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When they were asked what would make living in the Watchtower more comfortable, Alexei immediately asked for a ping pong table, which Bob thought was basically the most galaxy-brained idea in the entire universe.
The rest of the requests were mild. John listed out all of the utensils still needed in the kitchen, including a wok that was so huge it was impractical, but he made banger-ass stir fry in it, so it was fine. Ava asked for aerial exercise equipment for the gym, and, even though she’d never trained in that at all, was still often found hanging around upside down, getting her workout in. The small glimpses Bob had of Bucky’s bedroom showed nothing much, sparse and mostly unfurnished, but he’d asked for a scratching tower for Alpine and shelves he staggered on the wall (not for books or trinkets, but for her to jump all over). Yelena asked for a new set of lock picks (denied), bomb making supplies (denied), Val’s Social Security number (denied), and a king size mattress (currently unmade in her bedroom). Alexei asked for the ping pong table, and Bob?
Well, Bob hadn’t asked for anything.
He’d been given a room on the Thunderbolts’ floor of the Watchtower, in the same hallway as Alexei and Bucky. The other three were in the opposite hallway, clear across the large living area with the couches and TV and, now, the ping pong table. He had a mattress, not as huge as Yelena’s, but firm and comfortable. They’d been given clothing, and told that a monthly allowance for more clothing, uniform repairs, and equipment would be built into their pay (once they started getting paid). Bob had a few hangers in his closet with jeans, cotton t-shirts, and one very worn blue sweater. There was always food; sometimes John cooked, other times they ordered out. John and Alexei usually went on grocery store runs; Bob always asked if he could help, but John was the chef and Alexei carried all the bags, so there was really no reason for him to tag along.
So, he had a space to live, clothes on his back, and food (often very good food) whenever he wanted it. No one was hurting him, using him, or experimenting on him, and he’d been clean for months. It was a good life, a better life. Probably the best he’d ever experienced. Probably way better than he deserved.
And yet, he still felt fucking useless.
Two weeks prior, for one brief, manic moment, shining and hot like he was on the surface of the sun, he’d felt like the most important person ever born. He had a purpose, he had a mission. He was all powerful, unstoppable.
It was a high, stronger and more potent than any drug he’d ever tried, but now he had a name for it: Sentry. The low was Void. Both were him, parts of his mind, and they were equally dominant, equally cunning, and equally dirty. If Sentry was a god, all malicious benevolence and all-seeing power, Void was, too. Destruction and heartlessness and ice cold judgement.
Between them was Bob.
Robert Reynolds. The most useless man in Florida, in the United States, in the world, probably. Plucked from the streets of Malaysia as he begged for drugs, torn apart and stitched back together, the scariest parts of his brain amplified, let loose, and given arms and ammunition. Now forced into a retreat, maybe temporary but hopefully not, by the rest of the people living in the Watchtower.
Now that both Sentry and Void were packed back into his brain, Bob was just himself. Sober, powerless. Somehow on a semi-official team with five other people with abilities so far beyond his that it was ridiculous; just the other day he watched Yelena hold a handstand for a full half hour with weights on her ankles and pointed toes, Alexei bench the five hundred pound bar in the Watchtower’s gym with one hand, Ava phase through space and time, John practice throwing the taco shield like a boomerang (the bent part made a whistling noise as he hucked it around and caught it again), and Bucky lift up an entire couch with his metal arm to vacuum under it as Alpine sat on top of it and yowled.
Bob couldn’t do any of that. Not for lack of trying, though. When he was alone, in bed or in the gym or even in the huge metal elevator in the middle of the Tower, he reached in his mind for Sentry.
Oftentimes, it was like reaching for lightning. The sudden shock of power, the surge of Sentry rushing to fill the space behind his eyes, the frantic scramble to shove him far enough back that Bob himself was still in control. That’s all it felt like when it boiled down to it, a fight with a wet cat, two idiots trying to take the wheel from each other as the car swerved out of control. If he let it crash, Bob knew deep in his soul that Void was next at bat.
When he pulled back from Sentry, it felt like the falldown after a bad trip every single time, whether or not he was able to control even a little bit of power. He tried the water thing most often, setting the half-full glass on his bedside table and holding out his hand like he’d done with Valentina next to him. Sometimes he boiled it slightly, sometimes the glass cracked, but it was nothing like the first time.
Maybe Sentry resented him. Hated him, even. He was different than the man Valentina manipulated; he knew more, stepped carefully. He wasn’t nearly as hungry to prove himself as he was back then, even though his inadequacy ate at him. Some days he could barely get out of bed; his headaches had come back full force, especially after messing with Sentry, and it was difficult to keep them in check. Yelena knew, but he didn’t even tell her the extent of it. She just made excuses for him in the casual, nonchalant way only Yelena could, that was able to turn cutting and mean in half a heartbeat if it needed to. He was grateful for her, but he wasn’t honest with her. Not fully.
Not about everything. Not about the glass on his nightstand and the broken shards he kept hidden in a box under his bed.
“Pass me the screwdriver,” Bucky said, on his back underneath the mostly-assembled ping pong table. He held up the final piece of the structure with his metal arm, gesturing with his flesh and bone hand towards Ava, who slid him the tool with her foot. He still had to stretch to snatch it.
“I still can’t believe we asked for a ping pong table and they sent us a few pieces of plywood in a box.” John nudged the structure with a toe, and the whole thing shifted. Bucky threw a wadded-up page of instructions at him.
“Don’t touch the fucking thing,” he griped. “I’m underneath it.”
“I think you’ll survive,” Ava said, and bumped it in the same way John had. Bucky finished tightening whatever screw he was working at down there, and scooted out from under the table, lunging for Ava’s legs as she phased out of the way.
“Fucking cheater.”
“Slow as shit.” Ava stuck out her tongue as Yelena tossed the set of paddles onto the table.
“Are we doing this, or what?”
“Only two paddles.” Alexei heaved himself off the floor; he’d been laying there while Bucky and John puzzled out how to put together the table he wanted. “Can’t play teams.”
“That’s fine,” John said. “I don’t need a teammate to kick all your asses.”
Yelena barked out a laugh. “Oh, you’re on, Walker. But we need some ground rules first.”
“Red Guardian plays dirty,” Alexei said, picking up a paddle and flipping it between both hands. “No rulebook can pin down.”
Ava shot him a wary look. “No, I think rules are a good idea.”
“No one’s dying over ping pong,” Bucky agreed. “Sam would never let me hear the end of it.”
“Okay, first off, no super power shit.” Yelena crossed her arms. “Not if you can’t help it. Bucky plays right handed, and Ava, no moving through time and space to help you win. If anyone’s suspect, the rest of us get to rule on whether or not it counts.”
“Half these people have super soldier serum,” Ava said. “Why can’t I do my thing?”
“I’m right handed anyway,” Bucky said.
“You heard me.” Yelena slammed her open hand on the ping pong table, and the sound reverberated through the room. “Who’s first?”
Even with the rule of no super power shit, it quickly became clear that there were lines drawn. Not clearly around the ones with the serum, like Bob figured from the beginning as he watched, perched on the back of one of the couches, but mainly around Bucky and Yelena.
They were just too damn fast. The brute force of both John and Alexei couldn’t really ever be a fair match for a sniper honed over a hundred years of training, and Yelena made up for her shorter wingspan by being everywhere all at once. Even when Ava said fuck it and started phasing without regard to the previously set rules, she had a hard time keeping up.
They didn’t even play long games, just until someone lost control of the ball or it bounced more than twice. No points, no dragging on, just different matchups and quick, brutal games that ended in cursing more often than not.
“Bobby,” John panted as he leaned against the table, flipping his paddle back and forth between his hands. He’d just beaten Alexei, and must have been feeling pretty good, because he grinned over at Bob like a shark who’d just spotted a particularly vulnerable school of tiny little fish. “C’mon, play a round.”
Yelena shoved him off of the edge of the table, prepping for the next game as Ava crossed her arms.
“Don’t prey on Bob just because the only one here you can beat is Alexei.”
“Hey,” John said, wheeling around and pointing his paddle at her, “I beat you, too. And Yelena that one time—”
“Fluke,” Yelena interrupted, and served the ball to Ava. John spluttered.
”Fluke—”
“Bob should play,” Alexei said, his voice booming. “Good team building for team. Everyone join in, all skills, all fun.”
Bob huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, Alexei. I’m good over here, though, I think.”
“He’s right,” Bucky said from where he was crouched at the edge of the table, between the net so he could see both sides. They’d agreed that, when he wasn’t playing, he’d act as ref. Something about his morals being good enough for Captain America, or whatever Alexei had yelled. Bucky hadn’t argued, though.
“What, about team building?” Ava grunted as she returned the ball to Yelena, who smacked it so fast Ava couldn’t even phase after it. She threw the paddle onto the table. “God damn it!”
Yelena cackled. “Read it and weep, Starr.”
“Yes, about team building.” Bucky handed one paddle to John and kept the other for himself. Ava took his spot and his same ref stance. “It might be helpful some day.”
“Knowing how to play ping pong?” John asked as their game began. The ball was a fuckin’ blur.
“Knowing how to throw in the towel,” Bucky said, and returned the ball so fast that John had to scramble to get a hit back in.
“I’m fine watching,” Bob insisted. “It’s not like I’m part of the team, anyway.”
John’s paddle clattered to the table, and Bucky caught the ball in his metal hand. As one, all five of them turned towards him like the world’s worst team of synchronized swimmers. Was there such a thing as synchronized ping pong? Probably.
Yelena’s eyebrows furrowed. “Real answers only. Are you doing all right, Bob?”
“Yeah, ‘course I am,” Bob said, lifting and dropping one shoulder. “I know what I am here, and it’s okay. I just don’t really contribute a whole lot.”
“You contribute much,” Alexei boomed. “You are solnishko!”
Bob rolled his eyes even as he grinned a little at Alexei’s enthusiasm. “Okay, if we’re being real, I contribute about as much as Alpine does. And even she caught a rat the other day, so.”
“She does put in work,” Bucky muttered as he examined something on his paddle.
“You’d be pretty shit at catching rats,” Ava said.
“Hey, don’t count me out,” Bob said. “I was pretty good at gator wrangling back in Florida.”
A beat of silence where they all looked at him, including Bucky from behind his (faulty?) paddle. Yelena blinked. John had both eyebrows raised in disbelief. Bob laughed once, a loud, bright noise designed to distract.
“C’mon, guys. Obviously I’m fucking with you.”
Alexei roared with laughter of his own, far more genuine than Bob’s had been. “Robert Reynolds, our very own Florida gator man! Villains tremble in fear!”
“Okay, Bob,” Bucky said, smoothing down the decal on his paddle and returning it and the ball to the middle of the table. “You’re up, whoever you want to play. No powers, no nothing. Calm, friendly.”
“Stupid,” John muttered and Ava smacked the back of his head.
“I would like to take on gator wrangler,” Alexei said, and Bob wrinkled his nose.
“I guess.”
“Yes!” Alexei passed him a paddle and situated himself at the other end of the table. “I go easy. We play good, fun game.”
“Just let me get the hang of it,” Bob said, and served. Alexei returned, and for a few moments they played back and forth until Bob made an idiotic, snap judgement and swung too soon. The ball skittered off into the common area and Yelena leapt to retrieve it.
“One more,” Alexei said, wagging his finger at Bob. “You get hang of it, Bob, I see deep in your eyes.”
“Okay,” Bob agreed, and the game resumed. As he swung the paddle, a tingle of something touched his fingertips. A live wire. Lightning.
Oh, he thought, aiming it deep into the middle of his mind where he knew Sentry lived. A big ping pong fan, huh? Thought you were moping.
The bright, blinding power seethed and prickled. Bob scoffed.
Don’t get fucking offended, he thought. I’m not scared of you.
Yes, you are. The voice was quiet but powerful, his own but different, cockier, less affected, laced with that same lightning. Bob stuck out a mental tongue.
Whatever. Fuck off, then.
Sentry prickled again and Bob rolled his mental eyes.
We’re the same person. Are we never going to work together, or what? You’re gonna keep that power dammed up and never use it ‘cause you think I’m weak?
The power in the middle of Bob’s mind ebbed and shrank, almost like it was… Hiding. Oh.
You’re afraid of him, he thought. Of Void. Him coming out isn’t good for you, either, huh?
Silence, until: He hurts.
Well, that’s something we can agree on. Bob returned Alexei’s serve, a little harder than he usually did. Maybe we could try to work together, figure out a way around him.
I am the Sentry. The power flared and burned. I don’t need anyone—
You kind of need me, Bob interrupted. Can’t be the Sentry without a fucking body, moron. If we work together and use our power in a setting like this, super casual, where no one can get hurt, there shouldn’t be a risk of unleashing Void.
Sentry was quiet. Bob shrugged a mental shoulder.
You want to try?
He blinked, and the world shone brighter, Sentry burning like a brand behind his eyes. Alexei wound back to send the ball bouncing across the table again. Suddenly, the paddle in Bob’s hand felt light, and nothing felt impossible.
Alexei swung, and Sentry snarled.
Let’s kick his ass.
They did. In four more swings, Alexei went chasing after the ball Bob spiked across the table, and he looked over at the others. Ava’s mouth hung open.
“Oh, I call next,” she said, so Bob played her. Twice.
And beat her. Twice.
“What the hell,” she said, and tossed the paddle at Yelena, who’d been cackling for the past few minutes. “You go, then, if you’re so good!”
“There’s three of us left who haven’t taken a crack at the new ping pong prodigy,” she said. “The ping-pong-digy.”
“Ew,” Ava said. John snorted.
“That sucked.”
“Anyway, we’re doing a winners bracket,” Yelena said. “Me versus Bucky, John versus Bob. Winners play each other, may the best former Russian asset who isn’t named Bucky Barnes win.”
He rolled his eyes, shook her hand, and they played their match. They’d never been pitted against each other, and she put up a valiant fight, but he must’ve spotted some weakness because eventually he kept hitting the same spot on the table over and over again until—
“Fuck!” She lunged again, swinging her paddle and hitting nothing. The ball flew right into one of the cracks between sofa and cushion. “God damn it— Who the fuck invented super serum, anyway? I want to go back in time and kick them in the balls.”
Bucky laughed, a bright, clear noise that rang throughout the common area as he motioned for John to take his paddle.
“You’re up, Walker. Let’s see if you can handle the gator wrangler.”
Yelena handed her paddle off to Bob. “You’d better beat him so you can beat Bucky. Avenge me, Bob.”
He saluted her, paddle to forehead, and lined up on his side of the table. John tossed the ball, catching it with that same hand.
“You sure you want to do this, Bobby?”
Bob’s palms tingled, same as his scalp, as the tight muscles across his back, as the space right behind his eyes. Sentry strained in his mind, a horse against a taut rope.
Easy, Bob thought, one mental hand out to keep him at bay, and John served.
Bob sent it right back, and Sentry smirked. Easy.
The game went on for a while, and Bob found himself… Bored. John was all brute strength and zero finesse, and Sentry snickered in Bob’s ear every time he nearly missed an easy shot. There were a lot of those, easy shots, because Bob didn’t want the game to end too quickly.
But, for all his blustering, John wasn’t an idiot.
“Are you fucking with me?” he snarled as he slammed back another one of the softballs Bob lobbed over the net. “You’d better quit fucking with me.”
“Why?” Bob said, and hit John’s shot like it was nothing. “I thought we were having fun.”
“You didn’t even want to play,” John grunted, lunging for the ball and sending it back.
“Yeah, but I want to play now,” Bob said, and ended the game. John reeled back and threw his paddle; it would’ve been broken forever or stuck in one of the Tower’s walls if it hadn’t been for Ava phasing over to grab it midair. She returned and handed it over to Bucky.
“Championship match,” she said as John stomped over to the couch and flopped down beside Alexei in a huff. “Best of luck.”
“Want to take a break, Reynolds?” Bucky asked, flipping the paddle from hand to hand as he took John’s old spot on the other side of the net. Bob met his hard, steel-blue eyes; he was squinting like he knew something was up.
“We can if you want,” Bob said. “I know games like this can be hard on senior citizens.”
Yelena cackled and even John snorted a laugh through his nose from where he was sulking. Bucky gestured to Bob’s hand, the one that was holding the ball.
“Let’s go, then.”
As they started, Bucky kept the paddle in his right hand and Bob kept Sentry at bay. They smacked the ball back and forth for a while, feeling each other out, like it was a duel with swords and not a game of ping pong. Bucky was fast, faster than Yelena, even faster than Ava phasing. Bob could feel Sentry getting antsy behind his eyes, flickering and fidgeting.
He’s mine. Let me through.
Fuck off, Bob returned. We’re doing this together or not at all. Now concentrate!
Playing cautious like this, both Bob and Bucky keeping a handle on some greater level of power, they were as evenly matched as two people could possibly be. Bucky played defensive, usually letting the ball bounce twice if he could, like he was taking all the time possible in order to figure out where to send it back for maximum effectiveness. Bob was quicker, lunging forward on the table to flip the ball back over the net as soon as possible. A lot of that was Sentry; overeager, pulling at the restraints of Bob's mind.
Every once in a while, after a particularly hard hit or when he just managed to snag the ball on his paddle and send it back, he noticed Bucky watching him. Eyes narrowed slightly, following his movement closer than he had to if they were just playing a normal game. Bucky Barnes was anything but stupid, and Bob knew that he knew.
I can win. Sentry's voice echoed, insistent and harsh. Let me win.
We can do this together, Bob insisted. Sentry made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat, if a swirling puddle of golden power in the middle section of Bob's mind had a throat.
You're tired already.
Bob hit the ball again. Sentry was a dick, but he wasn't wrong. The muscles in his back ached, his right arm was weakening, the grip of his hand around the paddle was downright agonizing at this point. He was tired, and he wanted to be done. On the other side of the table, with all his super soldier stamina, Bucky looked anything but done.
Let me out, Sentry ordered, and, in the privacy (not really) of his own mind, Bob nodded.
Go get him.
He wasn't expecting the pull, how he felt yanked back between his eyes, taken hold of by an invisible rope and bound with it. Sentry flared, the brightness of power so intense that Bob fell backwards into it, grasping at nothing as he was sucked into darkness, down, down, down.
—
Bucky noticed Bob’s eyes before they even started playing.
Both irises ringed with gold; only slightly, but enough to glow when they caught the light. He wasn’t very familiar with Sentry, but what he knew wasn’t great. What he knew had gotten his arm ripped off, what he knew had gotten his face beat in with that same arm. Sentry was nothing but trouble.
Although today, apparently, Sentry was playing ping pong.
If Bob was able to keep a handle on it, Bucky didn’t see why he shouldn’t use Sentry for something as trivial as a ping pong game with the team. Bucky himself had said it was good team building; maybe it was good for Bob, too. Get some of that excess Sentry energy out, or something. That’s how the serum was for Bucky. Often it felt like he was overflowing, like he needed to work that overflow out of his system.
So, he served the ball.
It was all very normal at the beginning. A few hits back and forth. Bob’s eyes still glowed, but it was muted. Nothing to worry about.
Until Bob sent the ball whistling back over the net with way more power behind it than he'd been using before, and Bucky had to actually scramble to return it. He heard a dramatic gasp (Yelena) and a derisive catcall (John), and as he looked up at Bob…
There it was. His irises were painted fully gold, only a pinprick of black pupils even visible. Sentry looked at Bucky like he was nothing, like he was an irritant in the way of a greater goal, even if that goal was only winning a stupid game of ping pong. Bucky flipped the paddle to his left hand and sent the ball sailing back so fast it hummed.
There wasn't any possible way to beat a god —Bucky had learned that the hard way a few weeks ago, a few floors below in this very building— but he could sure as hell give him a good run for his money.
They battled for a few minutes as the others slowly sat up higher in their seats, leaning closer, eyes wider. Yelena crawled up on top of the couch for a better vantage point.
"Does anyone think this a good idea?" she said, out loud, to no one in particular.
"Shh," John hissed.
"What if he loses?" Ava said. Yelena gestured widely at Sentry.
"What if he loses?"
"This is bad idea." Alexei's voice was hushed. "But very cool."
"I got it under control," Bucky managed to get out as he sent the ball flying back towards Sentry, who immediately returned it with a side-spin that had Bucky running after it. Sentry's eyes glowed, two golden embers embedded in a face that looked like Bob. Shit. Maybe this really was a bad idea.
"He's gonna get clocked with his own arm again," John said.
"At best," Ava tacked on. Yelena hushed both of them as a bead of sweat dripped down Bucky's temple. The hits were only getting harder, the ball spinning on its own axis as it was flung to every corner of the table. Sentry was everywhere all at once; impossible to pin down, and it was… Bucky bit back the laugh that suddenly bubbled in his chest. He had no idea what would happen if he laughed in Sentry's face.
It was a challenge. It wasn't a normal slog through his gym routine, or a run around the city at a pace he'd been pushing himself at for years. It wasn't bugging Valentina to cut the goddamn legalese and actually let the team run free to finally help people. It was different from the routine he'd settled into in the Tower. It was fun.
He hit the ball hard enough he heard and felt the paddle crack. He didn't dare look down— there was no time for that. Sentry snarled and returned it, Bucky hit it again, and Sentry actually bared his teeth. He hadn't shown any of this kind of emotion during that initial fight weeks ago. Bucky was a competitive son of a bitch; maybe Sentry was, too.
Surrender, Bucky could imagine Sentry saying, golden eyes glowing as he stared Bucky into submission. What was that damn thing Steve was always saying to bullies?
I can do this all day. Sure. Something like that.
He lunged for the ball, sending it screaming back over the net, and Sentry reared back, hitting it so hard the paddle exploded in his hands. The ball, just a tattered hunk of plastic shreds now, smacked Bucky's paddle but didn't come off. He poked it; the white plastic had melted into an unrecognizable glob onto the cracked wood.
Well, that was about as tied as tied could be. Bucky leaned against the table, both hands planted on its surface, and slumped down, laughing as the adrenaline coursed through him. That's what did it, he supposed. A stupid game of ping pong, the most pointless thing in the universe. He hauled himself upright again, still out of breath, and stuck his hand out.
"Good game," he said to Bob, who was—
Well, fuck. He was still as Sentry as he could be.
Gold eyes, shot through with threads of deepest black, pierced right through Bucky as Sentry flipped the ping pong table and stalked towards him, hand out (not in a handshake way, an honorable thank-your-opponent way, but definitively in an off-with-your-head Void-y murder way). Bucky scrambled backwards as John ran up behind Sentry, a huge bucket full of —was that ice water?— and, without waiting, threw the whole thing over his head.
—
Bob scrambled through his own mind, trying to get back in control as Void lurked in the far corners, ready and waiting for his chance. Sentry was too powerful, too damn strong, and now that he had his sights locked on an opponent, there was no stopping—
Shit!
The shock of —freezing!— cold gave Bob an opening, a sliver of a chance, and he grabbed the golden power of Sentry right around what felt like a neck under both of his hands. He wrangled him backwards, into his mind again, as Sentry flailed and fought— a wet cat that had never been declawed, a starved Florida gator high on meth. Bob stuffed him down like he was packing an overfilled suitcase, and zippered an invisible closure shut. Everything spun.
Blinking and shaking his head, Bob looked down. Calloused palms stared back at him, old scars on his forearms, the gray t-shirt he'd chosen that morning, his favorite corduroy pants, his bare feet. Back in his body, while, in his mind, Sentry raged. It was easy to block him out, though, because when he looked up, the only thing he saw was Bucky, grinning at him like a lunatic.
"Oh my god," Bob said, mostly to the destroyed paddle by his feet and the ball-fused one in Bucky's and the flipped ping pong table between the both of them, "I am so sorry—“
Bucky gestured at the mess, still looking, inexplicably, the happiest Bob had ever seen him. "I think we tied."
"Holy fuck, we're never going to hear the end of this," John said, rolling his eyes as he tossed the bucket —had he been the one to splash Sentry? That was a pretty good idea— and Bob tossed the paddle down and held out his hand.
"Good game," he said, still a little breathless (and soaking wet). Bucky grabbed his hand and, instead of shaking it, pulled Bob into a bone-crushing hug. Bob melted into its warmth as his hair dripped all over Bucky's shirt.
"Had to make sure you made it back safe," Bucky said quietly as he let go and patted both hands, warm flesh and cold metal, down Bob's damp face. "No golden glow, we're good. All Bob."
"That'll teach you to ragebait Sentry into coming out," Ava said from her spot perching on the back of the couch. Alexei scoffed.
"Gator wrangler has situation under control."
John made a high-pitched squeaky noise. "I had to douse him in ice water!"
"And it was fun," Bucky said, clapping Bob on the shoulder. "Are we sure we can't do that every once in a while? Get Bob to work out his Sentry muscles for weekly game night? Might make things more interesting around here."
John's high-pitched squeaky noise got higher-pitched and squeakier, somehow. "He just almost Voided out over ping pong!"
"I had it under control for a while," Bob said. "None of you noticed."
"You really did," Bucky said, turning to Bob with something that almost looked like pride on his face. "I think we can work with it, try and train with it, if you want to. Low pressure, maybe once a week."
Bob tilted his head. "Wait, really? You're not… I don't know. Nervous about me losing it?"
"Nah," Bucky said. "John's got his ice water, right? It'll be fun."
"That's the most fucked up version of fun I've ever heard," John muttered, but then he squinted and held his hands out like a ref. "Hold on, you were Sentry when you beat me, too?"
Yelena rolled her eyes. "You're just mad you got your ass kicked."
"Yeah, by Sentry!"
"Not fair," Alexei boomed. "Rematch!"
"Yeah, sure," Bob said, leaning down to set the table back on its legs again. It was a little lopsided, there was a big crack down the middle, but it still worked. Bucky pried the melted husk of the ball off of his paddle, and Ava dug in the discarded box for another ball and emerged with a paddle, too. She handed the new one to John as Bob accepted Bucky's cracked one. As John took Bucky's place on the other side of the table. Bob opened his eyes wide with his fingers. "No Sentry. See?"
"Just Bob," John agreed, spinning the paddle in his hand. "Ready?"
"If you are," Bob said, and John served.