Work Text:
“Flambae, don’t you fucking dare-” Robert recoiled as he approached. “I’ll bite off your other fingers!” The threat was as extreme as it was empty. Robert knew he was overreacting, but when it came to this, his composure crumbled.
Of course, his vehemence only fanned the flames. Flambae’s eyes sharpened from mischievous to mean.
Normally, Flambae would’ve stopped to snark, which might’ve given Robert a chance to escape. Flambae, however, realized this, leading him to pounce right then and there. Robert had been circling the barbell rack in an attempt to maintain distance, but Flambae was fast when he was focused, and within seconds, Robert was pinned.
“Definitely an HR violation,” Robert huffed from the gym floor. One final, flimsy observation before Flambae surely killed him.
“What would you even say?” The ex-villain snickered as he leaned down, right hand on Robert’s wrists. “My deviously sexy coworker hunted me down because I’m a ticklish little bitch?”
The word bitch from Flambae’s mouth had already been wrung of all meaning. The sexy remark, too, was unremarkable given Flambae’s… everything. That left little room for doubt as to the cause of Robert’s blush. Flambae seized on it like a predator.
“Let’s see just how ticklish you really are.”
— LAST WEEK —
One poke was all it’d taken. One well-aimed jab at his gut, lower than Robert had expected. If only Flambae had made it hurt, Robert could’ve moved on with a quick wince. Instead, he’d startled with a gasp, immediately piquing the other’s interest.
“What was that?”
“Just a bruise,” Robert answered immediately. But Flambae must’ve caught the lie in his voice, stepping closer, unconvinced.
“Why so nervous?” His gaze was intent. “Hiding something again, Bob-Bob? I thought you were done keeping secrets from us.”
“And I think you’ve gotten paranoid.”
Nonchalantly, Robert bent down to retrieve his twinkies from the vending machine. Then, as if the snack cakes could shield him, he held them very subtly in front of his stomach. Flambae’s eyes flicked from the twinkies back to Robert, amused by the frankly pitiful defense. To Robert’s relief, though, he seemed to let it go, redirecting his attention towards the fridge.
“Fine, be like that,” Flambae said as he reached for the tupperware emblazoned with his name. “But this isn’t over, Robert Robertson.”
The tongue-in-cheek delivery didn’t undercut the menace.
—
For once, Flambae managed to be patient, allowing Robert to work himself up. The dispatcher instinctively stiffened whenever Flambae stepped too close. Ironically, Robert seemed more on edge now than he’d ever been about the threat of burns, and though Flambae’s lingering hatred was more act than fact, how could he not relish in the power?
Of course, a few Z-Teamers noticed. Coupé observed, while Malevola and Prism bet. The latter would’ve interrogated Flambae personally, had it not meant instant disqualification. Flambae himself acted as if nothing was amiss, which unbalanced Robert more than anything. Robert could almost believe he’d forgotten, if it weren’t for his persistent smirk.
It was a wordless taunt, and Robert should’ve ignored it… yet his nerves kept reacting before his mind. It was ridiculous. He was a seasoned hero who’d already kicked Flambae’s ass. He handled pain like an everyday nuisance. He’d literally been tortured that same year.
Tickling, though?
He had no tolerance.
Flambae was going to destroy him.
———
“Not so tough without the armor and attitude, are you?“ Flambae’s hand roamed beneath Robert’s gym hoodie. "What, no witty comeback? Don’t leave me hanging, Robbo. How is Mecha Man going to win this time?”
The questions were all mocking, of course, since Robert clearly couldn’t answer. He could barely breathe with how hard he was giggling, while Flambae was only just getting started. His left hand skittered across Robert’s bare belly, nimble like an evil, tickly spider. Robert yearned to curl up like a shrimp, but there was no breaking the super’s grip.
Flambae drilled under Robert’s ribcage next, earning a delightfully embarrassing squeal. “Oh? Maybe it’s time for a rebrand. Have you ever considered Mecha Mouse?”
Normally, Robert would’ve sighed, but Flambae left him no choice but to laugh. With just one hand, he took Robert apart, clawing at his ribs, scratching under each arm. Robert jolted extra violently when Flambae suddenly squeezed his hip. Amidst all the writhing, his pants had managed to slip down lower on one side.
“Shit! Nonono- DoHOHON’T!” Robert cackled as Flambae massaged the spot with his thumb. Just when he thought Flambae might get bold, though, the superhero managed to surprise him.
“Do you giggle your way through sex, too?” Flambae mused, unfiltered as always. “How is anyone supposed to hold onto you, if your hips make you wiggle like a worm?” While he said this, Flambae casually pulled Robert’s pants all the way back up. It was an oddly considerate gesture for someone actively humiliating him.
The mercy didn’t last, however, as Flambae returned to Robert’s stomach. By then, he’d explored enough to know it was the most ticklish part of Robert’s torso. “Remember when I said I’d punch you once a month, until you weren’t such a bitch to me? Even better idea,” Flambae declared. “I’ll just do this when my hatred builds up.”
With that, he hiked Robert’s hoodie up, then swooped down to deal the killing blow. Robert screeched, arching and bucking, as a raspberry shot vibrations through his belly. Flambae’s facial hair made it even worse, scrubbing relentlessly at his skin.
And then Flambae blew another, and another, and another, until finally-
“FLA- I CAHAH- I CAHAHAN’T-! PLEASE!”
Robert gasped for air as Flambae pulled back, nerves still trembling with ticklish aftershocks. He could tell Flambae was evaluating him… and probably drinking in his embarrassment.
“Aww, too much tickling for your poor, Normie body? You look ready to burst into flames.” Flambae touched his hand to Robert’s burning cheek, warmer than his own heightened temperature. “You’re not crying for real, are you?” he asked, uncertain as he caught a rolling tear.
“Just mourning my dignity,” Robert replied, still winded, but more himself. He was surprised to see Flambae relax, as if he’d been genuinely concerned. He was even more surprised when Flambae scooped him up, princess-carrying him towards the locker room.
“Wh- Flambae- Wait, hold on!”
Flambae stopped where he stood, but notably did not put Robert back down.
“What? Were you still planning to use the gym? That would be idiotic,” he retorted. “We need you conscious for today’s shifts. Besides, you just got a full-body workout. You’re welcome, by the way,” Flambae added just to make Robert pout.
“I can still walk myself to the lockers.”
Flambae considered the light weight in his arms.
“Hm… Nah.” He shrugged as Robert sputtered, resuming his stride out of the gym. Fortunately for Robert, no one else was around that morning to witness his plight. Privately, Flambae was pleased when Robert didn’t fight him further.
Meanwhile, Robert would never admit it… but the moment was almost nice.