Dalton Castle. Name had never meant much to Robbie, just some indy dude with an extravagant entrance, and Boys. He'd been in TNA a couple of times, but mostly wrestles in ROH, which is fine- the further away, the better, but Zema likes him for some reason. Goes to stand up comedy shows sometimes if Dalton is performing. He's tried to get Robbie to go too, but Robbie doesn't find the man funny or charming, if anything he's grating and obnoxious.
It's for this reason that Robbie finds himself sitting, stewing, on the couch in Zema's apartment, staring blankly at the TV as the minutes tick away. Zema's never out late on nights like tonight, unless he gets roped into doing some deejaying at some club, but still. It's frustrating, especially considering how little time they get together between their schedules with indy wrestling and Zema's various side projects. Wildey is looping around his ankles, purring and batting at his shoelaces, but Robbie isn't even in the mood to oblige the cat, which causes him to eventually lose interest and go elsewhere.
There's a knock at the door at some point and Robbie trudges up to get it, blinking at the delivery guy standing there with large boxes in hand. "Hey, these need fridgerated," he says, handing over the items as soon as Robbie's scrawled out a signature on the pad thrust into his hands. "I think they're milk or something."
It registers with Robbie and he takes the boxes, offering a brisk thanks to the man, before shutting the door in his face and dropping both boxes into the fridge, shutting the door with a rattling push and returning to the living room to wait. It's barely an hour before he hears the door being unlocked again, but it had been unbearable so he stays where he's at as Zema stumbles in, kicks off his shoes and sighs happily, leaning down to greet and pet Wildey.
He clearly notices the ice behind Robbie's kiss when he leans in to greet him as well, but doesn't say anything as he goes into the kitchen. "Oh hey! Muscle Milk sent me stuff!" He's clearly pleased about it, and even has Robbie take a picture of him holding both gallons so he can tweet about it.
Still disgruntled, Robbie decides to catch up on his own timeline while Zema makes some sandwiches in the kitchen, always hungry after a night out. He's just clicked on Zema's milk tweet, planning on replying to it, when everything skids to a stop. Dalton's already seen it, already replied to it. "Nice jugs?" Robbie mouths to himself, a disgusted look crossing his face. He wants to reply to Dalton, he wants to grab Zema's phone and block the idiot, he wants to do so many different things... but instead, he grits his teeth, gets off of the couch and walks into the kitchen.
Zema is in there, beatboxing under his breath while he piles on ham and cheese, mayonnaise and mustard to some bread, and Robbie watches him for a few moments, distracted by how the light overhead reflects off of his hair, before remembering why he'd come in in the first place. Thrusting his phone into Zema's face, he waits as Zema pulls back to be able to read it easier. "What the-?" Realization dawns and he laughs sharply at the tweet before looking up and seeing the angry glower on Robbie's face. "Oh." Putting his sandwich down, he turns his full attention onto the other man. "Robbie, bro, come on-"
"Don't Robbie bro me," Robbie snaps. "What's this? Is this what you guys really do when you're out for stand up comedy nights?" He quote marks the term with his fingers, dark eyes locked on Zema's as his face falls. "Nice jugs?!"
"It- it's just the way Dalton is," Zema stammers, thrown by Robbie's extremely rare vitriol towards him. "He flirts with everyone, hell I think he was flirting with his chair back at the bar. It's nothing, Robbie, I swear." Robbie still doesn't seem appeased so Zema steps closer, rests his hand over Robbie's and blocks the view of the phone, laying it gently down on the counter. "You trust me, don't you? Do you really think I'd be cheating on you when we've just... begun this whole thing? C'mon, man. You mean more to me than that. I thought you knew that by now."
Robbie exhales, taking in how his hand is tingling where Zema is touching him, how Zema's eyes seem to alternate between shades of brown the more he searches them, and how unhappy he looks at the thought of Robbie not trusting him. He melts finally, the tension easing out of his body as he leans into Zema. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I'm an idiot sometimes. I know you're right- hell, I think Dalton even flirted with Spud a little bit."
Zema's head drops forward in relief as he chuckles, cupping Robbie's hand and squeezing it. "I did hear Ethan yelling about something that weekend, yeah."
"Yep, that was it." They stare at each other for a moment before Robbie cups Zema's face with his free hand and kisses him slowly, trying to make up for the unenthused greeting he'd given him earlier. "I'm sorry, Z."
"No worries, bro." Zema winks at him with a grin before returning to his sandwich, cutting it in half and giving part to Robbie once it's all put together. "C'mon, let's go watch some crappy TV and try not to feed all of this sandwich to Wildey."
Robbie smirks when Zema grips his hand and drags him out of the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder in time to see the phone left behind on the counter, flashing pointlessly. His grin grows.