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/Bob Reynolds x Reader/

---------Series---------

Normal

Yelena thinks Bob needs therapy. Bob thinks Yelena is wrong. Forced into a weekly group therapy session, Bob quickly learns that showing up is the easy part.

Part 1: Attendance Part 2: Assumptions Part 3: Curiosity Part 4: Worth Part 5: Confidence Part 6: Choices Part 7: Coming Soon

A Whole Week of Firsts

After spending most of his life surviving, Bob Reynolds decides it’s time to start living. A week of new experiences, small moments, and firsts he never thought he’d have.

Part 1: Birthday Part 2: Joy Among Fish Part 3: Hole in One Part 4: Current Part 5: Escapade Part 6: Coming Soon

---------Oneshots---------

Tough Grass: y/n gets high, belatedly realizes that might be an issue for bob, and tries to avoid him. it works fine until she gets hungry.

The Mighty Burn: y/n burns her finger. Bob saves the day.

More Coming Soon

/Bob Reynolds x Reader x Yelena Belova/

---------Series---------

The Boyfriend Problem

y/n comes home years too late, Yelena has complicated feelings about that, and Bob is caught somewhere in the middle.

y/n glanced over at her, taking her in. She wore sweats and a sweater, one too big for her frame. It looked familiar. Too familiar. After a moment, she realized why. She'd seen Bob wearing it before. They shared clothes. Huh. That thought hadn’t crossed her mind.

She shook her head. There was no reason that thought had to cross her mind.

“I didn’t bring much,” she finally stated. “Actually, I don’t own much.” She never had. There was no reason to own much when everything you had needed to fit into a single bag.

Yelena shook her head. “No, that won’t do. We have to fix that.” She pressed her lips together, in deep thought for a minute. Finally, she snapped her fingers together. “We shall go shopping!”

y/n looked at her questioningly. “Shopping?”

“Yes, you need more clothes and that is how one gets more clothes.” She smiled. “It is the perfect solution.”

y/n shook her head, ready to fight back against her idea but Yelena spoke before she could. “Nope, no buts, get ready.” Then she walked out.

y/n was left with a surprised look on her face. The word “Now?” hanging on her lips. This seemed to happen more often nowadays. Yelena would tell her to do something and not accept no as an answer. It was nice to have Yelena back, but y/n was not used to being bossed around so much.

Still, as always, she did as she was told and got dressed. A simple pair of black cargo pants accompanied by a grey long sleeve shirt. That was most of her wardrobe. She hesitated as she slid on the shirt. Maybe Yelena was right. Maybe she did need to go shopping.

Eventually, when she was ready, she found her way to the kitchen. She might as well get herself a snack before they left. Rummaging around Yelena’s cabinet, she picked out a bag of chips, sun chips. She didn’t know Yelena liked those.

She took a bite, closing her eyes and leaning against the counter. She didn’t know how today would go. Clothes shopping. She hadn’t done that in a while. She wondered if Yelena would drag her to a mall, or maybe she knew of a small quiet shop that wasn’t too expensive…. No, she’d probably bring her to the mall.

As she took another bite, Bob wandered into the kitchen. He wasn't wearing pajamas. Or the oversized sweater he'd spent the last few mornings in. Instead, he had on jeans and a clean sweatshirt, his hair brushed just enough that it looked intentional. He looked… ready to leave.

y/n's stomach sank. No. Yelena wouldn't. Would she?

"You're coming with us," she said. It wasn't really a question.

He looked up from where his eyes had been fixed to the floor, eyes widening in surprise. “Oh…um… is that not … okay?”

She stared at him for a second. It was true that she had to adjust to his presence. He was an important part of Yelena’s life now. That wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

"Yelena asked if I'd come," he continued, his voice quiet. "I-I don't have to."

But she did not want to spend any more time with him than necessary. From her perspective, clothes shopping did not require Bob. Yelena must have thought otherwise.

She kept quiet, taking another bite of her chips. Bob gave her a tight lipped smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He turned towards the door. “I’ll– I'll go tell Yelena I’m not feeling well.”

y/n closed her eyes. She could let him. She wanted to let him. Just one afternoon. That was all she wanted. But Yelena had invited him. She wasn't going to make her choose.

"It's fine," she forced out. The words came out sharper than she'd intended.

Bob stopped halfway through the doorway and looked back at her. He searched her face for a moment. "…Are you sure?"

She wasn't. "Go get your shoes," she said instead.

He hesitated. "…Okay.”

Yelena appeared soon after that. No longer wearing that sweater. That was a relief. y/n didn’t think she could handle seeing Yelena in it all day. “Great, we're all dressed.” She placed her hand on Bob’s shoulder and smiled brightly at y/n. “Time to go!”

She ushered them into the elevator. Just the three of them. The ride down should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Yelena kept the small space filled with chatter. First it was something about a new show she had watched, then it was her remembering she needed to pick up some groceries while they were out, and finally, as the elevator reached the bottom floor, she began to plan out their shopping trip.

“So,” she started, clapping her hands together as she stepped out of the elevator. “I have decided it is best for us to go to the mall.” y/n almost groaned. She knew this was coming but really, the mall? There were going to be so many people there and it was going to be so loud. She could feel a headache coming on. Yelena continued, “I think it is the best choice if we want a wide range of clothes.”

In the corner of her eye, she caught Bob cringe. She doubted he wanted to go to a mall. For the same reasons she didn’t and probably even more.

“No,” she said. This had nothing to do with him. She just didn’t want to go.

Yelena stopped and turned to look at her. “No? Is it not the best choice?”

“Malls suck. I’m not going to a mall.”

Yelena frowned. “But what else is there?”

"I…" Bob spoke up quietly. Both women turned toward him. He immediately looked like he regretted opening his mouth. "I think I know somewhere."

Yelena turned to look at him. She looked just as confused as y/n. Bob knew a place? She barely knew him, but she'd already gathered that he didn't leave the tower much.

“Where?” Yelena questioned.

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding both of their eyes. Even standing beside Yelena, he looked unsure of himself. She couldn't understand it.

“It's…” He sighed. “A shopping district.” He paused. "You mentioned it once.” He averted his eyes. “…I think."

Yelena blinked. "I did?"

"When Ava needed new shoes." He shrugged. "You said there were a lot of little stores."

Yelena raised her eyebrows, seemingly pleasantly surprised. "That…" She pointed at him. "Is actually a very good idea."

She nudged y/n. "See, this is why I keep him around."

‘If that's the only reason,’ she thought, ‘we should get rid of him.’ Rather than say that aloud she just groaned. “Gross.”

She didn’t even have to look at him to know he was blushing. She could feel the heat radiating through the air. That small smile was probably on his face too. The corners of her lips turned down. She was going to have to deal with this all day, wasn’t she? Again gross.

By the time they made it to the car, Yelena was already yapping about something different. Just as y/n reached for the door to the back seat, Bob did too. She took a step back, and looked at him curiously.

“Don’t you want to sit in the front?” she asked. “With your girlfriend.” The last word came out of her mouth more sharply than the rest.

His mouth fell open. “Oh- I- I’m not- I- I don’t mind.” He finally settled on.

She just looked him up and down. Then opened the passenger side door and slid into the seat. What a boyfriend he was. Didn’t even fight to sit next to his girlfriend.

As Yelena took a seat, she broke the silence by turning the radio on. Old rock music. y/n found herself nodding along to the music, but soon her eyes drifted to the rearview mirror. Bob sat quietly in the back, looking out the window. His shoulders were a little more hunched than before. She frowned. Was he upset? She couldn't tell, and she wasn't about to ask. But she did find herself more curious than she expected.

The drive to the shopping center was quick, less than 10 minutes. And Yelena found a parking spot right on the street. Things were going well all things considered. Their first stop was a small boutique tucked between two cafés with bright dresses filling the display windows.

“We need to get some color in your wardrobe.” Yelena told her. “Plus, a nice dress wouldn't be the end of the world.”

y/n didn’t have it in her to disagree. She had never been picky when it came to clothes, just throwing on anything that fit her. But now that she was staying in the tower, not just jumping from motel to motel, it might be time to buy some nice clothes.

The first dress Yelena held up was nauseating. A bright yellow with white polkadots. “This would look perfect on you!” she exclaimed.

Even Bob cringed. Fashion was not Yelena’s strong suit. “Absolutely not,” she responded.

Yelena pouted. “Fine, then you pick one.”

And that she did. The first piece of clothing she picked out wasn’t a dress, it was a loose-fitting shirt with lilacs and daisies scattered across the front. She ran her thumb over the embroidery before adding it to the pile.

She continued to browse for a while, pulling clothes from the racks as she went. Eventually, when she had a substantial pile, she turned to make her way back over to Yelena and Bob, but stopped in her tracks.

Yelena had pulled Bob down to her level and was whispering something in his ear. He was fighting back a smile, a blush dusting his cheeks. And it only got worse. Yelena stepped up to fill the gap between them and placed a kiss on his lips.

She bit her lip, her eyes glossing over. She quickly turned away. Why did that have to hurt so much? Why did she have to be the one standing there to see it?

She had spent years imagining what it might have been like if things had been different. If neither of them had been taken. If they'd been allowed to grow up together like normal. If she'd been brave enough to tell Yelena how she felt. None of it mattered now.

Stupid Bob.

She took a breath. No, it was her that was stupid. Still – she glanced back at the two of them entranced in their own world – it hurt… a lot.

As she turned away, she caught Bob looking in her direction. She looked away first. She couldn’t stay there. Not with them like … that. She abandoned the clothes she'd picked out and headed toward the bathroom. She just needed a minute. Then she'd come back. Then she'd be fine.

And somehow that wasn’t enough. It should have been enough. So why wasn't it? Why did it feel like she had finally gotten Yelena back only to lose her all over again?

Why couldn't she get over the fact that Yelena was happy… with someone else. She had moved on, had built an entire life without her. A life she had never been invited into. It was as if the world had flipped on its head. 

From the moment that Yelena allowed y/n back into her life, she had been ecstatic. She had a chance. Things could go back to how they were before. Well maybe not exactly but close enough. She thought she could be the most important person in Yelena’s life. 

Now, she knew that was never going to happen. 

That person was Bob. Bob. The man who barely looked like he knew what to do with his own hands. The man who spoke so quietly she had to strain to hear him. The man who had offered her cereal like that somehow fixed everything. And somehow, somehow, he was the person Yelena had chosen.

She hated him for being kind. That was the worst part. If Bob had been cruel, if he had been arrogant, if he had treated Yelena poorly, then maybe this would have been easier. But he wasn't. He was just some quiet, awkward man who loved her. And y/n hated him for it.

She fell back on her bed, her hands splaying above her. She stared at the ceiling. It felt like the end of the world. And yet somehow it wasn’t. She still had Yelena. She would have to be satisfied with that. Even if some selfish part of her still wanted more.

——————————————

It was much later in the night, early morning, when she snuck out of her designated room. The silence had started to get to her. No one was awake. It gave her the chance to explore under her own terms. No Yelena pulling her from one place to another. No team member looking at her with curiosity, trying to figure out who exactly she was. No polite smiles or introductions. Just her. Exactly how she preferred it.

The couches sat in the center of the room, the television positioned directly in front of them. A grey blanket was thrown over one cushion, a heart-patterned pillow resting nearby. Small things. Normal things. Things that proved people actually lived here.

She walked over and sat down, staring at the blank television screen. She could imagine the team watching movies together. Bickering over which movie to watch. Almost like a family. 

A family. The thought caught her off guard. A family. That was something she had never had. She looked down at her hands. If the Red Room had not beaten the tears out of her, she thought she might have cried.

She hated that she still wanted something so simple. She hated that she still wanted a home. y/n shook her head, pushing herself back to her feet. She wasn't going to sit here feeling sorry for herself. She made her way toward the kitchen. Maybe she needed to eat. Hunger always seemed to make everything worse. 

As she stepped inside, her eyes narrowed in on a light shining near the window. The last time she had been in the kitchen, it had been filled with sunlight. In the darkness, details she hadn't noticed before stood out.

She moved closer. A grow light hung above two plants sitting side by side on the windowsill. Two small pots. Two names. She crouched down. "Yelena." Her eyes moved to the second one. "Bob."

Of course.

She stared at them for a moment longer than she meant to. Even the plants had something she didn't. A place. A purpose. Someone who cared enough to keep them alive. She closed her eyes.

She had left her room hoping to escape those thoughts. Instead, the entire tower seemed determined to remind her. This was their home. Yelena's home. Bob's home. And y/n still didn't know if there was a place for her in it.

Home. The word felt strange. She searched her memories for one. A place she had belonged. A place she had been wanted. Nothing came. Maybe she had never had one.

She stood there in silence for a few minutes, just staring down at the plants. At one point, her fingers twitched. She could knock it over. Just a little movement. Just enough for the pot with Bob's name on it to crash to the floor. A small, selfish part of her wanted to. If it was gone, maybe she wouldn't have to see it. Maybe she wouldn't have to be reminded that while she was gone, Yelena had found someone else.

But she didn't move. She wasn't here for that. She wasn't here to take something from Yelena. She was here because Yelena had given her another chance. Because somehow, after everything, Yelena still wanted her in her life. She wasn't going to ruin that.

A sudden inhale behind her made her turn. She quickly turned to the doorway. 

It was Bob, clad in his pajamas. A matching top and bottom decorated with black cats. For a moment, y/n just stared. She wondered if Yelena had a matching pair. The thought was gone almost as quickly as it came, leaving behind a familiar ache.

"Yelena almost killed hers,” he spoke softly, a small smile on his lips. 

It took her a second to realize what he was talking about. And another to compose herself. When she did she turned her gaze back to the plants, nodding. “Yeah, she never was very good with mundane tasks.”

The Yelena she knew would have never considered growing plants. ‘Boringgg,’ she could practically hear her say. And yet here she was. Growing something. Taking care of something. Changing.

A small silence settled between them.

“Couldn't sleep?” Bob asked. “Yelena said you went to bed early.” 

Of course Yelena would tell him. She probably went straight to him after their conversation. y/n bit the inside of her cheek. She hated how much that affected her. 

"Is it that obvious?" She finally settled on. 

He looked almost embarrassed. "No. I mean... maybe. I don't know. I just figured."

She watched him carefully. He almost seemed to shrink under her gaze. How could Yelena like him? He was nothing like her. Yelena was confident. Strong. Fearless. Bob was quiet. Awkward. Uncertain. 

And yet…

“Do you want some tea?” he asked. 

He was kind. And maybe that was the point.

She wanted to say no. The answer was already sitting on the tip of her tongue. She didn't need anything from him. She didn't need his kindness. She didn't need another reminder that he belonged here and she didn't.

But then, “We have chamomile,” he added. “Yelena mentioned you liked that.” 

She stared at him for a second before nodding. “Okay.” He offered a shy smile before turning toward the kitchen, looking almost relieved to have something to do.

She watched him for a second before looking away. What else had Yelena told him about her? Had she talked about her often? She must have. Otherwise, he wouldn't have known something as insignificant as her favorite tea. The thought made her chest ache. It also warmed it. Yelena hadn't forgotten her. Not even after all those years.

When the tea was done, he poured it into a mug and carried it over to her. She took it from his hands. It was warm against her skin. She stared down at the liquid, blowing on it to cool it down. Taking her first sip, she paused. 

“What–,” She hesitated. “Do you know what brand this is?” 

"I'm... not sure," Bob admitted. "Sorry." He glanced between y/n and the mug. "...Is it okay?" 

It was okay. She was almost certain she knew what kind it was. Her favorite. The expensive one she only bought on special occasions. Back then, it had been a reward. Something she'd save up for after a mission had gone well. Yelena knew that. Every now and then, she'd buy a box for her instead.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her lips pressed together as she held back a sob. Yelena remembered. Of course she did. 

She could feel his eyes on her. Curious. Questioning. But not prying. She couldn't let him misunderstand. This wasn't his fault.

She spoke before he could. "It's my favorite."

“Oh.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Good.” A beat of silence. "She talks about you a lot."

y/n stared at him curiously. “Does she?” 

"Mhm," he hummed. "She really cares about you."

Neither of them spoke for a while. The only sound came from the kettle quietly cooling on the stove. 

“Well.” Bob rubbed the back of his neck. "I should probably let you get some sleep."

She nodded. "...Thanks." She paused. "For the tea," she clarified.

A small smile spread across his face. "Of course." He disappeared down the hallway.

Opening the door, she made her way out into the hallway. It was one of the only places she’d seen, that and the common area/entrance way. She’d have to explore the tower, but that could come later, right now, she was hungry. 

It didn’t take her long to find the kitchen. Inside, at the dining table, sat a few people. She recognized two of them: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes and John 'Knockoff Captain America’ Walker. The third was a woman who she didn’t know. 

It wasn't surprising that Yelena worked with other people. She knew Yelena had built a life for herself after everything. What was strange was seeing evidence of it. People who knew her. People who belonged here.

They all looked at her as she walked into the room. 

“Hi, I’m y/n, a friend of Yelena’s,” she said. The words felt strange coming out of her mouth. Friend. It was the simplest explanation, but it didn't feel like enough. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

Walker stared at her, his expression unimpressed. “What, we’re just letting anyone into the tower now?” 

y/n studied him for a moment. He was arrogant. Defensive. Trying to establish control over someone he didn't know. Interesting.

The woman beside him spoke before y/n could respond. “I’m Ava. This is John Walker and James Barnes. It’s nice to meet you.” Unlike Walker, she seemed genuinely friendly. y/n gave her a small smile.

She turned toward the fridge, then stopped. She didn't live here. This wasn't her home, and this wasn't her food. If it belonged to Yelena, maybe she wouldn't mind. But the others? She glanced around the kitchen. She had no idea whose food was whose.

She settled for a glass of water, taking it and walking towards the windows. She studied the horizon, and the buildings beneath her. The view from the tower would be difficult to beat. 

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. She turned and glimpsed as the man from the other day walked into the room, Bob. A simple name. Easy to remember. 

She turned her gaze away, back to the window, but heard his padded feet move across the kitchen floor. He greeted the others. Then there was the sound of the cupboard opening and closing. The shaking of cereal from a box. He seemed the type to eat cereal, she thought. She wondered what kind but didn’t turn around. 

When he was done, she heard the cupboard open and close again. Then footsteps. This time towards her. She turned. 

“Hey,” he said. One hand held his own bowl of cereal while the other offered one to her. Froot Loops. “I don’t know if you’ve eaten yet, but… um… I made you one too.” He hesitated. “If you want it.”

She looked down at the bowl before eventually reaching out to take it from his hand. “Thanks.”

He nodded and scurried off to sit with the others. She took a bite. She didn’t remember the last time she had Froot Loops, they were good. 

“Is Yelena up?” Ava asked. 

“No... She um… She was up late last night,” he murmured, but y/n caught it. She frowned. Was this about her? Of course it was about her. She had just barged back into Yelena’s life. It made sense that would be a little bit jarring. 

She deflated just a bit. She hadn't meant to make things harder for Yelena. She just wanted to have her back. Her life wasn’t the same without her. 

Yelena took that moment to make her entrance. “How is everyone up before me? It's not even that early,” she complained, clad in her pajamas, her hair all over the place. 

She stopped when she saw y/n, glancing at the bowl of cereal then at Bob then back at y/n. Whatever she was thinking, she didn’t voice. Instead, “Good. You are eating.” 

Grabbing a banana from a bowl on the counter, she walked up beside y/n. “What are we looking at?” 

“You’ve got a great view.” Was all y/n said in response. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Yelena joked. “Well, if it is nothing important then come.” She gestured towards the hallway. “I shall give you the grand tour.”

“Oh– I don’t think…” y/n began to protest. 

“No buts, come.” And so she went. 

First were the bedrooms. Well, not the bedrooms themselves, but the hallway they were tucked away in. Thanks to Bob, y/n already knew where hers was. As he'd told her the day before, Yelena's room was the first door on the left. She noticed the names hanging from the others but didn't stop to read them. They weren't important.

The kitchen came next. Although she'd already seen it, Yelena insisted on explaining how everything worked. Every cupboard had someone's name on it.

"Bucky likes organization," Yelena said. "He also likes people keeping their hands off his food."

The fridge was organized the same way. Each shelf belonged to two people. Yelena and Bob shared the top shelf, Ava and Walker the one below, and Alexei and Bucky the bottom. The doors were for larger items that everyone used.

"The freezer is different," Yelena continued. "No one really claims it."

She opened it, revealing an assortment of frozen meals, vegetables, and ice cream.

"Most of these belong to Bob," she said. "He doesn't mind if anyone takes them." y/n found herself committing that to memory. She wasn't sure why. She wouldn't be staying long enough for it to matter.

A few floors below was the gym. It occupied an entire floor. Rows of treadmills and weight racks lined one side of the room, while the other was filled with mats, punching bags, and training equipment. It looked expensive. Quiet. Nothing like the cold, unforgiving training rooms she'd grown up in. 

"This," Yelena announced, pushing open another set of doors, "is the most important floor in the building." 

The med bay was spotless. Cabinets lined the walls, stocked with enough medical supplies to treat just about anything.

"I hope you never need it," Yelena said. She paused for a beat. "But knowing us..." She shrugged. "You probably will." 

y/n grimaced. She hadn't been seriously injured in years. She had hoped to keep it that way. Her gaze drifted around the room once more. Yelena had spoken as though her ending up here wasn't a matter of if, but when. As though staying in the tower wasn't temporary. As though she'd still be here weeks from now. The thought sat heavily in her chest. She hadn't planned that far ahead.

“Now, there is one more place I would like to show you,” Yelena started, leading her up the final bit of stairs. “This…” She opened the door, “is the roof.” 

Bright sunlight poured through the doorway, forcing y/n to shield her eyes as she stepped outside. As her eyes adjusted, the rooftop came into focus. A wide stretch of concrete was bordered by a sturdy railing overlooking the city below. A pair of weathered chairs faced the skyline, a blanket draped over one of them, while a few potted plants sat tucked into the corners.

It looked cozy. Lived in. 

"Bob likes coming up here. Says he likes listening to the city," Yelena said, interrupting her thoughts. "I wasn't the biggest fan at first. Then he kept dragging me up here.” She pressed her lips together.

"Now..." A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I think it's... almost nice." She glanced at y/n. "Do not tell him I said that. I will never hear the end of it."

They stood in silence for a moment. Then, “You and Bob seem like good friends,” y/n said, her voice wistful. She'd missed so much of Yelena's life.

“Yes,” Yelena hesitated. “… friends.”  

y/n narrowed her eyes. “Friends?” 

Yelena smiled sheepishly. “Maybe not just friends.” 

"What does that mean?" y/n asked immediately, confusion crossing her face.

“Well, we have not exactly put a label on it.” Yelena gestured vaguely with her hands. “But I would not say we are just friends.” 

The realization hit slowly. “You have a boyfriend?” y/n asked, her voice raising. 

Yelena gave her an awkward smile. “I mean…” She shrugged. “I suppose you can call him that.” 

y/n looked back at the skyline. Of course she did. Of course Yelena had found someone. She had always deserved someone who loved her. Someone who saw her exactly as she was. Someone who could give her the life they had both lost the chance to have. She just hadn't expected it to hurt this much. She hadn’t–

“Hey.” Yelena's voice broke through her thoughts. “This does not change anything.” She placed a hand on her shoulder. "It is still you and me."

And y/n wanted to believe her. She did. 

But now there was someone beside her. Someone who got to love her the way y/n had always wanted to love her. 

Assigned to the same dormitory, the two grew close quickly, eventually becoming inseparable. For years, there wasn't a single mission, punishment, or victory they didn't survive together. Every traumatic moment one endured, the other did too. They understood each other in a way no one else ever could.

Yelena had always believed nothing, not even freedom, could come between them. She'd been wrong. y/n had made that clear. Or so she'd thought.

Broken from her focus on cleaning her room, for the first time in months, Yelena heard a knock at her door. Bob. It was always Bob. She didn’t even look up at him, too caught up in wiping a circular stain off her bedside table. She must have left a mug there for too long. And without a coaster too? Bucky would be disappointed. But how disappointed could he be? He’s the one who cleans his prosthetic arm in the dishwasher. She shook her head. 

Coming up beside her, Bob spoke, “I think there's someone here to see you.” He glanced down at the rag she was furiously scrubbing her table with. “Are you busy?” 

“Who could it possibly be?” Yelena frowned. Still very upset with how uncooperative the stain was being. “I swear if it is another journalist pretending to be my friend so they can speak to me, I am going to lose my mind.”

Bob chuckled. “I’m not sure who it is. She didn’t give a name. But she sounded pretty genuine when she said she was your friend.” 

“Ugh.” Yelena groaned. Turning towards her bedroom door. “Why does it have to be today of all days? I promised myself I was going to clean my room today.” 

Bob followed behind her. “There’s always tomorrow,” he said, a smile on his face. She just scowled at him. 

“Actually I have plans for tomorrow.” She paused in front of the elevator, pressing the down button.

“Really?” Bob asked. 

“Yes, plans to lay around and do absolutely nothing. It would be a shame if I had to cancel those,” she joked. 

The elevator door opened and she stepped inside, flashing him one last smile. “Wish me luck.” 

It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach the ground floor. Something about it being a super advanced elevator or something. Valentina had told her, but she didn’t remember. She didn’t really listen to Valentina.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Yelena took a step out and immediately froze. Sitting comfortably in one of the lobby chairs was a figure she hadn't seen in years.

It couldn't be. There was no way.

She took a hesitant step forward. At the sound of her footsteps, the figure sat up and turned toward her.

It was. 

“y/n?” She could barely hear her own voice. The sound of her heartbeat drowned out everything else.

“Hey Yelena.” y/n murmured, giving her a small nod. “Been a while.”

Yelena hesitated for a second. Been a while. Yeah, it's been a while. It's been years. “Where the fuck have you been?” she demanded. 

y/n's eyebrows shot up, clearly caught off guard. She gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s a long story,” she finally forced out. 

“We have the time,” Yelena replied sharply. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the person standing in front of her, the person she'd spent years wondering about. The person she'd convinced herself she would never see again.

“You’re not even going to give me a hug?” y/n asked quietly.

Yelena let out a humorless laugh. “Do you think you deserve one?” 

y/n clenched her jaw. “...Probably not.” 

Yelena shook her head. Beginning to pace the lobby. “What are you even doing here? After all these years. You just show up like that.” She snapped her fingers. “You don’t get to do that.”  

“‘Lena,” she started. 

“Don’t.” Yelena warned. That name belonged to someone who knew her. Someone who stayed. Someone who didn't disappear without a word.

“You know, I waited for you.” Yelena's voice dropped. “After… After everything. I waited for you to come back.” She swallowed “And you didn’t.” 

Her gaze dropped to the floor. She felt exhausted. Not from cleaning her room, not even from dealing with Walker’s cranky attitude earlier that day. No. She was exhausted because the moment y/n walked back into her life, everything she'd spent years putting back together had started falling apart.

“I didn’t even know if you were alive!” The words came out louder than she intended. 

y/n stayed quiet. She didn't interrupt. Didn't defend herself. Because Yelena was right. She deserved this.

“But here you are,” Yelena whispered. “Standing in front of me like nothing happened.” Her voice cracked. “I thought I’d never see you again.” A tear slipped down her cheek. And then the rest followed. “I missed you!”

“Oh ‘Lena.” y/n murmured gently, taking a step forward. 

For a moment, Yelena just stood there. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to remind herself that she had spent years wondering if y/n was dead. But she couldn't. She never could. She let y/n pull her into an embrace. And after years of missing her, Yelena finally let herself hold on.

“I missed you too,” y/n whispered. 

They stayed like that for a while, neither of them wanting to be the first to let go. When they finally pulled apart, Yelena wiped her face with her sleeve.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again. You hear me?” 

A smile tugged at the corner of y/n’s mouth. “Never again ‘Lena.”

——————————————

Yelena did not let y/n leave. 

When she’d asked where she was staying and y/n had hesitated, she had made the decision for her. She would stay at the tower. ‘There are plenty of empty rooms,’ she had said. 

So y/n had followed her into the elevator and up to the top of the tower where everyone resided. When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, there was someone waiting. 

“How’d it…” The man paused mid sentence, his eyes looking at y/n in confusion. “...go?” He finished. He quickly tugged at his sleeves, smoothing them down as if he could somehow make himself look more put together. “Hi?”

Yelena moved closer to him, standing right by his side. She took his hand in hers. “It is okay Bob. This is y/n. Say hi y/n.” 

“Hello,” y/n said calmly. She studied him carefully. The way he held himself. The nervous energy behind his eyes. The small, uncertain smile. Put simply, he looked pathetic, she thought. 

Bob turned to look directly at Yelena, giving her a questioning look. “Is she…?”

Yelena nodded like she knew what he was going to say. “Yes, she was the one who called me down.” 

“No but is she… That y/n?” That caught her attention. Yelena had mentioned her. To him. Who was this guy?

Yelena sighed. “Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t want to explain it right now.” She moved past him into the common area and collapsed onto the couch. “Make yourself at home. I am going to take a nap.” 

She pulled a blanket over herself, turned away, and closed her eyes. She had had enough of life today. 

That left y/n standing alone with Bob. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Bob gave her an awkward smile. Not unfriendly. Just unsure.

“Do you know where the empty bedrooms are?” y/n asked. Bob almost jumped at the sudden question but quickly recovered.

“I– um, yeah, follow me.” He turned down the hallway. He knew there was an empty room next to his, that would probably be fine. He could just show her that and leave. Simple. 

As they made their way down the hallway, y/n could feel the tension in his shoulders. It took a second, but he spoke. “Yelena told me you two grew up together.”

y/n glanced at him. “Did she?”

Bob immediately looked nervous. “Yeah. She said you were... important to her.”

Important. Such a small word for something that had once been everything.

y/n looked away. “She was important to me too.” Bob looked at her for a second, almost surprised by the answer, but before he could say anything else, they reached the door.

“This is it.” He gestured toward the room. His fingers immediately went back to the hem of his shirt. “Um... if you need anything, Yelena's room is down the hallway to the left.” He hesitated before pointing across the hall. “And I’m right there.” That shy smile returned.

“Okay,” y/n said. “Thank you.” She then opened the door, walked into the room, and shut it behind her without another word. 

Bob stared at the door for a few seconds before finally turning away. He liked people. He did. He just wished interacting with them didn't feel so exhausting.

Inside the room, y/n surveyed the room. It was bigger than anywhere she had stayed in years. That alone felt strange. There was a bed. A dresser. A closet with empty hangers waiting for clothes she wasn't sure she would ever hang there.

y/n set her bag down. Then she paused. She didn't unpack. She didn't know how long she would be here. A night, maybe. A week, if Yelena insisted. Anything longer felt like asking for too much.

She laid down on the bed. She was tired too. The whole morning had been spent trying to psych herself up to go see Yelena. Then came the reunion. The anger. The yelling. The tears. That part she had expected. 

What she hadn't expected was the hug. The forgiveness. The fact that Yelena had opened the door and let her back in. She had half expected Yelena to tell her to leave. To say she never wanted to see her again. Maybe, deep down, she thought she deserved that.

He just looked at her, shaking his head at her dramatics. “It’ll be fine. You’ll figure it out.” He paused. “The only thing I’m worried about is actually being locked in there. What if there’s a fire?”

“Oh, boo, the doors will open automatically if there's a fire. There’s no reason to worry about that.” 

“Says the one worrying about failing.”

“Hey, that's a plausible worry to have! So what if I don’t want to fail in front of you?”

“In front of me?” he teased. That warm feeling gracing the tips of his ears. That's the problem? Not just failing?”

She huffed and stuck her tongue out at him. His smile grew. He liked how dramatic she was. How she always emphasized her expressions. He never had to worry about what she was thinking, it was always clear as day. 

“Get over yourself,” she said. “I would be embarrassed to fail in front of anyone!”

He hummed in response, opening the car door and stepping out. “Come on, we’re losing daylight!” 

“Like that matters,” she muttered. 

They quickly found themselves in the waiting room. Waivers laid out in front of them. 

“What do you think counts as an ‘inherent risk associated with the above described activity?’ What risks could escape rooms even have?” 

“Who knows? Tripping hazards, panic attack triggers, puzzles that make you feel stupid?” y/n joked. Bob cringed. His mental health was a lot better now, and it's not like he was ever that scared of enclosed spaces. Though, today could change that. 

y/n laid her hand over his as it rested on the table. His gaze dropped to their intertwined fingers.. “We’ll be fineee. We’re superheroes, remember?” He wanted to refute that. To tell her, actually you're the superhero. I'm just some guy. But he didn’t. He knew she wouldn’t like that. 

Instead he slowly picked up the pen with his opposite hand and signed the waiver. “There, done.” He looked up at her. "Too late to back out now."

“Don’t say that,” she chided him, making her way over to the front desk to drop off their filled out forms. 

“It's true,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her. 

Quickly an employee led them to one of the rooms and began explaining the instructions. “You'll have sixty minutes to escape. Anything in the room that can be moved or opened is fair game. If you get stuck, you can ask for hints over the speaker. Are you both ready?"

Bob nodded. y/n groaned. It was too late now, she was not getting out of this.

The door closed and the countdown started. “Okay, first things first,” Bob said, grabbing the laminated paper from the table in front of them. 

“It says ‘Professor Elias Hart disappeared before completing his greatest invention. You have one hour to finish the machine and escape his workshop before his rival arrives,’” he read. 

“That’s stupid, why are we trapped in his workshop? Can’t we just break down the door?” y/n questioned. 

“Shushh, don’t break the immersion,” Bob scolded, his gaze scanning over the room. He mentally noted every puzzle he could spot.

The room wasn't very large. Two lamps cast a warm glow over the stone walls. Clocks ticked softly overhead. Blueprints were pinned beside wooden shelves, and a half-built brass machine occupied one corner. He mentally filed each detail away.

His eyes caught on a large set of wooden drawers. He took a step towards it but paused, the room was quiet besides the ticking of clocks, that was usually never the case when he was with y/n. He glanced back at her. She was watching him. 

“Having fun, Sherlock?” She teased him gently, a smile on her face. 

He huffed, ignoring her, and turned towards the drawers. “You think anything could be in here,” he said. His fingers grazed over the wood, testing each handle as he went down. The last drawer was the only one to pop open. He smiled. “Look there’s a note!”

y/n walked over, bending down beside him to read it over his shoulder. “Note to self: Stop leaving things where they don't belong. The wrench goes in the toolbox. Magnifying glass goes in the desk. The key... somewhere safer.” 

“Well he definitely left that note somewhere it didn’t belong. I mean, the bottom drawer of a dresser? What the heck man?” 

Bob looked up at her, making a displeased face. “Are you going to help or are you just going to continue commentating?” 

“I’ll help. I’ll help,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up dramatically and turning away. “There’s a locked chest over here with a padlock on it. Six numbers, and a note that says ‘The final design was my fourth attempt.’” 

“Hm, that might connect to the posters on the wall. You work on finding the code to that. I’ll see if I can find the wrench and magnifying glass.. They must be important,” Bob dictated. It was unusual for him to find himself giving, not following instructions, but in here everything felt... organized. Predictable. He knew where to start. And with y/n he knew it would be fine,  he heard her huff, though she might complain a little.

He busied himself checking around for the items. The toolbox was easy to find. It lay on top of the desk, but it was locked too. He needed a key. As for the desk, there was only one drawer on it. He opened it. “The magnifying glass!” 

“Woo,” y/n cheered. “One step closer. Now, what do we do with it?” 

“I’m not sure. Did you get the chest open?” 

“Not yet. I tried a few of the codes written on the wall but none of them worked.” 

He frowned, walking over to where she was. ‘The final design was my fourth attempt’ he repeated in his mind. His eyes caught on the fourth poster on the wall. It looked like the blueprints to a clock. Small numbers written in chicken scratch in the bottom corner. 

“Try those.” 

She looked at them, taking a second to decipher the individual numbers. Then she turned the dials, 5-2-6-7-8-9, the padlock popped open.

“Dammit,” she groaned. “First mini golf, now this? How am I supposed to prove to you I have skills?” 

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he murmured. “I know you’re smart– skilled I mean.”

“Aw no, now he's questioning my intelligence!” she cried out. He laughed. 

She looked back at the clock blueprints, thinking for a second. Then her eyes drifted toward the clocks on the wall. “You think those have something to do with it?”

Bob followed her gaze. “The clocks?”

“Yeah. I mean, why else would they put them there?”

“Because it’s a workshop?”

“Counterpoint: escape rooms are evil and everything is suspicious. Maybe we’re supposed to take them apart!”

“I don’t know about that.” He hesitated, but she was already pulling one of the clocks off the wall. It came down easily. He hoped it was meant to. Flipping it around, she gasped. “It's a gear! Do we know what those are for?”

He remembered the unfinished machinery in the corner of the room. Maybe it... He walked over. Yes! There were three empty gear shaped holes. “Over here,” he called to her. “It goes in here.” 

“Oh,” she made her way over to him, looking down at the holes. “That seems important.”

“A little bit.”

She placed the gear into the first slot.

For a second, nothing happened. Then the machine groaned. A whirring sound filled the room. They both jolted, scrambling to locate the noise. “Here! It's another note.” y/n held it up to him. 

“This journey shall take you where knowledge gathers dust,” Bob read. 

“Oh come on.” y/n exclaimed. “This is a workshop, there's dust everywhere!”

Bob just looked at her. Then glanced at the bookshelf leaning against the wall. She quickly caught on. “Oh.” 

He ran his hands over the spines of the different books. “These don’t seem real.” As his fingers moved across them, one of the books moved slightly. He pulled it off the shelf and looked at the cover. 

It didn’t have a name written on it, just an image. It looked like an ancient symbol. He wasn’t sure. “Hieroglyphs!” y/n yelled. He jumped and turned towards her. 

“What?”

“Those are hieroglyphs. Ancient Egyptian writing.” She took the book from him, flipping through the pages. “I watched a documentary about them once. I wonder what they’re doing in an inventor’s workshop.”

Her eyes moved across the pages, curiosity taking over. “Wait...” She turned the book around so he could see. “I think he used them to organize his work.” She pointed to the margin, written in faded ink was a note: owl = m = mechanical. 

She flipped the page. The directory continued: mouth = r = research, hand = d = decorative. She frowned. “How interesting. Usually they’re used for ceremonial purposes, maybe he was so full of himself he thought of his blueprints as the work of god… Drama queen.” 

Bob smiled. She was getting into this. It was about time. 

"There are even more," Bob pointed out. Several other pages had symbols written beside words.

y/n's eyes widened. "It's an alphabet.” She rubbed her face with her hand. “I should have known! The owl is a glyph in the Egyptian Alphabet.” 

She crossed her arms, and continued her lecture. “The alphabet consists of various glyphs that correlate with different consonants. For example, owl = m, foot = b,” she faded off. “And there's a loaf of bread in there somewhere.” 

She had a horrible memory. He knew that. The thought didn't bother him. In fact, he liked it… His face heated. Wait. He quickly turned back to the room, examining it for a third or fourth time

“He must have used each glyph to mean something. But what?” 

His eyes fell on the posters on the walls. They had already looked at one of them, the clock blueprint. He looked at the others. They were also blueprints. And along with the number scrawled on them they had images too, hieroglyphs!

“Look.” He pointed at the posters. y/n turned to look at them.

“Oh shit!” 

He walked closer. The clock blueprint had an owl on it. That made sense, a clock was mechanical. Beside it was a picture of what he thought might be a cannon, the kind pirates used on their ships. That one had a chick. 

“Does the book say what the chick is for?”

y/n scanned the pages, quickly finding the answer to his question.  “Chick = w = weaponry,” she answered. That made sense. The cannon was a weapon. “Now how the fuck is that useful?” 

He laughed again. “I think there's a clue we’re missing.” 

“Oh really, and how'd you guess that?” y/n replied snarkily, shaking the book in frustration. 

As she did, a small piece of paper fell out. “A note,” she said, grabbing it. “A clue!” 

Bob leaned into her, and read the words written on the paper: ‘The next piece lies among my greatest creations. Find the work that guides us home.’

y/n looked up at him, her lip jutted out and her eyelashes fluttering. She looked beautiful. “The fuck?” 

“Does that relate to anything mentioned in the book?” he asked, rubbing at his neck and taking a step further from her. 

"Guide us home..." She frowned. "What's used to guide people home? A map or maybe a compass.” She glanced at the book. “Oh navigation! That’s a category in here. And the glyph is … a scribble? “ She tilted her head. “I don’t know what that is.” 

He took the book from her. “Aren’t you supposed to be the expert?”

“Unfortunately, I’m a dumbass,” she stated plainly. He just gave her a look. Not even attempting to fight her this time. 

“So we’re looking for something to do with navigation that has… a scribble on it?”

“I guess.” She shrugged.

“Great.” They were not going to get out of there in time. 

“Oh wait!” y/n suddenly cried. “There's a compass on the wall, and that's the scribble isn’t it?” She pointed towards the corner of the blueprint. And there it was, the scribble. 

“You think we can take it down?” he asked. Before he could get the entire question out she had one foot up on the desk. He stepped behind her, hands hovering for a second before settling gently on her hips. In case she fell. That was the reason he gave himself, anyway.

“Oh,” she exclaimed in surprise. “There’s a compartment behind it!” She pushed it open. 

“Another gear! Yes!” She cheered, her arms shaking in joy. That was the moment she lost her balance… and fell. 

It took him less than a second to react, his arms wrapping around her. “Woah. Careful.” 

She just looked up at him. Now cradled in his arms. “My hero,” she whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut. She had no idea what she did to him. Which was probably for the best.

He placed her back on the ground and she steadied herself. “Alrighty, if the gears are as important as I think, then we’re two thirds through with this.” She smiled brightly. “Only one more gear to go!”

She placed the gear in the hole. The room whirred again. This time another drawer in the wardrobe popped open. y/n was quick to rush over and look in. 

“It’s a key.” She frowned. “Do we need a key for anything?”

Bob pressed his lips together in thought. Surveying the room. Eventually, “The toolbox!” he exclaimed. 

The key slid into the lock perfectly. He opened the lid. Alongside the wrench was another note.

“Ughhh, I'm getting tired of this note bullshit.” She groaned. 

“This is an escape room. That's like the entire point!” He argued.

“...Still annoying.” 

He shook his head, and read the clue, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” 

y/n stared at the words. “Oh, come on. Who let this dude on Pinterest!”

Bob ignored that, scanning the room again. “...eye of the beholder,” he muttered. They stood there in silence for a moment.

“Maybe it’s another blueprint?” y/n suggested.

“We already checked those.”

“Maybe it’s a secret compartment.”

“We already found one of those.”

She frowned. “Okay, rude. You're making a lot of assumptions for someone who thought a clock was just a clock.”

He sighed, tapping his fingers on the desk. “We still haven’t used the wrench or the magnifying glass.” He pointed out. “I thought those would be more important.” 

“Oh wait.” y/n started. “Eye, magnifying glass. There's a connection there, right?”

Bob nodded. That made a lot of sense, but what did they have to use the magnifying glass on? That he didn’t know. 

y/n grabbed the magnifying glass, starting to scour the room for hidden clues. “I don’t see anything over here,” she said. “But… I really don't think the escape room creators would expect us to look through the entire room, top to bottom.”

“Really? That seems like the point of an escape room.” She gave him a displeased look. He thought for a moment. “What if we use it on the pieces we’ve already found?”

“The gears?” y/n asked. 

“Yeah.”

y/n walked over to where the gears sat and picked one up, holding it up to the magnifying glass. “Oh shit, tiny hieroglyphs!” she exclaimed. “Lion, double plant, cup, duck, and square thing?” She narrowed her eyes. “I know lion means L, but what do the rest mean? Check the book again.” 

He did what she said, flipping through the pages. “Alright, lion does mean L, the plants mean O, cup means K, duck means U, and the square thing? I think that means P.”

She stared at him for a second. “"L...O...K...U...P?"?” She asked confusedly. Then her eyes widened. “Look up!” Her gaze turned to the ceiling. 

There, suspended from the ceiling was a small wooden model of one of the inventor's flying machines. It matched one of the blueprints on the wall.

“I swear to god, if the gear is just in there,” y/n grumbled. She started to climb on the desk again. 

"Wait–” Bob called out. 

"I've got it," she reassured him. Bob stepped behind her anyway, hands hovering.

"You know," she said, stretching toward the model, "I'm starting to think you don't trust my balance."

"Correct."

She laughed, unhooking the wooden plane and bringing it down with her. As she stepped onto the floor, the plane rattled in her hand. 

“Sounds like something is inside it,” Bob mused. 

y/n groaned. “It’s the gear isn’t it? That’s so stupid, too straight forward for an escape room.”

“Well we kinda need the third gear soon, we’re running out of time,” he said. Glancing at the clock. He had almost forgotten about it with how invested they got in the puzzles, but now he was looking at it and it read 5 minutes and 29 seconds. 

“Holy crap. It's already been fifty five minutes?!” she exclaimed. He nodded, just as surprised as her. It hadn’t felt like that long in the moment as they worked together but looking back? Yeah it had been almost an hour. He could finally feel the exhaustion settling into his body.

She fiddled with the plane for a second before abruptly handing it to him. “It’s pissing me off. You deal with it.” 

He held it gently. Examining the little nooks and indents. Finally, after a few seconds, his eyes caught onto a small latch, he pushed it. And the plane opened. 

Sitting inside the cabin was a laminated card. “Okay, I can't complain about this one,” y/n said. 

He read the card aloud: “Every invention begins beneath the workbench.” 

Bob looked back toward the desk. "The workbench."

y/n followed his gaze. "You think we missed something?"

He knelt beside it, running his hand along the underside. His fingers caught on the edge of a thin wooden panel. "There's something here."

"Move." y/n dropped to her knees beside him. Bob fit the wrench over a small brass bolt hidden beneath the desk and gave it a turn. With a soft click, the panel came loose.

y/n pulled it away.

Nestled inside was the final brass gear.

She let out a triumphant gasp. "I knew this guy had one more secret compartment."

He stared at her for a second. “You're a lot smarter than you think you are.”

“I know.”

“You just called yourself a dumbass twenty minutes ago.”

“I contain multitudes,” she said and shrugged. 

It took them up until the last minute but they finally placed the third gear in the hole. The machine lit up. Starting to spin around slowly. 

“Wow,” y/n mumbled. 

A voice boomed from the speakers. “Congratulations, my dear colleagues. You have solved the puzzle and finished my greatest invention. Now it must be destroyed before it falls into the wrong hands!”

A loud clunk echoed through the workshop. The exit door unlocked with a sharp click.

Behind them, the machine shuddered. Gears spun wildly for a few seconds before bolts sprang loose one by one. Brass plates dropped to the floor. Springs launched from the frame. Within moments, the invention had collapsed into a heap of scattered parts.

"...That feels a little unfair."

Bob nodded. "We worked really hard on that."

The employee appeared in the doorway. "Fifty-nine minutes and twelve seconds. Nice job."

y/n threw both arms into the air. "WE LIVED." Bob laughed before he could stop himself.

As they left, she turned towards Bob. "See? I told you I wasn't completely useless."

Bob frowned. "You never were."

She paused. "...Really?"

He nodded. "You figured out the hieroglyphs."

"And the clocks!"

"And the compass."

"...Okay, maybe I carried us."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Maybe."

She bumps his shoulder. "I'll take that."

Later, as they sat in the car on their way back to the tower, y/n reached over and turned the radio down. "Thanks for making me come."

Bob blinked. "I thought you didn't want to."

"I didn't." She smiled. "Turns out you were right."

However, her current circumstances almost required her to isolate herself… Well not really, but it was if she wanted to avoid certain … reactions. 

y/n wanted to have a fun day. She just hadn’t thought too much about the repercussions. So now, here she was, locked in her room, laying on her bed. 

High as balls. 

The edible had kicked in about 10 minutes prior. It had taken her until then to become paranoid enough to realize the issue. Her housemates. Her housemate. her best friend, Bob.

She knew where her other housemates stood with alcohol, drugs, that stuff. Multiple of them couldn't even get drunk or high or otherwise affected by fun things. Like how the super soldiers had their enhanced metabolisms. Excluding Alexei, she didn’t quite understand how that worked but she had seen him drunk… quite a bit. 

As for Ava and Yelena, she was sure they could get inebriated. But she had never been there to witness it. Which was odd considering how long she had been around them….

And then there was Bob. She had no clue what Bob could or could not do. He had done a great job of staying away from any types of drugs or alcohol since he awakened in the vault. And she was proud of him, she really was.

He seemed so much happier than he was before. Well she didn’t know him before, but she guessed he probably wasn’t doing all that good. As of the moment, he still had a few issues to work through in therapy but he was better!

As one of his closest friends, he had confided in her about his past troubles: the childhood abuse, the car crash, the varied mental illness, the addiction. Why she had not thought of that last one when she was buying the edibles, thinking about taking them, and finally actually taking not 1 but 2. She didn’t know. 

Put simply, he could not see her right now. She wasn’t sure how he felt about marijuana, weed, edibles. But she was not going to be the reason he had a bad week, because it wouldn’t just be a bad day. Even she couldn’t pull him out of his lows. 

So she had resigned herself to staying cooped up in her room until she was sober. 

The problem? She was hungry, like really hungry. The kind of hunger that only manifests itself when you are high as balls. Like she was. 

‘Do I take a chance? Sneak in the kitchen as stealthy as a ninja? Not even turn the lights on. … no, I probably shouldn’t.’

It didn’t take long for her to find herself in the kitchen. Just as she had said she shouldn’t do. She was shuffling through the fridge, pushing different foods in different containers to each side. She knew she had some pasta left over! And she could dust it with a sprinkling (a shit ton) of shaky cheese. 

Just as she had laid her eyes upon it, sitting in the back corner of the fridge behind a see-through container holding a slab of meat, the light turned on. 

“Wha– y/n? What are you doing in the dark?” It was exactly the person she didn’t want to see. She froze. 

‘It's okay, I can do this. I can pretend to be sober.’ She thought. 

She turned to him. “Hi… Bob um…how are you doing?”

He didn’t even blink. “I’m good.” He moved towards the fridge. “Did you see a thing of soup in there? I can’t remember if I ate the last bit of that.” 

He stepped up standing next to her. “Um… no, I- I don’t think I did.”

“Aw, that was my last pre-made dinner option,” he pouted, beginning to look in the fridge. 

She let out a small laugh. He just looked at her in confusion for a second before turning back to the fridge. “I’m not sure what else there is to eat.” He shook his head in thought. “I mean I could make pasta, maybe ramen too if we have any of that.” 

She took a step back, and allowed him the full space to rummage around. Pulling her thoughts from the situation at hand, she thought of the food they had in the pantry.

There was pasta, ramen, mac n cheese, that pasta salad stuff Yelena enjoyed so much. Nothing sounded that enjoyable to her right now. Not that it was for her. She was going to eat her pasta with red sauce and just a sprinkle of cheese. 

“You could make yourself a sandwich.” She suggested, pressing her lips together in thought. Holding back a lot of inner dialogue. 

“Hmm I don’t know. Maybe grilled cheese? I doubt we have any sliced meat,” her eyes stayed fixated on him and his to the fridge. 

His eyes lit up. “Yes here it is. My soup!”

Proudly holding his soup out at her. It took her a moment to react. “Oh yay.” She thought he looked like an animal crossing character after they caught a fish. 

That made her laugh a bit again. This time he actually looked at her. “What's so funny?” His voice was genuine. 

She smiled at him. “Nothing, no– I’m just happy for you.” She gestured towards his hands. “You found the soup.” 

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “I’m happy I still had that, I didn’t know what else I was going to eat.” 

“Do we need to go grocery shopping?” she asked. 

He nodded again with a slight frown on his face. “Probaly, sorry.” 

She found herself fixated on how he squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, almost cringing at being the reason other people had to do something. “No worries, I was running low on bread.” 

The smile quickly came back to his face. “Oh, in that case, I should start a list!” he said, turning to grab a piece of paper.

She didn’t laugh that time. But she smiled. She was glad he was turned away. 

“Well,” she started. She had to get out of there. He was going to notice. “I just ate. So I'm gonna head back to my room.” She glanced out the door. ’I’m pretty tired.”

The frown was back on his face. “But I thought.” He looked at the sink. There weren’t any dishes in it. y/n wasn’t the type to clean them and put them away immediately. Especially when she was tired. 

He looked back at her questioningly. She just smiled at him. Taking a step towards the exit. “Oh.” He turned to pour his soup in a bowl. Then glanced back at her. ‘What about dessert?” 

She paused. She actually hadn’t even eaten dinner. She shouldn't have dessert. And she needed to get away from him.

“I make a mean mug cake,” he smiled at her. At that moment, her stomach growled. He let out a gentle laugh. 

The microwave beeped. “Soup!” Bob cheered. She giggled. He was too invested in his soup to notice. 

They stood in silence for a second, Bob blowing on his soup to cool it down. “So?” 

“What?”

“Mug cake.” 

“Oh, that.” He gave her a look. 

She wanted to refuse. But he looked at her so softly. “Sure.” She thought he was already happy but somehow he lit up. 

“Great! I can make that while my soup cools. It doesn’t take long.”

He walked over to the pantry and started to take out the ingredients. “Flour, sugar, cocoa powder…” he muttered quietly. ‘Wait, where’d we put the vanilla extract?”

“Oh I think it's in the cupboard above the fridge.” He looked at her confused.

“Why would it be there?” 

She thought for a moment, “cause Walker’s an idiot.” Bob chuckled.

It took only a few minutes for Bob to gather all the ingredients. And even less time for him to mix them together. He quickly was placing it in the microwave and setting the timer. 

“Okay 1 minute. You think you can stay awake that long?” He joked.

She nodded, her eyes following the mug through the glass as it spun in a circle. 

Bob kept his gaze on her. Watching how her eyes stayed focused as the clock counted down to zero and how she rubbed her face with her hand like she was trying to wake herself up. 

“Long day?”

She looked at him. “Huh”.

“Did you have a long day? You said you were tired.” 

“Yeah. Tired, I’m tired.” She repeated. 

His gaze remained on her. Then he nodded. Seconds later, the time beeped.  

He quickly opened the microwave door and grabbed the mug by the handle, turning towards her. “Here, but you should let it cool before you eat it.” He glanced down at the freezer. “I think we have some ice cream if you want some of that.”

Ice cream sounded good. And she knew for a fact that they had that silky vanilla ice cream that made her mouth water. 

“Ice cream” she said, nodding in affirmation. 

He made a move towards the fridge just as she did. “It’s okay I can get it, I’m closer.”

“Okay.” She nodded again. 

She was making a mistake. It was a tasty mistake, but it was still a mistake. 

“Here you go.” Bob placed the ice cream on the table in front of her. Then turned to fish through the cutlery to grab a sharper than usual spoon. He knew what ice cream she liked and what she liked to eat it with. Wasn’t he perfect? 

“y/n?” His words interrupted her thoughts. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re staring.” 

“Oh. My bad.” She grabbed the ice cream. Digging out a good sized chunk and dropping it in the mug with the mug cake. Placing the ice cream on the counter, she watched Bob take it and put it back into the freezer. “Well, I should probably go.” 

“What why?” He questioned. “You can’t sleep while you're eating. Might as well talk to me.”

She internally groaned. ‘“Yeah but I might fall asleep.”

He just smiled. “I wouldn’t mind.” Of course he wouldn’t. And he’d probably put her mug cake in the fridge so she could eat it later. A saint he was. 

“Well I guess… if you want me around so badly.” She attempted to tease. 

“I do.” Bob stated. “Want you around, I mean. You’re good company.” 

Her cheeks grew red. He had told her he was learning to say how he felt more often. Something his therapist had recommended to him. When he first told her that, she was happy for him, overjoyed that therapy seemed to be helping. But now? She hated his therapist with a burning passion. How dare you get him to say such nice things? She didn’t think she could take it, not usually and definitely not now. 

“You keep spacing out.” He was now standing in front of her. “Are you alright?” 

She didn’t know what to say so she kept quiet, staring at him. He stared back at her, the worry on his face growing with every second that passed. She averted her eyes, beginning to pick at her undeserved dessert. 

“You aren’t sick are you? Don’t tell me you caught that cold Alexei had.” He placed his palm on her forehead. She leaned into it. “Hmm. You’re not warm.”

“I’m not sick,” she finally voiced. He kept his gaze locked on her. 

“Then what’s wrong? You’re not acting like yourself.”

God dammit. Of course he would notice. She stood no chance against him, him and his mighty observation skills. “Bob.” 

“Yeah?” She pouted. He narrowed his eyes. 

“You know I love you, right?” That caught him off guard. 

“I- what, of course. I love you too.” The words sounded nice coming from him. He loves me, she thought. How lucky I am. 

“I may or may not have made a mistake,” she mumbled. He stared at her. “But I don’t want to tell you because it might upset you.” 

He looked confused, very confused. “What? Did you watch that one documentary you said we should watch together? You know that's okay. We can still watch it again.” He gently tried to soothe her.

“No that's not it.” she looked down at her sock clad feet. They were little kitty cats, with their little butts out. Bob had gotten them for her. She cherished them. She smiled. 

“y/n!” he called. 

“Shit!” She jumped. 

“You’re really starting to worry me. If something is wrong please tell me.” 

“Okay…” She had to give in. The sad way he was looking at her like she was hurting and he couldn’t help her. She’d do anything to make him smile.

She pushed her lips together. And tapped her pointer fingers against each other. “How… How do you feel about edibles?” she started. 

He paused. Oh god, she had done it now hadn’t she. She should have just kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to hurt him but not telling him was hurting him so she had to tell him. But now look where she had landed herself–

“Nothing particular,” he said. The words took a second to settle in. 

She gaped at him. “You sure?” He looked at her for a long moment.

"...Is that what's going on?" He let out a laugh. "I was wondering why you kept spacing out."

“This isn’t like a problem or anything?” she asked, playing with her fingers. 

“No.” He tilted his head. “You were worried about me… knowing?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know how you felt about this stuff and I realized that after I had already taken the edibles so there was no going back,” she rambled. “And then–” 

“Hey.” He interrupted her. “I said it's fine. I appreciate you thinking about me." He paused. “But… you don't have to hide from me. I can handle it.”

“Oh I'm so glad,” she said, and wrapped her arms around him. “I was really worried about where this conversation was going to go.”

He let himself melt into the hug. “Yeah and I was really worried that something was wrong.” He pulled away for a second to flick her on the forehead. “That’s for scaring me.”

“Sorry.” She thought for a second. “So it’s okay for me to be around you right now?”

“Yes,” he stated confidently. 

“Great. You wanna watch that documentary I suggested,” she said, the smile reappearing on her face. “I bet it’ll be fun as shit for me right now.” 

“Sure. But you have to get something to eat first. And no I don't mean the mug cake.” He took it from her hands and placed it on the counter. “That can wait a little while.”

She whined. “But but–” 

“No buts, I know you didn’t eat real food. You absolutely would not have cleaned your dish while high.” She huffed and nodded. 

Well at least she gets to have the pasta with shaky cheese now. That was a relief. The mug cake was not going to be enough for her in her current state. 

After heating up her pasta, and covering it in red sauce and a thick layer of parmesan cheese, y/n found herself on the couch beside Bob. He was in the process of pulling up that documentary she’d suggested. 

She took a deep breath and melted into the couch. Her favorite blankets surrounded her, her favorite person sat right next to her, and she was high as balls. 

Like, one day he was standing in the kitchen, eating breakfast. He caught his reflection in the window. His shoulders were hunched. He straightened them. And moved on.

Another day, he found himself walking to his room. Walker passed him and nodded in acknowledgment. He almost looked away, but caught himself. He nodded back. 

Then at some point, talking to Alexei about groceries, he found himself starting a sentence with "I think." He paused. He didn't think. He knew. "We're out of Walker's protein shakes," he stated. "And my cereal. We should get more of that." Alexei just nodded, adding them to the list like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

They were little things. Things nobody else would notice. But Bob did.

——————————————

Later in the evening, the team was gathered in the living room for their weekly Friday movie night. Bob sat on the floor, his back resting against the couch. Ava was next to him, Yelena above him, Bucky beside her, Walker on the love seat to their right, and Alexei pacing the floor in front of the television. There was never enough space for all of them, but they made it work. 

“We must watch something good. Movie night is no good if the movie is no good!” Alexei’s voice thundered, echoing throughout the room. 

“Yeah sure, but your choices suck,” Yelena said, crossing her arms. 

“They do not.”

“Yeah they do,” Walker chimed in.

Bob tuned out their bickering. He never had a hand in what movie they watched. He wasn’t knowledgeable enough to have a say, at least that's what he usually told himself. But now he found himself thinking, what movie did he want to watch? He never picked the movie, but if he suggested one right now, the team might actually play it. 

The thought came before he could stop it. "I've always wanted to watch The Princess Bride," he said quietly.

The room fell silent. Everyone’s eyes turned to him. Immediately, his stomach dropped. Maybe he should have kept quiet.

“The Princess Bride?” Yelena asked. She thought for a moment. “I don’t know if I’ve ever watched that.”

Now it was Walker’s turn to speak, “You’ve never seen The Princess Bride?!” 

“What? Is that so bad?” 

“Its almost sacrilegious,” Ava jumped in. 

Bucky nodded. “Even I’ve seen it,” he said.

“You were alive when it came out, that doesn’t count,” Yelena snarked.

Ava continued. “Everyone has seen The Princess Bride. It’s like … the most well known movie of its kind.” She looked incredulous. Bob was surprised that even she was so passionate about this topic. 

“Well it is decided,” Alexei spoke. “We shall watch The Princess Bride!”

Bob smiled. He had chosen the movie. It was a small thing. Almost nothing. But it felt like something.

The movie started, and for the first few minutes Bob found himself unable to relax. He had chosen it. Which meant, technically, everyone was watching it because of him. Every laugh felt like a test.

But the rest of the night continued as normal. Alexei was as loud as ever, repeating lines from the movie in amazement. Walker was grumpy, snapping at Alexei like he had committed a crime whenever he spoke. Both Bucky and Ava were quiet, but neither of them looked away from the screen. It was a good movie, Bob had to admit. 

As for Yelena, she was invested. “This is ridiculous,” She muttered. “I don't trust anyone who says ‘as you wish’ that many times.”

“What, you don’t like?” Alexei boomed. “I think it is great story.” 

“I did not say that,” Yelena answered, frowning. 

Bob smiled. Movie nights with the team were never boring. By the time the credits rolled, Bob had almost forgotten that he was the one who suggested it.

That was before Alexei clapped him on the back. “You made good choice, Reynolds!”

He could have shrunk away, or made an excuse and disappeared into his room. Instead, he nodded. “I guess I did.”

Yelena eyed him. Leaning into his space, she whispered in his ear. “See, I was right.”

He looked up at her. “About what?”

She just smiled. “Going to bed now. Goodnight everyone…” She looked over at him one more time. “Goodnight Bob.” 

Bob pressed his lips together. He didn’t know what she meant, but for once, he wasn’t worried. 

——————————————

Later as he laid in his bed, Bob’s thoughts trailed back to the list. He picked his phone off the nightstand and navigated to the notes app. He only had three things currently listed. And that was enough. But he wanted to do more. 

More than just making pancakes for the team. More than just taking up a little more space than usual. He wanted something he could do and check off. Something that wasn’t some deep revelation that would take months if not years to achieve.

He thought for a moment, then typed: to leave the tower more.

He stared at the words for a moment. Just like the other bullet points, this one was simple. He didn’t get out much, that was the reality. If he wanted to change himself, he needed to change that aspect of himself. And this was something he could do. 

He would get out more. Starting tomorrow, Bob would find somewhere to go. He just had to figure out where normal people went when they weren't trying to save the world.

——————————————

‘Beep Beep Beep,’ At 10am the next morning, his alarm went off. 

He groaned and slapped his hand onto his phone, trying to turn it off. He failed, and the phone fell to the floor still beeping. 

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He bent over grabbing his phone from the floor, and finally turned the alarm off. He still felt groggy. He wasn’t much of a morning person. 

But today, he had to get up, today he had plans… Well, they weren’t set in stone plans, but they were something. He was going to go somewhere. He just wasn’t sure where. 

Pulling himself from his bed, he moved towards the bathroom where he splashed water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up. It worked, just a bit. 

Eventually, he found himself in the kitchen, coffee in hand. The mug felt warm in his hands. He stared out the window at the city beneath him. Last night, he’d had no idea where people went when they left home for no reason. This morning, he had too many ideas.

Maybe he'll go to the bookstore Ava sometimes takes him to. But … Would she be mad that he went alone? Would she want to come? Should he invite her? Would she think he didn't want her there?

Too many questions. Next option, a park. He was vaguely aware of a park near the tower. He didn’t remember the name but he knew about where it was. 

But what would he do when he got to the park? Just sit there? That might be weird. Pulling out his phone, he looked at the park. It was quite small. Too small to walk around casually. He crossed it off mentally.

What did that leave? A coffee shop? He didn’t know any coffee shops nearby. He could look one up? But what if they didn’t have any seating or he didn’t like their coffee or–

Ava walked into the kitchen. She took one look at Bob and frowned. “What’s wrong?” 

“What– nothing,” he stumbled out. 

“Come on, you have your ‘I've been thinking too hard' face on.” She said blankly, walking around the table and leaning against the fridge. 

“I don’t have one of those!” Bob exclaimed. She just gave him a look.

He sighed, defeated. “Fine, it's just … I want to get out of the tower today.” She hummed. “But I don’t know where to go.” 

She stared at him for a second. He waited for her to ask him why, why did he want to get out of the tower? That wasn’t like him. But she never did. She just nodded and pushed herself off the fridge. 

“Sometimes,” she started. “When I want to get out but I don’t want to be near too many people or go too far.” She paused. “I go to the New York Public Library.” 

Bob blinked. “The library?”

She nodded. “The Schwarzman Building.”

She crossed to the coffee machine and poured herself a mug. “It's quieter than you'd think,” she said. “If people get too loud, the librarians usually handle it.” She took a sip. “You might like it.” Then she walked out.

The library. He hadn't thought of that. By the time he'd finished his coffee, he'd convinced himself there wasn't a better idea.

It took him another half hour to actually leave the tower.

——————————————

The walk took less than ten minutes. Before long, he found himself standing in front of the building. His gaze traveled up the wide stone steps to the towering columns above.

He stopped halfway up the stone steps. People streamed past him without a second glance. Students. Tourists. Someone carrying three books under one arm. No one seemed to care that he was there.

He approached the door, a thought appearing in his mind: ‘Can I just... go in?’ He watched the other people as they entered and exited. Libraries were public. He knew that. So why did it feel like he needed permission? 

The moment he stepped inside, he stopped. The entrance hall stretched farther than he could comfortably take in. Marble covered nearly everything – the floors, the walls, the staircases sweeping upward on either side. Sunlight spilled through tall windows, catching the stone and making it almost glow. 

It was … beautiful. 

He moved closer to the wall, not wanting to be in the way, and his eyes drifted upward. This wasn't anything like the libraries he'd grown up with. Those had low ceilings and rows of shelves squeezed together. This felt more like a museum than a place where people borrowed books.

He took a few steps forward, staying close to the wall. There were so many signs, each one pointing in a different direction. He didn’t know where to go. He didn’t– ‘Visitor Center’ he spotted. Okay small steps. 

He weaved through the masses of people and made his way to the room. It was a big room, stretching for at least 20 feet. There were a few people here and there. A desk sat in the corner of the room just across from the entrance.

His eyes caught on the desk, on the side closest to him was a pile of maps. That would be useful. He reached for one just as someone else did. He pulled his hand back immediately. 

"Sorry," he mumbled. The other person smiled politely, took a map, and walked away, seemingly unbothered. Bob waited until the table was empty before taking one for himself. 

He unfolded the map, his eyes darting over the different rooms: Exhibition Gallery, Library Cafe, Children's Center, Rose Main Reading Room, Map Division… There was too much.

He needed somewhere he could rest, even if just for a second. His eyes kept moving until they landed on Periodicals Room. Newspapers. That sounded... manageable

It only took a few minutes for him to get to the room. There were only a few people inside. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, starting to take in the room. 

There were tables lining the edges. Multiple lamps sat on each one, perfectly spaced out. Newspapers sat neatly arranged, some folded, some spread open across the desks. Magazines lined the shelves along the walls. And the walls? They were covered in murals of all different shapes and sizes. Each mural showed a different building. He wondered what their connection was. 

He turned his focus to the people in the room, a man in the corner flipped through a newspaper without looking up. Someone else typed quietly on a laptop. An older woman carefully turned the pages of a magazine. Everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing.

No one seemed concerned that he didn't.

He picked up one of the magazines from the shelf, more because he felt like he should than because he was interested, then he took a seat on one of the wooden chairs. He flipped through the pages. For a few minutes he read, it took a while to realize that he hadn’t absorbed a single word. 

Although the room was quiet and uncrowded, he noticed everything around him. The chair was uncomfortable. The room smelled faintly like old paper. Someone nearby coughed. A page turned. Another page turned.

He closed his eyes. This was okay. No one was asking anything of him. No one was waiting for him to say something or do something. He was just there.

And there he stayed. 

——————————————

By the time he left it was dark. When he stepped outside, the city was exactly as it had been hours ago. Cars moved through the streets. People walked past him. Everyone was going somewhere. But this time, he wasn't just watching.

Yelena had told him before that he always tried to make himself smaller. But was it really that obvious? So much so that other people could see it?

He wasn't sure how to feel about it. It just felt… wrong. That wasn't the person he wanted to be. But, now that he thought about it, he didn’t know who he wanted to be.

He wondered if his own words were affecting her as much as hers were affecting him… Probably not. She seemed so sure of herself. So confident in every word that came out of her mouth. It wasn’t often that she shied away from the truth. She had probably forgotten his comment already.

When Thursday finally came, he found himself standing outside the school, dreading the coming session. If y/n could form such an in-depth opinion of him so easily then surely everyone else in the room could too. He wasn’t sure he could handle a repeat of the last session. He wasn’t sure he could handle someone seeing through him again… If what she had said was true.

It took him a while to make his way into the building, feet leading him without a thought. Before he knew it, he found himself sitting in the small circle. The others were chatting, much more relaxed than they had been a few weeks ago.

At first, everyone had sat quietly before the sessions started. Most people avoided eye contact, waiting for Gemma to begin. Now, conversations happened naturally. Small jokes were exchanged. People asked each other questions they didn't have to ask. More often than not, y/n seemed to be somewhere in the middle of it all. It seemed that's what she did to people, helped them settle in… or forced them to adjust. He wasn't sure.

But he couldn’t attribute all of that to y/n. Gemma had been a major influence too, as expected from a counselor leading a therapy group. She always picked the right questions, paused at the right moments, and gave everyone the perfect amount of time to talk. She was good at her job. That was simply a fact.

But this wasn't y/n's job. She wasn't the counselor. She wasn't responsible for making people feel welcome or keeping the conversation going. Yet somehow, she did. He wondered if she knew that. Maybe that's what he should have said: ‘You're the reason this group feels different.’

… No. That would have been weird. Really weird.

For the rest of the session, Bob listened. He answered when Gemma called on him. He participated when he needed to. But his mind kept drifting back to the previous week.

‘You look around like you're waiting for someone to tell you it's okay.’ y/n’s voice was still too easy to remember. ‘And Bob… it is okay.’

He still wasn't sure what that meant. Okay to what? To speak? To make mistakes? To take up space? He didn't know. But he knew she wasn't saying it just to make him feel better.

“Okay everyone, that was a good session.” Gemma’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He quickly looked up at the clock, sure enough it had been an hour. Had he really spent the entire session thinking about something y/n had said last week? That seemed impossible. And yet, he couldn't remember much of what anyone had said.

As everyone else got up to leave, Bob remained in his seat. He watched as Gemma hurried out first, followed by the others. It seemed she had somewhere she needed to be. He hoped she got there on time.

A few seconds passed before he slowly stood from his chair. His back ached. He took a moment to stretch, straightening his arms out and rolling his neck. There was no reason to rush. Yelena would be the one to pick him up tonight. She would be late, as always.

He turned to leave the room, hesitating as his eye caught on something. Or rather someone. y/n still sat in her chair. She stared down at her hands as they lay in her lap. He couldn’t see her face, but based on her fidgeting he assumed it would hold an anxious expression.

He considered walking over. She wasn’t too far from him, just on the opposite side of the circle. Did she usually sit so far from him? He wasn’t sure. He had never noticed where she sat before. But now that he had, he paused. Was she… Did he do something? Was it what he said the previous session?

No. There’s no way this had anything to do with him. He turned to leave. He had only taken a few steps when–

“Bob!” His head snapped back to her. Sure enough, it was her who had called his name. She had risen from her chair and taken a few steps toward him. “Hey.” She mumbled, playing with her fingers.

It was so unlike her. Someone who normally had no problem filling a room with her thoughts, who never seemed afraid of saying the wrong thing, was now standing in front of him struggling to get a sentence out.

He tilted his head. “Hi?” He wasn’t sure why she was talking to him. Not now. They hadn’t interacted the entire session.

“Yeah um hi… um…” She looked away for a moment before shaking her head and turning her gaze back to him. “I– I wanted to talk to you…” Her eyes were now trained on his. He shrunk just a bit. “… about last week. Yeah, last week.”

His stomach dropped. He had done something hadn’t he? What had he said to her again? ‘I think you care more than you let people see.’ But that wasn’t it was it? He also told her something else, that she doesn’t show people her full self.

Was that rude? It was, wasn’t it. He’d basically told her she wasn’t being honest. That wasn’t what he’d meant but how would she know? She was going to tell him he had hurt her feelings. Maybe even yell at him. He wanted to go home. He wanted to disappear. He wanted–

“I … I wanted to–” A sigh. “It’s not that I think I was wrong,” she began. “But I– I want to make sure… I– I don't want you to think I was judging you,” she finally blurted out.

He stared at her. “…what?”

“I know.” She looked down at her hands. “I took it a bit too far. I should’ve been more careful.” Bob opened his mouth, but she kept going.

“You probably left that session thinking, ‘what the hell is wrong with her? Who says things like that to someone they barely know?’” She let out a frustrated laugh, shaking her head. “God. I’m just as bad as Leila.” She buried her face in her hands.

“No you’re not,” Bob found himself saying.

She looked up at him, her face red behind her hands. “You don’t know that,” she murmured.

“Yes, I do.” The answer came out more confidently than he expected.

She just stared at him, her hands slowly receding to her sides. Finally, a small smile tugged at her mouth. “You’ve barely known me for a month, five hours total, actually.”

“I know.”

“Really?” She studied him for a moment, like she was trying to figure out if he actually believed that or if he was just saying it to make her feel better.

Bob looked down briefly, searching for the right words. “You wouldn’t be here if you were…” He hesitated. “Like Leila, I mean.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. But when they did, she nodded. “Okay.” She let out a breath. She seemed calmer after that. “So we’re good?”

‘We never weren’t,’ was what he wanted to say. Instead, he just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good.” The usual smile was back on her face. "See you next week?" It was less of a question than it seemed. He’d been here every week now for five weeks. He wasn’t about to just vanish, but she didn’t know that.

He nodded. She did too, then, “See you, Bob,” before turning and walking out.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as different from him as he'd thought.

He lingered in the hallway for another minute before finally making his way toward the entrance. By the time he stepped outside, the parking lot was nearly empty. The only car left was a familiar black SUV.

Yelena. He hoped he hadn't made her wait too long.

As he walked up, the passenger window rolled down. "You look like therapy happened," Yelena said.

Bob frowned and opened the passenger door. "Is it that obvious?"

"Bob," she deadpanned. "You have your 'I've been thinking too hard' face on."

He blinked and took a seat. "I have one of those?"

"Unfortunately,” Yelena stated. “Now talk. What happened?”

Bob hesitated before mumbling, “I’m not sure.”

“Really? You’re not sure.”

“It’s complicated.”

“How complicated can it be?” she asked as she pulled out of the parking lot. Bob was quiet. She glanced at him. "Okay, so very."

They sat in silence for a minute. Yelena kept her eyes on the road, but her expression made it clear that she was thinking.

“Someone said something, didn’t they?” She finally settled on. “About you?”

Bob didn’t answer. He didn't need to. The way his eyes moved from her face to the road told her enough.

"I'll take that as a yes." She smiled in victory. “So someone said something about you, and … it embarrassed you?”

No answer.

“No, that's not it.” She thrummed her hands on the steering wheel, stopping the car at a red light.

Yelena turned to look at him properly for the first time that drive. His jaw was tight. His shoulders hunched. He wouldn't meet her eyes. She'd spent years reading people. Bob wasn't difficult to read.

"Hm." She watched him for a few seconds. "You're not upset." Another second. "You're uncomfortable." Bob swallowed. Her eyes narrowed. "…Someone got in your head."

She nodded like she had found the last piece of a puzzle. Taking her eyes off him as the light turned green. “Well, what’d they say?”

Bob opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “…They said I don't have much confidence in myself,” he almost whispered.

Her eyebrows shot up. “That takes balls.”

Bob stared at her. Of all the responses he expected, that was not one of them. “What?”

“Telling someone they don’t have confidence in themselves.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Who said that?”

“Someone in the group,” he quickly mumbled.

“Someone in the group,” she repeated, clearly unimpressed by his lack of details. “Someone you talk to?”

“Not really.”

“Then why do you care what they think?”

He went quiet again. She hummed. “I see.”

“See what?” he hurriedly questioned.

She shook her head. “Why it bothered you.” He wasn’t sure he liked that answer.

She didn’t push further. Instead, she turned on the radio quietly and let the silence sit.

When they arrived back at the tower, Bob went straight to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled out his phone. The note was still there: Things I want. The empty bullet point stared back at him.

After a moment, he typed: to be okay.

He almost deleted it. It sounded too simple. Too vague. But maybe that was the point.

He closed his phone and set it down. The answer wasn't perfect. It wasn't even finished.

Bob had exactly one serving of cereal left, and she wasn't about to steal his primary food source. Yelena usually skipped breakfast so she had no food to eat. Ava was picky. She only ate specific foods and refused to share even a morsel with her. As for Bucky, he and Walker both drank protein shakes for breakfast. Yuck. And Alexei was … not a breakfast connoisseur, yes, that was the easiest way to describe him. He liked foods she wasn't particularly fond of: porridge, oats, cheese pancakes… Again, yuck.

Now she may have been being far too picky for someone with little options, but that did not mean she was going to stoop low enough to eat Alexei’s food. 

So here she was, standing at the kitchen table, ingredients lined up in front of her. After scrolling through recipe after recipe, she had finally decided on something she thought would be simple: waffles. 

She had forced the team to buy a waffle maker quite a while ago but had only used it occasionally. But who eats waffles every day? Not her. 

She’d measured out the flour, the baking powder, and the salt. But now she had an issue. Having only skimmed the recipe, she had not realized that it included separating the eggs and whipping the egg whites. She hated whipping egg whites. ‘To stiff peaks’ the instructions said. She groaned. Dammit, this was supposed to be simple! 

She laid her head on the table. It was cold beneath her skin. Why does everything have to be so difficult? It was at that moment that her stomach decided to growl. God she was hungry. Again, why does everything have to be so difficult? 

Pushing through her thoughts, she turned and grabbed the milk from the counter. However, doing so dislodged one of the eggs, and it rolled down the table. She barely grabbed it before it fell to the ground and made a mess. Little joys, she thought.

Deciding to purposefully not follow the recipe – future her could deal with the consequences – she used a spoon to whip up the egg whites. Not to stiff peaks, but enough that she was somewhat satisfied. She was not getting out the egg beater. That was far too much work. 

Finally she mixed everything together: the slightly whipped up egg whites, the dry ingredients, and the wet ingredients. All she had to do now was cook the waffles in the waffle maker. That couldn’t be too hard, she told herself, but she knew it could be. 

As the waffle maker heated up, she leaned against the fridge. This sucked. She wanted to crawl back into bed. It wasn't even early anymore. Half the day was already gone, and somehow she already felt done with it. Done with everything.

The waffle maker sizzled, breaking her out of her pathetic thoughts. She walked back over the counter, hands reaching to grab the waffle batter. She paused. Realizing the waffle maker was leaning a bit too far off the counter, she made a move to adjust it. 

Her thumb landed directly on the hot metal. "Motherfucker!" She shoved her already reddening thumb into her mouth and kicked at the floor. This had to be the worst day she'd had in a while. That wasn’t saying much but it was saying enough. 

She was not feeling very happy. She wanted to break something, punch someone. However, it was at that moment that someone did walk into the kitchen. The problem was that that person was not Walker, it was Bob. 

“Good afternoon–” He paused mid sentence, assessing her expression. “Are you okay?”

It was clear on her face that she was not okay, her eyes glossy, and her thumb stuck in her mouth. “What happened?” He murmured.

That was all it took for her to break down. "Oh God, Bob. Thank fuck you're here. Everything has turned against me today. First I didn't have breakfast, then the stupid recipe wanted me to whip egg whites, and now I burned myself. Oh, woe is me." 

He just stared at her then took a few steps forward, and pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry.” He said gently. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

His words were sincere. He hated seeing her upset. Even if it was due to the smallest things. 

“Can you finish my waffles for me?” She mumbled, her pout deepening. “I’m hungry, and tired, and I want to go back to bed, but I need food first.” She sniffed. “But I don’t want to burn myself again.”

He smiled. He could do that. He liked being of use. Especially to her. “Of course I can, just take a seat. I’ll get your waffles out in a minute.”

She smiled at him, genuinely smiled. Like he had solved every issue in her life, and at that moment, he guessed he had. 

It only took a few minutes before the first waffle was done. He eased it free with a fork and set it onto a plate. It had stuck a little around the edges. Next time he'd remember the cooking spray. Hopefully it still tasted good. He didn't want to give her another reason to be sad.

He turned to her, she was leaning against the table, her arms crossed and her eyes closed. “Here, your waffles.” He placed the plate down in front of her along with some syrup. “I hope you enjoy them.”

She turned her eyes to look up at him. “There is no way I wouldn’t enjoy something you gave me,” she said. He turned away, attempting to hide the blush rising to his cheeks. 

She always said stuff like that. That and her many “I love yous.” He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. 

“Um … is your thumb feeling better?” He forced out. 

She took a bite of her waffles, chewed for a second, then mumbled out, “The second you walked into the room, the pain disappeared.” 

He shook his head. She really had decided to be dramatic today. It had only been breakfast. Burnt thumb. Waffles. A bad morning. Somehow she'd managed to make it sound like the end of the world… And somehow, he'd still wanted to fix it.

He glanced over as she happily drowned another bite of waffle in syrup. 

"Everything good over there?" y/n asked.

"Yeah." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "It's good. I'm good." 

She nodded once. "Good." She turned her attention back towards the water. “So, you want to sit here longer or?” 

“What are the options?”

“Sit here, take a walk, get in the water, maybe get some food?” 

Bob looked down the shoreline. The waves stretched farther than he could see. "A walk," he decided. "I want to take a walk."

y/n nodded and stood up. “Lead the way, Beach Boy.” She held her hand out to him, and helped pull him off the sand. 

He gave her a look. "Beach Boy?" Her hand quickly fell back to her side. For some reason, he noticed.

She smiled. “What, are you not a boy at the beach? It works perfectly.” He sighed. The list of nicknames never seemed to stop growing. He had a feeling "Beach Boy" wasn't going to be the last of them.

He started down the waterfront with her trailing behind him. It took less than a minute for her to wander off. She slipped off her sandals, carrying them in one hand as she wandered through the shallow water. Bob stayed closer to the edge, not quite ready to get his feet wet. Even so, he kept an eye on her.

He watched as she bent down occasionally, plucking a shell from the sand. Sometimes she put it in her pocket, other times she lost interest, tossing it back to the ground. Eventually she made her way back to him. 

“Look at my collection!” She voiced enthusiastically, holding the shells in her outstretched hands. “Aren’t they all so pretty?”

He examined the shells. They were all a different off white color. Some were intact, others had cracks running through them. 

"...They all look kind of the same." He murmured. 

She gasped. “That’s not true! Each and every one of them is unique, just think of the journey they’ve all had to get here!” 

She picked one shell up and held it in front of his face. “This one could have come from Mexico or Southern Italy!” Another shell. “And this one? It could have been the lucky charm of an old lady in the ‘50s. Something her husband had given her when he went off to war. Maybe she passed it on to her grandkids, who brought it back to the beach to —”

Bob interrupted, "That's oddly specific."

y/n pursed her lips. "Fine. Something more believable." She tapped a finger against them, pretending to think. A second later, she grinned. "Maybe it was the home of the leader of a sea snail gang!"

He looked at her in disbelief, but she paid his expression no mind. Instead, she grabbed his hand and dropped the shell into his palm. “A gift for you,” she said, turning back to scavenge for sea shells. 

He turned it over between his fingers, studying the worn ridges. After a second he spoke, "...He probably had a tiny eye patch."

He didn’t know if she’d heard him, but when he looked up she was staring at him. Just for a beat, then she burst into laughter.

“Yes! A little eye patch” She doubled over, clutching her stomach. “To go with his little peg leg. Oh my God, that's hilarious.” 

Bob watched her laugh, almost tripping over her own feet. She laughed with her whole body. Shoulders shaking, eyes squinting, hands flying up to cover her face even though they never quite managed to. 

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen someone look so... bright. Or maybe he was just starting to notice. Before he could think too much about it, he closed his fingers around the shell and slipped it into his pocket.

They continued walking along the shoreline, stopping every few minutes whenever y/n found something interesting. Eventually, the sun beating down on them grew too hot, and y/n dropped her shoes on the beach, pulling off her shirt and shorts, leaving her in just her swimsuit. 

Maybe he stared a second longer than he meant to. He quickly looked away, hoping she hadn't caught him.

She turned toward the water. He found himself following. Watching her drag her feet through the current, laughing whenever a wave caught her off guard. She looked completely at home here, like she belonged wherever she decided to be.

Bob stayed where the water only reached his knees. It was easier to manage that way. The waves were predictable from here. Apparently that was not acceptable to y/n. “You're not going to stand there all day, are you?" she called. "Come on!"

She held out her hands to him. After a moment, he took them, allowing her to drag him deeper into the water. The water was colder than he expected. y/n laughed when he immediately flinched. 

He pouted. “It’s cold.” 

"Oh, come on, Beach Boy. You can't let the ocean win."

Something about the way she said that nickname made him suddenly very aware of himself. He quickly settled deeper into the water. Unprepared when a wave splashed against his head, momentarily submerging him. 

He spluttered, blinking water out of his eyes. 

y/n was already laughing. "Are you okay?"

He wiped his face with both hands. "I think so." A pause. "The ocean attacked me." That made her laugh harder.

He should have been embarrassed. He should have been annoyed. Instead, when y/n’s laughter became impossible to ignore, he found himself laughing too. 

He considered it for less than a second. He should have thought longer. But then she smiled at him, and before he could stop himself, he splashed her. 

It caught her completely off guard. She froze. Bob froze too. He hadn't actually meant to do that. A slow smile spread across her face.

"Did you just splash me?"

"...Maybe."

"You did."

"I did."

And then she laughed. “Bob Reynolds, the ocean’s greatest warrior!” 

Her new nickname immediately joined the growing list in the back of his mind. But his focus was somewhere else. He was the reason she was laughing. He wasn't sure why that mattered so much. But he thought he might never get tired of it.

Later, they sat on the beach. Towels laid out beneath them. Exhaustion seeping into their skin. Bob watched the clouds roll by as he listened to the waves. 

"Did you have fun today?" she asked. Bob turned, looking up at her. He thought about the noise. The sand. The waves. Getting knocked over. Laughing.

"Yeah," he said. A pause. "I did."

“I don’t get it.” y/n exclaimed. Missing the hole by less than an inch. “You’ve never done this before, how are you winning?!” 

 “I’m taking it slow,” he said, smiling gently. His ball already having found its way into the hole. “You’re going too fast, you just need to relax.”

y/n turned to him, frowning. “What are you, a guru now?” 

He let out a laugh, making no attempt to hide it. “Maybe that’s what you need to be to be good at mini golf.” 

“You suck,” she said, her pout deepening.

It didn't make much sense to him either. Before they'd started, he'd spent several minutes wondering about the hidden rules. Surely there had to be more to mini golf than getting the ball in the hole.

Apparently not. His first putt had stopped inches from the cup. The second had gone in. Somewhere between then and now, he'd accidentally become good at it. He wasn't entirely sure how.

Placing the ball at the next hole, Bob eyed the windmill standing in the center. It was slowly turning, the blades occasionally blocking the entrance to the hole. 

“There’s no way you're getting through this one.” y/n announced, looking confident in her observation. She seemed almost happy for him to fail, like it would uplift her spirits if he did.

Bob looked from y/n to the windmill. "...We'll see."

Waiting until the perfect moment, he hit the ball and watched it roll towards the blades. He could hear y/n’s breath pause. She was taking this seriously. Then again, so was he. 

Seconds before the blades dipped down to block the entrance way, the ball slipped past. y/n roared, “I cannot believe you. You’re cheating somehow, this isn’t fair!” 

He just smiled at her. “Prove it.” 

y/n planted herself over her ball, smirking. “You just see I’ll make a comeback,” she said. “And, I’m going to make it look super cool!”

"I don't think that's–” 

“You just wait!” Her putter came down hard on the ball, rocketing it towards the windmill. Bob cringed. This wasn’t going to end well. 

The ball bounced off the rock wall and launched into the air. It skimmed the edge of the windmill, somehow curved around the obstacle, balanced on the lip of the hole for a heartbeat… and dropped in.

“Well I’ll be damned.” y/n mumbled, just as surprised as he was. The disbelief vanished almost instantly. “Hah, in your face. I knew I could do it!” 

“I don’t think that counts,” he grumbled. “I mean, you didn’t even go through the windmill. You went over it!”

"I don't see a sign around here saying I had to do that. It's not my fault you conformed to social norms."

“You’re impossible.” Bob said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I bet you can't do it a second time."

She turned to him, her mouth falling open in an O. "Are you kidding me? Of course I can't." She looked back at the hole. "Did you see that? It was a miracle!"

He walked over to assess the location of his ball. “...You’re not wrong.” He spotted it. It was lying right next to the cup. Just millimeters away from success.

“What’d you say about taking it slow?” y/n teased, coming up behind him. “I think I might be better than you, mini golf superstar.” 

“I never–”

“You so did.”

“Nuh uh.”

She simply nodded and picked her ball out of the cup, turning to head to the next hole. Bob watched her walk away. He wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but he was having more fun than he'd expected.

Since the next hole was already occupied, they stood off to the side, watching a family argue over whether someone's ball had technically gone out of bounds.

"Do you think they know they're arguing about mini golf?" y/n asked. 

Bob nodded. "They seem pretty committed." 

"That's terrifying." A pause. “Wait, are we like that?”

Bob nodded again. “I think so.”

They stared at each other for a second, then broke out in laughter. 

"You know,” y/n tried to stifle her laugh, “for someone who didn't understand why people liked mini golf, you seem pretty invested."

Bob looked down at the scorecard. "I think I understand now."

y/n smile grew wider. "Good." She nudged him with her shoulder. He was starting to realize she did that a lot. Touch him, he means. "That's kind of the point, isn't it?”

It should have felt strange but… It didn't. He swallowed. He wasn't sure what that meant.

A few holes later and they’d already been there for over an hour. 

“I’m hungry.” y/n had complained. “Feed meeee.” Which is how they found themselves at the court’s food stall.

y/n was staring at the menu plastered on the wall, not so silently debating whether to get a hamburger or a hot dog. 

“I know they’re basically the same thing, but the distinction matters to me,” she whined. “What are you gonna get?” 

“I might get a pretzel. I’m not all that hungry,” Bob said.

“Oh shit, they have pretzels? Now I want a pretzel.” She huffed. “Can I have a bite of your pretzel?”

The question caught him slightly off guard. Not because she wanted some. Because she asked like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like sharing things with him was normal. 

He hummed in agreement.

Having ordered and received their food, they sat on a shaded picnic bench overlooking the courts. Taking the last bite of her hotdog, which she had decided on after a long rant on the subject, y/n began to speak. 

“I’ve had a lot of fun today.” Her voice loud and confident. 

Bob paused. Thinking for a moment. It wasn't that he had to consider whether he had fun. He knew he did. He just wasn't sure how to express it. Would a simple “Me too” get the message across? Would y/n be disappointed that he wasn’t as energetic about it as her? He didn't want her to think he hadn't enjoyed it just because he didn't show it the same way she did.

He wasn't able to finish that thought before y/n shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. He froze. “You don’t have to admit it,” she murmured in his ear. “But I know you did too.”

Bob stared out at the mini golf course, watching groups of people move between holes. He could have moved away. Could have said something.

Instead, he stayed exactly where he was. y/n's head was warm against his shoulder. The sounds of the course continued around them. People laughed, golf balls hit against walls, someone complained loudly about losing.

And somehow, none of it felt overwhelming.

"It's dark, it's quiet, and this time of year there aren't usually many people," y/n had said while trying to convince him. It hadn't taken much convincing. 

The whole week had been his idea.

The aquarium, though? That had been entirely y/n's idea. Bob didn't think he would've ever suggested it himself. But it was one of her favorite places. Of course she'd thought of it.

Currently, he was fixated on the large tank standing in the entrance way. It stretched from floor to ceiling and contained what had to be hundreds of fish. Near the bottom, a school of silver fish drifted lazily through the water before disappearing behind a cluster of coral.

"...Whoa," he murmured.

y/n smiled. "Good 'whoa'?"

He nodded slowly, still staring. "Definitely good 'whoa.'” He tore his eyes from the tank. “I get why you like this place.” 

“Yeah, it's pretty cool.” She nodded like she was in on a secret that most people weren’t. “But just wait until you see the octopi!" 

“Octopuses,” Bob corrected. 

She looked at him. "...What?"

"The plural of octopus." He smiled. "It's octopuses. I learned that in that documentary you suggested, my octopus friend? No–”

“My octopus teacher,” y/n said, she didn’t look too impressed. “How dare you remember my documentaries better than I do,” she said, swatting at him gently. 

He laughed, the sound echoing quietly through the gallery. 

The next hour passed in much the same way. Every tank seemed to hold something new for Bob to marvel at, whether it was a tiny seahorse clinging to a strand of seaweed or an eel peeking out from between the rocks. 

Eventually, they reached the octopus exhibit. 

Bob looked up at the tank, then turned to her with a small smile. "Look. The octopuses."

y/n narrowed her eyes. "I can't believe this is the hill you're choosing to die on."

"It's an important hill."

She crossed her arms, pretending to consider him. “Well, what other facts do you have to bestow upon me, oh all-knowing Bob?"

He took a moment to think, dramatically rubbing his chin as though he had a beard. 

"They're ridiculously smart,” he eventually stated. “Smarter than some people."

y/n paused, "...Walker."

Bob nodded solemnly. "Walker." 

A few exhibits later, they wandered into a longer hallway. Bob was still taking in everything around him, stopping every so often to watch the fish drift lazily through the tanks, when y/n suddenly stopped.

"Oh, shit." Bob turned toward her. Her eyes were wide as she pointed down the hallway. "Bob, look. There's a new exhibit!"

He followed her gaze to the sign at the end of the hall that read ‘NEW EXHIBIT! PET A STINGRAY!’ An arrow pointed toward a door on the right.

"Stingrays," y/n breathed. “Oh my god. I love sting rays!” 

"We have got to go see that," y/n said, immediately switching into begging mode. "Please, please, please." Her hands were clasped together like she was praying. It took everything in Bob not to laugh.

"You really want to pet a stingray?"

“You don’t?”

“No?” 

She stared at him, genuinely offended. "You've lost your mind," y/n said, shaking her head. "We're still going." 

Before he could respond, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stingray room. Her hand was warm in his. Bob focused on that for longer than he cared to admit. By the time they stepped through the doorway, y/n had already let go, immediately turning her attention toward the touch pool. 

"Behold!" she announced, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. "Stingrays, my beloved!"

She hurried over to the pool, dipping her hands into the water and wiggling her fingers at the stingrays like she was greeting old friends. Bob couldn't help but smile. One stingray glided closer, just within her reach, and she gently ran her fingers across its back.

"Oh my god, it's so smooth," she said. "You've gotta try this, Bob."

He stepped up beside her, peering down into the water as another stingray moved beneath the surface. "Are you sure they're okay with people touching them?"

y/n looked over at him. "Bob."

"What?"

"I promise you the stingray is emotionally prepared for this." He stared at her. "Just put your hands in."

Slowly, Bob lowered one hand into the water, his other gripping the edge of the pool for balance. Unlike y/n, he didn't wiggle his fingers or try to coax one closer. He simply let his hand rest there, waiting. The water was warm.

And then, after a moment, a stingray glided beneath his fingertips. He flinched, his eyes widening slightly. 

“People call them the ‘puppies of the sea,’” y/n stated matter of factly. “They’re highly social animals, and there’s over 200 species of them!”

Bob glanced over at her. “Didn’t one of them kill Steve Irwin?” The second the words left his mouth, he pulled his hand from the water and wiped it against his pants.

“Pish, posh.” y/n answered. “That doesn’t count.”

“I think it does.” 

“The stingray was scared. Don’t be scary and you’ll be fine!” she said, moving her hands to pet another seemingly docile stingray. 

He wasn’t so sure about that. But he had to admit, the stingray didn’t seem particularly interested in hurting him.

After a moment of silently observing y/n and the stingrays, he quietly spoke. "I know it's safe. It's just…” He shrugged. "It's new."

She smiled. "Yeah." She nudged his shoulder. "That's kind of the point of this whole week, isn't it?"

He looked at her. Then, slowly, he put his hand back in the water. Another stingray slid past his hands. This time, he didn’t flinch.

On their way out of the aquarium, y/n forced them to stop by the gift shop. 

"We need stingrays to commemorate the occasion,” she joked. 

Bob smiled at that, adding “Maybe some octopuses too.”

“You,” y/n grumbled. 

Bob laughed.

Later, when he found himself back in his room with his new stingray and octopus plushies sitting on his bed, he couldn’t help but smile.

His life could be broken down into three parts: his childhood, his addiction, and his present.

His childhood was… complicated. Something to unpack in therapy another day.

Then came the addiction. It had started younger than most people expected. A car accident in middle school had left him addicted to morphine, and from there, everything blurred together. His teenage years and most of his twenties revolved around one thing: getting high. Looking for it. Finding the money to buy it. Using it.

If anything else had happened during those years, he couldn't remember.

Now there was the present. He lived in the Tower with the Thunderbolts New Avengers. His days were quiet. He spent most of his time lounging around reading. A new book every few days. Yelena and y/n had somehow made it their personal mission to keep his bedside table stocked, and he hadn't run out of something to read in months.

He didn't leave the Tower often. Every now and then Yelena would bring him to her favorite cafe. A nice place a block away from the tower. Not too far, but just far enough that he felt like he was actually getting out.

Other times, Bucky would force him to join him on runs, Ava would take him to her (their) favorite bookstore, y/n would take him out for boba or froyo – it alternated each week – and Walker would rope him into grocery shopping with complaints about everyone eating his snacks

y/n never really needed an excuse. Sometimes she'd knock on his door with two cups of frozen yogurt already melting in her hands. Other times she'd ask if he wanted to take a walk, browse a music store, or just sit in the park with whatever books they happened to be reading that week. She never seemed bothered if they spent half the outing in comfortable silence.

He liked that. He liked her. A lot, if he was being honest with himself.

But even with all of that, something still felt… incomplete. He wasn't just surviving anymore. He wanted to live… He just didn't know where to start.

Which was how he found himself standing outside y/n’s door, his fist hovering in front of it as he tried to work up the nerve to knock.

He could hear her inside the room, shuffling about with music quietly playing in the background. He wasn't sure what she was doing. More importantly, he wasn't sure if she'd mind being interrupted.

She'd told him once that she didn't mind. That no matter what she was doing, he could always knock. Even if it wasn't an emergency.

Pushing away his insecurities, he closed the space between his fist and the door. The first knock was quiet. He doubted she could hear it over the music. He knocked again, this time louder, more confident.

It took a moment before the door swung open. "Bob!" she beamed. "Perfect timing. I need your help." Before he could ask what she meant, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him inside. Immediately, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Now, he’d been in her room before, they’d sometimes spend time together reading or watching movies. However, in those moments, the room was … tidier. Now? … It was covered in clothing. From her bed to her wardrobe to her desk to the floor, everything was covered in clothing.

“Okay, so I’ve decided to sort through all the clothes I have.” Pausing, her eyes scanned over the room, “and I have come to the realization that I have never done that before … ever … in my entire life.”

“As such, I have quite a bit of clothing,” she concluded. Finally, her eyes moved back to him, taking in his look of surprise, she let out a snort. “I know. It’s a mess. You can laugh.”

He slapped a hand over his mouth before the laugh escaped. "No– no, it's fine," he said, pressing his lips together. "Not a mess at all."

There were a few dresses hung up on her closet door, a couple of shirts folded neatly on the dresser, but everywhere else? It looked like a hurricane had passed through. He could barely even see the floor.

Once he'd managed to compose himself, he looked back at her. “What– what prompted this?”

“Oh, nothing big. I was just bored.” y/n responded. “Got myself deeper than I expected though.” Almost like she realized something, her face lit up, “"Did you need something?"

Bob nodded. "Yeah. I… wanted to ask you something." His eyes drifted back to the mountain of clothes. "…But it can wait." He looked at her again. "Do you want some help?"

It only took a few hours for the pile of clothes to dwindle down. Bob found himself sitting on the floor, y/n next to him.

It would have made more sense for them to move further apart as the piles lessened, but the distance between the two had grown smaller, their knees almost touching.

As y/n tossed the last shirt in the donation box, she turned her attention to Bob. “So, about that question of yours.”

“Oh… yeah, that.” So lost in the task of sorting clothes, Bob had forgotten the reason he came to y/n in the first place. “I– I want to do something. Actually, I want to do a lot of things,” he started.

She looked at him questioningly. "I was just thinking…" Bob started. "There are a lot of things I've never done."

"Like what?" she asked gently.

"Just… normal things." He looked down at his hands. "Before this, before everything. My life wasn’t… I wasn’t doing that well. I didn’t get to experience all the fun things in life that other people do.”

y/n seemed to catch on, but remained silent. “And I’ve decided I want to do those things. I want to…” he thought for a moment, “spend time at the beach, do an escape room, ride a rollercoaster at an amusement park.”

He laughed quietly to himself. "I'm not even sure what I have and haven't done anymore." The smile lingered. “But I’m a different person now. I’m living a completely different life, and I want to make the most of that.”

He hesitated. "And…" His heart was pounding now. "I was kind of hoping…" He swallowed. "…you'd do those things with me." Another pause. "If you want to." He almost whispered the last part.

She stared at him for all of two seconds before smiling. “I’d love to.”

"Really?"

"Really." The smile on his face grew, small but genuine.

"Good."

She tilted her head. "Good?"

"Yeah. I thought maybe…" He shrugged. "It's my birthday, and I wanted to do something different."

"Wait." Her eyebrows lifted and her smile faded. She looked almost mortified. "It's your birthday?!"

Bob froze. "…Yeah."

“You’ve spent the whole day helping me clean my closet” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “And only now do you tell me it's your birthday?”

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “"Well… technically I was going to ask you about this."

"That is so not the point!" She pushed herself off the floor, looking down at him with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. "I would’ve gotten you a cake."

"You don't have to."

"I know. " Her voice softened. "I wanted to."

Bob looked away, swallowing around the sudden tightness in his throat. He grabbed the corner of the bed and pulled himself to his feet while y/n turned away, already pacing across the room.

"Okay," she muttered. "Okay. I have a solution!” she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. “Your birthday is going to last this entire week.”

"y/n–"

“Since today is Sunday, it's perfect! Every day this week we can do something new.” She looked at him, her smile stretching across her face. "A whole week of firsts.” Bob stared at her. “How does that sound?”

She was practically glowing. For a moment, Bob forgot what he was going to say. It was hard to think when she looked this happy.

Then there was Yelena. He'd always known she did things for the others. She sharpened Bucky's knives without being asked. Let Ava borrow clothes she'd taken a liking to. Pretended she didn't want dessert so Walker could have the last slice of cake after a bad mission.

But he never realized how much she did for him: Moving his book when he fell asleep reading on the couch, or charging his brand new phone when she saw it was low battery.

There were so many little things that he hadn’t noticed. So many ways that the others showed they cared for each other, for him. The last straw was Yelena buying him a pair of fuzzy socks she saw in the window of some shop because they reminded her of him.

He sat on his bed with the socks in his hands, only illuminated by a small lamp on his desk. Yelena had stopped by on her way to her own room.

She had handed him the socks and smiled that same bright smile. "Saw these. Thought of you." She shrugged. "Little cats reading books. Ridiculously on brand."

She was right. They were adorable. And they suited him well. They should have made him smile. Instead, they made his chest ache. All these things that she did for him but what did he do for her? What did he do for any of them?

He searched for an answer. He washed the dishes. Sometimes he vacuumed. He… Nothing else came to mind. He barely left the tower so he couldn’t restock the pantry when Yelena ran out of snacks. He didn’t know how to cook so he couldn’t make dinner for the team after a long mission. He couldn’t make anyone feel better, freezing at the sight of tears.

And he couldn't protect them. His powers, no the Sentry’s powers, weren't his to control. He could only offer them pain, forcing them to relive the worst moments of their lives, and he couldn’t even control that.

He folded the socks carefully and placed them in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. Beginning to get ready for bed. He would wear them one day, maybe when he deserved them. ——————————————

The next morning, Bob got up early. Earlier than anyone else in the tower. He wasn’t entirely sure when he had decided to do it. Sometime between brushing his teeth and staring at the kitchen for five minutes, trying to convince himself this was a good idea. He was going to do something. He was going to try. He was going to make breakfast.

It was a small thing. Ridiculously small, probably. People made breakfast every day. People woke up, walked into kitchens, and cooked without thinking about every possible way they could mess it up. Bob, unfortunately, was not one of those people. Still, he wanted to try.

He tied on an apron and got to work. They didn’t have any thick bread, so French toast was out of the question. That was fine. He could adjust. Pancakes, though? Pancakes would work.

Eyeing the kitchen shelves, Bob grabbed the ingredients he needed. First came the dry ingredients: flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar. Simple enough. The recipe was clear. The measurements were exact. That helped. There was comfort in knowing exactly what came next.

He mixed everything together carefully, checking the recipe twice. Next came the wet ingredients: milk and eggs. Following the instructions exactly, he poured the milk into the dry ingredients. Then he cracked the egg and stirred until the batter came together, until there were no streaks left.

Bob paused. The batter was complete. Step one was done. A small, ridiculous part of him felt proud. Now it was time to actually cook the pancakes. That was where things got less predictable.

He poured the batter into the pan and waited. The recipe said to wait until bubbles formed, but there was a difference between waiting and knowing when you had waited too long. Apparently, Bob had not learned that difference yet.

The smell hit him first. Burning. He quickly flipped the pancake. It landed awkwardly, more folded than flipped. Bob stared at it. It was definitely not the picture from the recipe. He cringed. No. It was fine. It didn’t have to be perfect. It didn’t need to look like something from a restaurant. It just needed to feed people. That was all.

He poured more batter into the pan, this time watching it more closely. He wasn’t going to give up because one pancake went wrong. One bad pancake didn’t mean anything. At least, that was what he was trying to tell himself.

The second pancake came out better. Less wonky shaped and not burnt at all. Bob was proud of himself. He plated it and placed it on the kitchen counter. He would eat the first pancake, hide his mistake. After some time, he dropped the last pancake onto the stack. He stepped back, looking at the plates sitting on the counter. A whole breakfast. He had made a whole breakfast. The feeling that settled in his chest was unfamiliar. Not pride exactly. Something close to it. Like maybe he had done something right. Maybe it was something small, but it was something.

Footsteps in the hallway caught his attention. “Good morn–” Bucky stopped himself. Eyes scanning over the table, his eyebrows raising in, what Bob hoped was, surprise. “Made yourself some breakfast?

“I…” Bob hesitated. The words suddenly felt harder to say out loud than they had been in his head. He looked at the plates, then back at Bucky. “I made it… It’s for…” He stopped.

Why was this so difficult? It was just breakfast. He took a breath and forced a smile, gesturing toward the plates. “Help yourself.”

Bucky nodded and grabbed a plate, taking a seat at the table. “Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Bob tried not to watch him eat. Tried not to analyze every expression, every pause, every movement that might mean something. The silence was almost worse than a reaction would have been.

Finally, Bucky looked up. “Special occasion?”

“Oh.” Bob looked down. “No. I just…” He glanced toward the stove, suddenly feeling embarrassed by how much effort he had put into something so ordinary.

“I wanted to do something for the team. You know. Pull my weight.” The words came out quieter than he intended.

Bob turned toward the sink, gathering the dishes that had accumulated. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on his back. He waited. For a joke. A comment. Something. But Bucky didn’t say anything.

He just hummed quietly and went back to eating. Bob was grateful.

The next person to walk into the room was Alexei. It didn’t take long after that for everyone in the tower to know there were pancakes. But no one made a big deal out of it. He was grateful Yelena hadn’t woken up earlier. God knows if she had things would have been different.

"You made pancakes because you think you are useless?" He could hear her say. Crossing her arms and giving him a look. He wouldn’t be able to change her mind… not that she was entirely wrong.

—————————————— Later that afternoon, Bob found himself sitting in the common area on one of the bean bags. A different book in his hands.

This one was a romance novel. He wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up with it. It had been sitting on the shelf, and he’d been curious. People spent a lot of time talking about love. About relationships. About finding someone who understood them.

Bob had never really understood what that meant. So he was trying.

He was halfway through an interesting scene, the part where the main character had broken up with her boyfriend. She knew the relationship wasn’t working. She knew she had spent months trying to fix something that couldn’t be fixed. And yet, days later, she found herself back in his apartment. Back in his bed.

She lay beside him, staring at the ceiling while he slept. Thinking of all the things she loved about him. The way he made her laugh. The way he knew exactly what to say when she was upset. The way being with him felt familiar.

“‘I love him,’ she thought. ‘But that was the simplest part. The difficult part was admitting that love had never been the thing they were missing. They loved each other. They just kept hurting each other.’

Slowly, she got out of bed and grabbed her clothes from the floor. She knew what she had to do. Staying with someone who wasn't willing to meet her halfway wasn't fair. Not to her.

Bob paused on the page. 'Meet her halfway.' The phrase lingered longer than it should have. His eyes drifted back over the words, but he wasn't reading anymore.

Bob thought back to the last therapy session. The question had seemed simple enough. What do you look for the most in a relationship?

His mind immediately went to the people around him. Yelena was honest. She never let him get away with avoiding the truth. Bucky was reliable. The kind of person who would show up no matter what. Ava was understanding. Walker was protective. Alexei was accepting.

It was easy to name what he appreciated about other people. What was harder was answering what he wanted for himself. Because he hadn't thought about that. Not really. So, when Y/N answered, it caught him off guard.

"I want someone who cares. I want someone who gives as much as I do. Not because they feel like they're obligated to, but because they want to."

Bob looked down at the book in his hands. Maybe that was what the character had been searching for too. Not someone who just loved her but someone who chose to show it.

He wondered what y/n would say about the chapter. Would she like it? Think it was too on the nose? Perhaps, she’d feel for the main character. Or maybe she’d find her annoying. Unable to drag herself away from someone clearly hurting her. Bob didn’t know.

They weren't friends. They only saw each other once a week, sitting in a circle and answering questions neither of them particularly wanted to answer … well, maybe y/n did. She always seemed ready to answer. Like the words were already waiting, just beneath the surface, and she was relieved whenever someone gave her a reason to let them out.

Bob found that strange. And maybe a little admirable. He wished he could do that.

Maybe he could try. The same way he had tried this morning. The pancakes had been terrible at first. He had almost given up. Thought that it would be easier to stay out of the way, but he didn’t. And it was fine. It worked out fine.

He grabbed the bookmark from the table and slipped it between the pages. Reaching for his phone, he opened the notes app, and hesitated. Then he typed: ‘Things I want’.

He stared at the space beneath, empty except for the bullet point. For several minutes, nothing came. But he didn't delete it. He just put his phone away and got up.

——————————————

Bob glanced at the clock on the wall. They were nearing the end of the session. The focus had been on avoidance, on what they were pushing off because of fear or nerves. But the conversation was slowly concluding.

As the last person got their thoughts in. Gemma stood from her chair. “Alright,” she clapped her hands together. “The last thing we're going to do is a fun little activity, but in order to do it everyone needs to buddy up.”

Bob had already counted the number of people in the room. Odd. Which meant someone would be left over. Someone would have to work with Gemma. He had a feeling he already knew who.

He had always been the child that got paired with the teachers. The one that no one ever wanted to work with. He was used to it.

Bob didn't bother looking around the room. People would find partners. Then Gemma would notice he was the only one left. It had happened often enough that he already knew how it went.

But then he heard footsteps stop in front of him. “Partners?”

He looked up. It was y/n, one hand tucked into the pocket of her sweatshirt. She wore the same bright smile she always seemed to wear.

He blinked. "…Me?"

"Yeah." She frowned slightly. "Unless you don't want to."

Bob waved his hands. “No! That’s not what I meant. I… I would love to be partners.”

Letting out a laugh, she nodded. “Great.” She took a seat beside him.

“Now, the reason I had you partner up is because I want you to see yourselves through someone else’s eyes.” Gemma looked around the circle. “Using everything you've learned about each other over the past few weeks, I want you to describe your partner. Not what they do, but who they are.”

She smiled. “Don't worry, I'm not going to make you share this with the whole group. This is just between the two of you. So take your time with this. Really think about your answer. You might notice something about your partner that they’ve never noticed about themselves.”

He turned his eyes away from Gemma, towards y/n. She was already looking at him. Not staring. Just watching. Taking in every detail about him.

He immediately felt insecure, his body curling in on itself, his eyes moving down to the way his fingers played with each other, a nervous habit of his. They sat like that for some time. The entire room bathed in silence as people thought about what they’d say.

He thought about what he’d say. y/n was… difficult to explain.. He knew she was loud. He knew she was opinionated. He knew she had a habit of saying exactly what everyone else was too nervous to say.

But those weren't the things that stood out to him. What stood out was that she always listened, paid attention. But not in the same way Bob did. He noticed things because he had spent years trying to predict what people needed from him. Y/N noticed things because she actually wanted to know.

She cared. That was the thing about her. She cared so much about everyone around her.

She volunteered to speak first when the room got too quiet, so Gemma wouldn't have to sit there waiting. She remembered small details people mentioned weeks ago. She gave whoever was speaking her full attention, like what they were saying was the most important thing in the world.

Maybe that was why she was so good at this. Not the therapy. Not answering the questions. Seeing people.

The room slowly came back to life as people began sharing their answers.

“I can go first if you want me to.” y/n said. She had noticed his discomfort. Of course she had. Bob nodded, and she didn't hesitate.

“You don’t have a lot of confidence in yourself.” She began and his eyes widened. “You mentioned one session that you aren’t great at socializing because you don’t know what to say, and you’re afraid you’ll get it wrong.”

“But I think that goes beyond just talking. You make yourself smaller. Your posture, the way you hesitate before you speak, the way you look around like you're waiting for someone to tell you it’s okay.”

“And Bob… it is okay.” Her voice softened. “It’s okay because you’re careful. You think about what you say. You think about how your actions affect other people. Even when you’re having a bad day, you still worry about everyone else.”

She smiled slightly. “And you’re honest. Really honest. You might not talk much, but when you do, you mean every word.”

She looked at him. “I think you underestimate how much that matters.”

Her words stayed with him longer than he expected. He knew what he was up against when he partnered with her, but he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected her to notice.

“You… You noticed my posture?” he forced out.

“I guess I did.” She stated. “Now it's your turn. What do you think of me, Bobby?”

He froze. He hated that nickname. Not because of her. Because of everything attached to it. It belonged to a version of himself he had spent years trying to forget. A name shouted across rooms. A name that never meant anything good.

“Bob?” her words pulled him from his thoughts.

“Oh… yeah. You…” His fingers twisted together. “You care.” It sounded too simple. Not enough. “I mean… I think you care more than you let people see.”

"And, I think you show people a lot, but not everything." He concluded.

She gawked. "I literally talk about my feelings every week." “I know,” he said. “But I don’t think that means people know you.”

She stared at him, tilting her head slightly. For once, she didn't have an immediate response. Bob wasn't sure if she understood what he meant. Maybe she didn't. But she looked like she was thinking about it.

Before either of them could say anything else, Gemma’s voice carried across the room.

“Alright, I hope everyone has had enough time to share their thoughts.” She clapped her hands together. “Unfortunately, we’re out of time. I was hoping we’d have a chance to come together and talk about how this exercise made everyone feel, but I don’t want to keep anyone here longer than necessary.”

A few people began gathering their things.

“I’ll see everyone next week,” Gemma called. “Same time, same location.”

Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone slowly made their way out. Bob stayed seated for a moment longer than usual, staring down at his hands. He wasn't sure what to do with what y/n had told him. He wasn’t sure what to do with what he had told her.

“Hey,” y/n spoke. He looked up at her. “That was a good talk,” she said quietly.

Gemma continued, “What do you look for the most in a relationship? Whether it's platonic or romantic is up to you. I just want to know what it is you want from other people. And please be as selfish as you’d like. We’re not straying from emotions today.”

Bob immediately started to think of an answer. He didn’t want to be caught off guard again. And since Gemma always started from the left, he would be the fourth person to answer. He had to be ready. 

Now to think. What did he look for in other people? No, what did he like in the people he was already friends with? He thought of his teammates. 

Yelena was confident. Funny. Intelligent. Sarcastic at times. She said everything that came to her mind, sometimes without thinking. He liked that about her. And she was loyal. God was she loyal. Ever since the Void incident, she had been by his side, arguing with Valentina whenever she started to pester about a potential debut for the Sentry. He really liked Yelena. She was his best friend. 

Then there was Bucky. He was almost like a father figure to the team… even Alexei somehow. They were his people and he took care of his people. He sure didn’t talk much, but every word he did speak carried a mountain's weight of meaning. And he would always show up when called, no matter the reason. If Bob was having a crisis at 2am and he called Bucky, he’d come. Reliable. Yeah, that was Bucky. 

As for Ava, she was quiet. Almost akin to a shadow. The fact that she could phase through walls just made that even more ironic. Despite her silence, she understood him. Accepted him as he was. The times they spent together weren’t awkward, rather they were comfortable, a kind of quiet that said ‘I'm here whenever you're ready.’ He liked that, he liked her, even if they weren’t that close,   

Now, Walker. He was an asshole. He is an asshole. But there was something about him. It wasn’t confidence. No, Walker didn’t exude confidence. He acted like he did, but it was all just bravado. … Walker .. he had a terrible habit of throwing himself in front of danger before anyone else had the chance to think. Half the time it was reckless. The other half it actually worked. Either way, Walker never hesitated if someone else was about to get hurt. Bob liked that. He was actually quite jealous. Anytime the team returned from a mission with a member injured, he found himself wishing that he could have protected them. That he could have been there to stop whatever danger had found its way to them. Yeah, willingness to protect, he guessed he liked that about Walker. If he had to choose something. 

Lastly, Alexei. God, what didn’t he like about Alexei. He was loud. No, he was more than loud. He was boisterous. Yes, that suited him better. And he was always happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw him sad. Probably something to do with Yelena. He really loves her. Actually, he loves everyone. Maybe not the same way, but… He treats everyone like they've belonged forever. He's overbearing. Embarrassing. But he never makes someone earn affection. Bob liked that. 

Alright so, honesty or maybe genuineness for Yelena. Both suited her. Then reliability for Bucky, understanding for Ava, protectiveness for Walker, and finally, acceptance for Alexei. That was a good list. He could explain that. Maybe not in its entirety, but hopefully good enough. 

“I just absolutely hate selfish people,” one member, a man, exclaimed. He was at the end of a tirade on how people who only cared about themselves were the scum of the earth. Bob could see where he was coming from but … he was taking a bit too far. It was clear someone had wronged him in the past. Bob felt for him. He also wanted his turn to end. 

Leila was next. The third person to speak. Then it was him. He hoped everything went smoothly. He had never been good at speaking in front of an audience, but this time he had thought out his response. He was ready… He hoped. 

“I think … I might dislike people who want to control everything.” Leila began. She didn’t even look towards y/n, but everyone knew what she was doing. Bob felt his eye twitch. It seemed their “tension” had not been left in the last session like he'd hoped it would. 

“It’s just … the world is soo complex and it's not fair to want to contain it in some tiny little box. I wish people that wanted to control everything would take a deep breath and just relax. Everyone is so different. If one person attempts to control everything then … I can’t see that going well.” 

Just like the man from before, Bob understood her. He didn't particularly like her, but he understood her point. He wondered what y/n had done to piss her off. Had she said something the first session, something that he'd missed? He had no clue. But now he was looking at y/n, 

She was well put together. Not unraveling at the seams like she had been at the beginning of the previous session. He was happy for her. He didn’t know why. 

He blinked, realizing he'd stopped listening. Leila was wrapping up her point. Then it was his turn. Once more everyone was looking at him. But this time he was ready. 

“My friend group… They’re a ragtag group of people.” He started. “And there's something I like about each one of them. Well there's a lot that I like about them, I just mean – you know what I mean.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes with both hands. He was not going to mess this up. 

“My best friend is very genuine. She’s always herself, no matter what. She says whatever comes to mind, even if it's absolutely outrageous.” The group huffed out a laugh at that. “The others, well, they’re reliable, understanding, protective in a way, and accepting. If I were to make the perfect friend from scratch, I... I think I'd include all of those characteristics." He took a breath as he said the last words. A small smile played on his lips. 

It hadn't come out perfectly. But it had come out. He'd done it. He shook his head, trying to shake off the smile that was blooming on his face. He had done good. 

He really was having a good day. 

Cleared from the danger of having to speak, Bob let himself lean back and observe. A few more people spoke. One was quick, just a simple, "I think I just want someone who makes me laugh." Bob envied the simplicity of the answer. He also knew it probably barely scratched the surface of what that person wanted. 

Then, it was y/n. Again, he noticed how she held herself. She leaned against the chair but not in a dejected way, rather she looked like she felt comfortable. That constant smile was on her lips again. 

“I have the perfect answer to this question.” She began. “I mean, maybe not for everyone. But I have thought about this a lot. I want someone who cares.” She paused, surveilling the room. Then licked her lips and spoke again. “I want someone who gives as much as I do, not because they feel like they're obligated to but because they want to.” 

“Doesn’t everyone?” Leila butted in.

She let out a soft giggle, seemingly unaffected by Leila. It sounded nice. “You’re right. Let's just say I have a lot of people in my life who … don’t pull their weight. And I can be a lot. I know that. I’m sure everyone here knows that. But I try so hard. Not to impress people, but to be the best version of myself. I give and I give and I’m tired of not getting anything back. I just want one person in my life who buys me things because they remind them of me, who makes personalized gifts and surprises me with them. God knows how many times I’ve done that.” 

Bob frowned slightly. That sounded exhausting. He understood the feeling of wanting to be useful. He just …. he wasn't sure he understood what it felt like to want someone to notice. He had always wanted to fade away into the background. Yelena said he was constantly shrinking in on himself, trying to make himself appear smaller.

At the time, he had told her she was wrong. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Besides, he didn't really do much for the Thunderbolts. Not compared to everyone else. Other than washing the dishes, he always washed the dishes. 

She said she had made gifts for other people. He wondered how long that took. What had she made? Something simple, something elaborate? He didn’t know. But he wanted to. At least he thought he did. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he was curious. She seemed the kind of person to go all out. Maybe that had something to do with it. If he had the confidence he might have spoken up, pointed that out. But he didn’t. There was no way she didn’t know. She seemed intelligent. Anything he could think of, she probably thought of long before. 

And maybe that wasn't it. Maybe she'd simply never met people willing to meet her halfway. He didn't know. He wasn't sure he knew enough about her to have an opinion.

"Do you think people know that's what you want?" Gemma asked, tilting her head. She hadn't asked many follow-up questions today. Most people gave an answer, and she simply nodded before moving on. Not this time.

y/n frowned. “Sometimes … I mean, I’ve … I’ve directly told a few people. But it feels wrong. Having to tell people to care. Why can’t they just know? Why can’t they just make a conscious effort without being told to?”

The group sat in silence for a few seconds. Pondering what y/n had said. Then a man spoke up, the one who had earlier gone on a rant about selfish people, "Maybe they do care." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Some people are just... terrible at showing it. You're expecting them to know what caring looks like to you. They're probably expecting you to know what it looks like to them."

y/n nodded. “Good point. But as you said earlier, there are a lot of selfish people in this world. I worry that I attract them more than selfless people.” She laughed, but the frown on her face remained. It was odd to see her without a smile for so long, even for a few minutes. 

Maybe people just didn't know how to show they cared. Bob hadn't considered that. Had he shown Yelena he cared this week? She probably knew… Didn't she?

Before the mission, they'd sat together in the living room, laughing over a warm bowl of popcorn and stupid cat videos. She'd clasped him on the back, pulling him into a hug. "You know," she'd said, "you're really easy to care about."

He'd rolled his eyes. "I'm serious,” she’d said, looking stern. 

Maybe she did know. Maybe they all did. Maybe he was doing something right. The thought settled somewhere in his chest. It wasn't enough to believe it. But it was enough to stop arguing with it.

"Okay," Gemma said. "I'm calling time before we accidentally reinvent couples therapy. As always, next week…”

"Same time, same location!" the group chorused. Laughter followed, as it always did.

Bob liked the simplicity of it. No matter what they'd talked about that evening, no matter how messy or uncomfortable the conversation had become, it always ended the same way: the same words, the same laughter, the same feeling that they'd all be back next week. 

He found comfort in the routine. Something he hadn’t expected when he first walked through those gym doors. He wouldn’t tell Yelena that, she would laugh at him, tell him she was right, as always. Okay, maybe he would tell her. It’d make her happy. 

Minutes later, he stood outside the building. Bucky was coming to pick him up this time, but he had been caught up with some errands. Bob didn’t mind. He could wait. 

Just as he went to pull his book from his bag, a voice interrupted him. “Waiting for your ride too?” It was y/n. She stood leaning against the concrete wall. She looked tired. But not like she was sad, rather that she had used all her energy. He could understand that. She had been quite lively today. 

“Yeah..” He nodded. “My ride is running a bit behind.” 

The two fell into silence for just a second. But as y/n always did, she never let it last long. “Watcha reading?” Pointing down to the book halfway out of his bag. 

“It’s … it's just some fantasy story. It’s not all that interesting.” 

“Let me be the judge of that.” She said and held out her hand. 

He stared for a moment before pulling it fully from his bag and placing it in her outstretched hand like it was something precious. She examined the front, then turned it over. Let out a huff. Crinkled her brow. Opened the book to the page marked by his bookmark and let her eyes skim the text. 

“You’re at a good part.” Is all she said.

“You’ve read it?” He asked. 

“Yeah, a while ago. Got into this anime and when it was over I was craving more of the same. Someone recommended this. It’s a good book.” 

He nodded, playing with the hem of his shirt awkwardly. It seemed the conversation was over. She didn’t have anything more to say, surprisingly. But he wasn’t done. 

He was having a good day. 

“So you make gifts.” He murmured. She turned to look at him. Cocking her head like she was confused that he had spoken first. He would have felt the same in her position. 

“Yeah!” She seemed to regain her energy. “I made this gift a while back. A giant calendar full of these crocheted plushies that my sibling liked. It took a while but man was it a good gift.” 

“And then for my mom, I drew her dog, a little poodle, adorable thing. And I drew two versions of her, one of them standing and one of them, get this, pooping.” She snorted and almost bent over from it. “I was really proud of that. I need to draw an updated one with her little diaper, she's a senior baby.”

Bob felt odd. It was like they were friends, but he barely knew the woman standing in front of him. He knew the things people usually kept hidden. The painful things. The difficult things. But he didn't know what made her tick.

A car pulled into the parking lot, and she turned her gaze towards it. “Well this is my ride. I’ll see you next time, Bob.”

Unlike the last session, no one was available to bring him. The others were off on some mission. Something about information recall. Nothing serious. He wasn’t worried, at least that's what he told himself. 

Either way, he had to get to the school building by himself. Not a fun experience, but as Yelena said, “It’s good practice, you get out of the house, maybe you’ll see something new.” He wasn’t sure she was right, unless that something new was someone dressed in a rat costume eating pizza off the floor… 

He quickly found himself sitting in the gym once again. Taking notice of the smell this time, rubber and remnants of sweat. Faint hints of cleaning products too. 

He wasn’t the first person to arrive. Nor the second or third. Thankfully not the last either. She hadn’t arrived yet. He was glad. He could sit down amongst the others. Almost blend into the crowd. No one was there to call him out. To demand him as their seat neighbor again. 

As the minutes passed and more people came into attendance, he began to wonder where she was. He didn’t know when she had arrived at the previous session, only that she was there before he was. But now she was late. He didn’t know why he cared. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he only noticed because she was usually impossible not to notice.

Gemma broke through his thoughts. “It seems most of us are here! So since it's about time, we're going to start. This week we’re going to start off with a simple prompt: What do people assume about you that isn’t true? It could be something as simple as thinking you’re younger than you are because of your looks. Or maybe something a bit deeper, a bit more emotional, like people assume you’re okay because you don’t ask for help.”

Oh god. This is what he was dreading. A simple question with a simple answer. Except somehow it felt like the kind of question where everyone’s answer revealed everything about them. Are you confident? Will you tell everyone your deepest darkest fear or are you like him? Shy away from the question, say something akin to Gemma’s first example. He didn’t want to show that much of himself yet. But he didn’t have a choice, did he?

“I’ll start,” Gemma continued. “For me, people assume I don’t get nervous because I’m the person everyone is supposed to feel comfortable around. I’m the leader, and I need to be confident enough that everyone in the group feels comfortable. I try not to be nervous. I do. But I can’t let that stop me. I’m here to help and if I have to push through my own nerves to do it, I will. But I’m still human.”

The group nodded in response, some claps echoing off the walls of the gymnasium, some mumbling in agreement. Bob nodded too, it was a good start to the conversation. Deep but not too deep. It made sense when he thought about Gemma. Put together, but fragile on the inside. He knew what that felt like. Well, not the put together part. Bob was not put together. 

As the conversation continued and other members began to share, the doors of the room opened quietly. Bob almost ignored it, until he saw who stepped through. It was y/n. She looked much less confident than the last session. Something about the way she held herself was different. It's not that her shoulders were sagging, but they were pulled in on herself. It was almost like she wanted to shrink, to disappear. 

“y/n, it’s nice of you to join us!” The other female member of the group called out. He knew her name started with an L but he forgot what it was. “But why are you late? You told me you always get everywhere early? Doesn’t seem like that's true.” Something about her tone bothered him. It wasn’t exactly anger. More like impatience. Like y/n had failed some expectation Bob didn’t know existed.

It was y/n’s turn to smile sheepishly, to lift her hand in a wave, as she quickly took the last open chair. “It’s …. It's been a long day. I wasn’t sure I was even going to come, but here I am so woo, yay!” It felt like she was grasping for her previous attitude, like she was desperate to not feel the way she currently did. 

As the session continued, she seemed to put herself back together. The light in her eyes brightened again and her voice gained confidence, and volume. Bob found himself distracted. Not by his thoughts, not by a need to escape, but rather by her. He never thought he would see that kind of emotion on her. 

But he barely knew her. How would he have known what she’s like? Still, she surprised him. Especially with how quickly she morphed herself to fit in with the rest of them. Before he knew it, she was exactly the same as she had been the previous session, like nothing had happened. 

“Oh, oh my turn. My turn!” She raised her hand slightly, like she was in a classroom. “Okay, so I think my answer is probably obvious, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

“I just … I think everyone assumes I’m loud because I want to be the center of attention, because I want everyone to always be looking at me. But that’s not true. I … I don’t want anyone to feel excluded and if I’m always there, always talking, then no one feels left out because I make sure they don’t.”

“Sounds like you’re a control freak.” The other woman joked, L-something. Lila? Leena? No. Leila. That was it. Bob didn't like Leila. It wasn't even that the joke was particularly cruel. It was the way Leila said it. Like she wanted everyone else to laugh too.

“Oh of course.” y/n answered casually, too casually. “I’ve known I was a control freak since I was like a teenager. Perfectionist too. The terms are kinda synonymous though.” The two women held each other's gaze. y/n kept smiling, almost as if she were daring Leila to say something else.

A silence fell over the group. Even Gemma could tell something was going on but was unsure how to approach it. “Well, why don’t we move on. If anyone wants to go next, that would be wonderful.” 

"I'll go." The words left his mouth before he'd decided to say them. He hadn't meant to say anything. He just wanted the conversation to move on. To give everyone something else to look at. 

Now everyone was looking at him. Including her. Her eyebrows lifted slightly and her eyes held a curious shine. Now he had to speak. Shit. 

The question. What was the question again? His mind went blank. And everyone was staring at him expectedly. He thought back, remembering Gemma’s answer... confident on the outside, nervous underneath. Right. What do people assume about you that isn't true?

“I … I know I don’t talk much.” His gaze stayed fixated on y/n. She smiled, nodding in encouragement. “That makes people assume I don’t want to be around people. And maybe I don’t. But it’s not that I don’t like people. It’s just … I don't …” He could still lie. Take it back, say people assumed he was younger than he was. That he liked reading. Anything harmless.

Instead… “I don’t think I know how to be around people. Especially without making a mistake. I’m always thinking about how I’ve messed up the conversation… I wish I didn’t do that.” The last sentence came out so quietly he wasn't sure anyone had heard it.

Silence. Complete and utter silence. No one spoke. Why had he said that? Dammit, he shouldn’t have said that. He’d basically admitted he didn't know how to exist around other people. What a loser he must look like. 

Bob risked a glance around the circle. y/n was still looking at him. She hadn't looked away. She just smiled, small and reassuring.

"Yeah..." the old man said after a moment. "I get that." He lifted his gaze from the floor. "When I was younger, I thought like that all the time. I kept thinking everyone else knew something I didn't. Like there was some rulebook for talking to people and mine had gone missing.”

"I'd like to tell you it goes away." He gave a small shrug. "It doesn't. Not completely." A few people around the circle nodded. "You just get better at living with it. And it helps to have people around who don't make you feel broken. People who'll listen to you say something weird and just... keep talking."

Yelena. He thought of her immediately. She'd been there at his worst. Pulled him out of the literal void. She poked at him, made jokes at his expense more often than not, but she was always there. If he called her now and said he needed her, she'd probably turn the jet around without a second thought.

His chest tightened. At least he'd done one thing right.

Or maybe it hadn't been his doing at all. They were only together because of him. Because of the Sentry. Because of the Void. Because someone had decided the safest place for all of them was in the same tower. If he weren't a walking disaster waiting to happen… Would they still be there?

‘We're not going anywhere, Bob.’ Yelena had said. ‘You are quite literally stuck with us.’

He smiled at that. Yelena wouldn’t want him to feel this way. She would quell his bad thoughts, would throw on a face mask and some shitty movie. He just wished he knew if she meant it. If she would have been his friend without the other side. Before he gained super powers, when he was just Bob…

As he slowly tuned back into the conversation, he made out the last few sentences from the old man. “She knew me better than anyone. That old ball and chain.” 

The group laughed again, this time bittersweet. Bob could see the gloss over the old man’s eyes, could see him trying his best to not let the tears fall. He guessed he knew what it felt to lose someone too. That was a relief. Maybe he wasn’t alone in this group. Maybe they’d understand him better than he expected. 

Gemma stood, voice cutting through the room. "Thank you, everyone. I know some of those answers weren't easy. I’m especially thankful for those of you who don’t usually talk who contributed today.” Her eyes flicked toward Bob for only a second, but he caught it anyway. His face flushed red. “Thats the end of this session but remember everyone, next week,”

"Same time, same location!" several members of the group chimed in.

Laughter followed, light and familiar. It softened the weight that had settled over the room, a quiet reminder that no matter what had been said tonight, they'd all be back next week.

Chairs scraped against the gym floor as everyone stood. Bob's thoughts immediately shifted to getting home. He'd taken the subway here, then walked another ten minutes. It suddenly felt much farther than it had on the way in. He could always call a cab or a Lyft, but maybe he needed the walk. Time alone. Time to let his thoughts settle before heading back to the tower.

As he turned toward the exit, his gaze drifted over the others. The old man was chatting with another member. Gemma had already been pulled into conversation. Even Leila was laughing about something.

Yelena would tell him to stay. To talk to people. To stop running away the second things became uncomfortable. But she'd also know he was exhausted. Besides, the tower would be empty tonight. Just him. He never liked that.

“Bob!” He wasn't sure he'd heard it. He was too lost in his own thoughts. But when she appeared in front of him, blocking his path to the exit, he couldn't ignore her.

“You know you practically saved me.”

He blinked. “...What?”

“Back there.”

She nodded toward the room behind them. “You stopped me from physically fighting that other girl. I doubt I would have won.”

He stared at her, still confused. She continued, “I mean a control freak, who says that to someone they just met?”

Oh, that. Leila. The glare. His decision to speak. He’d almost forgotten. 

“Technically Gemma did that. I just.. Answered her.” He looked down at his feet. Getting involved wasn't supposed to be part of the plan tonight. The plan was to sit quietly, say nothing, and leave. Somehow, he'd managed to fail at all three.

“Still,” y/n said, “you’re basically my hero. So, thank you.”

Bob stared at her. Hero. The word felt too big. Too much. “I didn’t really do anything.”

She frowned. “You stopped me from making a terrible decision.”

“You weren’t actually going to fight her.”

“I was emotionally preparing to fight her.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It is in my head.” Bob didn’t know how to respond to that.

She smiled, like she knew she had won some kind of argument. “See? Hero behavior.”

As she turned to leave, she said one last thing to him, “I’ll see you next week?.”