Archive of Our Own

Erin rolls her shoulders in a futile attempt to stop the pain radiating between her shoulder blades. She’s been hunched over her work for too long, she muses morosely. Academia will always be one of her true loves, but she has yet to discover a comfortable position to complete her research and writing in. She’s even gone to such lengths as trying out dictation software--but nothing can keep up with the jargon she uses. The poor program did its best, but she ended up spending twice as much time reading her work and fixing its mistakes. Better to just do the work herself once.

Knowing that she’s saving time doesn’t make the hunching any easier on her back and neck. The only real cure is to do her work in short stints, but she, like every other member of the team, has the horrible tendency of getting lost in her work. She says she’ll work for an hour and then take a walk--but by the time she looks up again, five hours have transpired, and she figures she might as well continue working because the pain can’t get any worse. She tends to ignore that the pain can always get worse.

The only real thing that can rouse her from her work-induced pain coma is the rumbling of her stomach. When she’s hungry, she can’t focus, so it’s easier to tear herself away from the latest and greatest article published by Fermilab’s leading scientific team--which, if she’s being honest with herself, is a complete and total drag to read; they are wonderful scientists, but they’re not doing anything in the realms of paranormal activity. Still, she considers keeping up with the world of particle physics part of her duties as a doctoral degree holder.

She stands and heads toward the firehouse’s kitchenette. Halfway there, she spots a wallet on the ground, one that she’s never seen before. Abby carries a long wallet with a zipper along the side, and Patty’s is floral print. While she hasn’t seen Holtzmann’s before, she doesn’t think this very normal looking bi-fold leather wallet, elegantly stamped with the brand’s name in the corner, could possibly belong to their resident weirdo. She supposes one of Abby’s many boyfriends might have gotten a tour through the facility and dropped it on the way out.

She picks it up and flips it open to find the driver’s license or, barring that because not everybody in the great New York City bothers with driving, a credit card. She’ll accept anything that will help her find the wallet’s owner. Thankfully, there’s a driver’s license in the clear plastic center portion. Her eyes widen as she discovers the wallet does indeed belong to Holtzmann--Holtzmann, Jillian P., five foot three and a half inches, blue eyes, and… Erin stares at the next piece of information curiously.

Holtz’s birthday is the following day.

Closing the wallet, Erin heads to Holtz’s lab space. She knows Holtz is around because the DO NOT DISTURB sign Holtz stole from a nearby hotel is hanging from the knob. Ever since they started giving tours to interested locals, Holtz immediately established her space as deadman’s land, where nobody is allowed to set foot. Because her work tends to be irradiated and potentially explosive, the other ‘busters immediately agreed. When she isn’t at work, however, she takes the sign down and allows tours to peer inside in fascinated wonder at her mechanical monstrosities.

Erin pushes the door open, enters, and spots Holtz in the corner, her feet kicked up on a table and a pair of wire strippers in her hands. She’s staring rather fixedly at a diagram for what appears to be some sort of umbrella. Not allowing herself to get distracted by her curiosity, Erin crosses the room and waves a hand to get Holtz’s attention. She’s intensely pleased that as per usual, Holtz drops everything to listen to her. Nobody else in the world seems to care about what she has to say half as much as Holtzmann.

“You dropped your wallet.”

“Oh, shit. Thanks.” Holtz smiles and takes the wallet from Erin’s hands. Tucking it away, she directs her attention to Erin, expecting something else. Certainly, Erin hasn't walked away, which implies there's more to be said.

Suddenly unsure and unsure why she's unsure, Erin defaults to a safe topic. “It doesn't look like the sort of wallet you’d use…?”

“My nephew gave it to me a few years ago. He gets such a kick out of seeing me use it…” Holtz shrugs. She takes the wallet out once more and digs into the rows of rumpled one dollar bills. From within, she retrieves a picture of a scruffy looking redhead with a gap-toothed smile and a toy gun that looks like Holtzmann's handiwork.

“That’s really sweet of you.”

“In the grand scheme of things, using this is no big. I used something I made out of duct tape before. Definitely a step up, yeah? And it makes him happy."

Erin transfers her gaze to the umbrella. “What’s that?”

If Holtz detects anything off about her mood, she says nothing. Instead, her excitement piques at Erin’s question. “So, in like action movies, there’s cool weapons, like the gentleman with a sword in his cane, right? It helps them get weapons into places where they’d have a hard time of it. It got me thinking that we might need a proton gun hidden in the shape of something else if we have to go stealth. An umbrella.”

“What about the power pack?”

Holtz waves a hand flippantly. “Those are details for Future-Holtzmann.”

“Speaking of the future…”

“Yeah?”

“Well…” Erin sucks in a deep breath and plunges forward. “I, um, saw that your birthday is tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Holtz averts her gaze and studies her umbrella-gun design. Erin is fairly certain Holtz isn't actually thinking about the weapon, however.

This isn’t exactly the sort of reaction Erin had been hoping for. In her highly active imagination, she pictured Holtz blushing and proclaiming that she likes to keep it quiet. She’s a private person, after all, but she’d just love it if Erin would help her celebrate. The thought of spending so much time alone with Holtz makes Erin’s heart beat too fast, and she stumbles over her next few words.

“You should have told me.” She clears her throat at the end and tries to look like she knows she's in the right. Unfortunately, she doesn't know quite how that looks, so she just manages to look a little confused.

Holtz strips another few wires wordlessly, and Erin can't tell if the silence is a polite dismissal--if their conversation is over. Finally, just as Erin is about to walk away, Holtz sets her tool aside and tilts her head. “Why?”

“So I could get you something. Or spend time with you. Or…”

“You don’t have to get me anything, and we spend time together every day.”

“Birthdays are special,” Erin says, a hint of misery creeping into her voice. She remembers with painful clarity how much fun her peers seemed to have at their birthday parties. Her mother made sure the other children invited her to these gatherings, although none of the other children ever showed up for hers.

“Maybe for a lot of people, but not for me.”

“You don’t want to celebrate?”

“To be honest, I was just going to call in sick tomorrow.”

Erin is flabbergasted. She opens her mouth to respond, realizes she doesn’t have a counter argument, and snaps her teeth together once more. Holtz pats her arm in a comforting sort of way, and she warms at the touch. Holtz means so much to her, and she wants to pay a little bit of that back, if she can.

“Holtz, I--I want to do something with you. Please.”

“Look, Er, the thing is that something awful happens pretty much every year on my birthday. So, I’ve taken the Final Destination approach to my birthday.”

“The Final Destination approach.”

“Yeah. Death is inevitable, but this one chick escapes by just hiding out in a padded room for the rest of her life. I mean, she’s dumb enough to leave and eventually dies, but you get my point.”

“Nothing bad can happen if you lock yourself away?”

“A-yup.” Holtz picks her tools back up and draws the tip across her neck. “It’s the safest way.”

“Please.” Erin gets a surge of confidence and places her fingertips on Holtz’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll give you the best birthday of your life, if you let me.”

Holtz winks salaciously at her. “I’ll wear my best birthday suit, then.”

Cheeks burning, Erin smiles. “So, you’ll let me take you out?”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, Gilbert. You get away with murder.”

“I’ll pick you up at eleven tomorrow morning, then.” Erin’s smile softens into a more natural expression. “Thank you, Holtzmann.”

"Don't thank me, yet. My horrible, awful, no good, bad luck might get us both killed." 

The restaurant Erin chooses for lunch is boarded up when they arrive. Holtz loudly blames her birthday curse, but Erin will not--nay, cannot--let this be an abrupt end to Holtz’s birthday celebrations. Instead, they end up on a bench at a nearby park with hot dogs. She wanted to find a real restaurant, but Holtz raved about how much she just wanted a simple ‘dog, and Erin couldn’t refuse.

She watches Holtz break off a bit of her bun and toss it to the pigeons, all of which are anxious to get at their food. She guards her meal with a fierce glare that doesn’t do much of anything. Holtz noshes her meal down, with only a bit of relish leaking out and splattering her shirt, and leans back on the bench. She mops up the spilled condiment with a finger, which she sucks clean. Erin makes a strange, strained noise at the sight. Holtz looks at her curiously, but when Erin offers no excuse, she stretches and stands.

“Well, thanks for lunch, Erin. I really appreciate that you made my birthday special. I should get back to my room now.”

Erin grabs her elbow, desperate to make this better. “No, please. This was just the beginning.”

Holtz cocks an eyebrow. Her voice is uncertain when she asks: “There’s more?”

“There’s an activity, dinner, and a present.”

“You really don’t have to. We're definitely tempting fate each moment I'm outside and interacting with the world.”

"I'd like it. Unless… you’re having a bad time…?” Erin tries not to frown, but her traitorous lips dip down anyways.

Holtz grimaces. “No, of course not. You’re great, Er. This is really sweet of you. Fine, fine. We can do your activity, and then we'll see if we're up for dinner once that inevitably goes wrong. You have insurance, right?"

"What? Yes. Do you?"

"Just checking."

Holtz follows her through the park, grabbing her hand and swinging their arms together. Erin wonders if her palms are sweaty, if her palms being sweaty would bother Holtz, and just how long she'll get the honor of this intimate contact. Unfortunately, they reach their destination much too soon, and Erin breaks their contact to dig a twenty out of her purse. There’s a lovely pond in the middle, and Erin takes her to a small stand that rents out paddle boats. Holtz claps her hands with mad excitement at the prospect, birthday be damned, and Erin paddles them out into the sunshine. Holtz leans back and has to admit that it’s nice, for once in her life, to not feel like she has to do anything other than exist. Erin beams at her.

They drift about, talking about work and the ducks and the shapes in the clouds. Erin remarks that she’s glad this is going better than lunch did, and Holtz laughs.

“I’m telling you. Nothing goes right on my birthday. Watch, the boat is totally going to sink.”

“It will not.” Nevertheless, Erin checks quickly to make sure there are no holes. She laughs nervously when Holtz spots her doing so. “Care to explain what happened in previous years?”

“Hm. A few years ago, my car caught on fire. Hence why I don’t have a car anymore. Before that, I broke my wrist. There’ve been other injuries, too, and power outages, pets running away, and floods. Literally think of a horrible event, and it’ll have happened to me on my birthday. Yes, even the death of a grandparent.”

Erin’s eyes widen. “Have you ever thought of being more careful? I mean, obviously that wouldn’t help your grandparent, but--”

“Yes, Erin. I’m super careful when I don’t get out of bed on my birthday.” Holtz winks at her. “If you want, we could go back to my bed right now and make sure nothing bad goes wrong.”

As much as Erin wants to spend time in Holtz’s bed, whether Holtz is implying lazing about and talking or--Erin can't even think about the alternative without starting to sweat profusely again--she’s determined to break the curse, or rather, Holtz’s mis-perception of her birthday. She wishes someone had worked this hard to help her have a good day when she was younger, and she’s impassioned by the desire to give Holtz what she’s never had herself. She notes that Holtz’s cheeks are reddening, and it’s definitely not from embarrassment.

“Let’s go back in,” she decides. “You’re starting to get a bit of a sunburn.”

Holtz gingerly touches her cheeks and nods. “Yup, that sounds about right. Par for the course today.”

"I'm so sorry--"

"Don't apologize. It's all good in the 'hood. We were having fun, and that's what matters. It's just birthday bad luck."

As they paddle back in, Erin pauses and listens. From a distance, she hears the most intimidating noise she's ever had the displeasure of hearing; she turns her head and spots an angry swan, skating across the water chest first at their boat, scrawing loudly, and beating its wings. Erin realizes too little too late that they must be near its nest and young. She paddles until her thighs are burning, but the bird is fast and furious. Holtz howls with laughter as she covers her face and urges Erin to paddle faster before she gets her eyes gouged out. By the time they reach shore, Holtz is bright red, crying with mirth, and a bit scratched up. The man renting boats remarks that he’s never seen a swan get that angry at a paddle boat before, and Erin huffs and puffs as she thanks him for his input.

Holtz dries her tears, although she can’t quite stop laughing just yet. She clutches her sides as they walk and suggests they head back to her apartment. “Not permanently. We’ll still do dinner, if you're up for it. But I need to clean up a little.”

Dragging her feet, Erin can’t bring herself to argue. They end up in Holtz’s startlingly clean apartment, where Holtz leaves Erin in the living room with a promise that she’s just going to take a quick shower. Getting attacked by a bird really got her nerves jangling, she explains, and she’s super sweaty. 

Erin sits on the couch with her hands folded in her lap. Were this any other day, she'd give in to her urge to snoop about. There's a lot she doesn't know about Holtz--heck, she didn't know Holtz has a sibling or a nephew until talking about the wallet. Although she wants to know absolutely everything, because she's a scientist, not because she's in love, of course, she stays planted right where she sits. She thinks about what a miserable day she’s given Holtz so far and toys with the idea of leaving before Holtz gets out of the shower. All she’s doing is giving Holtz yet another bad birthday. She ought to have just let Holtz stay home all day as was her initial plan.

“You doing okay?” Holtz stands in the doorway, a towel around her chest and wet hair dangling around her face.

Erin watches a droplet of water dribble down into the crease between Holtz’s breasts. Breathing is incredibly difficult, even as she drags her attention up to Holtz’s face. “Uh, yes. I am--doing so well. Superbly.”

Holtz watches her closely but ultimately must determine that Erin isn't lying. “Well, good. Holler if you need anything.”

She disappears, and Erin leans back on the couch, hating how hard to control this crush is becoming. As much as she wants to stay, she doesn't want to either ruin Holtz's day further or accidentally out her feelings. Standing, she makes her way to Holtz’s bedroom. The door is open, so she peeks inside. Her face turns fire-engine red when Holtz turns around without a shirt or bra on.

“Yeah?”

Erin sputters wordlessly, her eyes drawn to Holtz’s breasts. They’re small and capped with delicate nipples that, even from this distance, look pointed and hard, as if they’re ready for her to roll them. A splash of vibrant color on Holtz’s rib cage suggests the presence of a tattoo, although Erin can’t be sure what it’s of.

“Erin?”

“I’m going to go.” Erin finally manages to collect her thoughts once more. “Home, I mean. I’m sorry I interrupted your day. I gave you yet another cursed birthday. I’m sorry.”

Holtz quickly pulls a shirt on and crosses the room before Erin can flee the scene. “It hasn’t been a bad birthday at all, actually.”

“The restaurant was closed, and you got sunburn, and that swan attacked you--”

“But I was with you,” Holtz replies, her voice a good deal quieter than it normally is. There's something serious and somber in Holtz's gaze when they make eye contact.

Unused to this timidity in her usually rambunctious friend, Erin swallows awkwardly. “Yeah?”

“How about we skip dinner and the present and just hang out here?” Holtz gestures back to her living room. “We can watch a few movies or something and order Chinese. That’d be the best birthday gift you could give me.”

The implication that she is enough to make Holtz’s day good makes Erin’s head feel light. She's never good enough--never truthful enough, never smart enough, never enough, period. And here Holtz stands, acting like her being sufficient is obvious. Her self-control wanes in the wake of this admission, and before she can think too hard, she grabs a handful of Holtz's shirt. She pulls Holtz in for a brief, chaste kiss. Holtz sinks against her, and when they part, Holtz stares at her unblinking for several moments. The intensity of the moment makes her want to apologize and run away--she wonders if she misinterpreted Holtz's constant flirting or--

“I stand corrected,” Holtz murmurs. “That right there is the best birthday gift you could give me.”