Just a few more boxes, and then she'd be home free.
Well, at least that was the lie Holly was telling herself. In truth, she was just moving boxes of her possessions from the lobby to ring around the door of her apartment, and then she'd have to push them all inside. More unpacking would proceed from there, but at that moment, all she could think about was just getting it all to the second floor. A snort shot out of her nose as she set the box she was carrying atop the nearest stack. If it weren't for the moving company workers she'd hired to haul her stuff just tossing everything in the building before disappearing, she wouldn't have had to deal with it, period. As it was, it had happened, and she was doing the work in between fielding phone calls from her parents, assuring them of her arrival and well-being.
They had a right to worry, after all: it wasn't every day that their youngest daughter pulled up sticks and moved across the country. Having not ventured far from her home state, the job offer from the Washington, D.C. branch of a national book retailer was an opportunity she could not pass up. Not after a few years of putting in her time at some smaller businesses around the suburbs of St. Paul, not after working hard to maintain their social media presences and keeping them out of the red by finding new ways to appeal to customers and drag them into the twenty-first century (almost kicking and screaming, for a couple of the small shops and businesses that hired her). Having spotted the advertisement for the position online, she took a chance, not wishing to work freelance any longer.
As it turned out, her multiple jobs and flexibility had led to two phone interviews, and a video call that ended in an offer. Sure, she had to move to the District of Columbia, pack up her belongings and begin work within a month, but it was a risk she felt she had to take. Holly had a chance, a chance that, as time went on, was harder to come by back home. Besides, she was a grown woman, and a grown woman needed to have a little adventure in her life at some point. And what would it all be, if not a personal adventure of sorts?
Still, it would have helped if the adventure wasn't on a precarious timetable to start with. And it definitely would have helped if she hadn't been ditched so quickly once she'd gotten to where she needed to go. After a day and a half on the road, it was not ideal to find all her things literally left out in the open, before she could even get her keys. At least the building she'd been moved into was nice; she'd come down a few weeks prior with her brother to do some apartment hunting, and the neighborhood of Georgetown seemed to fit the bill. The Potomac wasn't far, and the university brought in a mix of people, students amidst the politicians and lobbyists who made their homes there. However, the building chosen was not exactly inhabited by politicians; the red brick on the outside, while clean, was a little worn. High-end accouterments were not part of the deal, but it was still above the studio she'd been living in back home. Her starting salary would definitely cover the rent and then some, but she admired the charm of the five story building on R Avenue, and the single bedroom unit won out over the others she'd seen. (Her brother Hank was surprised she'd found a place within the first two days of scouting, and he had no complaints of spending the rest of the trip pretending to be the biggest tourist out there.) Notice was given at her old place, her things packed, and then she cut across country on her own, hoping for a smooth transition.
That definitely was not the case, but once she'd handed over her rent check and got her keys, she was determined to make the best of it, bringing in what she'd brought in her own car and holding her head high. For the first few minutes, at least. And on the positive side, it was spring; she would've hated having to move in the middle of winter.
Blowing out a sigh, she swiped back the hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail. Removing the binder and securing her brown waves into a bun off of her neck, she bit her lip and mulled over what was left in the lobby. So lost in thought was she that she did not notice the shrieks and giggles from down the hall, growing closer and closer with every second. Patting the nearest box tower, she turned and took a few steps back towards the elevator bank, startled into stopping the small body rocketing into her path. It rebounded off of her, knocking her into the wall a little and causing her to catch herself on her elbow. Hissing at the brief flash of pain, she leaned against the wall, rubbing the sore limb.
"Sorry!" a high-pitched voice crowed, and Holly looked down at the source of it. It belonged to the whirl that had come around the corner, having reformed into a young boy. Big, brown eyes a few shades lighter than her own stared up at her, blond hair flopping over his forehead. His little face was red, his expression contrite as his head bowed, small fingers curving around the hem of his shirt and jacket. He couldn't have been more than four or five years old, and in that instant he had the gravitas of an adult (despite the lower lip beginning to poke out as he looked at his light-up sneakers).
"That's okay. I should've been watching where I was going," she told him, not really offended by his actions. She had a young niece and nephews; she understood all too well how they could just take off and run around, unaware of their surroundings. Inwardly, she was just grateful he hadn't slammed into one of the box towers she had stacked up in the hall. Glancing over him, she wondered, "Are you alright?"
Sniffing once, the little guy nodded, a tremulous smile on his lips. "Yeah. Didn't hurt."
Holly let out a sigh of relief. "Good, that's good."
As she mirrored his nod, she watched as the young boy's attention moved from her to the boxes stacked around her apartment door, his eyes widening even more as he stepped closer.
"That's a lot of boxes," he breathed, slowly laying a palm against one of them. Glancing back over his shoulder at her, he muttered, "You have a lot of stuff."
"Seems that I do," she chuckled, taking a step away from the wall. Rubbing a hand along the back of her neck, she asked the boy, "So, uh, what's your name?"
His smile broadened again, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. "James, but everybody calls me Jamie."
"Nice to meet you, Jamie. I'm Holly," she said, about to offer her hand before stopping herself at the last second. She didn't want to get into trouble with whoever the boy's parents were, if she touched him without them being around. Instead, she waved her hellos, and he gave her one back. "I guess we'll be kinda-sorta neighbors."
He grinned again, revealing a missing tooth in the bottom row. "Cool."
She nodded, brushing her palms along the sides of her jeans. Glancing around, she began to ask the question that had been on her mind for the last minute or two.
"Say, kiddo, where's your—"
"Jamie!" A baritone voice boomed out from down the hall, heavy footsteps striding hard against the carpeted floor. The little boy looked up, his dark eyes wide as the person came closer. Holly's own gaze became significantly wider as well. The man who had appeared was, well...he was rather good-looking, if she did say so herself. The shade of his blond hair matched that of the young boy, and the similar nose shape and mouth indicated that he must have been related to him. He was tall, over six feet if she had to guess (making her, at five-foot-seven, feel small), and well-built. Instead of brown eyes, though, he had sharp blue, which were focusing entirely on Jamie as he approached. His brow had furrowed, his lips set in a thin line as he got closer. "What have I told you about getting ahead of me?"
The contrite look returned, and the little boy stared at his feet again, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the carpet.
"'M sorry, Daddy," Jamie breathed, not looking up at his father. The bigger man's features softened slightly, but the seriousness in him did not.
"I know, bud," he said, kneeling down to his son's level. Concentrating on the boy, he took his hands, compelling him to listen as he spoke. "Look, we live in a big city, which means we've gotta be careful. Even in our own building. You can't run off like you did. Got it?"
"Uh-huh," Jamie said, giving one more dip of the chin. He glanced up at Holly then, his face reddening slightly at having a witness to his father reprimanding him. And the bigger fellow gave her a cursory glance as well.
"Good. Sorry if he…" Bright eyes turned to her fully, and the fellow blinked as he rose from his crouch. His mouth was open a little, and Holly felt a wave of shyness overtake her briefly, her head ducking for a second or two as she tried to get her bearings. Coughing, he cleared his throat after a moment, tipping his chin down at his son. "Uh, sorry about bothering you."
She shook her head, a few strands of hair falling from her messy bun.
"That's fine. Wasn't a bother at all," Holly reassured him, stepping closer to her boxes. Lifting a shoulder, she continued, "Actually, it was a nice bit of a break. These aren't exactly the lightest."
She patted one of the box stacks for emphasis, though she had to spring forward and catch one before it could sway any harder than it had. Twin spots of color erupted in her cheeks, and she chuckled sheepishly. The blond man nodded again, though a wry smile was playing across his lips.
"Couldn't entice anyone to help ya out?"
She shrugged, smirking somewhat.
"Nobody wanted free beer and pizza," she joked, crossing her arms over her chest—in that moment, she wished she'd picked anything but her worn college t-shirt to wear that day. Letting a deep breath out, she flicked her gaze towards the elevator bank down the hall. "I just moved here for work, so I don't really know anybody who could have helped. And the moving company pretty much bailed right after dumping everything in the lobby."
His brow furrowed, a bit of indignation firing in his face. "That's awful."
She met his gaze then, the dark brown irises laced with irritation.
"Yeah, trust me, a complaint call has been made," she grumbled, flapping a hand in the air. "At least I got refunded half of what I paid because of those di—erm, dinguses they farmed out for the job."
She'd barely caught herself with that; she didn't want to get on bad terms with her neighbor by using questionable language around his son. Jamie giggled then, and Holly grinned down at him.
"Never heard that one before, kiddo?" she asked, to which the little boy shook his head.
"It's funny," he stated, muttering 'dingus' a couple of times. The older woman laughed a bit at his obvious delight, her smile remaining. His father took in a deep breath, his mouth curving in disbelief at what was happening before him. Soon enough, he was pulled out of his private thoughts as his son grabbed his hand, tugging on it insistently. Glancing at Jamie, he bent down when the little guy gestured for him to come closer. Nodding to the brunette woman, he commanded, "Daddy, be nice and tell Holly your name."
"Oh, right. Manners," he replied sotto voce, before straightening and grinning at his boy. "Thank you for reminding me."
His free hand came up, held out to her, and she stepped forward to take it. The brush of the healed callouses on the pads of his fingers registered faintly, but she concentrated on his voice as he went on with his introduction.
"I'm Steve."
"Holly," she returned, faint humor surfacing in her tone.
"So I've heard," he returned, chuckling inwardly as another flush of pink invaded her cheeks. Taking another look at all the boxes in the hallway, he let the joviality slip into sincerity as he scratched the back of his neck and offered, "Do you want some help with all this? It looks like a lot to deal with on your own."
Another flush of red surfaced, and at once she lifted her hands.
"Thanks, but I don't want to interrupt your day. I'm sure you probably have other things you'd rather do."
"We can help!" Jamie burst out, nearly on his tiptoes as he leaned forward. "Daddy's really strong, and so am I! We could get it done fast."
Well, Holly wasn't going to deny that Steve looked strong; even beneath the navy-colored jacket he was sporting, it was easy to tell he was muscular. With his build, she did not doubt that he could definitely be of assistance. And the little guy seemed so eager to do what he could, even at his age...she couldn't help but be touched by the insistence.
"Well, if you really want to, Jamie, I would be glad for it," she replied, tentatively accepting their aid. The corners of her mouth curved, and she went on, "You'd definitely get some pizza if you did. Both of you."
The glimmer in Steve's sky blue irises grew, and he smirked. "I'm all for that."
"Yeah!" the little boy cheered, immediately rushing forward to grab a box. His father swiftly followed him, finding one of the light bags she had propped up against the wall instead for Jamie to carry in.
Unlocking her door, she gestured for them to start bringing them inside while she brought up the remaining boxes. Luck was on her side, as none of them had been touched in the time she'd met Jamie and Steve. Carefully, she grabbed and maneuvered each onto the conveyance, apologies given to the other tenants who had boarded along with her. On and off, she boarded the elevator to remove her things, finally pulling them down the hall to her door. As she entered the apartment, she exhaled softly, marveling as Steve easily handled three of her boxes that solely held books, snapping her jaw shut when he chanced a glance back at her and gave her a half-smile. Jamie did his best, pushing boxes over the threshold when he could, and opening them to be emptied when he could not. As the hours passed, the trio went at her belongings, shifting them into the correct rooms and getting what could be put away stashed in the right spots. And in between the unpacking, she found the time to get to know her helpers.
"Where do you guys live?" Holly asked as she tore into a box and pulled out a couple of wrapped glasses. "What number, I mean?"
"We're in 210," Steve told her, unloading a few pots from another box. "Just a few doors down."
She smiled softly to herself. "Kinda-sorta neighbors."
"Right," he replied, grinning in minor confusion at her words. When she did not elaborate, he mentally shrugged and went about his task, stashing the pots in the cupboard she requested he place them in. More questions came instead of an explanation, such as what Steve did for a living, how old Jamie was, and even what their last name was. Those were answered easily: graphic designer for an ad company, four years old ("Four and a half!" was the high-pitched retort), and Rogers. They, in turn, asked her a few things about her new job, what she thought of D.C. so far, and how long it had taken her to get there. The rapport that built was smooth and easy, much easier than she thought it would be with new neighbors. The other tenants she'd come across were alright, thus far, but she knew for a fact that this man and his son were being quite kind to her. She would be grateful for it in the coming days, as she faced a new city and new job all on her own. With most of the kitchen accouterments either in their proper places or the counters, the two adults found their way over to the living room space, where Jamie was opening up more boxes to sort through.
"You have a ton of books," the little boy crooned, reaching into one and pulling out her copy of Les Misérables, staring at its thickness.
Steve clicked his tongue. "Jamie..."
"Well, I really like to read," she told him, swiping a hand over her sweaty brow. Jovially, she added, "It's my addiction."
The bigger man came up alongside her, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. "Not a bad one to have."
Jamie peered into the other boxes nearby, wonderment in his voice when he crowed, "You've read all of them?"
"At least once, if not many times," she professed, stifling a giggle at his agog expression. Clearing her throat, she sat down on the floor nearby, drawing another box closer. "Do you like books?"
"Yeah!" he said, nodding enthusiastically. "I have lots of books, too."
"Which we have also read multiple times," Steve intoned, lips curling up as she proceeded to ask his son about his favorite stories. Getting down on his knees, he helped take out the books as well. They were sorted by author, and then by title, artfully arranged in neat stacks for when Holly found the time to get bookshelves.
"Well, I think that just about does it for today," she exclaimed over an hour later, the afternoon gone as the final book was perched and her last piece of hang-up clothing in the closet. Her fingers dashed away the bit of sweat that had cropped up on her forehead again, and gave a pleased grin. With the aid of the Rogers boys, unpacking had gone much more swiftly than she had anticipated, and she was incredibly relieved.
Steve quirked an eyebrow, raking his gaze over the place. "No furniture?"
She too took in the wide expanse of the apartment, from the empty dining area to the bare living room, occupied only by the television balancing along the far wall, the remaining box with her DVDs, and the books stacked up.
"Sold the bigger stuff before the move, so I'm gonna trek out to a few stores over the next couple of days," she explained, brushing off the concern. "I don't start my new job until Monday, so I've got a little time."
Jamie's brow furrowed, a finger pointing back toward her bedroom. "But there's no bed. You gonna sleep on the floor?"
Steve flashed her an alarmed look, but she quickly held up a hand to stem any objections to her doing so.
"I've got an air mattress. It'll do until tomorrow," she said, her resolve hardening even as her insides quaked. She'd have to get a rental truck to do that, but she would be willing to put up with it, if it meant having a mattress the next day, at least. She didn't look forward to pumping up her bed for the night, but she could accept it.
"So you'll kinda camp, then," Jamie declared, the idea holding some merit in his eyes. Steve snorted at that, and Holly inclined her head.
"Sort of, kiddo," she said, reaching out and ruffling his hair. The soft, blond spikes sifted between her fingers, and he crowed jokingly at her before she withdrew. Striding into her so-called bedroom, she retrieved her cell phone (which had been plugged in and balanced atop the suitcase that held her dresser clothes) and came back to the Rogers boys. Tapping at the screen, she stated, "And now I owe you gentlemen some pizza, it seems. Know a good place, or am I gonna have to go box-chain generic on this?"
Jamie was practically jumping up and down in joy, and his father swept him up in his arms when he leaped at him.
"Paisano's is pretty decent," Steve grunted as he supported the boy, following it with a shrug and tip of his head. "Like any pizza outside New York is."
Holly's eyebrows inclined, and she snickered. "Oh, boy. A true-blue pizza snob, right in my own home."
Steve raised his nose in the air, sniffing dramatically.
"It ain't being snobby. It's being particular."
"Ah, world of difference there," she replied, giving him a mocking wink. When he nodded staunchly, she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him. "New York, huh?"
The amusement in his face drained away slightly as he affirmed her suspicions. "Brooklyn, specifically. Moved here about five years ago. And you definitely aren't from around here, either."
She tapped the end of her nose, and grinned as he lifted his chin in triumph. "Minnesota. Just outside of St. Paul."
Their origins confirmed with each other, she went on to look up the number for the pizza place he recommended. It took another half hour for the order to arrive, but between getting her television plugged in and set up, as well as her gaming console (a Wii, which she persuaded Jamie to take a crack at with her to keep him occupied), the little trio was soon gathered on the floor of her dining room, paper plates their dishware and plastic cups holding the soda she'd remembered to grab that morning before arriving. The half-pepperoni and half-sausage pizza was devoured, Steve and Jamie nearly inhaling their slices as Holly...well, she basically did the same. It was a long day, and her new neighbor was right: the pizza was good, well on its way to being delicious after a long afternoon of moving. Jamie's was cut up into little pizza bites, which he sometimes danced around on his plate before eating, his father handing him a napkin to clean up every now and again. After about the fourth slice (good Lord, where did he pack it away, Holly wondered), Steve wiped his hands with his own napkin, cleaning the corners of his mouth and announcing it was about time for him and Jamie to head on home. Bundling the last slices away into the fridge, Holly walked them over to the door, a sleepy and satisfied smile on her face.
"Thank you both for your help. Really," she said, placing her palm on Steve's bicep.
"It's no problem," he returned, his own hand coming up to cup her elbow. A crooked grin decorated his lips, and he asserted, "Always willing to lend a hand, if possible."
After a second or two, Holly dropped her hand, his own falling away at the same time. Biting her lip, she thought furiously for a few moments before her eyes flashed and she held up a single finger.
"One sec," she said, pattering back around the corner into the kitchen. After a few moments of shuffling and a muffled curse, she returned, an unopened bag of dark roast coffee and a jar of peanut butter in hand. She had picked up a few groceries to tide her over for a couple of days, but she did not want them to leave empty-handed. Not after all they'd done to help her. Pushing them into Steve's grasp, she dropped her gaze to her feet, tucking her hands into her pockets. "Don't have any beer to give out, but I hope this will be enough."
Eyeing up the coffee and the jar of peanut butter—which his son was an absolute fiend for, most days—the bigger fellow couldn't help but smile and chuckle.
"They're more than enough, thank you," he responded, his smile broadening when she returned it slowly. He felt small fingers curl around the edge of his jeans, and he glanced down at his son, tipping his head in Holly's direction. "Alright, Jamie, say good-bye, we gotta go."
"Bye," the boy said, blinking sleepily and waving at her as they started to walk to the door. Stopping on the threshold, he asked her, "See you soon?"
Holly bent at the waist, hands on her knees and her expression genuine as she nodded. "Yeah, see you soon, kiddo."
"Welcome to the building, Holly," Steve said, his own farewell given as he lifted the hand bearing the coffee and shook it. Her tempered laugh was the last thing they heard as the door to 207 closed behind them. Jamie didn't move for a couple seconds, instead staring at the panels and releasing a slow breath. Bending, Steve passed him the jar of peanut butter, a light pat on his back propelling the youngster towards their own home. "C'mon, buddy. How about we watch that dragon movie you like before bed, huh?"
Big brown eyes blinked up at him as they walked. "With a cookie?"
Tipping his head back, Steve pretended to give the matter deep thought.
"Well, you were a big help today. Sure, you can have a cookie, too," he pronounced, the little boy swinging the jar of peanut butter happily in renewed excitement. A finger came up then, and Steve pointed at his son, drawing his attention back onto him. "One cookie."
"Okay," the boy agreed, content in the deal that had been struck and saying no more as his daddy dug a set of keys from his pocket. As Steve unlocked the door, Jamie pulled himself up to his full height and proclaimed, "Holly's nice. I like her. Don't you, Daddy?"
As he opened the door to their apartment, he cast a long look down the hall, to the door on the opposite side. Sighing softly, he tucked his keys back into his pocket and dropped his gaze to his feet as his boy breezed by, heading straight to the television set to select his favorite movie.
"Yeah, yeah, I do," he murmured quietly, patting his palm against the doorjamb a couple of times before going inside, their own door swinging shut behind him.
A/N: Oh, look. Another modern AU project involving Steve/Holly. I can't be stopped, y'all.
This was another idea that jumped up and bit me a few months ago, and I want to give it a shot. I have been in a Dad!Steve sort of mode, and trust me, that can be a little hard to shake. So, we're starting a new adventure. This is a different universe than the Of Time series, and the Four Seasons universe, just for reference. Posts will be sporadic, as I will be focusing mainly on my Of Times series stories (finishing up In Due Course and then moving onto the next story there). I will do my best to keep up with this one as well. It is a modern AU, which means no superpowers and such things. Steve is in his post-serum body for this (one day, I will do a pre-serum Steve story...someday), and it is also a Steve/OC eventual romance story. If none of that is your cup of tea, then I wish you well on your future reading endeavors. For those of you who want to give this a shot, well...here ya go.
Any mentioned streets, neighborhoods, or restaurants in Washington, D.C. were researched online, as I have never been to the city before. Just trying my best.
I also have a Twitter account specifically for story updates, which I will be doing for this story as well. My handle is PhanProTweets.
Lastly, this work is UNBETA'ED. This is mostly due to my personal schedule being a little different from others'. As such, I do proofread, edit, and restructure my own writing. I try my best, but I am not perfect.
I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, etc.).
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!