Chapter Text
John typically woke up early, whether that be from his time in the army or him simply being an early riser, he never knew. That morning, however, he dragged himself out of bed several hours later than he typically would. 0800 hours. Not horrible, but he would have to skip his morning workout.
It set the tone for the rest of his morning, he was peculiar about little things like early morning runs so missing it put him in a frustrated mood.
Pulling himself to his feet, he began his morning routine. Shower, change of clothes, and off to the kitchen to make breakfast for himself and the others.
He walked into the kitchen, still rubbing the remains of sleep from his eyes. Yawning, he opened the freezer and finally recalled the previous night's events when his eyes locked onto a box of frozen chocolate chip pancakes–sue him, he was about to leave for a mission, he wasn't cooking from scratch– Bob .
Last night, he had woken from a nightmare, one he had more often than he'd like to admit. The sight of his best friend limping against a concrete pillar, the sound of his sobs as he begged his friend to get up.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to stop thinking about his nightmare. He had just barely managed to calm himself down last night when he had heard a scream from further down the hall. He recognized it almost immediately to be Bob. He thought briefly about staying in bed, thought about trying to get back to sleep and letting someone more capable help the man, yet that idea was quickly shut down when he heard another heart wrenching scream. With little grace, he snatched his phone off his nightstand and ran to the younger man's room and knocked on the door as the screaming continued. He could hear Bob sobbing, taking in these horrid gasps for air.
He waited what felt like minutes but could only be seconds before he pushed the door open and was met with a pitch black room, and that should have been his first sign that something was wrong.
Bob’s room was never dark, never.
The younger man had told all of them early on that he didn't like the dark, that when he had his bad days, the dark only made it worse.
He remembered one time Bob had fallen asleep on the couch during a movie, all the lights had been turned off, and when the movie had ended, Alexi simply turned the TV off entirely.
He hadn't thought it was a big deal, none of them had, honestly. So, with Bob sleeping peacefully on the couch, all but Yelena had left. He had gone to his room and entirely forgotten about the movie night till he was awoken to a loud commotion in the living room hours later.
Bob had woken up to the dark and instantly freaked out, muttering nonsense under his breath and curling into himself as he cried. They had learned pretty quickly after that to keep at least one light on.
Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he turned the flashlight on and was immediately met with the sight of Bob deep in a panic attack. The man was curled tightly into himself on his bean bag chair, tears were streaming down his face, and his breathing was coming in these choppy, gasping breaths.
He kneeled next to the man and knew he was far beyond his depths. “Bob,” he spoke sternly, hoping for some kind of acknowledgement, only to get nothing in return. He watched as Bob curled into himself further and clutched at his chest, and began muttering again.
“Bob.” He said a little louder, his hands reaching out to shake him, but he quickly realized how poor of an idea that was. He knew how Bob was with yelling and touching during his panic attacks.
Briefly, he thought about running to get Yelena instead. She could handle him better than he could; he wasn't good at this type of stuff. He shook his head, quickly getting rid of that thought when he looked back at Bob and realized he needed help now, not whenever he got back with Yelena. The man was hyperventilating, barely getting a single breath of oxygen in; he didn't have much time to wait.
With a sigh, he raised his voice, “BOB!” He said as he grabbed the man's shoulders to shake him lightly. And shit, he was right. Bob flinched back so hard he worried he was going to hit his head on the wall behind him. He had never let go of someone so fast. Bob’s breathing worsened, but there was a new clarity in his eyes. He could work with that.
“Bob, listen, it's Walker. You’re okay. You know me, it's Walker, can I touch you?” he said as gently as he could muster, his arms carefully wrapping around the younger man in a makeshift hug. It was awkward and a little strange for the both of them, but he didn't know what else to do to help the man. He’d seen others hug Bob before and it always seemed to calm him, and it seemed to do the trick anyways, so he would make do with a little awkwardness.
He watched as the man, ever so slowly, relaxed into his arms and looked around. The room was filled with a certain darkness, past the lights simply being out. A darkness he recognized as the void. He felt guilty for the way he froze, wishing to yank his whole body away to not touch the darkness of the void, but at the same time, he was certain Bob wouldn't notice such a small detail.
He watched as Bob looked at himself as well, and that's when he realized not just the room was being taken by the void, but Bob was too. The darkness of the void had made its way up his lower body and to his shoulders, the only thing free of the void being his head.
He wondered briefly if he had gotten Yelena instead of staying to help, if Bob would have fully turned into the void, if they would all have to go through their shame rooms again. He wasn't a fan of that idea in particular, remembering how horrible it had been the first go around. He blinked the thought away and instead focused on the present. Bob was more important than some hypotheticals.
“There you go, Bobby, you’re-” he began, only to be cut off as Bob let out a heart-wrenching sob, practically throwing himself out of his arms. Shit. He knew better than to call him that nickname, especially when he was having a panic attack.
He remembered almost a year ago in Bob's shame rooms, he remembers Bob's father yelling at the younger Bob–using that damn nickname with nothing but hate–and hitting said man with all his might. He remembered later on asking Bob if it was okay if he still used that nickname, and the younger man had simply smiled and said it was okay if it was him, but never when he was having his bad days.
“Hey, hey, I'm sorry. I'm no good at this. Bob, you’re okay,” he spoke again, carefully, as if he were talking to a frightened animal. And he was, in a way. Bob was in a fragile state; any wrong move and they would be back at step one.
He tried again, wrapping his arms around the man to comfort him, waiting for the man to shove him away or any indication of being uncomfortable, but it never came. Slowly, he began rubbing circles into the man's back.
With Bob much closer to him, he could feel just how raggedy his breathing was, he could feel the tiny intakes of air as the man continued to panic. He took big, exaggerated breaths as he pressed Bob closer to him, hoping the man would follow suit, and thankfully, he did.
He sat there continuing the same breathing pattern till he felt Bob completely relax against him, sinking his face into his shoulder as he let himself relax. He felt relief, honestly.
He wasn't typically the one helping Bob through his panic attacks or bad days; that was typically reserved for Yelena or Bucky, so to say he felt completely lost on how to calm the younger man down would be an understatement.
He was a man of strength, a man who had emotions in the far back crevasses of his mind, deeply ingrained from his years in the military–the whole ‘men don't cry’ ideal. He was no good at the whole emotional support stuff, and Bob needed a lot of that.
Not to say that Bob was weak either, no, he knew from the beating they all had gotten from the younger man that he wasn't. Not to mention how strong one had to be to deal with all that trauma and still want nothing more than to help people. But Bob was…sensitive. Enough so that he felt completely lost helping him, so he let the others handle it in case he made things worse.
He waited for Bob's tears to stop, or at least he was being quiet about it now, before he spoke up.
“You want to talk about it?” He asked. He felt Bob shift in his arms, a puff of air blowing onto his shoulder as if he was about to speak, but nothing.
He felt Bob sink further into his arms, shoving his face into his shoulder. It was almost cute if Bob wasn't actively still having a mental breakdown of sorts. He quickly pushed that thought to the side, however.
He took a deep breath, then gently slid his finger through Bob's hair. He didn't know what on earth possessed him to touch Bob's hair, but he didn't regret it either. It was soft, softer than he had first thought. “You don't have to talk, that's okay.” He said, fingers scraping gently at Bob's scalp.
He decided it was fine to continue playing with Bob's hair as the man seemed to relax more at the gentle touch.
It reminded him of Olivia in a way. She loved it whenever John played with her hair, she would smile at him and sigh, all content and happy. He missed that.
“I-i had a nightmare, well, it was more like three combined into one? I'm not sure..” Bob spoke. He was almost shocked to hear his voice, it was quiet and meek, shaking in an almost pitiful way. Almost like it was difficult for him to speak. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised. He had just been screaming his heart out, not even ten minutes ago.
“You don't have to explain yourself to me, I get it. We all have nightmares, and sometimes we just need a little help coming down from them, yeah?” he said. He got it, he understood where Bob was coming from. Hell, he had just had a nightmare too, so if anything, he got it more than Bob would probably understand.
He watched as Bob seemed to think hard about something; he could watch the mental cogs in his head turn, and a frown slowly formed on the man's face. He hated watching it, the slow descent into sadness.
“I'm sorry..” Bob apologized, and god did that make him feel worse about the whole thing. There was no reason for the younger man to apologize, yet here he was doing it anyway. “I probably woke you up, you can go now, swear I'm fine..” Bob continued, pulling himself out of John’s arms–part of him didn't want to let go of Bob, but he quickly shoved that down too.
Of course, Bob had chosen to focus on John instead of himself, it irritated him. Why was Bob so concerned about his sleep schedule, or lack thereof, when he was clearly in need of someone? He had stepped in and helped the younger man, and now he was damn near being shoved out of his room. It was beyond irritating. Not to mention, he had already been awake, so there wasn't a whole lot for Bob to be worried about.
“I was already up, Bob. Like I said, you’re not the only one who gets nightmares,” he said with a huff. He wasn't exactly a fan of bringing up his nightmares, and by the look on Bob's face, he could already tell there would be questions that he just couldn't answer so he made his escape instead, “I’ll leave if you want me to, but I am here for you, just like I said earlier. I care about you, we all do.” He said before standing up.
He almost felt bad for leaving, he knew Bob was in no state to be alone, no matter what the man said. Maybe he could grab Yelena before he went back to bed? Yeah, that seemed like a good choice.
He grabbed his phone off the floor, flipping it over so the flashlight wouldn't blind him, and only got a couple of steps away before he felt a hand grasp his hand tightly. He froze, halting his steps.
“Wait! Wait, please.." Bob said as he grabbed hold of John's hand. “I, uhm, I don't like the dark..” he muttered. He could hear it in the younger man’s voice, the hesitance to reach out to him, to ask for that help. He couldn't tell if it was because of who he was–an abrasive ex-military agent–or because Bob was simply that uncomfortable asking for help from anyone. Either way, it left a bad taste in his mouth.
He watched as Bob shook his head, then let go of his hand, “You don't have to stay or anything, uh, just help me turn the lights back on?” He asked, looking anywhere besides at John.
It stung slightly. Did Bob think he was that much of an ass to say no? Why was Bob trying so hard to get him to leave when it was clear he didn't want to be alone? He pushed those thoughts down again, it wasn't important.
“Yeah, sure, we can do that,” he said, once again trying his best to sound kind despite how irritated he was feeling. Maybe he was delusional, but with the way Bob relaxed slightly, he would go ahead and say it worked. He offered his hand to the man and pulled him up with little struggle. He watched as Bob turned to the lamp in the corner, so he walked off to the string lights hanging around the room. He flicked the switch a couple of times and realized quickly the lights were not going to be coming back on, and probably wouldn't any time soon.
“Shit.” He muttered.
He turned to tell Bob what he thought when he saw Yelena quickly dart into the room, gasping slightly as if she had run a marathon.
“Jesus, Lena-” he started, but was quickly shut up.
“Not now, Walker! Bob, you’re okay, right? The power went out for the whole tower,” she spoke, looking Bob up and down with a frown. She took several steps towards the younger man and pulled him into a hug without any further words.
He watched on from the side, a strange feeling building in his chest, something he wasn't used to. He briefly wished he had been the one hugging Bob, but shook his head and pushed that thought away. Yeah, no, he was not digging into that can of worms any time soon.
“Yelena, I'm fine, I swear-” Bob began. He wanted to call bullshit, both he and Yelena could easily tell by the darkness still clinging to his skin and the red puffy eyes that he was the furthest thing away from fine.
He looked at Bob a little harder, finally realizing that though he had calmed the man down, he hadn't done much in the form of filling the void. The darkness engulfing him had lessened; it no longer covered his torso, and only covered his lower half and arms, but it still filled the room as well.
Not to mention, Bob was still holding things in, holding in hurt that he would never explain to John. It stung once again, knowing Bob refused to open up to him in a meaningful way. But maybe that was his fault, I mean, he had been the one to say Bob didn't need to explain himself? But then again, he had given the man all the time in the world to explain what had been bothering him, so why hadn't he?
“Hush, I can tell you aren't,” Yelena spoke with confidence. Anyone with eyes could tell he wasn't, and even then, she knew Bob better than he did, enough to know his signs.
“Get out of your head, Bob. Whatever you’re thinking now, it's wrong.” She said sternly. She still sounded worried, and if they’re being truthful, he was too. “The power should come back in any minute now. Bucky should be fixing it,” she said.
The lights flickered back on, and he let out a sigh of relief. He would have to give Bucky his thanks sooner rather than later for getting the powers back on. He wasn't a fan of Bob spending the rest of the night in complete darkness, it left a bad taste in his mouth–he was worried for the man, so what? They’re a team, for crying out loud, isn't he supposed to be worried?
Looking at Bob and Yelena, he realized embarrassingly late he had simply been off to the side doing a whole lot of nothing. He wasn't needed here anymore, and as much as he had felt out of his depth helping the man, he almost felt guilty for not continuing to help him.
Then again, Bob had Yelena. They were close and seeing as he had quite easily gotten pushed to the side, he wasn't needed anymore with her around.
He cleared his throat, “Okay, Bobby. Think Lena’s got this handled better than I can, call if you need anything,” he said as he made his way out of Bob’s room and back towards his own. He had felt both sets of eyes on him as he walked out, but as he crashed into his bed, he didn't care.
Who knew taking care of someone could be so emotionally taxing on him? He closed his eyes, and thankfully, sleep dragged him into a dreamless sleep.
To say last night had been awful would be an understatement. With a sigh, he pulled the box of frozen pancakes out of the freezer and began heating them for Bob.
Speaking of the younger man, he wondered what had happened once he had left. Sure, he had left him with Yelena, but the man wasn't in a good place by the time he left–maybe he should have stayed and found a way to help more.
Sure, he wasn't great at the whole emotional support stuff, but he had managed to help Bob out of immediate trouble, so maybe he wasn't all that bad? He shook his head, thinking that it wouldn't do anything for him.
He pulled eggs out of the fridge and began cooking some scrambled eggs for himself, ensuring there would be enough extra for whoever else might want them. It was then he heard the sound of footsteps slowly, almost hesitantly, padding into the kitchen.
He knew without turning his head that it was Bob once he heard the footsteps stop just shy of the kitchen, a quiet shuffling motion following as if the man was fidgeting around where he stood.
“Uh, morning, Walker,” Bob said quietly, almost a whisper. His voice was typically quiet in the mornings, but it seemed different now. That hesitance was back, the same from the night previous that had frustrated him.
Turning to look at the younger man, he immediately noticed the dark eye bags and puffy eyes, and if he squinted, he could see a red tint to Bob's eyes. Had he been crying all night?
Bob shifted around some more, his head dropping to his hands. It was then he realized he had been staring far too long to be deemed acceptable.
“Sorry. Morning, Bob. Want breakfast?” He said, turning to the microwave to pull out the plate he had already prepared for Bob.
“Oh, uh, thank you..” Bob said. There was something more to it, something he couldn't exactly place. He wanted to question Bob, to ask why he sounded like that, but Bob had simply grabbed the plate out of his hands and sat at the table.
He shook his head, then went back to his eggs, quickly finishing them up and turning the head off before they burnt, then plated them.
He made sure he turned the stove off, then took his plate and sat down at the table to eat while scrolling on his phone. Yelena constantly harped on him about how much he was on his phone, constantly scrolling through articles that said nothing but negative things about him and their little rag-tag group, but he was curious. Sue him.
“Look, Walker, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for last night,” Bob spoke up suddenly, interrupting him from his thoughts. Looking up, he noticed how nervous Bob looked now. It made him feel guilty, and a little irritated if he was being honest.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Bob,” he stated. And it was true.
“I do, though, I know you don't like dealing with my…issues. And I have a lot of them. I'm just- I'm sorry, okay?” Bob spoke.
He sighed, far louder than he needed to. He couldn't help it, though, as much as Bob was right, and it wasn't that he didn't like helping him, it was more just out of his expertise.
Not to mention, Yelena had done more help than he had, so if anything, Bob was apologizing to the wrong person. Yelena had managed to both get the lights turned back on–with Bucky's help–and console Bob, enough so to get the void to vanish, seen by his completely normal appearance in front of him. No void to be found.
“You don't have to apologize, but if it makes you feel better, sure.” He spoke. He knew it sounded a lot rougher than he intended, but he just couldn't stand to hear Bob apologize for something unnecessarily.
He watched as Bob dropped his head and instead went back to his food, so he took it as a sign that he, too, could go back to his food.
His mind couldn't help but drift back to Bob; however, there was far too much to think about. With the weirdness at their movie night, the nightmare he had last night, and now his sudden bout of apologizing, he wondered what was honestly going on in his mind. He knew the man had his episodes where he felt more depressed, but he just couldn't place whatever this was; it just felt off to him. Maybe he would talk to Yelena about it, but that would lead to teasing he didn't want to put up with.
He was once again pulled out from his thoughts this time by a clattering of dishes, and when he looked up, he saw Bob by the kitchen sink. There was a certain jitter to the way he moved, the way he all but shoved his dishes into the sink, then swiftly made his way back to his room without sparing John another glance. It almost hurt. But he hadn't seen any signs of the void crawling up Bob's skin, so he decided to leave it alone.
Looking at the clock, 0840, he decided to clean up his dishes and get a later workout in since he missed his typical early morning one. He made his way to the elevator, heading to the gym station just a couple of floors above theirs.
Once he got there, all he wanted was to work till his muscles screamed and his mind quieted. Maybe then he would stop thinking about last night. Maybe then he could get the mind of a certain brunette.