Work Text:
It started as a drunken accident. Robert was already sprawled out on the floor as the rest of the Z-Team kept going, fighting over a drinking version of Monopoly.
"Come on, Boberto! It's your turn!" Alice hollers, nudging him with her knee. Robert groans, head spinning, and can barely even concentrate on her without seeing double.
"Man, he's out." Mal snorts, poking him with her tail as she takes another swig from her drink.
"I get his properties!" Courtney shouts, already reaching for his cards when Victor slaps her hand away.
"Hell no, we're doing rock-paper-scissors over it!"
"Bob-Bob." Flambae shoves him with his foot. "Get up before I literally sit on you."
"Mm." Robert closes his eyes, feeling the migraine set in already as the others scream. "Go for it."
Flambae scoffs, "You think I won't, bitch? Fuck you." And he does. He just drops on Robert, albeit lightly as a joke. He expects Robert to push him off with a loud whine, and then he'll tease him about it.
But instead, Robert just lets out a huff at the weight, then goes still.
"Holy shite, I think you killed him." Colm looks over, glancing at Robert.
"Bae killed Roberto with his fat ass!" Alice cackles, pounding her fist against the coffee table with tears in her eyes. Flambae frowns, shifting carefully off of Robert, concerned.
"Damn, didn't realize you were that weak—"
Robert whines loudly when Flambae moves off him, and his arms shoot out, circling around Flambae's waist to...pull him back on him.
"Uh, okay. Not on my bingo card." Bruno rumbles.
"Damn, who would've thought Robert likes being sat on?" Courtney cracks a mischievous grin while Alice snaps a photo. "Could've fooled me."
"Okay, enough." Flambae groans, trying to move off Robert again, only to bet met with another whine. "This is getting really weird."
"Just stay still." Janelle finally speaks up. "If he likes it, then just leave it."
Flambae isn't one to be a quitter, so he does actually stay there for the rest of the evening. There's no way this could possibly be comfortable, but Robert still has a hand firmly on Flambae's thigh, holding him there, even as his breathing slows into slumber.
Robert is fucking asleep.
There's a lot to unpack there, but as the night wraps up and the others begin to leave, Robert still won't let Flambae get off him.
So he sighs, and just gives in. He's too fucking tired to be dealing with this. If Robert wants him on top of him so bad, then so be it. He flops over, putting his entire weight over Robert, finally expecting some sort of uncomfortable reaction from the man, but all he gets is a soft sigh.
Okay, fine. Flambae angrily thinks as he closes his eyes. Don't blame me when you suffocate, idiot.
The next morning, Flambae wakes with a groan, feeling the aches in his back from sleeping on the floor. Fuck him. He sits up, yawning, running a hand through his hair.
Something shifts beside him and Flambae nearly jumps out of his skin, completely forgetting Robert is still here and the reason why he had to sleep on the floor in the first place.
"Bob-Bob." He frowns down at the man who seems to be slowly waking up. "Robert, seriously, wake up."
Robert grumbles, finally blinking his eyes open as he looks up at Flambae with confusion. "Uh...morning?"
Flambae sighs, standing and stretching out his stiff muscles. "Come on, get up. Eat something before you go, bitch."
Robert stays on the floor, looking a bit dazed and confused. Flambae is seriously concerned. "You okay?"
"I think last night was the best I've slept in a long time." Robert finds himself saying, sounding nearly in awe.
"Huh." Flambae can barely believe his entire 6'4" body over Robert would be anything close to comfortable. "You got some weird kinks, man."
Robert cracks a smile, then a low chuckle, as he finally pushes himself up, his spine popping with the action and making Flambae grimace.
"So...breakfast?" Robert asks, hopeful.
And that's how whatever the fuck this is began. Robert kept bugging Flambae, complaining that he hasn't been able to sleep well since. Flambae shoots back that it isn't his problem.
But he's not heartless. When Robert all but begs to test it out again (this is highly skewed from Flambae's perspective, Robert says), how could Flambae say no?
"So what, you're going to wine and dine me, then get me to sit on you?" Flambae laughs at the ridiculousness of the situation. "You can just come out and say you want to fuck me."
"Right." Robert rolls his eyes. "Asking to fuck you would be more normal than whatever this is."
Flambae hums in agreement as he takes a sip from the wine glass. He was honestly not expecting a nice dinner over this, but Robert promised him good food in exchange for his strange service tonight.
"Do you even have the money to pay for this, bitch?"
"I'm getting paid." Robert says defensively. "SDN finally cleared me."
"In that case, you should get some furniture." Flambae wrinkles his nose at the reminder of Robert's sad, sad apartment. "Your place fucking sucks."
"I have a—"
"Shut up." Flambae shoots him a glare, earning him a wry smile.
This is...surprisingly nice. Comfortable, even. Robert is the same as always, even over a fancy dinner in a nice restaurant. Plus, Robert is asking Flambae for a favor, not the other way around. Flambae is only entertaining him for a bit, that's all.
When they head back to Flambae's apartment afterwards (because there's no way in hell Flambae is spending the night at Robert's, even if it's for this weird sleep test thing), the awkwardness of the whole situation finally sets in.
"So...now what?" Robert asks, standing unnaturally at the doorway of his bedroom.
Flambae sighs, "Take a shower, bitch. Don't get my sheets all dirty."
Robert raises an eyebrow at that, but follows him to the bathroom. Flambae grabs him a towel and some old clothes, leaving him to his devices.
When Robert finishes, hair wet against his forehead, drowning in Flambae's clothes, smelling like his shampoo, Flambae almost feels...endeared. Ew, no, gross. Flambae quickly shakes that thought out before he takes over the bathroom. "Just sit on the bed or something." He calls, earning a soft mmkay in response.
He takes his time in the shower, melting under the hot spray of water. The routine of cleaning himself and washing his hair helps him relax, to the point he nearly forgets Robert is in his room until he steps out.
Robert lies on the bed like a corpse, staring up at the ceiling.
"That's creepy, cut it out."
Robert lifts his head a little, frowning as Flambae dries his hair. "I'm not doing anything."
"Exactly." Flambae throws his hair over his shoulder. "Most people would be—I don't know—scrolling through their phone or something. Not just lying there."
Robert lets out a quiet huff, watching Flambae go through his nightly skincare routine.
"Damn, you do this every night?" Robert asks, watching in the way that suggests he might be memorizing the steps.
"Yeah," Flambae closes the lid of his face cream. "I actually take care of myself, unlike you."
Robert scoffs, but there's a look of eagerness when Flambae finally turns towards him. He looks too much like Beef when the dog is expecting a treat.
Flambae raises his brow, crossing his arms across his chest loosely. "So how are we doing this?"
"Just—" Robert resumes his position on his back like a corpse. "Just lie on top of me?"
This is way weirder than any sex position Flambae's been in. He awkwardly maneuvers himself over Robert, lowering himself carefully over the smaller man. "Tell me if it's too much."
Robert exhales, the sound whistling in Flambae's ear as he fully flattens himself over Robert.
"Good?" Flambae asks, cautious.
"Mhm." Robert sounds sleepy already, his voice slower. "Good."
Flambae just lays there, feeling each second pass. Time is going by excruciatingly slow. Robert's breathing is even and calm beneath him, he can feel every rise and fall of his chest, the faint pulse of his heartbeat.
It's...strange. They're so close. Flambae could turn his head and his face would touch Robert's. He can smell his own shampoo, but it smells just a little different, altered by Robert's natural scent.
Fuck, is that creepy to think about? Flambae tries to empty his mind, although sleep is completely escaping him at the moment.
A little while longer—has it been an hour? He can't tell—Flambae finally tries to shift off of Robert, assuming he's already deeply asleep.
The second he moves, Robert lets out a quiet whimper, his nose wrinkling and brows furrowing. Flambae stills, staring down at him until his expression relaxes.
Seriously? Is this actually comfortable? Flambae sighs and relents, surrendering to the fact that he literally is not allowed to move. At some point, he must've finally fallen asleep, as he wakes up to his alarm.
He yawns, reaching over to silence it. He rolls off of Robert, nudging him. "Yo, Bob-Bob. It's morning, we gotta go to work."
Robert murmurs something, then slowly cracks open his eyes. His eyes soften when they fall on Flambae, a small smile on his face. "Mm, morning."
"Come on, up, up!" Flambae hops off the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and going through his morning routine. A moment later, Robert pads in, hair a disheveled mess, eyes still half-lidded with sleep. He yawns loudly, stretching, his shoulder popping.
"Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with your body?" Flambae winces at the sound.
Robert rolls his neck, which creaks with the motion, then shrugs. "Just how it is after years of hero work."
"Nah, you're just a shitty hero." Flambae pokes him in the side, earning a hiss. He grins, ruffling Robert's messy hair further. "Eat before you go to work."
Flambae goes to whip something up quickly in the kitchen, pausing only when it hits him how weirdly domestic this is. He shakes his head quickly, reminding himself that he's simply helping out his boss with his chronic insomnia. Robert mentioned not being able to sleep well in general, so if he's finally found something that works, and it requires him to just fucking lay on top of him, then so be it.
I'm not heartless, Flambae reminds himself, feeling his chest inflate with his own self-righteousness—I'm helping him.
"Smells great." Robert says as he takes a seat at the dining table, his hair still sticking up in random places, even though it seems like he did actually try to tame the strands. His voice is still gruff with sleep, a low rumble. Flambae ignores it.
"Of course, bitch. I'm the fucking best." Flambae shoves a plate at Robert, filled with eggs, a salad, some buttered toast, and slices of oranges. "You better fucking finish it."
Robert hums as he starts to dig in, his cheeks puffing out with food like a chipmunk. Flambae pokes it without thinking, freezing at his own actions.
Robert doesn't comment on it. "It's good, thanks."
"Mhm." Flambae's hand quickly retreats as he starts eating his own portion.
Coworkers. Flambae adamantly reminds himself. This is purely professional help between coworkers.
And it kept...happening. Robert would go maybe a day or two normally, before he texts Flambae asking for his help again. It always comes with dinner as payment, then breakfast at Flambae's. It became somewhat of a routine—an absurd one.
Alice has questioned him about what exactly is going on, but Flambae makes a painstaking effort to explain that this is purely platonic. Robert needs his help to sleep and sleep is important. Clearly it reflects in his work too, since Robert has been in a much nicer mood lately and most missions have been a success. His eye bags have lightened up a lot too.
See? Flambae is helping.
He almost feels pride at the positive effect he has on the dispatcher.
When he lays on top of Robert again that night, Robert sighs contentedly and says, "Fuck, I might have to marry you. I don't think I can sleep without you anymore."
Flambae stills, mind stuttering. It takes him a moment to regain his composure before he lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes. "Yeah? Well maybe you should ask me out first before jumping to marriage, how 'bout that?"
It's Robert's turn to go rigid. Flambae turns, trying to see Robert's expression. The man looks unusually pale, his big brown eyes wide with confusion.
"Bob-Bob?" Flambae's voice softens as he raises himself just a little to get a better look at the guy, concerned. "You okay?"
"Um." Robert blinks up at him, an embarrassed flush beginning to bleed across his freckled cheeks. "Wait—Are we not—W-we're not—"
Flambae tilts his head at Robert as the man continues floundering over his words, his flush now seeping to the tips of his ears and down his neck. Robert's eyes grow red-rimmed and glassy as his hands shoot up to cover his face, a loud groan escaping his lips. "Oh god."
"Wait." Flambae finally starts to catch on, sitting up fully over Robert's waist. "You don't think we're dating, do you?"
"...No." It's a meek whisper from between the gaps of his fingers. Robert is so red now it's almost concerning.
"Holy shit." Flambae takes a second to register the implication before he breaks into laughter, doubling over from the force of it. "That's hilarious."
"Stop." Robert whines, pressing his palms harder into his face as he tries to turn away. "I'm going to go die now."
"No, no." Flambae takes Robert's wrists as he tries to stifle his laughter, tugging the man's hands gently away from his face. "Don't run away, Robert."
It almost breaks his heart upon seeing the tears gathered in the corners of Robert's eyes. There's a big pout on his face, and his freckles stand out against his flushed skin. "I'm an idiot."
"Maybe." Flambae cracks a grin, his thumb coming to brush away Robert's tears. "You could've just asked, dumbass."
"I thought—" Robert looks away, looking so adorably flustered and frustrated. "I thought we were past that already."
"Ask."
"Fine." Robert scowls, each word hissed through his teeth. "Will. You. Be. My. Boyfriend?"
"See?" Flambae chuckles, pressing a kiss to Robert's pout. "Not so hard, was it?" How Robert could think they were dating despite never having kissed is beyond Flambae, but he sinks into another kiss and Robert melts beneath him, much more than when he simply lays on top of him.
"Mm." Robert sighs into Flambae's lips, his expression softening immediately. "Fuck."
"Good?" Flambae murmurs, barely parting enough to speak.
"Good." Robert wraps his arms around Flambae's shoulders to drag him back in. "So fucking good."