Chapter Text
The Watchtower’s operations hub smelled like ozone and overcaffeination—burnt wires, strong coffee, and the distant hum of too much stress. Joaquín followed Sam off the elevator, trying not to feel like he was walking into a haunted house full of powerful, cranky weirdos.
“Great,” Yelena muttered, not looking up from her file. “The birds have landed.”
“You’re welcome for gracing your cursed Ikea table with our presence,” Sam replied, too cheerfully.
“Didn’t ask for it,” she said.
At the long steel conference table, Bucky was already slouched in his usual seat, arms crossed and expression unreadable. Walker sat across from him, managing to look simultaneously smug and bored. Ava was beside him, flipping through a digital tablet like it owed her money.
Joaquín took in the rest of the room—the walls lined with glowing monitors, the exposed wiring running like veins across the ceiling—and then he saw him.
Sitting quietly beside Yelena was a guy he hadn’t seen before.
Soft curls. Hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A calm expression, like he was always listening but rarely spoke. There was a laptop open in front of him, but he wasn’t typing—just watching, thumb absently tapping the edge of the keyboard.
Bob, Joaquín remembered.
He didn’t say anything. Just let his eyes linger for a second too long before moving on.
Bob, for his part, offered a brief nod—polite, reserved—and then glanced back down at his screen.
Joaquín took the empty seat between Ava and Sam.
Sam gave Bucky a long-suffering look across the table. “We gonna do this the easy way, or the you-being-a-pain way?”
Bucky shrugged. “Whichever way involves fewer speeches.”
“Alright,” Yelena cut in, snapping a folder shut with military finality. “Let’s pretend we’re professionals for five minutes. Debrief starts now.”
She flicked the holoprojector to life. A glowing schematic of a Hydra base hovered above the table.
“Walker, don’t touch anything. Ava, keep him from touching anything. Joaquín, keep the flirting to a minimum.”
Joaquín raised a brow. “With who?”
Yelena didn’t answer, which was almost worse.
Bob snorted—just once, barely audible—and Yelena elbowed him lightly, like a sister telling a sibling to shut up without words. He ducked his head, lips twitching at the corners.
Joaquín caught the interaction.
Huh.
Okay. Cute and funny.
He didn’t smile. But his fingers tapped once on the table. Quiet. Noticed.
Yelena kept talking. “Bucky, you’re leading breach. Sam, you’re on overwatch. Bob—”
“I’ll monitor communications,” Bob said quietly, without needing to be told. “I’ve already adjusted the encryption keys. Hydra’s using a new cycling protocol. I flagged the frequency.”
“Of course you did,” Yelena said, fond but exasperated. “Show-off.”
Sam tilted his head. “You sure you’re not running half the planet from that laptop?”
“I’m only cleared for one continent,” Bob replied, deadpan.
Sam blinked. “That was a joke?”
“I think it was,” Bucky muttered. “God help us.”
Ava looked between Bob and Joaquín, then back at Sam and Bucky, then sighed. “We’re all gonna die surrounded by emotionally stunted men and one Russian gremlin.”
Yelena raised her coffee in salute. “You’re welcome.”