Chapter Text
When asked about how he came to such a place, Robert would insist that he was unreasonably drunk that night. Anyone around him would know he was lying, himself included, but it was his story, and he was going to stick with it.
Whatever he had had with Invisigal had slipped through his fingers like sand. For a while it was easy to blame it on everything going on around them, on the rebuilding and recovering. Easy to say that the way each conversation fizzled out was due to the tense nature of the city. Until it wasn’t. Until Robert had to face the fact that he didn’t know how to enjoy whatever they had, didn’t know how to fix whatever it was that he had done wrong.
It wasn’t immediately after. Robert had spent weeks trying to figure it out, trying to puzzle together what was wrong with him. As a younger man, when he had first started being a hero, he had had plenty of hookups, trying to ground himself beyond MechaMan. What was different now? (The aches, the pains, the age - he knew this, if he let himself think. That he was not the same 20 year old, eager to be thrown around and taken for a ride until his head spun. But maybe he wanted to be, or at least to feel like he could still be that). He would go right to work and back home for weeks, avoiding Invisigal’s eyes whenever he could. Maybe it was selfish of him. After all, he knew the team could tell something was wrong, but telling someone felt so childish, so embarrassing.
It wasn’t until he heard that Invisigal had a date, through the comms. An off-hand, gentle comment. Not meant to hurt, far from anything one could consider a jab against him. Robert needed to get out, to go to some bar, any bar. Needed the stinging warmth of alcohol to drown out whatever it was that burned in his chest. He went with whoever was going out that Friday, eager to just dim that painful voice in the back of his head. He hadn’t been drunk, but a few drinks in he had found himself telling Flambae everything that had happened the last couple weeks. How he and Invisigal fizzled out, despite himself. How out of his depth he had felt, constantly trying to keep up, trying to keep her attention.
He sighed, closing his eyes. “I guess…I guess maybe I’m just not made for this whole relationship thing. She was always so patient, but I mean...” It felt ridiculous saying it outloud, pathetic even, but Robert felt it was true. In the din of the bar, spoken through the crush of everyone behind them and shitty music, it felt like a confession. “Even just intimacy was always…rough. One of us was always not quite there. I could never do enough. Or I was doing too much. It was…bad.” It felt good to say it, though. Put it out into the world and let it stop bouncing around in his brain, stop rattling in his lungs. Despite the fact it was humiliating. He was a grown man who couldn’t keep a relationship going with a hot woman. What was wrong with him?
Robert had almost forgotten he wasn’t alone with his own thoughts anymore, until the tense silence was broken between them. “I…do not think you are the problem, Robert. I mean, you are. But not the way you think.” Flambae decided.
Robert slowly forced his eyes open. That was the issue, of course, with telling anybody his woes. They could tell him how he was being stupid, and how he just needed to buck up. He didn’t even know why he was telling this to Flambae, of all people. Still, he humored him. “Yeah? And how is that?”
“You’re just a bitch with terrible taste.”
He sputtered. “Courtney is not terrible!”
Flambae shot back the rest of his drink. “Maybe. But she is for you. She’s got her own stuff to deal with, but you? You need someone to treat you right.”
He shook his head, looking down at the worn wood beneath his hands. “Yeah, okay. And who would that someone even be? You?” Robert had meant it as a throwaway. A joke. He kept telling himself this, afterwards.
A beat. Flambae’s gaze felt hot against his skin. And not just in the way everything about him seemed to be. “It could be. I’d treat you right. I’d rock your world, bitch.” He crossed his arms, looking down at Robert.
The alcohol, his wounded pride, and the warmth radiating off of the man next to him had Robert speaking before he could fully process what he had said. “Yeah? I’d pay to see that.”
Flambae huffed. “Pay? My dates never pay. You can see all you want. I’ll take you out Friday, then. Show you what I mean.”
He tensed, hand clutching to the cool heft of his glass as if to stave off the others words. Heat flooded Robert, a self-destructive urge to do something, anything, as long as it was right now, right when he could tell anyone who asked that is was the alcohol, and not him. “Why not now, then? If you’re so fucking wonderful.”
“It’s because I’m fucking wonderful, bitch. I’m not fucking you all drunk and mopey. I want you clear-headed, to see what I mean.” He cleared his throat, “And maybe more prepared. And if you decide you’re too much a coward to see how a real man treats his date…well I’d respect that. I guess. It’s up to you.”
Safe to say, the next week was agony. At first, Robert was trying to work up the courage to call it all off, to tell Flambae that he had only agreed because he was drunk, and sad, and now that he thought about it this really wasn’t a good idea at all. Every time he looked over at the other man, though, there was a glint in his eyes, a careful, tracking look, asking if Robert wanted to call it off. He wasn’t scared of the consequences of calling it off. He fully believed that beyond some pithy jab, Flambae would accept it and say nothing else.
So why didn’t he?
The whole week they danced around each other, Flambae’s quips not nearly as harsh as usual, his eyes always lingering on Robert. He didn’t even know what he would wear. He wasn’t fully sure that this wasn’t all some sort of joke, still. Yet, all through the week, Flambae never brought it up, never said he was kidding, or brought it up to the team.
Until Friday.
As Robert was packing up his stuff, Flambae walked by, casually, confidently, as if this was very normal. No one gave him a second look. He leaned against one of the walls of the cubicle, looking down at Robert.
At this angle, still sitting down, their height difference felt even more pronounced, as he had to crane his neck to look up at him. He readied himself for some quip, some insult about his work that day. Instead, Flambae raised an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly.
They looked at each other in silence for a beat.
“Can I help you?” Robert asked.
Flambae looked around, the image of nonchalance. “We still on for tonight?”
Despite the wall between them, Robert felt a wave of heat fall over him, his palms suddenly sweaty. This was the time, the moment to call it all off, to tell him he appreciated the thought but they really shouldn’t.
Robert must’ve been quiet for too long, because he heard a cough, and then Flambae’s eyes were locked on him, the heat now a burning line he could’ve traced. “Well?”
“I…yeah. Yeah, we’re still on.”
Flambae paused, an eyebrow slightly raised, mouth open in surprise, before he nodded. “Good. Wear something nice, hm? Not too nice but…” he flicked at the collar of Robert’s shirt, “not this. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Which is how Robert Robertson ended up here. At home. Staring at all the clothes he owned and desperately trying to find something that would work for this, wondering how he ended up here. It could be worse, he tried to tell himself. Truly, there were worse ways to spend a Friday evening than with a handsome ex-villain who was gonna foot the bill. It just felt scarier, in a way. He knew Flambae, obviously, but this felt…different, than when he and Invisigal had started going out. More structured. Which, truly, wasn’t a bad thing, but when was the last time he had gone out on a proper date? It seemed Robert had gone from drunk hookups with strangers to…well, whatever he was doing now. Which, really, he still wasn’t sure what it was that they were doing. Should he wear something nice under his clothes? Would Flambae expect to see him naked? Surely, right? Then again, it was only a date, and he didn’t want to seem easy…
None of his clothes felt nice enough. It wasn’t like he had many formal occasions he went to, but Robert didn’t want to disappoint Flambae, or stick out too poorly at wherever he was going to get dragged to. He had hoped that post shower, some amount of divine inspiration would hit him, but it seemed his boring old clothes had not changed in that time. He had struggled through the shower, trying to make sure he was presentable without feeling like he was going to die. Robert ached, ached from the years and years of being MechaMan, from the last few months of his life, and maybe from the last few weeks, too. He didn’t feel like much of a catch. Just like a sad, tired 30 year old man, who needed painkillers to get through the day.
He decided on a plain black button up, and some dark jeans. He had considered unbuttoning the top button or two, but the idea of some mottled bruises being seen made him uncomfortable, so buttoned up it was. Feeling not dressed up enough, Robert added a belt. He stared at himself in the mirror, knowing this still wasn’t enough, but unsure how to fix it. Flambae’s voice was already poking fun at him in his head, but seven was rapidly approaching. As a last ditch attempt at feeling less like a loser, Robert rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do.
A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. “Coming!”
The air was forced from Robert’s lungs as soon as he opened the door.
It wasn’t that Flambae was in anything particularly revealing. His suit was revealing on the best of days. The way he looked right then, though, made it hard for Robert to form a thought, suddenly even more self conscious about how he looked. His hair was in a ponytail higher on his head than usual. A short sleeved button up was undone just enough to give Robert a peek of his chest and some gold chain necklace he was wearing, his pants tight enough that he could barely tear his eyes away. It felt infinitely more obscene than anything he had ever seen the man wear.
“Are you even listening to me?” Flambae snapped him out of his reverie once again.
“Oh, sorry. You look ho-good. Nice. You look. Nice.”
Flambae laughed. “‘Course I do, Robbo. Bet you never had a hot bitch like me at your door before….I was trying to tell you that the shirt looks good, but hey, a little flattery never hurt. Are you, eh, ready?” He offered out his bare arm to Robert, who looked back into his bare apartment. Seeing nothing there, he took his arm.
“Lead the way.”
Turns out, Flambae had made a reservation.
No one had ever made a reservation for Robert before. He had tried to make one for him and Invisigal, once, but she had to bail that night, and then they mostly just tried to wing it as much as possible.
The place was nice. Intimate, even. Flambae, no, Chad, as he told Robert to call him (“we’re off the clock, after all”), seemed to know the hostess, but no particular attention was paid to them beyond that. It looked chic, and the music was tasteful, and not too loud to talk to each other.
They flipped through their little menus in silence. It seemed unreal, hazy around the edges like a dream. Chad in front of him, humming under his breath, dressed in normie clothes. It made no sense. He looked up at Robert, but didn’t get a chance to speak before he was interrupted.
The tables had tablecloths. Like a real restaurant.
“Uh, fucking obviously?” What Robert meant to keep an inside thought had slipped out. Chad was looking at him, confused. “Have you not seen a tablecloth before?”
Robert’s cheeks flushed. Was he really that out of practice? “I’ve just never been to a restaurant like this. A nice one. With table cloths.”
Chad stared ahead at him for a moment longer, before shaking his head and looking down at the menu before him. “This isn’t even that nice of a place, Robbo. Fuck, I didn’t realize it was so dire with you. Look, before you ask, don’t worry about the prices of anything, alright? If this is your first proper date, I might as well set this all out for you. Just pick whatever you-”
“Why are you doing this?” Robert asked.
“Looking through this menu? To order food, dumbass. You have to pick from the book-”
“No, this. Taking me out. Taking me here, to some actually nice place.”
Chad closed the menu, looking at Robert. His eyebrows furrowed, a few microexpressions darting across his face before he shrugged, looking down at his glass of water. “I meant what I said. When you and Invisigal…you didn’t seem yourself. I thought I could show you a good time. Cause fuck knows she wasn’t taking you out. And since you broke up…” he fidgeted with the edge of the paper.
“You…thought about this before? Like before last week?”
Chad slowly looked up at him. “Did you think I kept working out shirtless in that gym just for fun? That we just so happened to come in at the same time every week? Yes, Robert. Holy shit, I knew you were a little stupid but this is, really this is a new low, even for y-”
“You’ve liked me?”
“What?”
Robert grinned, suddenly much more comfortable in their familiar rhythm. “Amazing Flambae had a crush on some normie loser?”
A flush rose high on Chad’s cheeks. “Pssh. You’re not some normie loser. You’re fucking MechaMan. A real, actual hero. Give yourself some credit.”
“So you’re into the mech-thing? If I’d’ve known, I could’ve gotten-”
“You know, I was going to offer to split a starter, but if you’re going to be an ass then I won’t offer my expert knowledge of this menu at all.”
Robert remembered then, why he had gone to the bar with Flambae in the first place, the easy way they bickered coming back even now. It didn’t matter that it was a date, it was still just them. It just felt so easy, so comfortable, as Chad recommended items on the menu. As they argued over the superior dessert. As Chad paid for the bill, and grabbed Robert’s jacket before he could to help him into it, asking when was the last time he got a suit tailored in the same breath.
It wasn’t until they had walked out of the restaurant and the cold chill of the night air hit him that Robert realized how much time had passed. And now they stood here, in the dark, Chad’s warm hand suddenly slipping to his waist, as if it was natural, easy. Without thinking, he leaned into the heat. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.
“So…now, what?” He asked, hopeful to not make things too awkward.
Chad shrugged. “I can take you home, if you’d like. Or I could take you back to my place,” he grinned. “Not to be pushy, or anything, but I did mean it when I said I’d treat you right. And I’m not sayin’ I’m gonna get into your pants or anything, but I think I give a pretty mean massage, and I’ve seen how tense your shoulders are after work. And I know dumb bitch like you probably doesn’t stretch nearly enough.”
“I stretch-” The words sounded weak. They both knew he was lying as soon as he opened his mouth. A beat passed. Robert leaned into the warmth of him further without thinking, “Your place sounds good.”
The ride from the restaurant seemed too short and too long all at once. Chad's apartment building seemed significantly nicer than his own, making Robert cringe at the fact that he had seen how Robert lived. Fuck, the guy had seen how bare the place was, how he slept, even.
Chad turned off the car, getting out but not before looking back at Robert. “Do you need a written invitation or something?”
Robert scrambled out of the car, wincing at the pain in his knees. “Sorry, on it. Now I feel a little bad, I think my place is a little closer. If we wanted to just make out, we could always do that there.”
Chad paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “I can still take you home, Robert. But…I meant what I said. I’m not here to just make out. I know your shit ass apartment doesn’t even have a respectable couch, let alone a bed. I’m not gonna give you a massage there…and if we do go further, I’d like to have a proper shower in the morning. Which I have, cause I’m not an animal. It’s one of those fuckin, uh, rainfall ones, you know? A really good one-”
Robert laughed, bumping his shoulder into the other man. “Alright, you sold me. Let’s just get inside, hm? It’s getting cold out here.”
“You’re only cold cause you have a shitty ass jacket,” Chad muttered, but he wrapped an arm around Robert’s shoulders and led him inside.
It was nothing like Robert’s empty, cold place. The walls were painted, and everywhere he looked there was colour. Photos hung on the wall, and there was a shoe and coat rack by the door. “Shoes off,” Chad said as he walked into the space. He took both their coats and hung them up, disappearing further inside.
Robert couldn’t help but look around, in awe. The space felt so lived in. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be something so utterly Chad. It felt like seeing something he shouldn’t, being allowed a glimpse into the other man's brain. It wasn’t crazy expensive, by any means, but it looked so comfortable.
Chad had stopped in the entrance to the room, suddenly looking a little cautious. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”
“It’s great.”
He rolled his eyes, but Robert could see a hint of a smile on his lips. “Like, duh, obviously I have great taste. I just meant it's pretty small, y'know, for someone as awesome as me. But I’m humble like that.” He looked so comfortable, so at ease in a way Robert couldn’t ever remember feeling. Certainly he didn’t look it now. He wiped his hands on his pants, trying to will himself back to that comfortableness. He didn’t belong here, didn’t belong in this carefully curated space, this home.
“Do you want some water or something? You look, like, scared. I’m not gonna jump you, man.” Chad leaned against a wall, looking at him carefully.
Robert forced a breath in. “No, it's uh, it's alright. I’m alright.”
Chad looked at him a second longer, then nodded. “Alright, well. Get comfortable. I’m going to grab a few things.”
When he left the room, Robert sat carefully on the edge of the comfortable looking couch in the middle of the living room. He sat gingerly on the edge of the cushions, unsure if he should even be sitting. If that was okay.
“Don't look so tense,” Chad said when he re-entered the room. In his hand was an expensive looking bottle, Robert couldn’t read the label from his perch but he assumed it was massage lotion. In his other, he held a small remote. “Do you want some music?”
“What, you going to try and seduce me with the power of smooth jazz?”
Chad huffed a laugh. “I don’t need music to do that. Relax, will you? I’m just trying to get you to relax. Really, man, you look like a deer in headlights. I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little here.” He pressed a button, and from somewhere on the other side of Robert music started playing. To his credit, it wasn’t light jazz, but still instrumental in some way, filling the deafening silence of the space between them.
“I uh…” Robert started to say something but found himself losing the words as soon as they came to mind.
Chad sat beside him, setting the bottle on the coffee table as he did. One hand came to reach for the top button of Robert's shirt. “May I?” He asked gently, a juxtaposition to the teasing. Robert must’ve been looking at him a little too blankly, because he followed it up with, “it’s a lot easier to work the muscle without a shirt in the way.”
Robert nodded, fingers scrabbling against the buttons. He was acutely aware of every bruise, every scar, every mark he was revealing to the cold air and to the man in front of him, but he kept going, until the shirt was opened entirely. He didn’t look up, eyes focused on himself. He wanted to beat the other man to the punch, before some comment was inevitably made about his body. “I’m sorry, ha, it’s n-”
“Damn. I forget sometimes what you’re hiding under all that.” Robert looked up to meet the other man's eyes, but Chad seemed to be devouring him with his gaze. Robert didn’t know how to feel about it. His words felt earnest, a gentleness that betrayed the nonchalant way he spoke. The room seemed warmer, though if it was due to Robert or Chad, he couldn’t say.
Robert forced his eyes away. He still couldn’t believe he was here. “So, how do you want me?”
Chad paused. “If you, ah, lay down. On your stomach. I could get a pretty good angle here if I straddle you. Not to make it weird.”
Fuck, Robert wanted Chad to straddle his ass. He only hoped he didn’t seem too eager as he nodded. “Yeah, totally, that’ll be good. Fine. Not weird at all.”
Chad laughed, shaking his head. “Relax, Mecha-bitch, I’m not going anywhere.” He helped Robert get comfortable, a pillow under his head. It wasn’t until Robert was deemed ready that he pulled back, and swung his leg over Robert’s hips. He sat somewhere on the small of his back. “That feel alright?” He was so warm, just inviting and radiating off of him. Like a heated blanket set to an already sore area.
“Perfect.”
Robert waited for the comment, face turned away from Chad. Waited for the snide remark on the scars littering his back. He knew it looked bad, had patched himself up enough in his little bathroom to know the shifting colours and bumps that covered it. He had tried to keep it from Courtney, having seen the look on her face when she noticed. He was shucking off his shirt, then, and spent the whole rest of the night cursing himself. Her touch had been unsure, ghosting light and recoiling the whole night.
“Let me know if you don’t like something, alright?” was the only comment he got, before heavy hands fell onto his shoulders, the slide of some sort of massage oil stopping him from feeling the full extent of the others callouses. It had never occurred to Robert just how large Chad’s hands were until now, when he lay here, back to the other man. There had been a time where they had been enemies. Where Robert had maimed him. A time where Flambae would’ve happily killed Robert.
But this was not Flambae. This was Chad.
Heat seeped from his touch, coaxing tight muscles to relax, let go. Chad did not hesitate, pressing hard where he needed to while avoiding the most painful reminders of Robert’s past. Sure and strong, he rubbed the oil in, as Robert’s shoulders melted under his hands, a soft sound escaping his lips as he felt some string holding himself together loosen.
He felt his face grow hot when he realized it. Part of Robert wondered how far the flush went, if Chad could see it. The only acknowledgement he got was a quiet “there we go….”, before Chad’s hands continued their work.
Skillful movements pried tension out of Robert that he didn’t know he had. As if he had been some wind up toy, cranked and cranked over and over until he could stand on his own. Sometimes his hands would find tension that caused Robert to tense again, a soft hiss escaping his lips, but just as quickly they would smooth over, coax him back into relaxing. He didn’t pay attention to the noises leaving his lips, only vaguely aware that in fact, sometimes, he must have reacted to the ministrations of the man above him. Between the heat radiating out of Chad’s hands and his body, and the heavy weight of the man pinning him down, Robert felt like he was floating, free of the constant background knowledge of his pain, his body.
Chad’s hands had moved, shifting down inch by inch. It wasn’t until he was massaging a particular spot on Robert’s back that he gasped out. It felt like he had pulled that muscle weeks ago, resigning himself to its consequences. The movements paused, before pressing further. It took Robert a moment to realize the sound that he was hearing was coming from him.
“Fuck…” Chad whispered under his breath. He shifted. Robert’s breath hitched - he could feel the length of him pressing against his back.
His first reaction was shame. This latest noise had broken through his hazy barrier, sure, but he must have been making noises throughout. Noises that put them in this situation.
Then, Robert took a breath, more aware of his body now that he had zeroed in on any sensation at all. He was fucking aching against the couch. Chad had worked every bit of tension, of hesitation, from his wrecked body. Robert needed him more than he thought he had ever needed anyone before.
“Wait, let me,” Chad muttered under his breath. He shifted back, the weight pinning Robert down gone for a moment. He almost whined at the sudden loss, but found his body instead moving without his permission. Chad was up on his knees now, letting Robert push himself up and turn. His cheeks were flushed, and some hair was hanging in front of his face. “Oh, shit, sorry, was tha-”
Robert closed the distance between them. In one movement, he tucked the strand of hair behind his ear and kissed Chad hard. It was only a second before strong hands were wrapping around his waist (fuck, could they touch? Could Chad envelop his waist entirely?), pulling Robert closer.
He kissed Chad like he needed him to live, desperate and messy. Still loose-limbed and relaxed, he needed the man and his warmth as close to him as possible. Chad seemed to take it in stride, matching his every movement. Robert wasn’t sure if he had ever felt so alight before, scrabbling hands keeping the other man close, as the kiss turned open-mouthed, and one turned into two, three.
Robert only pulled away when he needed to breathe, a thin line of saliva connected them. He kept close enough to feel the other man's hot breath as they panted into each other's space. It felt hard for Robert to form real thoughts. He was sitting in Chad’s lap, now, feeling him beneath his ass. His hands had fallen from Chad’s face to his shoulders, pressing to the skin hidden under his opened shirt.
“Didn’t think you could kiss like that, Robertson,” Chad managed to get out. His hands squeezed Robert’s ass, and he pressed into the movement without thinking, grinding down into the man beneath him. Robert closed his eyes, following the white-hot heat instinctively. As if catching himself, Chad’s hands pulled him back by his hips, breath stuttering at the whine that followed. “Wha’ do you need, huh? We can’t just rut into each other like teenagers on the couch, right?”
It took all of Robert’s mental willpower to remember how to use his words. He swallowed thickly, looking down first at the exposed chest in front of him, and then lower. “Need you to fuck me, Chad. Need you to rock my fucking world, like you promised.” He looked up at Chad, hopeful, and hopefully not too desperate.
Chad let out a noise not unlike a low keen. “Fuck, Robert. You’re gonna kill me, you know that?” He kissed him, wanting and heavy, forcing Robert’s mouth open. Hands on his ass pulled him closer yet again, and Robert only had enough wherewithal to wrap his legs around the other mans waist before Chad was standing up, pulling away only so he could see where they were going. “Bed, now.”
