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If you asked Robert “Bob” Reynolds when it started, he wouldn’t be sure how to pinpoint it.
It had come so naturally and quietly that he only noticed it once it had already taken root in his very existence. Sort of like sunlight seeping through the curtains, turning everything warm before you realize morning has come.
A habit you never meant to form, but now can’t imagine living without, and oh so much more addictive than any drug he ever had a taste of. When he was lying in bed, drifting to sleep, it wasn’t to the white noise machine or the light hum coming from the ventilation.
It was to the sound of Yelena’s heart that he had sought and memorized.
Most heartbeats were hard to distinguish.
At first, his super hearing, which came with a long list of powers from the Sentry Project, often blurred everything into an overwhelming rush of sound of thousands of hearts, all pulsing at once.
All fighting to be heard.
It had taken time, patience, and more than a few headaches to learned how to block them out.
Not only that, but how to find hers among them, and once he had, it was like he always knew how to look for it. Steady, deliberate, infuriatingly calm in a way that made the rest of the world seem manageable.
It’s consistent and so soothing that he found himself listening more than he’d like to admit.
When they’re sitting next to each other watching a movie with the others.
When she was attending one of many mandatory meetings and press conferences set up by Val.
When she was on a mission hundreds of miles away, he could make sure she was okay.
More often than not, it was when he was about to fall asleep that he’d find himself finding it and then listening to those beat drums. It grounded him in ways he didn’t know he needed. Some nights, when he felt overwhelmed with his sense of existence—and it was only a matter of time before everyone would abandon him—he’d concentrate until he found that rhythm again, steady and unbothered by chaos, which reminded him to take it slow.
That not everything inside him had to be...more than what he was.
That sometimes Bob could be Bob and exist.
However, this little secret was something he would take to his very grave.
After all, if anyone were to find out, what would they think?
He told himself it was to ensure that no matter where she was, he’d be able to find her.
And what would also mean learning his other teammates’ heartbeats to convince himself that he wasn’t just obsessed with hers—that he was merely vigilant, protective, a good teammate doing what good teammates do.
At the end, he did learn it, but hers was always the one that cut through clearest and steadiest as a lighthouse in the fog of all the others, pulling him back from the edge every single time. Honestly, it was his favorite sound in the world.
Well, and the sound of the Quinjet landing at the landing pad.
Bob hurriedly slipped his bookmark, which was a sticky note Yelena had left him last week, when he was feeling down. He got up and worked on schooling his features into something natural, not like an overexcited puppy hearing the door unlock.
The ramp hissed open, and the team spilled out, carrying the faint, acrid tang of burnt charcoal and smoke on their gear. Bob’s eyes swept over them automatically, cataloging injuries with practiced precision: Ava with a shallow cut on her cheek, Walker limping slightly, Alexei groaning as he stepped out, Bucky looking like he’d rather be anywhere else as usual.
Then there was Yelena.
She looked mildly irritated, but that was the norm whenever they were back from a mission.
Minor scratches and bruises here and there, but nothing serious.
He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the knot in his chest loosening.
Yelena’s gaze found his first, and she smiled.
“Hi, Bob.”
“Hi, Yelena,” he greeted softly, the word carrying more weight than he meant it to.
And just like that, there it was.
Her heartbeat skipped, a single, unmistakable stutter amid its usual steady rhythm. Bob’s super hearing caught it clear as day, even over the team’s banter behind her of how it could have gone better had it not been for the other person and the Quinjet’s cooling hum.
He wasn’t sure why that happened.
Was she still riding the mission’s adrenaline? Tired?
Annoyed at something Walker said behind her or the gagging sound he made?
His mind raced through possibilities, but none of them quite fit the way that tiny hitch felt... personal.
Like it was meant for him alone.
Yelena tilted her head, oblivious to his internal spiral, and the skip smoothed back into her familiar cadence.
“Did you miss me?” she teased, brushing past him close enough that he caught the faint scent of smoke and her shampoo. He couldn’t help but trail behind her, nibbling at his bottom lip before forcing a casual shrug.
“I always do.”
“Mm,” she hummed, seeming quite pleased, but of course, it was ruined by the others.
“Careful, your favoritism is showing, Bob,” Ava mused as she peeled off her burnt gloves and tossed them onto a nearby crate that would be discarded, and Mel would personally deliver a new replacement in a few hours.
Walker snorted from behind her, still limping his way toward the sofa.
“If you asked me, I thought they were going to start serenading each other soon in front of us,” he snorted, nodding curly at Bucky, who was on his way to the kitchen. “Grab me a bottle of water.”
Whether Bucky heard or was choosing to ignore him was still a mystery to Bob.
“You don’t have legs?” Yelena shot.
“May I remind you I got a fucking metal pipe to my leg right after I got my face blasted by gas?” Walker countered, rubbing his side with a grimace. “Burned my damn eyes and made me puke for ten minutes straight, so I’m so sorry I don’t want to move.”
Ava took a seat next to him and raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Should’ve ducked.”
“Easy for you to say, the literal embodiment of a ghost,” he grumbled. He barely flinched when Bucky threw the bottle of water at him from across the room while Alexei let out a booming laugh, clapping Bucky on the back hard enough to make the super soldier stumble a step.
“We still did well out there as a team, yes?”
Yelena snorted, grabbing the laptop she had left on the table. “Sure, if good means nearly blowing up the entire warehouse because someone forgot to check for tripwires and almost killing all of us.”
“I did check,” Bucky implored, his voice flat but edged with frustration as he leaned against the counter. “Twice before we went in, but the gas came from a hidden vent that was triggered once we were inside, so not my fault.”
“At the very least, we did succeed in getting the files,” Ava retorted, throwing the USB.
Yelena caught it mid-air with a lazy flick of her wrist, plugging it straight into her laptop.
She quickly skimmed the files, uploading copies to their secure drive before a copy to Mel to hand over to Valentina. Old habits die hard, especially after being branded the “newest Avengers” seven months ago. Trusting Valentina was like trusting a snake with your money, and Bob sure as hell wasn’t vouching for her either.
“Walker, where did you hide the good stuff?” Alexei asked, already rummaging through the kitchen’s overhead cabinets like a bear raiding a dumpster. “I saw you going through it a few nights ago.”
Walker blinked up at him from the sofa, still nursing his water bottle. “Fuck’s the good stuff?”
“Russian vodka! I had it here last week.”
Walker’s face paled.
“Fuck… was that what it was? Shit, I thought that was rubbing alcohol with the percentage.”
Alexei froze mid-rummage, turning slowly with wide eyes.
“You… used my good stuff to clean your wounds?” he asked, clearly offended. “No, no, no, that won’t do! I had that shipped all the way from Russia! How could you do this to your own teammates, Walker?”
The room went dead silent for a second before Yelena snorted, not looking up from her screen.
“This is why we can’t have nice things.”
Bob hung back as their usual bickering started, half-smiling at the chaos, his gaze drifting to Yelena. Her heartbeat had settled into that perfect rhythm again, steady even amid the noise. It was enough to make the room feel a little less overwhelming.
In moments like these, he almost believed he could belong here—right alongside all of them.
“Watcha cooking there, Bob?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at Yelena’s voice behind him while he continued to stir the pot.
“Mac and cheese.”
Apparently, it was a viral recipe making rounds on the internet, and as soon as he saw it, he knew he had to make it for a certain someone. He couldn’t think of someone who would enjoy it more than Yelena, and her sneaking up behind him proved it.
“I can see that. For lunch?” she asked, sticking her head to the side, eyes bright with curiosity and—if he was honest—just a little too close for his heart rate. It was adorable in a way that made it hard to focus on not burning the roux.
“Late lunch,” Bob admitted. “Figured everyone could use something cheesy after debrief.”
“Mm, you mean I could use something cheesy after putting up with everyone?” Yelena corrected, leaning her elbows on the counter as she watched the sauce thicken. “You know mac and cheese is the way to my heart, yes?”
He smiled, stirring a little more carefully. “I…uh…might’ve noticed.”
How could he not?
In the past seven months of living together, he found himself drawn to finding out everything he could about the former Black Widow. Her favorite foods, the shows that actually made her laugh, the songs she hummed under her breath when she thought no one was listening (her favorite being American Pie)—little things that shouldn’t have mattered as much as they did, but somehow did to him.
He’d learned how she drowned her mac and cheese in hot sauce, how she hated when the noodles were overcooked, how her eyes genuinely lit up whenever she was coddling their unofficial official mascot, Cucumber.
That was his favorite look.
The smell of butter and melting cheese filled the kitchen, warm and heavy, wrapping around them like a blanket. Yelena inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a second.
“If this tastes as good as it smells, I’ll forgive you for not inviting me when you tested the recipe,” she maintained, pouting at him. “I know you gave some to Walker; he purposefully found me to brag.”
“Wasn’t that the day you got into a scuffle with him?”
“Was it?” she asked, brows furrowing on concentration for a moment. “We have so many that it’s hard to keep track. Though if you ask me, it’s not fair, I can’t tase or stab him when he’s the one with super serum in him. Case in point, I am somewhat offended.”
She even made a show of sticking her nose up in the air to showcase that she was joking.
Bob flushed, nibbling his lips. “Well…I, uh… wanted to get it right first.”
She opened her eyes then, seeming a bit shocked.
“You practicing for me? How romantic.”
His hand froze on the spoon, mid-stir, words evaporating from his mind.
“I—uh—just didn’t want to poison y-you.”
“So Walker’s the test rat? You know what, that’s pretty funny, thank you. I needed that today,” she laughed, the sound bright and full of delight. “And relax, Bob. You’d have to try really hard to disappoint me with pasta and cheese. So long as there’s hot sauce.”
“Already got it out,” he said, nodding toward the bottle waiting by the stove. “Sriracha, right?”
“Yes, the best hot sauce on the market,” Yelena remarked, clasping her hands together. Then, she frowned, picked up the brand-new bottle, and inspected it. “Wait, didn’t we run out though?”
“Oh, we did. I ended up ordering more when I placed an order last night when I saw it had been almost empty a few days ago,” he said, keeping his tone casual as he nodded at the fresh bottle. Yelena paused mid-inspection, her frown melting into something softer, almost surprised.
Yelena set the bottle down gently, one eyebrow arching as she studied him.
“You… remembered?”
He didn’t miss the way her heart picked up pace a fraction, quickening like it had caught a spark. Actually, it’s a lot more apparent now in recent weeks, but Bob brushed it off as anything but the idea that he might be the reason for it.
After all, who was he when compared to the likes of someone bright and amazing like her?
Sometimes, he still had a hard time believing this was his new reality now, that he had a place to call “home” and a dysfunctional yet loving group of friends, so he wasn’t going to mess this up by reading too much into a quickened pulse or a lingering smile.
Bob shrugged, cheeks continuing to warm under her gaze.
“Yeah, well. I didn’t want you stabbing Bucky over an empty bottle.”
Even though Bucky always claimed he hated that “spicy crap,” Bob had caught him sneaking dashes into his own meals late at night—proof that even the Winter Soldier had a weakness when it comes to spicy food.
Actually, aside from him and Ava, they all had a thing for spice.
Yelena laughed again, brighter this time, hopping up to sit on the counter beside the stove. “You, Bob, are a very man. Though honestly? The fact that you noticed and fixed it without anyone saying anything? That’s partner material right there.”
Bob froze as he lifted the heavy pot from the stove, steam curling up in lazy wisps around his knuckles. Partner material. Was that just one of her offhand teases that didn’t have any meaning behind them?
Or was there something heavier behind it—something real, testing the waters?
His toes curled tight inside his slippers, a nervous tic he couldn’t quite stamp out, as he carefully portioned the mac and cheese into two bowls. The noodles gleamed golden under the kitchen light, perfectly sauced, but his hands felt unsteady, like the floor might tilt under him any second.
Thankfully, he was able to hold himself together as he set the rest of the mac and cheese into the oven so it could stay warm for the rest of the team. He then tried to play it cool, clearing his throat.
“Should we eat here or…do you want to watch something?”
“Watch something,” she answered immediately, hopping off the counter with her bowl in hand.
Bob grabbed his and followed her to the living room’s spacious sofas.
He settled their two bowls on the coffee table, then darted back to the kitchen for two cans of sparkling water. When he returned, Yelena had already claimed a spot, the one right next to his that was tucked into the corner. It’s half-hidden and in the shadows where he could be out of sight but still physically there, close enough to feel part of things without drawing attention.
He told himself it was a coincidence she decided to sit there rather than front and center in front of the large TV, but even he knew that was a lie. He swallowed hard, shoving the thought aside as he handed her a can and sank onto the sofa beside her—
Close, but not too close.
“What are we watching?” Bob asked.
Yelena scooped up the remote, flicking through recommendations with one hand while balancing her bowl. “Well, there’s this new movie I’ve been getting recommended nonstop, so maybe we can watch that. Something about a zombie in high school in love with a human cheerleader, I don’t know. I saw it was mostly green and pink. Does that work for you?”
Bob nodded, settling in. “Yeah, that sounds fun to watch.”
Yelena snorted, forking up a big bite. “More like a big old cliché.”
“So why are we watching it?”
“Were you even listening, Bob? Research,” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes dramatically.
“Ah, of course,” he murmured, hiding a smile as he dug into his own bowl.
Yelena took her first real bite, then paused.
Her eyes widened before she let out a low, appreciative moan that hit him like a sucker punch. Bob’s fork hovered mid-air, his mind scrambling not to wander as she nodded enthusiastically.
“Holy shit, this is really, really good. Like, really, really good!”
“Better than boxed mac and cheese?”
“Mm, yes, very much so,” she said around another bite, already reaching for the Sriracha to drown it in a generous squirt. She grabbed the remote again, dimming the living room lights and even lowering the shades with a quick voice command, plunging them into cozy darkness perfect for the screen. “Now this is how you do movie time.”
The opening credits flickered to life, but Bob barely registered them, too aware of her shoulder brushing his. That and her heartbeat had a steady, quickened rhythm just within earshot. It was so calming that it almost put him to sleep right there with the TV still playing, bowl in his hand.
Well, before the system sounded and the AI said, “Melissa Gold is coming up the elevator.”
Yelena groaned, set her bowl, and turned on the lights to a brighter setting just as the elevator opened. She scowled at Mel, who quickly tensed, looking ready to dart while clutching her clipboard tighter.
“H-hey, you two,” she greeted awkwardly, eyes mousing away from Bob.
He didn’t blame her.
After all, she did kill him less than a year ago, which had been the catalyst for bringing out the Void that got her boss into this situation in the first place. He could hear how fast her heart was pounding, but he didn’t need that to know how uncomfortable she was being here.
“What do you want, Mel?” Yelena deadpanned, throwing her arm at the back of Bob’s seat, practically throwing darts at her. “I’m off today. Valentina knows not to disturb me on my days off, especially because I have to fly to Ohio tomorrow night.”
Right.
Bob tried not to think about her being away for a few days to take some personal time off.
Even though the company of the others wasn’t necessary…bad, he still preferred hers.
Always.
“Oh, no. No, sorry, I’m not here for you, Yelena. Uh…” she stared at her board, and Bob could hear her pulse sprinting. The poor woman looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Is Ava ready?”
Not long after asking, Ava phased right through the walls.
“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” she grumbled, looking very much annoyed as Yelena. Bob almost felt bad for Mel for being the lightning rod sometimes. “Let’s hurry up and get this over with, and Yelena? If I’m not back in two hours, avenge me.”
The team leader gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Where’s Ava going?” Bob asked, tilting his head curiously as he watched her follow Mel.
“Oh, apparently, after the incident where we were almost burnt to a crisp two weeks ago, Val decided it would be best to update our current wardrobe to be more flame resistant,” Yelena snorted, dimming the lights again. “I guess she doesn’t want her shiny new toys hurt after wasting so much money on branding us—”
“Holy shit, you guys started eating without me?”
Walker was practically stumbling into the living room, a towel thrown over his shoulders, eyes locked on the golden mac and cheese like it was the last meal on earth. Then came Alexei, looking wounded and making a show of clutching his chest.
“What is this? Lena, how could you? Watching a movie with Bob and not your Papa?”
Yelena didn’t hesitate, darting to the oven and yanking out the dish just as Walker lunged and managed to grab the serving spoon. “No, you got to taste-test it a few days ago! That means you could only have any after I’m done!”
“Oh fuck off,” Walker hissed.
“You fuck off,” she countered.
Instantly, they’re wrestling.
Alexei crowded in, making grabby hands like an oversized toddler.
“Elders first, yes? Little bit for Papa!” Alexei boomed, trying to scoop a portion with his bare hands while Yelena swatted his massive paw away. Walker ducked under her arm, managing to snag a bowlful before she elbowed him back.
Then Bucky shuffled in, took one look at the escalating fight, and shook his head with a weary sigh. Without a word, he turned right back around, vanishing back down the hall like a man who’d seen enough circus for one night.
Bob watched the chaos unfold from his spot, half-amused, half-relieved to be out of the fray, a small smile tugging at his lips. And as he watched, all he could focus on was Yelena’s heartbeat, steady and familiar, thrumming just within his awareness—
Calm, content, and dangerously close to becoming his favorite background noise.
So long as her heart was beating in this world, nothing could touch this fragile peace.
This one thing made the entire world feel like it was worth saving.
Something was missing.
At first, Bob hadn’t realized it when he awoke to bid Yelena farewell and went to get the day started. Cucumber was already wheeking away, demanding fresh hay for breakfast and the freshest vegetables with typical piggy insistence.
Then, he went for his usual laps around the Watchtower and then some light readings.
It wasn’t until he was halfway through the chapter of his book that he sensed something was off. There was an inch at the back of his head that was faint but persistent as he found himself staring out of the building and towards the open skies.
His finger drummed as he got up and started to pace, pressing his lips into a thin line.
Why were the hairs on his back raised?
Something was missing.
His stomach was churning, and he felt almost sick for some reason.
Something was definitely missing.
But what?
Like the gnawing doubts that crept in during his sleepless nights (how could he be of service when he couldn’t even use his powers without the other side? Could he truly be a team member that everyone saw in him?), Bob found the surest way to steady himself was to tune into the familiar thrum of Yelena's heartbeat.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes—
Only to realize what had been wrong.
What had been missing.
Yelena’s heartbeat wasn’t anywhere.
For a moment, he thought he’d done it wrong.
That he’d inhaled wrong, focused wrong, that if he just concentrated harder, pushed past the rising anxiety and panic in his head, he’d find it—soft and steady, where it always was. He rubbed at his chest, which only grew tighter, and tried again.
“Where are you?” he whispered, straining his ears in hopes of finding her in the hundreds upon thousands of heartbeats all beating at once in the heart of Manhattan. He could find Walker with ease in the basement, working out; Ava medicating in her room; Alexei four avenues away at Radio Hall for an interview; Bucky was with Mel in the briefing room, but…
Where is Yelena’s?
There was nothing.
The silence slammed into him so hard his knees nearly buckled. The usual ocean of distant pulses was still there, of millions of hearts beating, overlapping, crowding his senses, but the one he knew best, the one he could find in a storm, in a crowd, in the middle of a fight, just…
Wasn’t.
It wasn’t there.
His own heart lurched, stumbling over the next beat like it had forgotten how to work. His chest tightened, a cold, clawing pressure sinking in like a hand closing around his ribs. Bob hadn’t seemed to notice that the building was starting to rumble.
No, all he could focus on was how the world seemed so bleak.
So… empty.
He pressed his palms to his ears as if that could somehow sharpen his hearing, the world narrowing to the frantic rush of his own blood. He pushed past it, forcing his senses outward until the Watchtower blurred at the edges of his awareness, until the building, the city, the world was just a map of heartbeats and breath.
Yet Yelena’s heartbeat wasn’t there.
His stomach twisted, and bile burned at the back of his throat.
She’s fine, he told himself. She’s fine.
Yet every excuse he reached for felt thinner than the last, flimsy things that crumbled the second he tried to lean on them. His hands were shaking with the rest of his body. He hadn’t even noticed that the glass had shattered, pelting him and the floor in thousands of shards.
“Yelena,” he whispered, like saying her name might pull her back into focus, might snap this bizarre, suffocating quiet. Bob found himself clawing at his chest; the room felt too small suddenly, the walls too close. He paced because it was that or come apart, hands flexing uselessly at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to go, to tear through the sky and rip the world open until he found her.
It would be easier, wouldn’t it?
If he placed everyone in the shame room.
If he were to release the Void, then surely, he’d be able to find her if she were somewhere.
Yes, that seemed best, doesn’t it?
And then he’d know that she was okay.
She had to be okay because if she wasn’t—
“Bob?”
He turned sharply, the world snapping back into focus with a jolt. Bucky and Mel stood in the doorway, flanked by Ava and Walker, all three of them rigid with tension, eyes wide as they stared up at him.
He was hovering a foot off the ground, weightless, his shadow stretching unnaturally long and dark across the fractured floor behind him, creeping toward the walls like spilled ink. Glass shards glittered everywhere, the air humming with a low, ominous vibration he hadn’t even registered until now.
Bob swallowed hard, his throat clicking dryly.
“Where’s Yelena?” His voice cracked, raw and desperate. The question had already clawed its way out before he could stop them, his deepest secret spilling into the open like blood from a fresh wound.
Bucky blinked, glancing at the others. “Yelena?”
Ava stepped forward cautiously, hands half-raised.
“You were the one who said goodbye this morning, remember? She’s in—”
“She’s not,” Bob cut her off.
Walker’s brow furrowed, his stance shifting protectively with his shield.
“She’s not… taking a jet to Ohio?”
“Yes.”
Bob’s hands trembled at his sides, and tears prickled at the corner of his eyes.
Bucky’s eyes darted between him and the destruction.
“Why would you think—”
“I can’t hear her,” he whispered. The admission hung in the air, heavy and irreversible.
Ava tilted her head, confusion deepening. “You can’t… hear her?”
“Her heartbeat.”
Bob’s chest heaved, the panic rising again now that he’d said it aloud, making it real.
Walker’s jaw tightened, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “You can do that?”
“Yes, but it’s gone now. I can’t…” His voice broke, hands pressing against his ribs again as if he could force his own heart to slow while tears streaked down his face. “I can’t hear her and—I’ve tried everywhere. The whole city, different continents, everything. Her heartbeat’s just… gone.”
The shadow around them pulsed once, darkly, and all three of them took an involuntary step back. Bob didn’t blame them. He could feel the call of the abyss, too, the line he was walking getting thinner and thinner.
It would be easy to take them out.
Why does it matter anyway if Yelena wasn’t here?
They wouldn’t be able to go against the likes of him—
“Wait,” Mel exclaimed, cutting through his thoughts while she boldly stepped forward. “No, Bob, this is a misunderstanding. A h-huge misunderstanding. Yelena’s fine, look, I can call her right now.”
He barely flicked his eyes toward her.
Of course, she’d say that.
Of course, she’d rush in with that careful tone, the one people used with explosives and wild animals. She’d smooth things over, smile, stall him until Valentina could press the kill switch again.
His gut twisted.
If that was where this was heading anyway—if the other side was going to come out anyway—then shouldn’t he do it on his terms? Shouldn’t let the other side out, put everyone in the shame room in hopes of finding her?
And if not, then maybe everyone should suffer for taking away—
The elevator doors at the end of the hall slid open with a bright, ordinary chime that felt almost obscene in the tension. Everyone’s heads snapped toward it just as Yelena practically stumbled out.
She looked like she’d lost a fight with a wind tunnel, her mussed. Her eyes widened as she took in the shattered glass, the war-ready stance of Walker’s taco-bent shield, Ava’s stance, and Bucky braced like he was about to head into war.
“What the hell…?” she breathed, then her gaze found Bob.
He stared. For a second, his brain refused to process what he was seeing, convinced this was some hallucination he’d conjured out of sheer desperation. She couldn’t be there. She couldn’t. He’d scoured the globe for her heartbeat and found nothing.
But there she was.
Shoulders rising and falling with lips parted.
Eyes confused and worried, and so very Yelena.
“I don’t…understand,” he whispered, his feet finally touching the ground.
How was she here?
Was she actually here, or some sort of lie until they could get the killswitch?
“Bob?” she whispered, the word small but crystal clear. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
The sound of her voice hit him like oxygen after drowning, but he couldn’t hear it.
“Why can’t I hear you still?” he asked, voice fracturing as he took a stumbling step toward her, then another, hands outstretched like a man reaching for a lifeline. With every shaky footfall, he begged silently for her to be real—for the world to prove this wasn’t some cruel trick, some illusion designed to break him before it could take control.
Yelena blinked, eyes flicking over the destruction, the tense team behind him, then back to his tear-streaked face.
“Hear me? Bob, what are you—”
“Your heartbeat. It’s not there. I can’t…” he trailed off, his breath hitched, fresh panic bubbling. “Please. Just… I don’t…why can’t I hear your heartbeat, Yelena? How are you here? I…are you even real?”
The room held its breath as she slowly cupped his face and brought her forehead to his.
“Where else would I be?” she whispered. “I told you we stick together from now on, didn’t I?”
His breath shuddered out of him, the tension in his shoulders collapsing so fast that he almost collapsed as he enveloped her into a tight, soul-crushing hug. Tears blurred his vision, making him feel oh-so pathetic.
“Yelena,” he said again, but this time it was a broken, disbelieving exhale—
A prayer answered so abruptly it left him dizzy.
“I’m okay,” Yelena murmured just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m okay, Bob. No need to cry.”
“I…does anyone know what the hell is going on?” Walker whispered.
“Someone better start talking,” Yelena demanded, her voice edged with that familiar no-nonsense bite even as she stayed put in Bob’s crushing embrace, one hand awkwardly patting his back like she was soothing a spooked dog. Her eyes narrowed at the four of them, flicking from face to face. “Because why is Bob acting like I just died and came back?”
“Don’t look at me,” Ava quipped, holding up her hands in mock surrender.
“Mel, care to explain?” Bucky asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“That would be the new suit,” Mel attested, pointing a somewhat shaky finger at Yelena, her tablet clutched like a shield.
“The new suit?” Walker echoed, brow shooting up.
And that’s when they all turned, really looked, and realized Yelena was decked out in her newest uniform—the sleek black tactical gear with the fresh Avengers logo stitched boldly on the shoulder.
“Yes,” Mel continued. “Valentina decided a new upgrade was needed after the mission a few weeks ago. Besides being more fire-resistant and slash-proof, it also muffles body heat signatures… and one’s heartbeat. Completely. Comes in handy for stealth ops, right? Blocks all the usual bio-trackers.”
Yelena twisted just enough in Bob’s death-grip to glance down at her own sleeve, as if seeing it for the first time. If she was being honest, she hadn’t been listening when they had a rundown of its features, too busy mentally cataloging the armory’s weak points and plotting her next coffee run.
She then sighed, shaking her head.
“Well, you guys can clean up the mess,” she stated. “I’m going to talk to Bob alone.”
She pulled away from Bob, but not completely. Just enough to intertwine her fingers with his, her grip firm and grounding. Then she tugged him out of the room, past the stunned stares and glittering debris, the door hissing shut behind them.
Neither of them spoke for the long stretch down the corridor, the elevator ride, the quiet walk to his quarters. Bob’s stomach churned with every step, his mind replaying the meltdown in vivid, humiliating detail—the tears, the confession.
His secret was out now, raw and exposed, and the team wouldn’t forget it.
Hell, they’d probably whisper about his creepy heartbeat radar for weeks.
He stayed silent, throat too tight to risk words, nerves jangling like live wires under his skin.
The door to his room slid open with a soft chime. Cucumber immediately wheeked from his enclosure, a demanding chorus of piggy indignation over his delayed lunch, paws scrabbling against the glass.
But Bob barely registered it.
All he could focus on was Yelena as she released his hand, starting to pace the small space in tight circles, her boots thudding softly against the floor. She massaged the side of her head for a moment, brow creased, processing.
Finally, she stopped, turning to face him, but her expression was more curious than accusatory.
“How long have you been listening to my heartbeat, Bob?”
He stared at the carpet, tugging at the sleeve of his sweater, fingers twisting the fabric into knots.
“I… I wasn’t sure when it started, if I’m being honest,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “It started when I was having a hard time falling asleep due to all the noises I was picking up. And then… I found myself trying to focus on… one.”
“On mine?”
He nodded docilely, still not meeting her eyes. “Yeah.”
“Hm. So…I calm you?”
He nodded, and then his heart started to skyrocket, a frantic thud echoing in his ears. “Ye—”
“Lie down.”
For a split second, he thought he’d heard wrong—his head snapping up, eyes wide as he blinked at her as she’d spoken in tongues. Lie down? Here? Now? His mouth opened, then closed, brain short-circuiting on the command.
“Lie… down?” he echoed finally, voice small and uncertain, palms suddenly slick.
Yelena nodded, firm but not unkind, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Yes. Right now on the bed.”
Timid as a lamb, he obeyed, easing back onto the edge of the bed with shaky limbs, the mattress dipping under him. His breath caught sharp in his throat—almost a heart attack—when he saw her unbuckling her tactical belt with quick, practiced flicks, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy clunk. Then the uniform’s top came off, peeled away in one smooth motion, leaving her in a simple black tank that clung to her frame.
Instantly, it hit him.
Her heartbeat—clear, unshielded, roaring back into his senses like a lifeline snapping taut.
Fast, strong, and thumping wildly.
Before he could process it, much less speak, she climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips with casual confidence, then lowered herself fully, draping her weight across his chest. She sighed, deep and content, nuzzling her face against his chest, her warmth seeping through his sweater.
What the hell was happening?
Bob froze solid beneath her, every muscle locked, barely daring to breathe. The piggy squeaks from Cucumber faded to white noise; the world narrowed to her: her scent, her pressure, that thundering rhythm syncing with his own.
“W-What’s…” he stammered, hands hovering uselessly at his sides, afraid to touch. “What’s… going on?”
Yelena shifted. “Payback.”
“Payback?” His voice cracked, a mix of bewilderment and dawning heat flushing his face.
She nodded, chin resting on the middle of his chest for a moment, her heartbeat a steady drum against him. It’s faster than usual, but slowing, grounding them both. “For all the time you got to hear mine… and I couldn’t hear yours.”
In that suspended moment, with her heartbeat thrumming steadily against his chest like a shared secret, Bob realized that he was in love. In love with the unguarded way she stared up at him, green eyes soft in the dim room light; in love with how their rhythms filled each other's silence, syncing into something unbreakable, something home.
His breath steadied, the last frayed edges of panic dissolving under her weight. Slowly, tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, one hand settling at the small of her back while the other cradled her head.
“You’re… not creeped out?”
Yelena snorted, a low, genuine sound that vibrated through them both.
“No. I think it’s really sweet that you can still hear me in the silence. I’ll…talk to Val about making adjustments so that you’d still be able to pick it up,” she mumbled and then tilted her chin up, lips quirking. “Look at me going the extra mile. You know, Bob, it’s a good thing I like being your favorite sound.”
Then, Yelena pressed a quick kiss to his jaw, laughing brightly when his heart started to thump wildly in her hand, but that’s okay because her laughter was his second-favorite sound in this world.