Polybolts/Vault Squad

Tension headaches are something John has simply lived with for years. At first he wrote it off because football players, especially quarterbacks, get knocked around a lot. No big deal. He'd take something for the pain, put a cold cloth across the back of his neck and wait it out.

They followed him into military life as he held himself tighter and tighter, the muscles in his shoulders and neck coiled up like springs. Olivia would sit on his back and massage them until her fingers cramped just to try and give John some relief that didn't come out of a pill bottle.

With the super soldier serum, he can't take anything, can't find any relief from the headaches that swiftly tilt into migraine territory. John still holds himself too tightly, shoulders, neck and jaw like he's constantly bracing for an attack. It never comes, but he can't seem to unclench.

Bob picks up on it easily, reading John like he's one of his books. His smile is soft and fond as he takes John's wrist. "Come on, dumbass. You can't out-stubborn a migraine." John is brilliant in the field, but he can be endearingly dumb sometimes and Bob likes taking care of him.

John might grumble out but he also can't refuse Bob.

Bob, who dims the lights for him and turns the thermostat down, who gently bullies him into his bed filled with soft pillows and blankets and as he lays down John feels like he can finally breathe.

"You want the lavender, the lemon or the mint oil?"

John holds up three fingers and Bob brushes a kiss to his temple. He picks up the little rollerball of oil and climbs into bed with him. "Keep your eyes closed."

The oil is cooling and John groans, shifting to put his head in Bob's lap as his fingers move to rub it into John's temples and the back of his neck. His hands don't get tired and he doesn't stop until he can feel John's breathing even out and slow down as he slips into sleep.

Walker: “I was wrong.”

Yelena: “I need help.”