Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first day after the Void Incident was the hardest. 

None of them were really prepared for it. In the heat of post-battle sweat, the flashing cameras, and loud voices, everything sort of blurred together. One minute, the discombobulated former assassins were tightly interwoven as they escaped the inky blackness of Robert Reynolds’ dark mind; the next, they were completely surrounded by press and politicians. Yelena saw Bob begin to sulk lower and lower as everything became too loud, so she quickly and aggressively told Valentina to call off her dogs as she whisked everyone back to the tower. Despite the freshness of their banding together and how unintentional it all seemed, an upper floor of the tower miraculously had just enough bedrooms for them all surrounding a common area, kitchen, and balcony. Bucky said it must have been there since the old Avengers occupied the building. Ava wondered aloud if Valentina hadn’t been planning this all along. 

None of them had much time to ponder that thought, however, because it wasn’t eight seconds after she had voiced the theory that Bob vomited on the new, pristine black tile floor. Violently. Doubled over in pain, he sank to his knees as the team scrambled to help him. Alexei carried him to the couch, Yelena rushed for a glass of water. His already fragile face looked greyer than the lighting in the dim tower should’ve allowed, and the rest of his new acquaintances could tell that, too. Everyone was braced for something dark, something unspoken; until Bucky spoke up, breaking the tension in the room with the obvious answer. 

“Meth withdrawal,” he said with a huff. “Buckle up, Bobby.”

Bob nodded solemnly, taking a sip of water before wincing and leaning back on the couch, the room spinning around him. 

A few questions were raised from the group. “Doesn’t the serum… like… cancel that out?” “How do you know what meth withdrawal looks like?” “Wouldn’t he have experienced it… sooner or something?”

“Serum only deals with so much pain and healing, it doesn’t make you invincible; or at least, mine doesn’t,” Bucky responded. “Plenty of people were on meth during the war and especially in HYDRA… as for the timeline: Bob, how long has it been since you last had a hit?”

“Uhh. A day or two?” He managed to eek out, eyes shut tight.

The recency of it all made sense, but the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts had sort of lost the plot as everything had happened so suddenly. It was hard to wrap their minds around the fact that the span of their entrapment in the vault, their impromptu formation, and the Void Incident barely crested 50 hours. And Bob had only just received the serum before Valentina had tried to unceremoniously get rid of him. 

An alert sounded from the loudspeakers. Valentina was on her way up. “Nope, not today,” Alexei grunted, ripping a decorative bar out of the wall and wedging it in front of the elevator. 

The rest of the evening, much like the moments after the incident, blurred together. Somehow everyone had changed into something more comfortable than their bloodied, damaged tactical gear. Alexei was passed out in an armchair with a half-emptied bottle of Sobieski within a few hours, Ava had managed to phase her way through the tower and the city to sneak some takeout up for the group, Yelena and Bucky never left Bob’s side. As the hours bleeded into the evening, they made him drink regularly, cleaned up the vomit, and forced him to eat. The large, flat screen TV mounted on the wall of the common room switched through a variety of news sources, every single channel covering the same topic that was on everyone’s minds: “Who the hell were the New Avengers?”

Jonathan Franklin Walker had never felt more useless, uncertain, and numb. For a good three hours he stood perfectly still in the corner of the hallway, eyes fixated at the spot where Bob had collapsed. The others gave him a few stares after the first thirty minutes, but Bucky had hushed them away. “That happens sometimes with the serum. He’ll snap back to reality.”

And snap back, he did. Though he wished he hadn’t. After his eyes finally refocused and his muscles loosened, the only thing he felt was a pounding headache and deep hollowness that sank his stomach and locked his jaw. He forced himself to drink some water and swallow a few ibuprofen tablets, almost unconsciously stumbling over to an unclaimed spot on the sofa that didn’t already have an Avenger on it and sinking into the cushions. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the couch that was no doubt expensive and custom was very comfortable. Just the right amount of sink, John thought. 

Every few minutes, someone would ferry Bob to the bathroom or kitchen trash if he couldn’t make it in time, his pale skin covered in sheens of sweat despite the frigid room. Whenever someone suggested he pick a room to stay in and try to get some sleep, he would shut them down. “No, no; I… I can’t right now. Just want to stay on the couch.” He didn’t have to say why, everyone knew it was because he didn’t want to be alone, not after today. And no one dared leave the room, either. It had crossed John’s mind a few times, but the team (if you could even call it that) had him on thin ice already, and he didn’t want to give them any reason to dislike him more. So unmoved he stayed, wedged between an armrest and Yelena, who had Bob’s head next to her lap as he tried hard not to whimper. 

Someone (John guessed Bucky) had switched the television from the news to a 50’s sitcom, attempting to ease the mood as everyone prepared for a long night. Miraculously, despite the room shifting every five minutes, Ava had also fallen asleep like Alexei, both buried under mounds of pillows and blankets Ava had retrieved from several untouched apartment rooms downstairs. Bucky was reclined in a second armchair, eyes fluttering as he tried to stay awake, occasionally tapping at his phone and taking some calls as either Sam Wilson or Valentina or a congressman or Mel kept his phone alight every so many minutes. Eventually, once it seemed Bob had fallen asleep, he gave up and left the room, prying open the elevator and disappearing.

“I’m surprised you’re still awake,” Yelena muttered once the elevator doors shut, keeping her eyes trained on the TV and her hand on Bob’s head. 

John wasn’t. He could sleep like a rock, always had been able to, no matter where he was or what surface he passed out on. Except for nights like these. He’d only had two he could recall in recent memory: when Lemar died and when his wife left him. He wasn’t sure what made this night like those ones, but they all felt strung together somehow in the tapestry of his traumas. 

It took him a moment to answer, but after a hard swallow and heavy sigh, he leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair. “I like this show,” was all he committed to. 

Yelena scoffed and continued looking forward. “It’s your style,” she said. 

John recognized the attempt at banter but also knew she was looking for something else. The original statement was a disguised question. As in: ‘I’m surprised you’re still awake… is it because you care?’ Which was to say, care about Bob. Which he didn’t. Not really. He wasn’t even sure if he would be staying in the tower. He had a lease on an apartment, after all, and why stay in Valentina’s prison, especially if it meant living on the same floor and sharing the same amenities as this bunch of nobodies he met barely two days ago? Some of whom he’d rather not live with. Then again, he may not have a choice, he thought. If this New Avengers thing really was real and the public buys it (which they certainly seemed to), then the government may step in and force them all to be official. Which might mean having to stay in the Watchtower, if only for publicity reasons. 'Here’s our totally cohesive and well-put together team, everybody! Look, they even live together.'

So why not just walk out now? Enjoy the last few moments of freedom he had at his own place. Try to sleep one final night in his own bed, or at least have a few beers on his own couch. If nothing changes, then good, he can ease back into his old routine and try to pretend nothing ever happened. If the New Avengers does become official and his life is uprooted… then one last hoorah, he thought. 

But no attempt at raising his legs from the couch worked. Something in his mind was keeping him stuck firm where he was at. It was because he did care, at least to an extent. But why? And for whom specifically? Certainly not Alexei or Bucky, or Ava. Not really for Yelena. So… was it for Bob?

John pitied Bob. He knew how helpless he was, despite the power coursing through his veins saying otherwise. He did need to be watched and monitored, preferably by someone who wasn’t Valentina. But Yelena could handle that, and he still had the other three New Avengers. So why did John care? How much did he care?

“John?” Yelena’s voice cut through a barrage of thoughts as John looked up, not even having realized his head had been in his hands. 

“Yeah?” he responded, just a little bit too loudly in an effort to prove his confidence. Bob stirred, and the two of them looked down at him anxiously for a few moments until he settled again. Yelena shot him a glare before taking a deep breath. 

“I asked if you could grab me some water. You okay?”

John took a deep breath and finally got up from the couch. “Yeah; yeah,” he repeated, one quieter than the other. Padding softly over to the kitchen, John filled up a water glass and grabbed his own, bringing them to the couch and handing one to Yelena before knocking back a sip of his own, sitting back down.

“Not gonna change? You smell like shit,” Yelena quipped, taking a few swigs of the water and setting the glass down on the floor in front of the couch.

“Tough luck, I’ll change tomorrow before I shower.”

“It is tomorrow,” she sighed, sinking back into the couch. John looked up at an art-deco clock mounted on the wall: sure enough, it was already 3:38. 

“So it is.” John huffed, adjusting his position to recline slightly against the cushions. The two sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke up. “How do we handle Bob tomorrow?”

“‘Handle’? ‘Bob’? ‘We?’” She asked in quick succession, drinking some more of her water. 

“Well… we’re a team now, right? Bob included. He’s just going to get sicker as years of drugs work out of his system,” he reasoned. “Do you… have a plan of attack for that? Any ideas on what to do or dividing up responsibilities?”

“I’m sorry, I’m still stuck on the ‘we’ part of it,” she questioned, a ghost of a grin on her lips. “You plan on helping?”

“Look, I know you all think I’m an asshole, but I’m not conscienceless,” John retorted, trying to be sincere. “I… I do care, and I want to help if I can. Especially if we’re all going to be living here together.”

“You thought about that too?” Yelena asked softly. “Living here.”

“I mean. It makes sense, if this does end up being an official thing. They’ll want us all in the same building, looking like a team, behaving like a family. Good for press.”

“‘They’ being the government.”

“Whoever ends up running us,” said John. That was a whole different question, but he didn’t really want to think about that right now. 

“Hopefully not Valentina,” said Yelena, looking out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and off into the cloudy New York skyline.

“If it is Valentina, she’ll have a board above her. And we can always threaten her again,” John reasoned with a smile. Yelena chuckled softly, trying not to wake Bob. She paused for a few moments before speaking up again.

“So… ‘we’.”

“Feels weird, I just met you guys. But yeah, I don’t really have anyone else to go to, so why not?” he said with a meek grin. 

Yelena nodded. “Well, if we are going to help Bob, we should probably be prepared for more sickness. And mood swings. And maybe… the Void.” 

“Is that what we’re calling it?” asked John. She shrugged. “In any case, I don’t think we should leave him alone. And not with a small number of people. No less than three of us at any given time. Just in case we do have to pull him out again.”

“Sounds smart,” she said, closing her eyes.

“Sleeping already?” He joked, leaning back against the couch.

“Want some rest for tomorrow,” she answered, her voice losing energy. 

John smiled and nodded, letting her drift off to sleep. 

Despite the wall of Yelena blocking him from Bob, John leaned forward to get a look at him. Jaw clenched, forehead beaded with sweat, curled in a ball, eyes tight. Likely an unpleasant night filled with unpleasant dreams. But he hadn’t woken up since he first crashed, so John decided to take that as a win and leaned back against the couch; and before he knew it, his eyes began to shut.

“She wants us to convene downstairs.”

“No fucking way, I am not sitting in a boardroom in front of that witch and an army of reporters.”

“She said we don’t have a choice.”

“Of course we do, we own her.”

A cacophony of voices from behind the couch woke John from his slumber. Rubbing his eyes, he prepared to spring up from his spot when he noticed a weight on his thigh. Looking down in surprise, he saw light waves of brown hair and an attached, relaxed body finally loose despite the night’s turmoil. Bob. 

He huffed and rubbed his face as he began to fully wake, looking up and over at the clock on the wall. 7:30. Well, shit. 

“You better not wake him up,” Yelena called softly from the kitchen counter, noticing that John was up.

“Like you guys weren’t already about to do that,” John growled, gingerly sliding Bob’s head off his leg and rising as quietly as he could. After checking to make sure he hadn’t stirred, he deftly tip-toed into the kitchen, where Alexei and Ava sat on barstools and Bucky and Yelena leaned against the counter. “What’s the news?”

“Abridged version? Sam wants Bob, congress wants an emergency session to interrogate us, Valentina wants us for a photo shoot, and everyone else wants us dead,” said Bucky. 

Despite the list given, John’s ears heard only one item and his spine went rigid. “No fucking way! Sam doesn’t get within a hundred feet of him!” He protested, trying to keep his voice from raising. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms but didn’t question John’s sudden intensity. “Well, I’m going to meet him for breakfast. See if I can’t work things out. For the time being, someone needs to shut Valentina up cause I’m not dealing with her again. At least, not for today.”

“I’ll handle her,” said Yelena, her eyes dark.

“Alright. I’m off. Call me if you guys need anything.” Bucky grabbed a jacket from a nearby coat rack and headed for the elevator. 

“Me too. Better talk to her before she gets any ideas and comes up here,” Yelena huffed, following Bucky’s trail. “Don’t let Bob out of your sight,” she called back to no one in particular. 

Alexei dismounted the barstool with a grunt and began rummaging through the refridgerator. It took John a few moments before he realized Ava was watching him intently. 

“Got something to say?”

She sat up a little straighter on the barstool and shrugged. “Just wondering how long you’re planning on sticking around.”

“Gonna miss me?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. 

“Well, I hate to dissapoint you, but I’m not going anywhere,” John sighed, opening several cabinets until he found a mug, taking some of the freshly-brewed coffee that sat on the counter. 

“Not going back to your wife? Or working solo?” Ava asked. 

John took a slow sip of his coffee. This wasn’t hostility. She tried to look aggressive, but he could see behind Ava’s eyes and the real intent of her inquisitiveness. Not fear, necessisarily, but… hope, maybe. That what they had said to each other on the street and what they had experienced in the void would hold. That they would stick together, be a team. Be friends. John mustered an amicable smile. “Staying right here.”

Ava seemed to pick up on the intended meaning of the statement and relaxed a little, picking up her own mug of coffee and raising it. “Cheers to that.”

“Plus, we all need to stick around to keep Bob safe,” he chuckled, drinking a little more coffee. 

“Because I’m a liability?” 

John half spilled the mug as he rushed to set it down and look past Ava to the couch, where Bob had seemingly just woken up. His messy hair was matted down against his head and he sat up against an armrest, rubbing his eyes as he came to. 

“Bob! The big man is awake!” Alexei bellowed, setting down the bowl of cereal he had been eating and walking over to the couch. “How you feel: ready to tackle the day?”

“Something like that,” Bob winced as Alexei firmly patted his shoulder, softly smiling as he sat up straighter. 

“Good morning Bobby.” John didn’t realize until he had reached the couch how tenderly his greeting had come out. He sat on the ottoman next to where Bob was and awkwardly folded his hands in his lap, not sure what to do. 

“Rise and shine,” chimed Ava, bringing over a sleeve of crackers from the cabinet and handing them to Bob. “Feeling nauseous still? Dizzy?”

“A bit, yeah. Thanks,” he muttered, tearing open the sleeve and nibbling on one of the crackers. 

John watched him eat for a moment before realizing how awkward that was, and he scrambled to find something to fill the momentary silence. “Bucky’s out talking to Sam, and Yelena’s tearing into Valentina.”

“Sam. Wilson? The Falcon?” asked Bob. 

John hadn’t thought about the fact that Bob was, despite the serum coursing through his veins, a civilian. He had spent the past few years strung out, and who knows where he was during the Blip. A conversation for a different time, John said to himself.

“Yeah, that’s right. The Falcon,” he responded, almost bitterly. “He and Bucky have a long history.”

“Makes sense,” said Bob, his mouth full of crackers. 

Alexei rose from the couch and returned to his barstool next to Ava, and the two began to talk about something too indistinct for John to pick up on. No, his mind was far more preoccupied as he moved to sit next to Bob on the couch, watching him eat his crackers in silence. 

“Here, have some water,” he said, handing him his glass that had been precariously resting on the floor next to the couch. 

“Thank you,” Bob whispered, drinking a long gulp. He licked his lips and paused for a moment, staring off into space before turning back to John. “You look like shit.”

Maybe it was the sleep-deprived delerium, but Bob’s comment made John laugh. “Yeah, well, it was a long few days. I should shower.”

“Yeah, you should,” Bob grinned, leaning back. 

John rose from the couch and stretched. “Don’t go anywhere,” he winked, walking towards the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

Upon reaching the end of the hall, he realized that he was the last person to have claimed a room. Everyone else had left their suits outside their rooms, perhaps to signify which was theirs, and had already changed and showered either the previous night or this morning. Only two rooms remained vacant, one of which had an open door. He walked in, noticing his shield and a fresh change of casual clothes on the bed. Someone must’ve dropped them off for him, probably Bucky. John sighed deeply and shut the door, stripping off his suit and throwing it in a corner. 

Everything about the bedroom and it’s attatched bathroom were too pristine, too clean. It made John deeply uncomfortable. The hard surfaces, the bright lighting, the furniture that probably cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. Even on a government paycheck, John preferred to live more humbly. Or, perhaps not humbly, but… cozily. That was it. Everything about the tower was so corporate, even the bedrooms felt like a workplace. He’d have to fix that later. Maybe buy new furniture, get a rug. Hell, he could probably tear out the wood floor and install carpet himself. What was Valentina gonna do? 

John turned on the shower and hung his head under the warm water, just now fully aware of how exhausted his body was. Hypothetically, the serum was supposed to make him heal fast and have more energy, but he supposed even that wasn’t enough to remedy several sleepless days full of action. He lazily scrubbed himself off, the grime of the fights washing down the drain and leaving behind raw, scarred skin. There were some wounds not even a super soldier serum could heal.

His body autopiloted him through washing his hair, drying off, and changing. He stopped in front of the large bathroom mirror, his eyes locked onto his own. He was a mess. His hair stuck out at odd angles and his beard had scraggled out of control. The jeans he had been given felt scratchy and loose, and the unknown band t-shirt that was left for him was a size too big. He ran a hand through his damp hair, attempting to make it sit better on his head. Spotting a razor on the counter, he quickly trimmed back his beard and adjusted the shirt on his shoulders. It wasn’t much better, but at least he felt human again. 

John exited his bedroom, leaving the door open and walking down the hall back to the common area. Yelena was there, sizzling some eggs on the stovetop, and Alexei and Ava hadn’t seemed to move from the barstools. Next to them, however, was Bob, who had also seemed to have showered and changed out of his blue sweater into what appeared to be an identical red one. 

“You shaved,” he commented as John walked in, causing the other heads to turn. 

“Wooow, polished up nice,” Yelena chuckled, scrambling the eggs in the pan. “Want some?”

“Sure, thanks,” he said, retrieving his half-empty mug of coffee he had left on the counter and sitting down on the other side of Bob. He took a slow sip. “Valentina?”

“Ugh, that woman is a nightmare,” Yelena grunted, getting some plates from a cabinet. “This kitchen’s organization sucks,” she muttered under her breath before continuing her thought. “Uh, yeah; she wants us to do a bunch of photo shoots and promo shit and get new costumes and a whole bunch of other stuff.” She served up the eggs and gave everyone a plate, leaning against the counter as she ate her portion. “I think we techinically answer to the CIA now? They have a few intelligence missions lined up for us, I think they want people to think we’re operational and, you know, Avengers.”

John ate a few bites of the eggs and stared out the window. “Don’t know if I’m camera ready after the whole Captain America business.”

“I’ve never been on camera in my life. It was kind of the opposite point for me,” said Ava with a tinge of worry. 

“You will all get used to it,” encouraged Alexei with a big grin. “It will be good for you guys, and it’ll help us be real team, feel connected.”

“You’re lucky,” said John, turning to face Bob. “Get to be out of the spotlight.”

“Do I?” asked Bob, glancing over to Yelena.

“Mhm,” she nodded, her mouth full. She swallowed the eggs and then set her empty plate down in the sink. “Yeah, I told her you weren’t going to be suiting up. She protested a little but let off. You’re safe.”

Bob’s shoulders relaxed with relief and he smiled, nodding a little. “That’s… that’s nice.”

John’s eyes were trained on Bob, leaning over the counter and holding his mug of coffee like it was a lifeline. How strange it was to him that this was all happening. New Avengers? Government-backed missions again? Friends? He hadn’t been in this sort of place in a long time. It felt… nice. Warmth spread through him as he sipped the room-temperature coffee. He was still uncertain of it all, and he still barely knew these people, but something in the back of his mind thought it all might work out. Desperately hoped it would. 

As Yelena started doing dishes, Bob turned and looked at him. For a split second, John considered looking away, playing it off as an awkward moment; but he didn’t, and he didn’t know why. He held his gaze, and Bob smiled softly. A thought broke through John’s mind and he kept his voice low as the other Thunderbolts were deep in conversation.

“Not just because you’re a liability.”

“What?”

“What you had said when you woke up. About us sticking around because you’re a liability.”

“Oh,” Bob whispered, looking down at his glass of water.

“We’re not just staying here because we’re afraid… something might happen. We’re here because, well. We’re friends now, I guess,” said John, searching for the right words. 

“Friends.” 

“Friends,” he repeated.

Bob smiled once again, his eyes unfocusing for a moment before looking back to John. “Haven’t had friends in a long time. What do they even do together,” he joked, half serious.

“Guess we’ll find out,” John responded, a softness creeping into his voice that he hadn’t let out in a long time. 

To John’s mild irritation, the moment was interrupted by the sound of elevator doors and quick bootsteps. “Well, he’s pissed,” said Bucky, walking with purpose into the kitchen and standing next to the sink as Yelena finished the dishes, drying her hands throwing the towel down on the counter. 

“What did he say? Does he still want Bob?”

“W-want me?” Bob stuttered. 

Bucky looked at him softly, clearly trying to be delicate. “Sam’s concerned about your… abilities. He wanted to meet you in person, talk to you-”

“Interrogate,” Yelena cut in.

“-and, uh, keep you secure.”

“Secure. As in detained?” 

Bucky shrugged and looked as if he was preparing to lie, but then sighed and hung his head. “The Raft was brought up.”

“The Raft!?” a cacophany of voices shouted all at once.

“Wwww… what’s The Raft?” asked Bob, looking around the room at all the shocked faces.

“It doesn’t matter because I told him you’re not going anywhere and that we’re keeping you safe here,” huffed Bucky, resting his hands on his hips. “In the meantime, I’ve been ‘let go’ from Congress and Sam’s also pissed about us being called “the New Avengers”, but other than that, all clear,” he finished with a mock wide smile. 

A silence settled over the room. “The fucking Raft,” said John after a few moments. 

“Well, what matters is that we have a moment to breathe, for now,” sighed Yelena, leaning over the sink.

“You talk to Valentina?” asked Bucky. 

“Yeah, but we’re not going to escape the whole ‘public facing’ thing for much longer.”

“Two days?”

“One if we’re lucky,” she responded. 

“If that’s the case. We should probably stock more food, retrieve clothes and personal belongings… liven this place up,” said Bucky. 

“I want new furniture. This place feels like corporate hell,” muttered John. 

“I second that,” grunted Ava, getting up from the bar and refilling her water. “We should remodel a bit.”

“Let’s do what we can before they start working us to the bone,” Bucky said, grabbing a pen and paper from a drawer and starting to write down a list. “I’m going to make a shopping run, anyone want to come with?”

“I will; get out of the tower for a bit,” Ava mumbled. 

“Me too,” piped in Alexei, getting up and putting on a pair of boots he had found. 

“I’ll come along,” said Yelena. “You two gonna be good here while we’re out?” she asked tentatively, eyeing John. 

“We’ll be great,” Bob smiled. “I’m in good hands.”

The room didn’t quite know how to react to that statement, John especially. But Yelena just nodded and followed the other three down the hallway. “We’ll see you in a bit,” she called back. 

Once the others had left, Bob rose from the barstool and stumbled over to the couch. He laid down and shut his eyes tight, head propped up slightly by a pillow. 

“You alright?” asked John nervously, getting up and walking over.

“Yeah. Just dizzy still. Head hurts.”

“Want some advil?”

“No, I’ll be alright. Thanks though.”

John had started to take notice of Bob’s different “thank you’s”. Some of them were reactive, as if he felt he would be smitten by God if he wasn’t grateful. Others were polite, filled with genuine gratitude. But a few were tender and wispy, with a sweetness and soul behind them that John didn’t quite understand. This was one of those. 

“Anything for you,” he responded with equal verve, a feeling twisting his stomach that he hadn’t felt before. John sat down at Bob’s feet, propping his own on the ottoman and reaching for the TV remote. “Hope you’re not sick of sitcoms.”

“Never,” Bob grinned, his eyes still shut tight and an arm rested above his head. 

“Good to know.” John relaxed, his eyes darting between the TV and Bob on occasion. He wasn’t sure what was going on here. He didn’t quite understand why it was suddenly so important to him that he care for this random man they had fished out of a lab. But something beyond moral obligation or work duty made John want to help him, and the more he studied Bob, the more he felt like he needed to protect him. The thought confused him but comforted him all the same, a feeling of purpose filling John’s mind. And right now, that’s all he needed to understand.

Chapter Text

In the following days, the Watchtower began to feel less and less like a prison and more like something the Thunderbolts actually wanted to live in. John, Bucky, and Alexei had ripped out most of the flooring and furniture (to Valentina’s disappointment) and the team meticulously crafted a long notes document list of links to the replacements that they all agreed on. 

“You know this floor alone cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars right?” Valentina had said, forcing her way up the elevator the morning after the team had recovered from the Void Incident. 

“That’s cause you don’t know how to be smart with money. Now, it’ll only cost you a few thousand more dollars,” Bucky responded with a wide fake smile. “I texted you our list. We want everything here by tomorrow.” 

Valentina hadn’t quipped back because for starters, she knew she could make that happen, and she also knew that there wouldn’t be compliance with any of her requests if she didn’t listen to the team, too. So she opted for a curt smile and aggressively handing her phone to Mel before descending the apartment level. 

Sure enough, the next day was jumpstarted by the loud clanging of elevator doors and a barrage of boxes filling almost the entire common room. Several contractors promptly got to work replacing all the bedrooms with carpet, something the Thunderbolts wished they had been warned about before they went to bed that night. 

“Fucking hell, they scared the shit out of me,” Bucky groaned as he and all the others convened into the kitchen, all still half asleep and in various states of undress.

“Val couldn’t have given us a warning? An alarm? Something?” said Ava, yawning and immediately diving for the coffee pot. “Fuck, no one brewed anything last night? That’s roommate one-oh-one.”

“Oh, cause you couldn’t have done it?” John snapped back, rubbing his chest through his gym shirt that he hadn’t quite noticed yet was inside-out.

“Hey, maybe let’s not fight this early,” Bob grunted, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a container of yogurt. “Wait for the furniture guys to leave, at least.”

It would not take long before the floor was cleared, the renovations taking almost magically fast. Come lunch time, the six roommates (now decently dressed) were left alone, staring in a half-circle at the mountain of furniture boxes that engulfed their couch and blocked the TV from view. Bob took a deep breath, exhaled loudly, and then patted John and Bucky both firmly on the back before turning around and stumbling towards the kitchen. “Welp. Have fun, super soldiers.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re gonna leave us to unpack all this alone?” Bucky scoffed. 

“Yup, good luck. I’m going back to bed,” mumbled Yelena, spinning on a heel and disappearing down the hallway. 

Bucky, Alexei, and John turned to look at Ava, who threw her hands up and shrugged exaggeratedly. “Strength wasn’t a bonus of my quantum powers, I’m weak as shit,” she joked, walking towards the kitchen and joining Bob on a barstool with a freshly-brewed mug of coffee.

“Very funny, I’ve been hit by you before,” retorted John. 

“Calling me strong, Cap?” she called back, her face now buried in a book. 

John just rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, rubbing his beard before pulling a knife out of his jeans pocket. “Fine, guess we’ll do it ourselves.” 

Within a couple hours, the furniture started to go up and eventually, the other three relented and began to help. Yelena and Ava moved all of their purchases to their rooms and helped input where the rest of the pieces would be placed. Bob helped Alexei assemble some products from Ikea, while Bucky and John mostly handled the heavy lifting. As dinner approached, the floor began to come together and the six collapsed at the new dining table they had bought for the nook between the kitchen and balcony, an array of microwaved meals in front of them that they hungrily dug into.

“The floor’s not finished yet,” said Yelena, her mouth full of pasta. “We need to decorate it now, add our own stuff.”

“Our own stuff, huh? I don’t really have much,” said Bucky. 

“C’mon, you’ve been alive for several hundred years and haven’t hoarded shit?”

“Okay first of all, it’s been barely over a hundred years…”

“I have a ton of things from my place I’m bringing. I have a shit ton of posters that are going on every wall and none of you can stop me,” Yelena smiled. 

“Save me a wall; I’d like to get a tapestry,” Ava chimed. “Always wanted one. We can get a super expensive one, put it on Val’s tab.”

“A tapestry would be fun,” whispered Bob, barely audible.

Within the past day and a half since their initial heart to heart (if you could even call it that), John hadn’t really gotten to see much of Bob’s personality come out. He was bedridden most of the day prior with chills, the meth still working its way through his body. When he was out in the morning while everyone was picking out furniture, they had asked him if he had any requests or input. Besides some pieces for his room (four bookshelves, a dresser, a desk, and an entertainment center), he didn’t say much about the common room. “It’s your place too,” Yelena had encouraged, but he just shrugged, saying he was happy with whatever everyone else picked out. 

John had found himself becoming curious about Bob’s interests, his passions. He was still an enigma to him. The only three things that he had picked up on since meeting him were the fact he was addicted to meth, his father was abusive, and he didn’t like to show a lot of skin. Besides that, everything else was a mystery. What kind of music did he listen to? Did he like to read? Did he play any instruments? Could he do any sort of crafty hobby, like sew or whittle or paint? Was he more of an artist or an engineer? Did he have any pet peeves or strange dislikes? All these questions and more had wormed their way into John’s consciousness as he spent the various mealtimes studying Bob’s face. He was searching for a thread to grasp onto, something to understand, something to connect. He wasn’t quite sure why, but the idea of knowing Bob was something that intrigued him. And in that moment, it elicited its way out of his mouth almost involuntarily as he swallowed a sip of water and spoke up. 

“What stuff would you like to get, Bobby?”

Bob, perhaps nervously, dropped his fork in his lap and then scrambled to put it back on the table. “Um, well, I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Bullshit, there’s gotta be stuff you want, at least for your room.”

“Yeah Bob, what are you filling all those bookshelves with?” Yelena asked kindly, taking another bite of her pasta. 

“W-well, I really like to read. I have a lot of books I’ve wanted to reread or read for the first time… it's been a long time since I’ve actually gotten to crack open a real novel, let alone own one,” he said with melancholy. 

So Bob was a reader. And he used to own books, perhaps a lot of books, John thought. Finally, something to grasp onto. 

“What do you like to read?” he asked with a genuine curiosity in his voice that earned him a side-eye from Yelena. 

“Oh, I love everything. Fiction, nonfiction, fantasy, sci-fi, philosophy, history… but I guess I prefer nonfiction, actually, if I had to choose. I’ve read a lot of scientific works, I used to own this essay collection on time a while back that I really loved…”

The other five teammates all sat back in shock as Bob rambled on for at least five minutes. His eyes were alight with a passion and purpose that the others had never seen, and never really expected to see. The more he talked, the more he seemed to get lost in another world, his gaze drifting deeper and deeper into space as his smile grew wider and wider. And as it did, John couldn’t help but smile widely, too. 

When he finally finished speaking, Ava grinned and nodded her head. “Well, I also love to read, and I was planning on getting a ton of books, too. Maybe we could compile a reading list!”

“I’d love that,” Bob nodded, finishing his dinner and leaning back in his seat. “Oh, I also want string lights. For my room and for the living room. I had some in an old apartment and they really made me happy… really helped me feel comforted. I think they’d un-dull the space a bit.”

Yelena smiled and dipped her head in agreement. “String lights it is. I’ll add it to the list.”

The next day, yet another barrage of packages arrived, this time overseen directly by Valentina and Mel. As the delivery men left, the two stood awkwardly next to the new couch as the team gathered around, waiting for whatever it was they had to say. 

“Really love what you’ve done with the place; you know for spending my money, you guys didn’t do half bad,” Val jabbed, cutting through the tense silence. 

“What do you want?” Alexei grunted, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Well. Since I am being so nice in letting you guys have free range of my finances-”

“Technically the government’s,” Mel whispered, to which Val rolled her eyes briefly before carrying on.

“-its time for you to do a little something for me.”

Everyone knew this was coming. It had been the topic of several conversations over the past few days. 

“As the New Avengers, it is time for you guys to, you know. Actually be the New Avengers,” Val continued. “Everyone’s dying to meet you guys! I mean really meet you, with suits that aren’t all various shades of grey and black and faces that aren’t covered in dirt and scowls. Now. I’ve had your suits made, perfectly tailored, and I have a team of stylists and photographers waiting for you downstairs in our newly-completed studio, where we’ll do a quick little photo shoot and an interview with a carefully-selected local journal that… mm… doesn’t have any negative thoughts about you guys, and then you can come back up here and enjoy all your little goodies.” Val clasped her hands together, maintaining a grin and surveying her team.

“Now?” asked Bucky, exasperated. 

“Before you open your presents, at least,” she scoffed. “I give a little, you give a little… everybody stays happy. Of course, Bob can stay here and enjoy the spoils, since you refused to let him be apart of this.”

“And we’re going to keep it that way,” responded Yelena, her voice threateningly monotone as she stepped closer to Valentina to get in her face. She got the hint and awkwardly nodded, motioning for Mel to follow her as they left for the elevator. 

“Fifteen minutes or less: Floor 39,” Val called back as the elevator doors closed behind them.

A collection of sighs and groans filled the room as everyone loosened their tense muscles. Ava rubbed her eyes and Alexei reached for one of the smaller boxes, ripping it open and pulling out one of six bottles of Russian vodka, taking a long hearty sip. 

“Alexei, how much alcohol did you order?” Yelena asked, scratching her head. 

“So, so much.” he sighed with pleasure, burping before sealing the bottle shut and placing it firmly on the bar counter. “I love spending other people’s money.”

Yelena exhaled deeply and readjusted her hair, placing her hands on her hips briefly before turning towards the elevator. “Let’s get this over with.”

As the others filed out of the room, John stopped and turned to Bob. “You going to be okay up here?”

Bob smiled softly, and John could tell it was genuine. “Yeah, I’ll start unpacking things for you guys. I’ll play a game and organize them into piles based on which thing I think is who’s, and you guys can tell me if I’m right or wrong when you’re done.”

John chuckled, staring at Bob with a furrowed brow, but an affectionate gaze nonetheless. “You’re weird, Bob,” he said with a grin, ruffling Bob’s hair before going to the elevator alone, the others already having descended.

It wasn’t until he was ten floors down that he realized how strange that movement was. He ruffled Bob’s hair? Patted him on the head like he was a fucking puppy? Why did he do that? He didn’t have time to fully go through potential reasons before the elevator door dinged open and he was met by a barrage of chaos. 

“Do NOT touch my hair,” he heard Yelena snap from behind a partition somewhere. 

“No eyeliner, I don’t do that anymore.” Bucky.

The studio floor was sectioned off into six different cubicles where a convoy of professional stylists and makeup artists bustled about, the chaos being contributed to by at least a dozen photographers, gaffers, and grips. It’s one fucking photo shoot, John thought: how many people do you really need?

“Walker: this way please,” a young woman ushered, pulling John abruptly to an unoccupied cubicle. The room was bright and blinding, almost entirely white with camera-convenient lighting rigged all around. A large mirror hung on the wall opposite to the entrance, and several people were already intensely working inside, going over reference sketches and organizing various supplies. In the center of the cube was a barber’s chair with a suit slung over the back. John could tell it was identical to his old Captain America one, but with moodier blues and reds and not any white he could see. 

“Okay, the notes we were given said “rugged but approachable”... change into the suit and we’ll get to work,” the coordinator instructed, her face buried in a clipboard. 

John quickly changed, not really feeling much discomfort. He had been through this whole routine before during his tenure as “dime-store Captain America”, and the military definitely desensitized him to being shamed about his body. He wasn’t as cut as he used to be, but he still felt confident about his appearance. As soon as he had donned the suit and adjusted it a little, he was sat down in the chair and several pairs of scissors descended upon him. 

“Not too much; just a light shave and maybe fix some of these waves,” the coordinator told her team. “Not too heavy on the makeup; maybe add some darker spots for mock scarring and texture.”

John zoned out for most of the styling process, though he could still make out the frequent and loud complaints of his teammates through the thin partitions. The only individual he did not hear complaining was Alexei, which he supposed made sense. He, too, was once a propaganda machine, and though the camera preparation of his day was probably far different than now, John still reasoned that he was probably not as uncomfortable as the others. Maybe even enjoying himself. 

“There,” said the coordinator proudly after what seemed like the blink of an eye. “What do you think?”

John stared at himself in the mirror. Well, if “rugged but approachable” was what they set out to achieve, he certainly did feel… that. His hair was fluffier but more controlled than usual; and they had blurred out the scar on his nose, but added a new, subtle, fake one below his left eye. Not too noticeable, but definitely added something to his profile. His beard had been wrangled and was softer, but was still a nice length; he ran his fingers through it and nodded slowly. “I think you guys did great,” he said with an unsure smile. 

Mel stepped through the curtain entrance and motioned the stylists out, holding aloft a tablet. “If you’re done you can head down the hall to the open room for pictures, the others will be done shortly,” she said politely before walking back out. 

John walked out of the cubicle and towards the room Mel had directed him to, which was essentially a large rectangle with short, grey carpet and grey walls. On the back wall, a team of grips rigged up a navy-blue backdrop as several others assembled lighting setups and camera stands. Bucky was also already finished, his new suit accented with reds and silvers and his hair fluffed out and pinned back. 

“Looking sharp,” he nodded at John as the two of them moseyed over to the backdrop, looking around the room with curiosity. 

“Thanks, I like the red,” he responded.

“Oh my g… that was hell,” Yelena muttered under her breath as she stumbled into the room, wearing a new green suit with her batons attached to her thighs. “If we have to do this every day I’m shooting Val myself.”

“You’ll have to race me to it,” Ava groaned, walking in behind her. Her new suit was indistinguishable to her old one for John, but looked more polished. 

“YES! This is what it’s all about!” Alexei bellowed, frightening several grips. “Our faces on magazine covers and on boxes… ah, feel the excitement, New Avengers.”

“Not super excited, but let’s hope this does more good than harm,” said Ava, standing awkwardly in front of the backdrop as the camera crew began to take their places. Val and Mel walked in the room as the five of them chose a line order, smiling with what seemed like genuine joy.”

“Wow. You guys are soooo cute,” Val squeaked, walking up to them and brushing their suits. “This is just… wow, aren’t they perfect? Okay, listen up guys; let’s do the warmer lighting, and… Yelena and Bucky, you two switch places… perfect… okay Mel, dim the overheads…” she muttered a string of commands as the room cleared, John’s eyes focused on the central camera. 

“Alexei, less smile, more stoic,” she interjected as several shutters clicked. “Ava, pretend to look happy. Yelena, stand a little straighter…”

John wasn’t sure if five minutes or an hour had past, but after a variety of different shots and setups, Val was finally satisfied. “Okay New Avengers, down this hallway to our temporary interview setup. A falling crane had destroyed the old one,” she complained under her breath. 

Valentina and Mel led the five to a more dynamically decorated room setup, with one gold wall and a hardwood table in the center. A team of reporters were setting up laptops and notebooks, and Mel asked them to briefly leave the room as Valentina sat the New Avengers down. 

“So. We didn’t exactly have time for media training, so until we get you guys some professionals, here’s how today’s gonna go,” she said, sitting down across from them. “Each of you either has something you’ve done that the public finds… problematic, or have remained so well hidden that the public doesn’t know anything about you. In both cases, the trust department is running dry.”

“Or both,” muttered Bucky.

“Or both,” Val repeated, leaning back in her chair. “Today isn’t about winning the public’s approval, necessarily. That won’t happen unless we work really hard at it; I give it two months. No, in this interview, I just want you guys to sound as unproblematic and as approachable and confident and trustworthy as possible,” she smiled. 

“So what’s our no-talk list?” Bucky asked.

“You, Mr. Soldier, are not to talk about Hydra or the UN or Wakanda- in fact, no one mentions their problematic pasts. You get a question about it, you deflect away from it,” she instructed. “No Russian propaganda, no Red Room, no SHIELD operative business, no Latvia.”

John’s heart beat a little faster, but he remained unmoving and stone-faced. 

“What you will talk about is how much you love this country,” said Val, “You love America and the American people and you want to fight to protect this nation. You also all love each other very much and are so happy to be working together, and you are all wonderful roommates who love the Watchtower. Copy? Okay Mel, bring the reporters in.”

“Great media training,” Yelena scoffed.

A good few hours later, the New Avengers were finished with the interview and eagerly escaped the studio floor for the elevator. 

“Well. That could’ve gone better,” Yelena mumbled.

“Hey, we didn’t touch any of the forbidden talking points,” said John.

“Yeah, but we didn’t really say anything… I don't know, trustworthy either.” She leaned against the wall of the elevator, her mood clearly defeated. “We kind of just said nothing or a bunch of bullshit and I don’t think that’s enough to turn people towards us.”

“I hate to agree with Val, but she is right: it will take time,” encouraged Bucky softly. “This is one interview. We’ll have plenty of time to prove to people we mean business.”

“I don’t want to mean business, I want to mean trust.”

The rest of the ride was silent after that.

As the doors to the apartment opened, Yelena straightened her back and brushed back her hair with both hands, swallowing and forcing her face into a slight smile. John could tell that she was still dejected, but didn’t want Bob to have to see it. Speaking of which. 

Bob was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the living room, surrounded by six piles of various trinkets, decor, oddities, and other belongings the group had ordered the night prior. As the five of them walked into the room, he looked up, his face turning to a mixture of shock and elation. 

“Woah, you guys look amazing!” he grinned, rising from his position and stepping over a pile to approach them. He looked over their suits and faces for a moment before folding his hands together and taking a step back. “I guessed who got what and organized them into groups, after you guys change you can tell me what I got right and what I got wrong.”

“Sounds like a plan Bob,” Yelena smiled, this time a little more genuine. The team separated and went to their own rooms, a chorus of shutting doors piercing the air. 

John sighed and removed his suit, slightly uncomfortable with how tight it seemed to have become. He went over to the bathroom sink and washed the makeup and product from his face, patting himself dry with a hand towel and walking over to his new dresser, now fully stocked with his own clothes. Or at least, clothes he had picked out for himself. He still wasn’t in the headspace to go back to his own apartment, and wasn’t sure he ever would be. He chose a henley and a much more comfortable pair of jeans than the ones he had been given, pulling them on slowly and then heading back out into the common room. 

Ava and Alexei were already out, in sweaters and loungewear as they sat across from Bob on the floor around his piles. “Hmm… this one's definitely for me, cause those are the books from our reading list,” Ava deduced, looking closer at the stuff she had sat in front of. “These CD’s aren’t mine though.”

“This one’s mine for sure, but I don’t play guitar,” said Alexei, leaning towards a sea of liquor bottles and comic books that had a nice acoustic guitar placed on top. 

“Guitar’s mine,” said John, a smile playing on his lips as he chose to sit right next to Bob, grabbing the guitar off of Alexei’s pile and balancing it on one leg.

“You play guitar?” three voices said at once.

“Yeah. Picked it up overseas. Haven’t played in a while, though,” he responded. He fingered a few chords and strummed quietly, the notes returning quickly to his brain. 

“You’ll have to play me something sometime,” Bob cut through, hunched over and watching John experiment with a soft intensity. 

John looked up from the strings and met his eyes, nodding subtly. “Sure thing Bobby.” He then set the guitar aside as Yelena and Bucky walked quickly into the room.

“Ooh, my CD’s,” Yelena said with excitement, sitting next to Ava. “But… not my stuff.”

“I think that one’s yours, it has a few posters,” said Ava, pointing to the pile next to Bob’s.

“Ah, yes!” she gasped, getting up and sitting on the other side of Bob.

“This one must be mine,” said Bucky, sitting in between Yelena and Ava and rummaging through a small pile. “It’s got the copy of The Hobbit I requested.” He pulled a few things aside before scoffing in disgust, pulling out a tactical knife. “But this definitely isn’t mine, I’d never use a Kershaw. I’m a Gerber guy.”

“And I’d never use a Gerber, which means this is yours,” John said, going through his own pile that had conveniently been in front of him, right next to Bob’s. The two swapped knives and smiled in satisfaction, returning to their sorting. 

“What’s this, Bob?” Yelena asked, pulling a box from behind him. 

“Oh, I got a record player. I’ve always wanted some vinyls,” he said sheepishly, holding his legs and rocking slightly. 

“Neat, is that why you wanted the entertainment center? It’s got perfect square shelves,” she commented. 

“Yeah, I figured I’d start a collection,” he smiled, turning around and getting a small stack of records leaned up against the wall. 

“Let’s see: Dookie… Violent Things… Oh, Folklore… Blackout City… Polka’s Not Dead… damn Bob, you listen to everything,” she said, flipping through the vinyls. “Haven’t heard of most of these.”

“I like a lot of music, not really that picky,” he muttered, tucking some hair behind his ear. 

So he liked all music. I guess that makes sense, John thought. And vinyls. Maybe he could get him one some time? 

“What else did you get, John?” Bob asked, looking over at his pile. 

His face flushed for some reason as he looked down, and Bob pulled a book from under a set of guitar picks. “‘The Reactionary Mind’? I guess it makes sense you’d be a political reader,” he said with a slight grin. 

“Yeah, well, I uh. I’ve been trying to, um, deconstruct some of my past beliefs I’ve had,” John stuttered. 

“That’s a good thing,” said Bob. “I read this book a few years ago. Great choice.” 

For some reason, Bob’s approval made John’s chest warm. Probably because he was a prolific reader, he reasoned.

“Well, I am starving. I make us some Pelmeni, yes?” Alexei grinned, getting up and walking into the kitchen. 

The team ate dinner in good spirits, talking about their purchases and telling Bob about the interview. After they finished, Yelena connected a speaker she got and played some music while they set everything around the house. At Bob’s request, John helped him rig up his string lights in the living room, and before long the Thunderbolts proclaimed their apartment finally finished. 

“The lights really warm the place up,” John commented, resting his hands on his hips as the six friends stood behind the couch admiring the room. 

“Well, today was exhausting. I’m going to bed. Goodnight guys,” said Yelena, patting Bob on the back before leaving for her room. 

“Me too. See you in the morning,” Ava followed. 

Bucky went to the couch and turned on the TV, and Alexei cracked open his bottle of vodka and joined him. John’s eyes focused on the show they were watching for a moment before he zoned back into reality and noticed that Bob was no longer next to him, and at some point had migrated to the balcony, leaving the sliding door to the dining space open. At first, a spike of nervousness went through him, but Bob was leaning peacefully against the railing, looking up at the stars. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. He should just go to bed, right? It was eleven by this point and he was pretty tired. But some thread seemed to pull his body forward, and he allowed his legs to lead him through the sliding doors to lean next to Bob and look out at the city. 

“It’s a nice night, perfect temperature,” he commented, trying not to let the silence fester.

“Yeah, the view’s great,” Bob muttered back. 

John looked over Bob’s shadowed face for a few moments before turning towards him more. “Doing okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah, doing great,” he responded, glancing up briefly before turning back to the skyline.

“You lying to me?” John pressed further.

Bob opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it and looked down, fiddling with his fingernails. “Not necessarily. I mean, I don’t feel as sick as I did. And I didn’t really feel sad today.”

“...but…”

He sighed. “But I’m starting to… remember things. About… the incident. It’s coming back to me a bit,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes and avoiding looking up. “I haven’t had any bad dreams the past couple nights, which is a first. But sometimes I just zone out while I’m awake, and it’s almost like I’m having a dream. I remember things, and I think about things.”

“What sort of things?” John asked softly. 

“It depends.” Bob paused, turning his head slightly towards John but still not meeting his eyes. “Not really on my mood, moreso on my surroundings. If I’m with people, it’s warm, and I feel comfortable, I’ll think about… I don’t know, the future. Things I want to do, some things I hope happen. But if I’m alone, and it’s cold and dark, I’ll go through my memories. One’s I probably shouldn’t be thinking about.”

John’s eyes flitted between Bob’s and his hair, wisping in the wind and blowing in every which direction. “Wish I could say I was as thoughtful as you, but whenever I feel something I kind of just ignore it.”

“Oh I’m sure,” mocked Bob, but with no malice in his voice. John chuckled. 

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve never been good at handling my emotions.”

Bob finally looked up at John, his brow furrowed in curiosity. He didn’t say a word, but John could tell he wanted him to go on. So he did. 

“When Lemar died. My best friend, or, well, he was. It all happened so suddenly. He was chasing terrorists with me one moment, and then he took a big hit from a super soldier, and then… he was gone.”

“Latvia,” Bob whispered.

“Latvia. Wait, you know about that?”

“I read your file,” he responded gently.

“Well, yeah. Then you know.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Bob broke it. “No, I don’t know. Not really. Anyone can read a file or see footage. But they can’t be inside your brain, understand how you really felt.”

John looked down at him with surprise. “You want me to explain how I felt?”

“You don’t have to,” Bob rushed. “But if you were wanting to, I don't know, handle your emotions more, you should talk about them. Think about them. But it doesn’t have to be with me, of course…” he trailed off.

“No, no; I wouldn’t mind, I guess,” said John, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t really even gotten this far with anyone else, so I guess if my brain trusts you with the story so far, I could at least explain the rest.”

It was another few moments of silence before he worked up the courage to speak again. “The serum I took… it worked, but it also fucked with my brain. Made me crazy. I didn’t see it at the time, but as it started to wear off I realized it.”

“The serum wore off? I thought you were still super strong and stuff,” asked Bob.

“Well, the serum still worked but I think it had a temporary side effect of making me batshit crazy,” he explained. “Anyways. I panicked, and my brain went on autopilot, and the rage took over, and I just… killed a guy. For revenge. In the street, in front of dozens of people. 

“But you didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, I wanted to. I won’t lie. But would I have under different circumstances, without the chemical compulsion? Probably not. I’ve never been a super patient person, but I’ve learned self control and was pretty good at anger management. But that week was completely different.”

Bob nodded, remaining silent. 

“I think it was because of the pressure, too. Everyone wanted me to be the new Captain America. Or at least, everyone had high expectations and responsibilities associated with the role. I was so wound up and so… insecure,” he said, the word feeling bitter on his tongue, “I think I just sort of snapped.” 

The wind blew through their hair and whistled in their ears. After about a minute, John looked down.

“People hate me.”

“So convince them otherwise,” Bob said with a surprising force of confidence, standing up straighter. “Tell everyone.”

“What?”

“I don’t know: do an interview, make a press release or whatever they call it. Go on record saying to the world what you just said to me. Be honest. Explain yourself clearly. No one knows this side of you, but if they did, I think they’d trust you more. At the very least, they wouldn’t universally think you’re an asshole.”

“And how can you be sure of that?”

“Cause I used to think you were an asshole, but now I think you’re not so bad,” Bob responded with a subtle grin creeping onto his lips. 

John couldn’t help but start to grin, too. “Really?”

“Really.”

The two turned back towards the skyline, both incapable of banishing their smiles. 

“A press release.”

“An official statement, something,” said John, finishing his explanation of intent. 

A surprised Mel and a disbelieving Valentina looked up at him from large office chairs in an empty boardroom, sunlight from the following morning streaming through the large windows on a lower floor of the Watchtower. Val leaned forward and looked as if she was struggling to gather her thoughts, sighing before speaking.

“You remember that Latvia was specifically the only thing I didn’t want you to talk about?”

“And it’s specifically the one thing I should talk about,” he retorted. “We’re aiming to build trust, right? You don’t do that by being mild and sitting on your ass doing nothing. You have to work to earn that from people, and right now I’m the one person on this team that people trust the least, and this is the reason why. If I provide this explanation and people believe me, then that could do leaps and bounds for our public credibility.”

Val stared at him for a long minute before furrowing her brow and shaking her head. “Where is this coming from? Who is this skrull that sneaked into the Watchtower overnight and replaced John Walker?”

“Not a skrull, just… rehabilitating.”

“And we haven’t even gotten you guys your government-mandated therapists yet,” she joked, half-hearted. “Well, if this is what you really want to do. Mel, call a guy and we’ll see what we can do.”

“Calling a guy, right away,” Mel said slowly, still a little surprised as she pulled out her phone and made arrangements. 

John only had to wait for an hour until a team of reporters arrived in the boardroom, and during his statement Val eyed him nervously. The more he talked, the lighter his shoulders felt, and the more he noticed Mel start to smile. It was a fast statement that didn’t require many questions from his interviewers, and within a half an hour they were gone again. After they had left, John leaned back in his office chair, his brain buzzed and his heart pounding. 

“You better be right about this Walker, or else we’re letting you go from the team,” said Valentina as she got up and abruptly left the room. 

“You wish,” he called back. 

The door shut with a click and John rubbed his face, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. It wasn’t until a few moments later when he realized that Mel was still in the room, seemingly studying him from across the table. 

“What.”

“Oh, it’s just that… that was brave, and… totally unlike you,” she stammered, nervous at his almost accusatory tone.”

“And you know so much about me.”

“I mean, kind of. As Valentina’s assistant the past couple years, I’ve been in charge of all the finer details and files of all of her, um, agents. You included.” She folded her arms and looked at the table briefly before looking back up at John. “You do seem to have changed a little. I think the New Avengers are doing you some good.”

Maybe. Or maybe it was just one, who wasn’t even a New Avenger. 

“This is a good idea, if it goes well I think I’ll have the rest of your teammates do something similar,” she thought aloud, clicking a pen repeatedly as she looked down at her tablet.

“No. It wouldn’t be organic. This was something personal to me, I don’t think the others have something as necessary to say in an official statement as I did,” John responded, continuing Mel’s thought. 

“Organic…” she mumbled, gazing out into empty space. “Hmm.” 

John could almost see gears turning in her brain before a smile started to creep onto her face, and she leapt from the table with such gusto he thought it might fall over. “Well, I’ll see you later Walker, enjoy the rest of your afternoon.” And within an instant, she was gone, and he was left alone in the boardroom. 

Numbness began to hit him for the first time that day. Holy shit, I made a press release. What if it was the wrong decision? What if it blew up in his face, and the team was worse for it? Fuck, he didn’t even tell the team that he was doing this. What if they got mad? Shouldn’t he have suggested it to them first?

As he walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the apartment floor, his heart began to race and his chest tightened. He couldn’t believe it was happening, but he actually cared what the others thought. He actually felt sorry about not asking for their approval first. Fuck, we really are becomming a team… becomming friends, he thought. 

The doors opened, and waiting for him as he stepped off was Yelena, arms crossed over a loose cardigan, tapping her foot impatiently. “There’s the U.S. Agent.”

“Using my full name? I must be in trouble,” he said, trying to make the air lighter. 

But to his surprise, Yelena smiled and lightly punched him in the shoulder. “That was a good idea, the press release.”

“You already know about that?” 

“Bob told us over breakfast,” she responded. “And he’s making lunch, fried rice. C’mon.”

She led John into the kitchen, where Bob was humming and stirring a wok that made the room smell salty and flavorful. Oblivious at first as the two sat down at the bar, he eventually realized they were in the room and he smiled widely, looking directly into John’s eyes.

“Hey you. Successful statement?”

“Well, I guess we’ll see,” he mumbled, pulling out his phone. “I wonder how many platforms the journal released it to. Hey, where’s the others?”

“Bucky and Alexei are downstairs in the gym. Ava went for a walk,” said Bob. “Found it anywhere yet?”

“It’s on Reddit,” he sighed, opening a link and scrolling a little bit. “Huh.”

“What?”

“People don’t hate me.”

“That’s great!” Yelena and Bob chimed in unison. 

“Well, they don’t like me either. Everyone’s sort of confused; opinions are mixed, it seems.”

“Mixed is better than universal hate,” said Yelena, leaning over John’s shoulder. “Ah, look at that! ‘You know what, I never thought I’d like John Walker, but his story makes sense. Those knockoff serums do weird shit to people. He’s not redeemed for his actions in my book, but this is a good first step’,” she read aloud. “John, this is good!” 

“Yeah, but this guy said ‘He’s still a piece of shit. Kill him’, so.”

“You can’t win over everyone. Progress is progress,” she encouraged, thanking Bob as she handed each of them a bowl of fried rice. “Now turn off your phone and don’t obsess over the comments. It’ll eat you alive.”

“You’re right,” he mumbled, powering it off and tossing it on the counter. “Thanks for lunch, Bobby.

“Oh, you know. It was no trouble,” he trailed off, getting a bowl and sitting on John’s free side. 

The trio ate in silence for a little bit until the elevator doors opened and the sound of laughter wandered it’s way down the hall. 

“Ava, this is hilarious! You’re actually really comical,” Mel giggled, causing the three’s heads to turn. 

Ava and Mel strolled up to to the kitchen, chuckling together as they discussed something that the others clearly hadn’t caught the context of. Mostly, they were just shocked that Ava was genuinely laughing and that Mel was in their apartment. Ava sat next to Yelena and Mel stood across from them, putting down her phone and slamming her hands against the counter. 

“Okay team, impromptu media session that Valentina does not know about,” she said with purpose.

“Www-whats going on?” John asked, confused.

“So your press release gave me an idea,” she started, her eyes alight. “You said that everyone needed something more organic, something to help the public trust you, or at least like you. So, as I was heading downstairs to brainstorm, I ran into Ava, who shared with me…” she paused to chuckle. “...that she has had a secret tumblr blog for decades where she posts about the books she’s read.”

Yelena, Bob, and John slowly turned towards her in unison, to which she shrugged and threw up her hands. “What? Not much to do in captivity as a teenager but read and browse the internet, okay? Don’t judge me.”

“Point is, she made a post announcing that it’s her, and look,” Mel said with excitement, holding up her phone. “People are loving it. They feel like they actually have a personality to attach to the face! It’s only been minutes since she made the post and it’s already got like, over 5,000 notes.”

“5,000? That doesn’t sound like a lot,” said John. 

“No, you don’t understand. On tumblr, heh, that’s kind of a big deal,” Mel said, lowering her voice conspiratorily as she put her phone down once again. “So where I’m going with this, is I think you guys need to make official branded social media accounts. 

Three voices said “Huh?” all at once. 

“I mean, think about it! It’s authentic if you make it authentic, so no posts about, I don’t know. Missions or brand deals or corporate bullshit. Post selfies, and drunk rants, and random shit from your camera roll. Post about what books you’re reading or music you’re listening to, or hobbies you have,” she continued.

“Selfies?” John scoffed. 

“I’m being so serious with you right now,” Mel retorted. “This will endear you to the public, and if no one else, it’ll probably get Gen-Z at least on your side. Ava’s blog is doing great, and your statement is at least making people stop and think about you instead of just jumping to hating you. Imagine if you, I don’t know, played guitar on Reels or talked about your workout routine…”

“Could post about your deconstruction,” Bob muttered. 

“Sorry?”

“Oh, he uh, he’s into political deconstruction, recovering from the alt-right mindset, you know,” he explained.

John’s cheeks flushed, but an idea began to spin in his head. That wasn’t a half bad idea. He had no idea how social media worked besides his occasional doomscroll of Reddit and Twitter, but if he made some casual videos talking about his political past and how his mind had changed within recent years… that might make people like him more.

“That is certainly a good idea Bob,” Mel smiled. “And as for you-”

“Wait, I’m doing this too?”

“Well… I was hoping you would be at least open to the idea,” she nodded. “While you aren’t nearly as everywhere as the others are, people are very confused about you and suspicious of who you might be. It’s not a currently prevailing theory, but I have seen a few people link you to… you know, the Void. You were photographed entering the Watchtower with the others and everyone’s kind of unsure why you’re lumped in with the group.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, at least give yourself a digital footprint? Something for people to grasp onto and be less suspicious about?” 

“Isn’t a digital footprint something people don’t normally want?” 

“Trust me, for you guys, the bigger the footprint, the more people will trust you,” she chuckled, picking up her phone and scrolling through something as she thought of an idea. “Hey, how about a mental health blog or something? Or post about your thoughts on… I dont know-”

“I could do something similar to Ava, but with less comedy and more introspection,” Bob suggested. “Books I’ve read or am reading and how they’ve impacted me.”

Mel nodded and smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

“I’ve always wanted to do an Instagram,” Yelena muttered. “Cringey millennial shit like outfits I like and what bread I’m baking.”

“I think that would work well,” Mel encouraged, pocketing her phone and standing straighter. “Alright, I will get those arranged for you, set up some profiles, and I’ll be back in a jiffy. 

Later that afternoon, she sent them links and passwords for their verified accounts on various social media platforms, and the four separated for a little while into their rooms to work on a first post. John borrowed a camera setup from downstairs and recorded a YouTube video, talking into the camera about his past political opinions and the gateway process to his recovery. He intended for it to be a short bit, but an hour and a half later, he was sitting on top of a substantial amount of footage that he really didn’t feel like rewatching, so he sent the compressed video file to Mel and asked her to have it edited. He took a deep breath, ran his hands through his hair, and exited his bedroom. 

Bucky and Alexei were back, one with an open laptop and the other on his phone. Ava and Yelena were smiling as they scrolled their own devices, chatting about their new media personas. 

“People love that camera roll dump,” Ava said, eating a bowl of cereal for dinner. 

“I can’t believe you were a tumblr micro celebrity for years, this shit’s funny as fuck,” Yelena chuckled. 

Bucky looked up from his laptop and at John. “Got something of your own you wanna share?”

“Sent a YouTube video draft to Mel, she’s gonna have someone edit it,” John sighed, drained of energy. He opened the refrigerator and looked for something to eat before turning around and scanning the room. “Hey, where’s Bob?”

“In his room, probably writing,” said Yelena, not looking up from her phone. 

Something about that felt suspicious to John, so he looked in the cabinets that Yelena had reorganized and rummaged around until he found some chips and a couple apples, and he slinked away as the others talked to Bob’s door. Tentatively, he knocked softly, leaning close to it. “Hey Bobby, you hungry?”

No response. 

John’s heart began to pound as he urgently swung open the door, preparing for the worst. In the twilight of the evening settling through an open window, he saw Bob sitting on the floor in front of his bed, head hung, the lights in his room shut off. 

John breathed a quiet sigh of relief and nudged the door shut with his foot, setting down the apples on the nightstand next to Bob’s bed. “Hey man, brought you some snacks.”

Bob still didn’t answer, so he set the rest of the food down on the bed and walked over to him, taking a seat on the floor next to him and crossing his legs. Bob wasn’t crying, but he didn’t look like he was having a good time either; he sat with his head buried in his hands, rocking slightly. 

“What’s wrong Bob?” John asked softly, reaching a hand up to hold his shoulder. 

He flinched slightly, but didn’t move. After a moment, he took a deep breath and rubbed his face, finally looking up at John. “Nothing, really. I mean, nothing serious. I was just… writing about the book I’m reading like Mel suggested, and it kind of took me to a dark place.”

“Hey, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” John said firmly.

“No, it’s good for me. It was actually kind of healthy to let some of my thoughts out. I just… also started thinking about some experiences I had, you know, when I was on meth. And that kind of led to a little bit of a spiral. But I don’t want to stop, or ignore my feelings. I think it’s important to work through them.”

John nodded slowly, rubbing Bob’s shoulder a little bit before standing up. “Can I read what you wrote?”

Bob looked up at him in a daze for a little bit before getting up and walking over to the opposite side of his bed, picking up a laptop off the floor. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

In a set of motions that felt very natural, the two settled on top of Bob’s bed as John handed him the food he’d brought and Bob handed him his laptop, open to a blogpost that was dated for a half hour ago. Bob bit into the apple as John began to read, the time feeling like it was passing quickly as the words rolled on. But by the time John had finished, he looked up at the clock and saw that it read 9:42, and Bob was reading a book of his own, an empty chip bag discarded at the foot of the bed with an apple core inside it. 

“Wow,” was all John could say. 

“Wow?” Bob asked shyly. 

“I mean. You’re kind of… really smart, Bobby,” he said in almost disbelief, shutting the laptop and placing it gingerly on the nightstand next to him. 

“You sound surprised,” Bob chuckled.

“Yeah, kind of,” he responded honestly. “You’re a great writer, you should do this for a living.”

“Maybe,” he said softly. 

They sat in silence for a little bit until John realized how dark it was in the room, and he got up. “Where’s your light switch? I wanna see how the string lights look in here. I haven’t actually seen your room since you decorated it.”

“Right over there, next to the bookshelf.”

He flipped on the switch and the room almost came to life, golden glows being cast from all directions. Lights were wrapped around each bookshelf, strung through the entertainment center, and hanging from the ceiling. Every surface was either covered in books or writing supplies, and his record player stood under the window, shut and powered off. On one wall next to the bed, a poster for a band John had never heard of hung crooked, with the strand of lights coming to an end above it. 

“It’s really nice in here, feels cozy."

“Thanks,” he smiled, getting up to throw his discarded foodstuffs in a small wastebin next to a shelf. 

John’s phone buzzed, startling him and making him flinch slightly. He pulled it out and checked the notification: a text from Mel, with a link. ‘Posted it an hour ago; 80k hits and climbing!’

He tapped the link, which opened his own YouTube page with one video posted. Mel had crafted a catchy title and slimmed the run time down to 57 minutes, but upon taking a moment to scroll through the footage and pause at a few segments John saw that she had kept it mostly the same as he recorded it. It looked like some lighting had been smoothed and the footage streamlined, but no effects or clips or interruptions were added. Just John talking to the camera, as candidly as he had been able to muster. 

He opened the comment section and to his surprise, over 6k comments stared back at him. His brain buzzed as he scrolled, unable to truly focus on what anyone had been saying. “Damn.”

“Good news?” Bob asked, getting back onto the bed.

“Going viral I guess,” John answered, handing him his phone. 

He scrolled through the comments for a few minutes, stopping to read on occasion. “Wow. This is great, people are warming up to you more.”

“Yeah? I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Yeah, a lot of ex-military guys are really identifying with this. Some young men too. I think you have an audience,” Bob smiled. “Oh, and a few girls and gays think you’re really handsome.”

“That’s a plus,” John said with a slight grin. 

Bob handed him his phone back and picked a book up off of the nightstand on his side, starting to read. John considered leaving for a moment, but Bob’s bed was so comfortable and he didn’t want to upset him, so he just continued to scroll through comments for a little while until he shut his phone off and looked over. “Whatcha reading?”

“Oh, ‘The Trial’. By Kafka.”

“Heavy read.”

“Yeah, I read it in high school and loved it. Haven’t touched it since though, wanted to pick it back up.”

“Already half way through?”

“I’m a fast reader.”

“I can see that,” John teased, pulling his phone back out. 

Hours passed. John eventually got tired of scrolling and pocketed his phone for good, and when he did he saw the time. 1:26. He really should get to sleep. “Hey, Bobby?” he whispered, turning to look at him, but as he did he saw the book half-closed on his lap and Bob’s head leaned back, reclined against a couple pillows and passed out. He chuckled. “Goodnight Bobby,” he said softly, slowly and quietly rising from the bed and switching Bob’s lights off. It felt strange to him to just walk out, but what else was he going to do? He gingerly shut the door and went one door down to his own room, shutting it tight and collapsing on his bed. He didn’t even bother to change his clothes, and within only a few minutes, he was out, too. 

Chapter Text

Sunday morning began with the smell of bacon drifting into John’s room and the sound of humming reverberating off the walls. He rubbed his eyes and rolled over, realizing from his sore neck that he hadn’t shifted once from where he had collapsed the night before. Grunting loudly, he got up and rubbed his neck, yawning and stretching before looking down at his clothes. They were wrinkled and drenched with sweat, despite the cold spring evening seeping through the poorly insulated tower walls. Disgusted, he peeled them off and grabbed a change, taking a quick shower before he got dressed and walked into the common room.

When he arrived, Bob was sitting at the bar with a plate of bacon and eggs, watching something on his phone. The kitchen was empty besides him, which John was slightly grateful for. Though his night had been dreamless and deep, he still had woken up feeling on edge and slightly discombobulated. He stumbled to the stovetop and served himself some of the breakfast Bob had made, taking a seat next to him. 

“Rough night?” he asked softly. 

“Eh, not really sure. Must’ve been,” John responded, stuffing his mouth with bacon. 

He looked over and it took him a moment to register what Bob was watching. His YouTube video, almost completed. He paused for a moment to listen and then sighed. 

“Damn, that’s what I sound like?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Bob grinned, shutting off his phone and finishing his last piece of bacon. “No one likes how they sound on camera.”

“I guess. Where’s everyone else?”

“Talking to Val, I think.”

Bob got up and started doing dishes while John finished his food, remaining in silence. John’s eyes raked over Bob, for some unknown reason his chest tightening as he stared at his friend. Friend? Yeah, for sure a friend now. Only a week had passed since the Void Incident, but somehow it felt so much longer. Maybe it was the long hours, maybe it was the numerous events that had happened in between. But to John, he felt as though he’d lived several years within the past seven days. Part of that could’ve been due to the Void trip, too. Witnessing past trauma, room after room. He shook his head violently and buried it in his hands, trying to buzz off the recollection of those events faster than they could reach their way into his mind.

“You okay?” Bob asked shyly. John looked up, almost forgetting he was there. He had finished the dishes, and was now standing back from the sink, fiddling with the cuffs of his green long-sleeve shirt. 

“Yeah, fine,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes and getting up. He wanted to give more of an explanation, more of a reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come and Bob didn’t press further, at least not yet. So John filled a glass with water and took it to the couch, collapsing against the cushions. The new couch they had bought was a little less expensive than the old one they’d had, but it was big enough to seat six and was just as comfortable. He sunk back a little bit, drinking some water and staring off into open space.

Bob left him alone for a few minutes, but John could see in the TV’s reflection that he was just standing still at the sink, staring down at him with an expression of concern on his face. Finally, something seemed to click in him and he slowly padded over to the couch and sat down next to John, tucking his legs in and leaning against the cushion sideways to face him. 

He looked up and studied his eyes for a moment. “What.”

“Oh, nothing, I just. Was wondering if you were… really fine or not,” said Bob, looking down sheepishly and picking at a stray thread in his brown pants. 

“Reading my mind?” John asked with a smile. When he didn’t answer, his smile dropped. “You were reading my mind.”

“No, No!” Bob hastily clarified, slinking back a little. “I can’t… at least, I don’t think I can, you know. Read minds. But sometimes I see little flashes, or… sense things? I don’t know how to describe it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and winced, searching for the right words. “Moreso feelings, than thoughts. Like I can sense an aura, or something. Ever since the serum, you know.”

“Right.”

“B-but, I’m trying not to be invasive. Or at least, I’m trying to figure out how to control it.”

“I don’t mind,” John whispered, leaning his head back against the couch and looking into Bob’s eyes.

And he meant it. He wasn’t sure why he did. But there was something about Bob that was… trustworthy. Something John hadn’t felt about a person in a long time. He didn’t even think he could say that about anyone else on the team. But Bob’s kindness, his resolute spirit, even despite all that had happened to him and how helpless he seemed - there were just things about him that John felt like he could confide in. That he could feel safe with. And he wasn’t sure how quite to describe that, but he knew that it comforted him, which was all that mattered right now. 

Bob’s eyes slowly drifted upwards and met John’s, deep melancholy hidden behind the dark shades of blue. “I still promise I won’t do it, not intentionally.”

John didn’t know how to respond to the vow, but he nodded, grateful. 

They sat in silence for a little bit before Bob looked back over. “Going stir crazy.”

“Me or you?”

“Both? I mean, what I did sense… you kind of felt uneasy,” Bob admitted. “But I’m starting to go nuts in here, I feel like a guinea pig in a lab cage. I go to the balcony at least once a day, try to get some fresh air, but it’s not enough. I want to see the city, I don’t know. Go do something fun.”

John nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I’ve felt really pent up here too. Barely’ve seen much of the tower, let alone the town.”

“Haven’t been to the gym downstairs? Not even once?” asked Bob. 

“No, I’ve kind of let myself go this week,” he responded, half-joking. “Should probably get back into a better routine.”

“I know Bucky goes for a run every morning. Might be good for you to join him.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

The elevator doors opened. Ava and Bucky walked through, both in formal outfits. Ava slipped off her blazer and threw it over the back of an armchair, walking over to Bob’s other side and collapsing on the couch, rubbing her eyes.

“That woman is fucking exhausting,” she groaned. 

“Val? Why were you guys meeting?”

“CIA wants us to do a private interview, go into more detail about SHIELD and HYDRA,” said Bucky, walking into the kitchen. “We had a preliminary meeting but we’re going to get called back in tomorrow.”

“I hate this executive-corporate-business shit,” said Ava, getting up from the couch as quickly as she had sat down. “We need to get out of here, do something fun.”

“We were just talking about that,” Bob chimed, sitting up straighter. 

“I’m going to shower and change and then I’ll ask Mel for a car,” Ava suggested. “Yelena and Alexei are getting breakfast together or something.”

“Val might not let Bob leave,” Bucky mumbled. 

“Good thing that’s not her fucking decision,” John growled, getting up from the couch and stretching. “I’ll go ask Mel about a car now.”

“Where do we want to go?” asked Bob.

“Anywhere, everywhere. Doesn’t really matter. We can drive around and figure it out,” said John, his frown turning upward into a soft smile, earning one in return from Bob. As he turned to walk to the elevator, he thought he caught Bucky giving him a questioning glance, but he didn’t think much of it. 

It was only a few floors down until he reached where Mel’s office had been set up; she had given everyone permission to bother her whenever they needed. John didn’t think about Mel that often, she was always just an extension of Valentina to him. But as time had gone on, he noticed more of a temperate person trying to maintain control rather than a shy assistant, and he definitely was happy that she was there to wrangle the woman who was technically their boss. 

The office floor was brightly lit, and after wandering down a labyrinth of different passages and cubicles he finally reached hers. 

“Let me call you back later,” she said into her phone’s receiver as John walked in, setting it down and turning her office chair to face him. “Mr. Walker, what can I do for you?”

“Busy?” he asked politely. 

“Usually yes, but you caught me at a good time,” she smiled. “Do you have another video for me? I can send it to the videography department if you need.”

“No, actually. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind going behind your boss’ back again.”

She took a deep breath, a grin creeping on her lips as she leaned back in her chair. “What is it this time?”

“We were hoping for a car, we’re all going a little crazy up there,” John admitted.

“Technically, you guys have a car. Several. They’re all armor-reinforced and just about everything-proof. They’re in the basement garage,” said Mel.

He looked at her in disbelief for a few seconds. “Really?”

“Yeah, but Val didn’t want you to know that. She was taking bets on how long until one of you snapped.” 

“That’s very irresponsible.”

“Yeah, especially with… Bob up there.” Mel began to dig around in one of her desk drawers, glancing up on occasion. “How is he, Mr. Reynolds?”

Mr. Reynolds. John forgot he had a last name sometimes. “Uh, he’s doing great. Settled in well, seems to be happy.”

“And you?”

“The same.”

She procured a Honda-brand set of car keys from the bottom of the drawer and held them out for him, which he gratefully took. “Inconspicuous, inexpensive-looking. Privacy-glass windows, no one will recognize you or think twice about you driving down the street. Five seater, good gas mileage. Don’t go outside Manhattan.”

“Five seater?”

“You… are… planning on taking Bob with you?” she asked tentatively.

“Well, yes, that was the plan.”

“Val would be pissed if he left the premises,” she said with a tinge of worry, turning back towards her computer as a desktop notification came up. 

“He’s gotta get out, too. We can’t just keep him locked up here. Then he will go nuts, maybe worse than we can handle,” he responded with urgency. 

Mel looked at him for a few moments before taking a deep breath and letting out a long sigh. “Fine. Be back by sundown. And hey! Not outside Manhattan, you hear me? I’ll know, those cars all have trackers,” she called to him as he turned to leave. He gave her an exaggerated smile, waved, and left. 

When he got back up to the apartment level, he heard the sound of a blowdryer and the TV on, running some animal rescue show. Bob and Bucky were both on the couch, sharing a bowl of chips.

“Got the car?” Bucky asked. 

“Apparently we have a fleet,” said John, dangling the new keys. “Mel wants us back by sundown, and she said we can’t leave Manhattan.” 

“Ooh, can we leave right now?” Bob asked with enthusiasm, jumping up from the couch and dashing off to his room. “Let me get my shoes.”

He nearly took out Ava as she was walking back down the hall, hair freshly dried and tied back. “Someone’s excited.”

“You would be too if you were stuck in a prison for a week,” said John, only partially kidding. Bucky rose from the couch and donned some boots, and Ava tucked some cash in her back pocket. “Should we wait for Yelena and Alexei?” 

She shook her head. “Still out, texted me earlier and said they’d be gone til late afternoon.”

Bob came back out with some tennis shoes on, smiling widely. “I’ll drive!”

No one was sure at first if he was joking, which made him chuckle. “Kidding, don’t worry. I want to see how Bucky drives.”

“Absolutely not-” John started, but it was then that he realized Bucky had already finessed the keys off of him and was halfway to the elevator. “Hey!”

“Oh I’m sure you’re just the best driver there is,” Ava teased sarcastically as she and Bob walked past them. “Just like I’m sure your d-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he muttered, following after the crew. 

They made it to the parking garage unimpeded, a sea of concrete pillars and various cars lined up and down in rows. It wasn’t hard to find the old, slightly grungy, grey Honda in the sea of pristine black Suburbans and Mercedes, and besides the privacy glass that might turn heads, the car was as Mel had promised: the perfect vessel to fly under the radar. Or, rather, drive. 

“Shotgun,” shouted Ava, beating John by a millimeter to the doorhandle, smirking as she got in. He pretended to be in a huff and turned around, a little surprised to see Bob smiling back at him. 

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just funny to see your playful side come out, when it does.”

“My playful side.”

Bob shrugged as he opened the door next to John and maintained eye contact as he got in, his lips failing to hide a grin. John rolled his eyes and shut the door politely, going around and getting in on the other side. He found that despite the rough exterior, Mel had likely commissioned someone to upgrade the interior, which had nice leather-padded seats and some sort of advanced technology rigging the dashboard. Bucky let out a little grunt of surprise as he turned the key and the car calmly hummed to life, various screens and holograms flashing across the dashboard and windshield.

“Gonna need help old man?” Ava grinned.

“Put car in drive, pedal make car go,” Bucky retorted, shifting gears and pushing down. Luckily, there were no cars parked in front of them, because the measly four-door rocketed forward at what seemed like the slightest tap, making the jolt and slam back against their seats as Bucky hit the break. 

“Okay, a little more sensitive than most,” he mumbled, gingerly putting the car into reverse and backing slowly into position. With a little caution, he began to get the hang of it, and soon the four of them were on the road. 

The late spring afternoon skyline was dotted with clouds and full of life, birds passing by the car and the streets filled with passerby. John felt his heart flutter a little bit as the scene passed him by, the darkness and entrapment of the tower breezing away in the wind. He turned to look at Bob, whose head was leaned against the window, eyes darting about to catch whatever he could glimpse at. John smiled. It was clear that even just a little bit of scenery change was doing him good, and would probably continue to. 

They drove around town for a good half hour with no destination in mind, aimlessly turning from street to street as Ava played some indie music. Occasionally, a comment about the view was raised and mutters were spoken, but for the most part, they were all lost in the scenes of the town. It had been a solid week since they had really gotten a chance to breathe, and seeing New York post-Void Incident and recovering was refreshing for them. 

Suddenly, Bob gasped and pointed to a building next to an alleyway. “An arcade! Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve been to one. There was one by my roomie’s house a while back I used to hit every Sunday.”

“We should stop,” Ava suggested, equally excited.

Bucky looked as though he had reservations, and John was nervous about the idea. “What if we get recognized? Might not be a fun stop.” 

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to be stopping anywhere permanently. I was thinking just a loop around town, maybe grab some takeout, head back to the tower,” Bucky agreed. 

“Oh come on you boring ass soldiers, what’s the point of going for a ride if we’re not gonna stop and do something?” Ava protested. Bob nodded in agreement. 

John looked at Bob and Ava, and there was something disarming about Bob’s puppy dog eyes and almost pleading face that made his gut tighten and his throat shut. He met Bucky’s eyes in the mirror, passing along a subtle glance of surrender. Bucky took a deep breath and grinned. “Alright, but if we get mobbed it’s your guys’ problem.”

Two cheers sounded as Bucky pulled into the alley, pulling around back and stopping in a rear parking lot. The four got out and before he could lock the car, Ava and Bob were halfway down the sidewalk to reach the front. John sighed and Bucky chuckled.

“They were really pent up I guess,” he mumbled as he and John started to catch up.

The arcade was more of an adult destination, based on the vibes that John could gather walking in. Some 80’s, 90’s, and 00’s cabinets lined and filled the octagonal building, with a bar near the entrance. The lights were low and neons in every color illuminated the shadows, the sounds of crisp synths and bitcrushed beeps harmonizing in the air. The speakers above played chiptune versions of popular songs, something John found himself enjoying. Ava and Bob were already buying themselves tokens with cards they no doubt swiped from Valentina, coming back with several pouches full and handing one to Bucky and John. 

“Don’t let Bucky kick your ass at Galaga,” Ava grinned as she skipped off. 

“You know they had more games than that in the old days, right?” he called after her. He turned to John with a mischievous smile. “I can play a mean round of Mappy.” 

John rolled his eyes as Bucky walked away. 

Bob had hung behind and was awkwardly standing near John, seemingly waiting for something. 

“Shall we play a game?” John asked robotically. 

Bob groaned. “Mid movie. Pick a better reference.” He teasingly punched John in the shoulder. 

“What do you mean ‘mid movie’? War Games is awesome!” 

“Whatever. You want to play Gauntlet or what?” 

“Gauntlet?” 

Bob laughed and shook his head. “Okay boomer, c’mon, I’ll teach you.” 

Before John could react, his hand was being grasped by Bob’s as he dragged him off to an arcade booth, his skin on fire and his heart pounding. The last time someone had held his hand in any way was his wife, and before that, he couldn’t recall. Bob’s touch was so tender, his hands so soft. His chest tightened even after he had released him and stepped up to the cabinet, with John struggling to follow along with Bob’s careful instructions. He was half zoned out even as they started to play, strange thoughts and questions bouncing around his mind. Why was he feeling this way? It wasn’t anything strange. Bob was just guiding him somewhere. So why did it feel so different, so important? 

Bob had carried his ass through the level and was now looking over at him with a soft but questioning expression. “All good soldier?”

“Yeah, just not a fan of dungeon crawlers.” 

“And what is Captain America a fan of?” 

John thought for a moment before a smile creeped onto his face, and without second thought his hand reached out to grab Bob’s and drag him to a different section of the arcade, leading him to Space Invaders. 

This motion was deliberate and John knew that. It was a test, he told himself. To figure out what it was that he was feeling. Best way to solve a problem is to gather more sample data, right? He needed more evidence. But even after their hands had dropped and they began to play, he still couldn’t put his finger on what was making him feel strangely. He decided it would be best to ignore the thought instead of ruining his arcade time, so he shook the thought from his head and focused on the game. 

“Wow, you are really good at this,” said Bob, who was holding his own but falling behind John in the scores.

“I pick up on the patterns,” he responded, focusing his attention intently on the screen. 

They played for a while before Ava wandered up to them, right as Bob threw his hands up in mock defeat. 

“Okay, you’ve proved it. I think you’re the best Space Invaders player there is.”

“Nerd,” said Ava. 

“Oh yeah? And what have you been playing?”

“None of your business. Bob, care to join me at Mortal Kombat?”

He faltered for a split second, glancing back at John. But John shook his head and swallowed. “Nah, I’m gonna get some water from the bar. Have fun.”

The two skipped off and John turned to go to the bar, getting a glass of water from the attendant and sitting on a barstool. Almost out of thin air, Bucky appeared, sitting next to him and ordering a beer. 

“Having fun?” 

John nodded, unsure of where this was going. “Yeah, you?”

“Never really got into arcades much. Didn’t have the time.”

“Well, never too late for a new hobby.”

Bucky smiled and chugged a bit of the beer, spinning the barstool around and leaning back to watch Ava and Bob as they played intensely. John followed his lead, resting an elbow against the counter and drinking some more of his water. 

“This was good for them. I think Ava feels a little more trapped than she’d like to admit,” Bucky muttered. 

“She was a SHIELD prisoner for years.” 

“Yeah. And Bob, I think it's nice for him not to feel isolated.”

John nodded, his eyes fixated on Bob’s loose knit sweater. 

“You’re different.”

“Huh?” He snapped out of his trance. 

“Happier, less of a bitch.”

“Thanks for the clarification.”

“I mean it,” Bucky said seriously, eyes trained on Walker. “I don’t know what you saw in the Void, but ever since, you’ve been better. I’m not saying it wasn’t a traumatic experience, but-”

“Maybe it wasn’t what happened in the Void as much as what came after,” he retorted, looking back to Bob and Ava.

Bucky watched his gaze shift and slowly nodded his head in agreement, hiding a smile. “Good company makes a difference.”

“For sure.”

“Seems like there’s only one person’s company you really care about, though.”

John looked up and furrowed his brow, his cheeks flushing with anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Spending a lot of time with Bobby and not a lot with the rest of the team,” he responded, unphased. 

“Feel jealous?”

“I’d like to know why.”

“He’s vulnerable, okay? He needs friends more than the rest of us do,” John snapped back. 

“So you’re not just trying to prevent another incident.”

“I mean, that’s a part of it. But that’s not the only reason why.”

Bucky let him sit with that for a moment, drinking more of his beer and sighing. “John, Bob’s not a child. He’s not as weak as I think you think he is.”

“I don’t think he’s weak! I… think he’s lonely, and that loneliness is poisonous,” he protested. “What, you want me to spend less time with him, is that what you’re asking?”

“No. I want you to be honest with yourself about why you want to,” Bucky calmly responded, leaning forward on his barstool. “You said it: Bob’s vulnerable. You need to be delicate with his emotions, be careful with what kind of signals you’re sending.”

“‘Signals I’m sending’? It’s not like we’re dating,” John scoffed. 

“Well,” Bucky faltered for a split second. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t treat him with care. Like you said, he really needs friends, friends who are dependable and gentle. Just… make sure you’re staying dependable and gentle, yeah?”

John nodded, his brain cloudy. 

“You are doing better, John,” Bucky reassured, leaning back and smiling. “It’s nice to see.”

“I’m glad it’s observable.” 

The two drank in silence for a little bit before Bob and Ava caught their gaze and wandered over, both grinning. 

“Heard you can play a mean round of Mappy,” Bob teased Bucky, who took one last swig of beer before jumping off the barstool. 

“You’ll regret this.”

They disappeared, leaving John and Ava standing next to the bar. 

“Centipede?”

“You bet.”

They left for a quiet section of the arcade, sliding in their tokens and starting to play. They gamed in silence for a good while before Ava cleared her throat just as the third round had finished. 

“I misjudged you.”

John didn’t need to ask for clarification. He knew what she meant. “I think there was a lot of misjudging happening when we first met.”

“It’s sort of hard to read someone through a file, ironically. I thought you’d be easy,” she glanced over and smiled as her high score ticked above John’s. “But you’re different than I expected.”

“Which was?”

“Volatile. Angry. Kind of a dipshit.”

The fact that Ava thought he wasn’t those things was comforting to him, but John knew deep down he still was. “Maybe you just haven’t seen those sides of me enough yet.”

“Dipshit yes,” she said coyly, running a hand through her hair in between rounds. “But you’re… mellow. Kind. A good flatmate.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” John said, trying not to lose the gruffness in his voice. 

“Bob likes you.”

“Why is this a thing today?” he responded, slightly exasperated. First Bucky, then Ava. “Everyone’s obsessed with me and Bob.”

“Well, it’s just that… he’s vulnerable, and none of us really thought you’d be good at handling him,” she replied. 

“Bucky said the same thing.”

“Like I said, we all thought it.”

John hadn’t really processed the fact that everyone else had probably had conversations behind his back. He wasn’t a paranoid person by nature; in fact, he knew he was pretty bad at being aware of other people in general. He was never one to think much about what people might be saying in conversations without him or what their lives might look like beside him, unless it was publicity related. He never really gave much thought to the notion that the rest of the Thunderbolts probably had spent more time with each other than he had with any of them. Most of the past week had consisted of watching TV, talking to Bob, or decomposing in his room. Those subtle laughs and echoing whispers he’d heard on occasion were probably everyone else, talking and bonding without him. 

Did he feel jealous? Not quite. But he did start to recognize that maybe making an effort to be more included would be better. Not just for team cohesion, but because whether he wanted to admit it fully or not, he began to notice how much he craved their companionship. 

“John?” 

“Yeah, sorry, zoned out there for a second.”

“You seem to do that quite a lot,” Ava teased.

“It takes all my brain power to form a cohesive thought,” he joked back, earning a chuckle. 

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“Fuck!” John cried, losing their current round of Centipede. Ava laughed a bit before she lost too, slamming the console with her fist unseriously. 

“Well, that sure was impressive Walker,” she grinned, hitting his shoulder lightly.

“You guys beat the record or what?” asked Bob, arriving next to them with Bucky in tow. 

“Close, it looks like,” said Ava, jingling her remaining tokens in her hand. 

“We’re all out, gonna go buy some more,” said Bucky. But as he went to step forward, his eyes darkened and he halted. John looked up to see what had caught him off guard. 

By the bar, a small group had started to amass, mostly of teens who whispered to each other and pointed towards the four of them with varied expressions of surprise and enthrallment on their faces. A few phones were held aloft, the faint sound of fake shutters clicking as pictures were stolen. John’s stomach sank. Sure, they all looked good, but this might not be the best press for The New Avengers, spotted a week after a disaster they partially caused in a still-recovering New York City, spending government dollars at an arcade. Now that they noticed the crowd, the group started tentatively walking closer, with John picking up the bits “questions” and “autograph” and “the other guy”. Immediately, he turned to Bob, who started to look pale.

Fortunately Bucky also noticed this and pulled his arm as he turned around. “Back exit, alley, now.” Ava and John didn’t have to be told twice. 

As soon as they started to leave, the group got louder and began running faster. “Go!” cried Ava, and soon the four were bolting out the emergency exit and into the alley where they had parked their car. Ava and John both started to dive towards it, but Bucky protested. 

“No! If they spot us in that car, our anonymity’s fucked,” he reasoned, leading a still-pale Bob further into the alley. “C’mon! Outrun them.”

The four broke for the next city street as the crowd exploded out the back door of the arcade, more people being accumulated as they pursued. “The New Avengers!” they yelled, signaling to others on the street who cared to know. 

“Fuck, this is bad,” John muttered under his breath, trying not to run so fast as to leave Ava and Bob behind. Bucky appeared to be doing the same. 

“Down this street!” Ava called, and the other three obeyed. 

They continued to cat-and-mouse through several city blocks, with the crowd luckily getting smaller and smaller but persistently continuing to give chase. Finally, after turning into one particularly dingy alley, Bucky stopped them. 

“In here,” he instructed, throwing open an unassuming red door and pulling the other three inside. He shut it tight and ducked down, looking through the foggy transom over his nose as the crowd of people rushed past. He sighed, standing up as the other three followed suit. 

With the rush of the chase over, John took a deep breath and looked around. Bucky had pulled them into a very drab dive bar, moodily lit with antique lanterns hanging from the ceiling and market lights rigged around the moulding. The walls were lined with shiplap and the occasional hole in the crusty drywall, and a huge quantity of neons lined the back wall with posters, random pictures, and cluttered shelves covering the rest. In the mess of booths and barstools scattered about, a chipped and rough-looking bar sat at the back, with a kind, bearish sort of fellow polishing a glass behind. He was the only person to look up and acknowledge the strange entrance of the four of them, with the other half-dozen or so patrons in various states of tipsiness, stupor, or incapacitation at various booths or spots on the floor. 

“Bucky! I see you brought some friends,” the man grinned, pulling four rocks glasses from the barback and lining them in a row. “Haven’t seen you in a good week or so.”

“Howey,” Bucky nodded, moseying over to the bar and sitting down. Ava, John, and Bob exchanged questioning glances, but shrugged and decided to follow suit and sit. Despite their wornness and differing looks of disarray, John found the barstool to be quite cozy, and the warm atmosphere contrasted with the subtle spring chill from the outside. 

“What’ll it be?” the man named Howey asked, gesturing to the wide assortment of liquor around him. “We don’t got the finest in the city, but we sure do have the best place to drink it,” he chuckled. “Great company here.”

“Coke, please,” said Bob meekly. 

“Rum in that?” Howey asked, reaching back for a bottle of Doorly’s. 

Bob hesitated, but shrugged and nodded. Howey smiled and served up the drink.

“Whiskey neat,” said Ava, and Bucky held up two fingers. 

“And for you sir?” he asked, turning to John. 

His heart pounded and he looked at his boots. “Nothing for me. Water.”

“You’re the boss,” he conceded.

“C’mon, not even a beer?” Ava teased, all three of his friends looking at him exasperated. 

“I, uh. I don’t drink anymore,” he mumbled, continuing to investigate his shoes. 

A hush fell over the row as understanding seeped in. John’s breath quickened as he suddenly felt compelled to explain himself, the urge to open up to his new friends feeling especially strong.

“I… have had a bad history with alcohol. Went to rehab at 18, almost fucked up my life. Got pretty bad again after the whole Captain America thing, so I went to rehab again after Olivia left. I am officially one year and ten months sober,” he said, ending his statement off with a slight smile. 

“Wow, that’s great,” encouraged Bob. John turned to see him fixed on his face, his eyes boring into his head. The elation on Bob’s expression was clear, and he knew why. He probably felt less alone, knowing someone else on the team had struggled with substance abuse. 

Bucky patted John’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze as Howey slid the water across the bar to him. “Good steps Walker, you’re doing well,” he said kindly. 

“It’s alright, I’ll drink enough for the two of us,” said Ava, downing the glass of whiskey and motioning for another. 

John’s heart fluttered and his chest loosened. He didn’t expect judgement from his teammates, but hearing their encouragement and feeling like he shared something important made him feel… good. A little more pieced together. Like he had let down some sort of wall, even if it was a small one. 

“You know, it’s kind of nice being on a team with people who aren’t billionaires or picture perfect or impeccably presented,” she rolled on, sipping on her second glass of whiskey slowly. “Don’t think any of the original six were experimented on in a lab for decades,” she mumbled, almost bitterly. 

“Just you and me on that one, I think,” said Bucky. 

Ava gulped and waved her glass. “Did they do the shock-ice combo on you too?”

“Yeah, yeah. And the microneedling?”

Ava shuddered and had another sip. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

Despite the dark topic, the two giggled, and they looked a little lighter. 

“So wait. Bucky, you come here often?” asked Bob, his rum and coke almost gone. 

“Only spot in the city where you won’t get recognized, or where the owner recognizes you but doesn’t judge you,” he responded, surrendering his glass to Howey. 

“We here at The Black Dog take our privacy very seriously,” he grinned, opening a small industrial dishwashing unit under the bar and sticking the glass in. “No one who comes here is gonna know who you are, or care.”

“And you know who we are?” asked John tentatively. 

“Of course I know who you are, Dollar General,” he scoffed. John sighed at the joke, but Howey’s kind eyes and quick laugh made it clear it wasn’t a jab. “The mighty New Avengers! Here to save us from the greatest villain of all: our daddy issues,” he said with performative exaggeration, miming a banner motion with his hand. “Or at least, that’s what I saw. You know, when the whole Void thing happened. Damn, had two dads and both were dogshit,” he murmured under his breath lightheartedly. 

“Were they mad you ended up straight?” Ava joked.

“What? No, not two dads as in they were gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, fuck. I support everyone. But no, my two dads were not together, my two dads,” he hastily scrambled to explain. “I had a single, shitty birth father who ODed and then I got shipped off to a single adopted father who was also shitty.”

Ava nodded, trying desperately to contain a smile. “Thanks for clarifying.”

“I hope it wasn’t too bad for you,” said Bob quietly, his eyes downcast. “You know, the… the Void.”

“Nutin’ I couldn’t handle, kid,” Howey winked, returning to polishing glasses. Bob smiled softly, but John could tell behind his eyes that the melancholy remained. 

Bucky got up from his barstool, handing a twenty dollar bill to Howey and stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “Alright, I’m going to bring the car around. You guys stay put.” He headed for the door and vanished into the late afternoon. 

“You guys want anything else?” asked Howey. When he was met with shaking of heads, he grabbed a broom and whistled along to the rock music playing over the bar’s stereo system, sweeping around the occasional downed customer as he began to clean. 

The trio sat quietly for a little bit, John staring blankly ahead with his hands folded neatly on the bar. 

“What a day, huh?” murmured Ava, resting her glass against her head. 

“I know I said how much I wanted to leave the tower but I kind of can’t wait to get back,” said Bob with a tired chuckle. “That was kind of scary.”

“You handled it like a champ,” said John kindly, turning to look lazily over Bob’s crouched figure. 

John’s phone began to ring, startling him out of his tired daze. He pulled it out of his jacket, fearing it might be Valentina. Nope: Yelena. 

“Hey,” he answered, rubbing his eyes as he held the phone up to his ear. 

“I swear to god Walker you better not have killed Bob and hid his body,” the Russian accent blared across the other end. “Where the hell are you? And where’s everyone else, the floor is empty!”

“We’re at a bar, uh. The Black Dog?” He responded. 

“And you didn’t tell us? Is Bob with you?”

“Nope, I killed him. Dropped his body in the Hudson.”

“Hi Yelena!” Bob chimed cheerily, getting close to John’s phone, and by extension, his face. He felt his cheeks flush a little, but didn’t really bother to sit with the strange feeling. 

“Oh, thank god. Don’t move, I’m coming to join you guys,” she said, the faint noise of keys jingling in the background. 

“We’re staying put for now, but Bucky’s getting the car,” John told her. 

“‘The car’? What car?”

“Uh, our car. From Mel. Long story.”

“Got enough of it with that. Okay, see you soon.” The phone went dead and John pocketed it. 

“Yelena’s on her way,” he told the others. Ava nodded, finishing her whiskey, and Bob smiled. 

Some small talk and what seemed to be a long time later, Yelena and Bucky walked into the dive together as Howey returned to the bar, cracking open a beer and sipping it. “Ordering anything more?” 

“No, heading back home,” said Bucky as the other three dismounted their bar stools. Each of them left a generous amount of cash, giving him a friendly nod. 

“Well, y’all are welcome any time,” said Howey, waving them off with a grin. They all waved back and exited the bar into the alley, where their car and a motorcycle were parked side by side. 

“Did you get that from Mel?” asked Ava. 

“Bought it myself,” Yelena responded, putting on a helmet and getting on the bike. “Had to have a little fun.”

“We’ll meet you back at the tower,” said Bucky, getting in the driver’s seat of their beat-up car. 

“I’ll follow you guys,” she said, her voice muffled by the sleek, black helmet. 

The entourage set off, the sun dipping past the skyline and glaring off the windshield as they pulled out of the alley and onto the busy city street. Ava once again had control of the aux cord, and Bob looked out the window, aloof. 

John felt like asking him what was on his mind, but didn’t think the time was appropriate. Plus, he felt as though he could probably guess. He had been distant ever since Howey mentioned the Void Incident, staring off and only answering basic questions with simple answers. John knew he probably still felt personally responsible, even though technically (at least in his opinion) it wasn’t entirely Bob’s fault. Nevertheless, that guilt would probably remain with him for a long time, John thought. Maybe he could do something to help ease that. 

“Hey, you did great back there,” John said softly, the words escaping his lips before he could think about the sense of them. “I mean, with the crowd and everything.”

Bob kept his eyes trained out the window, flitting between the passing buildings. “Didn’t really have to do anything.”

“But you handled it well,” he insisted. 

He was quiet for a few moments before glancing at John. “Thanks.”

Despite wanting to say more, he kept quiet and sat back, his eyes still focused on Bob. His chest tightened. He knew that there was probably nothing more he could say to ease his mind, but it still bothered him. 

Ava suddenly paused her music and tapped Bucky’s shoulder. “What a gorgeous sunset.”

Indeed, the sky was speckled with rosy clouds, illuminated against a gradient of orange and blue that filled the sky with fiery opalite hues. John looked over and saw Bob’s eyes turned upwards, a ghost of a grin on his lips as he stared at the scenery. John smiled. 

“Pull over.” 

“Huh?”

“Up here, this overpass. Pull over.”

Bucky complied, safely pulling the car next to an empty curb on a quiet street. Turning off the engine, everyone got out and approached the railing of the overpass, looking over the skyline and the beautiful sky behind it. John was amazed at how the city looked in the golden hour hues; he had never really stopped to observe New York’s scenery despite living there for a while. 

After a few silent moments broken by the occasional snap of Ava’s phone camera, he looked over at Bob, who quickly turned away. Was he looking at me? John thought. He smiled and chuckled to himself, looking back at the sky. He could feel Bob’s gaze return to him, just out of his periphery. 

Yelena, who had stopped right behind them, got off her motorcycle and took off her helmet. “Wow, what a view.” She motioned for Bucky and Ava to get closer, getting out her phone. “Selfie time, pretend to be happy.” The four complied, but their smiles were genuine, even Bob’s. John looked over Yelena’s shoulder after she had taken the picture; he had to admit, it looked nice. They looked friendly, and the sky was certainly perfect. The girls got a few more photos before Yelena patted Bob’s back and returned to her motorcycle. “I’m hungry, let’s head back.”

John noticed that Bob was looking a little more tired, so he nodded and turned towards the car. He opened the side door for Bob, to which he smiled gratefully and got in, wordless. The others did the same, everyone quiet and worn out from the day out on the town. 

It wasn’t five minutes into the return trip before Bob’s eyes had closed and he started to slump, and to John’s surprise, leaned over and fell against his shoulder. At first, he just sort of stared at the light brown waves of hair and heaviness of Bob’s full headweight digging into his collarbone, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He didn’t dare wake him, and since the backseat was relatively small and both men somewhat tall, he didn’t look uncomfortable. And Bob’s head didn’t feel uncomfortable either; in fact, John found that it fit quite perfectly in the crook of his neck. So after a few awkward moments and checking the front seat to see if either of his other teammates had noticed, he resigned to relax back and adjust his shoulders slightly, letting his friend’s head remain. After all, it wasn’t like it meant anything, right? Bob was tired and fell over naturally. It happens. John felt his own eyes start to droop, and though he did his best to fight it, he found himself slipping away…

“They are so cute.”

“Ava don’t you dare say anything, it’s just going to cause problems.”

“I’m not going to, I just… oh shit, I think they’re waking up.”

John came to and rubbed his eyes, feeling weight being lifted off his shoulder as Bob awoke too. The blaring, bright industrial lighting of The Watchtower’s underground parking structure temporarily blinded him as he adjusted, realizing that Bucky was in the process of pulling into a spot. 

“Is that who I think it is?” grumbled Bucky, looking out the windshield as a few figures came into view. 

A very irritated-looking Valentina strolled up to the car, with Mel in tow, a nervous expression on her face. Alexei followed close, and he could hear him even through the car before he opened the door and got out. 

“They’re allowed to go where they want, Valentina, you can’t really expect to trap them in the tower forever!”

“They are a risk to society and so are you, I think I was very generous with you and Yelena going out this morning.”

“You’re not their mother, they are grown ass men and women!”

John noticed once he and the others were out and parked that Alexei had fully removed his beard, and he decided to cut the tension once they had walked up. “Nice shave.”

“Ah, you like it? Trying it out for the first time in a while,” he grinned momentarily before returning to scowling at Valentina. “You-”

“What is the problem here?” said Yelena, walking up from where she had parked her motorcycle. “You have something to say Val?” 

“Well, I was minding my own business, having a nice glass of Dom Perignon in my newly finished floor of The Watchtower, when all of a sudden, I get a notification on my phone that Yelena had posted a lovely picture of the New York skyline,” she explained with faux amicability, holding up her phone to show Yelena’s instagram to the group. Indeed, with over 50k likes, there was the image of the five of them. John reasoned that she must’ve posted it right before they left the bridge, he hadn’t really been paying attention to what she was doing. “A picture with four hazards to safety out and about, wandering the streets of the city.”

“We were just fine, I-” Bucky started before being interrupted. 

“And while I don’t think it was the smartest decision, I will admit, people are loving seeing you guys outside for a change.”

Everyone looked around at each other, unsure of what to think of Val’s reaction. “So… you’re not upset?” asked Ava tentatively. 

“Still upset, but conceding the strategy of your public appearances as being a good one. I still think it’s a bad idea to let you guys run amuk, so I will allow you all to freely leave the tower, if you agree to having your phones tracked by Mel at all times,” Val growled. 

After some looking around and nods, everyone agreed. 

“Oh, and congratulations on your relationship, Mr. Reynolds and Ms. Belova, the teenagers love you,” she continued, handing her phone to Bob. 

A chorus of shocked “What?”’s raised from the group as Yelena frantically pulled out her phone and started scrolling through comments alongside Bob.

“They think we’re dating? Just cause we were standing next to each other in the picture?”

“They’re saying it’s the only explanation for why I’ve been so close to the team this whole time,” said Bob, a mix of confusion and worry on his face. 

“That’s ridiculous, I’m aroace,” scowled Yelena.

“And I’m gay,” said Bob.

Something about hearing Bob confirm his sexuality made John’s breath quicken, but he wasn’t quite sure why. 

“I’m going to make a statement on my story, come out as aroace,” Yelena resolved with purpose. 

“Now wait just a minute,” Bucky interjected. “No one in the comments is saying that Bob was The Void?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“So you come out and say that Bob isn’t your boyfriend, then he’s just suddenly this random guy who was spotted with us on the street right after the battle with The Void and has been with us ever since. People might start to theorize and make the connection without that barrier of deniability,” he reasoned. “Maybe absolving this rumor isn’t the best idea.”

“But I don’t want to be resigned to the public thinking we’re in a relationship,” protested Bob. “I mean, no offense Yelena.”

“None taken, I feel the same way. There has to be another option,” she agreed. 

After a short silence, Mel tapped her foot and rubbed her eyes. “What if… what if Bob is the… the team’s… psychologist!” She exclaimed, the thought forming in real-time. “Yeah, Bob is the New Avengers’ psychologist, we had him called in right before the Void Incident which is why he was on the street when it happened. He’s been closely monitoring your mental health progression and has been a nice enough presence that you all invited him along on your outing today and are becoming good friends.” 

Bob laughed. “Don’t you think that’s a bit ironic? Me being the team psychologist?” 

“It’s not a bad idea,” said Ava. “Gives you an excuse to be seen in public with us without jeopardizing the knowledge of who you really are.”

Mel looked pleased that Ava agreed and gripped her tablet close to her chest.

Val nodded. “We’ll have credentials… acquired by tomorrow, and you guys can post your statements later tonight.”

Bob contemplated the idea for a little bit longer, but then nodded and agreed to it. 

“Well, I am returning to my wine. Don’t blow up the city.” Val left for the elevator with Mel in tow.

The Thunderbolts all stood next to the car for a little bit longer, rubbing their eyes and processing the conversation. Finally, Bucky motioned towards the elevator and everyone else followed along, all in varying states of energy loss and exhaustion. The whole ride up, John slumped against the back wall, his eyes focused on the floor, only occasionally glancing up to see how Bob was faring. 

Bob was gay. He shouldn’t have been surprised, not really. But still, it felt strange hearing it confirmed. He wasn’t homophobic; maybe in his younger years, he had slighted a few queer men. But he grew up and gained awareness, and despite all his shortcomings, John had tried to make an effort to be helpful and understanding of minorities, especially after becoming close friends with Lemar. No, he wasn’t upset that Bob was gay, but it did make him feel strange in a way he couldn’t quite place. Was it because he wished it had been brought up sooner? Was there a feeling of betrayal there? Maybe. He didn’t know how to parse it out and wasn’t sure if he wanted to. So he relegated to shutting out his internal monologue and watching the floor indicator slowly tick upwards until it finally reached their floor. 

“I need to eat,” said Yelena, breaking for the kitchen as Ava and Bob both disappeared down the hallway. John watched him leave, then turned to the kitchen as well and grabbed a glass for water. Yelena rummaged around in the freezer, pulling out a few frozen burritos and handing one to him, which he gratefully took and put in the microwave after he had gotten some water. 

“How did he do out there?” She asked as the TV switched on, Alexei and Bucky sitting down in their respective armchairs. 

“Good, no problems,” he responded. “Someone mentioned the Void Incident and he seemed a little down.”

“That’s a problem,” she murmured, putting in her burrito after John’s had finished. 

“It’s unavoidable. It’s gonna be brought up often. He’ll work through it, we’ll make sure of it,” said John.

Yelena nodded solemnly, staring at the microwave. 

Ava returned from her room in some loungewear, planting herself on the couch as Yelena joined her and started to eat. John wolfed down his burrito and downed some water before getting another one out of the freezer, microwaving it and then grabbing a paper towel from the counter. Silently, he slinked away from the group and went down the hall, approaching Bob’s room. The door was open and the lights were on, so he knocked on the doorframe and held the burrito aloft. 

“Brought you dinner,” he said quietly.

Bob had changed into sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt and was hunched over his laptop, typing away before looking up at John and smiling. “Thanks. I was getting a little hungry.”

“I bet.” He didn’t wait for an invitation, sitting down on his bed and handing him the burrito. Bob took it, proofreading his post draft as he ate. “Got a lot of followers?”

“Climing,” he mumbled in between bites. 

“Nice. I’m sure you’ll get more, you have great things to say.”

Bob didn’t answer, but John saw him smile. 

As Bob finished eating and hit the post button, an idea formed in John’s head. “Come on, let’s watch TV with everyone.”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of tired,” he said quietly.

“You can fall asleep on the couch, Alexei does all the time. It’ll be good for you, good for us. Spend some time with the team.”

Bob studied John’s face for a few moments before nodding slowly. “Okay.”

“You go on out there, I’m gonna change really quick.”

The two left Bob’s room and John went to his, putting on something more comfortable before heading back into the dark living room. Someone had chosen Legally Blonde as the movie of the evening, and Bob was sitting with Ava on one side and an empty spot on the other, which John decided to take. Settling back into the couch, a chorus of laughs raised as the Thunderbolts relaxed for the evening, levity hanging over the room as the evening hours waned.