✨️💙💜🩷The Wicked Viking🩷💜💙✨️

The order comes from above him.

More specifically, from directly behind him, and so suddenly that Robert hadn't even noticed Flambae had come back.

As he swiveled in his chair to look at the pyrokinetic, his sense of smell quickly pinpointed the source of the scent: the still-steaming mug with the three letters of SDN in Flambae's hand.

The exhaustion on Robert's face instantly melts into something much softer. His surprise is almost childlike.

"You made coffee for me?" he asks, genuine skepticism coloring his voice.

Flambae clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.

"Yeah. And it's getting cold."

Without another word, Flambae sets the mug right in the middle of the stack of reports Robert was about to work on.

Before Robert can even reach for it — and before Flambae himself has time to process what he's doing — Flambae leans down over Robert's chair, closing the space between them.

His warm lips hover only millimeters away for a brief second before gently pressing against Robert's forehead in a lingering kiss.

Flambae doesn't think before doing it. It's completely automatic.

Nothing more than the kind of affectionate gesture he reserves for family and the people he cares about. The same thing he'd do for his sister or his niece after taking care of them.

A quiet, wordless 'I've got you'.

The realization hits him a second later.

Flambae pulls away, not abruptly, just quickly enough that maybe, somehow, it won't feel quite as painfully embarrassing as it suddenly does.

When he looks back at Robert, he finds the dispatcher blushing. Pink spreads from Robert's cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

Neither of them could ever say who clears their throat first, but they both do it.

Flambae awkwardly takes a step back, pushing his ponytail behind his shoulder.

Robert stands as well, picking up the mug. The warmth against his hands seems to finally pull him out of the dazed fog the forehead kiss left behind.

He raises it to his lips and, peeking at Flambae over the rim, quietly murmurs, "...Thanks."

Flambae grumbles something under his breath, waving the gratitude away.

"Just stop skipping breakfast because of those damn meetings, Bob Bob," he mutters, pretending to sound annoyed.

To his surprise, the comment draws a laugh from Robert as he sets down his mug after taking a big sip. A genuine, warm laugh.

Partly because of Flambae's teasing, but also because of something that has been sitting tight inside Robert's chest ever since the forehead kiss. The laugh comes out rough enough to make something in Flambae's own chest tighten in an embarrassing way.

"...Or," Robert says, gripping the mug a little tighter as he casually leans one hip against the table, "you could just keep bringing me coffee."

Flambae narrows his eyes, planting both hands on his hips.

"I'm not your damn servant, bitch."

Robert chuckles again before taking another sip.

Then he shrugs, looking a little more awake now.

"You know..." he says. "That's exactly how workplace rumors start."

Completely thrown off by the entire interaction, Flambae heads for the door.

But not before pointing a finger at Robert first, opening and closing his mouth — finding absolutely nothing to say — and only then turning on his heel and walking out, leaving the dispatcher alone in the room.

Robert can't help smiling to himself. For once, he'd managed to leave Flambae too flustered to argue back.

As reality slowly settles in again, Robert remembers the reports still waiting for him and sits back down.

Only then does he notice the small paper bag sitting on the table beside the coffee.

Outside the conference room's glass walls, the rest of Z-Team has very clearly stopped walking several minutes ago.

They've spontaneously organized themselves into a perfectly silent line along the hallway, every single one of them staring through the glass at everything that has unfolded since the meeting ended.

Visi watches with crossed arms and a smug grin tugging at one corner of her mouth.

Golem tries to stay perfectly still despite barely fitting in the hallway, but he's so delighted by the scene that a small rose quietly blooms from the palm of his left hand.

Perched on the mud giant's shoulder, Punch Up raises both arms, flexes Theresa and Susan in celebration before muttering, "Fuckin' finally."

Sonar — the one with the best hearing among them — is responsible for relaying what Robert and Flambae had been saying back inside the conference room. His white eyes are wide with shock, looking equally scandalized and delighted.

Standing beside him, Mal doesn't look surprised in the slightest. If anything, she, too, wears a smug grin as she watches Robert through the glass. "I knew it."

Even Coupé, lingering near the hallway shadows, has her entire body leaning toward the glass wall, with obvious interest.

Prism is by far the happiest.

Trying very hard not to squeal, she has spent the entire conversation secretly recording everything on her phone.

Without taking her eyes off the screen, she extends her free hand toward the rest of the team.