civilian life 🎖️ (john walker x reader)
summary: when an early morning run to take his mind off things turns into an impromptu rescue mission, john walker finds a surprisingly friendly shoulder to unload his woes on.
warnings: all plot no porn lol, super sweet tooth rotting fluff!!! brief depiction of stalking, mugging and threat of assault (with john to the rescue!), reader doesn't realize/know who john is, divorce talk, implied crushes on both sides, scariest thing in this fic is reader thinking jogging at the damn witching hour is a good idea LOL
words: 10.1k
a/n: first of all, happy john walker wednesday! second, holy MOLY, look who finally came out of the wood work after all this time! :''D it has been a HOT minute since i've put out a fully fleshed fic, but hopefully this is the kick off to even more to come (for this story or otherwise hehe), or at the very least it's my rare once-in-a-blue-moon tribute to the fanfic gods before i disappear into the void again lol. dividers i used are by @/cafekitsune :))
playlist pairing 🍷: on the horizon 🌅 (i made this playlist for a new years hike i took last year, and i think the mellow but hopeful vibes suit it pretty well!)
click here to read on ao3!
John Walker is a lot of things - a decorated combat veteran, a master tactician, a super soldier even - but he’s also a man who’s no stranger to nightmares. Ever since that patriotic naivete of his was forcefully carved out from his heart again, and again, and again, he’s never remembered knowing the peace of a true night’s rest.
Tonight, Walker finds himself jolting up from his restless sleep like he always does, his on-edge nervous system barking at every possible stimuli like an anxious guard dog. Sweat beads on his forehead and drips down his heaving chest, drenching the sheets beneath him, enhanced muscles pulled taut from stress. His lungs are burning, and a cruel reminder of his super soldier strength hides under his clenched fists, fingers digging into the plush surface of his mattress until he gouged out its innards and pricked himself on the bed springs.
Thankfully, the nightmares have started to fade faster as soon as he’s up, but a lingering reminder still rings in his ears, like the remnants of a church bell:
“If you had a chance to take the serum, would you do it?”
He does his best to brush it off, wiping his face with his hand, his defunct wedding band glinting in the low evening light. He catches a glimpse of his alarm clock, glaring red numbers antagonizing his tired gaze - 4:17 AM.
At least New York is a city as sleepless as he is these days.
It’s a sight to behold when Walker tries not to over analyze every superficial aspect of his being, throwing on some sweats he deems half decent from one of the wrinkled piles of clothes on the floor. As he makes his way to the bathroom, wading through the slight sloppiness of his newly bachelorized pad along the way, he’s thankful he won’t have to spend much time in this damn apartment anymore. It wasn't anything personal against the place, but Walker was finding it difficult to make anything feel close to the home he used to share, the comforts of his old life far away and long absent. At least the establishment of the so-called “New Avengers” supposedly came with lodging in their shiny new high-rise headquarters - or, it will, as soon as the living spaces are finally built out and properly furnished. Hell, he probably could’ve been living in a nicer place to begin with considering how much Valentina was paying him, but this was the first place he was able to snag in the wake of…well, everything. It actually happened to be Bucky’s old apartment before he made his big move to DC, a small but quaint spot in Brooklyn that the Winter Soldier subtly offered him when shit started to hit the fan with Olivia-
God, even the thought of her name makes his body tense, his heart aching in his chest like an annoying case of heartburn he just can’t rid himself of completely. He doesn’t even bother to turn on the light to endure his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, splashing some cold water on his face in a miserable attempt to just snap out of it.
After stitching himself somewhat back together and throwing on a ratty pair of running shoes, he finally emerges from his building, the cool autumn breeze cutting across his cheeks as a reminder of the season’s turn. He lets himself have this small moment of anonymity - of peace - looking forward to getting washed away in the city as he starts to warm up for his jog. With tactical armor and kevlar exchanged for stretchy jersey and cotton, his helmet now a plain gray hood drawn over his ruffled bedhead, he’s just another civilian again, some random every man going about his life.
A simple man who’s never known the greater horrors the world has to offer.
As he begins to set his impressive super soldier pace, he briefly wonders who he would even be if his life had been so different, if he really was just some guy instead of whatever he turned out to be. He decides to let his mind wander, albeit carefully, trying to guide his thoughts away from perilous sore spots like winding past mental potholes.
He might’ve taken a chance on that full ride football scholarship he rightfully earned - where was it to again? UGA? Georgia Tech? Either way, if he did well on whatever team he ended up on, which he was 100% sure he would, he might’ve even been scouted for the NFL. That draws a small chuckle out of him through his steadying breaths. At least Olivia wouldn’t have to sneak into his games anymore-
His train of thought grinds to a screeching halt before it can finish, Walker clearing his throat to no one as he settles back into his steps. The ache in his chest was still as present as ever, despite trying to center himself with the sensation of his feet pounding into the pavement beneath him.
It was gonna be a long morning, and probably an even longer jog.
“On your left!”
Ugh. This guy again.
Your head snaps to attention through the music blaring in your ears as you continue your own jog, skirting over to the side to let your mystery rival pass you for the second time this morning. You’ve never seen his face, since whenever you did manage to see him he’d always have his hood up, but you're sure you’d recognize that annoying tone of voice from 50 miles away at this point. He also happened to be one of the only other people crazy enough to jog through Central Park at this hour, just when you thought you finally found a time to enjoy the place without any of the annoying doe-eyed tourists.
You try not to let it phase you since you'd never stand a chance trying to match his pace, but you can't help but let a little mocking "On your left~" out as you turn your music up just a touch louder. The only other reason you were out here as early as you were, aside from the pointless attempts to have Central Park all to yourself, was usually thanks to a rowdy shift at your bartending gig, causing you to throw back one too many energy drinks to keep up with your nearly endless list of duties. Finding yourself exhausted but not sleep-deprived once you got home, you only recently started to try and get something more productive out of that time instead of just scrolling through your phone, waiting for the caffeine to fade. It definitely took some self-coaxing to get yourself to do it, but despite how crazy it sounded, there really were some genuine benefits; you slept like a baby when you finally got home, and felt a little more refreshed when you woke up. You'd always be first in line at your favorite breakfast place nearby, you finally had time to catch up on all the albums, podcasts and audiobooks you'd been meaning to get too, and you even started to appreciate sunrises more than you ever had in the past five years you called this place home.
That being said, that doesn't mean jogging at this hour didn't come with its downsides either. No matter what you did to make yourself look as unappealing as possible, idiots on the street could somehow still make out your physique and cat call you to their heart's content. You'd gotten better at disengaging like you normally do at any other time of day, and you always did your best to be as aware of your surroundings as possible at all times…
Unfortunately, sometimes your best of anything doesn't prepare you for the worst luck.
As you pretend to check your shoe to see if you stepped in something, a habit you picked up to sneakily check if someone was behind you, you pick up two shady figures in your peripheral vision. They were jogging a few paces behind you, notably wearing all black outfits that made them even harder to see once out of the range of any nearby lamplight. It also just wasn’t safe - most people would know to wear some kind of visibility gear when you’re jogging this late, or at least lighter colors to make sure you can be seen if you happen to cross the street or something.
You try to steady your breathing and refocus on your pace, but your mind races while trying to pull out any other modicum of helpful information to figure out what their deal was. Thankfully, something does spring to mind - something about changing up your path in order to confuse any possible pursuers - and the next chance you got, you turned onto a rougher, more gravelly path that cut through some of the park's greenery. Pretending to look over at the trees on your right, you try your best out of the corner of your eye to see if those weirdos were tailing you after all. Even though you struggled to see with the lesser light and denser urban foliage, you're unfortunately able to make out the same dark shrouds, stalking you like your lingering shadow.
Fuck.
After some close calls with some bushes that tried to snag your sweats, you make another turn back towards the bigger main sidewalk, hopefully towards a more populated area of the park. You try your shoe trick again, only to have your heart drop into your stomach upon seeing those two shady figures were still there, albeit a few paces behind you. You catch one of them starting to move a little closer to the other, leaning in like they were trying to discuss something.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, did they know that you caught onto their tailing? Were they plotting their next move to try and chase you down? Whatever they were trying to do, you sure as hell didn't want to be just another victim, or someone who went down quietly for that matter.
As you turn your gaze back to the outstretched path ahead of you, trying to soothe yourself between ragged, panicky breaths, your eyes catch a glimpse of hope in a skinny red line on the end of the sidewalk - a call box. Maybe, just maybe if you bolted for it, you could slam down on the police button and have the cops here in a heartbeat, or at the very least someone would know that something bad was happening where you were and could get some kind of help.
Throwing caution to the wind, you finally let a fearful rush of adrenaline take hold, pushing off into the fastest and most important sprint of your life. Your lungs burn in your chest as you heave out broken cries for help, and your ears only catch the sound of blood rushing through them. They unfortunately also catch the goons confirming your worst suspicions, their shouts growing louder behind you as they catch on to your attempt at an escape.
But your exhausted legs, the ones that had been jogging for over an hour straight at this point, unfortunately had enough of all of this.
You stumble in your stride as your knees begin to buckle, and while you do your best to catch yourself, it’s already too late. You slow just enough for those shady bastards to finally approach, feeling a strong set of arms thread themselves under your own to pull you back off your feet. You’re screaming for as long as you’re able before you’re quickly silenced by a gloved hand covering your mouth, and a sharp blade hovering over your throat.
"Search 'em." A gruff voice from the man holding you hisses, with his friend following orders to swiftly pat you down, searching your pockets and snatching your obvious valuables: mainly your phone and a metrocard you had shoved in one of your pockets. You were thankful that you made a habit of dropping off your wallet and any cash from your shift at your apartment before your late night jogs, but losing your phone was definitely going to suck.
"Aw shit, they don't even have that much on them." The man whines, unable to get a clear look at his face with his hood and mask covering most of his features. You do catch a glimpse of his eyes though, dark circles peering through the shadow cast across his face, like the gaze of a predator stalking its next meal. "But they are kinda cute though."
Your stomach somehow drops even further, tears prickling on the edge of your vision as a muffled cry leaves your lips. The man laughs, one of his gloved hands lingering over your waist, just above the loose waistband of your sweats. "What do you think?"
The man holding you groans. "You're such a horny bastard, you fuckin' know that?" He complains, "I'm not gonna hold a knife to their throat while I watch you get your rocks off."
"Aw, c'mon man, I don't think they'll bite," The other reassures with a shrug, "They look like they take orders well enough, don'tcha sweetheart?"
The string of foul language and insults leaving your mouth is once again muffled by the glove still covering it, drawing an amused laugh out of your assailant.
"Dude, come on," The man holding you insists, "Let's just cut our losses and get the hell out of-"
"HEY!"
Both you and your captors turn towards the unexpected shout just ahead of you, and it takes you a moment to recognize the generic gray sweats that passed you only a few moments ago. It looked like your mystery rival was jogging back the way he came, but clearly wasn’t expecting to stumble onto a scene like this.
The man who was patting you down sighs, holding up a hand to signal his friend to keep in place, feeling the blade shake just a bit at your neck. "Listen buddy, I know you're probably itchin' to be a hero right now," He starts, flicking out his own hidden blade from his pocket, "But I think you should just jog back to wherever you came from, if you know what's good for ya. Got it?"
Much to your surprise and mild annoyance, your only chance at getting out of this unscathed had the nerve to sigh, almost like the knife was more of an inconvenience to him than an active threat. For the first time in all your run ins with him, you hear him speak more than those stupid three words you were so used to hearing.
"You really don’t want to do this.”
His voice was gruffer, deeper and almost deadly, like a sniper aiming down a barrel. In literally almost any other scenario, you might've even thought it was hot.
The goon ahead of him just laughs in response, striding a bit more confidently towards your supposed hero. "All you fancy fitness types think you're different just cause you got a bit more muscle to ya," He taunts, "but that doesn't mean you know how to fight."
Your sweat suit savior cracks his neck, his shoulders rolling back as he stands a bit taller. "Try me."
With a scoff and a pause, the goon swipes forward with his blade once, then twice, with your hero doing his best to step back and dodge his advances. On the third swipe, he manages to snag a baggier part of his sleeve as he blocks, slicing through the fabric and leaving a small but not insignificant cut behind. The goon laughs, clearly getting some sick kick out of the thrill of it all, but your rival looked as if he had enough. On the next swipe, he manages to block the attacker's swing, grabbing his forearm in one swift movement and holding back the strike with surprising strength. The goon huffed and strained, trying to first bring down the blow, then attempting to pull away from his grasp, but succeeding at neither. As the horrific realization of just how strong this guy is begins to dawn on him, he's hit with it quite literally as a punch drives itself into his unprotected gut, knocking the wind out of his body with one swift puff.
"Remember," You barely hear your hero grunt as he pulls the goon closer to his face, "You asked for this."
Almost like a bored child tossing a toy to the side, your hero uses the leverage in holding your assailant's arm to swing him around and send him flying back, tumbling across the asphalt before stopping just a few steps away from you and your captor.
As the goon struggles to catch his breath, he groans loudly as he struggles to get back up, settling for just barely pushing himself off the ground as he looks back at the psycho who just beat his ass.
“What…the fuck?!” He says through heaving breaths, still trying to regain his shattered composure.
Your savior shrugs, pulling back his hood as he starts to approach the goon who was holding you hostage. “I tried to tell you.”
He steps briefly into the light of a nearby streetlamp, finally revealing the long awaited face of your short term jogging rival. You were shocked someone could look so stupidly handsome at this hour, let alone in this type of situation - a rough mess of tousled ginger hair with gruff beard on a stiff jaw to match, blue eyes that could probably pierce through someone’s soul if you looked too long, and a hint of a shit eating grin lingering over a flash of pearly whites.
Your confused and slightly enamored focus was swiftly cut by the blade that was still there, pressing itself closer to your neck. "Stay down asshole!" Your captor hisses, but his friend doesn't take the hint as he still tries to get back on his feet somehow. He's barely able to sit up before your handsome hero kicks him square in the jaw, sending him back to the pavement with a lifeless thud.
Your captor begins to panic, scuttling back and dragging you with him, the blade shakily grazing your neck. “H-hey, st-stay back man! I’m warning you!”
“Well,” He starts a bit too calmly as he slowly begins to walk towards you, his hands raising innocently, “I’m warning you that the police are already on their way here, so unless you also want a manslaughter charge on your record, I highly suggest you drop the knife and let them go.” He gestures back to something not too far behind him - the call box you tried so desperately to make it to earlier. “You probably have, what, five minutes before the cops show up?”
You feel the knife start to quiver against your neck, the goon's breath starting to tremble from behind your ear. "...Fuck."
The strong arms holding you back move to release you, leaving you gasping for air as you feel the blade finally leave your throat, collapsing to your knees on the ground. Your captor either smartly or stupidly bolts for it, leaving his friend out cold and in the dust without a second thought. As you catch your breath, the looming shadow of your new found friend draws a bit closer, but he seems careful to not touch you given what you just endured.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” He reassured you as he leaned down, softening his confidence-soaked tone from earlier, “Are you hurt?”
You suck in a breath, trying to blink back tears and bite back the scratchy feeling rising in your throat. “I’m alright,” You manage to reply while meeting his gaze, “Just a bit shaken up, that’s all.”
“Good, good.” He nods, looking back in the direction that coward ran off to. You almost swear he looked like he wanted to go after them himself, and you didn't doubt that he could given his crazy jogging pace. When he looks back at you though, the worry must've been clear enough on your face for him to change his mind, his expression softening as he extends a hand. “I’m John, by the way.”
For the first time all morning, a small smile starts to form on your face as you take his hand, giving him your name in return while he helps you to your feet. “I wanna say thank you, but that honestly feels like an understatement.”
He smiles back, and it’s warm and welcoming against the cold winds whistling around you both. "I'm just glad I decided to check on you when I did." He casually admits, checking over the cut on his arm.
Your eyes widen a bit, not at the sight of the blood coming from the wound, but something else. Honestly, you were more taken back that he was just as aware of your presence as you were of his. "Wait, you were checking on me?"
"Well, yeah." He shrugged, casually ripping off the dangling bits of his sleeve to use as a makeshift bandage as he spoke. "You're always on your own on the rare occasions I've seen you here, so…"
"You thought it'd be easier to lap me and come back than to just, I dunno, slow down and ask if I was okay?"
It's hard to see in such dim conditions, but you swear his cheeks got just a touch redder. "I just didn't want to creep you out or make you think I was coming onto you." He clarifies. "I'm sure you deal with enough of that shit already."
Was that…supposed to be a compliment? You weren't entirely sure, and can't hide the confusion that knit your brow for a moment, but you end up just shrugging it off. "I appreciate it anyway. At least you're more aware than most men of how you'd look doing that shit." You sigh, shoving your cozy gloved hands into your pockets as you rock back and forth on your feet, thinking of something to fill the silence while you wait for the cops to arrive. "Y'know, some guy asked me if I was single while I was taking out the trash earlier this week."
John's nose crinkles in a way that shouldn't be as cute as it is on someone like him. "Huh. And they say romance is dead."
You both find yourself laughing a little, yours more bright yet subtle while his warmly resonates from somewhere deeper in his chest. It almost feels stupid, like something out of a movie you can't remember all the details of, but you can't help but get swept up in the fantasy of the handsome stranger standing in front of you. Maybe it's all the adrenaline still running through your veins, or your heart thrumming faster in your chest, but you almost get the nerve to ask him for his number - until the sound of sirens and heavy boots hitting the pavement brings you back to reality.
Your rival-turned-hero at least had the decency to stay with you while you gave your statement to the police, along with his own. They dragged the unconscious body of the leftover goon into one of their squad cars with ease, and you wished you could give him one more swift kick in the ass on his way out as they returned your limited belongings. While an ambulance didn't arrive, they were still luckily able to help John with his wound, but you were shocked when they said he didn't need stitches after all. It seemed like the knife had cut way deeper than it looked now, but maybe it was a trick of the light?
Or, maybe he was just lucky, you figured.
With formalities and reporting out of the way, the cops offered to have one of them accompany you back home, but you politely declined. Honestly, you trusted a handsome stranger who just saved your life more than anyone who felt the unfortunate calling to become part of the NYPD.
"Suit yourself," The cop who offered replied with a shrug, "But if anything else happens, just call the non-emergency line if you can."
Oh, fuck off. "Gee, I’ll keep that in mind." You replied flatly in the face of that unbelievable irony, and you swear you heard John catch a laugh in his throat, coming out as a rough cough instead. Soon enough the cops had scattered from the scene, a few staying behind in the park to bump up their evening patrol and try to look for the other goon who managed to get away. It was just you and John alone again, the sky still dark with just a few less stars than before, telling you just how little time had somehow passed during this whole ordeal.
"...Y'know, you're less annoying than I thought you'd be." Is what you choose to break the silence with once the cops were out of sight.
John's brow wrinkles in offense, his back straightening up a bit again. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, the only thing I had to go off of was 'on your left!' and how you're always jogging at the speed of sound like you're the next Usain Bolt." You joke with a shrug.
He weirdly seems to relax at your response, almost like he was expecting a different answer. "Oh…well, yeah," He answers stiffly, scratching the back of his head, "I guess I can see that." He pauses, looking around with a shrug. "So, what now? Would you want me to walk with you the rest of the way, or-"
"Oh! Well, I mean, you could," You awkwardly suggest, "But honestly, I don't know if I'd be able to keep up with you even at walking speed."
He chuckles, looking down at the ground before finding your face again. "So, what, you want me to carry you the rest of the way?" The heat rushes to your cheeks before you can even comprehend it, and John seems to register what just left his mouth without thinking. "I mean, I could - it wouldn't be hard to pick you up, I mean - but it's more, like, it'd be kind of…weird. I guess. Unless you really can't walk, but-"
"No, no, it's fine, I can walk." You clarify, your face practically on fire at the thought of him carrying you like a princess through the entirety of Central Park. "I think I'd be okay to make it home on my own, actually."
A pause.
"...You sure?" John asked, his voice clearly teeming with concern.
For some reason, you nod, though your voice still warbles a bit with nerves as you speak. "I think so, yeah. I-I wouldn't want to slow you down anyway, so..."
John just smiles, graciously accepting your wishes with a bow of his head. "You're sweet. Just," He meets your eyes, crystalline blues shining in the low light of the street lamps nearby, "Be careful out here, okay?"
You nod back, and just like that, he starts to turn to leave.
“Wait!”
Thankfully you stop him just before he tries to set another breakneck pace for his jog, his eyes meeting yours as he turns back to look at you - one last chance.
“...Do you drink coffee?”
Two piping hot coffees gently warm your hands through your gloves, carrying them gently from the nearby coffee cart to where your knight in shining sweatpants waits on a nearby bench.
“One coffee, plain as hell like you asked.” You offer with a smile, handing him his cup before taking a seat. He nodded in thanks before taking a sip, with you following suit as you tried to think of something to suddenly fill the empty air between you again. “So…how many hopeless damsels in distress do you find yourself saving on a regular basis?”
Much to your relief, that actually got a dry laugh out of him, the air from it cooling and condensing into a puff of fog in front of his ruggedly handsome face. “More than you’d probably think.”
“And do you always save them from muggings, or is it more, like, saving them from shitty dates or stepping in puddles?”
You were both laughing now, the adrenaline of the whole situation finally seeming to wear off, leaving you as two normal people again. “Mostly mugging-adjacent things, I guess.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “Not so much all that romantic stuff.”
He gestures vaguely in the air with his left hand as he speaks, and it was in this moment that a harrowing glint of gold caught your eye - a wedding band.
“Oh! My bad,” You shyly apologized, secretly thanking the crisp fall air for hiding the heat now creeping onto your cheeks, “I didn’t see-” Your circle your hand in the air near his.
His eyes catch on his own ring, like he somehow forgot it was even there in the first place. “Oh, uh, well,” He awkwardly hides his hand as he rakes it through his hair, “That’s uh…I’m actually not married. Not anymore.”
Your stomach drops. “Fuck man, I’m so sorry, I-”
Before any more words can awkwardly stumble out of your mouth, he’s putting up his hand to stop you. “No, no, it’s fine, I just-” He catches another glance at his ring before running his hand through his hair again, “It’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.”
You nod, the awkward silence storming back in as you both quietly sipped your coffees.
“...Was it recent?”
His lips press together in a fine line. “Finalized a few months ago, actually.”
You hum in understanding. “Probably takes longer to recover from it though, huh?”
He chuckles, but it feels like it falls flat, more resembling an exhale than a laugh. “You could say that.” He says with a pause, his left hand now brought down and closing into a fist in his lap, but his shoulders soften with a sigh. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“How long were you together?”
He hesitates, taking his sweet time as you both seem to brace for the answer. “Since high school. Graduated in…2004?”
You try better this time to hide the shock flashing through your features, but Jesus Christ, you’ve really done it now.
“Woah.” Is all you can puff out with a nervous chuckle.
“Oh, it gets worse,” he interjects without hesitation, like he was beating you to a punch you weren’t even thinking of throwing, “Shipped myself off to the military as soon as I graduated too.”
You can’t help but laugh a little as some of the pieces start to fall into place in your mind. “That explains a lot. Military dudes are always rushing to get married for some reason.”
“It’s usually a benefits thing.” He clarifies after taking another sip, eyes lingering on some simple foliage just ahead. “Usually.”
“But it wasn’t for you, right?”
Another chuckle-esk huff. “How’d you guess?”
“Well…speaking from my disastrously single experience, I like to think I can tell when someone actually cares." You admit with a shrug. "Or I could be totally wrong - can’t really say my judgement of men is super accurate.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh, definitely. Just ask any of my friends about the shit storm of people I’ve dated.”
“Well, then how do you know I’m not plotting to try and mug you like those assholes from earlier?” He asks, but you sputter a laugh at the look he gives you; a sly smirk peeking at the corner of his mouth, his eyes glinting with mischief under the street lights.
“Geez, god forbid I think the guy who casually saved my life is a good person.” You joke with a laugh. “Then how do you know I’m not pulling some sort of long con on you? I could’ve spiked your coffee with something for all you know.”
John opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself. He lets out a deep grunt, clutching at his chest, but it was just dramatic enough to reassure you it was fake. “Oh no…the poison…” He hisses, laying back on the bench and throwing an arm dramatically over his forehead like a fainting widow. “If only someone nearby had the extremely convenient antidote on them…” He opens one eye to drive the point home while catching a glance at you, but you’re too busy cackling and keeling over yourself to notice. When you try to sit up, tears of laughter rolling down your cheeks, he realizes just how pretty your eyes are.
He clears his throat as he readjusts himself on the bench. “For the record, I actually have been poisoned once, but it was an accident…I think.”
“Oh, fuck off!” You practically yell in disbelief, catching a brief glance from some nosy scattered passerbys. “You’re serious? It wasn’t just a bad case of food poisoning or something?” “Sometimes I wish it was.” He recalled with an honest shrug. “Someone local tried to offer us food towards the end of an operation in Afghanistan, and I was young, and hungry, and an idiot. Ended up needing medical supervision for at least three days.” He takes another long sip of his coffee, almost like he was taking a drag of a cigarette. “Can’t say I blame them if they really did try to poison us, given the circumstances."
“Wow.” Is all you can manage to say, but you realize this is probably where your prodding should end. “You’ve really been through the ringer, huh?”
You watch as he shakes his head, bringing his coffee back to his lips one more time. “Understatement of the fucking century.”
You roll your eyes, finishing off the remnants of your own drink and springing off the bench, tossing your cup in a nearby trash can before holding out your hand. “Alright then, Mr. Tragic Backstory," You teased, "How about we try to make something good happen in your life for a change then?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“Just c’mon.” You goad, wiggling your hand in front of him like a piece of bait. “Unless you think you can’t keep up with me.”
He smiles again, squinting at you as he leans back, tucking his arm under the one holding his drink to try and cross his arms. “Is that a challenge?”
You shrug. “Maybe. Just seems like you struggle to slow down every once in a while.”
That draws even more of his painfully charming smile out as he chuckles, finally rising from the bench. As you take your hand back, you try not to shrink a little at just how much he towers over you when he gets to his full height. “Fair enough. Lead the way then.”
He’s still nursing on his coffee as you walk through the park, seeming content to just listen as you attempt to explain your plan without completely spoiling the surprise. “There’s a really cool clearing I like to go to sometimes, but I haven’t been there in a hot minute. I stumbled into it when I finally started coming here more often."
"And how often is that, exactly?"
You hum as you try to calculate an answer, pursing your lips in thought. "Roughly once a week-ish, if I had to guess?" You reply, "But the jogs are usually a rarer thing. I actually used to hate coming here because of all the crowds. I get that it's famous and all, but it's still a park at the end of the day. You think there'd be less hype about it after so many years."
You walk along the sidewalk for a bit before ducking onto a rougher dirt path, both of you having to dodge some stray branches dusting your sides. “I don’t live here here though, near the park I mean,” You clarify, gesturing to the denser foliage surrounding you both, “But I live close enough to come here when I feel like it, and far enough to afford it.”
“Must be nice," He points out, "I actually live in Brooklyn. The place used to be a friend of mine’s, so I got lucky and snagged it when he had to move for work.”
“Oh, cool.” You initially reply, but a thought immediately hits you like a brick to the back of your head. “Wait, you jogged here all the way from Brooklyn?!”
“What? No, I-” He explained a bit too curtly, trying to pretend he took a pause to catch his breath, “I took the train. Like a normal person." You stop and turn to try and catch if he was lying, but he puts his smug act back on fast. "But I appreciate the compliment.”
You roll your eyes, your face relaxing as an annoyed groan you made melds into a sigh. “So you’re just a normal weirdo then." You note, continuing forward through the greenery ahead. "Good to know.”
“Wh- hey!”
“What? Nothing wrong with being a weirdo." You politely clarify. "You’re just joining the club.” You tease with a smirk, turning your focus towards trying to find familiarity in your surroundings. “I think we’re almost there.”
As the foliage starts to thin out a bit, your eyes finally set themselves on your awaited destination. It was a pretty basic clearing, the gravely path you were taking still cutting through just ahead of you, leading back where you came and forward towards civilization. Dotted around the area were these large boulders, similar to ones that were out in larger and more public areas of the park, but these were hidden away just enough to not be taken over by eager masses at the first sign of daybreak. John seemed to trail behind you as he took the area in, almost like he was surveilling it, but you paid it no mind as you made your way to a humble rock amongst the larger boulders. It was about 10 feet high, with a roughened surface that made it a bit easier to traverse than some of the smoother walls you found here. You hook your hand into the same holds you always do, doing your best to hoist yourself up. "C'mon! I think the sunrise is gonna start any minute now."
Looking back, instead of seeing John watching you climb with all your might, he was gesturing to a different stone just a few feet away. You didn't know the exact height, but you could swear it was at least double the one you were currently scaling. "Why not this one? It's probably got a way better view."
"I would," You puff, trying to focus on getting up the wall in front of you, "But I don't feel like snapping my legs in half on the way down, thank you very much."
"It wouldn't even be that far of a fall, I'm sure you could make it." He reassures, glancing at your shabby climbing form like he was considering it in whatever equation he was running in his head. "Or I could hoist you up, y'know."
You'd only gotten about two feet off the ground before you sighed, starting to make your way back down. "And you're just gonna climb right up after me?"
"Climbing drills were practically beaten into me through basic training. I could probably scale this thing with my eyes closed.”
You hop to the ground, dusting off your gloves before folding your arms. "Okay then, prove it."
He stares at you blankly. "...I'm not actually going to scale this thing with my eyes closed."
"But you said you could." You throw back at him with a smirk.
"Probably could. With practice." He clarifies, looking back up the wall. "Or at least a test climb or something."
"Sure bud." You encourage halfheartedly, but you honestly didn't think he was lying. You just found it was a little fun to mess with his seemingly military-sized ego.
He rolls his eyes, gesturing to the rock you were just attempting to climb. "Look, you'll barely be able to see anything from that rock's point of view, that's all I'm getting at. Don't you want to see the entire sunrise, not just some little piece of it?"
You smirk widens into a sly grin as you slide your gloves off, stuffing them into the pockets of your jacket. “See, I knew you still had some whimsy in you.”
He rolls his eyes, kneeling down and cradling his hands together in front of him. “Just shut up and climb.”
As soon as you set one foot onto his hands, he hoists you up with a surprising strength you weren’t expecting, like you were light as a feather despite all your bulkier winter layers. You did your best to grab onto some stable crevice in the stone, feeling your heart drop a bit as you felt him slowly stop supporting you from below. “You got it?”
“Uh, yeah!” You squeak, trying your best to leverage yourself as you climb despite not knowing this wall nearly as well as the last one. You manage to make it a decent way up, only slipping every now and then on a crevice that was shallower than you expected, reaching up to grab the edge of the rock’s surface just above you. Of course, as your luck would have it, your arm was just too short to reach it from where you were hanging, and while you could scale stuff in general, you weren’t exactly an expert rock climber that could just throw themselves up there.
"Doing great there champ." John sarcastically goads from the ground. "You're almost there."
You groan, trying your best to focus on pulling yourself up. "Would you just shut-"
Before you realize what's happening, you feel your foot slip out from its hold, causing your upper grip to falter as you scramble against the smooth surface for a firmer edge to grasp onto. You yelp, legs failing as you try to claw for any kind of grip on the rock, only to have your hands cling to nothing. “JOHN!”
You feel yourself plummet for what felt like a small eternity, even if it really was just a few seconds. Instead of slamming into the cold hard ground though, you land rather daintily in the arms of your super buff savior without missing a beat. Your eyes are squeezed shut in fear, body tense to brace for the fall that never came, so it takes you a minute to unfurl yourself from your roly-poly esque reaction.
When you slowly open your eyes to make sure you weren't just a human pancake on the ground, you're greeted by the closest look you've gotten yet of the handsome mug that's been following you all morning. From afar he was certainly nice to look at, like one of the paintings you'd see at the MoMA, but up close? This close? A few strands of his hair fell out of place, dusted across his forehead, and a small trail of adorable moles trailed down his neck just to the right of his Adam's apple. There were lines on his forehead and crinkles near his eyes, and you briefly tried to imagine all the things that led to their formation. What kind of life had he lived, and more importantly, what kind of life was he living now, especially in the wake of so much terrible change? Your heart ached a little in your chest for him, and you just couldn't help it.
Unlike you, however, John doesn’t even take a beat to savor the moment, or acknowledge how his heart nearly burst out of his chest trying to catch you. "I don't know how you're living in a place like this when you need this much saving all the time."
Your face is beet red by the time you finally open your mouth to respond, lightly punching him in the chest - it was firmer than you expected it to be - “Shut up! Let me try again, I can do it-”
“Not a chance.” He quips as he gently lets you down from his arms. “I got this.”
He walks up to the tall stone you just fell from, suddenly jumping to a surprising height to grab the same crevice you needed to be hoisted to. He finds his footing much faster, leaving you to watch his military training pay off in real time as he scaled the rock like it was just some kiddie climbing wall at a theme park. He takes a moment to steady himself once he makes it to the top before kneeling over the edge, extending his arm down towards you. “C’mon, I’ll pull you up.”
“What?!”
“What do you mean ‘what?’ You don’t think I can pull you up?”
“I don't know - do you care about possibly pulling your shoulder out of your socket?" You point out. "Or mine for that matter!”
He huffs, reaching out his hand a little farther down the rock’s side. “Trust me, I can handle it. Just try to use the edges as leverage as you come up.”
You huff as he gestures for you to come closer, preparing yourself for the smaller and hopefully more manageable climb you’d need to scale to reach his grasp. “Alright, but you should probably see a doctor about whatever wack ass steroids you’re taking.”
After a bit of finagling with the same tricky spots as before, you finally get enough height in your climb to grab onto his hand. Once again he also surprises you with just how much pure strength he has, even in just one arm. You try to help by leveraging little nooks you pass as you’re pulled up the side, but you almost feel like he’s picking you up a bit too easily, like some delicate little leaf he found on the ground. You weren’t sure if you were more freaked out, flustered, or just plain impressed by the whole display at this point.
He lifts you over the edge with ease, helping steady you a bit more gracefully as you stand up on top of the rock. You open your mouth to thank him once again, albeit slightly annoyed, but your eyes catch on something just behind him.
"Wow…"
It had been a long time since you'd felt like this, let alone while admiring the view of the sun slowly peeking out from the horizon. It was hard for the sky to feel anything but small or claustrophobic in a place as densely packed as New York, but in this moment you felt that weight was briefly cut loose to let you fully absorb this moment. You walk past John to one of the other edges of the rock, taking a seat and pulling your knees to your chest, resting your chin on top of them as you watch the blooming horizon in awe. John almost moves to make another cheap quip, but his eyes land on the horizon that fixates him just the same, leading him to take a quiet seat next to you.
It had also been a long time since John had ever sat in a more still, willing silence like this. The quiet of his absent family wasn't entirely new at this point despite not actively choosing it, and ever since the whole Thunderbolts thing it's rarely been this peaceful. It was almost like he barely had any control over anything anymore, his life always wildly oscillating between two completely different types of chaotic existence.
"It's actually nice to see the city not falling apart all the time for once." You joke with a smile, breaking through his line of thought as you point out some of the buildings taking up space on the skyline. "Even if it's just for a little bit."
"I guess so." John agrees with a nod, but something was still bothering him in the back of his mind. Up until this point he hadn't minded the lack of recognition on your end, but he really wondered how with all the crazy news coverage of Bob's big blackout, and now the New Avengers, that you somehow didn't recognise him at all.
Thankfully, you accidentally read his mind as you break the ice for him. "Were you here for that crazy blackout that happened a few weeks ago?"
John's brows raise as he tries to finagle some kind of explanation from the depths of his mind, something that sounded plausible but didn't give himself away.
"I was, yeah." Is the best he can think of.
You puff out a long exhale. "I was out of town for that, weirdly enough. I had to go to a friend's wedding out of state, and I didn't know what was happening until I checked my phone after the ceremony." You tried not to let the survivor's guilt punctuate your tone too much, but John could sense it from the moment the words left your mouth. "Thankfully it got handled fast from what I heard, but, still."
John's nose crinkled. "It didn't feel that fast."
You let out a laugh. "Fuck, I'm sure it didn't. Some of my friends told me about what happened to them, and…God." All you can do is shake your head. "I can't imagine the absolute fucking horrors some people relived that day."
A flash of memory stings against John's consciousness, one where he was fighting tooth and nail through those so-called shame rooms of his to get to the other Thunderbolts. The images he had to pass through like Herculean tests flicker briefly behind his eyes - Lemar dying in his arms, seeing himself as a stupid kid back on the front lines of Afghanistan, all his blood-soaked "honors" being stripped from him like he never deserved them in the first place, him and Olivia-
"...Yeah." Is all that John can muster as a reply.
Realizing you might've accidentally struck a nerve at his reserved answer, you let the silence settle in a little more comfortably this time, both of your gazes dwelling on the horizon. At this point the sky had lightened up a bit since your meet-cute mugging, and the sun had just started making itself known, the first peek of a pale yellow slowly starting to saturate the sky from the east with warmer tones like watercolors.
"At least it's all still here, right?" You manage with a smile. "And somehow, it's still this beautiful."
Maybe it was those harsher memories still lingering in the back of his mind, but something about what you said echoes in John's chest for a moment, causing him to swallow back a scratchy feeling that tried and failed to rise in his throat. John would hardly call himself an optimist, maybe a realist at best, but it was moments like these that really humbled him with the reminder of why such seemingly blissful ignorance could exist in the first place -it could exist because of him. Because of everything the Thunderbolts did that day, and would hopefully continue to do under whatever bullshit name they changed to in the future. This was all he really wanted to do, not just now, but in every single aspect of his life, with every moment he's ever had on this god forsaken planet - he wanted to protect the good in the world.
And for the first time since that day he went dark in those shame rooms, he realized that he'd actually succeeded, for once.
"God," John's mouth decides to voice from these deep revelations turning over in his mind, "You're just so…positive."
He says it almost like it's a bad thing, but you know sarcasm as a coping mechanism when you hear it. “Oh, don't get me wrong, the world still absolutely sucks," You quickly clarify, "Shitty corporations, corrupt politicians, literal alien attacks - it’s practically on fire all the fucking time these days - but, despite that, everyday is a new chance for it to be even just a little bit better. I mean, look at it!” You sweep your arm across the horizon, as if you were smearing the rising colors of dawn under your palm. “And it's the same for us too, y’know."
You take your eyes off the sunrise to face him completely, with John just casually glancing over. "Why wouldn’t we get the same chance to change that the universe we exist in gets all the time, no questions asked?”
John's eyes widen slightly, but a small smile can't help but tug at his lips. Maybe finally meeting you was some sort of a sign for him, a symbol of what was to come from all this nonsense - not that he necessarily believed in those kinds of things, but like you succinctly said, crazier things have certainly happened.
John just scoffs, clearly amused and secretly touched as he turns to fully look at you with a cocked brow. “What, are you some kind of therapist or something?”
“Close. Bartender actually.” You joke with a smile, nudging his shoulder, “Might as well be one though, given all the crazy shit I’ve helped people work through from behind the bar. Only difference is I know how to pour a perfect line of shots in record time while I do it.”
"Guess I'll have to take you up on that some time." He accepts your unintended invite with a grin, but it quickly drops from his face - "The therapy, not the shots."
You laugh, beaming as brightly as the dawning sun beside you. "Trust me, you'll want a shot or two to help the 'therapy' flow a little better." You reassure him. "Or for some of my advice to make even a modicum of sense, for that matter."
You're both laughing again, the sun now just high enough for you both to start feeling its warmth seep onto your skin despite the cooler weather.
“I work at a dive bar down in East Village called The Library.” You offer up. “In case you ever wanna stop by for that therapy shot, or even just a thank-you beer. My treat."
John opens his mouth to accept yet again, but you accidentally cut him off with a yawn, taking a moment to stand up and stretch. "Shit, speaking of, I gotta get home soon probably. I have another shift at 4 and I'll be damned if I go in with no sleep." You sigh, looking around where you were from your new vantage point before glancing back down at John. "Would you mind walking home with me?"
The consideration dripping from your voice like some saccharine condensation made John's heart squeeze in his chest a little, even if he didn't want to admit it. "No, I'm just going to strand you on top of this giant rock and go home like nothing happened."
"Woooooow." You drone dramatically, though you're unable to stop a giggle from seeping through. "I take it all back, you're actually such a dick."
"Yeah yeah yeah," John sasses back as he stands up, walking back over to the edge of the rock and beginning his descent. "Keep talking like that and I might not catch you this time."
He did, in fact, catch you the second time.
As the two of you start walking out of the park and back into the sprawling metropolis you know and tolerate, casual conversation starts to flow a bit smoother between you. You pester him just enough to get answers to some of your sillier questions for him - his favorite movie was Robocop, his favorite color was blue, and all that trauma and heartbreak be damned he assured you he could work a grill. You also learn that despite keeping up to date with most things going on in the world, he didn't have any sort of social media you could contact him on. He was apparently trying to stay off it for the sake of his mental health, and despite the slight disappointment that you couldn't bombard him with silly memes you cackle at on the regular, you honestly applauded him for it.
“...Lemme see your phone for a second.” You pitch, gesturing with your hand for him to cough it up when you finally arrive at the steps of your shabby-but-still-decent apartment. He hesitates, but ends up unlocking it and handing it to you anyways, only for you to track down his contacts app and type up a minor storm.
“There." You finish, handing his phone back to him with a proud smile. "Now if you desperately need a jogging buddy at some god forsaken hour, you know who to call,” You purse your lips, “Or text, preferably.”
He looks down at his brand new contact - you’d taken the liberty of nicknaming yourself “damsel in distress 🏃💨” under your real name - and scoffs, nodding as he slides his phone into his pocket. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“So…are you gonna have to run all the way back to Brooklyn now?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah. I actually work not too far from here, so I’ll probably just head in early.”
“Oh! Well, if you really need to, you can freshen up here,” You offer without a second thought, gesturing to the door, “I can check if my roommate's home, or-”
“Oh, no, I don’t need-”
“It’s fine, really!” You pause, warmth creeping up to your cheeks again. “But, you also totally don’t, like, I’m not trying to-”
“My job actually has some showers through their gym, so,” He cuts in, clearing his throat and helping you save face once again, “Really, I’ll be fine.”
Your brows quirk up with amused surprise. “Okay then, Mr. Fancy Pants,” You tease with a smile, “Guess I’ll see you around then.”
He smiles back and nods, starting to back away as he turns to leave. “We’ll see.”
You can’t help it when your grin grows just a bit wider as you climb the steps to your door, though you only make it about half way up before you hear him call out one last time - “Try not to get robbed again anytime soon, okay?”
“No promises!” You call back. “You’ll just come to my rescue anyway, right?”
He laughs as he shakes his head, giving you one last wave before picking up his pace again, jogging the rest of the way down your street before disappearing back into the busy city ambiance now buzzing around you.
As soon as he's out of your sight, you can't help but take a moment to giggle giddily to yourself, letting all those excess butterflies in your stomach out before you head for the door. Even though you knew damn well he was absolutely unavailable, you couldn't remember the last time you had a cute little crush like this on a now not-so complete stranger. It was fun, and more importantly harmless…right? I mean, if anything it was the most harmless, seeing as he literally saved your life upon meeting him. And even if it was a little more than harmless, John honestly ranked higher in the basic human decency department than some of your unfortunate exes by a god damn long shot.
Once you get all the giddiness out of your system, it doesn't take more than five measly minutes to make it up to your apartment. It was a small but cozy place, two beds and a bathroom that were snug but certainly manageable, especially with the exceptional rent price you somehow managed to score. You unlock your creaky but endearing door to find your place noticeably devoid of your roommate - they must've had to go into the office for work, with remnants of a cereal bowl and a slightly disheveled shoe rack acting as clear evidence for your theory.
With all of the adrenaline in your system seeming to finally wear off for good, you start to move a bit more sluggishly as you go about your normal post-jog routine; taking a long, hot shower, slapping on some rudimentary skincare routine, brushing your teeth, then finally throwing on a baggy t-shirt and some comfy boxers before collapsing in your bed, practically sinking into your comforter from sheer exhaustion. You don't even bother to get fully under the covers, resigning to rolling yourself up in just the top blanket and using a nearby plushie as a pillow, before setting an alarm to go off a few hours before your next shift. You honestly thought you'd be a bit more restless given all that happened this morning, but you figured that'd be an issue for your therapy session later this week.
But for now, as you slowly start to drift off with your breathing slowing to a crawl, a few hopeful thoughts cross your mind as you lull yourself to sleep -
He's going be okay.
Everything's going to be okay.
thanks for reading!! mini shout out to @swordgrace & @starktonyx for their own incredible walker fics that tickled me so much i just had to write my own, and my lovely friends @nbraraeaves, @maximoffwxnda & @fairyysoup for being the best beta readers a pal could ask for :)) consider supporting by sharing and reblogging or dropping a comment here or on ao3 🥰🥰🥰