SlyKat28

He starts by getting a couple of sales and slowly is able to start buying his own raw materials. But it remains a slow business that's barely getting any revenue to keep itself up.

Until a ghost comes up to Danny asking for food. Danny was confused to say the least. They weren't even a strong ghost, couldn't even be seen by people.

"Can you even eat?"

"If you add ectoplasm I could, yes."

"Okay... That's good to know, but sorry mate, I don't have the means to just give food out for free."

"Who said I wouldn't pay?" The ghost says with a raised eyebrow.

Danny's about to say he doesn't accept whatever ghost currency the shades could possibly manage, but the shade beats him to it, and takes out just enough money for one of Danny's sandwiches. Real, living, money. And Really, Danny should question it. But who's he to judge where a ghost gets his money from?

Danny starts getting more and more ghost customers, as there aren't alot of options for them, and with it comes more money, that allows him to invest in the business. As people meet him he gets more living customers as well. Soon his street vendors car can be upgraded into a food truck. He expands his living menu.

He also, starts experimenting with his ectoplasm as an ingredient. He hadn't really tried up till then, just putting it on top of the food. But Ectoplasm is really manageable, and his ghost customers deserve to be as acknowledged as the living ones. It did take a couple reanimated food before he managed recipes were the food remained food.

Soon he has ectoplasm syrup, sauce, bread, candy, cake, Ice cream. Soon the living menu and the ectoplasm menu are completely different, and Danny makes separate menus to show his customers.

That's when he gets a customer he hadn't had before. The guy felt like a denizen, but didn't seem death. Danny didn't think much about it, it was not the first time an undead came to him.

"Welcome! Would you like the regular menu or the other menu."

"You manage two menu's?"

"Well, of course. It's not like I can offer the same to the living."

-_-_-_-_-_-

Jason had heard from a couple of people about the young street vendor that had managed to go from a food stand made from scraps to a legitimate food truck within a couple of months. He was apparently unafraid even if weapons where visible, and kind to any customer regardless of how well off or homeless they seemed, and recently had started to let street kids take some food at late night hours. So Jason was a bit curious, and decided to check it out.

He started rustling through a saddle bag next to you, pulling out various items to place on the desk. You recognized the brand on his bag as an expensive one, but visually it looked years old and like it’d been to hell and back. It was even sporting some safety pins over handles that had frayed too far to be sturdy.

As he turned, you were able to see more of his face. Brown hair, round dark eyes, is that-is he missing part of his ear?

You knew that you’d have a new hire, your manager covered it in the last meeting. You just expected he’d be… not this. Not the late twenty-something man you saw before you that looked like he came from a different planet.

Most of your teammates were at least ten years older than you and had decades of experience under their belt, which is part of the reason you had to fight so hard for your current role. But they’d gotten more lax with the hiring process over the years, choosing to hire a few employees on a trial basis instead of judging from their resume alone.

Even so, this guy was very different than the normal hires.

Much more attractive too, you thought, in a scruffy kind of way.

He sighed, running a hand through shaggy brown hair, and started to sort his items in a more civilized fashion. In the middle of rustling through his bag, dark eyes flicked up-catching yours, “Oh, hey. You must be the other team member for the logistics division they mentioned. I’ll be done moving around soon, don’t worry.

His voice had a slight rasp to it, but also a softness that took you off guard. He had a tone that was perpetually sarcastic, but not condescending somehow.

You smiled, introducing yourself and providing your name.

He nodded, eyes sliding over to where your name plate sat, “Robert Robertson, just starting here today, but you already knew that.”

What the hell kind of a name is that? His parents must’ve hated him.

You cleared your throat and made sure not to let your thoughts bleed into your expression. “It’s nice to meet you Robert, welcome to the team.”

You gestured to the rest of the office where multiple hushed phone calls and the clacking of keyboards could be heard in the background. “I will say though, it’s probably the worst season to come in on, we’ve been playing catch up like crazy for the next review. So, if you’re confused or need any help…”

He was still crouched by his bag, and a beat of silence passed as he looked up at you through his hair, waiting for you to continue.

“Don’t ask me.”

He blinked in surprise and you were almost concerned he didn’t catch your joke, before a slight smirk formed on his lips. “Duly noted.”

Robert rose into standing, brushing imaginary dust off his pant legs, “I think I’ll adjust pretty quickly, so I shouldn’t be too much of a bother.”

A hand was suddenly in your face, and you looked up to see his expectant glance.

“Here’s to an exciting future of spreadsheets and metrics?”

You smiled, shaking his hand. It was warm, almost clammy, with the scratch of callouses.

“Absolutely.”

_____________________________________________

You rationalized that he probably just had an off day the first time you met, but Robertson only kept getting weirder as time went on.

He never showed up late, but every day was a close call.

Minutes or seconds close to his start time he’d walk through the elevator doors in the same exact mismatch clothes from the first day.

His diet, as far as you could tell, consisted of mostly caffeine and empty carbs from the vending machines. You were certain that you never saw the man eat an actual meal.

You couldn’t help yourself from bringing a larger portion for lunch one day, sliding some over to him wordlessly in the break room.

“What’s this for?” He said, still chewing a candy bar he’d just deposited a dollar in the vending machine for.

“You’re stressing me out, just eat it.” You shoved the plate of spare pasta closer over to him.

“Do you think I’m a stray cat?”

You rolled your eyes, “I think that if you don’t eat some actual food one of these days you might faint. And you wouldn’t be a very pretty damsel in distress.”

He looked down at the plate, lips twitching into a smile. “You’re not wrong.” He took a spoonful, immediately humming in contentment.

You gave him a knowing look.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind eating the rest.” He snarked. Then in a softer tone, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

After that, it became an unspoken ritual of you bringing extra food and eating lunch together in the break room.

Then there were the bruises.

It started off small, an oval purple mark on his neck, with some scarring that trailed down into the collar of his shirt.

You’d almost thought it was a hickey from a girlfriend (or boyfriend) he’d forgotten to cover up.

Which, of course would be completely fine, and you totally didn’t get a pang in your stomach thinking about it.

But no, as the week progressed and more marks arose on his skin, it was definitely a different situation altogether.

Even more concerning, he made up a different ridiculous excuse for each one.

One time it was as simple as, “I hit my head.” But that soon delved into, “I got attacked by a pack of raccoons on a rooftop.”

Each excuse he would deliver with the utmost sincerity and deadpan tone. But, since you didn’t ask any real questions, he never explained further.

It was so constant you started a list on the notepad in your desk drawer. The list went over all of the injuries the man amassed and the possibilities of whatever the hell he could be doing to get them.

The options so far:

1. Parkour

2. Weird fight club

3. Boxing

4. Hero larping?

But the more you thought about it, the less any of those options felt right.

On a random Monday he walked in showcasing a real shiner, eye swollen and bruised to the point you were wondering why he bothered to show up at all.

“Rough night?” You grimaced, looking back down at the email in front of you.

A huff of a laugh from your side, “You have no idea, fire bastard packs a punch unfortunately.” His attention was divided as he fished through a compartment in his bag. “Should bring a water hose next time, see how he likes that.”

Thanks Robert, for the confusing and vague message as usual.

You shot him a disbelieving look over the small divider separating your desks, “That’s a new one, run out of raccoons?”

He squints at you with his one good eye, “Yeah actually, I think my dog might’ve scared them away. Haven’t seen any around my apartment.”

He finally finds what he’s looking for, fishing out a granola bar and tearing into the packaging with his teeth.

You coughed, tearing your gaze away from where it drew to his mouth. “You know, it’s none of my business,”

A knowing hum through chewing let you know he was listening.

“But you should probably feed him more than canned meat and cereal.”

He sputters out a raspy laugh, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, is that you make things your business. But I do give him actual dog food for your information, he just doesn’t eat it.”

It was your turn to laugh, rolling your eyes at the fact that not only was he a weirdo, but his dog seemed to take after his antics.

“That’s because you set him on bad eating habits, I-You’ve got to be kidding me.” Your tone took and undercurrent of annoyance as the third email you tried failed to go through.

“What’s up?” Robert said worriedly.

“My computer has just completely given up on me, that’s what. Everything’s snail pace and the emails refuse to send.” You leaned back in your chair, sighing. “It’s like it knew I needed to get important things done today and rebelled to spite me.”

“I’ll take a look at it.” His voice was suddenly right by your ear as his frame leaned over you to look at the computer, causing you to flinch.

His voice was a soft timbre as he muttered something about background programs, but you’re too distracted by the smell of soap and aftershave drifting off him to pay attention.

He shifted further, two sturdy arms caging you in from where he continued to type away at your computer.

Your eyes trailed from long nimble fingers to the faint scars that trailed up his forearms before disappearing beneath the cuff of his sleeve.

Were his arms always that defined? Why didn’t you notice the absolute sleeper build on this guy before?

“Alright, you’re all set.” He said at your right, still speaking directly beside your ear. “But don’t you dare download McAfee again, or else.”

You turn your head towards him, only to find he’s already looking at you. “Or else? What are you going to do Mr. Robertson?”

You weren’t sure if it’s your imagination that his eyes flicked down to your lips for a second, but the sarcasm in his voice was obvious. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

Then he was pulling out of your space so suddenly that you had to convince yourself the last five minutes happened at all.

You tried the email again, and it sent without a hitch. You were slightly tempted to break the computer again, just to see what he’d do.

_____________________________________________

The next weeks were mostly uneventful, but it was obvious the computer event changed your dynamic with Robert.

Before it was cordial, coworker banter with a bit of professional distance. Now, you were closer.

Both metaphorically and physically.

He told you about the little things in his life, like the new neighbors he had, and the show he watched over the weekend.

You in turn, told him bits of your life and upbringing, like your disastrous interview you had that you were certain would end up in you getting ghosted. It ended in a job offer instead.

You would happily consider him a friend, but there were also moments that made it seem like a different word was needed. A bigger word.

Times where your eyes would lock for a beat to long, or he’d lean in to fix a stray hair even though you knew nothing was out of place.

He always seemed to find little reasons to make contact with you, and you found yourself counting down the minutes until the next time it happened.

This is bad. Really, really bad.

You had formed an annoying crush on your coworker, and you weren’t sure that you could shake it.

Which was a horrible idea, because even ignoring the fact that you worked together, you simultaneously knew too much and too little about the man.

You knew what kind of donut he liked, and the fact that he spoke to his dog more like a friend than a pet, but things like his family were a mystery to you.

You still didn’t even know why he showed up with a smattering of bruises every day.

“Twinkie for your thoughts?”

Your spiral was interrupted by Robert sliding a crinkling package towards you. He stands leaning against the edge of the desk, looking at you imploringly. The sight of his bag slung across his shoulders makes you glance at the clock.

Shit. It was time to go thirty minutes ago, you must’ve lost track of time. Why wasn’t he gone? Was he just waiting for you then?

He folded his arms, causing your eyes to drift to where the material of his shirt tightened around defined arms.

Focus girl, focus.

“I’m fine, just thinking about the work I have yet to finish.” You looked down at the sugary snack with a grimace.

“Thanks, but I don’t really eat these twink things, they’re horrible for you.”

He scoffs, leaning over to turn off your computer and ignoring your protests. “You don’t have to eat it, just never call it that again. Cmon, too much work melts your brain.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before scooping up your notebook and work bag and walking towards the elevator.

“Wha-hey! I still have a report to finish.”

You rush to catch up to him and grab your things indignantly, “Why are you still here Robertson? You’re usually the first out the door.”

He glances at the elevator number climbing slowly, then at you. “I was waiting for someone.”

“Oh.” You turn your head in an attempt to hide the flush overtaking your cheeks. So he was just waiting for you then.

The elevator finally chimed, doors opening, and he waved you ahead of him before stepping on behind.

The ride was silent, with you sneaking glances at him every few moments. He says nothing further, but there is a faint smile on his face as he stares ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, the first floor bell chimes med, and you both stepped out into the evening heat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Let me walk you home.”

You both spoke at the same time, and you blinked at him wide eyed. “No, you don’t have to do that, it’s okay.”

Letting Robertson walk you home was a horrible idea. At your current mental state you weren’t sure you’d have the strength to resist inviting him inside. And boy if that wasn’t an HR violation in the making.

He smiled, “I know, I want to. Besides, it’s getting a bit late and the crime in this area has been going up lately.”

“No really, it’s fine. I can go home alone.” The finality in your voice took him by surprise, and you could see the bob in his throat as he considered his next words.

“Okay…okay. Just,” He runs a hand through his hair awkwardly, “be careful please.”

His concern for your wellbeing did not give you a fluttery feeling. Nope, not at all.

God, you were worse than a schoolgirl.

Before you could change your mind, you started to walk in the direction of your home, shooting one last comment behind you.

“Don’t worry, there’s that hero association not too far from here, I’m sure if I so much as jaywalked they’d do something.” You were clearly joking, but when you glanced behind at Robert he wasn’t smiling.

His brows were knit into a frown, and you couldn’t quite read the emotion in his eyes, but it looked almost… sad?

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Is the last thing he said before turning on his heel and walking away.

You shook it off and continued on your way.

Maybe he was just upset you blew him off? Or maybe it has nothing to do with you at all and you’re overthinking.

Either way, it’s best to occupy your thoughts with something else, because Robertson was an enigma you definitely weren’t going to decode today.

Your blouse clung to you uncomfortably in the heat and you picked up the pace slightly. It was times like these where you were grateful to live by your work, a longer commute would’ve been miserable.

The sky had darkened considerably by the time you were about five blocks from your apartment, and you were so caught up in the thoughts of cracking open some wine at home you almost didn't notice the set of footsteps behind you.

Your body stiffened in alarm. Store windows allowed you to covertly see the figure behind you, and the image of a man wearing a hoodie did nothing to ease your nerves.

Especially since he was staring right at you.

Before you could cross the street or call out for help, he caught up to you quickly, pressing a hard object against the small of your back.

“Scream and you’re dead.” His voice was cold and demanding, cloaked in the smell of alcohol.

All you could do was nod shakily as he shoved you towards a side alley.

The panic you felt before had risen to a crescendo, causing a pounding in your head. You didn’t know if any one saw what happened, but you could only hope that someone noticed and called for help.

Using your phone was out of the question, the man was watching you like a hawk, and you weren’t even sure your voice was working at the moment anyway.

He shoved you against the alley wall roughly and pain bloomed in your shoulder. “Wallet, now. No funny business.”

You suppose that you froze too long for his liking, because he struck you again, shoving the gun deeper into your back.

“O-okay! I got it.” You rifled around in your purse, ignoring the first few times you brushed past your wallet in an attempt to bide time. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears with the knowledge you could die at any second.

“If you’re going to rob someone, it’s a bit insulting to use a fake gun.”

A voice sounded at the opening of the alley and a pit dropped in your stomach when you recognized the owner.

Robert, what the hell-

“Stay there motherfucker or I’ll blow her brains out!” You were pulled off the wall and in front of the robber, one arm wrapped against your throat and the other holding a gun wrapped in a bag pressed against your temple.

The stink of sweat from his hoodie almost made you want to gag, but the fear of making any noise at all won out.

Oh my god, I’m definitely going to die.

Robert tilted his head and stared at the man behind you unflinchingly. “Let her go and you wont get hurt too badly.”

I’m going to die and this idiot is too.

You hoped your eyes told him how much you wanted him to get out of there. Both of you didn’t need to get shot today, that would be ridiculous. He could easily save himself, so why. Wasn’t. He. Leaving.

“You want to shoot someone? Okay, shoot me.” Robert’s voice was even and deadly serious. You’d never seen him as angry as he was then. It gave you a weird disjointed feeling to see the man you ate lunch and cracked jokes with everyday to be so menacing.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Get the fuck out of here before I kill this broad and you next.” The man pressed the gun even harder against your head, and you felt the wet trail of tears run down your face. But even under his anger there was a warble of uncertainty, like the other man had taken him off guard.

“I’m telling you to shoot me, not her.” Robert stalks closer to you, still only looking at the robber. “But you can’t, right? Because there’s nothing in that bag but your hand and a prop you got off eBay. You can’t kill me, but I’ve hurt people much stronger than you, so take the chance I’m giving you because my patience is running very, very thin.”

The man behind you tenses, before throwing the “gun” aside, and pulling out a very real knife from his pocket. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I don’t need a gun to kill you little bitch.”

“Suit yourself.” The words are barely out his mouth before Robert rushes forward, twisting the mans hand back with a crunch. The man backs up with a howl, cradling the clearly broken hand and dropping his knife.

You take the opportunity to run to the side out of his reach, and watch on in worry as they fight.

Well, it’s less of a fight and more of Robertson beating the ever loving shit out of the man. The robber has a few inches in height and at least 15 pounds on Robert, but that makes no difference.

Your breath catches for a moment as the guy gets one good hit in on his ribs, but Robert responds with a solid kick to his chest.

The man tumbles to the ground and tries to grab onto Robert’s ankle, but he brings down the heel of his shoe on the palm, breaking that one as well.

Staring at your coworker wide-eyed, you can only hear the screaming of the man and the pounding in your ears.

He leaned down and picked up the man by his collar, saying something with a snarl you weren’t able to quite make out. Whatever it is, it makes the man go white as a sheet.

You blinked, and Robert was suddenly in front of you. It takes you a few moments to realize he was asking something.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He raised a hand to brush your hair away from your face, careful to not get any blood on you. “I asked if you were hurt.” He still had his lips set in a line, displeasure evident, but his eyes had softened into more of the doe-like expression you were used to.

“No-no I’m not. Are you?”

“Am I?” He raised a brow. “You’re worried about me right now?”

“In all honesty I’ve been worried about you since I met you. You are a deeply concerning individual, I just chose right now to ask.” With the adrenaline still thrumming through your body, you aren’t able to stop the word vomit. “Seriously, who the hell are you and what did you do with Robert?”

Dark brown eyes flick over your face, and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. The pad of his thumb rubs over your cheek where his hand still rests, but you aren’t sure if he’s trying to calm you or himself with the action.

“We’ve gotta go, come on. I’ll get you home.”

Your eyes cut to the figure writhing behind him on the ground, but he continued as if reading your thoughts. “The police are already on the way, don’t worry. He’ll be taken care of.” In the last part his voice takes a darker tone than you think he realizes.

On cue, you heard a siren approaching down the street. With one last glance down the alley, you nodded and allowed Robert to guide you home.

With the sun fully gone, there was a biting chill in the air. You glanced up at feeling the weight of Robert’s jacket being slung over your shoulders.

He seemed to be lost in his thoughts. Chocolate gaze focused ahead and jaw taut.

You decided to stay silent for a moment, letting the sounds of the city and the soapy smell of his jacket overtake your senses.

The silence, doesn’t last long, a question itching at the back of your mind, “How did you find me? Did you follow me?”

You were shocked to realize you wouldn’t be upset if he was following you, more curious than anything else.

His eyes cut down to you in surprise, “No, I was actually on my way to a bar on that street when I heard you. I’m glad I did.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, pulling his jacket tighter against your shoulders.

Soon enough, you were at your apartment. You unlocked the front door of the building and Robert followed behind without comment.

You moved on autopilot, distantly aware of his steady frame behind you and only pausing when you came to your apartment door.

“This is me. Do you-“ You avoided his gaze, working up the courage to ask for what you really wanted.

Fuck it, HR be dammed.

“Can you come in? I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

The answer was immediate, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

You nodded, still not looking at him, and unlocked your door. You were met with the comforting smell of home, a mixture of vanilla room spray and the lemon candles you often burned.

“Make yourself at home, I’m just gonna…yeah.” You finished lamely, gesturing towards the bathroom. You didn’t wait for a response before draping his jacket over the couch and walking over to it, shutting yourself inside.

Catching your breath against the door you rubbed a hand against your forehead, where a headache was threatening to form. Who knew the first time you got Robertson in your apartment would be under these circumstances?

Cracking open your eyes to look at your reflection makes you immediately grimace. You looked, for lack of better words, like shit.

Your hair was a mess and stuck up awkwardly in places, and your mascara had dried tacky from running down your face in tear tracks.

No wonder Robert had been handling you like you were gonna break, you looked three seconds away from a mental breakdown.

You got a towel to scrub away your makeup and managed to wrangle your hair into a more peaceful presentation, rushing to avoid taking an eternity in the bathroom.

You reached for the handle to leave but paused, circling back around to grab some items from the cabinet over your sink.

Coming back into the living room you found Robert sitting on your couch, he’d taken off his shoes at the door and was bent forward slightly as he spoke to someone on the phone in hushed tones.

“Right, yeah thanks for helping out. I just want to make sure he stays there.”

He glanced up at you approaching and ended the call quickly after saying goodbyes.

“Someone expecting you?” You kept your voice level even as you felt a pang of guilt that he might have had prior plans. Somewhere he needed to be instead of babysitting you.

He huffed something similar to a laugh, “Never, that was a friend at the station. She’s just making sure the charges stick. How are you feeling?”

He doesn’t comment on your changed appearance, but you know he noticed based on his assessing gaze.

You settled down on the couch next to him with a sigh, “You know what’s stupid? That wasn’t even my first time getting robbed.”

He said nothing, but you know he was listening, waiting for you to continue.

“I was in college, naive and had a one track mind. This guy in a mask caught me on the way from class and told me to hand over my phone.” You barked out a bitter laugh.

“I don’t even think he had a weapon on him, but that was the scariest thing to ever happen to me-well, until now.”

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“I cried for hours afterwards, but after that I thought since I went through it once, nothing should scare me that bad again. I thought that I’d become stronger somehow for going through it, or smart enough to avoid it. Even took self defense afterwards so I could fend anyone off in the future.” you looked down, picking at a stray thread on your pants nervously.

“Guess I was wrong.”

“My dad died.”

It took you a moment to register what he said, but once you did, you looked up at him in alarm. “What? Oh my god I’m-I’m so sorry-“

His eyes widened and he held up a hand, “No, sorry that came out wrong. That’s not where I was going with that. What I mean to say is,”

He paused, taking in a deep breath, “Sometimes things happen to you, and at the moment it’s the worst thing in the world. For me, that was my dad, but then I lost something else that put me right back at rock bottom, something I was tasked to protect.”

“I couldn’t understand at first why loosing that thing hurt more, I should’ve been used to it at that point.” He held your gaze steadily, “What I’m trying to say is, humans don’t do that. Shit happens, and we break down, then pull ourselves together again. It’s a cycle, not a straight line. Sometimes the cycle takes a bit longer, but it always happens. So don’t beat yourself up over being human.”

You held yourself back from offering more condolences, instead flashing him a watery smile. “Who made you such a philosopher, huh?”

He tilted his head from side to side, brown locks falling over his brows from the movement, “I don’t know, guess you bring it outta me. Did it work?”

You could only laugh, nodding in agreement.

A comfortable silence that took over you both, and you caught yourself studying his face. Your eyes were drawn to a red gash on his brow bone and you were suddenly reminded of the items in your lap.

“Oh, let me take a look at that.” Without thinking, you grabbed his chin, tilting his face closer to you as you inspected it.

His eyes widened slightly, but his hands stayed on his lap, allowing you to continue your search.

“Hm, not too deep.” You drug your eyes away from his face and onto his hands. You didn’t notice it before, but he must’ve washed his hands while you were in the bathroom. They had a few small cuts and bruises still blooming on the knuckles, but were devoid of blood.

You got to work dousing a cotton pad with antiseptic cleaner and dabbed it on the cut on his brow.

You were distinctly aware of him staring at you as you slid a bandage across the cut, thumb rubbing over it to make sure it stayed in place.

His hands were cleaned and wrapped next, and if you took more time than necessary with the task that was nobody’s business.

He stared at you the entire time, as if memorizing your face. When you finally glanced up at him, you weren’t prepared for the mix of expressions displayed.

“I need to tell you something. And you’re probably going to be upset, but you need to know. If this, whatever this is, is going to work.” His voice was timid, a little over a whisper.

A flurry of situations crossed your mind of what he could possibly be referring to.

Was he secretly married? Did it have to do with work? What was he going to-

“I’m MechaMan.”

You blinked. Then blinked again. “What?”

“I’m a hero- damn, that sounds way more arrogant than I meant for it to. But yes, I fight crime in a metal suit. And sometimes outside of it.”

You stared at him in silence.

“Please say something.”

Against your control, a giggle rose in your throat. It rose to a full blown laugh as you doubled over and tears welled in your eyes, this time from amusement.

You were faintly aware of Robert’s nervous chuckle beside you, but it still took several minutes for you to compose yourself.

“I’m assuming that since you’re laughing you’re not mad?”

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand and sat upright, “No, Robert. I’m not mad. But you’re an idiot.”

He raised a brow in faux offense, “Wha- why am I an idiot?”

“Because you’ve been a hero for how many years now and you couldn’t think of better excuses for being injured than a pack of raccoons?”

He smirked, “You assume that was an excuse.”

You shake your head in disbelief before realizing something else. “Wait, if you’re- then your father..?”

Thinking about what happened to the previous MechaMan sobers you immediately, and you look at Robert in a new light.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine loosing a parent like that. You’re a strong person for continuing to be a hero after that.”

He considers your words for a moment, and when he responds, his voice is soft. “It was the only thing I knew best.”

“When I lost him, I was in a dark place for a while. Yes, I picked up the suit and continued his work, but I always thought about revenge. When the opportunity arose to get to Shroud, I took it. And I lost everything I had left.”

He rubs at the back of his neck, “That’s why I took the job at the office. I had already burnt through most of my inheritance, and it takes more money than you’d think to keep a machine like that running, even more to have a chance at fixing it.”

You let out a low whistle, that explains why he seemed to be so out of place in the office. The man probably never had a real job. “It must be thousands for the materials.”

He laughed with a touch of bitterness, “Millions actually.”

Your mouth opens in shock. “Millions? What the hell? You were going through millions of dollars to keep that going? Are you crazy?”

“Jeez, you really don’t mince words do you?”

You collect yourself, “Sorry, I just- it’s a little hard to wrap my brain around.”

His lips twitch into a smile, “We’ll, you’re taking it better than I expected, so.”

“Yeah I guess having my life threatened makes everything else pale in comparison. I’ll probably freak out about it later.”

You busied your hands with placing the first aid on the table next to your couch, a nervous bubble of hope arising from the choice of words in his confession.

“What is ‘whatever this is’?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” He was leaning more into your space now, face twisted into confusion.

“When you started off, you said I needed to know you were MechaMan if we were going to continue ‘whatever this is’.” You sucked in a deep breath of air, steeling yourself. “I have some thoughts, but I want to know what you meant first.”

It was silent for a few beats, and you could hear the trepidation in his voice when Robert answered.

“I like you, a lot. Probably more than I should. And, please tell me if I’m wrong, or if I read this the wrong way, but I think you’ve come to more -than-tolerate me too.” He shoots you a wry smile, running a hand through his hair.

Oh.

“You’re smart, beautiful, undoubtedly out of my league, but I think- I think this could be good if you’re willing to-“

You cut him off with your lips, feeling his body tense under yours before relaxing into the kiss. He tasted like gum, a slight metallic tinge of blood, and something else you couldn’t pinpoint.

You were practically floating.

There was a groan at the back of his throat when you shifted even closer to him, and his hands found purchase at your hips.

The kiss delved into something wilder, both of your tongues sliding over each other in a way that sent a chill down your body.

Your hand found a way into brown locks, tugging slightly. In response, there was another rumble of a groan from him, and he shifted your weight to rest fully on his lap.

Your hips instinctively rocked down on his crotch after a tug from his teeth at your bottom lip. He lifted up to press a hardening shaft against you, causing you to release a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh.

When you leaned back in for another kiss, he pulled away. “Wait, maybe we should stop.”

You frowned, trying to erase the sinking feeling in your stomach. “I thought that you..?”

He sees your expression and shakes his head, grimacing, “No, it’s not that. I haven’t changed my mind, but today was a lot and I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed with all of this.” Even with his reluctant tone, there is an underlying hunger that radiates in him as his eyes rake over your frame.

You take his chin in your hold, tilting his face upwards to look at you head-on, “You’re right, it was a lot. I’m going to probably take the week off just to conceptualize the absolute bullshit that was today.”

You run a thumb over his lip, shuddering when he parts them slightly to accept the finger inside to rest on his tongue. “But this? This I’ve been wanting to do for a while. So are you going to fuck me or not Robert?”

His eyes darkened at your question. I lieu of an answer, he released your thumb and dove back in towards your mouth.

Strong hands gripped at your ass over work slacks, guiding you to grind over his erection steadily.

The movement was focused exactly where you wanted it to be, but it also made you realize that you needed much less fabric between you.

You separated your mouths, a string of spit remaining connected between you for a moment as you tugged at the collar of his button down.

“Off” you muttered, backing away once nimble fingers came up to unbutton the shirt.

He moved at a frantic pace, and you quickly followed suit with your own shirt, tossing it somewhere across the room.

Then, his torso was bare too, having thrown his shirt in a similar direction.

You paused to take in his body. Scars and burns of all shapes littered his skin over clearly defined muscle. A trail of dark hair went from his navel downward until disappearing under his waistband, and you felt a warmth pooling in your groin at the sight.

He sucked in a breath as you trailed a finger from his clavicle all the way down to his pelvis, circling around the largest marks on your way.

It hurt you to think about the history of all of them. The amount of times he’d risked his life for others with no powers to back him up. Just a trail of scars as repayment.

“Sorry, I know it’s a lot.” His expression was almost bashful as he tilted his head against the back of the couch, watching you.

You could feel him tense again under your hand as if he was preparing for your judgement.

Now we can’t have that.

You replaced your hand with your mouth, kissing and biting down his abdomen with focus. “What are you sorry for? I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You accentuated your point by kissing even lower towards his crotch, sucking a dark mark into the skin of his hipbone.

He hissed through his teeth, bucking his hips involuntarily in response to your lips.

“God-you’re gonna be the death of me. Come here.” He grabbed at your shoulders, pulling you up to crash your lips together fervently.

One of his hands pulled at the fabric against your backside while the other squeezed your breast, rubbing the nub between his fingers through the fabric of your bra.

“You’re so beautiful, why are you so beautiful?” You could hear him murmuring between the wrestle of teeth and tongue.

He only separated to trail his mouth down the side of your throat, sucking marks into his wake.

You didn’t notice his hand reaching around to the back of your bra until the clasp came loose, straps pooling down your arms.

The fabric was quickly thrown aside, and his reverential gaze focused on the two hardening buds. “It’s like you’re not even real…”

He doesn’t bother to finish the statement, instead leaning forward to kiss over the curve of one breast, quickly moving his attention down to where he sucked a nipple into his mouth.

You choked out a gasp, tangling your fingers into the crown of his hair as he continued his ministrations.

He alternated between flicking his tongue and biting at the bud, causing more of your sounds to fill the room.

At one of your particularly loud moans, he glanced up through dark lashes, “Sensitive here?”

He smirked before giving the same attention to the other breast, stifling moans of his own when you started to rock against him again.

You leaned back suddenly, causing his mouth to separate with a pop. “I love this, but I need you to be inside me very soon or I’m gonna lose it.”

Dark brown eyes flashed, and he tightened the hand already resting on your behind. “Since you asked so nicely.”

The next minute was a scramble of buckles and fabric as you both rid yourself of the clothes that remained.

Settling back on his lap, you could feel everything. The warmth of his skin, the scratch of hair on his legs as he settled underneath your thighs, the pressure of his cock as it pressed against you.

It wasn’t huge (thank god, because you weren’t sure you’d ever had the patience for more prep), but it had a nice thickness to it and a vein throbbing down the side that made your throat tighten.

You weren’t sure you’d ever been so wet in your life.

“Do you have any protection?” His question was clear despite his focus cycling between your face, chest, lower half and back again.

“I want to feel you.”

His brows scrunched up as if he were in pain, “I swear, death of me. You sure?”

Your hand circled around his length, giving it a few pumps. He jerked his hips upwards in response, letting out a keening noise.

“I’m sure, I have an implant. And I’m clean if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He made a sound between a groan and a laugh, “I am not worried about many things right now. But I’m clean too.”

“Good.” You bit your lower lip, smiling down at him as you leaned from his shoulder, positioning his tip at your entrance before sucking him in to the base.

All the air left your lungs at the feeling of fullness, and you gasped at him twitching inside you.

“Oh my god.” You heard every sound of pleasure he made from where Robert’s face nestled into your neck. It was clear he was holding himself back from the way his hands tightened over your hips, pawing at the flesh there like a lifeline.

You started to move your hips in slow circles, still feeling your insides shift to accommodate his size.

The pace sped up as he guided your movements with his hands. Planting his feet on the ground he found the leverage to meet your thrusts halfway, each one making your soul leave your body.

The room was filled with the loud sounds of moans and movement. There was a faint thought at the back of your mind that your neighbors were probably getting an earful.

Oh well.

You stopped bouncing down on him in exchange for grinding down in tight circles, the change allowing you to take his mouth in yours once more.

He changed the angle slightly, making a white hot bolt of pleasure shoot through you. “Right there, right there-please don’t stop-“

He obediently followed through, driving up at the same angle with solid thrusts.

A bead of sweat trailed down his forehead and down to where his eyebrows remained furrowed together in concentration. His mouth was open slightly and you took the chance to push your index and middle finger through pink lips.

The response was immediate, a deep groan sounding from the back of his throat as he sucked on the digits. Dark eyes didn’t leave yours as he trailed a hand down to where you were joined, rubbing furiously at the bundle of nerves there.

Your moans took on a higher pitch as you approached your peak quickly. Falling forward to his shoulder, your body shook with the feeling as little explosions erupted behind your eye lids.

A few more thrusts and Robert was soon to follow. You could barely make out the mutter of words into your skin, a continuous blabber of ‘thank you, thank you, oh my god’ as he came.

His movements slowed, still grinding up into you until both of your pleasure turned into over-sensitivity.

When he stopped, you both slumped together like strings had been cut. Still panting to catch his breath, he lifted your head from his shoulder,, meeting your gaze.

His lips met yours softly in a quick peck, an amused light behind his eyes, “I think you might need a new couch.”

You laughed, “In this economy? I’m gonna wipe it down and tell guests to avoid this cushion.”

He ran a soothing hand up and down your spine, “Yeah that might be for the best. Because I’m not sure these fluids are ever coming out.”

You leaned your head towards him, settling back into a comfortable position as he drew shapes on your back.

There were a few minutes of silence before you heard him again, “I meant what I said you know. About us.”

The serious tone made you raise your head again to look him in the eye.

“Not just about the sex, even though that was amazing. I want to continue with this, be yours-steadily, if you’ll have me.”

You brushed a hand through his hair and down his face to rest on the side. A smile flickered on your face as he turned slightly to kiss your palm.

“I’m not gonna lie, the hero work- not knowing if you’re going to be alive everyday? It scares the shit out of me.”

He looked up at you patiently even as a flicker of uncertainty crossed his eyes.

“But, I’d be lying if I said you didn’t have me by the heart as soon as your weird ass walked in the office. So I’m willing to accept your choice. I want to keep this going too.”

A crooked grin took over his face before he dived in again to your lips.

“Thank you for understanding.” The words were spoken against your mouth in a whisper.

You moved in synchronicity until you were forced to separate, having to fill your lungs with much needed air.

There was still a smile in his face when he asked, “Now, how big is your shower?”

_____________________________________________

A/N: lol I can’t believe my first fic on here is for this game of all things, but I couldn’t help but write for this loser ┐(‘～` )┌

Sorry if the writing is a bit jilted, I’m a little out of practice.

Obviously we haven’t seen much from Robert, there’s only a few eps out, but I based his actions on what we’ve seen so far + a few headcannons.