Dispatch – Flambae x Robert Robertson
Well, it’s just an experiment. I saw how others do it and decided to do the same.
I already had this fanfic before, I just scrolled it in the translator, So there can be a huge number of errors and no match in the text
Robert had not yet made it to his workplace as the whole office heard yams and noise.
Excited early in the morning staff and heroes - who did not have time to send for calls - crowded near one of the floors. Not long, people seemed to be changing each other. I looked and ran to work. Or gossip. Rob looked around at the runaway dispatchers, one of whom had a burning edge on his shirt. In the distance he heard exquisite motherly swearing with a strong accent. Flash. Some poor guy runs off with burnt eyebrows. Oh yeah, it was definitely Flambe.
He walks past the people leaving towards a small recreation room. A small corridor, door, flying coffee mug into it. Robert dodges at the last moment.
- What the hell?! - He looks at the shards and closes the door before turning to the I-team members, who apparently have decided to gather their entire crew here.
- Sorry, Robert, we thought that furrieb was back. - Malevola’s voice sounds really restless, though uplifted.
- What are you talking about? - The man was clutching the others.
The faces of the heroes smiled, chuckled, or frolicked with laughter. However, most of all, it seems, entertained Rumple and Prism. They were banging on the table in disarray, snorting and seem to be choked by lack of oxygen in the lungs.
— Come on.. - Prism took a breath, barely lifting the smartphone with trembling hands and pointing it at the one who was hidden from Robert’s tall silhouette Malevola. - Let’s do it again!
- Shh.. Kha-ha, - Kolm coughed off, straightened up and with the look of an important uncle raised his hand. - Flambe, give la
- Fuck off, you fucking prick! - In a commotion with such a familiar face, Robert heard a muffled roar merging with the speech.
Robert tilted his torso a little bit and saw what he saw. Flambe, Chad, with fucking dog ears on top! In anger they clenched to the head, while their new master, leaping up, tried to pick a pair of fingers of Thrasher. In the back, with dark fur, a tail for which a hole was hastily made by children’s scissors lying peacefully on the table.
As soon as Robert had stepped out of his stupor, they were turning sharply in his direction, literally blinking with rage.
- Well, bitch?! - Flambe fired at him with burning eyes, but he stopped when their eyes crossed.
The ears and tail were slammed, as if the appearance of Robert at that moment was the most unexpected thing to happen. The man was stunned by the cursing on the screen, his thick eyebrows raised up, and he bent himself into a thin line of lips.
-Here the hell, - The tail swung in the air not decisively until it passed the tangent and fell down.
- How did you manage to get into this situation? It’s totally absurd. - Mandy was walking nervously around the conference room.
— Why, I just had to stand by and watch that bitch rob the old lady?! - Flambe sat tensely, clasping his hands and showing his annoyance and irritation to the rest of the crowd. Mandy’s weary sigh was just a sniff.
He actually did a good thing yesterday. Out of the ratings! And here he is recounted as a five-year-old, without brains and rules in his head. Well, how could he know that this little chap - it looks more like an unbroken match than a burglar - turns out such a crappy superpower?! Yes, he got excited. I didn’t think anything about it, I didn’t tell anyone. Everyone had already left after the shift, and here is this, right next to his house. How can you put up with that? Yes, and the grandmother was sorry, but of course he won’t tell anyone.
— Come on, Mandy, don’t get too excited - Robert stood up for Flambe without much enthusiasm, with a soothing indifference in his voice. Like it’s really nothing. Just trifles, stuff that doesn’t really affect the image of the heroes. - At most, maybe someone will take a picture, let the internet. Fanservice.
Before Chad could relax, someone had stood up for him - not started to laugh like a madman - as the last sentence threw him off track.
- Nay, fuck you with this fan service!
Maybe it was that Robert was a dog, or maybe the recent tension and team cohesion led to this situation, the man did not know the exact answer. Just looking at the lowered ears of the flame, his red cheeks, and a look full of confused despair, he was sorry. Humanly sorry. Robert and I would not like to be in such a situation.
At the very least, it was strange to see Flambe spinning on a chair in an attempt to get comfortable because of his sudden acquisition as a hairless extension of the spine. He looked desperate. Obviously not wanting more people to see him like this. He worked so hard to create the image of an unflappable, arrogant bastard - as he was - but adding to it the stamina and courage that is typical of real heroes. And now, here he is - with an obscure fuzzy cock on his head, a lever, not controlling these new appendages called the tail and ears. And that he, already disgraced half of the office, came out on the street, even more to shame? Yes you go you know where?!
But the fact remained a fact. Change should have started soon, if not already. The other I-team members, who had moderated their ardor in order not to be burned by someone else, were awaiting a sentence on Flambe. Mandy thinking about what to do with it and how to get out of it. The press, with the speed inherent only to it, will inflate an elephant and all over Los Angeles spread the news about what heroes they have. Selfless? Can be brave and eager to help everyone, regardless of time and circumstances? Of course not. Inept, unable to defend themselves, and foresee such stupidity. Oh yes, it is a more plausible option.
— Why don’t you stay at the office? If it happens that we cannot do without Flambe, then he will have to work in "field" conditions, - Making quotes in the air, suggested Robert. - Let him stay here for a while. Fill in the reports. Work with the flame for more peaceful purposes. That’s what he’ll do. And the press won’t know anything.
The triangular ear moved in his direction.
The decision was taken almost immediately. The day, which began as an incomprehensible confusion, gradually took shape.
Flambe was very popular. Here are the lights, it’s warm, This is the surf, and here is a little bit, and you were also called there. Fireball was thinking that it would be better to have a few photos on the Internet instead of him running around here like he’d been stung. Almost immediately this thought disappeared. The common sense suggested that Robert had put everything right. So even if he was swung, the man kept running around the precincts. Why are they all so weak? Everyone needs something. Fire is a dangerous, but extremely useful tool. Especially his techniques were praised, mechanics called him to the workshop almost hourly.
On the partition between the dispatchers' office tables, a figure of oil rose. Robert roared towards him.
- I know, bitch, I know. - There was a clattering noise, and Flambe grabbed something behind his back, frowning.
Flambe looked tired. Of course, this is not a task from which you always return to the base and rest. Rob doesn’t want to say that Flambe’s assignments are easy, or even easier than working in the office.
The point was that they did not rest. They did not take breaks long enough to fully recover their strength. Tired? Sit down, rest for a minute. What, are you still tired? And then the call came, go work further. Heroes worked the same way. There’s a call - there’s a job. Just where one hero can do it in fifteen minutes - five people can do it in an hour.
Maybe that’s why he was chased to the neck? Or maybe someone decided to make up for old grievances. Hell knows.
Flambe looked at Robert. He leaned over the screen and entered in a line of code unintelligible signs and words. Here she is, the real bee worker. Just a little more and it will come back. While he was running around here, not once could Robert get out of the table for a second. Under the eyes bruises, long cooled, empty cup of coffee, a calm voice helping me-team. Does he ever come out from the table?
Robert shook his ceramic mug on the table from a sudden knock. How did he not notice Flambe hovering on his table?
- Come on, drink. - There was freshly brewed coffee in the mug. - You look like a martyr to Rob-Rob. Even though I’m suffering here, bitch!
- Oh. - A great surprise. - Thank you.
Flambe smirked, as if to all the species shows: «This is me here such a fuck, shout bitch, while they give.» The triangular ear on the top of his head moved again to the direction of the clockwork. Self-satisfaction fell from his face, turning into a gloomy mine. He sighed, and before leaving, struck the man on the head with his hand without a pair of fingers.
It was unexpected, but nice. No head stroking! Just such gloomy care. This coffee. It tastes nice, just like Robert did for himself. Without cognac, by the way.
At the end of the first shift, lunch was due to begin soon. Rob rarely went there, often taking something from the vending machine with him. Such a diet to call food was difficult, at most snack, but these are the habits. However, without Flambe, he had to do a little more than usual, and he sat up. There were fifteen minutes left before the end of the break. Well, he will survive. Why don’t you have a big pizza tonight?
- Hey, Rob, why aren’t you at dinner yet? - Flambe came up from behind, putting his hands on his shoulders, clenching his clamped muscles.
- Fuck! - Robert shouted quietly, bent in half, spitting bitterly at the man. - Why do that?!
- Look, your muscles are already numb. You’re going to die soon.
- Chad, it’s okay, I have to work.
But Cheda didn’t like that answer. He growled loudly, his eyebrows frowning. He picked up the dispatcher’s headphones and also quickly connected the communication channel to the z-team members.
- Okay, bitches, I’m taking this bitch to lunch. Can you handle 15 minutes without a babysitter? - His tone was more commanding than questioning.
- Flambe, what are you doing? - Robert did, but he was stopped by a hand on his face.
- Wait, Rob, what didn’t you actually eat?
- Are you kidding me? Of course, take this motherfucker!
- No sudden corpse on the line. Take care of it.
- R-Robert.. that’s b-boss no.. I mean, yeah! Yeah, he n-needs to eat!
Hearing all these cries and wishes, Robert even became a bit ashamed. Very little. Apparently no one was fooled by those two minutes that he supposedly ate lunch.
- Did you hear me? - Put the headphones on, asked Flambe.
With one movement, Robert was lifted from behind the chair by his shoulders in a strange embrace. The man unskillfully jerked in these strange hugs, realizing that he was being dragged towards the recreation room. He is now literally in someone else’s hands, red and not knowing what to say. More precisely, he was not allowed to start an indignant tirade.
— Don’t move. - Flambe grabbed him comfortably, grinning. There was a strange, monotonous noise from behind again. - Did you hear what those beggars said? Tonight I’m your babysitter, bitch. Enjoy it while you can.
Flambe seems to enjoy the opportunity more than Robert. Did he want to be someone’s nanny? The man could rather imagine how a fireball gives him a slap on the head, driving back to the kitchen and a rest room. But this? What’s that strange sound?
The shift today was hard. Not so much to howl like a wolf, but also not so that after it I wanted to fall somewhere else. And it weighed the same for both. And for Flambe, and for Megaman.
Chad walked around an empty, dark, because of the lights off, office. I wanted to go home quickly, order a delivery for example, and not think about anything. Not about the oddities of this day, no less stupid dispatcher unable to take care of himself.
Seriously, how did he survive before that? He’s a piece of walking nerves.
Better not think about it, but wait for Mandy. Yes, he’s here because of her. Because she’s going to have to tell him about the research on that thief’s superpower he caught. That’s why. Not because the monitor’s white light is still blinking in the dark. Last monitor. The monitor of this stupid dispatcher who fills out these stupid reports. And does it too slowly! That’s why he doesn’t wake up! You have to work faster! And then walks like a zombie, and stop worrying about this Meahsuku. Because of him, Flambe is working under a lot of fucking stress.
- Not gone yet? - Robert’s voice got Chad out of his head. - You okay?
- All right, all right! Can’t I see it?
Robert pointed to his head with a gesture. Paraphrasing his actions, the flambe went crazy. Ears are pressed.
Robert grinned at the slowly reddening man. What nonsense is going on today? Hell! I swear, he was cursed. Flambe doesn’t know who did it yet, but he knows exactly what temperature the hot pot is going to be.
The desire to tear, throw, growl slowly subsides from a pleasant touch to the head. Something colder than its own heat, calming down the head. Away from the thoughts, away from all the fatigue that has accumulated for a day of this morally degrading torture. Nice and slightly ticklish. So, wait, what the fuck?
- You did a good job. - The smile on Robert’s face is no less tired.
Noticing a couple of startled bright eyes in their piercing eyes, Rob only sort of shuddered.
-What? You keep hitting me on the head. I’m back as a boomerang.
That’s right. It’s a little thing. Flambe’s heart is about to fly out of his chest into the stratosphere. And he, who is already pretty fucked up about this situation, won’t even understand why.
The fingers skilfully moved between the two sticking out ears. The nerves gradually faded, the breath leveled. The brain was finally relaxed, accepting its miserable fate. And what’s the matter? Robert is right. It came back to him in a boomerang. He doesn’t like it at all. It’s disgusting, disgusting. Absolutely unpleasant. And he’s not holding on to this hand because it’s thin, and now he’s going to groan shamefully in a rush of pleasurable feelings. No. But because he wants to see more of the ugliness of these sensations.
That’s what Chad explained to himself, while his body was groveling under skilled hands. Bacon must be sniffing so desperately for a reason. Jealous? Yes, he did well today, deserved it much more than you, chubby.
- You did a good job today, didn’t you? - I can hear real fun in your voice.
Yes, it is today. Snow to you, ordinary people. Ran here, dragged around the floors like a prick. Yes, yes, slightly to the left. Monotonous sounds of rustling emitted by the tail, became all replaced.
— Did you do well today? - Robert was clearly amused by such anomalous behavior on the part of the ever-cocky hero. When will he be given such a chance to tease? Not to say that Robert didn’t like it himself, but we’ll do it.
The heavy tail struck at the legs, spinning with a propeller. Flambe himself, clearly no longer giving account of his actions, was practically lying on Robert, wanting to get more of this pleasant feeling and sensation. He smiles, covering his eyes selflessly. This is the face! You can’t believe it. He turned into a dog, not a cat?
-Flambe, good news! We figured out how long that
When Mandy walked up to them, she stood there like a deer in front of the car’s lights. From the surprise of Flumbe, jerked, clenching Robert to himself, as if he was defending something of his own and quietly burped. Yes. It will be hard to explain.
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