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A sob wracks through your body, you're trying to hold it in, to shove it down, but it slips out and shakes you as you cry out. You grasp a hand over your mouth, cringing at the wetness of tears and saliva. Your chest aches and you grasp at it with your other hand, desperately clinging to the fabric there.
If you were anyone else, maybe you'd think “The Void” had a hand in this, but you knew better, you knew this was all you, all your own grief, your own void, and not something you could pin on Bob struggling to regulate his emotions.
You curl tighter into yourself on your bed, trying to muffle the cries that your body lets out against your own will. You feel like you're being quiet enough, crying softly enough even as you feel your body tremble harshly, but soon enough there's a knock on your door, and then it's creaking open, not giving much time for you to even answer.
Usually it's Yelena, coming worriedly to check on you, to soothe you back to sleep, to hold you close as whatever it is that's plaguing you, that's plaguing you all, settles into the background. Usually it's Yelena, but you know she's supposed to be out on a mission for a few more days. So you sniffle, try to compose yourself and regulate your breathing, try to shove it all down, the pain, the grief, all of it. You start to shakily sit up, looking towards the door as you scrub your face. “Y-yelena?” Your voice croaks out, rough and sore. The figure that meets your gaze is definitely not Yelena. It's large and imposing, only for a moment before it's stepping closer, before moonlight hits his worried face, his pinched brows, his hands twisting together in front of him. “Bob?” You ask in a smaller voice.
“Hey- Sorry, I-I know Yelena isn't home and she usually helps you, helps us…” He trails off, the offer, the question, hanging silently in the air. You stare at him, for a few seconds, trying to take a normal breath but your ribs just keep shaking harshly, stuttering with every inhale, coming in too sharp, sharp like everything else inside you, stabbing in your ribs, your stomach, aching through your head. He doesn't wait for you to give a verbal answer, he brings himself closer and sits on your bed, rubbing your back with a shaky hand. You only start crying harder, body shaking harder and it causes him to recoil, unsure if he's helping or hurting.
You reach out weakly for him, unable to bring yourself to speak, to ask with words for help, everything just hurts so much and all you do manage is a wrecked, “Please…” It makes you feel like a little kid, you feel so small, so helpless as your hands tremble, grasping towards him desperately.
He pulls you close, tugging you into his lap as you kick your blanket out of the way so you can curl more easily into him. Yelena can't hold you in her lap, try as she might to hold anyone in her lap for that matter, quite like Bob can. It's an experience wholly new to you and so comforting and safe but there's still so much more in you that you need to cry out, clinging desperately onto his sweater as you press your face into his shoulder. He rocks you carefully, likely trying to calm himself as well as you as he rubs your back, squeezing you close. You can feel wet drops falling into your hair and you realize he's crying too. Whether from his own pain or sharing with yours you can't tell, maybe you're both just missing Yelena and her soothing voice, her leaving triggering something in the both of you even with knowing she's going to come back, she always comes back.
You stay curled into him for a long time, not fully sure how much time is passing, or even what time it is. You do know that you are growing exhausted, grip on him loosening and breathing slowing, only having the occasional hiccup now. Bob moves slowly to let you go, his own grip growing loose as he pulls back to look down at you, a hand slowly moving to brush away your tears, to comb your hair out of your face. It feels so tender it makes your heart hurt again, your lip trembling ever so slightly. “Don't start crying again.” He murmurs, sounding as exhausted as you feel, but you can tell it comes from a genuine place of care and not annoyance with your emotions. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours.
“I miss Yelena…” You speak up softly, bobs lips twitching downward and he gives a soft nod, just once, rubbing your foreheads together as he does so.
“Me too…” His voice is weak and now it's your turn to reach a hesitant hand up to wipe away his tears, using the sleeve of your sweatshirt to do so. His eyes crack open to look down at you and it feels intense, more intense than any look you've ever shared with Yelena. Briefly you wonder if he looks at her that way too, something about the thought makes your stomach twist. “Are you feeling better?” He asks into the air between the two of you.
You close your eyes, taking a slow, steady breath in and out, trying to rid your chest of the last of its tremors. “I feel like I just ran a marathon…” That gets a small chuckle out of Bob and he pulls back from the small bubble the two of you had been in, popping it as he did, and taking his own deep breath.
“Y-yeah… I get that…” You get the feeling he wants to leave and it makes the loose grip you'd had twitch, clenching carefully at his shirt before telling yourself to let go, to not be so clingy, you didn't normally comfort each other like this and it was possible he was starting to feel uncomfortable, or at the very least exhausted and ready to go back to his own room. You looked away, unable to look at him anymore as you tried to talk yourself out of having a second spiral but you were still so raw. His hand rubbing your back brings you quickly back to him, eyes glancing up nervously. “Do you wanna go watch TV?” He offers gently and it makes you feel so soft and fuzzy, so you give him a small nod.
You go to slip off his lap so you can walk to the living room but before you can his own grip tightens and he picks you up, easily carrying you as if you were nothing more than the groceries. You make a tiny startled noise and cling onto him ever tighter yet, face pressing into him. “Oh god please don't drop me.” You murmur against his skin, knowing full well he has picked up Alexei and carried him, as a joke and to prove a point, with no problem.
“I won't, promise.” There's something in his voice you can't decipher, that you're too tired to decipher and tired enough to chalk it up to your imagination.
The journey to the couch is uneventful, Bob sets you on it carefully and then grabs the remote and hands it to you. “Do you want tea?” He asks, already heading to the kitchen. “Please” you call after him, trying to be soft spoken so as not to wake anyone else. Ava was out on the mission with Yelena but that left the rest of the crew still hanging around. It was likely they were all still up anyways, Bucky likely working out, Alexei watching a movie with a bottle of vodka in his room on his tiny television that hardly worked, and John was probably running on the treadmill, also exercising his emotions out.
Bob returns after a few minutes with two mugs of chamomile tea, a little bit of honey and a touch of milk in each. He hands one to you and sits next to you, close enough to feel his warmth but not quite touching. You've pulled something up on the TV, some late night channel playing reruns of old cartoons, keeping the volume down low enough just to hear it, more background noise than anything else.
It doesn't take you long to drink half your tea and set the cup down to be abandoned. Even with the intention of finishing it, the likelihood of that happening was slim, especially as you leaned into Bob when he sat his mug down. “What is Yelena to you?” He asks suddenly, yet quietly, as if he was mostly thinking it to himself. Your brows furrow and you look up at him in confusion, not really sure where this was coming from.
You don't answer for a moment and he starts to fidget, but he doesn't take it back, now that it's out there he can't put it back in, doesn't want to. Your stomach twists and you slowly sit up so you're not touching him anymore, instead you pull your knees to your chest, which starts to ache again. “She's…” you trail off, thinking on the question deeper before sighing. “She's a friend but more? Not, not in a romantic way or anything, I mean I could kiss her but like on the cheek- not in, no, ew. I love her. And care about her a lot. She makes me feel safe, and seen and…” You run a hand through your hair, tugging at the ends before letting go.
Bob's quiet for a few moments before looking over at you softly, you can feel his eyes peering at you but you refuse to meet his gaze. “Yeah… she, yeah. I feel the same way. She's amazing and I care about her, and there's something there, something deep, but I could never see her in a romantic way…” He trails off himself, looking down at his hands like they're the most fascinating thing in the room. You're about to reply but then he continues. “We uh- we kissed. Once. And it was bad. Not because she was bad! O-or because I was bad, I think, but uh. It just felt wrong. And we both agreed to never do it again.”
Your eyes were on him now, watching him carefully as he fidgeted, hesitant to meet your gaze. “Oh. Wow.” Is all you can really muster because you're trying to wrap your head around why he even brought this up, which, you're glad he did, but you're a roller coaster of emotions right now and you really don't know what to do with yourself.
“Was that, was that weird to admit?” He sounds embarrassed as he asks, looking up at you with those eyes just begging for reassurance. You shake your head and lean into him again, pressing your shoulders together.
“No Bob, it's not weird. Just didn't really know what to say…” You rest your head slowly on his shoulder, not wanting to have to meet his gaze again, unable to make sense of the way he was looking at you, like there was something more there he needed to say. You both sit there, letting the quiet noise of late night cartoons and AC humming envelop you, your eyes both aching to shut and sleep and your mind feeling so loud as your heart flutters down in your stomach when Bob puts his arm around you, holding you close to him.
The two of you fall asleep on the couch, finally giving in to exhaustion. When you wake, any number of minutes or hours, surely, later, it's to an odd flash and a muttered ‘shit’ under someone's breath. You blink your eyes open with a small whine in the back of your throat, sitting up groggily and wincing at the pinch in your neck and shoulder. When you look around all you see is the glimpse of a light fading behind a closing door in the hallway. Your attention is pulled to Bob, who is partly under you and shifting as he begins to wake with his own small groan, rubbing at his face before blinking up at the ceiling.
You quickly move to give him more space, scooting away with a small whispered, “shit, sorry, fuck-” Heat blooms up your neck and onto your face, it was one thing to hold each other during a mental break down but it felt like a whole other level of intimacy to be sleeping ontop of each other, even if it was on the common room couch, fully clothed with cartoons still playing in the background.
“You're fine.” Bob slurs sleepily, slowly sitting up straight and stretching as his joints cracked and popped, another groan leaving him as he did so.
“God, yeah, I feel that… I think I pinched something.” You wince, rubbing your neck in both pain and sympathy for how Bob must be feeling right now. “I guess uh, I guess we should get back to our rooms, it's late.” You slowly stand up, giving yourself a nice, full stretch, arms above your head trembling slightly at the force of it, your sweatshirt riding up as you did so.
Bob gives a small nod before speaking up, eyes darting away from you when you look over at him. “Yeah, we uh, we probably should yeah.” He stands himself, turning off the TV and setting the remote back down. You both linger in the living room, hesitating and sharing glances before slowly making your way off to your own rooms. You're not sure why things feel tense and awkward, perhaps it was the too high emotions leading to the napping on each other, something that was a first between the two of you.
You'd been getting closer slowly, sharing the common link of being in love with Yelena in a way that couldn't be put into words but wasn't romantic, though neither of you knew the other didn't have romantic feelings for her until just this night, it was still something that brought you closer, cherishing the same person, being loved by the same person, living in the same space helped as well.
You find yourself tossing and turning once you're in bed, struggling to get back to sleep. Every time you close your eyes you can picture Bob's warmth under you, you can smell his faint scent lingering on your clothes, you can imagine the way his forehead had felt when he'd pressed it to yours. Your heart was pounding in your chest, fluttering around like a bird in a too small cage. You think of the way he carried you, the way he asked about your true feelings for Yelena. Did Bob like you? Your stomach twisted again. Did you like him? You groan and rub your hands down your face.
You throw your blankets off of yourself and get up, if you can't sleep maybe you can at least pee and settle down one part of your body, that half cup of tea having made itself through you presumably quick. Stepping out of the bathroom after finishing up, face damp from wiping it down with a cool rag, you nearly run face first into Bob’s chest, the both of you jumping back quickly, startled. “Jesus fuck!” You whisper yell, once again not wanting to risk waking anyone else.
“Shit- I'm so sorry- I couldn't sleep, I didn't mean to-” He started to ramble, running his hands through his already mussed up hair.
“Bob it's fine, fuck, I couldn't either.” You say, gesturing to the dark bathroom you'd just emerged from. You both stand there in the dark, the tension building between you as neither of you seem to want to pull away from each other before you finally break the silence before it can get too heavy. “Do you, I mean… When Yelena can't sleep she lays in my bed… Do you want to try that?” You look up at him, eyes tired but wide in the darkness of the hall, trying to fully see him, you swear you see his eyes gleam for a second but yet again chalk it up to being too tired and simply imagining things.
He gives you a little nod and a shy smile, his arms crossing over his chest. “That would be nice actually… my room feels so big yet suffocating sometimes…”
“I get that… let's go then.” He lets you lead him back down the hall and to your room where the both of you had started this careful, tender dance hours before. He'd only been in your room a handful of times, yet still he found it cozier than his own, maybe it was just the fact there was another person occupying it with him. You make your way back into your bed, fluffing up your pillow and getting situated before patting the spot next to you, lifting your blanket to invite him in.
He hardly hesitates this time before he's crawling under with you, pulling the blanket over himself and settling in. He's face to face with you now and in the dark of your room you stare at each other, eyes searching the other's features, for what you're not really sure, you have an inkling, but nothing concrete. Slowly you reach out and tuck his hair behind his ear, brushing it out from his face. He relaxes, eyes closing as he leans into your touch. You realize then, how badly you want to kiss him, it hits you with that oh so sudden oh, and you want to push it down, to hide it deeper but it's bubbling to the surface and your heart his pounding, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes widen ever so slightly, brows pinching together as if you're in pain. You bite your lip and when Bob opens his eyes again to look at you he looks just as wounded.
He brings his hand up, pressing it over yours, pressing your hand harder to his face, not wanting to lose this point of contact. He says your name so softly, under his breath, you're yet again convinced you're imagining it, just like you're imagining him leaning in closer, that is until his forehead presses against yours. “Can I try something?” He breathes the word into the space between you, his breath ghost across your lips, his eyes glancing down to them before back up to meet your gaze. Your own eyes dart around his face, back and forth between each eye, his lips, his nose, his eyes again and you nod.
“Ye-yeah. Yes. Please.” Your voice cracks, and you don't even have time to dwell on it before his eyes are closing, yours do too, and then his lips are pressed to yours, slow, careful, just a peck. And it's not fireworks, it's not all consuming, but it's soft, and it's warm, and you lean in to press your lips back to his, chasing the feeling, chasing him. He lets you, pressing his back to yours once again as he brings his hand to cup your face, slowly pushing up on his elbow to get a better angle, to be over you just ever so slightly. The kiss deepens, but it doesn't grow messy, doesn't grow fevered. It's a fragile thing that lasts not long enough before he's pulling away, eyes once again searching your face, this time seeking with purpose, to see if you're as affected as he is. And you are. You very much so are. “Bob-” you whisper and he dips in again.
That's all the further either of you dare to go, slowly letting the kiss taper back off into gentle pecks, then kisses to your cheeks, your foreheads, and then he's laying down again and pulling you close. You shift and squirm until you're hugging his head to your chest, letting him be the little spoon so that you can bury your face into his soft hair, the lingering scent of his shampoo and skin filling your nose as you inhale. He holds you close, both arms wrapped around you, legs curling up to intertwine with yours. It feels more intimate than you and Yelena had ever been while cuddling, still charged with the ghost of his lips pressed to yours. You fall asleep like that, holding onto one another.
When you awake the next morning, you're both sprawled out in different positions, your phone buzzing with a string of messages on your night side table. You groan, sitting up just to grab it before plopping back into your bed with a huff. Bob is still out of it, deep asleep and breathing deeply as you unlock your phone. 10 missed messages from Yelena, one with an image attached. Oh fuck. You start to type a message but as soon as your chat bubble pops up your phone is ringing, a facetime from Yelena. It's too early for this.