy recollection of being in Flambae’s car, and that was about it. 

Well, there was a distinct memory of warmth and something about genuinely confessing that Flambae was his hero. He didn’t invest too much brainpower in considering either of those. He knew nothing violent nor sexual had happened between him and Flambae. For one, he had no burns on him. And two, when he had woken up, he had been wearing his jeans and socks, with everything still in his pockets. He didn’t understand Flambae’s sudden shift in demeanor, at least with the information he possessed. 

The morning after the party things appeared to be okay. Robert had been awoken by a very rough tongue licking his forehead. Apparently, Flambae had a shorthair black cat, Pisho, who believed grooming Robert was the most effective way to make him move from her spot. It was not. He had been happy to pamper Pisho with all the pets she could want. She ended up loafed and purring on his chest when Flambae walked in to let Robert know breakfast was ready. Robert had been expecting an earful, but Flambae didn’t say much. 

Robert’s stomach growled at the memory of the eggs Flambae had cooked. They were fried sunny side up and spiced so perfectly. The addition of tomatoes made the flavors incredibly rich, and the ideal texture to be scooped up by torn off pieces of naan. It was a far cry from the instant noodles and vending machine snacks Robert subsisted off of. 

He hung his head in his hands and pushed his palms against his eyes. Robert  hadn’t said anything he regretted on the drive back to his apartment. He volunteered gas money to cover the transportation Flambae provided. When Flambae refused, he had dropped a wrinkled ten dollar bill on the floor board. He said thank you at least 3 times, offered his appreciation, and mentioned gratefulness at some point. Flambae just sort of… frowned at him. His orange eyes would narrow and he’d stare at Robert like he was a puzzle missing a piece. At this point, Robert’s only remaining theory was that he did or said something that changed Flambae’s attitude towards him; he just couldn’t remember. Maybe he took a joke too far, made a razzing insult too personal, something. The silent glaring across the room treatment was new, and weird. Flambae talked more than he breathed. His performance at work hadn’t suffered, if anything he was doing better than ever. Robert wondered if he had said something about Flambae’s worth ethic.  

“Fuck.” Robert groaned. His hands raked down his face, stretching his skin and making his vision blurry. If he wanted answers, he was going to have to confront Flambae. There was not a single part of Robert that was afraid Flambae might kill him, but rather a pooling well of dread that Robert would further ruin his relationship with Flambae. It was unprofessional to have favorites. He worked hard to be as unbiased as possible, but Robert had come to think highly of Flambae, in an entirely professional way, of course. And, also as a friend, Flambae had become a really great friend to Robert. 

It was getting late. He would have to talk with Flambae tomorrow, given he was pretty sure the only ones left in the building were him, Royd, and the janitorial staff. The joints in his knees and back popped as he stood. He needed to stretch more. Robert slunk off towards the gym with the same enthusiasm Beef displayed when Robert put him on a diet. 

Prism’s latest album blasted in Flambae’s headphones. It wasn’t always easy for him to pick up the lyrics on the first listen with English being his third language, but the beat and bass were always perfect for working out. He rewracked the hefty dumbbells. The mirror scowled back at Flambae when he looked up to check his reflection. Robert had unfortunately been right. The black sweatpants with an orange and yellow flame pattern on the sides did make for a decent merch item. The pants looked even better when paired with the matching black hoodie that had his hero name, Flambae, embroidered on the back. He had played it off like he was unsurprised at how well his items sold for the fundraiser, but in truth, he was still adjusting to a spotlight that wasn’t coming from a police helicopter.

Things were different, had been different for a while. People recognized him the same amount, but no longer crossed the street or avoided him like they used to; some civilians had started asking for autographs. He was able to see his niece more often, and didn’t have to find an excuse for when he missed an event because he was in jail. He no longer had to worry that the cat sitter would bail once they learned who they were working for. 

He glanced over to the bench where he found Robert moments away from injuring himself. A noise of disgust rumbled from him. That fucking bitch. Flambae had such an easy gig here at SDN before Robert showed up. None of it had been serious- the calls barely required effort, it had been a piece of cake to get rid of the dispatchers Flambae didn’t care for, paid well enough. 

Flambae stormed over to the empty section of the gym to start his post workout stretches. He yanked off his hoodie and tied it around his waist. It had only been after Robert revealed that he was Mechaman did Flambae genuinely take this villain reformation seriously. His jaw clenched while he sat his ass on the mat, bending his knees and keeping his feet flat. With his hands behind him and fingers pointed away from his body, he cautiously moved his hips forward until he felt the stretch in his biceps. Prism’s music and the physical exertion were supposed to drown out his thoughts. It worked as well as Waterboy’s suit at keeping things dry.

Flambae had told himself that he began to fight for the top position of the SDN leader board because he wanted to be a better hero than Mechaman ever was. It was difficult to maintain that lie. He did wish to compete with Robert, but that wasn’t the full picture. Flambae knew it wasn’t the full picture, he knew there was more, but the truth was murky to him. He understood that he no longer hated Robert, but even that had taken hours of lamp browsing to stumble upon. 

Maybe it had something to do with how praise from people like Blonde Blazer felt patronizing, but recognition from Robert felt genuine. He wouldn’t admit it out loud anymore, but Mechaman had been a hero he had always looked up to. Mechaman had never been afraid to fight against Flambae. He never talked down to him but rather talked to Flambae like he was human. He never used lethal force from the start and instead always tried to apprehend him. Fighting against Mechaman had been such a rush, until that fucker cut off his fingers. 

He relaxed for a moment before moving onto the next pose to stretch out his arms. Flambae flexed his fingers, paying more attention to the empty space. Robert fought like a wild animal in the bar. He bit off a finger, tore out augments, broke an arm, all with his bare hands. Flambae’s face warmed at the thought; he brushed it off, choosing to believe the workout was finally doing something. Memories continued to replay in his mind. He began to wonder if Robert had only fought so desperately because other Z-Team members had been in danger, or if that kind of fighting was always reserved for when Robert felt his life was in danger. 

Regardless, Flambae respected that type of fire in a person. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a tight line. It was incessantly annoying to find Robert Robertson, the normie bitch, impressive. Flambae knew there were other things he considered Robert to be, but it was as if the words were trapped under water in his mind. He was only able to catch a glimpse of the shadows swimming under the surface. 

Prism’s music was loud enough that Flambae didn’t hear the locker room door open, or the footsteps of someone walking across the gym. 

Robert hadn’t noticed Flambae at first, but he should have guessed by the temperature. It was several degrees above uncomfortable, nearing unbearable. Robert thought the A/C was broken, until movement caught his attention. 

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about lifting without a spotter again.” Flambae pointed to the weight in Robert’s hand. His eyebrow was raised as he glared at Robert; his expression was somewhere in between disappointed and irritated as he tossed his headphones and hoodie into his gym bag. 

“Why would I do that?” Robert deadpanned, continuing to add weights onto the barbell. “I have to save the getting injured to real heros, don’t I?” 

Flambae rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up, Bobert. Don’t fucking tell me you’re hurt over that. What, you want me to apologize? Oh, I am so sorry for saving your ass.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Do you want a fucking spotter or not?” 

Robert laughed. It felt like forever since they’d had a back and forth. “Yeah, I’d actually really appreciate it, if I’m not interrupting you. Is it okay if my flat ass touches your bench?” 

“Tch, whatever. It doesn’t have my name on it, so yeah, I guess it’s fine.” Flambae studied the weights. He gave a nod of approval. “Making process, you must have finally stopped doing so much cardio. I don’t know who fucking told you to do that much cardio. Was it your own stupid idea? How fast do you need to run? Fast enough to catch the bus or what? Last I checked buses do not haul that much ass.”

“Even if Chad was scrawled somewhere on this bench, your name still wouldn't be on it.” Robert said. He didn’t want to have to explain how being fast made him feel safer. 

The sweltering heat had Robert already sweating. He took off his hoodie and readied himself on the bench. He tried to not think of how their tank tops fit them so differently. His was nearly a size too big. In contrast, Flambae’s bright orange tank top was low cut and looked close to ripping from how his hairy pecs stretched the fabric. 

Flambae reeled back as his face morphed from several different emotions. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“Chad, from Herat? You expect me to believe that?” Robert began his reps. 

The yellow ring around Flambae’s pupil flared out into the orange of his sclera; the heat around him intensified. “How is it any of your business?”

“I’m making it my business.” Robert replied casually, continuing to bench weights. “What, is your real name something embarrassing? Don’t tell me you gave me shit for Robert Robertson and you’re shy about your own name.”

“Fuck you, my name is not embarrassing, you dumb English speakers just can’t pronounce anything outside of your limited vernacular.” 

“You’d have to buy me dinner first.” Robert focused on maintaining his breathing. The sweat on his palms made his grip more awkward, but he was determined. “Try me, or do you think I’m average?” 

His head tilted up and back. While he glared down at Robert, he couldn’t help but think about how pleasant the view was. “...Zahir. That’s my actual name. Happy now, Robert?”

Robert’s face lit up in a huge smile. “Zahir,” he repeated, grunting softly as he finished another rep. 

“What’s with that stupid look?” 

“Nothing, I-,” he sucked in a breath, his muscles burning. He had to keep going. “It’s a handsome name.” 

“Yeah, I know, it’s perfect when people can say it fucking correctly, but I’m a busy man. I’m not going to spend most of my day trying to teach people how to say my name when they won’t remember how to do it tomorrow. Chad gets the point across.” Flambae huffed a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re tired, Roberto.”

The gym had cooled off with Flambae no longer fuming, but Robert was still drenched in sweat. His white tank top clung to his chest and his hair was growing damp. “I’ve got more in me.” He managed through gritted teeth. After a few more lifts, he found the bar was unmovable. “Fuck.”

“Your life is in danger, is that the best you can do?” Flambae taunted, his hand swooped down to wait under the bar, not yet touching it. 

Robert’s arms shook as he raised it a bit higher, failing to push it all the way. 

“Okay, fine, my life is somehow in danger, not that I would ever be, but-” 

The barbell clinked loudly when Robert rewracked it. He clawed his way to sit up. “Thank you… Zahir. I- I really needed you there.” He panted. His gaze met Flambae’s, his own eyes shining with gratitude. 

Flambae glanced up towards the ceiling, scowling at the camera. “I can’t fucking believe this.” He angrily muttered to himself. He had picked up sacks of rice that were heavier, Flambae thought, slinging Robert over his shoulder. 

“Oh, okay. Did I say it wrong?” Robert asked, the only concern in his voice stemming from his desire to pronounce Flambae’s name accurately. At some point, Robert had come to accept being manhandled by the Z-Team. “If you’re going to beat me up, can you take me to the medbay after?” It was partially sarcasm, as Robert wasn’t afraid, but a real request given Robert never knew what might happen. And, just because he wasn’t scared didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of the damage Flambae could do. Regardless, Robert prepared to take the heat.  

Chapter Text

Flambae hauled Robert back into the locker room, clicking the lock behind them. He chucked Robert off of his shoulder, only to shove him against the tiled wall. His hands mashed to the tile, one on either side of Robert’s face. For someone who had only been spotting, Flambae's chest rose and fell with the urgency of a drowning man. 

“If you don’t leave right now, I am going to kiss your stupid fucking… fuck face.” He growled, his face mere centimeters away from Robert’s. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good tim-mmh!” 

True to his word, Flambae fervently descended upon Robert. The softness of Robert’s lips caught Flambae off guard. He relished the plush sensation, pressing his lips against Robert’s again, and again, and again until his hunger caught up with him. His teeth nipped Robert’s lip, earning Flambae a sweet gasp. 

Robert wasn’t keen on being a pliant little toy for Flambae, not yet at least. At the bite, he seized the chance to surge forward and slide his tongue into Flambae’s mouth. He tasted unsurprisingly salty and somehow pleasantly grassy, with a faint lingering sweetness. Green tea and honey, Robert thought, the same kind he had served with breakfast. 

His hand weaved into Flambae’s long lush hair, only able to yank so hard with his arms still recovering from the workout. They both groaned into the kiss; neither hesitated to resume tasting one another. Robert had been dreaming of touching Flambae’s hair, it was euphoric to fulfill the long awaited desire, especially when Flambae let out such soft noises. The way Flambae’s eyes fluttered and how he moaned like this was the first time he’d ever been touched made Robert’s dick throb. He combed his fingers through Flambae’s hair, daring to remove his hair tie. Robert’s heart hammered harder in his chest. Flambae’s thick hair cascaded down past his shoulders, glinting shades of gold in the light. It was unfair how beautiful he was.

“Going to play like that, huh? Should have known, you tend to fight dirty.” A low chuckle rumbled against Robert’s skin as Flambae pressed his lips to Robert’s neck. He kept his right hand on the wall; a tinge of perturbation restrained him. His left hand snuck under Robert’s shirt and his finger tips danced over the scars on Robert’s back. He wondered if any of the burn scars were his doing. His teeth sunk into the nape of Robert’s neck hard enough to only bruise. He knew that his missing tooth would make it undeniable who left Robert in such a state. A muffled whine slipped from Flambae. This- touching, tasting, marking Robert- felt better than he imagined. It was insufferable how much he ached for the bastard, how he knew he could get lost in his affection for as long as Robert would allow him, how vehemently the pitiful little huffs and groans from Robert invigorated him to prolong this moment. He was determined to make a mess of Robert; he had to get even.  

“Fuck!” Robert’s head thunked against the tile. The erection tenting his sweatpants was as perceptible as the shiteating grin on Flambae’s face. Despite being unable to see either, he could feel their ardent presence. Robert squirmed. He spread his legs slightly to relieve some of the pressure against his crotch. 

Flambae nipped and kissed his way up the right side of Robert’s neck while his left hand continued down to clutch Robert’s ass. Flambae palmed him with an eagerness that bordered on desperation, as if this was the only opportunity he’d attain. Robert bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from brazenly moaning, not wishing to feed Flambae’s roaring ego this early. His steady petting of Flambae’s hair faltered; his hand shook.  

“There a problem, Robert?” He purred in Robert’s ear. The heat of Flambae’s breath was promptly followed by the sweet sting of a bite to Robert’s earlobe.

The only retort Flambae received was Robert’s low, needy whines. His mind fought with the arduous task of deciding what sensation to lean into. The warmth of Flambae’s mouth and the heat of his hand were both intoxicating. “No… no, ‘s good. Feels really good. Just surprised this is what you’ve been so broody over.” Robert said, his free hand squeezing Flambae’s hip. “That’s what this whole thing has been, hasn’t it, Zahir? You’ve been so horny you’ve been mad about it?” He tugged at Flambae’s hair again. Flambae hissed, but his hips jerked forward, chasing Robert’s touch.

The smug smirk disappeared, and sharp unyielding teeth took its place. Robert cried out at the pain that radiated from the left side of his collarbone; his nails dug into Flambae’s side. “Whoops~,” Flambae mused, clearly proud of himself. “I forgot a bitch like you is so thin skinned.” Flambae’s tongue soothed over the mark briefly, and then continued to bestow hickeys across Robert’s pale skin.

The pain jolted Robort’s addled mind. He realized he needed to make a better move or Flambae was going to eat him alive. Hiking his leg up, Robert shoved his thigh against Flambae’s crotch. “Zahir, I can feel how hard you are for me. You wanna be a good boy and let me do something about it, or do you want to keep biting me?” 

A strangled moan echoed in Robert’s ear. “S-Shut up!” Flambae yelped.

Robert started grinding his leg against Flambae. He concentrated on applying just enough pressure that would demonstrate a taste of the pleasure he could provide, but not be enough to get Flambae off. He was relentless, sustaining the pace he set in spite of Flambae’s distracting groans and twitching body. “What’s the matter, Zahir? You rather cum in your pants than let me help?” 

Flambae snarled as he tore himself away from Robert. “Fuck off, dickhead! You don’t have any idea what you’re saying, stupid fucking… bitch.” His hands clenched into fists. 

“Sounds like someone doesn’t want a blowjob.” Robert admonished playfully, with a proud grin slapped on his face. He ambled towards the low locker room bench. As excited as he was to continue, the satisfaction of compelling Flambae to be patient was exhilarating, akin to halting a force of nature with a single thought. 

“Should I lock the other door?” Flambae asked curtly. 

Robert waved his hand dismissively as he sat down on the wooden bench. “I forgot to unlock it before heading to the gym.”

Flambae raised an eyebrow. He only stalked towards Robert once he beckoned Flambae closer with the enticing curl of his first two fingers. It gave the hot head plenty to imagine.

“I like my privacy.” Robert shrugged. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by elaborating on his paranoia around people watching him while he was in the bathroom. 

Flambae snickered, his hand coming up to cattily cover part of his grin. “Are you not about to suck me off? Not the most private place for that, Roberto.”

His hands played with the hem of Flambae’s orange tank top, nudging it away from the waistline of Flambae’s sweatpants. The sight of Flambae’s neatly groomed but still plush happy trail left Robert light headed. He was so diligent in avoiding staring at it during work hours, he wasn’t wasting a single second now. 

“Are you wanting to wait?” Robert deadpanned. He pressed his lips to the exposed skin just below Flambae’s navel. “Something tells me you are pretty eager.” His voice lowered and he brushed his nose against Flambae’s happy trail. Robert had anticipated a musky scent from someone who had recently been working out, but he wasn’t as prepared for how enticing he found the smell to be. His mouth watered. 

While his other hand continued fidgeting with Flambae’s clothes, his other ghosted along Flambae’s bulge, eliciting a desperate groan from him. “Just a hunch, though.” He teased, glancing at Flambae; his brown eyes glazed over with want. 

Flambae huffed a deep breath through his nose, small flames flickering around his flared nostrils. “Robert. If you don’t stop fucking with me and put my dick in your bitch of a mouth I’m going to burn this whole fucking place down.” 

A quiet laugh accidentally bubbled up from Robert. “Relax, I’ll take good care of you.” He didn’t believe a word of Flambae’s threat, having heard plenty of similar dramatic notions at various petty inconveniences Flambae suffered through so valiantly. Still, as he spoke, he drew Flambae’s pants and boxers down far enough for his member to bounce free. With Flambae nearly pressed against Robert, he failed to realize the heat blooming across his face was him blushing. 

Flambae sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re shy, I doubt you’ve gotten any real action, but, come on Bob Bob, this can’t be your first… or is it just your first time seeing a dick that’s not tiny?” To Flambae’s credit, he had reason to brag. He was above average in every way, but not too big to instill any panic. It wasn’t disappointment, but rather annoyance that had Robert rolling his eyes. There had to be some part of Flambae that wasn’t perfect, Robert thought indignately. 

Robert met Flambae’s confident stare. The needy radiance in Flambae’s orange eyes made Robert’s stomach flip. Teasing wasn’t too much of an option with Flambae’s impatience, but Robert couldn't resist such a thing, not completely.

Robert pressed a few soft pecks to Flambae’s tip. He made a show of opening his mouth wide and sticking out his tongue, acting as if he was going to draw Flambae into his mouth. Instead, he licked his palm. Robert didn’t permit the moment to linger, not wanting to give Flambae the chance to complain. He wrapped his hand around the base of Flambae’s shaft while he swirled his tongue around the head, coating it generously in spit. 

A choked cry rang out. “F-Fucking fuck!” Flambae’s hands buried themselves in his pants. His hold on the fabric was so tight, it threatened to rip. 

Robert hummed softly as his tongue lapped over Flambae’s length. His hand that wasn’t lazily pumping Flambae’s dick snuck down to delicately palm Flambae’s balls.

“What the fuck? How is- nrgh- is a fucker like you good at this? Are you a fucking slut or something?” The shakiness of Flambae’s breathy voice undercut his insults. 

Robert leaned back, showing off the glistening string of spit that connected his lips to Flambae’s dick. “I dunno, are you some kinda virgin? You’re already dripping for me.” He batted his eyelashes at Flambae, his lips enveloping the angry red tip of Flambae’s cock. 

As Robert drew more of Flambae’s length into his mouth, his tongue lavished every inch it could reach, granting Robert a litany of various gravely curses. Robert choppily bobbed his head up and down until he found a decent rhythm. Flambae didn’t appear to mind, or notice. His head lolled back and soft grunts stumbled from his bitten lips. 

Robert was rusty, and needed to pace himself. Greed clawed at Robert, making him yearn to take more, faster than he was ready for. His throat spasmed around Flambae’s girth, causing Flambae’s head to jerk up with a low whimper. Reluctantly, Robert was forced to pull off and catch his breath; he was grateful he acted fast enough that he prevented himself from embarrassing himself by coughing. Now steadied, Robert swallowed Flambae’s cock once more. 

Flambae’s moans echoed off the tile and metal of the lockers. “Can I- shit- Robert let me touch you,” there was a pause, “Please?” 

Robert squirmed on the edge of the bench and an orgasm hearing Flambae desperately beg. He answered by taking Flambae to the hilt, burying his nose in Flambae’s dark pubic hair. His hands gently reached out and grabbed Flambae’s, placing his warm hands on either side of Robert’s face. 

“Fuckingfuckfuck,” Flambae hissed, his body tense. “Are you- is this-?” Robert didn’t know if it was because people struggled to think when he was blowing them, or if Flambae was unable to register words that weren’t curses. Either way, for as much noise Flambae was making, very little of it was intelligible words. Robert didn’t need to be a genius to understand. 

He hummed in affirmation, and attempted to nod, but it was a struggle with Flambae’s cock still stuffed in him.
“Fuck yes.” Flambae grunted. His fingers splayed across the sides of Robert’s head in a firm, but cautious, grip. His hips rocked experimentally, gauging Robert’s ability and willingness. With no objections, his hips snapped forward with his hold on Robert anchoring his head in place. 

“I can’t fucking believe I’m- finally-,” his voice caught as the vibrations from Robert shot a jolt of bliss up his spine. “Your stupid bitch face was begging for this… to be ruined,” Flambae’s voice lowered. “So fucking hard trying to do my bitch of a job when I have to see your fucking… smug… pretty,” a guttural groan ripped from Flambae. “And your damn voice always in my ear!” His chest heaved laboriously. If the room had been quiet, they would have heard a few seams on Flambae’s tanktop ripping. Pausing to rock his hips, Flambae couldn’t suppress the whines quivering past his lips. “Fuck… it was like you were made to take my dick, you feel so good… you take me so fucking well.” There was a rage burning in Flambae’s voice, alongside the genuine praise. 

Robert relaxed and let Flambae use him. He kept his jaw stretched open, kept languidly swiping his tongue where he could. He didn’t have to think about moaning, Flambae punched the sounds from Robert with each frenzied thrust. Flambae’s dick filled Robert’s throat perfectly. It was thick enough to provide that satisfying stretch and long enough to cut off Robert’s air when it was all the way in. The moments when Robert was unable to breathe made his mind fuzzy, a brief reprieve from the constant onslaught of thoughts. If Flambae hadn’t been so thorough in fucking Robert’s brains out, Robert might have remembered he was also hard. His untouched member was left to leak precum onto his underwear. 

“Robert- Robert, I’m close youhaveto-!”

Flambae was stronger, but Robert scrabbled at his hips with such desperation, his nails biting into Flambae’s skin, Flambae couldn’t help but obey. His cock was far enough in Robert’s throat he was unable to taste anything, but due to the heat, he could feel it travel down his throat into his stomach. Flambae stepped back, pulling himself from Robert’s mouth and back into his pants. 

“Holy fucking shit.” Flambae blurted. “So like… you are coming back to my place, right? I would say let me offer to return the favor, but with how much you enjoyed that, this was already a favor for you, so, let’s just go.” 

Robert snorted. “Sure, there big boy, all of this is just a favor to me, you aren’t pent up at all.” He dropped his eyes to Flambae’s crotch, and then slowly raked his gaze back to Flambae’s. 

Flambae rolled his eyes and he turned a lovely dark red. “I liked you better with a dick in your mouth. Are we going? Cuz I’ll just go, I’m not about to stand here waiting around for-” Swiftly, Robert rose to his feet and loosely wrapped his arms around Flambae’s neck while he leaned in to kiss Flambae. It was a soft, tender thing. 

“Yeah, let’s go, Zahir.” Robert sweetly murmured while his fingers tidied Flambae’s hair. 

Flambae blinked, his mind lagging behind. It was only once Robert had moved away that his brain synapses started firing again. “You walk to fucking slow, come on.” He hurriedly said, pacing over to snatch up Robert. Over Flambae’s shoulder he went. 

“I could just walk faster, you don’t have to carry me.” Robert offered, a smirk plastered across his face. “Unless you enjoy having me in your arms.”

Flambae sputtered a burst of befuddled noises. “Shut- shut your face, okay? Enough.” He tried to shove his free hand against Robert’s face, but couldn’t quite reach with how he was carrying him. 

An affectionate laugh rang throughout the building. “Mh… I think you like when I talk.” 

“You are so fucking lucky we’re at work. You are so lucky.” Flambae grumbled.

“Sounds like I’m going to get luckier at your place.”

“Not if you keep talking.”

“Yeah? Do you really want me to be quiet?”

Flambae was silent while he got them settled in the car. “...For the drive home, yes, I need to focus on the road and not your… mouth.” His eyes darted over towards Robert for a brief second. 

“Hey, don’t worry, I can behave.” Robert lifted his arms in the surrendering gesture. “At least, of course, until we get to your apartment.” 

Flambae muttered a prayer in his native tongue, begging for strength and speed. He didn’t know that his refractory period could be this short. It made each stop light more agonizing than the last; all he could think about was shoving Robert’s head down onto his crotch again. Flambae had never been more relieved to finally arrive home.