Chapter Text
Yelena stopped sleeping through the night about a month after being branded a “New Avenger.” Maybe the heroism wore off and made room for heavier thoughts. Or maybe her sleep had always been like this, and she’d just forgotten what it was like back when she was alone. Either way, she got used to it.
Every member of the New Avengers had their own personal floor, but they all agreed to share the biggest kitchen on the top level. Plenty of space for Yelena’s takeout, Alexei’s horrifying Russian cooking, and Bucky’s protein-rich meal preps. She visited often on sleepless nights, and it wasn’t unusual to run into someone else. Seemed they all had their issues with sleep.
That night, when the elevator doors opened, she saw someone sitting alone on the kitchen island—tea in one hand, a bottle of melatonin gummy bears in the other. He turned, cautious at first, then smiled.
“Hello, Yelena,” Bob said cheerfully.
“Hello, Bob.” She walked to the fridge. “Can’t sleep?”
He looked down, shook his head.
She rummaged through the drawers, eventually stealing some of Walker’s milk and one of Alexei’s sugary cereals. It had been a while since she talked to Bob. He usually kept to himself, even when the others tried to include him.
She figured he was here for the same reason she was: when the desire to sleep loses to whatever else is rattling around in your head.
She grabbed a bowl, sat beside him. Silence lingered.
“Cute tea,” Yelena said eventually, nodding to the Sleepytime Bear box beside him.
Bob exhaled a silent laugh through his nose.
“You’re better than me,” she added, half-laughing. “When I need to clear my head, I usually go for something stronger.” She motioned to the vodka shelf.
“Uh… yeah. Me too,” Bob said, pausing. “I was on meth for a bit.”
“Oh.” She blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah.” She flushed. How had she forgotten that?
“Well, don’t do that again,” she said awkwardly. “That’s… bad.”
Silence.
She worried she’d made things weird, but when she glanced sideways, Bob was smiling into his tea.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” he said. “You’re just funny sometimes.”
She laughed.
“Well,” she said, waving her spoon, “I’m just trying to avoid large, aggressive chickens.” She smiled, “Just looking out for myself.”
That made him laugh too. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to do meth again… Yelena.”
The way he said her name made her chest warm. Like an old friend might—soft and fond. She shook the thought away; they’d only known each other for a month.
She stood, rinsed her bowl, and set it in the dishwasher.
“I’m heading back,” she said, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Bob replied.
—------
A few nights passed. Still no sleep. Every creak of the bed, every curtain rustle pulled her awake. But tonight, most of the noise came from the floor above—cheers, clinking glasses, laughter.
She gave up, threw on a hoodie, and took the elevator to the top floor.
When the doors opened, she found a very drunk Alexei, Walker, Ava, and Bucky lounging around with takeout pizza.
“Ah, Yelena!” Alexei cheered, throwing his arms wide. “I knew you’d come!”
He already had a shot poured for her. “I was going to send Ava down to fetch you, but here you are!” He handed her the glass, which she drank with minimal protest.
“We’re celebrating a mission,” Walker offered.
“Sorry if we woke you,” Bucky added.
“I was already awake,” she said, settling in beside them.
“Where’s Bob?” Alexei asked like it was a crime he wasn’t already here. “Mr. America, go bring him. Tell him it’s rude not to celebrate.”
Walker groaned but got up.
“Oh, and,” Alexei called after him, “tell him my Yelena is here.”
“Dad, no.” She stood up halfway, ready to leave.
“I kid!” Alexei insisted. “But he will be more likely to come with you here... doesn’t like us as much.”
He coaxed her back down with another drink. Thankfully, she wasn’t a lightweight.
After a few minutes, Walker returned, dragging along a sheepish-looking Bob in his usual oversized long-sleeve. Bob sat beside her, hands folded.
“Good for you to join us,” Alexei said, already pouring him a drink. “Celebrate!”
“Dad, you weren’t even on the mission—”
“Shh,” he waved her off. “It’s a team effort.”
Bob downed the shot easily. Yelena assumed superhumans had higher alcohol tolerances. He turned and gave her a small, awkward smile. She returned it.
“How much would it take to get you drunk?” she asked, curious.
He looked down thoughtfully. “Uh. I haven’t really… tried. Not since I became… this.” He gestured vaguely at himself.
She nodded, hoping she wasn’t being rude.
“Yes, Bob!” Alexei cried, taking that as a challenge. “Tonight, we find out!”
Bob laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair.
“The super-soldiers could drink the rest of you under the table,” Walker added, popping another bottle. “No offense,” he said to Ava.
“Pass,” she replied.
“Boo!” Alexei tried Bucky next, who shook his head.
Yelena drank a few more shots, tapped out at ten. She was trying to quit anyway.
Ava and Bucky eventually left.
Bob, who’d been matching Walker and Alexei drink for drink, showed no signs of drunkenness.
“Not fair,” Walker muttered, flopping onto the couch.
“Bob cheats,” Alexei agreed.
“He's bullet-proof, what’d you expect?” Yelena said, slurring slightly.
Bob flushed red at what he heard as praise.
Alexei noticed. “Ah, but not immune to all things,” he teased.
Bob flushed deeper. “I think I could get drunk. If I wanted.”
Yelena smiled. “That’s kind of cool.”
“Maybe if Yelena asked, he’d actually try,” Alexei added, grabbing another slice.
“Dad, stop,” she snapped, growing uncomfortable.
“Come on,” Walker piled on, “I bet Yelena would be impressed.”
Bob tightened his grip on the bottle.
“You don’t have to—” Yelena started. But Bob was already tilting the bottle back.
He drank the whole thing. Then sat there, sweating. Silence. He suddenly bolted upright and rushed for the trash can in the kitchen.
Walker winced. “Ugh, no.” He covered his ears.
“Oh, see what you two did?” Yelena stood and followed him.
She heard them whispering about victory behind her.
“D-Don’t look at m—” Bob tried to say, but another wave of nausea cut him off.
With his head in the trash can, Yelena tried to hold back the long pieces of hair hanging down. She slowly dragged her fingers along his temple, collecting the hair and bundling it in her hand. She felt him shiver, his skin prickle. She credited that to his vomiting.
“Don't worry, I’ve seen worse,” she murmured, rubbing his back.
“We’re going to bed!” Alexei called from across the room. “Does Bob need help?”
Yelena shook her head and shooed them away. They’d likely only make things worse. Eventually, Bob sat back, sipping water.
“I’ll grab you more water,” she stumbled her way over to the fridge, filling up a cup and focusing on trying not to spill.
When she turned, he was sitting on the floor, slouched against the lower cabinets, his shirt lifted to wipe his mouth. His hair was damp with sweat, cheeks flushed, and there was a dazed look in his eyes—not just drunk, but vulnerable in a way that made her chest tighten.
And then her fingers twitched, and the glass slipped from her hand. It shattered at her feet. They both stared at it.
“Fuck,” she muttered, squatting down to pick up the shards.
“Stop.” Bob knelt beside her, gently taking the pieces from her hand. “Let me.”
“Bob,” she sighed, “I’ve broken through windows with my body . I’ll survive a broken cup.”
He ignored her, continuing the cleanup. She wiped up the spill.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, pointing to her finger.
“It’s fine.”
He held out his hand. She reluctantly gave him hers.
“There’s nothing to—” she started, then stopped as he brought her finger to his mouth.
“Don’t—” she yanked it back. “You can’t just put people’s fingers in your mouth!”
Bob looked like a kicked puppy, “but it’s still bleeding.”
She sighed.
“I think it’s time to sleep.” She stood.
She was much too wobbly to stand on her own, so she reached past his head and grabbed onto the counter above him to stabilize herself. He flinched, curling inward like he expected to be hit.
“Oh, Bob,” she sat back down, facing him. Was that an instinctual motion, or did he actually believe she was going to hit him? His head hung, long pieces of his hair covering his face like a curtain.
Her fingers tapped like she was thinking, how could she fix this? Unsure of what to do, she slowly cupped his face in her hands.
He blinked at her. “I—I didn’t think you were gonna. I just… It’s a motion of habit.”
“I would never.” Yelena brushed her thumb over his cheek with one hand, the other was gently placing a strand of hair behind his ear. She could tell he was making eye contact with her, perhaps trying to sense what she was feeling. She averted her eyes and instead stared at his collarbone, which was peaking out from his baggy shirt. His face was very warm.
He leaned into her hand, “I like this”.
Her heart beat at an abnormal rate, which, with how rare that happens, freaked her out. Bob looked at her like he could hear the uptick in the rhythm, and she figured he probably could. She cleared her throat, retracted her hands, and got up.
“Okay. Bedtime.”
They both got up and into the elevator. They pushed their respective floors’ buttons, Bob’s being right below hers. As she stepped out of the elevator, she turned around to wish Bob a goodnight.
“Goodnight, Yelena,” he said with a smile, the kind that extends into his eyes. The doors closed, she felt lightheaded. There he goes again , she thought, saying her name like that .