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Bob is not a morning person. And he’d be the first to admit it. So when he opened the fridge to get some milk, closed it, walked away, and then paused, he couldn’t be blamed.
Hug Bob.
Um… okay.
It’s written at the bottom of the chore chart list. Bob doesn’t know who wrote it, but it hadn’t been there a day ago, when he’d ticked off his ‘water the plants’ checklist for Monday. It’s innocuous, small. And… slightly demeaning?
He decides to ignore it.
Or, well, he tries.
He pours the milk into his cereal bowl, and goes back to the fridge to put it away, eyes determinedly staying away. He sits down at the bench and starts eating. But every few seconds, his eyes stray. He finds himself staring again. And then ripping them away moments later.
Who had written it? The handwriting’s kinda vague- it doesn’t really match Alexei’s, who’d written the majority of the rest of the chores - but it kind of does?
Ugh, he’s looking at it again. He starts eating his cereal faster.
He should just wipe it off. The chore chart started as a poster, but now it’s a whiteboard, so it would literally take less than a second. But he should probably figure out who wrote it first, right? The others had each written their names next to their chosen chores for the week. But you can’t really tell a person’s handwriting from their name alone, apparently. Maybe the tail end of the ‘g’ matches Yelena’s -
“Morning, Bob,” John says, damp towel slung across his neck, still slightly sweaty from his training.
The name ‘John’ doesn’t really have any of the same letters, except for ‘o’. But the ‘o’s look the same. All ‘o’s look the same!
“Uh… Bob?”
“Oh! Uh, morning, John,” he says sheepishly. Oops.
“You good, man?”
“What - yeah, I’m fine, haha,” Jesus, Bob, act like a normal person!
“… okay.”
Then he starts walking towards the fridge. John usually has a very strict food routine, and that includes eggs for breakfast. Which are in the fridge. Which is a totally normal place for eggs to be and why would Bob care about that at all? He looks back at his cereal, but he’s really looking at John out of the corner of his eye, so he sees him stop at the fridge, put his hand on the handle, and then pause - then continue to grab out his eggs.
Well, he’s not saying anything. Either that means he wrote it, or didn’t see it, or just - doesn’t care about it. Which, fair. Bob doesn’t even care about it either. Really. Oh, look, he’s finished his cereal.
He gets up, taking his bowl to the sink to rinse out. He’s recently managed to get Alexei to buy one of the scrubbers that has dishwashing liquid stored inside, and he’s ridiculously happy with it - doing the dishes is so easy, now. (Bob knows he sounds like a housewife, but seriously. So easy.) He sets the bowl and spoon on the rack to dry, then turns to go. Maybe Bucky had written it? He wouldn’t though… right? He is all about open communication and stuff. Wait, is that a point for or against?
“Wait, Bob,” John says.
“Huh? Yeah, what’s up?” He turns back around, strolling closer to the man where he’s sizzling his eggs on the stove. Scrambled; yuck.
“Just -“ John cuts himself off. And then Bob is being hugged.
It takes a while to register. First, he’s got his own space. A personal bubble. And he’s just slightly cold. Then, all of a sudden, John’s arms are wrapped around him and Bob’s leaning into it like there’s no tomorrow. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to lift his own arms and hug back. His brain has shut down. There’s just one sentence flooding in his brain, echoing like his mind is an empty cave. This is nice. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but all he knows is it’s too soon when John gently leans Bob backwards, onto his own two feet, and extracts himself. He somehow keeps his own mouth shut so as not to complain - but only just.
Then John is walking over to the fridge, taking the whiteboard marker and writing his name next to Hug Bob, and sketching a big tick for Thursday.
“You all keep telling me I don’t contribute enough,” he says.
“… uh-“
“Even though I cook, like, the majority of the dinners we don’t order now.”
“Um, I’ve never -“
“Obviously, I’d still do this without the chart.”
“…”
“But now Ava might shut up a bit more. So.”
Bob nods vigorously. And keeps nodding. He doesn’t have anything to say. Wait, too much nodding. John’s face is getting more and more amused the longer Bob goes without saying anything. Say something!
“Uh. Makes… sense?”
John nods. Once. That’s smart. He looks like he’s fighting a smile. “Great. Do you want any eggs?”
“No thanks!” Bob does not squeak, and he makes his escape.
Well, that was weird. Next time he’s in the kitchen, he is definitely scrubbing the words off the whiteboard.
———
No one mentions the Hug Bob on the whiteboard, not even at dinner, and it’s not as if Bob himself is going to. He hadn’t been able to wipe it off for - some reason. It’s not until the next day, during lunch, that it’s brought up again.
He’s with Yelena and Alexei, and they’re out of the tower, walking towards an apparently “amazing hot dog guy”. Bob’s skeptical since he’s had his own fair share of hot dogs, and they’ve mostly tasted the same, but Alexei was insistent.
It’s actually - a really nice day. Bob tilts his head up a bit to catch the sun as he listens to Yelena and Alexei argue.
“Just because we did not eat for a little bit does not mean story should be for trauma jar,” Alexei says.
“Dad, you said that you went for almost two weeks with no food. And people around you literally died.”
“Not very close people, besides Malik. He was a very sad death. The rest of them - eh.”
“You also said some people were committing cannibalism.”
“Ah,” Alexei winces. “Well, yes. That was not good. But besides that, is a happy story, and not worthy of trauma j-“
The bike is so fast that all Bob hears is a cheerful ring of the bell and then he’s being tugged out of the way and into Alexei’s chest, just in time for it to go flying by with a guy screaming profanities on top.
“Shit,” he breathes out, delayed.
“Bob!” Alexei squeezes him tighter for a second. “Whew, that was close call.” He pauses. “This counts for ‘hug Bob’ chore chart, yes?”
Bob, who had been leaning against Alexei and trying to get his breath back, pulls back, and Alexei lets him go, physically setting him back on his own feet.
Bob opens his mouth to say something, but Yelena is already answering.
“Sure,” Yelena shrugs, “But, I mean, I wonder if he hit Bob, would he have just - bounced off?” Yelena asks, tilting her head.
Bob closes his mouth, opens it. “I… I don’t know?” He says.
“We should try! Test it out! I will buy bike.” Alexei seems cheerful enough.
Yelena sighs.
“Um, not the biggest fan of that plan,” Bob says. And then the conversation has moved on and he can’t ask anything about the chore chart without it being weird. Well, he might not have had the courage to say anything anyway.
Maybe predictably, the rest of the trip is mostly spent with Alexei trying to convince Bob to let him run him over with a bike.
The hotdogs end up being actually pretty good, though.
———
Ava, who Bob feel’s safe to say is extremely competitive, has been demanding the others play poker with her so she can improve. Bucky had especially agreed, on the grounds that a better poker face could be better for missions. But it’s Yelena who plays it with Ava the most - mostly because they both happen to be free every Friday for some time. Today, Bob was already in the living room, watering the plants when they started, so he gets to play witness. He’s just grateful they didn’t make him play, too - his pride still hasn’t recovered since last time.
So far, Ava is losing. Not too badly - okay, pretty badly.
“Shit,” she says. “I don’t have any more spare change. I want to keep going!”
“That is okay,” Yelena says before Bob can start looking through his own pockets (futilely- he definitely does not have any money on him.) “We can do with non-material things, like - okay, I up the ante, with payment for a future bagel.”
“Okay,” Ava nods, “then I’ll match with - uh, whoever wins gets to check off the hug Bob for today!” As Yelena tilts her head, considering, Ava turns to Bob. “Sorry if you feel a bit objectified; it was the only thing I could think of.”
Bob shakes his head in bewilderment. “It’s… okay? I mean I don’t?” It’s a bit hard to comprehend that the reward for this game is hugging him. Isn’t it a, well, chore?
Yelena nods, “I accept your terms.”
They flip their cards.
“Fuck yes!” Ava shouts, and leaps up to pull Bob into a tight hug. He can’t help but laugh, even though his brain might be melting.
When Ava pulls back, still glowing in victory, Bob sees Yelena struggling to hide a smile. She doesn’t seem to care too badly that she lost a round (well, considering the score is still like 1 to 10, that’s… probably fair enough.)
Ava struts over towards the kitchen, presumably to tick off her name on the chore chart.
Bob works up his courage. “Hey, can I - I mean, do you know - can I ask who wrote it?”
“What? Oh, the chart. Of course you can, but… remember that night you went to bed early? Well, Ava and I were drinking. A lot. And I am actually not sure who it was.”
Ava walks back in, “It was you, right? I think. Maybe not,” she says, looking towards the kitchen like she can see the writing through the walls.
“Oh,” Bob says. What else is he supposed to say? ’Can I wipe it off, it’s making me uncomfortable?’ ‘Can I please have another hug?’ ‘This is actually one of the best things to ever happen to me?’ All equally bad. So, he sits, and lets them get back to their poker game. Which Ava completely loses. But she’s won more than she has before, so Bob thinks she finishes the game in pretty high spirits.
———
It’s late the next day that he hears a gentle knock on his bedroom door.
“Oh, come in!” He says. Who could - he didn’t make plans with Yelena today, did he?
“Hey, Bob,” Bucky says, slipping into the room.
Oh. He’s pretty sure he’d remember if he’d made plans with Bucky. He puts the pillow he’s been holding tight to his chest back on the bed. “Hi, Bucky.”
“You’ve - been up here a while? You missed dinner.”
Has he? He didn’t even realise. “Oh - uh, sorry. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, you don’t have to apologise - I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about anything?”
Does he want to talk about… it? Bob looks into Bucky’s face. It’s warm, open, free of judgement. He’s keeping himself close to the open door, not encroaching upon Bob’s space.
Before he can talk himself out of it, Bob gestures at the desk chair in his room that he literally never uses, and Bucky spins it so he can lean forward against the back, and sits down. He raises an eyebrow.
“I’m just,” Bob starts, hesitantly, “- uh, confused? Maybe? About the, uh…”
“‘Hug Bob’?” Bucky asks with a smile.
“Yeah - yep, yeah. I don’t know - I mean, I’m not mad, or anything, but - I guess it just feels - weird?”
“Yeah? In what way?”
“You sound like my therapist,” Bob (maybe, slightly,) deflects.
“Yeah, it’s what i get for hanging out with Sam so much. But still, what do you mean by weird?” Wow, he just… gets straight back into it, huh?
“Uh… it’s just, I don’t know, um… almost, infantilising? I guess.” He kind of wishes he was still holding the pillow. “Like… I don’t know. Do you guys think that I’m… weak? That without the hugs, I’ll fall back - into being him again? Because I’ve been working on it, I swear, and the last time there weren’t even any shadows -“
“Bob - no, no, that’s not it, I swear. I hope you haven’t been thinking that for long. No, believe it or not, a lot of it… I think it’s for us.”
Bob stares at him. “Um… yeah, no. Don’t believe that, sorry.”
Buck huffs a laugh. “Bob, tell me you think John would just - ask for a hug if he wanted one. He wouldn’t, right? So this - it gives the team a chance to get a hug without having it be- for ourselves, you know?”
“I - I guess that makes sense.” Huh. He hasn’t thought of it that way before. The thought that, maybe, hugging Bob made them feel better - it makes him feel warm.
“Also, sometimes you really look like you need a hug, Bob. It is physically hard to restrain myself sometimes. Has anyone told you you look like a wet cat?”
“… I actually - uh, I’m not sure how to respond. No? No, no one’s told me I look like a ‘wet cat‘, what the hell?”
“Not really look, more like give the feel of - uh, whatever. Just know sometimes we want to hug you, alright? And the chore chart makes it easier. And also obviously if you don’t want one you don’t have to have one, just say ‘fuck off’.”
Bob, in the quiet recess of his own mind, can’t imagine a scenario where he wouldn’t want a hug, now that he keeps getting them. He doesn’t say that out loud, though.
“Okay,” he nods. Bucky smiles, pats him on the shoulder, and gets up.
“Uh, Bucky?” He rushes to say. “Is there some kind of, I don’t know, early checking system? I just, I mean Yelena’s already filled out the tick for today, but, for, um, tomorrow…”
Bucky looks confused for a second, then laughs. He steps back towards Bob and pulls him into a tight hug, and Bob happily reciprocates.
“I’m glad you’re on this team with us, Bob.” Crap, is he trying to make him cry?
“Thanks, Bucky. You - you too.”
Bucky smiles, “see you tonight?”
“I - uh, as long as Ava isn’t picking the movie again.”
“Hm… I’ll see what I can I do.”
They end up watching Ava’s pick, but Bob stays anyway. He couldn’t care less about what movie they were watching, really. Not while he’s surrounded by his team.
———
END.