John Walker x OC Doctor Anna Kessler
Warnings/Tags: 18+ | Mild language | Mutant abilities (electricity manipulation) | Slow-burn enemies-to-lovers | Team dynamics / found family | Humor & snark | Tension & Confrontation | Conflict & Banter | Family Bond | Grief & Loss (of siblings) Referenced | Holiday Angst | Implied Sexual Content |
Summary: Anna finally caves and brings her parents to The Watchtower, hoping everything will go smoothly. Little does she know that Christmas Eve would bring about something sheâd never expected.
a/n: Iâm really sorry that these two have completely gone off the radar. I know itâs been a long time since Iâve put out anything new for Anna and John, Iâm trying to work on completing the arc that I envisioned months ago (hint: itâs Christmas themed because I started working on this last Christmas, yikes.) but Iâm going to try to keep plugging away at this for the time being.
The kitchen still smelled faintly of cinnamon. Slowly being over powered by the delicious scent of roasted beef and mashed potatoes. The all too familiar comfort of her mothers cooking.
Anna leaned against the island, one oven mitt still on as she waited on the green beans to cook. A dish towel rested over her shoulder, absentmindedly twisted between her fingers while the warmth of the oven chased away the December chill that always seemed to linger.
This hadnât quite been the way sheâd imagined the week unfolding.
When her parents had arrived in New York City three days earlier, sheâd made a point of keeping her two worlds separate.
Theyâd been staying at a hotel a few blocks from the Watchtower, and sheâd spent every spare moment she could with them. Long lunches that somehow stretched into dinner. Wandering through Manhattan while fat snowflakes drifted lazily between skyscrapers. Ducking into little bookstores and coffee shops simply because they looked cozy enough to escape the cold for a while.
Sheâd even managed to steal an afternoon alone with her father. Theyâd spent hours hunting for the perfect Christmas gift for her mother before eventually settling into a quiet coffee shop, talking about everything and nothing at all. Work. Life. His latest woodworking project. The conversation had slipped so effortlessly into familiar territory that, for a little while, sheâd almost forgotten how much sheâd missed them.
Keeping them away from the Watchtower had simply seemed⊠easier. Practical. Less chance of her parents crossing paths with John. Less chance of her father deciding to say exactly what was on his mind.
Unfortunately, the rest of the team had other ideas.
âWeâre excellent company!â Alexei had insisted, throwing both hands dramatically into the air. âYour parents must be so sad, hidden away in that hotel like they are witnesses in protection program.â
âWeâre supposed to bake cookies,â Yelena had complained from the couch, sounding genuinely betrayed. âYou promised.â
Anna had laughed despite herself. She knew exactly what sheâd promised. The clichĂ© Christmas experience. Homemade cookies. Christmas music. Far too much food. The kind of holiday sheâd spent years describing whenever conversations drifted toward family traditions.
After enough relentless nagging and more than one dramatic sigh from Yelena, sheâd finally given in. Her parents would come to the tower for Christmas Eve. Just dinner. Cookies. A few hours. Nothing complicated.
John, of course, had immediately objected. Heâd called it a security risk. Civilians didnât belong inside the Watchtower. The argument hadnât lasted long. Everyone else had outvoted him almost immediately.
His solution had been simple enough. Heâd stay out of sight. Heâd left the tower earlier that day, she hadnât seen him since the afternoon.
Elaine had slipped effortlessly into the kitchen beside her daughter, humming softly as she gathered dishes from the countertop to load the dishwasher. Bob hovered nearby, eagerly accepting whatever task Elaine handed him. Alexei wandered in and out every ten minutes, appearing to âinspectâ the cooling cookies on the kitchen island. Ava had settled herself on one of the stools opposite the island, surprisingly content after a an afternoon of helping cut out gingerbread men and sugar cookies.
The rhythm of it all felt so⊠easy.
Across the room, Richard reclined in one of the chairs while Bucky occupied the couch nearby. The two of them had somehow fallen into conversation nearly an hour ago. Anna couldnât hear most of it over the constant hum of the kitchen, but every so often one of them would laugh, and sheâd catch herself smiling. It felt strange seeing her father chatting so comfortably with one of the most infamous men on the planet.
âI mean it,â Anna laughed, glancing toward her mother as she wiped her hands on the dishtowel. âIf you think these are good, you shouldâve seen the cake she made for my eighteenth birthday.â
Elaine waved a dismissive hand.
âHoney, it was nothing.â
âNothing? You would have thought I was getting married.â Anna scoffed. âI still dream about that cake.â
Bob looked genuinely intrigued.
Annaâs smile softened. For just a moment she allowed herself to simply stand there and take it all in. Her parents. Her friends. Christmas music drifting quietly from the speakers. The soft glow of Christmas lights wrapped around the tree. Snow falling beyond the towering windows. The Watchtower suddenly didnât feel quite so cold.
She hadnât realized how tightly sheâd been holding herself together these last few months until this moment. Watching the people she loved laugh together, watching two completely different parts of her life somehow blend into one room without collapsing under the weight of it, filled something inside her she hadnât realized had been empty.
Maybe this really could work. Maybe sheâd worried for nothing.
The timer on the green beens had gone off finally. Anna hadnât quite been paying attention, wrapped up in easing the pot over the strainer in the sink, thats when she heard it.
The soft ding of the elevator echoed through the common room, catching her off guard. The distraction was enough to make her grip slip. The inside of her forearm caught too close to the billowing steam as she drained the boiling water from the pot. The steam burning her wrist.
âShit.â she hissed under her breath.
She quickly set the pot on the counter before turning to run her arm under the sink in the cold water and holding the burn beneath the steady stream. The relief was immediate, though the angry patch of red was already beginning to spread across her skin.
âSpark, you okay?â her mother asked, looking up from the dishwasher..
âYeah, Mom. Iâm fine.â She answered automatically.
Truthfully, sheâd already forgotten about the burn. Her attention had drifted toward the movement at the elevator. The doors slid open. Standing there, looking just as surprised as she felt, was John. Heâd clearly expected an empty common room. Instead heâd walked into Christmas.
He still wore his coat and boots, a navy colored knit cap pulled snug over his head, tiny flecks of melting snow dusting his shoulders. The blue in his eyes shining impossibly bright. A few stubborn blond strands had escaped beneath the edge of the hat, damp from the weather, refusing to stay tucked away. For all the tension that settled across his expression the instant he took in the room, there was something⊠softer about him like this. Less like the perpetually guarded soldier sheâd spent the last three months arguing with.
Just⊠John. That thought caught her off guard almost as much as his arrival had. Before she could make sense of itâŠ
âWalker!â Alexeiâs booming voice filled the room. âJust in time!â
John looked like heâd considered turning right back around. Instead, Alexei crossed the distance in three long strides, throwing an arm around his shoulders and steering him farther inside before he had the chance to protest.
âStop,â John grumbled.
Alexei paid absolutely no attention.
âToo late! You are here now.â
As they moved farther into the room, Johnâs gaze swept across the kitchen, landing on Anna, on the hand pressed against her forearm. His brow pulled together almost imperceptibly. The irritation sheâd expected to find on his face gave way to something quieter. Concern. It was gone again almost as quickly as it appeared, hidden beneath the familiar guarded look he wore so well. If she hadnât been watching him, she might have missed it entirely.
âWell, look who finally turned up.â Elaineâs voice carried easily over the chatter in the room.
She crossed the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel as Alexei finally wandered off again, helping himself to yet another cookie from the cooling rack.
âI⊠uh,â John pulled the knit cap from his head, running a hand through his flattened hair. âI thought youâd be gone by now. I didnât mean to intrude. I shouldâve texted.â
âNonsense.â Elaine smiled as though sheâd known him for years. âItâs good you finally made it.â She stopped in front of him, extending her hand. âIâm Elaine.â
John froze. Not because he meant to be rude. More because he genuinely didnât seem to know what the appropriate response was. His eyes flicked toward Anna.
There it was again. That familiar look. As though somehow this entire situation had become her fault.
Anna answered him with the smallest shrug.
She hadnât exactly expected her mother to practically be ready to adopt him within the first thirty seconds either.
âGood to meet you, Maâam.â John said at last, taking her hand with a polite shake.
âYou too.â Elaine beamed. âWhy donât you come on in? You look like you could use a nice warm cup of hot cocoa.â She tipped her head thoughtfully. âAre you a gingerbread fan, John?â
Anna couldnât help rolling her eyes.
âMom,â she murmured, unable to hide the affection in her voice despite her embarrassment. âYou need to stop. If he wants something, he can get it himself. You donât have to mother him.â
Elaine tilted her head, looking almost offended by the suggestion.
âIâm fine, Mrs. Kessler,â John said quickly, almost as though he were trying to rescue both he and Anna from the conversation. âReally. Thank you.â
âDinner will be served any minute, you must be starving.â Elaine continued without missing a beat.
Elaine finally turned to find Anna standing there with the look. The one that had quietly followed her daughter from adolescence into adulthood. The look that said, Please stop before you embarrass me any further.
After another second, Elaine lifted both hands in surrender.
Anna smiled despite herself. She knew it wouldnât last. Elaine Kesslerâs love language had always been acts of service. She fed people. She fussed over them. She made sure they left with leftovers whether they wanted them or not. It was simply how she loved.
John looked back toward Anna with that same old expression. Half annoyed. Half exasperated. Like heâd already decided this evening was going to test every ounce of his patience.
The smile faded from Annaâs face. Because, all at once, it occurred to her⊠Her father.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Richard straighten in his chair, his conversation with Bucky falling away as he stood. Her stomach sank. She turned toward him, willing him to somehow understand without a single word being spoken.
This is exactly what she was trying to avoid.
âDad.â she pleaded quietly.
Richard didnât even look at her. He simply lifted one hand in a calm, absent gesture that somehow managed to say, Iâve got this.
Anna knew that gesture. It rarely ended well. Beside her, Yelena leaned in just enough to bump her elbow against Annaâs arm.
âThis is going to be good,â she murmured under her breath.
âI hate that youâre excited.â Anna sighed.
âIâve been waiting for this.â
By the time Anna looked back, her father had already crossed the room. He stopped directly in front of John.
âMister Walker.â Richard said, his expression calm but unreadable as he held out a hand to introduce himself. âRichard Kessler.â
Anna could hardly bear it. She knew her father well enough to recognize exactly what he was doing. He wasnât trying to be rude. He was absolutely trying to make an impression.
John regarded the offered hand for the briefest moment before taking it.
âNice to meet you, sir.â His voice remained flat. Professional. Respectful.
Neither man seemed particularly interested in being the first to look away. The whole thing was almost unbearable to watch.
âMy daughterâs told us a lot about you.â Her dad said low.
Anna was the one freezing now, because that was absolutely the last thing she needed.
She watched the exchange unfold from across the room, barely remembering the sting still lingering across her forearm. Her gaze bounced between the two men, her father standing tall with his hand outstretched, John looking as though heâd rather be anywhere else.
For a second, Johnâs expression faltered. Not much. Just enough that she caught it before that familiar guarded look settled back over his face.
Despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched. The whole situation was absurd. Her father was almost certainly giving John the firmest, most intimidating handshake he could manage, as though that alone might establish some sort of paternal authority over a man whoâd spent years throwing himself into combat.
Poor Dad. If only he knew.
Fortunately, before anyone had the chance to say anything else, the sharp beeping of the oven timer echoed through the kitchen.
Elaine glanced toward the oven.
âOh! Thatâll be the roast.â Her voice cut neatly through the tension, warm and cheerful as though she hadnât noticed any of it. âEveryone start gathering around.â
She looked over at Anna with an easy smile.
âWould you help me set the table, honey?â
Anna let out a quiet breath she hadnât realized sheâd been holding.
She crossed toward the cupboards, reaching automatically for the stack of dinner plates.
âWellâŠâ Yelena sighed dramatically from her perch against the island. âThat was a letdown.â
Anna paused halfway through pulling a plate free before looking over at her.
âYouâre kidding me, LenaâŠâ she said, shaking her head with a laugh. âThat was the best case scenario.â
She balanced the plates against her hip.
Yelena only shrugged, entirely unapologetic.
âWhat can I say?â she replied. âI was hoping for some holiday drama.â
âThere is still plenty of time,â Ava observed without even looking up from where she was carefully arranging cookies onto a serving platter. Her tone was as dry as ever. âWe still have to make it through dinner.â
Anna groaned, letting her forehead fall briefly against the cupboard door before closing it.
A ripple of laughter moved through the room, soft and easy, blending with the clink of dishes, the scrape of chairs against hardwood, and the faint Christmas music drifting from somewhere in the common room.
For one brief, fragile momentâŠ
While everyone else was distracted carrying dishes to the table and finding places to sit, John quietly angled himself toward the hallway.
If he left now⊠Maybe no one would notice.
Maybe he could salvage what was left of the evening by disappearing before anyone tried to drag him into whatever painfully wholesome Christmas dinner this was turning into.
Heâd almost made it to the corridor.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â Buckyâs voice stopped him cold.
John closed his eyes for the briefest second before letting out a slow breath and turning around.
âI donât need to be here for this,â he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. âItâs better if I stay out of the way.â
Bucky regarded him for a long moment, arms folded loosely across his chest.
âBetter for who?â he asked honestly.
âThe way I see itâŠâ Bucky continued, his voice calm, almost conversational, âthose folks have been awful generous coming here and treating us like family.â
He glanced toward the dining room where Elaine was laughing at something Alexei had said while Richard helped Bob carry serving dishes to the table.
âTheyâve treated you kindly too.â His eyes settled back on John. âEven though youâve been an absolute prick to their daughter.â
John let out an incredulous huff, dropping his gaze toward the floor as he shook his head.
âYou trying to guilt trip me, Buck?â
Bucky barked out a quiet laugh.
âI wouldâve thought that was obvious.â The corner of his mouth pulled into a crooked smirk. He started toward the dining room before pausing just long enough to look back over his shoulder. âYou canât be bitter about being alone when youâre the one running away.â
Bucky didnât wait for an answer. He simply disappeared back into the warmth and noise of the dining room, leaving John standing alone at the quiet entrance to the hallway, staring after him.
âFuck.â John groaned to himself. He knew Bucky was right. He hated that.
so instead of slinking off toward his room, he toed of his boots still cold from the snow and took off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch.
Worst case scenario, he could always leave, he reminded himself.
Besides, he could use the distraction. The last thing he needed to do was be alone in his room dwelling on what he was missing out on back home.
The dining room gradually filled in no particular order, everyone finding their seats whenever they happened to wander over from whatever task theyâd been helping with. Chairs scraped softly against the floor as conversations overlapped, someone doubling back for a forgotten napkin while another reached across the table to straighten a plate that didnât really need straightening.
Elaine carried the roast to the center of the table, the savory aroma immediately joining the lingering scent of cookies that still hung comfortably throughout the common room. Bowls of mashed potatoes, vegetables, homemade rolls and gravy soon followed, passed from hand to hand until every inch of the table seemed occupied. Steam curled from the dishes, carrying the warm scent of butter and roasted herbs through the room.
It wasnât perfect. But somehow, it felt like Christmas.
Anna found herself settling into the chair beside her father as her mother fussed over the placement of serving spoons one final time before finally allowing herself to sit.
âMom,â Anna laughed. âYou know itâs okay if the gravy spoon isnât perfectly straight.â
âIt absolutely is not.â Elaine replied matter of factly, nudging it another inch anyway before giving a satisfied nod.
Alexei leaned forward with a dramatic sigh, resting one hand over his heart.
âI have waited long enough already. If I must wait any longer, I may simply perish.â
âYouâve been stealing food all afternoon.â Ava pointed out without looking up from her plate as she reached for the rolls.
âI was sampling.â He insisted.
âYou sampled six cookies.â
âThey needed quality control.â He deadpanned.
âThey were all the same sugar cookies.â Yelena rolled her eyes.
âAnd they all deserved individual attention.â Alexei said with unwavering conviction.
A small wave of laughter circled the table, light and effortless. Even John let out the faintest exhale through his nose from where he sat several seats away, though it disappeared almost as quickly as it had come.
Anna noticed. She wasnât sure why. It wasnât much, barely the hint of a smile.
She wished she could stop noticing.
Conversation drifted easily after that. No one person dominated it for long. Stories simply found their way around the table the same way dishes did, each memory giving way to another as naturally as someone asking for the butter.
Bucky had just finished another bite of roast when he paused, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with his napkin before his attention settled on one of the platters piled with gingerbread cookies that still sat cooling nearby.
âMy Ma used to make gingerbread every Christmas.â
The table quieted naturally. Not awkwardly. Just enough for everyone to listen.
âDid she decorate them?â Elaine smiled warmly.
âIt was a lot different back then.â Bucky chuckled softly. âNo fancy decorations or frosting, but she spent hours on âem.â
He shook his head to himself, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
âNot really. Though one year I bit the heads off every one before my sister could get to them. The way she cried...â he gave a soft smirk. âPa would give me a few licks for mischief.â
âYou were horrible brother.â Yelena decided.
âIn my defense, I was eleven.â
Richard laughed into his cup. The quiet clinking of forks against plates continued around the table as everyone helped themselves to another bite.
âI was Santa Claus once.â Alexei straightened proudly in his chair.
Yelena didnât even look up.
âI most certainly was.â He insisted. âI was festive. I gave you that Barbie with the sparkly dress.â
âYou wereâŠâ Yelena paused, searching her memory before her eyes widened. âOooh.â
Ava snorted into her water.
âSee? She remembers.â Alexei pointed triumphantly.
âI remember Melina threatening to throw you out the window because you wouldnât stop with the jingle bells.â
âI was creating atmosphere.â
âThe only thing you were creating was a headache.â she insisted, lifting her wine before taking another sip.
Another round of laughter rippled through the room. For just a second, Anna caught Yelena smiling into her glass before she quickly hid it behind another sip. The kind of smile that only escaped when she forgot anyone was watching. It was small. But real.
Ava quietly speared another carrot with her fork.
âI still get a Christmas card from Scott Lang every year.â She said it so casually it took everyone else a second to process.
The table collectively paused.
âYou what?â Bob blinked.
Ava shrugged as though it were perfectly ordinary.
âEvery December.â She nodded.
âAnt-Man?â Anna asked. âWhat does he say?â
âThe man just genuinely sends me well wishes and corny Christmas jokes.â
Alexei barked out a laugh.
âHe even draws little ants around the border,â she said, the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth impossible to hide now.
Richard rubbed a hand across his stubble, trying unsuccessfully to hide his grin as another ripple of laughter worked its way around the table.
Bob had been smiling quietly throughout most of dinner, listening more than speaking. Every now and then his eyes wandered around the table, lingering on the easy laughter passing back and forth as though he were quietly taking it all in.
âWhat about you, sweetheart?â she asked kindly. âAny favorite Christmas memories?â
âUh, Mom.â Anna tried to distract the questioning. Her mother had meant well without knowing anything about his past.
Bob hesitated. He looked down at his plate for a moment, absentmindedly nudging a patch of potato with his fork before answering.
âThere was this one year I got sent to stay with my Aunt and Uncle. They were actually pretty cool.â He smiled, giving a gentle nod. âGot to play video games and have sleepovers in my cousinâs room. They even got me some comic books for Christmas.â
His smile lingered another second before turning bittersweet.
âIt was all very⊠normal. It was nice.â
Elaine reached across the table, wordlessly and without hesitation, resting her hand gently over his for just a second. Bob looked down at her hand before giving the smallest nod. The warmth that settled over the table after that felt different. Quieter. Comfortable. Like everyone had unconsciously relaxed another inch. After another few moments of conversation, Bob looked farther down the table.
âWhat about you, Walker?â
John looked up from his plate like a deer in headlights.
âWhat about me?â he asked roughly.
âYou got a Christmas story?â
John stared down at the meat resting on his fork for a long second before setting it back onto his plate. His jaw shifted once before he finally gave a small shake of his head.
âNo.â John leaned back slightly in his chair. âI got nothinâ.â
Nobody pressed him. The conversation simply rolled forward again. Anna found herself glancing at him anyway and as if he could already sense it, he looked up straight into her eyes.
It felt heavy, that look. Not angry. Not annoyed. Just⊠Lost somewhere else entirely. She looked away first. A few minutes later, Bob glanced toward her.
âWhat about you, Doc?â
âHmm?â Anna blinked, pulled back from her thoughts.
âYouâve gotta have a few good ones,â he insisted.
Several faces turned toward her. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. There were dozens she could have told. But every Christmas she could remember seemed to begin or end with Daniel. The happy ones belonged to him. The difficult ones belonged to the memory of him.
She wasnât sure she wanted either of those tonight. She looked to her right, catching the way her parents watched her now. They already knew every story. Knew which ones still made her laugh. Knew which ones still hurt. As if they wanted to hear them just as much as they worried about what remembering might cost all three of them.
She thought for a moment, then a small smile crossed her face instead.
âNone that I can share right now.â She reached for her glass. âButâŠâ
She looked slowly around the table.
Finally⊠Her eyes landed on John. Only for a second.
âIt has been⊠an interesting year. I donât think any of us expected to end up here.â
âCorrection!â Alexei raised a finger. âI always expected greatness. I donât know about the rest of you.â
Another ripple of laughter circled the table. Anna shook her head fondly.
âMy point isâŠâ She let her gaze drift around the room again. âWeâre all a little⊠unconventional in our own ways.â
âYou can say dysfunctional.â Bucky offered.
âThat too.â She smiled, lightly tracing the rim of her glass with her thumb. âBut somewhere along the wayâŠâ Her voice softened. ââŠthis place started feeling more like home.â
The words settled over the table. Simple and honest. No one rushed to fill the silence.
âIâm really glad we found each other.â She lifted her glass. âTo familyâŠâ then she laughed. âEven if someone does keep drinking my oat milk.â
That earned another round of laughter as glasses were lifted around the table. All of themâŠ
Except John. Which, in fairness, sheâd never expected him to.
The laughter gradually faded, replaced by a quiet that lingered just a little longer than before.
A subtle unease had begun settling across the table, almost imperceptible at first.
âYouâve gotta be kidding me with that sappy shit.â Johnâs voice cut cleanly through the lingering warmth of the room as he stared daggers from across the table. âYouâre so full of it.â
Richard pushed his seat back, the legs of the chair scraping sharply across the hardwood before he dropped his fork onto his plate with a sharp clatter. His shoulders squared instinctively.
âYou better watch yourself, Walker.â His tone was calm, but firm enough that the entire room seemed to go still around it.
Anna felt every pair of eyes shift between the two men. The laughter from only moments before felt impossibly far away now. Without hesitation, she reached over, laying a steady hand against her fatherâs forearm. She gave it the gentlest squeeze.
âItâs okay, Dad,â she assured him quietly. âIâm a big girl.â She looked back toward John without wavering. âIf John has something he needs to get off his chest, I can take it.â
Richard reluctantly leaned back into his chair, trusting his day. Though the look he gave John could have cut through steel.
âJohnâŠâ Bucky started, leaning forward as though hoping he could stop whatever was about to happen before it went any further.
âYou had to come in here with your perfect little family,â John said, his words sharp enough to wound. âCouldnât spend one holiday without Mommy and Daddy.â
âWhat the hell, man?â Bob exclaimed, looking at him in disbelief.
Anna didnât say anything.
âYou have no idea what the rest of us have lostâŠâ His frustration only seemed to grow, as though hearing the words out loud somehow justified them in his mind. He swept a hand toward the rest of the table. âLook around. Nobody else at this table has this and youâre just flaunting it.â
His fork hit the plate with another loud clatter.
âWalker,â Yelena said, her voice lower now as she leaned into the table. âThatâs enough.â
âYouâre just a spoiled brat who doesnât seem to get that the infirmary is the only place you belong.â
No one seemed quite sure what to say. But Anna⊠she felt a surprising sense of calm settle over her. Because now, she could finally give herself permission to be honest.
He didnât say anymore. He just kept his eyes fixed on her and clenched his fist.
âI know youâre hurting right now because you donât get to see your son, John.â Her voice was softer than he deserved, steady despite the sting of every word heâd thrown at her. âI truly am sorry for that.â
âBut taking your anger out on me isnât going to make it better.â She gave the smallest shake of her head. âBecause you know the one youâre actually angry with is yourself.â
For the first time since heâd opened his mouth⊠John didnât have an answer. His jaw tightened. The muscles in his hand flexed as his fist stayed tight.
The truth had landed. Whether he wanted it to or not.
âBut if you think I brought my parents here to rub that in your face, then youâre dead wrong.â
Johnâs expression shifted slightly, but Anna didnât give him a chance to interrupt.
âI didnât even want them to come here.â She scoffed softly, the hurt finally beginning to show beneath her calm. âI wanted to keep them separate from all this because of you.â
She hesitated. Because there were things that she still hadnât said out loud. Not like this. Not to everyone. She knew the memory was still a raw wound for her parents. One that never really stopped hurting, no matter how many years passed.
âI make such a point every year to go home for holidays because eight years agoâŠâ Her voice caught for only the briefest second before she steadied it. âTwo days before Christmas, I got a call from my brotherâs best friend and I had to be the one to tell my parents that their only son was killed in action.â
Elaine immediately lowered her head, taking a slow, unsteady breath as Richard reached over and wrapped an arm around her. His hand rested against her shoulder, grounding both of them in the weight of the memory.
Anna kept her eyes on John.
âWe donât stay together because weâre some perfect family.â Her voice stayed steady, even though she could feel the tension filling every corner of the room. âWeâre together because itâs the only way we know how to survive whatâs left.â
John stared at her. The anger that had carried him this far began to falter. Not because he wanted it to. Because there was nothing left for him to fight against.
âI thought, out of everybody sitting at this table, you would have been the one to understand that.â Her voice barely rose above a whisper. âBut I guess I was wrong.â
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the faint movement of someone shifting in their chair. Elaine quietly let out a small sniffle. Bucky looked at John with an expression that was somewhere between disbelief and disappointment. Bob seemed completely lost for words. Yelena remained silent, her expression unreadable. Even Alexei had no joke to offer.
John realized too late what his words had done. He opened his mouth to respond. Nothing came out. He looked at Anna. Then at Elaine and Richard. He couldnât hold any of their eyes. Slowly, he pushed his chair back. The scrape echoed through the dining room as he stood. No apology or excuse came. He simply turned and walked away.
Anna watched him disappear down the hallway before letting out one quiet, exhausted scoff.
Of course he was running.
What had she really expected?
The uncertain silence was more than enough. None of them knew exactly what to say.
After dinner, the team insisted on cleaning up, as if it was the only thing they could offer to make up for what had happened.
Anna had taken that opportunity to walk her parents out. She apologized more times than she could count. Sheâd never wanted to bring Daniel up. It was a painful subject for all of them, one she knew her parents carried every day. But she also knew it needed to be said.
The night had ended far lower than sheâd ever hoped it would, but Elaine simply put on her bravest face, pulled her daughter into a tight hug, and whisperedâŠ
âEverything is going to be all right, Spark.â
Anna closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself lean into the comfort of her motherâs arms.
She really hoped it would be.
She had finally settled into bed, quietly lying on her side, facing the window. Outside, the world looked like a snow globe. The glow of the city illuminated the snowflakes falling softly from the sky, each one catching the light for only a moment before disappearing into the darkness below.
It should have felt peaceful. Instead, her mind kept drifting back to dinner.
She tried not to think about what had happened. Knew she shouldnât let it take hold. Everything John had said had come from his own resentment, his own hurt. She knew that. But she couldnât stop thinking about the look on her parentsâ faces.
That was the part that stayed with her.
She had just wanted to give them one good Christmas. One where they didnât have to focus on the hurt that never truly left. One where they could laugh and make new memories without feeling like they were replacing the ones they lost.
John had just walked away.
Hadnât said a single word.
She let out a quiet sigh, turning her attention back toward the window. Dreading what new issues tomorrow would bring.
A brief thought flickered through her mind.
Maybe it was time to move on.
She hated the thought of that. She didnât want to leave. Despite everything, every argument and every frustrating moment, she had started to feel like this place was becoming home. But maybe leaving was the only way to stop fighting the same battles over and over again.
A soft knock at her door startled her from her thoughts. Her heart immediately jumped. She glanced toward the clock.
The gentleness of the knock made her hesitate. It was probably just Bob checking to see if she was okay. That seemed like something he would do.
She sat up and grabbed the oversized hoodie from the nearby chair, pulling it over the tank top and sleep shorts she had been wearing. Only once it was on did she realize how much it swallowed her whole, hanging loosely around her frame and making it look like she was wearing nothing but the hoodie.
She padded quietly across the room and opened it gently. Who she saw standing on the other side, she hadnât been prepared for. Standing in the hallway in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, his hair messy from sleep, was John Walker.
For a moment, all she could do was stare. Her mind immediately went back to the last time this man had shown up at her door in the middle of the night.
Yelling. Furious. Looking at her like she was the enemy.
This was⊠Not that. He looked different.
âSorry, did I wake you?â he asked softly.
She just stared at him for a moment. Her only response was a small shake of her head. She watched him carefully.
There was an unease in the way he held himself. His shoulders were tense. His hands seemed unsure of what to do. Almost like he wasnât sure he belonged standing there.
âI⊠I couldnât sleep.â He swallowed. âNot after what you said.â
âYou were right about me and IâmâŠâ The words seemed to catch somewhere before he forced them out. âIâm sorry, Anna.â
She took in a deep breath. Almost like she needed to ground herself in the reality of what was standing in front of her.
âYouâre⊠apologizing?â Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced around the hallway suspiciously. âAm I dreaming?â
That finally broke through the seriousness on his face. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
âI know. Shocking.â He shook his head slightly. âBut I mean it.â
She studied him. The tiredness in his eyes. The uncertainty. The way he looked almost like he was bracing himself for her to slam the door in his face.
She kept waiting for the catch. For the excuse. For the part where he turned it back around on her. But it never came.
âDo you want to come in?â The words left her mouth before she had really thought about them.
âUh⊠sure.â The question had clearly caught him off guard.
She stepped back, holding the door open and gesturing for him to come inside. He hesitated for only a second before stepping past her.
She shut the door behind them. And immediately regretted it. Because suddenly she remembered exactly what her room looked like.
A basket of clean laundry sat at the foot of her bed, waiting to be folded. A stack of books and loose papers were scattered across her desk. Things she had promised herself she would take care of âlater.â Except later had never come. And now here she was, standing in her room in the middle of the night with Mister Neat & Tidy himself.
âIf I had been expecting company,â she started to say as she tried her best to pick up a few things, moving a stack of papers that really didnât need moving and straightening things that were already perfectly fine, âI would haveâŠâ
âIâve just been busy.â She knew it was an excuse. But hell⊠He was already here.
She abandoned her panicked attempt to make things presentable, letting out a quiet breath before taking a seat on the bed.
âYou can sit if you like,â she said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. âOr just stand there and be awkward.â
He seemed like he didnât quite know how to answer that. For a moment, he looked genuinely torn, like he wanted to accept the offer but also wasnât entirely sure if he was allowed to.
He sat on the edge of the bed, only about a foot away from her. Though his posture remained just as stiff and tense as ever. Shoulders tight. Hands clasped together. Like some part of him was still waiting for the floor to drop out beneath him.
She didnât speak first. Mostly because she was waiting to see what he would say. The man was so closed off. This was the first time he had actually met her halfway. She wasnât going to take that away from him.
âI never should have said those things.â His voice was quiet. He didnât meet her eyes, instead focusing out the window at the skyline beyond the glass as he rubbed his hands together. âYou didnât deserve that.â
She just watched him. Genuinely surprised to hear those words.
âIâve beenâŠâ He paused, searching his thoughts like he was trying to make sure he didnât leave anything out. âAn asshole to you.â
She huffed a laugh. Not loud. Not enough to break the moment. Just enough to bring his focus back to her. She had shifted farther back on the bed, settling more comfortably into the space.
âSorry,â she said quickly, not wanting to derail whatever this was. âItâs just surprising, is all.â A small smile crossed her face. âWhat brought this about? A Christmas miracle?â
He looked down at his hands in his lap before looking back at her.
âBecause you were right earlier.â His voice was firmer now. âI should have been the one to understand.â He paused. âI just didnât want to see it.â
She turned her attention toward the window. Outside, thick flakes were still falling heavily from the sky, drifting slowly through the city lights.
âBut I see it now.â He shifted slightly on the bed to face her, bringing her attention back to him. âWeâve both lostâŠâ
His voice trailed off. Like he was still trying to find the courage to say the words out loud. But she knew. She knew exactly what he was trying to say.
Before she could think about it too much, he continued.
âBack at dinner, when everyone was talking about Christmas memories, I said I didnât have one.â He shook his head gently. âBut that was a lie.â
He went quiet for a moment. Not because he had nothing to say. Because saying it meant letting her see something he had spent years trying to hide.
She gently placed her hand over his. A small act of reassurance. Except considering what had happened at that table only hours before⊠It wasnât small at all.
His eyes immediately dropped to where their hands connected. There was something almost disbelieving in his expression. Like he couldnât understand how she could still be gentle with him after everything he had said.
âI was just a kid. Only about twelve.â His voice softened. âMy mom was sick and my dadâŠâ He paused like he was carefully navigating around the parts he wasnât ready to say. âHe wasnât really paying much attention to the holiday. That wasnât really his thing.â
She squeezed his hand gently. She knew so little about him.Only what his file contained.
Father, location unknown.
Younger sister, still residing in Custerâs Grove.
A neat little summary of a life that had left its mark on the man sitting in front of her. A few lines of information that somehow failed to explain everything she was seeing now. The insecurity. The anger. The walls.
The man who had tried so desperately to convince everyone, including himself, that he had it all together.
âMike was almost eighteen. Had a job bagging groceries not far from where we lived.â A faint smile tugged at Johnâs mouth. âHe was gone a lot then. Late nights after school when my dad was at work. Weekends when he should have been out with his friendsâŠâ He shook his head slightly.âJust doing dumb teenage boy shit.â
âI didnât get it, not back then.â His eyes dropped to where her hand was wrapped around his, almost like the sight of it grounded him. âWhen Christmas came, Mom was laid up in bed and Dad⊠He was nowhere to be found.â
His thumb moved slightly against her hand, absentmindedly tracing the edge of her fingers.
âBut MichaelâŠâ A small smile touched his face. âHe was up at the crack of dawn making scrambled eggs and bacon. Just waiting for Kate and I.â
There was a small spark in his eyes at the memory. A moment of happiness that had somehow survived everything that came after.
âThere were gifts under the tree and breakfast on the table and everything was good because of him.â His smile softened. âHeâd saved everything he had just to make it happen.â
That warmed her heart. Because she understood that kind of love. The kind that didnât need to announce itself. The kind that just showed up.
âHe loved you guys,â she murmured.
âYeah, he did.â A quiet breath left him. âI miss him a lot.â
His voice shook slightly on the last word. She felt that. The heaviness of it. The particular kind of pain that came from missing someone who had been more than family. Someone who had been a constant. Someone you never imagined having to live without.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The room stayed quiet around them. The snow continued falling outside the window, soft and endless. The city lights reflected against the glass, painting faint shadows across the room.
She could still feel the warmth of his hand beneath hers.
âSounds a lot like Daniel,â she finally said. Her voice was softer now. âI didnât want to tell mine either.â
âI hate to say it, but⊠I donât talk about him a lot with my parents anymore.â There was guilt in admitting it. âIt feels wrong, like Iâm forgetting him,â She swallowed. âBut for them⊠itâs still really raw.â
Johnâs expression softened.
âI want to hear itâŠâ he assured her. âIf you want to talk about him.â
She looked back at him. She took a slow breath before continuing.
âItâs not my best Christmas memory, but⊠itâs definitely one that effected me the most,â she took in a slow breath. âWhen my mutation started to manifest, it was close to Christmas.â A faint smile crossed her face. âI remember him being so attentive. Like heâd been waiting for it.â
âI mean, he was still a typical big brother. Poking fun whenever he could. Harassing me over this boy I had a crush on.â
âNaturally.â His response came easily. A small hint of humor. Because he knew. He knew all too well the responsibility of an older brother to a younger sister.
The teasing. Annoying her just because he could. Pretending not to care while caring more than anyone.
âHe knew what it was like, though, to go through a change like that.â Her smile faded slightly. âBut when I started having nightmaresâŠâ She hesitated. âHe took it upon himself to sleep on my bedroom floor just to make me feel safe.â
Her thumb brushed gently over his hand. More seeking reassurance than giving it.
âBut on Christmas Eve, it had gotten so intense that I sparked in my sleep.â Her voice lowered. âI woke up to the smell of smoke and fire spreading around my bedroom.â
Johnâs eyes widened slightly. Not just because of the danger. Because he was finally understanding what Daniel had done. What he had protected her from.
She looked toward the window.
âBut Daniel was there.â Her voice softened. âHe held on to me tight and, in the blink of an eye, he got me out. Pulled our parents out of bed and called 911.â
âNext thing we knew, we were all standing on the front lawn watching my room go up in flames.â The memory sat between them for a moment. âI was just grateful he had been there.â
A small, sad smile crossed her face.
âBy New Yearâs, my parents had broken down and enrolled us at Xavierâs.â
âBet he didnât let you out of his sight there.â John gave a faint smirk.
Neither of them spoke for a short while after that. The room was quiet. The warmth of her hand around his. The snow continuing to fall outside. The faint, low hum of electricity in the walls that only she could feel.
Two people sitting with memories they had spent years carrying alone.
âIâm so sorry.â He finally spoke.
âYouâve already said that.â
âI know.â He paused, taking a breath. âIt just doesnât feel like I could say it enough.â
She finally looked over at him. His posture had loosened slightly. The tension that usually surrounded him had faded, replaced by something quieter. Something closer to peace.
âIf need someone to talk about him sometimeâŠâ His voice softened. âYou can talk to me.â
He looked down at their hands but didnât pull away. Instead, he slowly turned his palm into hers and gently threaded his fingers through hers. The gesture was simple, but it meant more than either of them probably wanted to admit.
âWho are you and what have you done with John Walker?â She looked at him in amazement.
For the first time that night, his smile reached his eyes.
âI guess I just needed to get over myself, huh?â
A quiet hum of amusement left him. It was strange seeing him like this. Softer. Not guarded or bracing for a fight. Like the walls heâd kept around himself for so long didnât stand quite as tall for a little while.
She wasnât sure sheâd ever seen him look so⊠at ease.
His eyes drifted toward the clock beside her bed. It was well after midnight now.
âI should leave you to it,â he finally said. âWe should both try to get some sleep.â
âMmm, yeah.â She glanced toward the clock as well. âBeen a long day.â
An understatement. But somehow, saying it out loud made them both smile slightly. He finally let go of her hand, the warmth of his fingers leaving hers as he stood from the side of the bed.
She followed him to the door, watching as he reached for the handle. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then he paused. His hand rested against the door handle as he turned back toward her.
âThank you.â His blue eyes were softer than she had ever seen them.
âFor⊠hearing me out.â He hesitated. âFor giving me a chance.â
Something about the way he said it made her chest tighten.
Like he genuinely didnât expect her to.
Before she could overthink it, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his middle. Her face pressed against his shoulder, and she felt the briefest hesitation from him. Only for a moment.Because the next second, his arms wrapped around her.
Strong. Steady. Holding her there.
His beard brushed against her forehead as he gently rested his chin against her. There was no rush to it. And that was the strangest part. Not that he was holding her. But that she felt so much comfort in it.
âMerry Christmas, John.â She murmured.
He was warm. The fabric of his hoodie brushed softly against her skin. The faint scent of laundry soap and his beard oil lingered as she breathed him in. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.
For someone who always looked like he was one second away from exploding⊠He felt steady. Safe. And that pulled at something inside her. Something she had never allowed herself to acknowledge. Something that had been sitting just beneath the surface for longer than she wanted to admit.
âMerry Christmas, Anna.â
She pulled back only enough to look up at him. He still hadnât let go. They were still standing there, close enough that neither of them had to pretend they werenât aware of it.
Just for a moment, they dropped to his mouth before returning to his gaze. It was subtle. But undeniable and he noticed.
He closed the distance before either of them could think better of it. His lips pressed to hers in a slow, tentative kiss. Not demanding. Not taking. Almost like he was asking. Like he needed to know this was really what she wanted.
She answered him by kissing him back. Firm. Certain. Her arms wrapping around his neck.
It wasnât just relief. It wasnât just forgiveness. It was something that had been there all along. Something they had both spent months trying not to acknowledge.
The kiss deepened and for the first time, neither of them could pretend this was only about the night theyâd just survived. This was desire. This was something that had been building beneath every argument, every glance, every moment they stood too close and refused to admit.
He broke the kiss only for a moment, both of them catching their breath, hearts racing. But she only responded by pulling him closer and kissing him again. The next thing she knew, his arms had slipped lower and he lifted her easily. A surprised laugh escaped her as her lips parted from his for only a moment.
âJohnâŠâ His name came out breathless. But there was no hesitation in it.
He carried her the few steps back toward the bed, lowering her carefully as he followed. He kissed her once more before pulling back to look at her. Both of them were caught somewhere between disbelief and adrenaline. Neither of them had expected this.
âAre you sure this is what you want?â His voice was quiet against her skin. He pressed a gentle kiss along her throat before lifting his gaze back to hers.
She nodded gently, her fingers threading into his hair.
That was all it took. His lips found hers again.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew tomorrow would come with questions. They would have to unpack everything.
The grief they had shared.
What this meant. Whatever this was.
But tomorrow wasnât here yet. Tonight, there was only the warmth between them. The steady weight of him holding her close. The quiet rhythm of his breathing. And the impossible realization that after everything that had happened between them⊠This was where theyâd ended up.
She hadnât expected any of it. But for the first time in weeks⊠She simply let herself stop thinking altogether.
The brightness of the morning streamed into the room, finally pulling her from sleep. Her eyes cracked open slowly. For a moment, she didnât move. She simply lay there, still wrapped in the warmth of the blankets, letting herself wake up. Outside, the snow had stopped. The sky was a dull gray, the kind of winter morning that made the whole world feel quieter.
A groan escaped her as she stretched. Immediately, she felt it. The pleasant kind of soreness that could only follow a night with a super soldier. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she rolled onto her side. But the expression disappeared almost instantly. Because the space beside her was empty.
Something dropped in her chest. Not heartbreak exactly. Something more like disappointment. Because maybe she should have been a little more realistic. She should have expected him to leave. But some part of her had actually believed that after everything that happened the night before⊠He would still be there.
She let out a heavy sigh and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Almost more confused than she had been before. Because now she had to wrap her head around the fact that John Walker, the man who had intentionally made her life difficult for the last few months, was the same man who had worshipped her body for most of the night.
Like she was something he needed like air.
She covered her face with her hands. Then, after a moment, grabbed the pillow and pulled it over her head with a low groan.
The truth was undeniable.
She had slept with him and somehow, the worst part was⊠She didnât regret it. Not even a little bit. She just⊠had no idea what she was supposed to do now. It would have been one thing if she had woken up tangled in the sheets with his arms around her. If she had opened her eyes and found him still there.
But waking up to an empty bed? That brought an entirely different set of questions.
Or had he simply not wanted the entire team finding him stumbling out of her room on Christmas morning and immediately demanding an explanation?
She couldnât blame him for that second one. She threw the pillow aside. Either way, it didnât matter. It had happened and now she would have to face him. She would have to walk into that common room and pretend nothing had changed. Pretend the only important thing that happened between them was the apology.
As if he hadnât spent the night making her feel desired in a way no man ever had..
As if his touch hadnât made her heart race.
She pushed the blankets away, the cold air of the room immediately kissing her bare skin. The ache in her muscles as she sat up was enough to make it all come rushing back.
The taste of him. Breath and heat. The firmness of his grip on her body leaving marks on her skin.
Because apparently she had lost the ability to keep a normal expression. Her poker face was going to be a problem. A very big problem.
She was going to be so obvious. She needed a shower first. Hopefully, that would give her enough time to practice.
To figure out how to act like nothing had happened.
To convince herself that this was normal. That John Walker was still just John Walker. Not the man who had walked into her room and somehow managed to make her come undone over and over. The man who had made her fall apart completely⊠and somehow put her back together over the course of one night.
The common room was already buzzing when she finally made her way down the hallway. Her hair was still damp from the shower, pulled back loosely with a clip, and she had spent the entire walk there reminding herself to act normal.
Whatever that meant anymore.
âMorning, Sunshine.â Alexeiâs booming voice immediately pulled her attention toward the couch, where he was already sprawled comfortably across the cushions, wearing a bathrobe over his pajamas like that was a perfectly acceptable Christmas morning outfit. âMerry Christmas!â
âMorning,â she muttered.
And then she saw him. She froze slightly. John was already in the kitchen. Standing at the sink, rinsing off his breakfast dish like nothing in the world had changed. Like he hadnât been in her room only hours before.
Like he hadnât kissed her andâŠ
Absolutely not. Not in front of everyone.
âYou okay?â Buckyâs voice pulled her back.
Of course he noticed. He always noticed. Though, thankfully, he seemed to assume her hesitation was for an entirely different reason.
âI can kick his ass out of the kitchen for you.â Avaâs voice was completely serious from where she sat. âHe deserves it after last night.â
âUm⊠no.â She cleared her throat. âWeâre grown ups. Itâs perfectly fine.â
She didnât stay long enough for anyone to ask questions. Because if she did, she was absolutely certain her face would tell more than she meant it to. Her feet moved again, carrying her through the living room and into the kitchen. Straight toward the coffee machine. Because apparently coffee was the only thing standing between her and complete emotional collapse.
She planted herself in front of it, focusing very carefully on the simple task in front of her.
She could feel him nearby. Painfully aware of every movement he made. The quiet sound of him setting something down. The shift of his footsteps. The fact that he was close enough that she could feel his presence without even looking.
She reached into the cupboard above her and grabbed her mug, gently placing it on the counter.
âCould you grab me one too?â His voice was low. Casual. Like they hadnât just completely changed the nature of their relationship overnight.
She glanced at him. Only for a moment. There was a devilish grin on his face and his eyes⊠His eyes were focused completely on her with a dark intensity that was far too much for this time of morning.
She looked away quickly before it stirred something in her like it had the night before.
She grabbed another mug and set it beside hers. He stood close. Closer than he probably should have in front of everyone else.
âYou werenât there when I woke up.â Her voice was barely above a whisper as she poured her coffee as slowly as humanly possible. âDidnât expect you to disappear this in the night.â
She didnât look at him. But she caught the small nod from the corner of her eye.
âIâm sorry.â His voice was firm as he looked down at the cups briefly. âI just thought it was probably for the best that we keep this between us.â
Because this was⊠She didnât even know what this was. Complicated, didnât even begin to cover it.
She placed her hand flat against the counter between them as she poured his coffee after hers. She glanced at him briefly and there it was again. That same look from last night. The one that had followed every quiet word. Every touch. Every moment where he had looked at her like she was something he wanted.
She immediately looked back down at his mug.
His hand moved carefully beside hers. Slowly. Giving her every opportunity to pull away. Instead, his pinky brushed deliberately against hers. A tiny touch, barely anything. But somehow, it was everything.
âCan I see you later?â His voice was quiet enough that it belonged only to them, low and familiar.
She set the coffee pot back into the machine.
Later? For what exactly? To talk? To figure out what this was? Or for round two of whatever last night had been?
If she was honest with herself, it didnât matter. She wanted to see him. She wanted⊠more.
âYeah.â She nodded gently. âWhen I get back from seeing my parents.â
His pinky brushed over hers more fully.
Before she could say anything else, he picked up his coffee and stepped away, grazing her ass with one hand as he walked by. He headed toward the elevator. She turned, slightly at the contact, watching him go. Their eyes met one more time, just for a second, then the elevator doors closed, carrying him away.
She stared down at her mug. Trying desperately to reset her face. Because apparently all it wanted to do was smile and completely ruin her.
Eventually, she carried her coffee back into the living room and dropped onto the couch beside Bob, pulling a soft, deep green fleece blanket over her legs.
She was being as casual as she could. Completely normal. Definitely not sitting there trying to figure out how John Walker had become the person making her smile on Christmas morning.
âI canât believe youâre talking to him after last night.â Yelenaâs voice cut through the room.
Anna looked up. Yelena sat on the floor nearby, watching her carefully. She had a feeling this conversation was about to be much harder than the one with John.
âEverything okay?â Buckyâs voice pulled her attention back. âYou two seemâŠâ He paused, trying to find the right word. âSurprisingly okay this morning.â
She knew it would come up eventually. She just hadnât been prepared for how quickly.
âYeah. Everything is fine.â She assured them.
The problem was, the entire room immediately looked at her like she had just said something completely unbelievable. Like they were all waiting for the punchline.
âReally,â she added, clearing her throat. âWe⊠talked last night.â She searched for the right words. Something honest. But not too honest. âHe apologized. We talked things through, and⊠itâs water under the bridge.â
âHe⊠apologized?â The surprise on her face was predictable.
âJust like that?â Yelena looked genuinely confused. âAnd you forgave him?â She shook her head slightly. âHeâs lucky you didnât light him up like a Christmas tree.â
Anna took a sip of her coffee, hiding the small smile that immediately threatened to appear. She listened as they continued discussing how out of line John had been.
Alexei, naturally, suggested several completely unnecessary revenge plans on her behalf, all of which involved far too much enthusiasm and absolutely no realistic chance of helping.
She assured him repeatedly that revenge was no longer necessary.
Eventually, the conversation moved on. Yelena and Ava disappeared into the kitchen. Bucky apparently had some mission data that couldnât possibly wait until after the holiday, which Anna suspected was just Buckyâs way of avoiding whatever chaos was happening around him.
Alexei, meanwhile, had returned to his natural state. Passed out on the couch and snoring at a volume that was honestly concerning.
Bob, however, remained exactly where he was. Still wrapped up in the book he hadnât put down all morning.
âSo⊠you guys talked, huh?â He said it casually. Without even looking up.
Anna turned her head slowly.
Bob nodded once. Then he closed the book, placing it face down on his lap.
âDidnât sound like talking to me.â
Her expression dropped immediately.
âBob.â Her hands tightened slightly around her mug.
âWe share a wall, remember?â He remained completely calm and the slightest bit amused.âTheyâre thinner than you think.â He caught the shock on her face and answered before she could even ask. âDonât worry. Iâm not going to say anything.â
He picked his book back up, flipping it open again as if nothing unusual had happened.
âI called it, though.â
Anna stared at him blankly.
âYouâŠâ It took her a second. Then it clicked. âThatâs what you meant?â
âThat man is as predictable as they get.â Bob nodded, settling back comfortably into the couch.
She scoffed softly at the thought. Bob had seen this coming? Really? Bob? And somehow she hadnât?
She leaned back into the couch, taking another sip of her coffee as it slowly cooled. She knew she could trust Bob to keep her confidence. He was always good about that. Quiet. Kind. Never making her vulnerability into a spectacle. Now she just had to figure out the rest of the day. Which was going to be its own challenge.
She had to meet her parents at the hotel. She had to act normal and she had to somehow survive Christmas Day with her father, who was practically a bloodhound when it came to noticing anything even slightly off with her.
His opinion of John Walker had already been firmly established before they ever met. After last night? There was no chance that opinion had improved.
She let out a quiet sigh.
Besides⊠It wasnât like she was marrying the guy. It was one night of passion. Maybe two, depending on how things went later⊠if he didnât completely blow it. That was all. Nothing to get worked up over. She wasnât suddenly going to start signing all her medical reports;
The thought made her cringe. Then laugh quietly to herself.
Absolutely not. That was ridiculous.
That was what she kept telling herself.
@witchygagirl , @qvicksilversass , @reedlater
