Chapter Text
When Robert’s alarm goes off the next morning, he can tell it’s gotten worse.
He had stayed with Golem and Invisigal in the conference room for a little while before eventually feeling okay enough to get himself home. They had reluctantly let him go, only after he promised he was going straight home to get some more rest. Which was true, actually. He pretty much locked the door behind him and passed out on his couch.
So why doesn’t he feel better?
A decent night’s rest is a cure-all for a lot of things, but apparently not whatever bullshit sickness that’s brewing inside him even as he tries to pretend it doesn’t exist. He just has to get through today, and then he can crash on his couch for the whole weekend and hope he feels more like a functioning human person next week.
He’s survived worse on less.
He doesn’t even bother changing into a new SDN shirt, just grabs his keys and scoops Beef into his arms. Chase looks after the little dog during their shift a lot of the time anyway, so he will make sure everything is okay.
Robert is relieved to see the SDN building loom in front of him, knowing he survived the trip over, but the bright overhead lights make him squint in distaste, head spinning once more. If he develops a migraine on top of everything else, he’s suing.
He sits heavily in his chair, Beef squirming out of his arms to lie down in his normal spot. He holds his head in his hands for a moment, leaning against his desk as he steels himself for the day ahead. It’s only eight hours. He can do that. Just think of going home later and getting to sleep.
“You look like shit, kid.” Chase’s voice pulls him out of his reverie.
“Thanks,” Robert deadpans, dropping his hands so he can turn to look at where Chase has draped himself over their dividing wall.
“I overheard some of your team talking about you being sick. I didn’t think you were coming in today.”
“It’s just one day. I’ll be fine.” Robert tries to placate, but Chase isn’t having it.
“If you’re sick, you’re supposed to stay home,” Chase argues. “We don’t need you spreading that shit around.”
“I need to dispatch for my team,” Robert says, and then it strikes him as something he didn’t realize was so important until he said it out loud.
“We can get someone to cover for you.”
Hadn’t anyone learned?
The Z-Team was his team, and he was their dispatcher. That was kind of the whole reason everyone’s been upset all week. Even though it took him all week to realize his team cares about him, he feels like he understands what the fuss was about now that the situation is reversed. The idea of someone else dispatching for his team was not only deeply uncomfortable but also threw him into a borderline state of panic.
He knows they like him and care about him in the same way he's learned that he really cares about all of them, even if he didn’t set out trying to create a family from his ragtag team of reformed villains. The idea that someone else dispatches for them and they like that person better is straight out of a nightmare. The thought that they might decide to kick him out of this little family he’s only just started to realize he had and only just recently understood he craved? Pure horror.
Chase could dispatch them, he supposes. Chase works well enough with them, but obviously doesn’t like or trust them as much as he does, so there’s no way Chase would try to keep them long-term. Chase would happily hand them back over on Monday, and the team would be equally glad to get rid of him. But Chase is busy with his own team.
Blonde Blazer could do it. She has her own things to get back to, and the team begrudgingly respects her, even if they aren’t the most cozy with her. But she’s out of practice dispatching and should really only be pulled in for emergencies.
“Kid, you still with me?” Chase asks, and Robert figures he’s been silent for too long.
“I need to dispatch for my team,” Robert says again, and he can’t keep the frantic undertone out of his voice. “They’re my team. Mine.”
Chase stares at him for a moment and then sighs. “At least you match each other’s freak.” He mumbles to himself before glancing up again. “Go home.” He orders. “The rest of you can have the day off. I’ll put you in for PTO. Just get this boy out of here.”
It takes until he feels a hand on his shoulder to realize that Chase wasn’t talking to him anymore. His chair spins around, and when the world stops spinning with it, he’s staring at Flambae and Prism.
“We’re very flattered, Bob Bob.” Flambae says, “But let’s get you home so you can get right back to yelling at us again.”
Prism is holding Beef, who snuggles happily in her arms. “The others are already there. We figured your place was empty, and we were right. Not even a can of soup in your cabinets, Roberto. It’s disgraceful.”
“I bet you didn’t even eat anything yesterday.” Flambae scolds, pulling Robert up into his arms, “You’re such a pathetic normie.”
Robert barely hears the insult, shifting to tuck his face into Flambae’s shoulder, luxurating in the warmth. He thinks he hears the sound of a picture being taken, but he can’t find it in himself to care. That’s a problem for future Robert. Right now, he’s trying to remember why past Robert thought it was a good idea to come in today.
“Get some rest, kid,” Chase says, voice soft. Robert glances over to see that Chase has moved and is now standing next to them. “I hate to say it, but you’re in good hands.”
“They broke into my apartment.” Robert points out.
“Not really. I gave them a key.”
Robert stares at him for a moment, betrayed. Chase grins. “They were supposed to check on you before their shift started today, but you ruined that by leaving before they got there. Don’t you remember that part where sick people are supposed to stay in bed?”
Prism lets out a small laugh. “He doesn’t have a bed. Or, rather, didn’t. Sonar and Malevola picked one up for him when they found out.”
“Did they— You know what, don’t tell me,” Chase says. “I want plausible deniability for all this shit.”
“You got it, old man. Let’s get outta here, what do you say, Bae?” Prism asks.
“Let’s go.” Flambae agrees. “I’m getting paid to not be here.”
The trip back to his apartment is done in the blink of an eye, and the next thing Robert knows, he’s being surrounded by members of his team showing various levels of concern. Beef quickly jumps down from Prism’s arms, eager to greet everyone, and Flambae proudly presents their dispatcher’s sickly form to the group.
“Aww, why do you get to hold him?” He hears Malevola complain.
“Yeah,” Sonar agrees. “Do we have a rotation for cuddling the dispatcher?”
“You can have him.” Invisigal says, “I’m still not trying to get sick.”
“More for us then.”
“Did you get the bed set up?”
“Yeah, Golem made carrying everything a breeze. And he’s a whiz at assembling furniture. Who knew?” Malevola muses.
“The crypto market has been particularly good lately, so we splurged on some extra luxuries,” Sonar explains excitedly, leading the way to the bedroom. “The best memory foam mattress money can buy and five of the softest, warmest blankets we could find.”
“Damn,” Prism says, eying the bed appreciatively. “I might have to get me some of these. These blankets look cozy as hell.”
Flambae sets Robert down on the bed, and he relaxes into the soft mattress immediately. Malevola snags one of the blankets with her tail, draping it over him. “You with us still?” Flambae asks, poking Robert gently. “Punch Up homemade soup like the little show-off he is. You wanna try it?”
“You’re just jealous that you didn’t have the chance to show off.”
“Punch Up isn’t the only one who can cook. I just got sent on bitch baby retrieval duty.” Flambae whines.
“I don’t think he ate last night,” Golem says, and they all glance at where he’s made himself comfortable in the corner, assembling what appears to be a nightstand. That’ll be helpful. Flambae isn’t sure whether Robert owns a dining table.
“So he should definitely try.” Malevola concurs and settles herself on the bed next to him. “Let’s sit you up a little bit, Robert.” She says, pulling him gently into a more upright position. “You need to try to eat.” She leans him back against the headboard, propping him up against her side. “Nice touch with the fairy lights, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Golem says. “They’re calming.”
“Everyone get outta the fucking way.” Punch Up’s voice calls, and they make room in the ever-shrinking space as more people come in.
Coupe is balancing a tray with a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and some crackers, settling on Robert’s side opposite Malevola. She picks up the spoon, holding it out for Robert to take. “If you spill, I’m feeding you.” She warns.
“I’m not that bad off,” Robert reassures as the tray is arranged in his lap.
The others eventually get tired of standing around and take up various positions on the queen-sized bed. All except for Visi, who sits by Golem and helps him with the finer details of assembling the furniture.
Robert manages most of the bowl of soup before giving up. He seems to tolerate it fine and is likely just exhausted. Coupe removes the tray, and those sitting on the bed shift so he can lie down.
“Should we leave?” Punch Up wonders aloud. “He might want some peace if he’s trying to sleep.”
“No,” Robert rebuts, reaching out blindly in the direction of his voice. Sonar, who is closer, takes the outstretched hand, and Robert seems to relax a little. “It’s got to be safe,” he explains as his eyes fall shut. Malevola reaches out and runs a hand through his hair, hoping to soothe him further. It must work, because in what seems like seconds, he’s asleep.
“So, was that the cutest thing ever or what?” She asks, glancing up at the rest of the team. She’s not sure if he meant he wanted them to stay because they make him feel safe or because he wants to keep them safe, but either is equally endearing.
“Disgustingly adorable.” Invisigal agrees. “No way this guy is real.”
“If you thought that was bad,” Flambae pipes up, “you should’ve been at the office earlier.” He looks over to Prism. “I hope you got a video of that. I don’t remember the exact words, but he definitely said ‘Mine’ at some point. I thought Chase was going to declare him a lost cause right then and there.”
“My hands were full.” Prism laments. “But I got a picture of him all snuggled up with you.”
“I will find that footage,” Sonar promises. “I need to have it so he can’t tell us off for being too much in the future.”
“Right? The hypocrite.”
“Send it to the group chat when you do.”
“We shall ensure no further harm comes to him,” Coupe says, glancing around like someone might try to disagree with her.
“One step ahead of you.” Golem agrees.
“Robert Robertson protection squad?” Prism asks, as if taking a vote.
“Obviously.”
“Count me in.”
“He’s a sarcastic douchebag, but he’s ours.”
“Anyone who wants him will have to go through us.”
“Duh,” Invisigal says, “His name’s still stupid though.”