Chapter Text
It had been hours; the movie turned off, mattresses returned to their rightful spots, and the living room was cleaned meticulously. Everyone had gone home with little convincing (Chad threatened to solder all of the holes in their faces shut.)
The apartment is quiet aside from soft breathing and low humming that fills the air of the master bedroom.
“Whatcha humming, nafasam?” Chad mutters softly, looking down at the warm body lying on him. The head on his collarbone shifts, and the humming stops.
“Some korean lullabye my mom used to sing when I was younger.” Robert shifts so his hands rest on Chad’s sternum, chin propped on his overlapped fingers. His soft brown eyes peer up into the fiery sunsets that make up Chad’s own. “She was South Korean, she was from Jeju island so Korean music was a lot of what we listened to.”
Chad runs his fingers through the soft strands adorning the smaller man's head, working out any knots that his fingers snag. “Does that mean you used to have a Korean accent?” A soft smile graced the man's face as he stared down at the brunette.
Robert flicks the other man’s forehead, rolling his eyes playfully. “Yes, doofus, I used to have a Korean accent.” He continues to speak but starts to mutter, “And actually you can still hear it sometimes.” He wouldn’t admit it, but he misses the strong accent he used to have. It reminds him of his mom and how she used to sit and sing old songs from her childhood. He tried to keep the accent for as long as possible, but it faded away after a while, just appearing when he gets emotional.
His mom was a feisty woman; she’s who he got his sarcasm and steel strong backbone from. She had long dark hair and deep midnight blue eyes that would turn dark and haunting when she was pushed too far. She loved with her whole heart, and no matter what, she never left; not even when Robert’s dad became physical, she just took it with a straight face and a guarded heart.
Robert was her entire world wrapped in a small body. He inherited her strong Korean accent from long nights singing Jeju Minyo and short days talking about only God knows what. She taught him all he knows about protecting those you love and not letting anyone fool you into breaking your own heart.
Chad’s sleepy voice breaks through his reminiscing. “Where’d you go, Bob bob?” The hand in Robert's hair heats a little, adding a comforting warmth to his scalp.
Robert looks up, head tilted with his brows furrowed. “Um—nowhere?” Chad laughs silently, holding Robert a little firmer to his chest.
“You were zoning out; I was asking what was on your mind.” Sometimes even before all the mess with Shroud resurfaced, the Z-team would observe their dispatcher going silent, eyes unfocusing like he was somewhere else entirely. It was a bit unnerving in the beginning, but now it was comforting to know he could reminisce without the pain they saw in his eyes all the time. When he drifts off, they would see his face go all soft; the tension he holds so tight, like a cord wrapped around white-grip knuckles, would loosen like he forgot to hold it taut and let it slip out of his grip.
Robert tells Chad the truth, that he’s thinking back to his childhood—way before Mecha Man became a part of him. “I was thinking of my mom.” Brown eyes soften into something akin to grief. “The brave brigade might have treated me like the child they all never had, but she was my only real parent.”
Grief is a weird feeling; it hurts to no end, but the love it brings dulls the pain like a fire burning off into a low glow. Robert wants to say he’s used to the gentle ache in his chest when the grief hits him, but he’d be lying to everyone.
Tears prick his eyes, his throat getting impossibly tight. He chokes on the sob that threatens to breach his lungs. Holding back the tears so he doesn’t have to face the emotions that waft off of him.
Soft, slightly chapped lips press against his forehead, soothing in a way only affection can soothe a bruised heart. Warmth radiates through his skull, easing the pain that starts to spread from his temples.
Hushed words are whispered into his hairline. “Nothing can replace the love you had for her.” Chad shifts them to their sides, pulling the brunette impossibly close. “Not even the pain you feel now.”
Robert cries. He cries until the tears stop. He cries until his breathing evens out, and all that can be heard is the sound of a steady heartbeat under his ear and a familiar song being hummed into the open space.
/~•Morning•~/
Robert wakes up alone, sheets cool and a hazy yellow light covering the room. His joints protest loudly when he stands, shuffling out of the room into the open-concept kitchen. Where he finds Chad leaned over the counter, phone in hand and a coffee cup held to his lips. The older man doesn’t flinch when Robert saddles up beside him, weight fully resting against his side. He just slides his arm around the other's waist and continues scrolling.
“Morning, bedhead. How’d you sleep?” Amber eyes flick to Robert’s sleepy face, a smile tugging at his lips at the half-lidded puppy-brown eyes. “Hopefully better than when you slept on that godawful plastic chair.”
Robert jabs his hand into the fiery man's side. “I slept great, thank you.” He can feel the vibrations when Chad laughs, bright like flames flickering. It was strange how easily the fiery personality melted so fast, but he isn’t going to complain.
“There’s breakfast on the stove if you want some.” Chad gestures to the stovetop, where pancakes sit on a plate. “I only made pancakes; I didn’t feel like cooking a four-course meal at 7:35 in the morning.”
The words should have had the bite of sarcasm, but they didn’t. Robert doesn’t move; he stays tucked into the other’s side, soaking up the warmth while he can. He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t want the food, but he also wasn’t going to move anytime soon; he so badly wants to stay in this soft moment, no prickly words or physical jabs—aside from the one he delivered to Chad’s ribcage a second ago.
Chad apparently got tired of leaning over the marble countertop, swiftly picking the shorter man up and hauling him over to the couch. “You really need to gain some weight; you are lighter than my niece, and that’s concerning.” Chad drops him onto the cushions before sitting against the armrest so he can pull Robert against him.
“Okay, you try being in a 4-month coma.” Robert meets the other’s gaze, raising his brow at the now speechless hero.
Chad finally finds his words, speaking with a hint of concern. “Coma?”
Robert’s confused; it was plastered on the news for months after the explosion that Mecha Man had been in a coma. When he finally woke up, the hospital was practically surrounded with reporters wanting to get the first look at Mecha Man awake. The only reason they didn’t end up getting a shot of him was because he had left before it was announced, slipping out the back to get home before the reporters swarmed the place.
“Yeah? Chad, this is pretty public knowledge at this point.” Realization hits him like a brick. “You were in prison at that point.” It wasn’t a question; he knew it was true because he was the one who put him there. His wide eyes search the other’s for any sign of confirmation.
Chad sits up straighter, facing him, eyes layered with emotions he can’t unfold. “Yeah, I was. I mean, they showed the news, and I heard about Mecha Man sometimes, but I was so livid at the time that I refused to even listen to anything said about you.” He winces almost as if missing such a significant piece of information physically hurts him.
Robert takes a long inhale, releasing the breath slowly. It doesn’t hurt to know how angry Chad was; it just hurts to talk about all that happened—the explosion, the coma, the injuries, the pain—especially the pain. He was in pain for so long, and he still is; the ache and residual effects are still making his life hell.
“Honestly, I don’t blame you for that; hell, I even expect anger. I took a part of you, and you can’t get that back.” His voice is soft but firm, reassuring in a way that feels tender and supportive. “But we do need to talk this through; whatever is starting to happen between us,” he gestures between them, “will get real rocky if we let this shit fester.”
Chad nods, albeit reluctantly. Don’t get him wrong; he agrees they need to talk. He’s just unsure of how this conversation may end and doesn’t want to fuck this thing with Robert up before it even really starts. “Why don’t we start with the fight?” He holds up his right hand, wiggling the remainder of his ring and pinky fingers. “What happened after I conked the fuck out?”
Robert closes his eyes; he remembers it all vividly, he just needs a second to put the events in order. He opens his eyes, raising his head to meet the other’s gaze. “I scooped you off the ground and got us both out of the building. It was going to collapse, and I wasn’t about to leave you there.” He looks down at his hands wrung in his lap, twisting the old silver band on his index finger. “I tried to find your fingers before we got out, but I couldn’t, and I didn’t have enough time to do a thorough search. I was hoping they could be reattached if I found them.”
He didn’t look up; the silence terrifies him, and looking up might show something he wasn’t ready to see. Robert was strong in all the ways that count, but emotionally he is weak, so awfully weak.
Chad hooks a finger under Robert’s slightly stubbled chin, angling it so he can look into his worried eyes. “Thank you for trying to help even when I wasn't worth helping.” He lets a soft, sad smile grace his features.
Roberts' eyes harden, emotion becoming so visible it seems like another entity entirely. His hands find the other man’s wrists. “Everyone is worth helping.” He pulls Chad’s hands into his own. “I don’t kill. Never have, never will. Everyone I fight is still human, and that includes you. I would have stayed there until that building fell if it meant finding what I stole from you.” He pauses, voice softening. “But you were with me, and I didn’t want to take more from you than just your fingers; it would have eaten me alive if I had taken your life too.”
Chad searches Roberts' eyes for any sign of dishonesty, but all he finds is an intense stare filled with so much truth he is sure this man would never lie to him about something so significant. Gently pulling his hands out of the smaller man's grip, he places his hands on Robert’s cheeks; the brunette all but melts into the warm touch, gaze going soft and muscles becoming pliant. “Well, good thing I don’t need all ten fingers anyways,” he presses his forehead to Roberts. “Thanks for not making me your first casualty.”
Robert tenses instantly but continues to lean into the comfort. His words are soft, just above a whisper. “I’ve never killed; it doesn’t mean people haven’t died because of me.” He was prepared to be pushed away and looked at like a monster, but that never came; instead, he’s pulled closer. He’s maneuvered to sit beside Chad, sides pressed together with an arm tight around his waist.
“Wanna tell me about the first?” Chad is trying to connect, to get Robert to let go of some of the pain he holds so close to his heart. He can tell the pain is used like armor to protect himself from getting hurt by trust and killed by desire.
“The explosion, the first one,” Words spoke like daggers: “There was a kid, a teen boy, standing too close to the stage. He got tripped by the crowd.” Roberts' voice is so hollow, agony seeping through every word. “I watched it happen; he fell, the firework went off, and one of the enormous cameras on the stage fell right on top of him. He didn’t even scream; he just went limp. He died right there.”
Chad hasn’t witnessed death so closely; he has seen death, of course, from being a villain to becoming a hero, but he has never actually witnessed it happen. He has no idea how painful it is to watch the life in someone's eyes disappear like a fire being smothered. “He didn’t deserve that, and neither did you. You were both so young.”
Silence falls over the two of them, not uncomfortable but rather to give the words spoken room to settle. Chad stands, pulling Robert up with him. “Go eat. I’m going to grab some blankets and Beef, and then all three of us are going to sit in this living room and watch whatever comedy movies I can find until you start feeling like a person again.” He places a kiss on the other's forehead, then turns him around, giving him a nudge toward the kitchen. Robert does just as instructed, eats a pancake—with no syrup, like a fucking weirdo—then goes and sits back on the couch. Beef settles in the gap of his crisscrossed legs as they wait for Chad to return.
When the raven-haired man returns, he dumps a double armful of blankets and pillows on top of Robert and the small dog, a loud huff coming from the smaller man when a weighted blanket lands on his chest. “Chad—I think I'm suffocating under here.”
Chad rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re fine,” He leans down and moves the blankets off the other’s head. “Your hair is a mess.” He laughs at the brown locks that are now sticking up in every direction. He runs a hand through Robert's hair, jostling his head a bit in the process.
Robert frowns up at the other man’s snarky grin. “Because you threw blankets on me.” A deep sigh escapes him. “Just sit down.” He grabs Chad’s hand, giving it a tug.
“Okay, Mr. Impatient.” Chad sits down beside the pile of blankets and pillows, moving them around so he can pull Robert closer. Beef yips at the fire user, licking at his warm cheek. Chad situates the smaller man between his legs with his back to his front, blankets still piled around them.
Robert leans back to look up to Chad, a playful smile spreading across his face. “You know it’s going to get real hot in about 15 minutes. Right?” Chad just smiles before looking at the TV, clicking on some Adam Sandler movie before settling into the couch.
Later -·-·-·-·-· Night
It’s been hours; the sun has gone down, stars taking its place. Dinner has been eaten, and about 7 more Adam Sandler movies have been watched. They were now lying on the couch, blankets abandoned about twenty minutes into the movie marathon.
Beef has made himself comfortable in the abandoned pile of pillows and blankets, snoring softly. The two men are talking quietly, the conversation generally mundane.
“So tell me, how the hell did you end up with a name like Chad?” Robert was leaning on the armrest opposite of the fire wielder.
An unimpressed expression appears on the other man’s face. “I don’t think you have any room to talk, Robert Robertson.” He sends a pointed look at the brunette.
“The third,” Robert corrects.
“What?”
“It’s Robert Robertson the third.” Robert is unfazed; his name is weird and honestly pretty stupid, but he’s stuck with it, and he wouldn’t change it.
Chad bursts out in uncontrollable laughter, bending at the waist, hand on the back of the couch for support. When his laughter dies out, he wipes tears from the corners of his eyes. “There were three of you?!?”
Robert just rolls his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, now are you going to answer my question?”
Chad sighs deeply, turning to fully face the man opposite of him. “My name isn’t actually Chad—well, legally it is.”
Robert just lifts a brow, seemingly not affected by the news. “Well, what is it then?”
“It’s Saif; it means intensity and heat.” Chad leans back on the armrest, arms coming up to cross over his chest. “They hit the nail on the head with that one.”
Robert smiles, amusement bleeding from his gaze. “Well, it definitely suits you, controller of the fire and the flame.” It was mocking; he knows that, but come on, after all the times the Z-team—especially Flambae has picked on him for his name, he deserves to get a jab in where he can.
“Okay, you little shit.” Chad moves before he can even blink, pinning him to the couch beneath him, wrists held to the armrest in the grip of his left hand. Chad’s free hand comes up to Roberts' exposed abdomen where his t-shirt rode up, what remains of his fingers dancing over the freckled skin.
The brunette squirms, laughter coming out strained as he tries to kick Chad off of him. “Get ohohohoff!!” He struggles under Chad’s weight but is unsuccessful. “Chaad! Get your ass off me!”
“Aww, but this is so much fun, Bob bob.” Chad does not get off; he just moves his tickling to a more sensitive spot. Robert's laughter gets louder, and so do his complaints, but they are strained due to the lack of breathing he was doing.
Finally Chad eases up, letting Robert's arms down but not moving from where he is hovering over the other man; his hands slide down to hold the other’s hips. “See, so much fun.” His smile is teasing, tooth gap on full display.
Robert was pouting; he wishes the frown he was sporting could be described any other way, but truthfully he was pouting—bottom lip pushed out and all.
Slowly, something shifts; Chad’s eyes drift from the other man’s gaze to his lips, lingering a bit too long before dragging his focus back to where Robert was staring at him. He raises a brow in question. Robert gives a small nod.
Chad leans in closer a miniscule amount but just enough that he can feel Robert's breathing on his skin, soft puffs of air that slowly start to sync with his own. Finally, he can’t take it anymore; he leans down fully, a push of lips together that feels like throwing lighter fluid on a spark.
They keep it soft, just lips pressing together. Savoring the feel of each other. Chad’s hand slides under Robert, settling on the small of his back to bring the smaller man's body flush to his own. Chad feels the soft hum Robert lets out against his lips, loving the way the other melts into his natural warmth. The brunette slides his arms around Chad’s neck, pulling him closer.
Finally they separate, just far enough so they can still feel the other's breathing. Robert slides his hand down, running soft fingers over the stubble on Chad's jaw, eyes following the movement.
He finally looks up, locking eyes with the soft expression on Chad's face. Giving a smile in return. “What’s with the dopey smile?” He traces the other’s bottom lip; it's plush but slightly chapped.
“I just kissed the man I've been pining over for weeks; let me be dopey.” Chad rolls his eyes, leaning back in to seal his lips back over Robert's. The smaller man laughs into the kiss, pleased with the way Chad molds himself around his frame.
A warm tongue prods at Robert's closed lips, and he opens in answer, letting the larger man lick into his mouth, exploring as much as he can. Chad nips at his bottom lip, trailing kisses to his jaw. He continues to keep the kisses gentle, not sucking or biting, just small pecks and light nips.
Robert makes a content hum, satisfied with the attention. He rubs soothing circles into Chad’s shoulders; he lets his hands roam up to the taller man's hair, slipping his fingers into the silky curls. His eyes slip shut when Chad trails his lips to Robert’s throat, mouthing at his Adam's apple as it bobs with each labored breath.
Chad was about to continue down when Beef barks loudly from the other side of the couch. Both men freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes. Chad finally looks back at the small dog sitting in the pile of blankets. Robert leans up to get a look at Beef holding back laughter when he sees the state the dog is in, blanket hanging off one of his ears and his tongue hanging out in a dopey dog smile.
Chad turns back to the smaller man, shoving his face down into his chest. “That dog is a massive cockblock.” The words are muffled, but Robert can hear the fondness seeping out of them.
He reaches up, running his fingers through Chad’s tousled ponytail. “You’ll be fine.” He smiles down when the older man looks up at him, a half-hearted glare pointed in his direction.
Robert just smiles, pulling the taller man back up into a soft kiss; it’s not heated and not going to lead to something more. It’s just love—soft, affectionate, and theirs.
Neither of them knows where these feelings will go, nor do they have a name for the emotion, but they are both ready to give something up to keep it. Chad, the hatred he has towards the mask Robert once was. Robert, the secrets he’s kept locked tight in his heart.