Just Bob • robert reynolds
Chapter 4 - You Should Go
Summary: Dinner at the Tower was supposed to be simple. Instead, Valentina’s quiet intervention forces Bob into the same room as the one person he never wanted dragged back into his life. As tensions rise and the team pushes for answers, Bob’s control begins to fracture—his powers slipping.
Pairing: Bob Reynolds (Sentry) x f!Reader (Y/N)
Warnings: Mental health themes, addiction, implied drug use (meth), emotional distress, panic/manic behavior, dissociation, telekinetic harm/choking, blood (nosebleed), power instability, references to suicidal ideation.
MINORS DNI — 18+ only due to mature themes.
Word Count: ~4.2k
⸻
Just Bob — Series Index
✦ Prologue
✦ Chapter 1
✦ Chapter 2
✦ Chapter 3
⸻
The hallway’s quiet hum greeted him like a slap.
Too bright.
Bob squinted and exhaled, fingers twitching at his sides as he adjusted the sleeve over his wrist. The stinging hadn’t stopped, but the mint was already dissolving on his tongue—cleaning, masking. It didn’t matter.
Not now.
He took a few steps forward and turned the corner— and nearly collided into Bucky.
Bob froze, heart lurching as the winter soldier came into his view.
“Whoa,” Bucky said flatly, taking a half step back. “Didn’t think you’d be sprinting to dinner.”
“I wasn’t—” Bob rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head once. “Just heading down.”
Bucky’s eyes scanned him quietly. Not in a suspicious way. Just… reading. Clocking the twitch in Bob’s fingers, the way his pupils weren’t adjusting right. His posture.
“You good?”
Bob nodded too quickly. “Mhm. Just tired.”
“You look worse than tired.”
“Thanks.” Bob didn’t mean for it to sound as bitter as it did. But it came out sharp, clipped. His jaw tensed.
Bucky raised an eyebrow but didn’t move. “Val sent me up to get you. She’s not thrilled.”
Bob huffed, trying to hide how tight his chest felt. “Because the oven exploded?”
Bucky paused. “That… and the tower energy grid spiked. Again. Half the lab went dark for ten minutes.”
“Right.” Bob shifted uncomfortably, gaze darting to the floor. He tried not to fidget.
“Sprinklers, too,” Bucky added, like an afterthought. “Yelena’s waffles drowned. She’s pissed.”
And the way the hallway light flickered once—just a whisper—after he passed.
The lights still flickered from time to time.
No one mentioned it.
The dinner table was a mess—paper towels soaked with sprinkler runoff, backup food trays steaming with last-minute, half-effort replacements. Broccoli. Chicken. Something that resembled pasta if you didn’t ask too many questions.
Yelena sat with her chin in one hand, stabbing vegetables like they personally wronged her.
“They were sweet cream waffles,” she muttered.
Across from her, Ava sighed. “They’re gone, babe. Let it go.”
“They had fresh strawberries, Ava.”
Walker entered, carrying pitchers like a man pretending to contribute. “At least the building’s not burning down. Right?”
“No,” Valentina murmured, not looking up. “It’s just soaked. Vast improvement.”
The door creaked open.
Bob entered.
His hoodie clung damp around the neck, his hair tousled like he hadn’t figured out how to towel it off properly. His cheeks were flushed, and a too-wide grin tugged at his mouth like it didn’t quite belong there.
He looked like someone who’d just survived a fire and thought it was a game show.
“Miss me?” he said, voice too loud, bright.
Y/N trailed in behind him—subdued, uncertain, like she wasn’t sure she should be there.
Bucky gave her a nod and pulled out a chair. She nodded back, then quietly took her seat beside Ava.
Bob stayed standing a beat too long.
Yelena didn’t look up. She slid a napkin toward him without a word.
“You’ve got gravel in your hair.”
Bob touched his scalp, then looked down at the specks falling on the table.
“Oh. Yeah. That tracks.”
Valentina’s eyes didn’t leave her tablet. “Sit down.”
He did, but with a weird amount of enthusiasm—legs jittery, foot bouncing, fingers tapping his water glass.
Y/N was quiet. She watched him with that same familiar softness. But now it was laced with something heavier.
“Chicken smells incredible,” Bob said suddenly, voice full of cheer. “Did I miss the prayer circle? Should I say grace?”
Walker raised an eyebrow. “We don’t do grace.”
“We should,” Bob continued too quickly. “Bless this overcooked broccoli and soggy napkins and the fact that no one’s dead, right?”
No one laughed.
He took a bite, too big, too fast. “Mm. So good.”
Yelena narrowed her eyes at him. “Eat slower.”
Bob grinned, lips glistening with sauce. “What, you worried I’ll choke?”
“I’m worried you’re gonna combust.”
Valentina finally spoke. “We’re here to eat. And to reset.”
A pause.
“Reset from what, exactly?” Bob asked, voice still sing-song. “Explosion? Indoor rain? Yelena’s soggy ass waffles?”
Bucky’s fork clinked against his plate. “Bob.”
Bob raised both hands, palms out. “What? I’m joking. We’re all joking, right?”
Y/N put her hand down gently near his on the table—not touching, but close.
He glanced at it like it was about to hold him hostage.
His laugh dropped off as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
“I’m fine,” he said, quieter now, but still unconvincing.
Y/N didn’t say anything. She just moved her hand a little closer, like an offering.
Valentina’s eyes flicked between them. Then back to her tablet.
Bob swallowed, then picked up his fork and took another bite. This time it was too big, too fast. He chewed like he was trying to prove a point, not taste anything. His jaw moved tight, mechanical. After a second, he slowed down deliberately—too deliberately, like he suddenly remembered he was supposed to look calm.
He picked up his water, sipped longer than necessary, eyes flicking around the table, then down at the plate. A juicy red, like a freshly picked apple. It made him sick – and that feeling went straight out his tongue before he could stop himself.
“Is it just me or… are these plates loud?”
Y/N’s fork slipped from her fingers, clattering against the plate.
She stared at him for a second too long.
“Bob…”
Her voice faltered.
“You’re acting weird.”
Something in him shifted as his fingers curled deeper around his cutlery, jaw tightening so much one could hear it pop. His half-chewed food hid in the side of his cheek as he shook his head.
“…I wonder why,” he gave a tight-lipped remark, a shimmer of gold dancing at the edges of his irises, though one could mistake it for the glare of the dining room lights. He swallowed.
Y/N scoffed and stood from her chair, legs scraping against the floor.
“Listen, Ms. Valentina, I know that you maybe thought bringing me on could help but… truth is,” her eyes flickered to Bob, who couldn’t even stare in her direction, “this obviously isn’t a good idea.”
“Especially after no one bothered to ask me, right?” he dryly chuckled, stabbing the food on his plate—perhaps a bit too hard, he realized, as he heard a crack in the ceramic.
His brows furrowed as he exhaled, swallowing a lump that started to form in his throat.
“I mean,” the gold seemed to soften as his voice lowered, “did anyone think to—”
“No one asks for interventions,” Valentina barked back.
The colors in his eyes shifted into a boiling ocean beneath a sunset.
“And somehow you believed that bringing in someone from my past would fix things?”
Yelena spoke next.
“We thought that if we helped you through all those things in the shame rooms, then maybe it could help,” Yelena paused. “Maybe we should’ve–”
“Y/N is not part of my shame!”
His voice shook, veins crackling with intensity he felt at the core of him. The power in him surged as he pointed a shaky finger at Yelena. “She’s not just a memory you all can bring up, she’s…” his nostrils flared.
Bob’s hand trembled into a closed fist.
Yelena suddenly jerked upright, panicked fingers flying to her throat as she coughed—air catching like something invisible had wrapped around her windpipe.
“She’s…nothing I wanted you all to touch.” He hissed the last word.
“Bob,” Valentina warned, as Bucky and Walker drew concealed weapons.
“S-Stop, stop!” Y/N shakily begged, placing both hands on Bob’s forearm.
His face snapped to her—the gold of a thousand suns burning into her E/C eyes. His world seemed to still as he saw the fear in her eyes, the tremor in her form. It was the worst side of him on display. She’d seen it, maybe. But he couldn’t risk it like this. Not with Sentry. Not with Void. But there was only so much the old habits could hold.
With a harsh swallow, his hand dropped in surrender, and Yelena slumped back into her chair. Alexei rushed to her side, stroking hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ears, fanning at her flushed face.
“I’m fine, guys,” she coughed softly. “The sprinklers killing my waffles hurt more than that.”
Walker chuckled to make the stress of Bob’s surge lighthearted, but Y/N gasped and all eyes were on him in a second.
“You’re bleeding,” Y/N mumbled, bringing a hand up toward the top of his lip.
He caught her wrist.
Not harsh.
Just fast.
Bob’s eyes stared at her from his peripheral as he looked down, a drop of ruby hitting the plate.
Her breath hitched.
“…Bob,” she said quietly.
His grip tightened before he realized it.
Not enough to hurt—but enough that she couldn’t pull away.
He rubbed his jacket sleeve under his nose with his free hand, the blood seeping into the dark navy. His brows furrowed, head tilting.
Too much, he thought.
Too much of a dose to where it was starting to show.
But it was the only thing for now, he thought.
But never enough. Never.Just as his mind froze in this realization, so did everyone around him. Except for the cowering figure he held onto. He shut his eyes tight. She didn’t deserve to see what fate had made him into, not after everything they’d already been through prior. He couldn’t dig her hole of issues with him any deeper. Bob turned away from Y/N, curling inward as he yanked softly at his hair, head cradled in his hands.
“…you should go,” he muttered.”You even said it was a bad idea,”
“…What did you—” Y/N began, turning her head to see that everyone at the table had stilled.
“Bob,” she swallowed. “What’s — what’s going on?” He scrubbed his hands over his face.
“It’s just makin’ me worse,” he said. “The powers, my mania, my…depression,” he nearly swallowed that last word. His eyes shifted. The pressure of Sentry was becoming too much. Y/N stayed silent, her eyes wide in horror. She didn’t know what to say. How could she?
“…What’s even the point of this?” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking around the table. “Didn’t they tell you what I’d become?” Y/N stared at her plate in the stillness of it all. “They told me they wanted to see if there was something…they missed. That you’re acting up,” she said. “They said you were different. Said you were an Avenger. I didn’t know…you’d be like this.” A beat. So strung out and silent that Bob blinked tears out of his eyes before they could slip. “You’re afraid of me,” he dryly said as if it were fact. “No”, she breathed out, her words trembling. “I’m afraid for you. They all are.” He chuckled, his voice dropping, the color in his eyes flickering like a dying flame for a mere second or two.
“You’re the only one who gets it,” he said. “But I can’t…I can’t do this again. Not while I’m like this,” his palms planted on the edge of the table, ready to push himself out of his chair before Maria yanked him by his shoulder, tugging at the sleeve and turning him to face her as a last plea.
“Bob, please, let them help you if I can’t—”
His breath caught in his throat as she reached out to grab his shoulders again. He caught her hands, squeezing them, his fingers folding over hers, palm digging into her knuckles.
“Y/N,” he shook his head feverishly, pushing her hands back. “I can’t do this to you again. Please, don’t–.”
Y/N softly whimpered at the soft burn that danced on her skin as he squeezed. “Bob–” Y/N’s skin began to pale where his hands were.
Bob finally looked down at his hand like it didn’t belong to him, shaking with an energy begging to be released, to be used.
He let go instantly.
Y/N let out a breath as lights overhead buzzed and the sound of silverware clattering on the floor filled Bob’s ears. Someone’s breathing sounded too loud.
Hell. Everything was too loud.
The gold in his irises flared brighter than before, an untamable flame of misdirection and pain.
For half a second, the room flickered.
The kitchen tile beneath their feet vanished, and an endless black stretched outward, swallowing the floor, the walls, the table— a starless sea of nothing.
Then it snapped back.
The lights sputtered; the table was still there, as was everyone else.
But the silence that followed was worse.
Because now that time began to flow again, they’d all seen it:the panic on Y/N’s face and the imprint he’d left. Everything he left where they couldn’t see was starting to come into view.
And Bob knew he had to face it. But maybe not now, his mind mused.
Red continued to drip from his nostril. He sniffled and wiped, exhaling — and with that breath, his irises had gone gold.
The gold cut through the darkness, scattering it, and the room seemed to settle — as neatly as it could.
Since stepping into the room, Bob smiled, eerily but honestly and sincerely. He laughed in defeat.
“…I’m not hungry anymore,” he breathed, scooting out of his chair, cracked plate in hand. He’d scooped the scraps and barely eaten food into the trash, before setting it onto the counter.
“...What just happened?” Bob heard Valentina ask from earshot. “Did we just time jump?” Walker added. “We’ll have to check the cameras–” Valentina began to type and swipe on her tablet, softly groaning as the camera feed seemed to fail to pick up whatever pocket of time Bob put himself and Y/N in. “He just…got overstimulated,” Y/N said to a worried Yelena as Bob made his way down the hall, holding her back for a moment before she stood and followed anyways. Halfway through to the stairs, he stopped in his tracks, every cell in his body shaking and trembling. He just wasn’t sure if it was the meth-induced mania or if Sentry was energy hungry. Maybe both. Maybe it was Void waiting, listening. Shit. He thought. Don’t Don’t. He needed to anchor down. Bob threw his head back onto the hallway wall, fingers trailing his scalp, back against it as he slid down, knees to his chest. He could barely make out the rest of the conversation from where the team sat in the next room. “Are you sure you can handle it?” Valentina prodded. “...I wouldn’t have come here if I thought I couldn’t.” Y/N said, even if inside, she admitted it was too much. But she was here. She couldn’t just leave someone she shared a slice of life with at a point in time. Tears trickled as a laugh bubbled in his throat. And inside his mind, Void listened to the doubts of Y/N’s presence snap into place, ready to use when the high doses would some day stop. But Bob couldn’t let that happen. No. Not yet. “Hey,” Bob nearly jumped out of his skin as Yelena stood in front of him, slowly crouching down to meet him at eye level. His blue eyes, nearly black in the dim light of the hallway, stared her down as she moved to fill the silence. “We should’ve…asked first.” she admitted. “We just didn’t know what else to do.” He smiled and let a few tears slip. “I know,” he said and sniffled. “But you don’t know what you brought back.” His voice held that familiar edge that Yelena didn’t enjoy hearing. “We’ve done it once before,” she said. “Not all shame rooms are the same,” he shook his head. “I need to handle this one alone.” She put her hand on his shoulder, more as a silent reminder than just a form of comfort. “We’re here,” she said. “Yeah,” he said before turning to face where the kitchen light bled into the hall. “But so is she. And I–” he shuddered. “I need to do this on my own.”So with all the strength he had, he stood, and worked his way over back to his room, body itching for that familiar sting before euphoria.
⸻ A/N: Hi! Been a moment but I was able to sit down and write again. But, uh oh. Bob is slipping...what could happen as the team tries to dig at his past?
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