Chapter Text
It starts with a couple of drinks and the rare occasion when they have the Watchtower to themselves. It’s a rainy evening and John is the only one home besides Bob, having returned from a baseball match earlier in the day in a good mood after his team won.
Bob is playing video games on the couch, currently maneuvering his little character through a series of swinging wires while 8-bit music plays, when John rolls over the back of the couch next to him, two beers in one hand and a big dumb grin on his face. “You want?” he asks, waving one of the bottles in front of Bob’s head.
“What for?” Bob says, deftly dodging around the final swinging wire and activating a swirling teacup ride.
“What, can’t I get drunk- or at least lightly buzzed- with a comrade in arms on government property to celebrate a good match?” John smiles his stupidly charismatic smile, one corner of his mouth curling higher than the other.
Bob smiles back, but holds a finger to John’s lips. “Wh-“ he manages to get out before Bob whispers, “Shh.” Looking at John’s confused face, Bob’s grin widens and he gestures at the screen. “Lemme find a save point first.”
When he does, he shuts off the console and turns back to John, who’s set both bottles on coasters on the table (like a big fucking dork) and is sitting cross-legged in the couch, apparently absorbed in watching Bob play. Bob’s heart flutters when John snaps back to attention, lips slightly parted. “You’re pretty good at that.” He says it like a compliment, not just a statement. Bob says, “Yeah, well,” but forgets what he’s about to say. “How about those beers then?”
“Sure.”
When Bob first takes a sip, he spits it back out in disgust. “Ugh, this is piss . Did you piss in this?” John snorts.
“What, never had a beer before?”
Bob is mildly interested in punching him for the face he makes as he says that, but more interested in dispelling the idea he’s somehow some kind of prude who’s never enjoyed a cold one. “Um, yeah, duh. But this isn’t beer. This is absolutely fucking disgusting.” He takes another swig and finds it just as vile as the first sip. “I mean, what actually is this? Hold on,” he takes a look at the label on the bottle and scoffs in mock disdain. “Store brand cheap shit. In the Avengers Tower.”
“Fuck, well, that’s what Valentina got, I guess.” John turns a little red. “Definitely not the fault of someone who went grocery shopping a few days ago at midnight and didn’t look too closely at the labels. Who would be me.”
Bob takes another sip of the disgusting beer and laughs. “Well, you did one thing right. This thing for sure has alcohol in it.”
He offers the bottle to John, but John picks up his own and clinks their bottles in a toast. “To midnight grocery shopping?”
“More like to you being bad at midnight grocery shopping.” Bob says, already feeling a little buzzed. John smiles at him. Bob pretends it’s the alcohol making him feel that hot on the inside.
-
Bob is in the middle of telling a story about the worst thing he’s ever eaten when John suddenly downs the rest of his beer in one gulp and fiddles with the label, pretending not to be looking at Bob out of the corner of his eye.
Sidling closer on the couch throughout the evening, listening and laughing along to their easy conversation, ignoring lingering glances and giving plenty of glances of his own, Bob has been trying to quash his fat honking crush on John. But all attempts become futile the second John sets his bottle aside, puts a hand on Bob’s knee, and almost shyly kisses him, making a surprised noise when Bob kisses back, dragging his teeth on John’s lower lip before pulling away. John’s face is still close enough to his for his beard to tickle Bob’s chin, and Bob relishes the moment and the look in John’s blue eyes. “God, I’ve wanted you to do that to me for so long, you have no idea.” Bob says. He’s pleased when it makes John flush red in the face.
He’s more pleased when John leans forward to kiss him again, more needy than the last time. Bob brings his hand up to tangle in John’s hair before leaning backward on the couch and allowing John to position himself more steadily on top of him. They’re connected for a few seconds longer, then John pulls away this time, shifting his weight. “You okay?” Bob asks.
“Yeah, just- never done this before with a dude.” John says, frowning contemplatively. “Feels a little different.” Then he seems to get over it and places one hand on Bob’s hip and the other at his ribcage.
Their lips brush again, and it’s like heaven, but Bob’s stomach twists. With a dude. Yeah, with a dude. Sorry, John, I’m probably not exactly your idea of a dude. That’s the thing about this stupid crush. John is just about as all-American as it gets, and Bob… is not, is definitely not. Despite the starbursts of warmth in his lower belly when John’s hand briefly slides lower than his waist, he absolutely shouldn’t let this go further, for both of their sakes.
But he wants it so very badly.
So Bob tries to kill the rising panic inside of his chest and prays that maybe somebody else will come back home and they’ll be forced to collect themselves and think on these feelings some other time.
John kisses at Bob’s jawline, then lowers his full weight on top of Bob. “Hey, you want to take this further?” he asks.
Flushed and feeling a little giddy and trying desperately to strangle his better judgment, Bob nods and then rasps out a “Yeah.” when John doesn’t take his nod as agreement.
John sits up to straddle Bob’s hips. “Then how about we take it to the bedroom? This couch probably won’t be very good for your back. And, you know, we’ve got nosy teammates.”
Bob nods again. “Wow, already assuming you’re going to be the one on top. That’s pretty cocky, Walker.” he teases, hiking one of his legs so John is thrown slightly off-balance.
John actually stammers at that, several attempts to parse a response failing before he thinks of something acceptable to say. “Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I mean, you can be on top of you want. I don’t know how it works. Uh. With two guys.”
Bob just gazes up at John for a second, finding his confusion extremely endearing, before chuckling. “No, you assumed right. I’m just messing with you.”
John’s eyes twinkle and he breaks into a grin before pouncing back down on Bob and wrapping his arms around his back, lifting him bodily off the couch. Bob shrieks partially out of shock and partially in awe of the weightless feeling he gets as John casually picks him up, remembering that he’s a super soldier. Of course, Bob is stronger than John. But he’s never experienced getting manhandled like this before. It’s enjoyable. Bob wraps his legs around John’s waist and nuzzles his neck, planting a kiss in the pit between his ear and his jaw.
“Wait. Your room or mine?” John asks, and Bob feels the words thrum against his cheek where he has his lips pressed to the apple of John’s throat.
“Mine,” he says, “Yours doesn’t have a halfway decent mattress.”
John chuckles. “Okay, whatever you say, Princess Bobby.”
Bob ignores the feeling the princess jibe gives him and stumbles through the door to his room with John, throwing his arms around John’s neck the second the door clicks shut behind them. John fumbles for the light switch as Bob dedicates himself to distracting him with kisses. He eventually finds the switch and dims the lights all the way, so the room is comfortably lit and still dark enough to set the mood.
The two of them end up collapsing onto the bed, Bob rolling over with the impact so he’s on top of John with a knee between John’s legs, feeling John’s tongue slide over his teeth and into his mouth and not particularly remembering what he was so worried about earlier anyway, as roaming hands become more intense and they’re exploring each other with a fervor. Bob puts one hand around the back of John’s neck as they lean against the headboard and John places his hands back at Bob’s waist. This is right. This feels good.
Breathe. I’m really doing this.
-
John exhales heavily as Bob gently rakes his teeth down his neck, then slides a hand up John’s shirt. This is heaven. This is a lot more right than he ever imagined it could feel, and he wonders if it has to do with the fact that Bob is a man or the fact that this is virtually his second time ever being with someone new and it’s just so different from the kind of love he’s used to.
They’re making out like giddy teenagers who have the house to themselves. John enjoys the feeling of Bob’s hands curling in his hair, playing with it and carding it with his fingertips. He’s never felt more exhilarated or like he could be on top of the world than he does right now. Maybe it’s the alcohol making the warmth of this moment buzz in his brain.
Whenever they part, it’s just to take deep breaths, which Bob has to do more often than John, struggling to breathe and taking greedy gulps of air that make his chest heave. They don’t let go of each other even when their lips separate, and Bob’s knee occasionally grinds against John’s crotch, and his hands stay on Bob’s hips.
He can’t think of the right words to describe it, but the best he can do is ‘pretty damn great.’
Bob stops to take some particularly hard breaths, and things slow down a little. John pushes himself up onto his elbows. “You okay?”
Bob coughs. “Yep, all good!”
“You sure?”
Instead of answering, Bob just leans forward and locks their lips again, cupping John’s face with both hands. This kiss is slower than the others, but also different and more passionate, more focused. John takes things a step further and slides a hand under Bob’s shirt, feeling pudgy stomach and harder muscle buried underneath that softness. He inches his hand upward, toward Bob’s chest.
Bob grabs his wrist before it can go any further and holds it in place, leaning back and putting almost too much pressure on John’s arm.
“Bobby?” John asks, rocking forward. He sits up and Bob flinches backward. “Hey, something wrong?”
Bob loosens his grip on John’s wrist a little. John forgets himself and slides his hand up a little more as he shifts toward Bob. He encounters slippery fabric where Bob’s skin should be. Bob grabs his wrist again and pulls it back down, not making eye contact.
“I have- well, I should have told you earlier, I’m so sorry- I have something I need to tell you.” Bob says, shoulders curling forward so his shirt hangs loosely off of his frame.
John sits back against the headboard. “Do you not want to do this? Because we don’t have to, just say the word and I’m down to just cuddle or piss off or whatever you want.”
“No, I do want to.” Bob says emphatically, still breathing hard. John begins to think he might be having a panic attack “But you might not, you know?”
“Bob, I assure you that I do.” John says.
“No- It’s not that, it’s something about me.” Bob plucks at the front of his shirt. “I’m so sorry for leading you on like this, I didn’t know how to say it because everything was going so fast and I like you so much-” He’s really starting to panic in earnest now and his breathing still isn’t normal. John cups Bob’s cheek, trying to direct his gaze to his face. “Hey, hey, wait. Deep breaths, okay?”
Bob draws a couple of shaky deep breaths. “I’m sorry.”
“Got nothing to apologize for.” John says, relieved that the breathing works a little to calm Bob. “Just tell me whatever it is, okay? I can’t imagine it can be that bad.”
Bob takes a couple more breaths and leans into John’s caress. “Please don’t be mad.” He releases his grip on John’s wrist and rolls up his shirt until his chest is exposed. Now John can get a good look at the fabric thing he encountered earlier. It’s a skintight cropped undershirt that fits snugly against Bob’s chest. John runs his fingers lightly over the material and Bob shivers. It’s not just skintight, it’s also not stretchy. It’s compressing. And his gaze falls to Bob’s lower stomach, where a small bandage is stuck next to a fading bruise.
Bob gasps quietly when John takes his hand away and scoots closer to him. “Um, Bobby…” John starts and Bob actually flinches. “What’s this?”
“Huh?” Bob says. John lightly touches the bruise and the bandaid. “Is this from-?”
Bob follows John’s gaze and looks confused, then blushes deep red. “No! No, I’m clean. That’s from- something else. I thought you meant the binder.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Bob touches the tan undershirt. “It’s this? I use it to- Dude. I didn’t think you wouldn’t know. I mean, I knew you were a hick but I didn’t think you were that much of a hick. It’s not obvious?” When John doesn’t respond and just keeps staring, Bob’s mouth drops open, agape. He looks like he might actually laugh, but the color drains from his cheeks again.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” John says.
“Uh, John,” Bob says with a touch of incredulity, “I’m transgender.” And then he crumples in on himself, and John thinks he might be crying. But he’s laughing, high pitched and slightly manic.
Then it hits John. “Oh.” And then, “Oh!”. Oh, he’s a little bit of an idiot. Fuck.
“Like, which way?” is the first thing he can think of to say. Because there’s a couple different ways, right? Women, men, nonbinary people? Probably a bunch of other things? He’s not smart about this sort of thing. Woefully uneducated, is how Ava would put it. But he’s worried about fumbling this moment and ruining it for Bob, so he pushes his undereducation out of the way and starts to worry about what to say.
Bob rubs his eyes. “Um, trans man? Male?” he sniffs. Oh shit, he is crying a little bit.
“That means… being not a girl, right? But, you used to be a girl?”
Bob nods. John sighs. “Okay, good. I was pretty sure I got that one right.” More hesitant laughter. Bob wipes at his eyes with the collar of his shirt. John inches closer until Bob’s knee is touching his own, and when he doesn’t pull away, John dives in with his next question. “And nobody knows?”
“I think Yelena does. I’ve been transitioned since a little bit before I joined the Sentry project, so it’s not as obvious as it might have been, but she probably saw something in my mind about it. I kind of keep it under wraps.” Bob sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.
“And you were worried that I might get angry at you?” John asks.
“Well, yeah, since I didn’t tell you beforehand and I let you kiss me and then I kissed you, and now we’re here, I just didn’t know how to say it. But I wasn’t trying to, like, lead you on or something. I made a mistake.”
“A mistake?” John leans into Bob’s shoulder, but Bob turns his head away and starts rocking in place before he speaks.
“I thought it was kinda harmless at first, because I thought you were like Mr. Super-Heterosexual or something so it wouldn’t hurt anything to have a crush on you ‘cause I’d never end up with you anyway.” Bob murmurs. “But then tonight happened, and everything happened so fast and I still want you.”
John sits back, struck. Because he does like Bob, and honestly it’s a little comforting that he was apparently doing a decent job of hiding that, and mostly because of the way Bob’s talking about himself. Like he’s done something terrible, like he’s so guilty he’s about to be sick. It’s ripe with a brand of self-loathing John’s never heard from him before.
“I still want you too.” John says even though it’s clear Bob doesn’t believe him by the way he smiles sadly and shakes his head. “I do, okay? I think you’re handsome and I’ve been waiting a really long time to make the first move. And honestly- I don’t really know how to say this, so if this is rude you can tell me but- It doesn’t really matter to me that you’re transgender. You’re Bob. Like, you being a guy is only part of it and I know you’re a guy. So if you want to keep going I’m game.” He thinks on that for a couple seconds. “And if anyone’s ever given you shit for being this way before, they’re wrong and you’re fucking incredible. Got it?”
Bob covers his face with both hands for a couple seconds, which makes John worry that he’s messed up. And then he stops rocking and leans forward to kiss John, tongue nervously darting over his lips before John kisses him back. They melt into each other a little, and John starts to feel the heat and the alcohol again before something else crosses his mind and he breaks away. Bob lets go of where he’d been clutching the hem of John’s shirt a little reluctantly. John traces a finger down Bob’s chest and lifts up his shirt.
“Okay, if we’re going to do this you need to take that thing off. The binder.”
“It keeps my chest flat, I can’t.” Bob says anxiously. “I don’t really want you to see me like that.”
John sighs. “You can barely breathe and it doesn’t look comfortable to have sex in. It’s not safe.”
He can tell from the look in Bob’s eyes that he’s right, even if he doesn’t know how a binder works. It’s had Bob huffing and wheezing since they first started making out and there are red marks where it’s clearly digging into his shoulders and ribs.
“How long are you supposed to be wearing this for, dude?” John gently slides a finger under the very edge of the binder. Bob chews his lower lip. “Eight hours, a little more or a little less.”
“And how long have you been wearing it?”
“Well.” Bob cuts himself off and grimaces. “I don’t actually remember if I took it off when I went to sleep last night.”
“A day.” John says neutrally. Bob shrugs, sheepish. John rolls his eyes. “Yeah, take it off.”
“But-”
“No buts. You’ve got to treat yourself better, invincibility be damned. Seriously. I want you to be comfortable. And safe ,” John stresses. “Look, just keep your shirt on, but take your binder off. I won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want to be touched. I promise.”
That seems to do it. Bob nods and turns around, wrestling off his shirt and revealing his back. The discs of his spine are prominent as he flexes and grabs at the back of the binder, rolling it up and twisting it over his head. John averts his eyes as Bob reaches around to put his shirt back on, then looks back when he turns to face him again.
“Better?” John asks, listening to Bob’s even breathing.
“Much.” Bob admits. He wraps his arms around John’s neck and stretches his back. John tucks a curly lock of brown hair behind Bob’s ear and then rolls them both over so that Bob is on his back looking up at John.
“God, you’re perfect.” John breathes. Bob grins and goes pink to the tips of his ears. John puts a hand on Bob’s waist and Bob arches his back until their hips are pressed against each other. Then he starts to slowly move his hips back and forth against John’s. John moans, and Bob moves a little quicker before slowing down again.
They’re kissing again and Bob has one arm around John’s back and one leg curled around John’s. John slides his hand down Bob’s side and hooks two fingers under the waistband of Bob’s sweatpants. He undoes the tie, lazily knotted, and pulls them off so Bob is just in his oversized sweatshirt and boxers.
Bob fixes John in a stare, eyes full of need and one hand splaying across his lower belly. Then he reaches for John’s belt and John helps him, fingers missing the button of his jeans several times before he finally manages to undo it. Now they’re both in just their underwear and shirts and Bob is panting. John kisses the spot where his jaw meets his throat and slides a hand between Bob’s legs and Bob sighs into his hair. “Okay so far?” John asks, and Bob nods enthusiastically.
John begins to work two fingers slowly against the smooth fabric of Bob’s boxers until a wet spot starts to form and Bob shudders against him, one leg twitching. “Fuck.”
“You like that?” John pulls himself back on top of Bob so they’re at eye level. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” Bob says, arching upward until he’s pressing himself against John’s dick. John pauses. “Wait. Can you get pregnant?”
Bob freezes. “Shit. Yeah. I forgot.”
“Then hold on, I don’t think I’ve got protection in here.” John sits back. “Sorry.”
“Wow, you’re so responsible.” Bob teases. “But seriously, yeah. I’m not willing to risk it. Testosterone is one hell of a drug but it doesn’t work miracles.” He sighs and goes limp, limbs spread out. “I’d tell you to go run to the corner store and get a pack of Trojans but somehow I feel like that kills the mood.”
John chuckles. “Lemme do something else for you then.” Bob leans on one elbow. “Hmm?”
When John moves down to rest between Bob’s legs, Bob takes the hint. He immediately wriggles until his hips are in a comfortable position and spreads his legs further. John rests his cheek on Bob’s thigh and stares up at him as Bob slides his boxers down and helps him pull them off.
“I hope this isn’t offensive but it’s kind of a relief that you’ve got a pussy.” John says matter-of-factly.
“How so?”
“I was thinking earlier on the couch that I wasn’t gonna know what to do if you had a cock. Believe it or not, I’ve never gotten another guy off before.”
John kisses the trail of hair just below Bob’s navel that leads down to the dark curly thatch between his legs, then kisses his inner thigh. Bob giggles breathily. “That seriously tickles.”
“Oh yeah? Does it tickle when I do this?” John lifts one of Bob’s legs up to rest on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his clit. Bob squirms. “Yeah, that tickles. Don’t stop.”
“As you wish.”
“Asshole.”
-
John is so tender with him, it makes Bob feel completely naked. From his very first kiss to the spot where Bob’s been wanting him so very badly, he’s been a goner.
John moves slowly at first, fingertips digging into Bob’s hips while he plants kisses down his clit and toward his cunt. To his credit he doesn’t seem put off by Bob’s bottom growth at all, even though it’s not really substantial due to the four years he had to spend off testosterone. Bob groans as John licks upward, beard tickling him, and begins to lap more ferociously at his tdick. His legs curl upward involuntarily and John leans forward to continue eating him out.
Bob starts playing with John’s hair, twisting soft bronze locks gently through his fingers and admiring him from where he sits as things settle into an intoxicating rhythm. John excels at getting him worked up and uses his tongue and fingers like a damn magician, gentle and then more frantic and then gentle again until Bob finds himself relaxing and unwinding. He curls John’s hair through his fingers, petting the side of his head.
John tilts his head into the touch and presses his tongue to the entrance to Bob’s pussy, then slips inside him.
“Shit.” Bob gasps, breath hitching. John grins and dives in again, harder, tongue fluttering against his inner walls until Bob is practically jelly. God damn it, he’s so handsome and fucking smug when he looks up from in between Bob’s legs, but it’s a good kind of smug, where he’s happy that Bob feels so incredibly good and he made him feel this way.
“Having a good time, babe?” John says.
“God,” Bob manages, “Yes. Haven’t you only been in one other relationship since high school? Where the fuck did you learn how to do this?”
John smiles. “Playing it by ear.” He cuts off Bob’s reply by swirling his tongue over his clit. Bob makes fists in the blanket before John’s tongue is inside him again while his fingers work at his bottom growth and Bob can feel himself getting dangerously close to the edge. John seems to realize this too and slows down just a little, withdrawing to kiss the inside of Bob’s thigh. Bob whines when he moves away, and John kisses his stomach. “Wow, miss me already?”
“Please don’t stop.”
“Okay, handsome.” John says. Bob is seeing stars already, but handsome makes him feel lightheaded. John curls a finger inside him and Bob tightens around it, letting go and feeling the rush of pleasure overwhelm him, barely noticing John continuing to slowly work in and out of him before sliding his fingers out and letting Bob’s leg slide off of his shoulder and rest on the bed. He sits back, pleased, then crawls up to Bob’s eye level and smooths Bob’s hair off of his sweaty forehead, whispering praise into his ear and kissing his cheek, then his lips, until his orgasm is over and he’s left blissfully limp. John stares at him admiringly. “Cool.”
“What’s cool?” Bob asks when he can trust himself to form words again.
“Your eyes turned gold for a few seconds there. It’s pretty.”
John pushes his head into the crook of Bob’s neck and throws his arm over Bob’s chest, moving it to his stomach when Bob recoils on reflex. They lay like that for a minute, Bob too euphoric to even risk moving.
“You’re so hot.” John says, cuddling further into Bob.
“You are too. God, I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had.” Bob tries to smile, but tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he stifles a sob. John immediately sits up. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No, no, it’s just,” Bob waves a hand. “You were just so gentle and sweet. I’m a little overwhelmed is all.” He bites the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I dunno why I’m crying. Sex just isn’t usually like that, in my experience.”
John props himself up on an elbow and strokes Bob’s hair. “What do you mean?” he asks, trying and failing to hide the concern in his voice.
“Well, I don’t know. It’s always been transactional, you know? Or rough, or both. Think about my life. Spending years drifting around continents, it’s hard to find someone who actually wants you for yourself or for your worth as a person and not just for your body or something you have that they want. Especially when you’re like me.”
Bob’s worried he’s said too much and made it weird, has reached the terminal point of talking about the dumpster fire of his life, but John just looks at him sadly and hugs him tight to his chest, squeezing the air out of him before letting go.
“You didn’t deserve that.” he says. “You’re incredible.”
That does it. Bob cries freely into John’s chest for a few minutes, John holding him and petting his hair the whole time until he’s exhausted himself. Then John kisses him on the forehead and finds his discarded boxers, wrangles them back over Bob’s hips, and gets up. Bob is worried he’s going to leave, but he just goes into the connecting bathroom and Bob hears the sound of running water.
John comes back with a tiny paper cup of water and hands it to Bob, watches him drink it, then takes it from him and sets it on the nightstand next to Bob’s pill counter.
“Thanks.” Bob says. John slides in next to him on his right and lifts up the covers so Bob can slip under. When Bob’s comfortable, John snuggles in and throws a leg over Bob’s and puts his arm back on Bob’s stomach. “You want me to stay?” he asks, looking up at Bob with a ridiculous pleading face.
“Get in here.” Bob rolls his eyes and puts an arm around John, pulling him close and burying his face in John’s hair.
Bob falls asleep to the feeling of John rubbing circles into the small of his back and John’s legs intertwined with his.