Chapter Text
Summertime means that Holden sweats profusely and his face, usually so composed with a natural cool, is shiny and sports a darker shade of pink all through the day.
He will wear his plain white cotton undershirt beneath his short sleeved button-down which, by midday, will be drenched in sweat beneath his armpits and all through his back. God forbid him undoing the first button of the shirt or losing the suit jacket, Bill ponders as he takes a sip of his cold beer after a long day in Tucson, Arizona.
“Something wrong?” Holden inquires as he approaches Bill, removing his Manson-approved sunglasses.
“You, Holden. What are you still doing wearing all... that?” Bill answers, cigarette dangling from his lips as he waves his beer bottle up and down at him.
Holden glances at himself and raises an eyebrow bewildered by his partner's comment.
“Are my clothes bothering you, Bill?”
Bill scoffs and offers Holden a bottle shaking his head.
“I'm tired, and this fucking weather is not helping.”
“Thank you,” says Holden as he takes a sip of the cold brew. “It is quite hot. I take it the pool is not an option?”
“A pool was first on my list when I asked Sarah to book us our rooms here.”
“Well. Is it an option then?” Holden replies playing along with Bill's obvious sarcasm.
“NO, Holden,” Bill starts, raising his voice. “I have no fucking idea about a p … Ah. Smartass.” Bill snorts shaking his head noticing the smirk on Holden's mouth.
Holden enjoys the moment. He doesn't always get the chance to mess with Bill and get away with it. Some time ago,he made a mental note to only tease him on particular days. Days after an excellent interview or when they are on a good streak in whatever case they are assisting. He's becoming used to their friendly banter, and he considers it a personal success if he doesn't manage to piss off Bill.
After all the days, weeks, and months that amount for the time they have spent together at airports, diners, cars, planes, prisons, police precincts, Quantico, and crime scenes, Holden regards himself as a permanent student of Bill's character even if he knows when, how, and why Bill will get frustrated by something Holden says, does or doesn't do. For example, if he were to mention that incident in which he accidentally opened the bathroom door while Bill was coming out of the shower in that small shared room while they stayed at Chesapeake, Virginia, that would surely rile him up and the word fuck in all its different forms would last until the next day.
Despite all this carefully gathered knowledge of Bill, sometimes isn't enough, especially when Bill stares at him fixedly,and his demeanor changes, which throws Holden off balance. He doesn't know for sure what's going on in Bill's head when that happens, and that mystery is still unsolved in his never-ending study of his partner. Whenever he thinks he's close to having him all figured out, Bill surprises him again, which is one of the reasons why Holden can't picture himself working with anyone else in their unit. There might be other reasons that Holden is very much aware of. He has peaked into that bolted door and has not yet dared to open it again out of fear of what he might be letting loose.
The intense summer day becomes more bearable as the sun begins to set and a small breeze comes their way. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the city and crickets chirp in the distance on this warm evening.
Bill drinks another beer while Holden carefully arranges his suit jacket behind a chair of the balcony that joins their bedrooms. He stretches and arches his back and neck relaxingly, letting out a quiet moan that makes Bill crack an eye open and follow Holden's moves as he finally sits down, carefully undoing the knot of his tie so as not to leave creases on it. It feels like a ritual Bill has witnessed before. And, yet, 10 hours after they left their hotel rooms that morning, Holden looks as flawless as he did before their arduous day began. The tiny curls that form on his forehead wave gently with the breeze but still remain intact, and his spotless face doesn't show a sign of their long working hours, his pink wet lips even form a small satisfied smile. Bill doesn't expect words to come out of his mouth immediately after he realizes he is staring at his partner.
“I swear in all my life that I've been on duty, not even in the military, have I ever seen a man nor woman so …” Bill tries to find the words and keeps his eyes pierced in Holden's and finally says, “… neat and flawless after a day like this.”
A beat goes by. Holden turns towards Bill, and his lips part and gives him a familiar looking glare. Bill's eyes travel from Holden's wide opened eyes to his Adam's apple; it bobs as he swallows.
“I… Wha… I mean… I…” Holden, lost for words, stammers. He is suddenly self-conscious as the first day he entered Quantico or the first day with Bill during road school days. His hands feel huge and awkward, and the air is suddenly thick.
Bill raises an eyebrow and smiles at his flustered partner trying to form a sentence.
“Have I finally found the way to make Holden Ford shut up?” Bill snorts and smiles in triumph as he twists off the cap of another beer bottle and leans back against his chair relaxing again, mostly trying to keep himself from staring at Holden.
Holden suddenly feels the entire heat he endured during the day, all over his face. He doesn't want another drink,although he would certainly need one to push down the knot in his throat. Did Bill just… complimented him? He wasn't dreaming, and he only had the one beer so he's definitely not drunk. Is he having a heat stroke? He touches his head and face and feels the warm skin on his now sweaty hand.
Bill sneaks a glance with yet another smirk.
“Sun finally caught up with you, kid? You’re blushing.”
Against his better judgment, Bill keeps teasing him, and Holden feels the need to disappear at once into the spaces between the tiles of the balcony floor. Holden realizes he has yet to say something, but seconds go by or minutes, and he is not melting into the floor despite a compliment from Bill certainly made him feel like that. He decides the best move is to come up with an exit strategy.
“I… yes. I think I need to take a shower. So… yes. Goodnight, Bill.”
Bill raises his bottle with a grin on his face as Holden slips quickly into his room, only to come back 10 seconds later to sloppily grab his jacket that was left forgotten on the back of the chair.
“Forgot this. Night.”
“Goodnight, Holden.”