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“What the hell is this?”
Walker stared at the official-looking paper in front of him as soon as he took his seat, frowning.
“What does it look like? Use that brain of yours. Or at least pretend you’ve got one for my sake,” Ava shot, taking a seat across from him. She only flicked her attention down for a moment, but of course, Walker just had to ruin it.
“Oh, it’s only for your sake? Should I be flattered?”
“Relax, Walker,” she lazily replied. “Think of it as community service—mine in particular.”
“You guys done with your pissing contest yet?” Yelena quipped, earning an eye roll from Ava and a loud scoff from Walker. “Great! Now that everyone is seated, let’s hurry up and get this quickly filled, and we can go back to wasting taxpayers’ money in peace.”
“Hey, we happened to save New York and this planet, I think we earned it,” Walker snorted.
“And the flame and glory!” Alexei bellowed, throwing one bent arm triumphantly into the air, flexing like he was still on one of the many posters plastered around the city. The room collectively groaned, and of course, Bucky’s the loudest.
After almost three years, they're finally being recognized as the New Avengers by the American people, and a two years since Dr. Doom’s defeat, it almost felt normal again. Yet something never changed, like the chaos that followed them into every room, the constant bickering, and the feeling that even with the world saved, none of them really knew what “normal” was supposed to look like.
But that’s okay.
Yelena had long come to terms with the fact that this—them—was as close to normal as life was going to get. And honestly, she didn’t mind that anymore, but would never tell them that. She’d rather wrestle a grenade with the pin half‑pulled.
“Wait, so…what’s the purpose of this anyway?” Walker questioned, brows furrowing as he looked at the form in front of him and then turned it to the back, where his entire face then scrunched. “There are so many technical words in this, and the font is making my head hurt.”
“Walker, it’s the default font on Word. Calibri,” Bucky retorted, placing one elbow on the table to prop his head up while reading his own form. “Pretty sure you’ll survive the typography.”
“They should have kept New Times Roman,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, intimidating stuff. Next thing, you’ll tell me Calibri personally wronged you,” Ava quipped.
“It just doesn’t look professional, okay?” he defended, crossing his arms.
“Right,” Bucky muttered, “because the font is what’s stopping people from taking you seriously.”
“I’m just saying appearances matter,” Walker shot back.
Yelena groaned under her breath.
“Can we not have a TED Talk about fonts? Some of us would like to finish before retirement. The purpose,” Yelena interjected in the hopes of rounding everyone back. “Is if something very terrible happens to one of us while we’re on the field, then their information is on file to notify alongside everything they own. Like a…”
She clicked her tongue and snapped her finger for the word.
“Next-of-kin form?” Bob offered with a raised hand from next to her.
“Yes. That,” Yelena confirmed with a nod. “It’s not that complicated.”
Walker squinted down at the form again, lips pressed thin.
“Still feels morbid. Like planning my funeral.”
“Back when I served in the Soviet Armed Forces,” Alexei declared, puffing his chest, “we did not fill out silly forms like this. If you fell in battle, that was it—an honor, not a paperwork problem like you Americans!”
“Seeing as you are part of the Avengers, maybe tone down the whole ‘glory in death’ thing,” Bucky mumbled almost tirelessly. “Or smack-talking the country that’s actually signing your paychecks.”
“Also, considering that we almost all died when we confronted Dr. Doom a few years back?” Ava deadpanned, leaning back, tapping one finger on the sheet. “I guess this is just future-proofing the inevitable when it comes to our profession.”
“Yeah, because that’s super comforting,” Walker muttered and then focused his attention on Yelena. “Also, how did it even take us this long to do this?”
“Maybe because we had nothing to lose in the past,” Yelena replied flatly, causing Ava to nod solemnly, Alexei clearing his throat self-consciously, Bucky gave a low hum that could really mean anything, and Bob to look at Yelena almost pitifully until she tacked on, “Until now.”
“Jesus, that’s still dark,” Walker mumbled.
“And…Val was being a pain in the ass to get this approved with our death policy payout,” Yelena grumbled. “Apparently, not many companies are willing to sign us under since we’re a ‘high-risk investment.’ The ones that did wanted a premium so high that Val nearly choked.”
“It took a lot of back and forth, but we finally worked something out with her,” Bucky finished. “Basically, we get full coverage and a large payout for the work we do, unless the world ends again. Then it’s just ‘thoughts and prayers.’”
“So basically, if we kick the bucket, they want to know where to send the payout?” Ava asked.
“Well, I don’t know about you all,” Walker conceded. “It should be a given that if I were to die a very heroic death, all my assets and worldly possessions will go to Olivia and my son. And, I don’t know, a percentage to whatever program’s smart enough to turn me into a national monument with a fancy park named after me. Preferably with the flag waving behind me.”
A chorus of groans echoed through the room, like a well‑rehearsed routine.
“Why am I not surprised?” Yelena snickered.
“What? This is supposed to be realistic and judgment-free, isn’t it?” Walker protested.
“Sure,” Ava attested. “Right up until you started talking about the monument.”
“You’d visit,” Walker shot back.
“Only to feed the pigeons and possibly vandalize your statue with googly eyes,” she replied.
“I take that as a win since you’d have to climb me,” he smirked, and she stuck out her tongue, which he mirrored in response. “Well, that’s what I’m putting for my beneficiary, and you all can’t stop me.”
He already picked up the pen by then and started writing while Ava flicked her gaze to Yelena. “So if I don’t have a spouse or children, I could put my next-of-kin and whichever organization I wish to donate to?”
“Yes, exactly,” she answered. “Next‑of‑kin first, then whoever gets whatever’s left. “Just make sure it’s not something stupid like your teammates, because if we’re still alive, we’d probably just use it to fund therapy.”
“Aw, that’s rather touching, you’d miss me if I’m dead,” she teased.
“Seeing as you’re the only other woman on the team? Yes,” she said. “Don’t think too hard.”
She chuckled, picking up the form and tilting her head to the side, “Well, I suppose I’d be to Bill Foster, who was basically my father figure, and the research society for quantum energy and dimensional fields. He’d make sure it actually went toward something useful… not statues.”
“Wow, so no love left over for the people you save the world with? Harsh,” he yapped.
“I personally like the idea,” Alexei declared. “Imagine a magnificent sculpture in my honor! Red Guardian, savior of the free world, muscles carved from marble! It would bring tears to the eyes of even the most cynical Americans!”
“Yeah, but maybe if you do erect one, make sure it’s not within walking distance from mine,” Walker concluded, his face twisting as he’d just tasted something sour. “I refuse to share skyline real estate with you.”
“What? Why, we have so much in common! State-sponsored super soldier, and we are Papa’s!”
“Yeah, Walker, nothing says ‘heroic legacy’ like dueling marble egos,” Bucky declared, smirking.
“Maybe we hold back from giving him ideas,” Walker grumbled, glaring at all of them.
Yelena decided to spare him and gestured to her dad. “Alexei?”
“Easy! Everything I own will split evenly between Yelena and my beautiful wife—”
“Holy shit, you’re married?” Walker coughed, his mouth gaping alongside Ava. If Walker was shocked by the news, he certainly had a way of hiding it. “Since when and, no offense, with whom?”
“Why, of course, to Yelena’s mother,” he grinned, huffing his chest proudly. “Well, it was under falsification back in 1995 when we did a mission in the States, but still the same thing! She even named one of her pigs after me! That is love!”
Everyone shared a look before glancing at Yelena for confirmation, who only groaned, burying her head in her palms, while Bob could only pat her on the thigh in moral support. “Let’s move on. Bucky?”
“Proceeds will go to veterans’ support and rehab programs, mental health foundations and shelters,” Bucky said after a pause. “People who deserve a second chance and…whatever is left will go to Alphine.”
Bob sputtered. “W-wait, your cat?”
There was no secret now that there was a particular white feline cat that was spoiled absolutely rotten in the Watchtower, but also the reason Yelena and Bob’s guinea pigs—yes, with an ‘s’ now because Cucumber needed friends—had to be relocated to their own room. One curious paw from Alphine and three terrified squeaks later, an entire section of the Watchtower became “small animal housing.”
“Whoever she decides is good enough,” Bucky answered, shrugging his Vibranium arm. “She’s not easy to win over, so whoever she decides to live out the remainder of her days with is good enough to get my share.”
“I have to give credit, for a team of chaos and bad decisions, we’re oddly philanthropic,” Ava noted and then jutted her chin to the two across from her. “Well, aside from America’s Loudest and Russia’s Biggest PR Campaign.”
“Hey, we still have two more to go, so let’s get through that first before clowning me,” Walker jeered. “So, what about you, Yelena? One for each of your bajillion Guinea pigs, like what Bucky’s doing, or some noble good cause? Or those in the ex-Widow Program, mix it in with mom and dad? That’s where all your money’s going, I presume?”
It should be noted that in that very moment, Bob was busy fiddling with one of his fidget toys but was still very much paying attention to everyone, especially Yelena. Unfortunately for him, no amount of spinning plastic could brace him for what came out of her mouth next.
“Mm, yes, but probably to my husband for three years, and he could allocate the funds,” she declared, already filling out the form and signing her name at the very bottom. “Okay, done. Bob, whenever you’re done, I can collect everything and bring it to Mel before—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Walker butted in, waving his hands while his eyes wildly dashed around to everyone on the table in a desperate attempt to steer the conversation back. “Hold on, hold on. I…we all heard that right?”
Yelena doesn’t even acknowledge him or his statement.
Ava blinked, frowning slightly as she looked from Walker to Yelena.
“I just thought it was a figure of speech or something like that sort,” she confessed, voice uncertain, like she was afraid to be the one to ask. “However, if she is married, that’s a first for me.”
Walker slammed his palms on the table, jumping out of his seat while leaning forward.
“Yelena Belova, are you freakin’ married? You? For three years?”
“Wow. You shocked him so much that he actually censored himself. That’s a first,” Bucky noted.
Walker scowled, choosing to ignore the jab. He turned sharply toward Alexei.
“Do you know about this, Alexei?”
Alexei laughed, loud and jolly as usual.
“Lena is just kidding, she’s playing! You know how she is,” he said, giving a hearty clap on the table. But when no one laughed—and Yelena didn’t even look up—his smile faltered. “Right, Lena? Lena? You wouldn’t get married without telling your papa, yes?”
Yelena didn’t answer.
She kept her calm, fluid motions as she placed the forms into a neat pile, not even glancing up.
“Bob, are you finished with yours yet?” she asked instead, tone crisp and unaffected.
“O‑oh, uh…yeah, here you go,” Bob stammered, nearly dropping his pen as he handed his form over. His fidget toy spun quietly in his other hand, and it was the only sound in the brief, awkward silence that followed.
The silence hung for a beat too long.
Ava’s brows furrowed as she watched Bob slide the form across the table as though his world hadn’t just imploded. She blinked once, twice, but there’s one thing for sure: something definitely isn’t adding up.
“Okay, question,” she began, pointing her pen at him. “How are you not reacting to this?”’
Even though no one in their right mind would say it, everyone knew that Bob was in love with Yelena, which became more apparent to everyone after everything that followed in Dr. Doom’s eventual defeat.
Hell, everyone who isn’t blind knew he was like a giant that had imprinted on her.
“What?” Bob looked up, puzzled. His thumb idly flicked at the fidget toy between his fingers, spinning it slowly. “That Yelena’s married? I mean…people get married all the time in our field…right? It’s fine.”
“Fine?” Walker’s voice cracked an octave higher than he intended. “Bob, you practically short‑circuited last month when she said she was getting a new haircut! Now she drops her husband, and you’re just…what? Dandy?”
“Leave him alone,” Yelena hissed.
However, it could barely be heard when Alexei, who was now thoroughly distressed, started wailing. “No, you can’t be married without me knowing, Lena! I was supposed to threaten your husband and walk you down the aisle!”
“Did you get hitched in Vegas?” Ava asked, and then her mouth dropped, color draining from her face while she started to piece the puzzle together. “Hold on, wasn’t she there a couple of years ago?”
“She was,” Bucky implored.
“For a mission,” Yelena corrected and gestured for their papers. “Give me your forms now.”
Holy shit.
No wonder Bob was moping for days in his room without coming out.
He probably knew what was happening.
Walker and Ava exchanged a look across the table; both eyebrows raised in that wordless kind of communication that only teammates developed after surviving far too much nonsense together.
Poor, pitiful Bob.
Maybe that was why he was playing with his fidget toy and being so quiet, because he was disassociating from one of the worst days of his existence in watching the woman he loved casually reveal she belonged to someone else, like it was no more significant than discussing the weather.
Still—
“But…seriously, who looked at you and thought, ‘yeah, I could handle that level of danger for life?’” Walker pondered. “No offense, Yelena, but who in their right mind thought marrying you was a manageable life choice?”
Bob frowned. “W—”
“Should I call Olivia and ask that?” Yelena countered.
“Hey! This was before I was selected to become Captain America—”
“Lena! You break your papa’s heart!” Alexei cried, half‑rising from his seat and then throwing himself back down again. “You marry without me, without ceremony, without vodka? I am supposed to threaten the man first! It is tradition!”
“Oh my god, this is why I didn’t want to tell any of you,” Yelena grumbled.
“Hey, I didn’t say anything,” Bucky said quietly, tone even.
“And you’re not a tad curious?” Ava inquired, arching a brow.
“Not even a tad,” Bucky answered, handing his form to Yelena, who angrily snatched it from him. “I mean, back in my day, you didn’t go sticking your head in other people’s business. Now everyone wants to know everyone’s business.”
“Mm, no…no, I don’t buy it,” Walker said skeptically, throwing himself back onto the chair and crossing his arms. “No way you think we’re just gonna sit here and let that slide, Belova. I presume he took your last name if that hasn't changed. You can’t nuke the room with “I have a husband” shit and then expect us to go back to our day after this as if nothing happened.”
“I’m not asking because that’s going to happen regardless,” she snorted, getting up and prying Alexei’s form from where he was now sobbing with his head down. She made a face when she saw it was covered in snot and tears. “Alexei!”
“I cry for injustice!” he announced through hiccupped sobs. “Russia had trained me for pain, for torture, for betrayal, but not for this heartbreak from my own daughter! My own little малышка! Married to an invisible woman's brother!”
Walker gaped at her. “You’re married—”
“No, I’m not married to Johnny,” Yelena interjected, seizing Ava’s paper now. Just one more and she could leave. “If I hear even one more comment about this, I’m going to tase the next person, I mean it.”
The silence only lasted a beat, but it was enough time for Yelena to grab Walker’s form.
But it was to the shock of no one that Walker would try getting the last say:
“Jesus, no offense…but who’d want to marry you?”
He didn’t get the chance to say anything more.
The lights sputtered once—twice—before flickering wildly, turning the room into a frantic dance of white and shadow. A low rumble started under their feet, subtle at first, then grew into a reverberation that shook the walls.
“Uh…is that an earthquake?” Ava asked, her voice small, eyes darting upward.
“New York doesn’t have earthquakes unless we’re under attack or something else,” Bucky said quietly, already tensing as the rumbling deepened. Every head turned in the same direction toward the one person who could do so.
Bob sat perfectly still, back straight, shoulders squared, but the fidget toy was no longer between his fingers. One hand was clenched tight, the other flat on the table’s surface. A jagged web of cracks spread out beneath his palm, crawling across the metal like spider veins.
His voice, low and steady but sharp enough to cut the air, filled the silence.
“That’s enough.”
The sound seemed to echo far longer than his voice had any right to. It rolled through the room like thunder trapped inside four walls. The table shuddered again under his hand, the hairline cracks deepening with a faint, splintering groan.
No one dared to move when they saw those golden irises peeking through.
“Bob,” Yelena asserted, placing her hand on top of his fist.
Instantly, Bob winced as if he was ashamed of his own outburst. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, hadn’t meant to feel it like that. The rebuke had left his chest vibrating, every word too heavy, too sharp.
The projector swayed on its mount for a moment longer, the humming lights flickering uncertainly before stabilizing. The silence bit at the edges of the room like cold air, but Bob didn’t look up. He kept his gaze on the fractured table, jaw locked, shoulders tight with tension.
The handprint left in the steel was still faintly steaming, but what was worse?
It was how he felt after, and the very reason why he doesn’t want to look at any of them. That made him feel less like Bob was a teammate and more like something they all needed to tiptoe around.
“If… if Yelena doesn’t want to talk about who she’s married to, then she has the right to keep it that way,” Bob said finally, voice steady but low. “You don’t get to push her on it. Not now and certainly not ever.”
“Mm, yes. I agree, Bob,” Yelena remarked, nodding. “Okay, we’re done here?”
“Okay, for one, I’m not the one who started it, let’s get that clear,” Walker stubbornly held on, “Second, what sort of person would want to be married to someone who doesn’t once mention him in the years that we've all been together? What, are they ashamed of him?”
“I'm not—”
Then, before Yelena could finish, Bob interjected, “I wanted to marry her, okay?”
Silence.
Not the awkward kind that usually followed Walker’s foot‑in‑mouth moments, but this one was heavier, the kind that seemed to suck the air straight out of the walls. Even the flickering hum of the ceiling lights felt quieter.
Yelena froze mid‑motion, hand still gripping the stack of papers. Her expression didn’t crack when a few eyes darted her way, but the subtle twitch in her jaw said plenty now that the cat was out of the bag.
“What…” Walker started, blinking rapidly. “Wait, hold on, what?”
“I wanted to marry her three years ago, and I never once regretted my choices,” he answered, his firmness mounting with each word. “So, if we wanted to keep it a secret for the sake of keeping something that was ours and no one else’s. If Yelena wants to stop talking about it, then it’s the end of the story, okay?”
Ava’s pen clattered to the tabletop. “Oh my god.”
Bucky exhaled through his nose as he’d seen this coming from miles away.
“Well. That explains a lot.”
Alexei, still sniffling, wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“Wait—so, potential son‑in‑law was sitting at the table this entire time?!” he exclaimed, his voice pitched upward in disbelief. “Oh, ебать, and he got to hit me a few years back in the shame room, but I haven’t for taking my солнышко? Can I do it now?”
“No, because you’re going to break your hand before anything,” Yelena snapped and went back to her seat, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Well, I guess it was only a matter of time. Now that everyone knows, you can each ask one question at the next meeting. One.”
Yelena walked off first, boots clicking sharply against the floor, her stride quick and unflinching. Bob didn’t even hesitate before rising to follow, his movements quieter, steadier, like he wasn’t entirely sure if he was supposed to or if he couldn’t help it.
The kitchen was quiet when she entered, the hum of the refrigerator cutting through the lingering stagnation of the earlier tension. Yelena set the thin stack of forms on the counter with a sharp slap and reached for her black mug, and then got Bob’s navy mug right next to hers.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, then grabbed a tea bag and filled it with water from the electric kettle. Bob lingered in the doorway, sweaty hands fiddling with his sweater, his stride hesitant.
“Are you upset with me, Yelena?” he asked finally.
Yelena hummed, noncommittal at first, rotating the mug in her hand for a moment before taking a slow sip and then offering Bob his cup. He wasted no time in quickly crowding her space, needing the reassurance that she wasn’t angry, that whatever lay between them hadn’t cracked the way the table had earlier.
“No,” she said at last, exhaling through the steam. “I’m mad at Walker.”
“For…prying?” he tried gauging after taking a sip.
“A little bit,” she admitted, setting the cup down. “But more so for what he said.”
Bob blinked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
Yelena turned, leaning back against the counter just as he took a step closer.
His presence filled the small space, always so warm because he ran hot, familiar, and disarmingly steady. She looked at him for a long beat and reached for that thin necklace she tucked beneath her collar and fiddled with the ring hanging from it, turning it slowly between her fingers before glancing up at him and speaking.
“I didn’t think about it,” she said softly as he took her hand into his and squeezed it gently. “That maybe keeping our marriage a secret from others might come off like I’m ashamed of you. Which I’m not.”
“I know,” Bob said quickly, instinctively.
She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in that way that always made him feel like she could see straight through him. “Do you?”
He nodded. “Of course. You know me best.”
Something softened in her face. The corners of her mouth twitched, and it’s not quite a smile, but close enough to live in the same neighborhood. She took the mug from his hand before taking his and setting it next to hers.
“Though,” she murmured. “I suppose it’s not too bad that the others finally know.”
“Why?” he asked, brow furrowing.
“So I could do this.”
Before Bob could respond, she suddenly threw her arms around his shoulders and closed the distance between them, rising onto her toes to press her lips to his. He froze, fingers twitching by her side.
Then, he regains his composure, wrapping his arms around her hips and parting his mouth—
“I guess we need a meeting soon to discuss what’s appropriate in the common room.”
“Get a room, you two,” Ava called after Bucky’s comment.
“Holy shit, is this what we have to deal with now?” Walker groaned.
“Look at what you unleashed,” Ava grumbled. “You just had to push it, didn’t you?”
“How was I supposed to know?!”
“Bob, if I see your hand on my daughter one more time,” Alexei thundered.
As Yelena pulled away, throwing her head back, laughing and making the room so much brighter, Bob couldn’t help but join. Even with Alexei’s dramatic threats and the team’s commentary fading into noise, all he could focus on was the light in her eyes and the way it reached him every time she smiled.
Who’d want to marry Yelena Belova?
Him, every single time.