Chapter Text
Robert woke up with the sound of his alarm blaring right next to his head, as his phone laid resting on the pillow beside his. The sun's rays were leaving golden streaks through the blackout curtains, bathing the grey and cracked walls with glowing patterns. Another beautiful day in Los Angeles, minimal clouds in the sky, evident after the man stood up and drew the curtains apart.
Beef yawned from his doggy bed, turning over on his belly and sleeping some more. Robert felt jealous of his dog. The overweight chihuahua had no idea how lucky he was.
Robert dragged his feet, ushering himself into the bathroom for his regular routine, ever since joining SDN. Wake up, contemplate going back to sleep, take a piss, wash hands, brush teeth, trim stubble (if necessary), get dressed, put on the thin silver chain necklace with an iron wrought ring hanging from it and go to work.
Which was exactly what he did. Following routine was what kept him alive for a long time, especially after his father's death. And only one person was able to break such a routine and bring some joy and ease into Robert's life. His hand had unconsciously reached up to feel the rough and jagged design of the ring around his neck, but he'd shake his head clear from those thoughts.
No use lingering on them. They weren't dead, just away, at the moment. And oblivious to everything that had happened to him in the past few months. They had left after Robert woke up from his coma, making him promise not to do anything stupid, while they were away. Which was a promise he had broken within the first two weeks of being functioning again.
The man knew he'd be getting a stern talking to (or worse), when they came back from their business trip. A very pissed talking to... Yeah, Robert was both excited and not.
Once dressed and ready, Beef being given his breakfast of kibble, coffee in a to-go cup and the dog's leash clipped on—Robert left his apartment.
The commute to the SDN offices was a quiet one, even peaceful. There was a light breeze, keeping the warming day pleasent, accompanied by the sounds of car horns and chatter of civilians. Ah, good ol' LA, the capital of bustling crowds and heroes.
The twenty minute walk passed by quickly and just as Robert's hand reached out to push one open, a sinking feeling of dread crawled down his spine. He'd stop, hand hovering just above the door handle, eyes wide. That... Was unexpected. But, weirdly enough, it wasn't about today's shift. No, he still had a good feeling about it, his gut reassuring him on that matter. The Z-Team has been doing great, ever since the Shroud debacle. This was a different kind of dread. One that only showed when they...
"Eh, it was probably fine." Robert thought to himself, shaking the feeling off and entering the building, going straight towards the doors that lead to the offices above.
The elevator was crowded, as usual. Robert held his coffee in one hand and Beef in the other, as he was surrounded on all sides by supers and fellow employees alike. The elevator ascended up, opening it's doors every floor, as the crowd slowly dispersed, until eventually stopping on Robert's floor.
The walk to his desk was short, his backpack placed down onto the floor, Beef gently deposited onto his second doggy bed under Robert's desk.
Chase wasn't at his desk, so Robert assumed the man was in the break room getting coffee or a snack. As he had some time before first shift began, Robert left his desk and headed back down with the elevator to The Garage. He wanted to check on the progress of the Mecha suit. After the SDN was rebuilt, Royd had been eager to get back into the game of tinkering with it and making it better. He was determined to get it right, which Robert appreciated. It was no longer his father's suit, but his.
As the doors to the elevator slid open, Robert stepped out and he was hit with the same damn feeling of dread, making him stop dead in his tracks. A shiver passed through him, grabbing the attention of Royd, whom was overlooking the schematics to the suit. The man arched a questioning brow at Robert, standing straight with his arms crossed.
"Wha's up, bruddah? Ya lookin' like ya seen a ghost."
"I dunno.. feels like it. It's fine, I'm sure it'll go away." Robert brushed it off, stepping close to the table to review the schematics alongside the large man. They'd spend some time discussing some possible changes to the cockpit of the suit and the possibility of adding more weapons to it.
Before Robert knew it—it was three minutes to shift, so he quickly bid his goodbye to Royd, earning a fist bump before he went back upstairs.
The man managed to get to his desk, just as the others came online, too. The only indication to his sudden departure and appearance was his slightly staggered breathing, as he pulled on his headphones and lowered the mic.
"Good morning, everyone! I hope everyone.. had a good weekend." Robert breathed out, as the map of Torrance loaded onto his computer screen.
"You good, Boberto? Sounds like you ran to your computer." Sonar commented, followed up by.
"More like sprinted. What, Mecha-Dick can't handle a little cardio?" Flambae joked with a light jab in Robert's direction, snickering to himself and soon being joined by Prism's giggles.
"I'd feel like shite, too, if I looked like that. Ye need to eat more, lad. Put some meat onto ye bones." Punch-Up spoke, his tone joking, but there was a vague tone of concern.
The others murmured in agreement to the Irish man's statement.
This wasn't anything new. Ever since the Shroud battle, the team had been nagging on Robert to start taking better care of himself. Eat more solid meals, drink more water and less coffee, cut off Twinkies, exercise more. That type of stuff.
Don't get him wrong, he appreciated the concern and the efforts some of them made to help him out.
Flambae had started sticking around whenever Robert used the gym, spotting him if necessary. Punch-Up encouraged him, when he practiced his hand-to-hand on the punching bags in the gym and Coupé made vague threats, once he reached his forth coffee cup. Malevola and Waterboy brought him food, on the occasion. Prism made him protein shakes, while Golem brought him bottles of water. Invisigal pressed him with a glare, whenever she saw him approach the vending machine and Sonar offered his "lunch" (rats) to him, if he saw him empty handed.
But... It never felt like enough to steer him in the right direction. It didn't feel right without... Robert took a deep breath, before speaking.
"Alright, let's keep the lines clear. Our shift started, now, let's get it done."
The superhero dispatched his team with little trouble, as usual. Only minor hiccups arose, but they were dealt with appropriately. A simple hack or another member being dispatched always did the trick. There was a point in the day, where some asshat with ice powers tried to freeze the pier and a good chunk of the industrial district, but Flambae and Prism had been quick to shut that down. The two worked seamlessly, as always, apprehending the man and throwing judgemental jabs towards his outfit.
Just as the shift was wrapping up, it happened again. The same stupid feeling of dread. It was starting to get annoying. Everything was fine, why was it still happening?!
Chase must've heard the way Robert groaned with annoyance, after muting himself, as his head popped over the cubicle divider.
"Who shat in your cereal?" The retired hero asked, eyes narrowing with a wayward glance towards Robert's computer.
"No one! That's the thing! I don't know what it is, but I keep getting this feeling of dread down my spine, despite my gut telling me everything is okay." Robert brought his hands up to run over his eyes, the voices of the Z-Team in his ears about returning to the SDN for their lunch breaks.
Chase's head tilted, before he asked with a shrug.
"The good feeling of dread or the bad one?"
At that, Robert's brows furrowed, brown eyes casting a confused look towards the older man.
"There's a difference?"
"Sure, there is. The good one is when somethin' good's gonna happen, but you ain't ready for it, yet. The bad one is, just, plain bad. You know, some shit's 'bout to go down. So, which one?" Chase elaborate, in his own unique way.
Robert thought about it for a moment, trying to grasp at the feeling inside his chest to better understand it. To decipher what it means. The clock on his computer jingled to signal the start of his break, as he answered.
"..I'm not sure. The only time I ever felt this way before, was when I was nervous for my-" Robert started, but never finished, as the Z-Team poured into the bullpen.
"Hey, Bob-Bob! You comin' for lunch or what?" Flambae called out, as the team shuffled into the breakroom, beckoning their dispatcher their way.
Chase chuckled, patting Robert on his shoulder, motioning with his head towards the breakroom.
"Go, kid. Try and relax. Eat something filling and not that bullcrap from the vending machine. I'll watch Beef."
Robert rolled his eyes, but turned off his computer and stood up, all the same. "Alright, alright. I'll go. Gotta make sure Flambae's not bullying Waterboy, anyways. I'll see ya in half an hour, Chase."
Robert took off his headphones and placed them on his desktop, turning on his heel and walking towards the breakroom, where the clamor of the Z-Team could be heard.
Meanwhile...
Large, heavy, scaled wings soared over LA traffic, cutting through the air with incredible speed towards the SDN building, as it came into view. Narrowed white slitted eyes practically glowed with rage, as they zeroed in on the neon red lettering of the reconstructed office space.
Closing those giant wings allowed for a short free fall towards the empty parking lot, before being opened last second, dust being blown in all directions with the stuck landing. The wings would fold with a gentle 'fwoosh', while fists formed and dark claws dug into calloused palms. The footsteps towards the front doors were determined and measured, but a storm kept on brewing within the Draconian's heart and mind, promising no mercy.
The doors were pushed open with a bit of a flourish, sleek black dress shoes carrying their wearer towards the front desk, a pure black and form-fitting suit enveloping a 6'7 statured creature of legend. The light brown mid taper fade was mussed up from the flight over, a light beard over a sharp and tense jawline. A tail swayed back and forth in an agitated manner, black scales with old gold accented colors, when reaching the lowest points. Two horns protruded from the man's head, gently twisting up at their midpoint. They were jagged and rough, as if stone and broken metal clashed for dominance in their appearances.
He'd smile at the desk clerk, but the sharp toothed smile didn't quite reach his white slitted eyes, his slightly raspy voice breaking through the silence with a certain authority one only gained after working with backstabbers and snakes. What specific sort, the clerk couldn't tell.
"Good afternoon. I came here to see Robert Robertson."
"...and who's asking for him, if I may know?" The clerk, bless her soul, barely got out. She was still holding up well, but something about the man just made her want to crawl under her desk and hide.
The Draconian smiled wider, his eyes narrowing with his answer.
"His husband."
————//<3//————
Being let into the building was surprisingly easy. Too easy, if you asked the man currently riding the elevator up. The poor clerk had no spine in his presence, reminding him of the many interns working under him. None dared look at him too long, fearing him and his no-nonsense attitude. He hadn't inherited his mother's company, only to run it into the ground by playing nice. That wasn't the family way.
Once the elevator finally reached the floor the clerk had directed him to, he stepped off and was immediately hit with the smell of sweat, stale coffee and printer ink. But, that underlying smell lingered. His scent. Cheap cologne, rain and oil. An odd, but comforting smell. His feet carried him forward, until he reached the desk with his husband's name on it. The chihuahua that was napping in the doggy bed would stir, a familiar presence waking him up. Beef opened his eyes, finding his second owner standing there with his hands on his hips. Not that the dog knew what it meant.
He barked happily, standing up from his bed and shuffling over to the Draconian's feet, standing on his hind legs and keeping himself up with the help of the man's calf.
The man chuckled, leaning down to pick up the dog, holding him gently. His clawed hands were gentle in their scratching on the dog's belly, voice low and calmer than before.
"Hello, to you too, Beef."
"Well, fuck me sideways with a chainsaw. That you, Jerome?" A new voice said from right next to him. The dragon man turned, seeing a familiar face staring back, causing a smile to grow.
"Chase.. it's been a long while." He'd place Beef back down, before pulling the man into a hug, being mindful with his height and strength.
"Yeah, since the fucking wedding! Been wondering where the hell you were. Thought you dropped off the face of the fuckin' earth, especially with the way Robert looks." Chase hugged back, letting go after a few seconds and stepping back to properly look up at the other.
That sentence made Jerome tense up, a low rumble leaving from deep within his chest, his hands forming fists once more.
"As I've been made aware via social media, after constantly being told everything was 'fine'."
Chase's eyes widened, mouth dropping open in a surprised 'o'. Oh, that was one angry dragon, let alone spouse.
"Robert hadn't told you what happened? At fuckin' all??"
Jerome growled, dark scales starting to form on his fingers and palms, his Draconian nature coming through with the need to protect and attack.
"No. So, imagine my surprise, when I turn on the television last night and I see the coverage of my husband fighting in the suit I thought was beyond repair, against the man that had almost killed him. Alongside, a bunch of misfit villains-turned-heroes, no less. Oh, and how it happened a month ago, with SDN opening it's doors to the public once more. All the while, I've been on a business trip."
Chase could see the lividity in Jerome's eyes, not to mention the scales slowly growing across the man's skin, as his temper flared. Chase had thought that Robert told Jerome. After all, the two were inseparable, after meeting in their younger days. Their friendship had grown from best friends to puppy love, dating in highschool to getting married in their early twenties.
So, Robert not telling Jerome anything, was a surprise. Especially, since the Mecha-Dick knew, how overprotective his husband was. If the dragon was even slightly tipped off to trouble stirring with Shroud, he'd have dropped everything and came back to Torrance. Just to protect his husband. But, to lie and hide this information from him...
...oh, was Robert in for it.
Chase smirked, motioning for Jerome to sit down at Robert's chair, as he started walking towards the breakroom.
"I'll go get him for ya."
————//<3//————
Robert was in a deep conversation with Prism and Malevola about going out and getting him a new look (something he was trying to stop from happening. He likes his wardrobe very much, thank you), when Chase came strolling into the breakroom.
Robert would have thought nothing of it... Until he saw the smug look on the older man's face, his arms crossed, as he stood right in front of Robert. It made his brows furrow in question.
"Something wrong, Chase?"
"Oh, there's plenty wrong. Specifically, a wrong you made and shoved under a rug." The former hero chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.
"Okay, you're gonna need to be more specific. I'm not a mind reader and judging by the look on your face, it's gotta be specific." Robert said, standing up from his spot at the table, the Z-Team turning to look at the interaction between the two. Even they could tell something was about to go down.
"It's specific, alright. About 6'7, wings, tail, teeth and claws type specific." Chase answered, the smug smirk never truly leaving his face, as he used his thumb to point towards the door of the breakroom.
Robert's brows furrowed even further, as various alarms started going off in his head. The 'Oh no' bell, the 'I fucked up' bell, the 'Im going to get yelled at' bell, alongside a few delightful more.
He started shaking his head, not wanting to believe the other, but Chase just nodded. He wasn't kidding. He was actually here. That explained the dread, which had now settled into his bones.
Robert constantly got a sense of dread, whenever his spouse came back home from a prolonged business trip. The dread usually helped him clean up any mess he made, be it at the house or in general. But, he had put it so far in the back of his mind, that he simply forgot the feeling.
And now, he had to face the music. Very angry music.
Robert breathed in deeply, as his feet turned him towards the breakroom door. He was both nervous and excited. He hadn't seen his spouse in a long time, now, possible yelling be damned. Still, it caused a bit of anxiety to settle in his stomach.
"Remember me."
He threw out with a sigh to the team, opening the door and leaving the room, afterwards. The Z-Team looked back at Chase with clear questions in their eyes. The older man spoke up in the quiet space.
"Robert's husband came back from his trip, pissed that Robert didn't tell him about everything going down with Shroud, while he was away."
A stunned silence settled through the Z-Team members, before Prism yelled out with wide eyes, her sunglasses being lowered dramatically.
"HUSBAND?!"
————//<3//————
Robert felt like he was walking towards his execution, rather than towards his husband, whom he hadn't seen in months. It made him feel even worse, since Jerome worked long hours and only took these work trips, so he could spend the rest of the year at home with him.
So, for him to screw up so royally, would definitely reflect his time at home. Not by a lot, but Jerome was definitely going to be keeping his eye on him. Robert only hoped the Draconian hadn't found out about him getting a shitty apartment to do his hero work in and not spending his time at their actual house, which had been laying dormant for.. well, months.
Robert could see the top of his husband's wings over the desk dividers of the office space, sleek and black scaled, folded across the man's back carefully. They weren't small, by any means. Since Jerome was 6'7 due to his nature, his wings were double his size to accomodate and carry him across the skies. It was a welcome sight, after so long.
He rounded the corner to his and Chase's work stations, and his spouse was right there. The man turned in the spinny chair, looking at Robert with a heavy gaze and crossed arms.
Standing up, Jerome towered over Robert as he stepped close, but before he'd let his annoyance and anger be known... His arms wrapped around Robert gently, pulling the other close into an embrace. His wings wrapped around the both of them, a small cocoon of privacy between the pair.
The Draconian leaned down, capturing his husband's lips in a kiss, soft and wanting. One hand stood stock still around Robert's waist, but the other reached up to gently hold Robert's face, thumb caressing the other's cheekbone.
They'd pull away seconds later, Jerome pressing his forehead to Robert's with a bone deep sigh of relief, nose bumping against his.
"...don't ever scare me like that again, do you hear me? The coma was bad enough, but this... I thought I'd lose you for good."
Robert's arms tightened around Jerome's waist and he could feel the silver chain of the man's pocket watch digging into his forearm, but it was a welcome feeling. Something he never knew he'd miss, and something he was always reminded of, when the other came back.
"I'm sorry.. I really am. But, the opportunity came up unexpectedly and I would've felt like an idiot, if I didn't take it. Both to get the suit fixed up and to take down Shroud. Just... Came with a few benefits and drawbacks."
"Like leading a team of ex-villains and almost getting killed?" Jerome asked in turn with a raised brow, pulling their faces away, but still holding the other close. His expression was disappointed, but not surprised. The Draconian knew exactly what he had been getting into the day they married. And he wouldn't change it for the world.
Robert chuckled at the comment, his hands migrating to rest over Jerome's shoulders, a sense of calm finally soothing over the passing dread.
"Yeah... Yeah, just about."
Jerome huffed out amusedly, shaking his head in disbelief and incredulity. His clawed hands finally let go of his husband, his wings keeping them close, still. The hands, in turn, reached up to his neck and took off the matching silver chain necklace he had in his possession. Except, the ring hanging off of it, wasn't iron wrought. It was a pale gold and made to look like a simple crown, lapis embeds all around the band.
Robert took off his own necklace, the iron wrought ring sliding off of the chain into his open palm. The dark metal, upon closer inspection, resembled thick intertwined chain links.
The two exchanged rings, Robert putting the iron one on Jerome's left ring finger and Jerome placing the gold one on Robert's, in turn. A little ritual that transferred over from their younger days. A silent promise. To always come back to one another.
Hands held tight, Jerome leaned down to press a kiss just above Robert's brows, before murmuring both teasingly and seriously.
"If you pull anymore bullshit like this without telling me, I'm chaining you to the house, Treasure."
Robert smirked and answered snarkily.
"Like I wouldn't find a way to get out of 'em, in the first ten minutes of being in them, Scales."
Jerome chuckled deeply, quickly letting go of his husband's hands, only to pick him up and spin him around with pure mirth in his white slitted eyes. His wings had unfolded from around them and refolded across his back, just so he wouldn't knock anything over accidentally. Beef, seeing both of his owners together, gave a few happy barks, jumping around them with more energy than one expected from a fat chihuahua.
Robert had started laughing alongside Jerome, when he was picked up so suddenly and spun around. Not that he minded, mind you. This was the happiest he's been in the last three, four months.
The moment was soon interrupted, however, when a sudden shout from the sidelines sounded out. It was Visi, the rest of the Z-Team behind her, all sporting wide and disbelieving eyes.
"HOLY SHIT! Robert, you're packin' this smoking hot piece of ass and yet, you live in that depressive ass apartment?!"
Jerome's eyes snapped from Robert to the Z-Team, and then back to Robert, brows furrowed.
"What apartment?!"
....well, shit.