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Sleep is a difficult subject for Bob.
He never particularly slept well, unless he was on drugs. They helped numb his mind and keep him blank for long periods of time. They were like a bandaid for Bob, something he used as a temporary fix until he could find more. Then, when he was off of drugs, he never really had any good dreams. They’d always be nightmares—and they’d always be vivid.
So, yeah. Sleep and Bob have a complicated history and relationship.
Valentina’s Sentry project experiment didn’t particularly help, either. With his super soldier stamina, Bob doesn’t necessarily have to sleep, either, and that only makes his insomnia worse. He tries to sleep as much as he can, but he rarely ever sleeps for more than three or four hours. Most nights, he really only ends up with two hours.
It doesn’t help that he’s no longer the only voice inside his own head. The Sentry and the Void are always at either side of his mind—like they’re playing tug-of-war with Bob’s brain, always trying to urge him into giving one of them control. It’s like fighting off a swarm of bees, only mentally instead of physically. He’d rather have the bees attacking him physically. He’s pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to actually sting him.
It must be 1 or 2 in the morning. Bob’s not sure.
He’s been lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling of his room since he came back from finishing the dishes. His head aches, but in that dull, almost numb way that it always aches. Honestly, he’s probably had a migraine for weeks and just hasn’t done anything about it. Bob closes his eyes, willing, hoping, for his exhaustion to make him pass out for at least half an hour or something—but that blissful rest never comes.
Giving up, Bob slowly and carefully pulls himself out of his bed, legs swinging over the edge. He shuffles around his room, changing into something more lazy and casual, and that’s not just sleepwear, before he presses the button for his door and shuffles his way out.
The Tower is quiet with everyone either asleep or out. He knows Walker and Ava are both in their rooms, and Alexei most likely is, too. The only ones he’s not sure about are Bucky and Yelena—they’re just as much of tortured night owls as Bob is. They could be anywhere, both inside the Tower and outside of it. Bucky’s probably off visiting Sam, actually.
As soon as he’s out his door, Bob startles, feet skidding to a stop. Yelena is already outside of his room, dressed in baggy clothes, a tired look on her face.
“You’re awake,” she says, almost like an accusation, but it sounds more like a tired statement.
“You are, too,” Bob says, dragging a hand down the sleeve of his sweater. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Yelena shrugs one of her shoulders. “Bad night.”
Bob would say sorry, like he usually does, but he knows Yelena doesn’t like it when he apologizes unnecessarily. Quiet passes between them for a few seconds.
“Do you want to go outside with me?” Yelena suddenly asks, making Bob blink at her. She inclines her head towards the Tower windows. “I’m hungry.”
Bob blinks again, eyebrows furrowing just a bit. “But don’t we have food here?”
Yelena shrugs again. “I want cheap, unhealthy convenience store food.”
Her answer takes Bob aback once more. He laughs softly into his shoulder before giving her a nod, shrugging a bit himself. “Yeah, okay. I’ll join you.”
Yelena gives him a small smile, nodding in return, before she turns and heads to the elevator. Bob stays quiet as he follows her onto the elevator, slouching slightly, and watches Yelena press the button for the first level. Neither of them talk on the elevator ride, nor do they talk as Yelena leads him outside of the Tower and towards one of the closest convenience stores.
The bell above the door rings as the two of them enter the 7/11. The bright neon signs make Bob’s dull migraine kick up again, but he focuses on the back of Yelena’s head as best he can. They turn down the chip aisle immediately, and Yelena reaches out to grab three different bags of chips. Bob can’t help but laugh when she does.
Yelena raises an eyebrow up at him, saying nothing, and Bob is still chuckling quietly into the back of his hand as he shakes his head a bit.
“This is just a funny visual, that’s all.”
Yelena rolls her eyes affectionately at him. “You have seen me eating too much of Alexei’s food. I eat junk food, too, you know.” She nods her head towards the shelves. “Grab whatever you want. We’ll eat when we’re back.”
It doesn’t take Bob too long to decide what he wants. By the time they’re done, they have two baskets full of junk food of all kinds, energy drinks, and bottles of soda. The cashier is disinterested in them as he rings up their items, gaze distant as he says have a good day in a bored, monotone voice.
By the time they’re back at the Tower, it’s somewhere around 3 in the morning. Bob still feels exhaustion throughout his entire body, but having Yelena with him has given him a renewed type of energy. Rather than sitting on one of the couches in one of the many “living room” type areas, or even sitting at the island in the main kitchen area, Yelena leads Bob back to his room and doesn’t bother asking if she can come in. She just walks in, nonchalant, and drops the bags of snacks and drinks onto his bed.
Bob doesn’t really care, either. He follows and does the same, dropping his own bags onto the bed before he climbs up onto said bed and crosses his legs at the ankles. Yelena copies him, sitting across from him on the bed as she takes the first bag and opens it, pulling out one of her bags of chips and yanking it open.
“Sometimes,” Yelena starts, chewing on a few chips, “It is better to be awake with others than it is to be alone.”
He wonders just how many times Yelena had to lie awake with just herself. Probably just as many times as Bob has, he guesses, considering how long she’s been in her line of work. Whatever demons Yelena is haunted by, Bob understands, but only in the fact that he’s always had his own demons to struggle with throughout his life. She got to catch a glimpse of them in the shame rooms—and she’d done nothing but been accepting of Bob, flaws and all.
“I don’t sleep very well,” Bob admits softly, opening up a pack of Oreos and shoving two into his mouth. He chews until they’re mush enough for him to speak again without his mouth full. “Never have. It’s, uh, worse these days, though, with…” He stares at the Oreo between his fingers and uses it to gesture to his head. “With those two in there now, y’know?”
Yelena nods, reaching for one of the Monsters they’d gotten. It’s a bright pink can—not the kind of can Bob would’ve thought Yelena’d go for, honestly—and it fizzes to life as soon as she opens it. She downs half of it in seconds, shoving the can in her lap between one of her legs.
“When I was younger, I would sleep with my sister,” Yelena murmurs, staring down at the bag of chips. “She would sing to me—some lullaby in Russian.” She grabs a small handful of the chips and eats them, swallowing them down before she drinks the rest of the Monster.
“After we were separated, for the Red Room, I would sing it to myself to help me sleep. I stopped when they… took away my ability to think freely, so I do not remember the words anymore. But I remember the melody. I do not think they can ever take that from me.”
Bob’s opened up a bag of Cheez-its, slowly munching on them as Yelena speaks. He watches her closely, shrinking back just slightly when their gazes suddenly meet. Maybe he should say something, but all he can think to do is apologize for something that’s not his fault to begin with.
“Would you like me to sing it for you?” Yelena suddenly asks, staring Bob down.
Bob sputters as his cheeks heat up. “The—The lullaby?” He mumbles, nibbling on another Oreo. “You, uh… you want to sing it for… me?”
“Maybe it will help you sleep.” Yelena inclines her head towards Bob’s pillows. “Like it did for me.”
Bob looks over his shoulder at his pillows, staring for a few minutes, before he slowly turns back to Yelena and weakly shrugs. “Uh… may–maybe. Maybe another night. If you… don’t actually mind…”
Yelena’s mouth twitches into a small, soft smile. She shifts her leg out until her foot gently nudges against Bob’s ankle. “I would not mind.”
Bob’s cheeks flush further. He tucks his chin into his chest as he reaches blindly into his bag of Cheez-its, shoving as many of them into his mouth as he can as he tries to not feel too excited over the idea of Yelena singing him to sleep.