a stupid Flambert idea I had while writing Talk to Me
Basically Robert can’t get Flambae to wear a protective cup at work—even though all penis-having heroes are supposed to wear one in the field—because he insists it’s stupid/ruins his lines/he’s a fucking super, why would he need it??
And Robert’s beyond frustrated, because he isn’t having this problem with anyone else. He’s never had to tell Punch Up to wear one, and Phenomaman’s practically terrified to go without his (though Robert thinks that has more to do with his hangups about whatever “incompatible” genitals situation he has going on). Waterboy does forget his every so often, but he’s always quick to rectify the situation, and the only time Robert has ever had to tell him to wear one was when he first started at SDN.
No, it’s literally just Flambae choosing to die on this one stupid hill. And it's becoming like this daily struggle of Robert trying to get him to take safety guidelines seriously and Flambae just not listening, like:
“Flambae, get back in the locker room and put a cup on.”
“What are you talking about? I’m already wearing one.”
“I know you’re not wearing one.”
“What, you gonna come over here and check for yourself? That’s what I thought, bitch.”
And because he’s so pissed off and sexually frustrated, Robert most certainly does come over there and check for himself. And Flambae’s so shocked and aroused that he can’t do anything but sputter as Robert leans in and says, “Get back in the locker room and put on your fucking cup, Flambae.”
And obviously that doesn’t help matters, because suddenly Flambae is flaunting his cup-less status harder than ever, very strategically leaning up against Robert’s desk and smirking down at him with his legs spread just so.
And anytime Robert tries to call him on it, he gets more thinly veiled requests taunts for Robert to check for himself. And Robert refuses to do it after that first time, because he knows that that whole thing was definitely crossing several lines. But it’s too late for any attempt at professionalism, because Flambae has latched on to his moment of weakness like Beef with that package of sliced ham Robert dropped on the floor one time, and he’s not letting it go.
So, at the very end of his rope, Robert decides to toss the professionalism altogether and implement a special type of morning cup checks. He calls the first meeting in an out of the way conference room, first thing after everyone’s dressed for work.
The team files in, and Robert’s already waiting there with Punch Up. There’s a gleam in the strongman’s eyes that nobody likes the look of.
Robert clears his throat. “Good morning everyone. Starting today, cup checks will be carried out every single morning. If you aren’t wearing one, you won’t be participating in the first shift.”
“What, are you going to cop a feel again?” Flambae purrs, looking very satisfied with himself.
“Yeah I know the HR department is kinda lax here, but this is a little much even for you, Bobert,” Sonar quips.
Robert smiles grimly, almost feeling sorry for what he’s about to do. When he said that anyone not wearing a cup won’t be participating in the first shift, what he meant was that they won’t be able to participate in the first shift.
He waves Punch Up forward, and then gestures for all the (supposedly) cup-wearing heroes to line up.
Flambae freezes, but Sonar—who has been coasting by un-cupped and unnoticed under all the drama Flambae’s been causing—immediately tries to get the hell out of dodge.
Robert barks, “Golem, block the door” and the construct is so tired of hearing all the cup drama first thing in the morning that he’s more than willing to follow that order.
And then all the penis-havers get a (painful but not seriously injuring) punch in the dick. The ones who are wearing their cups are fine, but Sonar and Flambae end up curled up on the floor as the rest of the team jeers—they’re all pretty tired of Flambae’s bullshit at this point. And with Sonar…well, they’ve all wanted to punch him in the dick at one time or another.
Robert continues to hold meetings every single morning. After that first time, he always gives anyone not wearing their cup a chance to go put it on before they get punched, but they hardly ever have to because they remember that first time vividly.
And it becomes like this weird little ritual they do every morning. It’s a great warmup for Punch up, anyone who’s wearing their cup is unaffected, and it’s just overall a pretty good team-bonding exercise—in that off-putting, bizarre kind of way that the Z-Team bonds.
Mandy peeks her head in one morning—curious why they always book a conference room first thing in the morning—and sees them doing this, and immediately thinks to herself, “Definitely an HR violation.” But the Z-Team has always had their own way of operating, and she’s sure Robert’s got a handle on things.
Meanwhile, Robert’s busy trying to discourage Punch Up from punching Flambae in the stomach while the man himself is insisting, “No seriously, do it, I won’t feel a thing. Robert, watch this, look how badass I am. My abs are made of steel, you’re so fucking jealous. Come feel them, they’re like fucking…that super strong metal from that one movie.”
“Yep, we’re officially at the ‘showboating’ phase,” Prism says to Coupé from their vantage point across the room. “Mark it.”
Coupé obligingly taps at her phone. “We’re only four phases away from a love confession.”
“Not necessarily,” Prism tells her. “Knowing him, he’s gonna double back a few times. So like, in a couple weeks he’ll probably go back to the ‘denial’ phase.”
“Interesting,” Coupé murmurs, looking and sounding more invested in her coworkers’ blossoming courtship than she’s ever been in work. “Does the first kiss come before or after the confession?”
“Definitely before,” Prism says, “and he’s gonna be weird about it afterward. That or throw a giant bitchfit.”
“What’s the determining factor?”
“How Robert responds," Prism says, matter-of-fact.
Across the room, there’s a meaty thud and then Flambae’s doubling over, holding his stomach.
“See?” he wheezes, grinning up at Robert. “Didn’t feel a fucking thing.”
Robert massages the bridge of his nose.
