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Even in a world with people like Stephen Strange and Wanda Maximoff, witnessing Bob's telekinesis left John speechless, unable to blink.
There’s no magical, luminous energy show, just simple motion and even simpler results, as if the movement of Bob’s hands were pulling objects into the air by an invisible string. This simplicity suited him perfectly, sitting on the mat in the training room in a snug Radiohead shirt the same way he did on game night or when he was petting Yelena’s guinea pig in the living room, with the added bonus of making a dumbbell float.
The small dumbbell that Bob now lifted with nothing but the power of his mind was made of a ridiculously dense material designed for training super soldiers. The worn numbers printed on the dumbbell, which was floating about three feet off the ground, said 100 pounds, but it felt as light as a birthday balloon.
Bob's brow was furrowed, his face serious and focused on what he was doing, as if he didn't have a small audience watching him with curiosity and fascination. He raised his hand higher and, a few feet away from him, the dumbbell rose a little higher in the air, without oscillating or shaking.
It was fascinating how Bob made something extraordinary seem simple.
John didn't know if everyone felt the same fascination when watching Bob train his powers and he wasn't going to ask.
Months ago, after the mental health professionals who were treating him said it was safe to start stimulating his powers, it took Bob a tremendous amount of effort to lift a tennis ball with his telekinesis and to float himself a few feet off the ground. And John had enjoyed watching Bob practice, never really rooting for Bob to fail, but certainly being the complete jerk he knew everyone expected him to be.
“That’s right, Bob, you can throw apples at the next terrorists we encounter” and “Now that you’re a foot off the ground you can save one of us from tripping” were some of the things said by John Walker, who had spent too long in the military to know how to celebrate other people’s achievements that didn’t have immediate functionality. But at the same time, John felt that his idiotic jokes had the strange positive effect of instigating Bob to improve, to prove him wrong because at the same time, and despite John’s efforts to be a jerk about the power issue, they got along very well.
John taught him martial arts and Bob taught him how to play Mortal Kombat. They both watched European football leagues even though they didn't support the same team. John cooked the food Bob said he liked while Bob washed the dishes or helped him cook, usually listening to nu metal bands, another common taste.
It was a good coexistence in a way that John Walker never imagined having with that vulnerable-looking man he met in Valentina's death vault.
Over the months, Bob made steady progress with his powers, the steady progress of someone who was truly dedicated. John couldn't say he didn't smile proudly at this progress, even if he said something stupid. It kind of became a crucial part of their dynamic. Eventually the tennis balls became objects heavier than a normal person could lift, and the few inches he could fly became how far he wanted to go.
And then came the day when John felt the jokes had become just plain silly. A few weeks ago, Bob, flying high above the Quinjet hangar, used telekinesis to pluck John off the ground, pulling him close to him to the sound of Yelena, Ava, and Alexei's laughter and gasps of surprise a few feet below.
“Do you have anything funny to say, Walker?” he asked, calmly, as he did when he asked what John was cooking.
John swallowed hard, waiting for that golden glow to flash in his eyes. But it didn't. It was only Bob... who could use that same power that held him back to break every bone in his body. Something about it made John's spine tingle and butterflies fly in his stomach.
“Not today,” was all John managed to say in a whisper. As he spoke, he realized he was genuinely proud of Bob, not only for his progress with his powers, but also for putting John in his place by showing him that.
From that fateful day on, John had to struggle not to grin like an idiot whenever he watched one of Bob's training sessions. The kind of pride in another person that, after everything that had happened in the last year of his life, John thought he would never feel.
Now, sitting a few feet away, he was trying hard not to grin like an idiot, but it was harder to do so when Bob, instead of putting the dumbbell down, guided it with the power of his mind to the station where it was stored with the others.
“That was incredible ”, Yelena, sitting on the mat not far from Bob, said, putting down the cell phone she had been using to film until now. “How are you feeling?”
Bob shrugged, but smiled, pleased with himself.
“I don’t feel like a god, nor a black hole of depression,” he replied, already knowing exactly what Yelena wanted to know.
“So,” Ava began, approaching where she stood a little further back in the training room, taking notes on a tablet, “no Sentry or Void after forty minutes of telekinetic exercises. Just good old Bob and he’s feeling great.”
No one would ever say out loud that Ava's life in a lab had yielded some unexpectedly useful knowledge. Bob didn't like being watched by scientists or psychiatrists while he trained; it made him feel like a lab rat, but everyone knew the importance of taking notes on the progress of someone's powers, who could destroy Manhattan on a bad day, so Ava ended up taking it upon herself. Bob didn't mind being around his friends while he trained, and she had enough knowledge to pass along useful information to the right people.
“Any headaches? Or nausea?” Ava asked. She filled in the information on the tablet with some disinterest, but Mel said she did an excellent job.
“Nope,” Bob gave with strong emphasis p , an addiction of language that John noticed had been inherited from Yelena.
John, who had remained silent since the beginning of the session, unlike Yelena and Ava who made comments every twenty seconds, finally spoke:
“What do you want for dinner today?”
Bob's face lit up at the question, as it always did when John let him decide what he was going to cook. Ava and Yelena looked at John as if he had said something funny, before exchanging a glance in that silent feminine language. John pretended not to notice.
“I haven’t had chicken pot pie in years,” Bob replied, almost dreamily.
“If you set the table using your powers, you’ll have your chicken pot pie,” John joked. His chest warmed as Bob laughed as he stood up, showing off the cute dimples in his cheeks.
“Considering I didn’t knock you down that day , I think some dishes won't be a problem.”
John clicked his tongue, unable to stop smiling.
Soon after the occasion in the landing hangar, John thought that the event would be marked as one of his many embarrassments while on the team (like the time he lost to Ava at poker and had to spend the entire day in a stupid costume). Instead, on the rare occasions Bob mentioned the incident, there was something , but it certainly wasn't intended to embarrass him.
It wasn't exactly like a little secret between the two of them because everyone on the team knew - and, thanks to Ava's reports and Yelena's damn cell phone, many others outside the Watchtower too - that Bob used his powers to raise U.S. Agent. But even though it was a shared event, something about it was very intimate. Sentry used telekinesis on the Thunderbolts, which was nothing like Bob doing something similar.
It was their thing and the idea did funny things to John's heart.
After long seconds of silence, Bob walked towards the exit.
“I need to go to the library before dinner.”
John nodded as Bob passed him.
But then the automatic door closed and it was as if a spell had been broken in an instant, as John found himself isolated in the huge training room with Yelena and Ava. The two women were still watching him like two damned owls. Silent. Assessing, judging.
He counted to three mentally, before sighing heavily.
“You two want to tell me what—”
“Are you and Bob finally dating?”
Most of the time it was quite amusing that Yelena and Ava were comically in sync, with the same perceptions and pretty much the same word choices. To be The moment was not fun. John could have thrown himself off the balcony beyond the training room just to hide the blush he felt creeping across his face.
He glanced at the door Bob had come through, making sure it was closed before allowing himself to shout almost aesthetically:
“WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”
Ava, putting the tablet aside, gave a barely contained laugh that escaped as a noise from her nose.
“Are you telling us that the look I just saw was between two guys who had never kissed passionately?” Ghost asked, acting as if John was crazy for not understanding that.
“ Yes , you crazy woman!”
“That’s impossible,” Yelena interjected, and the look in her eyes, so much like Ava’s, made John wonder if he had actually forgotten that he was dating Robert Reynolds.
“Two guys don’t look at each other like that unless they’re in love or fucking or in love and fucking Walker. That doesn’t make sense,” Yelena continued.
“ You aren’t making any fucking sense and you’re actually scaring me.”
They looked at each other as if John was having a psychotic break. And, God above, he wasn't far from it.
“Walker, you guys just smiled silently at each other for over a minute like we weren’t even here,” Ava rolled her eyes.
John opened his mouth, but when he realized he didn't know how to respond to that, he closed it without saying anything.
It wasn’t as if he and Bob had a particularly unusual relationship from the team’s norm. What did happen — and John had no argument to deny — was that Bob smiled a lot… and he had an infectious smile that was hard to miss. John wasn’t the only one who grinned like an idiot at his little joys, but now that Ava had said it out loud, he realized that Yelena Belova smiling at Bob was nothing like John Walker doing it.
Regardless of how much I appreciate this crew of misfits, John isn't the most caring or affectionate person. Smiling just for the sake of smiling and having it returned really meant a lot more when it was with guys like him.
He grimaced and turned his face, which was burning like hell, away from Yelena and Ava's gaze.
“I don’t know what you think you’re talking about, Starr,” he tried, mumbling. “He was just happy with his progress…”
Yelena snorted. If she had been any closer, John might have thought she was ready to shake him by the shoulders.
“When I asked you to cook stroganoff, which is much easier than a damn chicken pot pie, you gave me the name of a Brazilian restaurant. Stroganoff isn’t even a Brazilian food.”
“Hey. It was embraced and adapted in Brazil and nowadays it is considered one of the traditional—”
“You’re trying to dodge the subject,” Ava observed, almost bored.
John buried his face in his hands hard enough to bruise.
“I just asked him what he wanted to eat,” he heard his own miserable voice, muffled by his hands.
“And I’m just saying that’s really weird and cute coming from you,” Yelena continued, making it seem like her point was the most logical and obvious thing in the world. “You never do that to anyone. Why Bob?”
Looking up, John was met with two pairs of curious eyes from two people who were clearly enjoying themselves.
And once again, he opened his mouth and was speechless, trying to remember a time when he had answered a request from one of his colleagues other than Bob. But damn, that time didn't exist. John likes to cook, but precisely because he likes it so much, he always hated taking orders because it made him feel like an employee and not someone cooking as a hobby.
Olivia and Bob being the only exceptions certainly meant something, now that he was being forced to reflect on it.
That realization made his stomach do a funny flip, something Yelena and Ava must have noticed, if their widening smiles meant anything.
“Bob and I aren’t dating,” John said one last time, still through the fingers that kept his dazed face precariously hidden.
“Then why are you acting like he’s your boyfriend?” Ava looked so genuinely confused that it would have been funny on any other occasion.
“I’m just being nice to him. Is that really that weird?”
“So fucking much.”
“Coming from you? Very much.”
“Okay, okay. I get it. You guys think I’m an asshole.”
"You are an asshole.”
“Calling you an asshole is even kind , actually,” Yelena was laughing a little at this point.
John rubbed his eyes, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. Perhaps the worst he had had in months. All he managed to do was make his eyes water.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” John said, after a long sigh.
He'd never really considered the possibility of being interested in Bob. Until that creepy conversation, all he'd thought he was doing was being nice to Bob, just like all the other New Avengers tried to be, after all, Bob deserved to have nice people around him. But — and what was perhaps what gave the girls reason to call him a jerk — John would be lying if he said he'd go to this length for anyone else.
Just the thought of smiling so much or cooking at someone else's request made John feel bored.
Combining this with the memory of what he felt when Bob used telekinesis on him, John found himself in a strange situation, to say the least.
Ava, for the first time seeming to understand the situation she and Yelena had put themselves in with John and apparently trying to take it seriously, asked:
"You want to go out with Bob?”
The question left John truly shocked, as if he was only now realizing that this conversation was the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. He stood up from the bench he was occupying, but instead of walking out the door like any normal person would, John paced the training room, from one end to the other.
He didn’t answer Ava’s question, but he couldn’t help but think about it, the set of words echoing in his mind. And judging by the looks the two women were giving him, maybe he didn’t need to answer.
“You guys are crazy,” John muttered, staring at the tatami floor. “I never thought of that. Bob’s just a nice guy.”
“You seem to be thinking very now, Walker,” Ava said, humming.
“And you’ve been really nice to him,” Yelena’s voice dripped with irony.
“No, I… yes, I’ve been nice, but that doesn’t mean I have that kind of interest in him. You guys are really nice to him too and you don’t want to go out with him.”
"Not even!"
“Absolutely not.”
“See? Why would I be any different? Besides, I would be the last person Bob would think of for that kind of thing.”
Again demonstrating that comedic synergy, Yelena and Ava sighed as if this particular topic made John seem really idiot. He stopped walking, feeling the weight of their gazes like a building on his shoulders.
“You’re the dumbest person in the world, Walker,” Ava said bluntly.
"What…?"
Yelena stood up from her spot on the mat, briefly checking her phone before facing John.
“You should invite Bob to dinner,” she said, speaking as if she were giving an express instruction, not a suggestion.
John blinked a few times. Hearing this was even stranger than the words Bob and dating in the same sentence.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you want it and so does he,” Ava was genuinely annoyed, her patience fading as if John had been more stupid than she was willing to tolerate. “Jeez, what’s your problem ?”
“This shit is an intervention? Did you guys plan this?” John gestured around the room, indicating the situation. “Besides, damn it, I’m not gay.”
Yelena Belova, also looking annoyed, approached John with her chin held high, standing tall to all her 162 centimeters of height.
“Last week you and Bob were singing Leave Out All The Rest while baking a strawberry shortcake. You stopped singing to offer him a piece of strawberry. I hate to feel like I’m outing anyone, but you, John Walker, are not straight at all. No way .”
John's cheeks must have been so ridiculously red by now. He had no idea anyone had seen the scene, which, when it happened, didn't seem like a big deal. Bob suggested making dessert, Alexei had bought enough strawberries to last a whole month, and so they were listening to Linkin Park classics while they made a cake.
To Yelena's credit, John didn't feel like the straightest man of all as he offered Bob that piece of strawberry. But it wasn't bad at all… just like any time spent with him.
With that thought, John shifted his weight between his feet.
“Let’s say I invited Bob to dinner,” he began, almost tasting the sound of the words in his own mouth. “Where should I take him?”
The Watchtower library was used primarily by Bob and Bucky—in the occasional weeks that Bucky spent there instead of the apartment he shared with Sam Wilson. The collection was mostly made up of what was left of the facilities they “cleaned out” on missions, but given how often Bob was there, there were a lot of good titles.
John found Bob on a pile of pillows near the large window overlooking the Upper East Side, a book in one hand and a protein bar in the other.
“What are you reading there?” John asked as he pulled out a chair for himself and brought it next to Bob. Bob’s pile of pillows looked too comfortable to be soiled by his weight.
Bob looked up. His hair was always covering his eyes a little, but he didn't seem to notice or mind, rarely tucking a curl behind his ear. John always wanted to touch that soft-looking hair to do just that.
“ The Creative Act ”, he replied, but, as always, he didn’t stop at the title: “A book about creative processes, conscious creation, that nonsense.”
“If you’re reading this, are you writing a book too? Maybe composing a song?”
Unlike what usually happens when he has his interests piqued, Bob pursed his lips and looked away, embarrassed. John felt like an idiot, a feeling that was repeated a lot throughout that day.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on your—”
“No,” Bob interrupted hurriedly and a little nervously. “Don’t apologize, it’s just… well, one day I’m going to need to have some control over the powers of that other part of me.”
O Void , John thought, feeling a chill run down his spine at the mere memory of the shadowy figure floating over New York.
It was easy to forget that this dark, omnipotent being was the same man who cooked with him. John sometimes wondered what it would be like to have the power to erase people from reality with the mere wave of a hand, and every time he thought about it, about how hard it must be to deal with the constant temptation, he admired Bob a little more.
“I don’t want to be like that ever again. But if I ever do get to access that power, I need to know how to use it in some positive way,” he continued, tapping the book, now closed in his lap. “Or something.”
John smiled, feeling his stomach do a funny flip once more as he realized the sincere understanding he was showing Bob and the way that understanding made Bob's somewhat nervous face relax.
“It’s very responsible of you to make this kind of preparation, Bob. When you’re ready, I’m sure you’ll do the best you can… and I—we’ll be with you.”
Those beautiful dimples appeared on Bob's cheeks as his smile grew a little wider.
“Yeah, I don’t want to make everyone have nightmares about past traumas and guilt again, but maybe one day I can make only the bad guys have bad visions in the rooms of shame. Like, being stuck watching you dressed as the Easter Bunny.”
“ You are mean, Bob,” John said, with a theatrical snort. “And I still think Ava cheated in that poker game.”
“Maybe,” Bob continued with a delicious laugh. “Or maybe you don’t hide your shit so well.”
The irony behind that sentence almost made John whimper.
“Did you come to ask me for help in the kitchen?” Bob asked.
It wasn't like John had ever needed any real help cooking. But as Yelena and Ava made him realize, Bob was the one exception, though, and he's actually a good cook and a very useful assistant.
John took a deep breath as if he were going to run a marathon.
“Actually, I came to invite you to dinner.”
Bob blinked slowly twice.
“Did you come to tell me that dinner is ready?”
Ava's voice saying that John was the dumbest person in the world echoed in his head. John cleared his throat as he looked away for a moment.
“I didn’t choose the best words,” he muttered. When he looked back at Bob, he was lying face down, curious and confused.
“I… I wanted to know if you wanted to go out to dinner… like, dinner out… with me,” John tried again, stuttering more than he thought he would.
“Oh.”
John has been on dozens of war fronts, survived a bombing, been shot a few times, fought terrorist cells of people enhanced with all sorts of abilities. Hell, he's even done the stupid thing of fighting the Winter Soldier and the Dora Milaje. But few of those things have made him as tense and nervous as this present moment, where he's waiting for Bob to respond to a harmless dinner invitation.
A few seconds passed, but to John it felt like hours. Unlike him, Bob seemed very calm when the surprise wore off.
“Sure, sounds great,” was the reply given with an excited smile.
Even though Bob didn't have (much) reason to refuse, the positive response made John feel a powerful relief.
He grinned like an idiot as he told her the details he had planned with the surprisingly helpful help of Yelena and Ava.
When Spider-Man, swinging on those weird webs, came dangerously close to their table, John had second thoughts about whether a rooftop French restaurant was really the romantic thing Ava said it would be.
The place is the kind of gorgeous restaurant John thought only existed on the internet: with cozy yellow lights and the sky exposed above, with a cool view of Central Park in one direction and the Watchtower in the other. Yelena must have extorted someone to get a last-minute reservation at a place like this.
Bob didn't understand the place's fancy wine list at all, so John ordered the same white wine for both of them. Bob seemed to love it. Of course, alcohol wasn't exactly useful for two super soldiers who were physically incapable of getting drunk due to their fast metabolism, but the wine was delicious and suited the occasion.
Actually, Johnfearedbeing a little too obvious with the place and making it a boring date. He was absolutely certain that, in the opposite situation, Bob would have invited him to a much more fun place.
But damn, Bob looked even better in a suit.
The boy in the red leotard shouted an apology from a distance, without stopping, from the sound that came from the avenue below, chasing some cars. John stopped himself from shouting a curse word, thinking almost neurotically that the vigilante - who actually beat the New Avengers in popularity - could have ruined his date with that.
But looking at Bob across the small table, he looked the complete opposite of annoyed by Spider-Man's appearance: he was craning his neck in the direction he was headed.
“This is already the best dinner of my life,” Bob said, almost bouncing in his chair, watching the guard in red walk away.
John raised an eyebrow.
“Do you like the bug?” he asked sarcastically, over his glass of white wine.
“Hey, he’s an arachnid,” Bob replied, unable to help but smile. “And he’s so cool.”
“You can do almost anything he can do and much better than him, Bob.”
“First of all, it’s not a comparison, he’s just really cool for a bunch of reasons that aren’t entirely related to his powers. Second of all, that was really sweet of you to say, John, thanks,” Bob said, his earlier cheerful smile turning flattering as he turned to John Walker, who would have choked if he’d been chewing something. “I hope I can be like him someday.”
“Jump around with webs?”
The way Bob stopped mid-eye-roll made John think that even if he could fly, swinging through the city in websIt didn't seem like such a bad idea to him.
“No,” he said, looking thoughtful the way he did when he talked about the books he liked. Bob turned his face in the direction Spider-Man swung. “He’s so admired by everyone. There’s not a kid in New York who doesn’t love that guy. When I can use all my powers without destroying the city, I want people to see me the way he does.”
John listened intently, unable to help but remember how he felt when the president himself invited him to take on the mantle of Captain America. Like every good American soldier, he admired Steve Rogers with every fiber of his being… and that admiration turned into the greatest frustration he had ever experienced in his life. Then, the frustration turned to anger and, before he knew it, he had lost his best friend, his wife and his son, as well as a brilliant military career.
The fact that Bob had never wanted to be a hero but was pulled into that life under Valentina's circumstances must have been even worse than it was for the rest of the team. All of the New Avengers lived under the constant pressure of not being the old and, according to most people, true Avengers, and perhaps Bob, who the public thought was just a sidekick, like Mel, must have been the person who was haunted by that pressure the most... and John had never reflected on it.
There wouldn't be many threats that could match Bob when he was confident in using his powers, but at the same time, with all the pressure around him and that he put on himself without realizing it, there would be a lot of things that could frustrate him. A lot of frustration that could turn into anger and sadness.
“I’m sure you’ll do amazing things when you feel ready,” he began, looking into Bob’s ridiculously bright eyes. “And I think people’s admiration will come naturally. It’s very easy to like you, so don’t overthink it.”
I thought and it didn't bring me anything good , John thought, but said only to himself. This wasn't about him, it was about Bob.
Bob's cheeks turned a rosy shade as he looked down at his own wine glass as if something about it was very interesting.
“That was really sweet of you to say, too, John,” Bob said as he sipped some of his own wine.
John drank more wine too, regretting that he couldn't get even a little drunk enough to have the courage to purposely say the things I really wanted to say…
…once I figured out what it meant.
Bob picked up the fancy menu the waiter had left behind a few minutes ago and opened it so that he and John could read it at the same time, which resulted in them both leaning over the table. So close that John’s slightly enhanced sense of smell perfectly picked up every nuance of Bob’s scent: the traditional cologne mixed with the fruity notes of the wine and the mint of the toothpaste.
Bob tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, an act that, seen this close, made John think he was going to die.
“I’ve spent eighty percent of my life eating fast food and shelter food, so I have no idea what any of this fancy food is, Walker.” Bob seemed to be trying to decipher a riddle as he read through the menu items. “I mean, what the hell is an escargot?”
John laughed, not sure if it was because Bob's ignorance was endearing or simply because he couldn't stop smiling around him.
“It’s a dish made from a type of snail,” he replied, laughing even harder at Bob’s scandalized expression.
“Okay… I thought this wine was delicious,” Bob gestured to the nearby glasses and pushed the menu a little closer to John, “so I trust you to pick out a delicious dish for me that isn’t disgusting.”
John ordered Chateaubriand steaks for both of them and crème brûlée for dessert, and Bob loved it.
If asked, John wouldn't know how, on the walk back to the Watchtower, he ended up with his arm bent with Bob's hand comfortably gripped in the crook of his elbow.
Before he knew it, they were already like that. But while Bob was perfectly comfortable, talking excitedly about what he thought of French cuisine, John was a second away from freaking out at every step like a damn teenager. The Watchtower was close, and John could walk the length of Manhattan ten times without feeling Bob's touch.
It was so simple, and at the same time, so intimate and comforting.
“Now that I think about it, maybe I should have tried the snail,” Bob said with a sigh.
“You’d hate it, Bob. It doesn’t taste bad, but the consistency isn’t the best.”
“I thought about asking at the restaurant, but I thought it might spoil the magic: How do you know so much about French food? It doesn’t seem like useful knowledge in the army.”
John couldn't help but sigh before replying:
“Lamar and I had a summer job at one of those French restaurants before the military when we were in high school. We actually only joined to save up money for a car, so Lamar would make fun of me because I absolutely loved every second of helping the boss. I would even take notes and practice some of the stuff at home.”
Bob tightened his grip on John's arm a little, but didn't do any more than that, which John was grateful for. Mentioning Lamar was always a little painful, but focusing on the pain over what John was saying, as most people did, only made him angry.
“So that’s how you learned to cook so well.”
“I’m not that good at cooking, Bob. The staff’s standards are pretty low,” John shot back. “I mean, Yelena, Ava, and Bucky would live on frozen mac ‘n’ cheese if they could. And besides canned goods, Alexei eats more sweets than anyone should.”
Before John could feel the time passing, they were already passing through the multiple layers of security to access the Watchtower, so Bob had to let go of John's arm.
The Watchtower is a place that was meant to be functional, like an office building. But somehow it managed to become a cozy home for the misfits the world knew as the New Avengers. Even the classic office-building elevator that John and Bob entered after their final facial scan was given a permanent domestic touch by the remnants of the decorations from the small Halloween party that were never removed.
The elevator door closed, cutting John and Bob off from the rest of the world, and John felt the sudden weight of being home after a pleasant and ridiculously romantic date. They did the kind of things they did every day at the Watchtower—ate and talked—but there was no denying that tonight was just different, intimate in its simplicity, like walking with their arms half-entwined.
Definitely too romantic to go unnoticed.
“Thank you very much for today, John,” Bob broke the silence, above the click of the indicator showing the dozens of floors they were climbing.
John turned to face Bob so quickly that he felt a twinge in his neck. Bob, staring at the elevator panel, was smiling, sweet and sincere.
“I’ve never been invited to dinner, and I’ve never been to a French restaurant this nice,” he continued cheerfully, fidgeting a little as if standing completely still was difficult. “It’s the kind of thing I thought was out of character for me, but I’ve enjoyed every moment of it. Thank you.”
Grateful that Bob was staring at the elevator panel, John found himself swallowing hard as he stared at Bob's well-defined jaw, which reminded him of a sculpture chiseled to perfection. Wondering what he should do now, still mesmerized by the sight of Bob's profile, John mentally consulted his limited collection of dating experiences, but could only conclude how appropriate it was to kiss Bob now…
…God, he wants to kiss Bob.
You want it so bad that you feel like an idiot now more than ever for needing a romantic encounter engineered by Yelena and Ava to realize it.
The elevator door opened and John didn't give Bob a response, just followed him closely through the eerily dark and silent hallways.
Bob stopped at the door to his own room, opening it without going in. He turned to John, his huge eyes that dark, fascinating shade of blue shining in the dim light of the hallway. There is so much about Bob that is fascinating: his powers, his eyes, his desire to be a good person even when surrounded by the worst examples in the world.
John felt his mouth go dry as he tried to speak.
“I-It was really cool. We can do t-that again sometime—”
“How did you ever get married if you were so dumb, Walker?” Bob interrupted.
John didn't have time to process the fact that he was confused. Bob's hands closed around his cheeks and, effortlessly, as if John were a rag doll, pulled him closer. Just like that, Bob's mouth was on his.
His lips were the softest thing John had ever felt and they tasted like crème brûlée.
He melted at the contact, letting out all the air he had in his lungs as he grabbed Bob's waist to bring him as close as he could. In response, Bob wrapped his arms around his neck, and John would have floated down the hallway if he had the powers of the one he was kissing.
It was a slow, almost chaste kiss, but so good that it took them a long time to feel the need to add tongues to the equation. When they did, Bob's fingers went into John's hair as if holding him back to keep him from running away or disappearing, and John held Bob against him with a force that might have hurt a man who wasn't indestructible.
Bob sighed in the middle of the kiss and John, feeling that shiver mixed with butterflies in his stomach, pulled away, just enough so they could both breathe, but even so, he caught a glimpse of Bob's bright eyes.
After he lost Lamar, he thought he would never have reliable companions again, and on top of that, after Olivia left him, he was sure he would never feel his heart race and warmth for anyone else again. Being on this team of weirdos gave him those things back, but Bob… Bob gave him both. He was a friend of the kind John didn't think he was worthy of having, and at the same time, someone who made him want to love and be loved again. As he watched those eyes shine with joy and something more, John realized he didn't want to lose that.
“I know this sounds stupid after one date,” John began, breathing a little hard, “but do you want to be my boyfriend, Bob?”
After a few moments of silence that made John nervous, Bob let out a laugh.
“I thought we were boyfriends since strawberry day,” was Bob’s response.
It was clearly a silly joke, but it definitely made John feel like the dumbest and luckiest person in the world.
Lacking the words to sum up what he was feeling without making himself seem even more stupid, John leaned in to kiss Bob again. Just as he could walk for hours with his arm through Bob's, John could kiss Bob for days.
This time, the kiss wasn't calm and chaste at all, but rather the kind that left John breathless even faster and weak in the knees. When Bob bit his lower lip and sucked, John heard himself make a muffled sound he didn't know he was capable of making.
Bob pulled away, still brushing his lips against his as he declared, whispering hoarsely:
“You were a perfect gentleman tonight, but now please tell me you’re not against fucking on the first date.”
John exhaled before pushing Bob into the room, stepping in with him and closing the door behind them.
He would need to thank Yelena and Ava when he could.
Earlier, Yelena was happy as a child seeing the happy ending of the princes of a strange and gay romance.
She tried to keep John and Bob’s little event between her and Ava, without making a fuss that she would hate if she were in that kind of situation. The problem was that Alexei and Bucky also saw John and Bob, well-dressed and smiling, taking the elevator. Yelena tried to lie, but despite her job as a spy, she was terrible at it, and poor Ava looked even worse.
Alexei got excited and loud, happily shouting about young love, while Bucky just looked bored as he talked about John finally realizing he wasn't so straight after all...
…but this apparent disinterest didn't stop him from squeezing himself with Yelena, Ava and Alexei at the end of the hallway when the security systems announced the return of John and Bob.
“We shouldn’t do this,” Ava whispered as their footsteps were heard approaching from the other hallway.
“Indeed,” Alexei agreed. “I feel so wrong.”
“I'd hate to find out you guys already did that to me and Sam.”
Yelena agreed with each of them, but since no one took the initiative to set a good example, give up, and move from their precarious hiding place, she didn't do it either.
“Shut up,” she ordered, a second before John and Bob turned into the hallway.
She held her breath, watching John and Bob stop in the doorway of Bob's room, and felt everyone around them do the same.
It was like watching a teen rom-com where the main couple says goodbye in an adorable, shy way after the prom. Yelena was expecting more progression, so she was initially disappointed… until Bob, proving to be smarter than John, pulled him in for a kiss. It was sweet.
Bob's bedroom door slammed after the two men stumbled inside.
When the urge to yell at John for being an idiot passed, Yelena exchanged a look and a proud smile with Ava.