I promise - Part 2 (Browsing Aisles Together)
Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader
Click here for all chapter links of this series!
Word Count: About 4.4k...yay!
Summary: You've assumed the role of "baby-sitting" Bob as John calls it. To you, it's merely caring for your fellow "co-worker" and roommate while avoiding a mission of champagne socialisation in London. Bob has overheard John's less-than-kind words and feels moody. You decide to turn a week of supposed baby-sitting into something Bob deserves and something you've perhaps needed.
Warning: Slight cursing, Reader emulates mom/dad-friend core and I’ve attempted to make Reader as gender neutral as possible (Do lemme know if I’ve went “eh” somewhere- Do so kindly though, please <3), a little mention of Harry Potter (I'm a literal Marauders fan, so I obliviously don't support JKR-).
Ramble: I got 60-something-likes upon the first part...UGHHHH, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! HSHSHSHSH- I do apologise for the secondary part being uploaded this LATE...uh, thanks exam season? Also, I'm a bit "eh" about the book-store scene. It feels LENGTHY-
After months of Valentia defusing rumours, whether true or too ridiculous to be true, about the “New Avengers”, the team finally had a new mission. However, for precautionary purposes, Bob was instructed to remain at the Tower. This meant that it was obligatory for somebody to monitor him. It wasn’t much needed as he was proving himself to make progress weekly through regular therapy and training that was less regular. The sessions had always turned into the team contemplating which weapon would be easiest to have him train with and which weapon wouldn’t scar him, even if he had self-healing powers. Minimal injury, as agreed by everyone, was a sign that a weapon was being used well enough. Yet, Bob’s progress could be deemed progressive due to possessing other humans around him. This particular mission entailed an entirety of week away in London for some purpose you could care less about and that was because you ever so willingly occupied the spot to “babysit” Bob as John called it.
The week of having the rest of the team gone had begun. Your eyes browsed the penthouse. Your attention immediately directed itself toward Bob’s tower of books. It was of greater height than the shelf beside it. Bucky placed variating cat statues (somehow brought home each time he returned from a nightly walk) upon each layer of varying wood. Valentina insisted the shelf was an antique and rare piece, rarer than that security system Alexei messed around with. However, her insistence wasn’t taken to heart. The shelf had odd size chips. Most of those chips could be credited to Bob. Despite the training, he still possessed strength not within his control. Sometimes meaning he’d accidentally fling the TV remote to the antique piece instead of Yelena who asked for it. You sighed out your laughter upon recollection.
Your eyes traced across the area and found the Lego sets Alexei and Yelena built together. Every time the team deemed their building to be “bonding time”, Yelena would refuse the idea extensively.
Your focus then shifted to admire how the colourful and patterned pillows, that you had purchased, were finally settled according to your preference. With most of the team not around due to the mission, you found satisfaction in the intended arrangement. You especially liked the blue fluffy star-shaped next to the rabbit with fur inspired by the moon. It made the couch feel less corporately intimidating. You then took to observing what was nearest to your sight - the yellow flowers as a housewarming gift from Mel. Their lively vibrancy could be credited to Ava’s care. Your fingers traced the indentation of the glass vase until they halted in response to a voice. A voice that appeared to be far too consumed by sorrow.
“Hey,” Bob barely greeted. His body dragged itself to the kitchen.
His body moved around in a ritualistic manner. He first grabbed a box of cereal from the cupboard. Once placing the box down, he opened the fridge for milk. After opening said milk, he poured the milk into the bowl and whisked. Typically, he’d continue to whisk while inserting cereal flakes, yet once he opened the fresh bag – the contents scattered themselves across the kitchen area and upon your clothes. Without word from your part and with whispered plural apologies from his part, you two had begun cleaning.
You swept the crumbs into your hand. You took to frequently flickering your eyes between the cereal-decorated floor and Bob, naturally to solely avoid clashing with him. His eyes caught yours for a second. Bob had a thought. A thought he imprisoned within his own mind for a while. You knew this from his eyes wavering between darker shades of blue while his brows furrowed with forceful intensity. By the use of expanding your eyes to lure him into confessing, he finally let what he truly felt loose.
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know?”
“Did Walker say something to you?” You asked, throwing a handful of picked-up flakes into the nearby bin.
“No, but I…overheard.” He sighed out, harsher and shakier than the typical.
“Then what did I say in response?”
“It’s not babysitting.” He grumbled out, tossing a collected pile of his own into the bin.
“Then what is it to you?” He stated with more bite than intended. You did not take offense. You knew that sometimes Walker’s commentary was more harsh than humorous.
“Keeping you company. That’s if you want it. I can be completely out of your space if you wanted tha-“
“No, I wouldn’t want you out of my space.” He paused until he let his irritation simmer away. “I’d like you to keep me company…Thank you.” His eyes rested upon you as yours did upon his. Their inconsistent midnight blue shifted to a shade lighter, yet it wasn’t quite Bob yet. You felt an inclination to resolve his doubt instantaneously.
Once gathering all the remaining crumbs and pieces with a bunch of paper towels and by the usage of a portable vacuum you’d bought after realising most of the habitants of the penthouse ate too many granola bars all around the living space. You observed as Bob whisked his cereal routinely. An offer conjured in your mind.
“Wanna head to the grocery store with me?”
“Yea, we need to stock up. Besides there’s a bookstore nearby and I think it’d be cool if we head there afterwards. I need to read whatever you’re reading.” You then pointed to his isolated seat facing outwards. “You make me all curious while sitting there.”
“How so?” Bob asked through chewing. You appreciated how he was polite enough to place a concealing hand over his mouth while doing so. Your eyes accidentally caught sight of John and Alexei not doing so sometimes. The only thing you felt in such moments was mental disturbance.
“Your brows compress until you finally comprehend what I believe is resolution. You sometimes smile or frown. I just find that amount of expression while reading…intriguing.” You had begun picking the little cereal flakes from your hoodie. Once you collected a pile of flakes, you tossed them into your mouth. Bob shook his head in response. This was accompanied by a smile softer than the typical.
“Any sort of life beyond mine is intriguing.” He commented prior to downing the milk left in his bowl.
Your head titled, feeling the weight of his not-so-subtle yet poetic self-deprecation. Your heart felt a particular urgency to ensure he had a life better than what he had in the past. An idea or rather a challenge consumed your thoughts.
“I have a proposal.” You offered him a napkin to dab away at the residue upon his lips. Not that you were looking though.
“Hm, go on.” He took it and wiped almost too harshly at his skin.
“If I can make this week exciting for you, I’ll buy you any book.”
“Any book, Bob. I promise. Any.” You dragged out the “y”. Your excitement was fuelled by his expression of his own excitement and optimistic disbelief.
“I’ve been interested in Russian classics. So…the Brothers Karamazov? Please.”
You were about to affirm him, yet he soon explained himself further.
“I’ve been hearing Yelena and Alexei mumble Russian phrases so often that I’ve found myself curious. I’m just saying because I think it’s an odd request. You don’t have to do it-“
“I haven’t been this sure about anything in a bit. The last thing I was certain about is buying everyone different pillowcases with Valentina’s card.” You two exchanged laughter. “Also, here. I pinky promise.” You extended your pinky finger to him. He felt a sense of child-like wonder at the gesture. He wrapped his own finger around yours. You cradled your interlocked hands together to emphasise the promise.
“I’m not that hard to impress either. I’d say I’m too easy.”
“Then congrats on already getting that book.”
The grocery store was an orchestra of chaos. The mostly censored radio songs blared too loudly across all the aisles. Toddlers cried over being denied their right to an overly sugary treat. Couples, married and unmarried, argued over which cleaning products would actually clean their dishes and clothes. Adding to the circus of noise was the rough trolley you were pushing around while Bob tried his best to not accidentally disturb your path. Your concentration was something far too stark to break in this aisle of beverages. He felt rather overstimulated which you didn’t notice until you heard a wince in response to a voice upon the speakers demanding that someone clean up upon aisle seventeen.
“Yea-“ You furrowed which lured the truth out of him. “No,” he sighed out.
“Tell me next time, okay?” You offered him a pair of headphones that were once laced around your belt somehow.
You halted your shopping journey to browse upon your phone for a song.
“I’m good with anything at this point.”
You had played the most mellow thing you could think of – Cigarettes After Sex.
“Are you fine with the volume? I still need you to hear me.”
“Yep, it’s good. Everybody else, but you and this guy with a good voice, is gone.”
Your lips were consumed by a grin. You found it easy to adore how he described most things.
You turned around, thus resuming the journey. Bob hummed along to the music subconsciously, supplying you with better background noise than the guy ranting to his girlfriend about a boss of his cheating on his wife of ten years with a co-worker who solely joined less than five weeks ago. The vivid description about the “occurrence” within the printing room sent thick shivers down your skin. Not that the overdose of air-conditioning in this place aided with that. Once Bob noticed the bumps trailing across your arms, he tapped your shoulder without hesitation.
“You cold?” He adjusted his pace to walk beside you.
“You can take my sweater. I don’t mind.”
“Aren’t you going to feel cold then?”
“Nope. I don’t get too hot or too cold. Not after the mutations.” Bob whispered the word “mutations”. You didn’t blame him. You just never knew who was listening. Even if you were both wore disguises of baggy pants, black glasses and beanies. Totally not suspicious.
“I’m wearing a long sleeve underneath. If that assures you.”
Once you two made it to final aisle of pet products, he monitored his surroundings before tugging the sweater off. His arms extended the woollen item towards you. You smiled your thanks before sliding yourself into it. Your skin felt warmth instantaneously.
“Are you naturally this warm?” You tossed your hair trapped by the neckline outwards, freeing yourself from being irritated by the barely brushed strands.
“I think my body now adjusts its temperature as per the environment I’m in.” Your eyes then focused upon his body now exposed through the well-fitting black long sleeve of his. Your silence lingered just long enough for Bob to know the topic of your thoughts, even if said topic weren’t verbalised. His left-hand latched onto his right-hand’s wrist which indicated possible discomfort or so you thought. A faux cough escaped you before returning to push the trolley.
“It’s a bit stuffy in this aisle. So, I’m heading to another. I just need to browse for some cleaning products.” You shook off the new and improved shivers your body felt.
“No worries.” Bob affirmed too softly to be heard. His mind wanted to focus upon the romantic lyrics he heard through the headphones, yet they felt too relatable within this moment. The atmosphere couldn’t resist abstractly materialising itself to become utmostly intimate and affectionate. You were wearing his sweater, and he was wearing your headphones. He was wearing your headphones listening to a playlist of yours. The thought could be lyrics themselves and that’s what he indulged in, even if it was solely felt upon his part.
Once reaching your desired aisle, you turned to him without making direct eye contact.
“Which scent of softener do you like? There’s this soapy vanilla one. Or there’s lavender. Oo, that’s new. Lemon.” Your body shifted every few to stand next to each varying type as per the description you offered him.
“Which one do you prefer? I know you’ve been wearing this particular perfume the past few weeks, so which one is closest to that scent?”
Your eyes finally made contact with his. After transforming from a murderous minion to being one of the city’s protectors, you felt pretentious for wanting to indulge in self-maintenance. Even if it were a scent of minor vanilla with overriding notes of a subtle and soft wood. Bob noting of something that was embarrassingly yours made you feel confident and provided you with warmth beyond the fabric of his sweater.
“Vanilla. You okay with smelling like vanilla?”
“It smells great upon you, so I’m honoured to even smell almost like that.”
“Thank you.” You sung out as you settled the product next to three packs of dishwashing sponges. The unreasonable number of sponges could be credited to your fear of a dishwashing machine and its tendency to stop working when towers of dishes awaited to be cleaned. Yet that wasn’t what concerned you within the moment. The object of your focus was Bob’s hands upon the trolley’s handle.
He felt himself assured and grateful. He wanted to showcase his appreciation for your consideration of him in regard to something as simplistic as softener, hence he felt the need to display said appreciation in a rather helpful way.
“I’m right behind you.” Bob attempted to offer a smile not too intense, yet the bliss of the moment tugged at his lips to express himself entirely.
“Off to the checkout we go.” You added, with an uncontrollable smile of your own, before initiating the path to freedom in order to depart from this rather problematic grocery store.
The scent of paper perfuming the air was addictive. It was so addictive to the point whereby the two of you had already spent an hour in this bookstore. Its interior left no space to be unexposed as every inch was buried in a shelf or a stack of wooden crates. If the floor could be overly carpeted in books, it would. But for practicality’s sake, it was not. The lack of music made the environment surprisingly refreshing. The sole sounds to be heard were frequents creaks of aching wooden furniture (most offered by the shelves themselves), the store’s owners who were an elderly couple (Mister Vincent Bradely and Mister Addam Bradley) and their banter alongside Bob’s whispered recommendations. Bob followed closely behind you. He felt overwhelmed and amazed at the literal library surrounding him. He additionally felt excited to introduce the world of classics and his childhood favourites to you.
“Oh, there’s a good one.” His arm rested upon your shoulder as his pointed to a well-loved copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. You two made your way to the shelf, ever so aligned in movement.
“May you hold the pile just for now, please?” He cradled the extensive number of chosen books against his chest.
“Of course.” You let the weight of the stack fall into your arms.
“It’s a bit up there, so excuse me.” He stood to your right and ever so close. You didn’t even shift from your position. You couldn’t resist in-taking the sight of Bob reaching that high. It most peculiarly…alluring.
Once you retrieved the bruised novel, he shoved it a little too close to your face. The accidental gesture was faulted to his excitement.
“Shit- I’m so sorry. I got…overly excited.”
“No worries. Do rant about this one, please.”
In the likes of his rambles regarding Harry Potter, Bob provided a verbalised academic essay about how he identified with the novel and as to why you should give it a try. He overly justified his inclination to the main character, Charlie. Not because he wanted to be the main character, of course, but he felt well pertained to the desire of wanting to escape less than ideal circumstances. Naturally he wouldn’t want to manage a factory using labour of such nature as Charlie ended up doing, yet he wanted to have something great given to him. Even if it were just by the means of chance. Chance is all he felt like he had.
“Well, look at you now. You’re the Charlie of this universe. You live within a building not most considered for housing. Furthermore, you live in better conditions with a family of sorts. Even if we’re still getting to know one another.”
His features softened at your words.
“Over the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about all the possibilities that could’ve happened with the us- I mean, the team- The one I’ve been most considering is if…Valentina was taken to court as Bucky would have it, hence we wouldn’t have this tower. If we didn’t have this tower, I think I would’ve liked to live among everyone regardless. I don’t how we would’ve done it, but I think it’d be great regardless. That’s the sort great thing I’ve always longed to be given by chance. I mean the tower is great, but you guys are…greater than that.”
Your body felt consumed by tender affection. His words articulated the less-than-professional care you felt for the team. You had been considering alternative outcomes and realities as well. It was a product of being in disbelief about your actuality. Your constant choice of alternative outcomes had always been to choose the Thunderbolts or New Avengers or whatever society would have it. Society could give you a name, yet you were grateful the universe had for once favoured you and had given you the family you always wanted. Naturally a group of former assassins wasn’t something you thought of as the isolated teenager you once were, yet each of the members made you feel loved in a manner that wasn’t too much or too little. That’s what you wanted. You felt glad the feeling was mutual even with solely one of six other people. You felt even gladder that you possessed such mutuality with Bob.
“You’re great too, Bob.” You would’ve used the word “greatest” to be entirely confessional, yet that literal feeling of something being too close made you soften the degree of your compliment. In response, his eyes lowered, absorbing you and your affectionate statement for as long as the moment allowed for. Bob knew such moments didn’t last. Eternity kept its immorality for itself while everything else existed to solely become a forgotten memory. He wasn’t going to let your words become forgotten. He was going to earn being perceived as a great. Being perceived as great by you.
“Thank you.” He whispered below the beating of your chests.
The lack of space between didn’t provide you with extensive choice. Your sight had to either absorb the very obvious detail of his chest or his lips. Not that you’d want to do anything at all with his lips or yours. It felt forbidden to break the intimacy of the moment, yet your maintained formality demanded that you create distance. Your mind told you that risking the ruin of the team was of more severity than the action being merely forbidden. It was selfish. Your chest felt your heartbeat too well. It made you lose focus upon the supposed nonsense your brain went on and on about. That was until a voice behind you two had startled you.
“I found this copy of...oh, I do apologise. I didn’t realise I scared both of you,” Vincent chuckled as though jump-scaring others proved to be as normalised as drinking water. Bob inhaled and exhaled his shock behind you, leaning his chest into your back to remain steady. His shaking hands dropped the world of Charlie and bratty children to the wooden floor. You would’ve picked it up, yet your hands gripped onto the stack of novels with as much as possible. It’d be another jump-scare to let the weight of the books crash against the fall.
“It’s okay.” Your voice was too shaky to be believable.
“As an apology, let me take these from you. This pile looks too extensive to bare while browsing.”
“Thank you.” You dropped the pile into the man’s arms. “We’ll actually be heading out now, so we’ll follow right behind you. Right, Bob?” You had received a pained hum behind you as confirmation and went with it. You felt relieved at the opportunity to leave. Not because you’d ever want to leave a place that allow for an easy escape from reality, yet the store’s narrow design proved risky with Bob around.
As you followed the man to the check-out, you checked up upon Bob.
“You okay? That scared me a lot too.”
“Be honest once more and tell me what you need.”
“Just…just talk, please.”
Through the maze of shelves and crates, you had ranted about your most preferred recipe for warm beverages. You firmly believed more than two teaspoons for sugar was hellish and that pure coffee without a drop of milk or a grain of sweetener was as though mixing boiling water and soil. Bob hummed in agreement and allowed himself to scattered laughter. He felt regulated again. Knowing that had brought you relief.
Once you three had finally escaped and found the check-out, Vincent settled the stack of books upon the check-out counter. The setup was rather old fashioned. He had a physical notebook and pen to tabulate the chosen novels and their costs. For the while he was tabulating, the man took to politely intruding into your lives.
“How long have you two known each other?” He instantaneously asked.
“My husband told me that he thought you two knew one another throughout many lifetimes.” He remarked to then command. “Don’t mess this one up. Do just affirm Addam’s spiritual collection of thoughts. Just add another lifetime to his collection.”
Bob and you shared a fascinated look before you vocalised a seemingly shared thought.
“Just add another? How does one do that?”
The advice prompted you to both nod in agreement with pleased expressions until you both realised the implications of that statement.
“You two can be whatever you want, but it’ll be good for you to stick with one another. Actually, not just stick. Attach yourselves at the hip if needed.”
“Did you do that with Addam?” Bob asked. Within his mind, taking advice from an elderly couple seemed smart. Not even just for romantic purpose. He wasn’t thinking of that, of course, yet his desire to know another for decades in the likes of many others had him curious.
“We’ve locked ourselves away in a bookstore.” Vincent widened his eyes in exaggeration before resuming the tabulation process.
You and Bob laughed. Vincent smiled as the sound evoked memories of his youth. He didn’t mind being old, yet it was rather nice to be that young once. Any age is the time to exist.
A figure who called out for Vincent sped his way past the two of you and added a copy familiar to the eye upon a side table. The side table was consumed by peeling leather journals and creased sticky notes. Now the table bared the additional weight of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
“I noticed this upon the floor.”
Bob had begun offering profuse apology until Addam interrupted him while he said his third version of “sorry”.
“It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to leave without it. I heard you talk all sweet about it, so here it is. Since I do know Vincent over here loves becoming the humanised version of haunted house around our strange customers, not strangers, you can have it for free.”
“Oh, no- That copy was probably so expensive to acquire. I couldn’t.”
“But I could.” Addam grinned, raising his eyebrows in playful offering.
“Thank you…thank you so much. More than that actually.”
“Yea, this stack is taking some capital off of you two, so this is the least we could do.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Our boss bares the cost.”
The couple shared laughter. Their individualised sounds blended into something full and lively. They sounded so…complete. Before your longing turned into an unbearable sting upon your shoulders, Bob mumbled a compliment into your shoulder. “You made the subject of Valentina actually funny.”
“Well, I suppose I’m talented with facial expressions and creating humour out of barren material. They should put me on SNL.”
“Oh, we’ll get you on there.” His teased was felt in breath against your neck.
You extended your hand past your shoulder, waiting for him to shake it in agreement. He did as so without question.
Once Vincent and Addam were done offering their wisdom and humour and you and Bob were done with prompting them to say more, the couple greeted their goodbyes with pleas to visit them again and again. You both waved, holding a fair number of novels within each of your arms. As you and Bob journeyed to the overly geometrically looking black car, you two had struck conversation of your own.
“Which book do I read when I settle for early evening tea?”
“The Outsiders. It’s a rapid read but absolutely heart-wrecking.” Bob made an immediate recommendation despite his hair baltering about upon his face. The city’s cruel winds didn’t seem to halt you both. The occurrences of today fuelled infinite interaction between you and Bob.
“Then what shall we watch through dinner to cure the heart ache?” You asked, attempting to blow a troubling strand of hair that itched away at your nose.
“SNL. Just so you can begin writing scripts in your head for them to compensate for the areas they’re currently lacking in.” Bob used his barely free hand to open the backseat door. You mouthed your gratitude and slid in.
“Harsh…I like it. Gonna need you upon my mental writing team.” You stated, after settling your stack of books down. You shifted uncomfortably across the leather seats, creating more space for Bob.
“I’ll be there.” He resumed a seat, settling his pile upon his lap. He could’ve settled it between your bodies, yet the windy weather demanded that you two sat close to keep warm. To keep you warm primarily.
Once Bob closed the door, Lucas, one of the team’s designated drivers, took off. His speed suggested his annoyance that pertained to the lengthy period you two had spent in a seemingly boring and ancient bookstore. If only he knew the number of trips he had to make to the store in future…
