Work Text:
Holland shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and pushed brew on the coffee pot. He grabbed the half-full milk carton out of the fridge and set it on the counter, before reaching for a mug. He yawned widely, listening to the coffee burble.
It wasn’t until he had poured a cup, slowly letting the caffeine wake him up, that it occurred to him that he was now used to the coffee pot being ready to brew in the morning. He hadn’t set it up. Holly did sometimes, but as she inched into her teenhood those helpful moments of daughterhood grew less and less. Lately, she was always on the phone and extremely cagey about who was on the other end. Holland still needed to figure that out.
Holland took a sip of coffee and stuck his head into the hall to peer into the living room. The tousled, slightly graying (though he'd never admit it) head of his partner, Jackson Healy, was curled into the pillow on the couch. The pillow that had somehow become his over the last six months. For that matter, Healy also had a blanket, and a regular mug in the cupboard. There was also, come to think of it, spare socks and boxers in the drawer. A drawer in Holland’s dresser.
That was normal, right? It was just part of adjusting to working with a new partner. It had to be, right? It didn’t mean anything more than that.
Holland opened the fridge again and squinted at its contents. It was well stocked. Which again, shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. He admitted he’d gotten rusty at regularly getting groceries ever since his wife had died. It was so much easier to just order Chinese or a pizza. Holly had stepped up on that front, but she also tended to buy what she wanted, which led to a diet of cinnamon raisin bread and hot dogs and ice cream. It was still food. She was eating at least.
At this moment the fridge held the milk, a carton of eggs, a tub of yogurt, a six-pack of beer, and a couple of steaks. Also a carton of Yoo-hoo which had a label on it that said Jackson's, in Holly's handwriting. There were even some green things in a bag. Holland looked at them suspiciously and then glowered at Healy’s sleeping form. Vegetables. That monster had brought vegetables into his home. The audacity.
Audacity was a good word. It had been rolling around in his brain since Healy had used it in a case last week, and Holland knew it had been because of his calendar. A willingness to take bold risks .
Was that what Healy was doing? Taking a risk? Making significant inroads in their partnership? Was he somehow aware of something that should have been happening by now that Holland wasn’t?
Holland racked his brains. They were working cases together on the regular, their office was kept moderately neat, Holland only smoked on the roof, and not one of Healy’s fish had died since being relocated. That was a win in Holland's book.
Somewhere along the way it had just made more sense for Healy to sleep on the couch rather than drive all the way back to his own apartment, especially on nights when they had an early case in the morning. Holland was tired of him honking his horn at an obscenely early hour. Hence the pillow and blanket, etc etc.
If he thought about it, Holland was pretty sure there was a third toothbrush in the bathroom that Holly had dug out from somewhere.
“You guys smoke too much to not brush your teeth before sleep," had been her reasoning.
* * *
Holland rubbed at his jaw. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with any of this, but maybe that was the problem. Was he too easygoing, just letting his partner slide into his life and his home and…maybe it would make sense if Healy slept in the bedroom too. He’d be closer to both the drawer with his socks and boxers as well as the bathroom with his toothbrush. That was only good sense. Besides then they could discuss cases in bed until they fell asleep.
Holland blinked. That seemed a little intimate. At the same time, it would save, well, time. Did they need to do that? Since when was he was so concerned about efficiency? It had never really been a priority. After all he was able to bill more by the hour.
Priority: the fact or condition of being regarded or treated as more important.
On the other hand, Holland had always been good at prioritizing Holly and work. Those were the main things in his life now. But now when he thought about it…somewhere along the way Healy had become part of that. He picked up groceries so that Holly would have a balanced breakfast. He folded that blanket neatly along the back of the couch every morning. He’d picked up pizza the other night for Holly’s sleepover, and then he and Holland had spent the entire evening, drinking beer on the back stoop until the girls finally fell asleep. He set up the coffee pot for the next morning, even if he wasn’t going to be there.
Something about that gave Holland a warm feeling low in his belly. They had come a long way from that first morning when Healy had dislocated his shoulder as a warning. Despite all the bickering at the beginning, Healy was a good partner. They made good partners. Maybe they’d…
Healy stirred on the couch.
Holland downed the last gulp of his coffee and stuck his head into the hallway. “You up?”
“Coffee?” Healy rasped as he sat up. He cracked his neck with a yawn. Holland couldn't help noticing he had stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. Healy’s thighs were broad and tan and there was a slight paunch at his belly, pressed gently against his boxers. His hair stuck up and he had a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw.
Shaving cream, Holland thought distractedly. I need to pick up some shaving cream. At the moment he didn’t care though. Healy looked good with scruff. Healy looked good. Healy looked…at home.
He let that thought settle for now. Home: the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.
“Coffee. Yeah,” Holland said. “I’ll get your cup.”
He needed to stop reading Healy’s Word of the Day calendar. Maybe he’d get him a pocket dictionary for Christmas. He had a feeling Healy would be spending it with him and Holly. Maybe he'd get him another pair of boxers too.
Maybe he'd start with socks.