A yawn rose from deep within, and Holly blinked sleepily. Another Monday, another week to start in archival records, she mused privately, sipping from her travel mug as she padded quietly down the hall to the elevator. Her bag flopped against her hip as she moved, some records taken home for sorting the evening before within (done without permission, but she wasn't about to announce that to her supervisor). As she descended towards the appropriate floor, she took another swig of her drink and winced at the burn on her tongue. She wished she could have Steve's enthusiasm for mornings; how that man was able to operate on a minimum of a few hours of sleep and was still chipper when the sun rose was beyond her. At least he had the coffee ready for her when she dragged herself out of bed. Smart man, she thought to herself as a tired grin spread. Very smart man.
The base was already bustling and thrumming with activity, the various halls and departments humming and echoing with the voices of the other employees there. There was more to the Avengers than showing up and saving the world. They had to be supplied, had to be supported, had to have appropriate data and intelligence to operate with before heading into the fray. It was over all this that Maria Hill stood watch, no longer team liaison but a director in her own right. Holly hadn't seen much of her in those days, given how she was consistently busy with more things than ever, but she appeared to be thriving, in the brief glimpses she did catch of her. She was doing better than she did as Stark's assistant, at least. This was her element, this was where she belonged.
For her part, Holly wondered if she ever would belong there. The world she inhabited now, tame as it was in comparison to her husband's experiences, was still vastly different from what she was used to. Still, the fact that she had an office job helped...even if the records for that office job blew her mind at times. What SHIELD had done, been responsible for, was fascinating, in a stunning way. Shaking her head and removing herself from her inner reverie, she swiped her security pass at the outer door, yawning again as she was granted access. Passing the reception desk (which seemed odd to her, but then again, they would get the singular visitor or lost intern on occasion) she waved the fingers of her free hand at the woman stationed there, a mumbled greeting passing between them as she made her way back to her private office. Bland walls of white and gray slid by, the blue weave of the carpet beneath her feet cushioning each step.
"Morning, Holly," came a voice from the side hallway the one that led back to the storage units. Glancing in its direction, she managed a weak smile for its owner. The fellow shot her one back, going some way to make his brown eyes warm up despite the chill of the morning. Todd was a decent guy, one of the few who actually made the effort to get along with his coworkers no matter their rank or title. At the very least, he treated her well enough, no matter her connections or her lack of an advanced degree. He slowed down his long stride to move in step with her—he even over-topped Steve by a couple inches—and raked a hand back through his dark curls, trying in vain to make them sit properly.
"Hey, Todd," she said, eyeing up the stack of papers tucked under his arm. Dipping her chin at it, she inquired, "New project?"
"Yeah, they're moving me onto some 1952 recon transcripts." He rolled his eyes, and she sighed through her nose. It seemed like the department was continually shifting priorities every few days. Todd shook his head and smirked down at her. "Was anything in order before we moved here?"
"Supposedly," Holly retorted, flapping a hand superfluously in the air. "But hey, it's what we're getting paid for. And I'd rather trudge through this than field work."
A simultaneous shudder wracked both of them. Neither man nor woman had an inclination towards field work, unless there was a dire need for it and literally no other option.
"Good point. What about you? You still on photograph detail?" he asked her, referencing her own projects over the last few months. As a junior archivist, Holly's clearance and workload were somewhat less hefty than her superiors. At least, that had been her experience up until that point.
"Off and on." Biting her lip, she was unsure if she should share the information given. She had been assigned a somewhat larger project than before, the email coming in the night before to inform her. A meeting with the supervisor for some briefing was scheduled, but she did not know if what she would be doing would be common knowledge. Blinking, she tipped her head to the side and sized up Todd out the corner of her eye. It probably wouldn't hurt to let him in on the outline of the workload; it was unlikely that he would go blabbing about it to everyone within the first five minutes of the workday. "They want me to start making headway on the recent additions to the Strucker files. Something about how being at ground zero when that went down made me qualified."
Eyebrows shot up, and Todd blew out a short whistle.
"Lucky you," he intoned sardonically, adjusting the glasses perched on his nose. She just shot him a look, one that he reciprocated blandly. He knew about her, her background, her connections, just as much as the next person. He could understand the reasoning behind giving the records over to her, since she was literally in the thick of it when the business with the baron and the subsequent aftermath happened, but it was bound to be unpleasant for her. The dark look in Holly's gaze reflected the truth of that.
"I didn't think so at the time. Not sure I do now."
Silence dropped between them, neither of them willing to go to the effort of breaking it. Another glance was shot in her direction, and she lifted a shoulder at it. They arrived at the back bank of offices, just beyond the break and conference rooms.
"Either way, better get crackin'," Todd announced then, tapping the file folders in hand and touching his fingers to his temple in a mock salute.
"Yeah, see ya," she bid him farewell, watching him turn left down the hall. Sighing again, she strode up to her office door, to the right and around the corner from the main track. Unlocking it, she went in, turning on the lights and pulling open the shades covering the inset glass window. The furniture within struck her, as always, as looking as though it was brought straight from the IKEA warehouse. Streamlined, dark tones, nothing she would have personally picked. At least the computer and digital displays provided were top-notch Stark Tech; she could appreciate having those. It made compiling and sorting digital transfers and documents that much easier. The bag she'd carried was flopped on the desktop, her travel mug drained and set to one side. Glancing at the clock on the far wall, she smoothed down her clothes and left things as they were. She had a meeting to attend; she didn't want to be late.
Several hours later, Holly was raking a hand through her hair, knocking her ponytail askew as she did so. The files she'd been granted access to were...illuminating. And very disturbing, in some cases. Papers were scattered across the desktop, an opened filing box at her feet. The others had been carted in, shunted into the far corner to be combed through later. One of them, the one with Strucker's social and not-so-social connections, she knew had already been sorted through with confidence, but she would still have to make the transfer into the digital files eventually. For now, she was turning over a page, outlining the architectural revisions done to his family's seat in Germany, the grand property recently turned over and searched due to his arrest back in May. In the grand scheme of the archives, his contributions would be miniscule, but Holly knew the project was going to take some time. Far longer than she had been expecting, she noted wryly. Taking out the tie and combing through her hair to settle it again, she had assembled the ponytail as her eyes drank in every bit of information in front of her. What to lose, what to keep, where in the stack would the information need to be place...her mind was being pulled in multiple directions. Failing to hear the commotion happening in the hall, her attention was grabbed when a few sharp raps tapped against the glass inset of the door. Looking up, an unbidden grin swept over her mouth, and she motioned for the knocker to come in.
Turning the handle swiftly, Steve entered the space, eyes bright and a corner of his mouth lifting. One hand tucked a security pass into a pocket on his belt pack (from the waist up, he passed for normal with the athletic shirt, but from the waist down he was dressed for action; his boots and uniform pants allowed him to be ready at a moment's notice to leave, if he had to). The other, hidden behind his back, came forward, bearing a brown paper bag, the smell of takeaway pasta permeating the room.
"Got some delivery here for a Mrs. Rogers?" he said, giving the bag a little shake as he did so. Her eyebrows rose a little; the obvious pleasure he got out of calling her that still took her aback sometimes...and warmed her heart, as well. Some people scoffed at her adoption of Rogers, scorning her for it, but she brushed it off. Not all traditions were bad ones.
In any case, she couldn't be bothered by it at that moment. He'd brought food, something she'd neglected to remember to bring with her that morning. Her stomach growled, and she sat back in her chair. It was time for her lunch break, anyway.
"Not sure about that, but I'm not saying no to the delivery man," she replied, standing up and leaning over her desk, him striding forward and meeting her partway for a kiss. Though they worked at the same base, it was very rare of them to have lunch together. It must have been a light morning for training, if he was able to come all the way downstairs without hindrance. Gesturing for him to sit in the single visitor's chair, she started scooping up the documents to clear a space. "Gotta say, I'm kinda surprised to see you here. Word around the base is that you guys don't even eat at all."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "People say that?"
Holly nodded; the rumor mill was very much alive and active. "Well, they say you don't; supposedly you push the team to the brink daily in training without a single break."
He rolled his eyes at that, dropping the bag of food on the cleared desk. "Not true, as you well know."
She smiled wanly, her eyes holding a note of weariness. "For today, at least."
He mirrored her expression, both of them aware of the grain of truth hidden within. Well, it never could be said that Captain America did not take his job or duties seriously. Leaving it at that, he started pulling the containers out, while she ran down the hall to the vending machine for drinks. The food was divvied between them, having been procured from the cafeteria pretty much directly after being cooked. After kidding him about abusing his line-jumping privileges, the conversation turned towards other things. Mostly, it was about family; Holly's brother Hank was, apparently, becoming more involved with a woman he'd met a few months back, to the point that she'd been introduced to his daughter. Considering the stories he'd heard about the guy's ex-wife, the new girlfriend sounded at least more stable than her. Her sister Heather had called, complaining how her eldest boy had taken it upon himself to start throwing every disk-shaped object he came across, just because "Uncle Steve does it!" He grimaced at that, despite chuckling; no doubt he was losing points with his sister-in-law. Holly had laughed outright when she told her, which pissed her off even more. It wasn't like she could do anything about it, anyway. When she spoke about her mother getting in touch with her regarding the upcoming holidays, he winced. The varying nature of Steve's work could not allow them to plan for those sorts of things, much as he knew it bothered his wife. Still, even she professed it to be too early for thinking that far ahead (they had just gotten into October, after all), and the matter had been dropped for the time being.
Steve watched as her gaze darted behind him, focusing on something before returning to him again. It had happened several times in the course of eating and chatting, and it made him curious.
"What is it?" he asked, half turning his head to look. Immediately, she shook her head, dissuading him from the action. In his peripheral vision, he caught the blur of a person bustling away.
"Lot of people are loitering outside my office," she intoned mildly, stirring through her food and smirking. Shooting him a significant look, she continued, "Can't imagine why."
"That happen often?" he wondered, purposefully concentrating on the forkful of pasta he was wrestling with. She shrugged, spearing a piece of chicken and popping it into her mouth.
"Only about as often as when my legendary superhero husband shows up at work with lunch."
He tipped his head to the side, cutting a glance to his right. "I could say something, if you want."
Fingers flicked in the air, brushing the matter aside. "Nah, they're just looking. So long as we don't start tearing into each other next, I think we're good."
Steve's hand stilled midair, fork dangling as his eyebrow spiked and his smirk turned a touch more feral.
"Think about that a lot, do you?"
"Not for my office," she replied, the lack of denial making him focus more intently on her. A flare of pink decorated her cheeks even as she snickered. "I don't have blackout controls and soundproofing here."
Being a member of the world's foremost specialist task force definitely had its perks, and he'd certainly reaped the benefits of it for his public office upstairs. The privacy measures were appealing; maybe they could be acted upon, one day.
"That is...a very interesting point." He tipped his head up, considering the ceiling tile for a few moments. "Hmm."
"Yeah, you ponder that," she giggled, taking another bite and swallowing. Glancing up again, she let out a muted groan. "Incoming."
He dropped his gaze back to her, brow furrowing. "Huh?"
She had no time to answer as a pink blur fluttered into the office. When it settled, it took the form of an older woman, frizzing auburn curls springing away from a headband matching her ensemble. Encumbered by the pink day dress and heels, she let the door slam shut behind her, eyes blinking owlishly despite her whirlwind entrance.
"Holly," the woman gushed breathlessly. Flicking her gaze between Steve and her, she shrugged slightly. "Sorry to interrupt."
"It's..." Holly trailed off, not sure what she could say. It wasn't a welcome interruption, but it had happened, and she didn't have to be rude about it. "What's up, Melanie?"
Another stack of files appeared then, dropping out of the woman's grasp to her left.
"Todd found a few things mixed in with his files, stuff about the Von Strucker legacy," she told her, bending down and flipping open the top folder. Her finger jabbed at a few lines of text, and Holly obliged her by leaning forward to read them. "He wanted me to pass these onto you, since you're responsible for the technically-new acquisitions."
Looking up, Holly caught the look of intense concentration Steve had now, the curiosity doubled in his irises. Tucking her palms around them, she slid the files over, nodding her thanks.
"Okay, cool," she responded, attempting to keep a nonchalant tone. "I'll sort through these when my break's up."
"Awesome," the older woman proclaimed, hooking a thumbs-up at her. Heading back to the door, she stopped, meeting Steve's eye squarely as she did so. "And, oh yeah, Captain Rogers, I suggest making a fast exit when you do leave. Some of the senior archivists might try to corner you into helping them with the accuracy of the pre-SHIELD files. If needed, I can smokescreen, but that will only last so long."
Steve donned a wavering, lackluster grin, inclining his head at her. Picking up on the tromps and slow gaits of the people still milling in the hall, he figured he would have to take her up on the offer. For her part, Holly smiled a little.
"Thanks again, Mel." Another thumbs-up, and Melanie flew out the door, the force of the door slamming making both of them jump. A few seconds of blessed silence followed, and Steve blew out a careful breath.
"...She seems nice," he murmured eventually. Holly snorted, but her expression remained positive.
"She's very enthusiastic about this department. Which can help or hinder, depending on the day." All words a testament to the truth; Melanie had been an archivist before the helicarrier disaster, and she was one of the few overjoyed to be contacted to pick up where she'd left off in her career with SHIELD. All this Holly had found out in her first meeting with the woman who would end up being her supervisor; if she had a tendency to be forthright, it was nothing compared to the older woman's audacious over-sharing. "I don't mind her. We get along, at least."
Steve nodded, the neutral cast to his features taking a decidedly grim turn. His focus latched onto the files that had just been delivered, the labeling on them standing out starkly against the dark grain of the desk.
"They've got you working on things about Strucker."
One grimace reflected at the other as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Yep. Due to my experience," Holly broke off, curling her fingers in air quotes around the word, "I get to relive the week from hell. I'm so pleased."
The sarcasm nearly smacked Steve in the face, it came out so hard and fast. Unconsciously, she started to run a finger over the scar above her eyebrow. The line had not faded overmuch, a harsh reminder of the aftermath of Strucker's detainment, the days that led to both Ultron and his demise. Putting his container down, Steve reached out, gently removing her hand from her forehead and squeezing it.
"If you don't like it, can't you, I don't know, trade with someone, or put it off?" he wondered, knowing the answer just from the look on her face.
"That just makes things more complicated." And it was; while her superiors had no problems shifting people around as they chose, it didn't go over well when someone else tried to change projects on their own accord. As well as that, much as it was a painful subject, she couldn't exactly bring herself to give it up. Her irises lit up a little as she focused on the stack of boxes behind him, her inquisitive nature asserting itself. "And, well...I'm curious. I'm curious about the man who started the whole damn mess in May."
"You're not going to like what you find," he warned her, jaw setting. He had read the reports and transcripts long before they'd ever made it down to any sort of archives. He knew a great deal about Strucker, what he'd done, what he'd planned to do. His experiments on Wanda and Pietro were the tip of a very big iceberg, and he didn't like the idea of Holly being exposed to that. Not when the entire debacle was still right behind them.
"I don't expect otherwise. I haven't so far, from what I've experienced and looked through," she retorted, brown gaze meeting blue. Tightening her grip in his, she tipped her free palm up. "But..."
After a second or two, he nodded in understanding. She wanted to know; far be it from him to get in the way of it, particularly as it was now her job to do so. He didn't care for it, but he couldn't stop it from happening. Chiming sounds came from his pocket, breaking the stillness. Releasing her, he grumbled under his breath as he dug his phone out, thumb sliding across the screen to accept the call. Taking up her nearly-empty container again, she listened with half an ear as Steve fielded a couple of questions, his gaze running over her on and off. Promising to get back to the caller as soon as possible, he hung up after a couple of minutes. The device was dropped back into his pocket, and the furrow on his brow had lessened somewhat.
"That was John. He's got another for us, if we're willing to swing by after work," he told her, scratching at the curve of his jaw. She let out a low hum. Another house...in the past month, they'd seen a decent number, with no settling on one. Inhaling sharply, she tapped a finger on the desk.
"That's possible?"
"The seller isn't in-state, and has given permission for tonight, at least."
Her chin dipped, and she narrowed her gaze at him in concern. "Can you manage? You have anything lined up on your end?"
The corner of his mouth turned up, eyes lighting up a little. "Barring any world disasters, I think I can sneak away for a bit."
Lowly, she exhaled, trying to disguise the sigh of relief that it was. It was always good to hear that he would be home, safe with her for another day.
"Okay, then," she said, sharing a look of commiseration with him. "Set it up."
"I'll do it on my way upstairs," Steve returned, scraping up one last bite of food before snapping the empty container shut. Dropping it into the garbage can nearby, he rolled his shoulders back, seemingly squaring himself up for something. "Gotta conference with Fury this afternoon."
Ah, another one of those, she chuckled inwardly. After the raids and acquisitions of new intelligence several days back, there had been a lot of back and forth between the primary, secondary, and the helicarrier teams to discuss the findings. There had been a fair amount of self-editing that Steve had done with what he told her, but she could infer that evidence of Klaue's involvement had been discovered from his confessions. The man himself was underground, as were any other additional plans that had to be scrambled before returning home, both things Fury had been incredibly vocal about. No doubt further details would be discovered once all the processing had been done and the files were shipped down, but that would be information for another time. Instead, she rose when he did, coming around her desk and going into his arms.
"Have fun with Nick," she said, planting a peck on his cheek. Pressed against him, she could feel the derisive chuckle vibrate in his chest before it came out.
"Don't get into too much trouble down here," he commanded lightly, pulling back enough to look her in the eye. His crinkled at the corners as he considered something, his fingers coming up to twitch a piece of loose hair off her forehead. Leaning closer, his voice dropped lower as he whispered, "I may just have to summon you to my office if you do."
Choking back a surprised laugh, her eyebrows arched, a single palm sliding from his waist up his chest.
"Oh, don't tempt me, Steven," she breathed, crooking her fingers around the back of his neck, drawing him down to meet his lips with hers. The embrace was over far too quickly for either of their liking, but they were both (technically) at work. She was trying to keep her head down and out of any difficulties, without making things worse with overt public displays of affection. And, even with his standing, Steve did not want to be under fire for losing his composure and getting caught necking with her. So when she pushed, gently, against his chest, he withdrew with as much grace as possible. With a wink and smirk, she pushed him again, widening the space between them. "Go on, get outta my hair."
Still, she couldn't resist a moment of cheekiness, swatting him on the backside as he went to the door. The determined and hungry look he shot over his shoulder at her all but promised retribution. Inwardly she was thrilled by it, but outwardly she just canted her head and stuck her tongue out at him, waggling a few fingers in good-bye when he finally did leave. A few voices could be heard calling out her husband's name, and she stifled her giggles with her hand, waiting as they petered off. Settling back against her desk, she crossed her arms, the smile on her face drooping as she glanced at the files waiting to be opened and sorted.
"Well, that was about all the fun I'm gonna have today," she remarked softly, pushing away and circling back to her chair. Back to work.
xXxXxXx
"So, what are you two thinking?" John asked his clients after they had some time to explore the master bedroom. The tour had come to its end, and he was curious as to how the couple before him were feeling. The house he'd found, in his opinion, was a gem of a place, and though it was subdued, he could tell that the young lady was more and more excited as they went from room to room. The captain was a harder read, maintaining an even, pleasant expression, smiling indulgently whenever his wife broke the facade. Dark eyes flicked over to blue, and the fellow half-smiled at him.
"Can we have a minute?" Steve asked politely, leaning back against the dresser along the far wall.
"Of course," John assured them, hooking a thumb at the doorway before exiting the space. "I'll be downstairs when you're ready."
His footfalls were deadened by the carpeting, but once he was out of the room and the door swung shut behind him, the pair looked to one another. Excitement poured off of Holly, unrestrained.
"Steve, what do you think? This is so good," she said in a rush, keeping her voice low in case John was still within earshot. It was important to remain as neutral as possible while on the walk-through, but she couldn't contain herself. Not anymore. "So much closer to what we've wanted than the others we looked at. It's in pretty great condition, and doesn't seem to need any major work right away. It's fifteen minutes to the nearest town and to the base, so we're not too far away from work and everything."
It was true; her points were valid. The slate blue house was tucked out of the way, the dirt road leading up to it set off the main road at a distance from the other nearby properties. Though a little weathered, even Steve could read its charm in the dusky evening light.
"It's...sheltered," he said, eyes sliding to the left as he provided an important point of his own. There were two entrances into the house on the first floor, front and back, both of which could easily be monitored. The boundaries of the property blended into the woods surrounding the place, but it wasn't terribly simple to break or to stumble upon the place.
"Defendable, you mean," she retorted, catching the implication in his tone. Tipping his head to the side, a humorless smirk decorated his lips.
"If you want to get technical, yes. That is a pretty big portion of why we never considered living in-town, dear," he noted drolly. In the back of his mind, he considered what improvements could be made to upgrade the security...something he hadn't really done for the other houses they'd seen.
Her responding grin took on a slightly bitter edge. "Only if it were able to absorb the collateral. Why do I feel like New York breathes easier now that you guys don't live there? And God knows how they feel down in D.C."
"Hey, now," he cut in, the ghost of a chuckle at the back of his throat.
"Sorry. Anyway, yeah, so that, but there's other stuff, too," she murmured, ticking the remaining factors off on her fingers as she went. The number of bedrooms was good for them, maxing out at three, and the basement was finished. There was enough space down there to set it up for gym equipment or as a studio to work in. An additional office space down there could be converted into a bedroom as well, if it were needed. The maximum age of the appliances and other fixtures did not exceed five years. New paint could be applied easily to the places that needed it (one of the bedrooms was a shocking shade of yellow), but it wasn't going to be a project pit.
"Sure, it's pretty close to the top of our price range and I may have spent the last ten minutes of the tour thinking about where to put Tony's spy cameras—because yeah, that's a permanent part of our lives—and if bears are going to be squatting in the front yard. And also, taxes..." she broke off, taking a deep breath after running out of steam (and Steve had to bite his lip to stop his laughter). Shrugging, she moved to stand in front of him, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "But, well...I think it feels right. So, what do you think? You've been letting me ramble. You wouldn't just let me do that if you didn't feel the same way. You don't do that, not to me."
The last sentence was spoken with a slight twinge of hesitance, as though she thought he would actually pull a fast one on her. Pushing off of the dresser, he ran his palms up and down her arms, soothing her a bit with his ministrations.
"You're right; I don't do that. Not to you," he agreed, going silent and thinking hard for a moment. It certainly wasn't the American dream that so many people had back in his day, but he couldn't shake off the sense of familiarity he'd gotten when they'd arrived. The distant sense of home. Looking down at her, he tipped her chin up, making her look him in the eye again. "I think we better find out if the seller will accept a buyer with a VA loan. We're going to have to shake a leg if we want to get this place."
Cautious hopefulness dawned on her face, and Holly squeaked, "Really?"
"It does feel like the right place for us," he affirmed aloud. His grin grew wider and warmer as he inclined his chin. "We've got to try, at least."
"We get John?"
He nodded once more, slipping his hand down her arm until their fingers threaded together.
"Let's go get him, doll."
They had to try. This was their first real chance at a place, at an actual home for their lives. And with any luck, it would be the only chance they would have to take.
xXxXxXx
"So you put in an offer, huh?" Sam remarked the next day when Steve told him about the showing. They had arrived first in the training space, equipment on and the gymnasium-sized arena littered with blocks and obstacles for the coming session. The blond man smiled, tipping his head to the side. The other man returned the mirth, holding out a fist and waiting for the captain to oblige him in the congratulatory fist bump. He did as he was prompted, even if was done halfheartedly.
"Yeah. The seller actually seems open to wanting to sell to us with our loan, or so the realtor has said," Steve informed him, the grin on his face lessening somewhat. "Not many people are lining up to do so, it turns out."
Granted, a lot of people were more wary of the VA than the people using the loans, but thanks for service was not enough for some people to take on an offer. The seller for the house, though, was of a mind to sell quickly, and the house had been on the market for awhile. Backwoods properties appealed to a certain set, and a good portion of families upstate were looking to be as close as possible to the cities. The odds were at least slightly in their favor, but Steve did not want to be mired in one of the infinite horror stories he'd stumbled upon on the Internet.
"Been there, done that, dude," Sam groused. He had lived through one of those horror stories, had been declined due to using a VA loan. It had taken hims several tries to find a house in D.C., and for a seller to accept him. That was an experience he did not care to repeat. "It can be a bitch. Sounds like a good thing, though. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you guys. With any luck, you might get accepted and move in before Christmas."
"From your mouth to God's ears," the captain professed, running a hand over his face to scrub off the sudden spring of anxiety. A low giggle cropped up behind him, and he turned to see Natasha there, kneeling down and tightening the straps on her boots. He hadn't heard her arrive, but that was hardly a shock. The woman could sneak up on practically anyone.
"First the picturesque love affair, then the whirlwind marriage, and now rounding it off with the white picket fence. How very domestic of you, Rogers," she teased him, tossing her hair as she finished with her task and stood up.
His brow furrowed at that. "I wouldn't say it's been picturesque..."
On the surface, it would seem that way, given how well they'd gotten along even since the beginning of their friendship. But it honestly wasn't; no relationship was. Holly's and his marriage did not truly meet the definition of the word. They'd had their squabbles, disagreements, full-fledged fights, just not in sight of the public. The worst they'd ever gotten into it in public were a few odd, snappish comments tossed at each other, but they otherwise kept it in check until they were behind closed doors. Those times were their business and their business only; they didn't need to be on display for others to watch and pick apart. Their lives were too public for them to indulge in that. To imply perfection where none existed rankled, and he let it show.
Natasha raised her chin, her smirk growing wider. "Damn close, though."
"What, like it's a bad thing?" Wilson cut in then, wanting to diffuse the situation that threatened to rise. Steve shot him a look then, and he physically took a step back. Spiking an eyebrow and snapping on his goggles, he grumbled, "And trust me, there is nothing picturesque about a mortgage."
"I'm not saying it's bad at all," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her bright gaze darted to the side and back again, suddenly wary of her leader's reticence. "I'm just...you do realize that what you have, or what you're trying to have, is sort of a rarity in our line of work, right?"
Steve closed his eyes, rolling them behind the lids. Wanting to keep himself occupied, and to give him an opportunity to start leaving the conversation behind, he snatched up the helmet that was perched on a nearby box, cramming it onto his head and snapping the strap under his chin to secure it.
"I do. It was a rarity back in the day, too," he reminded her, forcing his tone to remain even. Glancing up at her speculative expression, he continued, "Which is why I'm taking the chances I can as they come."
"Very risky," she pronounced, the words edged with something darker than indifference. "Could blow up in your face."
"Or it might not," he shot back, his impatience with the whole thing bleeding through. "You don't know until you try, Romanoff."
As they'd been trading remarks, the remaining members of the team had entered the facility, their easy banter dying as they noticed the Black Widow having the animated discussion with the captain. Rhodey and Wanda had kept their mouths shut, eyes jumping back and forth between the two as if watching the volleys of a tennis match. The Vision observed as well, a quizzical expression blooming on his face. Turning to the auburn-haired woman on his left, he gestured at the two of them, contracting pupils making the electric blue of his irises to stand out.
"I sense there is more to be interpreted from the captain and the Black Widow's words than was actually said," he remarked sotto voce. Subtlety was a skill he was learning slowly, but he was not as adept as he wished to be. The fact that both Rogers and Romanoff threw hard glares in his direction told him so. Wanda's face blanched slightly, but instead of shrugging him off or otherwise ignoring him, she nodded.
"You're right, but—" she began, the flicker of scarlet flashing over her eyes as she soaked in the emotions practically reverberating off the others.
"Don't push it," Rhodey snapped at both of them, the face plate of his armor sliding open and his dark eyes pleading for the pair to shut up. They took the hint then, ending their observations and waiting for the captain to start giving orders. Natasha stepped back as well, a curt, flyaway gesture prompting Steve to grit his teeth and instruct JJ to take them through a few specific scenarios.
When the afternoon break came, and they had changed out of their uniforms, Steve waited for Natasha to depart from her locker space, catching her in the long, open hall before she could disappear. Matching her pace for a few moments, he finally grabbed her arm, forcing her to halt.
"What's going on?" he asked, controlling his volume in deference to the echoing chamber around them. Her face smoothed out, blankness on her features.
"Nothing," she replied, an innocent shrug of the shoulders following. As talented at deception as she was, Steve did know her well enough by that point to know she was trying to put him off.
"C'mon, Nat," he murmured, hands resting on his hips and head tipping to the side. She maintained her composed look for several long moments, but her irises seemed to waver back and forth. He could almost see the precise moment when she basically said, 'screw it' in her mind and exhaled quickly.
"Look, it's nothing against you guys at all. Seriously, I'm pleased that you've been really happy. Truly, it saved me the trouble of being your yenta," she joked, earning a slight, confused grin in response. Cupping a hand in the air, she went on, "But...it's a lot of change in a year and a half, and this is just one more thing. You sure you can handle it? And are you sure you can handle the next one that comes, because God knows it's coming?"
Steve blinked at that, eyes crinkling at the corners despite his stoic expression.
"Natasha, you're talking to a man who literally changed overnight from a scrawny shrimp to a super soldier."
She scoffed aloud. "Physical transformation. Not what I'm talking about."
"No, it wasn't just that," he corrected her sharply. So much more had happened to him than just gaining almost a foot in height and some muscle definition. It had changed his outlook on so many things in his life, changed how he thought, analyzed, viewed the world around him. At his core, he remained the same, but it was impossible to remain mentally untouched. "And between then and now, so many things have altered around me. I have adapted; it was something I had to learn at a young age, too." He had to, had to learn to hang on and endure back when he was merely fighting for his next breath, numerous conditions marking each day as the potentially last one. Breaking the hard line of his lips with an upturn at the corners, he looked at her, his friend. "I'm okay, honestly. Yeah, sometimes it's all very intimidating, but there isn't a thing about it I would do to reverse it. It's been for the good of my life, and that's certainly easier to have than the bad."
Deep down, he wondered how much she was worrying for him, and how much she seemed to be projecting from her own life. Change and change again was nothing new to her, not as far as locations and timezones, or even employment, were concerned. No, the emotional alterations were what tripped her up, and she had suffered fairly recently from one such thing. It was something she did not care for, nor did she care to admit to being a problem. She did not want it to be a problem for anyone else, not for her teammates. Not for her friends. After several long seconds, she finally cracked a grin, a true one, his reassurances accepted. Once, twice, she nodded, and he let out a slow breath.
"I hope you guys get the house," she said, holding up her hand and crossing the middle and forefinger. Lifting a shoulder, she muttered, " At the very least, Barnes will have a place to stay once he gets out of rehab."
There had been a good deal of debate between him and Holly about what to do in regards to Bucky once he was allowed to leave the Country House. For the sake of acclimating him into life as they knew it, he was going to be sheltered by them. One way or another. Holly had agreed, but she still had reservations about his control. She just did not trust him yet, and Steve had looked at it from her point of view, admitted to himself that it would take some time for her to do so. Still, he trusted Bucky, and his progress as shown through his letters and even some forwarded reports from his doctor had indicated vast improvement.
"Provided we can make a deal, and all the inspections and appraisals go alright," Steve said. Looking her square in the eye and holding it for a few seconds, he promised, "Friends are always welcome."
Her eyebrows quirked, and warmth flooded over the coldness in her face.
"Well, if Wilson or the recruits start pissing me off too much, I might have to fight James for the space, then," Natasha announced, tucking some of her fiery hair behind her ear. Noting the use of his erstwhile best friend's first name, Steve caught himself before he could say something about it. The letters exchanged between the would-be assassins was doing some good, evidently. How much good remained to be seen. Instead, he shrugged it off, focusing on a point over her head and smirking.
"Now that would be interesting to see. Just...whatever you do, do it outside," he requested politely. "I don't know if I could afford the repairs for any damage you two might inflict."
Her eyes glittered as she turned to go, and Nat snickered again. "Should've borrowed money from Stark; these are the things you need to plan ahead for, Steve."
"Right, I'm an idiot," he returned sardonically, smiling to himself as he left in the opposite direction.
A/N: Man, you guys must have been busy last week. Not a whole lotta chatter from you guys about the last chapter. Hope you're all okay and stuff. :) Either way, here's the next one...a little late, as I had predicted. Still, I was glad to have the extra time off; it was great to see my family again.
This is not quite as long as the last chapter, but still got a good chunk of writing done.
Here we get a little peek into Holly's daily life at the office in the archives department. And yay, they put in an offer! And dude, I have read some pretty sucky stories in regards to acceptance for VA loans. They're out there, man.
I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references mentioned in the text.
Just a heads up, I am working on a little side project, another AU story involving Steve and Holly. It's still being developed, but I intend to have it out as soon as humanly possible. Keep your eyes peeled; I will let you guys know about it once I've gotten a little further with it!
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!