bootyhunter | CALL ME OUT

[At the comment about sounding threatening, the jeering smile only widens. Yeeees, tell him he's scary. He may be a hero now, but that sort of thing always makes him happy, especially considering the fact that he's worked his whole life to appear intimidatingly unapproachable.

He leans that sharp chin of his over one of Robert's shoulders. He'd flag down a bartender if his hands weren't full of a weathered superhero and his world-weary item of clothing.]

I'd need your measurements, of course.

[That counts as consulting Robert, right?]

Sure! We can start there.

[Flambae's catlike gaze is averted momentarily, suddenly shifting to the shiny tabletop.]

I know you like the color blue.

[His grinds his stubble against Robert's shoulder blade unintentionally, ruminating.]

And convenience, maybe? So you'd prefer something comfortable and discreet.

[Flambae says all this, but he is fully designing a Robert-sized snuggy/bunny-footie pajama abomination in his diabolical(ly empty) head.]

You seem to have a lot of things that are just... Okay.

[And something about that is so deeply depressing.

Is he just okay? Is Robert willing to glom onto just anyone who shows him a baseline level of affection? Whatever.

Somehow, for right now, Flambae isn't bothered about that.]

But life doesn't have to be like that, you know.

What if you loved-

["Me-"]

Your shoes just as much as you loved those creamy twinks?

Edited (why cant i see typos anymore.) 2026-04-12 03:25 (UTC)

[ So his underwear is in danger. Good to know ... ]

I thought maybe you had some hidden superpower that let you know that just by looking at me.

[ He lifts a brow as he tilts his head slightly back to see Flambae better. Of course he'll let him get some measurements, even if he still a little apprehensive about what the flaming (literally) superhero might come up with for him. At the same time, the fact that the man remembered he likes blue, and has read him enough to know he'd like something convenient, comfortable, discreet ...

That feels really nice. When he turns his head back forward, he has the smallest, quietest smile. ]

That does sound like me.

[ If he ends up with footie pjs out of that somehow, well. He'll be flabbergasted, completely. But for now, he decides maybe he'll trust Flambae a little.

If he knew that Flambae was questioning, even for two seconds, whether or not Robert had 'settled' for him, just because he showed him a little affection, he'd be ... upset. That's not the case at all. In fact most of the time, ever since this all started, he's wondered if he's not just in another coma, dreaming about all of these things he's suddenly got when he's never had them before.

But he doesn't know what the other is thinking. Sometimes he wonders if he will ever be able to guess. Because one minute they'll be cozying up at the bar and the next Flambae will be talking about creamy twinks. ]

Yeah don't ever call them that again.

[ Sonar was bad enough ... ]

I'm not sure I'll ever care as much about fashion as you do, Flambae. But I don't mind ... working on it a little.

[Flambae's thin lips twist into something like a smile when he hears that somewhat sarcastic jab. He refrains from telling Robert that he could probably guess what most of his underwear looked like and even go so far to state what discount retailers or websites the dispatcher got them from, but... That's not a superpower, that just comes from being informed about garment distribution.]

I would not expect that from you.

[He says, leaning a little more persistently against Robert's skin. Hilariously enough, Flambae doesn't feel like he's settled at all. The genuine warm giddyness he feels during the moments when they're happy are enough.

He's learned, especially after a life that's had its chasms of darkness, not to question the joy when it comes so naturally.]

You have no taste. In that regard, things are utterly hopeless!

Feh.

[He says that despite being stupid enough to hope that they can be happy together, if not forever, then for some time. Flambae, for all his theatrics, isn't looking for another flashy motherfucker to be his partner in (avoiding) crime.

Speaking of flashy motherfuckers, Flambae wriggles a bit when he sees the bartender finally look in their direction, although he wrinkles his nose when he spots Flambae and Robert.]

Ehhh, what was that fucking face for? Hello!

Can we some get some drinks over here? Asshole.

[ For someone like Robert it might as well be a superpower. But he doesn't really want to hear about how poor and unfashionable he is (especially in the underwear department, hello??) so it's for the best that no one commentates further on that matter.

Flambae leans more against him, and he wonders if the natural heating unit can feel that he is getting warmer for it too. Best not to say anything about that either, lest the man's ego grow too large to fit the venue.

He is probably right. Robert cannot be expected to suddenly gain talent in being fashion conscious. But with a boyfriend like Flambae, he can at least improve a little. Or be more willing to branch out a little. Not too far, mind you.

For his part, when the bartender wrinkles his nose, Robert tries really really hard to just not pay any attention to it. If he takes it personally he'll either feel really stupid, or mad enough to stomp on the tender's foot or sock him or something. That's not acceptable behavior for Mecha Man no matter how satisfying it would be. So he decides to glance to Flambae again and smile a bit. It's affectionate enough, but anyone who didn't know the two of them probably reads it as exasperation or something. ]

You'd think they'd seen a shirtless guy getting cuddled around here once in a while.

[Robert makes a fair point, which is something that Flambae is hesitant to say aloud. This place is packed to the brim with gay couples, usually, and the long-haired bastard has never really seen a reaction like that from said bartender. From the newly minted superhero's point of view, the guy is not his favorite on the staff by far, seeing as he's kind of a quiet tightass, but he can't be outright homophobic, can he?

For Flambae, the warmth of his own body is sort of his baseline. He thinks he can feel Robert getting hotter, but what really gives it away is the slight pink hue his skin starts show in the places that are more freckle-y than fucked up. The hothead says nothing about what he observes, for once, although the more he looks at the scars on Robert's body that he can see even amidst the moody hues of the dance floor tonight the worse his myriad of emotions seems to become.

He hardly ever experiences lust and pity as the result of a singular glance. Scars have always intrigued him, indulging his childhood affections for brawlers and bad boys and tender adult fascination with loving someone back to joy or good health. But on Robert, the number of battles his body has fought strikes him as somewhat unfair.

The fact that he's not dead is something of a miracle, or if Flambae was in one of his darker states of mind, a curse, probably.]

Feh! Well.

[His furry brows press together as he Realizes.]

Not me, probably.

[ Robert could guess what Flambae's usual behavior is around a joint like this but really he doesn't know at all. He barely knows what to do with himself in a place like this, let alone how to imagine someone's habits here. He's still not fully at ease just being half naked in this public space, but being closer to his boyfriend is somehow less embarrassing and more comfortable. It's like that big, yaoi-shaped body is a shield of some kind.

Mind you, if he knew about any hint of pinkness his freckles and unmarred skin are betraying, he'd be feeling a bit different! He has to maintain some level of street cred, after all. Even if he is apparently smitten as a springtime lover.

Glancing up at Flambae, he sounds curious. ]

Really?

[ The bartender's observations and behavior don't really concern Robert all that much, but he is as always curious about what Chad is like outside of work and when Robert isn't around. Presumably different now that they're together, but still. How does this flamboyant, loud-mouthed hot cheeto always end up such a mystery?

He huffs softly after a moment, shaking his head. ]

Definitely think I need a cold one right about now. You're going to melt me if you stay there all night.

Yeah, I don't...

[He pulls back, having his flamboyant feathers kerfuffled a little bit, only he seems less angry in this moment. Nervousness, without the heat of put-on disdain, manifests in the tension of Flambae's shoulders. His posture is probably the straightest thing about him most of the time, because after all, what is the point of having perfectly preened chest hair if you don't pose well-enough for all your onlookers to see it?

He blows out a puff of hot air, adjusting his singular side-bang with the hand that isn't Robert's shirt.

Flambae takes this moment to bark at the bartender.]

Hello! Yes.

[This is his resigned, "attempting to be good" voice. Whatever polite cadence he is attempting to use, it's not working. He still sounds bitchy as ever.]

Can we get a beer over here? Please...

[He finally catches the poor, underpaid employee's (stink)eye, making intense, unwavering eye contact in silence on purpose. That is before he says:]

And a strawberry daiquiri for me.

Edited 2026-04-19 03:55 (UTC)

[ Flambae's reaction is curious, and Robert wonders silently whether he should pursue this avenue or not. Maybe he doesn't actually want to know what the man got up to in gay bar hangouts of the past? Anyway, it was kind of smooth to just get the bartender involved right before Robert could interject about anything anyway. Now it would be too weird to just ... bring it up again, wouldn't it?

And if the bartender was kind of being judgey at Flambae then, well, he thinks that Flambae's current rendition of "attempting to be good" is good enough. ]

Thanks.

[ He says this to Flambae once the bartender skulks off to fetch them what they want. Robert's is basic and plain so he gets his first.

Strawberry though, huh? He doesn't know if he'd penned this big fireball as a strawberry kind of guy. He'll keep it in mind from now on. ]

Is that your favorite?

[Oh.

Flambae can feel a rush of timid self-consciousness coming on, something that's probably healthy on a date with the sort of man he could actual see a potential future with. He takes his drink when it's given to him, too focused on Robert to even shoot the bartender a silent courtesy nod, looking a little relieved when the drink is all his former nemesis asks about.

There's a brief flicker of a shy smile as he stares at his drink a little stupidly, swirling it around before taking a sip.]

Drinks for me are kind of like... I order them based on the vibe, I guess?

[He'll have his fair share of harder liquors on nights where he wants to party or show off. Like many other supers, Flambae's tolerance for alcohol is on the higher end, although he probably can't outdrink Blazer.]

I like strawberries, though.

[For a moment, he foolishly considers explaining his choice further, although Flambae walks that thought back rather quickly. A strawberry daquiri is a cute, fruity, date-y sort of drink. And this is a cute, fruity date... Right?]

They have so many seeds.

Even for a fruit, that is... That's a lot of potential progeny.

[ Robert is just curious about his boyfriend! He doesn't mean to put him on the spot or make him feel shy. In fact, he never really knew Flambae was capable of being shy until they really started to get to know each other. Intimately. Like this.

It's cute though. Why is it weirdly cute? ]

Sure, I get it.

[ He can't imagine that Flambae is a one-drink-only kind of guy. Robert for his part has just always drank whatever. As long as he gets a little loopy and can forget about the job for 2 seconds, it's probably fine. At least, that's how it was before SDN and everything. More things he's trying to unlearn slowly but surely.

And while he's about to comment about Flambae's potential love of strawberries, the other man continues talking about the seeds in the most unhinged way possible, so the dispatcher lets him finish that thought up. He slowly takes a few gulps of his beer, and then gives a little laugh, shaking his head. ]

You're so weird. You know that. [ Could they have it any other way though, either of them? ] Don't tell me the seeds are your favorite part.

[The comment about him being weird hits Flambae in such a peculiar way. Typically, he'd be off-put by any sort of insult to his supposedly indisputable coolness, but he finds himself feeling more goofily uneasy than before.

He can't say it's the kind of uneasiness he despise, however.

There's something oddly hopeful about it.

He sets his drink down so he can push a strand of hair behind his ear.]

So what if they are?

[He huffs, taking another sip. He's definitely not a one-drink guy, but hard liquor is for a bad night.]

They add a much-needed crunch to an otherwise sour and squishy fruit.

[Having the opportunity to play with Robert like this is so nice. All of the violent threats and constant dick-measuring contests will surely come back around later, as they always seem to do for these two, but it's taken some work to feel this comfortable in his former nemesis' presence.

Even now, Flambae chides himself for feeling the kind of trust that seems foolish.]

Like a crapton of sweet fucking doritos or something.

Dorfritos... Dorfruitos...

[You would hope that was the end of it but now the drink is down again and he is rubbing his stubbly chin-]

Dor-sweetos?

Edited 2026-04-21 04:34 (UTC)

[ In this case, for once in his life, he hadn't meant "weird" as an insult to Flambae, but rather as a sort of term of endearment. Somehow, in some way, he's come to love this weirdness. Love ...? Is he in love... is it too soon to be in love ... Well, whatever. He wouldn't change it about the man even if sometimes it's exasperating as hell to try and have a normal conversation with him.

Robert huffs too, maybe it's a laugh, and tips his beer up for a couple more chugs. ]

Well, as long as that's the reason and it's not thinking about the amount of strawbabies they could make.

[ See, he can say dumb puns or made-up words too. ]

But now I don't think I'll want to eat doritos anytime soon so thanks for that.

[ Sweet doritos. Come on man, even Robert with his twinkies has some limits. ]

Edited (holy small tags batman) 2026-04-23 02:39 (UTC)

[Love, limerence, affection, whatever it may be, Flambae silently appreciates it. He's had his existence questioned so many times, he's only been motivated to be even more true to himself out of spite, which is how we've happened upon this exceedingly annoying iteration.

The strawbabies line gets him to laugh, a hearty chuckle even, once more free of spite or disdain or petty mirth. This feels a lot like love, in that love is hopeful at its best, the hope to one day find and care for someone who sees you as you are.

This gets him to lean his sharp cheek, stubbly as it may be, on Robert's bare shoulder again.]

Strawbabies!

[He allows himself to rest there quietly for a few moments. They're blissful, and Flambae finds himself enjoying the texture of Robert's scar tissue. Even when his eyes are closed, that texture is how Flambae will know it's him.]

That word is so stupid, but for whatever reason... It is unbelievably fun to say.

[cue another (villainous)ly dramatic pause]

"Strawbabies." Hehe!

[He snorts, going quiet again before posing the next question, which is oddly thoughtful in a casual manner.]

Speaking of babies, have you ever had the crazy itch to have any?

[ Even if he wasn't getting pleasantly buzzed from chugging down his beer, Robert would feel his chest getting weird and warm and soft from hearing that genuine laughter from Flambae again. He really doesn't think he'll ever get tired of it, especially when he's the source of it.

It definitely feels like it could be something like love, and he thinks he's okay with that.

He closes his eyes briefly in a laugh of his own, bringing an arm up around Flambae as the much taller man rests into his shoulder. Maybe they're being gross right now to the public eye but it's a gay bar, it's probably just another Tuesday. Robert isn't going to worry about it. ]

I thought you might like that.

[ It's definitely a stupid word, but it has its own stupid word kind of charm that Flambae is so good at coming up with himself.

The dramatic (villain style) pause followed by the word again and the silly laugh makes Robert's heart want to burst. Clearly that means he needs more of his beer to calm it down. The question that follows also manages to keep him from completely exploding in feelings on the spot.

It's not that he minds the question- he doesn't really. He doesn't consider it an uncomfortable breech or anything. But his own relationship with his father is ...

Well, we know how it is. ]

I haven't, really. I was never really sure I wanted to, um, put some kid through the kind of life I had.

[ He winces internally at that. That makes it sound like he's aware of how shitty his childhood was. Or that he's not proud of what his father and grandfather left him. He is. It's just... complicated. ]

[Flambae thinks he can feel Robert’s shoulder tensing slightly, although he chides himself for once, taking a moment to critique his often accusatory and overactive imagination. He keeps himself stationed there, oddly affectionate and quiet, feeling himself breathe an internal sigh of relief.

They are not in the business of stability or suburban living, as is common amidst most of the others with their lifestyle, whether they identify as heroes or villains or anything in between. Flambae finds that men in a similar age bracket are often scrambling to leave themselves with some sort of legacy, and seeing as he’s made his peace with being an excellent gay uncle, he’s not intending to entertain that thought anytime soon.

If Robert had wanted anything of the sort, he would’ve cut the chord soon.]

I always thought it was kind of creepy… The idea of spilling your seed into something or someone, and then…

It grows up to look back at you with eyes that might look exactly like yours, like some kind of fucking horror movie…

[The hand around him makes Flambae feel something strange. Like warmth and pity, all at once.

Poor man.

There’s a lot that could be said about his own desire to (not) have children. Flambae had thought he hated them for a long time, that is, until his precious little niece was born. He considers himself fairly lucky, someone who has the opportunity to spoil and help raise a child but without a large variety of the factors that make it so excruciating.

For now however, he chooses to focus his attention on Robert.]

Even if you had a little one, you wouldn’t have to force him to do what you did.

But it sounds like you didn’t have much of a choice, man.

[Flambae’s following delivery is subtle, as he doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to Robert in this moment. He’s not betting that the guy will get emotional, but there’s an odd chance.]

I’m sorry.

[ Continuing on the "legacy" definitely crossed Robert's mind a few times, but as the years went on, the prospect seemed less and less likely. Less and less appealing. He probably felt guilty as hell every time he settled on that thought, too. At some point he'll probably have to acknowledge his issues with his father in more than just a conversation with some idiot Shroud crony. Today doesn't appear to be that day.

He's emotional, sure. There's an entire storm raging in his soul right now about all this, but he isn't going to release it. He doesn't want to spring that on Flambae tonight. Especially when most of the rest of the vibes are affectionate. Warm. A bit embarrassing because they're in a bar and he's got no shirt on, sure, but he's having a good time. ]

That is something like how genetics work, yeah.

[ He snorts softly over the top of his beer before he takes another drink. Slowly but surely he's getting fuzzy as the alcohol kicks in. One single beer isn't totally enough to get him drunk drunk anymore but apparently he hasn't built up a strong immunity to it either.

Just a tiny, tiny bit of that storm in his heart seeps through in the form of a quiet smile that he mostly keeps to himself, only turning his head toward Flambae a tiny fraction. ]

Wouldn't I? I felt the pressure to continue all the time. A kid would probably make it worse.

[ Would he be able to stop himself from having his kid grow up knowing he'd one day take on the suit? And what about the kid himself? He could start to feel that it would be his destiny all on his own, merely by watching Robert, learning their history, etc... He certainly didn't feel like he did have a choice, until very recently. And now he's in his thirties.

Robert clears his throat and eventually kind of gestures at Flambae's drink. ]

Let me try that.

Your throne of despair-

[He interjects, finally raising his pretty, all-too-angular head in reference to Robert's pitiful apartment chair.]

Does not even rest beneath a singular pillow-cushion.

You think you could scrape together enough money to raise a kid in this economy when you live like that? Please.

[Flambae has no idea what's going on between Robert's chipped ear and the intact one, but wild as it may seem, he'd entertain some unsexy conversations about the guy's dad. For one thing, it sounds like Mecha Man senior was either absent or incredibly strict, as complexes to follow in someone's footsteps or preserve some bullshit legacy are hardly ever self-wrought.]

Legacy would not be that little shit's biggest problem, okay? The fact that there isn't another tiny, freckle-y menace running around out there is a good thing.

Maybe this way you can finally learn to take care of your-

[Self.

The joke isn't a good enough potshot, and Flambae winces, realizing it all too soon. Robert isn't inconsiderate enough to have ever finished inside some poor woman without a condom, not when he's spent so much of his life living by the book.

The question about the drink distracts Flambae a little, so much so that he blinks-]

Hah?

[This poor, beautiful idiot. He's inhaled too much hair product over the years.]

Eh, sure.

[you fool

you fool he is flirting]

It's very fruity, though. Obviously! It's pinker than one of those fucking homosexual bears.

[ASLDKJFSKDJF

Flambae sets it down on the table, pushing it Robert's way with three fingers.]

You know! The ones that came in different colors?

[Carebears.]

With the little rainbows over their fucking belly buttons... C'mon!

Edited 2026-04-24 03:43 (UTC)

[ Robert may sigh and mumble something about "here we go" once Flambae starts going on about his throne and his shitty apartment and everything. But on the plus side, he doesn't have to go further into why he doesn't really want to have a kid or why his childhood was bad actually. So he just lets the man go on about it until he offers the drink.

Of course, he doesn't get the connotations of the request at all either but. Whatever, it's fine. ]

Uh-huh.

[ He rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of the daiquiri. He does have to take his hand away from Flambae in order to do so, but they're still close enough that he's probably going to start sweating from the heat the firestarter gives off anyway.

It is fruity, but since when has Robert not appreciated something sweet? ]

Hm. It's not bad.

[ Strawberry maybe isn't his flavor of choice, but honestly who can't enjoy a strawberry daiquiri? Weaklings, that's who. ]

And it's Care Bears you're thinking of, by the way.

[ Might as well help the guy out even if he didn't get Robert's attempt to be cute with him at all. When the bartender glances at them, he also lifts his hand up to signal another beer. If he keeps it light, he probably won't get drunk and silly no matter how many he drinks! Okay, he knows that's not how it works but he's still kind of nervous about all this. So it's still the safest choice. ]

[He watches Robert's lips on his glass with the hunger of an impatient predator, only belatedly understanding what the unfortunate, touch-starved man was meaning to do. Sometimes it feels like torture to gaze upon Robert's lips, knowing just how eager he was to be kissed when they had finally gotten down to becoming more intimately physical with one another.

Care Bears... He will remember that. Mostly because if a caring bear had looked his way seven or eight-ish years ago, he probably wouldn't still be single.

Well, in this moment, Flambae isn't single anymore.

It delights him.]

Not bad?

[He cocks his head to the side. Okay, so Robert isn't as partial to strawberry-flavored things as Flambae is. All the fire-based hero has got to go off of is the shorter man's wretched love of Twinkies, which has addled his empty brain enough. When his niece visited his week, he had scoured the internet for gourmand roll-on perfumes before shutting his laptop and cursing himself.

Musks and citrus-y scents work better for him. Vanilla reminds Flambae of all the bathroom hookups he had with college-aged twinks around that age.]

I thought you liked it when I spit in things.

[He raises a furry eyebrow, attempting to make eye contact with Robert if he can. Is the little wretch drunk already...]

Or on them.

Edited 2026-04-25 02:15 (UTC)

[ Maybe he's not a caring bear but he is, indeed, the current cause of Flambae's lack of singleness. And maybe his flirt diversion failed a little bit, but it was still a diversion from the kid thing and he's still having a good enough time that it doesn't really matter. Another attempt can present itself at any moment.

Or Flambae could say something raunchy (and not completely untrue).

Robert huffs out a laugh, eventually turning himself so he's facing Flambae completely. He's careful to try not to knock those ~~large yaoi~~ arms away from him too so that his boyfriend doesn't think he doesn't like or want it anymore. It's just easier when he can look right at him, even if it makes him a target for his own expressions or the color of his complexion to betray him. ]

You might have to spit in it a little more, I could only taste the strawberry.

[ He raises a brow slowly and it might even come off as a bit coy. Has another opportunity already presented itself? If he's not drunk, he's certainly a little loosey-goosey compared to usual.

He leans in to deliver a sexy-whisper close to Flambae's ear (he can't reach the best). Although if it actually ends up being sexy, well. That'd probably be dumb luck. ]

And you don't taste like strawberries.

[WHY THE FUCK IS THIS WORKING-]

[It is because he has that stupid, raspy sexy voice, the slooooooow, irritating drawl....!!!!]

[Flambae is indeed frozen in place.

Clearly, that stupid line has had an effect on him. His complexion is a little deeper than Robert's, but not deep enough to hide that he's definitely blushing.]

You fucking lightweight. You...

[To make matters even worse, he humiliates himself further by jumping the gun.]

Then what do I taste like?

[Flambae snorts.]

Idiot.

Edited 2026-04-25 03:10 (UTC)

[ Oh shit, it worked. Not that Robert had any doubts, because in his currently tipsy state of mind, he's very confident about his moves. Or at least, he's getting more confident and less in his head about whether he's doing or saying the right things because all this dating and caring and falling in love stuff is ridiculously out of his wheelhouse. ]

I'm not drunk.

[ which is what drunk people say, but he's not! He's not wasted, he is still aware of what's going on!

And as if it's going to win the argument, he picks up his new beer for a couple of drinks of it. He puts his other hand on one of Flambae's pecs as he does. ]

You taste like... well, something spicy, obviously. [ Good spicy. Not 3am tacos spicy, you know? That's still good but in a completely different context and strictly at 3am. ]

You might need to remind me.

[AH!!! BOOB GRAB, NOT STEALTHY...

Flambae stands up a little straighter-]

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omg the googoo eyes icon

YES the googoo eyes

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1/?

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