The success of Steve's comeback made waves across the company, in more ways than one. While his accolades were obvious—the crowds' reaction and the upswing in his personal merchandise sales the best indicators for that—a reflection of that had made its way to the backstage arena. Immediately following his return, he had been ushered into a post-event press conference, Tony seated at his right and Pepper on his left. Though it was not unfamiliar to him, Steve was not entirely comfortable with the process. He preferred the taped interviews, where things were typically handled only with a single interviewer. Various wrestling magazines and websites now vied for his attention, and he had to take his time to adjust to it once more. Tony, to his credit, had taken the lead knowing that six months away certainly made Captain America a little rusty.
Besides, the man did like to hear the sound of his own voice at times.
Questions ranging from whether or not he was truly ready to start a title run, or what his routine was like now post-injury, and even if there was any credence to the rumors of backstage rivalries springing up since his return hit him. He answered as honestly as he could, managing to engage the interviewers and even make a trite observation or two of his own. Flashes of camera ringed around him as he stood, and the polite claps given when his portion of the conference ended seemed more enthusiastic than he recalled them being the last time he'd done one.
Still, Steve tempered his personal joy with the knowledge that it was only the start of a long road. Things could change in the blink of an eye, and he knew that all too well.
When he entered Holly's office a few days later, to start planning ahead for the next encounter with Loki, he was greeted with a wide smile and another congratulations. She even got up from her desk and hugged him. The pragmatism in him had been hushed for a moment, the hard thump in his chest briefly returning as he hesitantly hugged her back. The warmth of her embrace slid away all too soon, and as he sat down in the chair opposite her desk, he scrubbed his hands over his face to disguise the pink tinge smattering across his cheekbones.
(What he missed while doing that was the red burning in her ears, hidden by her draping her hair forward over her shoulders.)
Once they were situated in their spots, they went over the actions of the reintroduction, with Holly asking after his own feelings on the matter and how he would like to use them as a springboard. Now that proverbial ball was rolling, it would be a lot easier to pick and choose directions to take. Notwithstanding any showtime turns being taken, of course. She queued up her computer to show him the snips and short videos fans had taken of the evening, and he came around the desk to her side to watch. As he bent at the waist to peer closer, she seemed to light up at the footage, pointing out how even the small reactions and shifts between him and Loki were being studied and speculated on. His return to MWE truly was underway, and he breathed a little easier knowing the reception for it was better than his expectations.
"I liked your answers for the press conference," Holly said after some moments, a little admiration in her voice. They were watching a playback of it, and she paused it right as the crowd laughed at an offhand observation he had made about Loki's prowess possibly dipping in future matches. The trash talk was not always a favorite of his, but he had learned well that a comment here and there would be beneficial to his persona's perception. "Definitely had a handle on that."
Rogers was aware of his skills on the mic, and somehow that did translate over to the press conferences the talent had to indulge in on occasion. Still, he shrugged a little at that, sitting on the edge of her desk and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Been doing it long enough, it should sound alright by now," he replied, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor. The corner of his mouth went up, and she sat back in her chair, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"More than that," she murmured, looking up at him. The doubt lingered in his gaze, even after everything that had happened the previous few days. Reopening another tab, it held a video of his altercation with Loki. Pausing it after the banter went back and forth for a few seconds, she glanced at him again. Turning her swivel chair seat to face him better, she flapped a hand back towards the computer screen. "Steve, this is showing great promise already."
His brow furrowed at that.
"Let's wait until after the next few matches," Steve countered, a note of caution in his tone. Though he already liked working with her—and he could at least admit that much out loud—it did not negate the fact that he had far more experience in the world of professional wrestling than she. It was, at times, a fickle industry, and that he had managed to navigate it so far was a testament to his skill and dedication. And, he mused privately, maybe some good luck, too. He had seen too many hopefuls come through the doors of MWE, only to leave when the grand plans they laid did not go in their favor. Some could not handle the lack of control, and simply could not roll with the punches, as the saying went. Catching the quirk of her brow, the quick denial on her face, he gentled his tone somewhat. "Tony could step in with a change and this run as we know it is over."
Holly shook her head, not giving an inch. "I don't think it is. I think you're on your way back up."
The blond man snorted, his brow creasing in concern. "Very easy to say, not so easy to do."
That pulled her up short, and she snapped her mouth shut. She looked down then, at the hands folded in her lap. Part of him worried that he may have squashed her hopes a little too thoroughly; she was new, after all, and it wouldn't do either of them any good to make her lose her enthusiasm and spark. The toe of his boot became even more fascinating to him, then, an edge of guilt lacing his gut. After all, he wasn't only trying to talk her down; he was doing it to himself, too.
Things were so variable in his profession, that it kept him humble. Too many things changed too quickly, or were taken away, and it was something he had to live with time and time again. The rejection, the loss, it could eat away at a person if they weren't careful.
With his focus drawn elsewhere, he failed to notice the pair of brown eyes sliding over him again. Holly, while green, could understand doubt, could understand being part of something that could very well never give back anything. Her forays in high school softball had been a good teacher, given that she had a coach that demanded more and more out of her and the other players, until she could not take it any longer. Steve was nowhere near ready to walk away, and he had showed that with every training session and meeting with her in the lead-up to the previous taping. The wear of it, though, was showing.
Slowly, she reached over, her mind screaming at her and questioning her good sense as she laid a palm on his knee. Butterfly-light taps were given, one, two, three, and when he looked back up at her, she gave Steve and encouraging smile.
"We'll get you there, one way or another." Her hand was withdrawn then, and she turned back to her computer, clicking at the mouse to start up her word processing program. It was her turn to miss the blue gaze flicking over her, the half grin unbidden on his lips as her optimism filled the space between them.
"Okay," Steve stated, accepting her word for what it was. Time would tell, certainly, but he trusted that between the two of them, they would at least go as far as they could.
xXxXxXx
The ringing of a phone cut through Holly's concentration. She had been typing away, though that time, it was not Steve's story-line trajectory. Following a website that rotated writing prompts, her email had chimed with one that piqued her interest. And so, in between answering emails and studying old footage of the company's prestigious past, she was tapping away at her take on the prompt. It was on company time, but she felt that it gave her the mental break from her typical workload so she could keep attention while doing her tasks.
It wasn't like she was writing a novel; that, she did that at home. The risk of getting lost in the ongoing journey she had with it at work was not worth it. However, it did please her to see that she had been able to chip away at the story she had come up with years ago, the inspiration of her job revitalizing her drive.
In the present moment, though, she had to push away from the keyboard, clicking and minimizing the document before she picked up the receiver for her desk phone. She smiled at the air when the caller's voice came over the line. It was Sarah, just having gotten back into town after the last round of matches. It had been a few weeks since Steve's return, and most of the shows were in cities near enough that it did not justify the new writer to come along, again. Sarah, however, had been working for Marvel Wrestling Entertainment for a couple years now, and so she was required to trudge along to aid with tightening up choreography for certain members of the women's division ("Yelena's Russian tie is coming off weak, so we have been trying to adjust to something abbreviated," was one example of how her time was spent). Knowing that Holly would be in office that Friday, Sarah knew she would have better luck reaching her that way instead of via cell phone or texting.
After the regular opening pleasantries, the blonde woman on the other end posed a question to her brunette friend.
"Do you have some time free this weekend, by any chance?"
Quirking her brown, Holly tucked the receiver between her shoulder and ear, using her free hand to grab her phone out of her trouser pocket. Swiping to her calendar app, she double-checked that weekend's schedule before answering.
"Sure, my Saturday is pretty clear. What's up?" she asked, curious about what Sarah would put to her. She hoped it would be something low key; drinks and a movie definitely sounded pretty good to her at that moment. What came next, however, was not that proposition.
"There's a charity event scheduled, and the volunteer list is still a bit low. I was wondering if you wanted to come and help out. The head of the volunteer group asked if I could get in touch with people and I, um, said I would."
Holly's eyebrows rose a little higher. The distinct Southern twang of Sarah's speech was pronounced on that last sentence, which usually meant she was feeling something strongly as she said it. Stowing away that tidbit of knowledge, the other woman glossed over it to focus on the matter at hand. She had seen an email come in over two weeks ago, talking about a Boys and Girls Club chapter coming in for some meet-and-greets with selected wrestlers, but as she was new, she hadn't felt qualified to put her name into the ring, so to speak. Therefore, she had deleted it without reading the full thing. It was already out of her deleted folder, too, and so she couldn't look up details. She couldn't even begin to say which of the roster would be present for the event.
Well, drinks and movie night would have to wait, she supposed. Besides, with her family so far away and her closest friend already having dedicated her time to the event, she did not have many other options to choose from.
"Yeah, I can do that," she said, shrugging to herself. A thought occurred, and she posed another query. "What would we even be doing?"
She had worked some private events for previous jobs, but she wondered if events involving professional wrestlers would run along the same lines.
Sarah sighed into the phone. "You know, setting up tables and chairs, putting out snacks, running for things the wrestlers or event goers need. Tell hundreds of people where the bathrooms are, then become part of the scenery. That sort of thing."
Holly chuckled. She could do background work, that was for sure. "I understand. Sign me up, I'll help out."
Her friend let out a squeal of delight, and she could just picture her doing a little happy shuffle.
"Thank you, Holl. You cannot imagine how hard it is sometimes to get people to help out with this stuff. Mr. Stark and some of the board have had to pitch in before, or so I've heard."
The brunette woman laughed outright at that, quite unable to visualize the smartly dressed, down-the-nose looking company board being willing to help out for any sort of cause beyond themselves. Mr. Stark...well, maybe he actually would. Either way, she gave her word to help, and so she would. Maybe it would earn her some brownie points within the company's writers' room, as well as bring joy to children. Conversation turned to different topics, and so she went about the remainder of her work day.
As she promised, she was present in the main lobby by eight o'clock on Saturday morning, yawning slightly and with a travel mug filled with coffee in hand. A decent crowd of folks had been loitering in front of the building for a while before being ushered into the grand space, t-shirts of varying sizes being passed out and chatter dulling as the minutes ticked by. The head of the volunteer group, a cameraman named Aaron, held a clipboard and, for some reason, had a referee's whistle around his neck. Chin length blond hair was tucked behind his ears, and he scratched his beard while going over the list of duties. Sarah, who had met up with her outside, was shifting her gaze over the fellow, and Holly smirked to herself, elbowing her friend a couple times to knock her out of her staring. People were assigned to diverse duties for set-up, as the blonde woman at her elbow had promised would happen, with Sarah being drafted into bringing drinks and Holly being part of a group that would get tables and chairs in place.
Sighing, she excused herself for a moment to stash her belongings in her office and change into the issued shirt. Tugging it down, it revealed itself to be MWE merchandise, a design specifically an outline of her boss in red and gold, with the words "The Next Generation" beneath his feet. It was a clear callback to his takeover of the company after his father's death, one that kept getting revamped every couple of years or so. Looking down at it, she snorted; would this be considered brown nosing? Oh, well. They were being required to wear shirts for the company, and if that meant a few people would be sporting the signature stance of Tony Stark, then that was how it was going to be. The fact that it also was two sizes too big was likewise brushed aside.
Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Holly went back to the main set-up area and started to do her tasks. The regular lobby furniture had been removed the night before by the maintenance staff, so the groups with putting them up simply followed a template designated to them. One area would serve as the lunch area, while another would just be a rest area for parents and guardians who did not wish to participate, but still wanted to keep an eye on the kids. A DJ booth was placed along the back wall by the reception desk, the disk jockey in question mulling out his list. Once tables were set, booths were also brought in, with pieces of the current roster's merchandise placed artfully upon it (a new t-shirt with Steve's return marked on it was laid out just two booths down from the one she was working on, and Holly chuckled to herself). Wrestling mats were also spread on the floor, lending credence to the rumor that some of the roster would be doing workshops with the kids on wrestling moves.
Last minute touches and the arrival of security officers were the indicators of the event's start nearing, and the volunteers worked quickly to finish. As the first school bus pulled up, volunteer badges—which had been nearly forgotten in a box to the side up until then—were given out, with Holly looping hers around her neck and stepping back to stand against the wall before the doors opened.
The local charter of the Boys and Girls Club of America had three school buses full of people, the kids nearly vibrating as they entered the main entryway with parents, guardians, and club attendants. The banners of legendary wrestlers were stared at, and excited chatter filled the air. The overhead speakers started pumping out a rock song (Holly thought it was AC/DC, but the chants and cheers drowned out the words), which was the signal for Mr. Stark himself to come in from the far doors. His normal attire of a suit had been toned down, button up replaced with a band tee and dress shoes exchanged with sneakers. Waiting for the adulation to cease, he removed his sunglasses and welcomed everyone from the Boys and Girls Club to the MWE central offices. While full tours would not be performed, everyone would have a chance to see the ring used for UAC, and learn from the best of the best themselves. Whoops and happy hollers rose up, and he seemed to relish it. He then pivoted, pointing at the DJ booth and imploring everyone to enjoy themselves.
The DJ took his cue, playing the main theme music for Core as he announced the ring names of the wrestlers participating in the event that day. The infamous Black Widow entered first, the woman dressed in her ring gear of a black body suit and boots, her red hair braided and a smile playing along her lips as she came in. Next was Thor, the much-discussed blond behemoth and supposed brother of Loki, though he had chosen to not be attired in viking garb that day. Loki himself was right behind him, shooting winks at a few of the ladies in the crowd and openly basking in the boos of the children in his great green overcoat. Several others followed, including one fellow with long, dark hair and a red star tattooed on his shoulder, his sleeveless shirt advertising it. And, at the end of the line, was Captain America, finishing off the rousing rounds of joy and applause. Tiredness lined his face, but it disappeared as he smiled and saluted at the children. A blue athletic shirt, jeans, and his favorite boots were his wardrobe choice, clearly aiming for comfort over posing.
Holly chuckled to herself again, shaking her head; of course, he would be there, despite wrapping a tete-a-tete with Loki the night before. Without meaning to, she caught Steve's eye, giving him a grin and thumb's up as he joined the other wrestlers. Discreetly, he smiled back at her before centering his attention on the veritable army of children. Fading herself into the background, as intended, Holly kept herself occupied as the first tour group was preparing to go, and others splitting off to spend time with the remaining wrestlers in little workshops for moves, pins, and promo work. Being the background would be easy, she thought to herself.
xXxXxXx
After spending a few hours redirecting folks towards the public bathrooms and answering rudimentary questions, Holly thought she could afford to slip away to her office. She had left her coffee mug in there, stowed safely with her purse before the boys and girls had shown up. Though she knew the coffee would be lukewarm at best, she was hoping to at least get the benefits of the caffeine. Lunch was basically impossible, but the few chips she was able to sneak were tiding her over. Coffee, though, was becoming necessary.
Moving along the edges of the crowd, she suddenly stumbled upon an open pocket near the doors leading to the back halls. A small boy stood on the fringes, sporting a Boys and Girls Club t-shirt, a homemade Captain America shield tied to his arm. Brown hair fell past his ears, his eyes searching the crowd over and over again. She felt her heart squeeze in her chest; it could not be any clearer that the boy was looking for something, or someone. She approached him, careful to keep some space between them so as to not spook him.
"Hey, kiddo, you doing okay?" she asked, and knelt down to speak with him on his level. The little one turned to look at her, brown eyes laced with water.
The boy, maybe all of seven years old at most, hastily looked back down and scrubbed at his face. The tears in his eyes dripped onto his sleeves, but he was okay with that. He just didn't want to be caught crying; crying was for babies, in his estimation.
"I can't find my mom or dad," he crooned after a moment or two. Normally, his parents' teachings of stranger danger would have been heeded but given that this lady was wearing a big volunteer lanyard and the room was filled with some of his heroes, he figured it would be fine to talk to her. Gesturing with his right arm, he made the homemade cardboard shield perched on it wobble. "I wanna get in line for Cap, but I can't without them."
By that point of the day, the children and guardians had formed lines to each particular wrestler, wanting individual pictures or autographs. Several boys and girls had their own handcrafted shields, helmets, and hammers, the club attendants having fetched them off the buses for them as they lined up.
Her brow furrowed at that, and she glanced around. "You sure they didn't tell you where they were going?"
Weakly, he pointed at the doors just beyond the two of them. "I thought we were all going this way, but..."
Looking over her shoulder, knowing that that pair of doors opened onto the office halls and meeting rooms, she bit her lip. Likely, the parents were in search of the public bathrooms, just several feet over from the left of the reception desk. As they were in sight of the bathrooms from their position, she thought it would be unlikely that either mother or father would take much longer in the restrooms, and so made a resolution of her own.
"Tell you what, I'll stick around here with you until they come back," she said, smiling at him as he nodded. Tilting her head to the right, she asked, "What's your name?"
The boy sniffed again, and he drew back his shoulders, almost thrusting his chest out. "Connor."
"Alright, Connor. I'm Holly." She held out her hand to him, grinning as he took it and pumped a handshake. Rising from her crouch, she let him drop her hand and scanned her eyes over the large group still in the entrance. "So what do your parents look like?"
Once she got past Connor stating that they both had brown hair like him, but Mommy had blue eyes instead of brown, she took another look around. She was hoping to find someone with the matching sharp chin or the straight nose of her new friend, but after pointing out a few different people, she was met with negatives. To distract the child from being nervous or upset, she started to ask him questions about school, about his favorite activities at the club. It turned out that the little guy disliked mathematics but loved art, and had painted his shield himself as a project. He liked doing crafts and playing games with his peers in the club, but his favorite thing of all was, of course, wrestling.
Unbeknownst to her, a pair of blue eyes found her on the outskirts of the crowd. The owner, having sneaked away for a bathroom break of his own, spotted them on his way out. Torn between continuing back to his post and striding over to see what was the matter, he couldn't make himself leave the scene. Instead, he trod up behind her, bending to tap her gently on her shoulder. She jumped slightly, startled by the sudden touch, but when she spun on her heel to face whoever it was, the indignation in her features melted away.
The grin she gave him warmed him from the inside out, and Steve greeted her with a smile of his own. His tongue, however, would not cooperate for a moment, until he coughed and scratched the back of his neck.
"Hey," he finally greeted her. Gesturing at the lively space around them, he followed up with, "I didn't know you were gonna be here today."
She snickered at his observation.
"Likewise. Just one of the helpers," she stated, hooking a thumb under the lanyard and lifting up the volunteer tag hanging from it. Shrugging slightly, she dropped it and further explained, "I was heading to my office, but I am hanging out here with Connor. We're waiting for his mom and dad."
Holly looked down at Connor again, tapping his shoulder gently. For his part, the small boy was positively gobsmacked. His jaw was hanging open, eyes wide at being so close to one of his absolute favorite wrestlers. Steve grinned down at him before lowering himself into a crouch.
"Hey there, Connor," he greeted the child. Spying the crafted shield on his arm, a spark of memory flooded in. To keep the energy up and to keep boredom at bay, he would occasionally ask the kids if they had any favorite moves or tricks that they had seen performed. This boy, all brightness and exuberance, had shouted out his favorite. It was difficult to forget. "I remember you from earlier. You like the ankle lock hold the best, right?"
Automatically, the child's head bobbed up and down, the pureness of his happiness taking hold of his awe.
"Cap...wow," the boy breathed, blinking at him. Suddenly he rushed forward, taking his cardboard shield off his arm and holding it out eagerly. "Can you sign my shield, please? Please?"
Steve dug into the pocket of his jeans, fishing out on of the several pens and markers he had kept on hand for the event.
"Sure can."
With little fanfare and a slight flourish, the signature for Captain America was scrawled within one of the white bands of the shield. The young boy clapped his hands as the older man finished and handed the shield back to him.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Connor crowed merrily, practically bouncing from foot to foot. With great pride, he tied the shield back on his arm, the clumsiness of the motion ignored in the face of what had happened. Emulating Steve's signature pose, he yelled out, "This is awesome!"
"It really is," Holly breathed, the warm, fuzzy feeling in her gut growing as she looked upon the grown man and the boy. It was, by far, the most relaxed she had ever seen Steve. Sensing an opening, she lifted her chin, catching Steve's eye for a second. As she spotted one of the club attendants, she shifted her gaze over briefly, and then back to Connor. Steve had raised an eyebrow, a subtle nod given as he focused back on the boy. Besides, the lad was tapping his arm then, his attention solely on the captain.
Steadily, Holly backed up, taking care not to distract the boy as she flagged down the passing attendant. It was past time to find Connor's parents, and she promised she would help, after all.
A flurry of questions hit Steve as the kid stepped closer, thoroughly rooting him to the spot.
"Cap, can you tell me, is Loki gonna lose this summer? You're gonna beat him, right?" A pause, and the boy bit his lip briefly. "You're not going away again, are you? I promise, I won't tell nobody!"
The bigger fellow glanced around, leaning forward as if they were discussing a secret mission.
"Well, Connor, I don't plan on losing, that's for sure."
The boy jumped up and down then, eagerly clapping his hands on Steve's shoulders.
"I'm gonna watch, and I'll cheer real loud for you!" he swore, choosing that moment to impart his chiefest desire, "I want to be a wrestler, too, someday."
Steve nodded, the proud grin on his lips as he watched Connor strike a few more poses.
"I look forward to seeing you in the ring when that day comes."
Inviting Connor to testing his hand grappling, he looked over the boy's head, trying to spy Holly in the crowd. Soon enough, he found her, an older woman with frizzing brown hair and bright blue eyes following after her. She was also wearing one of the club's shirts, a white cardigan draped over it against the cold of the air conditioning inside. Her gaze was riveted to the boy and she picked up speed, skirting around Holly to get to him.
"Connor! We've been looking all over for you!" she cried, causing the boy to drop his grapple and turn to look at her. With a happy giggle, he ran to her then, and she hoisted him in up in her arms. Unadulterated relief was flowing off her as she cradled him close. "Your dad is on the other side of...oh, goodness."
As the bigger man rose from his crouch (relieving the slight ache in his knees and ankle, finally), the mother noticed him.
"Hello, Mister, uh, Captain America?" she half-greeted, half-asked. The corner's of Steve's mouth lifted, and he gave her a partial salute in confirmation.
"We were just talking about Connor's future in wrestling," he told her. She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face grew a little wider.
"Of course you were. He just loves all of you so much," she imparted, dipping her chin at the other wrestlers on the floor and at the banners adorning the walls. She cuddled the boy closer for a moment before she shifted him down to the floor again. To Connor, she said, "Well, honey, we have to get going, the event's almost over."
Standing behind her, Holly took the chance to examine the large space. True to the other woman's word, the club members and attendees were starting to filter out of the room, heading out the doors to the buses.
"Okay, Mom," Connor said, looking a little glum at the news. Daring to slip out of his mother's grasp, he went to Steve and flapped his his hand at him. The unspoken command to crouch back down was met, with only slight reluctance. It was worth it, however, as the boy wrapped his arms around the wrestler's neck in a hug. "Thanks, Cap."
Touched by the sincerity, a sincerity so many children had shown him and his fellows before, Steve could not help but hug him back.
"No problem," he intoned, letting the child go back to his mother and rising up once more. Gratefully, Connor's mom gave him and Holly nods as they began to walk away.
"Thanks, both of you," she said, guiding her son back to where her husband was waiting (a tall, brunet man with a bright red ball cap on his head waved across the room, and Connor eagerly waved back). The pair paused by the younger woman, with the boy giving her a high five.
"Bye, Holly!" he said, and she waved her farewells as they left. She dropped her hand after a moment, stepping back over to stand beside Steve.
"That was nice of you to talk with Connor," she remarked out the side of her mouth, waving again when the little family reunited and returned her gesture before heading out the door. "He was looking forward to meeting you."
Steve shrugged, also waving when she did. "It was no problem. Sometimes there are a few stragglers from the big groups during these events; I like making sure the kids are taken care of."
She dipped her chin in agreement with that. It was good to know that at least some of these big, burly superstars were concerned for even the smallest of their fans. He looked at her out the corner of his eye, and he leaned slightly closer to her, pitching his tone low.
"It's a good thing you found him first, though. The number of times I have seen kids get separated from caregivers at these things has been too many to count."
They shared a grimace at that. Neither of them liked to imagine what could happen to an unattended child, even with security guards patrol every ten feet.
Rubbing the side of her neck, she murmured, "I didn't want anything bad to happen to him."
The last of the Boys and Girls Club exited, leaving behind a wake of wrappers, empty lunch bags, and tables and chairs moved all over the place. At least one of the mats was actively being cleaned, but whether that was due to a potty accident or to vomit, Holly was not totally sure. Thankfully, the janitorial staff was dealing with that. Much like the others who had dedicated their time that morning, she got to work helping with teardown. The wrestlers did grab a few things to take back themselves, but since the majority of them had just returned to town around one or two o'clock that morning, nobody was willing to demand they stay longer. A couple loitered in the training room, the large glass walls allowing them see as the volunteers hauled things back to storage. Sarah and Holly managed to find a moment to touch base; it had turned out that the blonde woman had been occupied with assisting Aaron during the event. She typically had a hard and fast rule not to date coworkers, but since he was also on the back end of things like her, it appeared she was amenable to making an exception.
With that being said, it appeared Holly would be on her own while her friend went out on a date. Well, a sort-of date, as Sarah had corrected her. So she wished her friend good luck, waggling her fingers in farewell before heading back to her office. She grabbed her abandoned purse and mug, curling a lip in disgust as she sniffed the cold coffee within. Shoving the shirt she'd worn to the complex that morning into the bag, she was ready to head home. Choosing to exit through the training room doors, she barely noticed the remaining wrestlers. Stopping to fish out her car keys from the bag, she did not see Steve speaking with the guy with the red star tattoo. Low banter coursed between them, and the dark haired man had jokingly nudged at Steve, flapping a hand at him to go over to her. He had been swatted away, but he had only laughed and slipped into the practice ring, preparing to go over some maneuvers on his own.
Eventually she extracted the keys, going to grab the door handle just as her name was called out. She glimpsed Steve coming up behind her over her shoulder, and she turned back to face him. Confirming that he was heading out as well, she was about to say good-bye when he cut in, halting her speech.
"There's a diner down the road from here, hole-in-the-wall place. I was planning on heading over there." A pink burn was scalding his ears at that moment, but she could not exactly see it. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he inquired, "Would, would you like to come with? They've got decent coffee, and it's been a long couple of days."
That sounded downright heavenly at that moment, even if she normally did not have coffee after noon. The thump-thump in her chest was ignored, pushed down as she dipped her chin in affirmation.
"Um, yeah," she said, idly tucking the hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail behind her ear. "We gotta talk about the upcoming match this week, since it will be a major one."
It was the lead up to Midsummer's Eve, which would be two weeks from that point. He snorted at that, but the corner of his mouth did go up.
"Sounds good to me."
Thinking they would have to drive, Steve stopped her before she got into her car, telling her it was actually a short walk away, and the parking down there would be much worse. Therefore, she stuck her travel mug in the cup holder in it before locking up and traversing with him down the street. The weather had gone muggy by that time, but it didn't affect her as badly as she thought it would. Small talk about the night before and how Steve was one of those who had gotten in at the wee hours ate up the time as they walked. True to his word, about three blocks down, an older 50's-style building with a sidewalk sign boasting about the different specials that day marked the diner's location. Seating themselves at a booth by one of the front windows, the pair of them started off with a request for coffee to the server, each of them settling back on their cushioned benches.
It was her intent to talk some shop, but after a few minutes, she found herself drawn instead into easy conversation beyond the confines of their jobs. Holly still held her private opinion that she could listen to Steve talk about anything, even instructions on how to cook ramen noodles. The choice of topics, however, ranged elsewhere. After discussing the incoming heat to D.C., they each in turn spoke about where they had grown up. They had briefly exchanged that information when they had first met, but that day seemed to be the one in which they each reminisced about their individual childhoods. Perhaps being around all the kids had brought it out. While not idyllic, Holly did assert that she had had a somewhat normal time growing up, a sister and a brother raised alongside her by her parents. Steve's by comparison was...less so. Bullying had marred his early years, as well as the death of his father in the Gulf War. Before she could offer condolences, he had moved past it, talking instead about the apartment he lived in with his mother, his best friend living just a floor up from them.
"Do you miss living there?" she asked, after a lull of silence had descended on them. A suburbanite herself, she had heard and read about the hustle and bustle of the major cities, but never experienced them for herself before moving to Washington D.C. "Brooklyn has always sounded like a pretty vibrant place to me. From what I've heard."
Steve dipped his chin at that. As a borough of one of the first major cities of the country, he could not deny the rich history of the place. The tenement building he'd grown up in was erected in the 1940's, and was considered relatively new on his block. But there was so much more there, more that separated it from Manhattan or Washington Heights. Thinking back on the laughter, the good times that outweighed the bad, he leaned back against his seat, cradled the mug of coffee in his hands.
"Sometimes I do. But, well, with Mom and Dad gone, and Bucky's family having moved out of the city now, I'm not sure it would match up to the memories. Brooklyn is changing, a lot."
Holly tapped along the edge of her cup, murmuring condolences now for both his parents. He accepted them, and another moment of quiet settled on them.
"I can understand that, somewhat," she piped up, several seconds passing before she did. Cupping a hand in the air, she continued, "My family is still in Minnesota for the most part, but it's not the same as it was when I lived with them."
He met her gaze fully, seemingly examining her. She tried not squirm under the scrutiny.
"You miss them." Off the curious look she shot him, he hastened to explain, "Your accent was coming out a bit when you talked about them."
She chuckled at that, disguising the red in her face with a sip of coffee. "I thought I heard yours a bit, too, earlier, especially when you said Brooklyn."
She elongated it, attempting the tone that the man before her had let slip and failing. He chuckled at that, causing her to join him in it.
"Damn, and here I thought it wasn't that obvious."
She raised her mug up then, in a sort of salute. "I thought so, too."
Grabbing the carafe that had been left on their table, Steve filled up both their cups, taking the moment to change the subject.
"We've made stops in St. Paul and Minneapolis before, but it's never been for very long. It would be great to check out the Walker Art Center once."
The brunette woman across from him nodded, knowing he was talking about the more modern art displays in the garden outside the museum. Likely he would drink it all in, she mused, given how she'd caught him sketching many times since the first night she sat in backstage. She wondered why he never pursued art beyond that instead of wrestling, but she felt that was a discussion for the future.
"The garden is pretty cool. MIA has a lot to offer, too," she imparted, also alluding to the Minneapolis Institute of Art as well. More traditional works and fabrications were in its hallowed halls, and she had been to both for some required coursework when she attended college. Inhaling quietly, she took a chance on her next statement. "We'll just have to sneak away and get you there once the show cycles back that way."
The blond man paused, his mug halfway up to his lips. The silent leap of hope lined his irises, and they seemed to glitter in anticipation now.
"You mean that?" he asked, his voice a mite huskier than intended. Clearing his throat, he watched as Holly's smile grew.
"I'm a native. Who else is gonna get you out and take you?"
To make good on that promise, she held out her hand, willing to shake on it. Steve set his mug down, slipping callused fingers across her palm as he gripped it. A light shake was pumped, tingles running up her arm as he did so.
"I'll hold you to that."
It took a few moments for either to let go, but once they did, they returned to their coffee and conversation, each holding a bright kernel of promise for the future inside.
A/N: Bit of a lighter chapter this time around (lighter material, I mean; word count is super-high, haha), but I've got stuff in the works for the next one, so that should be a little beefier, content-wise.
Connor was named in honor of and inspired by Connor "The Crusher" Michalek, a boy who in real life was the impetus for Connor's Cure. This was a charitable organization founded by WWE for pediatric cancer research. Connor was loved professional wrestling, and had the chance before his death to meet his favorite wrestler and attend Wrestlemania XXX. RIP Connor.
Hope you all are enjoying your summer thus far! I am hoping that, with the approach of fall, I will have a bit more time to write, but we will see how it goes.
I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any pop culture references in the text.
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!