Chad turns his head to look at Robert, only to be met with his gaze locked in far out into the distance. His face is lightly flushed. Definitely not sober. A strange chill washes over Chad, Robert has always been good—maybe too good—at eye contact. But tonight, the firm stare Chad is so used to seeing is gone. Chad stays silent.
“I was around 16 or 15 when I inherited my dad’s suit. Opened it up for the first time since dad’s funeral, I can still remember so clearly. That smell-, it was so, so metallic—well I mean, obviously. But I couldn’t stop wondering, what if—did the suit smell like that cause of-”
Robert cuts himself off. He swallows almost forcefully, as if pushing down the metallic taste of the memory down his throat.
Chad shivers at the implication.
“I counted 17 days before It went away.”
Robert leans over the cold railing, knuckles turning even paler as his grip tightens. Chad shuffles closer, Robert doesn’t realize the sigh he lets from the warmth.
“That night my suit got destroyed, I sat in that cockpit, waiting. I think- I think I felt giddy. Or relieved, whichever makes more sense. All I could think about was that goddamn family tradition. That was the one thing I was going to get right. I was so excited too.”
Chad opens his mouth to say something, but Robert interrupts him before he gets the chance to.
“Yeah, yeah, fucked up, I know.”
Robert chuckles humorlessly. Something twists inside Chad’s chest as Robert’s already hunched posture worsens, He’s never looked smaller than now.
“You can should’ve seen how disappointed I was when I woke up.”
Robert turns, now fully facing Chad. Brown eyes finally meeting amber, they’re slightly glassy. Maybe the city lights were just remarkably bright that night. Chad nearly disregards it as such just as he catches a lip quiver, a little detail he definitely would’ve missed if he didn’t pay as much attention to Robert’s mouth than the amount a normal person probably should.
“I don’t think I’ve told anyone this but-”
He pauses and diverts his gaze, mindlessly focusing on the next uninteresting thing he can spot on the ground. He’s hesitating to spit out what he’s about to confess, although he’s practically stripped himself down naked and spilled his guts out in front of chad by now so fuck it. Might as well.
“The day after I got out my coma I signed a DNR.”
“What?”
Chad finally speaks up. The confession snaps him out from his uncharacteristic silence.
“Yes I know it’s stupid, yes I’m a cowardly bi-”
Robert lifts his gaze to meet Chad’s. Bright orange glow cutting through the dim night sky. They pierce straight into Robert, agitated and… frightened?
“Oh shit, um.”
He stammers.
“Fuck. Guess I’m drunker than I thought. Sorry for putting all of this on you, Chad. you didn’t need to know any of this. Real unprofessional of me.”
Chad steps forward, shrinking the distance between them. Robert shudders as warm hands firmly grip both side his face. Chad’s confidence falters for a moment at the sight of those doe eyes widening. What the actual fuck am I doing?
“Listen, Mecha di- Robert. Look at me. We need you here. Fucking ugh—I need you. The fuck are any of us gonna do without your flat ass?”
The gap is fully gone now. Before he can argue, Robert is pulled into a tight, comfortable embrace. It’s unreasonably pleasant. Like he’s wrapped into a very warm weighted blanket. Robert can’t help but melt into it and sigh.
“Bitch. You better not fucking leave us. Not with that old fart to be our only dispatcher.”
He’s met with stunned silence for a moment until Chad feels faint vibrations resonate through his chest as Robert softly giggles.
“Don’t think I’m only talking about you as a fucking dispatcher. You are so infuriatingly fucking good It pisses me off. You’re telling me you threw your scrawny ass into a bar fight to help us while you had a fucking DNR hanging over your head? Fuck, I almost killed you that night.”
The taller man leans down to lightly bury his face in a head of windswept auburn hair.
“It’s alright Flambae, really. Just water under the bridge-”
“Oh fuck off Bob bob, cut it out with that shit. It’s getting real fucking old.”
Chad tightens the hug a bit. Robert is still processing what’s happening right now, but the warmth in combination with the scent of smoke and firewood emanating from Chad is making it real hard to think. He’s pretty sure he can faintly smell some spices that he probably doesn’t know the names of.
“You- you need to tell us about this shit, yeah? Let me—let us help you for once.”
The pair stay still together in each other’s arms for the next several minutes, Chad’s thumb lightly tracing circles on Robert’s back.
“Don’t let it get to your head bitch.”
…
“We’re revoking that fucking DNR first thing in the morning, okay?”
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Chad stepped out of the bedroom. He was still running his fingers through his mess of hair when he spotted Robert at the kitchen table, slurping loudly out of a bowl.
"Morning." Robert said, with that smirk that told Chad he was in for a long fucking day.
"Morning, Robbo." Chad said, walking into the kitchen. He didn't see the cereal box Robert always left out. He looked back at Robert. He didn't have a spoon, just slurping pointedly out of the bowl.
He smelled coffee.
"Uh, Robert—"
"Checked the weather today," Robert leaned back in his chair to look at him. "It's muggy outside."
Chad stared at him. Then he looked at the coffee machine. Looked at the cupboard above it. Back at Robert.
"Bob Bob if I look outside the patio curtain and see all the fucking mugs outside I will burn you."
Robert said nothing. Just slurped from the bowl again. Slow.
Chad opened the cupboard.
It was empty.
He crossed to the balcony and opened the curtains.
All his mugs were lined up on the table and chair set outside.
Robert tossed his bag under the desk and sat down. Beef excitedly bounded around his feet, knocking into something crinkling under the desk. Beef dragged a gift bag out from underneath backwards, his stubby legs struggling with the weight.
Robert looked down and saw the rainbow-patterned bag with red tissue paper sticking out of it. Beef promptly tire a piece of the paper off and shook it around.
"Woah, boy." Robert got it out of his mouth, now stained a little pink. "What the hell is this."
He lifted the bag onto the desk. He found the small tag hanging off the handle and saw it was blank. He looked inside and found a giant box of Twinkies and a card.
He opened the card. It was a crude drawing of him and Beef.
'Happy Birthday, Bobert' was all it said. Robert smiled a bit. Cautiously. That was Chad's nickname for him.
After ensuring the bag wasn't rigged to explode or something, Robert sat down and got his systems booted and logged in.
"Hey team, happy Friday," he greeted, adjusting his seat a bit and then his headset mic.
"Yo bitch-bert, did you get your gift?" Chad said over comms. The rest of the team was oddly quiet.
"Not my birthday, but thanks," Robert said. "Very sweet. Literally sweet. I guess."
The comms erupted into snickering and laughter.
"Okay, that's not suspicious at all," Robert said. "Did you guys poison them or something?"
"What do you mean it's not your birthday," Chad seethed. "It's on your fucking Instagram or whatever."
"The one I made last month? That's a fake birthday for privacy reasons," Robert said, smirking a bit. How cute.
"Bitch, fuck you." Chad sighed, as if he heard him.
"Ha, I fucking told you, Bae." Alice said. "Roberto doesn't make anything easy "
"What's going on, guys? We don't have time for this today." Robert pulled up a call. "There's a couple of events in town that need extra security, so it's going to be busier than usual."
"Nothing, Robbie," Victor said, so Robert was definitely going to worry. "Just speculations amongst colleagues."
"That's great, Sonar. I need you to speculate over to Fifth Street to cover the opening of the new store. They're expecting some thieves."
"You bet I'll be speculating all over that store. They have the newest edition of—"
"Fantastic. Don't care." Robert opened another call. "Visi, I need you to go find a runaway teenager hanging out at the park."
"Why me?" Visi huffed.
"You're short and not-scary compared to everyone else on the team."
"Send Punch Up," Visi groaned.
"Aye, fuck off," Colm said.
"Fine, send Waterboy then," Visi said.
"Waterboy is needed for a different call."
"Really—For real—what—" Herm sputtered.
"I have a series of pit fires left smoking on the beach that could use hosing down for safety. The fire department has bigger fires to put out downtown. Can you handle that?"
"Yes—sure."
"Cool," Robert said. "Speaking of fires—"
"It fuckin' wasn't me."
"I know, Flambae. The fire department could use your help downtown. You can show the firefighters you know how to actually control fire and the flame."
"Fine," Chad said. "Watch me come back with a bunch of numbers."
"Numbers?" Robert asked. Flat.
"Phone numbers," Chad said. "Unlike you, they're actually my type."
"Says the guy that bought me a giant pack of Twinkies for my fake birthday." Robert smirked. "Sure thing."
He heard Chad bluster as the team laughed over comms.
"Don't get cocky, Mecha Bitch. That was for a fuckin' bet."
"Fuck," Victor said. "You're not supposed to tell him."
Robert felt a small sliver of disappointment slip into his chest. "You guys were taking bets on when my birthday was?"
"Yeah, dude." Malevola said. "You don't tell us anything, so we thought we'd make it a game, y'know? I was going to get you a gift next week on the date from your Twitter."
"Snapchat." Alice said. "Two days from now."
"And I was going with what was in your LinkedIn," Victor said. "We made it a bet to guess which date was real."
"I would've told you guys if you asked," Robert said, hovering his mouse over the call alert by the docks, watching the timer run down.
"We did ask," Janelle said. "We asked two months ago and you said it did not matter and then changed the subject."
"She's right." Colm said.
"Kinda killed the vibe." Bruno added.
"I don't remember that." Robert rubbed his eyes and pinched his nose. "Wait, was I drunk?"
The comms were silent.
"So, when is your birthday?" Chad asked. "For real." His voice was oddly gentle this time.
Robert cleared his throat. Clicked on the call alert before the last second timed out.
"Mal and Golem, I got a cult of Chaa'd problem with your names on it."
---------------------------------
No one brought it up again.
---------------------------------
It was late. The shift ran long, and Robert spent a lot of time catching up on paperwork. Chase had taken Beef back to his place.
He felt a warmth behind him.
"It was fuckin' yesterday, wasn't it." Chad's voice.
Robert didn't turn around. "What was yesterday?"
"Your birthday, obviously."
Robert turned in his chair to look at him. "What makes you think that?"
"You were extra mopey. You kept looking at the upper right of your screen when I walked past. The date and time."
Robert looked at his screen for a second. Chad was right. Upper right-hand corner was the date and time.
"Could've been a bad anniversary," Robert said. "You don't know."
"Only you would think of your birthday as a bad anniversary, Robbo." Chad leaned against his desk, looking down at him.
"Are you mad you wasted—" Robert made a show of looking into the gift bag and lifting the box of Twinkies, the price tag on the bottom. "Mmm—twenty-six dollars? On the birthday bet?"
"Depends. Was I fuckin' right?" Chad shifted closer. Robert dropped his eyes from Chad's face down to the bare collarbone, the chest hair over his pecs. The abs. Then down to the edge of his suit's plunging neckline. Fuck, his muscles looked even better in the low light of the bullpen. "Your real birthday was yesterday?"
Robert looked back up. Chad smirked as he caught him.
"Yes. It was yesterday." Robert shrugged. "You were right. Hooray." Robert lazily waved his hands in mock-celebration.
"The bet was for a hundred dollars," Chad said.
"So my Instagram birthday cost you a hundred and twenty-six dollars," Robert said. "How awful."
"Fuckin' terrible. So what does it get me." His eyes dropped down Robert's body. Slow.
Robert swallowed. "What?"
Chad looked around. Brief. Then he pulled his suit down. Just enough. Robert followed the happy trail down to the base of his flushed cock. "What does a hundred and twenty-six dollars get me, Robert?"
"I thought I wasn't your type," Robert said, his mouth salivating despite his mind screaming about possible cameras. The possibility of getting walked in on by custodial.
Chad said nothing. Instead he sat on the desk and dragged Robert's chair in front of him. Chad only had to pull his suit down all the way, and Robert only had to lean down slightly to take him into his mouth.
Neither of them moved. Not yet.
Robert looked back at Chad. And to his surprise Chad placed a hand against his face. Robert's eyes dropped to his mouth, and Chad took it as permission as he tilted forward. Robert moved up from his chair to meet Chad bending down. Their lips crashed. Robert took in the smokey taste of him. The kiss deepened, their tongues sliding hot, breaths stolen from each other as their hands tangled and grasped and pulled at fabric.
Chad looked around again. So did Robert. They were in the dead zone of the cameras. There were no sounds of custodial coming around.
They broke apart for a moment. Chad's suit was pooled at his waist, his chest bare. Robert's shirt was pulled open to the bottom two buttons and falling over his shoulders. Robert was standing now, between his legs, and they kissed again. Grasping at bare skin, trying to get closer, stay closer. Chad's heat enveloping. Robert's cool fingers dragging across his chest and back.
They made quiet, breathy sounds. Trying to be subtle, failing.
Finally they couldn't take it anymore. Chad slid off the desk and yanked his suit down enough to free himself completely. Robert fumbled with his belt until Chad pulled it off. He then worked the top of Robert's pants open and shoved him into the chair. The chair rolled back, knocking the gift bag over.
Not that they cared.
Chad nudged Robert's legs apart and settled between them. Robert placed his hands on the sides of Chad's face, taking in the sight of the fire super staring up at him from between his legs. Submissive. Robert's cock rested obscenely against Chad's almost burning-hot cheek, the scruff of his facial hair brushing against it as Chad took a breath and shifted.
Robert moaned a little. "I thought you wanted me to—"
"Shut up." Chad took him into his mouth. His mouth was hot. His tongue pressing. Robert bucked against him. Chad worked himself with his right hand as he held Robert's side with the other. The chair was flush against the wall of the cubicle and wasn't moving.
Robert gripped Chad's hair with one hand, the other white-knuckled on the arm of the chair.
"Fuck—" Robert groaned. "Chad." He gasped.
Chad kept his pace. His sounds vibrating through him. Robert took in the sight, the way Chad's cheeks hollowed out around his length as he moved base to tip, pressing his tongue into the slit on occasion. His glowing golden eyes fluttering from the devotion. The focus. He watched his muscles shift, how he adjusted as he pumped his cock with one hand while working Robert with his mouth.
Robert felt the orgasm building. The pull in his thighs, the pull of his abs, the mounting pressure gravitating toward Chad's mouth. No. No. No. He wanted this to last.
He felt it in Chad's mouth, the way he moved, that he wasn't far off either. His breathing quickened with his hand. He flicked his eyes to Robert's. His expression giving permission.
With a short, strangled cry into his hand, Robert came hard into Chad's mouth. Chad made his own noises, low and rumbling and desperate against Robert's softening cock that served as a gag. Suppressing the volume.
Robert curled into him, holding his head against his stomach as the last vestiges of the orgasm left him.
"Fuck," he said into Chad's hair, feeling him breathing just as hard against him. "Fuck, that was—"
Chad pulled back and wiped his mouth with the side of his palm. "Fucking incredible? Of course."
Robert slumped back in the chair, skin buzzing. "I think I owe you like, five hundred for that." Robert ran his hands down his face. "Holy fucking shit."
Chad stood up, grabbing some Kleenex from Robert's desk to clean up.
"How about dinner," Chad said as he shrugged his suit back on.
Robert looked up at him. "Dinner?"
"Did I fucking stutter, bitch?" Chad fixed his hair. Robert watched his arms flex and move as he did so.
"Uh, sure." Robert leaned forward in the chair, shimmying his pants back up. "When?"
"On my birthday." Chad smiled down at him. Feline-like.
"And when is that?" Robert asked, re-buttoning his shirt.
Chad leaned down and ran his hand roughly through Robert's hair to fix it.
"You're going to have to guess."
Then he stood up and turned. He flipped Robert off as he walked away, not looking at him. "Happy belated birthday, bitch!"
It was a new restaurant in Long Beach, nearby the Aquarium of the Pacific.
Siren Cove.
It featured large aquariums throughout — saltwater fish of every color and size swimming in slow, hypnotic circuits. The water cast swaying lines of reflected light across the venue, which was kept dim aside from moody accent lighting meant to emulate a cove.
He was seated in a large booth next to the biggest tank in the middle of the restaurant. It was a tube, and the fish swarmed in circles and schools, around and around and around. Chad wondered if they ever got bored.
Alice was seated next to him. The rest of the Z-team filled out the booth, with the overflow claimed by the table beside them.
It was Chad's birthday.
He couldn't focus on the menu. He wasn’t hungry.
"I can't believe Mecha Bitch got called into work," Chad said.
"Don't be too hard on him, Bae." Alice leaned on her hand. "I bet he feels like shit for it."
"He fucking better." Chad sighed. Then he steeled himself. The team had taken him out for his birthday. He wasn't going to be a fucking sourpuss over something Robert couldn't control.
The waitress — dressed as a pirate — came by and took their orders while they all caught up on the calls that had happened that day.
The lights around the cove began to shift. Moodier. Darker. Then the music changed, something more adventurous swelling up, an eerie chorus of voices rising beyond the notes.
The restaurant murmured around them as the lights dropped even lower. The sounds of crashing waves and a thunderstorm rolled through the speakers.
This is some Rainforest Cafe bullshit. Chad smirked to himself and sipped his drink.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice called over the intercom. "The siren song comes for us all. Can you resist the call?"
Chad looked at the tanks around the room. One by one, mermaid performers dropped into them, drifting down through the water, the shifting light catching eerily on their faces. The tails looked real enough, and they had prosthetic scales framing their faces and strategic scale-like pasties keeping them from being fully topless.
Several Z-team members looked around. Victor couldn't keep his mouth closed. Herm curled further into himself as a mermaid waved to him from across the room.
The rest stared at Chad expectantly. A few with their phones pointed at him to record.
"What?" he asked over his cocktail.
Malevola tilted her head to the side.
Chad looked at the tank next to him.
He choked on his drink.
It was Robert. Blue tail, blue scales framing his face, naked from the waist up. Hollywood-quality fins adhered to his forearms, mermaid-like ears at the sides of his head. He smiled devilishly at Chad, canines glinting — deep-blue lined eyes dark and dangerous even through the glass.
He was a fuckin' siren. For his birthday.
Chad's face broke into a grin. He laughed, a little nervously. "What the fuck, Bob Bob."
The team laughed. Alice pulled him into a tight hug. "Happy birthday, Bae."
Chad couldn't drag his eyes away as Robert winked at him and pushed off the glass, languidly flipping through the water, bubbles trailing behind him. Chad was transfixed, drink still held halfway to his mouth.
Alice took it from his hand and set it back on the table.
"What’d you think? You forgive him?"
Chad said nothing.
He watched his muscles ripple as he moved. The economy of Robert’s body normally used for fighting was now for something soft and graceful.
The scars caught the light the way the tank walls did. Refracted. Shifting. Made into something else. In here they looked like tide marks. Like he'd been shaped by water instead of violence.
He was the only merman among the performers, and the extra attention showed. More people had their heads turned to his tank, eyes tracking him as he moved. Chad noticed. He didn't love it.
Robert blew a kiss at him. Several patrons laughed and whistled.
Chad wanted to climb to the top of the tank, reach in and drag him out and back to their bed.
But Chad would behave. He had to.
Robert continued swimming around the tank, visiting the other surrounding tables. Occasionally he dipped down to breathe from the air tube, then surfaced again and blew bubbles. A gaggle of women hollered and whooped as he did so. A few had their phones out, and Chad had to consciously quell the heat rising in his hands.
Robert made his way back to Chad and stayed, pressing his palm flat against the glass — webbed, Chad noticed. Chad pressed his own hand against it and heard a few laughs around them.
He didn't care.
Robert leaned down, still holding Chad's gaze, and produced a small board from behind a boulder with writing on it.
Happy birthday, Bitch!
Chad laughed.
He wondered if they could steal the tail from the venue after.
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