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“Morning, team. Let’s clear the channel, please.” Robert’s low voice rumbled through the general chaos of the team channel, as usual making absolutely no dent in the number of HR violations per minute. He bore the general din for a moment, and promptly gave up. “Kindly shut the fuck up.”
“Sounds like somebody did not have a good morning!” Punch Up crowed.
“What happened, Mr. Dispatcher? Get beat up good?” Alice ribbed.
Invisigal inhaled in preparation for what was certainly an HR violation, and Robert muted them all and put his head in his hands.
It was going to be one loooong shift.
Predictably, the team immediately went to bullying. Honestly, Robert couldn’t even figure out how their collective minds immediately went to the weirdest of explanations before assuming something basic that they witnessed personally.
“You were there the last time I was thrown through a wall. That’s the closest to a railing that I got.”
“Oh. True.”
“Hangover?” Golem suggested.
“No, it’s because I was in a bar fight and experienced several attempts on my life. Which you were there for. Do you guys just not form memories?”
The next few hours sharpened the migraine he’d woken up with, and the building ache along his spine. It came and went regularly, but being thrown around two days ago had definitely exacerbated it.
Robert kept the teamwide channel on mute for as much as he could, thanking the stars for the influx of simple, uncoordinated missions. He really didn’t have the mental acuity to handle time sensitive hacks or manage anything more than duos.
Coupé stopped by once, bringing him a cup of hot chocolate that tasted like comfort and whose heat licked down his throat like a healing spell. He rewarded her with a bank robbery assignment, and let his head drop down on the desk as pained grunts rang out of his headset.
“You okay, kid?” Chase reached over to check for a fever, and Robert halfheartedly pushed his hand away.
“Migraine. I’ll be fine.”
Chase wasn’t convinced. “Make sure you get some real food during break.”
Robert waved a dismissive hand, sending Flambae and Prism to assist in the demolition of an old hangar, and Golem to a debris choked road.
Just two more hours.
He could handle that. Right?
Robert genuinely could not be arsed to heat up his microwave lunch, instead choosing to sprawl out on the couch to rest his back, if nothing else. He was, for once, thankful for Z Team’s overly territorial behaviour about their break room. It gave him a chance to claim some space before the former villains made it back to base.
He drifted a little bit while they trickled into the space, back feeling significantly better with the chance to relax on a soft horizontal surface. The team moved about prepping their own meals and coffee, content to ignore him as they usually did when they didn’t have a topic to harass him about.
“You’re in my spot.”
Robert resolutely ignored Malevola. He’d put an arm over his eyes to block out the light, and it helped in blocking out ex-villain glares.
“Rob. Move.”
“Make me.”
In hindsight, that was probably not the best thing to say to an Australian. She put her mug down on the coffee table, grabbed Robert’s ankles and hoisted him half into the air so she could sit in her usual spot. Robert desperately gritted his teeth in an effort to not gasp out in pain at how the manhandling impacted his aching back, tensing his core as she much more carefully brought his legs down, now draped over her lap and the edge of the sofa.
“What the fuck, Mal,” he groaned after a couple minutes, once the pain had abated a bit.
“You said I could make you move, luv. I was even gentle about it, with your spindly little legs.” She patted his right thigh, and watched in horrified amazement as his quads convulsed under her hand. “Rob?”
“...hm?” He gritted out, almost mad at the unnecessary spasms.
“That feels dreadful. What’s going on?”
“Just does that sometimes. Like when you pick up my legs six feet into the air and drop them.”
“I’m serious.” Malevola pressed her fingers harder, following the defined lines of his thigh, trying to force the pulsing muscles to relax. Her powers probed deeper, trying to find an active wound that she could transfer away. “This doesn’t happen from some light manhandling. This was a long time in the making.” She sounded just a little bit distraught, “I can’t fix this.”
“Because there’s nothing to fix. Give me five minutes and I’ll be right as rain.”
“Rob. I don’t need to be able to sense injuries to see the discomfort.”
“Just five min.”
Nervous, she let them pass, counting the time passing diligently. Fair enough, the thigh she’d so casually bothered had stopped trembling, but he was still so very tense.
“Rob?”
“Five minutes. That’s all I need. Five.”
“It’s been ten, Rob.”
“Only five minutes. I’ll be okay.” He didn’t seem to be listening to her. She was sure she could see his abs through the loose shirt, with how tensely he was holding himself.
“Sonar, luv. Fetch Flambae for me?”
The bat looked like he wanted to argue, but the sheer amount of worry on Mal’s face made dart off. He and Prism were probably smoking on the roof. They’d all be back soon enough.
Robert, however, took his arm off his face and groaned. “He’s still fucking mad at me; are you trying to get me killed when I have a headache? I thought we were good, Mal.” Ordinarily, she’d take those words as playful ribbing. Unfortunately, he genuinely seemed to mean it.
“We are good, Robbie, he’s going to help.”
“He’s going to kill me.”
“No. He’d have to go through me.”
“He’s going to put me out of my misery. That’s the only way he can help.”
Mal blinked. “Rob, he was a physiotherapist. You know that, right?”
Did he? Probably. He’d read all of Z Team’s files and documents for as far back as he could find. Which really was quite far back. Would be nice if he could recall anything right then.
“I think so? I know he fucking hates me, Mal. That one I’m sure of.”
“I’ll portal us to a nice beach before he can try to kill you.” She brushed her hands down the rest of his legs, featherlight, almost gasping in delight when she found a recent enough injury to heal. A sore ankle, probably from the bar fight.
“It was nice knowing you. He’s going to incinerate me and laugh while he’s doing it.”
“Absolutely. Unless you give me a good reason you had Punchy fetch me, Malevola.”
“We need some of your PT mojo,” she offered, and Rob closed his eyes in preparation for even more pain.
“We? Who the fuck is we? Mecha bitch? No.”
“Flambae.” Alice tried to interject.
“She has healing powers! Use them!”
“I can’t use them on old wounds. You know that. Look at this!” She extended a finger ready to bother his leg again. “Sorry, Rob.” She poked.
His hips jolted as if struck by a high voltage taser, leg spasming in the wake of her touch, and he let out one of the most pathetic, pained sounds even Coupé had ever heard.
Flambae’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t, in good conscience, ignore that. It stood against everything he’d resolved to do when he went into kinesiology all those years ago.
“Okay. Sit him up.” He strode closer, stepping over the coffee table like it wasn’t even there, and took a knee next to the dispatcher. He tucked a hand under Robert’s shoulder, and he flinched so hard that it set off another round of spasms. Flambae waited it out, hand unmoving and looked up to see Coupé at the other.
They nodded in synchronicity before pushing Robert upright. Malevola immediately hooked her arms under his as he wrapped around her in a pseudo hug.
“You’re going to be alright, darling. Flambae’s got you.” She glared at him so hard that he immediately got to work, pulling the back of Robert’s shirt untucked and warming his hands up.
“I’m fine, Flambae, I just need fiv-”
“Shut up, bitch,” Flambae snapped, running his heated hands over the planes of Robert’s aching back. “Let me do what I do.” Despite the crassness of his words, he sounded worried and intensely focused, so much so that Robert would’ve shuddered if he had the wherewithal to.
“Give in, lad. You need heaps more than five minutes!” Colm said helpfully.
“Break ends in five minutes,” Robert grumbled. “We all need to get back to work.”
“Can everybody just shut the fuck up?? I need to focus.”
Robert thought about resisting. Really, he did. But then his back groaned so loud it almost escaped through his mouth, and the thought of relief was simply too tantalising, even if it was at the hands of Flambae. Mal would rescue him if there was a murder attempt, probably. Coupé would exact revenge if not.
There was a lot of damage. It didn’t help that Robert was:
- Tensing and flinching inadvertently due to the sheer amount of pain he was in, and
- Really fucking afraid of Flambae in this vulnerable position and in this vulnerable state.
“I need better access to his back.”
“We can flip him around! Let him lie face down.” Colm reached forward to grab his legs, but Flambae shot him down quickly.
“That will actually make even him cry from the pain. No. No twisting around like that.”
“I’d be into that.” Invisigal snickered, and Coupé immediately slapped her. “What the fuck?”
“Behave.” She glared, all spooky and ominous. Invisigal disappeared and (presumably) slunk away.
“Would. Um. If you? Maybe taking off— removing! His shirt. Help?”
Flambae considered. “Yes, I think so. How is Wetbaby the most useful person here? Prism; help.”
Immediately, Alice was there, helping Malevola peel off his SDN shirt. Robert let out a tiny, dissatisfied sound, and Alice took it as a cue to support him in sitting up. She never thought it would be because of the sheer amount of damage scattered across his body.
He tried to hide away from the surprised stares across the room, putting his arms back around Mal, pointedly avoiding eye contact.
“Damn Rob! I thought you had a suit. Can I touch?”
Flambae answered Sonar before Rob even turned the question over in his mind, and before Coupé had a chance to slap him too. “No. Can’t you fucking see how much it already hurts? Useless.” He warmed his hands and rubbed the heat into the large claw marks, and that tissue becoming marginally more pliable felt like nothing short of heaven.
Flambae being so protective about not causing discomfort soothed something in Robert. It might be whatever vows physiotherapists took, or him being on autopilot or whatever, but it allowed Rob to relax a little under his probing touch.
“Mm. Good. Stay relaxed.” Having warmed up his back, investigating the current causes of pain was much easier. Flambae started noting pressure points and strained muscles, running his strong hands in a systematic process to cover the expanse from near the tailbone and working his way up.
Robert flinched and jerked away from his touch from time to time, involuntarily, and both Flambae and Mal were quick to soothe him. It felt… nice to be cared for like this, sandwiched between two warm bodies. He let his head drop down on her shoulder, and she scritched her long claws along his scalp.
“Rest of you should get back to work, your break is over. Golem, please tell Blazer Rob needs us and some time off.” It really wasn’t a surprise that Malevola was currently at the top of the leaderboard. She handled the team dynamics well.
“Sure.” Golem shrugged. No skin off his back. Most of the team padded off, grumbling about having to deal with a different dispatcher. Coupé pointedly sat down on the floor beside him, and Prism considered staying just in case she decided to upgrade from slaps to stabs. She did decide against, since her Mr. Dispatcher would definitely be disappointed about it later and genuinely, she would rather eat one of Sonar’s microwaved mice than do that again.
“No! Do not tense up, bitch.” Rob’s left shoulder was rock hard. Flambae had to brace a hand on the dispatcher’s chest before trying to press in again, with still no luck. “Bitch!”
“I’m not. I haven’t done anything!”
“Why is your shoulder like a fucking brick!?”
“I thought that’s what you were figuring out?”
Flambae nearly groaned. God, this man was impossible. “Okay. Bitch. Give me your hand.” He grabbed Robert’s left arm at the forearm, and spread his own right hand across the span of his left scapula. “Do not resist me, follow the movement,” he said sternly, then guided his arm to first stretch all the way out, and then downwards, behind his back. The muscles at his back rippled under Flambae’s palm, and his jaw nearly dropped again. “Bitch, you live like this?!“
“What’s going on?”
“Mal, feel this. This should be soft and relaxed. This is his relaxed. Dumbass thinks this is normal.”
Coupé snuck her hand in beside Malevola’s, and the pressure made him groan. “Stooop.” He tried to free his left arm, but Flambae held it steady. He’s so much stronger than Rob could ever hope to be, especially not now, but it didn’t worry him as much as he thought it should.
“Wow. That’s– wow.”
“Robert, you should have mentioned the one of the times I visited. I am skilled in acupuncture.”
“Coop, love. You use it as a torture method,” Mal pointed out. “...Why have you visited Rob multiple times.”
“I also use stabbing as a torture method, yet I can use it non lethally.”
“Nah, he would need like. All the needles in America. Too strenuous for poor little Mecha Man.”
“Flambae, would you mind releasing my arm?” His grip had gone painfully tight, and he was straining the arm that had been repeatedly dislocated. So. Ow. Just a little.
“Yes.” He did ease up on it though, and Robert breathed a little easier.
Still holding his left arm firmly in place, Flambae probed over the remainder of his skin. His right shoulder didn’t seem as bad as the left, but that really wasn’t a high bar.
“Okay!” Flambae announced, suddenly withdrawing, and the cold air rushing in made Rob wince internally. “Now we go to do the fun part.”
“Fun for you or me.”
He laughed. “Guess.”
Robert groaned.
Flambae mostly gently grabbed the back of Robert’s neck and squeezed twice. “You’re going to get some relief and a great nap after it. But uh during? I am not going to go easy on you, Mecha Bitch. We’re going to the third floor offices. Get up!” Robert held back a wince at the crowing.
Coupé’s already there to pick Rob up, delighted to get as important a task as to carry him. Unfortunately, Flambae stopped her before she managed to thread her arm around his torso.
“No, too much pressure on his back. Help him stand - he’s got to walk.”
Malevola suggested getting a wheelchair, and this time, Robert really did wince. He didn’t want to be paraded through the office like that. He could walk through a portal just fine, thank you.
“I need to see his gait. See if his back is affecting everything else or the other way around.” Flambae didn’t seem cognisant of Robert’s tentativeness, but his insistence was welcome.
Coupé complied easily enough, going over to the edge of the couch so she could at least help him stand. “You said no twisting, yes?”
Thus began a game of passing-the-dispatcher, helping him stand without overly straining any of his poor joints. It took a couple minutes, but soon he was standing of mostly his own volition, Coupé acting as an overly concerned crutch. She liked her dispatcher functional, okay? She owed him.
They take a few steps, short and stiff for his sake, and Flambae swooped in. “Ugh, you are bumming me out. Your hips are wrong.” He put his hands at Rob’s hips and squeezed. “Yes, right side. It’s wrong.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to unwrong my hips.” Rob murmured flatly.
“You’re lucky, babe. I do.”
“Do not call your boss ‘babe.’ That is weird and HR worthy.”
“Oh, but you’re such a boss babe!” Malevola snickered. At Rob’s unamused stare, she pulled herself together and made the portal, thankfully to an empty room.
“Come on, bitch!” Flambae strode straight into the physical therapy office, clearly pleased at getting to boss Rob around.
Robert tried to separate from Coupé, but she gave no quarter, almost glued to his side as they followed Flambae through. She and Malevola help him up onto the table, despite his insistence that he was perfectly capable of basic locomotion.
“I thought the first physio session usually involved more questions and less…handsiness.”
“Most physios aren’t already sick of their patient’s voice in the first session.” Flambae grabbed one foot and deftly started unlacing his boot, and Coupé followed his lead with the other boot, pushing Robert back when he tried to assist. Flambae ran his hands down Robert’s calves and soles with even warmer hands, and the dispatcher felt his knees give a little. “Besides, I don’t think you know what’s the normal range of motion. Most people go get it fixed before the shoulder becomes cement. You can’t answer the questions anyways.” He looked up, and froze for a second, taking in the scars across his front. Specifically, the gruesome burn marks that he was reasonably sure he couldn’t have caused. Unless? “Pants off. Then lie face down. Now.” Then he went to poke through the cabinets along the far wall for supplies.
Robert sighed, then complied, waving off Malevola’s assistance. Coupé was less easily turned away. It was nice that she was so protective of him, but really, choosing not to cut anyone had been a tactical decision that he felt he didn’t deserve much gratitude for.
He lay down, letting his head and arms droop off the edges of the table. “Coup, I think I’ll be alright, I know Blazer wanted to do a training sesh with you today.”
“I can do it another day.”
“Coupé.” Their eyes met in a stalemate, and eventually she sighed and trudged off. He made a mental note to text her afterwards. “Mal, you too. You should get back out there.”
“You sure, babe? I can portal you home after.” Her tail came to wrap around his arm and he almost laughed at the sensation on bare skin.
“Yeah...” Despite the team having accidentally seen most of his scars and somehow not hurling a barrage of invasive questions, the extra eyes on him made him feel less comfortable. He was already dreading the questions that they were no doubt bothering Chase with right then.
“Yeah, fuck off. I’ll fix poor Bobbo, I’m so fucking good.”
Malevola blinked. “Okay. Shout if you need a portal later.” She ran a hand over his worse shoulder, her magic searching once again for fresh enough injuries with a tingly sensation, and finding none, she left towards another portal.
“I will.” Robert murmured, dropping his head down again. Then yelped loudly as Flambae grabbed his ankles and yanked him downwards. “Have you never done this before? Arms by your side unless I tell you otherwise. Face in the cutout.”
Robert adjusted, immediately feeling the improvement— not that he’d say it out loud. Flambae was still holding his legs, but without the fabric barriers, his contact felt almost scalding and even nicer.
“I haven’t, actually. Done this before, I mean.”
“Really?” Flambae tried to reel in his surprise. “That makes sense. No one would want to work on a bitch like you.”
“I’ve done physio. Just not this kind, I think.”
“What do you mean, you think? You don’t know if you’ve had a massage before? Idiot.”
“Post coma recovery was hard. Had to relearn how to walk. They gave me the recordings to continue practising the movement but I don’t remember too much from that time.”
He whistled. “Shit, Robbo. That’s bad.” He hesitated. “I didn’t know it was that bad. You looked okay that day.”
“That day was almost two months after waking up. Couldn’t have done it any sooner.”
“Pft. Did you even try?”
“Yeah. I did.”
The quiet earnestness of his response made Flambae shut up about it. “Okay. Starting. Do I have your permission to climb on top of you?”
It sounded like a rote dialogue. It probably was. “Yeah.”
“I will start with the hips, there is strain in your legs causing that pain. Then I will go to your back because that will take so much time, Robbo. You fucked it uuup. But I will fix it. You understand?”
“Yeah. You don’t need to give me the rundown, Flambae, it’s fine. Do what you think is needed.”
“You need to know what I’m doing. That is like, rule number 1, bitch. You think I’m that shitty a physio?”
“I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t think you were at least competent as a physio.” He pointed out, and Flambae shrugged.
“I have a lavender oil here because I like it. If it gets too hot or too much pressure, you tell me, okay? Or that will fuck you up even more, Robbie.”
“Yes, Flambae.” He confirmed dutifully.
“Good boy, Robbo.”
Robert pointedly did not give any reaction to that.
“No? I thought you’d be like, into that shit. But okay. We start now. Stay relaxed.”
The first drizzle of oil across his lower back made him jump, but Flambae pressed warm fingers in immediately, and Robert settled back down.
“Jeez, so jumpy. I’m not actually going to hurt you on purpose like that. Not during this.”
“I’ve been a supe since I was 16. Hard not to be jumpy as is.”
“And it’s worse because it’s me.”
“Look,” he tried to sit up and make eye contact with Flambae, but his back seized up almost immediately, and a hand pushed him back down. He took a moment to breathe through the pain, then spoke tentatively. “We have history, okay? You’re mad at me, and I know that, you know that, the whole team knows that. And I get it. I’d be mad too. But I told you because I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us all. You didn’t like me as Robert, and you don’t like me as Mecha Man, but if you’re still willing to help me, then all I can say is thanks and try to relax.”
Flambae didn’t respond for a couple minutes, simply spreading the scented oil up across his shoulders, and then down the length of his legs, one by one. It felt pleasant, nothing like he’d come to expect and dread.
“Breathe.” Flambae reminded, then pushed down. Hard.
He started on the right thigh, large hands enveloping the sore muscles and squeezing until the warmth permeated till Robert’s fucking bones. He used almost the full weight of his upper body, poised behind the heel of his hand, sliding upwards from his knee to the curve of his pelvis, and then back down. It was excruciating, and Robert gasped loudly, hands reflexively grabbing at the edges of the table.
“Five more seconds.” Flambae soothed. “Count.”
Robert did, silently mouthing the numbers as his leg screamed at him to try and escape. Flambae released at the fourth, and Robert took in a ragged breath of air.
“I told you to keep breathing, bitch.” He teased, moving down to his calf, although nowhere near as hard. “Does it feel better?” He folded Rob’s leg at the knee and back a couple of times, and the dispatcher marvelled at how easy the motion felt.
“Mhm,” he managed to rumble out. “Wish you’d warned me.”
Flambae scoffed. “How would I have fun then? Besides, that was probably the worst. You’ll be fine, bitch.”
Robert unwound his fingers from the table, laying them flat, and closed his eyes. If a single minute of this treatment could make such a difference, he was willing to undergo it every day.
Flambae was lighter on the calf, following more of a grab-squeeze pattern as he worked the area, and Robert let his eyes fall shut. He made a small groan when the hero moved down to his foot, pressing hard on the arch with his thumbs until the toes contracted, and then stretched and rotated the ankle.
“Don’t cut off the noise, Rob. I like to know I’m doing a good job.” It also helped gauge the limits of his patient, but Chad wasn’t quite ready to admit just how worried he was about going too hard yet.
“You are.” Robert sighed, as Flambae moved over to the thigh again, this time a lot gentler. He had long legs for someone who wasn’t even six feet tall, formidable despite the obvious atrophy. Flambae almost wished he could’ve seen Robert in his prime, with the full power he could only sense the vestiges of. “My leg hasn’t felt this good in ages.”
“Yeah? Wait till I fix your shoulder. You will feel so good; like your mother’s cooking.”
“You’ll be the one to introduce me to that feeling then.”
“Oh.” Fuck???? How was he supposed to know???
“She’s– she’s alive. I think. She left a long time ago. Couldn’t bear to see me be trained. Dad said she thought it would break her heart.”
“When the fuck did you start training if she left before you remember it?!” Flambae demanded, moving to the left leg.
“Sixth birthday.” Robert laughed. “Wow, it’s been 25 years. Milestone.”
“What the fuck. No wonder you’re like, all fucked up, Robbo.” He commenced the same treatment for the left thigh, but not with quite as much force to start with. It should’ve still hurt significantly, but Robert weathered it like a seasoned sailor, now that he knew what to expect. Which he probably was.
“How long were you…”
“Mecha Man? Just over 15 years. Dad was killed when I was 16, so I had to take over.”
“I know Alice keeps saying people should be at the clubs, but you should’ve fucking been at school. What the fuck?”
“LA expected a pilot. I was literally born for the job.”
“Shitty fucking dad.”
There was silence for a bit, not awkward despite what Robert had expected. He consciously tried to give audible feedback though, but Flambae’s hands felt so ethereally good that the occasional feedback was drawn from him automatically.
“Tell me how this happened.” Flambae traced the line of a long scar on the side of his thigh, splotched over by a wide bruise probably from the bar. He pressed more warmth into it, and Robert sighed in relief.
“Mm. Surgery. They had to perform an intramedullary nailing after the bone was broken.”
“Looks new. Painful recovery?”
“Nah, I was already comatose. Was fully healed before I woke up. Just some scar tissue now.”
“You are like, more scar tissue than muscle. No wonder you bum everyone out in the gym.”
Robert scoffed a laugh. “That’s why I go at times when everyone won’t be there, Flambae.”
He moved down to the calf and foot, apparently thinking about something. Abruptly, he came to a decision. “You can call me Chad here. Flambae is for hero stuff, he didn’t get the degree and all. This physio is from Chad.”
Robert blinked in surprise. “It’s nice to meet you, Chad. Thank you for sharing this with me.”
Apparently getting frazzled, Flambae spluttered a bit. “It’s my American name. Most of you bitches can’t pronounce my real one anyways. So: Chad.”
“Either way, you’ve entrusted me with this. Thank you.”
Robert trusted him first, Chad didn’t say. He violated that trust immediately, Chad didn’t say. Robert still trusted him again, despite his reaction, despite his own fear, and Chad couldn’t say even if he wanted to.
“Shut up,” he said instead. “Bitch.”
He focused down on Robert’s delicate foot, the marks of stress injuries despite being in a metal suit, and soothed with the singular restorative skill he had in his entire arsenal. Robert sighed in pleasure, and Chad smiled, equally pleased.
“You like that?” Chad prodded, intent on teasing him.
“Mhm. Didn’t realise how much it usually hurts.” He sounded so sincere that Chad’s teasing died in his mouth. He spent a few minutes working his soles over, easing the strained tendons. It’s harrowing to realise how much damage he could do within seconds, could render Mecha Man unable to walk ever again, let alone get back in the suit. If he ignited his hands for just 10 seconds, Robert would suffer for the rest of his life. Chad looked back up to the stubborn set of his shoulders, lying limp simply because Chad told him to, and he realised he couldn’t dredge up the slightest urge to harm him.
He traced a line along the back of his left thigh, marking it with some more oil, and then followed the same motion upwards from the knee with a firm press of his thumb.
“Christ! Do that again. Please. Once more.”
Chad complied, with even more weight behind it for the second pass. “You’re not taking care of your back, Bob-Bob. That’s the sciatica.”
“Yeah. Because I have to carry this entire program on my shoulders.”
“Fuck off.” He repeated the motion, watching carefully for Robert’s reaction to the pain before it was soothed. Even with the close observation, Flambae could only barely note the traces of a wince in the tensing of his hip flexors. It was deeply concerning how little he reacted to things that usually fucking hurt.
“Do you need a break?” He asked in a low voice after fifteen minutes. He’d been putting in a lot of pressure. Even Prism needed to tap out from time to time, and she was one of the most resilient people he knew. Their dispatcher was just a normie.
“Hm? No, I’m fine. Better than fine.” He huffed a little laugh. “Thought you were going to make it hurt. What happened?”
It should’ve. The second pass over his legs was still hard. He hadn’t held back. “I think you’re too much of a little bitch to take it.”
He doesn’t think he’d ever meant something even half as insincerely.
“Sure, Chad. Whatever you say.”
Chad promptly poked him under the left scapula.
“Fuck! Fuck you, man.”
He chuckled, putting his left hand on the spasming muscles with more heat than weight. “Little biiitch.” He then dragged his hands to the curve of Robert’s ass, letting the warmth seep in before he proceeded. “Are you okay if I work over your sorry flat ass? Through the boxers. Of course you wear boxers.”
Robert waved a hand, uncaring. The first iteration of his right thigh had been awful, but the relief was equally satisfying. The Z Team was anyways the most common subject of HR complaints - what’s another violation?
“You. Need. To. Do. More. Squats!” Chad grunted out between alternating motions along Robert’s gluteus medius. “No wonder you walk weird. Like you just got fucked, but badly. I know they give you a nice chair so it’s not that. What do you do?”
“…Why do you know if my chair is nice?”
Chad ignored him. “What mattress do you use?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Floor? How?”
“More like… plastic chair?”
Chad just sat back. In pin drop silence. For several minutes. “What the actual fuck?! Do they not pay you or something?”
“I didn’t mean to. I was reading and fell asleep. It’s not even like I never had a mattress. It just got commandeered for other purposes.”
“That’s fucking crazy. You’re like- the most mattress needer I’ve ever met.”
“Mm. I’ll be fine.”
Chad draped his large hands over the small of Robert’s back, letting heat sink in for a moment and then dug the heels of hands in.
Robert groaned.
“Yeah. That’s what fine feels like.”
“Just do your damn job.”
Flambae chuckled, following the overly prominent line of Robert’s spine. “Yeah, I got you.”
He was attacking the planes of Rob’s back like they owed him money, viciously seeking out the knots and working them over with his thumbs until Robert breathed out in relief. His lower back was brutal, and Chad was sincerely amazed that he’d let Coupé support his weight with an arm around his waist. He avoided the crests and troughs of his spine, out of concern for both sensitivity and delicateness. His body, if not for the evidence of horrific wounds marring the pale skin, was almost a perfect specimen to compare to his old anatomy textbooks, every muscle and tendon starkly visible without the padding of a healthy body fat percentage. It was, again, deeply concerning.
“Tell me about this one.” He touched the large claw marks that were probably a major reason for the general fucked-up-ness of his left shoulder.
“Ugh. I was surveilling this guy who was trying to poison out a section of the water supply. His hired security included Eaglefeather. Grabbed me with his claws and tried to fly me off somewhere. I dislocated the shoulder before he got too far but got those gashes when I was slipping out of his grasp. Fun times.”
“Very deep.” He’d never seen such extensive scar tissue before.
“Oh, they could see my ribs apparently. 9 hour surgery patching it up.”
“And you kept getting it subluxated so it’s even more fucked up. Idiot.” He kneaded at the upper back and shoulders, trying to reach deep tissue but still more gentle. He was extremely attuned to Robert’s breathing at this point. His pain tolerance was so obscenely high that the only sounds Chad could really draw out were those borne from surprise. He was used to the pain, and expected it from Flambae on top of it, so Chad had been paying attention to it before even he’d realised. The deeper exhales and minuscule sighs were really the only indications for how he was doing. For how they were doing.
Hesitantly, he asked for the story he’d been almost itching to hear about since he saw its souvenirs. “What about these?” He indicated the burns, so carefully that a bystander would’ve assumed they were fresh wounds. “Did I…?” He trailed off, suddenly feeling insecure. He didn’t have the clearest of memories of that day. The interviews with law enforcement had been horrible, since he recalled so little it seemed like he was lying. He was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. Robert had to know that. He has to know he didn’t mean to hurt him like that. Right?
“No, no.” Robert jumped to soothe him instantly. Then he thought for a moment. “Not directly, at least. I didn’t expect it’d get that hot, or that I’d have to get out of the mech so quickly. External cooling couldn’t handle it and it’s not exactly built to be waterproof. Ended up almost melting my armour onto my skin, ahaha.” His attempt to laugh it off is atrocious.
“It was that day though?”
“Yeah. I should’ve been more careful with it.”
God, Chad had gloated about fighting Mecha Man, yes, but he’d never actually thought he’d genuinely hurt him. It’s kind of a horrifying concept. He’s a real superhero! He’s supposed to be invulnerable! What the fuck do you mean Flambae caused permanent damage to Mecha Man?
“You get hurt off of your mech a lot?” He sniped.
“Sometimes. The ear is from the mech too, but from when Dad piloted it. Crazy self defense systems, really. But usually it’s just situations when I’m just moving slower than I should be. Reap the fruits of your shortcomings by getting knifed. Highly recommend.” If self care involved such a lovely physical treatment, then Robert was willing to put in the regular time for it. The warm hands traversing his back felt so nice, the unfamiliar sensory input making it feel like there were more limbs on him than he could track. It should’ve put him on edge, but he found himself relaxing halfway to dreams, words flowing like cheap wine.
“You just fucking hate yourself, don’t you?” Chad said flatly, after a moment.
Robert sighed, drawn out by Chad almost steamrolling him flat on the bench. “Makes two of us.” He said quietly.
Chad found a pressure point right near the base of his spine, and gently rotated the tissue with his thumbs. It was a delicate spot, and Robert went stiff in tandem with Chad’s focus sharpening like a fine blade. It took a moment, but suddenly something loosened, and it felt like his entire lower body had unspooled. Without letting the moment pass, the firebug pulled Rob’s left arm behind his back, and smoothed his fingers across the painful shoulder blade in a long arc. Working out the remaining knots there, he spoke, sotto voce,”That was one of the worst nights of my life. My mother’s funeral had been that afternoon. My sister had made me leave before the rest of the family could see me. Said they know I was ma’s greatest heartbreak. That I was a perversion of everything she had loved, like a cruel nightmare.”
Robert held his breath, realising the impossible weight of what Chad was telling him, but a light smack on his side reminded him to exhale. He wished he could meet his eyes, but maybe that was why the firebug felt he could share. He held his tongue, letting Flambae talk the verbal path he’d clearly been thinking and planning out.
“I went to get some fresh air. Blow steam off, you know? Then I ended up at a parking lot. And I burned some old car wreck or something, I don’t know. It felt good. I just… Kept going. And then you showed up. I was so angry. I couldn’t handle it.” He sighed, switching sides to work on Rob’s right. “I don’t even remember too much, really. I know that I passed out after the fingers. They told me after I woke up from the surgery. In super maximum security. That I would never get to use my powers without supervision, yes. But also you carried me out and you did the first aid things and all that.”
He anchored Robert down with knees on relaxed thighs, and wrapped his large hands around the sides of Rob’s ribs, leaning down to murmur almost directly in his ear. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… I don’t hate you, Robert.” He pulled, stretching Robert’s spine out like a resistance band, relishing the series of pops and surprised sigh it elicited. The dispatcher melted completely, stunned by the sheer unbridled relief radiating down his spine, enough to surpass the adrenaline and give into the exhaustion.
Chad draped himself over Robert like a weighted heating blanket, lightly kneading down the meat of his dangling arms. He only made it all the way down once, and Robert tried to grasp his hands, clumsy and slow in his spacey respite, but managed to grasp onto his right hand. He was clearly not in any shape for words, already half asleep, but he slid his slender fingers through Chad’s damaged hand, examining the healed wounds with the sightless intensity that had been bestowed upon him for the past two hours. The expansive weight let the heat penetrate down to his bones, all the way from the nape of his neck to the tips of toes. It pushed Robert deeper into sleep, and the soothed aches all over did nothing to fight it.
“Yeah, I am okay.” Chad squeezed the long fingers in his grasp. “We’re okay too, Robert. Or will be, anyways.”
When Robert came to, he was significantly better rested, and covered in warm towels. He blinked his eyes open, taking stock of the pleasurable soreness in his body, and the deeper relaxation.
He pushed himself up to look for Chad, relishing how loose and relaxed his back felt, easily curving with barely a twinge of pain. His legs felt like well-kneaded dough, and even flexing his feet felt exponentially better. “Chad?” His voice rumbled, rather gruff from the disuse.
The firebug was in a chair by the wall, scrolling on his phone but abnormally twitchy, flinching at the sound of his name. He jumped to his feet, tucking his phone into a pocket Robert hadn’t noticed before. “Feeling better?”
“Mhm. Thanks. Sorry, I’m… how long was I out?” His eyes were drooping shut. He was warm and cozy and flooded with more endorphins than he’d experienced in so long. He let his eyes slide shut, and a hand carded through his hair, pushing it away from his face with the familiarity of having done it numerous times.
“I think like three hours?” He checked the clock hanging on the far wall. “Three and half. I don’t know if I should wake you up but you were out like a bitch.”
“I needed—“ A yawn cut him off. “I need it, I suppose. I don’t think Blazer would be mad, anyways.”
“Nah, she like, loves you. It’s fucking weird.”
“That someone might like having me around? Ouch.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.” He relaxed, letting Chad’s fingers scratch across his scalp. His migraine already felt better after the nap and the massage Chad had apparently continued after he fell asleep, but the touch was still welcome.
“Usually I would keep a green tea for after but I cannot find any in this useless fucking place.”
“Oh. That’s okay.” Robert opened his eyes, confused.
“No. You have to hydrate. You dumb bitch.” He stalked off to fill a glass of water from the filter nearby, heating it up slightly with his powers.
Robert slowly shifted up to sit, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the table. He took the glass offered, feeling almost like he was moving through water. Chad then trotted off to retrieve Robert’s pants from wherever he’d tossed them earlier, and then came to crouch in front of him like an eager puppy.
“Fuck. I need to text Coup that I’m okay. She’s gonna be mad.”
“Nah, bitch. She came by after shift ended. She said something about your balcony but I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.”
“That’s why you’re the most versatile team mate.” Robert drawled, grabbing his pants as he moved to stand.
Chad squinted at him for a second, and then smacked his left leg. “Bitch. Why does she even like you so much? She scares everyone except Punch Up. And you, I guess.”
“No, she scares me. She’s just grateful I didn’t cut her. And likes hanging out, for some reason. My place sucks, so it can’t be for that.”
“Huh.” Then, after a moment. “I still think you should cut Sonar. He’s a—“
“A bitch, I know. Everyone’s a bitch to you. Come on, I need to find my shirt so I won’t be kicked off the bus before I get on.”
“Why the fuck do you ride the bus. Robbo, do they actually not pay you at all?” Chad asked so seriously that it made Robert laugh.
“They’re helping me rebuild the suit, Chad. It’s a pretty good deal. I just don’t drive when I’ve got a headache or spasms that bad.”
Chad considered, then nodded in acceptance. “I’ll drive you home. I’m pretty sure Invisibitch would’ve stolen your shirt by now. She does that.” He’d found a paper robe earlier, so he tossed it to Robert to cover up until the car.
“What the fuck?”
The firebug shrugged. It seemed in character for her anyways.
“Come on. If you scratch my paint job, I’ll strand you in Tampa. It just got fixed after Phenomabitch.”
Robert laughed, light and easy for the first time in a long while. His back didn’t protest too much when he donned his clothes and boots, and that was a whole new level of ecstasy.
He jogged after Chad, who’d stridden off impatiently, still yapping about his car and the new gym routine he was going to impose on Robert that will apparently completely fix him.
Really, if anyone had told Robert even a day prior that he’d feel so at ease with the arsonist he’d put away, and then almost got deep fried by two days ago, he would’ve laughed until his stomach hurt.
Now, he followed Chad to his car (not like that), and guided him on the route to his own house, and laughed with him as he sang along to Carrie Underwood on the ride.
It felt good. Rob felt good.
Chapter Notes:
Chad takes the opportunity to impose a better workout routine and shit for Rob. It's grueling and arduous and he gets yelled at for supposedly being a bitch a lot, but Robert actually feels a lot stronger and less crumbling bones-y. Flambae also becomes suspiciously free with his casual touches. It freaks the dispatcher out a bunch, but he gets used to it soon enough. especially when its just Chad gently kneading his hands while he yaps about the last mission. It's a nice way to debrief and unwind and Robert cherishes the forgiveness like a night sky loves the stars.