the nice gays
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“Maybe ‘cause I’m a fuckup, and I’m- I’m a bad fucking detective, and a bad fucking dad, and a shitty person, okay, Healy? And-”
Healy’s hand was at his throat, now, just barely applying the faintest hint of pressure with his thumb pressed into his Adam's apple. March’s eyelashes fluttered.
Healy’s eyes were serious, genuine- “Jus’ start by being good for me, okay?”
Series
- Part 1 of the nice gays
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It was a stupid fucking idea. That had already been established beyond reasonable doubt. However, Healy was not entirely opposed to stupid ideas, and often encouraged them, even passively, just to see what happened. That's how he ended up here, wasn't it?
It seemed to happen in a blur. It wasn't like there was a discernible point in which he could've thrown up his hands in disgust, or exhaustion, or- or-
“Y'like?” March was leaned up against the orange wood of his bathroom door frame, the pale backlight lighting him up like a star. “Is it convincing, at least?”
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Holland March taps into his feminine side for a case. Jackson Healy, despite himself, also really wants to tap into March's feminine side.
Series
- Part 2 of the nice gays
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The exit March had his gleaming eye on was two lanes over, and far too close to be reasonable in any world. If they were pushing 70, like they were supposed to be, it would have already been in the rearview.
Healy blinked down at him.
“You want me to cross two lanes of standstill traffic halfway through a job to-” Healy saw the car in front of him lurch forward a few inches, and let his voice drop. “To get you a snow cone?”
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Jackson Healy is a very accomodating man, but like any man, he had his limits. Well, he liked to think of himself that way, anyways.
Series
- Part 3 of the nice gays