robert plucked out his first few grey hairs in his bathroom. his eyes were dialed as he stared at himself before looking down at the three grey hairs he found in his scalp. robert immediately took a few pictures and sent them to you, in response he received an audio message of you laughing and wheezing for a minute and forty-two seconds.
when he arrived at work with beef, he kept his grey hairs a secret up until someone had referred to him as “dad.” that was robert’s pushing point that he decided he needed a long vacation. two weeks where he doesn’t answer any calls, texts or emails about anything work related; just him, you, beef and the beach.
the day after robert returns back from the airport, he continued on with work and the second he walked inside, his coworkers were sobbing. they looked so happy and thrilled he was back, giving him tight hugs as they held him close and rubbed their tears on his shirt. after he was given the warm welcome, robert checked his phone and turned off ‘do not disturb’ he found ninety missed calls, 308 messages, 69 death threats to return back to work, and a lot of emails that his mailbox couldn’t even update with new emails. robert figured out why he was getting more and more grey hairs in his thirties.
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I’ve been cooking up a way to explain the idea that I have and I believe I finally have so here it is:
Would it be possible for you to do another platonic dad Robert + Teen reader who participates in choir / band, but feels discouraged because Robert was so busy with being MechaMan and now the SDN that he’s never come see Reader perform?
Sorry if the way I explained it isn’t very clear haha
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you understand that your adopted dad has his own worries, honestly your more worried about him then anything. you brought it up a few times about joining choir, robert smiled and asked if you were enjoying yourself. robert tried so hard to show that he was listening and intrigued with your interests, however being mecha-man turned SDN dispatcher was a struggle. so, when you brush off robert wanting to come and see you preform, he realizes how many recitals he’s missed— robert’s gonna change that.
“no, dad seriously. this is just a small performance my teachers forcing the class to do. you really don’t have to show up.” you chuckled at the last part of your sentence, but robert wasn’t laughing. he couldn’t even stomach the dinner you both were sharing, because he thought about the amount of times he’s missed a performance, whether or not it was big or small. you took notice of his silence, chewing your dinner awkwardly as you swallow and then spoke up. “it’s fine, i’m telling you that if you’re working then it’s fine to miss it.” you shrugged off any concerned looks he sent you, “it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
robert spent the entire night worrying about it. tossing and turning in his bed, robert just couldn’t find it in himself to fall asleep peacefully. the thought of you repeatedly being disappointed and upset that you never saw him in the crowd of loving and supporting parents. how you’d see your friends families in the crowd but never him, he felt even more terrible at the thought of asking one of your friends for a ride home after rehearsals since he wasn’t available due to work. the entire night consisted of robert rolling around, then he came up with a plan—he was going to find out the next schedule for your next rehearsal or performance. he wasn’t just going to show up, but he’ll invite his coworkers as moral support.
whispering and murmuring were heard outside the stage, other teens in the choir were practicing their vocals and prepping them. you on the other hand scrolled on your phone, checking a few notifications before one of your classmates whispered-shouted; “dude! who invited their entire bloodline!” you looked up before shrugging off the comment, some people had supportive relatives and that’s perfectly normal. you texted robert that you’ll be open around eight or nine, to which he replied with a thumbs up emoji.
this had to social suicide, because why was your dads entire workplace at your school performance. you’ve met a few of them before, some checked up on you when robert couldn’t and would give you snacks from time to time. however you didn’t expect them to be at your school right now to see you preform. what made this even worse was how a few of them barked insults at other people for ‘being too loud’ during the performances; didn’t help the situation when a teacher would come up to them and tell them to either leave or be quiet. you watched in horror while singing, some of your classmates giving each other terrified looks as the song ended on the last note before the curtains closed.
flushed and heavily embarrassed, you gathered your items before rushing outside the exit doors. the auditorium filled with happy families who congratulated their child, while others left the building. you sat outside waiting by robert’s car, looking around to see if him and his coworkers would appear. a vibration pinged on your phone, checking the notification— robert had texted you, wondering where you went. he claimed the entire z-team raided the back of the stage to find you, a loud snort came from your mouth at the thought. you shake your read and begin walking back towards the school to be praised and greeted by your support group, and adoptive father.
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…
“that’s my kid! what the, prism don’t live stream?!”
a/n: guys learn how to scroll instead of commenting on my posts if u don’t like them istg (cute how they also deleted their comment when i replied back !!)
A/n: so. Yet again, this is based on my personal experience, so I can't say that this will be the most interesting read. I've had bad experiences with my weight over the years, been struggling with some sort of eating problem for over a decade now (I think specifically ARFID but don't quote me on that, sometimes food just doesn't seem appealing and I'd rather do without, y'know?)but uhhhh... Yea. I had dropped, like, a good 20 pounds a couple of years ago and my health problems skyrocketed, so when I finally fucking realized, hey, fixing this shit helps, wow, who would've guessed? And I'm... Slowly getting better about it, I still have bad days (ahem, around a certain time of the month, but that's the problem with being afab 😔) but the bad days are getting fewer and fewer between, and I've gotten back up to my original weight and feel so much better bc of it... So this is kinda based on that. If I go off on some tangent, I'm so sorry, I completely understand if you just... Don't wanna read me rambling about what I've gone through. :')
CWs: weight issues, eating disorder struggles, relapses, relationship strains (I promise it gets resolved), confrontations, misinterpreted words, Bad Thoughts™, anything relating to that, so be warned.
Word count: 5.4k [(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)]
Notes: no mention of gender, again. I like to keep it as ambiguous as possible. No mention of what career at SDN, only that you work there and it can stress you out. There are mentions of the fact that since both you and Robert have been helping each other getting better about the whole... Skipping meals thing, that he looks, y'know. Less like a zombie. There's probably some teasing about that in there, you'll probably find it. The whole... Happy weight thing mentioned a few times, y'know, recovery weight and all that.
—
It was never going to be easy, you knew that going in.
The therapy.
The schedules.
The exhaustion.
All to fix a problem you didn't even think mattered that much.
For years, you felt like it hadn't. You had dealt with worse, this was just another thing to go through.
For years, you had better things, more important things, to think and worry about instead of this.
For years, you had been dealing with it on your own. Didn't need anyone interfering, didn't need any help.
You thought you had it handled.
But it got harder.
More difficult.
The nausea.
The fatigue.
The weakness.
It was frustrating.
You hadn't realized it was such an issue until you had met Robert.
He was practically a mirrored image of what you felt.
You could see the dark circles, the hollowed frame.
You hadn't realized how bad you felt until the day he had a proposition. The day the two of you agreed to the pact of keeping an eye on each other. The day the two of you signed a metaphorical contract to be there for one another, through thick and thin, whatever it takes.
And you kept up your end of the bargain, he kept up his.
Until you started slipping again.
Skipping meals, not sleeping, you had other things to focus on. You had work. You had projects. You had this, you had that, you always had some sort of excuse to use when someone asked.
It worked on most people.
But Robert wasn't most people.
—
He took notice, how could he not?
You had started slipping out on the little lunch dates the two of you were supposed to have, always saying you had some files to sort, some paperwork to do, something on the computer wasn't working… That you had to help Galen with something, help Royd with something tech related, help Mandy with a few files; all of which he found out later after talking with everyone were lies you told straight through your teeth.
You were supposed to be honest with him, that's what the two of you agreed to. That the two of you put on the table upfront when the two of you got together…
Hurt didn't begin to describe how he felt.
He felt betrayed. Stabbed, not in the back when he didn't expect it, but straight to the chest where he could see where the blade was coming.
He couldn't say anything, he couldn't make himself. All he could do was watch from a distance and see you breaking away, all the damage being self inflicted.
No, he wasn't going to let that happen.
He couldn't…
He looked up from his computer when you passed by, and there you went again. Off doing something instead. His eyes narrowed, following every movement of yours.
There. Went around and tried to find something else to do. He could barely overhear you talking to Mandy, asking for something else to work on since you got everything else done.
His expression hardened when he saw you dismiss Mandy’s offer for a break. Your back was to him but he could catch a few words, it didn't take a genius to connect the dots of what you were doing. Again.
Enough was enough.
He just had to wait for the right time and place…
Not in the break room, too many people.
And he wasn't going to corner you in an office or conference room…
He guessed he had to wait until after work, when both of you were home.
But waiting another, what, four, five hours, knowing you were hurting yourself before he could say anything? That was the most painful part of it all.
It was tantalizing too.
Dispatch after dispatch, occasionally dealing with the riffraff over the comms from his team, a couple of… well, ragebaits to get his team to focus up and get back in action — it really didn't take much to trick Sonar or Flambae to get up and fight again, just using Sonar's Harvard degree against him or calling Flambae a quitter and the two were back up and ready to go again.
All of which as he watched you flit around, distracting yourself instead of doing something for yourself.
When he got his break, he tried to get your attention and ask if you'd join him, only for you to blab some excuse that you had to get back to work. Even when he tried to remind you of the deal the two of you made… he could see the break in the mask, but you brushed it off, telling him you promise you'd “do it later.”
You promise…
Yeah.
He didn't buy that for a damn second.
He had to keep his temper in check, he wasn't going to snap at you. You didn't deserve that, not when you're hurting, not when you're vulnerable, not when you're clearly teetering on the edge of a shutdown. He cared too much about you to ever, and I mean ever, do that to you.
That's what made it hurt even more.
—
Getting home wasn't easier.
The two of you had this thing of walking home together, usually hand in hand, Beef trotting along in front like the little dog was leading the two of you home…
But you went on first, clocking out before he could even say a word, and when he managed to get a word in, all you said was you'll see him at home.
Okay.
Now he was getting pissed.
Something was wrong, something he couldn't get his hands bloody messing with, because it was something in your own head telling you all the wrong things.
Something he couldn't do a damn thing about, not that he knew of.
He let out a long sigh and gathered his things up, getting Beef from Chase — Robert's former “babysitter” now babysits his dog… there's some irony in there somewhere but fuck if Robert could figure it out — and clocking out.
Mandy stopped him before he could get to the elevator, “Hey, Robert? Can I ask you something about your partner?”
He turned, tension making his shoulders go stiff, but he sighed and shrugged with a short nod, “Yeah… sure.”
She looked like she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted to say, attempting it a couple of times but shaking her head before she eventually got it out, “Are they okay? Like… genuinely okay, because I haven't seen them take a break in over a week straight- and they keep asking for more and more work… I keep saying that I'm not running a fucking sweatshop but they're really trying to make those allegations true.”
He lifted a hand to dismiss it, running it down the side of his face, “Yeah- yeah, I don't know what's up with them. They're not saying a damn word here, even less at home…”
He trailed off, adjusting Beef in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up a bit, “They were doing so much better, I knew they were… I saw it myself, the positive changes… but now they're right back where they started. I… I don't know-”
She stopped him before he said too much, “If… if you can, ask them. Go slow. Patient. Don't overwhelm them, the last thing they need is you yelling at them.”
“I wasn't going to fucking yell at them-”
All she did was arch a brow at him, tilting her head as if she was saying “you sure about that?”
He let out a breath, “Okay- yeah, I probably would've, now that I think about it, but…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “I can't get through to them. No matter what I say, they lie or they just don't say a damn word. I've been trying, I swear I have- what… am I doing this wrong? I don't…” He had to force himself to stop talking, he didn't need to vent, he didn't mean to.
“Hey,” Mandy placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a light, reassuring squeeze, “you're not doing anything wrong. I've seen how much you love them, and how much they love you. It's not your fault, but it's not theirs either.”
“What do you-”
“Think about it. When did they start acting weird?”
That… had Robert thinking about it for a while. It was last week, but he hadn't noticed it at first, not the first day. It wasn't until it kept repeating itself when he took notice. And that's when he noticed, who knows how long you had been doing that behind his back…
“Last weekend, they got a text and when they read it, they just… went blank. And ever since, they've been acting weird.”
“Do you know what it was about?”
“No,” he shook his head, “and I didn't want to ask, I… didn't want to pry, if that makes sense. When I did ask if they were okay, they basically… they jumped and just said they were fine, to not worry about it.”
“Hm…” She hummed a quiet sigh. “If it's something that they're still bothered about… it's something bad, that's obvious. However,” she shook her head, “I'm not a therapist. I'll say that upfront, I don't know anything about the mind. But I'll say this, I know people. And if there's something bothering your partner to this extent, it's something they're going to need to talk about, that they're going to need reassurance, patience, support… and most importantly, they're going to need to know that you love them at the end of the day, no matter what.”
“Of course I love them-”
“Then tell them. Be there for them. They need an anchor right now, they're in the middle of a mental storm right now.”
He could feel his heart clench, but knew that she was right about that. He had to get home to talk to you-
“Robert,” she stopped him again, “be patient with them… okay? They need that right now.”
His shoulders dropped, he didn't realize just how tense he was, “Right… thanks.”
“Of course,” then she waved him off, “now go. You've got someone at home.”
He huffed a light laugh, “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He mused as he pressed the button to call for the elevator.
“And Robert,” Mandy called over as he was about to step onto the elevator, he had to hold the door open, “tell them that if they ever need to talk, that they're not alone here. Okay? I don't want to make anyone feel like they can't talk to me.”
Robert smiled softly, “Yeah… I'll tell them. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
—
When he got home, it was quiet. Too quiet.
There wasn't the sounds of the TV, usually you had the TV on for background sound when you were making something…
There wasn't the heat of the stove or oven being on, no microwave… It only added to his suspicions.
“Babe?” He called out, setting Beef down. No answer. But he had a plan.
He crouched down, “Hey buddy,” he patted the dog's side, “Go find ‘em!” He whisper-yelled, the dog letting out a happy bark before scampering off.
It was a little trick he hadn't realized he accidentally taught Beef, all he had to say was those three words and the dog could hunt you down in a heartbeat, sniffing you out wherever you were in the apartment.
He followed after the dog, watching as the small dog skidded on his claws to turn the corner to the bedroom, a poor attempt at a drift but enough that it made Robert laugh quietly.
Beef ran into the bedroom, but didn't stop.
Curious, Robert peeked in. He didn't see you, but he did see where Beef was trying to get to. The dog was pawing at the closed bathroom door.
There you are…
He knocked a knuckle against the door, “Baby…? You okay?”
No answer. But he could hear some shuffling around.
“Babe, I know you're in there…”
A few moments… but he heard you sigh.
“Yeah…? And how'd you find that out…”
“Beef.”
Another few minutes of silence, then a muttered, “Snitch.”
Robert huffed a breath through his nose, “Can I come in?”
There was a longer silence, but he heard the door unlock and some shuffling around before you opened it just a crack for him.
Beef shoved his way in first, finding you to give some kisses. When Robert peeked in, he saw your back to him yet again. You were sitting on the tile, cross-legged, holding Beef against your chest.
“Hey…” Robert softly greeted, joining you on the floor. “You okay…?”
You didn't answer, like it has been for a few days, but he could see how you were thinking about it… trying to find some sort of excuse instead of a genuine answer.
“Baby. I mean it,” he attempted to get you to look at him, only for you to pull back. “What's up…? Why have you been giving me the cold shoulder…?”
“I- I'm not trying to- I-” You started trying to defend yourself, though when your voice cracked, he was at your side in an instant.
That's why your back was to him, you didn't want him to see you crying…
He let out a shaky breath before he pulled you against him, Beef clambering up to lick the tears away and do his new job of Emotional Support.
Robert turned to situate him on your lap, his back against the wall, his arms around you with a hand rubbing over your back. He softly rocked you side to side, giving you a kiss to your temple in between gentle shushes, “I'm right here, baby… I'm not going anywhere… okay? I'm saying for as long as you need…”
Your body was shaking, sobs wracking your body, tears flooding down your cheeks, your breaths coming out shallow. It was the first time in over a week that he's seen you show any emotion… How long have you been hiding this back…
He never rushed you, never raised his voice above a mumble or a whisper… All he said was reassuring words. His arms stayed holding you against him, letting you hide against his neck for as long as you want.
Beef was trying his best to keep up with the little kisses, giving you love in addition. Robert took a mental note to give Beef a treat or two for a little reward, but that was something that was going to be down the line.
He waited for you to get the breakdown out of your system, letting you cry out your stresses and worries… he didn't know how long, but soon your sobs were slowing, the shaking coming to a halt.
Your breathing was ragged, but he knew that was just part of what happens with something like that. He's had it happen before, he knew what it was like.
He kept rubbing over your back, the other hand coming up to brush some excess tears away with his thumb. “There’s my baby…”
You let out a weak laugh, “You act like I don't look like shit right now…”
“Hey,” he frowned a playful pout, “don't say that about yourself. I don't like it when someone's saying shit about the one I love,” he leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose, “even if the one I love is the one saying that.”
You stuck your tongue out, plopping your cheek against his chest with a huff.
“Babe,” he mumbled a scolding sigh, “c'mon… What's been bothering you lately…? You were okay last week, what happened?”
You didn't answer, you hid against him instead. It was worrying to say the least, you haven't said anything, you weren't telling him that you were hurting… He could understand it, sure, but that didn't mean it didn't sting any less.
“Hey…” He tipped your head up with a gentle touch, lifting it with his thumb under your chin, “what's wrong… please, tell me… I want to help, baby. If you'll let me.”
He saw tears trying to build up in your eyes again, his thumb brushing away one that fell. He wasn't going to move a single inch until he got to the bottom of this. Would it be considered overbearing? Probably. But he cared too much to sit idly by and let you suffer in silence for any longer.
He wasn't going to push, all he did was occasionally give you a soothing, reassuring kiss to calm you down, all while Beef realizing that it was kiss time and hounding — pun intended — you with slobbery licks all over your face.
You started to laugh, trying to get the chunky dog away long enough for you to wipe your face clean. Robert managed to lean up enough to grab a washcloth from the sink, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he reached up to get the faucet on enough to dampen it and turn the water off, so he could wipe your face down with it.
The cooling water had to have helped the sting of your face drying out from salty tears, all while cleaning off dog slobber.
He just tossed the washcloth up onto the sink countertop for the meantime, sitting back to hold you against him again, “Feel better?”
You silently nodded, returning the favour with a kiss to his cheek as a thanks. “Yeah…”
“Good,” he rested his forehead against yours, “I'm glad…”
There was barely a beat of silence before you sighed, “I…” You hesitated for a moment, swallowing to gain some confidence to admit it, “I just… I don't know what… what happened, I guess… it just…” You trailed off, hiding again.
“Hey, hey, hey…” He shushed you with a soft breath, “take your time, baby… there's no rush…”
You made a frustrated noise, “I know but I- I… I dunno… I…”
“Hey,” holding your head to his chest, he kissed your forehead, “if it's any consolation… you've been doing so good, y'know that? I'm proud of you, I swear on it.”
You let out a shaky laugh, “You're gonna make me cry again, I hope you know that…”
“Hey, if that happens, so be it. As long as you know that I'm proud of you.”
You ended up giving him a pouting look, only for him to kiss the tip of your nose.
“You're not helping, you're just making you look cuter.”
“I'm not cute…”
“Oh, ho, no, totally not,” he mused, clicking his tongue, “you're this mean and scary beast, definitely not cute, no…”
“Jerk…”
“You love me.”
“I do…” You mumbled, giving a resigned sigh.
“So what's the matter then,” he gently asked again, “what made you relapse…?”
A few seconds passed. Your eyes were darting around in thought.
“Is that what that is…”
“Mhm…” He hummed, his thumb brushing over your cheek again, “If you're slipping up and skipping again, then yeah… that's a relapse.”
“Thought that only applied to addictions.”
He shrugged a shoulder, “Not completely… if someone ends up getting back into a bad habit they're trying to quit, that's a relapse. It applies to addictions of any kind… and,” he tipped your chin up again, “it applies to eating disorders too. If you're skipping again, and I know you are because I haven't seen you eat much of anything for the past week, you've been slipping out on our lunch dates at work… you don't want to hang out with any of the others anymore… you're not sleeping, I've had to drag you away from your laptop ten times this week and it's only Thursday, baby. You're relapsing.”
It slowly registered in your mind, he could see your expression change a few times before you tried to lower your head.
“Ah-ah,” he shook his head, holding your chin in place, “eyes on me, baby.”
“You don't make anything easy, do you…”
“Hm,” he shrugged with a smug smile, “it's not in my nature, you knew that when you asked me out, babe. You hitched yourself to this wagon, you're in it for the long ride now.”
You frowned another pout, eyes narrowed in a heatless glare, “Fuck you.”
“Later,” he booped your nose, seeing your face starting to flush red in embarrassment, “first, we're gonna sort this out. What's been bothering you, hm?”
You looked away for a while before you sighed. “I just… I mean,” you couldn't get your thoughts sorted out. “I feel better, after, y'know… not feeling good for that long, but…” You huffed a breath, getting frustrated again.
“I just don't like… it being… obvious, y'know?” You cringed with the way you said it, “I mean, like, visually, I guess.”
Robert tilted his head, visually…? “What-”
“Oh come the fuck on, Robert,” you heaved a sigh as you sat up, your posture slumped in defeat. “Y'know… like…” you did a short gesture to yourself. “Visual. Physically, yeah, I do feel better. Worlds fucking better, it's just… the mental won't catch up, I guess…”
Now it's starting to connect…
“That head of yours telling you all the wrong things, huh…” He mumbled, singing softly. “That's why you won't let me see you, you won't stay in one place for longer than five minutes…”
He trailed off but he knew there was more.
He keeps seeing you stare at yourself in the mirror, pulling at clothes, dressing in baggier stuff… When you do finally get something to eat, you're always poking it around, only doing half of it before the rest gets stuck in the fridge…
That's what it's been…
“What started it? You were just fine last week, but…” He didn't understand. “I saw you check your phone and that was pretty much the end of that, what happened?”
That made you huff, “Just… some picture of us at that last event SDN held, the fundraiser one… the pictures were posted on the Torrance page, and just… seeing myself, I guess just… sent my mind off.”
He felt his heart drop, “Oh, baby…” He sat up, his hands on your hips, “You looked incredible, it was one of the few times we were actually colour coordinated,” he tried to joke but seeing your expression, he coughed a nervous sound, “but…”
He ran his hands up your sides, feeling you shiver under his palms, “You look good, baby. I swear, seeing you gets my mind going in places that'll send HR into a fucking tizzy.”
“You act like we have that much of an HR anyway-”
He rolled his eyes and pushed you with a kiss, “I'm trying to say you're fuckin' hot, baby. And that it takes way too much effort to restrain myself when I see you walking around at work, especially when I start thinking about what I wanna do when I get you back here…” He trailed off as his tone took a flirtatious hint, gently pulling you in for a few more kisses, mumbling praises and compliments between each one. He knew it was starting to its job of cheering you up based on the way your breath kept catching and hearing you hum attempts of protests.
“Babyyyy…” You huffed, your smile getting in the way as you tried to push him away, falling to hold back a laugh. “C'moooon…”
“Nah,” he stuck his tongue out at you, “I want to make sure you know, damn well, that for one,” he kissed one corner of your lips, “you're mine, and two,” a kiss to the other corner, “you are an absolute angel of a person… gorgeous doesn't begin to describe you, baby…”
“You're such a simp…”
He sat back again, his back against the wall with a short hum, “I may be a simp, but you're still stunning, babe. There's no denying that.”
Your lips turned down in a huff, “I… don't think I am, but-”
He booped your nose, “Shut. None of that.”
“I'm being serious-”
“So am I. Like I said, I don't take kindly to hearing you shit-talk yourself. You've been working so damn hard on healing yourself, and that kind of talk only breaks down the foundation you've built. Baby,” he sighed, cupping your cheek with a palm, “words have meaning. They have depth. If you keep telling yourself that, it'll dig itself deeper and deeper into your mind. Those thoughts are infectious. Once it attaches, it'll spread, that intrusive disease taking over every thought. Taking over every second your mind works, making you think about it more and more. And if it keeps going, there's no telling what it'll do, mostly because I don't want to think about what happens. I don't want you to think about it either.”
You leaned into his touch, your cheek smushed against his palm, as you sighed. “I… I wanna say that I know but…”
“But,” he continued it for you, “you still need to hear it. What part of it bothers you the most, how about we start there… what part of your recovery bothers you?”
You scoffed a breath, “You can't see it?”
He arched a brow, “Humour me for a bit, babe.”
You hesitated, holding a breath as you thought about how to phrase it, before you let the breath out rather dramatically, rolling your eyes. “I just- I didn't think- I didn't want-” Your lips pursed up, arms drooping at your sides as your head lowered, your voice following, “I didn't think that whole… recovery weight thing was a fucking thing…” You mumbled out, clearly embarrassed that you had to say it out loud.
Robert was… confused. That… that was it? That was the- that's been the problem?
No- no, he wasn't going to belittle it. If it bothers you, it bothers you. Enough said.
“Babe, c'mere,” he tipped your chin up again, smiling softly once you looked up at him. “There's those pretty eyes.”
You gave him a look, he held his free hand up in defense.
“Hey, just being honest,” he lowered his hand, moving it to run over your side before he pulled you more up onto his lap, “but, being serious here-”
“Thank you-”
“Anyway,” he smacked your hip, a little tap to get you to not be so sassy while he was trying to comfort you — not that he's not used to that, but he's trying to be genuine here. “Let's just think about something for a sec, mkay?”
You looked him over, eyes narrowing for a split second, “About what?”
“Just… if, and let's say it as if…” He traced his thumb over your hip, “That if this is because you started healing yourself, started finally getting regular meals, getting into a decent schedule… getting the groove of things down, starting to take care of yourself more… then wouldn't that mean that it was pretty much meant to be?”
Your brows scrunched up, “What do you mean…?”
“I mean more that if this happened because you were finally taking care of yourself instead of hurting, then wouldn't it make sense that it was supposed to happen? I'm not the best with the whole medical bullshit but,” he shrugged, “it would make sense that you'd have some proof of your hard work, y'know? Some people have trophies for their hard work in sports and winning,” he traced over your side, “this is technically your proof of winning, if that makes sense.”
“You… are honestly awful at this whole therapy thing,” you bluntly stated, which made him choke on a laugh.
“You're not wrong about that one, I'll admit my fault on it, but I'm trying.”
“If that's what you wanna call it.”
“Shush. And besides… It's happy weight, right? You're happier, so…” He shrugged, “I think it's obvious that you're gonna look happier too.”
“Never really believed in that whole happy weight bullshit…”
“Well, believe it, baby,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “looks cute on you too.”
“You say I'm cute anyway…”
“Yeah… and you're still cute. Duh. Nothing can change that fact.”
You heaved a long sigh, scratching at your cheek, “I mean… I guess it makes sense, but…”
He tilted his head, “But what…?”
“I just don't like that it was… y'know… just me, I guess.”
He… sat there for a moment, blinking a couple of times.
“You- you think that you're the only one?” He asked, not meaning to sound so amused by the statement.
“Well…” You shrugged, frowning, “yeah…?”
“There's no fucking way. You're- you're joking, right? You've got to be-”
You glared at him, “It's not funny-”
“Baby,” he cut you off, shaking his head, “I'm not trying to laugh, but c'mon,” he tapped the side of your head, “you've been stuck up in here for a bit too long if you haven't noticed.”
You glanced towards where he tapped, then back at him, then a couple of times more. “Noticed what…?”
Oh, he thought you were too cute at the moment but he had to focus on the conversation.
“C'mon,” he drew out your name as he sat up again. “Here,” he took your hand to place it on his arm, then moving it to his chest, side; each place only confused you more.
It took you a minute, then for the first time in a while you got a better look at him. And when you looked him over, he hummed, “Now you're getting it…”
He looked… better.
A lot better, in your opinion. Like… pretty much before his coma. You had seen pictures of him as Mecha Man before, it was kind of what sparked your attraction to him before you even met him. And when you met him, he was such a paled comparison — nearly literally.
But now…? He was his old self, not nearly as sickly looking. Not as sunken in. There was a brighter light to his eyes, the dark circles gone, how the fuck did you not notice until now…
“Oh…”
He snorted a little laugh, shaking his head, “There you go…”
“Hey,” you huffed a pout.
“I know, I know,” he shrugged as a form of a defensive apology, “you've been thinking about other things, I know… but can I just say that you've been the sole reason I even wanted to get better?”
You blinked as you sat straighter, “Really?”
“Well duh,” he mused, “I never really… had much of a reason before. And don't say for Beef, I was more worried about him than I was of myself. But you?” He leaned in, his lips meeting yours for a slow, soft kiss. “I found my reason.”
You smiled a dorky grin, but... He saw the guilt building up in your eyes again. He didn't want to see it.
“Ah-ah hey, no,” he lightly tapped your forehead a few times, “no overthinking. No worries. No guilt. It's not your fault your brain is a piece of shit. You couldn't help it, even if you tried, because it would fight back harder to win.”
You looked away, “I just…”
“Hey,” he tipped your chin back to him, “let's work on this together, okay? And I mean officially together. No more secrets. No more bottling it up. No more hiding. If something is bothering you, I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me. I'm your partner, honey. Not some stranger. I want to be the one you go to when you're happy to ramble about your day, I want to be the one you need to hold you when you cry, the one that you want to rant to when you're pissed or stressed out… I want to hear it all, no matter how personal, no matter how stupid you think it is. Does that sound like a plan?”
You sat there for a while, mulling it over. A smile slowly spread to the corners of your lips as you faintly nodded, “Yeah… and I wanna be the same for you…”
“That's my baby.”
He didn't mean to, but he snickered when he noticed you blushing again. It really didn't take much…
“Now,” he scooted up so he could use the wall to help him back up, pulling you up with him, “how about… we get a movie going and order whatever the fuck we want, hm? Junk food, fast food, pizza, whatever. As long as you actually eat something.”
You huffed a breathy laugh, “Anything?”
“Yep,” he popped the ‘p’ sound, “anything.”
“Dangerous proposition, baby.”
“Danger is my middle name.”
“It so is not, and that's the cringiest thing I've ever heard you fucking say.”
“Eh,” he pulled you in for a kiss, “cringe I may be, but only for you.”
“You're such a fucking dork…”
“Your dork,” he corrected.
“Yeah…” You smiled, and God... He loved that smile, “my dork…”
Robert isn't really the type of person to think much about storms.
He's dealt with worse, lived through worse.
He's been blown up multiple times, punched even more; thunderstorms don't really bother him any.
He only feels inconvenienced with the rain and trying to get to and from work, and keeping Beef from accidentally dropping into a deeper puddle than expected. It's not like the dog doesn't know how to swim, it's... More his short stature that a drop into a foot deep puddle that worries Robert.
Finding out that his partner has a fear of severe weather, however...
This is kinda a Lilapsophobia comfort fic, cuz like... Even the sound of a weather alert test has my heart rate accelerating to an unhealthy level. Shorter fic, not really about severe weather, but... Storms in general.
It's not common for California to get severe weather, maybe five or six a year, but there are rare moments.
LA County was under a severe storm watch, didn't mean it would happen, but conditions were favourable for one. Still had ones jumpy and preparing just in case.
It was just a regular day for Robert, other than getting a day off. Mandy had basically banned him from the office for the day, it was the only way to actually get him to take a day off. He had protested a few times, but finally conceded.
A flash of lightning lit up the window above the sink as he was getting some coffee. He remembered the whole thing he overheard someone say when he was a kid, counting the seconds after a lightning strike and that was pretty much how many miles out a storm was... He didn't fully believe it, but it was something to pass the time.
He counted up in his head, waiting for the roll of thunder. About twenty seconds later, thunder rumbled ahead. Hm... He shrugged it off and went on with making his coffee.
Peering around the couch, he could see Beef laying on his dog bed, belly up with a leg twitching every so often in his deep sleep. And really, Robert kind of wished he was like that at the moment instead of having to rely on coffee to keep himself awake.
Rain started, hearing the downpour on the roof of the apartment. He looked out the window again, watching the rain streaking down the glass. Oddly comforted him... Seeing the streams of water trying to race each other down the windowpane.
Another rumble of thunder got him out of his thoughts, his free hand rubbing down the side of his face as he brought his coffee mug over to sit on the couch. One wouldn't think he'd have a favourite spot on the couch considering he only had a lawn chair as his... Bed... Couch... Whatever the fuck, for who knows how long. But he definitely had a favourite spot.
You had your headphones on, listening to something on your phone. He took note of your stiff posture as you kept curled up on the other end of the couch, a leg trying to keep from bouncing. You kept chewing on your lip, your face stern as you stared at the screen.
When a louder clap of thunder rolled overhead, you flinched and dropped your phone against your lap, holding your headphones tighter against your head to tune it out.
Robert hadn't meant to sneak a peak at your phone but when he looked over to check on you, he saw it was a weather app on your screen...
The dots started to connect.
He's seen you jump when there was lightning, cover your ears with the thunder... How you paced around and keep checking your phone when there was a severe weather alert...
He felt like such a dick for not picking up on it before.
He set his coffee to the side, he had other things to worry about at the moment, scooting over to get your attention in the gentlest way he could. He nudged your shoulder with his, making you jerk for a second.
"Shit- sorry," he quickly apologized, giving you enough space to get your bearings back, "hey, hey, hey..." He lowered his voice to a mumble, "baby... You okay?"
He could clearly tell you weren't but... Sometimes just asking it could prompt you to explain. Maybe.
You didn't, not verbally at least. You laid your head against his shoulder, trying to shrink yourself as small as humanly possible against his side.
Thunder rumbled, enough that the walls rattled. Enough for you to cover your head and hide against his side.
"Aw, baby..." He tried to get you out of your hiding spot to no avail, you didn't budge. It got to the point that you pulled the blanket off the back of the couch to hide underneath, taking refuge against him under the little makeshift cocoon.
He sighed, he had to think of something. You were shaking, the sound of the storm overhead doing absolutely nothing to help. Even under the blanket, he knew you were watching the radar intently to see when the rain would stop or if it was going to get worse.
He checked his own phone, to get a grasp of what you were looking at. Based on what it was showing, what was happening now was considered heavy, but not severe... But there could be severe on the way, it was about a 40% chance. Not a big one but enough that it got you stressing over it.
"Baby," he attempted to pull you out of your cocoon again, succeeding a little bit. Just enough for you to peek out and lay your head against his shoulder. "Could I... Do anything to help?"
You stayed quiet, staring at your phone screen.
He decided nothing would change until you looked away from that thing, plucking it out of your hands and holding it away from you. You immediately protested and went to grab for it again, but he wouldn't let it happen.
"Not if you're going to stress yourself sick," he set your phone on the other end table, away from you and far enough that you couldn't reach. "You didn't even have breakfast-"
"Don't feel up to it."
"Because you're fucking stressing yourself," he chided, saying your name in not really a disappointed way but more in a... worried way. "That's why. You need to have at least something and you need to not stress yourself."
"I hope you realize that is far beyond easier said than done, babe..." You mumbled, flinching when the rain started to get heavier. Rain itself wasn't the issue... But it meant the possibility of worse things.
"I know it is," he brushed your hair back with a hand to kiss your temple, "but you still need to try. Maybe something like... Toast, a smoothie, just something low effort and light. I know you don't feel great but you still need something.
You looked up, shrinking down from thunder, but after some internal debate... You nodded.
"Good," he kissed your cheek again, "and maybe we could play some games or watch some movies to block it out? Maybe music?"
You shrugged, moving back so he could get up, and you curled the blanket tight around you as a form of a shield. "...I guess movies... Not really in the mood for games..."
"That's how I know you're not okay," he lightly joked, "you never turn down games. What if one of those comfort games of yours and we could have some music playing around, connect your speaker?"
Based on the way you looked over with a slight pleading look, he figured he got it. "Just give me a few, you get it all set up, okay?"
...
It ended up with you curled up against him as he laid back on the couch. He had to reheat his coffee but that was a minor thing to him, his focus was on keeping you feeling safe.
He had made you something light, enough so you didn't feel sick but not too much to make you sick, if that makes sense. It was enough to make him feel better that you weren't hurting.
You had a comfort game on, some music playing loud enough to block out the storm overhead. Robert had snuck to turn your ringer off so if there was a weather alert, it wouldn't scare you all over again.
He wasn't really one for comfort games, if he wanted to play one, he wanted action. Something that simulated what he did in the Mech suit.
But he liked watching you play, that part he liked. Especially if you were like this, all snuggled up against him, your attention fully on the game instead of the weather outside.
Every now and then, there was a rumble overhead that had you jumping, but every time, he'd put an arm around you to hold you steady, a couple of kisses to the side of your head, and you were calm again.
Until the storm tapered off after a few hours, a steady rain taking over the skies... And for once, you were able to relax your body and enjoy playing your game, the worries far from your mind.
When Herman was told that someone had gotten injured on a dispatch call, his first thought was "oh cool! I get to practice my healing a bit!"
Mandy never exactly specified who it was, just mentioned it as, "Hey, Waterboy, mind healing a hero real quick? I hope you weren't doing anything because it may take some time, there's quite a few cuts and bruises."
He was grateful to be usual at the very least, and given how he's pretty much one of the first to be asked to heal some scrapes and such, he's happy to help. Gives him a sense of pride.
But when he officially stepped into the infirmary and saw you were the one injured, his heart sank.
Now... With the way he was raised, he wasn't one to swear every other word like some of his teammates.
However.
The first thing out of his mouth when he saw you was a shocked, and quite frankly, terrified, "What the fuck happened!?"
You hadn't exactly intended this, no one really does.
Getting slammed in the chest by a villain, launched the better part of 30ft, straight into a storefront window... It isn't exactly the most ideal situation.
Glass shards were still stuck in various places in your body, some in your hair, some blood dried around your face and stained your suit. Some cement dust coating your face like flour, basically concreted to your skin by the blood and some sweat... Just felt gross.
Not to mention the now purple bruises on the visible sections of skin, to the point that you were almost mirroring Robert's scars.
Adrenaline was still flowing, as if your brain hasn't officially caught up to the fact that hey... You're fucking bleeding, dumbass... But maybe that was for the best.
"Hey."
The nonchalant greeting looked as if it only furthered his panic, words flying out his mouth in a flurry of confused and scared questions, none of which were coherent enough to understand or answer.
He paced around a bit, shoes squeaking on the tile floor from the water that was dripping off of him. Yeah, that's typical of him, but you've never seen him this... Damp.
"Herm, I'm okay-"
"You- I- you're visibly- clearly not-! Blood-! Glass-! I-!" He ran his gloves hands through his hair, plastering it back against his head, and eventually taking his goggles off, because they were starting to get in the way at this point. "What... Happened??"
You had to wait until he was calm enough, scooting back a bit to let him sit with you. He grabbed a couple of things — antiseptics, cotton swabs for the smaller cuts, gauze for the bigger gashes — and sat at the end of the cot with you. Grey eyes kept looking you over, he didn't know which part to start with...
When his eyes met yours again, you sighed. "Got a dispatch with Bruno to take down some robber that had similar abilities, but when I tried to get in close, the dude slung me back into a store window. Bruno was nice enough to carry me back," you brushed some mud off of you, which proved that the sentient construct had transported you.
The explanation simmered with Herman, eyes darting around as he pieced it all together. He had to force himself to snap out of it, he had more important priorities than to wonder how that happened. He had to heal you before it really started to hurt.
"Does it.... Pain? Does it... Does it hurt? Any? At all?"
You shrugged, plucking a few shards from your other arm and setting it to the side, on the little rolling cart nearby with all the equipment and such on it. "Not really. Kinda a dull throbbing at the moment but heart's still racing so I'm gonna assume that's keeping me from feeling it. Kinda refuse to look at the damage, that's usually when it starts to really click."
That's... That's one way of doing it, he could admit. But at the same time, there's no way you didn't feel all that.
With a short sigh, he started cleaning the dried blood and removing all the glass from you. A washcloth wet with some water — obviously he cheated the system a bit with just holding it for a couple of seconds to dampen it — to delicately scrub at the spots he could find. Your suit would definitely need a repair but there's ones at SDN to help with that.
When he got around a shard, he was careful to pull it out and set it with the others, then some more scrubbing. Your back seemed to take the most brute force but your suit had lessened the blow.
Once finally clean from blood, he got some swabs and gauze, soaking a couple in the antiseptic, and went in to start cleaning out the wounds.
He only paused when you flinched back, "Are you sure that kinda thing is necessary?" You kept looking between the antiseptic and him, "Couldn't you just... Heal without it?"
He could never fully look mad, it's not his nature. But maybe he's been around Robert for too long because the look he gave you just screamed the dispatcher. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to not snort, okay... He looks like a puppy trying to be ferocious... Too cute...
"I want to make sure it's clean- completely cleaned out. I don't want to risk something going wrong... Infection... Something..."
You hummed a protesting noise, but trailed it off with a huff. Fine... You knew it was kind of necessary then...
He took that as a go-ahead and gingerly pressed a swab against some small abrasions on your cheek, earning a hiss of pain from you. It's never easy to prepare for that shit...
Every one he cleaned, he had to keep you still from squirming away from the sting of it being cleaned out. It burned, but that meant it was doing its job of cleaning out any contaminants.
That's when the adrenaline started to wear off. Heart started racing stronger, pain kicking into high gear, overall... You weren't having a good time.
Skin started to feel clammy, paling but trying to heat and cool at the same time. A sheen of sweat covered your skin as you forced yourself to keep from feeling nauseous.
He said your name in a soft question, getting you to look at him. Seeing you like this had his heart thudding in his chest, panic trying to rise up.
"Hey... How about you just rest- lay down... Met me help... Okay?" He sat forward to get you to lie back, head propped up to keep you from trying to lose consciousness.
He had to think on just how he wanted to go about the healing, and settled on just using another washcloth instead. To an outside view, it'd look like he's wiping you down with his spit, and honestly, wasn't exactly a wrong assessment.
But mixed in with the water, the healing properties began to do its, well, "magic," as he likes to refer to it as.
Holding it over a wound, it seemed into the skin, metaphorically stitching it up and hardly leaving a visible scar.
He did that to each one, having to adjust you every so often depending on where the next one was.
All in all, took him over an hour to complete, but gave you some time to rest after a difficult dispatch. A painful one at that.
Once he was done, he began to put things away, rinsing out the washclothes to at least try and get rid of the blood stains... Though, to no avail. There's a reason why these are kept in the infirmary, he supposed.
Trying to discard the glass was interesting, having to ask around on what to do, and eventually finding out how and where.
He came back to check on you, brushing his thumb over your cheek. He jumped a little when you came back to, having to take a minute to gain a sense of your surroundings again.
You felt... Better. No soreness, a little bit of dull pain but that could just be your muscles being overworked from back to back calls.
Your vision was blurry, blinking to rid it, and seeing that sweet, worried face looking back at you, "There you are..."
He smiled, sweet and dorky, "Hi... You... You okay now? No pain-? Did I do good?"
You leaned your head into his touch as you looked up at him, "Yeah... You did good, Herm... Thank you."
The praise made him blush, eyes darting around sheepishly, "I just... I don't like seeing you hurt- in... in any pain... You're- I..." He made a short noise, "I love you, and I don't... I don't wanna lose you... Can't lose you..."
"Hey," though your limbs still felt like jelly, you managed to reach up and cup his cheek with your hand, "I'm not going anywhere, okay? And honestly," he snorted lightly, "I'm giving you a looooot of healing experience anymore, so take that as you will."
"Yeah but- I don't want you to... I don't want- you shouldn't need to be healed so much... Y'know..."
Oh, you knew. It was something you got reminded of a lot. But with this line of work? It's a little unavoidable.
"How about this," you had a little bit of an idea...
He tilted his head, a wet, reddish curl sticking to his forehead again.
"How about... If you want, that is," your thumb ran over his cheek, then down to his lower lip as you heard his breath catch, "if there's a next time, and I'm giving that a very heavy 'if' here, just to give me some credit..."
You heard him try and hold back a small laugh before you continued.
"If that happens," you forced yourself to sit up, the hand in his face shifting around to the back of his neck to pull him down a bit for a short kiss, "I'll let you heal me at my place then, and then there won't be so many layers in the way... Then maybe some... Y'know," your fingers combed through his wet hair, his cheeks burning a deep shade of red as his mind licked up what you meant.
"Could- could we, hah... Um..." He swallowed with a shaky, flustered breath. "Could-could we... Do that without... You getting hurt- injured... This time? Please?"
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Being a hybrid meant counteractive everything. On one half, he functioned like a regular ol' human. But the bat part always seems to wrestle it's way into everything.
Like c'mon. He eats dead animals or bugs, and when he does do regular food, he's adding the dead animals or bugs to it.
But for him? Sometimes he just wished he, well, was a bit more normal.
It was late, and when he checked, the clock flashed a 3:33 back at him. He huffed a breath through his nose, mumbling a low, "Wonder what that means," to himself as he flopped back in bed.
It was typical, the nocturnal end of things deciding to kick into high gear instead of letting him sleep, even if his body was beyond exhausted from back to back dispatch calls and shifting into his bat form a few times each one.
He was sore, tired, and half tempted to slam his head until he conked out. A slight intrusive idea, but... Nah. Wasn't worth it.
Usually he could get to sleep just fine with you next to him, but tonight seemed to be a bad night. Great...
He was quiet while getting up, traipsing around to the bathroom. In the dark, he had almost better sight, not having to echolocate near as much. He only stared at himself in the mirror, blank white eyes looking back at him.
His nose slightly scrunched as he looked himself over, an ear flicking a couple times. Muttering a curse, he dragged a hand over his face.
He didn't know what to call it, but sometimes he just... Wondered what he'd look like if he wasn't half bat. It was the one thing that got him up at all hours of the night, staring at the ceiling, maybe stepping out to look at the night sky... He just had to wonder.
He let out a quiet sigh, deciding to go out and sit on the couch on his phone for a bit. He didn't want to accidentally wake you up, he knew you were dead tired too. Besides... It was his issue, right...? Eh...
He laid on his side, phone in one hand, arm tucked under the couch pillow. He wasn't entirely focusing on what he was watching, occasionally scrolling every few minutes... It was more the action of it, the classic doomscrolling.
His ear flicked when his hearing licked up motion from down the hall. Dammit... He didn't mean to wake you...
Your footsteps were sluggish, hearing a couple of yawns before you got to the living room. Your expression was sleepy but confused, "Vic? What're you-" another yawn cut your words short, "-doing?"
He felt bad, maybe he should've stayed with you... "Just... Couldn't sleep, I guess." He replied in a low mumble, reaching for a charger to plug in his phone. "Did... Did I wake you up?"
You shrugged as you lumbered your way around the coffee table to lay with him, "I was gonna get up and go back in there, y'know-" He tried to say before you flopped on top of him. Well. Now he's stuck.
"I got up to get some water and noticed you weren't there, so... Kinda connected the dots..." You yawned again, burying against his chest fluff. "Lost my heat source..."
That got him to laugh, "Is that all I'm good for with you? That I'm warm?"
You mumbled a noise, "And your fur's soft..." Then you tipped your chin up to look up at him, "And I love you, duh..."
It made him chirp a quiet noise, and seeing you smile only made it worse. He cleared his throat, laying back to hold you on top of him.
"So..." Tilting your head, you pressed your cheek against him to be able to see him, "is it just that you can't sleep or is there something making you not sleep?"
"Does both count?"
"I guess, technically."
He didn't entirely want to admit it, but... He trusted you more than anyone else. You were his lifeline... But at the same time, he didn't want you worrying over practically nothing.
"Vic?"
He hadn't realized he was quiet for that long, blocking out of his thoughts, "Hm-? Sorry, just..." He couldn't think of how to say it.
"I just..." He mentally cursed himself for the words failing, huffing a sigh. Might as well just say it, he guessed.
"I guess I just... Wish I was, y'know..." An ear flicked again, "normal...?"
He could see your face scrunch in confusion, "What do you mean?"
He scoffed a dry laugh, "C'mon. Babe. Look at me." He gestured to his face, "This. This is what I mean. Just-" He stumbled over his words trying to think of the why's and how's of how he felt about it, but it just wouldn't sort itself out, letting out a sigh instead.
He imagined more than he'd like to admit, what if... Just what if he was completely human, what would he look like... But instead, he's got this. It wasn't exactly good for his mentality, honestly.
His attention flickered to you scooting up closer to his face, his eyes tracking your movements. A soft noise squeaked out when you leaned up to kiss him, only when a fang of his caught your lip, he ya ked back.
"Victor."
Ohhh... Full name... He never liked hearing that from you.
"Come. Here. Now."
And though it sounded cute that you were demanding him while still not fully awake, he knew not to mess with that.
He chirped a noise as he leaned back in, another chirp when you kissed firmer than before, enough that you were moving up to be chest to chest.
Purrs unintentionally started up, like it always does, only embarrassing him more. He flinched every time your lip caught the sharp point of a fang, but you never nudged. Never once did.
When the two of you finally needed some air, your cheeks were flushed. His fur obviously covered his, but the purrs alone seemed to give that away.
"That's what's been bothering you for the last week?" You asked, propping your chin in the midst of his chest fluff, "Baby, why didn't you tell me? And don't say you wanted to tough that out... I know you want to try, but I'm here for a reason. And it's not just to be a cute face."
A light laugh slipped out, "I know, I know... But you're still a cute face-"
"I'm being serious."
"You don't think I am?" He ran a hand through the fur on the top of his head, "Babe, I can't even look at myself half the time because I think about it, just- and sometimes I just... Keep thinking that, hey," that same scoffed dry laugh, "what if you're just taking fucking pity on the fucking bat-boy, isn't that just a fucking laugh..."
His hands dragged down his face with a frustrated huff, "Like do you have any fucking idea what it's like to look like this growing up? The jokes, the pranks, the bullshit- even in college- no, especially there because fuck those people... Stuck up pricks... All of them." He was on a rant. "The people that say oh, hah, can't possibly be that bad at Harvard, it's supposed to be a classy school! Bull-fucking-shit it is! It's no different from a community college, there's still bullies that get their kicks putting people down for a living... And that shit stays with a person..."
You were quiet, eyes darting back and forth between his. He could see the hinting look you were giving him to just... Keep going.
"And until you, which I still can't wrap my head around the fact you want this, it was always just... I was the last resort. Having a fucking... Being half bat isn't exactly the most appealing thing to people- probably why I'm so obsessed now... Now that I think about it..." He shook his head, focus. "Just... Y'know what I mean..."
You were glaring at him, half your face hidden in the chest fluff as you stared up at him. "I don't want to hear you say that shit ever again, I don't want you to even think it. I know you can't help bad thoughts, but," you sat up, pulled him in so you were face to face, "I swear on my own life, Vic. I love you more than literally anything else on this forsaken planet- no, in this fucking Milky Way. I don't care what that head of yours is telling you, it's wrong, it's dumb, and you're smarter than that to listen to the dumb. You know better. Or you should know better."
He blinked a couple of times, dumbfounded. He had to wonder if you took a page out of Robert's book, ragebait to get him to listen to something. He hated that it's working too.
"You," he had a small smirk as he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you physically closer, "are too good at that."
"You're just mad I'm right."
"Oh, that's definitely part of it," he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "but it's also the fact you're too good at getting me to listen."
"I mean, it's not hard," you shrugged it off, before moving a hand to scratch behind his ear, the one thing that gets him like putty in your hands, "I just know which buttons to press."
"...you're such a brat."
"And you," you leaned up to catch his lips again, "need to realize that I chose you because I wanted you. I don't care that you're half bat, I love it. The little sounds are cute, I'm honestly fascinated by the echolocation thing, and," you scratched a good spot behind his ear, "I love doing this. And it's not just the bat thing. You're also scary smart, you know how to talk the talk, you could literally sell someone their own house to them for double if you wanted to. You may go wild, but so what? If it gets the job done, then so be it. You may give into the bat instinct of things but hey, it can't exactly be helped. I love you, for you. For being yourself with me, for always being you. And I don't want that changed for the world, okay? Just please," the hand scratching started gently petting instead, "no more of this what if you were normal talk, okay...? I don't like it when someone talks bad about my boyfriend, even if it's him doing the bad talk."
He leaned into the soft petting, smiling to himself. He wondered what he did to deserve you, but like you said... It was just him being himself.
"Hey," you had to kiss him again to get his attention, "can we go back to bed now? For real this time?"
He snorted a short sound, "Yeah... Sounds good."
For the first time in almost a week, he was finally able to get comfortable in bed holding you, and get at least some sleep.
Even if you two slept in a little late, it was a good thing.
He could always text Robert that he was running a bit late, he had better things to prioritize: you.
When Robert got back after his dispatch shift, he was met with an eerie silence. Usually it was either you or Beef greeting him, or both. But nothing...
He noticed the (numerous) lamps not on, couch didn't look like anyone had been there all day because typically a pillow or two or blanket were draped over it.
Something didn't seem right.
He called your name out to tell that he was home, and got no response. Okay, now he really didn't like this.
Without making it too obvious, he checked around.
Kitchen? Nope.
Laundry room? Nada.
Even went to check outside a couple times before checking the other rooms.
One seemed like the right spot, the bedroom with the door slightly cracked.
Gotcha...
His heart was still racing from the slight scare when he peered in, seeing Beef snoozing on the end of the bed, and a distinct lump under the covers with a light emanating from what he could tell was your phone based on the faint sound from headphones.
He tried not to scare you, stepping over and leaning just enough over you to get your attention, "Did you even get up today?"
You jumped a bit, looking up, then relaxing to see it was just him. You grumbled something under your breath, taking headphones off and lazily setting your phone on the nightstand.
"Woke up feeling like death..."
Your voice was way too croaky and faint for his liking. Now it all made sense.
No lights on, not leaving the bed, now noticing a couple of empty tissue boxes dropped to the floor with one in progress, the little trashcan next to your side of the bed overflowing with crumpled up ones, the umpteen layers of blankets even on top of the covers...
He sighed and used the back of his hand to gingerly touch your forehead. Felt like a mug of hot coffee, he's never felt your skin so warm - except maybe, maybe a couple of times doing some... Late night activities... But he didn't like the way it felt this time.
"You should've texted me you were sick, I could've picked up something for you," he softly mumbled as he brushed your hair from your face.
"...'m not sick... s'just allergies..."
"Allergies can't cause a fever, babe."
"Absolutely can..."
"Uh huh, sure. Let's go with that, since you're totally not sick."
"'m not..."
"Then explain why you look and sound sick."
You didn't directly answer, only blew a lazy raspberry noise at him.
He had to do something for you, he wasn't just going to stand there and let you just... veg while feeling like death warmed over. He's not that type of person, especially not with his partner.
He managed to find some cold medicine, still in date, surprisingly, and got a cup of water for you. He highly doubted you'd even once got a drink, he knew you too well.
Setting the cup on the nightstand, he tried to make you turn over, only earning a couple of weak protests. "I'm comfyyyyy... Fuck offfff...."
"You need to take something, and you need water," he attempted to move the covers but you had a death grip on them, "don't make me get mean, baby."
"What, gonna yell at me like your team..."
"Not exactly."
Before you could even ask what that meant, he tugged you over across the bed, rolling you over and nearly getting you stuck in your blanket cocoon. Now that he got a better look at your face, he saw the glare you were giving him. Didn't even phase him.
"Don't be like that," he lightly chided as he fiddled with trying to open the dose pack of medicine, "is it such a crime that I want to make you feel better?"
"Yes..."
"How."
"I was comfy."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
He managed to get the little pack open to get you to take the medicine, and after a few minutes of pointless arguing, you gave in and took it.
"Thank you, fucking hell-" He muttered as he got the trash to clean things up a bit, "you can be dramatic, y'know that?"
"Oh yeah?" You peeked your head out, "And how'd you act when you got a cold, huh? You weren't exactly an easy patient either."
"... touché."
He came back, sitting on the edge of the bed. He knew it was going to take at least an hour before the medicine even decided to work, but the least he could do in the mean time was try and get you a little less dehydrated.
"You need some more water, baby."
A mumbled protest.
"Babe..."
Then a questioning mumble.
"Drink. Some god damn water. Or I swear, I'll make you."
He saw the way you were practically limp, so he choose a different way. A water bottle with a straw instead of an open glass. Less risk of spilling.
He went to do that, coming back and munching your arm with it, "Take it."
You gave him a look and a huff... But eventually reached your arms out to get a hold of it, but didn't bother to sit up.
Honestly? He'll take it.
Then another thing he wanted to make sure of.
"Did you even eat?"
Your eyes stared out at the room, then trailed over to look at him. A shake of your head answered his question.
He sighed yet again as he punched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't get mad, he was the same way when he ended up under the weather... But still.
He wasn't going to make you do anything you knew you couldn't handle... Soup seemed like a decent option...
"How about some soup, I know we've got a couple of cans in here."
Silence.
"Or maybe oatmeal?"
Still nothing.
He was starting to get a little impatient.
"I think we've got some yogurt, it wouldn't be much but it would at least be something-"
When he noticed why you weren't answering, he cooled off a bit. He saw that you had dozed off again, he felt bad for getting upset... But fuck, it's so difficult dealing with someone sick...
On one hand, he knew you needed sleep. But in the other, you still needed at least something to eat.
Then it hit him, something to almost combine a couple of things, and be a little more worthwhile than one little thing.
Now, given, he wasn't one to follow trends he didn't know how to make... Whatever the fuck is trendy right now, he was more "stick to the basics" but he could at least wing it.
At least you had gotten a few things a couple of days ago, so he had something to work with. Couple of cups of yogurt in one of your favourite flavours, scoop that into a bowl, some oats to mix in - looked a little odd but hey, if it was something to get you to eat, he'd fucking take it, add some chopped bananas around the edge - like he's seen in the few videos he's seen online - aaaand... A little drizzle of honey.
Huh. Not bad for his first crack at this.
He had to avoid a now awake and curious Beef from trying to get a taste, quietly repeating that he couldn't have it, as he sat on the edge of the bed again.
He leaned over to kiss your temple, feeling you stir awake. "Hey."
He got a mumble in return, making him snort.
"C'moooon, you need to eat, baby. It'll help, you know that," he nudged you again, starting to bother you with kisses over your face - except the lips, he knew better than to try and get himself sick. Again.
"Here," he set the bowl and the spoon he got to help you sit up. Even if it was against the headboard, better than bed rotting under, as he counted, 8 different blankets. "Made you something. Tried my hand at that... Smoothie bowl bullshit, or at least," he shrugged, "a version there of."
You weren't looking at it, or at him, just staring at the bed. He had to try a different approach.
"I am not above spoon-feeding you, babe. You need to have at least something, okay?"
He got the bowl, getting a little spoonful and hiding it out to you. You finally looked over, between the spoon, the bowl, him, and back again but he felt accomplished when you actually leaned in for it.
"That's better... Thank you." His voice was softer now, tender.
Then he decided to sweeten the deal.
"If you can at least get this, then we can watch that show you've been raving about for weeks."
That got your attention, almost a pleading look in your eyes, "Really??"
Though you sounded croaky, just that one word had his heart skipping a beat, fuck that's too cute...
"Yeah, really. Whatever it takes to get you to actually eat something and help speed up you getting better."
...
It wasn't the whole thing, less than half, but, he could save it to make sure you had it later. And as he promised, he lived up to his end of the bargain, putting in the show you had been wanting to watch for a while.
Though, you didn't get much past the first three episodes before you were asleep in his arms.
Given how Robert has been slammed into walls, punched in the face, beaten, bruised, and quite literally blown up by a bomb or two, it's a surprise how he's even alive.
And every time, especially being his partner, the concern heightens when you see him with a new bruise.
He'll say it's some sort of accident, bumped into a wall or something, but you never believe it. There's no way a bruise on his face came from a slight bump on a corner.
Every time you ask, he has some sort of excuse. None were believed but you never say anything.
Until you see him pass by at the office with a few new bloodied spots, poorly bandaged at home.
Enough was enough.
—
Content warnings: talks about injuries, some purposeful self harm tendencies mentions, a very emotional situation, confrontation about relationship and the harm of Robert. Read with caution, exit if you want. Only read if you want to handle it.
You managed to grab him by the collar of his shirt and yank him into an empty conference room, closing and standing in front of the door to block him from trying to go out.
"What's your problem-"
"What the fuck happened this time."
His brows twitched, confusion crossing his expression. Then realization, right. The wounds were obvious.
"Got into a little tousle at Sardine, doesn't really matter-"
"The fuck it doesn't matter, you are literally fucking bleeding."
"Okay, but why does that even matter? It's not like the first time this has happened."
"Doesn't mean you need to keep doing that."
He scoffed a dry laugh, do they even know me? Come on, he thought, there's no way you didn't know him by now.
He tried to go for the door and you immediately shifted to block him. You were determined, he's never seen you so mad.
"What are you doing."
You didn't answer, only narrowed your eyes at him.
He drew out your name, "What are you doing."
You couldn't even form words, you were so frustrated. The times you learned how often he got beaten up, seeing it all on the news, and that's just the stuff you knew about. Lord knows what he hasn't even talked about.
Tears started to sting your eyes, you were getting fed up with it.
"How are you- why do you-" You took in a stressed breath, dragging your hands down your face with a shaky breath. Thoughts were racing too much to think.
You had to take a few minutes to gather your thoughts. Snapping wouldn't be the best option, but crying felt worse. A few deep breaths, hands curling and releasing a few times before you could finally calm yourself enough to speak.
"Robert," you lifted your head enough to look at him, emotionally exhausted, "there's no way you think that's okay."
"I never said I did think it's fine, but it happens."
"It shouldn't fucking happen."
"Oh, I know it shouldn't but it still does-"
"Will you shut the fuck up and listen to what I'm saying for once."
He snapped his mouth shut, blinking a couple of times in the shock of hearing you snap. He's heard people mad, but never you. He didn't know how many times you held your tongue, but enough was enough.
"Alright," he held up his hands with a shrug, "I'll listen."
You had to cross your arms to keep yourself steady. You loved him, to the ends of the earth. He was there for you, but he never lets you return the favour.
You had to say it.
"You know," you began with your voice level, "you are always here for me. The nights I can't sleep, you're up with me, playing games or watching movies until I finally pass out. When I have a bad day, you bring Beef over and just sit with me until I feel ready to vent about it. The nights you hold me when I cry. The days when we hang out and make me smile..."
His expression tightened, he looked like he was expecting you to drop a bombshell on him.
You felt your heart tug, you weren't breaking up, you wanted him to understand that you were sick of him getting hurt.
"But," you shakily sighed, "you never let me return the favour. You try and deal with it on your own, in not the most conventional ways-"
You heard him snort a sarcastic laugh but he shut his mouth when you glared.
"Drinking, getting in fights, outing yourself in harm's way. I'm sick of it. You're driving me fucking insane, Robert. I don't want to sound ungrateful, but you've got to be kidding me. I..." Tears started selling up again. "I care about you too much to see you get hurt on the daily. Do you- Do I-"
You couldn't sound selfish, this was about him, not you. But... The thought kept passing your mind, did you not matter enough to him for him to stay alive for you? You had to change your thoughts.
"And what about Beef, huh?"
That seemed to hit a nerve, he tensed up.
"What about Beef?"
"What's going to happen to him if you get hurt to the point of no return. What's going to happen. Think about it."
His expression hardened, his eyes narrowing.
"Don't start guilt tripping."
"Is this guilt tripping or am I just stating the fact that if you keep this shit up, something's going to happen. Even if I don't matter enough, think about Beef-"
"Okay- hold the fuck up," he held a hand up before his expression turned pissed, "what do you mean 'If you don't matter enough- you're the love of my fucking life-"
"You're not making it feel like it with you getting cut and bruised every fucking hour, it seems like."
The two of you stopped speaking for a few minutes, just angrily staring at each other. A cursed game of chicken, who was going to crack first.
You were tempted to walk away, let him win. It wasn't worth it. It was really getting to the point of not being worth it.
Before you could even turn, his hand grabbed your wrist, pulled you in, before your back was against the wall. You went to snap again, and his lips were forcibly against yours. Hands in hair, alternating to rough touches - it's a good thing these conference rooms don't have cameras.
The two of you took a minute to breathe, breaths coming out in flustered but angry huffs, cheeks flushed, hearts racing.
"I..." Robert sighed, lowering his head against your shoulder, breathing out your name, "I'm... I'm sorry, okay? I..." His voice trailed off.
Arms wrapped around your waist, he buried his face against the crook of your neck. He was actually starting to shake. He was starting to get it.
"I never had to keep myself alive for anyone else, I haven't for years. I figured that since my grandfather, my dad... I'd follow the family curse. Dying because of that damn suit. Didn't think I'd even once find someone that makes me feel alive..."
You heard his voice start to quiver, the heat of tears against your neck as he held you tighter. "I'm so sorry..."
Your own tears started, holding him close against you as you peppered soft, reassuring kisses to exposed skin. Cheeks, temple, neck, every where you could get.
"Baby, you don't have to apologize to me, not specifically," you mumbled against his shoulder, "I just can't stand seeing you get hurt when I know it can be prevented, in some form or fashion. Or at the very least, not tending it properly."
For the first time in a bit, you heard almost a genuine laugh from him, "You mean me trying to one hand patch up my shoulder isn't properly tending to it?"
Rolling your eyes, you nipped at his neck in playful retaliation, "No, it's not. Will you let me actually patch it before that gets infected?"
He drew out a long hum, like he was actually thinking about it, before trailing kisses up your neck to your jaw, "I guess. It'll probably hurt way less that way too."
"Bold of you to assume I won't clean them, it's not gonna be pain free, babe."
"I'll take that. Probably deserve it, I'll consider it as karma."
"Good... As long as you let me take care of you from now on."
You felt him frown against your neck, about to say his usual thing, but he hesitated. A minute of silence, then he sighed, "Okay... Yeah. I'll let you take care of me."
"Hey," you tipped his chin up to look at you, "you deserve care, y'know."
An unreadable expression crossed his face, a smile slowly quirking the corners of his lips up, "Now you're just getting sappy."
A quick smack to the back of his head made him laugh, "Okay, okay, I get it. I'll shut up and let you patch me up. Just make it quick, my break doesn't last that long, y'know."
"I don't give a fuck about your break, I'll tell Mandy about it and she'll let it slide."
"Oh, sure, let everyone know I can't take care of myself."
"Robert," you gave him a deadpanned look, "I don't even have to say anything for people to know you can't take care of yourself."
