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“Okay you two, you know the rules.”
Robert wasn’t quite sure what the rules were if he was being completely honest. There was a major difference between saving kids from death and bonding with them over tacos—and he wasn’t quite sure how to bridge that gap either. Was he meant to talk about colors? Or about stuffed animals? He didn’t even know how old Moska was, just that she had a big tooth gap and loved to stick quarters through the hole it made.
“Of course we do,” Zahir assured Andisha, grabbing Moska off the floor and hugging her tightly. “Moska is going to behave very well for us, right?”
Moska giggled. “No promises!”
“You listen to your uncles now, Moska. They’re responsible for you while I’m at work—“ she said before turning to the two of them. Mostly Robert, given that he wasn’t currently dragging Moska around Zahir's apartment. “Thank you two for taking care of her.”
Robert blinked. “Did— did you say uncles?”
“That’s what they’re called in English, no?” Andisha said with a soft smile before patting his shoulder. “You two are cute together anyway. Just try to avoid Parisa when you can, she’s the real troublemaker.”
“We—“ Robert started, unable to finish his sentence between Moska dragging him away and Andisha heading off to work.
The routine had been like this ever since he’d been introduced to Moska. Andisha would say something about the two of them, nobody would argue, and she would head off to work. Then Moska would draw pictures of her entire family and she would make sure to include Robert and Beef somewhere inside of them.
It was, well, it was abnormal for Robert, to say the least.
“Uncle Robert, Uncle Robert!” Moska called out. “We should make Christmas cookies, Beef said so!”
Robert looked over at Zahir, who was very obviously holding up the recipe for Christmas cookies, before sighing and kneeling down to Moska’s level. “Is your uncle trying to bribe you into convincing me to let him make Christmas cookies?”
“Yeah.”
“Fo you think it would work?”
“Yup.” she smiled.
He looked outside. “It’s March right now.”
“It’s always time for Christmas cookies.” Moska defended.
Robert sighed before shaking his head with a smile. He really needed to work on his defenses against her pout. “Okay. Let’s go make cookies.”
“Yay!” Moska cheered.
Robert wasn’t sure what he was currently looking at.
Maybe he was just hallucinating. Maybe Zahir was right—and working for long periods as Mecha Man made him hallucinate. He wasn’t sure why he would be hallucinating two women in his kitchen with bowls and bowls of food. But hey, weirder things have happened.
“Ah, there he is!”
Robert blinked as one of them came towards him, only backing away one step before his cheeks were smushed together. This lady was older—perfectly done black hair, large horns, and black tattoos with orange and red lines flowing like lava in between the cracks of them. She reminded him of his mother in some ways, at least what he remembered of her.
“Uh—“
“Māmām, don’t bombard him!” the other girl said, gently shoving the older lady away. “Oh he looks cute.”
“Excuse me?” Robert asked.
“You. You look cute.” the girl said, poking his nose before looking over the counter. “We brought you food.”
Robert blinked.
“My son told us of you, dear,” the older woman said. Her hands were clasped together as she pointed over at the food on the counter, some already inside the fridge by the looks of it. “We brought you food and some blankets, I’ve heard it can get cold for most humans.”
Robert hummed. “And you just decided to do this, because?”
“You’re family!” the younger woman said excitedly.
“Right.” Robert said. This was a weird hallucination.
“Told you he’d get it,” she said, not quite noticing how the older woman shook her head exasperated. “See, Zahir just needed to be up front about it. But that’s enough of that, you get some rest!”
“Please do, aziz.” the older woman said. “You look tired.”
Robert only watched them walk away out of the door after that.
“Your boyfriend is super weird.” Parisa called out.
Zahir was still wearing his apron, still in the kitchen with a pan in his hands. “Come again?”
“We went to go drop him food, you know, like regular people do–” Parisa said, waving her hands dramatically at the door as Māmām yelled at her to get out of the kitchen. Robert had gotten him the job just about a week after Zahir stayed around—and he had quite enjoyed it so far. The restaurant was owned by an older Korean couple who had taught him how to make a really good fried rice recipe.
“I’m still talking, dipshit,” Parisa poked his arm before continuing. “He was just looking, like, super dazed. Like we were a figment of his imagination or something.”
Zahir huffed. “He does that a lot.”
“That’s not normal.” Parisa said to him.
“It’s not,” Zahir shook his head, placing the rice he was frying onto a plate. “But it’s him—who he is. And I care about him regardless of how weird he is or isn’t.”
Parisa hummed. “What if he got therapy?”
“Good luck convincing him about that one.” Zahir snorted.
“And then this is like a cauliflower stew, very hearty–” Andisha explained.
Robert wasn’t quite sure how he was expected to eat everything that was currently placed in front of him—almost six different dishes that he was meant to try for her food profile. She had grown her blog and her profile to way bigger audiences than anyone must’ve thought by the sound of it, which led to her asking him to taste test family recipes for a more general audience.
“Did you have one you wanted me to try first?” Robert asked her.
“Definitely this eggplant! Here, here–”
Robert made a small, muffled sound as the eggplant got shoved into his mouth but chewed anyway. “It’s– it’s sweet?”
“It has a honey sauce to it. Wasn’t sure how it would taste though.”
“This tastes like eggplant drizzled in a honey sauce.”
“Yeah, but is it good though?”
Robert shrugged. “I guess? I think so?”
“You hopeless, hopeless man.” Andisha sighed, writing down notes onto her notebook that had different sections for each family member. She had gone to most of them for ratings as is—only him and Zahir were the last ones left, it seemed.
Well, what she wrote down as Zahir and brother-in-law.
“Why am I written down as that?” he asked confusedly.
“Like what?” Andisha asked him.
He cleared his throat. “Brother in law?”
“Is that not what you guys call them?” Andisha asked, though the small smirk on her face gave away any slyness that she was trying to give him. “The family has a bet going on when Zahir’s actually going to talk to you about everything. That’s why mom and Parisa came over the other day, to try and get you to ask him about them–”
“–That wasn’t a hallucination?” Robert asked confusedly.
“No, it wasn’t.” Andisha said. “You need a better job, and both of you two need to talk. You should do it soon, I have a lot of money on the line right now.”
Robert scoffed. “Are you seriously convincing me to talk to him just so you win money?”
“Only partly.” she winked before shooing him off.
Robert wasn’t sure how to start the conversation.
He wasn’t sure what they would talk about. Or what the natural conclusion to these kinds of conversations are. He wasn’t even sure what the starting words would be—did we need to talk sound too aggressively? But then again, how would you say it any other way? May we have a quick conversation? Or maybe could you spare me just a minute or two sounded better to the ears. Zahir would probably curse him out for that last one though.
The issue was that Robert was nervous. He was Mecha Man, sure. But he was also Robert to Zahir. And he didn’t know how to be Robert—how was he meant to be in a relationship if he didn’t even know who he was? Zahir couldn’t know who he was for him when there was simply nothing to know.
There was Mecha Man or there was nothing.
And Zahir had been accepting of it. As accepting as someone would be, given Robert’s track history of injuries in just a month alone. But he hadn’t tried to murder Robert yet, and that was always a plus. The negative to this was that Zahir could be seen as a weakness now. Or a weapon. Would there be villains who kidnapped him just to get a one up on Mecha Man? Did Zahir realize how dangerous that could be?
What if he got kidnapped and couldn’t get out? What if he died?
“We need to talk.”
“You’ve ruined half of my inner monologue.” Robert said sarcastically, eyes moving over to Zahir.
Zahir hummed. “And you’re already halfway down a bottle of whiskey.”
Robert looked down at the bottle of whiskey in his hands. He’d sworn that he only had a sip or two—but maybe he lost track just a bit. Beef was sleeping peacefully by his side, he’d already eaten and gone to the bathroom. And he had already done his Mecha Man rounds for the day. Robert felt that he was allowed a bit of time to have a crisis over every point in his life.
“I guess so.” Robert murmured, looking up at Zahir.
Zahir chuckled quietly, sitting down on a pillow next to him. “Do you think you’re sober enough to listen?” he asked.
Robert smiled at the fingers running through his hair before nodding.
“Do you remember me telling you about the Azdehyazis?”
Robert snorted. “That me fighting you meant that you were bound to me? I remember that.”
Zahir smiled before he placed his knees against his chest. “It’s an old bloodline. We come from dragons, like a lot of different Draconics you might fight. Just– we embrace it, I guess? I don’t know how else to put it other than that we didn’t give up old traditions.” Zahir laughed quietly. “Large family, you know. Businessmen with fire-related powers that built their way to the top of the food chain.”
Robert looked over at him, shifting to lay on his side. “You said there were multiple courting rituals?”
“The fight is one of them—that one’s incredibly hard to explain, when I think about it. But you know the general idea of it.” Zahir said before laughing. “There’s a certain amount of time that you spend with someone before you officially bond yourself to them, and there’s Noofisi too. Family approval is an unofficial ritual, but it’s one we hold dear regardless.”
Robert cleared his throat. “Noofisi?”.
“It’s a really stupid process to explain in a way you’d understand. The best way I could explain it is a mix of sunbathing and piles of gold.” Zahir said.
“That’s–” Robert said before laughing. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound understandable at all.”
Zahir laughed with him. “I figured I would let you ask me questions before I explained the entire courting thing– where we are right now, I mean.” he said. Robert noticed how he was fidgeting with his nails, how the cuticles were bleeding from his picking.
“How important are mates? Robert asked first.
Zahir hummed. “I guess it depends on the person. Some of us never find one—it’s not something we judge anyone for/ If they don’t have one, I mean. But it’s something that’s become rather integral to our culture regardless.” he explained, rubbing his hands over his arms. “Sometimes they can drive us crazy. I’ve only heard stories of that though/”
“The tattoos?” he asked.
“Qokharbi.” Zahir smiled. “We get them on our sixteenth birthdays—you choose sigils that you want to stick with you through your life, like strength or protection, and they’re painted into the spine before we’re branded. It’s like a chain pattern, spreads out into whatever tattoo sticks with you after.”
Robert blinked. “What do yours mean?”
They were bright red markings that moved in such an unpredictable pattern from his collarbone down to his ankles, often glowing in the dark at Zahir’s command. “Fire, mostly.” Zahir said. “I can breathe it out or light myself to a blue blaze. Regular dragon fire shit.”
Robert snorted. “Dragon fire shit sounds interesting.”
“Shut up.” Zahir smiled.
“Do all of you have them then?” Robert asked him. “I never saw any on Andisha.”
Zahir shrugged with a smirk on his face. “She controls hers way more than I do. They’re, like, wispy smoke bits? She can turn into a smoke fog whenever she wants– like she has control of the shadows. It’s honestly really sick when you see it in action.”
Robert smiled. “Those sound really sick.”
Zahir rolled his eyes with a soft blush on his cheeks. “What’s your next one?”
Robert looked up at the ceiling. How was he meant to put his entire thought process into a single question? How was he meant to explain to Zahir that he never would deserve the title of something so sacred to his culture—that he didn’t deserve to go crazy over him?
“Why me?”
“Because you’re good for me.” Zahir shrugged simply.
Robert rolled his eyes. “I cut off your fingers, Zahir. I got you arrested–”
“Over dumb shit that I was choosing to do.” Zahir said firmly. His fingers made their way back to Robert’s hair, voice dropping down to a whisper. “I almost burnt you alive inside of that metal cooker, but you haven’t arrested me again and helped to get me a regular job.”
Robert scoffed. “I can’t have you at home all day,”
“But I don’t deserve it. Not after what I almost did to you,” Zahir said, hands untagling the knots in his hair. “I think that’s one of the reasons I hate you being Mecha Man. Knowing how bad it gets.”
Robert hummed. “I won’t stop.”
“I know you won’t.” Zahir said. “I won’t stop either.”
“Stop trying to get me out of the suit?” Robert asked.
Zahir snorted. His thumb ran over the ridge of his eyebrow before his hand moved down to his chin, tilting his head over just so. “Loving you.” he whispered. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“It’s about me, though.” Robert said to him. “We’re never going to work.”
Zahir huffed. “Yeah?”
“I don’t think we should.” Robert murmured to himself. “It’s too dangerous–”
“I can literally turn into a dragon, dude.”
Robert snorted, though there wasn’t any humor in it. “It’s more than that.”
There was a silence between them now. A distance that Robert felt growing by the second, like a bridge that could self extend and vanished underneath his feet whenever he tried to step on it. “I’ll never be good enough for you. It’ll kill you, even if you don’t think that now.”
“Robert–”
“One day, we’ll end up bonded, and you’ll realize just how miserable you are with me.” Robert said. His voice was slurred and his eyes were wet. “But you won’t be able to leave. I can’t do that to you.”
Zahir rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, it’d be fine if you got stuck with me though, right?”
“That’s different.” Robert said to him. “You’re too good for me. I’m not good enough for you.”
He wasn’t sure what else Zahir had said after that—whether he zoned it out or Zahir just hadn’t commented whatsoever, he wasn’t sure. He knew that it wouldn’t work out though. They would never work—not if he was anything like he was right now.
Robert wasn’t sure how to be fine with that yet.