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There are plenty of quirks and rough patches when a bunch of anti-heroes suddenly become roommates in a tower sponsored by a corrupt government official. That should go without saying. Ava tends to phase wherever it pleases her, only avoiding the others’ bedrooms out of decency, Yelena nearly fights John every time he listens to his podcasts in the gym without headphones, and Alexei’s conversations can be heard two rooms down by people without enhanced senses, etc.
Out of everyone, Bob would be considered the best to live with. He’s quiet, does his chores efficiently and without complaint, and is just easy to be around. He’d be the perfect roommate if it weren’t for one tiny issue.
That being Bob’s tendency to scare the shit out of them.
They theorize that his powers have somehow manifested into an uncanny ability to move silently and slip into shadows away from sight. He also may be purposely fucking with them, but he claims he isn’t, no matter how much John argues the contrary.
Bucky is the first unintentional victim.
It’s a night like any other, with Bucky puttering around the kitchen at exactly 2:37 am. He had been asleep earlier when a nightmare had him jolting up in bed, body trembling. The nightmares aren’t nearly as bad as they’ve been in past years, happening every few days instead of every time he closes his eyes, and he has more success getting back to sleep nowadays, but sometimes, he’s still shaken.
Tonight is one of those nights that have messy, partly incoherent images flashing in front of his eyes as if he’s back in the memory. On nights like these, he usually gets up and makes himself tea, which is chamomile. It’s not that Bucky particularly likes the tea, though he doesn’t hate it, but his therapist suggested he have some kind of ritual for when he is shaken like this to help him ground himself. Sam had off-handedly suggested tea when Bucky mentioned it, so here he is, fiddling with a too-expensive Keurig with one hand, his metal one still on his nightstand.
By now, Bucky would usually be calm, heart rate down, and not about to pound out of his chest, the adrenaline seeping out. But he’s not. He could swear that he feels eyes on him, something watching and observing. He pauses in his tea-making, listening, straining his ears. He only hears the light hum of the lights over his head, and, if he listens hard enough, Alexei’s snores through the walls.
Bucky shakes his head and rubs his eyes as he places a tea bag in his mug of steaming water. He must still be gripped by his nightmare, some paranoia lingering even if he knows he’s in a building with one of the most well-funded security systems in America, one he knows inside and out. He takes a long breath, counting the seconds as his tea steeps.
The feeling doesn’t fade, that instinct that something is wrong scratching against his ribs. Against his better judgment, Bucky remains tense, waiting for… something.
The air behind him shifts.
It’s barely anything, barely enough for him to feel, but the tension snaps. Bucky whirls around, fist raised, with speed befitting the former Winter Soldier. His brain is already calculating his best escape, how he could leap away and hit the panic button a few dozen feet away.
Bucky freezes as soon as he’s facing the other way.
“Bob?!”
Bucky is staring, eyes wide, fist still hovering inches from his teammate’s face. Bob, hair messy from sleep and in a soft t-shirt and pajama pants combo, blinks back, gaze flicking between Bucky’s face and fist.
“Uh… hi.” Bob grins, raising a few fingers in a tiny wave.
“Jesus Christ, Bob,” Bucky sighs, finally lowering his hand and leaning heavily against the counter. His heart slows incrementally, and he finally removes the tea bag from his slightly over-steeped tea.
“Sorry,” Bob replies with a shrug, glancing away, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice that has Bucky glaring just a little.
“How did you even-?” Bucky starts before stopping with another sigh, “What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Can I have some tea, too?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
“Make me some, too.”
“Fucking-!” Bucky jumps again, gasping.
For the first time, Bucky notices that Bob is not alone, that Joaquín is literally hanging off his back, almost completely hidden from sight. His arms are wrapped around Bob’s stomach as he presses his face between his shoulder blades, half-asleep against his boyfriend. He clings like a barnacle even as Bob leans forward for his turn at the machine, barely giving Bucky a sleepy greeting.
Now Bucky likes Joaquín; he really does, even if that fondness is mostly against his will. He’s managed to charm most of the team into liking him, and it feels like he and Bob were barely introduced before things like this became common. At this point, Bucky is seriously considering fully adding him to the tower’s system so he isn’t just logged in as a visitor. But, seriously, he should not be able to sneak up on Bucky.
“What are you doing up?” Bucky asks, tapping the Falcon’s shoulder, swiftly moving past the fact that one of the yappiest, loudest heroes he knows managed to startle him.
“H’s warm,” Joaquín replies, voice muffled a bit against Bob’s back, as if that explains everything. To Bob, it seems to, as a gooey smile emerges on his face, one common during Joaquín’s visits. It makes Bucky’s own chest a little warm, but no way in hell is he admitting that, so he just nods, reaching up to grab another mug.
Bob makes him and his boyfriend a mug of green tea while Bucky sips his chamomile. Joaquín clings the whole time, only releasing his hand to hold his mug but still holding tight with the other. Bucky finds himself grinning slightly despite still wanting to be annoyed at being startled (not scared , no way).
“Night, Buck,” Joaquín mumbles with a yawn, and Bob waves as the pair heads back to bed. With Joaquín on his back, Bob takes off into a slow waddle, his boyfriend matching his slow steps. If he could, Bucky is sure Joaquín would be standing on Bob’s feet, not that the other would mind. As they shuffle out, they’re still quiet, quiet to the point that Bucky would lose track of them if he wasn’t watching them.
Surprisingly, Bucky also yawns, and he soon heads off in that direction, too, ready to try sleeping again.
…
Yelena didn’t know what to think of the little Falcon at first. Of course, her first instinct was to not trust him in the slightest and figure out his motives when he popped by the tower with Sam Wilson. However, Bucky vouched for both birds, and she’s still trying this whole ‘trusting others’ thing, so she firmly kept her judgments under wraps.
She was tempted to truly put the fear of god into the Birdie when she caught the flushed cheeks and quick glances whenever he interacted with Bob, but Bob was equally smitten, even if the pair didn’t know at the time, so she held off. Still, she was suspicious about him, even as he made himself at home in the tower, uncaring of Sam and Bucky’s spat.
Until he walked past her as she was watching the newest episode of The Bachelor, and he paused before stating.
“If she doesn’t choose Jason, she’s an idiot. You see that jawline?”
“Exactly!” Yelena exclaimed, finally finding someone who understood. Neither John nor Alexei truly understand her shows, though the latter will always agree to watch to hang out with her. Bob will also watch but doesn’t get into it as much. She flat-out refuses to watch with Bucky because he’ll give so many wrong opinions, like that Kyle is best because of his big brown eyes, ignoring that his face is built like an art student’s first attempt at a clay bust. Ava… she hadn’t asked to watch with her yet, for reasons.
Yelena gained a new respect for Joaquín Torres that day, and from then on, if Joaquín and she were both around, they’d almost always end up watching a few episodes of reality TV. Joaquín would even hold off on watching on his own so they could react together, which she greatly appreciates.
On this visit, Joaquín is staying for a good few days after a mission, which happens to align with their coming back from an errand run for Val. Yelena knows she won’t get her TV partner once Bob gets his hands on him or just meets his eyes, so she snags him and makes him set up the snacks for a small marathon, not that he has to be pressured very hard.
She nearly screams when Joaquín calls out to a passing Ava, asking her to join. After a moment of hesitation, she does, and Joaquín quickly claims the smaller loveseat, leaving the two women to sit next to each other on the couch. He sends Yelena a thumbs-up, and she wants to snap the digit like a twig while also thanking him profusely.
Soon enough, the marathon is on, and the hypnotic powers of American stupidity and over-the-top editing have an unsure Ava sucked in just as much as the other two.
“What?!” Ava exclaims, nearly dropping her Twizzlers, “She ousted Chad G but kept Chad J? What is this woman thinking?!”
“Right?” Joaquín sighs. “Keep the guy with the ego the size of this tower, but kick out the five-foot-eight guy who actually seems nice.”
“No wonder these people need to get on a TV show to find a date.”
“Racheal still could pick Ricky. It’s slim pickings, but he wouldn’t be half bad,” Joaquín suggests, cringing at Racheal’s poor selection of her own making.
“Even though his eyes hold the same intelligence of a potato slowly baking in a microwave,” Yelena reluctantly agrees. Ava chuckles softly, and for a moment, the rest of the world doesn’t exist to Yelena, the gentle sound rushing through her like a river. By now, they’re sitting close enough to share a blanket, thighs only inches apart. Yelena could just reach over…
“Daniel’s cute.”
Yelena shouts, jumping hard while Ava’s form flickers, and she suddenly vanishes, the blanket falling limp where she just was. She spins around to see Bob standing directly behind her, grinning slightly.
“My God, Bob,” Yelena gasps, “How long have you been standing there?”
“20 minutes,” Bob casually admits with a shrug.
“20-!” Yelena sputters. Joaquín laughs from his seat, completely unphased by Bob’s sudden appearance.
“You could’ve sat with me,” Joaquín says as Bob walks over to be behind him. The bird tilts his head back against the couch, looking at Bob’s face upside down with an expression of awe and beauty, which is usually reserved for looking up at the stars and galaxy.
“I know, I got absorbed,” Bob shrugs, gently cupping Joaquín’s cheeks and jaw with his hands, holding his face in that position, smiling down so softly at him.
Ava walks in a moment later, phasing through a wall to do so, hair messier than before.
“You okay?” Yelena asks her. Ava nods with a sigh.
“Accidently phased through the floor. Thanks, Bob.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to,” Bob replies, tearing his gaze away from Joaquín to meet her eyes. She waves him off.
“It’s fine. I fell into John’s workout routine, made him scream like a little girl.” She smirks, and Yelena’s stomach flutters. She quickly settles back into her spot, her leg slightly pressed against the other woman’s. “And what were you saying about Daniel, Bob?”
“He’s cute,” Bob shrugs. Yelena scoffs.
“He is the least romantic of the options! He dates as if he is trying to court a dead fish!”
“Well, yeah.” Bob’s gaze turns back to Joaquín, who’s made no effort to move from Bob’s touch. “But he has good features. A good smile…” He runs his thumbs along Joaquín’s cheeks. “Pretty brown eyes…” he caresses the thin skin under Joaquín’s eyes, “And cute curly hair.” A gentle kiss is placed on the top of Joaquín’s head.
“Too much!” Yelena complains, throwing a few pieces of popcorn at Bob. The pair just laughs. “Too much sweetness going on here!” Her heart isn’t in it, though, and they all know that. Bob does move to sit on the couch, not hesitating to snuggle against his boyfriend’s chest, wrapping them tightly in their blanket. Yelena, ever so slowly, rests her head on Ava’s shoulder. The other woman tenses a bit but makes no move to escape or stop her.
When Racheal eventually chooses Daniel, Yelena isn’t half as upset about it as she pretends to be.
…
Alexei doesn’t know how this happened, how he let his poor baby get into this condition. He swears he has always been by her side, tending to her every need, but she still stumbles and chugs as if she is on her last legs. But she is no ordinary limo, and the Red Guardian will have her just as strong as she was in her prime!.... Once he figures out the problem.
Val doesn’t care much for the fact that Alexei still has his limo, but she reluctantly allows her space within the tower’s garage, the least his car deserves. Alexei has been banned from adding much of the tower’s tech to his car without approval from his team, but he doesn’t mind. It gives him a challenge, and he wouldn’t want to change her too much, as it would change her very spirit.
But, as of late, her starting has become sluggish, and her idling sputters like an asthmatic child in a pool. Alexei lamented the problem to the others who didn’t seem as concerned as him, including Bob’s little bird, who offered to help. He was the one who worked on and understood the mechanics within his wings, even if he wasn’t the most familiar with car engines.
Alexei jumped on the opportunity, pulling the little bird into a one-armed hug. Not only would this be a step towards fixing his beautiful limo, but it would also be one of those ‘bonding moments’ that Yelena kept talking about. It would also give Alexei the chance to tell the Birdie about his adventures. After all, it is important that he knows the status of the team he may be marrying into one day.
On the day, Alexei leads him to the garage, already deep into one of his stories. He props up the hood, letting the little bird look.
“-And she was falling over herself to invite me to dinner, her own babushka’s borsh on the menu!” Alexei crows, “But then, her husband found her!”
“Husband?” Joaquín echoes.
“I know! I thought I was going to see broken hearts. But he looks at me, and to his wife, and then to me. And he says-he says ‘she has a sister’!” Alexei bursts into loud laughter, and Joaquín chuckles along, shaking his head.
“I did say no, sadly. I was, how you say, ‘On the clock,’ and the Soviets would not be happy with me.” Alexei shakes his head fondly at the memory.
“That’s… quite the story,” Joaquín says.
“Yes, but it’s not one that the others like very much.”
“I wonder why.”
“That’s what I am saying! It is funny!” Joaquín opens his mouth but decides against speaking, instead looking into the guts of the limo.
“Hmm, I think I see something,” The birdie mumbles. Alexei leans over his head to try and follow his gaze. “Could I have a light pointed this way?”
Alexei nods, meaning to grab the flashlight that he rarely ever needs. But with a click, a light appears, shining bright on the spot the little bird was pointing at. For a split second, Alexei wonders if the Birdie does have some powers, but as he turns his head, he finds himself staring into Bob’s eyes, standing less than a foot away.
Alexei screams, the sound echoing through the garage. He jerks his head up, hitting the hood with a solid bang, shaking the whole car. He stumbles back, hand on his heart, while the little bird just glances at him, amused, still looking into the engine as if nothing had happened.
“Thanks, babe,” Joaquín says. Bob, holding the flashlight, grins.
“Anytime.”
“Bob! You-You sneak up like little sneaky cat!” Alexei sputters, “How do you do this?!”
“I don’t know,” Bob says with a shrug, “I just can, I guess.”
“But not to me,” Joaquín chimes in, shamelessly smug. Bob rolls his eyes, and Alexei chuckles.
“The little bird has, uh, boyfriend-senses, you say? A useful power with this one!” He claps Joaquín on the back, maybe just a smidge too hard.
“By the way, I think I found your problem.”
“What?! What is wrong with my darling?!” Alexei sticks his head back in, desperate to see where Joaquín is pointing.
“These sparkplugs are totally worn out. These two aren’t terrible, but they’re on their last legs. I’d replace the whole set of them.” He points them out as he speaks, and Alexei sighs loudly.
“I see. Thank you, Birdie.”
Alexei offers another story for the Birdie for the road, but he quickly says that he and Bob have something planned. Not one to interfere with young love, Alexei waves them off. As they go, however, Alexei notices something. In the middle of his hood is now a large dent from where his head made contact, something that is going to need fixing.
With a groan, Alexei turns his attention back to his car, ready to get her on her wheels again.
…
Being Captain America is a pretty good gig, Sam would say. There is a lot to like about it: helping others, being free to pick and choose missions, and fancy gear. But it is certainly not all glamorous, and most of the downsides involve the metric shitton of paperwork that comes with the role. Most wouldn’t imagine the Captain staying up, staring at a computer screen until his eyes burn, contemplating putting his head through the monitor because he has to finish a report.
Sam tries not to make nights like this a habit. He’s only human, after all, and he needs to be in tip-top shape, which includes a whole night’s rest, but they still happen once in a blue moon. At least he’s nearly done, and it’s far from the latest he’s ever stayed up for something like this.
Sam pauses as the gentle thuds of footsteps slowly approach from the hallway. Joaquín must be up, not super common, considering that he could sleep through just about anything. Sam focuses back on the report, letting the click-clack of his keys fill the silence in the dark loft. However, he pauses again as he realizes that Joaquín is still walking towards him instead of stopping in the kitchen or bathroom like he thought he would, and, sure enough, a moment later, a sleepy Joaquín stumbles into the room, hair messy, crease lines from his pillow still on his face.
“Hey, man, everything alright?” Sam asks gently, wondering if he had a nightmare. Joaquín doesn’t respond for a moment, just standing there.
“Something’s wrong.” Sam blinks at his partner, officially concerned.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Joaquín doesn’t deign to reply, wandering around the dark loft as if searching for something. Sam stares, baffled. Is he sleepwalking? He never has before, but this job does weird shit to you sometimes, so anything is possible.
Sam stands up, meaning to gently lead Joaquín back to his bed when his blood runs cold. There, just a few feet behind Joaquín is a person. They’re hidden within the shadows of the room, but Sam can see that they’re tall and lanky, one arm reaching forward towards his protege’s back, who stands utterly unaware of the sudden danger he’s in.
“Joaquín!” Sam shouts, his body becoming a live wire as panic fills him. He doesn’t know who or what this thing is, but there’s no way in hell he’s letting it anywhere near his bird. He grabs the nearest object to him, a stapler and not a shield, sadly, and he hucks it at the figure as hard as he can, bursting into a sprint towards it.
The figure jerks, the stapler hitting its shoulder instead of its face, and a moment later, Sam tackles them, hitting their midsection hard and sending them both to the ground with Joaquín now safely out of its reach. He grabs the figure by the shirt, pinning him down on the ground.
“Sam, what the hell are you doing?!” Joaquín shouts, and Sam is briefly stunned, freezing with fabric still twisted in his fists.
“Me?!” Sam’s head snaps to Joaquín, oddly offended. He tries to save him, and that’s the response he gets?!
“Yeah, you! Get off him!” Joaquín pushes against Sam’s shoulder to get him to move, and Sam glances down, utterly confused. Only to meet Bob Fucking Reynold’s wide, terrified eyes, hands beside his head, palms up.
“What the shit?” Sam blurts, but he does get off the other, rubbing his eyes as if that’ll make the other disappear or he’ll magically understand why Bob’s in a loft with the highest-end security in an Air Force base without his knowledge.
“I-I don’t know what happened,” Bob sputters as if reading Sam’s mind, standing after taking Joaquín’s offered hand. “I was just, uh… I was missing Joaquín and thinking about him, a-and the next thing I know, I’m here. ” Sam sighs with the weight of the bullshit he has to deal with every day.
“Okay,” Sam says with forced calm, “I’m guessing you’ve never teleported before?” Bob shakes his head.
“I’ll call Bucky and let him know you’re here. Sorry for attacking you earlier, man. Didn’t see who you were.” Sam places a hand on his shoulder, but Bob just shrugs.
“I mean, I kinda broke into your house, so I think that’s a fair response.”
“Why did you tackle him, though?” Joaquín pipes up with a smirk. “We have several hidden guns in here.”
“I…” Sam starts, trying to think of an excuse but coming up empty. Joaquín giggles softly to himself, and Sam glares. “I’m tired, shut up.” That only makes Joaquín cackle even more; even Bob is grinning slightly. Sam rolls his eyes but decides to leave it be.
“Just go back to bed,” Sam sighs, but a fond smile pulls at his lips.
“Night, Sam.”
“Goodnight.”
Bob reaches over, gently grabbing the strap of Joaquín’s tank top, letting himself be led to the other’s bedroom despite having visited here several times at this point. Sam shakes his head to himself as he pulls up Bucky’s contact.
It may not always be easy being Captain America, but there’s never a dull moment.
…
As much as John argues otherwise, Bob really doesn’t mean to startle people. He just… does. At first, he worried that the others would get annoyed, and, sure, in the moment, they do, but it’s now become something of an inside joke. Ava has even offered to team up with him to try and scare the others, an offer he hasn’t accepted but hasn’t turned down either.
They equally joke about how, out of everyone, Joaquín is seemingly immune to Bob’s sudden appearances, something Joaquín will happily brag about. Usually, Bob is glad for this, not wanting to give his boyfriend a heart attack, but he can’t help but wonder if he could make Joaquín jump out of his skin like his teammates do.
The more Bob thinks about it, the funnier it seems. He’s pretty sure a lot of couples prank each other, and this would be the perfect one. Yelena laughs for a while once he tells her, very apparent in her support, enough to make him slightly giddy.
Bob waits for the perfect time, which comes a few nights later.
Bob is woken up by his mattress shifting in the early morning hours by Joaquín clambering out of bed to get a drink or use the bathroom. Usually, if Bob is woken up like this, he’ll try to pull Joaquín back to bed before eventually letting him go with a kiss. But tonight, he stays still, keeping his breathing deep and steady. He can feel Joaquín’s weight shifting the bed before a pair of slightly chapped lips are pressed against his temple. It takes everything in Bob not to turn his head to truly kiss his boyfriend, but he manages, listening to him amble down the hall.
After a couple seconds, Bob gets up, grabbing his phone. He creeps down the hall, seeing the bathroom door closed, light streaming out through the crack in the bottom. He positions himself right outside the door, lifting his phone and pressing record (Yelena had suggested he record Joaquín’s reaction as if he needed convincing to have more of his boyfriend on his phone.)
“I’m gonna scare him so bad,” Bob whispers to the phone before flipping the camera to face the door. He waits several seconds before the door opens with a slight hiss, and Joaquín steps out.
“RAHH!” Bob shouts, lurching towards his boyfriend, his hand extended like he’d grab him.
But instead of jumping or screaming, Joaquín just looks up at him and blinks before a wide smile blooms on his face.
“You can’t scare me, baby,” he says, voice low and rough from sleep, and Bob’s face flushes.
“Not even a little?” Bob asks, pouting that his prank didn’t work. Joaquín chuckles softly, stepping forward to lean against Bob’s chest, wrapping his arms around the other.
“Nope. You’re too cute.” Joaquín lightly kisses Bob’s collarbone, barely a press of lips. Bob has the wherewithal to stop the recording and slip the phone into his pocket to wrap his arms around Joaquín.
“That’s alright too, I guess,” Bob mumbles, but he’s grinning and pressing a kiss to the top of Joaquín’s head. “I… I like that you’re not scared of me.” There’s a beat of silence where the weight of that sentence settles on both of them.
“And I never will be,” Joaquín promises, just as serious. “But we should go back to bed before I fall asleep here.” Sure enough, Joaquín is steadily leaning more of his weight on Bob, and Bob would bet a lot that his eyes are already closed.
“C’mon, then. Pretty birds need their beauty sleep.” Joaquín grumbles a bit against the nickname, but it’s a token protest.
Bob crouches down slightly to grab the back of Joaquín’s thighs, easily hoisting him up. Joaquín wraps his arms around Bob’s neck on instinct, face pressing into the crook of Bob’s neck as he’s carried back to bed. By the time Bob settles them both on the mattress, Joaquín is already dozing off, with Bob not far behind him.
In the morning, he’ll send that video to Yelena, likely subjecting himself to several days’ worth of teasing, but, for now, he hugs Joaquín close, nose deep in those messy curls, love burning bright in his chest.