How Holly was able to fall asleep after Steve's proclamation, she didn't know, but eventually the pair was curled up in bed, the time on the digital clock ticking by. A couple hours later, after dozing against Steve's shoulder, Holly snapped up from her haze. Getting caught now was not ideal, especially as both her mom and dad tended to wake up earlier than she did. Slipping out of Steve's arms, she gave him a quick peck on the forehead, though it did not cause him to stir. Shaking her head, she tiptoed out the door, shutting it silently behind her before moving carefully up the stairs. Light from the kitchen poured down the steps, alerting her to the possibility of someone's presence, but she reckoned she would be able to complete the bend and get all the way to her old bedroom if the person was off in the dining room or behind the fridge door. As she made her attempt, she barely had time to collect her thoughts when a voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"You're up early."

Under her breath, Holly groaned, closing her eyes. She just wasn't quick enough. Her father was perched at the breakfast bar, wrapped in his ratty dark blue robe and flannel pajamas, watching her over his shoulder. Two mugs sat in front of him, as well as the basket of day-old muffins. A hunting magazine was folded and sitting off to the side. Raising his eyebrows significantly, he gently pushed one of the mugs over, gesturing for her to come take it. Her options were limited at this point, and bolting like an embarrassed teenager would do her no good. Instead, she took in a deep breath before slowly making her way over to the counter.

"Yeah, well...maybe I wanted to join you for six o'clock coffee?" she joked, lifting the empty mug for emphasis as she turned towards the coffee maker. Paul barely cracked a smile, causing her tiny grin to falter.

"Maybe you aren't any good at bullshitting," he intoned, taking a swallow of hot caffeine and watching her assemble her cup. "Especially when it comes to your old man."

Going to the fridge, she took out the creamer, wrenching off the cap before dropping some of it into her drink. "I can't help that I was raised to be too honest for my own good."

Now her dad smiled. "Family trait, nothing can be done about that."

The blank look she shot him did nothing to deter his good humor, so rather Holly continued fixing her cup of coffee and he went on watching her, eyes hooded. Picking out a muffin, she rolled it between her fingers for a moment, mentally determining how long to microwave it. Discreetly, she observed Paul's unhurried movements towards the basket, his withdrawing of the breakfast confection and choosing to tear into it (his second, if the crumpled baking paper on the counter in front of him was any indication). She was waiting for him to speak as she reheated her muffin, to say more, but he just picked at his food, chewing slowly and slurping his coffee. The drawn-out quiet was starting to irritate her, the ping of the microwave breaking through and causing her to jump. Gathering everything, she deliberately took the stool next to his, cracking the muffin in half and reaching for the butter plate.

"Hope you're not going to give me the 'I'm not angry, just disappointed' speech,'" she muttered, the words a dare for him to do so. He caught the mulish look she was giving him, and he just shook his head, going on with his breakfast. The magazine was retrieved, his fingers turning the pages gently.

"Just replay it in your mind, saves me the trouble."

She blinked; she hadn't expected that. Flouting the rules was generally not something her parents easily tolerated. She didn't have a harsh childhood, but she had been taught to respect her mother and father's wishes, at least as far as things went down in their house. A part of her felt relieved; she'd been witness to a blowout or two, as well as participating in a few herself, and she didn't want to go through that again.

"For the record, I wasn't down there all night," she told him after a little while. "I...I woke up around four, couldn't sleep."

"I know," he replied. Off her confused glance, he chuckled, reaching out and playfully tugging on her ear. "That creaky step has always been out to get you. At least I didn't wander down there and find you coming out in his shirt."

Coloring slightly at the fact that he knew where she was well before her appearance, she turned her focus on his last few words. Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall the incident he referenced.

"I don't remember that happening to Heather."

"That's because it wasn't Heather," he confessed quietly. As Holly's eyebrows threatened to hit her hairline, he chuckled and murmured, "Your brother looks terrible in pink. The poor girl with him was mortified."

A hand flew up to her mouth, to cut off the shocked giggles. "Oh, good Lord."

Paul shrugged, a smirk playing across his lips. "You chose to go to summer camp and miss all the fun, missy."

Left to wonder exactly how she'd never heard about this particular indiscretion of her brother's, Holly felt Paul bump her shoulder with his, pulling a face at her before going back to his repast. The silence that stretched between them again was more companionable, and Holly began to feel at ease. She always liked spending time with her dad, even when they didn't have much to say to one another. In tough times, she gravitated towards his calm, quiet demeanor, his unassuming nature a good foil for her inquisitiveness.

Unconsciously, her hand kept straying back to the chain around her neck, tapping and tugging on the tags hanging from it every so often. Paul noticed, but said nothing about her new accessory. Instead, after draining his mug, he cleared his throat and combed through his hair. The look on his face was careworn, showing all of his age in that moment.

"Look, it's not worth getting into a huge fight over. He's a good man, better than some of the asshats you could have picked, and you know we love you. But this is something your mother and I feel very strongly about, Holly Jean," he murmured, the middle name addition more of an endearment than a scolding. Holding his daughter's matching dark gaze, he went on, "So, if you could do as we asked from here on out, we would appreciate it."

Nodding automatically, Holly sighed, tapping her fingers against the quartz countertop. "I still think it's stupid."

"I get that," Paul remarked, a trace of impatience in his tone. He'd promised not to fight, but that did not mean he was pleased with what she did. Holly flinched slightly, all too familiar with that tone. "Still, you agreed to it. And I think you both understand the importance of keeping your word."

"I know, I know," she cut him off, raising a hand to forestall the rest of the lecture he'd promised not to give her earlier. Honestly, she didn't want an argument any more than he did, not today. The tiny smile had returned, the one she hadn't been able to shake, and her fingers curled around the tags again.

"Meanwhile, looks like you're having a good morning, despite being up so early," her dad said idly, his keen gaze on her face.

"Yes, I am." Of course she was; after all, it was good to know her love was returned. Warmth flowed through her all over again, and the grin grew ever wider.

"Anything to do with it being Christmas Eve?"

"Pretty close, Dad," she responded, giving him a wink.

Paul coughed, his expression sobering. "You...you two didn't—"

Eyes going wide, Holly flushed and waved her hands in denial. "God, Dad! No."

Attempting to quell the awkwardness, he mimicked her hand motions, as if by doing so he could erase what he'd tentatively brought up. "Okay, okay...well, anyway...evening service is at eight o'clock; bus leaves before that. Think you can handle being ready by then?"

"I think I can. We both will." Steve would be glad to, she knew that; he tried to attend services as often as he could, given his workload recently, and he would be pleased to go.

"All right; we gotta get our good back pew seats."

They shared a tight grin at that. The Martins were one of those families that the regular churchgoing crowd sneered at as being "three day Christians." On occasion they would find themselves at weekly services, but more often than not, they could be found tumbling in the back door merely for Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter. A few of the attendants had muttered not-so-quietly about their lack of faith, their pretending otherwise, but Paul and Lisa refused to let it get to them, or to their children.

"Belief is in your heart, not in your attendance," Holly said, quoting the phrase her parents often used to justify their actions. It was a belief that they held onto, that they had passed onto her. No matter what fell out of the sky or was thawed from the ice.

Paul nodded sagely, taking a last bite of muffin. "Damn straight, Holly Jean. Now, go get that fella up. He might as well join us for coffee. If he's even sleeping at all."

Getting up from her seat, she stretched her arms above her head, working out the kinks before doing as her father requested.

"You know, you're getting soft, old man. I was expecting more of a dressing down than that," she threw over her shoulder as she went towards the stairs.

He snorted, getting up and going to the cupboard to get down another mug. The sparkle in his eyes promised that, while she was forgiven for the transgression, it would not be totally forgotten. How it would resurface when Steve joined them remained to be seen.

"Not slowing down at all, little missy; certainly not as much as you think. You know me better than that. However, if you'd rather have your brother have a part in this instead, I could get him up to speed."

Holly rolled her eyes, a flash of memory overtaking her. "Pssh. No thanks. It was bad enough in high school. You never should've gotten him that winter hunting gear. Poor Taylor..."

"That boy should've taken the snowball attack a lot better. Didn't the kid have four brothers or something?" her dad retorted, grabbing down a skillet and moving off to find something more substantial to cook for breakfast. Sharing one more fond look with his daughter, he waved her off in a shooing manner, and happily, she complied.

xXxXxXx

After getting his fill of the breakfast Paul had pulled together (a covert, knowing look cast at him and Holly when they'd returned didn't quite put him off, but he got the idea that they hadn't gotten away with anything), Steve took advantage of the open morning to check in at the Tower. Thus far, Natasha had reported a status of calm across the board, though it seemed that Bruce had returned to the states a mite earlier than he'd planned. From what she'd surmised, his cousin was to go in for surgery again, and he preferred to be there for her if he could. As it was, the ex-assassin and the unobtrusive scientist would be weathering the holiday together.

"I don't doubt he felt uncomfortable overseas; there was an upsurge of Midgardians on Odinson lookout, evidently," she'd confessed, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow and snickering. "All those adoring fans..."

HYDRA was staying under the radar, and the tracking systems had not picked up any significant blips. It was unlikely, at that early stage, that anything would come up, but they had to remain vigilant. Steve was at least relieved that nothing had happened in that regard, so far. He didn't want to run off and abandon Holly, not after his declaration.

Inside, he felt much lighter, conquering his frozen tongue as much a victory as trashing a few rogue agents. His heart swelled at the thought, and as he made his move to make the next call, he couldn't quite keep the happiness off his face.

Sam had answered promptly, though the voices behind him made it difficult to hear. Tori's extended family had gathered in his mom's apartment, with the two mothers chattering on and on at each other while he was stationed at the kitchen table, unable to move for fear of being drafted into some culinary duty or being involved in Tori and her brothers' competitive Mario Kart tourney (not that Steve really understood what that was, but he commiserated appropriately).

"You know, I used to complain about not having any brothers or sisters when I was a kid. Now, I realize how lucky I was," he muttered, causing the captain to chuckle a little when he snapped off an expletive at being given a smack to the back of the head. "Be glad Holly only has one brother, and not three."

"Trust me, I'm having enough troubles with the one," Steve murmured, biting his lip to reveal little more about his tenuous relations with Hank. Stumbling onto another thought, he smirked to himself. "Tell your mom Holly and I appreciate the Christmas card, by the way."

"Ha ha," Sam mock-laughed at him, grumbling about the grotesque photo they'd taken back in June making the rounds that year.

"I did predict that it would make a good one."

"So you did. Did you, perchance, tell her that yourself, repeatedly, until she followed your advice and printed that stupid thing?"

Steve kept his voice even, placid. "Doesn't sound like me."

Sam outright snorted. "Bullshi—"

"Samuel!" The name broke through on his friend's end, cutting him off midstream.

The call wrapped up soon after that, with Steve exhaling sharply and glancing up at the ceiling. He'd heard the footsteps clattering through the front door upstairs several minutes ago, listened as new voices joined in the festive music as it played over the radio in the family room. Another round of meet-and-greet was upon him, and he sighed. He knew exactly what he'd signed up for, agreeing to spend the holiday with all of Holly's family, but at the moment, it was weighing on him.

A knock came at his bedroom door, and immediately he stood up, at attention. Smoothing down his blue checked shirt and making sure his khaki pants were sharp, he crossed over, twisting the knob and opening it. He relaxed minutely when he realized it was Lisa standing there, hair loose and a bright red sweater on. She gave him a gentle smile, maternal warmth passing from her to him, and he relaxed further.

"Holly is a little occupied, so I've been deputized to bring you up to meet the rest of the family," she explained, leading the way to the family room. Nearly whispering, she told him, "It's just Heather and her family, just in case you were starting to feel overwhelmed."

No extended clan would be showing up on the doorstep; he wouldn't face a veritable sea of relations. It was silly, but Steve was able to breathe a little easier at the knowledge. When he arrived next to her on the top step, Lisa gave him a wink and a pat on the arm.

"I've been there, with Paul's side, years ago," she said, fluttering a few fingers in the air. "Four sisters, and all his aunts and uncles, as well as his parents and grandparents. That was a crowded Thanksgiving, let me tell you. Just let me know if you'll be okay."

"Thanks, Lisa," he said, grateful for the kindness she was showing him. With a final smile and pat, she ushered him into the room, where a woman with light brown hair and brown eyes was conversing in hushed tones to a carrot-haired fellow while cradling a baby in the crook of her arm. Due to the similar oval face shape and nose, he quickly surmised this was Heather, and most likely it was her husband, Jake, beside her.

Approaching carefully, he greeted them with sincerity, noting right off the starstruck look on Jake's features. The guy had popped out of his seat, shaking his hand enthusiastically and gushing about meeting Captain America. Steve hoped that he would get through his enamored state fast, for all their sakes. Heather was a bit more reserved, but not by much. As she got up to exchange greetings, Steve could see that she was quite a bit shorter than her younger sister, a full five inches at least. She was craning her head back to look up at him, and he felt a little awkward, remembering what it was like being the one forced to step back and rock his head to meet someone's gaze.

The baby, Ryan, was all wrapped up in a shirt decorated with a Christmas light pattern and tiny jeans, bright red hair like his father's cropped close. Giving Steve a swift once-over before wriggling in his mother's arms, he stuck out a chubby hand and curled his fingers in an approximation of a wave. At one year old, he couldn't do much more than that as far as saying hello was concerned, but Steve returned his gesture with a half grin and letting the little guy take a couple of his fingers in his grip.

On his USO tour, Steve could not count the number of times young mothers had insisted on having him hold their children, trying to keep them steady long enough for photographs with the Star Spangled Man with a Plan. The kids were always so happy to see him, a big man standing up for their country, someone who might bring their dads or brothers out safe on the other side in the war. If it hadn't been for the kids looking up to him back then, he would have more than tempted to quit the whole damn tour, but one look at their bright faces, and he couldn't bring himself to do it. It meant so much for them to see him; it meant so much to far too many people.

"Our other little terror is running around here somewhere," Heather said, the pitch of her voice deeper than her sister's. She said this with a look of exasperation, set off by the smile she sported. Almost as if on cue, said terror began clattering down the stairs, palm pressed firmly against the wall under the banister and snow jacket halfway on. His hair, a lighter facsimile of his mother's, was tousled and his bright eyes were wide with joy at being at Nana and Papa's.

"Me play outside!" he shouted happily, struggling to stamp around in his big boy boots and snowpants. Out of nowhere, the child's aunt charged down the stairs behind him, sparing Steve a swift glance before scooping up the youngster in a big hug. She'd been in her room changing, able to wrestle it away from Jodie for the time being, but it seemed that she'd pulled herself together just in time.

"Hey, buddy. Remember me?" Holly asked, after giving her sister and brother-in-law hugs hello.

"Auntie Lolly," the boy said, not quite getting her name right. His parents moved off again, treading up towards the kitchen to join with Paul and Lisa.

"Close enough," she giggled, swinging the toddler around. After the little boy gave her a tight hug around her neck, he caught sight of the tall stranger standing next to them, and hid his face in his aunt's shoulder. A tug deep in Steve's heart registered, as he kept his eyes on his girl holding a child in her arms. Snickering again, Holly ruffled her nephew's hair. "Oh, you're being shy now? You don't want to say hi to Steve?"

Moving closer, Steve offered the kid a gentle smile, bending slightly at the waist to not seem so impressive. "Hello, little man. What's your name?"

The boy patted his own chest, though his tone was a bit unsure. "Cole Sean."

"And how old are you, Cole Sean?"

Cole screwed up his face in concentration, holding up two fingers. "This many."

"But you're almost three, aren't ya?" Holly asked, matching his vigorous nod with her own.

"Wow, you're such a big fella, aren't you? All grown up," Steve said, amused when the little boy shot him a pleased look.

"Lolly, you play Supe-man with me? Outside?" Cole asked, attention back on Holly.

A chorus of the young woman's name from upstairs echoed down, and a tight grimace flitted over her features. Heather called out again, asking for her to give her a hand in unloading what they'd brought with them from the car.

"I gotta help your mom right now, bud," she said, returning the pout the toddler gave her. "I know, little man, but I can't."

Before he could stop himself, Steve found himself cutting in. "I could—"

Holly stared up at him, eyebrows inclining and a questioning look in her gaze. Steve shrugged, finding his tongue again.

"I could, you know, watch out for the little guy for awhile," he offered. In the past, he had helped Bucky with his younger siblings, so far as he could, when all their parents weren't able to. It wasn't exactly unfamiliar territory, even if it had been years since the last Barnes had grown up. If it helped Holly out, and her sister, too, he would gladly spend some time with the little fella. A moment or two passed, with Holly weighing the positives and negatives of the offer in her mind before setting Cole back on the ground.

"Okay. Just...remember, he's not a shield, so don't toss him too hard," she said, smirking up at him. "If he gets hurt, Heather will have both our asses."

"That's a terrifying thought," Steve replied in mock fear, causing Holly to roll her eyes and give him a kiss on the cheek. Crouching down to Cole's height, he posed an important question to the little guy. "You want to play Superman, Cole?"

"Otay," Cole told him decisively. Jabbing a finger to both their chests, he proclaimed, "Me Supe, you Hulk."

It was all Steve could do to not let the incredulous expression take over his face. However, he did not hold back on raising an eyebrow and shooting a furtive glance to his chuckling girlfriend. Helplessly, Holly paused on the stairs, shrugging and spreading her arms wide.

"He really has started liking the Hulk lately. He's two, it makes sense to him."

Steve nodded once. "Bruce will be thrilled to know what a big hit he is with kids."

After some negotiation, and his assistance, Cole was suited up to play outside. The little guy insisted on helping him getting ready for the outdoors, too, pushing his heavy wool coat and thick gloves at him. The little boy chattered excitedly, telling him all about how he liked the "Vengers" and wanted to be a superhero himself. Charmed by his antics, Steve told him he had something really neat to show him, causing the toddler to bounce from foot to foot and beg him to let him see what he had. Stretching the gray beanie over his blond hair (growing shaggy again; he'd need to have it cut when he got back East), he made a brief sojourn down to the basement, returning with his shield in hand. Cole crowed in delight, eyes impossibly wide at the sight.

"You Cap 'Merica?" he said, his high little voice dripping with as much awe as his dad's had beforehand. Before Steve could confirm or deny, the boy's small hands tried to grip it, pick it up and throw it just like he'd seen on television. Kneeling down, Steve helped guide his tiny arm through the leather straps, supporting the disk while the little guy tried look as heroic as possible.

Jodie, having escaped her aunts and grandmother for the moment, happened upon them. Her eyes darted over the shield, her brow furrowed in thought.

"You know, if you tied a rope to that, it could be a cool sled."

Steve looked from her to the shield, inclining his head in agreement. "You know what? You might be right."

xXxXxXx

About twenty minutes later, Steve made the fifth circle around the house, towing the two-year-old on the shield sled, scavenged rope from the garage in his hands. The seven-year-old plodded alongside him in the snow, waiting for her next turn. Her legs hung over the edge when she'd first climbed on, but she curled up as best she could, too intent on having fun on the shield to let them get in her way. Neither child was heavy, but he'd been towing them nonstop ever since they got outside, the cold of the air seeping in. If he could take a break at some point, he would appreciate it.

The slap of a sliding door shutting grabbed his attention, and he caught the gaze of Jake, tiny Ryan kitted out to the nines in his own snowsuit. Jake was huddled in an old parka, bouncing the baby every other step as he picked his way off the deck to meet him.

"How's kid-wrangling duty so far, Cap?" he wondered, grinning towards his elder son as the little boy leaped out of the disk and flew at his cousin. Jodie tagged him, careful to not get too far ahead of the toddler as he chased after her. Steve turned to watch them both, shrugging and tipping his head to the left.

"No worse than gathering up HYDRA."

Jake chuckled low, his eyes holding a promise that Steve couldn't quite make out. "Just wait."

"What?" the captain queried, but he got no more than Jake's shaking head and knowing smirk before he heard it. The pounding sound of feet in snow became louder, and he looked back in time to see a pink snowsuited blur launch herself at him.

xXxXxXx

"The superhero is getting dogpiled by the kids in the backyard," Hank reported, having made his way into the house via the back door. He'd been out at the shop that morning, inspecting the orders and servicing a few cars before shutting down for the holiday. When he'd returned, he parked alongside the garage, and when he trod around to the back of the house, he was met with possibly the funniest sight he'd seen thus far for Christmas.

A begrudging grin spread on his lips as he watched his mother and two sisters' jaws drop in disbelief, and he motioned towards the windows, inviting them to see for themselves. He maneuvered past them to get a pop from the fridge. Immediately, they went to see what he'd been talking about, abandoning their separate tasks of assembling treats for the kids and getting something put together for lunch. Lisa took the one over the kitchen sink and the sisters hovering by the glass sliding door. He had been telling the truth: Jake stood off to the side, the baby bundled up in his arms. Appearing to be laughing very hard, they followed his line of vision. Steve was on the ground, ducking as Jodie proceeded to dump more snow on his head and the toddler was climbing on top of him, roaring like a great green monster.

"Poor guy, he never stood a chance," Heather crooned in faux sadness, the glint in her gaze belying her tone.

"That's what happens when a ninety-year-old faces off with the youth," Hank replied, the snark that would have been in his voice pulled back; if he hadn't, he reckoned Holly would've hauled off and given him a good smack. Having agreed to a truce, he found it easier to get along with Steve when the man was being kind to his little girl.

"I think it's sweet," Lisa pronounced, just as Steve gave a mock roar of his own and plodded after both kids, their screaming laughter streaming behind them. Giving a side-along glance towards her youngest daughter, she wondered, "How about that, Holl?"

Holly was silent, but her hand splayed over the tags tucked under her shirt, indescribable emotion playing across her face. Paul shuffled in, taking the pop in his son's grip for his own and striding over to his daughters. Shifting between them, he slung his arm over Holly's shoulders, watching the scene play out before them.

"Good man," he whispered, giving Holly a tug on the ear when he moved away.

A/N: I'm attempting to shift back to the weekend update schedule, so bear with me.

D.C. stuff belongs to D.C.

I think Steve playing with kids would be such an adorable sight. This chapter was so sweet, I think I got a cavity from it. :-P And yeah, not her mom, but her dad caught her. At least he didn't catch them when they were otherwise engaged. And Hank's pink shirt episode? Don't ask. The poor guy doesn't want to talk about it.

Cole is totally based off my nephew. That little guy is such a dear, and I had a hand in turning him into a big Captain America fan at two years of age. I'm a proud auntie. :)

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you for the next one.