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The sound of a vacuum is abrupt enough that he’s pulled from sleep immediately.
That could be because it’s 3:49 in the morning, but only John is aware of that, which is most likely because the sound happens to be coming from directly above his bedroom. While everyone else is allowed to remain dead to the world, resting from whatever Valentina just threw them into with nothing but a set of coordinates and some words of encouragement from her assistant, he got to jolt awake to the slightly muffled sound of a vacuum going over his ceiling from the other side. Over, and over, and over until he gave up on trying to claw his way back to sleep and set out to find who he’d have to yell at.
Of course, when he saw who it ended up being, the yelling part fizzled out into nothing pretty quickly. None of them really wanted to yell at Bob before everything that went down. Doing so after felt especially cruel, all things considered.
“Bob.” When the noise continued, he figured that maybe some yelling was in order after all. A little louder, he tried again. “Bobby.”
When there was still no reaction he went to the source. Pulling the cord did the trick in killing the noise, but before he could let the other know he was there he was already turning, jumping at the sight of John behind him. Even after being woken up so abruptly (he noted in the back of his head it was likely near four at this point, and mourned the morning routine he was only just getting back into) he felt bad about disturbing him.
He moved closer, trying to refocus on all fronts.
“Bobby. What the hell are you doing?”
Bob looked down at the cord still in John’s hand, followed it to the vacuum. When he returned that gaze to John he couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Sorry,” he started. He moved as if to set the now useless vacuum aside, gave up halfway through and seemed to sag against it a bit. “Sorry, I just. I remembered something.”
If John hadn’t felt great about interrupting whatever this was before, he did now. As much as he liked to talk big about what he’d done in his life, he knew that at this point most of them saw through to the truth of it. And that truth was that sometimes he talked just to drown it out.
He took another few steps closer. He’d interrupted this weird vacuum ritual (even though, again, it had to be after four in the morning by now, and said ritual was taking place directly above his bedroom). The least he could do is lend his ear.
“Do you want to.” He cut himself off, gesturing vaguely. Part of him wanted this stunted delivery to be because of exhaustion or disorientation, maybe a concussion he picked up earlier in the day that had slipped by his and everyone else’s notice. He knew it probably had a lot more to do with the fact that, this close, the only thing between the two of them was the fucking vacuum, and it didn’t exactly help as a barrier between him and Bob’s wide eyes looking up into his. He realized he should probably keep talking when the other man started to look worried for him.
“I mean, do you want to? You know. Talk about it?” He nodded vaguely down at the vacuum, which meant absolutely nothing even in this context, but was an excuse to break eye contact for a moment. “Talking helps, in my experience.”
He looked back up in time to see Bob tilt his head, confused, and focused on ignoring the voice in his head that found the gesture endlessly endearing. But after a short moment recognition flashed in his eyes. He shook his head at John, eyes wide with understanding.
“Oh, no, not that kind of remembering!” Before he could ask what other kind there was (an admittedly stupid question, but it was nearing a quarter after at this point, so he did deserve a little grace sent his way) Bob continued.
“This morning, before you all had left. Alexei made a mess at breakfast. There was cereal, like, everywhere.” He paused, even looking a bit chagrined. “It slipped my mind while you guys were gone. But I’d just remembered it and thought I’d take care of it before everyone woke up.”
Again, John couldn’t help but look down at the vacuum. Take care of it. He glanced outside, the high, wide windows exposing the near morning to them both. When he looked back at Bob, it was clear that his silence was taken as more judgemental than it had necessarily been intended.
“It’s just that I didn’t really do anything, you know? Like, while you were all handling whatever it was you were handling, I was just.” His eyes flitted around the room, and he took one hand off of the vacuum to gesture weakly and aimlessly. “I was just here.”
Now, this was something John was a bit more comfortable with than confronting the urges of midnight cleaning. He knew what it was like to get stamped as unneeded, left behind as a result. What it was like when you felt discarded, even if that wasn’t the case here.
Taking that last step closer, he began to reel in the cord. With it gathered in one hand, he placed the other over Bob’s still resting on the vacuum. He thought for a second the touch wouldn’t be wanted, and almost made to pull back, play it off as an awkward pat of acknowledgement and call it a night.
But almost without thinking Bob’s hand flipped to meet his palm to palm. John tightened his grip on instinct, not expecting the contact. He felt the hand beneath his flex back at it, heard the quick intake of breath that came with it.
“Listen,” he began, and then made a very real effort to continue even after realizing he had no idea where he was going with this. He tried to ignore how soft his voice sounded even to himself, and when he realized he couldn't he pretended it was just because of how late (early) it was. “You helping out like this, it’s definitely appreciated. Okay? But you don’t need to do it now. No one’s going to notice this Alexei mess in the morning. It’ll have been covered up by his newest one.”
He appreciated that Bob laughed at least a little at that. He especially appreciated the way his hair fell out of place when he ducked his head to do it.
“Let’s go back downstairs, Bobby. Let’s go to bed, and take care of it in the morning.” For a second it looked like he might ask for a second more to finish up, so John only felt a little guilty about what he said next.
“I’m tired. I know you are too.”
It was like a string was cut, and something in him went slack. Like he had just been waiting for someone to make the call for him. John tried not to think about it as he maneuvered the vacuum out of Bob’s hand, left it leaning against the wall and the cord pooled on the floor as he led him downstairs. Tried not to think about it as he gently pushed Bob into his room, and the mindless grip he’d had on John’s night shirt tightened for a moment before he let go.
Before closing the door, Bob looked at him for a moment. Once again, John was struck by just how wide his eyes were. It should be comical, he thought. But it just made him want to go in with him. Make sure he got into bed, got to sleep. When he started to think about seeing them first thing after waking up he forced himself to say something.
“Night, Bobby. Get some rest.”
Those wide eyes crinkled as Bob smiled at him. It was a small thing, but it still made its way up to them, and that was how he knew it was real.
“Goodnight, John. Thank you.”
And then the door was closed, and he was standing alone in a hallway. When he got back in bed he saw that it was now twenty after. A quick glance outside showed the sky lightening already, the summer sun an early riser.
He rolled over, and shoved his head under his pillow. The last thing he thought of before nodding off were wide eyes and a palm facing upwards towards his own.