Bob hasn't really, properly been touched in awhile. A few lame bro hugs here and there. A handshake from the cab driver in Malaysia. A physical from a doctor's cold hands, before undergoing the medical trial that would change his life. But his childhood lacked so much in affection. So much.

And forget about skin to skin contact. He's had a few brief encounters while high that he doesn't care to remember, and he's never been in love. It was always about getting the next fix.

When Yelena touches him, it's like she touches his soul. Like he's clean, not damaged by his past. She reaches for him like it's the easiest thing in the world. And she touches him often, like she wants to.

The first time they made contact - her fingertips against his - he chalked it up to the randomness of the moment. Surely this woman wasn't actually trying to reach for him in the explosion, let alone hold his hand. He's disgusted with himself afterward - why had he caused her to relive such an awful memory? Always making it worse...always.

But Yelena touches him again. "Are you hurt?" A gentle grip on the shoulder, traveling up his neck. When he feels her - ruffling the soft baby hair on the back of his head - he freezes instantly. It takes every effort to give her a stiff nod. To look her in the eye. To not fall to his knees, overwhelmed with her warmth. "No, I'm fine, m'fine," he manages, his voice so thin it's barely there. But what he means is, "Oh, god. Please don't stop, Yelena. Ever again."

(part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10)

Bob gets jealous: a Boblena Doomsday minific

"Those widow bites are some impressive tech, Miss Belova," Johnny Storm intones, sidling up to Yelena. His eyes flick down to her wrists admiringly, one arm folded across his chest while placing his other hand under his lower lip inquisitively. "You know, most of you seem to have an affinity for firearms, but these...they're very...sleek."

"They are, aren't they," Yelena agrees, arching a brow.

"They complement your suit," Johnny continues smoothly, cocking his head. "Which you also wear well."

"Oh, uh, thanks," Yelena says. Johnny has a disarming kind of charm and a directness she can appreciate, and she can't help feeling a little flattered. "You haven't seen my military grade vest though. Lots of cool pockets."

Johnny leans in a hair closer, his voice dropping. "Suppose you could show me sometime."

Shameless of him, Yelena thinks, laying it on in front of everyone here. The Fantastic Four and the "New Avengers" have convened at the Tower for a debrief on their situation. After an afternoon of strategizing and brass tacks and some takeout, they've found an opportunity to socialize more casually. But flirtation? That was not an interaction Yelena had bargained for.

Across the room, Ava hides a snicker behind her hand before giving a cheeky wink. Yelena's eyes flash daggers. Bucky, also watching this unfold from afar, looks like a mildly confused Dad.

Yelena searches the room till her gaze lands on him: Bob, lingering in the corner, his body tense.

And his irises are burning gold.

"Yeah, that was - " Yelena pauses, instantly distracted, and she can think of nothing else but getting over to Bob right now. She shoves her hand forward awkwardly. "Good chat."

"Uh. Alright then." Johnny takes her hand, shakes it once, and watches in bewilderment as Yelena swiftly crosses the room, grabbing Bob on her way out the door.

When it's closed behind them, she immediately pins him against the wall by his shoulders. The fact that he allows her means his super strength hasn't kicked in yet, but based on the signs of adrenaline, he's dangerously close.

"Bob," she says urgently. "Sentry - whoever I'm talking to. Are you okay?"

Bob is breathing hard. Shaking beneath her grip. His lip trembles. It's only when he blinks, and his gaze finds hers, that the smoldering gold ebbs away from his eyes.

"Answer me, Bob," Yelena says, softer this time. "What was that?"

Bob's breath finally steadies. His deep blue eyes are locked on hers, unwavering.

"I - " Bob starts, but shakes his head.

"Did Val trigger you?" Yelena's hands begin searching him, patting him down for a wire or something. "Did you sense danger? Bob, what -"

"I couldn't stand it," Bob blurts out.

Yelena freezes, her hands resting on his chest now. "Couldn't stand...?"

Bob gestures defeatedly to the door. "Him," he says in an undertone. His face is flushed, but still he doesn't glance away from her. "I couldn't stand watching him...talk to you like that."

"I'm a big girl, Bob. I can take care of myself."

"I know. That's - that's not it." Bob's eyelashes flutter momentarily, sucking in a breath through his teeth. "It's that he looks at you like you're some thing to have. He doesn't see you like I do."

Yelena still hasn't moved her body away from him. She can feel how warm he is under her palms. Realizes how close they are. "How do you see me?" she asks intently.

Bob's chest rises and falls as he looks at her.

"Like you're the only one I want to see for the rest of my life," he confesses.

Yelena doesn't move right away. She lets his confession hang there between them. The desperation and desire in his voice. His steady eyes, welled with tears, drinking her in. The apple of his throat tight with longing.

Only then does she rise on her toes, meeting his mouth. Tasting him, mingling with the salt of the tear slipping down his cheek. The kiss is slow, deep, lingering. A small, needy gasp escapes his lips.

Nor does she break the kiss right away. Her palms slide into his hair, softly gripping their roots, holding him to her. His hands, large and strong, anchor themselves at her waist, fingers exploring the curves there.

When their lips finally part, Yelena's eye contact remains on him. Bob loses himself in their striking hazel green, and his breath shudders out of him.

"Lena," he murmurs softly.

"I see you, Bob," Yelena says, the weight of full conviction in her words, as her hands hold either side of his face. "Only you."

Original post

Building a headcanon on this headcanon...

One night they're really invested in the book and getting close to the ending, so Bob keeps reading to her during a late night dinner and afterward, when she's curled up on the couch.

Yelena's eyelids start to get heavy. "You know, I think this trick of yours is actually working."

Bob glances up from the page, marking the chapter with his thumb. "You're falling asleep?"

Yelena's voice is thick and raspy. "Yeah, I should go to bed, but I still want to hear the rest of the story."

Bob swallows. "I could, um...I could read the rest to you in bed. I-if you want."

Yelena blinks. She does want that. More than anything right now. "Yeah. Come on."

They shuffle into Yelena's bedroom, where she turns on a soft lamp and flops onto her mattress, burrowing into her duvet and arranging a fluffy pillow under her head. She lies on her side facing Bob, who shimmies up next to the headboard and clears his throat before resuming his place.

His voice is low and lulling, the most soothing sound Yelena has ever heard. She closes her eyes, letting its cadence and vibration wash over her.

It isn't long until she's peacefully dreaming. Bob notices her breath deepen, her body go soft, but he doesn't stop reading until the last page. He pauses, reveling in her beauty for just a moment before clicking off the lamp and making to get up.

The shifting sheets make Yelena stir.

"Bob," her voice emerges in the dark, and it's a small voice, vulnerable, almost a plea.

Bob stiffens, his heart skipping. "Yelena?"

"Stay," she says. "Please."

In the darkness, she can't see his lips curl into a smile. She only feels him sink back into the mattress, hears his exhale as though he was holding his breath.

"Of course," he says at last. "Of course I'll stay, Yelena."

It's Yelena who silently closes the distance between them, placing her hand on his chest.

But it's Bob who takes her hand in his. Threads his fingers with hers. Lies awake a little longer, wondering how the hell he got so lucky.

"I'll always stay," he whispers.