Chapter Text
He was over the Atlantic when he heard it.
He didn't follow American news. Hadn't for a long time. Yet when one of the plane's screens was playing an American broadcast and the anchor said Mecha Man Blue, his attention had snagged.
On screen: a lean man in the blue flight suit, sans armor, arm in a sling.
His voice was low. Dry. Calming.
"There's been a lot of speculation about my health and the state of the Mechaman suit. The suit has been damaged beyond my ability to repair. I'll be stepping back from superhero work effective immediately."
Good, he thought. Good for him.
He went back to his book. Lasted forty seconds.
The interview continued — fans, vigils, sacrifices made for the people of Los Angeles — and he did his best not to remember and failed and was about to ask the man next to him to shut it off when a reporter's voice cut through.
"Shroud kills your father, breaks out, destroys the suit, puts you in a coma. Most heroes avenge their family. You did the opposite. How disappointed would your dad be? Your father, your grandfather — they must be rolling over in their graves."
He stared at the screen. This reporter. He should—
Mecha Man stood at the podium. With his right hand he reached across his body, found the cuff of his right glove with his slung left hand, and pulled it free.
Then stepped off the stage.
He stood in front of the reporter. Looked at him. The reporter leaned in, thinking he was going to tell him something.
Then Mecha Man punched him with his bare fist— once — twice. Blood splattered his hand.
The reporter crumpled to the floor.
Mecha Man kicked him — once — twice. A final kick. Expression bored. The crowd went wild.
He turned and walked back up onto the stage, flicking the blood off his knuckle as he went.
Mecha Man didn't look into the camera. Not yet.
"Protecting my community," he said pleasantly, pulling his glove back on finger by finger, "was the greatest honor I'll ever have. Now I have to live knowing that." He smoothed the glove at his wrist.
His eyes flicked up to the camera. Held there for a moment. "Thank you for coming."
Brown eyes, freckles at the edges of the mask, the jaw, the set of his mouth.
Something went very still within him. It made his chest hurt.
The man next to him changed the channel.
He sat with the ache for a moment. Then he picked up his book.
He didn't read a word of it.
Months later, he found himself in Los Angeles. He caught a broadcast in the display of a TV store on the street.
Mecha Man was back in action. Suit apparently repaired. Now a star hero of SDN Torrance along with Star Blazer and Phenomaman. Subscribe today.
He watched the screen until the broadcast changed.
Then he looked out into the street and upwards, towards where the SDN billboard was.
He stood there for a very long time.
One Year Later
Chad
Chad was sitting in the breakroom drinking his chai when he heard a new voice. Mandy was giving some new guy a tour.
Alice was at the table across from him, scrolling her phone with one hand and stealing from his chips with the other without looking up.
Chad watched the entrance of the breakroom. Mandy and the new guy walked in.
He was taller than Mandy.
Young. Korean. Early to mid twenties, Chad thought. His face was structured with clean lines, sharp jaw, the kind of bone structure that photographed well from every angle and probably knew it.
Thick black lashes against dark eyes, deep set, the light glinted maroon off of them. Dark hair falling soft and layered around his face, pushed back with a pair of Aviators sitting on his head like an afterthought.
His fit wasn't a hero suit. Olive jacket, some kind of military cut, worn like he'd owned it a long time. Dark red underneath. Tactical glove only on the left hand with the fingers cut off like he thought he was going to need just one. Grey trousers with the cuffs rolled. Clean boots.
The right sleeve was pushed up just enough that bandaging showed at his wrist. Clean wrap, not fresh. Like it was a thing he maintained rather than something that had happened to him recently.
He looked like he walked off a movie set.
Alice looked up from her phone.
Then she looked again.
Her hand stopped mid-reach toward the chip bag. She sat up straighter. Her phone lowered slowly to the table.
Chad watched it happen in his peripheral vision and did not comment.
Mandy caught Chad's eyes and smiled.
Shit.
"Flambae! Prism! This is Splitvein. He's new to the Phoenix Program. Tell him how great it is!"
Alice put her phone face down on the table and gave Splitvein her full and undivided attention.
"Hi," she said. “Looking forward to workin’ with you.” She snapped a finger to release a few colorful sparks, “I control light.”
He glanced at her. Something in his mouth moved that wasn't quite a smile. "Beautiful."
His voice was deeper than Chad expected.
Alice giggled.
Chad put his mug down, "Program's great. You'll love being bossed around by a normie bitch all day." Chad snapped a flame to demonstrate his ability.
Splitvein didn't crack a smile. If anything, he seemed offended by the flame Chad had produced.
Fine. Fuck you too.
Mandy rolled her eyes smiling, "Flambae's so funny. He was talking about Robert, your dispatcher. I'll introduce you to him next."
They left the room.
Alice watched them go. Then turned to Chad with an expression he recognized.
"No," Chad said.
"He’s fuckin’ hot."
"He’s not my type."
"You’re trippin’, Bae." She picked her phone back up. Started typing enthusiastically. "A man like that is everyone’s type. I should ask him to be in one of my videos."
“You’ve never asked me.”
“Bitch, I did. Once. You don’t follow directions.”
“Not my fault they don’t know how to dance.”
She looked at him, “They’re professional dancers with fuckin’ degrees. You just have opinions. Dumb ass ones.”
Chad stood up and drained the rest of his mug.
He had to see this go down. What lame sarcastic remark would Robert make about this guy?
Maybe call him Black Parade. Maybe call him BT-Emo. Maybe EX-Oh-Hell-No. Chad grinned to himself. Maybe he should give Robert notes.
He also did not think about how he knew enough K-pop to make those jokes. His niece’s fault.
“Gonna go get some air.” He said to Alice. She hummed, still on her phone. Probably telling Malevola and Visi about the new guy.
He left the breakroom.
Chad walked into the dispatcher bullpen, keeping a small distance away from them. He was close enough to hear with plausible deniability by standing by the copy machine.
He pretended a stack of paper was very intriguing.
“Hi Robert, this is Splitvein, the new hero for your team.”
Robert took half his headset off and sat back to look up at him.
“Hey, like she said, I'm Robert Robertson, I know, the name sounds fake—”
“Nah, man.” Splitvein smiled, teeth sharp, “Name's Sam Sang, so no judgment from me.”
Chad glowered. He acted like Chad was scum but smiled like that for fuckin’ Mecha Bitch? Dumb.
Robert smirked, “Like the phone. Yeah that’s rough.”
“Before you ask, yes, I get plenty of signal. Resolution’s great. Plan’s unlimited.”
Robert tilted his head, enjoying the challenge. “How about the warranty?”
“For you, a lifetime.” Splitvein said.
Mandy laughed. Robert's mouth curved despite himself.
Chad wanted to throw up. It was so lame.
“So, I haven't had a chance to read your file. What's your power?”
Splitvein pushed the left sleeve up. Bandaging underneath, and above the wrap where the skin was visible, old scarring. He didn't explain it.
He bit into the soft flesh of his palm — into the bandaged hand — without breaking eye contact with Robert.
He then moved his gloved hand, fingers making a pulling motion from his wound.
The blood materialized as a dagger, balancing on his finger a few inches from Robert's face. Dark red and solid, like crimson obsidian.
It was perfectly still.
Mandy leaned back slightly. "Maybe don't do that in the office."
Robert didn't blink. Didn't move. "Yup. Edgy shit. So you'll fit right in."
Splitvein flicked his fingers. The dagger dissolved back into his wound.
He brought his palm to his mouth and licked the wound closed, healing it into a light scar. His eyes still on Robert the whole time.
Fucking gross, Chad thought.
At least Robert looked as unimpressed and unbothered as usual. After working with Janelle and Victor for a year, antics like that wouldn’t be surprising.
Mandy made a face. Pulled a phone from her pocket. Read something.
"One second. Don't go anywhere." She stepped away toward the hall, already typing.
Splitvein stood in the middle of the bullpen with his hands in his pockets, looking around the room like he had all the time in the world, no itching to grab his phone like anyone else would.
He made eye contact with Chad.
Splitvein made no moves, no expression. Like Chad was completely inconsequential.
Then a corner of his mouth pulled, slight. As if he said, keep watching.
Chad felt cold.
Splitvein looked away. His maroon eyes landed back on Robert.
Chad did not move from the copy machine.
Robert was still half-turned in his chair, headset still half on, one cuff covering his right ear. Relaxed. Open in a way that he was around everyone, but it pissed Chad off to see him do it with this guy around.
Splitvein crossed the small distance between them and leaned against the edge of Robert's desk. Not asking. Just taking up space like he belonged there.
"So what's the dispatcher side like?"
"Like herding dumbass cats." Robert leaned back in his chair. "Everyone has a distinctive personality, motives, and abilities. You have to know how to manage them and make the right call. Takes time to get used to it."
"You like it?"
"Most days."
Splitvein tilted his head, looking at him like he was the most interesting person in the room— despite all the walking spandex around them. "And the other days?"
Something in the question landed differently. Not small talk. Robert's mouth curved, just at the corner. "Those days I get coffee spiked with whiskey."
Splitvein smiled. Slow. It reached his eyes in a way the earlier one hadn't. He shifted his weight forward, hand dropping to the desk, bringing him closer. "So you're the guy keeping everyone alive out there."
"Don’t get too excited. A lot of calls aren't life or death. They can be pretty fuckin’ boring."
"Modest, too."
"Just being real."
Splitvein's hand moved to the edge of Robert's desk. "You on break?"
Robert furrowed his brows. "Yeah. Why."
Splitvein reached over and lifted the ear cuff still covering Robert’s right ear. Settled it so that the headset rested around Robert's neck evenly. His thumb had brushed his hair and ear as he pulled it down.
Casual, but Chad saw the intention.
Splitvein moved his hand back.
"Sorry, that was bothering me," Splitvein said.
Robert shrugged.
Chad knew he’d faced worse HR violations.
Then Splitvein said something low that didn't carry across the room.
Robert huffed a short laugh. His shoulders dropped. The stillness broke into something warmer.
Robert had an expression Chad had memorized exactly once before, after a mission debrief, in a hallway, aimed at Chad himself. Not flirtatious. Maybe. Just present. Like he had all of Robert’s attention and he wasn't running some math or scenario in the back of his mind.
He did not like seeing it pointed at Splitvein.
Chad set the papers down.
Fine. Good. Robert could make friends. Robert could make all the friends he fucking wants.
Chad didn't care who Robert looked at.
He didn't care that Splitvein had apparently decided in the span of four fucking minutes that Robert's desk was his new favorite piece of furniture.
That he thought he had the right to be that close to his dispatcher.
He didn't care that Robert's hand had drifted to the back of his own neck in that tell he had when he was trying not to smile too wide.
Chad had never seen that tell before.
He was about to walk away when Mandy came back with her phone still in her hand, typing one-handed. He grabbed the papers back up.
"Sorry, sorry. Where were we. I think the three D’s right?" She looked up. Splitvein was still at Robert's desk, too close to Robert. She registered it like it wasn’t notable.
“You covered that before the breakroom.” Splitvein smiled.
"Right.” She continued, “So I'll get you set up with building access, your locker assignment, and then we'll do the medical clearance forms—"
"I can walk him through the forms," Robert said.
Mandy looked at him."That's — yeah, actually that works. The forms are a nightmare, you'll be better at it." She smiled at Splitvein. "He's the best, you're in good hands."
"I can tell," Splitvein said.
He wasn't looking at Mandy when he said it.
Mandy's phone buzzed again. She glanced at it, already moving. "I gotta go back to the desk. I'll send the building access to your email. Robert, you've got him?"
"Yeah."
"Great." She was halfway to the hall. "Splitvein, welcome to the team. Glad to have you."
She rounded the corner. Gone.
Splitvein watched her go, then turned back to Robert. "You can call me Sam, by the way.” Then he tilted his head slightly, smirking. “You know, if Splitvein’s too edgy for you."
"I'm sure Mandy will have ideas on a rebrand. But yeah, nice to meet you, Sam." Robert said.
“Don’t meet a guy who goes by Robert often. Not even Rob or anything?” Sam asked.
Robert picked up a pen and started spinning it between two fingers. "People usually make up names for me. Robbo, Bobby, Bob Bob, Roberto. I've given up having opinions about it. So you can call me whatever."
Sam's eyes moved once around the bullpen — passed Chad — and settled back on Robert.
"How about dinner."
Chad willed the fire out of his palms.
What the actual fuck.
Robert put the pen down. Looked at him. "What?"
Sam's voice dropped just slightly. Not performed. Just quieter, like the room had gotten smaller. "If you're not doing anything tonight. I'd like to take you out to dinner. Eight o'clock."
The color came up Robert's neck before he could do anything about it. He cleared his throat.
"Like to talk about the job?"
"Something like that."
Robert adjusted the headset around his neck. Sat back. "I don't date anyone I work with."
"I don't start until tomorrow. Haven't even done the forms yet."
Chad wanted to break his teeth.
"Okay. Flattered, but wouldn't be appropriate. I'm your boss." Robert held his gaze for exactly one beat too long before looking back at his monitor. "Welcome to the Z-Team. The forms are in the shared drive, I'll send you the link."
Sam didn't move right away. Just stayed at the edge of the desk, watching Robert not look at him.
"Robertson," he said. Low. Like a purr.
Robert glanced up, still flushed. "What."
"Just testing a name out."
Robert looked at his desk. Decided something. Lifted his headset back over his ears. "Mandy's office is down the hall. You have access to the forms, you can fill them out there." He turned back to his monitor. "I have something I need to do."
The corner of Sam's mouth moved. Not the slow smile — something faster, private, like he'd just confirmed something he already knew.
It sent a sick chill up Chad's spine. He dropped the papers.
Stooped down to collect them, which felt extra ridiculous given his size. He stayed down a beat longer than necessary.
When he stood back up Sam and Robert were looking at each other again. Robert seemed to be staring him down, his shoulders tensed like he was waiting for a panther to pounce.
Sam languidly pushed off the desk and followed the direction Mandy had gone, hands back in his pockets. Easy. Like he'd gotten exactly what he came for.
Robert sat very still for a moment. Relaxed his shoulders. Then he turned to face his monitor and started typing.
Robert turned him down. Sam had smiled anyway. Like it didn’t matter. He got what he wanted out of the exchange.
Something about that didn’t sit right.
"That thing's been broken for a week."
Chad whirled around.
Victor was standing two feet behind him, arms crossed, eyes on the bullpen. His ears were angled forward.
“Fuck. How long have you been standing there?”
"Long enough, dude." Victor didn't move. His gaze lingered where Sam was. Assessing. "Who’s the new guy?"
"Splitvein. Makes blood daggers or some shit."
"Hemokinesis. Sick." Victor's ear twitched. "But something's fucking weird about that guy."
Chad's first instinct was to say something dismissive. His second instinct was that Victor's ears were better than anyone else's in the building aside from Galen. He went with neither.
"Weird aside from controlling blood like some emo’s wet dream?" Chad said.
"Listen dude, most people got like a baseline noise, right? That guy was running under that." A pause. "Like, quieter than a pro athlete."
Chad said nothing.
"I'm just saying. Ten beats a minute. I think I heard him take one or two breaths the whole conversation and it was only to talk." He straightened his jacket. "Weird, right?"
"Creepy of you to notice shit like that."
"It's a gift. Helps in negotiations." Victor glanced at him sideways. Something knowing in it that Chad did not appreciate. "His heart rate went up to a whole sixteen beats when talking to Robbie alone. He's very interested in him."
"He has that effect on people." Chad said without thinking about it. Winced.
"Maybe on you. Mal and I always wondered why you never made a move."
"You're fuckin' annoying. Go wander somewhere else."
"I didn't wander. I followed." Victor said it like it was obvious. "You've been fake-using a broken copy machine for six minutes, Flambae. I got curious." He looked back at the bullpen. His white eyes narrowed.
"What now?"
"Nothing." Victor pocketed his phone. He clapped Chad once on the shoulder, the way he did when he thought he was being profound. "Keep an eye on that guy. He’s lookin’ at Robbie like he wants to eat him. I’d know."
He drifted off toward the hall, already on his phone, already forgetting Chad existed.
Chad stood there, looking at the back of Robert's head.
He picked up the paper stack he'd set down, put it back exactly where he found it, and walked away.
Chad walked to the end of the hall and kept going.
Down the east stairwell, out the side door, into the parking structure where the air was cooler and the fluorescent lights were doing something to his eyes.
He thought about the night. The one Robert would probably claim he barely remembered but Chad remembered everything.
It was before the Shroud incident. It had been a Thursday.
Team night that turned into a bar that turned into last call, and somewhere in the last round Robert had stopped trying to be their leader and started just being funny and relaxed. Looking at Chad like he was tired of thinking about something complicated.
The others filtered out. The bar had been loud and the walk back had been quiet and somewhere on Robert's block they'd stopped pretending the night was going anywhere except where it was going.
Robert's apartment. The door barely closed behind them.
He barely noticed how sad and empty the place was.
No calculation in it. That was the thing. Chad had expected Robert to be like he was on comms — even, dry, the dispatcher register applied to everything including this.
He wasn't.
He was five drinks in and so was Chad and what was underneath the careful mask was not careful at all.
Robert had kissed him like he'd been thinking about it for a long time.
Chad had walked him backward into the wall and Robert had gone with it, hands already at Chad's jacket, no hesitation. Both of them moving like the other one was somewhere they'd been trying to get to and had finally stopped finding reasons not to.
Chad had gotten Robert's shirt off and stopped.
Scars. Everywhere. Old ones, white and settled into the skin, and newer ones still pink at the edges. His collarbone, his ribs, his side, a pattern of someone who'd taken damage repeatedly and in a variety of ways.
Chad had seen battle damage before.
He knew what it looked like.
At the time, he didn't know what Robert Robertson the dispatcher was doing with a body like that.
Robert had watched him look. Not self-conscious. Just waiting.
"Bar fights," Robert said. His voice was rough. "Don't win much"
Chad had looked at him.
“Do they bother you.” Robert said, his hands against Chad's chest.
Chad pressed his mouth to the scar along Robert's collarbone as his answer and felt him pull in a breath, and that had been the end of any further delays.
Robert had his hands in Chad's hair and was pulling hard and Chad was not complaining. He had Robert's back against the wall and Robert had a leg hooked around him and was using it to pull him closer with an insistence that Chad found impressive given the height and strength difference. He wasn't asking for anything. He was just taking it, which was—
Chad was not going to think about what that was.
He'd gotten them to the mattress eventually. Robert had ended up over him at some point, knees on either side, and Chad had looked up at him and thought oh, this is a problem with the full clarity that he lost the argument.
Robert had bitten his shoulder. No warning. Teeth finding the junction of his neck and shoulder and bearing down, and the sound Chad made was not one he'd planned on making.
His hands had heated without permission — not controlled, not placed, just spiking at the point of contact — and Robert had hissed against his skin, more surprised than pained, and then had done it again.
Like he liked it.
Every bite Robert gave him he matched with a burn of his own.
He remembered Robert moving down, peppering light bites down his body until he enveloped him in his mouth. Chad couldn't think about much, the way he worked the flat of his tongue. The way he took all of him. He was experienced. Very experienced.
He released Chad to readjust, moving lower and then placed Chad's legs over his shoulders.
He didn't remember how lube had gotten involved.
Robert inserted a slicked finger while he went back to enveloping him with his mouth. His tongue was still doing things he didn't have a clear idea of, the scrape of his teeth just right.
Chad remembered the sounds that came from his own mouth. It was louder than he expected.
Then a second finger and a third. He remembered his brain melting. Robert got his mouth off and left him there.
Their breathing ragged.
He remembered the way the low light reflected in his eyes as he looked down at him, pupils blown, like Chad was completely his to take.
And he was.
Robert repositioned Chad, then pressed himself against him, pausing for permission.
He settled his hips to give Robert the go ahead.
Robert pressed forward, and Chad's breath punched out, making sure he relaxed into him, to allow him deeper. Robert once again demonstrated his experience. Chad tried not to think about that too hard.
They found their rhythm and Chad felt the pleasure build. Robert found the angles and the depth and the sounds, God the sounds they made.
He felt like he was made of electricity instead of fire from the sensation.
With a final push Robert trembled and spilled inside him. Chad’s name and Holy Shit somewhere in the noise.
They detangled, Robert caught his breath.
Chad wasn't done.
He grabbed him by the waist and rolled them over. Then he gently repositioned him. Robert allowed him to.
Robert was on his stomach, hips angled upwards where Chad wanted him. Chad found the lube, slicked his fingers and pressed his finger tip against him.
Robert looked up at him, flushed and panting still, and he moved his hips back in permission.
Chad worked him open. Curled his fingers to hit the spot just right. Eager to show Robert how experienced he also was.
He remembered how he bucked into his hand, making sounds in ways Chad never got right in his imagination.
When he was ready, he shoved himself into him. The tightness that eased around him. The way Robert moved was like he'd never needed anything more in his life than Chad, specifically, completely, inside him.
He remembered finishing at the same time, and how Robert didn't let him go, shoved back into him every time he tried to pull away, working him until he was completely empty. Like he wasn't ready to let him go.
Looking back, maybe he knew before Chad did that it was going to be a one time thing.
They collapsed onto their sides, facing each other, panting, messy and sweaty before they detangled enough to shower and change the sheets.
He remembered holding Robert against him. His face in his chest, Chad’s arm over his waist. The way he settled into his heat and relaxed. He even remembered Beef snuggling against his back.
He'd replayed the memory many nights ever since. He usually stopped before the next part.
In the morning Robert had handed him a mug and said evenly: I don't do this. The relationship thing. I'm not built for it. We probably shouldn't do that again.
Not cruel. Just true.
Chad had said yeah, same, probably and meant none of it.
Two weeks passed.
Then after a night of bitter karaoke and the most satisfying bar fight they ever had, the team was at a taco place at 3am and someone said something about which hero he used to be. And Robert said he was Mecha Man and Chad's hands had ignited before he'd made a decision about it.
He hadn't killed him.
He would have. Not almost. Not close. Bruno had stepped between them and Herm's water had hit Chad and then he'd flown off. There were many reports of a meteorite that night. It took two hours of flying to calm down.
He showed up at Robert's apartment the next morning. Robert opened the door with a burn on his arm where the fire had grazed him. Ugly and mean compared to the light finger tip shaped burns from their one night together.
He had looked at Chad. Waited.
Chad said his version of an apology. Not enough. Not the right amount or assemblage of words. But the word sorry was in there.
Robert nodded "Okay." Flat. Received. "You good?"
Chad hadn't expected that. "I'm — yeah."
"Okay."
Robert stepped back to close the door. Chad said the fingers. Got it out somehow.
"Look." Robert's voice was even. "You made a call to not back down. I made a call to stop you. I won't apologize for calls we both made."
“Why the fuck did you sleep with me then. You knew the whole time that you were the one that—”
“Yeah, that was fucked up. We were drunk.” Robert looked to the side, pain behind his eyes, then he looked back at Chad, “That I'm sorry for. It was a mistake. I don't expect you to forgive me. If you wanted to report—.”
“No. No need, we're— uh, we're good.”
“Cool, I expected a punch or something when I opened the door. Good talk.”
“Yeah, good talk.” Chad couldn’t get it together, he wanted to go into that apartment and hold him against the wall. Whether that was to choke him in his anger or make out against it was a coin flip in his mind.
Robert seemed to sense the storm in his mind. Trying to leave the conversation on a decent note, Robert pulled his mouth into a small smile. Bitter.
“See you at work, I guess.” Then the door closed.
Chad had stood in the hallway with his attempt of an apology accepted and received one he didn't necessarily want given— and everything he'd actually wanted to say was still stuck somewhere in his chest.
He found his feelings so unresolved he ended up punching Robert that night at the housewarming party anyway.
After the Shroud and Red Ring incident, Chad and Robert formed their own shape of a friendship.
It started with Chad helping him in the gym in the mornings. Spotting, giving advice. Sometimes he helped him stretch.
Then it bled into more rooms of the training facility. Sparring sessions. Rock climbing. Racketball.
Then Robert would give him more compliments and praise over calls. His criticisms were still there though, and they still bickered about certain decisions Chad had made.
Robert would bring him coffee or a specific tea that sounded interesting when he went out for break.
Then Chad would share his lunch with him sometimes in the breakroom.
Robert's favorite was spicy curry.
Sometimes they both went out to smoke. They'd go to the top of the parking garage.
Robert would bring the cigs and Chad brought the flame. They would stand quiet for a while, listening to the traffic and the planes.
It became something neither of them named.
There were unspoken rules.
They never mention the night. And they never drank more than three drinks around each other.
And it was enough for Chad.
Had to be.
He pulled away from the memories. Crossed his arms and looked at the parking structure wall.
The audacity of Sam to ask Robert out on day one. Why test him like that. That's what it seemed like, didn't it?
A test.
And based on Sam’s smile, Robert passed it.
He didn’t know what that meant.
It wasn't his place. That's what he kept telling himself.
He went back inside.
The Next Day
It was morning. About an hour before the shift started.
Robert was already on the mat when Chad got there, one leg out, reaching for his ankle.
Chad stood over him. "You look like an old sad flamingo."
"I haven't caffeinated enough to deal with your shit this early."
Chad smirked. Then crossed the floor and sat behind him. Chad put both palms flat and felt him breathe. Robert's back was warm through his shirt.
"Push," Chad said.
Robert breathed out and leaned into it. The muscle under Chad's hands shifted and worked and Chad kept his eyes on the middle distance.
"Met the new hire yesterday," Chad said.
"Splitvein." Robert breathed through it. "Yeah."
"Weird guy, right?"
"Confident." Mostly thinking about his hamstring. "I'll give him that."
Chad pretended he had no idea what Robert was talking about, "Confident how."
"Asked me to dinner."
Chad's hands stayed flat. That took some effort. "Bold as hell."
"Yup."
"You bat your girly eyelashes at him or something."
"No." Robert switched legs. Chad moved with him, resettled his hands, took a moment longer than necessary finding the right placement.
Robert turned his head to smirk at him, "Must've been my slutty voice, as you called it."
Chad stopped. "I've never—"
"The radio commercial. We were out celebrating and Mandy was going on about the high ratings and excited that her script did so well, and you said…”
Robert switched to a higher pitch and put on a light accent, “Robbo has a slutty voice, could read the fuckin' terms and conditions and it’d still go fuckin’ viral." A beat. Voice flat. "In front of everyone."
Chad had absolutely said that. He'd also had three drinks in him and had forgotten about it, which was a separate problem.
“That’s not what I sound like, you racist piece of shit.”
"My impressions are impeccable,” Robert said. “Push”
Chad pushed. Robert leaned into it, further than last week, the line of his back changing under Chad's hands. Chad noted it the way he wasn't supposed to be noting.
"Okay, whatever, so your slutty voice got you a dinner." Chad said. “Congrats.”
"I turned him down."
"Obviously." Chad reset his hands. Kept them still. "You read his file yet?"
"This morning."
"And?"
"Sparse," he said.
"Sparse like boring or—"
"Sparse like someone took the interesting parts out. Power registration's there, the arresting charges, program application. Everything before that is thin."
"How thin."
"Thin like missing. He shows up with no history aside from the aggravated assault and larceny charges he entered the program with. Listed his age as thirty but he doesn't look it. Looks early twenties."
Robert switched legs. Chad moved with him, one hand briefly at his hip to guide the repositioning, gone again before it meant anything.
"That's weird," Chad said. "Thirty with no priors leading up to it. Usually there's something before aggravated assault and larceny. Theft as a teen, something small that escalates."
"Exactly. Maybe he's from somewhere that didn't transfer over," Robert said. "Different state. Different country."
"Maybe." Chad's hands pressed in.
Robert glanced behind to look at Chad, "What did you think of him?”
Chad looked at the curve of his nose. The line of his jaw from this angle. The dusting of freckles.
"I mean, considering the premise of the Phoenix Program, I don’t trust him," Chad said. “Not on day one.”
"True." Robert looked away.
Chad repositioned his hands, “He does give me bad vibes though.”
Chad pushed harder than he meant to.
"Easy," Robert said.
"Sorry."
Chad put the pressure back where it belonged and kept it there. Robert's breathing evened out. His shoulders dropped. He trusted Chad's hands completely and had no idea what that cost.
The gym hummed around them, empty and early.
"I mean, he asked you out on day one," Chad said. Still thinking about it. “Who does that?”
"Probably checking if I was into men in the first place before he wasted his time." Robert said. "Not everyone waits to make a move."
Chad looked at the back of his head. The slope of his shoulder. The scar at the base of his neck that disappeared under his collar and that Chad knew the entirety of its shape.
"Doesn’t matter right? You don’t do relationships." Chad said. He kept his voice even, factual.
A beat.
"Right," Robert said.
The silence after was long.
