Chapter Text
Robert let out a profound sigh that echoed through the dimly lit office of the Dispatch Center, a hub of controlled chaos where reformed villains were repurposed into reluctant heroes under the watchful eye of corporate overlords. The room smelled faintly of stale coffee and ozone from the flickering monitors that tracked real-time alerts across the city. Mandy, better known in her professional guise as Blonde Blazer, winced and closed her eyes in a silent apology, her perfectly coiffed brown hair catching the harsh fluorescent light as she leaned forward over him.
"I'm really sorry, Robert," she said, her voice laced with genuine regret, "but ever since they saw the massive turnaround with the Phoenix Project, the higher-ups are itching to replicate that success. They think throwing more low-tier assets into the mix will boost subscriber engagement and cut down on recidivism rates." She pushed a stack of manila folders toward him, her awkward smile not quite reaching her eyes, as if she knew this was a bitter pill to swallow. "At least you'll get to choose? That's something, right?"
He flips the top one open. Grainy surveillance photos, rap sheets shorter than a convenience-store receipt. “Min, these aren’t even D-listers. We’re talking Z. Double-Z. People who got caught because they tripped their own alarm.”
“Which means they should be easy to manage, you know… fix?” She tries for hopeful. It lands somewhere around pity.
Robert exhales through his teeth, the sound of a man watching his weekend spontaneously combust. He fans the folders like playing cards, stops on one, and lets it fall onto his desk with a soft slap.
“Him.”
Mandy glances at the name taped to the tab. Her eyebrows climb. “You didn’t even read the file.”
“He manipulates electricity. I don’t have an electrokinetic yet.” He flashes the crooked half-smirk that makes half the team forgive him for everything. “Gotta catch ’em all, right?”
Mandy shakes her head, already reaching for the file. “He’ll be delivered this afternoon. Second shift.”
“That soon?” Robert's voice rose in disbelief, his mind already racing through the logistics of integrating a new face into the already volatile team dynamic.
"They really want this to work as soon as possible," she explained, her expression turning serious. "The metrics from Phoenix were off the charts. Subscriber retention up 40%, fewer incidents of team infighting. They're pushing hard."
"They're not going to like it," Robert said, leaning back in his chair, the creak of the old springs punctuating his words. He could already envision the groans, the protests, the petty squabbles that would erupt.
"Good thing it's not their decision," Mandy countered with a wink, though her eyes held a flicker of sympathy.
Robert closed his eyes, feeling the familiar throb of an impending headache pulse behind his temples. Another day in paradise, he thought sarcastically, wondering how long he could keep this ragtag group of reformed villains from reverting to their old ways.
...
Robert adjusted his mic, his voice crackling over the comms to the team scattered across the city on patrol. "Guys, after lunch break, head to the main office for a quick huddle."
A chorus of groans and boos erupted in response, the audio feedback making Robert wince and pull one headphone off his ear.
"Who fucked up this time?" Prism's voice cut through, already laced with annoyance.
"Whatever, more free time, baby!" Punch Up celebrated with his usual boisterous energy.
"I-is everyth-thing ah-al-alright?" Waterboy stuttered, his watery voice bubbling with genuine concern.
"Yes," Robert assured them, leaning down to scratch Beef behind the ears. The loyal dog wagged his tail happily, his massive frame thumping against his leg, a rare source of uncomplicated joy in this high-stakes environment. "Blonde Blazer just needs to talk with you guys. Nothing major."
"That doesn't sound like good news," Malevola muttered, the suspicion hanging in the air like smoke.
"Is someone getting the axe again?" Coupé asked, her voice muffled slightly.
"Oh, I'll eat you, Robert," Sonar threatened playfully.
"It's probably the wetwipe," Flambae snickered.
"H-hey!" Waterboy protested weakly.
"No one is getting cut off," Robert said, his tone dead serious now, cutting through the noise like a knife. "It's something else. Just be there on time."
"Yeah, someone definitely fucked up," Golem's voice chimed in, and the bickering resumed, a whirlwind of overlapping complaints and jabs that made Robert sigh deeply. Why do I even bother? he thought, rubbing his temples as the team's chaotic energy crackled over the line.
...
The break room was a makeshift oasis in the Dispatch Center, cluttered with vending machines that dispensed energy drinks and greasy snacks. Robert was midway through slurping his instant noodles more asleep than awake when Invisigal materialized behind him. He jumped slightly, splashing scalding water onto his hand.
"Goddammit," he cursed, shaking his hand vigorously before rushing to the faucet, letting the cold water cascade over the burn.
"Shit, sorry," Invisigal said, crouching her shoulders and hissing in empathy.
"Told you to stop that," Robert sighed, the pain subsiding into a dull throb. "Can you cover my noodles at least?"
Invisigal nodded, grabbing his plastic fork and stabbing it through the paper lid and side of the styrofoam cup, letting the steam escape as the noodles continued to cook. A few drops of water dripped from the puncture, pooling on the counter. "Is your hand okay?"
"It’ll live.” He turns the tap off. “You’re hovering. What’s up?”
She shuffles, boots squeaking on the tile. “We’re really not getting downsized again, right? Not that I’m scared or anything, just… curious.”
Robert dries his hands on his jeans, gives her the gentlest look he’s capable of. “Nobody’s going anywhere, Visi. Promise.” Robert reassured her."You'll all know what this is about soon enough." If only it were that simple, he thought, sensing the undercurrents of anxiety rippling through the team.
...
The main office conference room felt like a pressure cooker, its long table surrounded by chairs that had seen better days, walls adorned with motivational posters about "Heroic Redemption" sponsored by corporate.
Everyone was already seated when Robert arrived, standing by the door like a sentinel. Alice was showing Chad some meme on her phone, eliciting a snort from him as he shook his head in amusement then turned to look at Robert, finding his unease entertaining.
Robert felt Flambae's stare on him, intense and probing, and when their eyes locked, Chad winked, a small gesture that eased Robert's tension, making him roll his eyes with a hint of relaxation.
The door swung open, and the room fell silent as Blonde Blazer strode in, her demeanor commanding. But it was the figure following her that shifted the atmosphere—a tall, broad man in a bright black and yellow suit, arms crossed over his chest like a storm cloud ready to unleash.
"This is Rayo," Robert announced to the room, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of unease. "He'll be part of our team from now on." The man nodded curtly, his presence electrifying the air in a literal sense, static crackling faintly around him.
Rayo flashes a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Pleasure to meet you, g— Chad? Holy shit, that you, Chad?” Rayo's face split into a wide, predatory smile, his eyes locking onto Flambae like a hawk spotting prey.
"Woah!" Prism straightened up, her voice sharp with anger, crystals forming faintly on her fingertips.
"Not cool, man!" Sonar leaned over the desk.
"What?" Rayo blinked, feigning innocence.
"Uh, Rayo, we don't use our real names here—for confidentiality," Blonde Blazer interjected softly, her tone diplomatic yet firm.
Rayo scoffed, his laugh booming. "Y'all are here showing your faces; the only one that could claim anonymity is birdie over there." He nodded at Coupé.
"Hey, don't call her that!" Punch Up slammed his fist on the table, the wood groaning under the impact.
Rayo rolled his eyes, clearly entertained by the chaos. "Whatever, if it's that big of a deal, I'm Eduardo Montejano." He flashed another wide smile. "Looking forward to working with y'all."
"Uh, great. You can sit now; we'll be going over some other stuff," Blonde Blazer said, her awkwardness tempered by authority.
He drags a chair over—ignoring Prism’s indignant squawk when he shoves her aside—and plants it backward next to Chad. Straddles it, arms folded over the backrest, close enough that Chad can smell the ozone rolling off him.
“You got caught, man?” Eduardo’s voice is low, delighted. “Not even surprised. You were always kind of shit at the whole villain thing.”
Prism glares molten death at the newcomer. Flambae went very still, flames flickering under the skin of his forearms before he forced them down.
Prism stared at him, waiting for the inevitable explosion of sass or fire or both. Nothing came. That scared her more than any outburst would have.
“So what, you playing hero now?” Eduardo snorted.
Flambae shrugged one shoulder, eyes fixed on the far wall.
"You got caught too, didn't you?" Alice interjected loudly, her voice cutting through the tension. "And I've never even heard of you. Are you a B-lister or something? Never made the news." She met Rayo's glare head-on, unflinching.
"Guys, eyes to the presentation please," Robert said tiredly, redirecting the room's focus. Rayo huffed and turned to the screen, his electricity humming faintly in frustration.
Chad shot Alice a thankful smile, his tension easing just a fraction as he turned his attention forward, grateful for the momentary reprieve.
...
The rest of the shift dragged on in the Dispatch Center's glow, a monotonous parade of minor incidents: petty robberies thwarted with minimal flair, lost items fetched for premium subscribers who treated the team like personal errand runners. Alerts blinked across Robert's screens like fireflies in the night, each one resolved with a mix of powers and reluctant teamwork. He sighed, rubbing his eyes as the clock ticked toward the end.
"All right, everybody, good job today," he said through the mic, his voice carrying a note of finality.
They murmured agreements, the exhaustion palpable even over comms. Then Courtney chimed in, her voice brightening the line. "Wanna go to the Bullseye for a drink? Unwind a bit?"
"Oh, drinks? That sounds nice," the group responded variably, but everyone quieted when Rayo's voice joined in, his presence still a fresh thorn after the meeting and his minimal contributions during the shift.
"Uh, sure," Robert said, glancing at the time on his screen. "We have tomorrow off; I don't see why not."
Everyone started to agree, though the enthusiasm was awkward, laced with hesitation.
"Ugh, pass. I got better stuff to do," Flambae said nonchalantly, but his voice strained, a telltale sign of discomfort. Robert frowned, picking up on the undercurrent.
"Oh c'mon, hot stuff, you never say no to a night out," Alice whined, her plea echoed by the others urging him to join.
"Yeah, Flamita, you never say no to a good time," Eduardo added, his tone mocking.
Chad groaned inwardly. "Fuck, fine, whatever."
...
The Bullseye was a dimly lit dive tucked away in the city's underbelly, a favorite haunt for underground heroes where the neon signs buzzed like faulty powers and the air smelled of spilled beer and faint smoke. It was quiet for a weekday, the jukebox playing old rock tunes that mingled with the clack of pool balls. Coupe and Punch Up were locked in a fierce pool contest against Sonar and Malevola, their laughter booming as cues cracked against striped orbs, powers subtly enhancing their shots—Colm's strength sending balls flying.
Prism was up on the small stage, her voice refracting through the mic like light through a gem, belting out a karaoke number while Invisigal taught Phenomaman darts nearby, her throws landing with eerie accuracy as she guided his hand. Waterboy had opted to keep Golem company outside, the massive construct standing sentinel under the streetlights unable to join them inside due to his enormous frame, their quiet conversation a contrast to the indoor revelry. Robert had stepped out momentarily, phone in hand, arranging for Chase to watch Beef for the night.
Flambae sat alone in a corner booth, fiddling with napkins, igniting them with tiny flames from his fingertips and watching them curl into ash, the embers glowing like miniature infernos. Why did I agree to this? he thought, the heat in his veins simmering with unease.
"You avoiding me?" Rayo slid into the booth opposite him, a beer in hand, startling Chad from his reverie.
"Uh, no. Why would I?" Chad replied dryly, his posture stiffening.
Rayo chuckled, the sound grating like static. "Why are you so tense, huh?"
"I'm not tense," Chad shot back, though his muscles betrayed him, coiled like a spring.
"What? You didn't miss me?" Chad fixed him with a death stare, flames flickering in his eyes. Eduardo snorted. "I know you did, but sorry, pal—I'm married now."
"Married?" Chad frowned, dropping the shredded napkins, surprise cutting through his irritation.
"Yeah, nice lady, super hot." Flambae hummed noncommittally, scanning the room for an escape, anyone to pull him away from this unwelcome blast from the past.
Robert reentered the bar, the cool night air clinging to him as he scanned the dimly lit space. His eyes landed on Rayo and Flambae, noting the tension in Chad's frame—hackles raised, body language screaming discomfort. Something's off here, Robert thought, recalling the familiar way Rayo had spoken earlier. He couldn't help himself; he veered to the bar first, ordering two whiskeys, his ears tuning into the conversation as he approached stealthily.
"You still single?" Rayo asked suddenly, taking a swig from his beer.
"What?" Chad blinked, caught off guard.
"I wouldn't be surprised; you still dress like a whore." Rayo laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. "Bet you still have that hellish temper." Robert frowned deeply, grabbing the glasses and turning toward the booth. Chad's got a temper, sure, but it's all bark, teasing to get a rise.
"I don't-" Chad started, looking like a cornered cat, flames licking at his fingertips.
"Oh c'mon, you've always been hard to lo-"
"Hey, babe," Robert interrupted smoothly, leaning over Chad's shoulder to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, then hopping into the booth beside him. He pushed one whiskey glass toward Chad. "Sorry for the wait; was getting something for Golem and Waterboy."
Flambae stared at him, still shocked by the kiss, snapping back only when Eduardo scoffed. "You dating?"
Chad opened his mouth to deny it, but Robert cut in. "Yeah, six months now, right, sweetheart?" He took a sip of his whiskey, making pointed eyes at Chad, urging him to play along.
Flambae frowned slightly, silently questioning what the hell Robert was doing, but nodded. "Yeah, six months."
Rayo snorted in disbelief. "I don't believe you. I mean, how can you bear with-"
Robert slammed his glass down loudly, cutting him off. "Hey, babe, let's dance, yeah? I'm bored just sitting here." He stood, taking Chad's hand and pulling him toward the small dance floor by the stage, the music pulsing with a rhythmic beat.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Flambae hissed between his teeth, seething as they moved.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Robert shot back, his grip firm.
"Eh?"
"I've never seen you take shit from nobody, but you let Sparky walk all over you? What's that about?"
"None of your—"
"Well, it is now," Robert said, pulling Chad's hips closer, their bodies swaying to the music. "Babe."
Flambae was practically smoking now, eyes furious with flames dancing in them. "I don't need your damn help; I'm fine."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really."
Robert shook his head and twirled him, pressing Chad's back against his chest, his hands trailing from hips to waist. "Look at him," he nodded toward Eduardo, who was glaring daggers at them, chugging his beer angrily. "He's going crazy."
Flambae hummed, a spark of satisfaction igniting in his chest. "Yeah, he looks like he just shit his pants." He grinned wickedly.
"So, still refuse my help?" Robert hooked his chin on Chad's shoulder, their bodies moving in sync.
Chad groaned, relenting. "Fucking whatever, as long as he leaves me the fuck alone." Then, just to be a little shit, he pressed back against Robert, eliciting a small gasp. "Think you can handle the heat, mecha bitch?"
Robert chuckled, his breath warm against Chad's ear. "Was about to ask the same thing.”
“This is ridiculous,” Chad muttered, but the words melted into a crooked grin as he turned to loop his arms around Robert’s neck.
Robert arched a brow, that familiar amused glint lighting his eyes. “What? You don’t find being the only two idiots dancing to Prism’s very on-key ballad romantic?” he teased, the disco lights flickering over his face in fractured colors.
“Oh yeah, definitely,” Chad snorted, then without warning he hooked his foot behind Robert’s ankle and yanked.
Robert toppled backward with a startled yelp, but Chad caught him before he hit the floor, dipping him low like they were in some poorly choreographed musical. Their laughter cracked through the bar, sharp and bright, cutting through the thrum of music and drunk chatter.
“You know,” Chad said, breath warm against Robert’s cheek as he held him suspended, “they’re gonna be a pain in my ass for this.” He jerked his chin toward Invisigal, who was frozen mid throw, jaw hanging open as if she’d just witnessed a war crime.
Robert followed his gaze. Janelle and Colm stood by the pool table looking like someone had unplugged their brains. Colm completely missed his shot—cue stick veering sideways—and the wood tore a nasty rip through the velvet. He stared at the damage like it had personally betrayed him.
“Yeah,” Robert sighed, straightening up as Chad pulled him upright again. “Maybe we should actually tell them.”
“Later.” Chad slid an arm around his waist, dragging him in until their bodies pressed together. “Their fucking faces are kinda fun to watch.” He snickered.
Robert looped his arms loosely around Chad’s neck, leaning into the warmth he radiated. “Sure. Later works.” He jerked his chin toward the bar. “Buy me a drink? You own me now.”
Flambae rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall to the back of his head “Bitch.”
Robert grinned, nudging him lightly. “Jerk.”
…
The first thing Robert registered was pain—sharp, pulsing, blooming like a migraine grenade behind his eyes. He groaned, one hand dragging across his face as he squinted at the flood of morning light slicing through unfamiliar curtains. Something dinged insistently beside him. Then again. Then ten more times.
His phone, sitting on a tiny bedside cabinet, was exploding with notifications in a way that guaranteed nothing good was waiting on the other side of consciousness.
Wait.
He froze, fingers hovering above the screen as reality caught up to him in slow, nauseating waves. He sat up too quickly, the room tilting like a ship in a storm, but he forced himself through the dizziness and took in the surroundings.
This wasn’t his sad excuse for an apartment. This wasn’t his busted turned-to-bed chair
This… was nice.
The bed beneath him was absurdly soft, sheets crisp enough to belong to a hotel and a blanket so fluffy it felt like a cloud. The walls were a calming grey, warm rather than depressing, decorated with actual paintings, frames and all. A small desk stood neatly in one corner, stacked with organized paperwork and pens that actually had caps.
He threw the covers off, relieved, no, profoundly relieved, to find he was fully dressed. Had he woken up naked in an unfamiliar, luxurious room, he probably would’ve imploded on the spot.
He slipped out into the hallway, padding quietly toward the faint sound of snoring echoing through the space. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of early morning as he peeked over the back of the longest couch.
Chad was sprawled across it like a crime scene outline, a pink silk pajama set clinging to him, hair loose and falling over half his face. One leg hung off the couch, the blanket barely covering a shin, his mouth slightly open in the world’s least attractive snore.
Robert stared at him, brain completely blue-screened.
Okay. Okay. Process. Try to process.
He stepped forward and shook him. “Dude. Wake up. C’mon.”
Chad groaned, rolling dramatically onto his side like a petulant cat. Robert shook him harder. “Chad!”
“Fuck—what?” Chad snapped, sitting up so fast the blanket flew off him. “What the fuck is it?! It’s very fucking early!”
Robert immediately took a step back. “Why am I here?”
Chad rubbed his eyes with the enthusiasm of someone sandpapering their own soul. “Because you’re a pussy-ass lightweight,” he muttered. A huge yawn split his face as he stretched. “You were, like, blackout when we left.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Robert shot back.
Chad pushed himself off the couch, bones cracking like firewood. “No one wanted to take you home, and I’m sure as hell not driving to the ass-end of town just to drop your flat ass off.” He shuffled into the kitchen, not bothering to check if Robert followed—he knew he would.
Robert crossed his arms. “There are rideshare apps. Cabs. Ever heard of any of that?”
“Ever heard of saying thank you?” Chad grumbled, grabbing the coffee grounds and filter. “Nothing happened, if that’s why you’re clenching your pearls. I was very fucking pleasant. I even let you sleep in my bed.”
Robert blinked. “Who saw us leave together?”
“Uh… everyone?”
Robert slapped a hand over his face. “I’m gonna get fired.”
Chad scoffed. “If they wanted to fire anybody, they would’ve done it months ago. We commit HR violations every two hours.” He clicked the coffee machine on. “Besides, this was your idea.”
Robert stared. “What?”
“Yeah,” Chad said, leaning back against the counter with a smug grin. “You wanted Eduardo to see us go together. His face was glorious.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Robert groaned again. “That dick. Still don’t get why you didn’t flame him.”
The shift in Chad was immediate. His body went stiff, eyes darting away.
“It’s a long story,” he muttered. “And none of your business.”
Robert opened his mouth, ready to pry—then shut it again. Something about Chad’s voice told him not to go digging. Instead, his eyes drifted to the silk pajamas.
“Pink? Really?”
Chad grabbed a coffee filter and chucked it at his face. “It’s a matching set with Alice!”
“Sure," Robert said, deadpan, dodging the filter easily. “Totally intimidating. Very fiery.”
…
“I need to get off early today.”
Flambae’s voice cut in the second Robert slid his headphones over his ears, the soft hiss of incoming comms barely settling before the demand landed.
Robert didn’t even look up from his console. “Why?” he asked simply, already knowing this wasn’t going to be a clean answer.
“None of your beeswax,” Chad grunted, tone clipped and defensive.
Robert swiveled slightly in his chair, one finger hooking the edge of the headset. “I do need to know why, Flambae,” he sing-songed, a smile creeping into his voice. “It’s kind of my job.”
There was a pause. A long one.
“Look,” Chad muttered finally, clearly irritated he’d been cornered, “my sister has an interview. She won’t be able to pick up my niece, okay?”
Before Robert could respond, a sharp snort crackled over comms.
“So Yas is finally doing something with her life?” Rayo drawled.
Chad’s response was instant and nuclear. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t talk about my sister.”
A beat of silence followed, heavy and volatile.
Rayo whistled low. “Alright, Jesús. Damn.”
Robert pinched the bridge of his nose, already tired. “It’s fine, Flambae,” he said calmly. “Go. And tell her I said hi, okay?”
Chad grunted in acknowledgment, nothing more.
…
“Alright, everyone, break time.”
The announcement was met with a collective exhale, relief rippling through the comms like a wave. Groans turned into chatter, someone cheered.
“Good job so far,” Robert added, leaning back slightly. “See you at lunch.”
Chad had clocked out almost thirty minutes earlier. Apparently the universe had decided to celebrate that by lighting half the city on fire—small ones, thankfully. Nothing major. Golem and Rayo had handled most of it without issue, heat-resistant that they were.
Robert stretched, arms lifted over his head as he rolled his shoulders and popped his neck with a grunt.
“Damn,” Chase’s voice floated over the partition, “thought the old geezer was me.” He peeked over the divider. “You still sleeping on that fucking chair?”
“Uh, no,” Robert muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sleeping on the couch BB got me.” He winced. “Must’ve slept wrong.”
Chase scoffed. “You need a fucking mattress. That’s what you need. Your back’s already all kinds of fucked up—you’re just making it worse.”
Robert hesitated.
Unbidden, the memory surfaced: crisp sheets, a ridiculous fluffy blanket, waking up without pain for once. He frowned, considering it.
“…I think you might be right.”
“Of course I’m fucking right,” Chase snapped. “I always am, idiot.”
Robert laughed as he stood, setting his headphones down on the desk. “Want anything from the vending machine?”
“Peanuts.”
“You’re an old man.” He snorted.
“Watch your mouth!” Chase flipped him off.
Robert laughed louder as he headed for the break room.
…
He was halfway down the hallway when his phone rang.
“Yeah?” he answered, not bothering to check the caller.
“Hey—can you come to the gym?” Chad’s voice whispered urgently on the other end.
Robert stopped short, leaning against the wall. “Why?” he whispered back. “And why are we whispering?”
“Fuck—my niece wants to meet you.”
Robert blinked. “Why?”
“She loves Mecha Man, okay?” Chad hissed. “Like—obsessed. And she knows I work with you. She’s refusing to go home until she sees you.”
Robert frowned. “Doesn’t she know that I—” He faltered, the image flashing vividly in his mind. Metal. Blood. Chad’s fingers. He shook his head hard. “You know.”
“Of course she fucking doesn’t,” Chad snapped. “Are you stupid?”
“Then how—”
“She thinks I lost my fingers fighting a gator.”
Robert stared at the wall. “A… gator?”
“I had to make something up,” Chad groaned. “I can’t tell her my fingers just fucking disappeared. She’s not dumb.”
Robert snorted, half-laughing in disbelief. “Fine. I’ll be there in ten.”
“Wear the suit.”
“Of course I’m fucking wearing the suit,” Robert deadpanned. “If I show up in my stupid blue shirt, she won’t know who I am.”
“Asshole.”
“Idiot,” Robert said fondly, already smiling as he hung up.
…
“All right, I’m outside.”
“Finally,” Chad shot back immediately. The line shifted, muffled for a second, and Robert heard him call out, “Hey, Fari! I want you to meet someone.”
The phone rustled like Chad had yanked it away from his ear.
“You better compensate me,” Robert said, voice dry, no real bite behind it. “I won’t be able to eat anything now.”
“I’ll buy you fucking dinner, all right?”
Robert smirked. “Is that a date, babe?”
“Oh, I’m roasting your ass—wait—Fari, slow down!”
The gym doors flew open as little girl burst through like a firework—two uneven pigtails bouncing, baby-blue overalls hanging a little loose over a pastel pink shirt. Her sneakers were white, scuffed and loved, the sides scribbled with sharpie flames that looked suspiciously like a certain fire-wielding hero’s aesthetic.
She stopped short the moment she saw Robert.
He stiffened.
She stared up at him with open awe, eyes wide and unfiltered, like he was something pulled straight out of a comic book panel. Robert suddenly became hyper-aware of his height, the bulk of the suit, the way his metal limbs hummed faintly. God, I am terrible with kids. I’m terrible with people in general.
“You are big!” she gasped and before he could react, she marched forward and hugged his leg with absolute conviction.
“Oh- uh- yeah,” Robert said dumbly.
He glanced toward his monitor, then over at Chad behind her. Chad stood with his arms crossed, jaw tight, visibly annoyed though the faint pink creeping up his neck was unmistakable.
“Is it true you’re my Dayi’s friend?” she asked, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “He said you’re close.”
She grinned, wide and bright, a front tooth missing.
Robert blinked. Huh.
He slowly turned his head and stared pointedly at Chad. Chad’s blush had gone nuclear.
“Oh, yes,” Robert said, laying it on thick, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “We’re very close. Best friends, actually.”
The glare Chad sent him could’ve qualified as attempted murder. Fari, however, looked like she’d just been handed the universe. Her smile grew impossibly wider, eyes sparkling.
“That’s it,” Chad snapped. “You met the tin can. We’re going.”
“But-”
“No buts. You need to eat and do your homework.”
Fari groaned dramatically but obeyed, stepping away from Robert and crossing her little arms in a perfect mirror of Chad’s irritation.
“Say bye,” Chad added, tone firm like a father. Something twisted unexpectedly in Robert’s chest.
“Thank you, Mister Mecha Man,” Fari said earnestly.
“Oh- uh,” Robert shifted, awkward as hell. “No need. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
She waved. He waved back.
The second Fari turned away, Chad flipped him off. Robert laughed.
…
“So that’s why you haven’t fixed your tooth?”
They were seated in a brightly colored Mexican restaurant, papel picado banners strung across the ceiling in clashing reds and greens. The air was thick with oil, spice, and the low hum of conversation. A mariachi song played softly in the background, just loud enough to be pleasant.
Chad groaned as he cut into his tamal. “She’s really insecure about her teeth falling out. It wasn’t that bad with the bottom ones.” He took a bite, chewing before continuing anyway. “But the front tooth? Super visible. She was scared the other little shits would make fun of her.”
Robert listened quietly.
“She saw me,” Chad went on, shrugging, “and said I looked cool. Which, obviously, I do. I always look cool.”
“Huh.”
Chad frowned. “What?”
“It’s just…” Robert hesitated. “I never thought you’d be this soft.”
Chad bristled immediately. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing bad,” Robert said quickly. “Just… surprised.”
“I’m not about to be an asshole to my niece.”
Robert tilted his head. “So you don’t deny being an asshole.”
“Shut the fuck up and eat your quesadilla.”
Robert laughed, lifting his food, warmth settling comfortably in his chest as the noise and color of the restaurant wrapped around them.
…
Robert stared at the photo on his phone longer than he meant to.
He’d caught Chad mid-laugh, completely unguarded, head tilted back slightly, eyes half-closed, mouth open in the middle of roasting him for something stupid Robert had said. The warm restaurant lighting washed over his skin, turning it almost golden, softening the sharp edges Chad usually carried like armor. Behind him, the riot of color—paper banners, painted walls, blurred movement framed him like a mural.
Robert hesitated, thumb hovering for a second, then opened his profile and posted it. No caption. No explanation. Just the picture.
The phone rang almost immediately.
He frowned. “Yes?”
“What’s going on between you and Chad?” Courtney demanded the second he answered.
Robert sighed, already tired. “I thought we told you guys—we’re just pretending so Rayo leaves him alone.”
“Yeah, right. That asshole,” she grumbled. “Just cut him off. Nobody likes him.”
“I can’t,” Robert said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s top three on the roster.”
“Shit,” she muttered. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Visi, don’t.”
“Booriing,” she shot back. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Anyway—why the fake dating? Sorry, but I don’t see it. You two hated each other.”
Beef whined softly at his feet, pawing his shin. Robert stood, phone tucked between shoulder and ear as he headed for the kitchen.
“Ever heard of enemies to lovers?” he said dryly, opening a cabinet and grabbing a can.
“I don’t read that romance crap.”
“Shocking,” Robert chuckled. He popped the lid and dumped the food into Beef’s bowl, watching the dog immediately dive in. “I’m sure you’ve seen it in movies or something. It’s a very popular trope.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Still don’t get it.”
Robert leaned back against the counter, eyes unfocusing slightly as Beef ate noisily. “Look… that time at the Bullseye, Rayo was saying shit to Chad. Stuff about being hard to love and whatever.” His jaw tightened just a fraction. “I don’t know. I just acted on instinct.”
Invisigal hummed thoughtfully. “Do you like him?”
Robert scoffed. “I cut his fingers off and broke his tooth.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He exhaled slowly. “He’s… nice. Once you get to know him. In his intense, derogatory, borderline-unhinged way.”
A pause.
“But?”
“But I don’t like him like that,” Robert said, firm but honest. “He’s my friend. Some idiot was being a jerk to him, so I stepped in.” He shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “I’d have done the same for any of you.”
“Right,” Courtney said, clearly unconvinced—but she let it go. “You know, I think Victor had an aneurysm when he saw you two dancing all cute that time.”
Robert blinked. “Really?”
“Yep. Thought he was hallucinating or OD’ing or something.”
Robert laughed, the sound warm and unguarded as Beef’s tail thumped happily against the floor.
…
Robert shoved the bar back onto the rack with a sharp huff, arms trembling as he locked it into place. He let his head fall back against the bench for a second, eyes squeezed shut, lungs burning.
When he opened them—
Chad was standing over him.
Robert startled internally, heart kicking hard against his ribs.
Flambae was saying something, his mouth moving fast, brows pulled low in irritation, but Robert couldn’t hear a damn thing over the music blasting in his ears. He pulled one earbud free. “What?”
“The fuck are you even listening to? It's loud as fuck” Chad snapped. He didn’t wait for permission—just snatched the remaining earbud straight out of Robert’s hand and jammed it into his own ear.
Instant regret crossed his face.
“The fuck is that?” Chad recoiled like he’d been personally offended.
“Uh,” Robert said, breathless, “music?”
“No, that’s noise,” Chad muttered, shaking his head. Then—annoyingly he paused, actually listening. His scowl softened into concentration, then his cheeks colored faintly before he ripped the earbud out and shoved it back at Robert. “Jesus Christ. I can’t believe you listen to that willingly.”
Robert grinned. “What? Got a mental image?”
“Shut the fuck up.” Chad crossed his arms flustered. “I thought I told you you need a spot.”
“I’m literally just doing the bar,” Robert waved a hand toward the rack. “There’s no extra weight. I’m not that weak.”
Chad puffed, clearly unconvinced. “Fine. But when you break your neck, don’t come crying to me.”
“If I need help, I’ll call you,” Robert said softly, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Deal?”
“Fucking whatever,” Chad muttered, already turning away toward the power rack.
Time slipped by in the quiet of the nearly empty gym. No chatter. No music besides Robert’s earbuds. Just the scrape of metal, controlled exhales, the rhythmic thud of effort against rubber flooring.
Robert had swapped the bar for dumbbells, settling into flys. His arms shook as he lowered them, chest screaming, muscles burning hot beneath his skin. He clenched his jaw and pushed through, focused, grounded.
Then something heavy dropped.
Not the clean clang of a controlled set. This was wrong.
Robert felt it before he heard it—a shock through the floor. He let the dumbbells fall and yanked his earbuds out, spinning around.
Chad was on the ground.
Fire licked along his hands and forearms, unstable and angry. Standing over him-
Rayo.
Grinning.
Robert crossed the gym in seconds. “What happened?” He dropped into a crouch beside Chad, scanning him instinctively, hands hovering, ready to grab, stabilize, anything.
“Oh,” Rayo said lightly, hopping under the bar. “Didn’t see your girlfriend here.”
He lifted the bar like it was nothing and started shoulder presses—two hundred kilos moving with sickening ease. Chad usually reserved that weight for squats.
“Shut up,” Chad muttered, pushing himself upright.
“Don’t take it personally, flamita,” Eduardo chuckled. “I barely touched you.”
“Did he push you?” Robert asked sharply, eyes locked on Chad.
“I barely touched him,” Rayo shrugged, racking the bar and leaning over it with crossed arms. “Didn’t know he was so weak.”
Something inside Robert snapped tight.
“I’m going to report you,” he said, voice low and lethal.
“For what?” Rayo shrugged, flashing that shit-eating grin. “I didn’t hurt him. He was just in the way.”
“Listen here, you fucking-”
“Robert.” Chad grabbed his arm.
Robert whipped toward him. “What?”
Rayo laughed behind them.
Chad tightened his grip, then quietly interlaced their fingers.
“Please.”
Robert short-circuited.
Every coherent thought evaporated. He nodded dumbly, letting Chad pull him away, even as he shot Rayo one last murderous glare over his shoulder.
…
Back at the lockers, Chad finally let go.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered. “I was fine.”
“Didn’t look like it,” Robert crossed his arms. “I don’t get it. Why do you let him treat you like that?”
“He doesn’t treat me like anything.”
“Bullshit,” Robert snapped. “He’s always talking shit. Bullying you. What’s his deal?”
Chad exhaled hard. “I broke up with him.”
Robert blinked. “Really?” He frowned. “So that’s why he’s acting like a raging asshole? Is he fucking five?”
“I wasn’t a great partner,” Chad said flatly. “I’m a shitty person. He put up with me for a long time.” He leaned against the lockers. “I broke it off because he deserved better.”
Robert stared at him. “Yeah,” he said slowly, stepping closer. “I don’t buy that.”
“What?”
“The way he talks to you? That’s not just resentment.” Robert leaned beside him, shoulder and head resting against the cold metal. “It’s muscle memory. I’m willing to bet he always treated you like garbage.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Oh, so now you’re defending him?” Robert frowned. “Chad—did he hurt you?”
“You think anyone can hurt me?” Chad snapped. “Don’t be a fucking idiot.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Chad shoved off the lockers. “I’m not some damsel in distress, and I don’t need your fucking help.”
He stormed toward the door, yanked it open, and slammed it behind him.
The sound echoed.
Robert rested his head back against the lockers and thumped it once in frustration.
“…Great.”
…
The moment Robert stepped into the break room, Chad stood up.
No warning. No hesitation. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he pushed it back, the sound cutting straight through Prism’s sentence. She stopped mid-word, blinking like someone had just pulled the plug on her brain. Chad didn’t look at anyone. Didn’t look at Robert. He just turned and walked out, shoulders tight, jaw set like he was bracing for impact.
Prism stared after him, mouth half-open. Then she looked at Robert, confusion written all over her face.
“…What?” she muttered.
Robert didn’t answer. He barely registered her sigh before she stood and hurried after Chad, the door swinging shut behind them.
Silence settled in the break room, thick and uncomfortable.
Robert exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, like that might keep his chest from tightening. Of course. He dragged a hand through his hair and made a beeline for the vending machine. The machine hummed softly as he stared at the rows of stale snacks behind the glass.
“Trouble in paradise?”
Rayo’s voice slid in beside him, smug and lazy. Robert didn’t even look over as the man leaned against the machine like he owned it, blocking half the keypad.
“Eat a dick,” Robert muttered, jabbing the numbers for a Twinkie harder than necessary.
“Whoa, easy there, boss,” Rayo chuckled. “Guess he finally fucked it up, huh? He’s a pain in the ass, isn’t he?” He crossed his arms, comfortable. Amused. Like he expected Robert to laugh with him, like this was some shared joke.
Heat crept up Robert’s spine, slow and dangerous.
“He’s a delight, actually.”
Rayo scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
The way he said it—dismissive, knowing, like Robert was lying to himself. Like they were on the same side. Like Rayo understood Chad better than Robert did.
Something inside Robert snapped tight.
He turned, fully facing him now. “Look,” he said evenly, too evenly, “I know you’re sore about the fact he’s with me now. But he’s my partner. So you’re going to stop.”
Rayo’s smile faltered just a hair.
Robert stepped closer, voice dropping, sharp as broken glass. “Before I break your fucking teeth and have you dropped from the program.”
For a second, Rayo just stared at him.
Then he whistled low. “Damn. Head that good, huh? Must’ve improved.” His eyes flicked over Robert’s face, mocking. “Careful, too much teeth, you know?”
Robert turned back to the vending machine and stared at his own distorted reflection in the glass. The hum of the machine. The fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. He laughed—soft, breathy, almost fond.
And then he punched him.
The impact cracked through the room. Pain exploded up Robert’s arm instantly, sharp and unforgiving, like he’d hit stone instead of bone. Rayo staggered back with a startled shout, slamming into the counter hard enough to rattle the coffee maker.
“¡¿Qué mierda?!”
“I told you,” Robert said, flexing his fingers as pain bloomed across his knuckles, “to stop talking about my boyfriend.”
Rayo straightened slowly electricity crackled around his hands, blue-white arcs snapping against the air. His eyes lit up, glowing blue, dangerous.
“Oh,” he growled, power surging. “You’re dead.”
Robert set his feet, shoulders squaring on instinct. His jaw tightened as he bit the inside of his cheek.
Yeah. I’m getting fried.
“What’s going on here?”
The voice cut through the tension like ice water.
Blonde Blazer stood in the doorway, sharp and composed, Waterboy hovering behind her, already looking like he wanted to disappear.
“S-sorry, sir-Rob! Rob”
Robert let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and nodded at him gratefully. Herm gave him a small, apologetic smile in return.
“Nothing,” Rayo said quickly, electricity snapping out as fast as it had come. “Just a misunderstanding.”
“Yeah,” Robert said flatly, crossing his arms. “A misunderstanding. I think we cleared it up.”
Mandy’s gaze shifted to Rayo, one eyebrow lifting.
“…Yeah. Everything’s good,” Rayo said through clenched teeth, shooting Robert a look that promised future violence before turning to leave.
“Rayo.”
He froze.
Mandy’s tone was calm. Controlled. Dangerous. “Do I need to remind you of our conversation the other day?”
His spine straightened immediately. “No, ma’am.”
“Good. Shift’s about to start. Get to your station.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He brushed past Waterboy on his way out, shoulder-checking him hard. Robert took a step forward, anger flaring hot in his chest but Herm shook his head gently and smiled, grounding him before he could do something worse.
Mandy turned back to Robert. “What happened?”
“He was talking shit about Flambae,” Robert said, exhaling.
“Oh.” She nodded once. “Herm, could you uh- give us a moment?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
Once they were alone, Mandy folded her hands. “Look, I understand we have… ongoing issues with reporting things to HR.”
“He was being an asshole!”
“I’m not talking about Rayo.”
Robert blinked. “…Huh?”
“I was informed that you and Flambae are dating.”
“Wait-”
“First of all—congratulations!” She laughed warmly. “It was about time.”
“What?”
“But even though coworker relationships are permitted,” she continued cheerfully, “you still need to notify HR.”
“BB, I think we need to talk-”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” she waved him off. “I know you didn’t mean that kiss.” She grinned. “Besides, I’m seeing someone. Not official yet, but it has potential.”
“Uh-that’s great, Mandy, but-”
“Oh, look at the time!” She clapped her hands. “You need to get back. Just stop by HR after your shift, okay? Good luck!”
And then she was gone.
Robert stood there, staring at the door.
He dragged a hand down his face and groaned into his palm.
“…Damn it.”
“Damn, dude,” Invisigal said, suddenly appearing at his side. “That went well.”
“Fuck!” Robert jumped. “Stop doing that.”
She just grinned.
…
R: hey we nd 2 tlk
Read 18:45 p.m
Robert waited.
The glow of his phone cast soft light over the ceiling as he lay sprawled on his worn-out couch, one arm draped over his eyes. The apartment was quiet—too quiet—and the longer the silence stretched, the more it gnawed at him.
No response.
He sighed and typed again.
R: im srs
Read 18:46 p.m
Writing…
F: The fuck you want.
Robert smiled at Flambae’s response, phone hovering just above his face.
R: gd aftn 2 u 2
F: Are you twelve?
Robert grinned as he typed back.
R: y u txt like an old man
R: anyways, we nd 2 tlk
F: We are talking.
A beat passed.
R: irl
Robert imagined Chad’s expression on the other end—the scowl.
F: The fuck does that mean?
R: in real life u geezer
F: Fuck you.
F: Why?
Robert’s smile faded.
R: bb kno abt us
The typing bubble appeared.
F: What about us?
R: bffr
F: Talk like a person, please.
Robert chuckled.
R: doesnt alice txt like this?
F: She types like a human being with me.
R: aw cute
F: I'm blocking you.
R: wait bb told me we need to talk with hr
Read 18:55 p.m
Writing…
Robert sat up slightly, phone no longer resting comfortably above his face.
F: Why?
R: she got word of us “dating”
Robert stared at the wall rubbing his eyes.
F: Fucking fantastic.
F: Just tell her we broke up or something.
Robert frowned.
R: well thatll complicate things
Read 18:58 p.m
The reply was immediate.
F: Why?
Robert hesitated.
R: i kinda defended you honor earlier
F: My honor? What the fuck are you talking about?
Here it comes.
R: well rayo was talking shit about you again
R: so i kinda you know
Robert winced.
R: clocked him in the face
He could practically hear Chad groan.
F: Fucking Christ, Robert.
R: it was a reflex
F: I told you I don't need your fucking help.
Robert’s jaw tightened.
R: so i should just let him talk shit?
F: Yes, I don't care about what he has to say.
R: you do tho
Read 19:01 p.m
Robert stared at the message longer than he meant to.
R: look sorry k? it wasnt like a special reaction, if he had said that about any of you guys i most likely wouldve done the same thing
Read 19:02 p.m
A pause.
Writing…
F: What did he say?
R: im not telling you
F: Whatever.
F: So what? That still doesn’t mean we need to keep on pretending.
Robert exhaled slowly.
R: well
The dots stalled.
R: i kinda just want to keep pissing him off
R: hes a dick
F: That he is.
F: Fine, let's just talk tomorrow with Blonde Blazer and let her know about the whole deal.
R: alright
Read 19:04 p.m
Silence crept back in.
R: what are you doing?
Read 19:04 p.m
Robert bit his lip staring at the screen.
Writing…
F: Why?
R: just asking
A beat.
R: wanna go out?
F: Right now?
R: yeah, im bored and its early still
Read 19:08 p.m
Robert’s thumb hovered.
F: Where?
R: movie night, my place?
R: ill buy whatever you want
Read 19:09 p.m
Writing…
F: Be there in twenty.
…
Flambae, instead of knocking like a decent human being, landed on Robert’s balcony and slid the glass door open like he owned the place—nearly scaring Robert out of his skin.
“What the fuck—” Robert jerked upright on the couch. “Ever heard of knocking?”
Chad stepped inside like this was the most natural entrance in the world. “Why is your balcony open?” he asked, already toeing off his shoes and leaving them neatly by the window. “You know there are some motherfuckers who could get up here.”
“Like I have shit worth stealing,” Robert scoffed, pushing himself up just as he noticed the grocery bag hanging from Chad’s hand. He squinted at it, then reached out and snatched it away. “The fuck is this?”
“Food?” Chad said, like that should’ve been obvious. He shrugged and took the bag back. “Tell me you at least own a pan.”
“Uh. Yeah,” Robert said after a beat. “Top cabinet.”
Chad nodded and made himself at home, walking straight into the kitchen like he’d been there a hundred times. He dropped the bag on the counter and opened cabinets without hesitation. Robert followed, still trying to process the sight in front of him.
Chad wasn’t in his hero suit, just sweats and a hoodie, soft fabric clinging to a body usually wrapped in fireproof suit. His hair was loose, falling into his face in a way Robert had never seen before, well there was that one time... he shook his head.
The contrast was… unsettling.
“I thought I was buying,” Robert said weakly.
“There’s nothing good near you,” Chad replied, pulling out a pan and turning with a smug grin. “Besides—” he lifted it slightly like a trophy, “you get to taste my fabulous cuisine and eat real food for once.”
Robert just stared at him.
This has to be a dream, he thought distantly. He’d probably passed out on the couch, or hit his head earlier. Any second now he’d wake up.
“Where’s the fatball?” Chad asked suddenly.
“Huh?”
“Your dog.”
“Oh.” Robert rubbed his jaw. “Chase kidnapped him for the day.”
Chad nodded and went back to unloading the groceries—then froze.
He stared at the lamp plugged into the corner.
“You kept it?”
Robert glanced over. “Uh, yeah. I kept all of them.” He shrugged. “I don’t have that many outlets, but I moved them around.”
Chad didn’t say anything for a moment. He just looked at the lamp—the one he’d given Robert like it surprised him it was still there.
“…You know how to cook?” Chad asked finally.
“I know how to make spaghetti?”
Chad huffed. “Forget it. Just sit your flat ass over there.”
Robert shot him a glare but complied, collapsing back onto the couch. Truth be told, he barely knew how his stove worked anyway.
Time blurred.
Robert dozed sitting upright, arms crossed, drifting in and out of consciousness to the sounds of clinking pans and the low hum of Chad’s voice. It was strange—how normal it all felt. Too normal.
This was partner behavior. Domestic shit. The kind of thing you did with someone you were actually dating.
Not with your coworker.
Not with the guy whose fingers you’d cut off.
Not with the man whose tooth you’d broken.
Not with the person who’d tried to torch you when he found out who you really were.
Not with the asshole who belittled you, cursed you out, and punched you at least once a week for three straight months.
Robert’s brow furrowed.
Something felt wrong.
He’d overstepped. He knew that. Jumping in, defending Chad—defending Flambae like that had consequences. Mandy thought they were dating for real. Chase kept asking questions. And Rayo—Rayo had only gotten worse, lashing out harder every time he saw them together.
But Robert had been so fucking angry.
Angry that someone with that much confidence could be worn down. Angry that some piece of shit had power over someone Robert thought was unshakable.
He startled when Chad dropped onto the couch beside him, shoving a plate against his chest.
“So,” Chad said, casual. “What movie are we watching?”
Robert blinked, fumbling to grab the plate. “What?”
“The movie,” Chad repeated. “The whole fucking reason I flew to the ass end of town.”
Robert stared at him. Chad frowned.
“…You okay? Did your only neuron finally give up?” He poked Robert’s forehead.
Robert slapped his hand away. “No, you just took forever. I was falling asleep.”
“Fuck you,” Chad groaned, leaning back. “I’m never cooking for you again. Ever. Just put on a damn movie.”
Robert chuckled and stood, heading toward the computer and projector Royd had left behind and never bothered reclaiming. At least it saved his eyes—watching something on a big screen instead of his phone during insomnia-fueled nights.
“What do you want to watch?” he asked.
“Whatever, Robbo. Just put something.”
Robert thought for a second, then clicked on an old 80s action movie. Couldn’t go wrong with that.
The movie started with explosions loud enough to shake the walls, some guy shouting orders that didn’t matter. Robert barely registered it as he ate, humming in delight at the taste of whatever Chad had cooked.
They ate in silence, the explosions and shouting filling the quiet.
Chad sprawled out beside him once he finished, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, legs stretched long like he owned the space. At first there was a careful gap between them—intentional, polite, strained.
Chad adjusted, sliding lower, his shoulder brushing Robert’s arm.
It was barely anything. An accident. Still, Robert stiffened.
“Relax,” Chad muttered, eyes still on the screen. “I’m not biting.”
“You say that like you haven’t,” Robert replied.
Chad snorted. “Fair.”
A few minutes passed. The movie droned on. Guns. Cars. A synth-heavy soundtrack that felt too loud in the quiet room.
Robert shifted, trying to get comfortable—and his elbow knocked into Chad’s side.
“Shit—sorry.”
Chad glanced at him. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Robert hesitated, then leaned back again.
This time, Chad didn’t move away. Instead, he shifted closer, making their thighs brush.
Robert’s breath caught, subtle but immediate. He stared straight ahead, hyperaware of every inch of space—or lack thereof. Chad smelled like soap and something warmer beneath it, like smoke that had faded but never fully left.
Neither of them said anything.
Chad’s arm, still draped along the back of the couch, slipped lower. Not deliberately. Just gravity. His knuckles brushed the back of Robert’s shoulder.
Both of them froze.
Chad cleared his throat. “You’re… uh. In the way.”
Robert scoffed. “How am I in the way? I'm just sitting here”
“Well you are,” he grinned.
“I'll move, jerk, damn”
“Don’t.” Chad said it too fast, then winced. “I mean—if you move I’ll have to move and this couch's already too small.”
Robert hesitated, then stayed where he was.
Chad shifted again, his shoulder pressing lightly into Robert’s. The contact was warm. Solid. Real. Robert felt it all the way down his spine.
“This movie sucks,” Chad muttered.
“You picked it.”
“I picked nothing. You picked it.”
“Then stop watching.”
Chad didn’t. His gaze stayed on the screen, jaw tight. His fingers curled slightly, brushing the fabric of Robert’s sleeve.
Another accidental touch.
Neither of them pulled away.
Robert felt stupid for noticing—stupider for wanting to lean in just a fraction more. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. They were coworkers. Enemies just months ago. Whatever mess this was.
Not this.
“You’re tense,” Chad said quietly.
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious.” Chad glanced at him now. “You’re like a coiled spring.”
Robert exhaled slowly. “You’re literally pressed against me.”
Chad paused. Then very carefully—he leaned his head back, resting it against the couch… just barely touching Robert’s temple.
“Well,” he said, softer now, “you didn’t move.”
Robert’s heart hammered.
He should’ve pulled away.
Instead, after a moment, he let his head tilt—just enough to rest against Chad’s.
They both went very still.
The movie kept playing. Explosions. Dialogue neither of them heard.
“This is weird,” Robert murmured.
“Yeah,” Chad agreed. “It is.”
Neither of them moved.
Chad’s fingers twitched once, then settled against Robert’s sleeve, not quite holding on—but close enough that it felt intentional.
Awkward. Quiet. Warm.