Work Text:
“Do you ever stop moving??”
“No! I don’t think so!”
How else could he describe this? The itch in the back of his brain whenever he was forced to sit still, made to be completely silent and not say a word. The itch that soon grew and grew until suddenly, all the alarms were off, blaring at full volume in his now cluttered brain. His heart quickened to a breakneck pace, racing faster and faster until it hurt to breathe.
It was not so easily explained. And heroes weren’t supposed to get anxiety over anything… right? They weren’t supposed to be anything but perfect, flawless. But his ears rang with the sound of his brain calling out for help when he could do nothing at all but twiddle his thumbs.
The kids seemed to understand most of the time. They’d questioned him once or twice with a simple “Do you ever take a vacation?” to which he could only reply “No” with no real explanation. His lack of ability to sit still, to focus on just one thing, it was perplexing to the children but they took his words as gospel because they didn’t know any better. He was just a full of energy, athletically inclined hero who preferred to exert as much as he possibly could as opposed to what one might call a “normal amount”.
Robbie was not so easily convinced of such things it seemed. Sure, at first he took it for what it was. Sportacus was a superhero and it was easy to assume that he just did these things to “be a show-off”, but the closer they grew to each other the less sense it made to him. Sportacus could see every time he stared with piercing eyes when they sat next to each other as he jiggled his leg, fiddled with his fingers or gritted his teeth hard to try and distract from the itch.
“Why do you do that?” it was a vague and sort of pressing, aggressive question in Robbie’s disdainful, rough voice. They sat next to each other on a park bench, at the request of Robbie to “relax” a little bit in the nice weather. All that could be heard apart from their voices was the light tweeting of a single, solitary song bird.
“Sorry? Why do I do what?” Sportacus didn’t notice he did it. It was like a reflex to combat the awful anxiety that began to bundle up in his chest like a mess of tangled wires all shorting out at once, causing him to twitch and malfunction.
“Why do you move around like that whenever we sit down together? Why can’t you just sit still and soak up the sun? Enjoy the peace and quiet!?” it was not unlike Robbie to get so worked up , especially by something he didn’t understand at all. “No one is here to show off to and you still want to get up and exercise??”
“You think… that I’m a show off Robbie?”
“A bit, yes!”
His heart clenched in his chest, like a hand was grabbing onto it with all its might and squeezing it to cause it to burst. A show-off? Was he talking about how he got around normally? The exercise?
“My exercise is for me, Robbie. I like to be a good influence, of course. But in the end, it’s for me.” His hands took hold of the tight fabric of his pants, digging his fingers into it and gritting his teeth until his clenched jaw began to ache. If Robbie thought this, maybe others did as well.
“Maybe that’s true on some level, but you sit still less than anyone I have ever seen in my life. You don’t ever stop. Why do you do it, if not to be a show-off?” the question could have been taken as snarky or attempting to put him in his place, but to Sportacus it seemed genuine. Like he was really curious as to why he couldn’t just lie down and take a break sometimes.
“My own, personal reasons. It wouldn’t make any sense to you…” Robbie obviously dealt with his own unique kind of anxiety but it wasn’t even close to what Sportacus went through. How could he possibly compare it to something in order to make this clear?
“…You get anxious sometimes, don’t you?” he cradled his hands in his lap, thumbs rubbing and pressing up against each other while he began to rock very, very slightly back and forth.
“Of course I do… are you trying to tell me that this- “he motioned dramatically with a flailing of his hands toward Sportacus who was still swaying. “Is because you’re anxious?”
“No- well, sort of... I don’t move because I’m anxious. I get anxious if I don’t move.” Saying it out loud made his stomach feel so awful and sour, like he should be ashamed of himself but he wouldn’t let it show on his face no matter what. He didn’t want to make Robbie feel bad for this.
“…Is that so?” the quizzical quirking of Robbie’s eyebrow had him so concerned. Something was going on in his brain that he wasn’t aware of, and finding out was necessary or his already present anxiety was just going to get worse. “Do you know much about how the brain works?”
“Not much, actually.” Sportacus was smart, at least an average amount. He was in school until his early twenties and always got impressive marks but there was plenty he hadn’t studied. The way one’s brain worked was one of those things he’d just never looked into. He knew the way a human body worked in terms of physical health, but that was where he had drawn the line.
“Sitting still really makes you anxious, right? I can see you’re uncomfortable just sitting there. Stand up if you want.”
With a large, powerful exhale he stood up from the bench and almost immediately began to do stretches, just to warm up while Robbie sat and watched in interest. The itch was gone and his chest had finally stopped burning.
“It’s not a bad thing, Sportakook. You’ve been like that your whole life, haven’t you? It’s just a part of you, nothing to be ashamed of.” Normally this was the other way around. Sportacus was giving advice, educating people and making them feel validated but now the tables had been turned.
Jogging in place and trying his hardest to pay attention to the other’s words, he nodded along and grimaced when he realized Robbie was right. He really had been like this his entire life. As far back as he could recall, he pictured himself on the tiled floor doing push ups for hours and hours without a care in the world.
“Robbie…” in a brief still moment he reached out and took his partner’s hand, bringing it up to his pursed lips to offer three small kisses to his rather cold knuckles. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Please, don’t thank me. If I know the answer to something bothering you, why would I hide it from you?” as much as he denied enjoying being thanked for such things, the rosy tint of his cheeks would say otherwise. Sportacus complimenting him was like a gift wrapped specially just for him, unique and valuable. He took them whenever he was lucky enough to have the chance.
“Would you like to go home? You can flippity flip the whole way there.” the smirk tugging at his lips followed the fond feeling that sat in his heart like a smoldering coal, slow burning but powerful.
“Of course, thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
His pleasure indeed. He could say he thought Sportacus was a show-off all he wanted, he was still the one staring in awe each and every time he flew by. But the elf didn’t need to know that. No one did.