Work Text:
No sooner did Robert manage to get comfortable in his office chair that his communicator blared to life, making him jump.
"Fuck me," he hissed as freshly brewed coffee splashed over the edge of his mug. Great start to the shift. "Malevola? It's like…ten minutes till the start of your shift; this better be an accident and not a fucking prank." His tone bordered on a groan.
"It's actually neither," she chuckled, with a nervous edge to her voice. "Can you come down to the break room? We could use a mediator out here."
"A mediator—" Robert winced, hearing the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. "Mal, what the hell is going on out there?"
"It's Sonar, he's just—less talking, more walking, Bob. Just try to be quiet, and maybe bring the dog? Please and thanks."
"On my way," Robert promised and cut the line, immediately switching gears to action mode. "Chase, I need you to pass on a message to Blonde Blazer that Sonar and I might be a bit late to the shift; seems like there's an emergency," he explained, scooping Beef up into his arms.
"Fuck's sake, what is it now?" Chase shouted, posture tighter than strings on a violin. "Did the bat freak piss himself and needs a change of diapers? They aren't babies, Robert; they are convicted fucking criminals," he reminded.
"Correct, they are criminals Chase, not irredeemable monsters—and that means they are not exempt from the occasional human need for compassion; now if you'll excuse us, we have a hero to save."
When they got there, the break room looked like a fucking war zone.
Malevola's arm clutched tightly around Sonar's midriff. It seemed more like an attempt at holding him back from lunging at Flambae and Phenomeman than a hug.
"Chairs flipped, cork board on the floor, rice stuck to the wall—I'm sorry, is this an office break room or a fucking middle school cafeteria?" Robert marched over to the center of… whatever this mess was, more than a little startled by the crunch of shattered glass under his heel. He looked down to see he was now standing in what remained of the coffee pot—including a pool of thankfully cooled black coffee.
"What the fuck—guys, seriously, whoever tells me what the hell happened here may just avoid getting their ass fired on the spot, and, given that now there's glass and coffee in my shoes, you can be certain I am not joking."
"This crazy ass just snapped at us for fucking no reason!" Flambae barked, pointing at Sonar whose eyes were pinned to the ground, both hands curled into fists. Was he shaking?
"No fucking reason? Yeah, right—" Malevola tried to jump in, but Robert gestured for her to pause.
"Inside voices please," Robert reminded. "And Malevola? Since you are the one who called me down here to de-escalate, it would be in your best interest to not engage."
He hoped that the corporate for shut the fuck up came through loud and clear and that was the first and last time he had to deal with Malevola. Flambae on the other hand…
"It would certainly be out of character for Sonar to pick a fight with you over nothing; is there something any of you is not telling me?"
"You callin' me a liar, Mecha-cunt?" Flambae sneered, voice barely above whisper, to which Robert retaliated in the only sensible way—a swift elbow right to the ribcage.
"Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Flambae hissed, doubled over in pain.
"That was your first warning; if I hear you call me that at work again, I will be going for the face. Are we clear?"
He watched Flambae wind back his fist out of the corner of his eye just in time to side step it and watch him eat shit after he slipped on the long-forgotten coffee puddle. Malevola snorted behind him, and it seemed as if even Sonar cracked a barely visible smile.
"You done with your tantrum? Or are you that desperate for that missing tooth of yours to get symmetrical, buddy?"
Robert offered him a hand and thankfully Flambae seemed to still have some sense left in him as he took the offer thus avoiding slipping on broken glass any further.
"Flambae, go get ready for your shift, or take a walk, I don't care; whatever you do get the hell out of my sight," Robert sighed, rubbing his temple. It really was like dealing with a gaggle of overgrown, murderous school kids, and he was definitely not being paid enough for this.
"You're not the fucking boss of me," Flambae snapped before stomping off, knowing full well that Robert was indeed quite literally his boss, a very confused Phenomeman trailing behind him.
"Well, with that one finally out of the way, can someone tell me what actually happened here?"
Sonar's legs were shaking more and more, to the point that Malevola had to help him lower down into a sitting position against the cupboards. Uh oh.
Robert crouched down next to them, gently setting Beef between Sonar and Malevola. From up close, he could hear Sonar's breathing was erratic and hitched and upon further inspection, Robert noticed something metal in Sonar's hand.
"May I?" he asked, stretching out his palm, eyes widening as the hybrid man flinched at his movement. "I promise I'm not confiscating anything, but I'm not letting you hold Beef with sharp objects on your person either," he explained patiently and simply waited.
With a shaky exhale, Sonar let a shining razor blade clatter onto the floor tiles.
Robert watched him bury his snout in Beef's fur, clenching and straightening his fingers as if trying to get the blood flowing again. He picked the razor up with care, wrapping it in clean tissue before tucking it away into his breast pocket. He shot Malevola a concerned look.
"Vic's almost two weeks sober," she sighed, rubbing her best friend's back, trying to offer a semblance of comfort. Robert winced sympathetically. One to two weeks was where withdrawal effects hit the hardest; it really wasn't a wonder that he wasn't acting like his usual self.
"Shit, man," Robert whispered, desperately searching his mind for appropriate words to convey his support and sympathy.
"Gonna puke," Sonar whimpered weakly, one hand clutching at his chest, staggering Robert's mind to a halt. Thank the absolute fuck for Malevola's insane reflexes; she snatched Beef away before Robert shoved an empty plastic bag at Sonar, turning away as soon he heard the telltale sound of retching.
"Water?" The dispatcher offered him a bottle, completely unfazed. "And how about we lose the tie for a while? The less things around your neck, the easier it will be for you to breathe."
Sonar nodded, allowing Robert to gently undo the knot, probably knowing damn well his own hands were not suited for the job.
"You have puke bags in this thing? What else is in there? A portal to Narnia?" Malevola chuckled in amazement, already trying to rifle through his backpack.
"I'm a paramedic, dumb-ass," Robert reminded her with a deadpan look, quick to snatch his belongings away. "Of course I have fucking trash bags for puking. As for what's in there—trust me when I say, you're better off not finding out." Last time he forgot to restock the bags was when him and the crew went and got hammered at Sardine and… let's just say that was not a mistake he planned on ever repeating.
"Thought you were a nurse?" Sonar rasped, taking a gulp from the offered bottle.
"I'm both, genius," Robert clarified. "But never mind that—are you feeling better?"
"Not much." Sonar muttered, hiding his face in his hands. "I never expected you to be a nurse; you don't really look like one," he observed.
"Excuse me? Did you expect me to strut into the office wearing a skimpy Halloween costume?"
"I mean… kinda? I thought I saw something like that peeking out your locker this morning."
"Ignoring that," Robert said firmly, rewarding Malevola with a truly venomous glare. "Mind if I take a quick look at your hand? You were holding pretty tight onto that razor."
Sonar looked between Robert and his palm a few times, seemingly split on how to respond, only relenting when Malevola gave him an encouraging smile. He placed the palm into Robert's lap, cut side upward.
"Thank you; I am sorry in advance but this is definitely going to sting." With that, Robert poured a bit of disinfectant onto a cotton swab, vaguely registering Malevola had covered her ears. As soon as the swab touched the wound, an ear-splitting screech echoed through the room. Without thinking, Robert jumped to cover poor Beef's ears, trying to ignore the sound resonating deep inside his skull.
"Shit Robby I'm so fucking sorry—"
"I'm… I'm fine, that was… involuntary," Robert said, clearly a little dazed. "Shit, that's so much louder in person," he grunted, hoping a few deep breaths would at least lessen the incessant pounding in his head.
"I didn't mean to—"
"I know," he muttered, producing a pack of earplugs from fuck-knows-where and passing them over to Malevola, hoping she would cover Beef's ears for him should that happen again.
"Let's try this again, shall we?"
The second attempt was thankfully much more successful.
"That looks much better," Robert said, carefully inspecting his work to make sure nothing could slip off.
"Can't believe I threw a coffee pot at fucking Phenomeman," Sonar groaned "That's a new low, even for me."
Oh right, that's what Robert was summoned here for to begin with.
"What did you do that for anyways?" Robert asked. He didn't know if what he had done could even be called mediation—much less a good one—but at least he avoided the imminent bloodshed. That had to count for something… right?
"Flambae is a prick who thinks ignoring him warrants giving someone a fucking heart attack and singing fur. I was aiming at him, but Phenomeman stepped in."
Robert just sighed, rubbing his temples with resignation. Why was he even surprised anymore?
"Well, between him and Flambae getting hit with a pot of coffee, I'd say you got off light. Flambae might be impervious to burns, but glass still would pose a problem," Robert pointed out, putting the gauze and disinfectant back into their designated compartments. "Don't worry about Phenomeman," he added. "I had to talk him out of extinguishing the sun again after he scared a bunch of kids like two weeks ago; I assure you he's no stranger to bad days."
Robert let the silence hang in the air for a few moments and then stood up, dusting himself off.
"I'll leave you two to clean this shithole up and arrange for Blazer to give Sonar a day off in the meantime—just because you're besties, doesn't mean Malevola gets me to stick my neck out for no reason," he clarified, choosing not comment on the quiet damn it from Malevola.
He turned to both of them one more time, relieved at the fact that Sonar didn't seem like he was about to keel over.
"Two more things before I leave:" he added, sticking out two fingers, "Malevola, please don't kill Flambae during or after the shift; I don't want that PR nightmare on my hands." He shuddered slightly at the thought. "And Victor? I mean that when I say I'm proud of you for getting through this; keep on going." He gave the hybrid an encouraging pat on the shoulder and went off to find Blonde Blazer.
The next morning, Robert found three things at the center of his desk: A new coffee pot, a bag of dog treats, and some really good fucking chocolates.