Like many things in life, the bullying and the fights that had driven Steve Rogers had started to abate by the time he had entered high school. Freshman years saw him shoot up a couple of inches, though he was still the shortest boy in his grade. However, it did mark the end of being pushed around consistently, the increase in activities and schoolwork for himself and his classmates tending to take up far more time than any of them had imagined. Still, he was determined to truly keep his promise to Holly, and he did not seek out any fights. Nor did he give the bullies that occasionally came after him the power they craved over him, as his mother had suggested. And so, time marched on, for him and for the other families living in the cul-de-sac.
Before he knew it, he was seventeen, having just started his last year of high school and preparing applications for colleges for the next autumn. Bucky, having graduated the prior spring, had settled for some community college classes in the next suburb over, commuting to school and still living at home. Across the street, the Martins had seen off Hank to his own graduation, his own attendance at a university in St. Paul also granting him the ability to commute and live at home still. Heather was in high school as well, and Holly, along with Rebecca Barnes was in middle school. Growing up and separating had to happen, but not just yet. Steve was still able to go to and from school with the girls, entreating him to a world he had not been much immersed in.
It did make him slightly appreciative of his status as an only child, for a moment, whenever the talk turned to hot movie actors and musicians, but he wasn't too put off by it all.
One Tuesday in October, once he was settled into his new school year routine, the blond boy had found himself preparing to complete his homework. As he had since first moving to Minnesota, Steve entered through the front door of the Barnes' home, heading straight for the kitchen. He and Bucky had preferred to do their homework there, whenever they were both home at the same time, and the tradition had continue even with Bucky attending the community college. The brunet boy was already there, notebook opened along with a college-level algebra textbook. Grunted greeting passed between them, the leftover muffins in the basket from breakfast being dug into while the two young men worked. Freddie and George Barnes had wandered in and out as well, but neither took any notice until Rebecca came in, literally skipping and humming. Her cheerfulness caught their attentions, and they both looked up.
"Hey, squirt," Bucky called out as Rebecca came into the room. When she rolled her eyes at the childish nickname, he smirked at Steve and shook his head. Chuckling to himself, it continued as his little sister started to comb through the cupboards near the fridge fast. Inclining his head—and pushing the book to one side—he asked, "Whoa, where's the fire?"
"No fire," Rebecca responded, shaking her head. She was practically vibrating as she munched on some chips, a secretive little grin on her lips. "Just getting a quick snack before picking out some clothes."
Bucky snorted audibly at that.
"What for? You barely plan ahead what you wear to school and church. What else..." he trailed off, thoughts clicking into place as he looked at his little sister. Eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he grunted, "Hold on."
Coyly, Becca tipped her chin, nearly black locks falling around her shoulders and her gaze lighting up.
"It's nothing, just…Jake Kinsey asked me out!" she gushed, a broad smile stretching her lips.
Bucky's brow furrowed. "You're twelve!"
Becca rolled her eyes ever harder than before. "I'm thirteen, dummy."
Almost fourteen, truth be told—her birthday was coming up in April—but it was the principle of the matter that had Bucky on edge. For his part, Steve set his chin in his palm and watched the little tableau play out, textbook forgotten.
"Still!" the brunet boy shot back, bright eyes narrowing as he stood up. Assuming what Steve private referred to as his old brother pose (arms crossed, feet spread, and spine stiff as a board as he prepared to lecture his sister), Bucky inquired, "Have you told Mom and Dad about this?"
Freddie Barnes rounded the corner then, giving her second-eldest son a fast and sharp look.
"Yes, she had," she stated mildly, causing Bucky lose some of his bluff and bluster. He had heard the pair of ladies chattering earlier, but hadn't paid it any mind. Neither had his friend, and he didn't doubt that Bucky regretted not doing so at that moment. Snickering silently to himself, Steve listened as she continued to speak. "And it's up to you and Andy to decide who has to chaperone them."
Both her children in the room gave out resounding groans, though Becca had the temerity to roll her eyes again.
"Like we need a babysitter," she grumbled, hushing when her mother's look turned onto her. She swiftly took a chip out of the bag she'd nabbed from the cupboard, munching on it as she strode past her.
From the living room, behind the newspaper he was unable to read earlier, Mr. Barnes retorted, "If you want to go at all, you will accept our terms, young lady."
Rebecca sighed, turning to her snack again, and Steve smirked as well. However, his smile lessened when he realized what was missing in the picture before him.
"So, where's Holly?" he asked the younger girl. Holly and Becca traded off spending late afternoons at each other's houses, going over homework and their days in middle school. With the other brunette missing, he was curious. "Figured she'd be over to gush about this sort of thing, too."
"Dunno," Rebecca mused, her brow furrowing lightly as she bit her lip. Lifting a shoulder, she told him, "She was acting a little weird today. Said she wasn't feeling okay after lunch. Probably the cafeteria hot dogs."
Bucky raised an eyebrow at that, and he and Steve shared a look.
"Really," Steve intoned, arching a brow as well. School cafeteria food had never affected him that badly, and he was the one people felt the need to worry about. (That was the one blessing in his life: no food allergies.) It was unlikely Holly had been so affected, either, but who knew? Glancing at Becca, he wondered, "You believe that?"
The youngest Barnes scratched at her chin, concern registering on her face. "She won't talk to me. I tried, but she just kinda ran by me after class ended."
"Hmm," was Steve's only response to that. Turning his attention down to his history book, he started to jot down a few notes on the chapter, the chatter of Becca and her brothers swirling around him as she gushed about the Jake kid. She brandished the Nokia she often borrowed from their father, indicating she had called him to further firm up details, before letting it fall onto the counter before her brother. They would be attending a movie on Saturday, pending Bucky and Andy's debate upon who would chaperone their sister. By the time dinner had rolled around, it seemed that the middle Barnes child was going to be the one attending upon the younger girl, and he pointedly cracked his knuckles in preparation.
Saturday came, and during the day, Steve had left his books down in the apartment to spend a little free time with his friend. Buck had more to tell about his college courses, such as they were, while the pair of them duked it out over a boxing game on the gaming console. Hours were spent in that fashion, with Becca flitting in and out of the periphery. Once again, she had been on her own preparing for the outing that night, her mother attending to her. Noting that strangeness, Steve logged it away, letting it simmer in the background as his own mother came upstairs to kiss him farewell before her evening shift at the hospital. Soon enough, Bucky was escorting Becca to his car, the two of them sniping in a joking manner all the way to the vehicle. Left on his own, Steve did eat with Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, the two adults inviting him to spend some time in their part of the house instead of heading back down to the apartment. He'd just flicked on the television when he could hear a thumping, rubbery sound thudding outside.
Glancing out the front window of the living room, Steve located the source of the noise. It was the bouncing of a basketball on tar, reverberating across the cul-de-sac from the Martin's driveway. And,a s it turned out, it was Holly shifting the ball from hand to hand, her back to the Barnes house as she took a shot at the hoop attached above the garage door. The blond boy shrugged a shoulder to himself, detouring from his path back to the apartment to the front door. He needed a few minutes away from homework, and he might as well have a bit of fun with his friend from across the way.
Closing up the door firmly behind him, it took him halfway through his crossing before Holly noticed him. Her dark eyes widened at him before she dropped her gaze and pivoted slightly. Frowning inwardly, Steve was undeterred, striding right up to the younger girl. They were of a height at that time, with her having gained a couple inches over the summer...and likely to gain a few more in the future, he mused privately, knowing how tall her brother was.
(Her sister, though, was holding steady at her five-foot-two status, something Steve had shared a joking glee in since he finally was taller than somebody he knew. Heather had merely rolled her eyes and socked him in the shoulder playfully whenever he did mention it.)
"Hey," Steve said, shooting her a—what he hoped was—winsome smile. When she did no more than glance at him and grunt, the grin began to fade. A few hard dribbles were made before she took her next shot, the basketball rolling around the rim before falling out. A huff of disappointment followed, but still she did not speak. Steve watched her for a second or two, his resolve hardening yet again. Holding his hands up, he asked, "Pass the ball?"
Holly looked at him again, shrugging her shoulders and doing as he asked. Catching it, Steve flicked his gaze over her once more as he took a shot. Her posture had remained rigid, and she seemed to be moving woodenly whenever she ran up to shoot. Catching her quietly sniffling in between his own dribbling, he felt his personal resolve hardening. They had known each other for years; she couldn't hide it very well whenever she was upset, and he tended to pick up on it quicker than some of the others in their friend group.
He had to get to the bottom of it.
"Where's Hank and Heather?" he asked, casually clearing his throat and lining up his next shot. It rebounded off the rim, and Holly jogged to catch it. Dribbling it lazily, she gave him a shrug.
"Heather's out with her friends, Hank's with girl named Ashley." She sneaked a fast glance at him, curious as well. "You didn't want to hang out with Bucky?"
It was Steve's turn to shrug, catching the ball as she passed it with some ease. "He's chaperoning Becca's little 'date' tonight. Their mom and dad wouldn't let her go, if he or Andy didn't."
At once, her expression turned sour, and Steve let out a silent whoop in his head. That had gotten him somewhere, if inadvertently so.
"Oh, right," she mumbled, scuffing the toe of her shoe on the pavement. Lining up his shot, Steve's bright gaze flicked to her, watching her as her posture turned a bit stiff.
"I was kinda surprised you didn't come over and help her get ready or somethin'," he noted. It was true; Holly and Rebecca had been good friends for years. It was odd that she hadn't been there to help her prepare in some way, considering it was her first ever date. Instead, he had listened to Bucky groan and grumble about his little sister being taken up with some punk while his mother chided him from Becca's room.
The brunette girl before him crossed her arms, her jaw setting mulishly. "She has her mom. She didn't need me."
At that, Steve pointedly tucked the ball under his arm, refusing to pass it to her when she gestured for it.
Shaking his head, he instead asked, "Okay, what's going on?"
For a long moment, she just stared at him, her face going pale and then flushing red as he returned the scrutiny. For the last few days she'd been too quiet, too withdrawn, and it had bothered him (bothered them all, really; her brother and sister had shared uncomfortable glances whenever she wandered away from them, and Rebecca had gotten nothing but the silent treatment to her own questions). Now, when the mere mentioned of Becca's date had gotten her back up—
Oh. A click, and understanding flooded Steve. But before he could say anything, she spoke first.
"Am I ugly, Steve?"
Nonplussed by her inquiry, Steve asked, "What?"
Holly stood her ground, even as her lip wobbled a little. "You heard me. Am I ugly, or something?"
He was utterly flabbergasted at her pronouncement. Granted, Holly was no model, but nobody was at thirteen years old. (He certainly wasn't, being short and skinny as he was.) She was cute, he could admit that much, even with the braces on her teeth and the baby roundness of her cheeks still not having faded. She was still growing, still figuring things out, but she certainly wasn't ugly. He shook his head vehemently as she bit her lip, clearly having taken his silence as affirmation.
"You're not," he avowed, blinking rapidly at her. "Who told you that you are?"
Whoever it was, was gonna get decked, he decided in that moment. Never mind his smaller stature and size. Nobody was allowed to do that to Holly and get away with it, and he'd kept to that promise since he was ten.
"I..." she trailed off, her dark eyes focusing on her sneakers. Arms came up and curled around her stomach, a few shaky breaths being taken as she tried to look at him again.
"Hey, come on," he murmured, getting closer. Reaching out, he snagged one of her wrists, pulling it away from her side and drawing her forward a couple steps. When she flicked her gaze up at him, his brow furrowed. "You can tell me."
"Just...the guy Becca's hanging out with tonight. I…"
"Yeah?"
Her gaze remained riveted to her shoes, and her breathing had become shaky. Her voice lowered to nearly a whisper when she confessed the truth to him, little cracks marring the word as she went.
"I like him. Like, like him. And he picked her. I thought he liked me, but then he asked her. So…what's wrong with me?"
She looked up fully, tears flooding into her eyes as his suspicions were confirmed. The poor thing had a crush, and her crush had chosen her best friend to date instead. Wincing at the thought, at the idea that she thought that something had to be wrong with her for some guy not to like her, Steve felt his own stomach tighten in sadness and indignation.
"Oh, Holl," he murmured, his heart aching for her in that moment. As her face crumpled further into tears, he reached out once more, gathering her into his arms. "Hey, c'mere."
Her arms wrapped tightly around him, clinging hard as she buried her face against his shoulder. Her hot tears stained his shirt, but he did not care. Instead, he began to rock minutely, rubbing her back and wondering what on Earth he could do to make it better for her.
"I just, I thought he—and then she—"she blubbered, trying to catch her breath between sobs to speak. Steve immediately pivoted them both toward the retaining wall lining the side of the drive. Sitting them both down, he continued to lightly pat her back as she cried, her words failing her.
"I know, it's tough," he crooned low, pushing back his own sick feelings to continue comforting her. "I gotcha, kiddo."
Were she in any other frame of mind, Holly would've objected to the term 'kiddo', but such was her distress that she let it slide. Several long minutes passed, in which her heavy sobs eventually petered to light gasps. Evening started to take hold, coolness starting to lace the air. The flowing tears turned into trickles, and soon enough she was pulling away, sniffing against the drips coming out of her nose and red rimming her eyes.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she muttered, using the backs of her own hands to swipe away the residual water on her face. Steve, only dropping one arm from around her, shook his head.
"It's okay. I get where you're coming from. Really, I do," he told her, gently combing back a strand of her hair behind her ear. The old, residual hurts of his own past surfaced in his mind, and he couldn't help but frown as he thought about it. Dropping his hand in his lap and staring down at his shoes, he muttered, "A lot of girls have used me to get to Buck, for a long time. Even some I've liked. I know how much it can hurt to find out that you were wrong."
And boy, did he know how much that stung. While Bucky was his best friend, the brother he never had, it was difficult at times to be around him. Over the years, the older boy had gotten taller, hitting six feet by his sophomore year while Steve had stopped at five-foot-four, and filled out as well. He'd alternated between football and baseball, getting strong while Steve attended games and was relegated to playing catch in the yard. Naturally, James Buchanan Barnes drew in attention, and had a lot of girls admiring him through his school career. And everybody knew his best friend was the kid a year younger than him, shorter and skinny…and the perfect gateway.
Rachel Leighton had been the first, the pretty redhead from Steve's class that the blond boy had developed a crush on. Unfortunately, her striding up to him in the hall and nearly demanding Buck's number sort of destroyed any potential feelings after that. And from there, the situation only spiraled. To his credit, Bucky was able to recognize when his friend was into certain girls, and he was quick to try and point them in his direction. Still, it was something of a relief that the brunet boy had graduated and was in college; at least Steve didn't have to worry about being propositioned in that way any longer.
His focus came back onto Holly, the younger girl's disheartened expression piercing him.
"But that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you," Steve asserted, grinning and attempting to coax a smile out of her. She merely rolled her eyes and stared at her shoes.
"Whatever."
"No, not 'whatever,'" he contradicted her, shaking his head emphatically. Laying his palm on her upper back, he would not allow her to get down on herself. "Holly, you're smart, and honest, and sweet. You are." His insistence had been met with a scoff, but he spotted the blush surfacing in her cheeks, the bare quirk at the corner of her mouth, and he had to continue. "Any guy would be lucky to be with you. This isn't the end of the world, I promise you. It hurts, but you'll keep going. You're strong, you'll make it."
The younger girl looked at him, some of the warmth in her dark eyes returning as she sniffed back the last of her tears. As she swiped away the residual tracks on her face, she let the corner of her mouth lift in a facsimile of a smile. Impulsively, she grabbed one of his hands, the dampness ignored as she squeezed her fingers around his palm.
"Thank you, Steve," she told him, the absolute sincerity finally pushing the sadness away. Grateful to see her recovering, he merely grinned back at her. Tilting her head, she let out a soft sigh as she continued to look him over, too. "Y'know, you're strong, too. And so nice. If those girls can't see that, they're dumb."
Steve snorted affably, shaking his head. "Thanks for that. And, for the record, you're not ugly. At all."
Pink flushed into her cheeks then, and she dropped her grip from his, instead picking at the hem of her shirt. The further fall of night began to encompass them, streetlamps beginning to brighten and the flood light beside the garage door of her house illuminating them. As the barest breeze rustled through the grass, Holly let out another soft breath, finally pushing herself to stand up.
"I better go inside before Mom and Dad come out to yell at me."
The blond boy stood as well, scratching at the back of his neck. "I suppose I better head back, too."
Holly gathered up the basketball, wondering, "Your mom's working late tonight, right?"
"Yeah, but I've got a paper to work on for English class, so I'll be busy," Steve explained. "Plus Mrs. Barnes will be doing the rounds to make sure I'm behaving soon."
"Darn," she attempted to joke, snapping the fingers of one hand. "No parties for you then."
"Sorry, nothing to crash tonight," he retorted, smirking at her before pivoting on his heel. Before he got to the end of the driveway, though, he stopped, looking back at the younger brunette. Waiting until she met his gaze, he let his expression even out, another concern surfacing then. "Holl? Becca's still your friend, too."
At once, anger, discomfort, and heartbreak lined her faced again, but Steve preempted any argument Holly could have made to the contrary.
"She didn't know, did she?" he pressed, arching an eyebrow at her. Her face fell once more, and her gaze dropped to her shoes as she wrapped her arms around the basketball. He paused, knowing that it was unlikely that Becca would ever go out with anyone her best friend had feelings for. She was cut from the same cloth as her brother, truly, and Holly knew that, too. Soon enough, the youngest Martin was shaking her head in the negative, and Steve sought to get her back to what she had. He sought to get her back the friendship that threatened to splinter. "Try not to hold it against her when she had no idea."
Holly looked at him then, blinking rapidly, and when she muttered her good nights, he could have sworn her chin had dipped in agreement. He couldn't be totally sure, though, and had to settle for saying farewell and heading back home himself as twilight waned.
xXxXxXx
The following Monday, Holly had seemed to take his advice, going to Rebecca and shyly asking how she was. After several days of silence, the Barnes girl was a little stunned that her friend was speaking to her again, but it seemed to be just the thing that was needed. The two younger girls tarried behind the elder children, trading small words back and forth, before the pair had caught up in a hug, muttered apologies flying between them. Upon finding out that Holly had had feelings for the boy she'd gone out with over the weekend, she vowed that she wouldn't even give Jake Kinsey another look. Holly demurred as much as she could, but Steve caught how she didn't exactly tell her no. Both girls were going to be done with the kid, from what he could tell, and they would be better for it.
(For his part, Hank had clapped him on the shoulder when they'd gotten home, silent thanks for being the one to eventually get Holly talking to her friend again, and Heather had a smile for him, too.)
During the day, though, they had separated, the girls to their middle school and Steve and Heather to the high school. On his own, once again, he was at his locker after fourth period, sorting through the stack at the bottom and trying to find his English textbook. Finally locating it, he gave a small crow of triumph to himself as the other students milled around him.
However, his personal peace was interrupted by a soft, sweet voice cutting through the chatter.
"Hey."
Looking up, Steve blinked. A pretty girl, just a couple inches taller than him, was standing there. Her warm brown eyes were lit up by her small grin, bowed lips curving as she tilted her head. Straightened blonde locks fell over her shoulders, and she clutched her trapper keeper and two covered books closer to her chest. Swallowing a little, Steve let the corner of his mouth curl up hesitantly.
"Uh, hi," he greeted her, trying to place her face. He had seen her around, but he wasn't completely sure where. The girl's grin widened a bit, and was sweet as she took another step closer to him.
"You're Steve, right?" she asked him. "You sit toward the front in Mr. Dugan's history class in third hour."
"Yeah," he confirmed, blue eyes narrowing the tiniest fraction. Looking at the round curve of her face and the set of her posture, it finally clicked. She was the new girl in class, the one who sat ahead a couple rows of him in the aforementioned history course. Eyes widened as he murmured, "Oh, yeah, you're Sharon."
"Yep. Moved here a month ago with my aunt," she replied, something lighting her brown irises at his recollection. A smattering of pink lined her cheekbones then, and she told him, "I just wanted to say that, well, it's cool how much you knew in class today. I think Mr. Dugan was about to have a fit."
Steve snickered and ducked his head. Mr. Dugan had a great propensity for teaching history, but he tended to follow a more traditional approach to the subject. As for himself, Steve enjoyed asking him about the gritty details of the subject he'd learned on his own. He supposed poking fun at Churchill's drinking and such during his life was not essential to Mr. Dugan's World War 2 lecture, but he couldn't help himself. Something the instructor knew all too well about his pupil.
"Nah, he's alright. When he gets that red in the face, it actually means you're okay with him," he confessed to her, the corners of his mouth curving up as he lifted a shoulder. "He'd rather have smart answers than stupid ones."
She laughed at that, her eyes creasing and her face filled with mirth.
"Fair enough." A few moments of silence passed between them, the pair glancing down at their shoes and shuffling in their stances. Glancing up again, Steve caught her tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. Sharon looked him in the eye once more, and after a deep breath, she asked, "Do you...do you mind if I sit with you at lunch today? I'm a little behind everyone in history, and I don't know anybody else all that well..."
For the second time within a week, Steve was gobsmacked. The pretty, sweet new girl wanted to sit with him? At lunch, in front of of everyone? He wasn't exactly popular, and while he wasn't the worst of the lot, he knew his standing wouldn't help her break into the cliques that surrounded them.
But...how could he say no?
"S-sure," he said, the barest stutter impacting the word. At his agreement, her smile brightened exponentially, and the flutter in his chest registered again, a little stronger that time. With that, the pair of them turned and walked together down the hall, splitting to go to their separate courses.
The first lunch together was followed by another the next day, and the next, the boy and girl trading notes and comments about the history lessons and how she was getting along in her new class. Sharon often felt adrift at her new school, the move from Maryland still jarring to her (and it didn't help that her aunt was British; the older woman herself had gotten a bit turned around on occasion, her new job in the Capitol building having disoriented her, too, in multiple ways). Steve, though he had been in Minnesota for nearly ten years, could commiserate, and told her a few stories about his first weeks adjusting to a new state and a new home. Closer and closer were they drawn together, and by Friday, Sharon was bypassing waiting for her aunt to pick her up from school, instead choosing to walk part of the path home with Steve and the others before turning down onto her road.
After they said their farewells, Steve watched her go as she trod down the sidewalk, her hair swinging a little as she moved. Trailing his eyes over her, he glanced up in time to catch her looking back at him, a smile stretching her lips. He blushed, but did not look away. Instead, he waved, and she waved back, delight lining their features before she turned around the end of the block and was gone from sight.
Turning to continue on his path, he stopped short when he spotted Holly there, her arms crossed over her chest and her chin raised as she stared at him. Lost for words, he stammered a little before she started to giggle.
"So one of them can see it," she said, striding up to him. His blush darkened as she wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hard hug. "Good for you, Stevie."
Unable to deny it himself, and so pleased with it that he could barely stand it, he smirked down at the younger girl, hugging her back.
"Thanks, Holl," he replied, veritably whistling when they let each other go and started to walk away. He did not notice the slight receding of the brunette girl's smile, or the tiny shake of her head as she brushed away the niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was happy, Steve was happy. Everything was okay, and would remain so.
A/N: Another month goes by, and I post again. I do want to get better about this, truly. I'll keep trying; my personal anxiety issues decided to super-ramp up the last couple of months, and it's finally starting to calm down a bit, so hopefully I can work at this all again.
This time around, Steve gives Holly the chance to lean on him. Still got a ways to go for them, so don't let Sharon throw you off just yet. ;)
Happy St. Patrick's Day, to all those who are Irish, and even to those who aren't. :)
I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text (Marvel comics, Nokia, etc.).
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!
