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The club for the after party is something straight out of Maria's nightmares. The lights are bright and constantly moving, the music is so loud it seems like she's standing in the woofer, and there are so many people around that her skin is crawling. She's honestly half-tempted to use Steve as a shield and she's never wanted to hide behind someone in her life. "Is it always like this?" she shouts in his ear as they move through the crowd. At least there's one use to the skyscraper heels Pepper forced her into – she's now almost of a height with Steve.
Lights flash green over his face, adding an extra something to his scowl. "Pretty much. There's going to be an area upstairs away from the dancing. We can hear each other there." He nods towards the bar. "Drink?"
"Beer." She says it with fervent longing. She's not a fan of mixed drinks and since she's not with the team, there's no way in hell she's doing shots.
"You got it," he laughs.
True to his word, there's an indoor lounge where the sound of the music barely filters through. Still, the lighting is so dim it puts her on edge. "What is this supposed to be, mood lighting?"
"Something like that," Steve laughs. He nods towards the door. "It looks like there's a rooftop terrace, do you want to go there?"
"Absolutely." The humidity of the desert night is a welcome contrast to the endless cycle of sterile, air-conditioned air that she's been breathing for the last two days. She appreciates the weight of it against her skin, and the sound of Las Vegas coming to life all around them. She's still fascinated by the lights here because while New York has lights in abundance, they're not like this.
"Rogers! Hill! About time you made it! Over here!" Maria glances up and blinks because- "Is that Clark Kent? And Oliver Queen?" she asks incredulously.
Steve raises a hand in response and guides her over. "Would you believe we have a truce during the off-season? No, I'm serious," he says defensively when she slides a disbelieving glance his way. "They're actually really great guys if you get to know them. We've been on Team USA development for years and I've gone to Worlds with them a few times."
It's not like she doesn't understand, because she does. She's played her fair share of Four Nations Cups and Worlds with players from Boston, but the rivalry with the Mammoths is on another level. Still, she thinks, looking around, she'd rather spend the night chirping them than fending off the players who are looking at her with eyes that say, I'm going to tap that.
If someone tries, she'll throw him off the roof.
Both Kent and Queen shake their hands when they come over, full of congratulations for Steve and surprisingly enough, condolences for Maria. "You should have won the Calder, Hill," Queen remarks with a shake of his head. "It's been obvious from the very start."
"Of course it has! Only an idiot could look at the season she's had and decide otherwise, and isn't Alexander Pierce an idiot?" A tiny redhead actually shoves Clark Kent aside and extends her hand out to Maria. "Lois Lane. I've been trying to get an interview with you for ages but Christine has been very protective of you, damn the woman."
"Are you surprised?" Kent drawls. He doesn't even flinch when her elbow digs into his side. "Ow."
Maria, in the meantime, is baffled. Lois Lane has won a Pulitzer, and she wants to interview her? "Isn't the sports beat a little below you?" she asks bluntly.
Steve chokes on his beer and Oliver Queen throws his head back and positively howls with laughter. "This is why we tell our dear captain that he's way out of his league," he tells Maria with a stage whisper.
Kent doesn't even look annoyed. He's a lot more easygoing in real life than when he's on the ice, Maria realizes. There, he matches Steve in laser focus and intensity. "And what about you, Queen?"
"Oh, I absolutely am." Maria follows his besotted gaze over to where a pretty blonde is conversing with some of the other WAGs. "My wife, Felicity," he explains. "She's head of IT at my mother's company and she is far, far too good for me."
Lois rolls her eyes. "Your lovesick expression gives me heartburn," she informs Queen, before turning her attention back on Maria. "I might not cover the sports beat, but you're the first woman to play in the NHL – hell, in any North American pro men's league. If that's not major news, then I'll eat Clark's helmet."
"Would you really?" Kent teases.
"Anyway," Lois continues, ignoring him. "You can bet than any interview I do with you is going to be informed and aware. I won't ask you dumb questions about what it's like being a woman in the NHL because we both know it's a hell of a lot more than that and the experience isn't just about you being a woman." She shrugs. "So, if you're interested, please put in a good word with Christine. We go back a ways but like I said, she's protective of you. She has a right to be."
Out of all the interviews Christine's passed down to Maria for consideration, this honestly sounds like the best offer yet. "I'll think about it," Maria says finally, because one good article can mean major things. "And I'll talk to Christine. And Pepper."
Lois nods knowledgeably. "Ah, the big boss. Now I know where I messed up. Anyway, now that I've got you captive, I want to know…"
Maria is forced to concede that Steve is right. Kent and Queen aren't bad at all and she spends a good chunk of the time chatting to them as well as Lois and eventually Felicity before both Kent and Queen are dragged away for dancing.
Steve glances down at her empty bottle. "Refill?" he suggests.
"Shouldn't I get this next round?" Maria counters. She gives in to the urge to yank his chain a little. "I know I don't make as much as you do, but I'm pretty sure I can handle a bar tab, even in Vegas."
"Cheeky," Steve scolds, but there's no heat to it. "I'll come with you." But they barely make it ten steps before someone hails him and Maria wants beer so she goes on without him. At the bar, some player – she thinks he's from the Flames but she's not quite sure – offers to buy her a shot. "Thanks but no thanks," she says crisply, grabbing the bartender's attention.
"How about a dance?" he tries. Honestly, has he been waiting all night to catch her?
Maria looks at him askance. "Absolutely not."
"Aw, come on, Hill." The guy tries to sidle closer but then there's suddenly a warm, familiar presence at her back.
"I'm pretty sure the lady said no, so…"
The guy's eyes widen at the sight of Steve, but he mumbles something about Maria not being a lady before slinking off into the crowd for easier prey. Maria waits until she can pay before she turns around and hands him his beer. "I was handling it," she says mildly. Now that she thinks about it, Steve hasn't been more than a few steps away from her the entire night. It definitely explains why she's seen a few guys try to approach before scuttling off in another direction. He's been playing guard dog all night.
"I know you were," is the equally mild reply. "I was just helping it along."
"So what, you're protecting me off the ice as well?" she inquires as they head back up to the terrace.
Steve's mouth quirks in a rueful grin and honestly, how can one man be so charming and infuriating at the same time? "Occupational hazard, I'm afraid."
"Yes, well stop." Maria's building annoyance leaks through her walls, rendering her words as crisp and sharp as a newly pressed sheet of paper. She stops and resists the urge to press her hands to her eyes – one, because she'll smudge her makeup, and two, she's holding a drink. She's not here to fight, she tells herself. Vegas is about having a little bit of fun and loosening up. "It's not necessary," she says finally.
He's watching her carefully, a little guarded and yet still digging in his heels because Steve Rogers always takes his duties so very seriously. "And yet I'd still do it."
"Because we're a team," Maria sighs.
"We're a team," Steve agrees, taking a long drag of his beer. Maria's eyes linger on the long line of his throat before she turns away to focus on the skyline.
"That still doesn't give you free reign to terrorize anyone who approaches me," she points out. "What do I need to do, throw someone over the roof to prove that I can handle myself?"
The look he shoots her is positively sad. "Hills. You never have to prove yourself to me."
And honestly, she could just sock him in the stomach for that because he's making her feel guilty over something she shouldn't even feel guilty about. Maria sends him a fulminating look and walks away before she gives in to her instincts and socks him in the jaw. Maybe she can find Lois and Felicity. Or Kent, or hell, even Queen. Just anyone else. She wishes, not for the first time, that Sarah had stayed with them. Even Miles, Peter, and Ian have wandered off to who knows where for the night.
Instead, Dick Grayson finds her. "Hill!" He all but skids to a hat in front of her, black hair flopping into his face, his eyes bright and admiring.
Maria draws up short. "Grayson." She doesn't begrudge him the Calder because he has had a pretty spectacular rookie season. The last thing she wants to do is get bent out of shape over a dumb trophy that would just gather dust on her bookshelf. No, it's more about being recognized for what she's managed to accomplish, not just as a woman, but also as an athlete. She knows her team appreciates her, but it would be nice if the league chose to do so as well. By not acknowledging her, it's like they're trying to sweep her under the rug as some sort of interesting experiment that they're not sure they want to continue.
"I meant what I said on the stage, Hill," Grayson says earnestly. "I knew it was going to be one hell of a year competing against you and it's really been an honor to even be considered alongside you."
Well. That's a little unexpected. She'd wondered if his speech was all for show and she wouldn't blame him if it were. If anything, it's a good PR move to acknowledge the other losers, especially if one of them happens to be The Girl. "Well, I appreciate it, Grayson. You certainly didn't have to include me."
"But I did!" And suddenly he launches into a litany of events from the previous season. Maria had no idea that he was so enthusiastically into hockey, even for a hockey player. It seems like he spends a lot of time just watching other games. "And that one power play goal you had against the Senators was a beauty, it was just one of those highlight reel shots…"
A few other rookies drift over, encouraged by Grayson's presence, and soon Maria is surrounded by some of her year-mates, all of them talking shop. Eventually, Maria finds herself beginning to relax inch by inch because talking hockey is something she can do.
When she finishes her beer, she gets half a dozen offers to replenish it. She's trying to think of ways to turn them down because while they might be nice, they're not her team and she doesn't exactly trust one of them to get her drink for her.
"No need." A bottle appears in front of her and she doesn't even need to turn around to know that Steve is standing behind her. Maria accepts it, feeling both grateful and irritated because he's overstepping his bounds again. She contemplates the repercussions of throwing her captain off the roof and decides that it's not really something she wants to explain to his mother. Or Pepper, for that matter. "Fellas."
The conversation continues as genially as before, but soon the others start drifting away one by one. If it were anyone else but Steve Rogers, he'd probably be shooing them away with little waves of his hand. As it is, the aura of amiable menace is just as effective. Soon, even Grayson makes his excuses and wanders away, though it's clear he's reluctant to do so.
"You really can't help yourself, Rogers, can you?" Maria mutters under her breath.
"You wouldn't have trusted any of them to get your drink." The stubborn set to his jaw means they're in for a fight and honestly, this is not something she wants ending up on Deadspin.
"And that is not really the point, is it?" She snags his elbow and drags him away to a corner shaded by trees. "I appreciate you looking out for me this weekend Rogers, I really do." She's promised herself that she's going to do better about letting her team be her team and even be her friends. "But I am a grown woman and trust me when I say that I can handle unwanted attraction when it comes my way."
His brow furrows and he seems genuinely confused. "It's not that you can't handle it, Hills, but if I can do something about it-"
Maria sighs and rubs her forehead, more amused than anything else at this point. Steve Rogers really is something else. It's almost like he's from another time entirely. "That's just it, Rogers. You don't always have to. Remember? You have to trust me."
Steve's shoulders slump down, remembering their first real talk. "I do. On and off the ice, Hills."
"Then do us both a favor and show it every once in a while, all right Rogers? I'll do the same. We'll prevent a lot of bloodshed that way." She looks pointedly over the roof the building and Steve chuckles, ducking his head and shifting his feet.
"Point taken." When he raises his head, the half smile on his lips makes her stomach do an uncomfortable little flip.
Maria clears her throat and takes a small step back. "So, I'm starving," she says nonchalantly. "I want some In-N-Out. You in?"
He scoffs. "For In-N-Out? Always."
They end up ditching the party with Kent, Queen, Lois, and Felicity. The six of them cause a little bit of a stir in their evening wear and they end up posing for a few photos and signing some autographs before sitting down with burgers and fries (Animal style, of course).
It's a fitting end to the night, Maria thinks as Kent dodges a wayward fry from Lois. And maybe Vegas isn't so bad.
Please review!
For the amazing tielan, who asked for an overprotective Steve and Maria at the NHL Awards afterparty. Thanks to my wonderful beta, lawgeeks, who has been inundated with stuff to read this week!