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Bob was used to waking up in strange places with no memory of how he got there.
This was probably the strangest.
He was behind the counter of a coffee shop, wearing a black apron with a thunderbolt logo on the chest. Not the first time he'd come to in a coffee shop, but the first time that he appeared to have gotten a job there. The café was empty, but apparently open, if the sign on the door was any indication. The interior was bright and cheerful, like something out of a movie.
Bob looked down at the rag in his hand and tried to remember anything prior to this moment. He had been out with his teammates. Getting ice cream, maybe? But then there had been a loud commotion, and a bright flash of light —
The door to the storage room slammed open and John barreled in, also wearing a logo-emblazoned apron. There was a wild look in his eyes that only abated somewhat when he saw Bob. "Oh, thank fuck, Bob, it's you. What happened, did you void out again?"
Bob frowned pensively and took another look around. "No? I don't think so... I never worked at a coffee shop..."
"Then where the hell are we?" John plucked at his apron. "And why I am wearing this?" Bob's expression must have given his lack of knowledge away, because John huffed and rolled his eyes. "You don't know. Typical."
Bob fought the urge to fling his dishrag at John's face. The two of them usually got along a lot better than this; John’s attitude was far too much like their time in the Vault for his liking. “I know that we were out somewhere when this happened. What’s the last thing you remember?”
John's brows furrowed. "Yeah... we were a few blocks from the Tower..." He slammed a hand on the counter. “The sorcerer! She ambushed us and started flinging spells around. We must have gotten hit with one.”
Well, that explained the flash of light. Bob fussed with the dishrag in his hands. "So... did she teleport us or something?"
John vaulted over the counter and ran for the front door, yanking off his apron as he went. "I'll see where we are," he said as he stepped outside —
— and immediately walked out of the storage room, apron firmly back in place.
"I think we might be in another pocket dimension," Bob said thoughtfully, while John recovered from his disorientation.
"Shit," He murmured quietly to himself. Then, to Bob: “So how do we get out of here?"
The bell above the door jingled. In walked Yelena and Ava, giggling over something on Yelena's phone. Ava was dressed in a business suit, looking polished, while Yelena was far less put together, her cardigan drab and frumpy. She looked up and caught eyes with Bob, and everything about it was all wrong.
"Hi, Bobby," she said with a tiny, flirtatious smile, eyelashes fluttering.
Ava gave Yelena a knowing look, then tapped the counter. "Two iced mochas, lover boy, and make it snappy."
Confusion was not a new state for Bob; some might even say that he had a permanent residence there. But this time, that confusion was laced with genuine unease. "Yelena?" he said timidly. "Ava? What's going on?"
Ava just looked at him blankly, while Yelena gave a very un-Yelena-like giggle. "Oh, Bobby, you are so silly! You know that Ava and I have to work very hard on the big corporate party tonight! Even my dad will be there..." She lowered her gaze and peered up at him shyly. "And you, too, right?"
"Um..." Bob looked over at John helplessly.
John had a breadknife in his grip, hidden underneath the counter. He wrapped an arm around Bob protectively, shielding him partly with his body. "Shapeshifting aliens," he hissed to Bob out of the side of his mouth. "Has to be."
Ava laughed breezily. "Jonathan, you are really too much. 'Lena, let's get a table while we wait."
The two women walked away, sitting down at a table in the corner. Reluctantly, Bob extricated himself from John's grasp. "You can put away the breadknife," he said quietly. "I think I know what's going on."
He was realizing quickly the situation they were in, and he knew John was not going to be happy with the answer.
John set the breadknife on the counter, but kept it within grabbing distance. "Enlighten me."
"So... last night, Yelena and I were watching a romantic comedy in her room." Bob wrinkled his nose. "I wasn't paying super close attention to it, because it wasn't very good. I think Yelena wanted to watch it because she likes the lead actress —” John rolled his hand forward in a 'speed it up' gesture and Bob cleared his throat. "Anyway, this coffee shop felt familiar to me, and I think it's because it's the coffee shop from the movie.”
John frowned. "You think we're in a movie?"
"I think we're in a pocket dimension and... um... my subconscious is what gave the dimension its structure."
John looked around and sighed, hands on his hips. "Okay, well... we got out of the shame rooms by confronting our shame, so... what, we act out the movie and then we’ll be free?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Great. So what happens next?"
Bob ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "I dunno... this is around when I fell asleep."
John made a sound like a dying frog and folded his arms on the counter, dropping his head onto them.
"No, it's okay! We can figure it out! These romantic comedies always have the same plot points, we’ll just follow along."
John grumbled something into his arms.
"What was that?"
John lifted his head. The tips of his ears had turned pink. ”I’ve never seen a romantic comedy."
Bob’s jaw dropped. "What, seriously? Never?"
“Does The Titanic count?"
"Um... not really..."
John straightened up and raised his arms defensively. “They aren’t my thing, okay? They’re silly and saccharine and always have a happy ending, no matter how ridiculous the characters are acting. Real life doesn’t work like that.”
"It's not supposed to be real life, it's supposed to be fun."
"Does this look like fun to you?!"
Bob titled his head back and sighed. Why couldn't he have gotten stuck in this strange little dimension with Yelena or Ava? "Unless you have a better solution, we should at least try to play our parts and see if that gets us anywhere."
John grumbled to himself, but grabbed two plastic cups and made the requested iced mochas, anyway. Bob watched in mild surprise, although he shouldn't have been. John knew his way around a kitchen, and he was always up first, making coffee for the team, or a smoothie for Bob when Bob didn't feel like eating anything else.
As he drizzled chocolate syrup into the bottom of each cup, John asked, "So... who are we, then? In the movie?"
"Um... I'm a barista who dreams of being an architect. I'm hoping to get my big break in Ava's company. Yelena is her assistant."
John looked over at the two women, who seemed stuck in a strange time loop conversation, laughing and gesturing repeatedly over nothing. "And me?"
Bob stalled, wiping down the coffee machine as if that might help him find a palatable way to answer.
John set the completed drinks on the counter. "Two iced mochas for the pod people!" he called out, before looking at Bob impatiently. “Well? Who am I?"
Ava and Yelena walked up, each picking up a drink. "You're so sassy, John," Ava said with an amused smirk. "Tell your boyfriend Bucky hi for me."
"My gay best friend," Bob squeaked out.
John’s face went ashen, like he’d been turned to stone.
"Bye, Bobby," Yelena said with a little finger wiggle and a besotted look that made Bob's stomach drop unhappily. Maybe it was better that Yelena wasn't here with him, she'd have strangled the fake her to death and then they'd be stuck in this pocket dimension forever.
The two women left, and John finally regained some color to his face. "Why did you do this to me, Bobby?!"
Bob winced at the nickname. "I didn't do anything! It's the plot of the movie!"
"Yeah, but it’s your subconscious that brought it to life!"
Bob scowled and turned away, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. It wasn't worth arguing with John, and he was right, anyway, it was his subconscious, always making things worse...
“Hey, uh…” John’s hand landed on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Bob looked up and over, surprised to see a contrite look on John’s face. “Sorry I yelled. None of this is your fault.” He sighed heavily. “I just don’t like being stuck here when that sorcerer is still out there, attacking our friends.”
Bob's chest loosened a little. "No, I get it. I don't like this any more than you do."
John patted him again before folding his arms over his chest, all business. "So, we'll follow the plot to get out of here, then. What comes next usually, in a film like this?"
"Well... I'm supposed to go to this corporate dinner, so I probably need a nice outfit..." Bob blinked. "Oh, I know! A dressing room montage!"
John squinted at him. "A what?"
"You know, when the romantic lead tries on a bunch of different outfits until his friend finally tells him that he's in the perfect one."
Another door suddenly appeared on the back wall of the coffee shop. John approached it cautiously and opened it. "Holy shit, it's a dressing room!" He beamed at Bob. "You're a genius!"
A laugh bubbled out of Bob's throat in relief. There was a warmth in his chest, too, but he tried his best to ignore it. They had an entire second half of a movie to get through.
~*~
Trying on clothes was not the worst way to kill time in a pocket dimension, although Bob couldn’t help but feel the underlying stress over what might be happening to his friends out in the real world. He wouldn’t be particularly useful in the fight, not without unleashing his Sentry powers and risking a reappearance of the Void, but John would be able to do something. Bob had seen him in action enough times to know how tough he was.
A memory popped into his mind — a young woman all aglow — was that the sorcerer who had trapped them here? She had thrown a bolt of light his way, and John had thrown himself in front of him to block the blow —
There was a knock on his dressing room door. "You almost done or what?"
Bob sighed and slipped into a suit jacket, the fourth or fifth one he'd tried on, he'd already lost count. "You're going to tell me that this one also makes me look like I'm a server at an overpriced restaurant.”
"It's not my fault they're all boring suits. Isn't that the point of this, to pad out the running time of the movie?"
Well, he might have had a point there. Bob smiled despite himself and adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt. He was not used to such fancy clothes, and couldn't tell what was supposed to look good on him or not. Probably something that he had in common with the protagonist of the movie.
When he opened the door and stepped into the narrow hallway, his own suit was the last thing on his mind.
John looked gorgeous.
At some point, after complaining loudly about how boring this was, John must have picked out a suit for himself. It was a soft gray and fit him as if it were tailor-made, showing off his broad shoulders and athletic build. It reminded Bob of how hot he had found John when they first met, a physical attraction that was only tempered by how much an asshole the man was. Now that attraction flared to live once more, and Bob couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “Wow, um… you look nice…”
John seemed to be having a moment of his own, staring at Bob in an unfocused way before shaking his head a little, as if to clear it. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to spend the rest of this dumb movie in a coffee apron.” His eyes lightened, looking over Bob approvingly. “You look nice, too. That’s the suit for you.”
"It is?" Bob glanced at the three-paneled mirror at the end of the narrow hallway. His blazer and pants were cream-colored, accented with golden thread in the lining. Unlike the previous suits, this one wasn't too baggy or boxy. "There isn't even a tie to go with it..."
"No, no tie." John flicked Bob's open shirt collar. "You're the leading man, you're not supposed to fit in with all the other stuffed suits."
Bob smiled and preened a little for the mirror. "You sure you haven't seen any romantic comedies?"
John shrugged, a little blush dusting his cheeks. "Might have caught a couple scenes from the kitchen while Olivia was watching them..."
Right. John's wife. Or, ex-wife, by now, probably. John stopped wearing his wedding ring a while ago (and Bob could have kicked himself for noticing that detail, like it was any of his business).
"So... we have our outfits.” John looked up and down the hallway. “What's next?"
Bob frowned thoughtfully. "Well, from what I remember, my character was kind of clueless when it came to romance. That's probably where you come in, you're supposed to help me get ready for the party.”
John's eyebrows went up. "The gay best friend is supposed to teach the leading man how to seduce a woman?"
"I don't know, maybe they were trying to be progressive? And don't say 'seduce', the movie was rated PG.”
"Whatever." John made a flippant gesture with both hands. “I’ll do it, if that’s what it takes.”
A new door appeared, different from all the slatted dressing room doors. John pumped a fist in the air. "Yes, progress! Let's go, Romeo."
Bob rolled his eyes and opened the door.
~*~
The next room — hopefully the last — was a hotel ballroom decorated with black and gold streamers and balloons. The lights were turned down to a soft, bluish color, as if everything was happening underwater. It was empty, nothing but bare tables and chairs surrounding a dance floor and a fully stocked bar with no one tending it.
"Looks like prom," John remarked absently as he pulled up a chair and sat down.
Bob joined him. “I wouldn’t know, I didn't go to mine... I mean, I had already dropped out a couple years before, so..."
"You never went to a dance?" John asked curiously.
"A few raves here and there, but I don't remember any of them..." John was giving him a funny look. "What?"
"So you've never danced with a partner."
Bob looked away, not sure how to answer that. He'd gone dancing with people, and then hooked up with said people afterwards, almost always while high, but he knew that wasn't the kind of dancing that John was referring to.
John stood up from the table and held out a hand. Bob stared at him in confusion.
"Come on, get up already." There was a smile on John's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'll teach you."
"There's no music," Bob said, even as he took John's hand.
As if on cue, a love ballad started playing from the speakers.
John pulled him gently out of his seat and walked him to the center of the dance floor. "I'll lead first," he said, putting Bob's hand on his shoulder and then resting his hand on the small of Bob's back. He took Bob's other hand in his own and held it aloft. "We'll do a two step, it's easy, just follow me."
He turned out to be a good teacher, leading Bob around the floor with only a few missteps here and there. It could not have been Bob being a good learner, because he was far too distracted by John's hand at the small of his back, lightly pressing in when he wanted Bob to turn, or the way John smiled at him when he started getting the rhythm right. The space between them narrowed with every revolution, close enough that Bob could smell John's cologne and count the beauty marks on his face. That pathetic little crush he had been trying to extinguish flared to life again, and he felt an unpleasant swirl of disappointment and relief when the song ended.
But Bob's torture wasn't quite over yet.
“Now it’s your turn,” John said, directing Bob to switch arm positions. Bob led John as best he could, the other man being unusually patient and encouraging.
"Did you go to a lot of dances?" Bob asked, because it was either make conversation or get lost in John's eyes.
John smiled wistfully. ”Just a couple in high school, and then the occasional military ball. I only danced with Olivia."
"You're pretty good for only one dance partner," Bob said, trying to be funny. He did not expect John to blush and look away. “Um... sorry, that came out weird. I only wanted to thank you for teaching me."
John didn't say anything, his lips pressed together in a tight frown.
"And I'm sorry that I got you stuck here," Bob added, hoping that saying more words would somehow make John go back to that relaxed, almost sentimental expression he had been making all throughout their dancing. "I remembered that you tried to block the magic spell or whatever it was that the sorcerer flung at me."
John shook his head, the frown softening slightly. "I didn't want you to get hurt. Or... I dunno, turn into a frog or something. I had no idea what that spell would do."
Bob smiled a little, leading John in another gentle turn. "For what it's worth, if I could have switched our roles here, I would have. It would have made a lot more sense the other way around."
John didn't say anything for a long while, his blush creeping down into his beard. "It's okay," he said finally. "Your subconscious isn't totally off the mark with that one."
Bob very nearly stepped on one of John's feet. "What?"
John looked up and away, as if embarrassed to meet Bob's gaze. "I'm not... I mean, I was very much attracted to Olivia. I loved her. I still do, even if it's not in the same way as before. I had zero interest in anyone else. Some of the men I served with, it's like they couldn't wait to get away from their girlfriends and wives so that they could cheat on them. It made me sick." His jaw tightened briefly. "But I'd get crushes sometimes. On celebrities. And they weren't always women."
"Oh..." This was not the sort of confession that Bob was expecting. "Which celebrities?"
He honestly expected John to brush him off. Instead, John swallowed and said in a quiet voice, "In the Caspar movie... I was a kid when I saw it, but... I liked the dad..."
Bob had never seen the movie, but the way John said it made him smile. "But you never did anything about it? Go out with a guy, or —“
John gave him a look, somehow both hard and vulnerable at the same time. "Yeah, I'm sure my father would have liked that. Or my teammates, or literally anyone who knew me in Custer's Grove."
At least you could hide it, Bob thought, somewhat selfishly, before immediately feeling guilty. He knew better than anyone the perils of coming out. "You never told anyone?" he asked instead, rubbing John's back a little in sympathy.
John sighed, the hardness draining from his eyes. "I think Lemar knew, but it was different with him. He was like a brother to me, like how a real brother should be. I never told Olivia because it didn't matter. So... no, I guess not."
"It means a lot that you'd tell me," Bob said simply. He squeezed John's hand. "You know, if you want to know what it’s like with a guy, you can always... I mean —“
"What, a one night stand? I don't do that."
Bob exhaled softly, brushing away the disappointment. It had been a bad idea, anyway, to make that kind of offer. "Yeah, no. Of course not."
"Maybe if I had a connection with someone," John mused, before scoffing at the idea. "But I mean, who would even want me... divorced discount Captain America..."
"You forgot loyal," Bob piped up. "And smart, and protective, and a good cook."
John's mouth twitched, fighting off a smile. "Aren't I supposed to be hyping you up, instead of the other way around?"
"No, that's not how you show people you care." Bob grinned and twirled John in a circle. “But I wouldn't say no to you saying something nice to me in return."
He expected John to laugh or say something snarky, but instead the other man's expression sobered, his brows drawing together in concern. "If I'm hard on you, it's because I worry about you, Bobby. You’ve got such a kind, generous heart. The heart of a hero. You've already been through Hell enough times, I don't want you going through it again."
Bob's heart flipped at the admission. He didn’t even bristle at the nickname; he knew that John meant it affectionately. Maybe he had for a while. “With you looking out for me, I’m sure I won’t.” He pressed his hand into John's back, slowing their dancing to a sway. "Thanks, John."
John's smile returned, warm like sunshine and surprisingly sweet, none of his usual cockiness on display. Bob’s pulse picked up, hyperaware of their clasped hands and pseudo-embrace, the moment stretching between them like a held breath.
Suddenly, they were not alone.
The room was full of people, men and women in formal suits and fancy dresses, some on the dance floor and others milling about the tables with drinks in their hands. A poppy dance song blared over the sound system, and the chatter of conversation was even louder to compensate. Bob let go of John instinctively to cover his ears until he could get used to the noise.
"Jesus Christ, is this a comedy or a horror movie?" John said, hand over his chest, recovering from the sudden influx of people. He squeezed Bob's shoulder before letting go. "Hey, you okay?"
Bob lowered his hands, nerves jangled. "Yeah... yeah, just startled me, is all." He looked around and spotted Ava at a table chatting with Alexei, but no sign of Yelena. "Should we go over there? I don't see Yelena."
John frowned over at their faux teammates. "Probably. Wasn't there some sort of B-plot with you joining the architectural firm?"
"Right..." Bob took John's arm, but John shook off his grip. “Aren't you coming with me?" he asked, trying not to sound slighted by the brush off.
"I am, but we're not going over there arm-in-arm. Not when you're trying to win the approval of Yelena's father."
John was right, but Bob still felt unhappy about it, confined to a role that he hadn't asked to play. He squared his shoulders and headed over to the little table, anyway.
As expected, fake Alexei only superficially resembled his real counterpart, exhibiting none of the cheer and warmth that Bob was used to. Bob bumbled through his little speech about joining the firm, realizing a sentence in that none of what he said seemed to make a difference to the plot. John, meanwhile, was looking increasingly miserable while Ava talked his ear off about numbers and figures and quarterly reports.
Bob got the promise of an interview, and Alexei and Ava left them alone to freshen their drinks. "I am never going to complain about Ava's attitude ever again," John announced, looking exhausted. "I'll take a thousand hours of her bullying me over whatever the hell that was."
"I miss our friends, too,” Bob agreed wearily. "Wait, is that —“
Bucky was over by the bar, chatting with the bartender. John looked over and turned pale. "Shit," he said, a bit of panic in his voice. "Shit shit shit. What do I do?"
"Nothing, it's fine. Look, he doesn't even see you, he's... oh, wow. Did he just slip the bartender his number?"
"He's cheating on me?!" John said in sincere outrage before bringing a hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Goddammit, what the hell am I saying? This place is fucking with me."
Bob patted John's arm sympathetically.
Then, finally, Bob saw Yelena. She was standing by the edge of the dance floor, nervously tapping her heels. She looked stunning, apparently having gone through a dressing room montage of her own, her dress a warm, shimmering gold, far more eye-catching than anyone else’s around her.
"Finally," John said with relief. He gave Bob a nudge. "Go, ask her to dance."
Bob hesitated a little. "You'll be okay? Even though Bucky —“
"For fuck's sake." John glared at him, hands gripping the end of the table. “It doesn’t matter, none of this is real. Just go over there and do whatever you have to so we can get out of here!"
Bob knew it was the stress talking, but John's tone hurt regardless. He turned on his heel and marched over to Yelena, who watched him approach with a slowly growing smile. "Hi," she said breathlessly, stars in her eyes.
It made Bob miss the real Yelena so, so badly.
"Hi," he replied, offering her a hand. "Can I have this dance?"
Yelena twittered and let him lead her onto the dance floor. It was stiff and awkward, at least on Bob's part, not the comfortable rhythm that he and John had fallen into. Bob looked around for John, but did not see him anywhere. It was a sea of unfamiliar faces, and the familiar-but-wrong face of Yelena.
The song ended, and Yelena stayed in his arms, staring up at him adoringly. Was this the point in the movie when he was supposed to kiss her? That’s how most romantic comedies ended, at least the PG ones. And yet, Bob hesitated to do it. It was only a kiss, and it wasn’t the real Yelena, but he felt queasy, anyway, like all the times he had put his mouth on someone for a reason other than genuine attraction.
A hand reached out, grabbing Bob's arm and pulling him out of Yelena's grasp.
"Excuse us a moment," John said tightly, dragging Bob off the dance floor. Bob didn't resist, too stunned by John's behavior and perhaps a little relieved by the interruption. It wasn't until they had exited the ballroom completely and entered the empty hallway beyond that Bob finally yanked his arm away, fury overtaking surprise.
"What the hell, Walker? I thought you wanted to get out of here!"
"I do!" John's hands were clenched into fists, his body taut with stress. "But — fuck, I don't know, you looked so miserable, I couldn't let you go through with it."
Bob usually found John's protectiveness endearing, but right now, it grated on his nerves. "That wasn't your call to make! I have to kiss her, that's how the movie ends!"
"You don't know that," John snapped, getting in Bob's face. "It could be something else that —“
"Oh, suddenly you're the expert on romantic comedies?"
John growled in frustration. "I know that people don't fall in love after one lousy dance!"
It felt like a gut punch. A ridiculous, irrational gut punch. His dance with John had been the one bright spot in this weird pocket dimension. Bob bit his lip to keep it from trembling. "You don't trust me, is that it?" he hissed, refusing to back down. "You don't think I know what will actually break the spell, so you'd rather suffer in stupid movie jail with me than admit that I'm right?"
All the fight seemed to leave John's body at once. "I trust you, Bobby. I promise, that's not what this is about."
"So then what is it?" Bob stayed in John's space, closer than they had been even when dancing, only their breath and a sliver of air between them. He stared into John's eyes, some emotion lurking within them that — based on the blankness of the rest of his face — he was using every ounce of his training to conceal. Bob pressed on, regardless. "You think I'm not good enough to be the romantic lead?"
“No.” A hint of a smirk curled up a corner of John’s mouth, like he couldn’t help it. “In fact, I think you're a little too fucking good at it."
Bob's heart hammered in his chest, a heady mixture of hope and defiance flooding his system. "Yeah? Then prove it."
With a blink-and-you'd-miss-it flash of teeth, John grabbed Bob by his lapels and crushed their mouths together in a searing, white-hot kiss.
Bob only had enough time to clasp John’s shoulders before John pulled away, eyes wide with disbelief. It reminded Bob a little of the face John had made when his shield was folded in half, and he had to fight back an inappropriate giggle.
John's fingers curled more tightly into the fabric of Bob's blazer, as if terrified that one of them would bolt. "Shit, sorry, I --"
"Shut up," Bob said before pulling John into a second kiss.
For all the roughness in the way that John clung to him, his lips were soft, gliding over Bob's soothingly, a thousand apologies and promises contained in that precious gesture. When Bob let his lips fall open, John sighed and slipped his tongue between them, a man dying of thirst finally drinking his fill.
Maybe Bob was a good enough leading man, but damn, John was an amazing kisser.
The empty hallway around them began to blur and fade, but Bob ignored it, focused instead on the way John's mouth felt on his and the touch of his hands sliding up into his hair. Bob slipped his arms around John's waist and held him close, only breaking off the kiss when the noise surrounding them was too loud to ignore.
They were in New York again, the signs of a violent, but contained battle surrounding them: scorched pavement at their feet, a broken park bench, and a streetlight that was bent at an odd angle. Bob was relieved to see all his friends in one piece, even if they were still being terrorized by the same sorcerer who was managing to avoid all of their attacks.
"Idiots!" She cackled, dodging another phased assault from Ava. "No wonder they call you the B-vengers!"
Then she spotted Bob and John and her mocking smile shifted into a look of utter disbelief. "No!" she shouted, pointing an accusing finger at them. "How did you escape my pocket dimension of hopeless yearning? No one has ever —“
Her words were cut off with nonsensical garble as electricity arced around her throat. She collapsed, unconscious, revealing Yelena and her spider bite bracelets standing directly behind her.
"Damn," John muttered, arms wrapped around Bob protectively. "I was going to thank her right before I punched her face in.”
Their friends quickly gathered around them, expressing their relief. “You went poof!” Yelena said. “We were so upset. Are you okay? Why were you kissing?”
That last part was directed at John, Yelena's expression that of a disapproving sister.
"Uh." John stammered, looking like a deer in the headlights. "There was a... and we..."
Ava nudged Bucky and looked at him meaningfully. Bucky sighed, pulled out his wallet, and slipped Ava a twenty.
Yelena held up a hand, cutting off John's feeble attempt at an explanation. “It’s fine, we can talk about it back at the Tower.” She gave the fallen sorcerer a look of disgust. “Can someone contact Wong and have him deal with the crazy magic lady?”
Alexei already had his phone out, Wong apparently on his speed dial. "Sorcerer Supreme Wong!" he crowed into the phone. "Yes, another one! Haha, sure, karaoke after!"
~*~
Bob sat next to John in the conference room, holding hands under the table. John had taken it at some point when Bob's explanation of what had happened to them got a little too animated, and he seemed disinclined to let go.
"And I was there, too?" Ava said with a small, confused frown, once Bob was done explaining.
"Yeah, but not as yourself. You were only playing a part in the movie."
"Was I there?" Bucky asked curiously.
“No,” John said immediately and emphatically. Bucky didn’t look like he completely believed him, but he let the matter drop with a small shrug.
“Wait… this movie…” Yelena leaned forward in her seat. “Was this the same movie that we watched last night?”
Bob nodded, and Yelena sighed softly in understanding. “Ah, it all makes sense now, how you escaped.”
"It does?" Bob glanced at John, who seemed equally confused. "But wasn't I supposed to kiss y— I mean, the girl in the movie?"
"Nooo," Yelena drawled with a lazy flick of her hand. “The best friend, he confesses his feelings at the end and then they kiss. You fell asleep before the big reveal.”
Bob heard John’s chair swivel slightly, and could feel the man’s gaze on him, like a laser-guided missile. "Oh." Bob smiled, refusing to look at him. "Yeah, I guess the main guy and his friend did have a lot of chemistry..."
The meeting moved on to other topics involving the fight and ended shortly afterwards, Alexei boisterously ushering their teammates out the door. Soon it was just Bob and John, alone in the conference room.
Bob finally hazarded a glance at the other man. John was staring at him with an unamused look on his face.
”Chemistry," he said flatly.
Bob shrugged helplessly. "It's not a totally uncommon plot twist..."
They sat in silence a little while longer. Then John sighed and stood up, tugging on Bob's hand as he did so. "Okay, let's go."
Bob stood up in confusion. "Go where?"
"Out for ice cream. I know you’d been looking forward to it.”
Truthfully, Bob had forgotten all about the ice cream, but no way he’d pass up the opportunity. He smiled at John, shifting his clasp on John’s hand so that they could thread their fingers together. “Okay… and, uh… maybe some more kissing afterwards?”
John turned the most delightful shade of pink. “Yeah, that too.” He tugged Bob a little closer and added, “Remember, I don’t —“
“No one-night stands, I know.” He leaned in and kissed John’s cheek. “We can have as many as you want, John.”
“Stop being so fucking charming, we’re not trapped in a romantic comedy anymore,” John grumbled as he herded Bob out the door.
And thank goodness for that, Bob thought as they made their way to the elevator, because the real world was not rated PG, and he planned to take full advantage of that fact later.