ART BLOG!- @caprenoctem | hello! you can call me Dee or Crow | pfp by Remuscore | kz/ru/eng | she/her | kazakh | infj | many fandoms: Sanders Sides, Helluvaverse, Dispatch, Arcane, PJO, EPIC and obsession with greek mythology, Good Omens, the Sandman & DBDA, OFMD, WWDITS, musical theatre, Moon Knight, Gotham & other superhero stuff | ask is open
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TThis is just another self-indulgent post of me projecting my fear of fireworks onto Robert, but it's also a reminder to take care of the ones you love and care about (whether it's a pet, a friend, or family) during fireworks <3
On the large couch in the living room, with the TV playing some random show that's long since been forgotten, Robert sits anxiously staring at his phone.
His eyes stay glued to the map.
The little blue dot marking Flambae's phone finally reaches the entrance to the apartment complex.
"There you are," Robert murmurs to himself.
He locks his phone and sits up straighter, already smiling.
He can't help it whenever he remembers his boyfriend's last text.
what are you wearing?
The pause before it had lasted almost a full minute.
Robert knows exactly what happened during that minute.
Flambae had turned around.
Again.
Even after falling for it the first time.
Robert still isn't over how hard he'd laughed.
The metallic click of the front door unlocking pulls him out of his thoughts.
He's already on his feet before the door is fully open.
"Hey—"
Flambae walks right past him.
It's so fast that Robert doesn't even get the usual few seconds he normally takes to close the door whenever Flambae comes home with groceries. Instead, Flambae kicks it shut with his heel, not waiting for Robert to help.
The rustle of reusable grocery bags and heavy footsteps crossing the entryway are the only signs the pyrokinetic is home.
"...babe," Robert finishes, watching him disappear toward the kitchen.
Instead of answering, Flambae heads straight there to deal with the groceries.
Robert follows, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
He knows exactly what he did.
"So... I'm guessing you finally realized I wasn't actually at the grocery store."
Flambae reaches the kitchen island, drops the bags onto the countertop with a dull thud, and starts unpacking them.
"You know, I almost felt bad," Robert says, leaning one hip against the counter. "I mean... not during it. But after."
Flambae acts as though Robert isn't even in the room.
Robert watches him pull everything out of the bags and put it away with practiced precision.
Rice. Beans. Lentils. Quinoa. Pasta.
"So we're doing the silent treatment, huh," Robert tries again after a few seconds.
Canned goods disappear into the pantry.
Corn. Peas. Tuna. Tomato sauce. Hearts of palm.
"You know," Robert continues conversationally, "if you're trying to punish me, you're supposed to yell."
Still nothing.
Starting to feel genuinely frustrated at being ignored, Robert begins digging through the remaining grocery bags, helping empty and put everything away.
Careful not to bump into him — or even look at him — Flambae picks up a bag of apples and starts washing them at the sink.
Robert keeps glancing at his boyfriend's back before something catches his attention.
Or rather...
The absence of something.
His beloved Twinkies.
Everything else is there.
Everything except the one thing he'd actually miss.
"Mhm..." Robert clears his throat. "Where are the Twinkies?"
Without turning around, calmly arranging the freshly washed apples into the fruit bowl, Flambae answers,
"I forgot."
Robert knows that's bullshit.
Flambae might complain, religiously, about buying his Twinkies every single shopping trip...
But he never forgets them.
Never.
So Robert knows exactly what's happening.
He's being punished for the prank.
Robert scratches the back of his neck.
"...Okay."
For the first time since the front door opened...
His smile disappears.
"...Maybe I deserved that."
Flambae doesn't answer.
He's already moving again, wiping a few drops of condensation off the countertop with a dish towel.
Robert watches him.
Suddenly, the silence isn't nearly as entertaining anymore.
He walks around the kitchen island until he's standing directly in Flambae's path.
Flambae immediately sidesteps him.
Robert mirrors the movement, blocking him again.
Flambae lets out a sharp breath through his nose.
"...Move."
Robert looks up at him.
"No."
"I said move."
"I heard you."
Flambae tries going the other way, only for Robert to slide back in front of him again.
Their little dance continues across the kitchen tiles.
"Robert!" Flambae huffs, exasperated, crossing his arms as his eyes burn with barely contained irritation.
"I'm sorry," Robert says without joking this time. "I shouldn't have doubled down."
Silence.
Flambae looks away.
His expression softens just a little.
Robert steps closer, carefully.
"I shouldn't have pulled that prank in the first place."
Still nothing.
Robert sighs. He knows he's going to have to swallow a little more of his pride.
"I was being an asshole."
Flambae finally looks at him.
Not with his usual warmth. But not nearly as angry anymore.
“You made me look like a complete fool in public...” Flambae narrows his eyes. "...Twice."
Robert bites the inside of his cheek, holding back a laugh. "Sorry."
Flambae points a finger right at his face.
"And then you called me an idiot, you little shit..."
Robert has to look away for a second to hide another smile.
"When you say it out loud, it sounds..."
"Horrible?" Flambae finishes, planting both hands on his hips as he leans slightly toward Robert. "Because it is."
Robert looks back at him.
"I was gonna say 'less funny.'"
Flambae lets out the faintest sound through his nose.
Not quite a laugh.
Barely even a scoff.
But it's the first crack in the wall.
"Unbelievable," Flambae mutters with a disbelieving chuckle before walking around Robert and leaving the kitchen.
Robert watches him go, grinning from ear to ear again.
He knows Flambae walked away because staying would make it impossible to keep pretending he was still mad.
I wouldn’t be surprised with robery not liking fireworks. Especially after being blown up in the mech
Like can you just imagine him hearing fireworks (because people are idiots) and Visi freaking out in the group chat asking for Flambae to get here because Robert is having a panic attack?
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Robert: Some dude tried to stab me and ruined my favorite jacket.
Chad: wtf are you okay?
Chad: you didn't tell me you got stabbed
Robert: Yeah cause it's not a big deal let's focus on the bigger issue, my jacket
ref
This is SO them imo!!! And even tho I'm always worrying about characterization, I feel like this is the most in-character texting fic I've ever written. Loved, loved, loved it. Thank you anon <3
The first firework exploded so far away it barely registered as anything more than a dull thud echoing through the night air.
Robert blinked quickly. His fingers froze halfway through throwing Beef's toy, and his shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly before he forced them to relax again.
It was probably just someone setting one off early, he told himself. It happened every year. People could be impatient.
He threw the toy anyway.
Another muffled boom echoed through the neighborhood at the exact same moment.
Beef immediately abandoned the toy and darted beneath the coffee table, trembling so violently that the little bone-shaped tag on his collar jingled nonstop.
"There you are," Robert murmured as he knelt beside the table. "Hey... it's okay. Come here."
The Chihuahua didn't budge.
As Robert lowered himself onto the hardwood floor, stretching out on his stomach so he could reach underneath the table, he heard the front door unlock and open.
Flambae was home.
Robert let out a small breath of relief. He reached one arm beneath the coffee table until Beef finally crawled into his hands. The little dog's heart pounded so hard against his palms it almost hurt.
"I know," Robert whispered, more to himself than to Beef as he cradled the Chihuahua against his chest. "I don't like it either. But it's just tonight. I promise."
"I brought snacks," Flambae announced cheerfully as he walked in, grinning while holding up two stuffed grocery bags for his boyfriend to see.
The moment his eyes landed on Robert's exhausted, tense expression, though, his smile softened.
"...Hey."
He set the bags down on the kitchen counter and hurried over to them.
Robert managed a small smile as he stroked Beef's head.
"Hey."
Without another word, Flambae wrapped both of them in a hug.
His strong arms settled carefully around Robert — and, by extension, the trembling Chihuahua curled in Robert's lap — offering silent reassurance to them both.
Robert exhaled, letting some of the tension leave his body with the breath.
Not just because — well, obviously — having his boyfriend here made everything feel a little easier.
But also because he realized he'd been holding his breath for... who even knew how long.
No more than half an hour later, Robert's usually sparse living room had slowly transformed into a cozy little bunker.
The curtains stayed open, allowing soft flashes of red, white, and blue in the distance to drift across the walls and floor, but every window was shut tight. The balcony door was closed as well.
On the side table beside the couch sat a small Bluetooth speaker Flambae had brought over, quietly playing an old playlist of songs Robert loved. The overhead lights remained off, replaced by the green table lamp Flambae had given him months ago, filling the room with a warm amber glow.
Curled up on a thick rug in front of the couch, Robert sat with Beef resting comfortably in his lap. With one hand, he reached for another slice of pizza from the open box on the floor while using the other to keep the stretchy cheese just out of reach of Beef's watchful nose.
"I brought wraps," Flambae said while digging through one of the bags he'd left on the couch. "And some calming treats for him. Oh—and..."
He peeked into the second bag.
"...one, two, three different kinds of snacks because I wasn't sure which ones you’d like."
"The pizza's already more than enough," Robert replied around a mouthful of food. "You really didn't have to do all this, you know."
"Tch," Flambae clicked his tongue dismissively before pointing at Beef. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it so I can spend more time with Beef."
Robert smiled to himself.
As if accepting the explanation, Beef simply rested his chin on Robert's thigh.
Flambae gathered the rest of the things from the bags before settling onto the rug between Robert, the bowls of chips, and the unopened cans of soda.
Without thinking, Robert scooted a little closer with Beef still in his lap.
The two of them sat cross-legged on the thick cream-colored rug Flambae had given him months earlier after noticing Robert always preferred sitting on the floor whenever they watched movies together.
It had taken Robert a long time to realize just how often he unconsciously found himself returning to that rug whenever he felt overwhelmed.
Now it simply felt like another layer of safety.
Robert was absentmindedly combing his fingers through the rug's soft fibers, when Flambae gently lifted Beef off his lap, finally catching his attention back.
"You okay?" Flambae asked, glancing sideways at him as he carefully got to work with Beef.
A wide elastic wrap settled snugly around the Chihuahua's chest without restricting his movement, applying a steady, comforting pressure. Flambae's fingers moved with remarkable patience as he adjusted it.
Robert nodded before asking, "When did you learn how to do that?"
Flambae smiled without looking up. He finished wrapping the band around Beef and tied it off—firm enough to stay in place, but never too tight.
"About five minutes before I came over."
Robert let out a quiet laugh.
He watched Beef's tiny eyelids slowly begin to droop as Flambae gently scratched behind his ears before fitting a pair of soft canine ear covers over them as well.
For a little while, a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by Robert's playlist humming softly in the background. Then—
BOOM.
A distant explosion rolled across the night.
No. Not that distant.
That one had sounded much closer.
This time, Beef barely reacted.
Robert wished he could say the same.
His heart lurched painfully inside his chest.
Before he even realized it, every muscle in his body had tightened again. His breathing caught, then returned in short, shallow breaths that made his chest ache. Something heavy began building beneath his ribs, squeezing tighter with every distant explosion echoing through the neighborhood.
They'd started.
For real this time.
Another boom. Another firework exploding overhead.
Flambae moved so quickly Robert barely registered it. He shoved aside whatever was still between them and gently cupped Robert's face in both hands.
"I'm here, okay?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Robert's forehead. "I've got you, baby."
Robert blinked, still looking slightly dazed, before giving a small nod.
His shoulders remained painfully tense.
"Could you..." His voice came out barely above a whisper. "...hold me?"
Flambae didn't hesitate. He shifted behind Robert on the rug and wrapped both arms securely around his boyfriend's torso, holding him firmly but gently.
"Tell me if this ever starts feeling like too much, okay?"
Robert nodded again.
But they both knew he wasn't going to ask Flambae to let go.
Having his boyfriend there was the only thing keeping him anchored to the present instead of slipping into the terrifying certainty trying to convince him that every relentless explosion outside meant danger — that something terrible was about to happen.
The explosions kept coming. One after another.
Unfortunately, the city's fireworks display was being held only a few blocks away from Robert's apartment complex. Every blast could be heard clearly, and every burst of color reflected through the glass balcony door.
Red. White. Blue.
Each flash painted the inside of the apartment before fading just as quickly.
Within Flambae's embrace, Robert trembled.
His chest ached with every shallow breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to put some distance between himself and the noise outside.
It didn't really help.
The flashes still painted the darkness through his eyelids.
After a while, they stopped looking like fireworks. They became something else.
Warning lights flashing across the control panel of his mech suit.
Alarms.
Foreign device detected.
Temperature rising.
Altitude dropping.
System failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
The suit's system voice repeated the same warning over and over as gravity itself seemed to disappear.
Metal creaked before panels tore free and disappeared into open air.
Thick black smoke swallowed the sky as he fell.
Fell—
—and the ground kept getting closer.
Another explosion. Closer. Louder.
"Bob?" A warm hand brushed gently against his cheek. "Babe?"
Another blast thundered outside.
Robert jerked violently in Flambae's arms before slowly shaking his head, trying to force himself back into the room.
"...Sorry," he whispered, curling in on himself even more.
"Don't apologize." Flambae's voice was gentle, but firm.
Both of his hands rubbed slow, reassuring circles over Robert's waist.
"It's stupid..." Robert muttered.
He shifted just enough to scoop Beef back into his lap, instinctively wrapping both arms around the little dog the same way Flambae was holding him.
"They’re loud, sudden noises," Flambae said quietly, resting his chin on Robert's shoulder. "It makes perfect sense that your body's scared."
His voice softened even further.
"You don't have to act like it's nothing." A small pause. "...Not with me."
Robert hummed weakly in acknowledgment. His body didn't.
His pulse raced so fast he couldn't separate one heartbeat from the next.
A quiet whine escaped him. Almost instinctively, he folded forward, shielding both his head and Beef with his body.
Sensing his owner's distress, Beef answered with a few gentle licks against Robert's cheek.
Flambae adjusted with him.
Without ever letting go, he leaned over Robert's back as much as he could, shielding him with his own body. One hand settled between Robert's shoulder blades. The other rested firmly against his chest.
No restraint. Just grounding.
"You're here, Bob," Flambae murmured. "You're home. I'm taking care of you."
He rested his forehead lightly against Robert's shoulder.
His heart was breaking.
He wished there were more he could do.
Another explosion echoed outside.
Robert flinched so hard his entire body jolted.
Carefully, Flambae lifted both hands and gently covered Robert's ears. It wasn't enough to block the noise completely, but it softened the more distant booms.
Then Flambae started talking.
About absolutely anything. About nothing at all. Whatever came to mind.
Every word became another layer between Robert and the fireworks, and that was all that mattered.
"Remember when Beef stole my burger?" he asked with a faint smile.
Something escaped Robert that landed somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
They stayed like that for several more minutes.
Little by little, the fireworks seemed to be winding down. The explosions grew farther apart, each silence lasting a little longer than the last.
Eventually, Robert let himself lean back again.
Ironically, Beef stretched with a sleepy little grunt, looking completely unbothered by the noise that had terrified him earlier.
Taking advantage of the moment, Flambae tightened his embrace just enough for Robert to feel another heartbeat besides his own.
A slow and steady one.
His hand found Robert's trembling fingers. "Can you feel my hand?"
Robert couldn't answer yet.
Flambae laced their fingers together anyway. "There you go."
He gave Robert's hand a gentle squeeze. "This is real."
Robert's breathing still wavered between shaky gasps and uneven breaths, but after a long moment, he managed a small nod.
Slowly, he turned his head just enough to look at Flambae.
Instead of words, he was greeted by another kiss, this time against his temple.
"I love you," Robert whispered, his voice rough, the words catching in his throat.
Flambae rested his forehead against Robert's and smiled.
"Yeah..." he murmured. "Guess I could say the same…”
Beef chose that exact moment to press himself insistently against Robert's stomach, demanding attention.
Robert stared at him for a second before lowering one still-shaky hand to stroke his back.
Soft fur. Warm. Real.
Beef answered with a single lick to Robert's wrist before climbing higher, practically scrambling onto his chest to shower his face with more kisses.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Robert managed a full, deep breath. A small smile tugged at his lips.
Outside, the neighborhood had finally gone quiet.
The fireworks were over. He wasn't being blown apart. He wasn't falling. He was home.
And the two steady heartbeats beside him were enough to remind his own that, at last, it was safe to let its guard down.
This is super short and barely proofread but I literally LOVE the idea of Robert casually entering an MMB cosplay contest in his actual suit and losing to someone else + the Z-Team knowing Robert and Mecha Man well enough to think they’re qualified to critically judge the cosplays in their own judgy way…
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If without things that you that made me worthy, father should I allow to live…
I’ve always been interested in Robert’s relationship with his legacy and masculinity (daddy issue) more than anything in Dispatch lol. I think it was such a cool concept we can get on with his character development like Robert story is easily about how much his worthiness is tied with his family achievements, and it is what drove him to be passively suicidal, risking and expending his life for ‘heroism’ and isn’t that interesting that heroism is also a masculine ideal that inspired a lot of men, yet setting an impossible standard based on physical strength and ability to protect, when there are much more to be a person than what we are made to believe.
However I know Robert has other role to fill, which is to be some kind of player’s vassal, a common man that an average player can relate or self insert to. And for that reason, his story cannot be more than that. It has a role to retell the triumphant of heroism and masculinity: to regain his power, overcome his temporary downfall and get the girl in the end. The world needs story to comfort men in this ever changing and scary reality, and who am I to oppose such things. Would be cool if they expand this in the future tho! I really like this game.
Robert who doesn't glance twice at Flambae's usual skintight tits-out costume but sees Flambae fixing his car in grease-stained overalls and nearly swallows his tongue
Friend has an HC where Robert is a Ryan Gosling enjoyer and that while drunk would be those fangirls that keep passionately talking about either how Ryan Gosling was in movies or just be like "God, hes so me fr"
And im imagining hes having either conversation with Flambae
Now, I’m thinking about a movie being filmed using SDN’s offices as the main character is a dispatcher. Guess who is the male lead: Ryan Gosling! And, Blonde blazer thought it would be fun to have Ryan shadow Robert so he can learn more about dispatching for the film.
Blonde blazer tries to keep it hush-hush but news spread by Invisigal unknown sources that there will be a movie with Ryan Gosling being filmed at the office and the z-team dispatcher was selected to teach the famous actor about dispatching.
The z-team is excited, expect for Flambae. That man is shook by the news. Ryan Gosling will be in the same office as Robert, Ryan Gosling will be shadowing and hanging out with Robert. The only man Robert told him that he would leave Flambae for (Robert did say it as a joke) will be around his man and will try to seduce Robert away!
(This is not true as Ryan Gosling is straight and in a relationship).
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more robert doing karaoke please? he needs to put that voice to good use
Friday nights at Heroes' Tap are, somehow, louder than all the other days of the week combined.
Not just because of the bartenders shouting over each other behind the counter, or because of the overlapping conversations from drunk customers packed throughout the room, or even because the karaoke stage attracts every off-duty hero within a hundred-mile radius who secretly believes they were born to headline sold-out stadium tours.
It's because everyone walks through those doors carrying the relief of having survived another workweek.
It's become the Z-Team's unspoken tradition to meet up at the end of every Friday and catch up after work. They usually end up at the Chili's closest to SDN, grabbing drinks, sharing appetizers, and complaining about clients, that week's missions, terrible dates, and whatever else comes up. Over the past few weeks, though, they've started hopping between different bars just to keep things interesting.
This Friday's destination is Malevola's pick.
She'd pitched Heroes' Tap as the perfect place for the whole team: close to SDN, spacious, surprisingly cheap for the portion sizes, with good drinks, good food, and — most importantly — karaoke.
What Mal either forgets to mention, or simply doesn't think is worth mentioning, is that the entire place is themed.
Every booth is dedicated to a different legendary hero, decorated with framed magazine covers, vintage promotional posters, replica gear sealed behind acrylic displays, and painfully cheesy motivational quotes pulled from old interviews covering the surrounding walls. There was a booth for Vitalia, another for Trackstar, a brand-new one celebrates Blonde Blazer...
...and tucked against the back wall beneath glowing blue neon lights, sits the Mecha Man Blue booth.
Despite the name, it also features magazine clippings and memorabilia honoring both of Mecha Man Blue's predecessors: Mecha Man Prime and Mecha Man Astral.
Robert looks at it once, then immediately looks away.
"No."
That's all he says after Flambae suggests they sit there.
Which, naturally, means Flambae spends the next five minutes insisting.
"Oh, come on, Robbo," Flambae teases, already slipping an arm around Robert's neck and steering him toward the booth.
"No," Robert repeats, digging in his heels as if that somehow keeps Flambae from dragging him closer to the obnoxiously eye-catching display.
"It'll be fun."
"For who?" Robert asks.
He's already halfway defeated by the time they stop in front of the booth dedicated to his alter ego.
The rest of the Z-Team trails behind them, grinning from ear to ear while throwing their own teasing comments Robert's way, each person enjoying the situation to a different degree.
Eventually — and mostly because Flambae has already claimed a seat and outright refuses to move — Robert lets out that long, familiar sigh through his nose.
"...Fine."
Victory.
Sweet, petty, completely meaningless victory.
Once everyone finally squeezes into the oversized booth, drink orders are already being shouted across the table, someone has stolen the song catalog from another booth, and Robert settles into the seat at the very end with all the enthusiasm of someone reporting for jury duty.
Just looking at his expression is enough to make every second of teasing worth it.
Flambae can't stop smiling from his side of the booth.
Every now and then, while conversations bounce around the table and baskets of fries disappear at an alarming speed, he steals another glance toward Robert.
Just because.
Robert wasn't shooting him angry glances anymore. That phase had passed. Now he wore that peculiar expression of resigned tolerance that Flambae has learned to translate, roughly, as: I am choosing peace... even though you still annoy me.
Robert absently taps his fingers against the side of his cocktail glass, keeping time with whatever song someone is butchering onstage. The movements are almost imperceptible, tiny taps against the condensation collecting on the glass.
Flambae fights back another smile.
He still isn't entirely sure why, but watching Robert simply exist after being thoroughly annoyed by him is strangely rewarding.
He tries not to stare too much while chatting with everyone else, though every few minutes his eyes drift back toward the dispatcher anyway.
However, after getting distracted for a little over ten minutes talking with Alice about the newest episodes of Love Island, Flambae glances back toward Robert's seat and finds it empty.
He frowns.
Robert's drink was still there.
So was his jacket, neatly folded over the seat.
Only Robert himself has disappeared.
Probably the restroom, Flambae figures.
Or maybe he's grabbing something to eat.
Or maybe he's trying to escape before someone talks him into singing karaoke.
That thought, carried along by the opening notes of the next song echoing through the bar, earned Flambae a quiet snort of amusement.
But then—
"Clock strikes upon the hour..."
Flambae barely registers the opening lyric to one of his all-time favorite songs. In fact, the first thing he notices isn't even the song.
It's the voice.
It slices cleanly through the overlapping conversations filling the team's booth.
For one long second, his brain refuses to connect that voice to anyone.
Because it can't possibly belong to—
"...And the sun begins to fade..."
His smile disappears before he even understands why, and he slowly turns in his seat.
Around him, the rest of the team does the same.
The karaoke stage sits across the room beneath shifting spotlights that wash everyone in flashes of pink, purple, and blue.
Robert is standing beneath them.
One hand holds the microphone, while the other rests casually in his trouser pocket.
To almost everyone at the table's surprise, there isn't the slightest trace of embarrassment in his posture. No stiffness. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
"Still enough time to figure out... how to chase my blues away..."
Robert keeps singing, occasionally glancing up at the lyrics scrolling across the monitor above him.
Flambae can only stare.
The man onstage looks nothing like the dispatcher he sees every weekday — the one who somehow manages to make even the simplest sentence sound dry and indifferent. This Robert stands beneath the lights singing Whitney Houston as naturally as if he'd done it a hundred times before.
Something twists pleasantly in the pit of Flambae's stomach as he remembers Robert making fun of him for suggesting Whitney that night at The Sardine.
That bitch thinks he's better than me, Flambae thinks.
And yet...
Something about the way Robert carries himself onstage — so unfamiliar, so unexpectedly captivating — keeps Flambae from feeling genuinely annoyed.
Robert's voice has always earned plenty of shameless comments from the team, but hearing him sing is something entirely different. It doesn't sound anything like the voice over comms, always calm, measured, authoritative. It's the voice that issues orders, gives directions, and keeps everyone on track.
When the chorus arrives, Robert finally looks away from the lyrics and out toward the crowd scattered across the bar.
A relaxed smile settles onto his face as he sings the chorus from memory, his shoulders now moving subtly with the beat.
No, he isn't exactly a great dancer. But he has rhythm. And he looks like he's genuinely enjoying himself.
"I wanna feel the heat with somebody..."
Robert's gaze drifts toward the booth where the rest of the Z-Team is sitting.
"Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody... With somebody who loves me..."
His voice isn't shrill. It isn't the kind that demands silence simply by being loud.
Instead, it slips effortlessly over the backing track, soft enough to blend with the music instead of competing against it.
There's an unmistakable tenderness woven into every lyric. Something that keeps Flambae frozen in place, eyes locked on Robert, lips slightly parted ever since his jaw quietly dropped.
The triumphant satisfaction he'd been carrying ever since forcing Robert into the Mecha Man Blue booth evaporates so quickly it almost embarrasses him.
"I need a man who'll take a chance... on a love that burns hot enough to last..."
Right there.
Flambae swallows hard because he could swear Robert sings that particular line while looking directly into his eyes.
"So when the night falls..."
Robert pauses just long enough for another smile to spread across his face.
"My lonely heart calls..."
People are clapping now as Robert launches into the second chorus. The entire bar erupts, voices joining in with unmistakable enthusiasm as nearly half the room sings along to the timeless classic.
Everyone...
Except Flambae.
He's still trying to process the version of Robert standing on that stage. So unlike the man he'd convinced himself he knew. Confident, radiant, with laughter hidden beneath certain vowels. Tiny lifts in his voice whenever he gets carried away by a favorite line without even realizing it.
And before Flambae knows it, he catches himself wondering...
How many other versions of Robert exist outside office hours?
How many sides of him has Flambae never seen?
And—
What would it be like to know them?
The thought lingers long after the final chorus ends. Long after Robert lowers the microphone. And long after applause ripples across the bar.
It isn't until the Z-Team suddenly erupts into deafening cheers and whistles that Flambae's tunnel vision finally shatter, reality crashing back into place all at once.
I’m not really active on Tumblr anymore nor am I active in the Sanders Sides fandom, but I figured paying homage to my #1 ship from back then was necessary :) So, 5 years later, here’s the redraw.
Original post here!
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