Chapter Text
Chad’s been gone for a few months now.
He’s stationed somewhere up north; apparently SDN decided it was safe to go international, mainly attributable to the success of the Phoenix Program, and the cold, remote areas of Canada were deemed suitable as a base. Breaking the news of his departure to the team was difficult. There were a few shed tears, which brought Robert some amount of joy, knowing the team had been bonded so closely over time that they were this affected by it.
Prism, however, hasn’t stopped scowling at him, whenever she does dare to look at him. She hardly speaks to him, or so much as glances in his direction. He gets it, he’d do the same for someone he loves, but it didn’t make what happened any easier.
Roughly a week after leaving, Flambae’s name reappeared on the international leaderboards. Rescue missions are his bread and butter now. Through the grapevine, Robert discovered a small, but growing, fanbase centred around Chad and all his good deeds for their small township.
He likes the work he’s doing there, according to the messages Prism shares over the comm line.
The day he left, he begged her to hand over his number. She outright refused, calling him a “low down, dirty, good for nothing dog,” before stomping away on her mission. He tried what he could, and after a month of pathetic grovelling and work-related favours, she’d finally relinquished Chad’s number to him.
He used the number that same night to heartily apologize, saying the same thing through text and over voicemail:
— July 6 —
I heard you transferred. |
I can’t apologize enough for how I treated you.|
It feels almost disrespectful to think a simple “I’m sorry” could ever be enough, but I need you to know that I am. |
I’m sorry for everything, and I’m sorry for the multiple texts. |
I hope you’re safe and happy. |
Read
He figured the messages would go unanswered, and it would be justified; as much as he didn’t feel the same, the way he carried himself was incredibly disrespectful, nigh belligerent in the face of someone bearing their heart to him. The man was confessing, and all he could think of was sex?
What mattered was that he now knew, and Robert could try to move forward with his failing.
He failed at that as well; he's been mentally out of commission since he left, dropping the ball on several calls and nearly injuring each member at least thrice.
He's only recently started getting his act together, propped up by the ever-plucky Z-Team.
"Robert Robertson!"
Phenomaman had been Flambae's replacement, and while he was a hero on a villain team, he quickly got used to the jabs and shade, even joining in on occasion. He's a hard worker, and his direct and commanding tone helps ease Robert's wandering mind.
"Hey, Phen," he replies, waving him down from his cubicle. "'Sup?"
"I've actually come to ask you what's… 'sup'!"
"Yeah? What for?"
"You seemed perturbed during this shift, more than normal. Are you ill?"
He's right to point it out; he's been better about sending the right people, but mid shift there was a call, from Chad's niece, asking for help finding her "Daayi". He'd been out of sorts from then, missing call-outs and nearly sending Sonar to handle a drug bust.
"I appreciate the concern," he sighs, picking up his backpack and preparing to head home for the evening, "But I'm alright."
He pats Phenomaman on his wide shoulders as he passes him, but a strong hand grabs his wrist before he can walk off.
"Perhaps I wasn't being entirely truthful, Robert," he shakes his head, pouting like a dog as he turns to face him, "The Blonde Blazer wishes to speak with you about your work performance."
"Phen!" she shoots out from her office like a bullet and catches Robert before he can spiral, "I told you not to say it like that!"
"My apologies."
She sighs and leads Robert to her office, leaving Phenomaman to pout sadly by his desk. She walks him in gently before sitting him down on the chair. "Sorry about that. It's nothing serious, you're not losing your job," she clarifies, "But the team… and me and Chase… we're worried about you."
Robert winces, and tries to play off his fear of what that means as a joke. "That bad, huh?"
She doesn't bite.
"Look," he starts, "I'll get over it soon, I promise."
"You aren't some impenetrable suit of armor, Robert. Him leaving was hard on all of us, alright?"
Robert sighs again, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. He's heard this one before, from Chase back when his father passed, and he knows where it's going.
You should go to therapy.
"You should go to therapy."
Called it.
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "I get what you're saying, Mandy, but-"
"When I'm behind this desk, it's still Blonde Blazer," she interrupts with authority, stunning Robert into silence, "And while I respect your autonomy, if you don't go, I'll be placing you on a performance improvement plan until your mood improves."
He doesn't know what that is, but the way she said it alarms him. He likes this job, he likes the team and he definitely likes the money. He shouldn't put it at risk over some… feelings.
He acquiesces, nodding and signing a paper Blazer places on the table ahead of him; a written promise that he is to attend, at minimum, fifteen (15) therapy sessions, as administered by SDN sanctioned therapists.
His first session is in a few minutes, a little after his shift ends, so he takes this brief respite to walk and feed Beef.
He takes the long way, passing by the leaderboard in the bullpen. The day he left, Flambae's name had vanished from the Torrance side of the board, but looking to the left, there it was in all it's glory; in the Top 3 for heroic work on the International board, Flambae was rising the ranks with a little over 700 points.
The system was a little hard to explain, but Robert knows that rescues, putting out fires, and sending aid to in-need or distant communities is worth a lot, and that's essentially all Chad's been doing up there.
Looking back at the Torrance branch, the only member still on the board was Prism.
He didn't know it had gotten this bad.
Robert has to take responsibility for all this, someway, somehow. In recognizing the part he had to play in failing his team, he enters into a positive feedback loop of self-hatred as he stands in front of the board: the team fails, he feels guilty for it, which earns more self-hating, which makes him fail further, ad infinitum.
Maybe not the best mindset to head into a therapy session with, but at least it's something to work with.
He ushers Beef back to his bed, and takes the elevator down to the Med Bay, where the therapist's office is tucked away in a far corner. Out of sight, out of mind, he supposes.
The receptionist is polite as she urges him to sit, scampering off to fetch the Doctor. He didn't hear much about her before the sessions were booked, but her tone is polite as she walks him into the room.
"How are we today, Mr. Robertson?"
"Fine, I guess."
The therapist sits in an egg-shaped chair opposite to him, pulling a clipboard from the nearby table and scribbling something down.
Looking around the room, it's rather plain; her doctorate is on the wall, along with several images of highly rated reviews she's received. Further down are some images Robert can't seem to make out. On the table, he can see a business card, describing her powers.
She was a meta, with an ability for mind reading.
Seemed like a hassle to him.
“What seems like a hassle?”
“Uh, sorry. It seems as though your job would be,” he trails off. Would it be rude to say it seems like it'd be easier, or even pointless? Why get a doctorate if you can read minds?
Wait.
The therapist laughed then, shaking her head lightly. “I take great pride in what I do. I can only read so much of the conscious mind. My job,” she punctuates, waving her clipboard in the air, “is to drag the rest out of you.
“So, as I'm reading you, you’re dealing with some… heartache?”
Robert bristles in his chair, uncertain how he should explain how he broke his co-worker’s heart by being outwardly rude and insulting despite Chad’s vulnerability in that moment, and how every time he thinks of how he left, he feels sick to his stomach.
She nods sagely, “Ah, I see.”
Right.
The session begins slowly, with her explaining her process to Robert very gently. In essence, yes's and no's will suffice, as she'll be able to mind read the simpler things. If she asks him to, he's to elaborate on what he truly feels, letting her slowly fill in the blanks as he reaches the conclusion they both know is true.
"You mentioned he was vulnerable, did he confess to you?"
Nod.
"Did you return the feeling in the moment?"
Shake.
"Why not?"
"I mean, I didn't feel the same. It'd be horrible to lie."
She squints, but carries on and scribbles something lengthy onto the paper.
"Have you ever been in love?"
Robert moves his head back and forth before shrugging.
The therapist gestures a hand, urging him to continue.
When he thinks of love, it’s meant to be all-consuming, soul-rending and life-changing. His partner should be his every waking and sleeping thought, and he should want nothing more than to spend time with his significant other, even if it’s just to hear their voice.
Each time he’s entered a relationship, that’s the feeling he’s tried to seek or create, but it never held, leaving him feeling strangely empty. The relationship would always end soon after that.
"I guess I've never found what I was looking for?" he simplifies his feelings as best as he can, receiving a sage nod in return.
"So love, to you, is all-or-nothing. Am I reading that right?"
Nod.
"Something passionate, warm, and," she checks her notes, "'all-consuming'?"
Nod.
"Hm."
Robert tilts his head. "What does that 'hm' mean?"
"Just sounds a lot like this Chad fellow fits the bill."
Robert scoffs and steadies his arms on the couch cushion, ready to push off.
"Wait just a moment, Mr. Robertson. You know better than I that you're not at liberty to leave as you wish, yes?"
He sighs loudly.
"Can you tell me I'm wrong in my assessment? Physically, he is rather warm, yes? Outside of that, from how you have described him," she removes her glasses and begins polishing them, "He's warm in a caring way. Warm and personable, yes? Lights up a room, no?"
The wall is suddenly very interesting. There are some more pictures further down that Robert can finally see; she has children and a loving husband. He's cuddled up as close as he can be in every image, kissing her cheek so hard her face gets smushed into a happy little circle.
"He himself is quite passionate about everything, all the work he does. Even the way he confessed to you, it was nothing but…" she continues as she tries, grasping for the right word, "but intensity. Devotion. Passion."
Her children are just as jubilant, swinging around each other and hiding under their mothers' wedding gown.
"He flew over under cover of night, and poured himself out to you," she giggles, "Into, as well I suppose."
The image next to it is staged. it looks a lot like a painting; the married couple are holding each other, the man stood slightly higher so that he can rest his head against her cheek, cradling her head and nuzzling into her.
"The last could be a bit of a crapshoot, for lack of a better term," Robert finally looks back as she says it.
She's wearing a shit-eating grin as she dons her eyeglasses once more.
"Fire does tend to be rather all-consuming, no? That, and he is your waking and sleeping thoughts."
He feels himself sneering.
"You think of him so often it's been hindering your work, life and sleep, yes?" She raises her brows and shrugs. "Sounds all-consuming to me."
The sessions went well, and Robert was finally able to go a day without self-flagellating.
It took until about the third session of five to come to grips with the fact that, yes, he was a dick that night, but it doesn’t define him.
Something like that.
After each session, he would go home and talk to Beef, getting out any residual feelings the Doctor hadn't pried out of him.
In doing so he learned that there was… something. Something growing in his chest each time he thought of that night, of Chad. It would bloom and flourish, making him feel lightheaded before it sank like a stone to his stomach, leaving him heavy with guilt and shame.
He rejected him. He emotionally, then physically pushed him away, and now he wants to feel anything towards him? He feels disgusting each time it happens. The feeling only gets worse when he keeps thinking of that night, of how good it all felt, how loving Chad was despite not knowing he felt the same.
Sometimes, when it's really late, he'll tuck away into his bathroom, turn the shower on as high as it can go until the room is coated in steam, and he'll imagine, feeling himself get dizzy as he slips his hand down the front of his boxers, slowly palming himself to the thought of Chad being there.
Touching him. Surrounding him in warmth. In love.
The proceeding shower is taken in the dark, in temperatures too cold to feel comfortable falling asleep soon after.
He'd been too far up his own ass to notice how he'd started feeling until he blabbed about it to a dog, but it made for good conversations at the next weekly session.
Slowly but surely, the team were able to eke their ways back onto the board, and the PiP on him was finally removed. It meant he didn't really have to go back, but he did anyway.
One session, after a particularly rough day that knocked everyone down several spots on the leaderboard, Robert huffed and puffed his way over to her office at the designated time.
He'd gotten so comfortable that he felt at ease enough to actually say how he felt; how everything felt like too much sometimes, all the feelings being dredged up making him feel worse, and the fact that Chad still hasn't responded hurts him more with each passing day.
She's a wonderful therapist, calming him down enough to help him find the root of his emotions. Why he immediately went into self-destructive mode by pushing Chad away so harshly.
Short answer? His dad. The longer answer?
“As a child, any love you received only came after you did something extraordinary, something that someone, your father,” she stressed, “would deem worthy.
“You now have higher than possible expectations for yourself, and since you can never meet them, no one should ever display love for you, given your presumed lacklustre nature.
"You have a hard time believing anyone can like you if you're not at your full potential, a state that you yourself haven't even seen.
“When this Chad fellow confessed,” she continues, polishing her eyeglasses, “you became afraid. Not because you didn’t necessarily feel the same, but because you were scared,” she pauses, putting up her fingers to begin counting, “that it was a lie or a joke, that he would eventually discover your less-than-perfect nature and leave, or that you had lied in someway, and managed to convince him you were better than you actually were.
“Which do you prefer?”
“Uh. None of them?”
"So," she giggles out, "you did your best to destroy whatever was there, almost to prove that you were unworthy of it. Are you?"
Robert didn't respond.
The timer on her phone indicated the end of the session, and he shook her hand before speed walking out of the room.
He entered his home that night heavier than he left. He now lay flat on the rough, cold concrete flooring of his apartment, mulling over the therapeutic read he had received.
She wasn’t wrong; as time went on he became less and less sure about whether or not he felt the same.
He certainly didn’t not like him, but love? It wasn’t a foreign concept, but he hadn’t experienced something like how he'd described it all those weeks ago.
The light-bodied feeling he gets when he thinks of Chad seems too good to be true, and in his experience, it usually is. He isn't sure exactly when the bulb of… whatever this is, took such deep root within him, but he spends time plucking at it.
Do I love him? Do I not? Does he love me? Does he not?
His phone sounds off on the floor next to his head before he can finish the circuit. Checking the screen, his breath catches in his throat.
— September 5 —
| (; -_-) is that the best u got
Robert isn’t sure when he started laughing, but it’s a comfort that Chad is the same through text as he remembers him in person.
I’m sorry, I’ll try again if you’d like.|
| ^m^ just fuckin with u
| thank u for apologizing
| i got your voicemail btw
| o_O
| less snot next time ;p
Haha.|
You got it.|
For the first time since he left, Robert's able to sleep soundly.
From then, the two texted regularly, from daily updates, pictures from work, to random, early morning or late-night apologies from Robert, which were usually met with a middle finger emoji.
Robert missed talking to him. When he mistakenly called him at an ungodly hour for Chad, he'd been quick to pick up before refusing to leave the call, instead offering to sleep while Robert "takes him to work."
When Prism saw Chad on Robert's phone, she was more than a little perplexed. He'd hung up quickly, before she'd whipped out her phone to call Chad herself.
Chad is a good photographer. That, or the landscape of pure white sheets of snow, occasionally broken up by local wildlife were just so stunning, that it’d be impossible to mess it up. Each time he sends an image, he could almost feel how cold it was on the other end.
"Where are you, anyway?
"Yukon, Robbo. Way up and out in the middle of nowhere!" he bellows out into the open air, alerting only an Arctic fox, who quickly disappears into the snow.
He’s a little envious of Chad, who was definitely unaffected by the sub-zero temperatures of Northern Canada, still donned in his revealing suit, just with some cargo pants, snow boots and ski goggles on.
“Yeah, I mean, I don’t need it,” Chad explained over the phone once, “But it looks good, no?” The FaceTime call was choppy as he placed the phone down and did a spin, showing off for Robert.
“It does. Suits you." He purrs the compliment, clapping his hand over his mouth when he realizes how it may have sounded.
He's letting his own feeling flourish to eventually die off naturally, as he imagines Chad has done in his cold isolation, and he'd never forgive himself for giving more mixed signals than he already has.
Chad retrieves his cell from the floor, and flashes a toothy grin at the compliment. “I can show you some other stuff, if you’d like." The offer came with a wink, and Robert felt himself flush.
The call had to end abruptly after that, both their attentions being pulled away by their jobs.
Blazer is looking at him with a wide grin. As he continues staring, the grin begins to fade, being replaced by a raised brow.
"Didn't you get my email?"
He quickly checks it; there's an exchange game coming up. Different branches from all over the world will come to the DTLA branch to play some friendly intramural games, to see who's the best branch of them all, and who needs work.
"Buncha grownups with giant egos playing kids' games. What could go wrong?
"When's this happening?"
"Valentine's weekend," she ends with a wink.
Robert meets her expectant gaze, "Sounds like fun."
She scoffs, "Uh, yeah, it should," she crosses the threshold of his cubicle and leans in "Every branch is going to be there, Robert."
Weird emphasis… checking the list again, he scrolls further to see all available branches;
U.S.A
-
San Francisco Branch
-
Detroit Branch
-
Atlanta Branch
-
New York City Branch
Canada
-
Toronto Branch
-
Vancouver Branch
-
Yukon Branch
-
Quèbec City Branch
-
…
The remaining branches don't matter. He must be smiling, because Blazer is laughing and pinching his cheeks.
She skitters off, something about planning, but Robert is too busy typing away on his phone.
Did you hear about the games that SDN are hosting?|
| Σ(O_O) the what
Haha.|
Your branch is probably gonna tell you soon enough.|
You should start packing.|
Reading the email properly this time, the games appear to be general tests or feats of strength, with the prize being a solid amount of money, a little under $10k, and an exchange to whatever branch you'd like, albeit temporarily.
Chad vanishes for a bit, probably focused on work. Robert resettles his headset and pushes past break time. The news goes over very well with the team. A little too well.
"Fuck yes!" Visi cheers down the line, "I heard they opened a branch in Thailand. I've always wanted to go."
"Bro, are you missing where it said we get $10k? You can go anywhere on that." Malevola sounds equally as excited as she completes a mission.
Coop scoffs. "I'm not in it for travel, or money. I want to crush my enemies."
"Ta' be fair lass, ya can't really travel."
"Irrelevant."
Waterboy clears his throat. "W-well Robert, sir? What do you think our odds will be?"
"Not sure."
Lovingly, it's not like it matters; if they win then Chad can't come back, so they're going to have to tamp down their dreams of travel and… revenge?
His phone buzzes loudly against the desk.
| hoho you guys are SOOOO fucked
| <(￣︶￣)> we are not losing to you lame o's
| get ready to see a lot more of me bitch
| ;)
As intended, the Z-Team did their middling best performance at the games, despite a clear advantage in many of the showings; a knife-throwing competition that Coop was sour to throw, a large game of hide-and-seek that Visi reluctantly gave away, capped off by a city wide relay race.
There were no clear shoe-ins for that, but their synergy nearly won them the race. Malevola threw that one all on her own; she "accidentally" sliced at one of the opponents, instantly earning her a disqualification.
As Blazer said, the games took place over the weekend before ending on Valentine's day, and the office was covered in gaudy white, red and pink hearts.
Upon entry, Prism slapped down a ridiculous headband on him before placing a blue kiss to his cheek.
"Wow, dunno what I did to deserve that."
"You brought my 'Bae back, so you're off the hook for now," she giggles, sauntering off before making a hard stop, turning to point a manicured finger his way, "But don't think you're off the hook just yet, bitch."
He laughs as he throws up his hands, and she slinks away into the building.
It's cute, all the decor. He'd never been in a relationship around this time so he never got to appreciate it. He's not in one now, but the bright feeling in his chest makes him feel like he just might be.
The elevator ride is quiet, and the doors slide open to reveal,
"Chad?"
His back is to the elevator doors despite waiting there intentionally. He pretends not to hear for a moment, shrugging a shoulder and popping a hip as he stands there.
"Sorry. Flambae?"
He pivots, and his smile makes Robert feel sick from its genuine nature. He rushes forward, grabbing and scooping Robert up into the air, swishing him around much to the amusement of any onlookers.
"I missed you, Bobert!"
Robert laughs, letting himself relax in the warm grip to hug him back as best he can. "Missed you too, big guy."
He doesn't set Robert down, instead carrying him over to his cubicle, gaining a small cheering section from the Z-Teamers waiting in the wings as they throw fake rose petals at the two, cooing loudly all the while.
Robert's face hurts from laughing and smiling. He's being cradled on the short walk, his legs wrapped around Chad's sturdy midsection with an arm comfortably laid across his shoulders. He nuzzles into the warmth of his face, trying to sap and give as much as he can, before he's set down into his chair.
"Got you a present, something from up north."
In his hand was something that may have been hardened maple candy, but instead is a small, amber pile of sap in the palm of his hand.
Chad looks as his hand, upset. "Tch. My bad, I'll clean this off."
The Z-Team petered off at some point, and it was still early enough that there were only a few people in the office.
He isn't sure what takes hold of him, but Robert sticks his tongue out; an offer of some kind to Chad. He looks shocked, but brings his hand closer to Robert, and watches rapt as he laps up what he can.
His senses are overwhelmed with the sweetness of the sap, the warmth of his hand and the scent of him surrounding it all. His mind finally returns and he quickly peels back, swiping whatever's left with a hand and licking it up that way instead.
Chad laughs, but Robert is ashamed. He turns away and fetches a tissue for him, shooing him off so he can begin his shift.
Chad is on the team for today, and efficiency is actually worse with him back. Everyone is far too eager to see him again, failing missions due to chatter or blowing far past their allotted break times to shoot the shit.
Robert couldn't care less, just hearing him again is enough.
The shift ends several hours later, and everyone is exhausted from having to do double time to make up for their shortcomings.
Robert had called out of today's therapy session a week ago; he knew they'd all want to see him again as much as he did, and he knew they'd sabotage themselves and other teams if it meant Chad could be back. Now that he was, he didn't want to miss a single second.
He heads off to the change room, showering off the earlier loss of composure he'd suffered. He still feels shameful; it feels as though all the can think of is sexual things when it comes to Chad. Perhaps a byproduct of the intermittent, late-night masturbation imagination sessions, which he had only stopped after speaking to him again.
He'll let this feeling fall away as it needs to, but as long as it's growing, it'd be nice to tend to it as sweetly as he can. He's been nurturing it this whole time with each interaction they share, allowing it to unfurl slowly, flowering before it dies.
The towel he brought is warm when he retrieves it from the bench to wrap around himself.
"Boo."
Robert doesn't bite, simply shakes his head and turns to meet Chad's cat-like smirk.
"You stalking me?"
"Pfft, you wish," he crosses his arms and seats himself comfortably on the uncomfortable, slotted bench, watching as Robert towels off as modestly as he can. "Thought you ran off or some shit. We're going out later… I think." He says it quietly, reluctantly.
"Not feelin' up to it?"
"Mm-mm."
The temperature was already quite warm, but there's more steam, specifically from Robert's right-hand side. He peers down once more, and Chad is raking his eyes over whatever skin he has exposed, sending a pleasant shiver down Robert's entire body.
"Was feeling like staying home," he says as he paws at the soft cotton, "maybe having a drink or two. Feels weird to do it all by myself though, don't you think, Robbo?"
He shouldn't allow this. He's unravelled why he thinks he doesn't deserve this, but the apologies couldn't possibly be enough for him to have been forgiven. After what he did?
He sidles away as discreetly as he can. He does want this, whatever it is, but he needs to be careful this doesn't become a repeat of last time. "Yeah, a little. You asking for company?"
Chad sighs and removes his hand. "Duh."
"I would love to, bu-"
"Great! Then hurry up, I'm boooored."
"But."
Chad stares, waiting.
"We have to talk first."
He barks out a laugh, slapping the bench loudly. "Damn, kinks and shit?"
"Chad, please."
That seemed to do the trick. He sits upright and nods, his face turning to concern as he watches and waits quietly for Robert to finish up.
He has to do it right this time.
Chad's place is quite nice. Spacious, with high ceilings and black walls that make the rooms seem larger than they are.
He's poured a glass of something red, and it smells lovely, but Robert won't be drinking until he gets this feeling out of his system.
Chad couldn't be assed, it seems. "Look, I get you're sorry and shit, but you can't say the sex wasn't incredible."
"I wasn't saying that!" Robert laughs, finally settling into the plush couch cushions, "I just don't know how to properly apologi-"
"Ugh. You've apologized like a million fucking times in the past six months, I think I get it."
"Still."
"'Still' what, Robbo?" he asks, taking a big gulp from his glass. He pushes the tall chalice to Robert and urges him to sip before he continues. "Oh like, if I forgave you or not?"
Robert nods into the wine.
"Dude, we are grown. I am grown, I've been forgiven you, so just relax, yeah? Fucking baby."
"How?"
He shrugs, snatching the glass from Robert, mindfully watching the couch as he does. "I know how I feel, and I just had to know how you felt. FAFO or whatever the kids are saying.
"Look, I should probably be the one apologizing. I came to your house and said I love you out of nowhere, shit was weird."
It wasn't. Robert shakes his head, recalling that actually found it quite endearing and respectable.
"Same way you just forgave me? That's how I did, just in the middle of a snowstorm. I thought," he pauses, taking the opportunity to sip heartily at the wine, "I thought distance would help, but." He shrugs. "I still love you, that won't change."
Robert snatches the drink back, taking down whatever's left before filling the chalice once more and gulping it down.
"Thirsty?"
"Sorry, just," he sets the drink down, "thinking and feeling."
The silence isn't uncomfortable, but there's a tension there. Something electric that Robert is afraid to mess with, so he sits there, wringing his hands in his lap as he muddles through his emotions. He can feel Chad's bright, orange and searing staring at him, flitting about as they find each feature on him.
Chad's deep voice is quiet as he cuts through the silence, "How was it? Me not being there?"
"Hard. You're kind of irreplaceable."
"'Kind of'? You're a fucking asshole."
The tension is still present as they laugh, indicating it's true nature has yet to be properly uncovered.
"I mean, you've got this," he bears his best shit-eating grin as he slowly turns to face Chad "spark about you."
Chad sighs into a laugh, coughing and throwing a fake punch at Robert's shoulder.
"Genuinely though, it was hard. We all missed you a lot. At first, I tried to pretend that it was purely from a logistical standpoint."
Chad raises a brow.
"You were one of the strongest members on the team, and it was clear how weak we were without you. You're an amazing person and a hard worker. It was hard not to miss you."
"Meow," he drags out, pawing at Robert's thigh, "Was that your version of foreplay, Robbo?"
"Ugh."
More silence. The heavy gulps finally make it to Robert's head, and he feels himself swaying as he sits, playing it off as him getting comfortable. He nestles further into the couch, subconsciously seeking the warmth of Chad's body next to his.
"I missed you a lot."
"You should've."
Robert braces himself. "The thing you said, about distance? It gave me, uh, some perspective as well."
Chad hums, gently placing his leg atop Robert's own and bringing him closer.
"I. Gosh, this is hard. I," he opens his eyes and finds Chad's; they're wide, and rimmed with a small gathering of… tears? "I think I love you too."
His eyes are wavering as they search Robert's, looking for something. "You mean it?"
"I think I do, I'm not sure yet."
Chad pouts, and reaches his hand up to pinch Robert on the cheek.
"Ah-ha, ow!" he peels back and rubs his face, "Whazzat for?" The wine has fully gotten to him as he slurs and shields his flushed face.
"Took six months of me not being there for you to figure it out, and you're 'not sure'? Should I leave again?"
"No!" he blurts out, jutting his hands out to clasp down onto Chad's shoulders. He finally opens his eyes again, and he's sticking his tongue out. "Oh. Whatever."
Chad brings his face closer to Robert's, rubs his nose into the still tingly cheek before placing a small peck to it. "What could I do to make you be sure?"
A warmth washes through Robert, from the alcohol and from Chad, and he feels it travel down and pool pleasantly in his gut.
He's said his piece, he can have fun.