Flambae isnât sure if heâs doing this âfriendsâ with benefits thing right.
Especially not with Robert.
Theyâre not particularly skilled at having friends to begin with, let alone the kind who make out in dusty file rooms.
âOH MY GOD! BOB-BOB, THIS IS TERRIBLE!â
Robertâs hands immediately leave Flambaeâs thighs, checking him over instead, touching vitals like heâs been built to.
âWhat?! What, whatâs wrong?!â
âSorry, I was looking at my file,â His lips curl in a displeased arch. âWhy is my fucking curl doing that?â
âGod, youâre soâ,â
Robert buries his nose in the curve of his shoulders and laughs.
Which is weird, because heâs been doing it a lot more since they started this thing.
Flambae doesnât have a problem with it, â Robert laughs like someone who finally canâ but he isnât sure if thatâs the main objective here.
Neither Is making him lunch and labelling it, but here he is.
But the truly bizarre part happens in the morning.
Always his place, because he refuses to ride Robert on the bare ground.
Itâs when Flambaeâs eyes flutter open, rested, warmth spreading from scalp to chest, Robertâs handprints still pulsing on his waistâ
A waist still being hugged by two arms.
But the morningâs still pale, so all Flambae can do is fake a displeased sound, voice still buzzing with sleep, turning so his arms wrap around Robert, too.
âBob Bob, wake up,â he mumbles into sweet brown hair, catching notes of mint. A shampoo he recommended. âYou forgot to leave. Again.â
He gets unintelligible gibberish in return. Which isnât surprising. His bed must be paradise for the guy.
âAnd you forgot to kick me out. Again.â
They both agreed to it. In by night. Out by day.
Itâs not until they have this conversation on comms do they consider itâs worth having a talk:
âFlambae, thatâs the third time this week you skipped R&R. Babe, your heart is gonna collapse.â
âAzizam, is this OUR heart attack?!â
âŚNeither of them were supposed to say that.
Needless the say, the Z team has no idea who won the âwhoâs gonna drop the pet nameâ bet.