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At a time like this, in such a different time, Robert would be at home. He would be exhausted after days of fighting off villains and carrying the Mecha Man legacy. He would cuddle Beef and remind himself what he's fighting for for a time. Then he'd drink a beer and pass out until the early morning as it all repeats.
That was a time before now. Before anything.
These days, however, have changed drastically. Instead of drinking alone at his shithole apartment, he was drinking with a bunch of ex-villains he had started to call family and started to see them as such. What a fantastic year difference he's made. He was never the best at relationships, whether or not they were familial, platonic, or romantic. He stopped talking to Chase for over fifteen years after he adopted the Mecha Man title. He's had a few girlfriends and hook ups here and there, but none ever lasted. None ever should.
At least that's what he used to think. Before he nearly died and was sent to be a dispatcher to a bunch of assholes that were called “The Z-Team.” Well, most of them are assholes. Waterboy is nice, as is Phenomaman. The others have improved on their attitudes, leastwise. But they were his assholes, and they will always be close to his heart.
Which led to tonight. Today's job went surprisingly well, because Robert went with them to deal with a threat by the school and ended up nearly getting a key to the city. Nearly, because the mayor wasn't going to give a group of ex-villains anything that could lead to the destruction of one of the biggest and most overpopulated cities in Los Angeles. They only received recognition for the Phoenix Program and called it a day.
So, when the idea of going to a fancy club to celebrate caught the attention of the others, they were immediately on board. And of course, how can Robert say no to his bundle of idiots? Right after work had ended for the day, they headed to the club and started their night with drinks that would have killed Robert’s liver a few years back.
Everything was fine. Everything was great.
Up until a few weeks ago when a certain someone started ignoring him.
Up until a few days ago, that led to him having a realization that made him want to call out of work for the rest of the year.
Up until he got kicked out of the bar after the bartender spotted him and a certain asshole making out on the floor of the five-star club.
____
“You’re going to play what now?” Robert lifts his drink from the bar counter, his tired eyes staying on the humanoid bat as he takes a small sip. “Spin the bottle? What are we? In highschool?”
Sonar holds up the empty bottle with a smirk, his ears twitching at the sound of the music blaring overhead. “Come on, Robbie. You can't tell me you don't miss those days.”
“I never had those days.” Robert says, a small grin creeping up on the corner of his lips. “Too busy fighting villains and monsters to finish highschool.”
“Well, that gives me more of a reason to invite you to our fun little game, doesn't it?” Sonar giggles, clearly already drunk and probably high as well. “It's only a stupid game, no one is going home with anybody. Unless, you know, they want a piece of good ol’ Victor.”
“Oh, God.” Robert covers the side of his face, trying to hold back his laughter. “Please never say it like that again.”
Sonar laughs at him and roughly elbows him (much to Robert’s dismay and the fact he was still hurting from the fight from earlier). “Well, you innie or outie?”
“Jesus. Fine, sure.” Robert chugs down the last of his beer. “I'm tipsy and ready to have some fun. As they would call me… the rizzler.”
Sonar gently puts his furless hand on Robert's shoulder. “Please don't ever say that again.”
Sonar leads the dispatcher to the table, or for better understanding, the booth that looks like an extremely fancy round table. It was a big table too. Apparently, Prism had gotten reservations right after the group had decided they were going to drink that night. Being a popular idol helped her get the biggest space in the club. Lucky him, for knowing someone so great and very open about her influence.
“Look who it is! Roberto came to join the party!” Prism cheers when she sees the two men walking over. “You ready to give us a few smooches, bitch?”
“Don't flatter yourself.” Robert smiles, looking at everyone that was participating. “I know I'm technically your teammate now, but I'm also still your dispatcher. The most I’d be giving is a smooch on the cheek to keep it strictly professional.”
“Pfft, lame.” Malevola snickers, scooting over so Sonar has room to sit. “Just kidding, do whatever makes you comfortable. But just to let you know, we'll be taking shots for everytime we decide not to kiss someone.”
Oh, it's that type of game. He shoots a glare at the half-bat, who innocently looks up at him with wide, pupil-less eyes. He at least could have warned him of that before agreeing to enter the game. Well, he was here now. Robert takes a seat next to Coupé, who just gives him a small wave. He looks around the table to look upon the party of misfits he loves so dearly.
Across from him and Coupé are Sonar and Malevola. Next to Malevola is Punch Up, then Invisigal, then Prism, rounding it all the way to Waterboy (who looked like a nervous wreck, as always). Which came full circle back to him and Coupé. He blinks, realizing they were missing two, and does a quick retake of everyone around him.
“Where's Flambae and Golem?” Robert asks, his eyes scanning around the large crowd of people in search of the two heroes. The club was actually big enough for the mud giant to come in and drink, as he was now twenty-one (on paper, at least). So even though there were other giant beings in the club, Golem would still stick out pretty decently.
“Golem said he's good.” Invisigal speaks up, popping out the lollipop she had in her mouth. “Says he feels bad he can't really give anyone kisses. Flambae just doesn't want to join. Guess we're not hot enough for him.”
“Really?” Robert arches a brow, a familiar level of disappointment washing over him. “This seems like his kind of thing.”
It probably would have–if it didn't feel like Flambae had been avoiding him lately.
“Don't worry about him; he's tired for once.” Prism laughs, waving the man off, but there was a certain spark in her eye that had a bit of mischief in it. “But who knows? He could be joining later.”
Hm. Whatever. Robert brings his focus back to the game, barely listening as Prism gives out the rules. Spin the bottle, it lands on someone, you kiss them. You refuse to kiss someone, you do a shot of whatever alcohol Visi had brought over, and hope you don't throw up. Simple rules, simple game.
Robert looked to his right out of habit. He finally spotted Golem and Flambae across the room, chatting among themselves. The giant was “drinking” away at the two glasses Flambae had brought over for him. The flame hero was standing on the left of him, arms crossed over his chest, his strong face lining well with the club lights tonight. For a split second, Robert thought he looked good. Handsome, even.
Only for a second, because he was convinced he was just tipsy. And mad at the guy who's been tiptoeing away from him in the office for weeks, so he would never say he thought Flambae was handsome ironically.
Flambae happened to look over right as the game started. His eyes first spotted the bottle, then one of his team members, then finally they landed on Robert.
The dispatcher feels his brain splat in utter confusion when Flambae's face shifts into something unreadable, but Robert knew he had seen it somewhere before.
It was hard to tell from a distance, but Flambae’s expression could only be described as angry.
____
Robert had started pulling out his pack of cigarettes when he heard the door not too far from his right open and a pad of footsteps come into earshot. There was a pause of the door closing before the footsteps drew near, and soon somebody taller and more muscular than he was was resting on the wall beside him. Robert paid no mind, only getting out his lighter once the cancerous stick was held only by his lips. He flicks the small orange piece a few times, only getting sparks as a response. He groans in annoyance, trying again, but still only getting sparks of fire.
“Come on.” He grumbles, about to give up. By the miracle of sheer awkwardness and lingering thoughts, a small fire was held out to him on a thumb, silently offered to him. Robert stares at it for a second, watching the red and yellow glow of the warmth in front of him.
“I'm not going to hold it all fucking night.” The man next to him gruffs. “Light it or keep it.”
Robert chuckles lightly, dragging his cigarette from his mouth and holding it out in front of the flame, letting it burn for only a moment before pulling it away, ultimately getting it lit. The fire disappears once Robert brings it back to his lips and takes a long, deep inhale.
“Quite a night, huh?” Robert says playfully, blowing out the smoke just as quickly as he inhaled it. He takes a risk and looks to his left and up at Flambae, who only stared ahead at the street lights in front of them.
His hair was still a mess from Robert's hands running through it, his lip slightly busted from where Robert had bitten down. Robert knew it wasn't the alcohol anymore when he was thinking how good he looked in this state.
“Shut the fuck up.” Flambae mutters, but a faint blush spreads around his cheeks and nose. “But yeah, quite a night, I would say. You gave the others a free show of your flat ass.”
“Me?” Robert's smile disappears, replaced with a frown. “You were the one who started talking shit. You didn't stop me, either.”
“I let you feel strong just this once because I didn't want to hurt your little bitchy feelings.” Flambae scoffs, fighting back a very obvious smile. “I easily could have shoved you off.”
Robert's smile returns. “But you didn't. Be honest, you like it when guys are on top of you, huh?”
“I will burn your fucking pack.”
Robert drags another round. “Promise, or no?”
Flambae glances at him, his orange eyes blazing in the dark. “What? You got another one or something? How fast are you trying to kill your lungs?”
“I'm not that much of a smoker. Relax.”
“Mhm, that's cute. You can be cute, Bob Bob.”
Now he's starting to think Flambae was replaced and they just haven't figured it out yet.
“So, instead of talking about your feelings like an actual adult, you had me thinking you still wanted to kill me for weeks on end because…?” Robert’s voice trailed slowly, leaning forward.
Flambae’s shoulders rose, and his frown got larger. “Shut up. I thought you'd be smart enough to figure it out.”
“Yes, because that's my secret power.” Robert says sarcastically. “I can read minds and people's emotions, and I know everything you're thinking and feeling at all times.”
Flambae scratches the side of his neck, a rare sight of vulnerability displaced for Robert and only Robert.
“Okay, it's my bad on my part. I'm sorry.”
Robert blinks, feeling his own face heat up. “You know, that may be the hottest thing you have ever said to me.”
____
Robert watches as Malevola and Prism share a long, heated kiss, the influencer shoving her tongue in the demon lady's mouth as said demon lady cups her ass. Everyone at the table was cheering them on, Sonar being the loudest. Robert was more astonished than anything. This was only the second spin, right after Coupé and Malevola’s kiss, and compared to theirs, this was far rougher than he anticipated.
“Boom! That's how you do it, baby!” Prism beams as she pulls away, all teeth in her smile. “The next motherfucker that's going to kiss me will feel it!”
“I will definitely feel it tomorrow.” Malevola smirks, pressing two fingers to her black-blue lips. Robert feels a bit of regret and fear starting to creep up inside him but shoves it down. It doesn't have to be serious, and it definitely doesn't have to leave an impact or anything. Robert wasn't going to go all out anyway, so who did he need to impress?
Prism spins the bottle, and everyone watches quietly, the music blaring over them until it slowly comes to a stop directly onto the team's favorite teacher.
“Looks like you're up.” Visi smirks, crossing her feet on the table as everyone's eyes turn to Robert. “Still only giving cheek kisses, Robert?”
“Yeah.” He says, a sudden dryness in his throat. It felt like a pair of eyes was on him, but he ignored them.
“Don't worry, I can be nice.” Prism grins, leaning forward. She takes Robert's face in her hands and gives him exactly five big smooches all around his cheeks and chin before she pulls away. The others cheer her on, then cheer on Robert when he’s left sitting there regretting his life choices (though, admittedly, her lips and kisses were very soft and nice). He smiles awkwardly as he rubs his face, knowing her strong lipstick was going to stain if he didn't get it off right away.
“You're looking blue.” Visi chuckles, taking a quick photo of Robert's kiss-covered face. “Don't worry, we have napkins for when a certain someone starts puking every–”
A strong hand slams on the table in front of Robert. He looks up to see Flambae's eyes staring into his own, a forced smirk stretched on his face. Everyone fell silent, staring up at the fire hero. The only one who didn't seem surprised, and rather pretty happy with herself, was Prism, whose brown eyes ogled directly at her taller friend.
“You look like Wetboy when he's told to go fetch coffee for that CEO’s girlfriend.” Flambae sneers, eyes trailing his face to look at the lipstick kisses. “You might want to take a picture because I guarantee this’ll never happen again.”
“Already got it.” Visi holds up her phone. “Want the pic later?”
Flambae nods, never taking his blazing eyes off the scrawny man. “Did you fuckers just start playing?”
“Yep!” Punch Up is the one to answer. “Only got a few kisses in! You want in, lad?”
“I thought Flambae said–”
“Yeah, I'm fucking game. Move, bitch boy.”
Flambae knees Robert's thigh and pushes him a little. Robert’s nose wrinkles in disinterest, but he scoots over nonetheless, watching as the flamboyant hero sits down with a loud thump. He gives Robert a look, a shit-eating grin captivating his gaze. Robert really wanted to wipe that stupid fucking grin off his face, though he was left unaware of how.
“Okay, Robbie, you're next!” Sonar excitedly beats his hands on the table. “Spin the bottle, baby!”
Robert reaches up, feeling all eyes on him as his hand touches the bottle and gives it a good spin. He nervously watches as the glass moves in circles, the fast-paced bottle slowly coming to a stop and completely halting at the direction of Sonar.
“Oh, look at us, Robb-o!” Sonar beams, his fangs poking out of his smile. The dispatcher chuckles, standing up and leaning over the table to give the bat hybrid a quick kiss on the nose. He giggles, his ears flapping happily along with a cute rumble that leaves his throat.
“Oooh, he looks like a good kisser.” Prism teases, smirking ear to ear.
“A tender kiss from Mecha Man himself.” Sonar grins, leaning back in his seat with his hands behind his head. “And I was the first to get one! Let's go, baby!”
“Well– I’m sure– positive Robert was– is an amazing kisser! Like everyone else here!” Waterboy finally chimes in, a bright red blush decorating the entirety of his face and neck.
“Sadly, I wouldn't know. He didn't kiss my lips.” Sonar dramatically sighs, trailing his finger down his eye as if it were a fake tear.
“I'm starting to think you guys have thought about this.” Robert covers his face, slight embarrassment creeping up in his chest.
“Once or twice.” Visi jokes, smiling at Robert, which only made him even redder.
As Sonar sits forward and reaches for the bottle, Robert takes a quick glance at the hero beside him.
Flambae didn't have his usual cocky look on him. His eyes reflected his soul and personality, if Robert had to guess he had any left.
Scalding.
____
“Do you think your best friend planned this?” Robert asked as he took another drag of his cigarette. “You know, I sort of think she did.”
“She did.” Flambae answers as he flicks small flames between his fingertips. “No, like, she literally told me. She planned for this to happen.”
“So, I have two guesses.” Robert tilts his head up, his eyes meeting the dark sky. “First guess is unspeakable sexual tension or something that neither of us was aware of until tonight, and everybody else was sick and tired of it, so they took matters into their own hands.”
Then, his head turns, and he meets Flambae’s eyes again. “Or you actually do have a secret crush on me, so you've been pulling my hair and slapping crayons out of my hands to get me to notice. As well as avoiding me despite going on missions together. And never telling me. Despite pushing forty.”
A small scowl appears on the taller man's face, turning his head away so Robert couldn't see it. “I tell her one time, and she goes and makes it her life mission.”
“Oh?” Robert steps a little closer, trying to peek over his coworker’s broad shoulder. “Maybe she wants the best for you. Stop making out with gross British guys and get with a real man.”
That got a snort out of Flambae. “A real man wouldn't need a spotter.”
“Oh, my poor pigtails. What's next? You're going to throw my backpack across the room?”
Flambae turns back around, brows furrowed at the other hero. “What the hell are you even saying? You're just going ‘blah blah blah!’ and hoping I would understand your bullshit language. And you call me confusing.”
Robert raises his brow, as if Flambae were the crazy one. “You never heard of boys bullying girls in preschool because they had crushes on them?”
“No? That's stupid.”
“It is stupid. That's what I'm doing. I'm calling you stupid.”
Flambae's eyes glowed, a swirl of irritation dancing in his eyes, but Robert wasn't afraid.
If anything, he was flattered.
“How long?” He asks with a smug smile. Flambae's face changes, and he steps back, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.
“A while.”
“That doesn't tell me shit, jackass.” Robert rolls his eyes, finally dragging the short end of his cigarette against the wall and then flicking it somewhere on the ground. “How long? Before I revealed I was Mecha Man, or when I revealed myself as Mecha Man and you tried to burn me alive?”
Flambae's body stiffened at that. Despite his state being looser than usual, he caught it pretty quickly. Robert is fully aware that Flambae secretly regrets almost burning him a year ago, but it was probably something that he'd never admit. At least not now. Maybe in thirty years if he's lucky.
“Right after that stupid fucking Red Ring fiasco.” Flambae answers slowly, his fists clenching and unclenching. “At first I thought I just wanted to fuck your flat ass and be done with it all. Then you started talking to me more, then inviting me out to places and–”
“Basic decency got you to fall for me?” Robert teases, leaning against his side in the wall. It didn't surprise him; Visi had kind of done the same towards him until she fell out of feelings and they realized they were better off as friends. It happens.
He expected a witty remark from Flambae. Maybe even magically pull out a bottle of alcohol and just dump it all on his head. He kind of deserved it, to be fair.
“It was the apology.” Flambae lowers his head, his voice becoming rougher as he speaks. “You know, when your stupid little suit cut off my fingers and sent me to jail.”
Instantly Robert’s cold face melts, and he steps forward, huddling his arms over himself to keep warm. “Oh, yeah? Maybe that would do it for your ego. Unfortunately, I did mean it, and I still do. So, that's what got your heart racing over me?”
“Unfortunately.” Flambae bites. “It pisses me off. It pissed me off more when you went ahead and kissed everybody at the table.”
“It's part of the game, Chad. And I didn't even really kiss anyone.”
“Fuck off, Bob Bob. You still had your lips on other people.”
Robert grins. “Does this mean you're going to stop avoiding me?”
Flambae blinks. “What?”
“Have you not noticed?” He asks defensively. “You only talk to me when we're on the job, but even then you go quiet like some poor wet cat that got soaked in the rain. And everytime I try to talk to you in the breakroom, or anywhere in general, you avoid me like the plague. I was seriously starting to think you were planning to murder me, asshole.”
The temperature around the two men started to pick up. Robert knew it as Flambae being an embarrassed shit that can't own up to his feelings.
And for some reason, Robert found that cute. He has for a while now. Maybe he is desperate, like Visi says.
“My bad.” Was all the flame hero uttered out.
Robert looks Flambae up and down. He was still pretty sweaty, mean, and very attractive. Robert can't blame it on the alcohol anymore–he may or may not have thought about taking Flambae out to dinner a good couple of times. If only he didn't think his chances were lost when the idiot said he wasn't his type. Seems they both got delayed one way or another.
“Hey, so, I have an idea…”
____
The game had been going on for at least half an hour at this point. Everyone has nearly kissed everybody at some point or another. The funniest were definitely Sonar and Punch Up, with the smaller man actually taking more of the lead in the kiss than any of them had expected (except for Coupé, who was fully aware and didn't bat an eye).
The only one who still stuck out was Flambae. He only allowed Prism to kiss him, but it was quick and right on the forehead, an act of affection between friends. The rest? He took shots and wouldn't say much further. Robert could understand him passing on the women, given that he's gay and only likes men, but he didn't even spare a kiss to Waterboy, Sonar, or anyone.
The only reason Robert never experienced being passed by Flambae was because the bottle never landed on either of them when it was their turn. And for some reason, that was driving Robert crazy.
“O-o-oh! Well, I– thank you Alice– Prism for the kiss– kisses!” Waterboy exclaimed happily and nervously, his face beat red as layers of lipstick stains covered his soft face. The pop star smiled happily, blowing him a kiss.
“No need to thank me, babes.” She coos. “Now, go on and spin! Maybe you'll finally land on someone new!”
“Right! I'll just move– spin the bottle!”
Waterboy reached up and spun the empty glass. Robert silently watches as it spins for a moment until it reluctantly stops onto Coupé.
“You know, it's quite funny seeing you join a game of spin the bottle.” Flambae leans in close to Robert's ear, his voice almost like a threatening purr. “I bet this is the first time people are willing to kiss you.”
“Yeah, totally.” Robert ignores the warming presence nearing around him, watching as Waterboy fights up the courage to kiss the former assassin. “I never felt the nice lips of a woman against mine, so I take my anger out on you guys at work to make myself feel better.”
Flambae's lip trembles, and Robert is too tired to focus if it's due to his very familiar angry twitches…
Or something else. What could that be? Robert kind of doesn't care.
“Never seemed to notice, huh?”
Scratch that. He cares a lot.
“What's with you lately?” Robert finally gathered the courage to question him. For weeks, or months at this point, Flambae has sent insult after insult after Robert. He always did, always has. But it was more frequent–too common. Robert would have grown annoyed by it, and honestly, he has. What's Flambae’s saving grace, however, is the fact Robert swore they had some sort of endearment in them.
Don't be sad, Bob Bob. You suck, but you have me around to cheer you up.
You may be a hero, but you'll always be my shitty little dispatcher that can't function without a fucking thought.
You're so shit. I can show you how it's done.
Let me help you since you can't do it yourself.
Was Robert crazy? He might be a little crazy. He did suffer a lot of brain damage the last couple of years.
Maybe he would feel less crazy if Flambae acknowledged that he exists beyond hero work. Maybe then he wouldn't wonder why he's so bothered by it.
“I'm perfectly fine, Bobert.” Flambae glares, ignoring the flustered Waterboy from the other side. “What? We can't joke? We can't laugh? Mecha Man is still just a giant prick in my eyes; that fucking sucks for you, but I can laugh about it.”
“If I didn't know better, I'd think you were flirting with me.”
His face shifts. His brows arch. His jaw moves, and he gulps. “You aren't–”
“Your type, I know.” Robert deadpans. “Very original. Well, I don't know; maybe make that extra clear. Because with all due respect, I'm getting sick of waiting for Mr. Mouthy Can't-Make-Up-My-Mind asshat to actually do something or not.”
Before Flambae could actually snap back at Robert with something clever, or maybe pick up on what Robert was trying to say, Coupé tapped on the dispatcher's shoulder.
“The bottle landed on you.” She says, her eyes flicking between Robert and Flambae. “Am I interrupting something?”
The whole table followed with loud ooooooohs like a bunch of kindergartners. Robert glances up at Flambae again and smirks. Without another word, he turns his attention to the former assassin and leans in, gently pecking her on the corner of her mouth, the closest he had to a mouth-to-mouth kiss all night.
“Sorry about that.” He jokes, fighting back the urge to look at Flambae behind him. “Haven't taken any shots, but I'm still feeling the effects of liquor.”
The hero's bravery skyrocketed as he reached forward, grabbing the bottle once again as everyone set their eyes on him.
“Time for me to go next.” He happily singsonged, now looking back to make sure Flambae was watching. “Fun game tonight, yeah? Still trying to prove a point?”
“Uhh, what?” Punch Up blinks, watching as the skinny dispatcher spins the bottle and sits back, a drunken pride sitting on him.
“He’s being a little bitch, that's what.” Flambae grimaces, his hands clenching.
“Oh look, the asshole who can't hold a conversation with me without running off is trying to talk big shit.” Robert mocks, shooting daggers at the flaming hero next to him. “After weeks of silence and weird glares during office hours, mind you.”
“You ever think that maybe I'm just fucking irritated by you?” Flambae replies with a snark, his eyes glowing a brighter orange than usual.
“Or you think I'm adorable, and you're wrong about your type.”
The bottle is spinning furiously on the table.
“I know my type.”
“British guys, really? I thought I knew you knew better than that, Flambae.”
“Ooooh, you don't even know the half of it.”
Everyone's eyes are still on them as the bottle spins. Prism takes out her phone and starts recording.
“Admit it, you like it when I boss you around.” Robert's fists clench themselves, moving closer to Flambae, his eyes full of challenge. “It makes you look stupid.”
Flambae's hand on the booth squeezes, small sizzling escaping from the fabric. “Maybe admit you like it when I insult you first, you little bitchy freak.”
“Oh? Should I? What will you do if I say I like it? You gonna butter me up or what?”
The bottle starts to slow down.
“I’ll keep doing it until you get it through your thick skull.”
“Get what, exactly? Trying to tell me something? Use your fucking words.”
Robert is getting awfully close.
“Maybe I am. Maybe if you weren't so fucking dumb, you'd get it by now.”
“Or you can learn when to tell people your feelings. Therapy would be great for you, Flambae.”
The bottle tilts ever so slightly.
“I prefer to keep things under my own wraps, Bobert. Unlike you, I don't talk about how sad my life is, because it's not.”
“You should learn when to shut the fuck up.”
“Fucking make me then, bitch.”
Robert grabs the corners of Flambae's suit and smashes their lips together, practically throwing his body against his and knocking them off their seats. Flambae's hands find Robert's waist and hold him down against him, roughly kissing his coworker/boss back, already licking away at his lips. Robert lets go of the tacky outfit and trails his hands through Flambae's hair, his fingers stabbing and pushing through the dark streaks, but Flambae didn't even seem to notice. Their heated kiss continued as the group stared in silence, the bottle stopping directly onto Malevola, who was too busy watching her two teammates devour each other like animals to notice herself. Neither of the men cared about the game at this point, as Robert was too busy biting down on the other's lip.
“Ha! Good on them for finally figuring it out!” Sonar cheers as he holds up a shot glass. “You all owe me money. Pay up.”
____
“Fuck.” Flambae sighed against Robert's lips, his hands holding onto his hips, silently asking for more entry. Robert pulls him closer, as close as he can, inhaling Flambae's scent as much as he could.
“Fuck indeed.” Robert laughs against his rough lips. Flambae didn't care about that; he kissed him again, this time with more urgency. The shorter man groans and lightly taps his fingers on his shoulder, panting as Flambae finally pulls away.
They're staring at each other for a long time until Robert cuts the silence with a breathy laugh.
“So, you do like me?” He teases, much to Flambae's distaste for it. “After all that talk for what? A year? You could have literally asked me out to dinner, babe.”
Flambae pouts, looking away. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Seriously? What were you afraid of? That I didn't like you back?”
Flambae stands straight, looking down at Robert. “I hardly use my words to get what I want, alright? Do you know how many guys beg me each night to fuck me? I can rely on my looks–”
“And I do think you are very handsome, Chad.”
Oh. That got a deep blush out of him. It was pretty cute. Definitely cute.
Robert crosses his arms, angling his gaze to Flambae's. “Doesn’t change the fact you're still dumb.”
And the blush went away as quickly as it came.
“I still can't believe your name is Chad, by the way.”
“I'd rather not hear your attempt to pronounce my actual name.”
Flambae takes Robert's chin and, to his surprise, gently kisses him again. Robert uncrosses his arms and wraps them around him, closing his eyes, once again basking in the warmth.
“Why did we need to get drunk to confess?” Robert pulls away for a minute to ask that question. Flambae doesn't respond; his lips only find Robert's. By the grip of his hands and the pressure of his kiss, he must have been eager for this for a long time.
Again, he could have asked Robert out. It's not hard. He's a simple guy, right?
Flambae finally pulls away, his eyes soft. “So, what? Do I fucking win?”
“Win what?”
“A date?”
“Fucking– just ask me like a normal person!”
They both snicker, a sudden closeness found by the two of them. Just as Flambae leaned in, ready for more, the door opened and out came Sonar.
“Nice.” He says when he spots the two making out against the wall. “We're leaving soon for tacos. You two in, or are you going to eat something else? By something else, I mean–”
“Fuck off!” Flambae yells. Sonar just goes back in without another word. “If I have to see that freak’s face again, I'm burning his fucking stabler tomorrow.”
“Please don't.” Robert pouts. “Then I'd have to deal with it. If you're still mad about the kiss, it was only on the nose.”
“I'm aware.” Flambae scoffs, pulling Robert close. “I get all of this, anyway.”
“Me and my flat ass?”
“Do I need to fucking repeat myself?”
Robert's mouth crooks into a smile. “Nah, I heard you loud and clear. Let's get ourselves something to eat.”
Flambae’s teeth flash in a smile. Damn, maybe he should have gotten drunk sooner.