Pray That You Catch Me (Bob Reynolds x Bob Floyd)
Summary: Ever since Bob Floyd was little he had wanted to fly with the birds. It just took an alien invasion, a mysterious, stubborn government project, and a lucky escape to learn just how much it truly meant to him.
CW: A kiss at the end. And a swear. That's it. Who knew I had it in me to be fluffy! Promise the body snatchers didn't take me.
A/N: This was supposed to be 3k and um... It's 7k. It's really just a long drabble rather than a full fic to hopefully hang some more stuff on in the future, but I wanted to get a story going for them. This is based on a Lewship prompt using the line 'Could you stay? Just for a little while longer?'
Thanks for reading!
Ever since he was young enough to remember, Bob Floyd had wanted to fly.
Growing up in a small town in Montana meant hard days sweating in the sun on his parents’ ranch, and quiet, lazy weekends spent in the fields watching the birds go by. He marked the months by their migration, as he never ventured beyond state lines. During his two-minute-long rebellious phase, he had dreamt of flying away with them, free from the responsibilities that kept him tethered to the same few acres, the same few faces that broke up the plains of nondescript wheat. That was, until one day, one by one, half the meadowlarks disappeared from the sky. Teenage angst didn’t feel particularly important after The Snap.
When the population returned, his family knew it would be his signal that it was time to leave. Bob had loved his town, and even more, had loved the people in it. They were kind, moving as one with the change in seasons. To them, amber meant slow down, not speed up. Snow meant an opportunity to check in with your neighbours as you shovelled the roads. And no one knew how to bake fewer than a couple of dozen cookies, lest you came to visit. They were like him, and he wanted to be like them. But more than all that, he wanted to make those few good people proud. So, inspired by the Avengers who saved the world, he did. With nothing but a duffel bag, his mother’s goodbye kiss and a promise to write back, he followed the birds all the way to Falcon Field.
At twenty years old, he flew for the first time. He controlled his folksy accent, introduced himself as Robert, slicked his hair and moulded every part of himself into the recruitment poster that hung in his locker. In the end, he had so fitted the part of a model WSO that his promotion became inevitable.
At twenty-five years, he migrated again to Nevada, head of his class and straight into TOPGUN. At first, no one knew the quiet man's name. The sky didn't feel like freedom anymore; his mind was weighed down even as his body soared above the heavens. His youthful ability to know with complete and utter certainty that death was an impossibility slowly gave way to the wisdom of age. He started to bring a photo of his family for good luck on each flight, tapping it with gratitude on each landing. But by the time he graduated, everyone knew the name Lieutenant Robert Floyd.
At twenty-seven years, the most important event in his life up until that point occurred when he met a pilot known simply as ‘Phoenix’. She called him Bob. He was the only one who called her Nat, even though she flew every bit as terrifying and awe-inspiring as the real mythological creature. But somehow, despite all logic, the fear that accompanied each mission ended as quickly as the commander said their names together as training partners. Flying with her felt as natural as walking.
With Nat in the pilot’s seat, the years merged together, mission after mission, medal after medal; the mission to the uranium enrichment facility was supposed to be the greatest achievement of his life. But despite how vital he became to his Country’s most elite squadron, he no longer felt he had to be the platonic ideal of a Navy man, not around Dagger Squad. He got sarcastic when anyone jabbed at his partner, he took days off to the Hard Deck when previously they had been filled with studying, and just occasionally, he let his accent slip.
That was all until the sky opened up and the Shi’ar invaded.
Their battlecruisers and dreadnaughts far surpassed those of Earth, the alien race a funhouse mirror, merging man and avian into one race that surpassed his own in every way. Compared to them, his plane felt like a wren going up against an eagle. Fodder until the planet’s governments could get a plan together and a real hero could turn up.
Each tap of the family photo now felt like a goodbye. And each day he went back up to fight.
It wasn’t even a week into the invasion that Dagger Squad got the news they would have reinforcements. They had expected as much; what they didn’t expect was the non-disclosure agreement, signed under penalty of execution if they ever so much as whispered the nature of what that reinforcement was. Huddled together in a bunker, far below the desert lest the enemy was listening in, the head of the CIA, Valentina de Allegra Fontaine, told them about the Project Sentry.
Dagger Squad was abuzz with the news that they were getting the universe’s supposed mightiest hero on side as they took on the most dangerous missions. The rub? No matter how well Valentina tried to hide the mirth in her voice, the crick in her neck as she tried to forget the way he had pinned her to the wall, she couldn’t quite suppress how scared she was of their new addition. The instructions were clear; he would have an earpiece to hear them, but he was unable to talk to the squad. He wouldn’t listen to commands, but if they did it right and communicated, he could maybe avoid friendly fire. After each mission, there would be a crew waiting to sedate the Sentry and take him away until the next wave of Shi’ar ships. They weren’t to make contact with him, they weren’t to try and save him, and if they saw a shadow creep upon his body, they were to give the codeword over comms: ‘Yelana’. If that didn’t remove the inky blackness from his skin, Valentina would take it from there.
And if they broke the rules and let Sentry off his leash? Well, the Shi’ar would be the least of the planet’s worries.
In any other situation, the Squad would bristle at the idea of such an unknown joining them, but the world was ending. So they would allow it this once. It was only Nat who saw the furrow of Bob’s brow as he sat in the bunker a while longer, thinking. She asked him if he thought it was a risk too far, but he just shook his head and muttered, “What kind of Government does that to someone, only to treat him like a rabid dog?”
The first mission went off without a hitch. As did all that followed through the second wave of attacks, despite the mutters of disapproval of how many close calls they all had as the Sentry destroyed cruiser after cruiser, far too close to their planes for comfort. However, it wasn’t just the power of Sentry they couldn’t compete with; they knew his ego eclipsed even Hangman’s. So instead, they put aside their pride and, at Bob’s suggestion, set about learning how to work with him. After each flight, the Squad would compare notes on what little they caught of their suited saviour - a glimpse of a cape, a curl of brunette hair, a suit that shone like Solomon’s gold. It was like having front row seats to a destructive fireworks display, a flash of light followed by an almighty crack through the air as another ship imploded in on itself. The Hero moved too quickly to catch anything more; the radars on their planes would hiss static as he flew by before another potential catastrophic ambush was eradicated in the blink of an eye. Their job had been to stop the stragglers, intercept anything that went after high-priority targets while Sentry took on the majority of the universe’s best and most horrifying crafts. If they could do anything to aid him, then so be it, that is what they were there for.
The Sentry, the perfectly modelled stalwart, designed to be nothing other than Earth’s unstoppable saviour, felt to the world like hope. Hope the planet would actually be saved even as another wormhole opened and another wave of fleets entered. And through it all, watching the ceiling fan above his bed as he couldn’t sleep, all Bob could think about was where he went between the missions. If he knew how proud of him they were, that the rest of them were slowly catching up to what Bob had understood since day one. That the Sentry was trying to impress them, just as much as he was trying to save the world. So one mission Bob told him so, when the air was quiet, and the sweat beaded down his neck, he’d turn his comms to private. “Did good, Sentry. We couldn’t have done it with out you. See you soon.”
It was just a nano second, but the display on his console flickered on and off.
It was on the second week, as the battalions' flagship threatened to destroy New York, that Bob felt like he was beginning to understand the seemingly chaotic dance of explosions and destruction as the Sentry hurtled across the sky, shooting down flagships like they were nothing but clay pigeons. Whereas once the debris rained down like mighty storms, Bob learned the pattern of the Hero’s targets, directing the others and Nat on where to go and how to inaugerate themselves into the god-like power of the Sentry. It became like a ballet with an invisible partner, where once he moved forward, they would turn back, and when he ascended, far into the sun where their eyes couldn’t follow, they’d dive down and protect his flanks. It was almost beginning to feel like a team, and as the smoke lifted, there he was. Watching over Nat and Bob’s plane as they flew back to base. The morning sun rose through the clouds and every thread of his mop of hair, illuminating it until it turned as golden as his suit, a soft halo that proclaimed his inheritance to the power of the burning star. They were going too fast to make out his face, but Bob thought he saw him wring out his wrists like he was a nervous teenager asking a date to the prom. Before he could point him out to Nat, the angelic figure became boneless, his entire body spiralling like an eagle caught in a death grip as he plummeted down through the atmosphere and out of sight. It took only a beat before Valentina’s choppers descended upon him like vultures, ready to carry him away after another successful mission.
The Sentry was sidelined for the mission after that. Valentina made some excuse about him not being stable enough, needing longer to recuperate. Thankfully, the enemy was busy regrouping, sending just a few ships to threaten the East Coast, but it felt harder than any dreadnought they had ever faced. Harder still, without the partner they’d synchronised their every movement to.
They survived, but just barely. Intel told them they should have a few days, just long enough to get ‘the Sentry up in working order again’ as though he was just another piece of machinery. Bob said as much. Valentina glared. The team nodded. Only Nat raised a knowing eyebrow at her friend, but the moment was lost as the sirens blared their alarm across the base.
It was a shitshow. Two Dreadnaughts over half an hour away appeared over the Atlantic, surrounded by the carrions of cruisers that dotted the skyline like a murder of crows. And worse than all of it, their giant metal husks blotting out the sun, they just simply waited for Dagger Squad to arrive. Gloating before the inevitable massacre had even started. The rest of Earth’s heroes had been sequestered across the globe. No one had accounted for the fact that they had left the Capital in the hands of an AWOL hero. Bob reached over the seat to his pilot and squeezed her shoulder. Her silence was more unnerving than the fleet of alien technology that bore down on them. Even the normally reliable quips from Hangman were silent. That is, until a single feminine ‘shit’ rang in their ears. ‘Let Sentry out, fuck it. We’re dead either way.’
Dagger Squad did everything they could to keep the opposing planes distracted while they waited for the Sentry to arrive. They weaved through a seemingly impervious barrier of cruisers, dodging their laser beams as Bob swore he felt their syiging heat just inches from his head. Slowly, the battlefield eked its way closer and closer to the coast, toying with the nation’s final line of defence, while only a few remaining Air Force planes could provide backup. Without fail, they were all downed as quickly as they arrived.
“Nat, Maverick’s got two on his tail. We gotta go!” alerted Bob.
“On it!”
She manoeuvred into position, chasing behind them to get Bob lined up, but as his thumb hovered over the button - An explosion. Followed by the chunks of alloys as they pinged from his windshield, echoing in the cockpit as another flash of energy eviscerated through the second enemy ship like it was made of paper.
The alarms signalling the nearby energy disturbance confirmed what they all knew. It was the Sentry, alright. The comms erupted with cheers and hollers, while Bob simply muttered an honest “thank god, you’re okay”. However, the victory wasn’t as instant as they imagined. The Sentry was sluggish; if it wasn’t for the sky being painted by smoke that splattered through the air, the most eagle-eyed amongst them would have been able to make out his movements. Still faster than any TOPGUN plane, but slow for him, his shoulders haunched as he struggled to coordinate his body with his mind swimming in sedatives, every neuron misfiring for every time it fired correctly. But whereas once the newly formed team moved as a flock of swallows, perfect in their majestic flow, now they scrambled to keep the fleet away from Sentry as he put himself in front of plane after plane, taking them out as he block the enemy with his seemingly indestructible frame. But each time he moved more slowly. Took longer to recover as the planes kept coming. Bob couldn’t see the energy, the sheer indescrible power that had radiated off him the first time he truly gazed upon him. Now he just hung in the sky like a puppet whose strings were slowly getting cut, one by one, taking the brunt of each strike until he disappeared in a cloud of smoke and fire.
The order cut through the ringing in Bob’s ears, “Nat, we need you to intercept the jumpship that just broke formation, it's heading towards our aircraft carrier.”
Bob didn’t have time to question the crushing feeling that hammered into his chest as he felt the plane turn around. His eyes lingered, head following him like he was magnetised to the sight of him. It took hearing the urgency in his partner's voice to focus again.
They only needed seconds to reach and destroy their target, but once again, their enemy was ahead of them. By the time they dived through the remains of the jumpship, six more removed their stealth cloaks and chased behind them. Nat did her best to lose them, but they were on them like they were tethered together, predicting their every move before she had even made it. Bob tapped the button of the weapons system. The silence of their guns sent a knife through both of them. It was the very noise that he feared most as he lost his confidence back when he was still in training. Tapping his family photo, for what he knew would be the last time, he caught the terrified look of Nat’s in the cockpit window. Somehow it had never occurred to him that she could feel fear.
As much as it hurt to look, he held her gaze within the reflection, “It was an honour, Nat. See you on the other side, partner.”
Her voice held strong even as he saw the quiver of her lip, “You too, Bob. Let’s see if we can still take one of these fuckers out with us.”
Bob looked out over the battlefield as Nat tried to chase down another plane. Eyes searching for his friends. For the Sentry. He felt so helpless. His breath caught in his throat as he saw them all surrounded… But then he saw him, or rather, he felt him. A heat beyond that of all the enemy weapons shot past him, as that beautiful, majestic light roared back to life. Bob’s eyes ping ponged in his head as he kept up with the destructive brilliance of each ship disintegrating before them until a thump hit the top of their plane. Their aircraft twirled until Nat was able to get it under control, but there was no mistaking it; the Sentry had landed on them. With shaky legs, Bob caught the tip of his boot before he flew off again, a trail of destruction in his wake. It was only as the fourth cruiser went down in their orbit that Bob realised the Hero was protecting them specifically.
Thinking on his feet, he shouted at Nat to go after the rest of Dagger Squad. Sentry followed like a determined, faithful guard dog behind them, suddenly revitalised with a new strength Bob put down to this supposed ‘serum’, taking out each and every threat that got too close. Once they were all out of immediate harm, Maverick came over the comms, ordering them after the Dreadnaughts leading the fleet. They did so immediately, the Sentry flying in perfect synchronicity with their battered plane, cutting through the sky as, for the first time, the Sentry followed another’s lead.
Bob didn’t think he had ever seen anything more natural than the man next to him fly like the comics of his childhood. Certainly nothing more beautiful. Superheroes had inspired him to join the Navy, and now here he was, staving off the apocalypse with the man whose radiance lit up the sky brighter than a thousand suns. It felt like his entire life had been in service of this one moment. The dimple in the other’s smile was just the icing on the cake.
Bob didn’t know if he had time to fit him with an earpiece, but he had to try. “Sentry, this is the last push. You’re nearly there, you’re doing amazing - You can do it, bud. We know you can.”
Bob thought he saw his chest puff up like a peacock at his praise as his eyes burned a more precious shade of gold than any of the universe’s treasures. He nodded and shot from view, the sonic bang almost as loud as the Dreadnaught that, piece by piece, fell from the sky like a child destroying their Lego.
After that, it all happened so fast. A bang. The sirens of the fire alarm sounded as the engines blew. The shout of his partner telling him to evacuate. Bob didn’t know what had caused it, if he had let his partner down and missed an enemy ship, or if it was just a malfunction, but he did know the emergency ejection button didn’t budge. The power in the jet was almost gone. Nat screamed at him to evacuate, but he knew what she was doing. Knew she had seen how much fuel remained. Before she had time to protest, he rerouted the power to the failsafe and ejected her from the cockpit. The woosh of air blurred his vision as it stung his eyes. He closed them and breathed, more calmly than he thought he would when faced with this moment. He prayed his team would make it. That the Sentry could one day meet them all face to face, and they could see what he saw in him, with never a word uttered.
And so he fell.
And he fell.
The G-Force battered his body as chunks of metal slammed into the cockpit. He dived like an osprey towards the water, bracing himself for an impact that never came. Instead, his back landed softly on cool grass, wet with dew, swaying gently under his neck, even as the sky above him burned. And protecting him from the hellfire that rained down was what was left of the man’s face who had dominated more of his thoughts and dreams than he dared ever admit. The living embodiment of everything his younger self had dreamt of being… was slowly being taken over by inky tentacles of black shadows, crawling up his neck like ink blots on his deathly white skin. The hand that held Bob’s cheek was shaking, lips shaking in turn around words he couldn’t form. Even as unconsciousness threatened to take him, he could feel the sways of grass turn into the thundering tremors of tiny earthquakes as the Sentry struggled to contain his fury. His despair.
Bob could just about remember the codeword Valentina had taught them, “Y-Yelana.” But nothing happened. The shadows took more and more of his features like a black watercolour paint over the increasingly wet canvas of his face as the indestructible hero of the universe started to sob. Those iridescent eyes melted into deep blues. But they kept going, all colour draining from them as they took in what must have been Bob’s wounds. Without thinking, with the very last of his strength, Bob tentatively raised his hands and dug into the head of curls and brought him into the safety of the nape of his neck. He cooed gently, “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay, Sentry. I’m so proud of you.”
And then everything went black.
When Bob awoke, sedation coursing through his veins as surely as his remaining blood, he couldn’t be sure if the shadow that lurked in the corner was real. By the time he blinked and awoke again days later, he would wonder the same. Again and again through Groundhog Day. The same room, same legs bandaged into casts, always soundtracked by the same beeping of machines. The only difference was the outline of a figure, reclining, sitting, occasionally even standing or pacing. Just once, he was able to ask it, “Nat?”
“She’s fine, she’s back flying already”, came the quiet response.
“A’nd S…Sentry?” he slurred, head rolling towards the voice.
The observation machine beeped as his heart sped up for a moment, “Sentry is good, too. Thanks to you.”
Bob slept soundly that day, watched over by his mysterious protector once again.
Despite its constant hovering, never getting close enough for Bob to identify its face, it never felt threatening or malicious, even as those two pricks of light glared at him with the intensity of a predator. Instead, they were the occasional reprieve from the dark, vast ocean that reclaimed him back into unconsciousness. It didn’t feel so scary knowing those twin lighthouses would be there when it spat him out again, and as he slowly grew stronger, he realised it wasn’t the shadow he had tried to stop from taking over the Sentry. By the time Bob could start to make out his features again, he was gone. All that remained was his family photo that somehow survived the crash.
Locked away in the military hospital, stuck with his legs up in casts, Bob watched the sky as he had done as a child. The birds had vanished from their loving embrace, as if they knew the danger that was coming. And here was the man who had sworn his life to protect them, sitting as helpless as he had been when The Snap had occurred. All those years of training, and for what? It felt like the sky was taunting him now. A cruel old friend who had turned its back on him and wanted nothing to do with him anymore. But still he sat and watched, hoping for any sign of his team returning safely from battle again.
Bob’s friends rang every day to give him updates. They were all somehow still standing, Nat having been able to return to active duty. So had the Sentry, apparently having never succumbed to the shadows that Valentina had so feared. In fact, no one had seen him fall since, seemingly, a deal had been struck between him and Valentina that he was given his freedom between missions, if just for a while, to stop the near disaster of Bob’s final mission. But he never stayed to meet the team. Nat had told Bob he fought harder now, never taking that moment to gloat over the falling husks of his prey - instead, he was quick and effective, no enemy ever getting within shooting distance of Dagger Squad. He fought like he was protecting something precious to him. Bob didn’t realise that it was because they were precious to him.
It was a week later that he had his first visitor, or rather, the first man he noticed out of the norm. It wasn’t the hair or the stature. He certainly didn’t hold himself the way he remembered him. Instead, it was the nervous wringing of his wrists as he stood in the doorway. It was his Sentry.
“Hi, um..” came the shy voice from under the protection of the turned-up hoodie. He hesitated again, seemingly thinking better of the whole thing. However, his eyes suddenly flashed gold, his body turning back to Bob with a harsh tug, like he had been possessed for the quick moment they had appeared. His eyes, now a sharp, brilliant blue, looked to Bob as vast as the sky, as easy to get lost in, and containing, within their rings, even more opportunity. Bob didn’t think the other man could ever truly understand how incredible it was to finally put a voice to the face.
He stood before him awkwardly, unable to think of what to say. So Bob did it for him; he extended a hand between them. “Bob”, he said, trying to keep the boyish giddiness from his tone.
The man went wide-eyed before they softened with something approaching amusement. He took his hand in his, not squeezing his hands as he held back his power, and shook. “Um, I’m also Bob.”
For the first time since being grounded, Bob Floyd laughed. “Don’t suppose I can convince you to be a Bobbie or something?”
He hadn’t meant anything by it, but the other man flinched. How weird for the man who possessed the power of the gods to be so affected by a name. “Um, ‘rather not if you don’t- it’s just… Don’t exactly like the people who have called me that in the past.”
Bob nodded from his wheelchair. A quiet, gentle understanding that asked for no explanation. “Bob, it is then.”
The man offered a gracious smile as he struggled to move his gaze up from the injuries he’d failed to stop, “You… look like you could be a Robert?”
“Was a Robert. Back in the academy. Nearly ran myself into the ground being that perfect military man. It was my friends who called me Bob; I haven’t been Robert since.”
The shy man suddenly was all teeth as he couldn’t help the grin that tugged his face up. Now there was the brilliance of the sun. “Yeah, know that feeling. Bob, it is then. At least until I can figure out what type of Bob you are.”
Bob F took a beat, looking back out at the sky before glancing at the brunette who fiddled with the string of his hoodie, “I’m just glad you don’t want me to call you the Sentry.”
The other Bob spluttered, anxiously asking how he could ever have recognised him as a hero. But Floyd just huffed and slyly said he could recognise the man who saved his life everywhere. Not to mention the one who held vigil over him as he slept.
The light of the sun was nice, but Floyd thought he looked the red hues of his blush even better.
“I wanted to ask you a favour…” the superhero finally ventured. “Valentina says it’s the final push tomorrow. The head of the whole fleet is coming to Earth and um… Could you… The Sentry listens to you. Could you, maybe.. I dunno, I’m sorry-”
“You want me on comms?” Floyd asked, raising a genuinely surprised eyebrow.
Bob nodded. He liked the blush of the other Bob, too.
It took a while for Bob Floyd to get used to his vantage point being stuck on the ground like a kiwi bird, but once he got the hang of it, the Squad flew with the grace of swallows once again and all the power of the Skyhawks namesake, with Sentry at the head. It was like he had never been away as he guided them through the mission. It was only as Sentry dived into the Mothership, the way he always did, before Bob even gave the word that the WSO realised, the Sentry hadn’t ignored the Squad through the missions. He didn’t just follow his own path as they kept up. He had listened to Bob give orders to the others and worked around them. Their dance had been one of mutual understanding as they had flown together in perfect synchronicity. For once, Floyd no longer questioned why heart beat faster at the thought.
There was a terrifying moment when the Sentry burst into the Commander’s ship, and there was nothing. No sound, no signs of destruction, no grand final kaboom like in the movies. All was silent over the comms… Until Bob Reynold’s voice, for the first time, echoed in his team’s ears. He sounded like he couldn’t believe it himself as he uttered the phrase that would become renowned across the globe. But Bob wasn’t a man of words. Instead, he just said simply, “We did it.”
And then came the grand final kaboom.
The explosions really did look like fireworks when the Mothership finally fell. The other members of ground control helped Floyd outside, to gaze up at the sky without a screen separating them. They had been closer to the battlefield than he had realised as the smoke hung in the distance. And then he saw. And a second later, he heard the boom of the engines as Dagger Squad flew overhead. He waved at Natasha’s plane as she did a loop-de-loop right over them. That was his Phoenix, alright.
Bob Floyd wheeled his chair into the drab naval as his Squad made it home. They all cheered his name in unison, baptising him with cheap swill beer and expensive whiskey as they welcomed him into the heave of bodies, as they all stacked themselves into the tiny space. Nat ran to him and nearly knocked his chair over as Rooster patted him on the shoulder. Tears stung in his eyes as the reality hit him. They had won. He had made his hometown proud and then some… Then why did his eyes search out the room for just one man? The man who shifted the Earth around him when he thought for one desperate moment, something truly awful had happened to him, the same way the ground had trembled under him when he held Floyd’s injured body safe in his arms.
Nat smiled knowingly at Hangman across the room as he motioned the celebrating crowd to disperse like Moses. Despite the cramped room, they parted like the Red Sea, allowing Floyd to see the other Bob, eyes blue, bottom lip pinched between his canines as he tried not to grin. He looked happy. He looked as he deserved… Even if the Squad had dressed him in the ugliest Hawaiian shirt and party hat, signalling him as the official newest member of Dagger Squad.
Their gaze met. Bob’s eyes flashed gold. The Sentry walked him across the room to the WSO. By the time he got there, he was just Bob again. And the WSO was just Bob, too.
Bob Floyd joined in on the celebrations for as long as he could tolerate, until the noise and the emotion of the day finally became too much. He left the Hero of the Hour to his adoring public, the sound of his laughter riding as high as Sentry over the music. He ignored how his breath caught in his throat when he saw men and women alike vie for his attention. So the lieutenant sat outside as the stars finally shone their brilliance on them all. But those tiny dots looked like Reynolds’ eyes as he sat by his hospital bed. So Bob closed his own, tried to block out the thoughts of the man inside, until finally he heard the birds sing again.
It was only when a voice behind him broke the quiet reverie that he remembered where he was. At first, he thought it was his mind betraying him as the request sounded just as sweet as the morning skylarks of Montana. “Do… Do you want to fly with me again?” asked Reynolds, all in one breath. In reality, he had stood there the whole time, working up the courage for what he didn’t know. He looked as surprised as the other Bob that the words had come out at all.
Floyd just laughed as he asked how he expected him to do that. But the other Bob didn’t join in; he looked nervous again. He tried to find the words, but when nothing came, he instead opened his arms out. Luckily for him, his teammate had become an expert in reading him. By the time Nat noticed they were gone, only Bob’s wheelchair remained outside the bar. She ran back inside with a roar, gloating the whole way as she collected the money for the bet.
Together they flew up high above the base, Reynolds holding him tight within his arms as he effortlessly supported his legs. The thick air penetrated Floyd’s lungs as he tasted the salt of the sea and the ash of the battle. So still Reynolds drifted further away, until the air turned fresh and the geese flew north past them, signalling the promise of the spring that they never thought they’d be alive to see.
Bob Floyd had to admit, he missed flying almost as much as he missed his family. He had wanted to fly initially because of the freedom he thought it could provide. Then he lost his nerve when it only represented the great expanse of responsibility as the whole sky above him became his duty to defend. He could never quite put his finger on why his love of flying had returned when he joined TOPGUN, but looking into the eyes of the man who held him safely in the hands that held the power of galaxies, it clicked into place. Because he wasn’t the pilot, he never had been; he was Nat’s WSO. He was her support, as she was his. They trusted each other, her to lead them home every time, and him to always have her back. It was the trust in another and to receive it in turn, that he had loved more than the freedom or the ability to fight. And that was what he had found with the other Bob, as he had wordlessly, in his own awkward alter ego’s way, tried to fit in. The Sentry, Earth’s Mightiest Hero and potentially greatest threat, had tried to put his trust in them, and Floyd had made room for him, whether as The Sentry, and now as Bob.
He never told his new compatriot how much flying had meant to him. But he seemed to understand in the same effortless, silent way Floyd had understood him. And despite all of his nervousness, he didn’t seem surprised when he saw the other man staring at him rather than the plains below. He hadn’t meant to ask it, but the words punched their way out as Floyd asked him what he was thinking when their gaze lingered too long to ignore.
Reynolds hesitated, “Just if anyone ever tell you you look like an owl with those glasses?”
“Huh. Anyone ever tell you, you look like a robin when you dodge questions and blush?” he quipped back.
The dusty red hues only grew deeper as the arms minutely tightened around him. Floyd didn't realise that it wasn't embarrassment that painted his cheeks, but the starting embers of arousal as the Navy's golden boy's accent slipped. It had taken him years to be comfortable enough to slip back into his roots again, but with Reynolds, he wanted nothing more than to show everything he contained. Maybe it wasn't just the Sentry who desperately wanted the other's approval.
The WSO should have felt embarrassed being carried like a damsel out of a burning building. As much of the quiet Montana boy as he was, he was still a Lieutenant; he still had his pride. But what good did any of that do him when the face of the man he was with fell? Ashamed of his own inability to understand the conflicting emotions that echoed in his mind in the voice of the side of him he feared most, he brushed his hands over Floyd’s arms, as though he was comforting himself.
“Bob”, he asked quietly, like he was enticing a frighted injured stray. “Why’d you bring me up here?”
He absent-mindedly shook his head. “It doesn’t feel right seeing you all cooped up. You belong up here… With the S-Sentry.”
“You don’t look like him right now”, he said confidently as he kept his gaze fixed upon his. It took a second for Reynolds to reciprocate, but when he did, whatever he saw reflected back at him seemed to give him the strength he needed.
“I… That’s the thing. I should be… I’m trying to understand, but- Can I tell you a secret?” The other Bob nodded, rubbing his thumb in up and down motions around the tightening cord of the flyers neck. “I’m terrified of heights. It’s part of why I need to become the Sentry when I fight. I could destroy the world when I’m like that, and yet I still can’t find the way to control it. Tch, some hero.”
He expected his companion to agree, but instead the thumb crept up along his neck, grazing his jaw line in a subtle plea to stay with him, “Then why do you think you’ve not changed, now?”
Why hadn’t he changed? It was a good question. One the Void seemed determined to stop him from answering. He gulped, trying to clear his ears as he cleared his throat. It was only when he saw Floyd suck in his lower lip, subconsciously wetting it in silent hope, that the voice went silent, and his found form.
“I don’t feel afraid right now”, he confessed, the wonder evident in the glimmering of his eyes, as beautiful and as shining as the stars that framed him. “Could… Could you stay with me? Just for a little while longer? I… I haven’t flown as myself since I first got these powers... Its not a good memory. But I want to make new ones now. Better ones.”
“With me?” Floyd asked, brushing a stray lock from his eyes that bounced back instantly.
“All of them with you. If… that’s what you want. It feels like when I'm with you, you understand me before I know it myself. I trust you”. He paused, but they both heard the secret word behind it, because Bob thought he felt it too. He thought Renyolds would apologise, take it back, but instead he sounded… Giddy? In truth, it was because that secret word had never dared cross his mind without the Void twisting it into something evil. Something pathetic. Instead, it was the Sentry that rang proud in his ear, that word as powerful as the energy that buzzed beneath his fingertips. “And more than that… I think I’m falling for you, Bob Floyd. You’re everything I ever wanted to be in a Hero. I was so terrified of letting everyone down today, but hearing you in my ear..?”
He looked even more bashful. But hidden beneath the surface was just the hint of an impish, delighted grin that Floyd knew was just the tip of the iceberg of all the things he was yet to discover about him. The grin lit up his voice as well as his face as he beamed, “I knew you had my back. When I was in the mothership… It wasn’t the Sentry, for the first time it was me. I felt in control because I knew you were there to catch me, Bob.”
For a moment, Floyd swore they must have ascended beyond Earth’s atmosphere, as all the air was punched from his lungs. But his Bob had been brave for him, so he could do it to. After all, what better confidence was there than being Bob Reynold’s hero? So for the final time that night, as Reynolds put his trust in his partner, Floyd paid it back in turn, cupping a hand to his cheek. Those once-tiny twin suns now turn as dark as black holes, swallowing the blues of his eyes. He waited a moment for the nod to come, and when it did, it was like the whole universe suddenly came into focus and collapsed around them into just their one tiny sanctuary beneath the heavens. Into just their slow, gentle press of their lips. Below them were all the troubles of tomorrow, of Floyd’s recovery, of learning where they went next under Valentina’s control and Dagger Squad’s teasing eyes. But none of that mattered when everything above them was possibilities and the promise they could do this whenever they wanted, now that the skies were back under their protection. Floyd swore he could feel the power of the serum as they kissed, those plush yet thin lips vibrating with untold energy as they opened up for him so sweetly. They moved once again in perfect synchronicity, ducking and diving their mouths in partnership, hands bringing them together, holding and cherishing. Safe, trusting and understood. They learned each other’s movements as quickly off the battlefield and on, leaving behind sparks only they could feel. Creating new memories that would stay with them forever.
It was that day, as their friends celebrated below them and the birds all sang again around them, that both Bobs learned for the first time what flying truly felt like.
