#dispatch x yn

The steam from the hot water of your shower curls around the bathroom lights. The fan is loud, drowning out the hard patter of water on the shower floor. You’re hunched over, the steaming water dribbling down your back, curving with your spine before hitting the floor. 

You don’t even notice that you’re crying at first because the fiery water drips down in the same direction as your tears. It’s when you unintentionally let out a sob that you realize you are. That same water that muddies your tears is stinging over the cuts and scrapes you’d attained from work today. Your job is to save people, and along with a paycheck, that should be rewarding, but you’re just so burned out. You’re so insanely tired that all you can do is cry.

The fan is loud enough that you don’t hear the bathroom door creak open, or the shuffling that follows. Suddenly, you feel a waft of cold air hit the wet of your body as the shower curtain is pulled back. You look up from your hunched state to see Robert standing there, his eyes asking if he could join you.

You straighten up and step aside, silently giving him the okay to enter. You may not be able to see your tears, but your eyes are red and puffy, and he could hear your muffled noises from outside in the hallway.

He doesn’t say anything, just surveying the injuries that grace your form. Traveling the cuts, scrapes, gashes, and bruises with his eyes, and you resist the urge to turn around and break his gaze. He lets his hand fall to your waist, slightly tugging you towards him. You hear him mutter “c’mere” under his breath, and you give in easily, slumping against his chest as he holds you to him. 

And you stay there for a while, basking in his scent under the hot water. His presence loosens the tension in your overworked muscles, relaxing you into his grasp even further. You can hear the low patter of his heart against his chest, and it, for some reason, comforts you. Reveling under the blistering of the shower water and the support of Robert’s presence. 

After some time, you look up at him, bringing yourself closer to his face to leave a kiss on his lips. He thinks it’s going to be chaste, so he goes to pull away, but you have other ideas. You bring your hand to curl in his now-damp hair, pressing his face into yours.

He melts into your kiss, slowly walking you backwards until your back presses up against the cold tile of the shower wall. “You sure this is okay?” He murmurs against your lips.

“It would make me feel better,” you reply quietly. You watch a sad smile pull at his lips before he leans back in to kiss you again. 

The kiss is slow and desperate, but your eyes are lidded, lazily looking into Robert’s as he lightly bites your lip. You can feel his hand slip down your waist to between your thighs, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your folds. 

He doesn’t dare tease you, already slipping a finger inside you. You let out a shaky sigh, reveling in the feeling of his long, slender finger pressing up against your walls. He easily slides another one inside, brushing them against that special spot that makes you squirm.

You break from the kiss, letting your head fall to his shoulder. Your arms are draped over the expanse, one hand still clinging to the hair on the back of his neck. Robert leans down to press a kiss to your head, his dexterous fingers still exploring your insides carefully.

Reaching between your bodies, you search for your clit, rubbing slow circles in tandem with the gentle thrusts of Robert’s fingers. You don’t have it in you to be loud right now; only soft noises ring off the echoey shower walls. You shiver. Robert’s blocking the hot water, and your back is still pressed up against the cool tile, only your arm making contact with the steamy water.

Robert’s only indication that you’re close is how you begin to clamp down on him, sucking him in impossibly further. The fingers that draw slow circles into your clit falter as you’re drawn closer to your peak.

“You can let go, I’ve got you,” the rasp of Robert’s voice echoes through you. The comforting nature of his words merely makes you cum on the spot, another shiver wracking through your body. This time it wasn’t from the chill of the shower tiles. 

Robert feels your legs begin to shake slightly, so he holds you against him harder in case they threaten to give out. You let out a quiet and shaky moan, slumping against his shoulder, the tension in your body releasing itself as you reach your climax. 

You both stand still for a second, your shaky breaths fanning over Robert’s shoulder. You’re still pressed up against him, his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back while you recover. Neither of you has spoken much, and you’re not planning to; you let your bodies do the talking themselves. 

You unclench your thighs, freeing Robert’s hand, and pulling away from his shoulder to look at him. He isn’t smiling, but he’s looking at you with this sort of warmth behind his gaze, a great amount of affection towards you. He pulls away from you just slightly, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to clean them of your release. He looks back at you again, your arm still lazily slung over his shoulder, your face puffy and damp from being stuffed into the side of his neck. His eyes ask the question before he does; they say, ‘Do you want to keep going?’ And before he can even ask, you nod, bringing your lips to his once more.

Breathing isn’t on your mind right now as you feverishly kiss Robert. And although the kiss is hungry, it’s still slow. He’s treating you carefully, like you’re made of porcelain, but without the hesitation. He just wants to take his time with you. His hands drift down both your sides at the same time, wrapping one around your thigh to bring it to press against his hip. You haven’t been very attentive to his needs right now, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He seems happy just to be taking care of you.

You can feel his length press against your stomach as you pull him closer into you, kissing and biting his lip at a leisurely pace. You reach between your bodies again to give him a few slow drags of your hand, before trying to line him up with your entrance. You struggle at first, having a hard time multitasking, so you have to break the kiss to actually get him inside of you. 

Once his tip breaches your fold, Robert lets out a soft groan. He doesn’t move right away, taking in the feeling of your wet heat enveloping him. Then, he slowly pushes his hips forward, sliding into you inch by inch. You let your head fall back against the tile, letting out a pleased sigh as he bottoms out. 

Robert leans down to kiss your neck, his free hand finding your waist. His hair is dripping water down your chest and back, and you revel in the feeling of his warmth. He still hasn’t started moving, letting his cock rest inside of you while he leaves light marks over your shoulders. You wrap an arm around him to thread your fingers through his hair again, as you slowly grind your hips down. He lets out another soft noise, almost inaudible, but lets you continue what you’re doing. 

You grind into him for a little while, your thigh bumping up against his hips while you press yourself down, clit grinding into the rough of his crotch. You can hear him letting out soft grunts at your ministrations, and you can’t help but feel a little important. You’re doing this to him, you’re making him feel this way. But you are getting a little fed up that he isn’t fucking you into oblivion right now. 

Robert finally gives in, pulling his hips back just to push back in again. His movements wring a low moan from you, and he lifts his head up from your neck to look at you. Yours is still thrown back against the wall, mouth slightly open and face twisted in pleasure. Your back bumps against the wall, the push of his hips slightly jolting your body upwards. He leans up to kiss you again, it’s messy and wet this time, but there’s a sort of fondness behind it.  

His hips keep slowly pushing into you, and while he isn’t being rough, you can feel how deep he is inside of you. His cock is deliciously dragging against your spongy walls, and you can’t help pressing into his lazy thrusts. The kiss breaks with your moan, and you rest your forehead against his. You’re sure that you’re cross-eyed right now, looking up into Robert’s eyes like this, but you don’t care much. 

You don’t know how, but he pushes impossibly deeper inside of you, your hips angling further to meet his thrusts. Your leg finally wraps around his hips, pressuring him further into your heat. One of your hands reaches down to circle your clit, causing you to clench down on Robert. He hisses, his thrusts faltering for just a moment before he regains his pace. Your free hand reaches down for the hand that’s resting on your hip. Robert notices your hand brushing against his and turns it so you can thread your fingers together.

The position you’re in feels slightly unstable, so he brings your hand against the wall, effectively pinning you open. Your foreheads disconnect as he leans in to kiss you again, hot breath fanning over your lips before his press into yours. It’s hard to focus right now, you feel so good that your emotions are running rampant. You want to cry, you really, honestly could cry right now. 

You moan into the kiss again, clenching around Robert’s length to let him know he’s doing a good job. You don’t mean to, but you feel tears begin to well in your eyes, threatening to spill down. Despite the intimate position you’re in, you don’t really want Robert to see you cry, so you break the kiss to rest your head on his shoulder again. He can feel you shaking; he knows what’s happening, and he knows you don’t want him to see you.

He unclasps his hand from yours, reaching for your face that’s nuzzled into his shoulder. You lift your head, eyes puffy, a sniffle ringing off the shower walls. His palm finds your cheek, and you just break, you sob. He holds you through it, his hips stalling, trying his best to let you have your moment. 

You shake your head, lips quivering as you speak. “No, please just keep going,” you all but plead. Robert gives you a look that says, “Are you sure?” And all you can muster is another small “please.”

Robert pulls his hips back slowly, then presses them back into you at a leisurely pace, being extra careful with you. You let up slightly, choking out a small moan when he starts moving again. Your free hand clutches onto his back, fingers dexterously circling your clit. You’re getting close, you can feel it. The knot in your lower abdomen is growing by the second. You can feel Robert speed up slightly, probably also close to reaching his peak. His hand moves from the wall to your hips, helping you down onto his cock while he thrusts into you.

His gruff moans ring in your ear, a whimper following suit. You continue meeting his thrusts, the repetitive motion bringing you closer to the edge. You can feel every muscle in your body tensing, the intensity of your emotions making everything feel more powerful. Suddenly, the knot in your stomach bursts, your eyes roll back, and your body spasms as you cling to Robert. You unintentionally sink your teeth into his shoulder, leaving a mark he’d have to deal with later. He tries to hold you up, hoping you don’t collapse in his arms. 

He keeps pushing his hips into yours, thrusts stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. It’s overstimulating, and tears prick at your eyes again as he pushes you for his release. Your leg wrapped around his hip clings to him, trying to push him further into you. You whimper as he slows, hot and sticky release splashing across your insides. He rocks his hips slowly before stilling inside you completely, letting the last moments of his orgasm play out. 

You’re panting, shaky breaths splaying across the expanse of his shoulders. Robert holds you against him, pressing soft kisses against your cheek. The moment is peaceful and warm, something that you miss on a daily basis. It takes a long time before one of you speaks, but Robert breaks the silence first. “Feel better?” He asks.

He had something to actively look forward to again. Though this time, there was a tinge of underlying anxieties.

A reminiscent feeling of nerves, like that of a young boy being alone with his crush for the first time.

It was almost comical that he felt that type of nostalgia. Even if everything was rather easy and smooth sailing with you so far.

There was a consistency and a match of wits, charisma, and general vibes. But this, this was a moment. A potentially defining moment.

His desire to deliver and impress was overtaking the typical cynicism or deadpan persona he maintained.

Hence, he had spent the entire week trying different pasta recipes and wine pairings like he was training for some Michelin review. 

Carbonara, pesto, alfredo, a fucking vodka sauce. Hell, if he didn’t know shit about pasta iterations before, he sure did now.

His fucking kitchen was a mess half the time. Beef seemed to enjoy licking the drippings and spills off the floor. Even after Robert gave him a few unamused glances.

He doesn’t think he put this much effort into something for an individual before. Hell, being Mecha man was for the greater good. But somehow, cooking up a dinner for you had to be perfect.

The need to show you he could stand on something even as simple as making dinner was driving it. He wanted to impress you. 

Even if everything between you was already there. It was the lingering need or maybe even that stupid habit that people get into when they fall into the dating scene. 

Even if you two were past the juvenile nature of first impressions. He still wanted to impress you. He had to fix his shit too. You’d think a single man in his thirties would be able to manage a space better. 

He was picking up strewn clothes and empty take out containers for like three days. Not to mention, he realized he hardly had normal shit. 

No soap dispenser in the bathroom because he just used the body bar from the shower, no curtains over the window because that’s what he thought blinds are for. 

The more he looked around the apartment the more he realized how scarce everything looked. Well, everything except Beef’s space. 

All those toys in his little bed gave him some personality, at least. He didn’t have a fucking lamp either. Who the hell doesn’t have a lamp? He also realized he didn’t have any dishes. 

One mug, one bowl, and a half open stack of paper plates on the counter. To be fair, it was just him and Beef. But this was still fucking embarrasing. 

A grown ass man walking into the dollar store looking at the glassware and trying to figure out whether to get matching sets or not. 

Damn, was this what it meant to be whipped? He huffed out a curt laugh, he stuck a simple ceramic plate, bowl, and a couple wine glasses into his basket. 

He grabbed a shower liner too. Might as well, if he was down here anyways. As he and Beef were making their way back to the apartment he had some time.

 People watching was more of a routine than a habit. You have to notice things when you’re a hero. Being mindful, more particularly, aware of the things going on around you is a must.

As he walked the sidewalk, Beef trotting beside him, he took in the early evening. It was Friday, people were doing things, probably the beginning of weekend plans.

There were families with children, teens in groups, people with pets like him. His gaze lingered on a couple, young.

The young man nervously held a small bouquet as he waited for who was presumably his date. Then a young girl, animated and perky, waved him down. 

The corner of Robert’s lip upturned into a soft smirk. It was cute and endearing, the novelty of it all. The seemingly consistent truths that some things don’t ever really change.

It was a corny thought he admitted to himself. Here he was, a grown man with his dog having to buy plates and bowls for dinner while young people were in the throes of courtship and romance.

He got back to the apartment just as the sun had set under the horizon. He put away the newly acquired dinnerware before filling Beef’s bowl.

He tossed the shower liner on the sofa before sitting down. He’ll wait to wage that battle another day.

He lay his head back with a sigh as he stared up at his ceiling. The one bulb in the fan was out for months. Once again, no one came. So why change it out?

As he lay there, he thought of the plates he bought, the bowls, those wine glasses. An odd feeling was present in the back of his mind throughout it all. 

One he was intentionally ignoring because all it ever brought was strife. But as he stared at that one dead bulb, aware of the shower liner that lay at the foot of the couch it was creeping up. 

Classic imposter syndrome, he used to have it more often. Being a powerless superhero has a lot of people talk shit. But it never bothered him too much. 

Or he just threw himself into that whole protect and serve gig to the point he didn't have time to throw a pity party. 

But now, when all he really had was time he couldn't help as it veered its stupid head. Front and center to his mind's eye. 

You were sweet, funny, and seemingly well-adjusted. He was still reeling with the daddy issues and the failure of Mecha Man. Not to mention, he still hadn't told you that yet. 

He attracted complications and instability. It happened in his childhood, it happened with Mecha Man, and it even fucking happened into the transition to dispatch. 

The fuck was he doing? Playing first impressions with a girl who probably saw through him. Or worse, saw him as something to fix. 

Was that it? You were a social worker after all. He shouldn't think like that, he knows it's stupid after everything so far. But he can't help it. He can't help jumping the gun. 

Whether it be the way he went about asking you out or in this case, jumping to conclusions. He probably looked like a fucking charity case. 

He pulls his elbow over his eyes as he lets out a sigh. His free arm dangling over the edge of the couch. Beef must've sensed his spiraling thoughts. 

He nudged his nose against his human's hand before giving it a lick. Robert peered over with a half-smirk and ran his hand over the mutts head. Then he glanced towards Beef’s dog bed. 

Filled with the toys and trinkets you had gotten him over these few weeks. “I guess this is how people self-sabotage.” He huffs out a laugh. 

Beef lets out a small yip, maybe in agreement. Robert sits up, and looks towards the shower liner. “Sulking isn't really my thing is it, bud?” It's more or less rhetorical. 

But Beef, sensing the sort of morose tone, hops up on the sofa and eagerly gives Robert some reassuring licks. “Thanks, bud.” He chuckles as he gets up, just as his phone lights up.

He smiles, talk about timing. “I’m bringing rosé, I have no idea on wine etiquette so don’t laugh at me.” 

Just like that, he felt grounded again. He sent back a quick response. “Too late, you kind of tee’d it up for me.” 

He had all the time in the world to dwell on inadequacy or imposter syndrome. But tomorrow, all he had to worry about was making some edible pasta and drinking wine with you. 

Yea, he could manage that. He hauled his ass off the sofa and grabbed the shower liner. He made his way to the bathroom and took his time putting it up. 

He came back to the kitchen and checked his miscellaneous drawer. He found a spare bulb, no idea how he had the foresight for that. He got his step ladder and got to work.

Keeping himself busy, even for that half hour gave him some perspective. You liked him. He liked you. That was enough for now. 

Tomorrow, that's what y'all were starting with. The rest would work itself out. That's how things in his life worked anyways. 

There was no need to sabotage this before even establishing what this was. Yea, all he needed to worry about was not being incompetent, which was easy enough.

He had his alarm set early the next day. The sharp noise elicited a low groan from him as he searched for his phone on the nightstand. 

He got showered, got dressed, and stared at the wall for a while. The nerves were settled somewhere under his navel.

Not debilitating, but present for sure. He had been texting you anyway, as it had become part of your dynamic.

You sent him pictures of you in the wine aisle at the grocery store, little voice memos as you read over the back of different rosé bottles.

You told him you were picking the most pretentious sounding one. He let out an audible snort as he listened to that.

Somehow, between prep and attempting to create at least a semblance of ambiance, the morning gave way to the afternoon, then early evening. 

You said you’d pop in at six, though he wasn’t too surprised when he heard a knock at his apartment door around 5:30. 

He leaned against the door and met your eyes with an amused smile and a raised brow. You give a shrug in response.

“I brought tiramisu too.” You say as you shake the bag in your hand. He shook his head, albeit still amused before taking the wine and bag from you as he waved you in.

Beef piped up eagerly, likely recognizing your scent and presence. You immediately greeted the pup with equal vigor and affection.

“There’s my favorite guy!” You swoon in a baby voice as you bombard him with rubs and pets. He, of course, accepts them with gusto.

Robert put the wine on the table, he stuck the tiramisu in the fridge. “You’re early. Guess that means I can put you to work.” He hums.

You rolled your eyes as you stood back up but shrugged off your jacket and hung it over the arm of his sofa, already moving to wash your hands at his sink.

“You’re lucky I like you.” The matter-of-fact way you said it allowed it to seem like a casual quip. Even if it wasn’t. Though, he was more amused if anything. 

He turned to face you, leaning his hip against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “Yea? That’s all it takes, huh?” The tease was too easy, maybe even too on the nose. 

But there was no shame in it. Despite the underlying acknowledgments of what this night meant, every time you two came together a rhythm found its way in the middle. 

“Guess we’ll find out.” You say with a nonchalant shrug as you look over his stovetop, peering at pasta and sauce. He didn’t try to hide his gaze over your profile. 

His eyes tracing the path from your hairline to the curve of your jaw. “So blatant, huh?” You snort as you turn to meet his eyes. 

Though your breath hitched a little as you saw the almost tender expression he had on. “Not gonna pretend to be ashamed about it.” 

He shrugged with that little upturn of his lips. He moved to grab the plates, you didn’t fail to notice his otherwise sparse cupboard, you stifled a laugh. 

“Woah, bought fresh ceramics just for me. Really trying to get in my pants tonight, huh?” He scoffed at that, not harsh, just tickled. 

“Funny, I thought that when you brought that fancy tiramisu. Guess we’ll find out though.” He repeated the line you used earlier, drawing a softer smile from you.

With the table set, you sat adjacent to him. Beef’s own little portion set up for him in his dogbowl. 

You took your bite and put on your best critique face. “Notes of tomato, basil, and oregano.” You say before letting out a soft cackle. He only rolled his eyes.

“Is that a pass then?” He said between his own bites, though his eyes never strayed from observing you too long.

“Were you nervous I had a Michelin star palette? I’m not picky, you made me dinner, that’s sweet.” You say, your expression is more humble now, less teasing.

After that, there was a shift. Something softer, something warmer. “So I’m the first girl you’ve made dinner for?” You said as you sipped on the wine, food eaten, hand propped under your chin.

“Something like that.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his own. You playfully rolled your eyes in response to that.

“Admitting to romance is not gonna kill you.” You snort. His half-smirk turns into a soft smile as he seems to contemplate that for a second.

“Fair, but I was kinda thinking we were on track to admitting other things tonight too.” He brought it up there.

You weren’t sure if the slight flush you were feeling was because of the atmosphere, the alcohol, or a mix of both. Maybe it was neither, but it was enough for you to make that final acknowledgment.

“Yea? Guess I can start. Not a huge label fan but I can say I like you. I like seeing you. I wanna see you, just you.” You hum.

“Ditto.” He cringed just as that left his mouth. You let out a loud cackle at that. “Fuck, that was so corny.” He ran a hand over his face.

“Come on corny, I’ll help you clean up.” You snort as you begin clearing the table. He shook his head before hauling up.

He washed you dried, an odd comfort settled within him at the subtle domesticity. It didn’t take long. He only had a handful of shit anyways.