Archive of Our Own

It all started with Sonar overhearing one of Blazer's and Robert's early-morning meetings.

(He wasn't eavesdropping - he was a curious guy, sure, but he understood boundaries. It was just that as a natural consequence of his hybrid nature, his hearing was excellent, and there were a lot of things he couldn't help overhearing.)

It had been a week since - everything - had gone down, and Sonar had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, so maybe he'd been keeping an ear on Blazer's office.

So he was unsurprised when he heard her saying, "So what's next for Mecha Man?"

Sonar, who had not been loitering outside of Blazer's office, pressed himself against the wall, holding his breath even though he knew it wouldn't make it any easier to hear them. His heart was pounding - not enough to drown out the voices, but enough to suggest he was on the edge of transforming. He let out a long breath, trying to steady his nerves; he couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing than flipping out right outside of Blazer's office.

"I don't know. SDN poured a lot of money into rebuilding my suit. Doesn't that mean…"

"They offered the suit in exchange for dispatch services. If you want to work with us, that'd get you free maintenance when you make the switch back to active heroics, but this was never about forcing you to work for SDN. The Board has a progressive view on the - externalities of a robust environment for heroes.

"You've got a couple of months on your original contract, so we've got time to line up a replacement for when you leave - just I ask you give us two weeks at minimum. We've lost more than a few dispatchers for Z-Team on short notice and it's never a good time."

"Yeah, that's - I can see that. I'll make sure you get two weeks notice."

"Although I'd be remiss not pointing out the benefits of staying on with SDN."

"Toeing the company line? Yeah, well, I gotta get to my morning meeting with the Phoenixes."

Sonar hissed and hurried away rather than being caught eavesdropping on his boss. He was pretty sure that, unlike at the beginning, Robert wouldn't assume he had nefarious motives, but it still wasn't a good look.

It left him in a foul mood for their morning meeting (a concession made to give Robert a chance to 'check in' on them at least once a day, as well as to provide work updates that could have been e-mails Sonar 'forgot' to read), and their subsequent shifts. During the latter, of course, he had to keep his mood under wraps, because it was 'unprofessional'. And since Sonar was already in a mood since Mal had talked him into another serious run at sobriety, it made for a miserable, interminable day.

It didn't even start to look up until he got out of the showers back at headquarters and Robert was there.

He didn't even notice for like thirty seconds when he straightened up from putting on his boxers and realized, in the distant, analytical part of his brain that only shut up when he was high or a monstrous man-bat, he had just flashed his boss.

He considered and discarded three possible responses before realizing he was exhausted, and had no energy to be apologetic, combative, or sexually aggressive, so just sighed and grabbed his shirt.

"Hey, boss."

"Are you alright, Victor?"

And Sonar wasn't sure how he felt about that. Robert never did it on the comms, and didn't even do it all the time back at the office, but he'd taken to using their real names, sometimes; Sonar had a strong suspicion he'd gotten the idea out of one of those management books he was always reading in his downtime (he'd yet to see Robert reading a book written by any notable graduates of Harvard Business School, so he was reserving judgment on the efficacy of his reading). It was laughably mundane, expecting he could win them over by using names they barely used in their everyday lives.

"Fine. My stats were okay, weren't they?"

"I - yeah, I." Robert slid around Sonar as he finished dressing, leaning against one of the lockers. "That wasn't exactly what I. You seemed a little. Off?"

"I'm six day's sober." Sonar hadn't meant to say that. It wasn't a secret he was in NA, that his recovery was a little less linear than most people would assume, but that didn't mean he liked talking about his progress, or lack thereof, with people outside of meetings (or Mal).

"O - oh! Congratulations? Or…" Robert's heartbeat went a little erratic. "I'm sorry?"

"Go with the first one, Boberto," Sonar sighed as he finished his tie and slammed his locker door closed. "I don't need people fucking faking sympathy every time I have to go through withdrawal again."

Robert hummed, and Sonar found himself wishing he could see his face a little better, get some idea what his boss was thinking.

"I'm not - I can't understand, really, but I get it must suck." Robert drew close, hand out as if he meant to put it on Sonar's shoulder, before he let it fall. "If you - I know you've probably got someone for that, but if you're going through it, you can always call to talk. I'll…listen."

It was sweet, Sonar guessed…except that Robert wouldn't always be around to talk. He was leaving in a couple of months when his contract was up.

He bit back his initial reply, because Robert had at least earned not getting his head bit off because Sonar was in a bad mood and going through withdrawal.

Instead he squeaked, just to get a clearer picture of Robert's posture, to judge how sincere he was, because he wasn't going to waste more than a perfunctory 'thank you' on a perfunctory offer. "Well…thanks, but that's more or less Mal's job."

"She's-"

"My sponsor. Thought that was in my file somewhere."

"I don't think so. It's probably the 'anonymous' part of-"

"Narcotics Anonymous, yeah. Well, she is. Got me in the program - both of them." Sonar rubbed at his neck, suddenly nervous. "Anyway, since she's my official drug-related problems sounding board, your offer is appreciated, but unnecessary."

"…Okay," Robert allowed at last. "Just-" He shook his head. "I do hope you feel better tomorrow. You're - SDN has a paid time off policy, if you need time to unwind."

And run the risk of letting his ranking slip? No way, Chief - is what Sonar didn't say. Instead he grinned and reached out to pat Robert's arm.

"If I need to jet off to Malibu for some boob-watching, you'll be the first to know, Boberto."

"That's…great," Robert drawled, moment successfully killed. So Sonar gave him a cheerful wave, flipped him off, and strolled out of the locker room.

It almost kept his mood up until he got back home, except it occurred to him halfway there that Robert's replacement wouldn't respond as well to casual insubordination as the new, improved Robert. Whoever took over wouldn't go to bars with them, and certainly wouldn't have their back during bar fights.

So he was fully despondent when he arrived home, and the only reason he didn't hit up one of his occasional dealers was the memory of Robert hesitantly congratulating him on six days sober.

It was sort of pathetic, and what was worse was that in a couple of months, he wouldn't even have that.

"…Okay, what am I looking at here?" Malevola asked when she stepped inside to find Sonar half-melted across the couch. "And does anyone need to be murdered over it?"

"Robert's leaving," Sonar muttered into the couch cushions.

"What? He told you this?"

"He told Blazer. His contract's up in a couple of months. He's got his suit back. So he can go back to being fucking Mecha Man and forget about the losers in Z-Team."

"Oh, Victor. You're not a loser." A hand rubbed gently through the fur on the back of Sonar's head. "You're a fucking nerd. And the rest of us are a bunch of hyper-violent, poorly-socialized ex-cons." After a moment she added, "so Robert's leaving in a couple of months."

"Do you remember the dispatchers before we got him?" Sonar groaned, rolling over onto his back.

Malevola was still, so Sonar assumed she was remembering the parade of incompetents and assholes who had managed them before they lucked into Robert Robertson the Third. "I remember the one I had to throw out his office window because he wasn't showing you proper respect."

Sonar smiled despite himself; the guy had sucked, but it had warmed his heart to see his partner hurling an anti-hybrid bigot out of a fifth-story window. In the end, even Blazer hadn't gotten mad about what Mal had done. But it was indicative of their experience with line managers that he among the highlights of the lot, pre-Robert.

"You see? If it weren't for him-"

Sonar fell silent as it hit him. Even without Robert, Blazer would have been looking to make an example of one of them. With him, Sonar had gotten another chance. Without him…

To most people, a polite reformed assassin was more palatable than a mutant fuck-up who kept stumbling off the wagon looking for his next fix.

The problem was Robert wasn't most people, was one of the few who'd looked at Sonar and said he believed in him. And he'd only been half bullshitting.

"You're really broken up about this?"

Sonar groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Work sucks. Admittedly, it sucks less than prison, but Mecha Man's the first boss we've had who makes it suck…less?"

"So tell him that."

Sonar lifted a hand free, chirping to take a closer look at Malevola, who had sat back, arms sprawled, relaxed, on the arms and back of the couch.

"What do you mean, 'tell him that'?"

"Tell him he's made a difference around here. That stuff sucks less since he's here. Make a case that he should stay. You said he's got a couple months - that's more than enough time to convince him."

Sonar opened his mouth to protest before something in his brain sparked, and he let it slide closed. "Make a…case," he mused. "Yeah. I could see that. I'm a pretty convincing guy, when I put my mind to it."

"…As long as you're not planning to pull some sort of scam on him," Malevola allowed after a moment. "The last thing we need is for Blazer to hear we dragged one of her employees into a pyramid scheme or something."

"Pyramid schemes are so last century," Sonar scoffed. "You talk him into pouring his life savings into crypto you talk him out of just before you pump-and-dump it, just for starters - and, we're not doing that to Robert."

"Not unless he actually leaves," Malevola replied.

"Yeah, no, until then, it'll just be some light manipulation, minor gaslighting, a criminal fraud or two. But when it's all over, you'll see - Robert'll change his tune before the month is out."

There was a dead rat on Robert's desk.

It had been set down prominently on his keyboard, so he was pretty certain it hadn't just wandered there and died.

He took a minute to review his memories, to pick out if he'd offended anyone he was aware of, before he saw the ribbon tied around its neck.

"Heyyy, Boberto. How's it hanging?"

Or there was that. A slim arm wrapped around Robert's shoulders, the hint of fur brushing against his cheek as their resident man bat leaned in, showing no respect for Robert's personal space.

"I see you saw the little token of my appreciation I left for you."

"So the dead rodent was - you?"

"Just a sign of how we appreciate all you've done for us. Fresh-killed - none of that store-bought crap."

"I…" Robert eyed what part of Sonar's face he could see from his current vantage, but found nothing in it suggestive of some sort of prank, or retaliation against something Robert had said or done recently. "Well obviously I appreciate your attempt to share your…culture with me, but I don't really have the physiology to handle raw, unbutchered meat."

Sonar's eyes blinked a few times before he drew back, pulling himself up to his full height, ears twitching back. "Oh, shit. And here I thought - this was an honest attempt at a gift, Boss, not some sort of…hazing ritual." He lunged for the rat, scooping it up, muzzle twitching as he turned-

"Hey, no," Robert said, edging around Sonar as he pulled the rat away. "That's a present."

"That you can't eat."

"Yeah, but - that's a really nicely tied ribbon, and - hold still-"

"I gotta get some access to the camera feeds around here or something, because I keep missing all the good shit. How we doing, boys?"

Robert turned his head, just to be sure, and there it was - pink and blue hair, shades, dark brown skin, and the highest-fashion crime-fighting outfit money could afford. And he and Sonar were half-entangled, fighting over a dead rat.

"Hey, Alice. We were just-"

"Ha!" Sonar ripped the rat out of Robert's grip and stepping away from him, holding the rat up triumphantly. "Gotta go - I will return later with a gift compatible with your - biology. Hi Prism, bye Prism."

And then he was gone.

"Okay, I know, 'boundaries' and all that shit, but I need some context, stat, or this is gonna turn into one of those work stories I tell that gets blown way out of proportion."

Robert rolled his eyes as he finally took his seat, while Prism leaned against his desk. "I don't know. Does Sonar have anything going on? I think the dead rat was an attempt to - butter me up or something."

"I try to stay out of that bat-man's business as much as possible. If you need to know what he's up to, try his bee-eff-eff. And then tell me, because I'm actually feeling a little invested now."

Robert rolled his eyes and sent Prism on her way. In some ways, it wasn't a surprise that the Phoenix Program was a roiling pit of potential HR problems, but if pushed to explain, beforehand, he would have assumed it was all threats of violence, actual violence, and sexual harassment. And the violence - threats and actual enactment thereof - was a part of it, but most of it seemed to be a complete lack of sense of what constituted appropriate workplace boundaries.

Which as Invisigal had once pointed out, where the hell would anyone on the Z-Team have learned about appropriate workplace behavior?

He half-expected Prism to bring up what she'd witnessed, turning that day's shift into a debate about who Robert liked best, or making jokes about what perks you could get sleeping with the boss, but she didn't bring it up, leaving the shift chat to its regular pattern of bragging, mockery, and raunchery.

It was that show of restraint that lured Robert into a false sense of security.

The next day, he arrived to find a box of Twinkies at his desk, an incomprehensible note signed with a doodle of a bat drawn on the cardboard. Since it was about what he had expected, Robert opened a pack of them and ate them during first shift, and once the day was over, cut out the part of the box with the note on it and stuck it in his desk for safekeeping.

The next day, there was a mixtape on his desk, full of music that further research revealed was illegal for Prism to sell, given the circumstances under which most of it had been recorded, produced, or marketed. The day after there was a steel cross he guessed came from Malevola, and the one after that a smoky-smelling potpourri, and then-

Two weeks later, Robert took a moment as their shift started to address the team. "Okay, guys, not that I don't appreciate it, but this has to stop."

"What has to stop?" Flambae asked.

"Today someone left a jeweled egg on my desk, and I'm afraid that if I research it I'll find out it's stolen, and that is not a conversation I want to have with Blazer."

"If it's stolen, it defeats the whole-" Sonar started before shutting up abruptly enough Robert suspected he'd muted his mic.

"So this is some sort of coordinated campaign? Can someone give me a heads-up what the endgame is here? Because I'm feeling a little like that woman from 'The Twelve Days of Christmas', which I'm hoping none of you takes as inspiration to give me waterfowl, especially since it stops now."

"Yeah, who had two weeks?" Punch Up asked, which - Robert pinched his forehead, because it was never just one thing. They'd be giving him over-the-top gifts, and when he told them to cut it out, there was a bet about it.

Luckily, no one complained about it, which was - well, Robert was reasonably certain he wouldn't get much sympathy going to other managers asking for advice about what to do when your employees were too generous in showing their appreciation for your management skills.

The next morning, however, found Sonar leaning against Robert's desk when he arrived, arms crossed, ears flicking slightly in different directions, and Robert nearly tripped over his own feet when he realized.

"Shit! You've got, like, super-human hearing, right?"

"Ears like a bat, Boberto," Sonar replied easily.

"So when Invisigal and I were talking about my secret identity in the breakroom-"

Sonar had the decency to duck his head, ears flat as he worried at his lips. "Really didn't know how to - deal with that. If you'd been an ass, I coulda blackmailed you or taunted you about it on shift, but." An ear flicked uncertainly as he lifted his head slightly, muzzle twitching. "It was super awkward until you decided to come out to the team, you know?"

"Good thing I didn't cut you, huh?" Robert replied, snapping his eyes shut, mortified, the moment the words left his mouth. "I mean - fuck, I didn't mean…"

"Chill, Boberto," Sonar drawled. "You didn't even know I knew, back then. You kept me on because of my genius-level intellect, irresistible charm, and nigh-infinite potential. Right?"

"You've all got potential," Robert sighed. "But…yeah. I got the feeling you - took it all a little more to heart than some of the others." Sonar looked, when Robert glanced at him, less like a kicked puppy and more like his usual self, as he stretched a little, nearly preening, before turning toward Robert with a quiet squeak.

(Robert had learned fast not to make mention of the little noises Sonar made when you talked to him in person; like a regular bat, they helped him perceive his surroundings, but he'd gotten into fights with guys who'd thought it was smart to make fun of him for it.)

"You know, I'm a little pissed at you," Sonar said, and Robert tensed, flipping rapidly through his memories and finding nothing he could expect to upset Sonar there.

"I - I'm sorry? If you can tell me what I did, I can avoid it in the future-"

Sonar scoffed. "Nothing you did, Boberto. While I've got no idea why you don't want a gang of ex-supervillains lavishing you with increasingly opulent gifts, 'ts your life. Just, you know, I was doing it before Alice decided it was cool, so it's a - little unreasonable lumping me together with all those posers."

Robert stared at Sonar for a long moment, trying to figure him out - except he'd never been the sort of hero who interrogated people a lot, so he spent a lot of time during conversations like this making a lot of guesses.

"Was the jeweled egg you, Victor?"

"It's a replica," Sonar burst out. "Still cost a shitton, but I didn't steal it." After a second, an ear flickered, down and up, so fast Robert almost didn't see it. "I mean, depending on your definition of 'fraud' - anyway, yeah, I got caught up in their - one-upmanship and sort of lost sight of the original point."

"…You mean the rat. And the Twinkies."

"I mean showing my appreciation. For you not sucking as much as some of the other Dispatchers we've had." That much Robert could be fairly certain was sincere; when recovering from his injuries collected during the fight with Shroud, he'd read more of the Z-Team's history, and it was no wonder Blonde Blazer had been desperate to shake up the status quo.

"Well, if I weren't afraid of looking like I was playing favorites, I'd say I wouldn't mind you giving me - whatever. Within reason."

Sonar snorted. "No one's gonna think I'm your favorite, come on. And they ruined it, anyway. I-" Sonar shook his head vigorously. "Forget about it."

"Alright." Robert knew better than to push when a member of Z-Team had dropped something, even thought he couldn't let go of the idea Sonar was still anxious about something. The problem was, the only sources he could go to about how Sonar felt was Malevola and Sonar himself, and going behind Sonar's back and forcing him to talk about something that made him uncomfortable were equally unappealing.

"You know it's possible whatever's bothering Sonar has nothing to do with you, right?" was Blazer's opinion when he mentioned the issue, manager-to-manager, a few days later. "It happens," she retorted as Robert tried to come up with a protest, "even among the superpowered set, who are the worst at keeping their personal and professional lives separate."

"So I should just let it go?" Robert's gut twisted slightly at the suggestion, although he couldn't say why.

"I know I made a lot of to-do about your responsibilities toward them, but it doesn't mean you need to take responsibility for ever aspect of their life…especially the ones already in treatment for their problems."

"So I should leave it alone."

Blazer sighed, sitting back in her seat. "You should - trust your gut. You've done pretty well following your instincts in this job so far."

And while Robert could agree that he'd managed alright on his own, he wasn't sure he trusted his instincts in dealing with his team outside of work. It was, after, all, during his housewarming party that Invisigal had gotten the idea to steal the Astral Pulse herself.

…Without any other idea, however, Robert was left waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He hoped it went a little better, at least, than dealing with Coupe and Invisigal.

…Plan 'A' had gone terribly, unexpectedly wrong, so Sonar was reluctant to take a shot with Plan 'B'.

He was mature enough to acknowledge it was not one hundred percent Prism's fault; she couldn't have necessarily known that telling the others about Sonar's attempt to woo Robert (Flambae's words - or implication, his actual words had been a lot cruder) would lead to an aggressive competition to give the best gift that would end with Robert calling the whole thing off.

So the abrupt cut-off of what had meant to be an ongoing series of gifts to demonstrate Robert was appreciated necessitated a different tactic.

He was feeling a little too fragile to attempt it that evening, so he instead caught Robert at his desk the day after, when their shift was over and most of the rest of the team had cleared out.

"Hey, Boberto - nice telling people where to go today."

Robert stilled, quiet, and Sonar offered a silent curse to whatever trick of genetics had left him unable to see people's faces in moments like this.

"Is that sarcastic or sincere? Because I've heard all the jokes about how easy-"

"What? Oh, shit, no, that was sincere! I didn't want to bite the heads off any of my team members today, which means the 'teaming people up' guy was clearly doing his job."

"Oh. Well, thanks. I try, you know."

"Yeah, I get it."

"You guys don't always make it easy."

"Never said we did."

Silence settled between them, Robert collecting his things, his dog, and Sonar working up his courage to speak up.

"I hit 30 days yesterday," he said at last, and Robert, with an armful of dog, dropped back into his chair.

"Really? Congratulations." Sonar's scoff was reflexive. "Hey! Don't act like it isn't a big deal-"

"I've been here a coupla times already, hasn't got me much."

"Still," Robert insisted, before standing, stepping close as he juggled his grip on Beef before resting a hand on Sonar's arm. "It's worth celebrating."

On that note…

"You wanna come celebrate with me? I found a place that's supposed to do this kickass progressive meal with wine pairings, and that's not really Mal's deal."

He heard a quick swallow from Robert, a hesitation, and pressed on. "Shouldn't be any trouble getting Beef in, either - I know how attached you are to that furball."

The quiet that followed that comment was a little longer, enough that Sonar began to actually worry he'd crossed a line; they'd speculated about Robert and Blazer (about Robert and Invisigal) when he'd shown up, and he had, once the dust had settled, told everyone he'd been a professional about it.

Which, you know, was cool - a couple of Dispatchers had tried to, you know, leverage their positions (none of them had tried with Sonar, except for a guy who'd been trying to extort him or something - amateur fucking bullshit, which was why he'd only let it slip to Blazer and getting him fired, rather that directing his personal attention to the fucker), so it was nice to know where Robert stood on that sort of shit. But it had taken the combined charisma of the entire Z-Team to get him to join them for drinks, so-

"As long as this isn't leading up to a demand for a raise or anything; I don't have authorization to recommend that unless I've been your supervisor for at least a year."

"A raise?" Sonar laughed as he led the way out of the building, the tension in his - everything - loosening at Robert's acceptance. "Come on - what do you think the first thing they teach you in Harvard Business School?"

"Never pass up an opportunity to remind people you went to Harvard Business School?"

Sonar sputtered, laughing, as he leaned against Robert. "You got me there, Boberto. No, come on, being real for a second - I'm not coming to you asking for a raise without charts. Metrics. Putting all my books in order. And since it's you - the real books, not the ones I give my accountant."

Robert shook his head, something almost like the quietest laugh possible escaping him. "You are not admitting to tax fraud to your supervisor."

"Did I say I prepared and submitted false tax returns? Check your ears, Boberto - I did not." Sonar smirked at Robert, who laughed, shaking his head. "Tax fraud's amateur hour. The way I figure it, Uncle Sam's twenty percent is a gratuity for keeping the lights on."

"Your generosity is noted." Sonar was close enough he could confirm Robert was actually smiling, feeling his mouth twitch in - sympathy, or something. "Now - where is this amazing wine tasting?"

"Just - we can walk there, if spending your entire professional career driving a glorified SUV hasn't left you too weak to walk a couple of blocks."

"Fuck you, I go to the gym every day." Robert's voice was light, on the edge of laughter, so Sonar was sure he was fine.

"According to Flambae-"

"Flambae is a show-off."

"According to Flambae," Sonar continued, "your 'going to the gym' involves lifting weights without a spotter."

"And a tattle-tale, apparently," Robert concluded, drawing himself up. "Why are you all talking about my workout habits?"

"Because if you get yourself killed not practicing basic workout safety, we're going to get a replacement Dispatcher who sucks and I'm going to have to kill them, and I'm too pretty to go to prison."

Robert snorted, and yeah, it was a cheap laugh, joking about how ugly he was, but he'd sort of hoped that Robert, at least-

"I thought Harvard men were too smart to get caught."

"Ah-" Sonar stuttered a moment before he got his metaphorical feet under him. "You know - you see a perfect crime and the only logical explanation is the genius did it."

"Of course. Damned by - whatever the opposite of an orgy of evidence is."

"Exactly!"

It was in a far better mood than he'd been in the last couple of days that Sonar arrived at the restaurant with Robert, ignoring whatever expression Robert might have given him when he gave his reservation to the hostess.

"So do I get to order for myself, or is this one of those places where they believe having an opinion about what you like to eat is a cardinal sin?"

"Hey, when you've got something to celebrate, we can go to Chilis and get the mozzarella stick special or whatever. This is my night, so we're getting whatever the fuck they think we should eat."

Sonar's resolve lasted right up until he was served an appetizer which appeared to consist of several molecules of truffle foam and a dime-sized cracker made of moss or some shit. He waved down their waiter and announced, "My friend and I will have cheeseburgers. Mine should be rare, and his however whiny guys who won't eat dead rat have theirs cooked."

"Medium," Robert chimed in.

"There you go, medium."

"Ah, sir, the menu is-"

"Our second course in beef tartare," Robert said, "so I'm pretty sure you can make cheeseburgers."

"You just cook it," Sonar offered.

And there was a moment where he was certain the waiter was going to say 'no', and then they gulped, nodded, and replied, "I'll see what the chef has to say."

Sonar's mood soured at the unexpected acquiescence, and he could feel - something radiating from the other side of the table, disapproval, maybe.

And then Robert was on his feet, grabbing Sonar's wrist. Sonar scrambled up to follow as Robert headed for the door. "What-"

"I saw a burger joint on the way here, and I don't trust these assholes not to give us a - thimble-sized cheeseburger or some shit. Come on."

Bemused, Sonar followed Robert out of the restaurant, tossing what he estimated the blobs of foam cost on the table, catching up with him in the parking lot, feeling - well, he didn't know what.

"I was trying to show you a good time," Sonar complained, causing Robert to pause, head turning toward him.

"I thought you were celebrating a month sober."

"Yeah, by going out and having a good time without, you know, the usual - a couple lines of coke, a high-priced escort, maybe someone who'll let me see her boobs." Sonar scowled at the ground. "They keep telling me at meetings to celebrate the, you know, small victories, but all the stuff I use to celebrate's the stuff I'm not supposed to be doing. I mean, minus the sex, but that's like, only half as fun without the drugs."

Robert coughed, ducking his head. "Victor-"

"No, can I be honest with you? We're - uh, friends, right?"

Robert was quiet for a moment, and Sonar resolved to mention at some point that, to a guy who could hear every breath, every heartbeat, every quiet subvocalization, Robert's long pauses before answering some questions was nerve-wracking.

"I'd like to think so," he concluded at last. "You know, after the rough start, the misunderstandings, the firing, and everything with Shroud."

"Well, yeah, and - I know you've got our back, that's. So Mal's got on me to get a hobby or something, because otherwise all I've got is drugs, cruising, and felony fraud. And work, of course."

Robert held the door of the burger joint open for Sonar, who paused at the entrance to get the lay of the land before making for the counter. "So the point is, I - need something to occupy my time, and there's only so many people to screw, and I'm not supposed to be committing fraud anymore-"

"Just to be clear, you weren't supposed to be committing fraud at all - that's the whole point of it being illegal."

"But that's all I did to have fun at Harvard - drugs, sex, and talking about how much money crypto could make us."

There was a pause as they ordered, before Sonar folded himself into a chair at one of the tables, Robert across from him. They were quiet as they ate, but Sonar could almost hear Robert thinking. Gnawing at his burger, Sonar was almost certain it wasn't anything to be concerned about, though he couldn't quite silence the tiny worry you could occasionally kill with the right cocktail of drugs.

At long last, Robert spoke up. "Was I invited along because you needed company on this experiment?"

"I-" Sonar's reply petered out before he could protest, because if he did that, he might accidentally come out with the truth. "Sure, I figure, in trying to figure out all this normal-person shit, who else to help me navigate it than the most normal person I know?"

"…I'm an ex-superhero with no social life outside of my dog. How is that normal?"

Sonar waved Robert in, leaning forward. "My best friend is a half-demon. I am half-bat with a nasty tendency to transform into a monstrous bat creature when I get too stressed. A guy who inherited the family business of driving a robot around town to beat up criminals is the closest thing I'm going to get to normal."

"So…what, you want me to be your second while you try out what normal people spend their free time doing? Pickleball, trivia night, square dancing?"

"What the fuck is pickleball? That's something you're making up, right?"

"No, it's, uh - okay, I don't know what it is, exactly, but that's the point, right? Of trying out the stuff normal people do."

And it wasn't a terrible idea, personally. He did need hobbies that weren't drugs, sex, or crime, but there was apparently something intimidating about a man-bat and a demoness walking into a room that made most of his attempts fall flat.

…And spending more time with Robert would give him more opportunities to convince Robert to stay.

"Alright, but if you try to make me play pickleball, I'm out."

Contrary to Robert's original misgivings at the possible complications of socializing with a member of the Z-Team, there was surprisingly little fallout. He supposed that with the combined effects of him letting them in on his biggest secrets and them banding together to defeat his personal demons, there wasn't as much - tension as there had been at the beginning.

Consequently, over the next week, Robert and Sonar met up after-hours for a trivia night (verdict: "if i wanted to spend my free time humiliating people who were dumber than I am, I'd still be running crypto scams"); an adult art class (Sonar had sat in front of a canvas staring at the still life they were supposed to paint for thirty seconds before throwing his hands up and stalking out of the room); an adult sculpting class (marginally more successful, since Sonar didn't have to be able to see color to make clay match the shape of what he could see using echolocation); and a board game night at a local bar (Sonar had stiffened on seeing a group of people playing the first of incomprehensible games they witnessed that evening, and then subsequently gotten into an escalating series of competitions with some guy who he later admitted had sold Sonar a counterfeit trading card for an amount of money Robert immediately tried to forget people would spend on children's card games).

"I'm surprised you don't have more to say about this." Chase, still on disability leave while whatever mad scientist they'd hooked him up with to find a workaround for the additional strain he'd put on his body saving Invisigal, demanded regular visits from 'the most perfect dog in existence', which was why Robert was over here Saturday night while Chase played with Beef.

"This might be good for you, too - Lord knows superheroes don't allow themselves a lot of time for recreation, and it drives us into the ground." He grabbed Beef's cheek and squished them. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"It's not what I want, it's - you just had a lot to say about Invisigal-"

"Invisigal, who helped Shroud nearly put you out of commission for good, you mean?" Chase snorted. "I had a lot to say because there was a lot to worry about."

"Meanwhile with Sonar, there's-"

"He's an okay guy, for the criminal set. He's dragging you out to art classes, and trivia night, for fuck's sake." Chase gave a wry grin. "Plus, I don't have to worry about the same shit I did with Invisigal - he doesn't swing your way." After a moment he gave Robert a suspicious squint. "Does he?"

Robert shrugged. "That's exactly the sort of thing I'm not supposed to ask people who work for me."

"Ah, well," Chase shrugged. "I figure shit like that'll come up if you insist on getting to know your team. Me, I keep some distance, but your team's got a different vibe."

Robert grimaced at what felt like a jibe, and, trying to settle his nerves, replied, "Is that your only concern?"

"Hm?" Chase raised an eyebrow. "Oh - no, I wasn't - just Sonar's a real…vamp, which you know - so if he was sniffing around…" He sighed, shoulders dropping. "I feel I crossed a line with Invisigal, so now I'm not sure how much to say."

"Track Star, with nothing to say?" Robert bit his lip, feeling - unaccountably nervous. "You're not getting worked up over the possibility I might not be averse to Sonar's attentions, are you?"

"Wha - oh, no! Jeez, I wasn't - what you do in that shithole studio apartment of yours is your business. I just mean - he's a - rake."

"A rake?" Robert retorted. "Should I be asking him about his intentions?"

"Jackass," Chase grumbled, scratching Beef's head. "I just mean he's-"

"Obsessed with breasts, yes," Robert agreed. "I have to listen to him talk every day. In any case, I don't have designs on changing Sonar's basic nature or whatever you think I'm getting myself into." He paused, as he ran the last few minutes of conversation through his head. "Wait, Chase, are you trying to keep me from letting Sonar break my heart?"

"Somebody's gotta look out for you," Chase growled, crossing his arms, "especially as you were so clueless about Invisigal."

"Well, it's very sweet of you, and I appreciate you not deciding to go all 'overprotective dad' on Victor like you did Invisigal, but I promise you, Sonar doesn't have any secret designs on my virtue."

Chase dropped the subject after that, for which Robert was grateful.

However, on Monday, the team picked it up again, which while probably inevitable, Robert had been dreading ever since he'd started hanging out with Sonar.

"Is this true?" Flambae demanded as soon as Robert was on the line.

"Is what true?"

"Punch says you've been playing favorites," Prism cut in.

"What? No, I've been following the handbook when it comes to assigning you in the field-"

"She means you and Sonar playing after work," Golem said.

"We're not playing - I mean-"

"Robert's helping Sonar with his recovery," Malevola said sharply, "which isn't a group activity."

"Except for the meetings," Punch said. "Don't those have a bunch of people in them?"

"Yeah, and they're anonymous - that's why it's in the name." Sonar's voice was sharp and growling, suggesting he was on the edge of transforming, meaning Robert either needed to calm him down or reallocate the team's skill set to accommodate the most intelligent member of the team trading in his brain for brawn.

"Yeah, guys, look - I was just helping Sonar out with some of his - group. Stuff. If you want, we can schedule another team night out - maybe at Chilis."

"I don't want to go to fucking Chilis!" At the distinctive roar from Sonar's mic, Robert dragged his 'Sonar's freaking out' staffing plan out from his drawer.

"Alright, Prism, and - oh, do we have Waterboy today? I didn't hear you on the line."

"Oh! Sorry, Mr. Robertson, this just seemed like a…thing for the team?"

Robert sighed. Every member of the Z-Team had their own challenges, and intermittent member Waterboy's was getting him to see himself as part of the team. But working those out during their shifts was unproductive.

"Prism and Waterboy, we've got another call that sounds like Brainteaser; try your best to work it out. Sonar-"

"I can see a mugging from up here," he growled. "I'm on it."

"Wha-" Robert scrambled, but couldn't find anything about a mugging on the calls. "Sonar, that's not one of ours-"

"I'll make a citizen's arrest while you're waiting for phone calls." Robert called up a camera from a deli across the street from Sonar's location just in time to see him fall on a guy like the wrath of God, knocking out a guy who'd been threatening someone with a knife.

"Okay, that's, uh - nice initiative, Sonar, but I've got a call for you to respond to a couple of blocks south of where you are-"

"On it," he snarled, and on the screen, the monstrous man-bat took to the air with close to the same forcefulness as Phenomaman.

He was like that for the rest of the day, both shifts - not just staying in man-bat mode, but pouncing on calls, quivering in anticipation in the moments before Robert could direct him. It was almost more distraction than Robert could afford, trying to stay on top of Sonar's irrepressible enthusiasm.

He headed down to the locker room as soon as the shift was over, anxious about what he would find.

Robert nearly ran into Malevola on the way in; she gave him a slight smile and clapped him on his shoulder.

"He's mostly calmed down," she said.

"That's not what I'm worried about - is he okay?"

She blinked, smile fading into something more somber. "…I think I'll let you answer that question yourself," she said. "I'm going to try to wrangle us up something to eat, whenever you get him home."

"Ah-" Robert started, but Malevola was gone, leaving Robert alone to descend into the belly of the beast.

The beast in question was laying flat on his back on one of the benches, one arm thrown over his eyes, a towel puddled by his waist, as if it had fallen off and he couldn't be bothered to pick it back up.

An ear twitched as Robert entered the room, several squeaks from Sonar likely identifying Robert to him without looking.

"Hey, Boberto," Sonar muttered. "Sorry about today."

"Sorry about what? You look exhausted."

"Sorry for, you know." Sonar lifted the hand not covering his eyes a few inches, waving it vaguely. "Losing control like that."

"Come on, Victor, you didn't - I was worried about how hard you were pushing yourself all day. What's going on?"

"…Nothing." Sonar fumbled for his towel, dragging it up to toss across his waist. "Tired. Embarrassed. I should be better than that."

"What do you mean, better? The man-bat thing is part and parcel of the Sonar package."

"Doesn't do much for my actual package, in case you were wondering."

Robert rolled his eyes as he sat next to Sonar's head; as in-character as the off-color remark had been, it sounded flat, reflexive, as if it were expected of him.

But he also sounded upset, which - wasn't quite what Robert had expected. "Come on, Victor. There's a difference between going on a bender and your powers. You can work when you've transformed - it's part of my operations plan."

"As long as there's a plan," Sonar drawled.

Robert stretched out a hand automatically; he froze when he realized it was on Sonar's head, fingers curled as if to scratch his ears.

And then Sonar let out an almost inaudible whine - practically the same tone as when Beef was playing up how unloved and forgotten he was - and Robert decided to hell with it and began to scratch through the fur on Sonar's head.

He didn't move, except to slump a little further down into the bench at the touch. "Thas' nice," Sonar murmured. And then he stiffened, twisting and sitting up in a single smooth motion, ears quivering, muzzle twisting into a scowl. "What the hell, Robert?"

"Sorry sorry!" Robert threw his hands up defensively. "I just thought you might-"

"I fucked up out there - I don't deserve head scratches!"

Robert tilted his head, examining his friend (his thoughts backed up, checked the available options, and concluded he was almost certainly in too deep to claim otherwise) as he realized he and Sonar hadn't been on the same page since he'd walked in here.

"Where in all this have I suggested you fucked up?" he asked, hoping that he could clear the air by being direct.

"You didn't have to say it - I went off-book, went rogue-"

"You mean the freelance intervention with the mugging? I don't think anyone minds; there wasn't anything more pressing for you to deal with at the moment-"

"Like a rabid dog off his chain-"

"Victor." When Sonar continued raving, Robert grabbed his muzzle with both hands, turning to make sure Sonar was looking at him (so to speak), and repeated, "Victor. Come on." Sonar fell blessedly silent, though he was still tense. Deciding it wasn't because Robert was touching him, Robert kept holding him at attention as he continued. "Except for one little moment when you went - off-book - and saved an ordinary person from being the victim of a crime - you were a consummate professional today." He paused, evaluating, before adding, "Sort of. I think you might want to get checked to see if you've got ADHD when in your man-bat form or something, because I was a little afraid if I couldn't keep you busy you'd just start flying laps around Torrance or something."

One ear flicked up at Sonar stared at Robert - quiet, mouth hanging open as he just…looked.

"You're serious," he said at last, and Robert laughed.

"Yeah, you don't - remember?"

Sonar scoffed, pulling his face out of Robert's grip. "I don't, like, black out, but it's like an adrenaline high, so I need to recontextualize my memories." His ear flicked back down, calling to mind Beef looking for approval. "I really did good?"

"Even gave the rest of the team an opportunity to stretch their thinking muscles," Robert replied, which earned a bark of a laugh from Sonar, before his shoulders fell.

"I'm still exhausted." He rolled his shoulders with a groan that reminded Robert that Sonar was naked except for a precariously-perched towel.

"I should let you get dressed," he declared, before adding, "I could drive you home?"

"Yeah, fuck," Sonar moaned, letting his head fall back, water from still-damp fur trickling from the ruff along his neck down his chest, which rose and fell steadily as Sonar panted quietly. "Professional or not, running around kicking ass all day like that's a killer. I don't know how Malevola does this."

"Well, I think she might go to the gym more than you do," Robert replied, earning him a half-hearted middle finger from Sonar, and a rough chuckle. "We could schedule a spa day or something - I know 'getting pampered' isn't really a hobby exactly, but you look like you need it."

"Fuck, yes, that sounds amazing, Boberto. After Malevola and Beef, you're my favorite, you know that?"

He twisted to kick his locker a couple of times until it popped open, stumbled over and pulled out a shirt, his underwear, and was at least half-dressed in less time than Robert would have imagined, given how tired Sonar appeared to be - at least until he slipped on his tie and paused, staring down at the fabric for close to a minute before sighing, pulling on his jacket, and shoving the locker closed.

"You ready to go, Boberto?"

"Yeah, uh…" Robert took a minute as they wandered toward the exit before speaking up. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm just - tired," Sonar repeated. "It happens to everybody sometimes."

"Sure," Robert agreed, even though he wasn't sure. But since it seemed to be all Sonar would say on the subject, he let it drop, even when Malevola gave him a significant look when he dropped Sonar off at their apartment.

Maybe he really did just need some time to unwind, Robert decided, and spent the evening looking for a place Sonar would enjoy.

Sonar could have managed if he and Robert had had their spa day before the team-building night or whatever the fuck the night out at some shithole was meant to be. Compared to it, Sonar would have preferred Chilis. The place was simultaneously too loud, too subdued, and too full of people unfamiliar enough with hybrids that he kept catching them staring (and unlike at the Sardine, biting someone's head off for taking too much of an interest was 'frowned upon').

Flambae made an attempt at beating Prism at karaoke (he couldn't fault the man for his unearned confidence, but he clearly wasn't going to outpace a woman who'd been on track to win a Grammy before they'd decided empowered people with criminal records weren't eligible) while the others debated what to order. Sonar didn't bother trying to read the menu, instead glowering at the couple who were clearly flirting instead of playing pool (you left the table alone once it was clear you were going to fuck; pretending otherwise was just rude).

"Hey, you want anything to drink?"

"I'm fine," Sonar growled, aware he was claiming as much contrary to all available evidence, but not caring, because Malevola knew what was up, and Robert-

His nerves were jangling, and thinking of what Robert might think made it worse, so he scowled and dropped his head down onto his arms folded on the table, wishing he'd planned ahead enough to have a way to block his ears.

He could have stayed like that the entire night - not happy, but at least persevering - if Robert hadn't put a hand on his arm and Sonar had snapped at him, stalking off toward the bathrooms where he lurked for most of the rest of the evening (only half because the acoustics of the attached hallway blocked at least half of the noise from the rest of the bar).

Sonar ignored Malevola's stare when he returned to the table, and continued to ignore it on the way home, retreating to his room as soon as they were there.

Robert had scheduled for them to meet up at some resort or spa or some shit downtown the day after next, which meant Sonar couldn't just take off the day before, so he spent two fucking days at work so on-edge and distracted he transformed halfway through at least one job every shift, and nearly bit off some lady's head when she had the gall to complain about Sonar's attitude when he'd just saved her life (or her basement or something; he could barely remember the details of the call later, just the overwhelming urge to rip her in two).

He didn't even realize he wasn't alone in the locker room until he stepped out of the shower and nearly ran down Robert, who flinched away from Sonar, which was just about enough to make him head back into the shower and see if he could rig it to drown him, or if he'd have to find a way to manage back at the apartment.

Words filtered through the haze of Sonar's misery - the voice soft, quiet, gentle to ears too used to trying to muffle noises that were constantly intruding.

"-terrible. Do you want-"

Sonar shook his head, trying to clear it, and overbalanced, toppling slowly to sit heavily on the floor of the locker room, ears ringing although nothing seemed to have caused it.

"-okay?" Robert asked.

"M'awright," Sonar murmured, waving vaguely where he remembered Robert being a moment ago. "Got something for it in my locker."

"Should I-"

"Thx." Sonar let himself sit, breathing quietly, as Robert stepped away, ignoring an insistent thought that something was wrong-

"Oh."

Oh.

Sonar had forgotten what he had in his locker, and why he probably shouldn't let Robert know about it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, even though it didn't make a difference. He couldn't see Robert's expression; all he could do was imagine what it looked like from the tone of his voice.

"I hadn't realized you. Uh." Footsteps drew closer, and a presence settled near Sonar. "I thought you were doing okay, without the. Uh. Is that cocaine?"

"Some of it," Sonar replied with a shrug. "And I'm always doing okay. Until I'm not."

It's why he hated talking this over with people who didn't understand, because they - didn't understand. You were sober for a week and they thought that meant you were over the hump. You went off on a bender six months into a program and you were a failure, and he was sick of hearing the disappointment, the platitudes that they expected better of him-

"Was it because this week's been hard on you? Or has this week been hard on you because you've been using again?"

The question was so unexpected, more like something Mal would have asked than what he'd expected from Robert, that he replied without thinking.

"I didn't take any of it."

He could feel the weight of Robert's disbelief at the claims of an addict. "Then why…"

Even though he was still sitting, Sonar felt as if he'd missed a step, the room swaying around him, as he responded. "At the restaurant the other night, I felt like shit, and I - there was a guy, there, who was willing to deal, so I…" He shrugged.

"You bought these…but didn't take them?"

"Because we were going out, later, and I didn't want to fuck things up by being high, or crashing, or - I didn't want to fuck it up, except what's the point of holding it together for someone who's leaving anyway? Or for anyone, really? I'm supposed to be able to hold this together for myself, not - and I scared the shit out of you because I'm the fucking worst, and - fuck it."

"You didn't scare - I'm worried about you, Victor. I hadn't realized how - strung out you were." One of Robert's hands came to rest on the top of Sonar's head, scratching with a soothing, gentle motion; he leaned into the other man as a pleased chirp escaped him. A few minutes passed like that, and Sonar could almost forget the last ten minutes or so-

"What did you mean about leaving?"

Fuck.

Sonar ducked away from Robert's touch, baring his teeth at - more or less everything (except Robert, who was clearly trying his best, and Beef, who was without flaw, and Chase, who Sonar was pretty certain hadn't done anything to annoy him in the last couple of weeks).

"I just meant you've got - a month or two left on your contract here, and a new suit of armor, so obviously…" Having started, Sonar realized with a horrified sense of dread, he was powerless to stop the sentence. "You're going to leave…us."

(Oh thank god; if he'd said 'leave me', Sonar would have had to go right back into the showers and slit his wrists or something, because he certainly wouldn't be able to look Robert in the eyes ever again.)

"Yeah, Blazer asked me to think about that a month or two ago-" There was a pause, Robert with one hand at the back of his neck, head tilted toward Sonar, and he might not have been the investigative sort of hero, but it didn't mean he was stupid; something must have clicked for him in that exact moment, and Sonar wondered how far he could get before Robert caught up with him.

"Right around when you all started that 'embarrass the boss with riches' gift campaign," Robert said slowly. "And then…" He fell quiet for a moment that stretched along enough to hurt right in Sonar's chest. "What was all this about, Sonar?"

He didn't sound suspicious; Sonar supposed Robert felt he knew him well enough not to conjure up some nefarious agenda, which was welcome (there'd been a Dispatcher or two who hadn't seemed to be suspicious of the Z-Team, but had ready an underhanded motive for one of them the moment anything went wrong). But he did sound puzzled, which meant Sonar would have to explain himself, which was…less welcome.

"Well, I sort of overheard you and Blazer - talking about your plans," Sonar admitted, figuring that was probably the least embarrassing part of this entire affair. "And Mal sort of suggested I could try a charm offensive to get you to stay."

"A…charm offensive. Is that how I ended up with what I'm starting to suspect was part of a plan to steal someone's Faberge Egg?"

"That was Prism's fault," Sonar grumbled. "I was just trying to make you feel - appreciated, and she turned it into something crass and competitive."

"And you were worried you were going to lose," Robert guessed.

Sonar bared his teeth at Robert, although he couldn't put his heart into it. "Sure, if people were planning to cheat-"

"Anyway, that explains the…dead rat. And the Twinkies. And the - replica. So what was - all this?" Robert's gesture was a broad wave up and down (and Sonar was certain he'd noticed Robert doing that more around him - making wide gestures instead of small shifts in expression, even if he couldn't quite wrap his head around why).

"It started out as Plan B, and then you ruined it by being considerate at me," Sonar muttered. "The real charm offensive, until you were all 'let's help Sonar with his recovery from addiction by teaching him to be normal'."

"Wait, are you-" Robert's voice sounded light, almost amused, "mad at me?"

"Of course not," Sonar grumbled crossing his arms. "Just - I sort of lost track of the whole plan because I was having too much fun hanging out with you, and then…"

"And then you hit a bad patch."

"I don't have a vendetta against Chilis or anything," Sonar admitted. "Just - they fucked up the thing with the presents, and I thought-"

"Victor, you're my friend. It's not like whatever you all thought you were doing with the gift-giving competition." A hand came to rest on the back of his neck, and Sonar sighed, leaning slightly into the touch. "I've been having fun, too - I don't know if you know this, but I didn't leave a lot of time for myself the last couple of years. I'm glad we started hanging out."

And then Robert took a deep breath. "And I'm sorry you've been worried about me leaving. I wish you'd talked to me about it."

"What, try to convince you to give up on being a hero to babysit us? Like that'd help."

"No, if you'd asked me about it, I would have told you I wasn't planning to go back."

The world was suddenly - too quiet, even the beating of Sonar's own heart distant and muffled. "What?"

"Working with you guys has been - really rewarding, and I keep thinking, every day, organizing and directing a whole team feels like it does more than just being out there by myself does. And Blazer's got a few more prospects - other Phoenix Program members who she thinks would benefit from what the team's got going on. Plus…" Robert shrugged. "I've made some good friends, here, and it feels like…a step backward to go back to spending most of my time alone."

"You're not leaving?" Sonar asked, finding most of the rest of what Robert had said was just - noise, not while he was still trying to sort through that…one point.

"No."

"You were never leaving?"

"Well, I took a little time to think about it right after the whole thing with Shroud, but - no, when you overheard Blazer bring it up, I wasn't planning on it, no."

"So all this was for nothing? I've been tying myself into knots and working myself to the fucking bone and you were never going anywhere to begin with?"

It was inevitable - Sonar was keyed-up, exhausted, and badly wanted a fix (one of the hardest lessons he'd had to learn early, going to meetings, was that even in the nadir of withdrawal, you didn't 'need' the drugs - he'd etched that into his mind, to remind himself falling off the wagon wasn't an inevitability), so the fact it took this long for him to transform, bones and body snapping and twisting until he was on his feet, looming over Robert, whose heartbeat had skipped a panicked beat when it started, but was subsequently as calm as he'd been a moment before.

And every other thing Sonar might have wanted to shout, every frustration and fear and every bit of the angry, terrified energy bubbling inside of him, drained out of him, and he slumped back to the floor, now twice the size and roughly four times fluffier.

A hand began scratching at the ruff of his neck, and he chirped in approval, too tired to pretend otherwise.

"It might have been a misunderstanding, but I don't think it was for nothing," Robert allowed. "I've been trying to - stay professional or whatever I need to do to wrangle the team, and if I didn't have the excuse…I might not have started spending more time with you. So I think - for all of that, it's why we're friends, now."

"I conned you into being my friend?"

"Oh, my god, come on." Robert stood, dragging Sonar up with him (as if he could have had the remotest chance of doing so if Sonar didn't want to go). "We've got a reservation at the spa, we can have our feelings jam over there, and if we're lucky, they can massage some of the self-pity you've got going on out of you."

"Not unless I'm getting a happy ending-"

"How did I know that you were going to say that? Nine feet tall, full-on bat mode, and still just thinking with your dick."

"It's part of my charm, Boberto."

"Charm my ass, you're a horndog," Robert laughed, and it was true, but also, Sonar hadn't gotten any in - a while, and he didn't even make jokes about it to his masseuse, because it would annoy Robert, and he'd been through enough because of Sonar already, and it wasn't until he got home that night, substantially more relaxed, the desire for a non-natural high back to a low background buzz of want, that he thought anything of it.

"Is it wrong to change everything about yourself for a hot guy?"

Malevola looked up from the book she'd been reading. "Billionaire playboy hot or stick of a man who looks like he's been through the wringer hot?"

Sonar growled and waved at her with a half-hearted 'shoo' gesture. "Okay, the looks are immaterial, I'm just asking-"

"No, I've been wondering when this was going to come up." She set her book aside and sat up, patting the seat next to her, and for all he was the one who'd brought it up, Sonar sighed. "Come on," she said once Sonar was seated. "What's…going on?"

"It seems like you already know."

"I've got some ideas, but I don't know the inside of your head, Vic - that's not one of the powers I was graced with. So, spill."

"I've been sober - two months now, I guess, and at first I was just making another attempt to keep from getting fired, but then Robert and I started hanging out and…" Sonar squirmed as he realized how it would sound, saying it out loud, but pressed forward on knowing it would be worse if Malevola had to force it out of him. "Well, I knew he'd be all 'disappointed boss' on my if he thought I'd fallen off the wagon, but then…we were having fun, and it wasn't a high, but it felt like adding drugs to that might…fuck with the - the vibe, you know?"

"Yeah?" Malevola didn't sound like she was laughing at him, or embarrassed, or mad, and fuck it, Sonar might as well spill the whole sordid mess out, because Mal was so good at taking everything with a nonjudgmental air.

"And I've been low-key trying to get him to stay, despite his suit being fixed, except he's never been planning to leave, ever since the Shroud thing wrapped up. But I keep - I can't keep myself sober because I'm trying to impress some guy, right? That's, uh - pinning my hopes in one basket or some shit, right?"

"Victor - this is good. You've made a friend."

"I've got a friend," Sonar protested. "You."

"Our relationship's different. However much I like you, I'm your sponsor - a part of our friendship is always going to be bound up in the idea of beating the whole addiction thing. This, though - it's what I was trying to get you to do, suggesting you take up a hobby or something. Find stuff that fills up your time, your energy, your - anticipation, besides drugs." She patted Sonar's knee. "Congratulations; that's the whole point."

Sonar's muzzle twitched as he considered that declaration. "Well, sure, but I can't rely on one person to keep me off drugs."

"I never said you could - it's a start, Victor." She dragged Sonar into a hug, thumping him enthusiastically on the back before pulling back. "You could have done worse than pick him as a first try at friendship out of the gate. One of us, for one." She suddenly laughed. "And it all started because you were trying to be a heartless, conniving supervillain on him and keep him from leaving."

"Come on, I was looking out for all of us," Sonar complained. "He's the - not even the least bad, the best Dispatcher we've had."

"And a good friend, huh?"

"Yeah…" Sonar abruptly remembered what had started the evening, and felt his ears droop in embarrassment. "I've got something else to tell you, Mal. A couple days ago, I picked up some party favors - the stress at work was getting to me, and - and I wanted them.

"And then - well, like I told you. It wasn't even that Robert would be disappointed in me - I've disappointed enough people in life. I just…it's been a good time hanging out with him. Even though I felt lousy, I kept thinking - some coke would make me feel better, but…" The words stuck in his throat; just the thought of them felt excessively emotional, like something out of some kids' show.

"It doesn't feel the same as doing something real. As being with people…right?"

"It's the corniest thing I've ever had to admit to, but - yeah." He decided he didn't have to bother sharing that he'd never had anyone like Robert, a friend who'd want to spend time with him, one he didn't need to ply with sex, drugs, the comforts you could provide when you were riding high on a financial portfolio which was best summarized as 'criminal'.

…Well, aside from Mal.

"I might not have been the best friend to you, Mal," he admitted. "You know, in hindsight."

"Aw, shut up, Victor - you're the best." She kicked his ankle with her foot before ruffling the fur on top of his head. "And now you've got two whole friends. I'm proud of you."

"And how about you?" he demanded.

"Three, Victor - you've got to keep up!" she retorted with a laugh, before stumbling to the kitchen to get them a drink.

He let his head loll as he thought, still a little embarrassed about everything - getting worked up enough he'd had to talk himself out of breaking his last bout with sobriety, the fact that the deciding factor had been that he had friends, the fact that he was sitting here celebrating that he'd figured out something most kids managed to work out when they were six-

Well, in his defense, most kids weren't literally monsters. They hadn't learned early on it was better to pay for company and know the score rather than risk discovering people you thought were your friends were just in it for the benefits, or the stories they got to tell behind your back.

They hadn't had to wait around for a woman like Mal, a guy like Robert, one the most fearsome and supportive demon out of Hell, and the other - well, not a saint, because most saints didn't come in the bloodied, scarred picture that Robert made, and were a little less sarcastic than he was.

"Hey, Mal? What color is Robert's eyes?"

She poked her head around the refrigerator door. "Hm? Brown, I think. Why?"

"I don't know - I've just realized I've only got a general sense of what he looks like."

"He looks like a scrawny white guy - with that, uh, reddish-brown hair that he either is bad at keeping neat, or he spends an hour in the bathroom every morning making it look messy. You've been in the locker room with him enough I bet you've seen the - scars and burns and junk. Not really your type at all."

"Why are we talking about my type? I'm just curious what he looks like." He scoffed. "It's not like it would matter; I'm not his type."

"I don't know - broken, has a little bit of an edge…you could be." Mal handed Sonar a bottle as she sat down next to him. "Except if you were, Chase would be giving you the stink-eye from across the room, like he did with Invisigal."

Sonar raised an eyebrow. "So Chase punches me, then I know I'm on Robert's radar."

"More or less," Mal laughed, taking a drought of her beer.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"…Oh, no."

"What?" Robert demanded, as Chase's face shifted to something grumpier than his resting expression. "You think I handled this wrong. I should have called Malevola or, I don't know, Blazer, and tell them he bought drugs. But he didn't use them-"

Chase raised a hand, pursing his lips. "Look, I may not be happy knowing you left a - how much cocaine was it?" Robert shrugged, and Chase sighed. "That there's a bag of cocaine somewhere in the office, but I think at this point, I am over second-guessing the trust you extend to those trouble-makers; you're the one who has to live with the consequences of their bullshit."

"So what's the 'oh no' about?"

"That look on your face - you're soft on him!"

"'Soft'?" Robert mused.

"Like Invisigal."

"Like - you think I'm attracted to him? Or he's attracted to me? I thought you didn't care what I-"

"That was all hypotheticals, you palling around with a conman. But you let yourself get invested, Robert, and you'll get more trouble than you're looking for."

Robert narrowed his eyes, feeling some of the same stress from the early days, when he thought the team wanted to kill him, and he was still trying to track down Shroud. "Come on, Chase, what's this about? I thought we were cool about Sonar - who I'm not confirming I'm attracted to - but now you're on my case again?"

Chase sighed, reaching up to where Beef was seated on his stomach, scratching at the dog's ears. "Like I said - you're getting attached. I've been getting a lot more time with this cutie, but that's because you're running around with a bat-themed supervillain."

"Ex-"

"Yeah, ex-villain, I know," Chase grumbled. "But he's also an addict, a conman, and - this is a little cut-rate analyzing on my part - a lonely kid who grew up to be a lonely guy, and that's a bad combination."

Robert sighed. "Seriously, Chase? I think these guys have earned the benefit of the doubt - at least a little."

"Yeah, when it comes to little things, like crime. Not when it comes to my little brother's well-being." Chase sat up and gave Robert a steady stare. "I'm not saying he's a bad guy, really - although I still can't figure out how serious he is when he talks about human flesh - or even that he's gonna…whatever. Just…being a supportive boss can be easy - comparatively. Being his friend? His…whatever? His shit is messy, Robert, and it's not going to get easier through the power of love."

"I know, Chase. I just told you, didn't I?"

"And I'm just saying, you can't rely on it always turning out well - him overcoming the urge to backslide on the drugs, resisting making bad decisions."

"Look, I get it." Robert gave Chase a half-hearted smile. "And I appreciate the sentiment - sort of." He pushed his hair back, just to feel like he was doing something. "Just that - I'm not sure I'm not messy, too."

"So what - you don't deserve better?"

"…I think Sonar might deserve better, too," Robert admitted, and Chase groaned.

"It's hopeless, isn't it? You're going to be Sonar's BFF and nothing I say about it's going to stop you."

"He already has a BFF - Malev-"

"Yeah, demon-girl, I know. I was…" Chase huffed, before offering Robert a suspicious squint. "You said you weren't admitting to being attracted to Sonar…but that's not the same thing as saying you aren't."

"Oh my god, Chase, I'm not lusting after Sonar," Robert laughed, which more or less put the subject to rest, at least until Blazer cornered him the week after.

"Hey, Robert - can I talk to you about Sonar?"

Robert sighed, shaking his head. "I don't care what Chase told you-"

She raised a hand. "It's not - just come into my office."

Robert followed her, stomach settling with an odd anticipatory dread; he settled into the chair opposite her desk with about half a dozen nightmare scenarios in his head-

"I got a letter from Sonar's treatment group a few weeks ago," Blazer said, scattering a few papers as she pulled another free from the stacks covering her desk. "I just caught up with it - it said he'd been clean two months, and I realized, if he hasn't slipped up since then, it'll be three months in a few days."

Robert blinked, trying to separate the reality of what Blazer was saying and the scenarios he'd built up in the thirty seconds it had taken to sit down. "His…"

"His sobriety group," Blazer explained. "And I was wondering if it was appropriate to get him a - make an announcement or throw him a party or something."

"…Oh." It was - sweet, in a slightly out-of-touch way (the way Robert might have been a few months ago, before he'd spent any appreciable time with Sonar). "No, that's - they might have some responsibility to tell his employer, based on whatever deal he made with SDN regarding the drug charges, but I'd treat it like medical information. It's his business - though if he brings it up, be supportive about it." And after a moment, he added, "and try not to be too harsh if he comes out with having - broken his streak. He's hard enough on himself about it."

Blazer nodded. "Alright. I-" She suddenly stared at Robert, with something like the scrutinizing gazes Chase had been throwing at him. "You seem to know a lot about what', uh, going on with him."

"We've been spending a lot of time together," Robert replied with a shrug. "We're friends," he added, to clarify.

"Yeah, that's - probably inevitable."

"Wha?"

Blazer shrugged. "Chase warned me you were a soft touch - that if I stuck you with that 'little band of misfits', you'd get yourself invested."

"Warned you? You told me this was Chase's idea!"

And it hit Robert, then, that however conflicted he might feel about Robert getting involved with Z-Team, Chase might have felt Robert needed…a project, not unlike Malevola pushing Sonar to find a hobby, friends.

"That actually makes it sound worse than it was - he just told me I couldn't count on you staying objective for long." Blazer flushed, gaze dropping to the top of her desk. "It's why I pushed you to make the decision about who to let go so early - before you got too attached."

"But it's why you make a good Dispatcher for them," she added. "You care in a way the ones who want to make it in the program respond to. I've made a case Project Phoenix needs more people like you, and it's why I was a little relieved you told me you're planning to stay on in Dispatch instead of branching back out to heroism."

Robert settled into his seat, feeling a little calmer. "Well, like I said - leave it alone, unless Sonar mentions it to you. I don't know - he might want to celebrate, though I don't know if he'll want to invite the boss' boss along about it."

"While you-" Blazer started, and Robert laughed.

"Like I said, we're friends. Anything else?"

"No, you go manage your rag-tag group of misfits."

Robert was in a little better mood than he had been when he got into work - not that he'd been in a bad mood, but he'd been worried, a little, about how close he and Sonar were getting, so Blazer's reassurance she'd expected something like this eased some of that anxiety.

Plus, however much he reminded himself not to put pressure on Sonar, reaching three months was - good for him, and even though it was all on Sonar himself, Robert felt a furled sense of pride in his chest as he pulled up the chat for their morning shift.

"Alright, good morning, everybody. How are we doing?"

"I…am doing excellent, Boberto," Sonar chirped. "In fact, drinks are on me tonight - at Chilis, to avoid abusing our supervisor's delicate sensibilities."

"I wasn't-"

"Ooh, nice," Prism crooned. "You're coming with, Waterboy!"

"Uh, um, I don't know if Sonar-"

"No, shit, you can come, too, dude," Sonar said cheerily. "You are practically one of us - lack of a criminal record notwithstanding."

Sonar sauntered into Robert's cubicle while he was still packing up for the day, grinning; it was a little intimidating, or would be, if Robert hadn't become familiar with most of Sonar's expressions. "Hey, Boberto! Bobby, Bob, Robert, you ready to party?"

Robert stared at Sonar for a moment, wondering, in line of what he and Blazer had discussed earlier, for at least a moment. "Are you…okay?"

Sonar paused, ears falling slightly as he stared at Robert, before he suddenly laughed, ears flicking back up as he closed in on him, sweeping Robert up in a sideways hug. "I'm not high, Bobby. Just the opposite, actually. Ninety days. Who knew a fuckup like me could manage that?"

"Come on, Victor, you're not-"

"Objectively, Robert, I have failed the reach this particular milestone…a lot." Sonar's ears drooped - although again only briefly before they bounced back up, buoyed, it seemed, by his mood. "Which makes me a failure, in an objective, technical sense, and a fuck-up in an equally objective, if more casual, sense. But now we are celebrating, and you are going to come with me or I will kidnap your dog and force on him all of the merriment you are missing."

"Ah - Chase has him today," Robert protested, only for Sonar to chirp in amusement, dragging Robert's head up so they were inches apart, giving Robert a toothy smile as he hissed,

"We're a pack of supervillains, Bobby. If we want to steal your dog for a night out on the town, it's going to take more than a retired superhero to stop us."

It was surprisingly threatening, for all that it was a promise to take pictures of his dog standing next to shot glasses and return him unharmed by three o'clock - if the shiver down Robert's spine was any indication.

Robert laughed in response, finding his voice a little breathy as he shoved Sonar back. "Well, let me finish wrapping up here and I'll save you the trouble of having to kidnap my dog."

"But what if I want to kidnap your dog?" Sonar whined, shifting to fall heavily against Robert's shoulder as he tried to shut down his computer. "I'm a supervillain, Boberto - executing nefarious plots is necessary enrichment."

Robert gave the other man a sidelong look, not quite able to hide his smile. "Are you getting serotonin to your brain for the first time in your life or something?"

"I," Sonar declared, pulling away to draw himself up to his full height, "am 'letting loose'. It has been suggested to me that this is a 'safe space', so there is no need to 'keep my guard up, Victor, for god's sake'."

"So this is Malevola's fault," Robert guessed, finally able to follow Sonar out of the office, albeit attached at the hands, since Sonar grabbed his wrist to drag Robert after him.

"You know, there are people who would count themselves lucky to have my undivided attention," Sonar said haughtily, before they were outside and he grinned again on seeing Malevola and Waterboy. "Hey, guys! I see you got the Human Mop, Mal - good job." He tilted his head as he took in Waterboy. "You know, I don't think I ever got your name."

"Uh." Waterboy glanced between Malevola and Robert, either hoping for backup or an explanation, but Malevola seemed unwilling to offer advice, and Robert…had concluded there was only one way to learn how to deal with Sonar, and that was powering through. "It's Herman," he said at last.

"Hermano!" Sonar cheered. "Come on!"

It was sort of cute, the way Sonar had decided, in his magnanimity, to adopt Waterboy as one of their own. For all that he'd shown up to make sure Robert came along, Sonar spent very little time actually paying attention to him. He coached Waterboy into shots, challenged Flambae to pool, joined in (very poorly) on an impromptu sing-along when one of Prism's early songs came on the radio.

A few hours into the evening - Waterboy having stumbled off under Golem's watchful eye - Sonar suddenly leaned sideways into Robert.

"I've been rude," he muttered into Robert's neck. "I practically dragged you out here-"

"It was actually pretty literal," Robert pointed out. "You had my wrist and everything."

"And then ignored you all evening. I'm the worst."

"You're not the worst, Victor. You're not even the worst person at this table."

"Hey!" Prism snapped. "I'm a delight!"

"Think he was talking about Flambae," Punch Up said, jerking a thumb at the man in question, who raised a pointed eyebrow at the rest of them.

"I'd protest, but since Robert's felt justified taking off my fingers and eyebrows, we all know what his feelings on me are."

"Fuck off, this is a private conversation," Sonar growled.

"Okay, you are sitting right there-"

"Alright, let's give them some space." Malevola herded the rest of them away from the table while Sonar just breathed, warm, slightly acrid breath washing along Robert's neck and shoulder. He was quiet long enough Robert began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep.

"You're allowed to spend time with your other friends," Robert pointed out. "Even if you have been - weirdly affectionate all day."

"I'm allowed," Sonar huffed, before lifting his head slightly to (sort of) meet Robert's gaze. "I deserve love, even if I'm not perfect and sort of gross-looking and will probably fuck up at various points in my life."

Setting aside his first thought, that Sonar was clearly repeating something he'd heard at one of his meetings, Robert voiced his second thought, which was, "You're not gross."

"Come on, look at me, Boberto-"

"I'm not saying you couldn't invest in something to work on your breath, since I have seen you eat cockroaches straight out of the trash, and I'm not saying that to people who don't know you, the 'monster bat' thing can be a little bit intimidating, but-"

"It doesn't even phase you," Sonar declared before settling back, letting out a quick few squeaks to see - Robert didn't even know. "Mal's my favorite, Boberto, but…" He raised a hand, thumb and forefinger pinched close enough Robert couldn't even see light between them. "It's close."

"I…" Robert blinked, eyes tearing, as he tried to find something to say - just responding in kind didn't feel like enough, and then the other four who were still at the restaurant returned to the table in a noisy scramble.

"Here, I got you some drinks," Malevola announced, settling something icy, neon green, and with a crazy straw, in front of Robert, and a glass of something amber and no-nonsense in front of Sonar. "Why is Robert crying?"

"What? You made the boss cry, Sonar? Not cool!"

"No, jeez, leave him alone, guys." Robert grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped at his eyes. "Things just got a little emotional over here."

"Yeah, come on - I wouldn't make our Fearless Leader cry." There was an edge back in Sonar's voice, which hadn't been there since their last shift had ended, and Robert felt a little bad about that. At the same time, though, it was a relief to hear a little more of what he thought of as the 'real Victor' in Sonar's voice. He wasn't sure how to deal with Sonar being uncomfortably sincere, draping himself over Robert while talking about his feelings. It would almost be easier if Sonar were making lewd comments, because Robert could dismiss those easily, while-

Robert blinked as his mind tripped up on the unexpected thought. While what?

Were things different if Sonar were being sincere at him? What was different?

He didn't try to hard to work on the question as the evening continued, not until he'd seen the others off, sent Sonar off back home with Malevola, gone home, and was in bed, staring at the ceiling while Beef snored next to him.

When the answer came to him, why it would matter, Robert's chest plummeted to his stomach, a hollow swoop of his insides.

"…Fuck."

Sonar may have been legally blind (but not, thankfully, incapable of navigating his surroundings in a way that would prevent him from driving), but he was also a genius (not a super-genius - there were tests of dubious accuracy to differentiate ordinary human intelligence from the enhanced, slightly-implausible intelligence that let you build things that seemed to function primarily on nonsense and reversing the polarity, and Sonar's intelligence had last been measured at a perfectly human 119). Consequently, it was clear that something had changed with Robert since the night they'd celebrated Sonar's three-month sobriversary.

It wasn't so obvious as him avoiding Sonar, or treating him differently, or more distantly; in that case, Sonar would have…

Well, to be honest, Sonar would have quietly seethed about it, anxiety building until he either lashed out at Malevola, had an ugly breakdown in the locker room, or went on an epic bender.

Or, well…maybe not. The old Sonar would have, but even if Robert were - weird around him, Sonar felt he might be confident enough in their relationship not to assume he'd fucked something up just because Robert was acting strangely.

But it wasn't even that.

Sonar's vision was practically non-existent, but he still had the age-old human instinct telling him when he was being watched, and that sense was screaming whenever Sonar was in the office.

…Correction, whenever he was in the office at the same time as Robert.

It didn't seem to happen when they hung out after work or on weekends off - but Sonar guessed he was normally taking up a lot of Robert's attention during those periods, so he wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

The problem, he decided, was that there was no good script for saying, 'you seem to have been staring at me a lot from across the office and/or break room - is there a particularly embarrassing stain on my favorite suit jacket or is something else going on?'

There wasn't even a bad script for it. Sonar didn't know how to bring it up. He didn't even know how he felt about it.

…

Okay, it was flattering, feeling eyes on him, even if it was just Robert.

(The thought felt a little insulting when it had first occurred to him - there was very little 'just' about Robert. Sure, he wasn't buff or super-powered and was, technically, sort of beaten down and creeping his way toward middle age, but you had to weigh that against his many assets, including some pretty fair physical assets, even disregarding the fact Sonar hadn't had an opportunity to run a full inventory.)

And feeling that way, he'd…flaunted, a little bit.

Who wouldn't? If someone was looking at his ass, Sonar deserved to shake it at little. And if Robert kept looking…

It was there, admittedly, that Sonar found himself lost, again.

(Look, it was not that Sonar was incapable of concluding why a guy might continue watching another guy from across the office even when the second guy starting shaking his ass a little in the first guy's face. It was not even that it was - inconceivable, from any angle, that Robert might…Sonar wasn't stupid, was the point. And despite a lifetime of society attempting to do so, his self-esteem hadn't been smashed into a confidence-scented pancake. It was simply that…if Robert's taste was for emotionally-unpredictable coworkers, he'd already been spoiled for choice. And once you removed the possibility that he thought Sonar was a superior choice to Blonde Blazer, the staring became completely inexplicable.)

He briefly considered just grabbing Robert's ass in the break room, but the chances of that inciting an HR incident were substantially higher than him getting answers, so he discarded it almost immediately.

(He subsequently considered an elaborate series of false internet identities to - well, it wasn't technically catfishing if you weren't doing it to pretend to be romantically interested in someone in order to con them out of as much money as possible, but trying to, in a roundabout way, figure out if a guy liked you was…not unlike catfishing. He had abandoned that plan when he came to his senses after making the third burner email account.)

…There was technically another option. It was mature, direct, and had the benefit of resolving things with a minimum of shenanigans. Sonar was fairly certain he would rather die than take the mature option.

Unfortunately, it turned out growing up and joining the parts of society where building a death ray wasn't an acceptable way to deal with your feelings sometimes meant sucking it up and doing things you had confidently concluded you'd rather die than do.

Which would have been all well and good if Robert hadn't signed them up to play pickleball.

"Robert. What was the one rule I had for this 'teaching Sonar how to survive in regular person society' rigamarole?"

"Don't fall in love?"

Sonar stared, wishing, as he rarely did, that he could actually see people's expressions, to see what sort of smile Robert was wearing. "No pickleball. If this ass turned out to be your one weakness, I wasn't planning on standing in the way of that."

(Sonar could plan to take the mature, direct path, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to pitch Robert an easy setup and see how he responded.)

This is where the Robert Sonar knew would politely remind Sonar about 'boundaries'.

"You've got a Harvard ass, Victor. I don't think that's anyone's weakness."

Mention of Harvard. A technical dismissal, but the teasing hint he had been looking.

Sonar narrowed his eyes, letting out as quiet a squeak as he could in the hopes of picking up something, anything. When this yielded no additional information, he grabbed Robert's wrist and pulled him toward the elevators.

"Since you've apparently run out of ideas of what two guys can do out on the town without committing some sort of crime, I'm taking control of the evening."

"Alright. I've got just one requirement: if someone tries to serve me burger foam, I'm shoving it up your nose."

Sonar could just say the words. He could just ask. It would be easy…

"You're demanding, aren't you? You're lucky I like you."

"I am." Sonar's heart stopped. "Lucky, I mean." He bumped his shoulder into Sonar's as they walked. "It makes me grateful you decided on that whole convoluted 'make Robert stay' plan rather than just talk to me directly about the whole thing. Is that crazy?"

This whole thing was crazy, from beginning to end; Sonar hadn't even believed there was a chance of success, just that 'almost no chance' was technically better than 'absolutely no chance'.

Asking his friend what was going on in his head was comparatively sane.

"What's going on in your head, Robert? I get the feeling you've been staring at me at work, and I cannot figure out what's going on, which would drive a lesser man mad."

"Ah." Robert stopped, forcing Sonar to stop, turning because even if he couldn't see Robert's face properly, it always felt a little more normal, looking at people. "I sort of broke the first rule."

"Yeah, no shit, you tried to drag me to pickleball-"

Except that wasn't the first rule Robert had mentioned, not more than five minutes ago. That rule had been:

Don't fall in love.

Something in Sonar's brain, or body, must have short-circuited, because he slammed into something and everything went blank and fuzzy until he noticed a bright light shining directly in his eyes.

"Jesus, Boberto, I'm nocturnal, what the hell are you doing that for?"

"I'm trying to check if you have a concussion, since you hit your head pretty hard on the side of this guy's car."

"Hit…" Sonar's first thought was that they'd gotten into a fight, that some asshole had made the lethal error of interrupting Sonar's quality time with Robert, and then the few moments before his head injury came back to him.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," Robert declared, and as much as Sonar wanted to protest, he knew Robert wouldn't budge (a man more dedicated to following the SDN Employee Manual on team member injuries Sonar had not met). So he submitted to being dragged back to Robert's car, and Robert checking on him roughly every thirty seconds, because-

Sonar must have misunderstood. He'd been thinking, sure, that Robert had gotten around to thinking what it'd be like to have sex with Sonar, which was not outside the realm of possibility. Which - he was a nice enough guy he wouldn't be weird about it.

Except Robert had crashed through Sonar's elaborately-constructed conclusions by implying-

"Okay, this may be my recent head injury talking, but I seem to remember that we were talking, and someone may have been working their way around to suggesting they'd fallen in love with me." When Robert didn't respond immediately, Sonar continued. "Which is obviously nonsense, because…"

Robert huffed. "Come on, Victor. We've known each other for like - four months. We've spent - three to five actual days in each others' company outside of work. Which I think is more than enough time to fall in love."

There were plenty of responses to that, several of which he didn't dare to voice to Robert, because he was pretty sure saying anything suggesting Sonar was fundamentally unlovable would earn some sort of lecture.

"Still…sort of heavy words for a guy you haven't even been on a date with," Sonar offered feebly, only to be interrupted by their arrival at the hospital, which separated Sonar from anyone who would answer questions that weren't related to his headache and possible brain damage.

The good news was they had a doctor on-hand who knew enough about hybrid medicine that Sonar wasn't just bounced between increasingly incompetent doctors all evening. The bad news was he had a minor concussion, and was given a list of instructions he was not going to follow.

It also apparently gave Robert time to think, because he opened his mouth the moment Sonar got back into his car (to take him home, now, because it had been hours and there was nothing fun left to do in the time between now and work that wouldn't just leave them sleep-deprived).

"If we were just coworkers, I'd agree it was presumptuous to say something like this, but they've done studies-"

"Were these studies at Harvard? Or Princeton? If you're quoting studies from Yale, Boberto, I swear to god-"

"Are you always this argumentative when people are just trying to be nice to you?"

"Oh, is this you being nice? Don't do me any favors."

"Do you want to hear why?" Robert retorted, and it was just separate enough from what Sonar had expected it tripped him up.

"Why…what?"

"Why I've become a masochist and decided to try to explain how I feel about the most emotionally closed-off man I've spoken to since my father died."

"…Yeah, sure. Go ahead." Sonar wasn't so self-destructive as to think he could use this time to build a rebuttal (Narcotics Anonymous had left him with at least the sense to know actively trying to argue against the claim there were thing about him worth loving was a level of self-loathing that probably needed to be studied). But he was certain once he got his feet under him, got a better idea how Robert had talked himself into thinking he was in love with Sonar, he would be - better able to manage the situation.

"The first thing I really noticed was you're sweet - sort of. I'm pretty sure when you left me that rat, you were just trying to share something you enjoy with me, and not just assuming I have the same taste as you. If you didn't, like, talk to Chase, you got lucky with the Twinkies after that, but I think I know you well enough to know you were trying.

"You're funny - mean-funny, sometimes. I think you're protesting playing pickleball because either you're afraid you'd like it, or you're already Harvard's resident pickleball champion. You're smart - but we know that already; you went to Harvard.

"But I think we both know none of that would matter if I didn't see you're really trying. That you care about what the Phoenix Program's doing…and what you're doing. That you're not just an ex-villain - but a guy who's trying to do good."

Sonar bit his lip, head and ears down, heat rising along his face as he tried to sort through all of that. Obviously it made him sound a lot better than he actually was, but that was part and parcel of the whole 'love' thing. But also-

"That's, uh, a lot of weight to pull to outweigh all of the other crap - the monster conman addict who's never done the, uh, whole relationship thing."

"Victor, at what point during my roaring rampage of revenge on Shroud over the last couple of years would I have found time to have a relationship? And for that matter, what sort of guy would I be if I'd been dating someone who could easily be cut into pieces and shoved into a refrigerator by my enemies?"

"…Dude."

"What? I heard a story from Chase who knew a guy whose cousin's girlfriend got fridged."

"…Okay, I'm not saying there aren't some sick fucks who'd do that to some hero's girlfriend, but that has never happened. And it would never happen to me, in this hypothetical situation in which I was your boyfriend-"

"Is it all that hypothetical?"

Sonar blinked. "What?"

Robert slowed as he pulled into a stop in front of Sonar's apartment, turning to look at Sonar properly, leaning against the steering wheel. "Is it all that crazy, you being my boyfriend?"

Of course it was. Robert was a real superhero, even if he'd decided being a Dispatcher was more rewarding. Sonar was - well, not a two-bit thief, but he was a conman, no matter how much money he'd tricked people out of. He'd in fact done well enough to trick Robert into thinking he was a good person.

"You just think all that because I'm in a good place right now," he protested. "And possibly you were impressed by the sight of my dick - no judgment if you snuck a peek."

"…You can just tell me if you're not interested," Robert said gently. "You don't need to scramble around for all these excuses."

"I-" Sonar squeaked, finding himself in the unprecedented event of having been outmaneuvered by a guy who hadn't even attended an Ivy League school. "Look, I'm - I may talk a lot about boobs, but that is a - an equal-opportunity interest. The kids call a nice set of pecs boobs, you know?"

Robert tilted his head. "Do I have a nice set of pecs?"

"I don't see how that's relevant to this discussion," Sonar retorted, aware the moment he said it that it was possibly the stupidest response he could have made.

"The way I figure it, either you're not interested, or you've got a list of things you like about me…so which is it?"

"You know, I have a concussion - I need to head up, tell Mal to wake me up every couple of hours, that whole thing. See you tomorrow, Boberto!"

He had, Sonar decided back up in the apartment, handled that well.

Robert had not imagined that scaling the walls of Fort Sonar would be easy. Ironically, just trying to get him into bed would have been simpler, but Robert wanted to go into anything he started with Sonar with full disclosure.

He felt it could have gone better if Sonar hadn't been concussed at the time, but a retreat for Sonar to brood over it wasn't - unexpected.

Still, the way the night had ended, he'd steeled himself for a period of time of Sonar avoiding him out of - whatever emotion was currently guiding Sonar's response to a friend telling him he loved him.

So he had no reason to expect Sonar leaning against his desk when he arrived at work the next morning.

"You," Sonar declared as Robert slowed his approach to his desk, "are an asshole."

"I…" Robert bit back a reply that he hadn't been the one to respond to a guy asking him out with fleeing back to his apartment citing his concussion, aware it wouldn't help defuse anything. "I'm sorry if I upset you. If it's uncomfortable working with me-"

"I was going to hide out for a couple of days, try to get my bearing," Sonar declared over Robert's apology. "Except I have two friends, Robert, so laying low means either sulking alone in my room or biting the bullet and finding somewhere to party, so instead, I am here under protest to talk about my feelings like an adult."

"Our first shift starts in fifteen minutes," Robert pointed out. "I don't think we can really-"

Sonar grabbed the front of Robert's shirt, dragged him in, and kissed him - a bruising, fierce kiss that ended with a scrape of his fangs as he stepped back, smirking at Robert's slack expression.

"Talk to you later, Mecha Man," Sonar chirped, clearly pleased with himself, before sauntering off to make sure he was properly in the field.

"If there's one thing you have to give supervillains credit for, it's their sense of dramatics."

Robert screamed and jumped, nearly tripping over his chair, before it became clear the unexpected voice was Chase leaning over the barrier between their cubicles.

"Chase? What are you-"

"I have been deemed well enough for light desk duty - no heavy lifting, no rescuing wayward ex-villains from their own mistakes. Got in just in time to catch the show. Is this something I'm going to have to be a witness in some sort of HR investigation about?"

"No," Robert groaned, turning on his computer because he had a job to do, instead of burying his face in his hands like he wanted to. "This is a good sign. Probably. I told him how I felt last night."

"…Okay, as much as I was adamant I don't want to be involved in this, medical leave bored me out of my skull, so give me the 'deets', with as few actual details as possible." After a moment, Chase prodded, "What was this 'how you felt'? Something about wanting that batty ass of his, I'm assuming."

Robert gave into the urge to hide his face in his arms, knowing he could wallow for at least ten minutes without technically neglecting his duties. "It's been months. He's probably one of my best friends. I told him I was in love with him."

Chase let out a low whistle. "I should be surprised, but you went full-on Inigo Montoya the second your dad died, so it's clear you don't do things by halves."

Robert turned his head slightly to eye Chase. "You don't have any warnings?"

"I am realistic enough to recognize we are beyond the point where my saying anything will have any effect on whether or not you sleep with Sonar." Chase sighed, leaning a little heavier on the divider. "Still, I also recognize I am the closest thing you have to a father figure anymore-"

"More like a grandfather…older cousin combo thing."

"And my opinion might mean something to you, so I want you to know I'm not against this. Sonar's definitely - among the least-terrible people from Project Phoenix."

"That's, uh, a rousing approval."

"Come on! I don't know what to say. He's a Harvard-educated man with a bat for a head. He is personally responsible for me knowing what a 'stablecoin' is, and at one point gifted me an NFT and I still don't know if that was a sign of him liking me or not. The best I can say is that he has not personally put me in the hospital, which is more than I can say for Invisigal. I am going to be as goddamned supportive as I can be, because I love you and you need somebody in your corner, and I'm not going to give Sonar judgey looks because he's an addict or a felon. I'm just reserving judgment on if he's good for you until you're adopting two adorable babies together or something."

Robert snorted.

"Yeah, okay, I walked into that one. I cannot imagine Sonar with kids."

"Flambae, maybe - he's his niece's favorite."

"That, now, that'd be all kinds of fucked up. You cut the man's fingers off. So…good job at not picking literally the worst option available to you?"

"Okay, I get the point."

"And you tell that man if he's mean to Beef I'll cut his ears off."

Robert had been meaning to corner Sonar for a serious talk after work, but his thoughts had been going in circles about everything all day, so the first thing he said to Sonar when they got off shift was that thing about the ears.

"Wow, uh." Sonar's ears flicked as he stared at Robert. "Would have expected a critique, maybe. A 'what did that kiss mean, Victor?' But a second-hand threat from your big brother figure, that's what I'm in this for."

"That's my cue to head out," Chase called over the wall of his cube. "And I'm serious, Sonar."

"Yeah, okay, jeez," Sonar mumbled, though his eyes and ears stayed fixed on Robert. After a few quiet moments, they drooped. "Uh. The kiss was sort of predicated on the knowledge that you liked me, so I figured there was a pretty good chance it'd get a good reaction, even if it wasn't the best kiss you'd ever had."

Robert flushed, because while he couldn't say whether the kiss had been the best in his life, he'd thought about it more than he had most of the kisses he'd had. There was a scrape on his lower lip from one of Sonar's fangs that he kept touching.

"Sorry, I - I was just surprised, and Chase sort of overheard, and-" He grinned shakily at Sonar, even though he knew it wouldn't register as much to him. "I sort of expected you to lay low for a while to work things out."

"What is there to work out?" Sonar demanded. "A guy hands you a genuine Rolex, you don't sit around asking a lot of questions."

"…Yeah, we have very different ideas about how to respond to unprompted gifts of jewelry."

"My point is-"

"No, I - get it." Robert took a step toward Sonar, whose ears flicked, reminding him that Sonar could see him move. "You've got a sort of FOMO thing going for nice pieces of ass."

"This isn't about ass, Robert. Or, and I hate having to say this, about boobs. It is about your dedication, loyalty, and willingness to put up with my crap."

"…And my boobs."

Sonar shrugged, grinning. "You said it, not me, Boberto." He slid close, erasing the remaining distance between them, raising a hand to catch Robert's elbow. "Taking into account we're playing for the same team, and, well…playing for the same team, it's sort of a no-brainer."

"Victor…"

Sonar pulled back, baring his fangs as his ears swooped up, alert. "You can't take it back now, Robertson - you put it out there already."

"I wasn't-" Robert protested, raising his hands. "I was just going to say that…you're saying a lot about what makes sense, what you'd be smart or dumb to do, but not a lot about how you feel. I don't want to be in a relationship with you because you feel you have to."

"Ah, fine." Sonar rubbed at the back of his neck. "I like you, Robert. You've been great to all of us - to me, especially, and it's been…great hanging out with you. God, I sound so stupid. I'm just trying to say-"

"I get it." Robert reached up, threading his fingers through the fur on Sonar's forehead, stroking back to sketch a finger along his ear, smiling as Sonar shivered at the touch. "Yes."

"Yes what?" Sonar sounded slightly dazed.

"I assume the whole 'ambushing me before our shift started' thing was part of a suggestion that we should date. I was agreeing."

"It was more a suggestion that we should find some time to fuck - just, you know, with feelings involved."

Robert huffed, an involuntary smile pulling at his mouth. "You cannot believe I'm that easy, Victor."

"I don't think 'spending three months talking about my feelings, fighting my addictions, and nearly being dragged to a pickleball match' is 'easy'."

"Yeah, but you didn't have any ulterior motives, then-"

"Correction - I was trying to trick you into staying on as our Dispatcher, which is the definition of an ulterior motive."

"But you didn't want to have sex with me."

"Of course I wanted to have sex with you; I've got eyes, don't I? If you'd seemed remotely like the sort of slutty bisexual man who'd sleep with a coworker at the drop of a hat, I'd have jokingly suggested we get our inevitable hookup out of the way, just to get a sense of whether you'd be down for it. Instead, you were responsible, and supportive, and, worse, professional."

"…I'm not clear what you're mad at me for."

"I'm not!" Sonar threw his hands up. "You know I'm not. I am just sublimating my anxiety about the challenges of investing in a relationship instead of a series of disjointed sexual encounters, and trying to do it in a way that doesn't make me seem flawed. Are you happy?"

"Sort of." Robert stepped in and kissed the side of Sonar's nose; his ears flicked up and stayed there, quivering, as he stared at Robert. "What?"

"I…why did you…what…"

"I mean, we haven't really settled on an exact plan, except the definite possibility of sex, if you play your cards right, but I had the feeling we're working from the same playbook, and in my book, you can kiss a guy in the middle of a conversation if he's your boyfriend."

Sonar blinked, a squeak suggesting he was trying to get a different perspective on what he was seeing - before he swallowed carefully. "That is. Seems like a reasonable position, one I could get behind, if you know what I mean."

"Oh my god." Robert laughed despite himself, despite knowing that if he encouraged this, he'd never be able to get Sonar to stop, and slung an arm around the other man's shoulders to help drag him toward the exit. "I just want you to know, there's no amount of dumb jokes that'll make me sleep with you a moment before I'm ready, Victor."

"Hey, I don't know if you know this, Boberto, but half of what makes sex enjoyable is the thrill of the chase. Or - more like forty-sixty. Thirty-seventy. Something like that."

Robert grinned to himself. "Hearing that makes me feel a little bad about taking away that experience from you by actually having sex with you."

"What? No - don't even joke about that, Robert. This relationship will not work if you aren't one hundred percent honest about how much sex you see you and I having in it."

Sonar sounded so sincere Robert felt a little bad about teasing him, so nudged his shoulder with his own. "I am pulling your leg because you are acting like you are nineteen and can die from blue balls. You're an attractive man, and once I feel a little more settled in what we are to each other, there's going to be plenty of sex."

"Yeah, but how much is that? For all I know you're some sort of prude and I'm looking down the barrel of a 'Christmas and my birthday' sex life, and a guy's gotta prepare himself for that."

Robert was ready to reply - he had some joke on-hand he forgot almost immediately - when he realized what Sonar hadn't said. And sure, it wasn't exactly the height of romance to stick with someone who wanted less sex than you did, but…

Well, Sonar wasn't even joking about it.

"You must really like me," is what Robert eventually decided on, and Sonar's ears flicked back, down, going from 'cheerful lech' to 'dog caught out eating a roast he knew he wasn't supposed to' in record time.

"How did you…"

"As you helpfully reminded me, we've known each other for months, now. I mean the dead rat alone should have been a sign-"

"Fuck you, dead rats are delicious."

Robert laughed and let himself be shoved by Sonar, before leaning heavily against him. "You know, I'm hungry. Someone distracted me from my pre-shift snack."

"Well, why didn't you-" Sonar started, before he connected the dots, giving Robert what might have been a sly smile. "Hungry. Yeah. I can do something about that. There's, uh, a couple of restaurants around here."

"You know, I heard there was one with this great wine tasting-"

"If you ask me to take you back to that place I'm leaving you," Sonar replied deadpan, before he tilted his head curiously. "Actually - come on."

"Wait," Robert tried after a few moments trailed after Sonar, hand gripped on his wrist, "are we actually going back there? Are you going to lecture the staff about microaggressions?"

"No, I remember you were starving and in my generosity I treated you to burgers at a joint down the street."

Robert was halfway to responding when Sonar's words caught up with him and he stopped, grinning when Sonar turned to him, squinting curiously. "You're taking me to the place we first hung out together? Sonar, I do believe you're sentimental."

"I'm - well, tradition's important, when it doesn't suck." Sonar's ears were sitting easily, and his expression was a more hesitant smile than Robert was used to from him. "I…want you to have a good time."

"The company's good, and the burgers, if I recall, were decent, so it'll be fine."

Sonar was quiet a minute or two before he said, "When I was paying for the company, I'd shell out for food a few steps above 'decent'. I wouldn't want an escort thinking I couldn't afford the best."

"Why - would it matter?"

"It's all ego, Boberto." Sonar waved a hand expansively. "The whole thing. Everything's about having the best. People pretend to be impressed, and you pretend you don't care they aren't really. You-" He patted Robert's shoulder, "I know you're not impressed by it. It matters that you're not impressed by it. If you want waygu steak and truffles, though, just say the word."

Robert felt his lips twitch in a smile. "You'd make that happen?"

"For you? Sure."

"You're something else, Victor, you know that?"

"…I've been told something to that effect in the past, but no one's ever sounded as pleased as you about it."

"I suppose it's a matter of perspective," Robert allowed.

"Or maybe I'm not the same person anymore, you ever think about that?"

Robert watched Sonar as they walked, as he paused, holding the door open for Robert when they arrived at the restaurant, and made his decision.

"I don't think so. You're the same person, Victor - still have the same memories, still want the same things, just…go about it differently. Different choices, you know?" He brushed a hand along Sonar's shoulder as he passed, leaning, briefly, into him before stepping inside.

"That's sort of depressing."

"Really? I think it's optimistic. That we could have gotten here any number of ways, since the only difference between us and the people we were six months ago are the choices we made."

Sonar let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping, before squaring them up and following after Robert. "Well, I'm going to be thankful those choices got me here rather than trying to figure out the alternate routes."

And for all it had involved a complete breakdown following his father's death, several hospital visits, and an introduction to office life that would not have recommended that lifestyle to him, Robert had to agree.

"Robert. Boberto. Robbie. Rob. Mecha Man." When Robert finally looked up at him, Sonar gave him a wide grin. "You know I'm not a blushing virgin, you know? I even have some proper bisexual street cred." When Robert failed to respond, Sonar clarified, "I've taken it up the ass, before, Robert. And vice versa, in case this evening's events trend in that direction, although fair warning, I've got a hell of a refractory period without chemical assistance, so there's a good chance we're only getting one go at this tonight unless you want to explain to Mal how you fucked me off the wagon."

Robert chuckled, a warm sound. "I'll try my best." He raised a bottle with one hand, waggling it when he saw Sonar looking. "And I don't care how many times you've been around the block, it's reckless-"

"Yes, fine, you may exercise as much care about my physical well-being as you like, although I would like to point out that it is equally reckless to get caught up in the mechanics and forgetting to enjoy the experience."

Robert huffed, not quite another laugh, as he dug the fingers of his free hand into Sonar's thigh, pinpoints of pressure against muscles that strained in response to his grip. A sigh escaped Sonar's mouth, and Robert shifted his hand, steadying his grip as he lifted Sonar's leg.

He drew himself level with Sonar, kissing the side of his mouth, and when Sonar opened his mouth to comment, pressed his lips against the front of it, catching Sonar's tongue with his own - just enough to tongue-tie him, letting out another huff as he drew back.

"You trying to shut me up, Robert? Pro tip - only way to do that's a ball gag. Which I'm not saying no to, but-"

The hand loosened from Sonar's leg, and was suddenly on his head, stroking through the fur, occasionally detouring to scratch at one of his ears. Sonar chirped in pleasure, turning his head during the (rare) moments Robert was scratching at the wrong angle.

They were good at this. It hadn't taken the few weeks of practice they'd had for Robert to get a sense of how to properly deal with Sonar's fur, so much of that time had involved exploring how to mix things up, how to rile each other up and how to come down again.

(It had also involved one pent-up handjob in a supply closet at work, which Robert hadn't even bothered chastising Sonar for - perhaps because it would be hypocritical, since he'd been the one to shove his hand in Sonar's pants first.)

Robert's hand splayed out on Sonar's chest, the boundary between fur and skin, moving in a slow, sweeping gesture before curling his fingers to scratch, and one nail scraped across one of Sonar's nipples.

He hissed, the warm pleasure interrupted by a shock of feeling - not quite arousal, yet, but of - anticipatory arousal, driven by some idea of where Robert was going next. Because that nail scraping along Sonar's nipple continued down his pecs, his abs, pressure that wasn't painful, not enough to draw blood, but just enough not to. Sonar let the hiss turn into a sigh, and then a groan when Robert's hand stilled, stopping at the brush of hair above Sonar's crotch.

Sonar grabbed at Robert's pecs, squeezing flesh that responded with a satisfying give, grinning at Robert's distracted huff, hand shifting maybe a millimeter downward. When this didn't yield any further progress, Sonar lunged upward. He met the other side of Robert's chest with his open mouth, giving it a gentle, lazy bite, not much more than a scrape of his fangs against old scars he longed to add to.

Robert shivered, hand twitching, nearly clenching, but moving no closer to Sonar's dick, so Sonar growled into Robert's chest.

"What's a guy got to do to get plowed around here?" he demanded. "Or, you know, the reverse, if you're getting cold feet."

"I'm trying to make it an experience, Victor," Robert laughed, before pressing a slick finger against Sonar's entrance - not even pushing inside of him, just a reminder of his presence there while he nipped at Sonar's nose - dipping in to kiss him again when he let out a startled squeak. His hand settled, providing pressure to keep Sonar's hips in place, and sliding down just a little, so that if Sonar weren't rock hard, he wouldn't be able to avoid bumping into Sonar's dick. As it was, it hung over Robert's hand, tantalizingly close in a way that would be bearable if Robert weren't just gently massaging him, refusing to push his finger in even a little.

Sonar squirmed under Robert, earning a chuckle into his mouth, a playful bite at his lips. "What's wrong, honey?"

And oh, Sonar hated that Robert knew - he'd playfully called Sonar 'honey' exactly eight days ago when they'd been just chatting before work, and Sonar had felt a full-body shiver as his ears grew hot. He'd been called pet names by partners before, but nothing had ever inspired a reaction like that, and he'd been mortified until later that night when Robert had just held him, murmuring reassurances until Sonar had worked his way around to realizing he'd never been called something like 'honey' by someone who cared about him.

It was still new enough it made him shiver again, and Robert rewarded him by bracing his hand and curling the tip of his finger into Sonar, earning a pleased hum (not a purr, no matter what Robert said). Sonar wriggled a little, hoping Robert would take the hint, but his boyfriend was a bastard, so instead of grabbing Sonar's dick, he peppered his mouth with kisses, pulling back with a chuckle when Sonar snapped half-heartedly at him.

"I've got a dick, you know."

"Oh, I know. I can see it." He sounded so smug, pleased he could see Sonar laid out underneath him, and that was…well, honestly kind of hot, which was most of the reason he was still hard, even though Robert wasn't-

Hello. Sonar squirmed, pressing back against Robert's finger as he slid it deeper, twitching slightly to - explore the sensation, or alert Sonar to the fact he was there. "That's the stuff," he murmured encouragingly, tilting his head up until Robert obligingly returned for a kiss, and this time Sonar nipped at him, enough to draw a drop of blood which he lapped at, sighing, savoring the taste and the feel.

"Come on, Robert, I won't break." Robert pressed in further, fingers splayed flat as his finger sank in, probing, now, for just the right place to - yes, Sonar bucked his hips, or tried to (it was almost embarrassing he was being held down by a guy who didn't even have powers), trying to force that angle back against his prostate. "Come onnnn."

Robert pressed a kiss against the side of Sonar's mouth, and a second finger inside of him to join the first, a coordinated set of movements that eased the stretch of twice the amount of Robert inside of him with the gentle touch of lips. Sonar turned his head to chase after Robert's mouth, grinning as he caught Robert's mouth and bit at his lips again.

"God, you're barbaric, you know that?"

"You're torturing me here, Boberto - I think turnabout's fair play."

"Fancy allusion," Robert retorted, twisting his fingers gently, an agonizingly slow stretch instead of any further attempts to get him off. "Where'd you hear that? Anywhere I'd know of?"

Sonar had just opened his mouth to reply when Robert finally grabbed his dick, transforming his reply into a strangled 'hng!' instead of the cutting retort he'd intended. Sure, Sonar had had plenty of sex in his life, and it wasn't even the first time he'd had Robert's hand on his dick, just, you know, it was hard to have an intelligent conversation about your educational history with a guy's fingers in your ass, hand on your dick, and breath ruffling through the fur on your cheek and neck.

Robert's hand was slightly slick, leaving just the hint of friction as he dragged it up and down along Sonar, who whined as he tried, and failed, to hump up against him, and Robert swallowed the whine with a deep kiss, dragging his lips against one of Sonar's fangs as he pulled away.

"Come on - you wanted this, didn't you? So I'm not letting you get off too early."

"You're diabolical, Robertson," Sonar gasped as Robert, entirely unprompted, pressed a third finger against Sonar, pausing at a reflexive clench. "No, keep going," Sonar growled.

"Just give me a minute; I don't want to hurt you."

"Then let me-" Sonar bucked his hips, unexpected enough that he could thrust in Robert's grip, savoring the extra friction from Robert tightening his grip from the surprise, only for Robert to splay his hand back along Sonar's crotch, pushing it back down to the bed, but at last sliding his third finger to join the other two, an - uncomfortable moment of pressure he wouldn't dare mention for fear of further delaying affairs.

"Come on, Robert, I know you have got to be dying to get inside of me, and since no one's got his hand on your dick, it's got to be excruciating. You can feel what it feels like to be inside of me, imagine that on your-"

A kiss cut Sonar off, while Robert steadied the fingers inside of Sonar, not exactly stretching him, but settling, holding in place, except another light touch against Sonar's prostate; held in place again, Robert's mouth on his own, Sonar could only manage a pathetic whine until Robert pulled back, and Sonar didn't need to see his face properly to know he was radiating smugness.

"I might rethink that gag idea next time," he mused, which sent a jolt of heat through Sonar's stomach, settling in a cock that was already a little uncomfortably hard. "Not," he added, giving a loose pump of Sonar's cock, "that I mind you talking, that's one of my favorite things about you." Robert had said a lot of things no one had said to Sonar before, so in some ways this wasn't any different from those, but on the other hand…

Well, he was trying to push all of Sonar's buttons right now.

The next words were suddenly right next to Sonar's ear, whispered so he could barely make them out, even with his keen hearing. "But the noises you're making, Victor, are driving me wild."

"Ah-" Sonar managed, just as Robert pulled out and let go of his dick (and he was man enough to admit he whined a little - for all his complaints about the pace, Robert had been doing an excellent job keeping him worked up, enough that Sonar would probably be happy if Robert just decided to edge him for a couple of hours and then head off to bed. Stopping, though, was unacceptable). When Sonar glanced down, it was to see Robert tugging at the tip of - ah, a condom, before squeezing a line of lube out along the length of his dick (and Sonar allowed himself a moment of disappointment there would never be an opportunity to snort a line off of that cock) and stroking it slowly to spread it around, and Sonar let his hands sink down to the bed, gripping at the sheets in anticipation.

"Are you ready?"

"Jesus, Robert, I am more than ready. Just get that dick over here and-"

A hand pressed over his mouth, and Sonar shut up - more out of response to the flash of heat at the reminder of what it meant than any impediment. "You don't talk much in your man-bat form. Do you ever think-" He trailed off, settling over Sonar as he pushed a leg up, settling with, as this whole thing had started, with the slightest touch of something against Sonar's ass, but Robert had managed to distract Sonar from the moment with his aborted question (and wouldn't Sonar love to gag Robert - tie him up a bit and have the whole delicious feast laid out in front of him with no commentary to distract him from the task at hand).

"Most people who want to see the man-bat want me to dominate-"

"Hm, no." A hand trailed along Sonar's cheek, a kiss silencing him as Robert finally shifted, pressing his cock against Sonar, pressing in, and Sonar groaned into the kiss, sort of accidentally nipping Robert's tongue when his free hand settled between then to grip Sonar's dick at its base. Robert pulled his mouth back a little as he pushed further in, stifling Sonar's reflexive apology. "I think you want to be taken care of, Victor. I could brush you down, clean you up, and then mess you up again."

"H - hah, I ever tell you you've got some great ideas, Robert?" Sonar panted.

Robert hummed, hips bumping against Sonar's ass as he stilled, letting out a shaky breath that belied his confidence, suggesting half the banter was for him. Sonar smiled at him, as nonthreateningly as he could manage.

"Come on," Sonar begged. "I cannot handle any more teasing and half-measures. Fuck me, Robert."

"I suppose, since you asked so nicely." And Robert pulled out a little, just the sensation of his dick sliding before he thrust back in, beginning to stroke loosely at Sonar. He drew back in to kiss Sonar again as he pumped at Sonar's dick, humping with a distracted sort of lack of coordination, which was - understandable, especially when Sonar grabbed the back of Robert's head to crush him closer, nipping at his lips, licking at the blood as Robert grunted, startled, hips jerking to bottom out again as he hissed into Sonar's mouth.

"Yeah," Sonar muttered. "Come on."

Robert shifted, lifting Sonar up slightly as he pulled out and thrust in a few times, angling himself differently each time until he hit Sonar's prostate - a flash of pleasure that both made him want to push back and stay completely still.

And then Robert's hand tightened around Sonar's dick, thumb stroking along the head of it as he rocked the rest of his hand gently against the shaft and pulled his hips back. He timed a long stroke with another short jerk of his hips, just hitting the edge of the right spot, pulling back again and getting a solid, direct angle as his hand twisted around Sonar's dick. And he leaned desperately into the hand holding his head in place, humming, pleased, not quite groaning, as Sonar worried at his bottom lip. It was a - little overstimulating, but Sonar couldn't find it in him to stop kissing Robert, to pull away from the hand stroking at his dick, to ask Robert to pull out.

And Robert had his angle down, but was still experimenting with rhythm, syncopated grace notes of pleasure to the steadier grip on Sonar's cock, dragging out irregular groans that he did his best to swallow.

"Come - come on," Sonar moaned, hips jerking uncertainly, interrupting Robert's rhythm and pulling a similar moan from the other man as he stilled, panting, and Sonar felt the tiniest thread of worry. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I." Robert took a deep breath. "Trying to hold it together a bit. Until you're… closer."

"Aww, that's sweet, Mecha-Boy, but-" Robert hitched his hips, and Sonar broke off with a pleased moan at the slow drag against his insides, paired with a jerky, slick pumping at his cock. "Fuck."

"That's the idea."

Sonar laughed helplessly at Robert's joke, no longer able to work up the focus to try to push back, or do more than gasp, pant, and groan in time to Robert's rhythm. He was just fumbling to drag Robert's mouth back in kissing distance when Robert sank his grip down to the base of Sonar's cock, pressing him flat against his hips as he squeezed a little, pumping his hips with such perfect aim it wrenched the first spurt of cum from Sonar almost before the building heat in his groin snapped into release and he threw his head back with a whine, cock pumping furiously as it spilled over his stomach.

"Oh, fuck, Vic-" Robert met Sonar with a kiss, hungry, seeking as his hips bucked into Sonar, until he stiffened, groaning into his mouth for maybe - ten, fifteen seconds, before sinking slowly until he was sprawled bonelessly over Sonar.

They lay there a minute or so, Sonar panting to steady his breath, Robert breathing heavily, steadily, over him, arms bracketing Sonar. It was…nice, Sonar's growing awareness of the smears of cum on his stomach notwithstanding.

…Fuck that, Sonar had a shower big enough for two.

"Alright, get up," he said, shoving at Robert, who shifted slowly as he pulled out and sat up. Sonar stretched, sore, and sat, nearly overbalancing until he caught himself on Robert's shoulder.

"Was there a point to this?"

"Shower," Sonar grumbled at Robert's neck. "C'mon."

The thing was, Sonar thought as they sleepily cleaned up (there had been the vague idea of making use of the shower for more sexy times, but Sonar always got like that right after an orgasm, his reach exceeding his grasp), it hadn't exactly been mind-blowing. It'd been good, and an orgasm wasn't anything to dismiss, but he'd had more intense experiences in his life (some of which had been well worth the money he'd paid for them).

So why did he feel so much - better about it?

Arms wrapped around him, shielding Sonar briefly from the spray of water, as Robert pressed his forehead against the back of Sonar's head. "That was nice. I hope you enjoyed yourself."

"It was - great. Obviously, there's always room for improvement-"

"Oh, are we doing performance reviews, now?" Robert chuckled.

"We could - analyze the baseline metrics, develop an action plan, set goalposts…"

"And has that Harvard Business School talk ever gotten you laid?"

"…It could have." They slipped out of the shower, made a first try at drying off, and stumbled back to Sonar's bedroom. And it was when Robert forced Sonar to sit down, handing him a hair dryer before moving to change the sheets, that it hit Sonar.

Like the crypto, a lot of the fraud, his sex life had - mostly been about a way to keep score. And it could be fun, thrilling, even, and there had been some wild times, but very few times had been about having fun with it. There hadn't been anyone he'd trusted enough to have fun with it.

"You know I - probably love you, Robert, you know that?"

Robert stilled, turning his head back toward Sonar. "No, I don't think you'd mentioned that."

"I figure a guy I can have that much fun with in bed, even while he's torturing me, who can guess how much I hate doing shit like changing the sheets…that's probably it, right?"

Robert shrugged. "I can't say. Love's - there isn't one definition. So it's really up to you."

"Hah. Then I'm in fucking love with you." He grinned at Robert. "Figure it's the best way to get this locked down."

Robert huffed, made a sound as if he was going to say something, and then shook his head. "Alright, Victor. Let's go to bed."

It wasn't perfect, would never be perfect. But it was good, and that was probably good enough.