Chapter Text
There was a knot in her throat whenever she saw him laugh, now. There was a pit in her stomach that grew deeper whenever she so much as looked at him. And there was this ache, a foreign feeling that held her heart hostage whenever she saw him with her.
But Yelena Belova was not jealous. She just wasn’t.
That was not ‘denial’- no matter how much Ava tried to coax it out from her during their weekly girls' night out.
“I’m just sayin’, love,” the brunette continued, albeit already slurring a bit, too many vodka bottles emptied and too many bad guys already arrested and to count. “You can trust me, I have literally been there, d’ya know what I mean?”
Ava shrugged mid-rant, and the second-rate mob boss in her grasp tried to make a break for it. Ava let out an annoyed sigh, cracking her knuckles for round two of a very one-sided fight.
Yelena was sitting on of one of the passed out henchmen, who made for a very comfortable seat, mindlessly opening up a can of Red Bull; after all, they had two big conferences in the morning. She searched her pockets for a Pepto-Bismol.
Her only acknowledgement of the pep-talk was a single raised eyebrow and a mumble, a little lost in thought and a little sick to her stomach from knocking out four gunmen on an alcohol-filled stomach. She did know what Ava meant. She had heard a version of those words a few dozen times for the last three weeks.
Ever since Dr. Monica Rapaccini changed her target and approach, to be more precise.
Because yes, even if Yelena wasn’t jealous of Bob’s new crush- because she wasn’t, glad that was already settled, here- it was pretty obvious he wasn’t the viper’s first choice.
No. For some reason, when Monica first started out as the official head of the New Avengers scientific team, she instantly started hitting on John Walker of all people. God, she could at least have fucking standards, you know?
That woman had no self respect. And no shame, either.
Whatever, Yelena couldn’t shit on Walker as a romantic option that much anymore. Well… she could. Just not in front of Ava, perhaps. That would not be very girl-code appropriate considering US Agent was now Ghost’s secret less-than-boyfriend-more-than-situationship-let’s-change-the-topic-please. Still, kind of gross, if she was being fully honest.
Monica moved on pretty quickly when Ava made her claim, though. It took Yelena majorly by surprise when, on the very next day, Dr. Rapaccini was already choosing to sit next to Bob during staff assembly. And it wasn’t jealousy that made Yelena’s insides churn that day, it was purely the disrespect of her spot at the table being taken so easily. It was her spot.
Oh, and it was especially disrespectful when, during after-mission celebrations, a mere scientist kept trying to invite herself into the penthouse. ‘Oh, Bobby, perhaps I should come with, to observe how alcohol affects your body’, pffft, what a joke. That woman was not on the team. There was absolutely no reason to tag along, except to throw herself at Bob some more.
“Are we bad feminists?” Yelena mused, as the sound of a mob boss’ screams echoed in the warehouse. She took her medication with a gulp of her blueberry-flavored energy drink, the taste of it absolutely clashing and disgusting.
“No, of course not,” answered Ava, confidently.
“Yes, you are!” Mr. Mob-boss chimed in. It earned him a painful kick in the abdomen. “It’s true! You lot been shittin’ on the poor woman since ya got ‘ere. What’d she even do to deserve it? Can you please just call the cops and be done with this, I can’t fucking listen to this shite anymore.”
Yelena pouted, contemplating. Yes, maybe they were over complaining; it was one of their favorite topics to complain about, second only to the faulty heating system in the Watchtower. Maybe this ugly bald headed drug dealer had a point.
“Prick,” Ava muttered, picking up her phone to let the NYC Police Department know the New Avengers had just ‘saved your stinkyy an stalled metanphetamine operation ur welcome, come colect ur prize’. “Let’s go, Lena, we can still hit up Clementine’s before it closes.”
Yelena nodded. Regret would come tomorrow, she was sure. But it was not tomorrow yet- even if it was already 2 A.M.
The dawn broke and Yelena was still awake, still riding the wave of her recent inebriation. Ava was fast asleep on the couch, snoring as the ‘Naked and Afraid’ episode they were watching came to a close.
Yelena quietly turned off the TV and got up from the couch, in slow, calculated movements. Socks tiptoed on the white marble floor, as she walked backwards towards the elevator area. That was, until her back collided with something very solid and very familiar.
“Good morning,” an excited Bob announced cheerfully. And, worst of all, loudly.
Yelena immediately shushed him with one hand over his mouth, the other hand on her ear, throwing her head sideways signaling their sleeping friend over at the sofa.
Bob’s cheeks reddened out of embarrassment and he mumbled an apology against her skin. His morning breath felt hot against her flesh, and she retrieved her hand gradually as if it didn’t feel burned.
For a weird, unnatural moment she stayed there, just watching him tower over her. In his oversized shirt and sweatpants, oddly still while the rest of the world around him swayed gently, like it were a boat and he was a trusty anchor. Said anchor, then, pointed towards the kitchen in the distance, prompting the two to relocate in utter silence and get started on their individual routines.
Sitting in front of each other at the breakfast table, him with his cereal bowl, her with her giant coffee mug, Yelena avoided his intense gaze, burning holes into her, focusing instead on not throwing up.
She knew her make-up was unquestionably fucked beyond repair and she was still in her uniform, though now wearing a pink, sparkly cowboy hat.
Without looking up, though, she spoke, mindlessly stirring at her black coffee.
“Go on, you can ask about the hat.”
“Oh,” she finally looked at him then, just as he was wiping away at his mouth with his sleeve. Something about the movement made Yelena forget what she had even said just seconds before. Probably just a sign of an imminent hangover. “I wouldn’t dare to make you break Rule Number One of girls’ night.”
Yelena laughed at his serious tone and he mirrored her response with a smile. It was one of those smiles that hit his eyes and scrunched up his nose just a little. And it was rare and distracting and bright enough to make Yelena accidentally spill mildly hot coffee on her stomach.
Yelena cursed, though not with the volume she would’ve preferred, out of respect for Ava, just as Bob moved, much more quickly than her overnight-drunk reflexes. Already at her side in a flash, a towel in hands, pressing it against her.
If she could, she would blame the situation on the lack of sleep and that last shot of tequila. But, her breath was stuck in her throat, and Bob’s hair was all tousled and cute and he was cleaning her suit with the same respect as he did one of his action figures. So, Yelena’s body just… moved on its own. And her fingers just found their way into his chocolate-colored curls. Also accidentally. Too many accidents happening lately.
She could feel him freeze under her for a moment, and she almost retrieved her hand, until he all but collapsed his head against her torso. Stained dish towel thoughtlessly falling to the floor as Yelena continued caressing his scalp. Stroking his hair with intentional drunk tenderness. Every few seconds, she would scratch at it with her nails too, earning an unmistakably positive reaction from him.
It was dumb. And kind of childish too. But her heartbeat was uncontrollable for some reason, and part of her already knew he could hear it due to his proximity to her ribcage. Which only made her heart rage harder against it.
There was an unspoken air of tension around the whole thing, a mixing of signals and crossing of lines that would’ve been wise not to cross. It was intimate, that much is obvious, except how intimate or how not-platonic could be determined. It was all within grounds of deniability and Yelena knew it, but she couldn’t help but feel a tad exposed.
Bob purred, as in an actual ‘cat-being-pet’ purr, against her thigh. And she could feel his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, like he was swallowing something.
“This is nice,” his voice was low, most likely from early morning sleepiness. Yelena did not want to reflect on why that voice, spoken so closely to her thighs, was sending a shiver down her spine.
“Hum,” was what she smartly replied. Partly afraid of saying anything more. Afraid of betraying her own self, or of betraying some early-established grounds for deniability.
Bob’s thumb had found its way to her calves, caressing and massaging it delicately, as a way of saying thanks. It tensed her up at first, because it was very sore from the previous night, of course. But she let the ripples of his strength go through her muscles and into her soothing nervous system, in a lulling vibration.
And then he softly called her name, once, twice, until he was interrupted by a ding in the elevator. The sound bringing about a mixture of shame, maybe, surprise, definitely.
It stopped Yelena in her tracks, as it did Bob. They shared a look, something momentarily pleading about Bob’s eyes.
And then they proceeded not to speak to each other for the rest of the day.
There were things about him that still made no sense to her, even after all these months.
Like the way he legitimately enjoyed Alexei’s terribly rehearsed puns- the punchline was always misplaced somehow. Or the way his favorite potato chip flavor was salt and vinegar- the most evil of all potato chip flavors. Or the way he kept choosing dares during their occasional “Truth and Dare” games- afterall, truth was the easiest of the options. Or the way he would suddenly go very red and quiet just as she started paying attention to what he was saying- since she really wanted to know his opinions on whether dinosaurs had feathers or not. Or the way he kept looking at her weird whenever she laughed- though, she figured, she might just have a weird laughing face, so that was on her.
Still, what perplexed her the most, as they were taking turns playing the same controller on Mario Kart during ‘mandated team-bonding exercise’ as her father called it, was the way he seemed to both be incredibly aware and stupidly oblivious at the same time.
“Dude, I’m just saying,” Walker continued, as his Princess Peach dropped a string of bananas on the road. “You should go for it, Monica’s super into you-”
Ava smacked him across the chest, to shut him up if Yelena had to guess. (“Ow! What did you do that for?”)
On the other end of the sofa, Yelena’s grip on her controller tightened, focused on making Princess Peach have the absolute worst Rainbow Road experience she ever had. For no particular reason.
“Y-yeah, no,” Bob’s voice came from above her, stopping to chew on some more pizza probably. “I just… don’t see what you see, I guess.”
Oh, God. He was so naive. She almost snorted at the exchange unfolding, but she was on a mission now. And she had only three green shells to do it- all landed perfectly on her slowed target.
(There was a crawling emotion that came up, something resembling relief but she would not pay it any mind.)
“Hey! Why are you even hitting me like that? I’m dead last and you’re in first place!”
“Because it’s fun,” she lied.
Bob sat down next to her, making the couch cushion deform with his weight. Their legs touched and that was not relevant at all.
Yelena’s Shy Guy crossed the finish line just as she moved to study the man at her side. The unruly, wet hair falling into his eyes and indicating it was time for a haircut. An idea far too treacherous to be considered crossed her mind; she wanted to tuck one of his strands behind his ear.
So, she did not do it.
Yelena passed him the Nintendo controller, instead.
Monica was running tests on Bob like she thought he was her personal guinea pig. Trying to bring about the Sentry revival, without the Void, as Yelena knew Valentina would inevitably try to do.
They were sitting on one of the most expensive investments of de Fontaine’s career and expecting her to be cool with the fact that said investment’s most crucial decision-making action this week was choosing between a Lord of the Rings or a Star Wars marathon.
So, it was only logical that they would go for it again. Except that meant way more Monica around the team for absolutely no goddamn reason. And way more ‘Oh, hiya, Bobby!’s in that annoying high-pitched voice of hers. And way more hanging onto his bicep with both hands in a very unprofessional manner. And way more sneaking him away into the training floor almost daily.
It was constant. And it was distracting. And it was inconsiderate.
Bob was part of the team and she was acting like he wasn’t- like he was just a side project or something.
So, yeah, it pissed Yelena off. Enough to make her nearly see red when Monica popped her heart-shaped head in an unauthorized room, and interrupted a confidential team conference, just to ask for, once again, stupid shit.
“Sorry, was just wondering if I could borrow-”
“No,” Yelena cut her off flatly. “You can’t.”
The scientist was clearly stunned for a bit. But, then again, she was being disrespectful, she could handle being put in her place a bit, no? If she needed Bob so badly, she could just wait.
Alexei whistled, an obvious effort to lighten the charged mood. All it did was bring more attention to it, instead. They continued the meeting as if nothing had taken place and Bucky pulled Yelena aside for a one-on-one, afterwards.
“Mind telling me what that was about?”
“Well, the next mission is in Thailand and after surveillance of-”
“Stop,” there was a seriousness in his expression that took her back to the tales of the fearsome Winter Soldier her dad would tell. Sometimes, those were easy to forget, amongst all the silly videogames and sharing of streaming accounts. It kinda made her feel like a little kid, getting scolded by a proper adult. “You know what I mean.”
She did. Albeit, it was hard to come up with a proper description of her annoyance. So far the only person who was in on her distaste for Dr. Monica Rapaccini was still Ava.
“Bob is one of us and they treat him like he isn’t,” there. That was true. It omitted a couple of facts but still, true enough.
Bucky wasn’t buying it.
“Nope, try again.”
Yelena sighed. What else did he want from her?
“If she keeps doing shit like that, interrupting our assembly and our drinking games just to work him into exhaustion, she’ll just drive him away from us and straight into Valentina’s hands and you know it.”
He couldn’t argue with it, because that was a fucking fact.
(So what if the biggest part of her grievances came from the fact that she simply missed seeing Bob everyday? Big fucking deal.)
“Yelena, they have to do this,” a metal hand reached to pinch his temple as he took a pause. “Bob’s the one who wants to do this, he says he wants to feel useful.”
There was a piece of her heart that shattered at the thought, because of course he did. But he didn’t have to be useful. He didn’t have to fight. He didn’t have to want this for himself.
He could just stay as he was. As the silly brown haired lanky boy, who liked his eggs sunny side up and his potato chips tasting like ass.
Yelena knew there was a crushing guilt to his spirit still, that memories would always come to him in screaming nightmares. She also knew him to be strong, so so strong, and not just in the god-like physical way Valentina wanted to view him as, but in a much more profound and important way. Which is why she also knew the training would work. Yelena knew he would become Sentry again- and all that would imply. And that made her want to cry. Out of fear, out of sadness, out of desperation- she wasn’t quite sure which.
Barnes put his right arm on her shoulder in an awkward manner. Displays of platonic affection were still not his forte.
“Look, he clearly likes you, as, you know more than a friend,” Oh, not this again. “Maybe you can try talking him out of it.”
It wasn’t just Bucky who had this… erroneous concept. Ava and Alexei were up on that list too. Convinced that Bob had feelings for her based on the fact that he followed her around wherever she went and carried groceries for her on occasion (“like true gentleman, Yelena!”). Ava, for one, kept telling her it was about the eyes, and how his would apparently light up when he was around her (“you should see the way he looks at you, it’s like you hung the goddamn moon or something, ever since the vault”).
They were wrong about it, though. They kept viewing it all from a restrictive boy-meets-girl perspective, and, okay she would admit, she lacked some experience in that department, but the truth was that he only looked at her like she was special because she was the first person to show him an iota of kindness in a very long time. He’d had a hard life, a shitty experience, then he was left for dead and she wasn’t a dick to him. That’s all there was to it.
It wasn’t due to any sexual attraction, or underlying romantic needs. It was non-noteworthy neediness, with a hint of codependency. It was being a human being.
Was he even that, anymore? Human, that is. What with the power of the thousand-exploding suns running through his veins and the possibility of greatness at his fingertips and all, it wouldn’t be unfair to question if he still technically qualified.
Yes, a voice inside Yelena answered easily, catching a glimpse of him as he left, his hand on his neck as he spoke something inaudible to the others, he is the most human out of all of us.
The gala wasn’t all that bad. There was free shrimp, tasty Moscow Mules, which, no, she kept correcting, did not actually originate in Moscow, and fancy ice sculptures, amongst other less impressive showings of wealth.
She had to wear a dress, a skin-tight one, as per requested by the stylists, and it wasn’t too uncomfortable, but wasn’t comfortable, either. A bit impractical for combat, but no threat was expected tonight- it never was, right?
Bob looked very handsome as he walked down the stairs, she had to admit that. It was kind of rare to see him in anything but sweatshirts and oversized gear, so, yeah. He did clean up very nicely. She was allowed to admire for a while, at least until he spotted her… and accidentally tripped on the remaining steps.
Yelena irrationally rushed towards him, forgetting he couldn’t get hurt by that anymore. Except, his ego definitely could. Because he had that embarrassed look on his face, the one where he couldn't even look in her direction as he took her hand off the ground. A funny shade of red dusted his nose, cheeks, and all the way to his ears.
Bob took a few seconds more than necessary to let go of her hand, she noticed. And she pretended not to notice how she missed the feeling of his large hand in hers the second he did.
“Um..thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, half humorously. “I probably won’t.”
They walked in for more free shrimps. Met with the others. Took some important photos with some important people. Talked shit about Valentina behind her back.
And, of course-
“Hiya, Bobby! Are you free for a dance?”
No good hero marketing ploy went unpunished, it seemed.
Bob turned around from the circle and apparently struggled to come up with a response. Monica didn’t wait to hear it, though, grabbing his forearm with both hands and then having to gall to wave at Yelena as she led him away from the rest.
It… stung.
“Are you okay?” Ava asked.
“I’m,” not. “Fine.”
“Lena…” Alexei started. And oh, my god. She wanted to leave.
They moved towards the dancefloor and the wench intently placed Bob’s hands on her waist. His tuxedo running up his sleeves as he did so, uncomfortable and inexperienced. He looked like a nervous teenager on his high school first prom and he wasn’t with Yelena and that made her lose her mind, a bit.
A blood vessel threatened to pop on her forehead. Except it wouldn’t. It couldn’t. She had it controlled.
And then Walker, fucking Walker, opened his mouth and had to go in and test it.
“Sure you’re fine? Cause that glass is about to burst in your-”
“Okay, Walker! I get it! I am jealous. And I like Bob. And I am a very jealous bitch who likes Bob. Are you happy now?”
Apparently not, because he got really quiet at her sudden outburst. As did everybody else. There was instantaneous remorse at her treatment of him, but, most importantly, shame at her words and the weight of the unintended confession.
It was drowning her, all of it; the feelings she held for Bob, the distracting noise from the party, the multiple pairs of eyes watching her like she was a wounded animal. And no one could throw in a lifeboat- this was a catastrophe of her own making.
She looked at him again, from a distance, and the waves of unrequited love filled her nostrils, making her want to scream. Only if felt like, if she opened her mouth again, there’d only be more water to swallow. She wanted him. She wanted him bad and she wanted him long before that night. The realization grasped at her throat and flattened her lungs with force.
(How ironic, that an assassin trained to withstand the pain of a gunshot wound, was caving in to something as small as this.)
Yelena cleared her throat, placed her champagne flute on the nearest table, and excused herself to the emergency exit.