Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The elevator ride up was quiet at first. The light music cut through the tension in the air, but did nothing to sooth the tense and coiled muscles of the very tired team. The silence only broke as they neared the top.

“If that was ‘light resistance,’” John Walker muttered, adjusting his chest strap with a wince, “I’d hate to see what Val considers ‘heavy resistance.’”

“It would have been light,” Yelena snapped, without looking at him, “if you had not just rushed in. Headfirst.”

Alexei gave a prideful shrug. “Back in glory days, I always rush with the head first. Very affective strategy for super soldier.”

“Maybe you should use that head of yours to listen to directions,” Ava said, voice dry. “I warned you that drone was coming and you moved into its line of fire.”

Alexei waved it off. “I cannot hear when you wear the mask. Sounds like muzzle. All muffled and dull.”

“You can hear her just fine,” Bucky muttered from his corner, “compared to how much you could hear me when they made me wear that mask and goggles. That was a muzzle.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, playfully. “God. Can we have one elevator ride without the trauma dumping?”

Bucky shrugged. “It wasn’t trauma dumping. It was trauma informing. ”

Ava gave a smirk. “Consider us informed, then.”

The elevator dinged.

The doors slid open, and the team fell quiet, sagging with relief. They were home. The space beyond was spotless. Warm light spilled across the floor. A subtle mix of lemon and rosemary hung in the air. The living room was perfectly arranged—blankets folded, cushions straightened, not a single thing out of place.

“He got the scorch mark off the ceiling,” Yelena murmured, casting a glance upward.

“How does he even reach up there?” John asked, more admiration than confusion.

The next scent that hit them was the rich, savory smell of slow-roasted duck, garlic, herbs, and something earthy and rich like mushrooms. It was the kind of smell that made stomachs rumble and mouths water.

A head poked out from the kitchen. Bob. Sweater sleeves pushed to his elbows, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. His hair was damp, and his cheeks a little pink from the kitchen heat. He smiled when he saw them.

“Hey guys,” he said. “Dinner’s ready.”

He slipped back into the kitchen before they could respond.

They started peeling off their gear, boots thunked to the floor, shoulder straps dropped, the tension from the elevator eased like breath slowly exhaled.

“Thanks, Bob,” Yelena called as she sank into her usual seat.

Bob returned with a platter of duck, golden and steaming. He moved gently, setting dishes like he didn’t want to disturb anything. He’d worked very hard to set this up for them.

“So,” he said as he set down a bowl of roasted potatoes, “how’d the mission go?”

Yelena groaned, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “Don’t even get me started.”

“Walker threw a jeep,” Ava added before shoving a fork full of food in her mouth.

“It was an enemy jeep!” John protested, indignantly. “It didn’t even cause that much property damage.”

Bucky let out a long, muffled sigh, face in his hands. “Let’s just say it could’ve been better.”

“Problem is we don’t have Sentry!” Alexei said through a mouthful of food, pointing his fork at Bob. “Imagine how many jeep he could throw! Wouldn’t even worry about drone fire.”

John grinned, playing along now with a hint of sarcasm. “Oh yeah. So many jeeps would fly. We’d have had them easily.”

Bob looked down, smiling awkwardly, and hummed in acknowledgment.

Bucky quickly cut in. “The problem is we rushed in before the signal and immediately broke formation. That’s why it got messy.”

That shut things up for a moment. Murmurs of agreement passed around the table.

Ava leaned back. “Besides, if Bob was out there, we’d be getting home to empty plates we’d probably fill with instant ramen.”

“Yeah,” Yelena said, cutting into her food. “Instead we have duck. And very good duck at that. Thank you, Bob. It tastes amazing. Seriously.”

Bob’s smile turned genuine, his face warming just a bit, but there was something quiet about it. Something withheld. He nodded slightly. “I’m glad you like it.”

They were relaxed now—eating, trading jokes, processing the mission over roasted vegetables and fresh bread. The energy had shifted into something safe and familiar. For most of them anyway.

Bob wasn’t listening anymore.

Imagine how many jeeps he could throw.
Would’ve had them easily.

The words looped in his head as he ate. They hadn’t meant anything by it. They never did.

But they were right though weren’t they?

The sentry would’ve made it a lot easier.

Later that evening, the team had drifted into their usual post-mission sprawl. Dinner had been cleaned up, leftovers packed away, dishes done, as usual, by Bob, with some help from Ava and Bucky. The lights in the common area were dimmed slightly, the warmth of the duck having softened everyone’s edges.

A reality show buzzed on the TV, some competition involving desserts or something. No one was really watching. John and Alexei were sharing a beer, arguing halfheartedly about whether or not the show was rigged. Ava was scrolling on her phone, her head resting on Yelena’s lap and her legs tossed over the arm of the couch. Bucky sat in the armchair, his vibranium arm resting across his lap while he meticulously cleaned the cracks with a toothbrush, head tilted slightly as he worked.

Bob was tucked into his usual spot by the window, half-shadowed by the support beams that cut through the room. He was quietly reading a book, as he usually did in the evenings, content to just sit with them, letting their noise fill the quiet spaces in his head. It was his favorite part of the day, when everything was still.

Eventually, people started to peel off.

“Okay,” Yelena said around a yawn, stretching her arms above her head. “That’s me done. These meds are gonna knock me out in twenty.”

She stood, tossing a pointed glance in Bob’s direction.

“Don’t forget yours,” she added, already heading for the hallway. “Night, Bob.”

“Night,” he said, softly.

One by one, the others trickled away. The TV clicked off. A few quiet goodnights were exchanged and one loud one from Alexei. The clink of Bucky’s toothbrush being rinsed and the sound of him putting his arm back into place echoed through the space.

Eventually, the room emptied. Bob sat there a while longer in the silence they left behind. He didn’t move until the last light clicked off.

Shutting his book, he padded barefoot down the hall to his room. It was messier than the rest of the penthouse. The connected bathroom glowed under soft white lights. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and peeled off his clothes in silence.

The shower hissed to life.

Warm water ran down his back, steam curling around him. He stood still under the stream, head bowed, hand’s hugging his arms. He didn’t soap up. He didn’t scrub. He just stood there.

Finally he moved, meticulously cleaning his body as his thoughts coiled and uncoiled in the heat.

He thought about Alexei. About how often he mentioned Sentry. About how easily John played along. About how no one ever talked about him like that, like a superhero.

Bob stayed home. Bob folded towels. Bob arranged the living room just right and climbed up ladders to scrub ash from the ceiling.

He liked helping. He liked being the one they came home to. But sometimes, he got tired of his own voice being his only company.

They came back with bruises and adrenaline and stories. He had laundry. He had duck. He had the window seat.

And still, the worst part wasn’t that they admired Sentry. The worst part was that they weren’t wrong.

Sentry wouldn’t get hurt. Sentry would know what to do. Sentry would throw all the jeeps they needed thrown.

But then there was the Void. Always waiting. Heavy. Vast. Terrifying. And yet… less terrifying, sometimes, than the thought of feeling nothing at all.

Bob shivered, even under the hot water.

He hated that thought.

He hated more that he knew it was familiar.

There was a time when he used meth to chase that feeling. The electricity. The high. The invincibility. He hadn’t touched it in almost a year now. Hadn’t even craved it in months.

But he remembered. He remembered the thrill, the brightness, in his blood. And now… now he had something else that could do it. Something born inside him. Sentry wasn’t a chemical. Wasn’t a relapse.

He was a choice.

Bob stepped out of the shower, heart thudding. Towel slung low around his waist, he wiped a foggy circle into the bathroom mirror. His face stared back at him. Wet hair, hollow eyes.

On the counter: two pill bottles.

He reached for them.

Held them.

Stared.

The white tablets sat in his palm. A decision .

He didn’t have to take them. Not tonight. Not every night.

Sentry was just a thought away. The clarity. The strength. The feeling.

Bob didn’t move.

He looked at himself harder, like if he stared long enough, he could see the answers just waiting for him behind his irises.

Finally, slowly, he tilted back his head and swallowed both pills with a sip of lukewarm sink water.

He set the bottles back carefully. Closed the cabinet door.

And walked to bed with thoughts of the Sentry rattling inside his skull like a song he couldn’t turn off.

Chapter Text

After that nice evening, the team hadn’t gotten a chance to catch their breath for a few days. They were constantly busy, coming in and out of the tower at different times, but finally they all had a day off.

Well, it wasn’t technically a day off.

They had been told they were “on standby,” meaning no missions, no briefings, just a quiet directive to stay near the tower in case anything happened. 

Bucky had taken the opportunity to meet up with Sam for a few hours while the rest of the team lingered around the common room, not quite sure what to do with themselves. They hadn’t seen Bob since the day before, but they assumed he was still in the tower. He’d made it clear he was busy.

It had started around dusk, just as most of them were starting to drift to sleep. First, the thump of furniture being dragged around. Then the high-pitched whine of the vacuum and the unmistakable clatter of drawers being emptied and re-packed. None of them had to ask what it was. Bob was cleaning his room.

He hadn’t meant to wake anyone. But none of them were heavy sleepers. When the vacuum started, every one of them had jolted awake, blinking blearily at the walls. 

His room was the one space in the tower that didn’t match the rest—messier, less structured. Bob could keep things spotless when it was for others, but his own space always felt like it weighed more. Like organization was only worth the effort if someone else would see it. They all understood that, and didn’t pressure him about it.  

Everyone had a soft spot for Bob, whether they admitted it or not. No one dared to complain when he finally found the motivation, even if it was at 1:30 in the morning.

When it was clear the noise would persist they just turned over. The same training that made them light sleepers ensured they’d be able to get rest even through such a ruckus.

By morning, he was quiet again, so one brought it up.

Now, with no alarms going off and no missions looming, they’d all finally allowed themselves to relax. Ava had taken over the living room TV and booted up a Crash Bandicoot game she’d gotten from a fan in the mail after she opened up about not having a childhood in an interview . The other 3 joined her, none of them prepared for how frustrating the game could be, but despite that, an hour in they were all having fun.

There was only one controller, so they passed it around every time someone died—which, thanks to their inexperience, was often.

“You need to time it,” Ava said flatly, watching John miss the same jump again.

“I am timing it! The game’s rigged!”

“It’s always ‘rigged’ when you lose,” Yelena muttered, stealing a chip from his bowl without looking.

Alexei let out a booming laugh and nudged John with his elbow. “Your American ego too fragile for precision platforming.”

“Bold words from someone who fell on the first jump,” John shot back.

“I was warming up,” Alexei huffed.

The elevator dinged behind them.

Bob stepped into the room, sweater sleeves pushed up, hair a little mussed. He was carrying an empty laundry hamper, signifying the official end to his room cleaning frenzy. His eyes were bright. Clear. Brighter than usual.

Ava waved the controller without looking. “You want a turn?”

They’d played different video games before, even some board games. Normally, when they invited him, Bob would hover. Ask are you sure? with that nervous little edge to his voice.

Not today apparently. 

“Hell yeah,” he said, already moving toward the group. He set down the hamper behind the couch, and sat down cross-legged between Alexei and Yelena, taking the controller like he’d been waiting for this all day.

John raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve played this before?”

“Not in years,” Bob said, already unpausing the game. “But it’s coming back.”

He charged through the level fast. He was more aggressive than John had been, timing his jumps on instinct and spinning straight through obstacles. He only made it a few minutes in before crashing into a nitro crate and dying instantly.

He didn’t hand the controller off.

“Wait—let me just try one more,” he said quickly. “I can do it this time, I swear.”

“Famous last words,” Alexei said, but no one stopped him.

Bob played again. Got further. Died again. Then again.

“Is it still your turn?” Ava asked, one eyebrow raised, annoyance seeping into her tone.

Bob laughed. “Okay, okay—here.” He passed the controller off to Yelena, who took it with a suspicious look.

She lasted ten seconds before plummeting into a pit.

“Wow,” Bob said, a somehow bigger laugh escaping his lips. “You’re really bad at this.”

Yelena scoffed lightheartedly, bumping his shoulder with a smirk “Oh, shut up.”

When Ava took her turn, Bob leaned in closer than usual, eyes locked on the screen.

“Alright, alright—jump here, yeah, now double back for the crate—oh, you missed the bonus!”

Ava paused the game and looked over at him. “Okay. Can you like, move back? Personal space dude. You’re stressing me out.”

Bob blinked. Then laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Just hyped, I guess.”

He didn’t seem sorry.

He seemed like he couldn’t stop moving. His hands twitched in his lap, like they missed the controller. His voice was still light and loud, too loud. His smile too wide.

John leaned back, sipping his soda with narrowed eyes.

Yelena glanced at Ava. Ava glanced back.

Nobody said anything.

But their eyes had a conversation of their own.

“You doing okay?” Ava asked lightly, almost like a joke.

“I’m doing great,” Bob grinned. “Never better.” And that was that.

The elevator dinged again.

Bucky stepped out, brow furrowed, phone in hand. He didn’t say anything at first—just walked to the TV and clicked it off with the remote before anyone could protest.

“We’ve got a situation,” he said.

That got everyone upright.

“What kind?” Ava asked, already grabbing for the tablet on the coffee table.

“Sam’s team spotted something coming in over the water. Big. Not Wakandan, not Kree—nothing we’ve seen before. Unmarked.”

“Hostile?” John asked, standing now too.

“Don’t know yet,” Bucky said. “But they’re headed toward the city. Fast.”

Ava’s eyes widened as she read from her tablet. She reached over the back of the couch, grabbed the remote Bucky had set down, and flipped the screen to the news. One by one, they all gathered in front of it. Every channel showed the same thing: a jagged, dark vessel, massive and hovering just over the water on the far side of the city skyline. Grainy zoomed-in footage showed spines rotating along its hull, energy pulsing between them like a heartbeat. It wasn’t moving quickly. Just looming. Watching.

Bob had gone still.

“It showed up about twenty minutes ago,” Bucky continued. “No response to any contact attempts. Sam’s been tracking it with Redwing. It's alien. And it’s not just passing by.”

John folded his arms, eyes locked on the screen. “So what’s the plan?”

“If it turns hostile,” Bucky said, “Sam’s team engages directly. We focus on evacuating civilians. Sam’s got more powered hitters. They’re better suited for a head-on fight.”

John made a face. “We’ve got super strength. That counts as a power.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “and they’ve got energy blasts, flight, and like, magic martial arts or something. They’ll get results.”

John muttered something under his breath, already lacing up his boots. It was pride talking—everyone knew that. He didn’t want to be sidelined, but he didn’t want anyone getting hurt either. He just didn’t like being left out of the brawl.

Then Bob stood up.

“I can help.”

They all turned.

He was standing straight, fists at his sides, eyes brighter than they should’ve been in the dim light. That too-wide smile from earlier had slipped into something flatter, more serious—but no less intense.

“I’ve got powers,” Bob said. “More than super strength. I’m invincible.”

John opened his mouth, then shared a glance with Bucky.

“Yeah,” he said carefully. “But that’s not really you, Bob. That’s the Sentry.”

“I know I made that separation last time,” Bob said quickly. “But honestly? Now I’m thinking there’s not that much of a difference. It’s still me. Always has been.”

Ava stood up now, slow. “Okay, but… What about the Void?”

“I didn’t know about it before. Now I do. I know how much it hurts people. I wouldn’t let it get out of control again.”

“You’ve been scared of it,” Yelena said softly. “Ever since that first time—and now suddenly it’s okay?”

“I’m not scared anymore.” His voice sharpened. “I just want to help. Please. Trust me.”

The silence stretched.

No one said “no,” but no one said “yes,” either. They were still frozen in place, the weight of the moment settling across them like a thick fog.

“You know,” Alexei started. “I think-”

But he didn’t get to finish. Every communicator buzzed at once.

INCOMING ALERT: CONTACT MADE. ALIEN VESSEL ENGAGED. REQUESTING ALL AVAILABLE RESPONSE TEAMS.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered. “Let’s go.”

The room erupted into motion—gear grabbed, suits activated, comms clicked into place. They were in charge of civilian lives. There wasn’t time to argue.

Bob didn’t wait.

Before any of them could get out the door and into the jet, a burst of wind shot past them. Their heads snapped toward it—just in time to see a golden figure streak across the sky like a comet, moving faster than sound. His clothes had already shifted. His face was already set.

The Sentry was airborne—headed straight for the alien ship.