Bond Brothers

Robbie finally finds the goddamn climax (Part 1 of 2)

A/N: *Some minor, non-sexual Trigger Warnings in the End Notes!

Fancy seeing you here.

Well, this is embarrassing. I don't have an excuse for being weeks late, sorryyyy. I could make one up, but I'm a terrible liar – even on the internet. Like, it's sad. I always forget the original lie, I can't think up additional lies on the spot, and I ALWAYS get caught. Remind me never to tell you about the time I accidentally convinced a professor of mine that I was late for my job as a sex worker because my embarrassed pause when I couldn't think of a believable job to be late for at 6pm on a Saturday made him jump to conclusions (ya, it was a DUMB class on a SATURDAY and I still don't feel guilty over trying to leave when it went overtime). But hey, that's on him for thinking I'd feel embarrassed over a perfectly legitimate career with great tips.

Damn, that got off topic really quickly.

Sorry this is late! Hah. Holidays and all that, ya know? I got lazy and there was wine. I'm basic like that.

I think this is Part 1 (of 2) of the final chapter – not including a superrr long epilogue. I'm bad at word counts though (if you haven't figured that out yet) so I'm not promising that my next post will definitely be the last non-epilogue chapter just yet.

As always, thanks to Beanspouse for not only beta reading and picking up on my many plot holes, but also for putting an end to my procrastination! Seriously, you guys owe this chapter to Beans. It's bean real.

Robbie stared down at the little test in his hand, horrified.

He'd known it was a possibility. He'd known it was likely, even.

But with everything else going on in his life, it had sat at the back of his mind, like an unimportant chore or a passing mention in conversation.

He hadn't really thought that his heat was coming. But the plastic test with a tiny, red line next to the painted 'F' said otherwise.

'F', as in 'fertile'.

'F', as in 'fucked'.

"Goddamnit," Robbie swore into the mirror. His reflection looked just as pathetically doomed as he felt.

His week had already started off as badly as was logically possible – barring the zombie apocalypse caused by rabid ducks that Carter insisted would inevitably destroy them all someday (Carter really hated ducks, and to be fair, they hated him too).

But then this happened, on top of everything else. Like, say, being suddenly homeless and epically dumped, and the whole matter of the entire world gunning for more information on him. As if they didn't have enough already.

Henderson had absolutely crucified Robbie. Robbie had no idea how much Matt had vented about their relationship to his semi-friend of a co-worker until that article had blown up his life.

Robbie hadn't wanted to read it. But he also sort of had to.

The article was snazzy and eye-catching, intriguing and witty. It was the perfect combination of professional reporting and gasp-inducing gossip rag. It was a tell-all on Robbie's relationship with Matt; the 'misguided alpha-omega college romance that nobody thought would last.'

"You guys thought it would last, right?" Robbie had demanded of Polly and Carter the night after the article was released, once Sergei had gotten him safely enclosed in their building again.

Polly and Carter had stared at him, one effortlessly casual and the other pitifully cagey.

"We trusted you to choose your own happiness," Polly said diplomatically, and Robbie privately thought that was a total crock coming from her, though she'd also definitely improved on that front.