After the first date, it was safe to assume that Holly was somewhat floating on air. Though she could admit that she had imagined what it would be like to take the next step with Steve, it was still a bit thrilling to have actually done so. The second date, which actually was a walking trip along the C&O Canal (muggy for the beginning of August, but it did not detract from the beauty of the walk and the enjoyment they got out of each other's company) and a detour at a beer bar on Wisconsin Avenue, was as pleasant as the first, and the progress built from there. As often as they were in company as friends, the increase as they crossed into a relationship was enthralling. And it was becoming a relationship; as Steve had stated once, he never viewed Holly as a fling, and she in turn was not interested in anything short-term, not at that point in her life. She'd never been built to have a flirtation and brief affairs—it wasn't for her, and so she chose carefully in regards to her heart.
Steve was right, she could feel that, and she did not want to squander the chance she had.
Her family, though, had a few opinions. Hank, her brother, did not have any real problem with the idea; he was a single father, too, and wouldn't begrudge his sister dating one. Heather mostly seemed glad that she'd taken the step to even see anyone at all, since her last boyfriend had been about three years prior. As it turned out, the one who really had any objection was her mother (and she supposed her father, too, but Paul Martin could not restrict his twenty-eight-year-old daughter at that point in his life).
Lisa had not been vicious in her concerns. Instead, she'd chosen to take a calmer, more compassionate form, which made Holly feel worse. She would've preferred screaming, she'd thought.
"We just want you to be careful, honey. He sounds like a good man, but, well...he's a single father, and not by choice," Lisa posited as they spoke one evening, the video call turning slightly sour as she, once again, felt as though she had to say something about Holly going out with Steve. Her bright eyes were lined with concern and sympathy, which honestly irritated Holly all the more. As the younger woman grunted and scrubbed a hand over her face, her mother sighed and shook her head. "We just don't want you to get hurt. None of you, really."
Lowering her hand, Holly shot her a deadpan expression. "You give a variation of this pep talk to the girls Hank dates? Because he's one, too."
At that point, Lisa's irritation surfaced, the look she shot her daughter matching the younger brunette's almost perfectly. In the background, Paul paused, poking his head through the door frame, but off a fast glance from Holly, he ducked back out again. He wasn't going to sit through another rehash, and she didn't blame him one bit.
"And their parents probably tell them the same thing," Lisa proposed, cutting into Holly's trailing thoughts. The older woman brushed back a lock of her silvered blonde hair, fully looking at her daughter then. "It isn't a judgment call against this young man. It's just that you need to be aware of the fact that this larger than you two. It's going to come with sacrifices, and you have to be sure that's what you want."
Holly's lips thinned, but she did not say anything. She understood where her mother was coming from, truly; her relationship was not just one between her and the man, but also involved the man's child. Jamie was someone she could not ignore, nor did she wish to. It was a different mindset and way of doing things than she was used to, including a young boy in events that might once have been the domain of two people. However, she was not about to shun him or push him away. She liked Jamie, liked him for the sweet, funny little guy that he was, and wanted him to be a part of things.
It was a warning, though, that she would promise her mother to give full consideration, and had spent several hours afterward lost in thought.
And she would learn, weeks later, all of what she wanted.
It was a Saturday morning, the last in August. In only a few days' time, Jamie Rogers would be starting preschool, and his father could not have been prouder of him in those days, of how big his boy was getting and how he was just speeding along in life. Holly, too, was pleased for the little guy, and had an idea for all of them to commemorate the occasion. After a quick breakfast at home, she went down the hall to their apartment, Steve greeting her at the door with a hello and a fast kiss before pounding feet could be heard tearing down from the boy's bedroom.
"Hey kiddo," she greeted Jamie as he flew to her, swinging him around in a tight hug. The little guy giggled and demanded she do so again and again, but she quickly set him back on his feet after a few moments. Crouching down to his level, she looked him fully in the eye and grinned. "What do you think of going to the carnival today?"
Jamie gasped, nodding enthusiastically. Holly glanced over him to his father, Steve smirking brightly back. She'd texted him with the idea for the day the evening before, but had agreed to keep it as a surprise for the boy. Obviously, he was tickled pink by the idea, and they both delighted in it.
"I wanna go! Please! Daddy, can we please go?" Jamie crooned, whirling around and running to Steve, clutching at the ragged leg of his cut-offs. The older man looked up, shooting a fast wink to Holly as she stood. Grabbing up his phone and keys from the table, he nodded.
"Sure, let's—wait," he cut himself off, looking down at the message that popped up on his phone. Sliding his thumb over the screen and reading quickly, he grumbled, "Oh, shi—darn."
The abrupt slide of joy from his face gave Holly pause, and she frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Message from the boss," he muttered, rolling his eyes heavenward and groaning. "I was supposed to turn in a few mock-ups for a project this week, and they didn't like the initial ones I brought. I have a couple more, but I gotta run them into the office."
The frown deepened, and she clicked her tongue. "Why did he wait until your day off to say anything?"
He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Tony operates on his own schedule."
"You can't email them?"
Steve shook his head, pocketing the phone and beginning to move toward the living room. "Half are here on my laptop, the other half are on my work computer. I don't have remote access, so I have to go."
Holly felt the sinking in her heart as she caught Jamie's watery eyes, the pout of his lip as he followed his father.
"But, but Daddy..." he started, sniffing hard at the idea that Steve couldn't go with them. The bigger blond fellow already had his laptop bag in hand, and he looked down at his boy, appearing to be saddened by the idea, as well. Kneeling down, he laid a hand on his shoulder, the other chucking his son under the chin.
"I'll make it quick as I can," he promised. Flicking his gaze up, he proposed, "You two go on ahead, and I'll catch up."
The brunette woman blinked a bit in surprise, but she was pleased to hear that Steve wasn't altogether abandoning the plan. Instead, it would just be altered a little.
"Yeah, we'll just get a head start," she said, padding around the couch and combing back a few stray strands of the boy's hair. Jamie, who had clearly thought the carnival would be scrapped, glanced up at her, hope returning to his eyes. As she nodded, she murmured, "Maybe we win a few games and get you and your dad some prizes, huh?"
Significantly brightened by the prospect, Jamie dipped his chin again. "...Okay."
It took some finagling, getting his child seat properly situated in her car, but soon enough Holly and Jamie were on their way, Steve giving them both hugs and pecks in farewell, promising to text her as soon as he finished up with his task. The streets around the carnival were congested, but she was able to find a somewhat decent spot only a few blocks away. The cleared space was already full of people, ticket booths by the entry and rides just beyond, waiting for them. The Ferris wheel loomed toward the back, the carousel and spinning apples near at hand. Spying the Tilt-a-Whirl, Jamie was pleading with her to go on that, but she merely smiled and paid the booth manager their fare. Wristbands were given over to them, and she helped the young boy with his.
"Alright, we've got your wristband, and mine, and we have some cash handy for games and food. Where to?" she asked him once the task was finished, his little hand gripping hers and beginning to tow her inside. His eye had now been caught by the duck game, wherein he had to choose three rubber ducks circling in a manufactured pond. Handing over the money, she encouraged him to grab his three favorites. The numbers on the bottom correlated to points, and as it turned out, he did fairly well in choose. Able to walk away with a stuffed monkey and a cheap rubber bone bracelet, they bounced between the ring toss and the spinning apple ride, making themselves dizzy.
Holly was enthralled, enthralled by the child in her care for those hours. For some, it would be easy to write off a young boy as just that, but she took pleasure in figuring out the nuances of his character, in finding out what he liked to do and his aversions. And the pure joy and delight in his face was impossible to overlook, the smile on his face never dimming as he pulled her from one end of the carnival to the other, pointing excitedly at food stands and crowing in delight at the petting zoo in the back.
Eventually, she felt a tell-tale rumble in her pocket, and she fetched up her phone, her own grin broadening as well. Steve had been able to complete his work earlier than expected, and was actually on the grounds. Calling out to Jamie from where he'd been petting a rabbit through the fencing, she motioned for him to meet her by the hand-washing station.
"Okay, kiddo, your dad said that he's over by the mini-donut stand, so let's head over there," she said, his excitement tripling. She barely managed to wrangle him in, telling him that his dad would want his hands clean before meeting up, the effort working to get him to do so. Within minutes, they were crossing through, hand in hand as the crowds had thickened in the hot August afternoon. The humidity had strands of her pony-tail sticking to the back of her neck, and she felt the sweat of their joined palms smushed between their skin, but she would not let him go. Losing Jamie would be a mistake, and she did not intend to make it. Glancing back and asking if he was doing okay, she was cut short when she knocked her shoulder into someone, the force of the impact nearly staggering her. Keeping her balance, she glanced briefly over the person she'd run into, assessing that it was some guy, and she shrugged.
"Excuse me, sir," she apologized, still intent on guiding Jamie through to the other side of the carnival. However, a hand curled around her arm, pulling her up short. Shocked by the touch and the grip, she jerked her head around, fully looking at the stranger she bumped into. It felt as though her heart had both leaped into her throat and sank all the way down to her feet. Her stomach clenched as she took in the criss-cross of scars, marring what would have otherwise been considered an attractive face. Light brown eyes gleamed slightly, and she felt her stomach lurch again. He was strong, stronger than she would've guessed, but the grasp on her arm did not give her much leeway. It wasn't his physical appearance that gave her pause. No, it was that she knew who he was.
Or rather, knew him from what he'd done.
Brock Rumlow wasn't exactly someone Steve could keep a secret about. After all, the man had been the drunk driver that had killed Peggy. Despite having been arrested and imprisoned, he had attempted to contact Steve afterward, in an attempt to tender apologies. However, after several tries and his refusal to accept the blond man's silence, it had fallen upon Steve to get a restraining order. She'd been told of that within the first couple of weeks of dating, so that she would not be in the dark in case anything regarding Rumlow surfaced.
However, there wasn't supposed to be anything surfacing regarding him. He was supposed to still be serving his sentence, for at least another year. Evidently, he'd gotten off early, for reasons she did not know. As she gaped at him, he let the corner of his mouth curl, an eyebrow raising slightly before speaking.
"Just hold on a minute, pretty lady. You're actually just the person I wanted to see."
A tug came at Holly's free hand, and she felt the panic swell as Jamie asked, "Holly, who is this?"
Glancing down at him, she saw the confusion in his little face, him cradling his stuff monkey in his other arm, and she swallowed hard. She couldn't tell him the truth, couldn't tell him that the man was responsible for the accident that had taken his mother from him.
So, instead, she lied.
"I don't know, bud," she breathed, shaking her head and attempting maintain a calm façade. Frightening Jamie was the last thing she wanted, and she had to be wary until it was safe for her to get him out of there. Looking Rumlow directly in the eye, she murmured, "Sir, I think you have me mistaken for someone else."
She wiggled her arm, but the fingers around it tightened slightly. That, and Rumlow's eyes narrowed.
"You're with Rogers, right? Steve Rogers?" he asked, eyebrow raising slightly. Flicking his gaze past her, to the small boy at her side, he continued, "And that's his boy, there."
A sharp shudder ran up her spine. He knew who she was, that she was dating Steve? Had he been stalking her, or did he simply find her through her association with the Rogers boys? Either way, it shook her, and she felt a combination of fear and anger swell inside her.
"That's none of your business," she told him, vehemence bleeding into her voice. She jerked, her arm finally freed from Rumlow's grip. Backing up a step or two, she nodded to the nearest arched exit of the carnival. "You need to go, now."
The older fellow shook his head, stepping in again. "I don't think so. Not before we've talked."
She scoffed audibly, dark eyes flashing with annoyance. "We've talked, we're done. Go, before you really violate the restraining order even further."
"So you do know me," he retorted, a sickly smile dawning on his lips. Disgusted, and with her nerves snapping, Holly stepped back again, half-hiding Jamie with her body as Rumlow rolled his eyes and muttered, "Look, girlie, you've got a clue. So you have to know that I need to—"
"There's a lot of people here, and I will make a scene if you don't leave us alone," she hissed, not willing to give him anymore ground. It was true; a good number of people, of families, had been walking by and around them, several of the adults shooting fast looks of concern at her and the fellow facing off with her. When he dared to take another step toward her, she pivoted fast, scooping up Jamie and holding him close. The nearly five-year-old gave out a yelp, more in shock that he'd been picked up than anything else, but his brown eyes darted anxiously towards the strange man again. Holly stepped back, her fear plainly telegraphed on her face. "Get away from us."
The expression on Rumlow's face darkened considerably, the crosshatch of his scars starkly standing out. "Hold on, now, you little..."
Holly refused to listen to anything else, deciding in that instant that it was time to beat a hasty retreat. Turning, she felt Jamie rock in her arms, the tight snatch at the collar of her shirt joined by one at her back.
"Holly!" he cried, and she stiffened up, the breath in her lungs freezing as she looked around. Panicking, she felt exhaled sharply when she finally spotted the person she'd been longing to see since the exchange began. Steve had appeared, scanning the crowd for his boy and her. Spying them, as well as the man trying to hold them up, the placidity of his face burned away, harsh lines sprouting across his forehead as a frown deepened. In a mere few seconds, he'd run over to them, chopping Rumlow's hand away from Holly and pulling her and Jamie into his embrace. Quickly, he asked if they were alright, one hand cupping Holly's cheek and the other splayed along Jamie's back. Trying her best to swallow back the fear and still the minor shake coursing down her spine, she nodded, the little boy burying his face into her shoulder. She felt more than saw the moment when the switch in her boyfriend was activated, when he channeled his concern for them into the underlying anger. He physically turned as well, sizing up the scarred fellow who had been watching the scene before him with nervous eyes.
"Rumlow," Steve growled, his eyes icy with fury. Fury, and hints of the deep sorrow still there. Stepping in front of his girlfriend and his son, he glared at the other man, the bare two inches difference between the two in height highlighted then. "You have ten seconds to get the hell out of here."
"Daddy?" Jamie chirped, his voice wavering, and on instinct, Holly held him closer, fingers rubbing up and down his back in an effort to soothe. Rumlow glowered back for several seconds, his light brown gaze darting past him to the woman and boy he'd jarred, and then he deflated.
"Look, Rogers, I just wanted to say—"
Steve shook his head almost violently, refusing to put up with another word. "You've made plenty of statements already. Many of them are public record. I'm not interested in another. I thought the restraining order made that clear."
The brunet man's disgruntled look returned, but unlike with Holly, he knew better than to try and physically bully his point through. Instead, he shifted his stance, weight going onto his back foot as he spread his hands out. The crowd of the carnival had moved, giving them all a wide berth, but none of those involved in the confrontation took any notice.
"Look, I'm only doing this because you refuse to hear me out," Rumlow stated plainly, the strange gleam in his eye returning. "What happened was—"
"It was a choice," the blond man ground out, cutting him off yet again. The fraying patience he had was obvious, particularly as he stepped closer to the other man. Each word he spat out was like a brittle chip of ice, flecking and piercing in turn. "The consequences were not what you wanted, but you got into that car. You drove drunk. You killed my wife. I told you, I'm not interested in anything you have to say." Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, Steve dared to lean in a bit closer, driving his final points home. "If you ever come anywhere near my son or her again, I promise that your prison sentence will seem like a paradise in comparison to what I'll do to you. Get out of here."
Rumlow glared back at Steve fully, rooted to the spot for several long seconds. Eventually, he let out a fast breath, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
"Fine," he grunted, turning to leave. He'd only managed to go a few steps before he looked back at the blond man, the frustration in his face softening slightly. "But for what it's worth, I am sorry."
It wasn't worth much, Holly noted mutely, as she watched Steve's shoulders tighten further, the fist he was clenching at his side turning his knuckle white.
"Get out of here," he rumbled one last time, with Rumlow raising a hand in defeat and brushing it away. The other man finally walked away, melting into the crowds beyond the small ring of spectators that had paused to watch the confrontation. Fiery blue eyes ricocheted around, compelling the curious and gawking to move along. Raking a now-shaking hand through his hair, he muttered, "Mother of—"
Suddenly, he whirled around, his thoughts catching up with him in that moment, his fear and concern for Holly and Jamie flooding out then. Going back to them, he guided them to the nearest bench, just beside the ticket booth. Sitting them down, he knelt in front of them, tenderly rubbing his son's back as the small boy clutched his stuffed animal and sobbed against her shirt. Muttering reassurances, he swept his assessing gaze over them, his jaw stiffening briefly.
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked, flicking his eyes to Holly's face.
"No, he didn't touch him," she hastened to tell him, assuming his concern was all for Jamie. Lifting a shoulder, she gabbled on, "He just grabbed my arm. I was gonna run when I could, I swear."
Her eyes had gone wide, pleading for him to believe that she would have done so. She absolutely would have run, if she had managed to break Rumlow's hold on her, to get the boy out of there. She didn't want him to have been part of any of it, and she felt terribly that she hadn't done more. Carefully, Steve's other hand came up, patting her knee and then cupping her cheek again.
"You did fine, Holl," he said, thumb sweeping over the skin. For a long moment, she merely looked at him, barely dipping her chin in an uncertain nod. The wails against her shoulder did not peter off, she glanced down at Jamie, instinctively rocking a bit. Swiftly, the bigger fellow scooped up his son, holding him close as he stood and continued to cry.
"Kiddo. Hey, it's okay now," he crooned, patting and rubbing his back over and over. Within a few minutes, the sobs became whimpers and hiccups, and the little guy eventually lifted his head. Watery brown eyes looked to his father, and he took in fast, gulping breaths.
"Daddy, he, he...he killed Mommy?" he wondered, the question having been circling in his mind since Steve had pronounced Rumlow's ill deeds. The older man veritably paled when he realized that he'd been heard, and worse, understood, by his boy. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes briefly.
"We'll, we'll talk about it later, alright?" he attempted to placate the child, a sullen nod given after a few seconds. Turning back to the bench, he looked beseechingly at the brunette woman still perched there. "Holly..."
Her head snapped up then, from the bow it had gone into. Shaken as she still was, she nodded absentmindedly, fidgeting with her phone that she'd drawn from her pocket.
"The police. We need to call them," she clarified, understanding enough of the situation that Steve would have to get in touch with the authorities. At once, he inclined his head, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment or two.
"The station's not far from here. And they'll probably want a statement from you, too," he mused, shifting Jamie to one arm and starting to dig in his own pocket. "I'll call ahead."
Shaking her head, Holly offered Steve her phone, standing again as he called the police station. After a short, tense conversation, he hung up and returned the device to her care. The shaken trio moved away from the carnival grounds, separating to their vehicles with Holly following behind Steve's SUV. Within minutes, they were at the station, passing through the heavy doors into the small reception area. A few clerks were at the front desks, one of them gesturing to the counters along the wall. A half-filled coffee pot sat on the burner, but neither of the adults indulged. Instead, they waited silently until one of the side doors opened. A man with sandy, close-cropped hair strode out, tugging a little at his uniform's collar and making his badge shift slightly on his chest. Spying them, he made his way over, attempting a fast smirk in hello.
"Officer Barton," Steve greeted the other man, holding his palm out for a handshake. Barton obliged, giving it a few pumps before dropping the grip.
"I wish I could say it's good to see you, Steve, but, well..." he trailed off, resting his hands on the belt and holster at his waist. Cocking an eyebrow, he stated, "Sounds like you've got some issues to clear up."
Steve snorted inelegantly, rising from his chair with Jamie in his arms once again (the little guy had sat on his lap at the station, and hadn't moved). For her part, Holly watched the exchange in silence. When Steve had given her the full account of Peggy's passing, she had learned of the officer who had been unfortunate enough to deliver the bad news to Steve. Officer Barton, a husband himself with three children, could not fully commiserate, but he had gone out of his way on his department's behalf to work with the distraught man and toddler left behind. They kept in touch, enough to merit Christmas cards, Steve had joked, but it was mentioned with a touch of sadness. At the present moment, it was just calm and business-like, and she hoped it would stay that way.
"That's putting it mildly," he retorted blandly. Glancing back at her, he nodded between his girl and the officer. "Holly, this is Clint Barton."
The brunette woman raised her hand, waving as she had no idea how to greet him. "Uh, hi."
Barton softened his smirk into a small grin, though it slipped away as he brought them all through the door and down the hall to his office. One by one, he asked for their statements, encouraging them to give as many details as possible, sliding the necessary documents across the desk to fill out. Several long minutes passed as the two adults wrote fast, mindful of the little one getting antsy on his father's lap. After they'd finished, Barton perused each swiftly, digging in his desk and removing an old tape recorder from within. Once he affirmed that the tape inside was fresh, he asked for them to give their testimonies aloud as well. Silently, Steve and Holly looked to one another, the young woman dipping her chin and agreeing to go first. When Holly recounted Rumlow grabbing her arm, locking her into place, she caught Steve grimacing in disgust out the corner of her eye. Still, she got through the retelling fairly well, and had her own disgust and grimaces to battle against when Jamie piped up. Clint Barton was patient with him, subtly encouraging him to continue or pause as needed before rewarding him with a sucker from a desk drawer.
"He's clearly violated the order, before multiple witnesses," Clint remarked after Jamie had contented himself with the treat, sympathy in his irises as he sighed. "I radioed out before you got here, put the units nearby on the look-out for Rumlow. Still, it's only a misdemeanor at this point, not a felony."
Steve's eyebrows rose sharply and he barely cut off a fast gasp.
"He got his hands on her, though!" he pointed out, jabbing a finger down at the transcribed testimonial. "He touched my girlfriend."
"Who doesn't have an order against him," Clint returned, stating the facts. He flashed a look to Holly then, shrugging apologetically. "That, however, can change if she seeks one, too."
Holly's dark gaze widened, and she felt another shiver run down her spine. She'd never had that sort of thing happen in her life, and had not presumed to think she would be in such a position. It boggled the mind, and she blinked rapidly as she tried to make her brain slow down.
"I..." she trailed off, arms curling around her stomach. As the distress rolled off of her, Steve shifted in his seat, coughing once.
"Clint, can we have a minute, please?" he asked, the other man nodding.
"Sure thing." Turning to Jamie, he rose from his seat and held out a hand. "Hey, buddy, want to help me do some radio calls?"
Blinking, the little boy slid from his father's lap, nearly skipping to Barton's side.
"Okay," he agreed, waving at Steve and Holly before he was led out of the room. For a minute or two after their exit, the man and woman left behind sat in the quiet, the distant chatter and phones ringing interrupted by the air conditioning rattling to life. In her mind, Holly's thoughts were whirling, considering what she would have to do, and soon enough, she turned to Steve, the pensive look on his face unmistakeable.
"Steve, I—" she began, only to be cut off by his hand raising his palm out in supplication.
"I understand. I mean, this is difficult enough for us to handle, and you didn't ask for this," he murmured, not quite able to look her in the eye as he spoke. Slightly nonplussed by his avoidance, she felt the sick slide of shock course through her as he continued, "It's, I know it's not easy, since Jamie and I are a package deal, but for Rumlow to show up now...if this is good-bye, I get it."
Holly's jaw slackened, dismay written all over her features as she comprehended what Steve had assumed.
"What?" she garbled, brow furrow as he blinked and scratched the back of his neck. "You thought I was gonna break up with you?"
His shoulders shrugged, his gaze fastening onto his shoes.
"Lots of people do, for less serious reasons," he replied, the bitter truth of the words. Holly shifted uncomfortably as she digested that she herself had been dumped in the past for some pretty trivial reasons, and no doubt Steve had been, too. She could see how he would think that something as heavy as creepy jerk trying to force his apologies onto him would be strange, but she would never have brought that against him. He began to pick at the outer hem of the jeans he was wearing, clearing his throat. "I, I just hope this hasn't ruined—"
"Nothing. It's ruined nothing, Steve," she stated bluntly, her turn to cut him off. He finally looked at her then, lines cutting across his forehead and his mouth opening silently. Pointedly, she reached over and took his hand in hers, threading their fingers together before squeezing. Meeting his gaze fully, she told him, "I'm not going to cut and bail on you because of some asshole who doesn't understand the word, 'no.'"
Steve blinked a little faster at that, deep breaths taken as he stared back at her.
"Are you sure?" he asked her after a few moments, his head tilting to one side before he dropped her gaze again. "I don't think you're getting much out of this deal."
Holly squeezed his hand once more, breathing deeply as she felt the answer beat through her. So many facets made up Steven Rogers, so many parts that came together in the whole, and while not all of them were pleasant, it still shaped who he was. And who he was, was someone Holly was proud to know, proud to be with.
"I'm getting you. Which is what I want," she announced, the depth of feeling in her voice unable to be ignored. Perhaps it was too soon to say certain things, to make certain gestures, but she was not about to let this opportunity go by without proclaiming what she wished, and understood. She had never expected a walk in the park when it came to him, and she wouldn't give up over something like what had happened. Lifting her chin, she continued to look at him, her voice strengthening. "So you've got a past. So what? You're not the only one who does. That doesn't make you less than any other man. I can handle this. Give me the chance to handle this."
The blond man could not answer her testament of loyalty and resolution verbally. Instead, he leaned forward, lips capturing hers in a hard, searing kiss. The emotion within had left them both breathless when they pulled apart, and brown eyes connected with blue again.
"Okay," he nearly whispered, placing his other hand atop hers. Satisfied with his acceptance, she listened as he exhaled quickly and flicked a glance at the closed door. "So what do you want to do?"
Letting out a low, slow sigh of relief, she managed a weak smirk.
"How do I go about getting a restraining order? Because no matter what happens, I definitely don't want Rumlow to get anywhere near me again."
Steve nodded, standing and drawing her up as well. "Let's go talk to Clint. We can the process started, at least."
And so they did, upon leaving the office and finding the older man teaching Jamie a few codes (the milder ones, thankfully; he claimed he didn't want him to know too early, like his own children did). It was another round of tedious paperwork, but Clint was confident he could have it to the courthouse in short order, and get it taken care of. Once she'd finished with it, Barton promised that a patrol would be outside their apartment building over the next few nights, in case Rumlow dared to try anything—if he managed to elude them that long, he'd muttered, shrugging a shoulder at them both. Farewells were exchanged, and soon enough they were all driving back to their building, cars parked and weary looks passing between the adults. Holly convened with the Rogers boys in their apartment, the residual heat of the day thrumming off of her as she sat at their table. Dinner, as it turned out, were bowls of ice cream that Steve had pulled from the back of the freezer. They all deserved a little something, he'd merely stated, and Jamie clapped his hands, his resilience making the two adults grin in wonderment. It was unlikely he had forgotten what his father had said about Rumlow, and he would probably bring it up again soon enough. However, in that moment, it was put aside in favor of vanilla scoops drowned in chocolate sauce, and for that, they could find no fault in doing the same.
Between the excitement of the day and the late arrival home, it was time for Jamie to go to bed an hour or two after finishing his bowl. Contrary to what may people believed, the sugary sweetness had not made the child hyper; the slow blinking and the sighs told of how tired he was. After gently coaxing him away from his toys to his bedroom, Steve paused as Jamie immediately went to Holly, hugging her tightly and saying how much fun he had with her. The brunette woman's eyes closed, and she hugged him back, grateful that he had taken that away from the day's experiences. She went about tidying up the table as Steve got his boy changed and into bed, the pair of them meeting in the kitchen as she loaded the last dish into the dishwasher.
Noting the time on the clock on the wall, she opened her mouth, ready to say she would let them get their rest, when Steve's blue gaze met hers.
"Holly," he breathed, hands resting at her waist and pulling her closer. A hard line cut across his brow as he thought, and she let her eyebrows incline curiously.
"Yeah?" she wondered, and she felt her breath hitch as he looked at her again, the deep well within his irises unfathomable then.
"Stay, please," he said, the simplicity and sincerity of his words reflected in his expression. They'd only been dating a few weeks, had even discussed what would be good to wait on doing until later on down the line. However, it was clear that propriety and plans were not going to dictate their actions that night. Scratching the back of his neck, he murmured, "You don't have to be alone tonight, and I, I want you to be here, and safe."
Holly took a moment to think, her fingers on his arms and tapping lightly. Soon enough, her dark gaze met his again, and she nodded.
"Just let me run down to my place, grab a few things," she said, raising herself up and kissing his cheek. "I'll be right back."
His touch trailed as she moved away, the heat of his gaze on her back felt as she went out of the apartment and down the hall. She didn't need much, since she would literally only be some feet away from her home, and so endeavored to only grab pajamas and her phone charger. Locking up, she braced her back against her front door, taking a few shaky breaths as she steadied her nerves. She definitely wanted to be with him, but even so, she did need to take a moment and adjust to all that had happened in the last eight hours. A few more breaths, and she was back at Steve's, with him locking the door securely behind her and leading her by the hand to his room. Lights were shut off along the way, the near-darkness touching them as they moved into the bedroom.
He gathered up his own things, promising her privacy to change as he ducked into the bathroom, any argument she could make dying on her tongue as he went. Slowly, she changed into her sleep shorts, an old t-shirt thrown around her frame. Sitting on the edge of his big bed, she heard the door handle click, looking up in time to see him come in. The white athletic tank and Nationals shorts had taken place of his other clothes, which he relegated to a hamper in his closet. Coming up to the other side of the bed, she spotted the high pink spots on his cheeks, and perversely felt a little pleased that she would not be alone in her awkwardness over the situation. Quickly, he climbed in, watching as she did the same. Good-nights were passed, each one flicking off the lamps on their sides, the room swathed in the night's light.
Holly laid on her side, facing Steve as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. He faced her as well, fingers twitching at the bedding for a few moments. Gently, he shifted, the slight dip of the mattress ignored as his arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. His body heat radiated off of him, the cool of the air conditioning keeping them from overheating under the covers. Her fingers reached under the covers, running along the bare skin of his arm, and she detected a shake coursing through him. The hand splayed along her side tightened minutely, and he got even closer, nearly sharing her pillow then. Her palm reached his broad shoulder, toying with the ripped sleeve of his athletic shirt, and she sighed.
"You didn't want to be alone tonight, either, did you?" she asked him, her voice hushed in the dark. Another shift, that time coming from his head, was noted, and he let out a slow breath.
"No," he whispered, turning onto his back and taking her with him. Guiding her head to rest on his chest, Holly felt Steve's fingers trail up to her hair, tenderly combing through it as his unsteady breaths evened out. The heartbeat beneath her ear became calmer the longer he held her, and as her own eyes drooped and closed, she thought that he'd steadied her heart, too.
A/N:...Hey, guys.
It's been awhile on this one, huh? Sorry about that. DBD has been my priority, but I had not intended to go this long without updating this story. All I can do is apologize, and hope this chapter suffices as a peace offering.
Holly gets more a chance to be in the spotlight again, with this chapter more about her perspective and thoughts. And Rumlow makes his appearance as the drunk driver who can't understand that his apology is unwelcome. Also, kinda stalker-y, but Steve did put him in his place. Got to see where Clint enters into all of this as well. ;)
Maybe sleeping in the same bed after a few weeks is fast for some people, but I don't see the harm in seeking out comfort from someone you claim as you girlfriend/boyfriend in the night. Certainly not in this context.
I do intend the next chapter to be a little happier, and I will try to post much sooner!
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!