Work Text:
-/-
It was almost a week before Sportacus saw Robbie again. This wasn't unusual; he could sometimes go more than a week without seeing his self-proclaimed nemesis. He didn't let it bother him, and assumed that Robbie was either finally getting some much-needed rest, or working on some project or other that was consuming his time. He just carried on as usual, playing with the kids, and tried not to spend too much time wondering just what was keeping Robbie in the confines of his bunker, and he tried to keep his worrying to the usual level that he worried about Robbie.
He finally did see him again Saturday morning, sprawled out on a park bench with a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. Sportacus couldn't make out what was on it from this distance (and he wouldn't even if he could, because it was Robbie's and private), but he could make out the stunning calligraphy that was Robbie's normal handwriting, and allowed himself a moment of admiration for Robbie's skill.
Then he jogged over to the bench to say hello, because he and Robbie were friends now, and that meant it was okay.
“Hi Robbie!” he called, unable to keep the grin off his face when Robbie didn't jump and flinch away like he so often did. “What are you doing?”
“Making a shopping list,” Robbie said. “I have to run errands, the lair is out of... everything.” He looked over his list, sucking on the end of his pen while he did, and Sportacus felt his ears turn pink as a few choice inappropriate thoughts entered his head. He shooed them away and averted his eyes politely, and barely realized when Robbie stuffed the list into his waistcoat and turned to leave.
“Oh. Wait!” He hurried to catch up to Robbie, who he was pleased to note did wait. They fell into step beside each other, Sportacus patting his hands absently on his legs while he walked. “Where are you going?”
“...shopping,” Robbie said, incredulous. “I just said...”
“Oh! You meant now!” Sportacus laughed, and turned to walk backwards so that he and Robbie could talk face to face. “Can I come with you? I'll carry your shopping, to make up for dragging you out of bed last week.”
“You don't have to-” Robbie began, and then stopped, and stared out at the middle distance for a moment. He smacked the side of his head, and shook it. “Sure.”
“Robbie?”
“Nothing. Come on, then, I've got a lot of things to buy.”
“Okay!”
-/-
The walk to the shopping center at the far end of LazyTown was a nice one. Sportacus did his best not to backflip away from Robbie too much, always coming back once he'd burned himself off a bit. Robbie always met his returns with a roll of his eyes, before going back to whatever he'd been talking about with a long-suffering sigh. He never asked him to stop, though, which Sportacus counted as a step in the right direction.
Anyway, he'd stop if he could. It just wasn't an option for him.
Sportacus didn't spend a lot of time in the shopping district, since none of his kids ever had much in the way of spending money (except Stingy) and he got all of his food from the market and sent directly from home. His sports equipment was all custom made and special ordered, so he never had to go buy any of it, either.
In short, Sportacus had never been to the shopping center, and so the whole place was new ground for him.
...it didn't look fun, in all honesty. But Sportacus wasn't here for himself, he was here to spend time with Robbie. And time spent with his friend could be fun whatever they did.
The first place they stopped off was a fabric store. Robbie explained that his supplies were running low, and he needed more if he was going to keep making his disguises.
“Of course!” Sportacus said. He loved Robbie's disguises, and said as much. “What kind of disguise are you going to make next?”
“I can't tell you!” Robbie said, rolling his eyes. “Then you'll know it's me.”
Sportacus suppressed a smile, and carefully didn't say that he always knew it was Robbie anyway. Let him have his fun. Instead, he rubbed his hand over a bolt of material sitting on the table.
“This feels really nice,” he said. “What would you make with something like this?”
“That?” Robbie eyed the material, and curled his lip. “That's a really low-grade imitation silk. It's not good for much of anything. Now this...” He picked up another bolt of material from another rack. “This is a very high-quality wool, made from pampered and very happy sheep. I could make something really nice with this.”
He considered it, then handed it to Sportacus. “Here, carry it for me.”
They made their slow way through the store like that, Sportacus asking leading questions about the various materials from behind a growing pile in his arms, just to hear Robbie go on about them. He could only follow about a third of what Robbie was telling him, but that was okay. It was more important to Robbie that he was listening, and that he got a chance to show off his knowledge to a willing audience.
Eventually, Robbie decided that he had enough material to last him awhile, and had Sportacus bring it to the counter so the attendant could cut off the amount he needed. Sportacus dumped it all on the counter, and then wandered over to inspect a jar of assorted buttons while Robbie talked to the attendant.
“Hey, Robbie,” the man said cheerily. “See you got you a new pack mule.”
Sportacus glanced around, a little indignant over being called a pack mule, and then froze. Robbie was laughing, eyes bright and his smile wide. Sportacus's heart melted. Of course Robbie would find something like that funny. And it stung, but Sportacus could live with it if Robbie was laughing, really laughing.
“This is some pretty good wool,” the attendant said, once Robbie had turned his attention back to his purchases. Sportacus lifted his head again. He recognized that tone- he heard it all the time from the sellers in the farmer's market, the ones who couldn't seem to stop flirting with him. He considered going back over and intervening, the way Robbie had done for him, but something stopped him- Robbie was smiling. He was talking about a sweater he was thinking of making with the wool, and there was a wide smile on his face, the kind Sportacus never got to see.
His heart sank. Of course. Just because he didn't want to be flirted with didn't mean Robbie didn't. And just because he had a dumb crush, didn't mean it was fair that there was a bubbling spring of jealousy welling up in his chest. He turned his attention back to the buttons, and tried not to listen in on anything Robbie and the attendant were saying to each other.
A few minutes later Robbie was tapping his elbow. When he turned around, he found his arms suddenly full of bags once more. He shifted them around more comfortably and gave Robbie his best smile.
“Where to next?”
-/-
Robbie had to get machine parts next, regaling Sportacus with exceedingly technical explanations of the different parts he was getting. It was the fabric store all over again, and Sportacus was unable to keep what he knew to be a dopey look off of his face while he listened. He'd long figured out that Robbie was every bit the genius he had always claimed, but it never ceased to amaze him just how smart Robbie really was.
“Yoooo, Robbie Rotten back in the hizouse!”
Sportacus startled out of his reverie to see a young twenty-something in horribly gaudy clothes waving from behind the register. He snorted, amused, and hung back to let Robbie do all the talking.
Robbie was laughing again, he realized, half-listening while Robbie told the cashier about his latest successful invention, a machine for firing pillows in a pillow fight. Sportacus bit his lip at that. He remembered that scheme; Stingy had been the one to foil it that time, but Robbie had gotten in a parting shot with one last pillow before high-tailing it, which everyone had found amusing.
“What are you going to make next, brah?”
“Well now.” Robbie drew himself to full height and straightened his waistcoat. “That's a secret, you know.”
“Aright, cool beans. Can't wait to hear about it. See ya, Lock Robster!”
Robbie waved, and stuffed another pile of bags into Sportacus's arms. Sportacus followed him
“Lock Robster?”
“I don't know, I can't understand half of what he says.”
-/-
Their morning carried on like that, with Robbie going from one shop to the next, talking far more than Sportacus was used to, and far more openly, and flirting blatantly with the very receptive cashiers. Sportacus grew more and more quiet, trying to calm the jealousy burning in his throat. It wasn't fair. He'd been trying for years to be Robbie's friend, and had only just recently managed a tentative, tenuous friendship that he was constantly tiptoeing around not ruining, and here these people had free reign to flirt with him.
But it wasn't his place to decide who was more deserving of Robbie's attention, he reminded himself. He had to respect Robbie's decisions. Even if they hurt him.
“The last thing is groceries,” Robbie said, checking his list. “You can stay with me, but you have to promise not to pass judgment on anything I buy.”
“Of course not.” Sportacus pouted at him. “I don't usually tell you what not to eat.”
“Well, you- you- okay, that's technically true,” Robbie said, hesitantly. He was clearly trying to think of a time Sportacus had done more than offer him something out of politeness, and drawing blanks. “All right, all right. Come on, Sportamule, let's get this over with.”
Sportacus followed Robbie into the little grocery story, doing his best to keep his word and not say anything about Robbie's choice in food. He wasn't able to keep all the distressed looks off his face, though, and assumed that was why Robbie decided to cut their trip short.
“I can get the rest of my groceries later,” he said. “I'm getting tired of being around people. Let's go.”
They headed to the cash register, and Sportacus once more found himself cast off to the side while Robbie flirted up a storm with the cashier. He gathered up the bags of groceries without a word, and loaded himself down with all the other stuff as well- it was heavy, but a good kind of heavy, that burned off energy as fast as his body could generate it.
Sportacus was quiet while Robbie led him through the parking lot to what, on first glance, looked like a manhole cover. Robbie kicked it, and a lever popped up.
“I'm not going to make you carry everything back the long way,” he said. “Just set everything on the cover, it will take everything down to the lair to wait on me.”
Sportacus did so, and then pulled the lever for Robbie. The shopping disappeared with the whoosh, leaving behind a ringing clang as the manhole cover clattered back into place. When Sportacus looked at Robbie again, he was holding something behind his back. He held it out. It was an apple, yellow-gold with a red tint near the top.
“This one is real,” Robbie said. “Call it a thank you for helping me today.”
“You didn't have to do that, Robbie.”
“I wanted to. That's what- friends are for, right? Besides, I had fun.”
Sportacus beamed, and took a bite of his apple. It was indeed real, and a little juice dribbled onto his chin; he wiped it off and realized that the dopey look was coming back onto his face. He hoped Robbie wouldn't notice. “I had fun too, Robbie.”
Robbie tilted his head, and then looked away. “Did you?” he asked. “Because you were very quiet- I thought- maybe you hadn't been enjoying it at all.”
“What? No!” Sportacus silently cursed himself. He'd hoped he was less obvious, but his father had always said subtle didn't exist in his vocabulary. “I was- you were so busy flirting that I- I didn't want to interrupt or throw you off.” He hung his head, the lie coloring his cheeks scarlet. He had wanted to interrupt, very much, but that wouldn't have been right.
“Flir- I wasn't flirting. I was being friendly.”
“Did they know that?” Sportacus asked, nodding his head toward the shopping center, voice a little more bitter than he'd meant.
Robbie furrowed his brow in confusion, and his lips worked quietly as he considered Sportacus's words. Suddenly, his eyebrows climbed up to get acquainted with his hairline.
“Sportacus, are- are you jealous?”
“No! ...well.” Sportacus hung his head again. “Yes.”
Robbie opened and closed his mouth a few times before managing a high-pitched “Why?”
“Because I've spent years trying to get you to pay attention to me that way. But!” He held up his hands in reassurance. “But, it's okay! I know it's not my place to decide who gets your attention. I can't help how I feel but you don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to pressure you or- or anything.”
Robbie was quiet for a long time, long enough for Sportacus to start fidgeting. Robbie suddenly reached out and grabbed his hands, still up in desperate reassurance.
“You know, Sportablivious, I don't get out of bed before sunrise for just anyone. And I don't go to farmer's markets and follow just anyone around all day looking at fruits and vegetables. And I don't buy flower crown snacks for just anyone.”
A glimmer of hope with igniting in Sportacus's chest, and he raised his head, slowly, and met Robbie's eyes, searching for any hint of a lie. He saw none.
“Robbie...”
“Don't make me say it. Please. But. Yeah.”
Sportacus's heat stopped, just for one beat, and then suddenly it was pounding in his chest and he threw himself at Robbie, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him up off the ground with a laugh. He spun them both around, eliciting a surprised bark of laughter from Robbie, and then set him down, but kept his arms around Robbie's waist all the same. Robbie's arms came up to wrap around his shoulders and he leaned down to touch his forehead to Sportacus's.
This was nice, Sportacus thought. He could get used to this.
-/-