Work Text:
“- Why do you think you’ve gone crazy, Sportacus?” Stephanie asked, sitting next to him on the fence, bending over in an attempt to see his face.
Of which Sportacus had buried into both of his hands.
He was crazy.
He was insane.
What was wrong with him?
He went completely off the deep end.
“... Sportacus?” Stephanie said again, putting one of her small hands on his arm. “You can tell me, you know. You always say that talking makes people feel better.”
She was right.
Of course she was right.
Good smart, level-headed Stephanie.
Sportacus took a breath, pulling his hands away from his face and began.
It had all started with the rapid failure of one of Robbie’s more elaborate disguises. It was one of those that had facial hair, a very convincing wig, and a wonderful change of clothes.
It was nearly enough to fool Sportacus - he had to do a double-take to be sure it really was Robbie - and it was absolutely able to fool each and every one of the kids, even the doubtful Stephanie who had started to be far more questioning of random adults that tried to intervene on their fun and games.
All of whom generally ended up being Robbie.
But this time even she was convinced, as Robbie did his usual thing in distracting the kids.
It was some persona-or-other that was trying to teach them the love of peaceful and quiet bird watching. It was a fairly lighthearted version of his usual schemes, and the idea of learning about the local birds was not a horrible one.
Sportacus even joined in, hanging upside down on a tree-branch as he looked through his telescope through the trees for any of the local birds.
In comparison to Robbie’s other plans, it was hard to see why the costume was needed at all. It would have been nice with just the man himself.
The ‘plot’ started to unravel when it got warmer, and their ‘bird-watching guide and expert extraordinaire’ decided to change into shorts.
Questions of worry came from the kids came almost immediately. Ziggy, of course, being the very first.
“Whoa! Are you okay Mr. Robin Extraordirotten? You have a really big bruise on your leg.”
Sportacus stopped what he was doing, lowering the telescope and peering down at Robbie with the kids.
“What’s that?” Robbie looked down at himself, confused. “Oh that?” Robbie immediately deflected, keeping the thick British lilt attached to his voice. “That’s fine. That’s from... from when I was watching a rather rare bird and... I tripped.”
Sportacus’ eyebrows furrowed upon hearing that and he flipped down beside the other man and the kids.
“That looks like that would have really hurt,” Stephanie said with a frown.
“Yes. Well. It didn’t.” Robbie insisted. “Now. Moving along!”
“You got all sorts of bruises and stuff on your legs too. I thought you said bird-watching was quiet and relaxing,” Stingy said.
“It is.” Robbie hissed. “It’s nice and quiet and relaxing. So shush.”
“But you look like you get into a lot of trouble,” Stephanie reasons. “Do you trip over tree-branches all the time or something?”
While the kids shot questions after questions at poor Mr. ‘Robin Extraordirotten,” Sportacus was scrutinizing the man’s legs.
While not covered in bruises, the look of them was a bit disconcerting, and one had the dark deep look of having been whacked against something pretty hard. Like a corner of something.
What had Robbie gotten himself hurt by?
When?
How had he not noticed?
Why didn’t his crystal gone off?
By the looks of it, it was older, but it could have been worse.
“Stop asking me so many questions! It doesn’t matter! Stop!” the English lilt of the persona’s voice was fading into Robbie’s usual angry growl.
“But it does matter! If bird-watching is actually dangerous, then maybe we should wear protective gear.”
Robbie sighed in exasperation, gesticulating with his hands wildly. “You don’t need to wear protective gear when you are standing watching birds,” he exclaimed in a very Robbie-esque hoarse rumble.
“But you said-”
“Forget what I said!” Robbie pleaded. “Please just look at the birds! Quietly. Just. No talking. Nothing.”
Silence.
“Um...”
“... Mr. Extraordirotten?”
Robbie turned on Ziggy. “What.”
“All the birds have been scared away.”
Sportacus watched as Robbie immediately gave up on his disguise then and there. He tore off his fake mustache and threw it on the floor. “You know what?! Never mind! Bird watching is dumb anyway!”
The kids gaped.
“It’s that guy!”
“Robbie -”
“- Rotten!” He finished for them. “Oh no. Boo hoo. Yeah it’s me.” Robbie threw off his hat and wig and started to stalk off. “Whatever.”
The kids were too stunned to say anything, and just looked at each other.
Sportacus watched him stalk off for a few moments, arms crossed, before speaking, his eyes never leaving Robbie’s retreating form. “Why don’t you all continue bird watching, I have to speak to Robbie.”
“Um - okay?” Stephanie answered, a bit confused. She and the other kids exchanged glances.
“Well, I guess we were having fun,” Pixel reasoned.
“Yeah, and the next bird I see will be mine.”
Sportacus nodded at them, not wholly paying attention, but glad they were going to continue with the relatively safe activity.
He followed Robbie.
Which wasn’t too hard to do, as the man’s stalking speed was not the fastest of paces.
“Robbie?”
Robbie jumped a mile, nearly actually tripping over the nearest branch. Sportacus caught the back of his shirt before he could face-plant into the underbrush.
“Let go of me!” Robbie flailed, and smacked Sportacus hands away until he was a good fair distance away from him.
“Hello,” Sportacus tried for cheerful, making the attempt to avoid looking at the man’s poor legs.
Robbie’s eyebrow rose, arms wrapped about himself, back hunched. “What do you want?”
“Well...” Sportacus glanced down at his legs, then back up at Robbie.
“Oh not you too.” Robbie turned on his heel and started to stalk off faster.
“But we’re worried!”
“Well don’t be,” Robbie snarled back. “It’s no big deal!”
Sportacus continued to follow him. They weren’t too deep into the forest, and he knew that the bunker wasn’t that far away.
“Why are you so bruised?”
“I said why.”
“A bird, Robbie? I doubt you were telling the truth.”
“Fine -” Robbie growled with a roll of his eyes. “I just bumped into things Sportadork. That’s it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
Sportacus frowned.
“Because bruising without knowing why could be indicative of a much more serious probl-” he hadn’t noticed that Robbie had stopped in his tracks, nor the hand that was covering his mouth to get him to shut up.
“Look, you. My bunker is full of benches and machines and work tables and all sorts of furniture and even door frames. You try to walk around with legs that make up over eighty-percent of your body and not run into things,” Robbie hissed.
Sportacus was sure Robbie was exaggerating about the percentage but his eye widened a little at the list. He pulled down Robbie’s hand. “You get hurt by door frames?”
Robbie stared at him, threw his hands in the air, and started to stalk off again.
“Is your bunker really that dangerous?”
“No.”
“Why doesn’t my crystal go off?
“Because your crystal isn’t an idiot - unlike some people I know.”
“What if you broke something?” Sportacus demanded as they approached the bunker. “What if you got really hurt and my crystal didn’t go off?”
“I would be perfectly fine because it’s not like that hasn’t happened before.”
Sportacus froze.
Robbie froze, realizing what he had said. “... Wait -”
“You’ve broken bones before and nobody knew?” Sportacus asked, knowing his voice was pitched a little.
The idea, the very idea, that someone could have been badly injured and alone was absolutely horrible.
“Me and my stupid mouth,” Robbie groaned, rubbing his face with both hands in sheer amazement of his own stupidity.
“Please tell me this was before I came.”
“My the sun is awfully bright today,” Robbie avoided.
Sportacus gripped his chest-piece. “Robbie! Why didn’t you tell me?” Why didn’t his crystal tell him?
“Because it doesn’t matter?” Robbie tried, looking vaguely uncomfortable. The villain decided to make for his bunker again, at a much more hasty, pace.
“Robbie it matters a lot!”
“No it doesn’t.”
“Yes it does!”
“Go away!”
“I won’t!” Sportacus insisted.
How could have he been so blind to plausible danger that could have been posed toward Robbie? He never once worried about the man in his own bunker.
Sportacus always made sure that the kids were safe, and that the kids weren’t anywhere they shouldn’t be, and that the kids were out of harm’s way.
But Robbie?
He never once...
What sort of hero was he?
“Going away now,” Robbie announced, he was already half way down the entrance to his bunker, holding the hatch over his head.
When had they arrived here?
“Wait Robbie!”
He caught the hatch as Robbie dropped down into the chute, and he frowned as the man disappeared down.
Sportacus’ mustache twitched and after a moment of hesitation, he followed.
He ended up beside the fluffy orange armchair, ending in a somersault and flipping back to his feet easily.
Robbie was in a heap upside-down across the floor.
“... ow.”
Sportacus dashed toward him, righting him, and pulling Robbie to his feet. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Robbie slapped his hand away, rubbing his head. “Yes I’m fine,” he insisted. “I just miscalculated my landing.”
Robbie inspected a new graze on his arm, rather unperturbed.
Sportacus took a hold of it, worried.
And this was just from Robbie going home? This was worse than he thought.
Robbie yanked his arm away with a glower, and went stalking off again. “Go on home, Sportadork.”
Sportacus wouldn’t.
He paused, however, and surveyed the complete mess the lair was at that very moment.
Machinery parts were littered here and there, complete machines were jammed in odd places, and some were just in the middle of the floor. There were sharp edges to everything.
Sportacus frowned looking at a particularly nasty set of cut steel, sharp jagged edges stood up from the ground, right where anybody - Robbie - could trip into and...
Sportacus swallowed, bounced on his heels and dashed toward where Robbie was standing on a platform, looking at outfits in orange tubing.
“Robbie! All of this is very dangerous,” Sportacus insisted, gesturing behind them to the chaos on the floor. “One wrong step and you could get very hurt!”
Robbie ignored him, pulling a lever.
Sportacus jumped back when the man whirled, and the outfit he had been wearing had somehow been replaced with his more usual one. ‘Robin Extraordirotten’s’ outfit was sucked into the orange tube.
Sportacus caught Robbie before he could stumble off the platform - or, at least, that’s what he feared Robbie might do.
“Would you leave me alone? You’re being somewhat of a Sportanuisance!”
“Robbie,” Sportacus started, hands on the villain’s shoulders. “Your home is very, very, very dangerous.”
Robbie looked back at him flatly. “What.”
“Robbie this is really unsafe of you. You are getting hurt all of the time, and what if you miscalculated your landing into those metal spikes.”
“Metal spikes?” Robbie looked to where Sportacus was gesturing. “Oh that. That’s just some extra material I had left over. I’m doing some house-cleaning,” Robbie brushed off.
Robbie made to move away from him, but Sportacus held firm.
Robbie stared.
Robbie tried to move again, but Sportacus shook his head.
“Okay... I was a little amused at first, but now this is getting annoying,” Robbie spoke carefully.
“Robbie I don’t think it’s safe.”
Robbie’s eyebrows rose as high as they possibly could go.
Sportacus looked behind himself, and he couldn’t get the image of Robbie impaling himself, or burning himself, or electrocuting himself in what he was sure was a pile of mishandled half-finished machinery.
“O-kay... did you hit your head or something, Sporty?” Robbie asked, trying to pick off Sportacus’ hand with a forefinger and thumb. “Because you are starting to freak me out just a bit here...”
Sportacus mostly ignored him, trying to think of some temporary solution to the problem at hand.
“Is this an elf thing?” Robbie mused. “I bet it’s an elf thing.”
He could take Robbie back to the town and he’d be relatively safe there...
“ - Or has all the ‘sportscandy’ finally gone to your head?”
... Then the thoughts of the number of times Robbie got into trouble came unbidden to his mind. He tightened his grip.
“- You’re not listening to me, are you?”
Where?
Where could he...?
Somewhere safe...
“Oi! Stop ignoring me!”
Sportacus jumped, turning his attention back to the man whose shoulders he had a firm grip on. Robbie’s chin was jutted in annoyance, his arms crossed, and his foot tapping.
“I? What? Sorry.”
Robbie rolled his eyes again - he really ought to stop doing that so much, he could hurt himself.
Suddenly Robbie gestured wildly behind them. “Wait! Don’t touch that, Pink-Girl!”
It was enough, just enough to capture Sportacus’ attention that he loosened his grip.
Robbie booked it.
He yanked himself from Sportacus’ grip, and leaped over the railing and onto the hard floor of his bunker.
Sportacus was more horrified than impressed because Robbie could have nearly stumbled into a particularly bear-trap emulating bit of machinery.
Sportacus jumped after him.
Robbie skidded, and weaved his way between the mess of his lair, cackling.
“Wait Robbie!”
Sportacus followed, trying to corner him.
The villain was surprisingly slippery when he wanted to be, and Robbie would turn a corner or get out of his reach, or put a machine between the two of them.
Sportacus was afraid if he tried any harder to follow Robbie, Robbie would make more and more desperate attempts to escape him and then he really would be the cause of injury to the man.
Thinking fast, he scanned the room while Robbie was gleefully hiding behind a machine where he assumed Sportacus couldn’t see him.
He could.
Moving quickly and acting like he was looking for Robbie, he found a large roll of bubble wrap.
Something that likely was used to transport the large machines in the first place.
Perfect.
“Robbie?” he called.
Robbie didn’t answer.
Sportacus made sure he kept looking the other way, and even peered under another machine as if looking for the villain there.
Movement. From the corner of his eye. Robbie was making a break for it.
Sportacus moved.
Robbie let out an ungodly shriek as Sportacus cornered and grabbed him. Without hesitating he spun Robbie into the bubble wrap, effectively locking his arms to his sides and his legs tightly together.
“What. What? What!?” Robbie demanded. “What are you doing!?”
Sportacus dropped the empty tube, and held the Robbie-bundle upright. “Sorry Robbie. This is for your own good.”
“Excuse me!?” Robbie half-shouted, wiggling. “My own good!?” His voice rose a few pitches.
Sportacus looked about himself. Where would the safest place be...?
Well, he was wrapped up pretty effectively in bubble-wrap, there was no way the man was going to escape any time soon.
It would give Sportacus the time he needed to remove the dangerous things from the lair.
He decided to just let Robbie stay on the ground.
“What? Hey! Don’t put me down.”
“Sorry Robbie. It’s my job as a hero.”
Robbie was looking at him wide-eyed and incredulous. “It’s your job as a lunatic maybe!”
Sportacus ignored him, making sure that Robbie was safe and sound and not going to roll into anything dangerous.
Hands on his hips, he surveyed the lair about him.
A mess. A big dangerous mess.
Yes. It was good that he intervened when he did. There was no knowing how bad it could have gotten if left alone.
Sportacus stepped over spare parts, and ignored the shouting from Robbie and the popping of some of the bubble-wrap. The villain was going no-where fast.
He had to make sure he got rid of all of this.
All these... these... potential threats.
Sharp corners, dangerous edges, hard machines... potential fire hazards.
It was somewhere between when he was examining a machine and scrutinizing the corner of a workbench - it was so sharp there - that Sportacus started to feel different.
The fever of protecting Robbie from harm had started to come down somewhat, and Sportacus was beginning to feel... odd.
What was he doing?
Sportacus blinked, feeling like he had come out of some sort of strange dream.
What was he doing?
Had he gone mad?
He pinched his arm. It hurt. This wasn’t a dream, this was definitely real.
Sportacus had absolutely bubble wrapped Robbie Rotten in his own lair and was now in the middle of Robbie-proofing everything.
What?
What?
How was this helping anything?
Shaking his head from the feeling, Sportacus made his way back over to Robbie.
Apparently, Robbie had decided to occupy himself by grabbing what he could the bubble wrap and pop it - he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself.
“Um... Robbie?” Sportacus started, awkwardly.
Robbie looked up at him, his fist clenching setting off a machine-gun cascade of pops. “... Sportaloon.”
Sportacus shifted, feeling awkward and not knowing why.
He bounced on his heels, rubbing his hands against his thighs.
This wasn’t right.
He had to - He had to...
He had to think.
Sportacus hastily picked up Robbie.
He had to clear his head.
“Wh-what!”
“I need to sort something out.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Everything?
Everything.
Nothing.
... No everything.
Sportacus put Robbie down in his fluffy armchair, and turned to leave.
The spike of worry came back, a tingle up his spine, and Sportacus dashed to the worktable he had been examining the corners of and came back with duct-tape.
Robbie whined, “Oh please no.”
“Sorry,” Sportacus apologized, and he made quick work of taping Robbie - bubble wrap and all - to the chair.
He didn’t even know why he was doing this. Why he couldn’t stop doing this.
Which was why Sportacus had to go and think.
... once he was sure Robbie was safe.
Which Robbie was, taped into the chair, bubble-wrapped within an inch of his life, and all that machinery unable to hurt him now.
Sportacus paced, unsure of whether or not to leave the man.
But his anxiety lost to his want to be alone for a while, and he left the bunker.
“- And that’s what happened.”
Stephanie gaped. “You just left Robbie taped to his chair?”
Sportacus smiled weakly. “In bubble wrap?” he offered, knowing it was no real excuse.
“In bubble wrap. Sportacus! Why did you do all of that?” She demanded, shocked and surprised at his behavior.
He wasn’t surprised at all by her reaction. He was shocked, surprised, horrified and many other things too.
Mostly Sportacus wanted to melt and die on the spot, but he couldn’t very well do that.
“You have to go and get him out of there,” Stephanie said after a long moment of Sportacus wallowing in his own self-disgust.
“But-”
He really didn’t want to face him again.
“Sportacus. Robbie can’t stay taped to a chair for the rest of his life.”
Some part of him - that part of him deep deep down that apparently made him a bit crazy - sort of liked the idea of that.
Thank goodness the rest of rebelled against such an image. For the most part.
“I know. I know.” Sportacus pushed himself up. He rubbed a hand across his face. “I’m a bit of an idiot.”
He felt Stephanie give him a reassuring hug. “A bit. But you’re a big-hearted one, at least.”
Sportacus chuckled a little, ruffling her pink hair. “I’ll be back.”
“Okay Sportacus! Say hi to Robbie for me!”
Sportacus nodded absently, mind already focused on the poor state the man must be in.
Which was - to Sportacus’ immense relief and surprise - not that bad of a state.
Sportacus found Robbie, sound asleep, still taped to the chair, with no evidence that the villain even made an attempt to escape at all.
He was snoring softly, looking almost cozy in his cocoon that kept him safe and snug.
Sportacus felt that deep, deep, part of him warm and purr at the sight. He almost wanted to put down the scissors and just leave him there for a bit longer.
He viciously shoved that feeling before it took over his brain again and started work on snipping away the duct-tape.
True to Robbie’s claims, he woke up easily at any sound, and jerked away at the sounds of Sportacus cutting the tape.
“Sorry Robbie,” Sportacus tried in a whisper, as if that would coax the glowering villain back into sleep.
“I was having the best dream too,” Robbie grumbled.
Sportacus sheered through the bubble wrap layer by layer - ever careful to keep the scissors away from Robbie - until he was down to the last few layers.
Sportacus decided to just tear those last layers with his bare hands instead, discarding the scissors.
Apparently his mania hadn’t completely left him.
Robbie stretched, yawning.
“You know...” Robbie said after smacking his lips and lazily crossing his arms. “That wasn’t half bad,” he mentioned sleepily.
Sportacus tilted his head. “What?”
“The bubble wrap. Not you being a complete lunatic part.” Robbie clarified with a pointed glare. “The bubble wrap. Comfortable.”
Ah.
Sportacus felt his ear-tips go pink and he was glad that Robbie couldn’t see them.
“Sorry about... the whole...”
“Being a lunatic thing.”
Sportacus winced, rubbing the back of his head. “... Yeah.”
Robbie leaned back in his chair, still amongst the remains of his unwilling cocoon. His legs crossed, his fingers tapping on the fluffy orange armrests.
They stared at each other.
“Tch,” Robbie said after a moment, looking away. “Just don’t do it again.”
Sportacus shifted. “... Right. I won’t.”
“And you owe me more bubble wrap.”
“Of course.”
More silence.
“I should... probably...” Sportacus thumbed to where the light was pouring into the lair, the hatch still left open.
“Yes... You probably should.” Robbie was still looking away, but his tone soft.
“Bye Robbie!”
Sportacus had never left the lair so fast in his life.
By the time he made it back to his airship, his heart was thumping in his chest and his face was beet-red.
Sportacus pulled off his hat, wiping unbidden sweat that ran down his forehead.
Why did he feel so…
Giddy?
Instead of thinking too hard about it, fearing it’d cause another ‘episode’...
… Sportacus just grinned.