Chapter Text
Most people would say Victor was smart, and of course he was, he went to Harvard; he knew how people worked, he almost had human behavior down to a science, counting his own.
He liked women, drugs, money, and good food as much as any other living being. But the thing he liked the most was feeling in control.
Of his life, his work, and of course, his emotions. He learned to carefully identify and regulate his feelings and how he expressed them, he dared say he managed to craft a perfect mask to show a vague disinterest in anything and everything he encountered.
And then the new dispatcher came in.
He didn't think much of the man at first, lean, average height, "tired doe" kind of eyes, douchy attitude at times, but the hybrid could somewhat appreciate the guy was trying to get things done. Ridiculous name though, who would be cruel enough to name their kid "Robert Robertson"? Was the kid an accident or something?
His curiosity for the guy increased as the days went on and stayed with them, not only the dispatcher was enduring their antics, but he joined in on them and treated all of them fairly, even having their preferences for a mission in mind. While Victor was grateful for what seemed like a breath of fresh air in terms of upper management, he couldn't really understand why Robert was trying so hard with them, for them. What did the man get out of this?
He didn't have the time to ponder about it, because one morning came the dreaded notice that someone was going to be cut from the team.
While his vision wasn't the best, he could still feel the tension rising up in the air, a quick check to the boards confirmed he was near the bottom, only saved by Invisigal sitting under everyone with few numbers. Not that it meant much, he knew how fast odds could change by the hour, she could still throw him out if she got lucky. And maybe the girl grew on him, sure she was still immature and abrasive, but he still wanted her to succeed.
So he was somewhat ready to be trashed, not because he was under qualified, uncooperative or troublesome, but... he was still expecting the fall.
But they never called his name, instead he heard Robert call Coupé into the meeting room, the deafening silence after the door closed settling in his gut like a heavy stone. He was lost on his thoughts, following with his eyes the shapes of some... mysterious carpet stains, when suddenly he heard a loud crashing noise. Peeking over the cubicles, he saw a fuming Coupé storming out of the room, leaving shards of the smashed glass panels everywhere on her wake.
He chirped and made eye contact with the dispatcher and received a heavy sigh, an attempt of a smile that looked more like a pained grimace, and a tired wave of his hand.
They let her go. He spared Sonar and fired Coop.
At first he felt relieved of course, he was trying his best and felt like this time it might actually stick, but he would be lying if he said the ex assassin's absence wasn't weighing on his back. He couldn't miss Punch's glances; he got along fine with the man, but he could almost hear him ask "why did they choose you? What can you do that she couldn't?" and in the back of his mind he had to admit that he was asking himself the same.
He did try to give 110% the next day, he tried to recover faster, to be always available and stable, to be extra friendly and cooperative. He knew everyone was pissed about Coop being gone and that they were taking it on Robert, so he wanted to cut the man some slack.
At the end of the day he was tired, ragged from forcing his body to run into almost every call he could take that the dispatcher didn't throw him out of, the exhausted but firm "take a break Sonar" resonating in his brain after every rejection.
After a few days of that, he got a vaguely concerned "you alright?" from Mal and some curious glances from the rest of the group. He reassured her and joked about wanting to steal the high ranking from Flambae, thus why he was so insistent to help out. Jokes and jabs were made, but he had the slight feeling he was being observed, studied.
The tipping point was after a lunch meeting, when Robert pulled him aside before their next shift.
"Hey Sonar, got a second?"
"Uh, sure dude, something wrong?"
Victor absentmindedly readjusted his tie, dusted off invisible specs of dirt from his suit jacket.
"I've noticed you're taking a lot more calls on the shifts, and you're doing great" The praise and recognition surprised the hybrid, he found himself puffing out his chest a little and relaxing his shoulders "but I'm worried you might be overworking yourself. You may be able to hide the eye bags behind your fur, but i know how a tired body looks like, i saw you trip and bump into things, you seem to lose your train of thought more often, you don't banter with the others as much, and your suit is not as sharp as usual."
"Well, i didn't know i had a stalker" the bat said halfheartedly "You've always been watching me this closely? Isn't this an HR violation of some sort?"
"That's not- look, all I'm trying to say is, take care of yourself, you hear? You're one of my best heroes and i really do think you can take Torch-Ass's place on the leader boards, but for that you have to be rested. I don't want any of you getting hurt out there if i can help it." Robert reached to put a hand on his shoulder "And if you ever need an ear for anything that's troubling you, you know where to find me, alright? See ya our there big buy."
With a final pat to his arm, the brunette walked away, leaving a wide eyed, flustered mess of a bat hybrid behind.
He soon realized he was deep into shit.
Victor kept thinking about that conversation. The days went on, he was still working up the courage to actually thank Robert for choosing to keep him; he chickened out every time he tried to start that conversation, making everything awkward and soon after fleeing to sulk and mentally berate himself in a corner away from everyone. So for now he stuck to watching the worker from afar (the break room) while he was filing paperwork at his desk.
"So you got the hots for Rob bob huh?"
The sudden voice made him jump, a loud chirp escaping him. Flambae was scouring the fridge, he could swear he heard the fire man giggle like a teenager before he pulled a box that smelled like Chinese takeout.
"Jesus dude, you can't just sneak on people like that" He heard a snort from the other "you eating that cold? you gonna regret it in the shitter man"
"First of all" Flambae pointed at him with his chopsticks "if you remember i can control fire, fire is heat, I'm reheating it right now" he continued while moving the contents of the box with the sticks, a faint steam slowly rising from the food "second, i walked right in front of you to get to the fridge, you would have seen me if you were not so lost imagining our dispatcher in lewd, scandalous and not entirely workplace appropriate scenarios."
"I was doing what now?"
"Oh, come on! You don't have to be gay to see that the puppy eyes you're giving our boss mean a lot more than admiration or whatever excuse you're telling yourself, Cuck-nar" The fire man playfully kicked him under the table "He's pretty though, I'll give you that. He's missing a bit of meat on his bones, sometimes i wonder if his ass would fill out if he ate anything else than what the vending machine offers."
Victor could feel the irritation trailing up his spine, his fangs and nails started aching at the base. He wasn't sure why he was so moody lately but he needed to shut Flambae the fuck up before this got out of hand.
"Hey, whatever you seem to think is going on between me and boss man over there, ain't happening" He exclaimed with a firm tone that sounded strained even to him "there's literally nothing going on, so leave it."
"Oh darling" Flambae tutted, talking to him in a compassionate tone "i know nothing is happening, because you're yearning from afar and the other dumb ass is not even aware of it. Honestly if i wasn't such a good teammate i would pounce right on his a-"
"No, Flam- I'm not gay"
He could see the cogs turning on the man's head, the wide range of expressions he went through lost on the bat. The half eaten leftovers abandoned to the side.
"You're kidding right?" The other's voice was deadpanned "So you're telling me you just casually trail after the man, bring him coffee and his favorite pastry every morning for breakfast, chat with him both ON calls and right besides him on his cubicle given the opportunity, only let him fuss over you when you get injured on a job, and you're not gay. Like not even a little bit. Bi perhaps?"
"I only got hurt once!" The bat almost yelled, catching the attention of most people on the floor, and earning a shush from Galen "And i love women, i drown in pussy and I'm happy with that"
"Uh huh, so those cries for him to kiss your boo boo better after a bad landing didn't count? or that other time when you only trusted him to help you dry after getting caught in the storm? what about when you came back with shrapnel on your back and went everywhere looking for him so he could take them out instead of, you know, going to the trained health professionals they hired?" With every incident Flambae listed, Victor got progressively more ashamed and mortified, he... wasn't aware he did all of that "And i like to gossip with Mal, you haven't had a girl over in ages man."
"You don't know shit" He quietly murmured, not sure how to even begin to respond
"Is that so? Am i missing anything, Sonar?" The fire hero sounded pleased when no retort was given. They sat in silence like that for a while.
"You know what, fuck it I'll bite, great, you're not gay." Stated Flambae, catching the bat off guard "that means you don't have dibs on mister sexy voice, so you won't mind me fucking him right? I want to get to him before Blazer, Mal, Vis or even that water vomiting sod can claim him"
Flambae got up abruptly from his chair, walking towards Robert's desk, a subtle sway to his hips marking every step.
He wasn't sure whether it was the Biting and Claiming comment or Flambae's clear interest that triggered his transformation, the only thing he could understand were his instincts screaming at him that others were trying to take what was his, and that would not do. The piece of rational mind he had left couldn't help but agree.
A fight ended up breaking out, hair was pulled, glass was broken, skin was charred or cut, the details were a bit fuzzy.
All Victor saw waking up was white walls, everything smelled strongly of disinfectant. He could feel IV drips attached to his arms, most of his body wrapped in gauze, he was holding something.
Looking down and letting out a faint chirp, he found out that caged in his arms, also covered in bandages, lied a sleeping Robert Robertson.
Oh, he was so fired.