#robert dispatch x reader

That’s all you can think about when you look over at his cubicle and watch him work. His fingers glide over the keyboard like it’s second nature to him. You hear him bark out orders, telling his team where to go and what to do, like it’s natural. You’ve never seen any of the other new employees take to the job this quickly. And while you haven’t been here for forever, you’ve been here long enough to know that your thoughts count for something.

But he’s a huge downer. His tone is always flat. His expression is always sour. He walks like the weight of the world is on his shoulders (though considering the fact that he’s Z team’s dispatcher, you don’t exactly blame him). And one look at him tells you that he’s seen his fair share of monsters. It’s in his eyes. It’s in the way he peers around a room in silence. It’s in the heaviness of his steps. Hole in his ear. And all the other little scars you start to see peak out from his clothes whenever he stretches or shifts around too much.

Plus, he rarely eats. You don’t know how he goes through most of his shifts without shoveling something in his mouth to stave off the boring moments. But when he does, it’s nothing but highly processed garbage from the vending machines. No lunch from home. No sandwich from one of the many delis down the street. Nothing but junk.

And he’s not that social with you and your co-workers. Sure, he talks to you. Always has a dry joke to crack at you about his team or work or what’s happening on the news. And sure, he has been convinced to join you and a couple of other dispatchers out for drinks once or twice. But he doesn’t seek any of you out. 

And talk about that name, too? Who names their kid Robert Robertson? And who lets that tradition continue two more times after the first time. If you had to live with a name like that, you would be depressed as hell, too.

Still, that doesn’t change anything. None of that changes anything. You don’t care that he’s got that cute, doe-eyed thing going for him when he’s not looking at you with a thousand-yard stare. You don’t feel any sort of way about his deep voice and how he always seems to know the right thing to do and say. And no, you don’t think his scares and his frame and his seriousness are attractive. At all. Not even a little bit. The new guy is fucking depressing. When he’s not making a stupid joke, he’s a downer in every sense of the word. And any week now? You know his desk is going to be cleared out and some new guy is going to be taking his place. Someone with big hopes and dreams and a discernible sense of joy, you’d bet. Which would be a real shame. 

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight…”

Because you like guys like that are fucking depressing. You like it when they're suddenly not too.

“Robert…” You whimper out your co-worker’s name. Eyes fluttering shut as your grip around his shoulders tightens. But at the moment, all you can do is hold onto the man as he fucks into you and fucks you stupid. Just letting him and his surprisingly long and pretty cock stuff your warm, wet insides, over and over again. “Fuck, you’re so…fuck!”

When he hears you curse and feels your fingernails dig into his skin through his shirt, he lets out a low, low groan. One that you feel right in your stomach as he keeps the grip he has on your waist strong and his pace steady. He’s been through a lot worse than a pretty girl scratching up his skin. He’ll survive this. He’ll survive whatever you decide to do to him next, too. Besides, you’d like to consider it payback. Payback for him taking so long to bring you back here and fuck you, of course.

Back here is a small conference room in one of the more unused sides of the office, about halfway through your thirty-minute breaks. You rarely see anyone come around here. So much so that the room is pristine to the point that you can’t help but wonder if it was ever used. But questions like that don’t matter at a time like this. All that matters is that Robert picked up your signal to follow you to this room while the two of you were taking your break. All that matters is that Robert knew exactly where to put his hands the second you shut the door and locked it behind him. 

All that matters is that your pants are on the floor and his cock was out, and a condom was rolled on it with speed that you’d almost consider super. But you know what this really is: eagerness. Towards your body. Towards you. Toward the very idea of fucking you quick, hard, and dirty. And you know it because it’s exactly what you feel in this moment. And perhaps even every time you look at him. Not that you would ever tell him that, though. In fact, you’d rather do anything but.

Too bad he noticed, though. But then again, you wouldn’t be here if he were completely oblivious to your feelings, now would you?

“You’ve been eyeing me all afternoon,” Robert mumbles in between the sounds of your pants and gasps of pleasure as he continues fucking into your pussy at a speed that’s almost surprising for a guy like him. Currently, he’s got you seated on top of the conference table with your lower half dangling just on the edge and your legs wrapped around his torso, making sure that he can never get too far away from you. It took him long enough to get the hints you were dropping since his first shift. You’d be damned if you’d let him get away easily. “How long have you been sitting, soaked in your own mess, huh? Could’ve just asked me. How’d say no to a girl like you…?”

At his words, you huff at him, turning your head away to make a point about ignoring his little comment. You didn’t want to just ask. You wanted him to just know, as stupid as it sounds. You know he’s not a mind reader. But you know the guy has eyes that work. You’ve seen them on linger far too long on your ass when he thinks you can’t see him, and on your chest when you’re busy trying to explain something to him. It was only a matter of time before the two of you ended up here. 

Too bad he took so long to read the room. 

“Hey. I asked you a question.” He calls out, trying to get a proper response out of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you look at him- not wanting to give him the satisfaction. At this, he mumbles something about only working with brats, and you find that you don’t love all of these jokes of his. Even if they are true most of the time. Still, you can’t help but notice the fact that his expression looks serious. Focused, even. Though you can’t help but wonder if it’s because he’s trying not to nut too early or if he’s actually a little pissed at you, minor bit of attitude. 

Maybe it’s the former. Maybe it’s the latter. Maybe it’s a little bit of a mix of both. You don’t know. He did say he it’s been a while since he’s done anything like this. And you do know he’s already got enough bad listeners to manage. Doesn’t really matter that much at the moment, though. Because either way, he doesn’t let your silence go in peace. 

At least, he doesn’t let you ignore him. 

The second you turn your head to the side, he’s leaning up to attach his lips to the now exposed part of your neck. The side. Your jugular. Down low. Up high. Everywhere and anywhere he can reach, he’s there. Kissing and nipping at the skin. The second melt into his touch and let out a particularly breathless moan, his mood lifts. He smiles even. He seems proud of himself. 

And while you certainly think he’s pushing it with you, you let him. Because right now, the way he peppers your neck with attention feels good. It feels great, actually. And not to mention, he’s only giving you the threat of a hickey without actually leaving one. Which is a good thing. A really, really, really good thing. For both him and you. Because you would have killed him if you did. At least, you would kill him if he left one anywhere that you couldn’t cover up in your uniform.

“Getting close yet?” He asks you suddenly, in between the kisses he keeps delivering to your neck. He seems to like doing that. You seem to like him doing that to you even more. “And how long do we have?”  

For a second, you almost don’t hear his questions. The way his cock kisses your insides and the way his facial his hair tickles your skin hog your attention in a way that makes it hard for literally anything else to compete. But then he asks the question again, this time a little louder as he slows down his pace just a little bit. And it's enough to send you scrambling in a desperation you would rather have kept hidden. 

But the sound of his chuckles tells you it's too late to hide your feelings anymore. 

Just like the sound of your phone alarm going off to signal that you have two minutes to get back to your desks before you’re officially back on the clock, it tells you that it’s too late to have the happy ending that you were hoping for. So you start to push back. You start to pull away. Because rules are rules. Work is work. And Robert seems like he could be a stickler for law and order in the pettiest situations possible, sometimes.

At least, that’s what you would have thought if you didn’t know who Robert was at this point. 

Because he’s more than just a cute face. He’s more than just your new co-worker. And he’s more than just huge, a downer, and downright depressing. Even on his best days. No, he’s more than all of that. He’s a man.

A good one. A kind one. A ridiculously attractive one, even when he’s not trying to be. And you’d be damned if you’d let one like this slip away. From work...

“...you’re not getting away from me that easy, pretty girl. Let’s make you cum first. Then I’ll get you back, okay?”

You and Robert weren't really a thing. No, not at all. Because neither of you wanted to risk losing anything. Robert would lose his dispatcher position, which he kind of needed, and you'd probably be kicked off the team for indecent behavior with a colleague. Well, that's what you assumed. If the SDN even cared or had an HR. You both agreed you'd rather play it safe.

Lucky for you, Robert was the one to suggest a secret fuck buddy option. You two were indifferent during work hours—on the clock, you two didn't know each other beyond him being a great dispatcher. Off the clock? That was another thing. That brings you to now.

You two were just getting to your apartment after a long day at work—he'd left a little after you to avoid suspicion about leaving together. Of course, neither of you wanted to be a secret thing that could cause trouble, but how could you be any more when Robert was so unsure of everything?

Not the point. Your current plan was to drink and enjoy a night together with no interruptions. The moment you were settled in with a decent snack selection and drinks, you two turned off your phones and picked some cheesy comedy movie.

"So," Robert started, already cracking open a beer as he leaned back and settled his feet on the coffee table.

"Feet, Robert." You huffed. He rolled his eyes, but he set his feet back down off of the table.

"You're such a stick."

"You mean stickler?"

"Yeah, sure, that one."

"You sound dumb." You snickered, leaning back as you settled a bag of chips between you two, leaning back with your own beer.

"As I was gonna say," Robert scoffed. "What's on the schedule tonight? Just some shitty movie and some poor attempts at sustenance while we drink ourselves to death?"

"I mean, not to death, but I'm definitely gonna be a little hung over tomorrow. It's been a long week, Robert." You said, shrugging slightly.

"Mmh." He hummed, taking a sip of his drink. "Sounds like a nice plan." He mused sarcastically.

"Listen, I didn't feel like cooking, so if you want dinner, you can order. You're the one who suggested us being a secret unofficial thing." You said bluntly, huffing faintly.

"Hey, I'm just teasing." He chuckled, leaning forward and turning to look at you as you downed half of the beer. He reached out to take the bottle, raising a brow. "Yeesh, slow down, would you? You're gonna hurt yourself. You're too much of a lightweight." He teased, watching you snatch the bottle back.

"You're one to talk. You tried to fight Sonar after three beers last week." You scoffed.

"He was challenging me!"

"He told you to slow down."

"He challenged me!" He insisted.

You stared blankly at him, rolling your eyes. "You're such a child." You leaned back and shifted your body to get comfortable, casually draping your legs over Robert's lap. He huffed, mumbling something about you being a bully, but he didn't complain as he leaned back and laid one arm over your legs and held his beer with his free hand.

You two did end up ordering something for delivery, but by the time it got there, it was definitely gonna be more lunch for tomorrow than dinner for today. If you remembered to put it away.

Your position had shifted from your legs being draped over his lap to his entire body being draped over yours. Not sexually, just searching for some affection. He did this often, even without being buzzed. He was two and a half beers in after the second movie, so his clinging habit was tenfold. You'd tried to lean forward to pick at your food, but he shoved his face into your chest to keep you still.

"Don't move." He murmured, voice muffled.

"Robs, c'mon," you groaned.

"Y're warm." He protested.

"You're such a shithead." You scoffed.

He didn't respond. Only let more dead weight lay on you, too comfortable, and buzzed to worry about crushing you. Lucky for him, your endurance was good enough to let him stay like that for the rest of the movie.

By the start of the third movie, it was getting late, and Robert was three beers deep, plus two shots you'd offered for some 'variety', you claimed. You just wanted reason to drink more for yourself without feeling like you'd make a dumb choice.

Now, both of you were a little past buzzed, and Robert had swapped it so that you were lying on him. He said it'd keep him from going and doing something dumb. You didn't mind—in fact, it was a nice swap. What neither of you accounted for was you sitting up in his lap, exclaiming drunken complaints about the movie, and its bad plot within the first twenty minutes.

"C'mon, 's barely started! Give it a shhhot." Robert encouraged, his words drawn out and slightly slurred.

"She has superpowers!" You tried to exclaim, but the last word came out more like 'sperpwers'.

"'Just lay back down, crybaby." He teased, reaching out to tug you closer. Unfortunately for him, you were a stubborn drunk. You refused, wriggling around and continuing to explain and slur out arguments about how dumb the main couple was.

It went on for an entire fifteen minutes, new complaints rolling out of your drunken lips as the movie progressed. You failed to acknowledge the fact that with your wriggling and shuffling, Robert didn't exactly have a say in how his body reacted. Especially since he was drunk off his ass. He tried to ignore it, a rational voice gnawing faintly at the back of his head, but it got to a limit when you shuffled back and forth to get comfortable again when you decided to shut up.

When you turned to look down at him, he reached to grab your hips, shuddering slightly with a scowl on his face. It didn't click immediately, but when it did, your cheeks flushed with warmth.

"A-are you..?"

"Shut up." He grumbled, swallowing harshly as he tried desperately to not let things advance further. Even drunk, he had morals. Well, he tried to keep them in tact.

You made that just as hard as you made him.

"Robert," you said quietly, shifting once more to lean over him, your core pressed conveniently snug against his boner.

"Don't—mmh.." his eyes squeezed shut, face screwing into suppressed pleasure as he felt your warmth firmly against him. "Don't say it like that."

"Say what?"

"M-my name." He exhaled sharply.

With his eyes shut, he froze slightly when he felt your lips press to his. His final straw was the feeling of you nipping at his lower lip, almost taunting him to make a move. His fingertips dug into the fabric of your shorts, and he returned the kiss eagerly.

"Robert really isn't a moanable name." You slurred against his lips, earning a frown from him when you pulled back for air.

"It isn't?" He played dumb.

"Not really. But you have yet to make me moan enough to wanna say your name like that."

"'S that a challenge?" He mused, voice rumbling from his chest.

"Not everything is a challenge when you're drunk, idiot."

"So it's a challenge?" He persisted.

"Whatever it'll take to get you to shut up 'cause now you've got me all wet." You said bluntly, huffing at his lack of movement or touching.

"Good. Foreplay all done." He joked, rolling you over so that you were beneath him, rolled onto your stomach with your face unintentionally pressed into the couch pillow.

"Wha—Robert!" You protested, squirming to turn around. Your attempts failed as he laid over you, not even making a move yet. Just laying, snickering as his face buried into your neck, inhaling the perfume you wore. It wasn't sweet like other perfumes he was used to around the office, but yours had a nice floral yet forest-y musk to it, and it always lingered. Always.

"Y'smell s'good." He uttered, lips brushing over your skin as he pressed a kiss to a specific mole on the back of your neck, his hands finally coming up to grasp at your hips lazily.

"You're heavy!" You complained, trying and failing to elbow his side. He only got heavier. Lesson learned; don't underestimate dead weight. Especially from a drunk idiot.

"And y're warm.. 'n sweet 'n y're so... so enticing." He murmured, inhaling deeply as he finally shifted his hips, bucking his clothed boner against your ass. You shuddered in response, one hand reaching blindly to press against his hip to feel the way his muscles became taut with the small grinding motions of his hips against yours.

"Eniticing makes it sound like I'm a steak, and you're a wild dog." You huffed, hoping to sound kinda stupid with the analogy so he'd lose focus.

"Mmh, might as well be. Fuck, could lose my mind like this. Maybe that's exactly what we are." He went along with the cheesy analogy, and you groaned.

"Your positions suck, Robs," you complained, but he didn't listen, lazily bucking against you with his lips practically latched onto your neck.

Robert kept one hand at your hip, the other hand snaking around to undo the button and zipper of your shorts. With the waistband loosened, his fingers slipped under the fabric of your panties and found their way to spread your folds gently, feeling the wetness you'd admitted earlier.

"Position might suck for you, but I've got you allll to myself." He mused, smug as ever. Before you could spit back some kind of insult or sex joke, he had you whining with the slow back and forth friction of his finger pressing to your clit.

Somehow, even while drunk, he was still able to keep you satisfied for the time being while he humped against the curve of your ass like some animal who's been caged up for decades. He exhaled slowly, shakily as he felt your hips buck lazily, back arching subconsciously to let your behind press more firm against his front.

"Jeez, just a touch? You make it so easy, baby." He teased, fingers dipping lower as he dipped the fingertip of his middle finger past your waiting hole. That small bit of relief was taken almost immediately when he retracted his hands completely, his body warmth leaving you as he sat up completely.

You looked back at him, dazed and dissatisfied. "Robs." You frowned, shifting to roll over onto your back, legs instinctively falling open when he crawled back between your thighs.

"Gotta let it build up, yknow? Just 'cause I'm a little buzzed doesn't mean I can't make you feel real good." He mused, reaching with one hand to undo the belt and zipper of his slacks.

"Y're so mean to me." You whined, shifting slightly as he pushed his slacks down with his boxers. His cock sprang free, already leaky with precum. "And you think I'm needy?" You scoffed.

"You are." He raised a brow, leaning back on his haunches as he tugged your shorts and panties down and off your legs, tossing them elsewhere. He lifted your legs and let your ankles rest over his shoulders, keeping you spread and exposed for him.

He didn't waste anymore time, lining himself up to press his tip between your folds, spreading your arousal along his length as his free hand pressed at your hips, brushing its way beneath your shirt and pushing the fabric up to your collarbone as he exposed your bra.

"Hold it up, would you?" He said, nudging your shirt. You grumbled, shifting to fully remove it. "Oh, right. Even better." He grinned, sleazy and smug. With that, he pressed his tip down slightly, finding your hole as it squeezed around nothing.

"Would you stop dragging this on?" You scowled, cheeks flushing at the feeling of his swollen tip pressed just barely against your entrance. He was tempted to drag it on, just to hear you beg a little more, but he gave in. The feeling of your pussy fluttering and trying to suck him in drove him fucking insane.

With a hiss of self-restraint, he slowly sank in, head lolling back as his lips fell open, shuddering at the warmth of your core squeezing him and pulling him in deeper.

"Fuck—Robs—Robert," you exhaled heavily, toes curling slightly as your knees pressed together in front of Robert's chest.

Robert bottomed out, staying still for barely a second before he pulled all the way back, his tip being barely notched inside of you before he pressed forward. He looked down at you, pulling your knees apart so he could lean forward and push your thighs up to your chest, earning a squeal from the new angle and the depth it allowed.

"Ooh, fuck. That's perfect." He groaned, a small gasp following as he found the right rhythm to satisfy you while indulging in his own selfish desires. With you in the mating press, too intoxicated to complain about the way it made your hips ache, he was in heaven. His head dipped lower to find its way to press between your breasts, nipping and suckling small hickeys into the soft flesh. He moaned against the plush meat of your chest, thrusts speeding up ever so slightly as he buried his face snug against your tits.

"Ugh—ah, shit!" You gasped, hands coming to grasp at his shoulders. He still had his shirt on, so the fabric wrinkled in your grasp. Your head rolled back, back arching against him as he bit onto the cup of your bra on the left side, tugging it down with his teeth before he did the same on the other side, fully exposing your breasts to his face. He'd never get tired of it—the way they'd bounce with each thrust, taunting him and making it harder not to blow his load.

His kisses and bites resumed now that your nipples were exposed. The hardened nubs got attention off and on from his mouth. One hand remained on your hip, and the other snuck down to your clit, eliciting a squeal from your throat as you reached to pull his hair. He rolled his eyes back, a whimper leaving his lips as he bit at the underside of your boob.

"Rob—Robert!" You choked out, thighs trembling as he doubled his efforts of stimulating as much as he could. His hips angled just right to find that sweet spot with the head of his cock, ramming into it with every thrust. His mouth focused on swapping between your tits, and his free hand focused on torturing your puffy clit.

"Ooh, yeah. M—hmm," he moaned, panting heavily as he kissed up your collarbone and finally trailed his way back up to your lips. "God, you're so perfect. Sound so pretty like this. Y'look even prettier than I ever remember. Could do this all night, yknow that? Could keep—fuck—keep you like this. Probably gonna get a fuckin' noise complaint 'cause you're so god damn loud—" He emphasized the last word with a particularly mean thrust, listening to you sob with pleasure.

He definitely got a little rough when he had enough to drink, but you couldn't deny how good it felt. Trapped underneath him, his cock fucking into you with the perfect pressure and speed while his thumb practically abused that bundle of nerves between your thighs.

"Robs.. Robert..!" You gasped, looking up at him as he stared down at you. Your dazed look matched his, but where yours had tears of pleasure, his had... something he could only describe as affection

He dove in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth as he rutted frantically into you. His moans blended with your squeals, skin slapping against skin, the couch springs creaking every now and then with his harsh thrusts.

"Fuck, love you so much." He confessed, lips still connected with yours. "I love you. Love you so much—please—"

He cut himself off with a choked moan, eyes rolling back as he felt you squeeze harder around his length, his hips stuttering in motion.

"Mm—'m gonna cum, Robs," you warned, gasping as he kissed down your neck and littered your skin with bites and bruises. His favorite things that you two would usually avoid.

"Then do it." He huffed, the hand on your hip tugging you closer as chased his own high as well.

Luckily for him, you got there first. A cry of pleasure, vision going fuzzy, ears ringing momentarily. He hissed as your walls pulsed around him, buried balls deep inside of you. He held back, nails digging into your hip. As you came down, he pulled out and almost immediately blew his load. It took two strokes of his cock before he spilled his cum over your lower belly, cock twitching in his grasp as he shuddered above you.

You stared up at him, still a little dizzy from your own climax. Robert blinked, panting heavily.

"Sorry." He huffed, glancing down at the mess he'd made. He reached over to the coffee table to grab a tissue for his hand before he stood with slightly shaky legs.

"'S fine." You muttered.

"Stay here. Jus... gimme one sec." He padded off down the hall, leaving you alone for only a minute or two before he came back with a clean pair of panties for you along with a warm, damp rag. He'd cleaned himself up and fixed his boxers, ditching his pants halfway down the hall. He hovered over you again, swaying slightly as he wiped you clean. He fixed your bra to let it sit properly before he helped you sit upright as he handed you the clean pair of panties.

You slipped the panties on, only to lay back down on the couch, groaning slightly. He snuggled his way to lie with you, grabbing the blanket as he spooned you from behind, tugging you closer.

"Love you." You murmured, eyes falling shut. Robert froze momentarily, blinking in a small moment of clarity.

"Yeah. Love you, too.." he whispered back, eyes falling closed as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, arm wrapped over your waist.

On the afternoon of the party, Robert was on his way to the vending machine in the break room when he spotted you, standing by the microwave while you waited for your instant noodles to heat up. When you heard footsteps, you turned around and greeted your fellow dispatcher with a warm smile.

“Hey, Robert,” you said, offering a half wave.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, trying to smooth out his dollar bill.

“Nothing much, just looking forward to tonight. Did you bring anything, or are you gonna mooch?” you asked, throwing him a wink.

“I brought Beef, I feel like that’s enough.”

“You bring him in every day, Robert. I don’t think it counts anymore. We get plenty of Beef.”

All he could do was chuckle and shake his head as he inserted the dollar into the slot. You weren’t exactly wrong, but who didn’t love his chihuahua? Hell, Chase had dedicated cubicle space for the little guy, he was practically their block’s mascot.

“For all this judging, I’m sure you’re bringing something?” he asked while punching in the code for his chips.

“I’m making homemade hot chocolate cookies, wise ass,” you replied, opening the microwave door after the timer beeped.

“Getting fancy, I see. Can’t believe you didn’t ask for a taste tester.”

You scoffed at that, adding your seasoning packet to your noodles and stirring them with a shake of your head.

“Maybe I did, and you were too busy,” you countered.

“We both know I’m never too busy for whatever you’ve got baking,” he replied with a quirk of his brow. You pushed his shoulder gently after he grabbed his chips from the vending machine drop off, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Ass,” you muttered, but there was a smile on your lips. If there was one thing you enjoyed about work, it was the banter you two shared. It felt natural, and he was surprisingly easy going at work. The few times you hung out after hours, he seemed relatively laid back, too, and it was nice to have someone at work who was so easy to talk to.

“Be still, my heart.” He placed his right hand over the left side of his chest, the hint of a smirk on his lips as you took your lunch back to your desk. As he watched you go, his gaze softened, and he took his own chips back to his desk to finish out his shift.

That night, Crypto Night was packed to the gills with members from the Torrance branch of SDN. Everyone was dressed nicely, even Robert, who had shown up in slacks and a polo that, for once, didn’t have the SDN logo on the chest. And, as promised, he had Beef under one arm, truly unable to leave the little guy at home. He greeted his coworkers with a wave, making his way through the bar to see what drink options were available. Along the way, however, he spotted you, standing across the room. You were practically glowing in the warm light of the bar, a drink in your hand and a bright smile on your face. 

“You alive in there? Earth to Robert!”

He was snapped back to reality by the sound of Chase’s voice, and he turned to look down at him with a sheepish smile.

“Yes, hi, I’m good,” he replied.

“Uh huh. If by ‘good’, you mean staring like a high motherfucker, sure.”

“I wasn’t staring, I was just, uh, taking in the decor. They did a great job, very festive in here.”

It was a lame excuse, he knew it was a lame excuse, but it was the best he could do. Clearly, Chase was unimpressed, but decided to let it go with a wave of his hand. Instead, he turned his attention to Beef, like he always did, and carefully swiped the overweight chihuahua out of Robert’s arms.

“Don’t gimme that look, he’ll be fine. Go and be merry or whatever the fuck,” he said, and before Robert could protest, Chase was gone, vanishing into the crowd with the little dog yipping happily at the attention.

Robert shook his head and made his way to the food table, taking in all of the goodies people had brought along with them. Company potlucks were such a wonderful thing. He began to make himself a plate, making sure to save enough room for one of your hot chocolate cookies, then forced himself to mingle with the others. He kept an eye out for you, but only managed to snag glimpses of you between the many bodies, and it felt like every time he tried to get close enough, something, or someone, pulled one of you away. Whether it was Royd coming to chat with him about the food or Herm simply asking how he was enjoying the party, everything was keeping him from you. And yet … he didn’t quite know why he wanted to be so close to you that night. You’d just seen each other at work hours before, and you’d see each other back at work on Monday. But he did want to tell you how good the cookies were …

He spotted you again, off to the side, like you were taking a break from the festivities, and he figured it was his chance. With his food finished and plate discarded, he began to squeeze past people, muttering ‘Excuse me’ as he tried his best to reach you. But when he finally got close enough, his eyes widened, and something in the back of his mind felt like it was roaring.

You were off to the side, sure, but so was Phenomaman, and he was engaging you in conversation. And while you were both off to the side, if one were to glance up ever so slightly, they would see a bit of mistletoe hanging from the rafters. Apparently, Phenomaman had glanced up, and he was currently asking you about it.

“This tiny plant encourages humans to kiss beneath it?” he asked, puzzled.

“Well, sort of? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s kind of an outdated tradition, especially for strangers,” you explained, trying not to overcomplicate it. After all, he was still learning human customs.

“I see. Well, we are not strangers. do we have to share a kiss?” he asked.

“We don’t have to, no,” you said, and he nodded like he reached some deep understanding.

“I see. On my planet, sharing a kiss is typically only for those who are married, and as we are merely friends, I will not ruin the positive relationship we have cultivated. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, and I will see you on Monday.”

You chuckled and nodded. “See you on Monday.”

As he left you on your own again, you let out a breath, then turned your head as a bit of movement caught your eye. You smiled once again as you spotted Robert making his way over to you, and you sipped at your drink.

“Hey, stranger,” you said, holding your glass with both hands. “Was wondering when I’d see you tonight.”

On the outside, he tried to be nonchalant. But on the inside, there was a little voice, a jealous voice in the back of his mind, demanding Phenomaman’s mustache on a platter. It made very little sense, but when he saw him with you, it set something off in his head.

“Believe me, I’ve been trying to find you all night. My compliments to the chef of those cookies,” he said, and like always, you gave his shoulder a playful shove.

“Thank you, I’m glad you liked them. So, you been having a good time tonight? I saw Chase pass through with Beef, and the little guy is having a blast.”

Robert found himself glancing at your lips as you spoke, but forced himself to look back at your eyes so he could answer you.

“Yeah, uh, it’s been nice. And, uh, you look nice, too,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, thanks. Honestly, I forgot I even owned this. But I found it last night and tossed it into the wash real quick …”

Your sentence trailed off as you caught him glancing at your mouth, and you tilted your head ever so slightly, brows pinched together in confusion.

“Do … do I have something in my teeth?” you asked, and his eyes widened.

“No! No, no, God no, you’re fine. I just, uh …”

The more he fumbled with his words, the more you began to understand. And when you glanced up again, he followed your gaze, looking up at the mistletoe. When you looked back down a bit, and your eyes met his, it was like time slowed down. You could feel him leaning in, see his head tilting slightly, and your eyes shut as his lips met yours for a soft, and all too short, kiss under the mistletoe.

When he pulled back, it was only slight, and you swore you could feel him smiling in that self assured way he had.

“You free tomorrow? ‘Cause it feels like we’re on the same page here …” he whispered, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m free. Pick me up around noon for lunch?” you asked.

The smell of food, both savory and sweet wafts around the apartment. His kitchen is a mess, splotches of tomato sauce on the counters, streaks of mashed potatoes left on the mixing bowl, dollops of chocolate clinging on the wall, scattered egg shells, and flour dusted on the floor when he slipped on the aforementioned egg shell. He’d clean up, but the lasagna still needs finishing, and the lemon cookies are still in the oven so he can’t possibly put the lasagna in whilst the dessert is still in there.

When his hand isn’t as red, and when beef has returned to his nap, Robert gently takes his hand away from the water, shutting the faucet and cringing at the pile of dishes in the sink as he dabs his hand gently with a towel.

With a sigh, he places the towel on his shoulder, hands on his hips as he thinks of you and your possible reaction once you see the spread he has made. He could just picture your expression so well in his head, your eyes are bright and wide, gasping and beaming at him before jumping his bones. Well, the last part could be omitted, especially when the dinner he prepared for you just for this occasion isn’t finished just yet. Even when he took a half day at the SDN, the time he had left to prepare still felt like it wasn’t enough.

As of now as he stares at the mess he made, the spread isn’t up to his standards, not yet anyway. When it comes to you, he wants it to be absolutely perfect. He hasn’t cooked a decent meal that doesn’t have an ‘instant’ in the name in a long time, so it’s a personal challenge for himself too, to see if he still could. To see if he could take care of you properly without busting out the corned beef or instant ramen.

His eyes couldn’t help but glance at the stack of index cards right on the counter again. The paper is now all worn out, yellowed with its edges frayed, judging by the looks of it, it has evidence of accidentally getting it drenched years ago and being dried off frantically, either by his mom or even his grandmother. Somehow it still survived to this day, but the memory of the stack of papers lingers in Robert’s mind. He still remembers reaching for it when he could barely see atop the counter, pretending to read it out loud even when he couldn’t read just yet to help his mom with the cooking, which she obliges with a smile. Letting him blabber off incoherently while she stirs the pot or chops vegetables.

The memory doesn’t make his heart ache anymore as he remembers it more fondly now, warmer rather than making him feel cold and alone.

Back then, cooking was something Robert looked forward to, with his mom putting down a stool beside her for him to sit on and watch. Sometimes she’d let him stir, and more often, she’d let him lick the icing off the spoon when she makes something extra special. Now, he wishes that cooking would become something special again, even though he was young, he could remember how much it meant to him and his mom, it was nice and warm, like a cup of coffee in the morning, or a kiss good morning from you. Maybe someday he could cook with you, that someday he’d show you the index cards filled with scribbles of Robertson women that they have passed down and added to through the years. Maybe someday, you’d add a recipe in it too.

With a soft smile, Robert’s eyes drift to the clock on the wall, seeing that you’re almost home, he sucks in a breath, and heads back into the fray.

By the end of it, the table is all set with a checkered table cloth, candles set in an iridescent candelabra and a bouquet of your favorites placed down on your chair. It’s nothing special, just some things he has picked up over the course of the week to prepare for today. He hid it inside the mechaman suit together with some of the non-perishable ingredients he bought. Maybe he should’ve cranked up the aircon in there to store the chocolate since you managed to find it and ate a few pieces.

Even so, Robert still did pretty good considering that he barely had enough time to bring it all together. He just wishes that he could make the table setting a little bit prettier, like heart shaped plates or some mass produced Valentine's thing to tie it all together. Should he spread some rose petals or the floor or something?

The food is all prepared and ready on the counter that he had to scrub down until he could see his reflection on it. But the kitchen is still a hot mess, dishes piled up into a mountain of grease and chocolate, and the smell of tomato sauce seems to have made a home right on the stove top.

“Shit.” Biting the inside of his cheek, Robert checks the time again, anxiety bubbling up in his chest as Beef licks something on the floor. Judging from the colour of it, it’s the gravy he made from scratch. “Beef, no— you know what, go ahead, you’re helping me out.” The dog gladly continues licking the floor clean.

“Right, ten minutes before you get here, don’t panic.” Just as he says it, his phone pings, the screen flashing as it shows your text message that you’re on your way that’s all topped off with a kiss emoji and an eggplant emoji beside it that has Robert chuckling to himself. He’d reply something wittier than a thumbs up but he has to move lest you see the mess.

Robert has to make due with the lack of time, especially when he hasn't showered yet and still smells like a line cook during lunch rush. When he enters the bathroom to at least wash his face, he gets an idea. He grabs the shower curtain straight from the bathroom to drape it over the mess in the kitchen. Not his brightest idea but problem solved if you don’t look under it, or question why the shower curtain is there.

The only remaining problem is the messy floor, so he goes to grab the mop, only to accidentally walk in a puddle of spilled tomato sauce. Managing to grab hold of the counter, he doesn’t fall on his ass, saving himself from a nasty fall. He could only imagine you coming home to him groaning on the floor with a shattered tail bone and the two of you would have to spend Valentine’s day in the emergency room.

But as he feels something squishy under his hand, he turns his attention from his tomato covered socks to his hand that is deep inside the warm lasagna. “Fuck.”

The door clicks open, and you enter with a grin. “Robbie, guess what!” You pause when you see him caught red handed, literally, with his hand dripping in tomato sauce and cheese. Your eyes drift down, seeing the red mess staining his favorite socks. “Did the Italians attack you or something?” You’re still in your suit, looking as great as ever as you place your hand on your hip, while the other is hidden behind you.

“Yeah, it’s because I broke the pasta in half.” He says monotonously, but his smiling eyes say otherwise.

“Damn, you deserve life without parole for that.” Crouching down, you pick up an excited Beef, who was begging for your attention by jumping on your legs. The crinkle of plastic behind you should be obvious to him, but he’s too focused on your smile to notice, and the sauce on his fingers. “Hi, baby, oh, why do you smell delicious?”

Robert wipes his hands clean on the towel, “Probably because of these.” He hops on one foot, trying not to track any more mess as he moves away to show you the spread on the island counter. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

“Holy shit, did I walk into a buffet?” Just like he thought, you look exhilarated, eyes sparkling, grinning from ear to ear as you carry Beef in one arm. Chuckling, your mouth waters from the spread.

“Lasagna, mashed potatoes, roast beef, and lemon cookies, fucking hell, which restaurant did you raid?”

Crossing the distance with one sock left behind on the floor, Robert cups your elbow lovingly whilst he keeps eye contact with you. “I made it.”

“Which one?” Your pupils dilate as you gaze at him, biting your lip, resisting the urge to smile even bigger lest you look like a maniac in front of him.

“Everything.”

“No fucking way.” Chuckling, nudging his knee with your own, Robert just nods as a confirmation. “Holy fucking shit!” You drop the flowers so you could properly hug him. “You can cook?!” Beef huffs in between you, trapped but his tail wags happily. “Now I know why you wanted me to get some ice and sugar from the shop to delay me.”

“I made mac and cheese and grilled cheese for you before.” Robert snorts, embracing you as his face finds the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of the city left behind on your skin, mixed with your favorite perfume. “I can cook, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, but I thought that you can only make cheese related stuff!” Leaning away, you cup his jaw, peppering his face with kisses. From his eyelids to the tip of his nose, no space is left unkissed until he feels his chest fill with warmth and utter love for you. “This.” Kiss. “Is.” Kiss “A full course meal!”

“It’s more like a one course type of meal.” He says in between nervous chuckles and smooches.

Gasping in feigned offense, you cradle his face, feeling his scruff in your palm. “Don’t insult my boyfriend like that!” Beef agrees with a quiet bark.

“Thank you.” Face squished, he smiles and brushes away a stray strand of hair away from your face before his hands land right on your waist, squeezing you thrice for good measure. “I was trying to impress you if that wasn't obvious.”

“Color me impressed, Robert. You did good,” you sigh longingly, “and I’m absolutely starving.”

“You’re not going to pick up my flowers?” His brow raises, pecking your palm and then the inside of your wrist whilst he keeps eye contact with you.

“Sorry, I got distracted by the gourmet food laid out for me.” Crouching down to pick up the bouquet, Beef hops out of your arm and trots over to the dinner table with the cute table setting that has you pausing in place. “Fuck me sideways.” Your eyes sparkle at the sight.

“Maybe dinner first, babe.” Reaching for you with a helping hand, thankfully you’re too distracted by all the good things to see the off putting shower curtain draped over the sink and kitchen counter.

The bouquet crinkles in your hand as your gaze is glued onto the dinner table with its fine table setting. The sunset paints the whole apartment in calm orange and gentle pink hues, soft against the wine glasses as the light reflects on the glass.

Robert takes your chin in between his index and thumb, caressing your skin lovingly as he turns your head to face him. If that wasn’t enough to get your attention, his thumb brushes along your bottom lip. With a quiet longing sigh, your eyes flick to him, his piercing gaze stays on you even when you stagger on unsteady feet.

“Hi.” A giddy grin spreads across your face as he holds onto your hips to help steady you. “This is for you.” The sunflowers and baby’s breath brightens his eyes.

“Why, thank you.” And yet, Robert doesn’t take it, instead, he takes you in his arms, playfully twisting you around, chest to chest as you giggle about.

“D’you like them?” With sparkling eyes, you bat your lashes at him.

“I do, sweetheart.” For added reassurance, Robert brings his nose close to the bouquet placed in between you as he takes a good whiff. “I like sunflowers and I like you, win-win for me.”

“That’s good.” You sigh in relief. “It took me way too long to pick out which flowers you would like.”

“You should’ve taken another minute or two because I need to clean myself up. I swear that I have tomato sauce behind my ear.”

“I knew you were stalling me.” Chuckling, you peck his lips affectionately before letting go that has Robert questioning if you’d still like him even if he smells like a mixture of garlic and chocolate. “I could smell it!” Face planting right in the crook of his neck, you blow raspberries atop his skin.

Robert tried to keep it in, but the unmanly giggle he let out was enough for him to hold you at arms length. You tilt your head innocently, beaming at him with a chortle.

“What?” Biting your lip, you flutter your lashes at him.

“I need to shower.” That took a lot from him to resist you.

“Only if I can join.”

Robert almost chokes on his own spit, but a smirk replaces his brief shock, hand in hand as he tugs you to the bathroom without a second thought or a word lest he manages to ruin the moment.

You enter the bathroom and you see something, or the lack of something for that matter. “Where the fuck is the shower curtain?”

—

“Holy shit, I can’t believe your grandma did that!” Hair dried and belly full of food, the lemon cookie in your hand almost crumbles from your shock.

“Grandpa wasn’t even surprised she pulled a shotgun at him.” Chuckling with a shake of his head, Robert feeds Beef some beef from the leftover lasagna.

Leftover is an overstatement when there’s barely any left after you two devoured it. He cooked it way too good for any to be left for tomorrow. To Beef’s dismay, and according to Robert, to Chase’s too when he found out about Robert’s surprise.

Robert could still picture your expression the moment you took the first bite, it’s safe to say that he has tucked that image in his brain as something special. Everything was so good that even Robert questioned himself if he was the one who cooked it. He gives full credit to the women in his family for each recipe. It was too good in fact that you almost jumped his bones again right there and then, if the smell of roast beef didn’t waft towards you, the food would’ve gotten cold just because the two of you were insatiable in the spirit of the holiday.

The candle wax melts down onto the table, but Robert doesn’t care when there’s a pretty sight in front of him. The light from your expression was enough to illuminate the space around him.

“Damn, now that’s a woman.” Finishing your desert, your hand slides back atop his hand that’s placed on the table.

“I think she would’ve loved you.” Robert says wholeheartedly with a squeeze of your hand.

“Yeah?” You smile fondly, eyes glimmering tearfully. “I would’ve loved to meet her and your mom.”

“Yeah, me too, sweetheart.” Sighing longingly, he brings the intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a heavy kiss right on the back of your hand.

“They’d be proud of you, y’know.” Your voice softens as you squeeze his hand.

“They’d be happy enough that I managed to follow their recipes.”

“Not just that.” Leaning forward on the table, you take his hand and bring it to your heart. “They’d be proud of everything you’ve done.”

His chest fills with warmth, the back of his eyes stings with hot tears and his breath hitches. Clearing his throat, Robert stands up, takes your face in his hands and kisses you above the table lovingly. You taste like the lemon cookies he made, tangy and sweet as it mixes with the chocolates he had.

Your hand cups the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss. The room fills with the sounds of your lips dancing together, breaths mixing together in harmony. A hazy warmth fills you, and Robert staggers forward with his elbow accidentally knocking down the martini he expertly made for you. But you don’t really mind as you continue to kiss him fervently. You’d kiss him forever if you could, but you need air.

Robert leans away, gaze immediately flicking to your eyes as you could see your lovestruck expression right on them.

Your palm brushes away the stray strands that dangle over his eyes. “We’ve made a mess.” Giggling, you peck him once more, then another and another until you’re satisfied. Even though you’re still starving for more, you lean away, wiping his kiss bitten lips gently with your thumb. “Thank you, Robbie, this was amazing.”

“You’re welcome.” With his knuckles brushing along your jaw, he smiles and wipes away a crumb that was stuck in the corner of your lips. “Can you wait for me in bed?”

You pause for a moment before standing up, he thinks that you’re about to do just that, but then you start to clean up the table. “If that’s an excuse to clean up by yourself then it didn’t work.”

“Made you blink though.” Chuckling, Robert goes to help pick up the dirty plates with you.

“It did, but what kind of person am I to leave you to clean up the mess all by yourself?”

He lets out a playful scoff. “If there wasn’t any, you’d be in bed right now.”

“Oh, absolutely, while wearing your Valentine’s present, no doubt about it.” Grinning, you look over your shoulder to send him a wink. You then face the presumed mess concealed under the inconspicuous shower curtain. “I can’t believe I missed a whole shower curtain in the kitchen.”

“My what?” Robert flings the shower curtain away from the sink and counter. The mess has him second guessing why he revealed it to you after what you said. Would it hurt to do it tomorrow instead? “What present?”

“Dishes first.” Rolling up your sleeve, you grab the sponge before something catches your attention. “What’s that?”

Following your line of sight, Robert picks up the index cards, looking at it for a second, smiling before giving it to you. “The recipes.”

You take the papers in your hand carefully as if it’ll crumble to dust. “Wow, there’s a lot.” Sniffing, you fake a cough instead of letting out the sob that was stuck in your throat. Thumb hovering above the name written atop the lasagna recipe, you give him a wobbly smile.

“It’s a lot but there’s always space to add more.” Taking a step forward, Robert grasps at your waist, warm hands squeezing you in place. “If you want.”

“Can I, really?” He nods as you take another look at the cards. “I have a few recipes in mind, and I can laminate these so it doesn’t get damaged.”

Pulling you close, Robert smiles on the crown of your head as you hug him back with your arms enveloping around him warmly. “Yeah, I’d love that, sweetheart.”

That’s what you realized you guys were when you finally dropped the news about your parents being beloved heroes…only to find out that it was the same for Robert, too.

Sure, the two of you would talk to each other in the hallways at work and in the breakroom. And sure, you guys started chatting a lot more when the dispatch floor shuffling everyone around led to you being placed in the cubicle right beside him. And yeah, the two of you grab dinner and sometimes even drinks after particularly long shifts at work. And of course, he asked for your number long before you guys made that routine.

But for some reason, the word friend didn’t come to mind when you thought of him. After all, you had so many ways to describe him. The cute new guy, back when he was still new to the office. Or the funny guy from across the room, back when you guys were still sitting apart. And by the time the two of you were sitting side by side, he was just your coworker, Robert. Until he was your buddy, Robert, who was almost always down for dinner when the assholes on either of your teams messed up what should have been an easy day. But sometime after that, he became your drinking partner. And sometime after that, he became the guy who would insist you text to let him know he got home safe. And then somewhere along the way…sometime after too many beers at your place, he became something else.

A friend.

But it’s still a little strange to call him that. Sure, you finally felt like you could trust him enough to stop beating around the bush when talking about your parents' old job to clarify they weren’t the typical first responders you tend to lead most people into believing. And yeah, based on what you shared, you somehow inspired Robert to spill as well, despite the fact that he almost never ever talks about his family. Like ever. But it’s still strange to call him a friend. It doesn’t sit right on your tongue, and it doesn’t fit right in your head. And now more than ever, it feels almost hard to give him this new label. Despite the fact that you’ve given him so many before this. And yet…

You think it has something to do with what you know now.

Not just about his parents, but about him. Because by the way he talked about his parents- or more specifically, his father- it led you to correctly guess that he is Mechaman. The very Robert sitting on your couch, helping you drink all the bottles you had left after your last house party, is Mechaman. Or was. Was Mechaman. But still.

That means he’s a hero. One of the heroes you used to follow. One of the heroes you used to root for. One of the heroes you used to admire. And still do, to be honest.

So yeah, it’s weird. People don’t really get to meet their heroes all the time. And when they do, it’s usually because they don’t know it’s them, walking out and about on the street like they’re just some normal person. Having hero parents and working at SDN, of course, changed that for you. But this was different. This was the Mechaman. But it was also Robert. Your Robert. Your Robert, whom you couldn’t help but crush on when he started working with you. Your Robert, who you could always count on for some dry humor or a joke that definitely would have gotten him a visit from HR at your old office. Your Robert, who already knows where to find the cups and plates and pans in your cupboards because he’s been at your place so many times before this.

Your Robert was Mechaman. Your Robert has fought so, so many people and saved so, so many more. Your Robert is the only hero you managed to admire almost as much as your parents. Your Robert, who has tons and tons and tons of fans. Including you. Especially including you.

But he’s also your friend. Your friend. Even though you struggle to call him that.

Though, to be fair, you don’t typically call the guys you fall into bed with your friends. Because at that point, you can’t help but feel like they become something more.

Days later, you find that you’re still feeling that way. You try to be normal. You try to be cool. You try to talk to your friend at work because that’s a normal and cool thing to do for a coworker you’ve gotten close to. But it’s hard. It’s so hard because now that you know who he is, it’s hard to look at him in the SDN uniform and not imagine the flight suit he was wearing at the press conference where he announced his retirement.

But in the same way, it’s hard to look at him in the SDN uniform and not imagine how that same uniform was at one point on the floor of your bedroom.

Just like it’s hard not to imagine how those same hands he has typing away at his keyboard were once inside of your pussy, curling away at your warm, wet, insides as you squirmed on the bed for him. And how that same voice he’s currently using to bark orders to his team was once humming words of encouragement in your ear after he had you damn near sobbing in overstimulation. And how he…he…

Friend.

You remind yourself of that word when you realize that you’ve been staring at him for far too long instead of doing your own work. You’re supposed to be friends. You’re friends with your hero. You're friends with your coworker. You’re friends with the best lay of your life. You’re friends with Robert. That’s why it’s so important for you to get over these complex feelings and figure out what’s so important for you to figure out where he stands in your life and mind and heart. But before all that, you actually have to try to be normal about this. Which starts by turning back around in your seat and finally, finally, finally facing your computer so you can get back to all the work you’ve been neglecting today.