Work Text:
Joaquin tried to stay still as they worked. He always tried to be motionless for as long as possible, to retreat into his own head, to be anywhere but there. Some days, he managed to go back to the time before the lab, when he was just a kid, back when he knew innocence and never really had any reason to flinch. Most days, he was stuck in that same cold room he’d been in for months now.
After his mom died, Joaquin was the only one there to take care of his Abuela. It’s not like he wasn't used to it—the thirteen year old had been taking care of his terminally ill mother and dementia-ridden grandmother for years before Esperanza succumbed to her cardiomyopathy.
He was careful, he never let anyone know he was the one cooking and paying the rent and working for cash to pay off the piles of medical bills. He just figured he hadn’t been careful enough when he got grabbed off a street corner in Miami and shoved into a van. For that day, and for too many after, all he knew was the chains that bit into his wrist, the Hydra logo that would haunt him for years to come, and the blood-soaked cloth they gave him for warmth after he ended up hypothermic.
Joaquin never found out why they’d taken him, of all people. Even if they’d told him at some point, all the memories from his months in captivity were blurred together and too hard to make out individually. The only moment that stuck out clearly, the one that had him waking up in the middle of the night trembling and sweating, was the moment he realized what they’d done to him. It hurt so bad as the wings they’d forced into his blood pierced the skin above his shoulder blades. He remembers screaming and writhing in pain as a drawling voice described it all for their records. He knew as they emerged that he’d never quite be seen as human again, that he’d never be loved again. He was a monster now, a freak of their creation.
It wasn’t until he met Bob that he felt loved again. Bob didn’t see the wings or the history or any of it, he just saw Joaquin. And god, he was so adorably awkward, Joaquin couldn’t help loving him too. Bob didn’t even shy away from the rougher parts of Joaquin. The first time he ever saw it, Joaquin was staying with Bob at the tower in New York, too exhausted to drive all the way back to DC. He was asleep, legs tangled together with Bob’s, when he jerked awake from being back there. The hands all around him, the constant poking, the endless, burning pain, he couldn’t do it. He backed himself against the headboard, shaking as his breathing grew more and more ragged. His wings pressed against the dark wood as he pushed to shrink smaller and smaller against the hard surface. In darkness, reality blurred with the nightmares of his head. He couldn’t process Bob’s ridiculously oversized teddy bear or overflowing laundry hammer or hanging egg chair. He was just back.
Bob opened his heavy eyes, clueless to what was happening beside him. His eyes widened as they found Joaquin’s, and Bob saw at the pure terror they held. Bob reached out with a shaky hand before dropping it, unsure of what to do. They’d never slept in the same bed together before tonight, much less talked in detail about the worst parts of their lives. When Joaquin realised he wasn’t alone, his breathing only got worse. He shrunk into himself, curling small with his wings circling him like a shield.
“Please, I’m sorry, Please, please! No me hagas daño, I’m scared, please” Joaquin sounded so impossibly small, and it broke Bob’s heart into a million pieces. He was trembling under the memory, shaking so bad Bob almost thought he was convulsing.
“I’m here.” Bob tried to keep his voice steady, but he couldn’t manage it, and he hated how small he sounded. “You’re not back there, Joaquin. You’re with me.”
Despite Bob’s timidity, Joaquin peeked up, tears blurring his vision, but not enough to obscure Bob. There had been no oversized sweaters or shy, cute boys in Hydra, but what if it was another trick? Bob gave a hesitant smile at seeing Joaquin meet his gaze. Something about it feels safe, and it helped bring him back. Joaquin looked around as his wings lowered, seeing the cozy mess of Bob’s room for the first time since waking up. He dropped his head as his wings folded up at his back, and leaned forward until his head met Bob’s chest. Bob froze for a few beats, still in his shock, before slowly and shakily bringing his arms up to rest around Joaquin. His grip was so light at first, hardly there, but as Joaquin leaned into it, Bob tightened his grip little by little. Joaquin pressed into the warmth of his skin, the softness of his knit sweater, the sweetness of his arms.
“You’re okay. It’s okay, you’re okay.” Bob whispered, voice still shaky against Joaquin’s hair. Joaquin just nodded against Bob’s chest, weakly curling closer as the adrenaline faded into exhaustion.
“M’sorry.” Joaquin mumbled against Bob’s shirt. “You didn’t want this.”
“Don’t worry about that. It’s okay.” Bob moved a soft, gentle hand to Joaquin’s messed up curls, moving gingerly at first before moving to scratch lightly at Joaquin’s scalp. It was only minutes before Joaquin was asleep again, snoring softly against Bob’s shirt.
In the morning, Joaquin woke up slowly. When the events of the night before hit him, he almost jumped before opening his eyes to see Bob still pressed close. He was still curled around Joaquin, at an awkward angle like he’d sacrificed his comfort to stay close to Joaquin. It was adorable, but as Joaquin tried to shift him to lay more comfortably, Bob stirred. Joaquin smiled at him and brushed his hair back.
“Hey. Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.” Joaquin smirked as he spoke, admiring Bob’s sleepy expression. Bob just gave a dismissive grunt, shutting his eyes tight to keep the daylight out. Joaquin laughed and pulled him close, wrapping his wings around Bob to keep him warm and close against the cold morning air.
“Thank you, for last night. I didn’t think anyone would ever… Be like that with me.”
Bob opened his eyes at that, squinting at Joaquin. He spoke, but it was inaudible between Bob being pressed close and his tired slurred voice, but the warmth said enough.
After a few long minutes of just laying there in safety, Bob titled his head up, more awake now than before.
“D’you want toast? I’m hungry.” Bob’s hair was sticking up in every direction, and it made Joaquin smile as he nodded.
“Toast sounds great, amor.” Joaquin moved to grab his water from the side table, pretending not to notice as Bob turned bright red, then started stammering, then gave up and shuffled out of the room with a dopey smile on his face.
When Bob came back minutes later, Joaquin was sitting up in bed. Bob sat next to him, moving close until their shoulders were pressed together. As Bob moved to hand Joaquin a plate with a couple slices of buttered toast, Joaquin’s hand moved to Bob’s chin. Bob’s eyes went so wide Joaquin thought they might pop out as Joaquin guided his face closer, and closer, and closer. When their lips met, Bob let out a shocked sound before melting into it and wrapping his arms tight against Joaquin. They moved against each other for a moment, so completely absorbed in one another that absolutely nothing could break the moment. Bob silently wished he could stay in the kiss forever as Joaquin smiled against him. When they finally broke apart, Joaquin leaned his forehead against Bob’s, cradling his cheeks and tracing Bob’s cheekbone with a kind of gentleness neither of them ever thought they’d get.
“That was…” Hot blush rushed to Bob’s cheek as he thought about what had just happened. “Yeah.”
Joaquin smiled, moving back to take in Bob again. “Yeah.”
As Joaquin moved back to rest against Bob, wrapping a wing around him alongside an arm, he felt a kind of safety he never thought he’d know. For the first time since he was a little kid, there was nowhere else Joaquin would rather be.