Work Text:
Robert's fingers dipped into the pot of white greasepaint. His fingers swirled across the product as it slowly warmed and loosened beneath his fingertips. Once he was satisfied with the consistency, Robert dragged his fingers through the product before swiping it over his face. His movements were almost cyclical after countless nights following the same process. His vanity was well-lit, as he had Royd regularly change out the bulbs because it saw plenty of use between him and Chad. It seemed that every night, without fail, his eyes always slipped towards the two photos tucked into the sides of the vanity as he painted his face.
Robert "Bobby" Robertson, his grandfather, stands tall in a photo taken on the first opening day of the Mecha Circus. Bobby had been the founder and ringleader of the Mecha Circus. Robert had no memories of his grandfather, as an elephant had trampled him in a trick gone wrong long before Robert's birth. The other photo consisted of a figure much more familiar to him. Robert "Robbie" Robertson II, his father, similarly stands proud in a photo taken on his first day as owner, operator, and ringleader of the Mecha Circus. Robbie had always been quick to remind him that Robertson men were meant to do it all without complaint, and his father's opinion was that he should take over as operator and ringleader in the event of his demise.
Of course, Robbie likely hadn't been expecting his death to occur while his son was so young, but Robert supposed that was the risks of hedging bets with shady bookies even if they were your friends. Elliot Connors had shot his father before slipping off into the night. Last Robert had heard, the older man had made his way out of the country, but who knew if any stock could be put into rumors like that. Regardless of the hemming and hawing around him, Robert wasn't concerned about whether Connors was coming back or not. The villian's strife with his family had died with his father.
Robbie died a month before his 15th birthday, and from the very first moments slipping into the costume that both his grandfather and father had died in, Robert felt like he was being stretched into a mold he had no business filling. Robert Robertson III did not have the stage presence of his grandfather or father. Nobody would describe him as boisterous or capable of filling a space. His sarcastic, raspy tone struggled to carry to the back rows. Before Robert knew it, business was failing, and he was at risk of losing everything his father and grandfather had died for.
Fortunately, Chase, a former strongman who worked under Robbie before a crippling injury sidelined him, stepped in before Robert wound up on the street. With Chase came the Blazer Family's contributions. Apparently, upon leaving the Mecha Circus, Chase had been charged with protecting the young heiress to the fortune, Mandy. Even if he had been forced to retire, Chase never tired of the circus, and he had brought Mandy countless times to the circus over the years. Mandy had similarly fallen in love with the circus, and she was all too eager to meet the owner and proprietor of the Mecha Circus.
Compared to Robert, Mandy delighted under the spotlight. Her voice practically carried to the rafters when she was under the big top. Robert was all too eager to hand off the reins to someone who actually craved that spotlight. Mandy would don a blonde wig and a mask each night she performed to prevent any of her family's connections from knowing who she really was. Thus, Blonde Blazer, the ringleader, was born, and nobody would have ever guessed that demure, quiet Mandy was calling out to hundreds every night.
With the sudden influx of cash from the Blazer family, the Mecha Circus was able to hire all sorts of new acts. Robert had no interest in performing magic or feats of great strength. Despite his insistence that he would be perfectly satisfied with shifting into a technical role behind the scenes, Chase had been stubbornly insistent that he should have some front-facing role in the circus. There had only been one role in the circus that Robert had ever felt himself drawn to. One of Robert's earliest childhood memories was of being delighted by the creation of countless balloon animals before being dragged away by his father. Those blue eyes and red lips had seemed so sad as he was dragged away, and Robert had been transfixed with clowns ever since.
"Yo, Bob-bob. Where's my vest?" The sound of Chad's voice reverberating off the walls of the small dressing area shocked Robert out of his silent music. Fortunately, Robert had managed to apply his white greasepaint, but he was still far more behind in his makeup than he wanted to be at this time of night. Robert quickly snagged a towel to wipe away the remaining greasepaint smeared on his fingers, then grabbed a brush to draw his trademark blue ovals above and below his eyes.
"Jesus, you're even further behind than me." Chad tsked as he walked up behind Robert. His lover's smoldering eyes found his gaze in the mirror. As implied, Chad was fully dressed in his typical costume sans the missing flaming vest. Chad and Alice had plenty of time before they went on, but Robert knew Chad preferred to get ready sooner to ensure he got Alice to the ring on time. The singer and so-called 'lion tamer', Alice, while being a beloved friend to them both, was not known for her punctuality even after performing at the same time for over a hundred nights.
Chad's frustration was further revealed by the sight of a familiar pair of black ears poking out from the top of his head. Their lion, "Flambae," who breathed fire, was a crowd favorite, but he was especially Robert's favorite. Robert's grin only grew as Chad reached down to tilt his chin back. Sensing the incoming distraction, Robert put down his paintbrush before Chad bent down to press their lips together.
"Was that payment in advance of me finding your vest?" Robert asked dryly, keeping his head tilted up to maintain eye contact with Chad.
"No, that was me getting one last kiss in before you put that disgusting paint on your lips." Chad quipped before furtively looking around the room. "But I don't know what your dumb ass did with my vest after washing it either." His lover turned away, revealing his black tail with its hair standing straight, which further signaled to Robert that Chad's frustrations were at their limit. Robert sighed and shook his head, and picked up his brush once more. "It's on the back of the door where I told you it would be after I dried it." He called out as he began swirling the blue paint below his left eye.
"I literally just came from the door. It isn't fucking there." Chad hissed, and Robert listened as the wood panels creaked under the black-haired man's footsteps as he made his way back over to the entrance to the dressing area. Silence filled the space, which let Robert know the vest had been exactly where he had told Chad it would be this morning.
"You're welcome." Robert smugly called back, and he chuckled as he heard Chad curse under his breath. Even if Robert didn't know what Chad was saying, he could infer from the other man's tone that it was likely nothing worth repeating.
"Hardy har, smartass. Your makeup is smeared under your eye." Chad was still clearly sulking by the time he came up behind Robert once more.
"I'm a clown. Fastidiousness isn't exactly something we are known for." Robert pointed that out as he shrugged. It's not like the kids would complain about a clown with uneven blue circles under his eyes.
"Give me that. You always wind up with paint on your teeth when you paint your lips, and you look even dumber than usual." Chad forcefully made his way to the vanity before snagging one of Robert's clean brushes and the pot of red greasepaint. His grip on Robert's shoulder was firm as he physically prompted him to turn around in his seat until he was facing his lover with his back to the mirror. Robert's smile revealed he was all too pleased with this development, which only seemed to incense Chad further.
"I don't know if there is another clown out there with a lover so devoted to maintaining his facepaint." Robert couldn't help but snort with laughter, but Chad was quick to shut down any further teasing with a focused glare and smoke billowing from his nose.
"Shut up before I ruin your facepaint intentionally." Chad hissed, and Robert had enough common sense to leave the joke well enough alone, especially since his lover could easily undo all of his hard work if he were angry enough. Fortunately, Chad did no such thing and instead methodically dragged the clean brush through the red greasepaint until it was warmed through enough to spread. Silence filled the space between them, with the only faint noises being the sound of the paintbrush being dragged over the skin around his lips.
Robert would never admit it aloud to avoid his eyebrows being seared off, but he loved the quiet moments like this when Chad's intensity was solely fixated on him. Even now, Chad's orange eyes roamed his face, checking for any patchy streaks in the red paint. Once Chad was suitably satisfied, his lover set the paintbrush down on the vanity. Chad's hands then reached for the ruffled collar on the vanity before helping tie it around Robert's neck. Once finished, Chad stepped back for a moment and gazed at Robert before humming appreciatively.
"Come on. The sooner we get done tonight, the sooner we can get that shitty ass paint off your lips." Chad grumbled as he squeezed Robert on the shoulder with his now free hand. The underlying meaning of Chad's words was clear to Robert, as his lover couldn't wait to kiss him once more.
"Thanks, Chad." Robert's grin widened with mischief as he stood up from his chair. Chad mumbled gruffly at his thanks, and his lover clearly didn't see his prank coming as Robert sat up on his heels to plant a loud kiss on Chad's cheek.
"I literally just finished your lips, bitch." Chad hissed as he quickly scrambled for a towel on the vanity to wipe away the red greasepaint that was now staining his cheek. Unfortunately, Chad grabbed the towel Robert had used to wipe away the white greasepaint staining his fingers, so his lover wound up smearing white facepaint over his face, in addition to the red, to create a nice pink rouge. The heat in the dressing area ticked up several notches, which was Robert's cue to leave.
"There are clean towels in the hamper by the vanity. You still have plenty of time until your act, and I'll make sure I send Alice towards the ring if I see her while I'm out about about. See you later, Lover." Robert called back behind him with mirth in his tone as he slipped out of the room. Chad would be distracted for a few minutes, getting the residual greasepaint off his cheek, which gave him a head start, though it was hardly any time at all, as he was sure that he would have Chad barreling towards him sooner rather than later.
No, Robert Robertson III did not make much of an operator or a ringleader, but he had a damn good time spending his nights as a clown.