Chapter Text
When they get home, it's late enough that Holly is asleep when they sit in the kitchen. Healy presses one ice bag to his chest while Holland holds a bag of peas to his torso. He doesn't even know when they bought peas, they weren't gonna eat them anyways.
He leans his cheek against Jackson's uninjured shoulder, looking over at his face in the dim light they switched on only so that they didn't trip and fall. He meets his eyes and smiles softly.
Jack looks back at him with a new expression, it's something soft and open and he thinks that he could get used to seeing it more often.
“Hi.” Jackson squints at him.
“I’m really happy” he says with no precursor. Healy raises an eyebrow at him.
“You’re happy to be putting ice on my bruises at half past midnight?” He says dryly.
Holland scoffs at him but doesn’t move from his very comfortable position on Healy’s shoulder. “Yes of course, nothing makes me happier than thawed vegetables- no, I’m happy that I don’t have to pretend like I don’t want you to move in- wait, did I ask you to move in yet?”
“Not in so many words, no.”
”oh. Alright then-“ he interrupts himself with a yawn. “Sorry- Healy, darling light of my life, won’t you move in and make an honest man of me, hm?” He bats his eyelashes in the way he knows only makes Healy roll his eyes.
Healy does, in fact, roll his eyes. Then he leans over and presses a kiss to the skin of Holland’s brow, his next breath ruffling dirty blond hair.
“Pretty sure the only things still left in my apartment are a box of clothes I don’t wear anyways and my fish, so sure, I guess I can be persuaded.”
”really?” He does lift his head at that.
”Holland you really are one obvious son of a bitch, I can’t remember the last time I slept anywhere other than your guest bedroom. When Holly got the mail on Monday there was a letter for me specifically, even. It was junk mail, but still.”
”oh.” He blinks. He’s pretty sure he’s abso-fuckin-lutely exhausted from a long day of pining over Healy, trying not to kiss Healy, work, surprise work shootout, panic attack, actually kissing Healy, and whatever else they’d managed to get up to.
“Well, that was easy. Could you be convinced to come sleep in my room then?”
Jackson looks down at him, eyes searching his face for something. He doesn’t know what he finds, but he nods down at him, and then they’re staggering off to bed together.
Jackson gets his pajamas from the guest bedroom and he takes the chance to shove piles of clothes either in the closet or the laundry, he closes a dresser drawer he left half open and throws a pair of shoes beneath his bed. He ducks into his bathroom and snatches a towel off the floor and flings it into the hamper and rushes to change into his sleep clothes before Healy can make an appearance.
He’s just wrestled his striped pajama pants on when Healy knocks on his door, and he opens it a bit too fast, slightly breathless.
“Fancy seeing you here”
”you gonna let me in then?”
He’s suddenly just a tad nervous then, as they tuck into the covers and he turns off the lamp on his side of the bed. His body is just even so vaguely plagued with the tremble of nerves he recognizes as emotion with no outlet. He’s not quite sure what kind.
He curls on his side and faces Healy laying on his back. He turns his head to look at March though, and he feels pinned in place by Healy’s eyes even as he looks seconds away from falling asleep.
“What?” He grumbles at March’s continued staring.
“I dunno . . .” He says quietly into the dark.
“I think . . . I think I’m scared I’m gonna wake up and you won’t be here. Like this is all some dream- I’ve really bashed my head in on the job or, or fallen off the wagon”
Healy closes his eyes and reaches for him in the darkness, he lets him take his hand.
Jackson winds their fingers together and puts his hand back on his stomach where he’d been resting them.
“I’ll be here. Just, close your eyes and think about breakfast.”
”what?” That has Holland laughing quietly to himself.
“That’s what I do, when I can’t fall asleep. I think about waking up and having breakfast with you and Holly. Whether or not we eat pancakes or eggs and bacon, I just start planning it out the night before and then before you know it it’s morning.”
Now, Holland knows he has to be tired, because Healy just started telling him about how Holly and him sitting in the kitchen trying not to fall asleep into their cereal and coffee is what helps Jackson go to sleep at night, and his eyes are burning, heat building behind them as he tries not to actually fucking cry for god’s sakes.
He takes a deep breath, so carefully keeps himself from sniffing and pictures sitting between Healy and his daughter as they argue over toast and bacon. Holly started making him put cheese on her eggs lately, and it grosses him out. He tries to think about if they have any fruit, but remembers that Healy went to the store today so they probably do. Then he starts thinking about how fucking good having a cup of coffee is gonna be when he wakes up in the morning and then-
In between one blink and the next, he’s blinking soft sunlight out of his eyes. Healy is still laying in bed with him, hair messy and curling over his head in a way that makes him look younger, but just as handsome as always. The sun illuminates one yellowly-green bruise peeking out of the top of his undershirt.
It’s the prettiest sight Holland’s woken up to in a long time, and with startling clarity, he realizes how much he likes not waking up hungover.
~~~~~~~~~~~
They take their time stumbling out of bed, Healy almost immediately groaning about how he’s decently sore, and Holland rushes to grab him some Tylenol and tries not to feel guilty again.
It’s Saturday, so when the two of them end up waiting for coffee in the kitchen, he glances at the time and reasons Holly won’t be awake for a few more hours. She’s been sleeping like a true teenager more often than ever.
Healy sits sideways at the counter, one elbow propped up on it. It’s all too easy to lean into his space, standing between his legs. Holland rests his arms over his shoulders languidly. He’s still tired enough that he doesn’t do much else but stand there, drinking in Healy’s presence. He’s allowed to do that now, and it makes such a stark contrast to yesterday when he was ready to throw himself into the pool it makes his head spin.
When Jackson brings his one hand up to trace patterns against his hip, half asleep fingers worming their way beneath his shirt to press on soft skin- that also makes his head spin a little, but in a good way.
He leans forward and rests his chin on the top of Healy’s head and waits for the coffee to be done.
When it is, he makes Jackson a cup first, with plenty of sugar- and slides it across the counter top to him. He’s got his little word of the day booklet pulled in front of him and he pulls his glasses on to read it.
He pours his coffee and manages not to spill it even as he keeps glancing over at the stupid black frames perched on a crooked nose.
When he comes around the counter to sit next to the other man, he peaks over his shoulder at the calendar and is glad there’s no coffee in his mouth to spit out. Regardless, he claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle.
‘Enamored’ stares back up at them.
“Aren’t you gonna read it?” He barely keeps his voice level.
Healy doesn’t turn to look at him.
“Are you serious?”
”very’ he nods hard, a little too hard if he’s honest- blinking spots from his eyes. “You always read it, y’know it’s a terrible thing to disrupt one’s routine” he nods less aggressively again.
Healy sighs, and for a moment, he is pretty certain the older man isn’t actually going to read it aloud. Then he turns slightly to face March, one hand coming up to adjust his glasses. Holland suddenly feels like he’s fallen into a trap.
That’s because he has.
Healy leans over into his space, almost too close- Holland just barely keeps himself from squeaking for christ’s sake.
“Enamored” and Jesus if he wasn’t already gone on Healy he sure as fuck would be now as the man speaks, low and grumbling. He can almost feel it from where his side is pressed up against his shoulder.
“To feel a strong sense of love, admiration, or a deep fascination with someone or something” Healy’s voice takes on an amused edge, sudden light and teasing.
“The man was ‘Enamored’ with his partner’s glasses”
He’s shoving himself back around the counter quick as can be, feeling the bright red flush creeping up his neck.
“You are not supposed to use that against me!” He jabs a finger out at Healy from across the counter.
The man shrugs in response, completely unrepentant.
“I’ll let in you in on the fact that I’m enamored by your hair and call us even then”
He raises a hand to his bedraggled head, suddenly self conscious even though Jackson had just admitted to liking it.
“The fuck you mean, you like my hair?”
”you heard me” he takes a long drink from his coffee, meeting Holland’s eyes across from him.
He can’t think of anything to say in response, which would normally freak him out, but Healy’s been very good at rendering him speechless for a while now.
With nothing to say, he turns and starts digging in the fridge and pulls out the eggs. He’ll make Holly get her own disgusting shredded cheese.
He passes Jack the bread, and the man stands to reach over to the toaster, throwing a couple pieces in and sitting back down to wait. When they pop up, Holland’s already sliding him a plate to set the first round on and he tosses in another as March starts cracking eggs straight into the pan.
He and Healy have been in sync like this for a while, he thinks absently. Then he really thinks long and hard about doing this for the rest of his life; standing in the kitchen with Jackson, drinking coffee and trying not to burn breakfast and waiting for his-their daughter to pull herself out of bed before noon.
It makes something sweet and sticky curl up in his chest, like candy. It’s the kind of feeling he hasn’t really felt at all since before his wife died.
He thinks he could get used to feeling it again, smiling at Healy from across the counter.
Holly comes shambling through the kitchen with the kind of grumpiness only found in someone who stayed up past their bed time, because they do in fact still have one, even if she argues against it occasionally.
She pulls the gallon of milk from the fridge and pours herself a cup, when she puts the jug back, she pulls a bag of shredded cheese out that has Holland scrunching his nose at her.
She glances at him when he huffs, she squints back.
She keeps squinting at him, and he matches her beat for beat- if she wants to have a staring contest at ten am then he’s at least going to try to win it.
The phone rings then, and he jumps- flailing one arm out and nearly throwing the frying pan off the stove. Holly rolls her eyes, looks at him and then Healy, and makes her way over to the phone as the self appointed secretary of the Nice Guys detective agency.
When she answers the phone, it is with a decidedly not secretary-like voice or words.
“Healy-March Residence, if you’re calling for the Nice Guys detective agency, we are closed for the weekend. Please call back Monday.”
Holland turns to Jackson with a slack jawed expression. He’s faintly aware that his mouth is moving up and down but there are no words to accompany it. It seems the other man also heard her words, and is a bit pink in the face wherever he’s not faintly bruised.
She's silent for a moment before she slams the phone back into the cradle. When she comes back around the corner she’s attempting to brush her fingers through her hair with one hand, still holding her glass of milk in the other.
“Did you know that insurance sales people started calling on the weekends? Thats so stupid, I was waiting for my friend to call me”
Holland makes a high pitched noise but no words. Holly glares at him, stepping around him to get a plate.
“Dad stop burning the eggs- Healy what did you do to him?”
Healy hides a smile behind his cup as March turns and starts trying to turn off the stove and take the eggs out of the pan at the same time.
“Nothing he didn’t ask for” Healy says, not at all ashamed.
“Healy!” Holland shouts at the same time as Holly starts cackling, holding herself up on the cabinet. “And you!-" He turns on his daughter.
“What’s all this about ‘Healy-March’ residence!?”
”Well, Healy already lives here most of the time anyways, but I figured he was gonna do it uh-fficially officially over the weekend” she says as she spreads cheese on her eggs, the heathen.
Holland waves the spatula at her as she slumps into the chair next to Jackson, leaving him to stand alone across the countertop.
“And what makes you think that then? Hmm? Hmmm?"
She grins up at him like the cat that caught the canary, looking absolutely smug as she nods at him.
“You gotta a little something, right there”
And she taps at her pajama collar.
Jackson, in his defense, does look slightly mollified as Holland slaps a hand over the top of his tank top, after having been reminded so suddenly of the dark bruise Healy had bitten into him in the car last night.
“Oh My God!” He shrieks. Holly keeps laughing at him.
“Relax,” she rolls her eyes, “its not like that’s the first hickey I’ve seen.”
And that has Holland spiraling off on another tangent, suddenly trying to interrogate her on her school life and her friends and her friends' school lives. She gives as good as she gets, telling him off about he’s not going to remember their names anyway.
He’s pretty certain about five minutes in that she's just screwing with him, but he’s too caught up in the fact that his daughter is willingly bantering back and forth with him to really care about the subject or the winner of any and all debates or the fact that he’s starting to drink cold coffee and eat cold eggs. It’s all messy and chaotic and he loves it so much it might just kill him.
Especially the way Healy sits still as a statue, like their rock in a storm. He has very little input on his and Holly’s spat and he can’t seem to pick a side, instead riling up whoever he decides to pick on in the moment.
As it becomes clear he’s winning absolutely nothing, he leans over Holly in her chair and kisses Jackson with all the ridiculousness of someone proving a point. Holly gags and screeches from where he’s got her trapped underneath his arm. He can feel Healy smile against his lips and they both taste like coffee. Everything feels more like home than anything else in a long time, and he thinks to himself that if every day felt ever just a little like this moment he’d never need anything from a bottle or a bar again for the rest of his life.