Chapter Text
part i: bob
there's things I wanna say to you, but I'll just let you live
We can’t.
I had the words loaded and chambered. Practiced, even.
Bob gave me that look again—the one he’s been giving me more and more lately. The look that says maybe this time, even if it never is.
Usually, I shut it down before we get here. But tonight… I don’t know.
This was the last stop on our New Avengers press tour—a PR-fueled damage control campaign, cooked up by Valentina herself. And for the grand finale, she wanted optics. Flashbulbs. Champagne. A full-on gala, hosted at Avengers Tower.
“It helps us fight the Bargain Bin narrative,” she’d said.
Bargain Bin Avengers. B-Vengers. The press hadn’t exactly been kind—not since Sam filed that lawsuit.
And because perception was everything, Val hadn’t needed to say it out loud. I was to stay close to Bob. Keep him grounded. Presentable. On message.
They didn’t use the word babysit. But that’s what it was.
I was the one he trusted most. The only one he really listened to.
Natasha was to Bruce what I was to Bob. Emotional anchor. Ground wire. Whatever metaphor made it sound less grim.
And most of the time, I was good at it.
But tonight, he looked at me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the floor.
And he looked good.
He’d shaved. Put on a real suit. Even combed his hair. I don’t know if it was cologne or just clean skin, but something about him smelled different—sharp, warm, intentional.
And maybe I’d had one too many glasses of bubbly. Maybe I’d gotten a little too used to the way his eyes lingered on me.
Maybe—for once—I didn’t want to carry all the weight alone.
We were the last ones up. Ava had bailed first. Walker wasn’t far behind. Alexei fell asleep mid-rant, slumped sideways on the couch. Bucky made some dry crack about the Soviet serum losing its punch, then hauled him off like it was a chore he didn’t mind doing.
Which left me and Bob. Alone.
And close.
He reached for the champagne.
“Ahh,” I said, lifting a hand.
“What?”
“I’m cut off. Already past my limit.”
Bob hesitated. Then tipped the bottle—not to himself, but toward me.
I shook my head. “Nice try.”
His smile faltered. “Right. Sorry.”
He poured himself a glass anyway. His hands shook slightly—barely enough to notice if you didn’t know him.
I knew him.
“You sure that’s smart?” I asked.
“It’s not meth.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” he said again. “Just… I wanted something to take the edge off.”
I didn’t answer. Just watched him drink.
It wasn’t the first time I’d felt the pull between us, but it was the first time I let myself acknowledge it. The way he looked at me like I mattered. The way his knee brushed mine and didn’t move.
I didn’t want Bob. Not really. Not in the way he wanted me.
But I did want to be wanted. And he did that—wanted me—without apology. Without hesitation.
It made something ache inside me.
His eyes flicked to my lips. My breath caught.
The silence that followed was thick. Not uncomfortable, exactly—just heavy with the weight of whatever we weren’t saying.
Bob glanced at me again, slower this time. Like he was working up to something. Like he was asking a question with his eyes.
I didn’t look away.
And for one reckless second, I thought—what if I just kissed him? Just leaned in and let it happen. Let myself feel wanted. Let him think it meant more than it did.
He looked so soft, tonight. Not just cleaned up—but vulnerable. Hopeful.
But I couldn’t.
Not with everything I knew. Not when I was the thing standing between him and the Void.
He leaned a little closer, and for half a second, I didn’t pull away.
And then—
Footsteps.
Too steady. Too timed.
“Shit, sorry—didn’t realize you were still up.”
Bucky’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. He crossed into the kitchen without looking at us, poured a glass of water, and took his time drinking it.
Casual. Measured. Deliberate.
I’d pulled this move before. Walk in late, look unbothered, kill the mood.
Maybe he was just returning the favor.
He was already halfway across the room, headed to the kitchen like it was a casual water run.
Bob practically teleported to the far end of the couch.
I could still feel his breath on my skin.
Bucky filled a glass, took a sip, and only glanced at us on the way back.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” he added dryly.
It was too smooth. Too perfectly timed.
I knew that move. I’d used it myself.
You sly bastard.
Bob was muttering something under his breath, looking at the floor.
Bucky’s eyes flicked to mine—checking. Not asking. Just seeing.
I stood up fast. “I’m heading to bed.”
And just like that, the spell broke.
I didn’t look back. But I knew exactly who was watching me leave.
What the fuck, Yelena.
I’d almost kissed Bob. Bob. Robert Reynolds—the Sentry, the Void. The most powerful human, being, or God recorded in human history. The one person on the team I’d been not-so-explicitly tasked to protect at all costs—and to help avoid emotional distress.
I tried my best not to run down the hall to my room. My hands shook as I ripped my dress off.
“Get a fucking grip, Yelena,” I muttered, like a mantra. How could I be so fucking stupid?
Bob and I had always been close—closer than the other Thunderbolts. I had a soft spot for him. And I knew he knew that. But the more I thought about it—the way he looked at me, the way he always looked at me—I knew he’d felt it too.
That pull, that longing, between us—it was real. But was it mine? Or was I just mirroring it back at him? Letting myself feel wanted, instead of… whatever the hell I actually was.
I threw on the nearest sweatshirt and pants I could find. Shut off the lights. Crawled into bed.
If I could just pretend to sleep, maybe I could pretend I hadn’t almost made the worst mistake of my life.
“We can’t,” I whispered to myself.
Even though the thought alone made me wet. Even though I could still feel his breath against my lips, his suit against my skin.
But I didn’t want Bob. Not in the way I wanted to be wanted. Not in the way I…
God. Why was Bucky always the one who showed up at the exact wrong moment?
Or maybe—the exact right one.
I slipped my fingers between my thighs. The pressure hit fast—hot, desperate. “We can’t,” I whispered again, as I teased the edge of my clit.
I’d fleetingly had this fantasy before—but it wasn’t like I’d ever acted on it. Not really. Not until now.
I imagined his head between my legs. His mouth. His hands. The weight of his body, holding me in place.
My thighs trembled. Breath caught. I was so close—
—and then the door creaked open.
I didn’t even have time to yank the blanket up.
“Shit—”
He turned fast—too fast. Hand up over his eyes like it could erase what he’d just seen.
“I—I knocked,” Bucky stammered, mortified. “I should’ve knocked louder. I didn’t think—fuck, I’m sorry.”
His voice cracked with it—panic, embarrassment, regret.
“You always check on people like this?” I managed, breathless, yanking the blanket up over my hips.
“You said you were going to bed. I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Clearly.”
He froze in the doorway, still turned away. His hand stayed over his face like I might combust on contact.
“Bucky.”
My voice came out quieter than I meant.
He turned, cautiously, like he wasn’t sure if it was a trap.
“For what it’s worth,” I said, voice low but steady, “this wasn’t… a regular thing.”
His mouth twitched. He didn’t quite meet my eyes.
“I wasn’t planning on it. You just… caught me on a weird night.” I shrugged, folding my arms. “Can’t blame a girl for having urges.”
That got a reaction—barely. The ghost of a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Especially when we’re all playing pretend half the time,” I added. “Like we’re not human.”
He was quiet for a beat. And then—
“You’re not the only one with urges.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. His posture went rigid the second they landed.
“What?” I said, blinking.
“And you’re not the only person on this team who wants someone they can’t have,” he added, softer, almost like it hurt.
Silence.
His eyes widened just slightly, like he’d only just realized he’d said it out loud.
“Shit,” he muttered, mostly to himself.
“That sounded… personal,” I said, cautious now.
“I should go,” he said quickly, already turning.
“Bucky—”
“Forget I said anything.”
“That’s gonna be hard.”
His hand gripped the doorknob like it was an anchor.
“Sleep well,” he said.
And then he was gone.