The moment you stepped back into the Thunderbolts base, your entire body felt like one giant bruise. The mission had thrown you around like a ragdoll, and the hit you took to the side of your neck was now a deep, constant ache.

You rolled your shoulder and winced. “Ugh… my neck… that hurts…”

You thought you said it quietly. But apparently not quietly enough.

When you walked into the common room, Bob was curled up on the couch, knees under him, eating cereal out of a big blue bowl. He froze mid-bite the second he heard you groan.

His eyes widened. “(Y/N)…? W-what happened?”

“Just my neck,” you muttered. “I think I pulled something.”

Bob slowly set the bowl on the coffee table — extremely carefully, like he didn’t trust himself not to spill it — and stood up, wringing his sleeves between his fingers.

“I… I could help,” he said softly. “If you want.”

You blinked. “Help how?”

He swallowed hard. “A… um… back massage. Neck massage. I’m not bad at them. I mean— I hope I’m not.”

Your breath caught a little. Shy Bob offering to touch anyone was rare. Offering to touch you was… something else entirely.

“Okay,” you said gently. “Yeah. I’d really appreciate that.”

Bob’s cheeks went pink, but he nodded and sat on the couch, motioning for you to sit on the floor in front of him. You did — slowly — and Bob shifted awkwardly until his knees were on either side of your shoulders.

His hands hovered for a second.

Then they landed on your neck — warm, careful, trembling slightly.

You exhaled at the relief, a soft sound escaping you before you could stop it.

Bob jolted. “S-sorry! Did I—?”

“No,” you breathed. “That was good. Really good.”

He swallowed and kept going, fingertips working into the tight muscles along your neck and shoulders. His touch grew steadier the longer he went on. Every time you sighed, he seemed to relax a little more.

“You’re always taking hits for everyone,” he murmured. “It’s… it’s okay to let someone take care of you for once.”

You tilted your head back just enough to meet his eyes.

And Bob froze — completely.

But then he leaned down, slow and hesitant, kissing you once, barely a brush.

You turned toward him, and the second kiss was fuller, deeper. Bob’s hands slid from your shoulders to your jaw, his breath unsteady against your lips. He kissed like he was learning in real time — soft, nervous, but wanting more.

You shifted up slightly, one hand finding his hoodie, pulling him closer. Bob let out a quiet, shaky breath — almost a whimper — and kissed you again with a little more confidence.

The couch, the bowl of cereal, the mission — it all faded into the background as the moment deepened into warmth and closeness…