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Sportacus and Robbie like each other.
Like like.
It’s obvious, really. Has been since the camping trip, since the five of them woke to find Sportacus sitting awake, holding Robbie’s hand while Robbie slept soundly. Has been since Ziggy piped up while they were working on dismantling the tents and packing their bags, the sound of Robbie and Sportacus bickering softly on the subject of breakfast blending into the background, a thoughtful look creasing his brow as Pixel helped him work a tent peg loose and he asked to no one in particular, “Are Robbie and Sportacus going to get married?”
So. Robbie and Sportacus like like each other, and it’s obvious, even to Ziggy. Except, somebody apparently forgot to tell them that.
It’s getting a little frustrating. But it’s not until one day, a few weeks later, that Stephanie decides it’s high time to do something about it.
It’s a nice day out. They’re set up on a picnic blanket in the shade of a large tree, sheets of brightly coloured construction paper piled about waiting to be folded into little origami shapes (or crumpled balls, in Ziggy’s case). Trixie’s made a pirate hat for herself and is now working on a matching sword; Pixel’s trying to make an articulated t-rex; Ziggy isn’t managing much more than hopelessly wrinkled, vague shapes that stick to the fine layer of sugar coating his fingers and Stingy is honestly hoarding the paper and carefully arranging it by colour.
Stephanie? She’s been watching Sportacus turn the flower he’s made over in his hands again and again for the better part of half an hour while smiling and staring off wistfully in the direction of Robbie, who’s been ‘hiding’ behind a nearby tree about that long.
“Sportacus?” It’s less a question than a firm prod. He doesn’t jump when he turns to look at her but there is something dazed about his expression, his eyebrows creeping up, smile perhaps a touch sheepish.
“Yes, Stephanie?”
She gestures to the flower and nods, says “That’s really pretty.”
Sportacus beams; his eyes crinkle at the corners a little and he looks down at it, touches it delicately. “Thank you, Stephanie. That’s very kind,” he says, and Stephanie watches as his gaze drifts back to the tree.
Then he’s on his feet suddenly and already a few steps away before he turns back to the blanket and gestures belatedly to the gaggle of children now peering at him curiously, mumbling something about being right back.
He sets off across the grass towards Robbie, and Stephanie feels her lips thin. Out of her peripheral vision she catches Trixie rolling her eyes and honestly feels a little like doing so herself.
Stephanie watches Robbie leap from his hiding spot, watches him gesture wildly, no doubt trying to come up with some explanation for what he’s doing, and she fancies she can even see him go bright red when Sportacus offers him the paper flower and he goes completely still.
She watches Robbie take the flower and puff up and storm off in a (fake) huff, watches him hold it close to his chest when he thinks nobody can see, and she watches Sportacus lean against the tree a little and stare after Robbie fondly.
She’s tired of watching.
“We need to do something.”
The rest of the group look at her; Stephanie glances at Sportacus, just to make sure he’s out of earshot still, and gestures for them to crowd in close as she says, in her best conspiratorial tone, “I have a plan.”
--
The Plan is to takes notes from as many romance movies as they can stomach watching.
It’s a terrible plan.
I.
“Are we sure this is going to work?”
It’s Christmas. The Mayor’s house is decorated in tinsel and wreaths of holly and is dominated by an extravagant tree, presents with brilliant wrapping and adorned with bows stacked beneath. Outside, the windows are packed with snow; a few feet away there’s a fire crackling in the fireplace.
It’s about the third time in five minutes Trixie’s asked that; she’s sitting in the windowsill, chin in her hands, peering out into the snow. Playing lookout while the rest of them put The Plan into action; Stephanie and Pixel hold the ladder secure while Stingy attempts to adhere a sprig of mistletoe just above the front door.
(Ziggy’s running interference in the kitchen, loudly asking questions about the food and touching everything and generally keeping the Mayor and Ms. Busybody occupied while the rest of them work. Nobody’s entirely sure if he’s just doing a really good job, or he’s a little too well suited to the role.)
“According to my data, mistletoe above the door is effective to a margin of exactly 89.6 per-” Pixel lets go of the ladder to rummage for one of his electronic devices momentarily and the ladder sways.
“Hey!” Stingy barks; Stephanie grabs Pixel and shakes him back to attention, looks up at Stingy and offers a soft “Sorry,” before glancing across at Trixie.
“Of course it will. Anything yet?”
Trixie doesn’t turn from the window, just exhales loudly, her breath fogging the glass for a moment before she wipes it away with her sleeve. “No sign of Sportacus yet.”
Stephanie purses her lips in consideration. “What about Robbie?”
“He’s worn a track in the snow. I can see the sidewalk. Why doesn’t he just come in already?” Trixie still sounds supremely bored. She glances over her shoulder for a moment and Stephanie just hums thoughtfully as Stingy starts to make his way down the ladder.
“You know how Robbie is sometimes. Maybe one of us should go and bring him ins-”
“There’s Sportacus!” Trixie cuts her off, plastering herself to the glass; she shouts it loud enough that Ziggy is sure to hear, taps on the window for emphasis, and for a moment they forget themselves. She, Pixel and Stingy rush to the window, foreheads touching so they can squint out into the street.
Sportacus comes jogging into view, briskly at first and then slowing as he comes across Robbie pacing on the sidewalk; they can’t see it from here, but Stephanie knows he’s wearing that slightly concerned frown as he glances towards the house and back at Robbie, who is still unaware.
He must say something because Robbie jumps about a foot in the air and spins around, arms around himself protectively. Which is normal for Robbie, really. Except he relaxes almost instantly now, After The Camping Trip, and if anything Stephanie’s pretty sure she sees him step a little closer to Sportacus when Sportacus touches his elbow and gestures to the house and tilts his head.
Trixie sticks her tongue out and makes a gagging noise and Pixel laughs a little; they all share a brief Look as they watch the pair head for the front door, Sportacus walking backwards to face Robbie.
Brief, because Stingy suddenly shouts, “The ladder!” and they’re all scrambling from the window, tripping over one another in their haste to hide it.
They hear the doorknob turning simultaneous to the Mayor calling out “Is everything alright in there, kids?” and Ziggy talking in less a stage whisper than stage shouting, saying “WELL MISTER MAYOR I REALLY LIKE HOW WE’RE HEADING TO THE LIVING ROOM NOW I’M SURE WE WON’T SEE ANY SUSPICIOUS LADDERS ANYWHERE.”
Trixie shouts at him to stop talking while she, Stephanie and Stingy try to shove the ladder out of view behind the christmas tree. Pixel leans around the corner, finger raised to his lips to shush Ziggy gently, just in time to see him walk right in front of the door as it swings open.
“Ziggy, the door!”
Pixel flinches, eyes closed, waiting. Nothing happens.
After a moment he opens his eyes, relief washing over him when he sees Sportacus standing in the doorway with Ziggy safely in his arms, Robbie hovering a few steps behind and anxiously shifting his weight.
“Ziggy, are you okay? You should try to be more careful,” Sportacus says as he gives Ziggy a careful once over, a smile tugging at his mouth when he realises the boy’s okay.
“Thanks Sportacus. I’m- Oh! You guys got the mistleto-”
“ Ziggy .” Trixie tries to cut him off in time but it’s too little too late; Sportacus’s eyebrows tick up and he looks between them all for a moment before he follows Ziggy’s gaze and his eyes settle on the mistletoe hanging right above his head.
His brow furrows for a moment, and then he chuckles. Harder, when Ziggy looks at him suddenly seriously and says, “Does this mean I have to kiss you?”
Sportacus smiles broadly and shakes his head. He looks a little puzzled but brushes it off, “Of course not, Ziggy. You never have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He says it with a resolute nod. When Ziggy glances up at the mistletoe again and looks slightly unconvinced, Sportacus offers, “How about a hug instead?”
“Yeah!” Ziggy winds his arms around Sportacus’s neck and squeezes and Sportacus laughs again, leans in so that their heads butt together, and after a moment he sets Ziggy safely on the ground once more.
“There. Now-” he stoops slightly, grinning at them all in turn, and flicks a glance towards the tree. “-everyone’s here. Shall we celebrate Christmas?”
Stingy and Trixie immediately dive for the presents scattered beneath the tree, holding up the boxes and peering at them intently as though they can see through the packaging, taking the ones meant for them and shaking them oh-so-gently. Pixel takes Ziggy by the hand and says something about helping to set the table; Stephanie goes to follow them, but not before casting a quick look over her shoulder.
She sees Robbie still standing just outside the doorway, rocking in place slightly, and she sees Sportacus hold out a hand to him. Hears him murmur “It’s okay, Robbie?”
She sees the look Sportacus shoots the mistletoe, hand still outstretched. She sees Robbie glance at it too, watches him swallow reflexively, and sees the two of them avoid walking through the doorway together even though Robbie takes Sportacus’s hand.
She frowns, and walks into the kitchen.
--
Turns out, getting two adults to walk under some mistletoe together isn’t as easy as the movies make it out to be. They’ve been at it all night, and so far, nothing. So long as you don’t count the two times Ms. Busybody and Mayor Milford blundered over there (ew), the two times apiece Sportacus has wound up under the mistletoe with everyone except Robbie (with big, bone crushing hugs for the kids and kisses on the cheek for both adults) and the one time Robbie ended up awkwardly laying a hand on Ziggy’s head while Ziggy hugged his shin.
After dinner, and unwrapping presents, and nothing but failure, not even Ziggy is continuing to hold out hope that The Plan will succeed.
Until everyone starts leaving.
They’re sitting among shreds of wrapping paper and empty boxes, showing off their presents, when Stephanie hears Trixie give a semi-incredulous, semi-victorious cry; she follows her extended finger right to the doorway.
Where Sportacus and Robbie stand, crowded together, frozen mid-conversation and staring at the five sets of eyes suddenly fixed on them. The door’s open and there are little flakes of snow drifting in, Sportacus’s hands are resting on Robbie’s collar and his fingers are still tangled in the man’s scarf, only part way through the process of putting it on, and the most important thing is they’re standing in the doorway together .
Robbie seems more cautiously puzzled than anything; a heartbeat, and Sportacus is wearing a look of dawning trepidation as he slowly rolls his eyes up to regard the mistletoe hanging above them.
“Oh.” Is all he says, all he needs to, the tone is enough that Robbie’s attention snaps to him and then follows his gaze and then Robbie, too, goes that much more wide-eyed.
“Oh.” He echoes; he doesn’t go pale, no more than he is, Stephanie doesn’t think that’s possible really, but it seems like it if only for how fiercely Robbie blushes all of a sudden.
“I- uh, well, I-I-”
“It’s, ah-”
The two of them stare at one another for a long moment. Robbie bites his lip, Sportacus’s fingers curl around his scarf; Pixel covers his mouth with his hands to hide his grin.
And then Robbie looks away, down, steps back like he can’t get away fast enough and hits the doorframe with a thump and Sportacus is snatching his own hands away just as quickly but Stephanie sees his hands flex momentarily and a look flashes across his face, something sharp and stinging and looking a lot like disappointment before it’s swallowed up by a gentle, soft smile.
“It’s alright, Robbie.” He says it so quietly that they can barely hear from a few feet away. But Robbie’s not a few feet away, he’s right there, wringing his hands and looking at the ground intensely and if she didn’t know better then Stephanie might right disappointment in the slant of his brow as well.
“It’s alright,” Sportacus says again, reaches for Robbie’s elbow but leaves his hand hovering, a question mark in physical form. This time Robbie forces himself to look up, to swallow thickly and nod, and Stephanie sees him (she thinks) deliberately knock his elbow into Sportacus’s touch for a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment.
“I-I uh, I s-should be-” he gestures wildly, directionless, and Sportacus nods like he understands. Still smiling, all infinite patience, when he offers, “Would you like me to walk you home, Robbie?”
Robbie stutters and swallows like the words are stuck in his throat, but eventually he shakes his head, and Sportacus nods. “Okay. Would you like me to come see you tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Be safe, Robbie.”
They stare at one another for a moment too long. Then Robbie seems to remember himself and almost spins face-first into the doorframe in his sudden haste to leave, hands fumbling with his scarf uselessly, shoulders hiked up near around his ears as he awkwardly shuffles out into the snow.
Sportacus stands in the open doorway for a lot longer than necessary, until well after Robbie’s disappeared from sight. It’s not until he finally turns and closes the door, leaning against it with a sigh, that any of them dare to speak up.
“ ARE YOU SERIOUS? ”
II.
The Revised Plan is simple, and straightforward, and not unlike the First Plan, opportunistic.
It’s Robbie’s birthday. And everyone knows that if you touch the bottom while cutting the birthday cake, you have to kiss the nearest person.
It’s foolproof . It’s also sitting somewhere at the back of her mind, because making sure the Robbie has a nice birthday is the more pressing issue ultimately, but foolproof nonetheless. So much so that really, the entire time they’re setting up little plastic folding chairs and the picnic table her Uncle provided, stringing up what outdoor decorations they have from the trees and rearranging the presents just so, the four of them (because Ziggy is far too distracted with the multitudes of candy on display to be remotely interested) can’t help but nod knowingly to one another and shoot pointed looks at Sportacus’s back when he’s not looking.
Turns out, foolproof doesn’t translate to Robbie-and-Sportacus proof .
Everything starts off so well; Sportacus practically hovers at Robbie’s side from the moment he arrives, that same big, goofy smile plastered across his face that he wears all the time these days whenever someone so much as mentions Lazytown’s resident villain. He’s right there when Robbie tears up a little as Stingy points out the presents, or Trixie practically flings herself at him to give him a tight hug of her own volition, a hand at the small of Robbie’s back and a gentle tilt to his head as he leans in and asks if Robbie’s okay and Robbie smiles at him, wipes at his eyes suspiciously and sniffles and wordlessly nods.
Sportacus is right there to catch Robbie when Pixel accidentally lets off a few stray party poppers and sends Robbie straight into Sportacus’s arm with a pitched yelp of surprise, eyes wide, and when they’re all crowded around the table singing the Birthday Song and Robbie’s fidgeting beneath the attention but still smiling?
Sportacus is right there. Standing at his shoulder. Gazing at Robbie like he’s the only thing in the world.
It would be sweet if it wasn’t so frustrating. And also gross .
Needless to say, when Robbie finally cuts the cake, it’s entirely not Stephanie’s fault when she squeals in excitement.
The assembled adults turn to look at her in unison, Robbie’s eyebrows somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline and Sportacus looking at her with a slightly pinched expression of concern.
She’s only saved from wanting to crawl under the table a little by the fact that both Pixel and Stingy are on their feet, hands over their mouths, and Trixie is gripping the edge of the table like her life depends on it.
Ziggy looks just as puzzled as the adults for a few moments before realisation dawns and he manages to get out, “Oooh, I remember, he-” in the time it takes Trixie to clap a hand over his mouth.
“Are you kids..feeling okay?” The Mayor ventures.
Stephanie clears her throat and tries to fight down a flush of embarrassment as she points to the cake, the knife in Robbie’s hand, a giddy little chuckle rising in the back of her throat as she says, “Um, yeah, we’re fine, Uncle Milford. Sorry. It’s just, y’know-” she gestures a bit more emphatically and is met with blank stares, “-he touched the bottom. You know what that means.”
Milford and Ms. Busybody look at them for a moment and then nod in understanding to one another, amusement on their faces.
Robbie and Sportacus glance at each other, shrug, and then continue to stare.
“You know...if you touch the bottom of the cake you have to...kiss the nearest person?” She tries to sound as nonchalant as possible.
Now Sportacus’s eyebrows are somewhere beneath his hat.
Robbie just looks like his heart has stopped.
“What.” Correction; Robbie looks like his heart is about to stop. He swings around to face Sportacus and suddenly the two of them are nose to nose, Sportacus still stooped over to speak companionably in his ear, and for a second they just stare at one another. Robbie with an expression all raw and terrified, like the trembling of his hands when one of them hugs him and he freezes, unsure of what to do but wanting to do something ; Sportacus with a look that’s quiet and protective and maybe even a little sad.
Stephanie feels bad all of a sudden, and she can’t put her finger on why.
She feels worse when she notices Robbie running his fingers almost mechanically over the tablecloth, pinching the fabric between thumb and forefinger and twisting.
“But he’s the birthday boy!” She shouts all of a sudden; Robbie’s not the only one that jumps. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Pixel scrunch up his face in confusion but Robbie and Sportacus are looking at her again and they’re not looking like that so she presses on, “H-he’s the birthday boy. Right? So that means he..doesn’t have to do anything?”
There’s a beat.
Then Trixie thumps her head against the table hard enough to rattle the plastic cutlery.
III.
They sit on the bench, watching listlessly Sportacus attempting to coax Robbie into joining them for an afternoon of jump rope and Robbie putting up a terribly half-hearted fight (even though he goes boneless when Sportacus grabs him by both hands and gives him that toothy grin, shoots what Stingy calls ‘goo-goo eyes’ at the back of Sportacus’s head,) when Stingy offers his solution.
“We could... pay them?”
“....We’re not paying Sportacus and Robbie to kiss, Stingy.”
IV.
The Plan Mk. Three is simple.
Rollerskating.
It plays out so simply on paper; Sportacus knows how to skate. Robbie, of course, will need his help. According to their research this will lead to a lot of hand-holding, some awkward moments where Robbie stumbles and he and Sportacus have to get Really Close (ew), a lot of staring into each other’s eyes (adults are weird ) and then finally, the kiss.
Textbook, if not for a few minor details.
Robbie can rollerskate.
This rink is out of inline skates.
Sportacus cannot stand up under his own power on quad skates.
Robbie is physically incapable of holding Sportacus up.
There’s plenty of Awkward Moments, and plenty of getting Really Close, but it’s a lot less of the romantic variety and a lot more...watching Robbie try in vain to pick Sportacus up off of the floor and getting pulled down into an ungainly heap of lanky limbs himself.
“Ow! Those are my ribs you just planted your skate in, Sportastumble !”
The five of them skate on past on their tenth lap, slow and steady, Ziggy between Stephanie and Trixie and desperately clinging to their hands for balance, just in time to catch Robbie attempting to get his knees back beneath himself while he grumbles at Sportacus. Who is prone on the floor, Robbie’s elbows likely in his stomach, and all the while holding Robbie by the forearms securely to try to at least get the man back to his feet.
“Sorry, Robbie!”
“Don’t be sorry, just help me help you!”
“Robbie, I don’t think I can get up-”
“Well you can’t live down there forever can you, now give me your arm- agh!”
As they skate past, Stephanie hears the distinct sound of Robbie once again hitting the rink.
She and Pixel and Trixie share a look, roll their eyes, and fail to see the moment Robbie sits back on his knees, looks down at Sportacus fondly, and the two dissolve into giggles.
V.
The Plan Who Even Cares What Number Anymore has officially moved into desperation territory.
In hindsight, it’s their worst one yet.
See, getting Robbie into the library storage closet isn’t actually that hard; he’s really just a Big Softie, more so since the camping trip. All it takes is a story about Pixel having lost one of his handhelds, a little white lie making him think the narrow storage closet is the lost and found, and Robbie’s allowing Pixel to lead him along by the arm with grumbled assurances of “Yeah, whatever kid, we’ll find your….whatever it is. And then you’ll leave me alone.”
Sportacus isn’t difficult, either; Ziggy catches him outside the library (conveniently on the way to the gym. On the route Trixie had followed him the past three Tuesdays,) and tells him with a noncommittal shrug that Robbie’s managed to get himself stuck in the storage closet. He doesn’t even question it, nor why his crystal fails to go off; honestly, it’s not the first time he’s rescued Robbie from any number of benign predicaments he’s managed to get himself in to. (Last week he pulled Robbie from the tree out front on the way to the gym.)
So it’s not a hard plan, but it’s a bad one. Because, in the process of Pixel keeping Robbie searching through the storage closet just long enough for Sportacus to get there, and Ziggy selling their story convincingly enough that Sportacus steps right on in before that moment of confusion gives him pause, and the rest of the lying in wait to slam the door behind both of them and ‘accidentally’ ‘break’ the doorknob (easy, with the screws removed), not one of them pauses to consider that there’s no window, no lightbulb, no real form of light in the storage closet. That they’ve just locked Robbie Rotten in.
It’s funny, at first, hearing the doorknob rattle. Hearing the perplexity in Sportacus’s voice as he finds the door locked behind them and calls out, “Kids? What’s going on?”
They snicker behind their hands and high-five; Stephanie clears her throat and schools her voice, says “Oh, the door, it’s uh, it’s stuck!” and pressed her ear to the door, glancing across at Trixie and holding a finger up to shush her.
“Oh. Alright. Well, just...maybe get one of the librarians?” She hears shuffling, and a low ringing noise, and she brings a hand to her mouth to stifle a short giggle but then she hears Sportacus speak, hears him say “The door’- Robbie?”
Then she hears a wheeze. And the low ringing is too familiar, and they’ve made a mistake.
“Robbie? Robbie, it’s okay. It’s alright. We’ll be out of here in no time, okay?” Stephanie hears Robie wheeze again, hears shuffling, hears Sportacus shushing him softly, and when Sportacus speaks again she jumps a little at the firmness in his tone. “Stephanie?”
“Yes?”
“The librarian? Now.”
There’s something in his tone that tells her he knows .
It doesn’t matter. She steps back and gestures to the door, at Pixel, the doorknob in his hand, tells him, “ Fix it ,” and he tries but he fumbles, drops the screws, fingers suddenly clumsy in his panic and somewhere behind the door Robbie makes a noise, higher, distressed. It can’t be more than a minute but it feels like a year and they’re getting nowhere.
“It’s not- I’m s-sorry, we took the- Sportacus, it’s--”
“I need you to step away from the door. Now.”
Stephanie grabs Pixel and drags him clear. “Okay.”
Sportacus kicks the door off of its hinges.
Robbie’s paler than usual when Sportacus firmly leads him out into the hall, shaking and clutching Sportacus by the wrists; Sportacus has a hand cupping his cheek, the other curled protectively at the back of his neck, and he’s stroking small circles with his thumbs against Robbie’s skin while he speaks softly.
None of the kids can really bear to look either of them in the face.
The terribly confused and rather irritated librarian that hurries over to see what all of the commotion is about is infinitely easier to deal with than the jittery look on Robbie’s face or the frown on Sportacus’s.
--
They can’t help but cry a little, all of them (even Trixie) when they pile on Robbie when he’s calmed down, a few hours later, arms around his waist and teary faces as they apologise over and over again.
It’s somehow worse and simultaneously better when he softly says he forgives them, and gingerly wraps them in his arms.
It’s simultaneously worse and better when Sportacus bundles them all up in his arms and lifts the six of them clean off of the floor.
--
They abandon The Plan, after that.
VI.
“Sportacus?”
It’s two weeks after the library incident. The Plan has been dropped, thankfully, but Sportacus knew all along that wouldn’t exactly be the end of it.
He should’ve done this from the beginning.
“Yes, Stephanie?”
She stares straight ahead, brow furrowed, rubbing her hands together in thought.
“You and Robbie like each other, don’t you?”
A lot of trouble could’ve been avoided if he’d just done this from the beginning .
“Of course. Robbie and I are friends-”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He can’t go back and do this from the beginning, but he can do it now.
“You and Robbie like each other. Like the way Uncle Milford and Ms. Busybody like each other?” She look sideways at him and Sportacus takes a steadying breath, sits up a little straighter and rolls his shoulders.
“I love Robbie, yes.” He nods.
She’s not taken aback. Stephanie just looks at him for a moment, considering, and eventually nods in return. “And he loves you.” It’s not a question.
It’s not a question. Sportacus purses his lips and nods again, slower this time, slightly less certain. “...I think so, yes.”
“So why don’t you just..?” She throws her hands up in the air in exasperation and Sportacus feels a chuckle tickle at the back of his throat even as all of the air escapes him on a sigh.
“Because it doesn’t always work like that, Stephanie.”
“Why not?”
He shrugs and says as earnestly as he can, “It’s scary, sometimes. And sometimes two people just aren’t ready, not yet. And that’s okay. Robbie and I are friends, and we love each other, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. Does any of that make even a little bit of sense?”
Stephanie crossed her arms and regards him carefully out of the corner of her eye. And he thinks he sees her nod.
Then she puffs out her cheeks and says, in the contrary tone only a child can truly master, “That’s stupid.”
Sportacus laughs and throws an arm around her and picks her up, her little legs kicking ineffectual as he stands and carries her off in the direction of the football field. “Okay you, enough of that! It’s time to meet your friends!”
--
It doesn’t take long for Robbie to find them on the field; it never does, these days. He complains, he puts up a fuss, often sits on the sidelines and makes snide remarks and tries to tempt them laying down in the grass and taking a tap, but more often than not he just sort of shows up.
Sometimes he smiles.
“It’s alright, Robbie! Sportacus will catch you!”
Right now, he’s participating.
Trust falls. He’s been teaching them to the kids, and they’re having fun. They like to show off, like to group up, the four of them catching one and carrying them around the field; it was the only thing he could think to suggest to dissuade them from begging him to catch all five of them at once. It’s worked a treat, to say the least, and Sportacus can’t help but smile as they shuffle past carrying Ziggy carefully.
Robbie’s not smiling. There’s tension in his shoulders, hiked up nearly to his ears; Ziggy calls out encouragement as they pass and Sportacus watches a tendon work in Robbie’s jaw.
He doesn’t think his ribs are enough to hold all of the love and affection he feels for this man.
“Robbie?” He steps close, leans in to speak right in Robbie’s ear, low and slow and soothing; Robbie doesn’t jump. He often doesn’t, these days. To Sportacus it feels a little like a gift from the Gods every time.
Robbie feels safe with him.
“Do you trust me?” Sportacus reaches out brushes his fingertips against Robbie’s arms; he feels the man tense, and he doesn’t think it’s nerves. Not that way.
Robbie doesn’t say anything for a while. Then, “Yes.”
And all the tension is still there, the fear tightly wound, but Sportacus holds out his arms and says, “Okay,” and nods, even though Robbie can’t see it, and there’s hesitation but Robbie falls back and
Sportacus catches him. Wraps his arms around him and leans over him, laughing, and Robbie has his eyes squeezed shut but he cracks one open and looks up and then he’s laughing too, a little giddy maybe, and because it feels right Sportacus leans in until their noses are touching and he feels Robbie’s fingers touch his cheek.
“I’d really like to kiss you.”
Sportacus holds his breath and waits for the wide eyes. Waits for Robbie to realise he’s said that out loud, to try to take it back, to stutter and stammer over his words as he tries to force them back in and it never comes.
Robbie just looks up at him and smiles, all soft and searching, and Sportacus is pretty sure he’s done nothing in his life to deserve this.
“I’d like that, Robbie.” He murmurs. He’s not sure if he leans down or Robbie leans up or if it really matters; they both move, and their lips meet.
And it’s right .
“WHAT.”
And they both look up suddenly to see five very accusatory children staring them down.
Well. Four, and Ziggy.