going off of the text post about flambae realizing robert is great with kids and immediately wanting to knock him up - one week, robert just isn’t feeling his best (maybe he’s got a migraine, or a virus, or chronic pain flare) and he’s out of it and sonar makes some off handed comment about robert being bitchy, must be on his period (either knowing or not knowing that he’s trans) and flambae is like wait shit when was he last on his period and this devolves into chaos bc flambae doesn’t want to ask if robert has something to tell him but is also going crazy… anyways, some sort of text post about that would be so good (if you want to!)
[post mentioned in the first ask—I think] // [post mentioned in the third ask]
The shift had ended a few minutes ago for the entire Z-Team. The newer heroes were gathering their things from their lockers and getting ready to call it a day. Even the team's dispatcher was there, waiting for his boyfriend to finish changing so they could finally head home after a particularly rough day.
Robert was stretched out across one of the locker room benches, pale as a sheet. He lay flat on his back, one arm draped over his eyes while the other was wrapped tightly around his waist.
The harsh fluorescent lights overhead combined with the music blasting from Sonar's speaker were slowly driving him insane.
"Can you turn that shit down, Sonar?" Robert muttered, his voice rough.
Sonar grumbled something under his breath but lowered the volume anyway.
"Dude. Somebody's being a bitch."
Robert didn't answer. He shifted slightly, jaw clenched tight, as if even breathing took effort.
After shutting his locker and getting ready to leave, Flambae shot him a concerned look.
Flambae is already alert. He’s been watching Robert all morning — how he skipped breakfast, how he kept pressing his fingers to his temple more often than usual, snapping at people without realizing it.
Sonar slammed his own locker shut and lowered his voice. "What's his problem?"
"I think he's not feeling well," Flambae said.
Sonar shrugged. "Yeah, well. Must be on his period."
Robert cut straight through their conversation. He lowered his arm just enough to squint up at Flambae.
Flambae nodded and adjusted the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder.
After a quick goodbye wave to Sonar, he and Robert headed out of the SDN building and toward Flambae's Firebird.
The drive home was quiet. Robert clearly wasn't in the mood to talk.
It wasn't until they got home, after Flambae made sure Robert took a hot shower, some pain medication, and got settled into bed, that he finally had time to think about what Sonar had said.
Something in Flambae's brain recalculated.
When was he last on his period?
He immediately hated himself for thinking it.
It was invasive. Private. None of his business, and definitely not something to joke about.
But the thought had already lodged itself in his head, and now it wouldn't leave.
He tried to figure it out. They kept track of things loosely — appointments, medication refills, overloaded shared calendars full of obligations, birthdays, and stupid inside jokes.
He remembered Robert mentioning cramps a few months ago. Or had it been longer? There had also been that night when Robert couldn't fall asleep until Flambae carefully spread warmth across both his lower back and abdomen to help ease a nasty cramp flare-up.
Fuck, how long ago was that?
Pregnancy wasn't some distant, impossible concept for them. It was something they'd talked about during abstract late-night conversations in their apartment, with Robert's head resting on Flambae's chest.
Maybe sooner than someday.
Flambae's pulse quickened.
He pulled on a pair of boxers and loose pajama pants almost on autopilot while his mind continued racing through possibilities.
By the time he entered their bedroom, Robert looked slightly better. There was a bit more color in his face. He was wearing one of Flambae's old hoodies, the sleeves hanging over his hands. Flambae thought that made him look ridiculously small and adorable.
He sat on the edge of the mattress at first, still mentally running through every possible scenario.
Robert immediately noticed.
"You're anxious," he said weakly.
Robert tilted his chin toward Flambae's restless fingers, tapping against the edge of the bed.
Flambae sighed in defeat and climbed into bed beside him.
"It's just something Sonar said earlier."
Robert's expression changed instantly. More alert. "About my period?"
Flambae blinked. "You heard that?"
Robert nodded and shrugged.
For a moment, Flambae had no idea how to continue the conversation.
"When was the last one?" He looked directly into Robert's brown eyes, studying them.
Those same eyes narrowed slightly. "That's a weird way to ask that."
"I know. I know," Flambae rolled onto his side to face him. "I don't want to be weird about it. It's just... my brain won't shut up."
Understanding slowly dawned across Robert's face. Then amusement.
"Oh my God," his voice was quiet. "You think I'm pregnant."
Flambae felt his ears burn. "I don't know. I'm–I’m not saying you are. I'm just... trying to make sense of things."
Robert let out a weak laugh that quickly turned into a groan when his headache pulsed again. "You're funny, Bae."
"Am I wrong?" The question came out more frustrated than Flambae intended.
He couldn't help it anymore. The idea had completely taken over his thoughts.
"No," Robert said gently. "You're not wrong for asking. You're just panicking."
He reached over and ran a hand through Flambae's damp hair. "I'm not pregnant."
Flambae narrowed his eyes and studied him again, as if he possessed X-ray vision that would somehow reveal the truth.
"Yes." Robert crossed his arms.
"Pretty sure. I track this stuff, remember? Prism's been helping me. I downloaded an app. You made fun of me for color-coding everything."
Flambae remembered. The app on Robert's phone. The little calendar. All the colored dots.
"I'm late," Robert admitted after a moment. "A few days. Stress does that. Being sick does that. Existing does that, too."
He huffed and slid down further into the bed.
Flambae's heart made an embarrassingly hopeful leap at the word late before logic immediately dragged him back to reality.
Robert watched every emotion flash across his face.
"Oh," his voice softened. "You wanted me to be."
It wasn't an accusation. Just a quiet observation.
Flambae swallowed hard. He didn't answer. He only looked away toward the headboard, suddenly embarrassed.
Robert sat upright almost as quickly as he'd laid down and gently cupped Flambae's face in both hands.
Flambae blinked slowly before refocusing on Robert's face. He leaned into those familiar hands and gave a small nod.
"I just don't want to pressure you about it."
"You're not," Robert rested his forehead against Flambae's.
"I just..." Flambae laughed shyly. "The idea. The image of you carrying our baby..."
His breath caught for a second.
"It does something to me."
Robert smiled softly and brushed his thumbs over Flambae's cheeks.
Flambae leaned further into the touch. "You'd be so good at it."
“So would you,” Robert replied quietly.
The migraine hadn't completely gone away. The room was still dimly lit. The pain medication still sat on the nightstand. But the chaos in Flambae's chest finally began to settle.
Robert tugged him closer by the shoulders.
"When it happens," he murmured, "I promise you won't have to guess."
Flambae carefully settled on top of him, mindful of the headache, and tucked himself against Robert's chest.
He stayed there, one hand intertwined with Robert's beneath the blanket they'd pulled over themselves, listening as Robert's breathing slowly steadied. Still sore and tired.
