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Holland had always liked the smell of bars. Just everything about them- the underlying scent of cheap whiskey and beer, the puffs of smoke from strangers. God he missed the smell of cigarettes.
“What you so whiny for?”
His partner asked, raising an eyebrow as he raised the glass to his lips. They were waiting for a client of theirs to return from the bathroom.
Holland sometimes wondered what Jack smelled like. His mind went to iron, thanks to the blood they seemed to spend a lot of time around. Or maybe like daisies and clean laundry. He missed his sense of smell.
“March, fuck’s wrong with you?”
Holland realised he'd been staring at Healy for a good thirty seconds, and his eyes had suddenly started swimming with tears. What the fuck?! In his haste to wipe his eyes he nearly knocked over his glass in the Charlie Chaplin way he seemed to carry himself in, his lack of hand-eye coordination failing him very badly at times. Additionally, Healy’s tone had been a bit prickly for his taste. Normally he was able to keep his composure when the man was a bit colder towards him, and here he was, tearing up like a little kid that had just been told no to ice cream.
“Jesus heckin’ christ, I’ve seen you pound two boxes of beer and still safely drive a car. What you tearing up after a couple of cosmos for?”
Healy’s tone was half incredulous, half worried. Holland had been quiet for an unusually long time today. And over the last couple of months generally.
He was in a bit of a slump. Holland had managed to scrape together enough money for the down payment on the people to rebuild the house on their old plot, but it had been expensive. He’d had to cut a lot of corners. Weekly groceries and the bills for the rental wouldn’t be an issue, but it was a very tight pinch with any money to spare. Holly was anything but stupid- she’d stopped asking her father for money for things, and refused whenever he offered it. He loved his little girl and her attentiveness so dearly, but he wished he could provide better for her.
But the main problem was his testosterone supply. Holland March had been on hormones since 1963, a brief break when he’d been pregnant with Holly, but ever since he’d been very strict with his doses. The only time he ever remembers feeling this withdrawn was after Emma died- he’d stopped taking hormones for a couple of months due to depression, which if anything just made things worse. Emma and he had been trans-for-trans. Holland had gone to his then-boyfriend saying with tears that they needed to break up because he knew he was a man, only for the absolute joy of her turning around and saying she wanted to actually be a woman. His Emma had been so perfect. They’d packed everything up, cut contact with their unsupportive families and moved to LA to start a new life as Mr and Mrs March. That was actually the origin of their last name- they’d moved to LA in March of ‘63, and neither of them wanted their family names anymore. So March it was.
“Do you need a ride home?”
He snapped back to reality. He looked at Healy- poor, worried Healy- March had been sat here weeping like a war widow for the best part of five minutes now and he hadn’t said a word to him in the entirety.
“Have you been- spiked or something? Do you need me to take you to the hos-”
“No!”
March finally spoke, seeming to have shocked himself just as much as Healy. March now realised part of the reason he’d been half contorted over the bar was due to the intense stabbing pain in his gut.
Hormone withdrawal symptoms of someone who has been taking testosterone for nearly fifteen years and then stopping for a few months normally contain; crying, some more crying, some toomfoolery and fuckassery, and most importantly, enough blood to fill up the hoover dam, if you filled up a dam, whatever the fuck dams were, it’s a lot of fucking blood to be coming out of a middle aged man.
March tried to take a step, missed his foot?, whatever happened he was now on the very unclean bar floor getting funny looks from the patrons. Healy slapped a 20 dollar bill on the bar, asking the barman to explain to tell the guy who returned why they had to rush off- before lifting March up and hoisting his arm over his shoulder, supporting the man out to his car.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No, Healy, I’m- fine! Just in pain. It’ll go.”
“Pain? Pain where? Pain why?”
Holland groaned again
“Stomach ache. I think I ate some funny fish or something.”
Healy looked at him suspiciously, but March looked back with pleading eyes that he couldn’t poke further at. The older man rolled his eyes.
“Okay. I’m driving you home though.”
He walked around to the driver’s seat, and March went to the passenger. He let out a gasp of pain as he sat down, waving dismissively as he gripped his thighs through his.
Cream coloured trousers.
Fuck.
“Healy, can we stop by the drug store?”
“What, for painkillers?”
“Uhm,”
March shrugged.
“Yeah. And some other stuff. Holly needs stuff. You know how girls need stuff when they’re-”
“-I’ve heard enough,”
Healy warned as he pulled out onto the road, and March did something that he was normally very much not good at, but right now was shining at: shutting his goddamn trap.
The car ride progressed in a stony silence. The air was full of confused and nervous energy. March was bouncing his foot, clenching his insides so much to stop blood from gushing out all over his nice white suit that he might throw it up. Meanwhile Healy knew his partner. He could tell that something was very much not good with him, and he’d been acting funny for a while. He was starting to get his general suspicions about it. He knew that March was hiding something, he just didn’t know what. He was a squirelly man at times- incredibly stubborn, but he knew it wasn’t anything bad. Probably. March was surprisingly good at being in the horrendously wrong place at the REALLY wrong time, so who knew.
As they pulled up to the drug store, March made a very aggressive work of shoving off his cream blazer. He intended to tie it around his waist and clench for dear life- what was he gonna do, ask Healy to spot him for bloodstains on his crotch?
“I-I’ll only be a minute.”
Is something he said ten minutes ago. He was standing in the uncomfortably named feminine hygiene aisle of the relatively empty drugstore, his eyes scanning the products as he made up his mind on the best ways to handle this. He’d already grabbed a new hot water bottle, enough painkillers to make a drug dealer sweat and a very sad amount of chocolate and popcorn. Salted.
Now was the part where he needed to figure out what the fuck was the best move for him.
Pads were more comfortable, but would be more obvious with his ridiculously tight pants. Maybe he’d just wear leather all week, or take the whole week off. A period cup was something he’d never used. Tampons were… maybe a good option. He’d never liked shoving them up his-
“March!”
Healy’s voice made the man spin on his heel, seeing the concerned older gentleman walk towards him.
“Healy I told you to wait in the car!”
He said, in an obscenely loud whisper yell- no need to whisper, there was. No one else around. It was 11:32 pm on a Wednesday in a random drugstore.
“I was waitin’ in the car, for fifteen minutes!”
“...I’ve been here for fifteen minutes?”
March half mumbled and looked at his broken watch. Healy rolled his eyes.
“Look, are you gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on here or am I gonna have to break your arm again to get that information outta you?”
March went pink in the face. Jesus Christ, he was on his period not in some teenage freakfest movie! What was happening to him and why was he so reactive???
“I- just, uh-”
Healy rolled his eyes again. March felt a pit in his stomach, he didn’t have to tell him. He could just lie. He didn’t need to tell Healy shit, it wasn’t any of his business! But he watched as the wrinkles in Healy’s eyes shaped to concern, and something in his heart melted.
He’d liked this man for an unfortunate amount of time. Honestly? Ever since he’d been socked in the face the year before. And that was something. There was probably something there that needed a deep psychoanalysis but if March thought about it for too long his head would explode.
“..I’ll tell you back at my place.”
It was the first coherent thing he’d managed to say the whole evening, before picking up a couple of boxes of pads and walking to the checkout.
He got back into Healy’s car holding a plastic bag with his items in it, containing the chocolate he knew he’d be crying over later. His heart was beating out of his chest. This was it, be all and end all. What the fuck was he meant to tell him? He could say Holly was on her first period and he was worried and got sympathy pains. He could admit he was in heinous amounts of debt. He could say he had an ulcer.
Healy drove in silence, in understanding. March needed time to figure out what to say. His head was spinning faster than anything, and before he knew it, they were back at his crappy rental. He got out, walking to the door and opening it and Healy followed. He dropped the plastic bag on the counter, tossing his keys next to it as he dipped to the fridge to get a beer. When he’d closed it and turned around, Healy was stood with his hands on his hips and look of genuine concern.
“What’s goin’ on, March?”
Healy said it softly. Like he knew he was treading into dangerous territory. Holland let out a sigh. Well, this was it. The end of The Nice Guys. There was a very loud silence that rang before he spoke.
“...I’m on my period.”
Of course, this took more than a minute for Healy to process. He stayed silent, and March kept talking, just waiting to be slugged or something.
“..I had to stop taking testosterone 'cus it got too expensive with the rebuild. Barely had enough money left for food, forget illegal hormone shipments. My body does weird shit when I stop taking it. It’s not gonna reverse anything, but I still have everything left over from when I had Holly. So.”
There was a very full silence. March was rather frustrated with the lack of a reply, maybe Healy was just figuring out what the worst thing he could call him would be. He put his beer down on the counter with a bit more force than he’d intended.
“Look, can we just get this over with? Just punch me or something and le-”
“Woah, woah- punch you? March, I ain’t- I-I’m not gonna punch you,”
Healy took a step towards him, and Holland instinctively took a step back. Healy paused.
“I'm just… surprised. I never woulda guessed.”
“Yeah, well.”
March said hollowly.
“You learn something new every day.”
March found himself tearing up again. Why was he so fucking emotional? It was pathetic.
“..Why’d you tell me?”
Healy asked, and March looked up at him.
“What?”
“You coulda lied. Just said those were for Holly and I would've believed you.”
That was bullshit, and both of them knew it. But March knew that Healy wouldn’t have pressed. He was gentle in that way. So why did he tell him?
“Because,”
He started,
“It didn’t feel right to- to lie to you. We’re business partners, and-”
“Oh don’t give me that bullshit, March!”
Healy had a surprising amount of venom in his tone. It almost made the younger man flinch.
“I know you! For fuck’s sake, you couldv’e told me to mind my business and I wouldv’e! So why-”
March kissed him. Threw absolutely all caution to the wind, crossing the space between them in two strides and kissing him. Healy was frozen. He stepped back, two, awful seconds where he knew it was all over- before he was yanked back into a rougher embrace. Healy had kissed him. He’d dragged him back to kiss him again. What the fuck was going on? What in the name of ANY GOD was going on?! Healy’s hands had found Holland’s waist, the blonde man wrapping his hands around his neck and planting a hand in his hair and pulling it slightly. When they broke away, they were both a little out of breath. Holland looked straight at Healy, the other man was half-smiling. Holland hadn’t realised the tears that had welled in his eyes had fallen during the kiss.
“How long have you been thinkin’ about that?”
Healy said, and Holland bit his lip, looking away.
“Since the broken arm.”
Healy laughed. Holland rested his head on the man’s shoulder and they quickly embraced.
“..I told you, cus,”
He managed to get out, trying desperately to string the words together in a way that made sense.
“Cus.. you’ve been so good to me and Holly. And it felt wrong to keep- something like this from someone who…”
He trailed off, and pulled away. Healy nodded a bit, and Holland just felt himself break.
Jackson pulled him into a close hug, holding him as he sobbed about everything. Just everything. His overwhelm, his stress, his shitty self reflections, how much of a bad father he was for making Holly deal with an emotional wreck of a dad and a half built house, for not being dependable or consistent, for being in love with a man who actually maybe might love him back, the fact that they were out of peanut butter, and for the fact that he missed his stupid testosterone shots. There was a lot more aired out in that time, but his broken, ugly sobs eventually subsided into hiccups and sniffles. The whole time, Healy had rubbed his back and just… held him. It was really, really nice. He pulled away.
“I should, uh,”
He said, looking anywhere but Healy’s face.
“I need to- deal with. Before- stains. Light colours.”
“Oh. Oh- yeah, of course. I should get going–”
Healy had started to back away from the kitchen’s island, when March quickly went to grab his hand.
“Wait! Wait,”
He said, finally making eye contact with him. He gulped.
“You- stay. I-I mean- you can stay. If you want. You’ve had. Drinks.”
Smooth, dingus. Healy chuckled.
“Alright- yeah, I can stay.”
“In my room.”
March said, way too quickly. Healy looked a bit taken aback, but March just really wanted to be held.
“..that’s fine by me.”
Holland smiled. Healy just understood him. He didn’t even need to say anything. He kissed Healy again; lightly and softly. Unlike anything either of them were used to. But they probably needed it. They were always moving incredibly quickly, it was nice to take things slow for once.
–
Holland spent the best part of half an hour dealing with his. Problem. He thanked the linen gods that his suit had remained spotless, tossing it in the laundry basket and having a very quick shower, washing away all of the blood he could (tempted to reach up in there and perform a home hysterectomy while he was at it), got clean and cry and was for the first time that whole day, comfortable. He’d slapped a pad into his briefs and taken one more than the recommended painkiller amount, how scandalous.
He walked out of the bathroom connected to his room to find Healy on his bed, in a black undershirt tank top and briefs, with his glasses on, doing a crossword.
He loved his old ass man.
March clambered into his side of the bed, groaning and leaning against the headboard.
“You ever wonder what hurts more,”
Healy said, making March look over.
“Cramps or gettin’ kicked in the balls?”
Holland gave him a deadpan look, and Healy laughed.
“I’m just- I’m just messin’ with you. Here, I got this.”
He picked up the hot water bottle from the nightstand, Holland’s eyes practically lighting up as he saw the thing, immediately lying down and holding it against his lower stomach with a groan. Healy chuckled and laid down too. They both just kind of naturally melted into eachother- March curled up holding the hot water bottle, his head against Healy’s chest, and Healy wrapped his arms around the other, holding him close.
“I gotta ask,”
March said, his voice a little sleepy as he got comfortable.
“What are you?”
“Hm?”
“Like… do you like men? Women? Everyone? I know you had a wife.”
Healy paused to think.
“I dunno,”
He said, with a sigh.
“I just like who I like. Sometimes it’s women, sometimes it’s men. But it’s been you for quite a while.”
Something warmed in March’s chest.
“Thanks for not… freaking out about this.”
He could feel Jackson’s lips turn up into a smile as they were pressed against his head.
“Well, when you love someone, no matter what you-”
“You love me?”
Holland said, looking up at Jackson with misty eyes. Healy went a bit red, trying to reel himself in a bit.
“Well- I just- what I meant by that was-”
March shut him up with a kiss. Healy very willingly kissed back, his hands moving to pull him closer. When Holland pulled away, he looked up at Healy with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever.
“I love you too.”
–
Holly arrived back from her sleepover at 10 am, surprised to not hear anyone moving around the house. Normally her dad and Mr. Healy would be at their kitchen table arguing about case details by now- maybe they’d gone out?
She walked by her dad’s room, quietly creaking open the door to see her father and Healy tangled together in a hug, both sound asleep, a slight snore coming from who she was sure was Holland. She smiled, very quietly closing the door behind her as she walked back to the kitchen.
She was looking forward to having two dads.