Once the photo shoot had been concluded, the obtained footage was sent off to the parties that needed it to begin the new work of incorporating Holly into the public image and stable around Steve. There was little she could do to influence the narrative, as that had been decided by Stark and the other chief staff, and the media department had their own set of writers working with news outlets and wrestling websites to spin the story. There would be a time coming that she would have to contribute more, bolster her own image alongside Steve's, but there was little time to do anything else in that regard. She had to work fast to get herself incorporated in a way that did not seem too contrived, and a promo had been worked on along with the signals she had been taught for introducing her.
After all, she would be fully displayed in front of the whole MWE universe during the oncoming tour, and she did not want to reflect poorly onto Steve.
It was to be a full road circuit, starting in Tennessee and moving out west, with stops in Texas, Missouri, and Illinois on the itinerary. The last stop listed for the time being was Minneapolis, Minnesota, which had made the writer-turned-manager openly pleased, and the wrestler had chuckled at her effusions about going back home for the first time in a long while. Or, at least, as close as she could get for that weekend; after all, it wasn't like the company would be able to perform in a small suburb outside St. Paul. Steve could understand the feeling, as he still had that little jolt of feeling singing through him whenever MWE's trail made its way back to Brooklyn.
While it was common those days to get flights out to booked cities, there also was an option for domestic shows running along a particular route to have buses dedicated for use for any wrestlers, crew, writers, and the like to utilize. Steve had boarded the bus straightaway with his fellow wrestlers making the circuit, but Holly herself had to wrap up work in the office, and so would be flying out to the first location, Knoxville. It was a hell of a drive to make, and be a passenger of, but he'd committed to it, and truth be told, he was looking forward to just being one of the guys riding along with friends and coworkers.
He did get a farewell text from Holly, bidding him safe travels and that her flight would be in a few hours. She had a ticket booked along with a few other writers tasked with coming along, and they would be coordinating with the higher-ups to get hotel rooms secured. He'd grimaced at that; it did not sit well with him that she was essentially being forced into pulling double (or perhaps it was more like triple) duty with her tasks. However, there was little he could do about, and so he wished her luck as he settled back in his seat, taking a spot at a built-in table with Bucky and Sam already starting to deal out cards for a friendly round of poker. Several long hours later, they were pulling into the parking lot of the designated hotel, cards retrieved and room assignments designated.
Steve stayed awake long enough to wish Holly good night, wherever she was in the hotel, and for her to reply the same back to him, with a smiling emoticon attached at the end.
The following morning, more texts were exchanged as the pair went about their separate duties, the city and sounds fading into the background as Steve did a call-in interviewing for a wrestling magazine and Holly met with the costumers that had come along to work on final touches for herself. The wrestler found himself, as ever, becoming antsy as the day wore on. The excitement of the changes toe come kept rising as he finally made his way over to the arena and touched base with his opponent there, a short rehearsal of blocking down so that they could cement the end of the promo. A fast trip back to the hotel to grab bags and toiletries, as well as another shower, were had as well, but soon enough, Steve was set up in a dressing room, the space at the arena allowing for it. His phone vibrated in his pocket, a text coming in from his writer-manager asking for his help to navigate the backstage area. Smiling to himself, he left off reading the book he had packed, tucking it into his bag and leaving the room to try and find Holly.
Though not all arena facilities were the same, there was enough of a pattern to them that the wrestler could usually guess where entrances, exits, and loading docks could be. He also, almost without thought, made sure to study those entrances and exits, in case of any emergencies that could arise. Perhaps it was a holdover from his time in the military, but it was not one he was compelled to shake off.
The crew and fellow performers were streaming steadily in and out by the loading bay, branching off into different rooms and spaces in the complex, so it felt like that would be the best place to start. Blue eyes were trained onto the crowd, hoping to spot the brunette he was waiting for.
"Rogers," a gruff voice called out from off to the side, and Steve barely bit off a grimace before turning around to face its owner.
"Rumlow," he returned, doing his best to keep the irritation out of his tone. Evidently, the other man had caught one of the buses out there, or perhaps he felt too good for that and had flown there instead. He didn't care all that much—he really was in no mood to put up the other wrestler at the moment. Pulling his phone from his jeans' pockets, he opened the email attachment that had the itinerary in it. "Didn't remember seeing your name on the docket for today."
It was mostly for show that he did so; he remembered how Crossbones, despite being a title holder, was remarkably absent from the roster for a large part of the tour. The gesture had made the intended point, as the man in question clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow.
"Apparently, I am on suspension for the next few weeks. Even though my 'little stunt,' as Stark put it, raked in quite the upsurge in merch and ticket sales." He'd brought his fingers up to crook air quotes around the stunt portion, his eyes rolling while doing so. Clearly, he still was of the mind that he'd done nothing wrong. And from a sales standpoint, he was correct. However, that was the only concession that Steve would give him, even inwardly.
Suspensions and fines were great for storyline purposes, particularly if the plot was supposed to change gears, or if there was an injury. However, it also happened when a wrestler went off-script, as it were, or got too aggressive, or—and this was more in the heyday of the 1980's—drug testing caught out a user. It was no surprise to the man called Captain America that such a thing was wielded against Crossbones in this instance. His complete lack of accountability and reckless behavior was becoming more and more of a problem, one that Tony Stark was less inclined to tolerate those days. And he was still running his mouth, despite that.
"Wasn't going to miss out on all this, even if I am benched." Dropping his hands, Brock hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants and shrugged. "Screw me for keeping things interesting, I guess."
The facetious tenor in the words made another spike of aggravation rise in Steve, and the blond man arched an eyebrow at the fellow.
"I didn't realize the definition of interesting meant putting self-aggrandizement over the physical safety of others," he retorted mildly, and Brock rolled his eyes again, brushing him off with the wave of a hand.
"Whatever, Steve." The blasé set to his countenance was dropped, reminding the other wrestler why he always was unsettled by him. What his mood was, what he really thought, could remain obscured until he was ready to reveal it. That two-faced nature had made him as many enemies at it had gotten him to rise through the ranks. That sudden shift focused back onto him, and he took a step closer to the bigger man. A look bordering on contempt decorated his features, and he spat out, "You've been gone for months, get a run right off the bat, and think your shit don't stink. Who's really self-aggrandizing?"
"Still you, Brock." Steve stepped closer again, not willing to veil his disdain any longer. "You ever getting sore from all your own back-patting?"
Not bothering to wait for an answer, he squared his shoulders, take a few strides and nearly passing Rumlow to continue his search. Brock's hand gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks. Looking at him again, he could practically see the thoughts moving behind the other man's eyes, the anger morphing into something he could use to jab at Steve. He was showing his hand more and more since the captain had returned to his ring; likely he felt threatened, as the bigger man was better liked by management, by others in the company, and had a steady fan base as a permanent babyface. Likely, he felt it was his duty to bring him down in whatever capacity necessary.
Despite knowing what tactics the other man would likely employ, Steve stiffened at his next words.
"I heard that the girl who got you out of the ring got drafted in. New manager and all. Didn't think you'd do something like this after Sharon."
Unconscious of it, a flicker of a flinch flashed over his face at the name, his jaw ticking. He jerked his arm out Brock's grasp, inhaling sharply.
"It was Tony's call."
The man called Crossbones had an almost feral grin on his lips, a perverse reflection of satisfaction in his person at making Rogers go on the defensive.
"Isn't it always? Well, better hope it doesn't end like that did," he responded, the grin growing and making the faded scarring on his face become more pronounced. Affecting nonchalance, he went on, "I might have to talk with Pierce, see if I can't get one of my own with board approval."
The flicker of his dark gaze meeting the icy blue piercing him made Rumlow fully smirk. Oh, he was enjoying getting a rise out of Rogers, and he went in with another jab.
"Maybe I'll snake yours away, myself. Could always do with some fresh talent."
"I'm not really the talent, so yeah, that's not likely," piped up a new voice then, and both men's heads turned to look at the newcomer. Steve felt more of his heart sink into his stomach; it was Holly, and she had apparently caught that part of the conversation. She'd evidently just arrived herself, rolling suitcase and garment bag in hand, and her face was sporting a cross between befuddlement and annoyance.
Before Steve could cut in, to stop the conversation, Brock focused in on her. A gleam seemed to come into his eyes, one that promised nothing good.
"You sure about that?" You don't have to put up a front for me."
The immediate spring of disgust in her face made something akin to pride flush through Steve, even more so when she pointedly took a step back, her gaze raking up and down the brunet man almost scathingly.
"Yeah, I'm sure," she replied, the tenor of her tone dripping with her distaste. Only a fool would have missed it, and to his credit, Brock was no fool. A blowhard and jerk, but he definitely was not stupid. As such, he took her pronouncement in, grimacing deeply. His posture shifted, as if he would get closer to her, but Steve's instinctive sideways shuffle to physically put his body between Brock and Holly got him to stop. A loud scoff poured out, and the other wrestler rolled his eyes once more.
"Great, another bitch, just what this company needs," he muttered, purposefully popping the B so it could not be missed. Pivoting on his heel, he did not give either the time to even respond to the insult before walking away. Over his shoulder, he called out, "Good luck, Captain, you're gonna need it."
He went down the hallway, turning down into another offshoot, the pair watching him go with clear frustration on both of their faces. It rankled that he had had the last word, but it was not worth it to continue the interaction.
"I do not like that man," groused Holly the moment he disappeared from view. Steve, letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding, faced her again and sighed. Emotions were churning below the surface, but he was doing his best to keep them at bay. Now was not the time.
"Not many do," he commented, knowing full well he was understating. He returned the wan smile she shot him before glancing down at the watch on his wrist. Time was ticking away, and they needed to begin preparations. "C'mon, let's get ready."
"Okay," she replied, following him as he started to move away from the loading bay. As they walked side by side, he missed the quirk of her jaw, a thought being mulled over in her head. When they were about to turn down the hall towards the dressing and locker rooms, she gave voice to it. "Hey, Steve, who's—"
"Martin!" called a crew member down at the other end, a hand flapping at her frantically. The pair stopped, looked at one another. Holly opened her mouth, as if she would protest the interruption, but the blond man shook his head minutely.
"Go on," he murmured, assuring her that he would get her bags to the correct room for her. Gratefully, she gave him another grin, thanking him before taking off in the direction of the stagehand. Likely she would have a quick writers' meeting, which were common before road shows to get things tightened up. He watched her go, wistfulness filling him briefly before he marched down to hall his dressing room was in. The room next door had been given over to Holly, and so he quickly dropped the bags in there.
Darkness fell, the raucous and affable nature of a crowd preparing for a show grew, and he knew it was time. The slot for Captain America was midway through the card for the night, as there was no real match set up for him, and it was approaching fast. Carefully, he put on his ring gear, his shield now hitched onto a new back harness so he could free up his hands. The helmet, however, he left behind. Steve wanted the people to see his expressions clearly as the newest changes were made clear to all and sundry. His belt, polished and shining, was strapped to his waist, settling there like it had always been part of him. Checking the time, he was quick to leave, heading straight for the arena entrance.
When he arrived in the control area behind the main entrance curtain, he was not surprised to see Holly had gotten there first. She was off to the side, muttering her lines over and over to herself, pacing through the blocking and making hand motions as she did so. The nerves were surfacing, and that was clear. She was wearing the outfit that she had been given for the photo shoot, but with a new jacket paired to make it look more professional and trousers for better mobility. He privately lamented the change from the skirt she'd had before, but understood the practicality of the change.
The fall of her hair and the contour of her makeup drew him in, but he stopped himself from going to her. Rogers knew how anxious she was, and he didn't want to add to it. Like her, he stepped out of the way of showrunners and crew still making adjustments around him, the voice of his opponent already out in the ring echoing along with the reactions of the crowd. Stepping up to the curtain, he retreated into himself, releasing the tension with each breath.
Unbidden, his mind allowed a moment from the last week to resurface, and he was hard-pressed to keep his expression stoic as he let himself relive it.
"Man, this feels like high school theatre all over again. I did say I only ever was a background actress, right?" Holly had groaned when Steve insisted on going over the lines and blockings just one more time. The wrestler he was to be facing off with at the first stop had already left for the night, the eastern European man crying off to get things settled at home before leaving the next day. However, just because the fellow needed to get things done didn't mean things were totally satisfactory to Steve, and so he wanted one more go before heading home.
Besides, who would want to go home to an empty apartment when there was a chance to spend a little more time with someone altogether more welcoming?
That little private thought remained locked in his mind, one of many that had been cropping up more and more lately the longer he was around Holly. Outwardly, he curled a corner of his mouth at her protestations.
"Welcome to the limelight, Holl," he murmured, shrugging his shoulders as she groaned again. The shortened form of her name slid past both of them as he gestured over the wide expanse of the practice ring. "You should enjoy your own product, I think."
She snorted audibly at that, crossing her arms over her chest. "I enjoy writing it. Acting is another thing."
Steve tipped his head to the left. "At least you're not trying to execute a DDT right after delivering a speech."
That got her to giggle, her hand coming up briefly to try and hide her smile.
"True," she remarked, dropping her fingers. Going to her starting point, Steve was about to improvise for his opponent, when she cleared her throat. Catching his attention, she bit her lip for a moment before eventually asking, "How do you do it?"
After the quirk of confusion came to his face, she was quick to clarify what she meant.
"Have that, that confidence to just go out there and say all this." She looked away, off into the distance, as if she could peer into the future and see all the people who would come to the next televised match. Her shoulders hunched briefly, and she muttered, "I mean, I'm starting to feel a little bad for making you put up with my writing until now."
The self-deprecation was not lost on him in the slightest, but he did not address it. Rather, he considered his answer, keeping his tone even as he spoke.
"I wasn't, at first. I had to practice a lot. Once you've done it a few times, especially in front of others, it's not so bad." When she looked back at him, the seriousness of his countenance softened slightly. "Also, are you familiar with the phrase, 'Fake it 'til you make it?'"
"Very familiar," she said, a ghost of grin coming to her lips before it slid back into worry. Her hands started tucking into the ends of her sweatshirt sleeves, a nervous tic of hers he'd picked up on awhile ago. Taking another deep breath, she sighed, "This is still very nerve-wracking."
He went to her then, palm splaying between her shoulder blades, relishing the barest resting of her weight against it before he patted gently.
"You can do this," the blond man said, a final gentle pat given before he stepped back. "Let's try it again."
Pulled back into the present moment by motion to his right, he looked down as Holly stood beside him. Her eyes were closed tighter, her fists balled, and he caught the bare whisper being repeated on her lips.
"You can do this, you can do this, you can—"
Unable to stop himself, Steve reached out, taking her hand in his. Her mantra was cut short, and her eyes snapped open. She looked up at him, dark eyes wide and an obvious blush coming into her face. His gaze did not waver from hers, and he squeezed her hand gently.
"You can," he murmured, the encouragement in his tone heard despite the swell of walk-up music blaring at that moment. Holly took in a deep breath then, nodding and squeezing his hand in return before dropping it. As one, they faced forward, letting the tune play for a moment before heading out. As per the blocking, she was one step behind him, following out through the curtain.
The roar of the crowd rose up along with the music, all at once thrilling and intimidating. Holly, however, kept her focus on Steve, spine stiff and face as blank as possible. The quake in her soul had to be hidden, and she fought it down as they moved down the ramp to the brightly lit epicenter of the newest trouble in the world of wrestling.
The opponent in the ring was an old standby, Baron Zemo. He'd been part of the HYDRA stable from fifteen years ago, a character that was relied on for his cunning and duplicitous nature. However, he was not as overt as Loki was. His storylines often were intertwined with many others, with him seemingly pulling strings in the MWE universe that would otherwise be overlooked. The conspiracy theories about the character permeated outward into the online forums, with some speculating that it would be retconned one day that he was the true mastermind of HYDRA, and not the Red Skull. However, that was a line Zemo would not cross; he and Johann Schmidt had been friends for decades, and he had personally gone out of his way to refuse taking away from the line that Johann had created years ago.
There was an integrity there that Holly could admire, even for someone cast as a heel indefinitely, one that few other people really had.
His appearance was unassuming as well: combed brown hair, wire rimmed glasses, and a suit on in place of ring gear. As ever, looks were deceiving, and he liked it that way. It belied how viciously he was taking the MWE to task, berating Captain America for his months away and the belt he had won being practically given to him by a lesser wrestler. It should have come from him, and he would have made the other man fight even harder for it. As it was, he would settle for a title shot himself. Thus, the arrival of the captain to answer that demand.
Chants and choruses of Steve's moniker hit them as he mounted the corner steps, with him walking along the edge of the ring, chin raised and stoicism on his face. He kept his gaze locked on Zemo for a few second before gesturing for Holly to come up. Thankful that she was not trapped in the skirt her outfit first had, she moved lithely up the stairs, climbing between the ropes as her "client" opened them for her. He followed straight after, gesturing for one of the crew standing off to the side to hand him a microphone. More murmurs coursed through the people, and those just on the other side of the barriers were distinct in their questioning of who she was. Per her notes, she stood off to one side, affixing a mask of serenity as best she could. Given how closely her emotions often were to the surface, that was taking some effort, but when she chanced a glance upward at the jumbotron displays, she could see she was doing well enough.
The majority of the promo was to be a back and forth between the two men, and with her silent presence reasserted with her own slow pacing behind Steve. Her gaze was volleying back forth between them as they addressed one another, and she stood waiting for her cue.
Soon enough, it came, her heart leaping into her throat as the baron shifted his scrutiny onto Holly.
"Looks like you have a new recruit here, Captain," he chuckled into his own microphone, condescension in the tone. She blinked at him, and he swept an arm up, drawing in the crowd as he did so. "We all saw you come out at Midsummer's Eve, with your own little display. Who are you?"
Taking a step forward, she inhaled to steady her nerves as Rogers tipped a hand in her direction.
"Zemo, allow me to introduce Miss Holly Martin."
Discreetly, a crew member had given her a microphone just before Zemo brought her into the conversation. The action, by design, was overlooked by the majority of the crowd, and Holly had to hand it to them for making the hand-off as seamless as it was. Raising it to her lips, she took in a deep breath before speaking.
"I'm the new manager for Captain America."
The announcement caused another wave of murmurs, those behind her exclaiming about her title and connection to the wrestling superstar. There were not a few catcalls, either, and she had force herself to not respond in any capacity to those. Instead, she watched as the opponent in the ring raised an eyebrow at the proclamation.
"Manager? Are you serious?" Zemo scoffed aloud, scorn decorating his features when he looked back to the captain. Raising his voice and dropping some of the modulation, he remarked, "I truly thought you were above all that. I believed you didn't want to get anybody else involved with your issues, Rogers. Which, as we all know, are numerous. Then this girl comes up and you just let her in? Was it too hard to get yourself out of trouble, huh?"
The look on Steve's face was growing darker with each word, another physical cue for her to respond to. Holly's hand cut between them, asserting her position in the conversation again. Raising her mic back up, she stared at Zemo directly.
"Excuse me, I can speak for myself. First of all, I was not just let in. I was hired by my client to do a job, and I was not about to let him get squashed in the ring because of a bogus open call." The collective crowd's boos cut in, and she paused, waiting for them to subside before continuing, "We all need help sometimes, don't we?"
She glanced up at Steve then, the two sharing a fast look before she tossed her hair dramatically. People behind her hooted a little at it, but she was so intent on her work, she ignored them. Discreetly, she tapped two fingers to her temple, playing it off as brushing back the loose strands, and Steve let out a silent sigh of relief for her. Confidence had started pushing out the fear, and she grasped onto that tightly as she continued.
"Secondly, my only goal is to get my client back on top and back in this ring to dominate as he always has." Another wave of cheers, and then she pressed in, "Kind of like how you never have, huh, Zemo?"
The hit landed, and the other wrestler's brow furrowed mightily.
"That's Baron Zemo to you, child," he said, pointing a finger at her. She raised her own brows at that.
"Respect and titles are not given, they are earned here, sir. Again, a concept you have never seemed to grasp." Warmed to the theme by then, she stepped back, arching an arm through the air and raising her own voice. "Captain Rogers has earned his accolades, he holds that belt, and you've been, what, out of the running for two years now? Must sting a bit."
The last was delivered with a faux look of pity, causing the other man's jaw to jut out in frustration. Time for the final blow, she told herself.
"Bet you wish you had someone helping you with your career, Zemo. Since you've driven yourself straight into the ground several times by now."
Off the people reacting in loud oohs, the man's scarlet face was growing even redder, and he took a couple steps towards her. Quickly, Captain America stepped between them, speaking over the words tumbling out of his opponent's mouth.
"I would suggest, Zemo, that you quit while you're ahead," the blond wrestler recommended, stopping him in his tracks. Off the glare, he shrugged and glanced back at Holly briefly. "My manager has the free rein to air her opinions, and I won't stop her."
The harsh look was levied at him again, and the baron snarled, "You're delusional."
"I just know better than to get in between a sniper and their target." Blue eye scanned over him, and the captain stated, "And you're starting to look a little bloody, there, pal."
The redness that overcome Zemo's face seemed to increase, but even as he glared the duo down, it was difficult to ignore the crowd reacting so strongly in Steve's favor.
Now a finger jabbed at the taller man, and the other wrestler growled, "This isn't over."
Steve cut him off, stepping into his space then and gesturing at his title belt. "For now, it is. You want a shot at this belt? Prove that you deserve one. Until then…"
To punctuate his point, the captain pointed to the ramp leading back to the locker rooms, away from the ring. Thoroughly dismissed, the baron adopted brief nonchalance as he turned his back to them. It was ruse, one that stood long enough for Holly and Steve to exchange a fast glance before the microphone was thrown aside and the other man turned to launch an attack. Steve's microphone likewise went flying as he began to trade blows with Zemo, the brawl pleasing the people all the way from front to back. The brunette woman dropped her mic as well, trying to step up and separate the men. As had been rehearsed, the men were careful to not accidentally hurt in the process, the professionalism of them both at play. Steve finally shoved Zemo to the side, jerking a knee into his gut and causing him to drop, and Holly shuffled back to the opposite side of the ring. She was breathing nearly as heavily they both were, her gaze ricocheting around the arena. Taking stock of the joy briefly, she locked eyes with Steve again. His lips moved, clearly asking if she was alright, but his voice was lost to the chants and cheers.
She nodded, giving her the chance to break focus and see Zemo start to rise up.
The final beat, the last cue, and she tensed up, bracing for it.
The glasses, knocked askew in the brawl, were pulled off, thrown aside as he pushed himself up. He slapped a hand against the mat, once twice, his indication he was about to finish off the bout. Jerking up, he roared aloud, bolting towards Rogers with an arm extended as if to do a clothesline. Knowing he was coming, though, Steve jerked out of the way at the last second, using the other man's forward momentum against him and pushing to launch him out of the ring. Holly, the last piece of the puzzle, gripped the top rope with both hands and pulled down, wrapping a leg around it almost in monkey-like fashion so that it was low enough for Zemo to clear it. Once again, the older man showed his experience and expertise of his craft, safely executing a roll as he dove towards the ground and making it look like he'd been knocked down for the count.
It seemed like nearly everyone was on their feet for that finale, though Holly knew better than to believe that to be the truth. Instead, she let it all wash over her as she let go of the rope, landing square on her bottom on the mat. A fast grin bloomed on her lips; the segment had gone well, if the cheers were anything to go by. The first promo she was ever personally involved in had happened with little incident, and she could not have been more pleased. The cameras, present as they always were, started to push in, bringing her back down to earth. Quickly, she ducked her head to hide the smile, cupping a palm over her mouth for a moment or two. In the corner of her eye, she noted movement, and a large palm with calloused fingers was held out in front of her. Captain America helped his manager back onto her feet, the man and woman sharing a quick glance over one another. Lost for a second in the whirling emotions inside her, Holly forced herself to look out to the crowd. Her hand slid down to Steve's wrist, gripping and hoisting his arm into the air in a victory display. His walk-up music blared to life, joining the ongoing chants of Cap, Cap, Cap!
They walked to all sides of the ring, performing the motion, giving Zemo enough time to do glaring and mugging to the camera before exiting. Soon enough, the pair were making their own departure, utilizing the steel steps once more. Fans leaned over the barricades, looking for high fives and to briefly touch their great American hero. Steve reciprocated some of the high fives (mostly for the few kids there with parents), while Holly stuck to nodding at those nearby. Some not-so-polite remarks were made about her person, and she found herself striding close to Steve, pressing a hand against his back as if she was getting him to hustle a little quicker. Given that he had heard some of the remarks, he had no problem with getting them both backstage.
Once through the curtain, the loose crowd of crew and other wrestlers were gathered there, some giving handshakes and back pats. The hero paused to speak with the villain, Zemo and Steve trading notes about the exchange to keep in mind for the continuation of the run. When he had the chance to get his bearings, the blond man realized that Holly had disappeared from the space. Concerned, he was quick to make his excuses and stat heading back in the direction of the dressing rooms, thinking that could be a starting point for a search.
He found her there, leaning against the door of her room and tilting her head back, staring almost blankly at the ceiling. Hearing his footsteps, her head snapped down, but when she noticed who it was, the blankness on her face melted into a wide, genuine grin. Unable to stop herself, she jogged to him, pushing herself onto her tiptoes and throwing her arms around his neck. Automatically, he wrapped her into an embrace, exuberance passing between them as he lifted her off her feet.
"We did it!" she crooned happily in his ear, the delight too obvious to ignore. He smiled at the air over her shoulder briefly before setting her back down. Releasing her hold on him, she fanned her face, blaming the lights for the overheating she felt then. It of course had nothing to do with Steve holding her, the slide of his arms as he let her go, no, not at all. She let out a fast breath, combing her fingers back through her hair. "Holy crap, I spoke in front of hundreds of people and didn't throw up."
The corner of Steve's mouth turned up at that. "Always a win, in my book."
She giggled in response, not caring that she sounded like a prepubescent schoolgirl in that instant. Extending her palm upward, she resolutely gave him a healthy high five when he raised his as well, fist pumping before excusing herself to get changed. The grin on his lips remained as he likewise went to his dressing room, something in him relaxing for the first time in hours.
Stark, thankfully, did not set up for the pair to engage in a press conference at the end of the evening's festivities. Holly was still too green to that portion of the industry to carry herself well in an interview, even with her manager persona. However, Steve was pulled aside to make some comments on the match, on the upcoming rivalry with Zemo, and his thoughts about being under management for the first time in years. He kept his responses brief, giving nothing away about the upcoming run or the management changes. Only that, for his part, he was looking forward to what the future held.
After showering in the provided facilities (with freezing cold water, of course; they couldn't all be winners), he changed into his street clothes, the night finally winding down as he grabbed his bags and headed to the buses. Stowing the larger ones into the undercarriage storage, he grabbed up his backpack and boarded. Several others were already there, Natasha and Yelena in close conference with Carol Danvers, newly arrived from the UAC brand, Bucky sprawled out on the bank of seats in front of them. A gaggle of writers were situated toward the back, and he could see Holly among them, a few of them teasing her even as they asked questions. The pair made eye contact, exchanging fast grins before Steve sat down near the front. A few more stragglers got on after him, and the fleet of buses began to pull out of the lot just after midnight. The city slipped away mile by mile, the tread of tires and the hum of the engine breaking through the ambient noise they were leaving behind.
The darkened atmosphere of the bus was broken by a few overhead lights illuminating the space. The few voices that were chattering at the beginning of the journey started to peter off, dropping one by one as road signs glinted back the reflected lighting of the head lamps. Steve, with a light turned on above him, was unable to fall asleep right away, and so he'd pulled out his sketchbook, mentally recalling some of the preferred moves of the night and scratching away at the paper with his pencil to recreate them there. Peering down at his work, he had not noticed the new presence beside him until it tapped on his shoulder. Jerking his head up, he felt vexation rise and fall as he saw who had interrupted him. It was Holly, who had also changed into more comfortable clothes. The oversized hoodie capped off leggings, high tops on her feet and a teal backpack strap on her shoulder. Her dark hair was gather back into a messy bun, strands of it framing her face. Tiredness edged along her face, but she clearly was not ready to sleep.
"Hey," she greeted him, the corners of her mouth turning up as he looked at her.
"Hey," he replied, tilting his head almost in question. She hooked a thumb toward the bank of seats she'd been in earlier, an apologetic cast to her features.
"Mind if I sit with you? I am a little wired, and a lot of the people around where I've been are sleeping now."
Blinking up at her, he cleared his throat and ducked his head almost bashfully.
"Yeah, sure, no problem." Remembering his bag, he snatched it up to move it. "Here."
Once he'd tucked his backpack under the seat in front of him, Holly sat down, a grateful smile on her lips. Before he even had the chance to put aside the sketchbook or say anything, she was talking. She started to gush about the night's events, how crazy it was to do the promo, and her own analysis of her performance. Steve finally put the papers away, listening to her and remarking on his own past experiences with promos when he first joined the company. Granted, it was in a far different capacity than now, but she seemed interested in his personal reflections on his early attempts. She mentioned her brother, a fan of the program to that day, and how proud he was of her, given his extensive texting of his own play-by-play of the show (he'd suggested she should've thrown a few punches herself, which she'd rolled her eyes at, but Steve got a chuckle out of it).
The pair sat shoulder to shoulder, inching down and reclining their seats enough to be comfortable. The rehash of the show turned into talk about being on the road in the past. After recalling how on one of his first tours he'd gotten to witness Bucky and Sam participate in a diner's eating contest while the bus they were one had to get a flat tire fixed, resulting in Sam almost passing out and Bucky being the proud owner of a cheap t-shirt after, Holly laughed quietly along with Steve, enjoying the deep chuckles coming out of him. Hearing his voice, hearing him laugh, she liked that. She liked it quite a lot.
It was a pity, she thought, that a query at the back of her mind forced itself forward and threatened to ruin that sweet camaraderie. A beat of silence passed, and she chewed her lip for a few moments before resolve overtook her.
"Hey, Steve, I, I wanted to ask you earlier, but…" she trailed off, turning her head to look at him. His eyebrow started to incline as he stared back at her, and she felt a flash of guilt lance through her as she thought about what she wanted to ask. Still, it was nagging at her, had been nagging at her since she'd heard it mentioned, and she couldn't let it sit any longer. Huffing out a breath, she said, "Look, this is gonna be awkward no matter what, so I'm just gonna spit it out. Who's Sharon?"
At once, the jovial light died in his eyes and he turned his head to look up at the roof of the bus. Kicking herself for being so damn nosy, she hastened to try and do some damage control.
"I'm sorry. It's just, Rumlow threw her name out there, and you were kind of…"
Steve scrubbed his hands over his face for a second or two before heaving out a sigh of his own.
"Yeah," he groaned, scratching at the corner of his jaw. Flicking a glance at her, it took him a moment to respond. "She's…my ex. You might have seen her in some of the old tapings, back when I first started."
Her brow screwed up in bemusement.
"I don't—oh, Agent 13, right?" Understanding dawned as the mental image aligned with the words. She had seen her in the old clips of Steve's start in the company. She was in a stable with Natasha and a few others, one that was called SHIELD. Blonde hair, an easy smile, and a deceptive strength that allowed her to dominate in the ring when she had the chance to shine. Dipping her chin, Holly stated, "I remember now. She went off to work for Hammer Wrestling or something, right?"
"She did," Steve confirmed, his lips thinning. It was coming out, little by little, but he would not stop it. Perhaps it would enlighten Holly as to why he had tried to talk Tony out of making he a manager in the first place. Maybe it would prevent something similar from happening again. Whatever the reason, he did not turn away from the topic when he so easily could have. "We came up at the same time, and when I got scouted, Ms. Potts saw an opportunity for her to come along as well. Got her foot in the door as a manager for me, did that for a year before going into the women's division on her own. We kept our relationship quiet. Neither of us wanted it to be storyline fodder."
"I see.," Holly murmured, looking away from him them. A twist in her gut hit her, moved up higher, but she pushed it aside. "And then she moved on."
Steve shrugged, fiddling the end of the armrest that was between their seats. "She had her career, I had mine, and long distance with our schedules broke down pretty quickly. She never really liked doing the manager thing, and to be fair, I didn't like it for her, either. It was a waste of her talent at that time, and it put a bad taste in her mouth about the company itself. That I don't agree with, even if some of the goings-on aren't the greatest. I have refused having a manager since then. The women here work hard to do the job, and I don't want to put any of them in the position of playing second fiddle to me."
Absorbing that information, Holly sniffed. "Well, I'm not a wrestler, so me being second fiddle wouldn't even apply."
Steve looked at her then, the thoughts crowding his mind so jumbled together that he could not articulate a single one. He couldn't say that he did not want Holly to think that she was so low to him that he didn't care about her standing, nor could he speak about how her hybrid role was uncharted territory for both, and therefore not something they could measure what she could become in it. How Sharon and Holly were two completely different women with different thought processes wherein their choices could not be compared to one another. How he did not want to make comparisons with her.
How he didn't want this role to change her, or make her run away from the job…from him.
Holly met his gaze, unflinching, though a slow blush crept over her cheeks. Unbeknownst to Steve, her thoughts were running in a similar vein. Things were shifting, changing again, her world taking on a new meaning. However, she swallowed, trying to still them outwardly.
As he had done earlier that evening, she took his hand in hers, squeezing it and pulling him out of his thoughts so he would hear her.
"I'm not going anywhere," she promised him, once again. Another squeeze of the palm, and she punctuated her point. "I will be seeing this through to the bitter end."
"I'm sorry for that," he nearly whispered.
"I'm not," she responded, holding his focus. Without realizing it, their fingers slid, interlocking and sitting atop the armrest as she maintained her stance. She meant it, he understood that, and he could do no more than incline his head to her acknowledging that truth. Man and woman turned, staring at the ceiling for a minute or two as they digested what had just happened, what had just shifted the ground beneath them.
Another change, gradual but growing...
"If it would make you feel any better," Holly suddenly piped up, cutting the quiet, "I could talk about the ex who did his damnedest to get me into motocross and then decided to cut his losses by dumping me and trying to go pro."
The absurdity of the subject change caught Steve out, and he could not help but chuckle at it.
"I don't know about that, but if he dumped you over that, he must have a screw loose," he replied, eyelids flicking shut as sleepiness started to invade his system.
"At least a few," she murmured, regaling him with that sordid tidbit of the past as she reached up and clicked off the overhead light. Darkness enfolded them, conversation dropping little by little as they fell into slumber, hands remaining entwined as they did so.
A/N: Apologies, again, for a late update. Being an adult with too much crap going on at times, yay. However, I did want to get this out before the holidays were fully upon us.
Time to move this buggy along...Holly and Steve experiencing new things together, so much fun...
As a reminder, I own nothing from the MCU, nor any pop culture references made in the text.
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one!