Chapter Text
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the middle floor of the Watchtower that was now occupied by Bob (and his mate) instead of the heroes who came before him.
The building itself had been repurposed into a strange, chaotic, sometimes-functional nest for the New Avengers.
The lights were warm, casting a golden hue over sleek floors and wide windows that stretched toward the skyline.
John power walked in first with Bob instantly after him. The alpha was focused, his steps instinctively quiet. His sandalwood and fresh laundry scent saturated the space, familiar and warm. John loved how comforting it was without being overwhelming.
The rest of the team trailed behind the new parents, keeping their voices low in deference to the new arrivals.
Yelena clutched the diaper bag at her side, and Bucky carried a duffel full of sweatpants John wore and toiletries he used while recovering in the hospital. Ava’s knees buckled as soon as she phased into the room, looking around like a threat was about to pop out of nowhere. Alexei was unusually reverent, despite accidentally stumbling on a box that contained an unbuilt stroller. Nonetheless, the Russian man tried to give everyone a reassuring thumbs-up.
But Bob didn’t notice any of it. His focus was entirely on the bassinets.
He had one in each arm, steady and sure despite the weight. Maisie was in his right, Michael was in his left. They slept soundly, tiny pink faces swaddled in matching star-print blankets.
John let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “Finally.”
He was wrapped in a soft sweater two sizes too big— Bob’s, clearly— and his face looked pinched at the edges, the signs of a grueling labor still etched into the corners of his eyes. But even exhaustion couldn't dull the quiet pride in his expression. He’d done it. He’d given birth to two perfect babies, a boy and a girl. And he didn’t have to do it alone since Bob was there the whole time. John wasn’t alone at all. The team came to the hospital as soon as they heard.
The omega made a beeline for the massive bed, their bed.
It had only been three days since he last laid in it, but three days too many.
“Don’t forget to hydrate, Johnny!” Yelena called from down the hallway, helping Alexei pick up the box with the stroller as he tried to move it to the corner.
Bucky gave Bob a look. “You good?”
Bob nodded once. “Never better.”
The team scattered slowly, a mix of fond teasing and logistical chaos. Bucky and Alexei ended up in the kitchen arguing over formula versus fresh-pressed omega milk. Yelena was already planning to have the whole tower be baby-proofed. Ava was looking up cute onesies and pacifiers online.
But none of them followed Bob to the door at the end of the floor. Their door. Bob and John’s space.
Bob nudged it open with his foot.
The room still smelled like Bob’s scent and their mating bond. Vanilla, sandalwood, and laundry, mixed with coffee and chamomile but also something older and sweeter.
There was the same bed they’d curled up in after long days, after arguments, but most importantly after John’s mating heat when it burned through them like wildfire.
John groaned softly as he dropped onto the bed, sprawling belly-down. His arms spread and his face buried deep into the pillows. He exhaled, body finally melting into the mattress.
“God, it still smells like you.” He murmured, words muffled by the bedding. “I thought they’d Lysol the place after everything.”
Bob smiled, quiet and wide.
“I had them do the opposite.” He said, setting the bassinets down one by one on the side table. He kept a hand on each. Michael in the starry blue blanket and Maisie in starry soft lavender, both fast asleep. “Didn’t want them coming home to somewhere that didn’t smell like us.”
John let out a sleepy, blissed-out little growl, rubbing his cheek along the pillowcase. “You’re a sap.”
“I just love you.”
John mumbled, “Yeah. I love you too.”
— — — —
A day had passed since they got home.
One day, and the bedroom looked like it had survived a siege. There were half-folded blankets draped over every surface, a breast pump on the nightstand with tubing tangled like battlefield wires, and a crumpled nursing pad stuck to the side of a lamp. A burp cloth hung from the closet doorknob like it had given up trying to help.
Maisie had gone down without a sound. The smug little princess was snoozing peacefully in her bassinet, pink-faced and perfect, like she hadn’t spent the last four days crying in sync with her brother.
Michael, however, was at full volume.
He was screaming, red-faced, and inconsolable. And John looked like hell.
He stood barefoot near the bed, wearing nothing but Bob’s sweater— now stained with Maisie’s spit-up and Michael’s urine— and a pair of tight boxers from before he was pregnant. He was rocking Michael in tense, jerky movements with hunched shoulders. His hair clung to the back of his neck in sweaty clumps. His chest was damp with milk, and one of his nipples visibly and actively leaked through the fabric in a slow, stubborn bloom. Both of his nipples ached like they were being chewed off in shifts. His whole body felt like it had been used as someone else's war zone.
“I just fed him,” he muttered, pacing. “I just changed him. I held him. I fucking sang to him. He was fine. He was fine five minutes ago. He was fine.”
Bob, standing nearby, took a slow breath. He’d been quiet for a while, watching, waiting. But John was unraveling.
“Let me take him, mama,” Bob said gently. “You need a minute.”
“I don’t—” John’s voice hitched, his jaw tight. “I don’t need anything except for him to shut up.”
“John—”
“Don’t ‘John’ me.”
“I’m not trying to take over,” Bob said. “You’re exhausted. You haven’t sat down in—”
“Because every time I do, someone cries. Him, her, me. You want to take him? For what, Bob? So you can walk around whispering some warm bullshit while I sit here with my tits leaking, looking like a wet rag?”
Bob flinched at the word, but he didn’t argue. No he never argued. At least not with the mother of his children. “I just want to help.”
“Well, you can’t!” John snapped. “You can’t help, Bob! You can’t nurse him. You didn’t carry him for me. You can’t fix this! You just hover like everything’s okay, but it’s not, and I swear to god if you say one more calm little ‘mama’ I’m going to punch a hole through my uterus!”
Michael shrieked louder.
“Oh my god,” John barked. “Shut up! What do you want from me?!”
Bob stepped forward, slow. “Let me—”
“No! Don’t swoop in now, you’re not a hero, not when I’m the one getting torn apart by this every goddamn hour!” John shoved the baby into his chest, too hard. “Fine. You do it. Go on. Show me how gentle you are. Fix it.”
Bob caught Michael instinctively, holding him against his chest. The baby wailed and flailed harder.
John took two staggering steps back, arms suddenly empty, eyes wide and wild. “Why does he cry when I hold him, and cry harder when I don’t? What the hell am I even doing right?!”
Bob didn't speak. He just held Michael, bouncing gently, murmuring soft things into the baby’s ear, even though Michael clearly wanted his mama, even if it came wrapped in rage and panic and milk-stained desperation.
John rubbed at his face roughly, walking in a tight circle near the bed. He muttered to himself in a low, furious, unraveling tone. “It’s like he’s punishing me. I get ten minutes of peace with one kid, and the other loses his mind. I give everything. I bleed, feed, barely fucking breathe, and still it’s not enough. Still he screams.”
“John,” Bob said quietly. “He’s three days old. He’s not punishing you.”
“Oh, what a relief,” John snapped, rounding on him. “Thanks, Bob. Let me add rationality to the list of things I can’t seem to maintain.”
Michael shrieked in Bob’s arms. His whole body arched. His fists beat against Bob’s collarbone.
“Just give him back,” John growled. “Give him back to me before I put myself through the goddamn wall.”
Bob didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, passed the baby into his arms. Michael latched to John’s scent immediately, his fists curling into the hoodie like a lifeline.
John rocked him hard, clutching him like the key to all secrets. “Shhh. I’ve got you. Mama’s here. Just stop. Please, just stop.”
Michael began to settle. The screaming slowed to hiccups and then to whimpers until there was nothing but soft, exhausted breathing.
The silence that followed hit like an avalanche.
John stood perfectly still, one hand pressed to the back of Michael’s head, the other shaking where it cradled his legs. His eyes were red and his jaw was clenched so tightly it trembled.
Bob looked back at Maisie, swiftly adjusting her blanket so she wouldn’t suffocate in her sleep.
John didn’t even glance at them.
Bob crossed over to the bed and sat on the edge. His eyes stayed on John like he was watching someone survive a war.
“I’ll be quiet.” Bob said finally. “But I’m not leaving.”
John stood, holding Michael, blinking like he wasn’t sure if he was about to cry or pass out.
Then, finally, he moved. He crossed to the bed, slowly. Laid down sideways, baby still held to his chest, one leg tucked over the blankets like a barrier.
Bob shifted beside him, careful not to touch. Just there, near. Just close enough that if John needed him, he wouldn't have to ask.
It had only been one day. One day, and Bob felt like he was already failing his family.
— — — —
John stood stiffly in Valentina’s office, one hand braced against the desk and the other curled over his stomach protectively. He did it subconsciously. It was pure instinct, even now. Maybe especially now.
It had been less than a week since he was discharged from the hospital. He could still feel it. The skin that stretch over excess body fat, where the weight of his two pups had been only days ago. His scent was warm but tired and threaded with desperation.
“I’m not ready to come back onto the field.” He said, voice tight. “I need more time.”
Val didn’t look up from her tablet.
“You’ve already been off rotation four months. Don’t you think you’ve negotiated your limits far past?”
“I gave birth five days ago.”
“You have the most advanced supersoldier serum in your system.” She said smoothly. “You’re healing faster than most would. Med clearance says you’ll be operational in a week from now.”
“I’m not talking about healing.” He snapped. “I’m talking about my pups. I breastfeed them, they physically need me. They’re my bond. They wail when I leave the room.”
She finally looked at him. The room fell icily silent under her gaze. She was evaluating him, like he was nothing more than an asset that could be easily discarded.
“You didn’t argue the reactivation dates I scheduled for you a few months ago.”
John faltered. “I.. I didn’t know it’d be like this.”
There it was: the raw, honest, and ugly truth. Nine months ago, John was confident he would have returned to the field not even two weeks after giving birth. But after nuzzling and scenting babies that had Bob’s eyes and chin, he couldn’t. Not now.
“I thought I..” John trailed off, feeling his heart lurch.
I thought I’d care more about my job than my kids.
“I thought I would be ready to go back to work as soon as I fully healed.” John spoke, quieter now. “But I was wrong. If you send me back onto the field right now, I’m not going to be useful. I’m going to be thinking about whether my children ate. Whether Bob got them to stop screaming. Whether they know I’m coming back.”
Val folded her hands, elbows on the desk. “That sounds like a personal problem.”
John flinched.
“You don’t think any of my other operatives have puffs?” She continued. “You think they all get to nest at home for months with no consequences?”
“I’m not asking for months.” He said. “Just more time. One more month. Three weeks. Hell, two. I’m not ready, and neither are they.”
“And if I say no?”
John swallowed. “Then I’ll say it again. Every day. In your inbox. In your face. On every damn report you try to push across your desk. I’ll take the pay cut, the downgrade. But I’m not walking out on my pups right now.”
She stared at him for a long moment. If a pin dropped, it could have caused an echo. Then she leaned back in her chair and tapped one manicured nail against the armrest.
“You’ll be docked active status. Your clearance will be downgraded for duration of leave. Mission incentives forfeited. Reassignment likely.”
John didn’t blink. “Fine.”
The alpha woman lifted her tablet, didn’t look at him again. “Take a month. If I see your face before then, I’ll assume you’re ready to work.”
He nodded once, tight and controlled. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. You’ll pay for it in the long run.”
John turned to leave. At the door, she spoke again.
“Agent.”
He looked back.
“Congratulations.” Her voice dropped low. “Go before I change my mind.”
— — — —
Bob always got the mail. That was one of his designated chores, among dishwashing. He was the one to pick up letters and packages from the lobby and stop by each floor to respectively give them to the team. He hadn’t even made it past the stairwell landing when he felt the chill behind him. The hair on his arms rose.
Valentina.
He turned slowly, already knowing who it was. Her heels clacked with confidence, each step deliberate. Bob straightened reflexively, shoulders tense, jaw locked, and the letters still clutched in his hand. She didn’t need to speak for the room to fill with that heavy, suffocating energy she exuded. Bob hated how easily it made him feel small.
“Robert.” She greeted, tone all sugar-coated venom. “What a surprise. Out here playing errand boy while your mate begs me not to send him back into the field. Charming.”
John did what?
His breath hitched but he said nothing, standing there with his spine tight and breath shallow. The thought of John not being able to rely on him and pleading with Val to stay home made Bob want to rip something in half, punch someone. And he was getting dangerously close..
She stood in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, as if she were appraising a broken machine.
“I’m impressed. You manage to put pups in someone and still act like you did the hard part. Congratulations, Daddy. You bred your teammate and left him to clean up the mess.”
Bob’s stomach churned. He opened his mouth, ready to stand his ground, but she was already ahead of him.
“You know, when you became part of this team, I expected a certain level of competence from you. I didn’t expect the kind of weakness that leaves one of the strongest US vets vulnerable.” Her words cut through him like a whip. She looked him over like he was something half-formed and disappointing. “You really thought this was going to work, didn’t you? You thought you could breed a perfectly competent soldier and call it love.” She clicked her tongue. “But all you did was break him.”
Bob’s throat went dry.
“He’s in pieces.” She continued, her voice low, measured, and cold. “Physically. Emotionally. Ripped himself open bringing your freakspawn into the world while you stood around playing house like a glorified sperm donor. You didn’t protect him. You didn’t even try.”
His heart sank when she mentioned John, because everything she said was true. John was exhausted.
But that sinking feeling was quickly replaced with adrenaline and rage that sped up his heart as he was ready to tear her apart for using the word ‘freakspawn’ on his kids.
He glared at her through golden eyes and his arm reached out to grab her by the neck, but she raised her manicured hand without fear.
”Don’t be ridiculous.” She scoffed, holding up John’s dog tags and throwing them at him.
Bob blinked and his eyes were blue again, scrambling to catch the dog tags. When he stumbled back, she smirked.
“That’s what I thought.” She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “You finally figured out how to contribute: get someone else pregnant.”
“I—” Bob tried to interject, but Val didn’t let him. Bob flinched like she’d slapped him.
“You bred a soldier.” She shook her head. “You bred him, now he’s suffering. He’s trying to nurse two infants and keep himself from unraveling while you stand around wringing your hands and whispering ‘I’m helping.’ You didn’t help him. You burdened him.”
The words hit him harder than any punch he’d taken as a hero.
“You didn’t protect him, Robert. A real alpha protects his mate. But you? You endangered him. You let him walk into war with his own biology, and now you have the audacity to act like this makes you a family man?” Her voice twisted with disgust. “You help? You help? All you gave him was a problem he had to fight to survive.”
Bob glared at Val, trying to steady his breathing, trying not to break, the mail dropped and long forgotten at his feet.
His throat tightened. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with effort not to lash out. He could feel the Void pulling at him, bubbling at the edges of his self-control. His fingertips began turning into an inky black, and Val saw it, of course. She always saw it.
“Oh, is that him?” She said with mock sweetness. “Is the Void coming out to defend your honor? Don’t bother. We both know he only makes things worse.”
He turned away, knowing he didn’t need to stay here and listen to her. He wouldn’t let the Void come out because of her. He instantly snapped back into reality and picked up the scattered letters, color returning to his fingertips. But she wasn’t done.
“You think you’re part of the solution now? No, baby, you’re the reason he's hurting.” She said, colder now, circling back around to meet his eyes.
“And if he dies out there, because I send him back too soon? That’s on you, Robert. Not me. You. Because you were too weak to stop it. Too weak to keep him safe. Too weak to be what he needed. Too weak to keep your instincts in check. Too weak to protect your omega. Your pups. Yourself.”
His hands trembled at his sides. Rage and shame and helplessness swirled like a storm.
“You can’t even control the Sentry, Robert.” She mocked, a cruel smile curling on her lips. "What good are you to anyone if you can’t even protect your own family? And don’t tell me it’s about power, because we both know you’re far past that point. You're a pathetic waste of space. A man who couldn’t even defend the one person who needs him most."
Bob’s face reddened, fists clenching. "That’s not fair, Val.”
“Fair?" she scoffed. "You know what’s not fair, Robert? Watching Walker, your omega, risk everything while you cower behind some flimsy excuse about the Sentry." She stepped closer, her voice low but venomous. "You want to be an alpha? A real alpha? You’re weak. A real alpha doesn’t let their family be put in danger. They defend."
Bob stared at her, his mind spinning. He knew what she was doing. She was digging for a crack, pulling at the thin threads of his guilt, his self-doubt. But even as he took a breath, the weight of her words hit hard.
“I can protect them,” he said, but it came out shaky.
“No, you can’t.” She smiled sweetly. “You can’t even protect yourself from you. You can’t control the Sentry. You can’t even keep your Void in check long enough to be a safe partner, let alone a parent. And you know that.”
She spoke condescendingly, letting that sink in before delivering the killing blow.
“You’re not an alpha, Robert. You’re a liability with a pulse.”
Bob's chest heaved. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear through a wall. Instead, he stood there and took it. Because everything she said? He believed it. Deep down, he knew he already failed his family. He was Robert the fuck-up.
“You can’t even control your own damn powers. What do you think is going to happen the next time John’s out there and things go sideways? He gets hurt. Hell, your pups get hurt. All because you couldn’t do your job as their protector."
Bob flinched at the image, feeling a mix of helplessness and rage building up inside him. Bob’s voice came out broken. “Please don’t send him out there.”
Val’s gaze softened in that predatory way of hers, and she leaned in closer.
“I love him,” Bob said hoarsely. “I do. I didn’t— he wanted this too.”
“And that’s the saddest part.” She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, lips curling with satisfaction. “Because you love him, and you’re still not enough.”
“What do you want from me, Val?” Bob choked.
“What I want from you, Robert, is simple. You do what I say, and I’ll make sure your precious John gets to stay home. That’s the trade-off.” Her tone dropped into something cooler, smoother, more calculated.
Bob was trembling now. “That’s not protection. That’s blackmail.”
“You want him safe? You do exactly what I say. You play the good little soldier. You follow orders, keep your leash short, and in exchange? I might let him rest. I might even make sure the twins get the quiet life you two dream about.”
A sick feeling settled in Bob’s chest. She had him in the palm of her hand. She always did. And the worst part? He couldn’t refuse. Not when she dangled his family's safety in front of him like a carrot.
“You’ll be the good little subordinate, won’t you?” She added, her smile sharp. "Because the truth is, Robert, you need me more than I need you. Don’t forget that."
He stood frozen as she walked past him, heels clicking again with each departing step.
“Oh,” she added, tossing the remark over her shoulder without looking back, “and next time you want to play house, try not to ruin a federal asset in the process.”