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Finding her father drunk at a party was nothing new to Holly.
The reasoning for said father’s drunken state, however, was of concern.
March was sitting awkwardly in front of the bar, a collection of empty glasses surrounding him-- adding another to the pile as he threw back the latest one. He was sobbing profusely, barely able to see through the tears, even after soaking them into his shirt sleeve repeatedly.
Holly raised an eyebrow, lips drawn into a thin line with concern. She pulled up beside him, taking a seat, resting a hand on his back.
“Dad,” she started, capturing the man’s attention. “What’s wrong?”
March swiped a bottle of vodka from the bartender, carressing it gently in his arms like a newborn. He was deep in thought, words going in one ear and out the other.
“Should I get Mister Healy, or--”
“I don’t wanna see him!” March declared, slurring his words. “He... broke my heart.”
Holly blinked. “What are you talking about?” She asked, exacerbated.
“He told me he’s married, Holly--” He gasped through a sob. “Married! It’s terrible, I can’t believe it-- I can’t handle the heartbreak.”
Holly put her face in her hands, sighing deeply. “Are you… being serious right now, dad?”
“Don’t make fun of me.” Holland pouted, sniffling pathetically. “You know how I feel about him.”
“Dad, please--” Holly could no longer suppress a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “You’re drunk, and clearly not thinking straight.”
“Not straight is right,” Holland grumbled to himself. “But don’t tell me how to grieve my broken heart-- this is grown-up stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Dad…” She tried again, pulling his hand from the bottle, and into his line of sight. Holland blinked rapidly, seeing a golden band upon his ring finger. “You’re married too, remember?”
That didn’t make any sense. Why was he wearing it? He’d never remove it from his necklace, nor dream of putting it on again since his wife had passed.
March grimaced. “Holly, about your mother--”
“You can’t take a hint, can you?” Holly rose to her feet in frustration, eyeing his forehead. “You got hit harder than I thought.”
Holland furrowed his brow. “What are you--”
“There you are, March,” Jackson said, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “You hiding from me?”
“Healy!” Holland nearly jumped out of his skin. “I, uh--”
Jackson interrupted him-- pulling the leaner man into his arms like one would a bride. Holland stammered, melting into the embrace as lips met his; a kiss that could only be described as soft and loving.
“Been lookin’ all over for you,” he mumbled against his lips, before pulling a face. “You reek of alcohol.”
March stared at him, wide eyed and flushed. “Healy, what are you doing?”
Placing his feet upon the ground, Jackson touched his head, causing March to wince in pain. He’d only now realised it was bandaged up-- and most certainly hurt like a bitch.
“That concussion got you good, huh, March?” Jackson caressed his face gently, wiping away a stray tear-- staring at him with care and concern. “You feeling okay?”
Holland blinked, staring at his daughter, receiving nothing more than a shrug in response. Jackson followed his gaze, coming to a realisation.
“Did he forget about me?” Healy sighed, pinching his brow. “Again?”
She nodded.
“I feel like I’m missing something important again,” March added, hands flailing by his sides.
“You’re crying over your husband being married… to you?” Jackson leant in a little closer, brushing a stray hair from March’s forehead. “I don’t know whether or not to be offended.”
Holly was failing to stifle laughter at the look of shock on her father’s face. March was completely lost for words, blushing like a teenager after their first kiss.
“If that’s the case… then I’d be happy to take you home right now and remind you of our honeymoon night,” Jackson purred beside him. “If that’s okay with you, March.”
Holland flushed, going completely ridgid. “O-oh?” He stammered, eyeing his daughter again who simply rolled her eyes.
“If you want me, I’ll be at Jessica’s,” she muttered through a smile, walking off before March could stop her.
“Would you look at that--” Jackson’s hand crept around his side, resting on his hip. “Looks like we’ll have the place all to ourselves.”
“Yeah, it would seem that way…” Holland swallowed thickly. “Any ideas of how to entertain ourselves in the meantime?”
“Yeah,” Jackson replied. “I can think of a few.”
Healy didn’t allow a reply, stealing the blonde’s lips without a further word. To March it felt distant, yet familiar-- and one thing he couldn’t deny-- is he wanted more.
“Home,” he nodded insistently, breathing through parted lips. “Now.”
Jackson laughed, relishing in the neediness of his husband. He could never deny Holland even if he tried.
“It would be my pleasure.”