Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Robbie knows that bottling his emotions is unhealthy, but he can’t help it sometimes. He can’t let the kids know - they’re too nosy, and they’d just bother him about it until he did something - which he refuses to do. He especially can’t let Sportaloser know - that stupid flip-flopping elf would bother him even worse than the brats, and he would actually do something about Robbie’s situation. Emotional situation, that is, no doubt complete with stupid health and nutrition advice that Robbie has heard a million times and doesn’t want to hear again.

And he can’t let the Sportacus know about his depression, he just can’t - he would see right through everything in an instant, and letting the elf that close to his emotions (ugh) would open up a whole other can of disaster. Robbie’s struggled with his feelings for Sportacus for years now, and has only come to the realization recently that he really does love (ew) the gymnast. It’s ridiculous, how much his thoughts drift to Sportacus now. He isn’t sure why - sentiment? obsession? anger? - but it’s always accompanied by some sharp twinge in his chest that he can’t name or pin down, which almost always lays Robbie low for hours - until he falls asleep and shakes it off into his dreams. His dreams aren’t always there to push his feelings into, and sometimes when they are, it doesn’t work - some part of his subconscious is too obsessed with Sportacus to let Robbie think for even a moment.

Regardless of lack or presence of dreams, helpful or hindersome, Robbie often wakes up with his face tear-streaked. There is a reason he wears makeup. Waterproof, too, in case anything happens during the day. And sometimes a lot happens during the day - Sport will help him out with some problem or another, or give Robbie that stupid (helpful) advice, or he won’t even interact with Robbie but Robbie sees him playing with the kids and that’s enough to set him off. Robbie is so emotionally entangled with Sportacus’s presence that he doesn’t know what he’d do without the silly blue elf. He doesn’t want to find out - he doubts it would be good.

Which is why his plans to run Sportacus out of town are often weak or flawed - he either doesn’t try very hard or he designs them flawed as such. He wishes he could do something else (anything else) but he’s learned that he won’t be seen as anything other than the town villain, and he’s got a reputation to uphold, he supposes.

Most days, he can make it, and even on the days he can’t, he survives at home until it passes. But then there’s the days when even curling up in his chair, even crying, won’t budge the sharp ache in his chest that thumps against his ribs, pounding and pulling with every breath and heartbeat. And when the pain in his heart, piercing and twisting, overwhelms him, Robbie will leave his chair, sometimes pace around the room, sometimes tinker with a machine or his disguises, sometimes sometimes sometimes something , anything. But when all else fails and Robbie can’t hold on any longer for fear of harm, he’ll dance.

It’s the only exercise he indulges himself in, and only so, so rarely… It’s the only thing that helps when nothing else does, the only thing that lets him scrape even a shred of relief from the shards of what he feels like he’s turning into, the only thing that, at one point in time, kept him alive.

So when Robbie falls apart this time, when the choked sobs just squeeze the ache in his chest instead of releasing it, when everything slams in tight around him and there’s no escape but to move , he dances. He turns on the music, and he dances.

you’re doing all these things out of desperation

Feet sliding, one in a sock and the other missing it, across the cold cement floor.

Legs, bending and stretching and carrying him through this foggy, hazy, mist.

Stomach, fabric sliding and creasing and twisting as Robbie does, bending and folding and supporting what little there is.

Back, straight or hunched over he doesn’t know, sometimes one or the other or both he doesn’t know but he can feel the world beating down on it. It feels like rain.

Arms, sometimes raised, sometimes flowing, sometimes telling a story, sometimes this or that, but carrying out the words when there are none.

Head, full of everything and something and anything and nothing but out, dance it out, pull it out out out where it can’t hurt you anymore.

Eyes, closed, most often, but sometimes searching the room. Sometimes blinking back tears. Sometimes letting them go, tears streaming dripping falling down his eyelashes cheeks chin neck with head thrown back and that pain that isn’t really there but it feels real and it hurts in just that way that almost feels like he’s longing for something but he can’t think .

And sometimes he stops dancing, falls to the floor, a sob or two pulling themselves out of his twisted lungs before he breathes, breathes deeply, and stands up.

you’re going through six degrees of separation

And sometimes he has to let go, let go, let go of the thoughts and feelings and

you fake a smile, you lie and say

and in that wrenching way, it helps, it helps, it tears him up and tears him up but through the pain and the tears

you’re better now than ever and your life’s okay

oh, it aches stings burns tears through him, a sob twitching in his throat and shaking him as he dances

First

he didn’t understand why he wanted that elf why out of town, except he always twisted Robbie’s mouth into something between a smile and a sneer, so unsure

you think the worst is a broken heart

and he did, his heart was breaking when he made a mistake, when he thought he had really driven that strange little sports-elf out of town and his heart felt like glass even though he couldn’t place why

what’s gonna kill you is the second part

when it turned out he hadn’t, that Sportacus was really still there and his lungs felt like sandpaper on every breath and he didn’t leave his lair for nine days, head whirling with why why why and there was no answer

and the third

chasing the answers, any answers, one answer, the answer

is when your world splits down the middle

when he realized, heart stopping and breath choking him with the thought and he was glad his bunker was soundproof because he couldn’t bear to be silent and cried for days, felt like he was being torn in two three four pieces dying

and fourth

after that?

you’re gonna think that you’ve fixed yourself

how could he think he was okay, after that, that realization that he was in such a situation that the most inconspicuous word could tear it down in three seconds and wreck everything he had ever held

fifth

you see them out with someone else

with someone, no, but he had seen Sport out so much, out in the open, out of his airship, out with the kids, out of Robbie’s vaguest, dreamiest reach and that is what began to rip him open again, stitch by stitch until

and the sixth

pain, pain, pain, and tears streaking staining his face until sliding dripping falling they wet his clothes his chair the floor he doesn’t know

is when you admit

he thought he had admitted it long ago, but no, this wound is too fresh, too red, too raw to be old and scarred this is new and burning, agonizing

you may have fucked up a little

and he did, he knows he did, but he can’t think of a single thing to mend it, can’t think of a single thing at all, but he lets his legs feet arms body carry him through the whirl with tears streaming now, he can’t tell if he’s crying or not but the tears are there so he must be, mustn’t he?

it’s every man for himself

and it is, it’s Robbie against the rest of the world, the rest of the universe, the rest of anything and everything and his own demons clawing the sore, bruised spots until they split open and he feels his hope leak drain bleed out of him, falling to the floor and shattering, shards piercing his feet, it hurts beyond words

that’s how you know you’ve reached the sixth degree of separation

but is it separation, is it really? when Robbie is the only one who’s ever done anything to hurt himself, that selfless, stupid sports-elf didn’t touch him, didn’t push him, didn’t hurt him, it was only Robbie.

Robbie that pushed himself away

Robbie that tore himself down

Robbie that ripped every hope away from himself

Robbie left himself desolate and tortured on the floor with tears sweat blood falling falling falling

but he’s still on his feet, right foot in front of left, left in front of right, walk, walk, one step at a time, then another, and another.

and another

and another

until he bumps into something solid that can’t be a wall it’s soft warm textured and not his chair either

he opens his eyes

and it’s Sportacus standing there, blue eyes light and watery and is that a tear track? no it’s two, one on each of the elf’s cheeks, paths obviously streaked there from several tears

the worst is a broken heart

“Robbie?”

what’s gonna kill you

“Sportacus,” voice weak and whispery broken

your world splits down the middle

“Robbie, I…” he’s smiling at the shorter man, ruefully and teary-eyed

think that you’ve fixed yourself

so far from the truth

you see them out

“I’m dancing,” he says stupidly.

and the sixth

is when you admit

you

“May have fucked up a little,” Robbie croaks, barely seeing through bleary wet sodden crying eyes

going through six degrees of separation

“I need your help, Sport,” with a weak laugh, music fading away. The elf only stares

floating back in

what’s the best way

“I can try,” he whispers, tears behind the choke in his voice

no one knows

“I can try.”

Chapter Text

“Robbie,” Sportacus says, so gentle.

“Y-yeah?” Robbie sniffles.

“Can I- may I hug you?”

Robbie falls into his arms, lanky body too tall for Sportacus to really hold him, and he knows, he’s sorry, but he’s too tired, so tired…

“Robbie. Robbie, can you focus for me, please?”

He sniffs and looks down at the elf.

to get a glimpse of the heart of your design

“We should sit down, yes?”

Robbie nods.

you are surrounding me

Sportacus lets Robbie lean on him until they can both sit in Robbie’s chair.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Robbie?”

He shakes his head, breath hitching as tears chase each other down his cheek.

“That’s okay. Keep taking deep breaths, okay?”

if only i could see it from your perspective

So Robbie breathes, slow, shaking breaths, as Sportacus holds him, arm curved around his back and hand in his hair that he didn’t even bother to do that morning, stroking, soothing

There are a million trees blowing in the wind

“Thank you,” Robbie mumbles, barely coherent in word or thought because why is he here?

witnesses of lives already lived

“Are you okay? Are you safe, Robbie?”

the wind and the rain

“‘m tired, Sport.” can’t think, can’t focus. He’s warm, close, surprisingly soft for someone so muscular, very nice floats by Robbie’s consciousness, what little he can grasp,

the beauty and the grace of your architecture

“I know, Robbie, I know. Do you want me to stay here?”

here I stand, here I stand

“Please,” mumbled.

“Thank you, Robbie,” slips out unchecked and

“what? Why would you thank me? ”

you are surrounding me

“ You’re helping me.”

and the walls will never, ever, ever come down

that’s a lie because Robbie’s walls are so weak and he feels Sportacus’s are too, but at least the silly elf is there for some reason, can’t place why,

“Thank you for letting me help, Robbie.”

no the walls will never, ever, ever come down

so far from the truth but Robbie hiccups a laugh, a strange smile twisting against everything he feels like should be crushing down on him but isn’t

“Why d’you want to help me? ‘M only the villain,” mumbled and cut by a twitchy sob where did that come from?

“You’re not a villain, Robbie.”

“‘M not?”

“You’re a good person,” shaky, is he crying? A glance at his face and yes, Sportacus has a look on his face Robbie only knows as heartbreak (he’s seen it so often in the mirror)

here I stand, here I stand on what you built

And that’s all that’s holding him together, isn’t it? Sportacus’s arms around him, leg somehow linked with one of his own and Robbie curled down so his head is on Sport’s chest

you form my heart like an empire

So true, isn’t it? Nothing’s been holding him together lately, nothing but that blue, blue elf, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. Only after Robbie hears the sob does he realize it was him, he’s really crying again, why?

“You’re a good person,” he repeats, “and I care about you.”

You build me up like a city of gold

but surely, surely not,

“tried to run you out of town,”

“It’s okay.”

“... t’make the kids lazy , Sport, how can…”

“It’s okay, Robbie.”

“‘s not, it’s not, I’m just-”

“You have your struggles, yes, but you’re not bad. Trust me. I know bad people, Robbie, and you’re not one of them.”

The battles rage but I’m standing tall

“Okay?”

the wind and rain can’t stop this fire

burning, burning in his chest, hot and warm and pulling at those places he still can’t name because sportacus that stupid sports-elf cares about him. Him, Robbie Rotten.

Oh, oh, oh, oh

no more than a friend, but caring is something, isn’t it?

too tired to think focus talk cry breathe and everything’s so slow what’s going on? but he’s tired and all he needs is sleep, just sleep, something else but no just

oh, oh, oh, oh…

sleep

Chapter Text

Sportacus stares down at Robbie, the poor man, who’s practically clinging to him in his sleep. Still crying, too, little shakes of his back from time to time. Sportacus is crying too, of course. Walking in and seeing Robbie like that, crumpled and kneeling on the floor and shuddering with nearly silent sobs - it broke his heart. And surely Robbie’s is broken, too. Sportacus may not have experienced it, but he knows what it looks like when someone has broken another’s heart. And Robbie - so, so broken, shattered , really - who broke him? He’s in pieces, crying intertwined with Sportacus even in his sleep , what does it take to tear a man down so far?

“Who broke you, Robbie?” he says to the sleeping man. “Who broke your heart so badly?”

Robbie mumbles something unintelligible; Sportacus can’t even tell if it’s English. He decides to take it as an answer anyways.

“I hope they never hurt you again, Robbie. I can help you if they try. I’m always here to help, and your emotional health is just as important as your physical.”

“Þé.” Icelandic? It’s only a mumble, barely audible, but that’s what it sounds like.

“Mig?” Sportacus tries.

“Þé,” Robbie murmurs.

Me, Sportacus thinks. Why would he say me?

“Robbie, I wouldn’t hurt you. I wouldn’t ever hurt you.”

“Nei?”

“No, Robbie. I love you.” It’s slipped out, too late to take it back, but even if Robbie is awake to hear it, he’s probably so tired he won’t recall it later.

He mumbles something that ends in “þé.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Robbie,” Sportacus whispers, stroking the tall man’s hair. “I would never want to hurt you.”

More incoherent mumbling, the language indeterminable.

“I do love you, Robbie. You’re a very sweet man, and you always make me laugh with your funny schemes. I know you’re sad, and I know it’s not easy, but I want to help you. Because I love you, okay?” He sighs, heart tugging inside of him. There’s tears on his face, fresh ones, rolling across paths that feel like they might carve valleys into his cheeks.

“Don’t let me get you down, if I’m hurting you. If there’s something you need to do, then do it. If I need to do something, let me know. I’d do just about anything to make you happy, Robbie, especially when you’re so sad. I love you,” this time shaken by a sort of crying exhale but what can he do? What can he do to help Robbie, such a broken man? He’s barely a man anymore, just a shell performing what people see until they believe it. Sportacus doesn’t believe it though, not that shallow imitation of who Robbie really is. He knows there’s a man there, grumpy but gentle, caring, loving, such a good man.

And it was himself that broke that man.

Weep for yourself, my man, you’ll never be what is in your heart

He feels terrible, twisted and sick to his stomach at the thought

Weep, little lion man, you’re not as brave as you were at the start

He isn’t, if he’s honest. If he would have known when he arrived he would fall in love with this silly man, the one who claims to be a villain, he would certainly have done something, rather than nothing. He supposes Robbie must think he’s done something, otherwise he wouldn’t be so torn up about this.

Rate yourself and rake yourself, take all the courage you have left

“Robbie?” Sportacus gently shakes his shoulder. He hates to disturb him, especially when he so obviously needs the sleep, but it would be better to talk now.

“Hm.”

And waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your head

But this is real, very much real, isn’t it. It’s a problem that Robbie’s in this state at all. It’s most certainly a problem now, because Sportacus’s crystal has never gone off for this before.

“Robbie, I know you’re tired, but I have to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“You’re hurt. Somebody hurt you. I need to know who.”

“Why do you care? I’m just the villain.”

“You’re more than that, Robbie! You’re a person. Everybody’s a person, first and foremost. And you’re a person, too. A good one, at that.”

“But I-”

“It doesn’t matter what you did, Robbie. Nobody ever got hurt, and we all still care about you.”

“No you don’t,” he growls, pushing himself away from Sportacus.

“I do, Robbie!” standing up right after him “I do care about you. I…”

“You what, Sporta flop ?” he spits.

But it was not your fault but mine

His throat is blocked, the words won’t come out, no, he has to say it but his mouth won’t let him.

And it was your heart on the line

“That’s what I thought. You didn’t mean it, did you?”

I really fucked it up this time

And Sportacus never shouts, but he’s shouting now, angry denials spilling from his lips in Icelandic because “of course i care about you, Robbie, how could you say that? I love you, you stupid man! How can you not see that? I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you, and it scares me to death, but I love you!”

Didn’t I, my dear

“I have loved you for longer than I know how to say and I don’t want you to ever think I would say something without meaning it! I don’t say a single thing I don’t mean, and I mean it when I say I love you!”

Didn’t I, my-

His breath is coming shaky now, deep, heaving breaths and his hat is knocked askew but he doesn’t care because this stupid man

“I hate seeing you sad, Robbie. I can tell when you’re sad, always, and it hurts me to see you so sad.” He’s not yelling anymore but crying, tears he didn’t think were there spilling over as he speaks. “I just want you to be happy, because I love you.”

“You love me.” Robbie’s voice. “And you speak Icelandic.”

“I do.”

“I don’t speak much. My mom was Icelandic, but I know enough.”

“That’s very nice.”

“You’re too good to me, Sport.”

“I just give you what you deserve.”

Robbie scoffs

Your grace is wasted in your face

“I don’t deserve anything, don’t you see that?” He’s becoming aggressive now, defensive and angry.

your boldness stands alone among the wreck

“Robbie…”

Now learn from your mother

“Just leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you. I don’t trust you to be okay if I leave you alone.”

or else spend your days biting your own neck

Shit.

But it was not your fault but mine

“What?”

And it was your heart on the line

“I’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself if I leave you.”

I really fucked it up this time

“And set off your stupid crystal? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

Didn’t I, my dear?

“I worry about you, Glanni!” He’s slipping into Icelandic now, distress getting to him.

“Well, don’t!” Robbie shouts. “Why do you care?! Why are you pretending to care now?! Not a single time before did you help me! Not a single time!”

Didn’t I, my dear.

Sportacus steps back, taken aback at Robbie’s outburst. The man in question is breathing heavily, shoulders tight and eyes piercingly angry glaring at Sportacus.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Another step back. Robbie advances a step in return.

“Please, let me-”

“I don’t need your help,” deadly cold and quiet.

“Robbie-”

“No. Get out,” voice raised slightly.

“What?”

“Get-”

“I heard you, but why?”

“Do you honestly think you can help me? That you can fix me? Because I’m broken, Sportacus. I’m just a- a piece of shit, and I can’t be fixed. So get. Out.”

Stumbling backwards, looking for a place to go but there’s no ladder out - surely Robbie has one?

“I- there’s-”

He snaps his fingers and one appears from somewhere. It’s across the room.

So Sportacus reluctantly takes the first step towards Robbie, making his way past. “Please give me a chance, Robbie.”

“Not a chance, Sporta loser, ” he sneers.

“Look, if you’re going to be so irresponsible-”

But it was not your fault but mine

“Excuse me?”

And it was your heart on the line

Oh no.

I really fucked it up this time

Didn’t I, my dear?

He doesn’t have an excuse, just walks fast, too fast, runs

But it was not

hand on the rung

your fault

half way up

but mine

leg over the edge of the port, running

And it was your

grabbing the ladder

Heart on the line

head shoulders arms out of the port

I really fucked

thump, foot landing on the grass

it up

thump

This time

thump

Didn’t I, my dear

collapsing to the ground under his airship, broken and crying

Didn’t I, my dear…

laying his head down on his arms in despair as the other disappears from sight.

Chapter Text

Robbie knows he shouldn’t have said anything. He should have kept his mouth shut, pretended to be asleep, anything. He’s ruined this. Completely ruined it. He had a chance before, but now he’s wrecked everything beyond belief.

His music is still playing, now a slow, rhythmic song that feels like a heartbeat. A heartbeat steadier than his own at the moment. He doesn’t want to move, but he has to. He stretches his legs back down the ladder, lowering himself into his home.

I only want the best for you

He really does. Sportacus is a good man, a sweet man, and he doesn’t deserve to be hurt, but here Robbie is, tearing him apart. The look of devastation on his face was a mirror of Robbie’s own, and that’s just disgusting. Nobody, nobody, except Robbie himself, deserves to feel that sick, sick heartbreak.

I tried to sever ties and I

ended up with wounds to bind

How true. And how sad.

It’s like you’re pouring salt on my cuts

Robbie exhales in a mockery of a laugh. That may be what it feels like, but Sportacus would never hurt a fly. He saves anybody and everybody that needs any help at all.

Except Robbie. Not that he needs help. Well, by Sportacus’s standards, he probably does, but he doesn’t deserve any help. Especially not from the man himself. Sportacus shouldn’t have anything to do with Robbie

I don’t even know where to start

And he doesn’t. Does he apologize? Does he ignore Sportacus? Does he pretend this never happened? That would be easiest. He’s already had practice ignoring his emotions.

Cause you can bandage the damage

But can you really? Can he? No, definitely not. Especially not the damage he’s done to Sportacus. The elf will probably never really be the same, not after how much Robbie’s hurt him.

You never really can fix a heart

That much is true. Robbie knows he’ll never recover, and that’s after learning to deal with it over and over. Sportacus - well, where Robbie will be sore, Sportacus will be raw. It may ache for Robbie, but it will be agonizing for Sportacus. That poor, poor man. So innocent and unburdened, and Robbie would bet he’s never even loved anybody before. So purely in love, barely concerned, and then Robbie essentially ripped his heart out. He’s willing to bet that Sportacus will never trust someone enough to say “I love you” again. And it’s all his fault

Please don’t

Don’t what? Do anything, that’s what would be best. Robbie’s never done a shred of good for anybody, only torn them down. Best to do nothing at all

Get my

Hopes up

It’s hard to imagine Robbie getting anybody’s hopes up, and while he can imagine saying that to Sportacus, he wouldn’t mean a single word of it. Sportacus has never done anything, never, to get Robbie’s hopes up. Not before this disaster he’s in the middle of. And really, his hopes are so crushed now he doubts he’ll be able to have them ever again. Not that he had any in the first place, but there was a shred of possibility, and now there’s not even a speck

how could you be so cruel

And how could he? What did Sportacus do to deserve this? Nothing, he’s done nothing. Nobody deserves this. Robbie may be a bad man, but nothing even he’s ever done would merit emotional destruction of this level. He’s done it so many times, though, ripped into himself and torn up his heart, that it’s nothing new. It feels like there’s scars, some older than others, puckered and smoothed over, but there’s also wounds. Raw, jagged wounds, fresh and bleeding, wounds he can feel his pulse in, throbbing, aching, just so painful.

I don’t even know where to start

Nobody would. Not even the most skilled person in these areas, no-one. This is a disaster. And while Robbie is used to disasters, he sure as hell isn’t used to this. This is somehow beyond a disaster, if that’s even possible. But it must be, of course it is, because it’s happening. Nothing can fix this. Nothing can even help this. Robbie’s damaged both Sportacus and himself far beyond what he would ever admit. He knows he won’t show it, certainly not, but Sportacus - that poor, poor man will be more open than a book. The kids will know, everybody will know, that somebody’s broken the elf’s heart. And they won’t rest until they’ve found out who it is and done something about it - that’s the kind of people they are. Sportacus is practically transparent on his best days, on his worst, completely so, and Robbie knows he’ll be found out. Probably put in jail, or, more likely, driven out of town.

You can bandage the damage

And maybe he can. Maybe Sportacus will learn to heal himself. Well not heal, but help. He’ll never be the same, but maybe he’ll be a stronger person. At least it’ll help him when he encounters the real world. Robbie just hopes he survives this, in all honesty. It’ll be a long, hard road, steep and precarious, almost impossible.

He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to manage it himself.

You never really can fix a heart

Chapter Text

He isn’t sure if he’s alive. Not really. All he feels is cold.

But he feels something, so he supposes he must be somewhat alive. Numb, but alive.

Not numb, either. Cold.

And raw. Like somebody’s scraped off a layer of skin. He can feel his pulse in one of his arms.

His arms, right. He rolls onto his back. His left arm falls to the side; his right is no longer trapped under his chest.

Grass. That’s what’s itching at the back of his neck. He rubs his neck and sits up, folding his arms around his knees.

“Ladder,” he says, just loud enough for the airship to hear him, and the ladder falls down. He grabs on and repeats the command, allowing the ladder to pull him back into the ship.

Step one, you say ‘we need to talk’

Stretching out his arms and legs, mind buzzing, he wonders if Robbie would even let him try to fix things. He’d almost certainly get aggressive, judging by his behavior tonight.

He walks, you say ‘sit down, it’s just a talk’

Maybe if he pushed a little - but no, that’s what set Robbie off tonight. How can he talk to the man without making him angry? He doesn’t think he can, in all honesty. Robbie doesn’t listen when he’s angry, and Sportacus can’t bring himself to push far enough to make him. So he won’t be able to get through to Robbie at all. He sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, and he’s surprised when they come away wet. Is he crying? He hasn’t cried in a very long time.

Between the lines of fear and blame

Perhaps it’s because Robbie blames him. Robbie has never really been mean to him before, but maybe he’s mad because he blames Sportacus for something. Hurting him. That’s the only conclusion. Robbie’s mad because Sportacus hurt him. Not purposefully, of course, certainly not. Sportacus cares about Robbie too much to hurt him. But he must have done something that broke Robbie’s heart like this, although he doesn’t have any idea what it is.

You begin to wonder why you came

He’s obviously messed things up even more by trying to talk about it, despite his intentions being only good.

Where did I go wrong

He can’t think of what caused Robbie to get so upset.

I lost a friend

All he knows is that he’s ruined things. He’s shattered everything he ever had a chance of with Robbie. He loved - no, loves - him, and all he did was fight him off. Did someone hurt him before? Why is he so afraid?

Somewhere along in the bitterness

Why is he so angry? What happened to him to make him so scared of this?

And I would have stayed up with you all night

He would do anything to just talk with Robbie. Anything.

Had I known how to save a life

He just wants Robbie to be safe. Anything for Robbie to be safe. He thought he was making progress. He thought he had helped. The inaccuracy of that statement is illustrated by Sportacus’s crystal blinking, flashing him images of Robbie in his lair - pacing, running his hands through his hair, sitting on the floor - and while nothing appears to be wrong, Sportacus knows that something must be.

Should he go back?

Let him know that you know best

‘Cause after all, you do know best

Robbie needs help. It’s far below him to ignore a summons from his crystal, though he’s done it many times in Robbie’s case. The poor man has more emotional trouble than anything he’s ever seen. But if it doesn’t look serious, he silences the crystal - he suspected Robbie would respond like he did. Why he went down there this time, he doesn’t know. Maybe because he’s never seen Robbie cry before. Or he’s never seen him so desperate. And he’s certainly never seen him dance.

Lay down a list of what is wrong

The things you’ve told him all along

He could go back. He could make Robbie talk. No, he couldn’t. He doesn’t have the strength for that. Physically, he far outmatches him, but mentally? Robbie is stronger than Sportacus can dream of being.

Well, there is one thing he can do.

Pray to God, he hears you

He can make a deal.

And I pray to God he hears you

Dangerous, he knows, assuming Robbie knows the lore he probably does. But it’s the only thing that could possibly get Robbie’s attention without being aggressive.

And where did I go wrong?

“Ladder.” His voice is strong now, low and firm and confident.

“It is past 8:08,” the ship responds. “Are you sure you want to leave?”

“Yes. Ladder,” he repeats.

The ladder drops, and he climbs down.

I lost a friend

He repeats the command once he’s on the ground, sending the ladder back up to the ship. LazyTown is virtually crime-free, so there’s hardly a threat to his security, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Somewhere along in the bitterness

It’s such a long way from his airship to the billboard. How did he run all the way back here in the haze he came back from? He doesn’t know. But he starts off back towards the billboard and the entrance to Robbie’s lair.

And I would have stayed up with you all night

The ground is hard under his feet, each step audible on the dirt. Halfway there, now. His heart jumps in his chest, and he takes a deep breathe he didn’t realize he needs.

Had I known how to save a life

He feels shaky, nervous, especially with his hastily thought up terms of the deal. It’s dangerous, borderline suicidal, to make the kind of deal he’s about to, but it’s all he can think of.

He’s there now, at the port. He knocks on the metal, three resounding clang s that seem to echo in the quietness of the night.

“Go away,” says Robbie.

As he begins to raise his voice

“I have something to tell you.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“You want to hear this, trust me.

“No. I. Don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I want to make a deal.”

You lower yours and give him one last choice

He’s stopped talking.

“You will let me explain myself to you. You will explain yourself to me. You will talk with me about what went wrong. In return, I will do whatever you ask.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

He will do one of two things

“Come in,” he says, voice flattened, presumably so as not to reveal his opinions on this turn of events.

He will admit to everything

So Sportacus slides into the lair, landing softly on the ground under the chute.

“You do know that it’s beyond stupid to make that kind of deal, right?”

Sportacus just nods.

“That’s just asking for disaster.”

“I know.”

“That’s suicidal.”

“I know that, too.”

“And you still made that deal?”

“Yes.” His head is bowed, hands clasped, and he’s lost his hat somewhere. The picture of submission.

“Interesting.

Or he’ll say he’s just not the same

“Sit down. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

And you’ll begin to wonder why you came

Chapter Text

“It was the only thing I could think of that would get your attention.”

“Obviously.” What was the elf thinking? He knows that Robbie knows he’s an elf. He might know about Robbie’s fae lineage, and if he does, that makes his deal even more idiotic. “It worked, but at what cost?”

“That is for you to decide.”

“So tell me what you have to say, and I will.”

Sportacus takes a deep breath. A shaky one, Robbie notes. He’s nervous- no, scared. Who wouldn’t be?

“When I arrived at this town, I was not expecting you. I don’t think I even considered this tiny town having a villain. That’s what the children introduced you as, anyway, but I don’t think you’re a villain. You just cause mischief at the most, and you’ve never hurt a soul. I was confused when I learned this, to say the least, because while it is easy to foil a villain, it is much harder to determine what needs to be stopped from someone who is not. I was conflicted. Did I drive you out of town, like I would if you were a danger, or did I confine you, as would fit your situation?

“As it turns out, I did neither. I protected the children, though they did not really need protection. You were not a danger, not in the slightest. In fact, you may have been a friend. Your attitude was one of someone who did not know how to make friends, and instead gained attention the only way they knew how. You were not a villain, Robbie Rotten.

“You were lonely.” The elf takes a slow, wavering breath, running his fingers through his hair. Robbie doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until he releases it. This is… interesting, to say the least.

“And so I was nice to you. I treated you much as I would the children, doing my best to teach you about eating healthy and exercising, and while you did turn me down at every attempt, I knew you listened. You may not have changed your habits, but you certainly thought about it. I was happy. I was making a difference. And to see a difference in someone so closed off as you… I was…” he mumbles a word in Icelandic, presumably an alternative to English he doesn’t know. “And you had a very strange charm, too. You did want to be friends with the children. You knew them well, but lacked the skill that would allow them to know you. I wanted to help you, but I knew I couldn’t, not without you reacting in a manner much like you showed tonight. I spent many nights and mornings wondering how I could get you to show affections, and it was only after several months I realized that I had affection to show, too.

“I was very confused, to say the least, when I discovered my feelings. I was conflicted, also. Did I say something, or stay silent? Well, by that time, I was afraid. I was afraid of my own feelings, and I was afraid you would not return them. I was afraid you would become angry, even aggressive, and I worried for your safety and that of the children. So I said nothing, and I did nothing. I was a coward, and I should not have been. I’ve done nothing that has helped my case, only that that has hindered it. You mean very much to me, Robbie, and I will admit I am a little stupid when it comes to certain things regarding you. So… I just want to say that I am sorry I could not help. I am sorry for my actions, or lack of. I am sorry I was not able to talk to you with more tact. I am sorry for being so inactive - which is quite hypocritical for me.” He laughs, humorlessly. He’s been staring at the floor for several minutes, and Robbie has been staring at him for nearly the same amount of time.

“I am in love with you, Robbie, and it scared me. It still does. I wanted to at least be friends with you, if not more. I see now that I’ve damaged that opportunity… beyond repair. I apologize, very sincerely, for causing such distress. I ask only that you explain your story, and then I will owe you whatever favor you desire.”

Robbie is silent for a long moment. Sportacus does not look up. Robbie thinks he sees the elf’s shoulders shake.

So he takes a deep breath, and begins to explain his own story.

“I was scared, too.” Sportacus looks up, and Robbie’s voice falters when he sees the tears in his eyes. “I was scared that I would be driven away when you got here. I’m a villain, and you’re a hero. It’s what you do. I was confused, too, when you didn’t drive me out. Your mercy was a strange gift, and I began to see you differently. You seemed to care for me, as impossible as it was, and I admit I didn’t know what to make of it. I am unused to affection, you’re correct, and I do lack certain… social skills. But I was grateful, in an odd way, and I was angry, too. I was angry, mostly at myself, for having these strange feelings. Yes, I have feelings,” he adds at the look of disbelief on Sportacus’s face.

“I have feelings for you. It was strange, and intimidating at first. I was lonely. I was always left out, and I never had many friends. I did want friends. But I had never had any, so I had no idea how to go about making them. Then you came along, and you… you were amazing. You knew just what to do to make them like you, and you looped me in, too. I was jealous, and confused. It was very difficult to figure out what I was feeling, much more so you.

“I hated it when I finally put a name to what I was feeling. Love. But I suppose there was no other word for it. I hated myself. Villains aren’t supposed to fall in love with heroes, especially those as good as you.” His voice has grown surprisingly soft, and he feels the prick of tears in his eyes.

“I was angry and confused, and I still am. It was hard to come to terms with what I was feeling, and when you said you loved me, well, I didn’t believe it. I thought I was dreaming, or lying to myself, somehow. Or that you were lying to me. Nobody’s ever loved me, and how could they? I’m not worth anybody’s love. You said you did, and I had no idea what to say. I reacted out of fear and confusion, and I… I apologize.

“You didn’t burn any bridges, Sportacus. I never built any bridges in the first place.” Sportacus’s head drops again, and Robbie sees the shudder than runs through him.

“But,” he continues. “I… seem to have built something, at least. I built something, completely without realizing it, that let you get close to me. So… I guess there was a bridge to burn. But even if it has been burned, it wasn’t you who burned it.

“It was me.”

Sportacus sobs, loud, now, but just a single sob. He breathes shakily, chest hitching with every breath. Everything seems to whirl around him, and Robbie has to sit down. He ends up on the floor, but he doesn’t care.

“You… love me,” Sportacus says. It’s not a question.

Robbie tries to speak, but only a sob comes out. He breathes deep, tries again. “I love you,” he says. A strange laugh comes from the man in his chair.

“You love me.”

“I love you,” and there’s a smile twisting into shape on Robbie’s face. He laughs, too, and he’s not sure how it happens or if they’re laughing or crying, but the sound echoes around the lair. In between shaky laughter and sobs, Sportacus manages to say,

“I love you, too.”

“You love me,” Robbie laughs.

“I love you.”

“You love me!”

“I do. I love you, I love you, I love you, Robbie.” They’re smiling now, tears still on their cheeks, leaking from their eyes, but he loves me and

“Sportacus?”

“Y-yeah?” wiping his eyes, smile fading.

“About that favor…”

The elf nods nervously.

“Would you kiss me?”

Robbie blushes, smiling sheepishly, and Sport laughs, a disbelieving grin lighting up his face, which Robbie barely has time to register before he has an armful of joyous elf, whose lips are even softer than he imagined.

Chapter Text

Sportacus wakes up warm, cozy, and cuddled against Robbie in his silly orange chair. Robbie is of course still very much asleep, so Sportacus smiles and curls back up to his chest.

The next time he wakes up, it’s to long fingers running through his hair. One of them brushes his ear, and he shivers.

“Good morning, Sport,” Robbie says softly.

“‘Morning, Robbie,” Sportacus replies, stretching. Robbie traces a finger along the point of his ear, and he twitches the ear away. When he reaches for it again, Sportacus stops him.

“What? They have points, you can’t expect me to not touch them.”

Sportacus can feel himself blushing as he answers, “They’re… very sensitive.”

“Ah.” He can’t quite read into what Robbie meant by that, but he pushes it aside - it’s not a big deal.

“It’s still hard to believe you really do like me,” Sportacus smiles, looking up at Robbie. Robbie smiles, a little twist at the corner of his lips.

He’s beautiful, Sportacus thinks.

“I can hardly believe that you like me. ”

“Well, of course I do. You’re a very good man, Robbie.”

“No, I-” cutting the words off with a kiss, Sportacus stops him before he can bring himself down.

“You are. And you cannot convince me otherwise!” he claims happily, flashing his signature enthusiastic smile. Robbie smiles down at him and kisses him softly.

“You’re amazing, Sportacus.”

Sportacus can feel himself blush. “Thank you, Robbie.” Another kiss. Robbie’s hand slips to the back of his neck and pulls him close, making him jump. Robbie pulls back, concern on his face. Sportacus feels like he’s blushing even more. “I… you just surprised me is all. You’re… er, a very good kisser.” His face must be bright red by now. Robbie just smiles and pulls him in again.

“Sportacus!” Ziggy shouts happily. “You’re back!”

“Yes, hello, Ziggy. Everybody.”

The children give a chorus of “hi”s, most of them very enthusiastic, all happy.

“Why is Robbie here?” Trixie wonders.

“He’s going to play with us!”

“Are you holding hands?” Stephanie asks. She looks delighted, expression lit up like a Christmas tree. Sportacus blushes a little bit, and he can feel Robbie start to cross his arms before remembering he’s got Sportacus’s hand in his own.

“Yep!”

“I knew it!” she claims, bouncing on her feet. “I knew you liked him,” she teases, still grinning like it’s Christmas. Robbie grumbles quietly behind him, but Sportacus tugs on his hand, and he stops hiding.

“Hi,” Robbie says, rather shyly. He too, receives a chorus of greetings.

“So what game are we gonna play?” Pixel says.

“Robbie? What do you think?” Sportacus asks. Robbie looks embarrassed - he’s red in the face. His grumpiness is so adorable, Sportacus just has to lean in and kiss him on the cheek. Robbie blushes further and covers his face with his hand. Stephanie bounces again, excited about either Robbie or playing a game, because she immediately suggests kickball - “it’s not very hard, and we can just pass the ball to each other. That way Robbie can play, too!”

“Are you implying that I can’t-”

“Robbie,” Sportacus interrupts. “She meant that you’re not very active, and it might be more fun for you to play something that isn’t as much work - although I believe you certainly can play other sports!”

Stephanie nods. “Yeah! Of course you can play other things, but this might be easier to play for longer!”

Robbie nods. “Okay. Let’s play kickball,” he agrees. There might even be a bit of a smile forming on his face.

Robbie is surprisingly good with the kids, although he is nervous. Sportacus makes sure that everybody is comfortable with the situation - he doesn’t want anybody to have a bad time. Playing is fun, after all!

When the kids decide to take a break from kicking the ball around, they want to talk instead.

“So are you and Robbie boyfriends?”

“Do you really, really like him?”

“How long have you liked each other?”

“Did you kiss?” That one is accompanied by a gasp and a storm of giggles. Robbie looks red as a tomato, and Sportacus is sure his face is pink, too.

“I don’t know if we’re boyfriends, but I do like him. Very much.” Robbie smiles a little bit when he hears that.
“He loves me,” he tells the kids conspiratorially. “He told me so himself.”

“Robbie!” Sportacus exclaims, blushing fiercely.

“And I love him, too,” Robbie adds, smiling at Sportacus so he can’t be mad, that man is just so cute.

“That’s really good!” Stephanie squeals.

“It’s good that you’re happy,” Pixel chimes.

“Yeah!” Trixie agrees. “So. Did you kiss?”

Sportacus shrugs and turns to Robbie, turning the man’s face with his free hand so their lips meet in a short kiss.

“Sportacus, the children! ” Robbie gasps, pretending to be scandalized. Sportacus can’t help smiling. He’s been smiling all day, in fact. It’s such a beautiful thing to see Robbie so happy. Especially after last night. And… in general. He’s hardly ever seen Robbie smile. He hopes, however, that he’ll be able to see (and maybe be the cause of) many.

“I had a really good day today, Robbie,” Sportacus tells him on their walk home.

“So did I. Who knew that the kids could be so… nice?”

“I did. It’s just a matter of being nice to them! They’re very sweet children, all you have to do is be kind in return and you will have their friendship.”

Robbie nods, smiling. He looks up at the sky, which is just darkening, yet scattered with stars. “The stars are very nice tonight.”

“They are,” Sportacus agrees, though he can hardly tear his gaze away from Robbie, who looks over at him just then and replies,

“You aren’t even looking at the stars.”

“Well, why would I, when I have something more beautiful to look at right here?”

Even in the dim light, Sportacus can see Robbie blush bright red. “You’re the beautiful one here, Sportacute.”

Sportacus can’t help giggling at that.

“And your laugh is so gorgeous,” Robbie claims, pulling the elf in for a kiss. They can barely hold it for a second, though, with as much as they’re smiling. Robbie squeezes Sportacus’s hand. “Would you like to stay at my place tonight?”

“Sure!”

Robbie, it turns out, does have a bedroom, a side room that seems rarely used, but not ignored. It’s fairly clean, and not dusty, though the bed seems to be relatively untouched.

“So, er, you can sleep here, and I-”

“Why wouldn’t we both sleep here?”

Robbie goes inexplicably red, and starts to mumble some sort of answer before cutting himself off. “Nevermind,” he decides. “We can share the bed.”

Sportacus nods happily, and he feels his ears wiggle under his hat. Robbie apparently sees this, because he reaches up  and pulls off the blue cap, and Sportacus’s curls spill out. Robbie smiles and kisses the top of his head. “You’re very cute, Sportacus.”

“Thank you, Robbie,” he murmurs, though he can feel the blush in his cheeks. “You’re very handsome as well.”

“No, I’-” Sportacus doesn’t let him finish, pushing him against the wall and kissing him so the words don’t have a chance to be said. Robbie freezes momentarily before shifting his hands to Sportacus’s back, one hand resting on his waist and the other cupping his neck. Sportacus has his hands clutching Robbie’s shoulders, but slides them so his arms are around the taller man’s neck. He feels warm in the embrace, his face burning and chest pounding. Robbie’s tongue flicks against his lip, and he startles. This is new. But he likes it, surprisingly, and leans back heavily into Robbie’s chest. Lips and tongue and mouths colliding as they kiss, Sportacus pressing Robbie against the wall so neither of them can remember how long it is before they break apart, panting and breathing heavily.

“And you’re very good at kissing,” Sportacus confirms.

“So are you,” Robbie replies, breathless. “It- it’s getting late. We should go to bed,” he claims. Sportacus gives him a short kiss (not really wanting to stop) before agreeing.

Chapter Text

Much to Sportacus’s confusion, he wakes up alone. Robbie’s side of the bed is cold - he’s been gone a long time. Sportacus hastily grabs for his vest, but the crystal is (and has been) quiet. So he’s not in trouble - at least, not enough for the crystal to know. Sportacus still worries. He slips on his clothes and prepares to search LazyTown for the man, only to find him curled up in his chair, huddled under a blanket and twitching in his sleep.

“Robbie?” he says quietly, almost to himself. Robbie hears him, though, and jerks upright. “Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.”

“What do you want?” His voice is cold, hard, and defensive.

“I- did I do something wrong?”

“What do you want,” he repeats, almost spitting the words.

“I was just wondering where you were. I worry about you.”

“Why? Because, oh, it’s Robbie, look at him, the poor little villain, he’s so sad, he must need my help… Just… go away,” he growls.

“Robbie, that’s not what I-”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t. Leave me alone.”

“N- no.”

“Nice try, Sporta loser. Get lost.”

“No,” Sportacus says again, more firmly.

“I don’t want you in my space, you stupid blue elf. Get out of here.”

“No, Robbie.” He crosses his arms now.

“Oh, what are you going to do? Hug me? Talk to me? Because I can assure you, neither of those is going to work.”

“Yes, it is. Talking about things is a hea-”

“Get your stupid health mantras away from me. I’m the villain. It’s my job to oppose the hero.”

“Robbie, I’m not a hero. And you’re not a villain.

“You do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do,” Robbie shouts, springing to his feet. Sportacus steps back on instinct before he can think to hold his ground. Why is Robbie so angry?

“You do not get to tell me who I am or who I should be. You do not control me.”

“I am not-”

“Sure you aren’t,” he sneers. “‘You’re not the villain, Robbie,’ ‘You’re a good person, Robbie,’ have you ever considered that I might want to be the villain?” he mocks. “No, you haven’t. Because all you think about is your stupid health mission and your stupid hero complex, just saving anybody who even thinks they’re in trouble.” He’s prowling now, aggression evident in every movement he makes. Sportacus doesn’t think he’s going to be able to get a word in edgewise.

“You don’t give a damn about me. You think you do, but you don’t. Don’t pretend you know me. Don’t pretend you love me. I’m unloveable, you moron. Did you ever think about the reason I was the villain? Of course you didn’t, you never think, but if you did, you’d realize it’s because I could never make it as a hero. I’m a disaster. A walking disappointment.”

“So you just give up?” Sportacus exclaims, completely forgetting to think.

That’s going to cost him.

He’s slammed up against the wall, a hand pinning his shoulder roughly to the concrete. “I do not give up, Sportacus. I did not give up. I would never give up on the chance to be a hero. Never. They gave up on me. They didn’t give me a chance. I did not give up. They forced me out,” he spits. “They didn’t want me. And if they don’t want me, who the hell would?” His other hand slams against Sportacus’s other shoulder. He’s surprisingly strong for someone supposedly so lazy. “Clearly not anybody I would ever want. And especially someone who other people want. I’m worthless, can’t you see that? The opposite of you. You’re practically perfect,” he snaps. He’s pacing now, and Sportacus is beginning to think that ‘them’ isn’t the LazyTown kids. “You’re nice, you’re strong, you’re relatable- god, who could ever resist you? And you, you who have never dealt with hardship a day in your life-”

“Do not say that,” Sportacus growls. “I do not know your past, I admit, but that gives you no right to guess at mine.”

Robbie seems lost for words. But then the sneer returns to his face, and his aggression surfaces again. “Still. You might have dealt with something, but do not assume that whatever it is compares to the hell I came from. Do. Not. Dare.”

“I am not making any assumptions.”

“Like hell you’re not,” he retaliates. “I know how people think. I know how people like you think. And how they think? Assumptions. It’s all assumptions. They assume they know what I’ve gone through. They assume their problems come close to mine. They assume, they assume, they assume, and they’re wrong. So don’t try to tell me you’re any different, because I know you’re not.”

“I might not be. Who knows? But at least I try.”

Smack. That’s all that comes in response. A sharp smack to the cheek. Sportacus takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, lets it out slowly. “I understand you’re angry, Robbie. It’s okay to be angry. I should not have-”

Smack. “Damn right you shouldn’t have.”

“-said that, and I apologize.”

Smack. “Don’t try to apologize to me. Not only do you not have a reason to, I don’t deserve an apology. I’m worthless, remember? And, apparently, I don’t try.”

Sportacus angles his face to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Robbie slaps him. “No you’re not.”

“I am sorry.”

That’s when it devolves, a crude back-and-forth of Sportacus’s calm apologies and Robbie’s anger. The tall man refuses to believe he’s not worthless. He barely believes he’s a person. He shoots down everything Sportacus says, either with words or hands. Sportacus does not move. He stands his ground, face tilted down, arms clasped behind his back, only speaking to apologize. Robbie seems to have no bottom to his well of anger, shouting and spitting venomous words to no end. It’s not easy to shut out the pain, but he manages out.

He’s felt worse.

So Robbie rages, telling him, again and again, that he shouldn’t care, that he shouldn’t even pretend to care, that he himself isn’t deserving of anything more than several things that nearly qualify as abusive. And Sportacus responds, trying to tell him that he does care, that Robbie does deserve it, and that he won’t let a single person treat him that way. Nothing works. He supposes all that’s left to do is wait.

So he waits.

He waits for the anger to dull, the speech to soften, the words to slow, anything. He doesn’t know how long it takes until Robbie hesitates, slows down, barely imperceptibly, but he does.

“Why are you still here?”

“You’re not done talking.”

“What, you didn’t want to walk out on my self-loathing? You wanted to listen to me humiliate myself?”

Sportacus knows better than to respond to that, so he falls silent until Robbie slows again.

“What do you want with this?”

“I want to help you.”

More anger. More silence. More hesitation.

“Why haven’t you given up?”

“I don’t give up on people who have given up on themselves. If nobody believes in someone, that person can’t survive. And I do not want to be responsible for that.”

“So now it’s guilt?”

The cycle repeats, Robbie shouting, stopping, interacting, and so it goes again. It must take hours (what feels like it, anyways,) before he finally listens.

“You do care.” It sounds like an accusation, but it’s something.
“Of course I do.”

“Why?” He’s genuinely baffled. He can’t fathom why anybody would care.

“Because you’re worth it.”

“Worth what?”

“Just about anything, Robbie.”

“You’re talking about yourself again.”

This time the anger is much less, but Robbie is still not giving up, not by a long shot.

“Don’t tell me that.”

“Don’t pretend I’m not useless.”

“Don’t try to lie to me.”

“Don’t” this, “Don’t” that.

“So what should I do?”

“What?”

“You’re telling me what not to do. What should I do instead?”

Robbie spits several answers, all of which are horrible to some capacity.

“Don’t tell me to do that.”

“Ex cuse me?”

“I said, don’t tell me to do that. I am not going to. There is no point in trying to make me.”

“Hmph.”

It’s horrible. Sportacus knew this after only a minute of Robbie’s ranting, but it just gets worse and worse with every second. What did they do to Robbie to make him so angry? so repressed? so dismissive?

He decides he doesn’t want to know.

The next time the “you don’t know what happened to me” phrase is thrown at him, he simply replies, “Do you need to tell me?”

He doesn’t need to look up to know Robbie’s confused.

“Do you need to tell me what happened?” he repeats. “You seem less angry now than you were. I think talking about it helps you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“And I don’t pretend to. I just think it would help.”

“Why do you want to help?” Sportacus has lost track of how many times he’s heard that, and it’s the same response every time: “Because I care.” And the backlash - always the same “Why do you care?”

It’s a cycle. A tedious, repetitive cycle that Sportacus wishes would break but isn’t.

Several repetitions later, Sportacus has finally gotten angry enough to snap back.

“Do you not know why I care? I have told you dozens of times why I care. I told you last night why I care. If you won’t listen to me, what is the point in telling you?”

And that’s the breaking point.

Robbie crumples, sinking to the floor, and, unconsciously, Sportacus slides down with him.

“I just wanted to hear it,” he whispers. “I just needed to know that there was a reason. I just-” he hiccups. “I just didn’t want to have to give up.” and he cries. Robbie cries, tears streaming down his face, dripping on the floor, and Sportacus doesn’t say a word. He just gathers Robbie close to him, never mind the tears that soak into his vest, and holds him. It’s what he needs right now.

It’s what they both need.

Chapter Text

Stephanie genuinely enjoys having Robbie around. She may not have known him very well before, but she does now, and she likes him. He’s not always very nice, but he tries.

So when he doesn’t act up for days in a row, and when Sportacus, while appearing happy, isn’t as enthusiastic as he usually is, she decides she’s going to do something about it. She decides to ask Sportacus.

“Why is Robbie so grumpy?”

Sportacus laughs slightly, lacking a real sense of happiness behind it. “Robbie’s always grumpy, Stephanie.”

“It’s been worse than usual lately. Did something happen to him?”

Sportacus’s halfhearted smile fades.

“What happened?” she demands

“We had… a little bit of a fight.”

Stephanie knows better than that. “It was more than a little bit. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he says.

“Is Robbie okay?”

“I think so, yes.”

“I’m going to talk to him,” Stephanie decides. And she’s off and running before Sportacus can say anything.

Robbie proves more difficult to talk to than Sportacus. It’s only after she nearly shouts that he’s upset Sportacus that he listens.

“What did I do? That stupid elf’s the one who wouldn’t shut up.”

“Sportacus isn’t stupid. And you need to apologize to him. He’s… he’s mad at you,” she tries. Robbie actually looks upset at that.

“What does he have to be mad about?”

“What did you do to make him mad?” Stephanie counters.

Robbie considers this for a moment. “I got angry with him,” he mumbles, quietly. He’s reluctant to tell her, but she’s listening, and she won’t let this problem go unsolved.

“So go tell him you’re sorry.”

“It’s not that simple, Pinky.”

“Stephanie. And yes it is. He’ll listen to you. He doesn’t want to be mad at you?”

“Then why is he?”

“You just said. Because you got mad at him. So go say you’re sorry!”

“No,” Robbie pouts. He’s almost more immature than some of the other kids.

“You did something to make him upset, and now you have to say sorry for it. And you’ll be happier, too.”

Robbie snorts. “Like he- I mean, yeah, right.”

“I want you to be happy, too. ‘Cause you’re a good friend,” she determines.

“I’m- what?”

“A good friend. It’s fun to play with you. And Sportacus is happy when you’re happy. I’ve seen it. He really likes you, you know. And he doesn’t want to be mad. So go talk to him. Please?”

It takes Robbie a bit before he answers. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Good,” Stephanie nods. She swears she hears Robbie laugh as he walks away.

Stephanie knows how to spy on people, partly from tricks she’s seen (or been taught) from Robbie and partly from being Agent Pink. So she follows Robbie carefully, and when he and Sportacus start to talk, she settles in behind a bush to watch.

When she can hear them yelling, she decides that maybe she shouldn’t be here, and sneaks away.

Sportacus looks even worse the next day, almost like he’s cried. And she knows she shouldn’t be, but it makes her angry at Robbie.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Robbie grumbles.

“Yes you did! Sportacus is upset! You did something to him, so fix it!”

“I only did what you told me to, you little brat,” he snaps, and she decides not to talk to Robbie any more.

“What did Robbie do?” gets no answer from Sportacus.

“Did he hurt you?” doesn’t either.

“Are you okay?” is the most worrying one, because, while Sportacus doesn’t answer, he frowns, and that’s almost worse.

“What happened?”

“Did you do something to him?”

“Is he okay?”

“Are you going to talk to him?”

None of it gets any answer, and she worries. Sportacus always answers any questions the kids have. So she doesn’t ask questions any more.

“Robbie’s angry.”

“I want you to be happy again.”

“Talking about it helps, you said so yourself.”

“Do something.”

“Please.”

It takes almost a week for her to convince either one of them to consider it, but she still considers that a success.

It takes more days (two) for them to actually talk.

She follows them, and this time, instead of yelling, they cry. Neither of them seems upset at the other, so she stays to watch. It worries her, seeing two of the strongest adults she knows cry. But Sportacus has always told her it’s okay to cry, so she doesn’t worry too much.

All the same, when they kiss, it’s a big relief.

They’ll be happy now.

Chapter Text

What are we fighting for?

And what is it for? Robbie wonders, slouched on a bench. It’s not like we have anything to fight for. Or any reason to fight.

Seems like we do it just for fun

Does it? This isn’t fun. It’s sad and heartbreaking in the strangest ways. Robbie wishes it wasn’t like this, though he doesn’t know what to do.

In this, this stupid war

Stupid, indeed. Aren’t they? They must be, to fight like this. It’s not even a fight - Robbie’s been distant, and so has Sportacus. Neither of them are trying, except to avoid each other. Almost as if they’re both afraid. Robbie huffs out a laugh. As if he would be scared. He’s angry and confused, he admits that, but he won’t say he’s scared. Sportacus, on the other hand - he doesn’t get scared. He doesn’t get angry, and he always knows what to do. So Robbie can’t puzzle out why Sportacus is avoiding him, except perhaps that he doesn’t want Robbie anymore. It would be fair, he supposes.

We play hard with our plastic guns

What with all the insults and angry words he’s hurled at the sports-elf, it would be more than fair.

Breathe deep, bottle it up

It would be deserved.

Robbie sighs, eyes closing, and he curls up into a ball on the bench. Not comfortable, no, but it works. It’s there.

So deep, until it’s all we got

He does breathe, breathe deep, long and slow and measured to the pulse of the song. Sometimes he wonders what he holds on to. What is there to grab hold of, when it feels like he’s falling into a pit? Tumbling off the cliff-like edge, falling like it’s through syrup, twisting around to find the smallest handhold. Sometimes he’ll grab them - dance, or music, or his inventions - and sometimes he’ll swipe his hand right through as if it didn’t matter - food, water, warmth - but sometimes he’ll be caught. Walloped right in the stomach with a branch, larger than life, almost a safety net. That thing that catches him, that ledge, branch, net - is Sportacus. Always and only Sportacus. Never when he expects it, always when he doesn’t. He swears he’s let himself fall off that cliff, that strange precipice that ebbs and flows from his feet, only to land (harshly, breath knocked away) on safe ground, unharmed.

Don’t speak, just use your touch

He wonders if that’s what saves him. The subconscious touches that Sportacus lays on his arms, shoulders, back, head… and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Robbie doesn’t know if he wants to be caught. Most days, when the cliff washes up to his toes, he’s happy (well, not happy) to let it slide, knock his feet closely followed by the rest of him right into that cavern. But he wonders, sometimes, if those tiny, unthought touches are what makes him take that step away from the drop. He does wonder.

Don’t speak, before we say too much

And he never says a word.

You hate me now, and I feel the same way

He does, in a way. If Sportacus hates him, then Robbie feels the same. The very same.

You love me now, and I feel the same way

Robbie does love Sportacus, that much he knows (maybe that’s it), but whether Sportacus loves him in return? There’s no way to say. But if Sportacus loves him - oh, if he still does - then that might be a reason. It might. Just one reason to move his feet, pull himself away from that sweet, syrupy fall. Just one.

Scream and we shout

His voice is still sore from it

Make up the same day

Can they? There isn’t a prayer, Robbie thinks. Not a single hope. Or a wish, or a dream, or anything. It’s not there. Nothing is.

The same day

Unless it is. It hasn’t been a day yet. It hasn’t.

Has it?

Oh, we’re on the right side of rock bottom

He feels like he’s taken a step towards the cliff. Somehow, he can sense the presence of those catching obstacles there, like a strange warmth in the clinical coldness of it.

And to you I just keep crawling

How strangely, strangely accurate. Those ledges may save him the fall, but he has to climb up, and the ascent is just as slow and slippery as the way down. More than once, he’s climbed, fallen, and been caught again. It’s a cycle sometimes.

We’re on the good side of bad karma

Robbie’s never believed in karma, because he’s never been treated the way he was taught he should be. He’s thought about changing his mind - those crashing halts to his falls, they’re almost worse than if he were to slide-sink-drop all the way down.

Cause we keep on coming back for more

Maybe this is what he deserves. Not even constantly on the edge, constantly down there, fighting for his grip on any shred he can find. He doesn’t know why he does it. But he does it. Again, again, and again. The pull is too strong.

We’re on the right side of rock bottom

Not for long, maybe. Robbie feels cold, empty. A porcelain doll, not even beautiful, but cracked and broken, long ago torn to shards. It’s a strange feeling, because though his heart twitches in his chest, he feels like it’s fallen out long ago.

And I hope that we keep falling

Fallen right over that cliff that keeps Robbie so far away. Maybe he’ll fall after it. He wonders if he’ll catch it on the way down. If he’ll meet it at the bottom.

You’re the best kind of bad something

Something. Unidentifiable, but something. Bad? He doesn’t know. It feels like it sometimes, god, does it, but is it?

Cause we keep on coming back for more

And that he does. He comes back, whether to the cliff’s edge or a branch, over and over, back and forth, but Sportacus is always there, somehow. Always there to catch him and pull him out.

So maybe there is something to that love.

He certainly hopes so.

Chapter Text

Robbie’s nervous, he admits. How could he not be? They’ve fought twice already, and they’ve barely touched the idea of a relationship. But standing there, one arm curled tight around Sportacus’s waist and the other hand cupping the back of his neck, he thinks it might be worth it. This man, this silly, athletic, sweetheart of a man, loves him, somehow. And if he’s willing to love Robbie, then Robbie supposes anything is possible.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way, kinda beautiful

Sportacus’s arms, wound tight around his waist, bring him back to earth, ground him, and he breathes out half a laugh.

“Robbie?” Sportacus murmurs.

“I-” another breath of laughter, followed by a small smile “-I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Robbie says.

“I… I love you too, Robbie.”

“May I kiss you?”

“Absolutely.”

And if there’s love in this life there’s no obstacle

Memories, visions, images flash through his mind - laughing in the rain, dancing together, playing with the kids and laughing, loving, smiling - and it hits him. It doesn’t matter - fighting, shouting, yelling, tears on his face and floor cold on his bare feet - what happens, they can always - crying, the warmth of his arms, eyes squeezed shut and curling into one another - always - watery blue and gray eyes, staring, hands, clutched tight - make it through.

That can’t be defeated

It’s a bright, sunny morning - and for once, Robbie is gladly outside enjoying it. With Sportacus, of course, but it’s still rather unusual. The kids are running and playing in the soccer field, Trixie trying to get the ball away from an extremely reluctant Stingy, while Sportacus and Robbie watch them from the bench. Ziggy trips over his own shoelaces, promptly gets hit with the runaway soccer ball, and they jump up automatically. Robbie is left with a reassuring hand on his shoulder before Sportacus jogs off, a smile turned his way as the elf kneels down on the grass. Ziggy is sitting up, smiling, in no time, and he gestures happily for Robbie to join them. So he does, walking over, and he finds he really does enjoy this time with the children. It’s new, and strange, but nobody is complaining.

For every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable

Of course it’s when Sportacus is away for the day, making a trip to the city just up the road, that one of the little ones gets seriously hurt. Ziggy, unsurprisingly - he’s younger than the rest, clumsy, but still - managed to trip and somehow land hands-first on a piece of broken glass. So now he’s crying, Robbie’s vest wrapped around his hand and blood starting to seep through, while Robbie runs to get his first-aid kit before remembering he can teleport. Two snaps of his fingers, he’s down and back in a heartbeat, kneeling next to Ziggy, pulling away the vest and narrowly avoiding shouting at the others to get him a bottle of water before the kid loses more blood. He pours the water over Ziggy’s hand and thank god it’s not as bad as it looked.

“Ziggy, I’m going to clean this now. It’s going to hurt, but I have to do it.”

He nods and sniffles, breath hitching in twice before sighing out. Robbie wipes away the blood and dirt, carefully, gently as he can, but Ziggy still squirms and cries and Robbie worries.

“You’re- you’re going to be okay, kid. You won’t even need stitches, see? I just need to bandage this up, and you’ll feel better, alright?”

“I- it’s o- okay, Robbie. I- I’m gonna be o - okay,” he mumbles, wiping at his eyes with his other hand.

Robbie nods, smiles, and gets to work wrapping Ziggy’s hand with gauze.

In every lost soul, the bones of a miracle

Stephanie took a strange liking to Robbie from the start, smiling and chattering with him to no end. With the amount that she talks, and her seeming disregard for who she’s talking to, it’s no surprise she ends up spilling one of her secrets to Robbie. She realizes it in a split second, blushing furiously, stumbling over her words, but Robbie bends down and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Pinky-” he’s long since switched from using that as an insult to instead as an affectionate nickname “-I won’t tell anybody. Not even Sportacus- if you don’t want me to. I tell you what, I’ll even forget all about it! Now tell me, what were you talking about?”

The grin on her face is worth every word.

For every dreamer, a dream, we’re unstoppable

“Robbie?”

“Yes, Pixel,” Robbie smiles.

“Uh, I was wondering if you could teach me how to work with your inventions?”

His smile falters out of pure shock. The kid wants him to- “Why, of course,” he says, nearly stammering. “I’d love to teach you!” and like that they’re both smiling again, wider than Robbie would ever think was possible.

With something to believe in

They’re together next time it happens, watching calmly from a bench as the children monkey around on the playground, when Stephanie slips, falls off the monkey bars and without thinking, with only a snap of his fingers, Robbie catches her. He looks up from the pink child in his arms, sees Sportacus clear across the yard, frozen in place. He shrugs, smiles, lowers Stephanie to the ground, and before he can process another thought, he’s got an armful of sports-elf that nearly knocks him over.

“Whoa, hey, all I did was-” and this time he’s silenced by two hands fisted in his vest and a pair of lips crushed against his own.

“ Thank you,” Sportacus whispers, relief and love and gratitude so strong behind the words that for once in a lifetime, Robbie doesn’t regret a second of his.

Monday, left me broken

Memories of his younger years - as a teenager, struggling with school, an adult, barely out of college - but they’re gone now.

Tuesday, I was through with hoping

Later in life - trying anything and everything, something to get him out of this - was chaotic, but nothing that damaged him beyond repair

Wednesday, my empty arms were open

He remembers moving to LazyTown - where he could get away with nothing, not even worry about anything else - as a last resort, and by god he’s so glad he did.

Thursday, waiting for love

He even remembers the first moment he saw Sportacus, that blue elf he’d grown to love, and being completely captivated. In that moment, he was certain things would either get much better or much worse.

Waiting for love

It turned out neither of those had been quite true, but his life had certainly had some ups and downs. More downs that ups, if he was honest. But he’s okay now.

Thank the stars it’s Friday

More than okay, really. He truly doesn’t know how he got here, how he managed to be so blessed with such an amazing partner, lover, friend and - again, if he was honest - family, but he couldn’t ever bring himself to have a word of complaint

I’m burning like a fire gone wild on Saturday

And he felt out of control sometimes, but it really didn’t matter . Not now, not anymore, not ever.

Guess I won’t be coming to church on Sunday

Because he had people who, when he couldn’t, took care of him, loved him, loved each other, and it was lovely. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but Robbie couldn’t think of a thing he’d rather have.

I’ll be waiting for love

He’s waited long enough, apparently, to deserve this family, these people, this town, this man - long enough he no longer denies it, and he finally allows himself this - that loves him, regardless of it all.

Waiting for love

He wipes a tear away from his eye with one hand, the other held tightly in his boyfriend's, and smiles.

"Are you okay, Robbie?"

"I'm more than okay," he murmurs, looking softly into those blue, blue eyes.

To come around

"I'm wonderful."

Chapter Text

The next time it happens, Sportacus is there for it. It’s still as unnerving and confusing as the first time, but at least he’s there for it. Robbie is… the only word for it is “devastated.” He’s curled up in his chair, clutching at its fur, his clothes, his own hair, and he shakes with sobs, though they’re silent. Sportacus doesn’t have any idea what to do except what he would want for comfort. He stretches his arm out carefully, slowly, and places his hand - open-palmed - on Robbie’s back. Robbie jerks but doesn’t flinch away. Sportacus moves his hand, stroking gently over his partner’s back. He can feel Robbie’s sobs, the shuddering of his ribcage, and the tightness of the muscles in his back. Before he can catch himself, he’s feeling tears dripping down his face, splattering on the floor, soaking into his pants, and a sob slips out. Robbie whips around, face red and tear-streaked and utterly terrified .

“S- sportacus? What’s wrong?” He sniffles. “Are you okay?”

Sportacus wipes away his tears. “Yeah, I just - I worry about you, Robbie. I don’t know what to do. I- I’ve never needed to help people like this. Do you- well, what can I do to help you?”

“Just-” Robbie’s voice shudders “-can you hold me? Just… hold me,” he murmurs.

“Yes. Yes, I can hold you, Robbie. Do you want me to sit in the chair with you?”

Robbie nods.

Sportacus climbs into the chair next to him, sliding his arms around the taller man, and Robbie clings to him. His arms are wound tight around Sportacus’s waist, and their legs are tangled together in moments.

“I love you, Robbie,” Sportacus whispers. “I love you, and I want you to be happy.” Robbie’s breathing slows slightly, and unless Sportacus is mistaken, it’s smoothing out, too. So he keeps talking. “You’re a lovely person, and my life is much better with you in it. I know you don’t think so, but you’re worth it, and you make me happy. You make me so happy, and I’m so glad I met you. I love having you in my life, and I hope you like having me in yours. I don’t know where I would be without you- well, no, I do. I’d be lonely, Robbie, because you’re the only person I’ve ever loved this way. I can’t imagine how I got lucky enough to find such an amazing person as you, and I adore every day I spend with you. Even when you’re playing pranks and making those machines that I still don’t know what they do, I love spending time with you. You have your flaws, of course you do, but I can’t imagine you without them, and I wouldn’t want you any other way. I love you, Robbie. So very, very much.”

Robbie’s back is still shaking, but when he looks up, there’s a weak smile on his face, and his eyes are full to the brim with love.

“I love you, too.”

Sportacus breathes a laugh, smiling, though he has to wipe a tear away from his eye. “You’re an amazing man, Robbie.”

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, leaning into Sportacus, and there are tears on both their faces but neither of them really cares and though their lips are off-center, they don’t care, and even though it isn’t comfortable and their necks are at funny angles they still don’t care. Even as the tears fall between their faces and they struggle to stay upright, it doesn’t matter to them, not right now. They can’t bring themselves to care about such simple things when all they really care about is each other.

“God, I love you to pieces, you ridiculous man,” Robbie mumbles, huffs out a laugh.

“I know.” Sportacus presses another kiss to his lips. “I know, and I love you too. So long as you love me back together,” he smiles. Then they both laugh and they’re smiling, lips together and still laughing, but they still really don't care.