The Tower feels like it exhales at night. The common floor finally goes quiet, no footsteps echoing through the hallways, no sparring clangs from the training deck. Yelena’s laugh, Red Guardian’s booming voice, Bucky’s low drawl, gone, tucked away in their rooms. Even Taskmaster’s silent drift through the corridors has vanished. The city hum beyond the glass takes over, a steady, distant heartbeat.

You’ve claimed the balcony as yours in these hours. The air is cooler out here, the city lights sprawling below like a shifting constellation. It’s the only place in Avengers Tower where you can breathe without feeling like someone’s watching.

A couple months have passed since the Thunderbolts mission that ended with the team planted here. It’s still strange this mix of people crammed together under one roof but you’ve found your place. More than that, you’ve found Bob Reynolds.

To the rest of them, he’s polite, careful, almost painfully restrained. He moves like he’s made of glass, always giving up space, lowering his voice, glancing down if someone holds his gaze too long. They treat him gently without really saying why.

You didn’t. You stayed in the room when he lingered in a doorway. You let the quiet stretch instead of filling it. Somewhere in those silences, you got close. Close enough that he started showing you the part of himself no one else sees. The part that knows exactly what it wants, and exactly how to take it. He’s still a bit awkward, but he was determined when it came to bed. He made sure you were satisfied. And it was good, so good it’s shifted the ground beneath you.

It’s a secret. It has to be. No one would believe that tentative, soft-spoken Bob, whose ears get red if someone even looks at him for too long, is the most incredible lover you’ve ever had.

The balcony door clicks behind you. You turn just enough to see him step outside, hands tucked into the sleeves of his sweatshirt, hair a little mussed like he’s just rolled out of bed.

“Didn’t think anyone else would be up,” he says, easing into the chair beside yours. His voice is quiet, casual, like you’re just teammates sharing the view.

For a minute, that’s all it is. The city. The air between you. Then his eyes flick over his shoulder toward the glass doors, scanning the common floor inside. Empty. Everyone’s gone.

When he looks back at you, it’s different. His chair shifts closer, the space between your knees narrowing until you feel the warmth of him. Then he leans in and kisses you. No warning, just the press of his mouth against yours, warm and certain.

It startles you, but you don’t pull away. You follow, and he meets you there, the kiss deepening until suddenly he breaks it.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, pulling back a fraction. His breath is unsteady, his eyes searching yours. “That was… a little sudden. I didn’t mean—” He glances away, the edge of a nervous smile tugging at his mouth. “Guess I just… couldn’t not.”