Work Text:
10:04 a.m.
Holtzmann didn’t show up to work yesterday. Or the day before.
Her responses to Erin’s concerned text messages were short, courteous, and devoid of emojis - all contrary to the usual long-winded bursts of excitement Erin had grown used to.
Erin sat at her desk, sipping coffee slowly in an attempt to hide her anxiousness. She was being silly, she knew that. Holtz was probably just using the days off to take Crumbs (her recently-rescued cat) to the indoor cat playground she was always talking about. Or she’d come waltzing in, 3 hours late, with a bag of breadcrumbs, claiming to have been held up by a city-wide duck parade.
“Holtzy here yet?” Patty asked, coming up to Erin’s desk with a grin and her own mug of coffee. “I need her to check on something for me. I think Kevin might have gotten into one of the machines yesterda-”
“Holtzmann isn’t here.” It came out harsher than she intended, and Patty’s cheerful look quickly disappeared for a more somber one.
“Hey, Erin, you alright?” Patty’s voice was soft as she set down her mug on Erin’s desk.
“It’s… did she call you this morning?”
“No, I thought she talked to you. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were so concerned.”
“It’s just weird, I mean - Holtz loves her work. She won’t even take a day off when she’s sick. I don’t know what’s happened.”
Patty’s arm came to rest on Erin’s shoulder. “Do you want to go visit her? See what’s up? Abby and I can hold down the fort for a few more hours today.”
“I… I guess I’ll try calling her first.” Erin’s mouth curved up in an attempt at a smile. “Thanks, Patty.”
“No problem. You know I love y’all.”
Erin pressed her lips together, trying not to think about what Patty’s comment meant as she opened her phone and pressed Holtz’s contact.
She smiled as her contact picture appeared on the screen - it was a picture Abby took, after a particularly rowdy Friday night at the HQ. Holtz and Erin were laying on the couch next to each other, each holding a beer. Holtz’s hair stood on end, like a beautiful blonde bird’s nest, and she struck a vogue-like pose with a messy grin on her face. Erin had her hand up in an attempt to get her stolen phone back, mid-laugh. She ended up loving the picture so much she kept it as her lockscreen for a few weeks, until Abby started making fun of her. Now it was Holtzmann’s contact picture.
The phone rang for a while, until Erin heard the all-too-familiar beep and voicemail message. It’s HOLTZMANN, baby - the dialogue pauses, and the sound of dishes (or something) smashing is audible in the background - OH SHIT! goddamnit. IGOTTAGOLEAVEAMESSAGEBYE
The message usually makes Erin smile, but today she is too concerned. Her phone beeps, and she clears her throat.
“Holtz? Um. It’s Erin. Can you uh, call me back when you get this? I just wanted to… check in. Yeah. Call me back. Bye.”
She sets her phone down on her desk, feeling even more defeated than before. She picks up a pen and tries to do something useful - for the first time all day - but sets it back down just as quickly.
Her phone lights up, and Erin jumps, swiping to open the notification. It’s from Holtz.
holtzmann [10:32 am]: hey eeeerin
she’s alive!!!!
Erin types back quickly.
erin gilbert [10:33 am]: Holtz! You’re alive!
holtzmann [10:33 am]: im just chillin
erin gilbert [10:33 am]: You alright?
The little dots in the corner of the screen pop up as Holtz types a reply back, and then disappear. A few minutes later, they’re back, and disappear just as quickly
erin gilbert [10:37 am]: Are you at home?
holtzmann [10:39 am]: mhm
erin gilbert [10:40 am]: Hey, I’m thinking of leaving work early. Do you want me to come over and bring you a coffee or something?
Erin’s heart races as she anxiously awaits Holtz’s reply. Was that weird of her? Was she overstepping her boundaries as a coworker/friend/who-knows-what-else?
The tiny dots are back.
holtzmann [10:41 am]: could you get me a gingerbread latte
erin gilbert [10:41 am]: Yes! I’ll be right over
holtzmann [10:42 am]: thank you erin
The curtness of Holtz’s text messages is somewhat alarming, but Erin tries to shake it off. She grabs her keys and puts on her coat, waving goodbye to Patty and Abby, who are bent over the computer watching some sort of ghost video.
“Say hi to Holtzy for us,” Patty calls.
Was that a wink?
---
11:20 a.m.
Thirty minutes later, Erin arrives at Holtz’s apartment building, cursing Manhattan traffic. She carries a steaming cup of coffee inside, ringing the buzzer marked J. Holtzmann.
“It’s Er-” Before she can even finish her sentence, Holtz buzzes her in, and she heads up the flight of stairs to her apartment.
She raises her hand to knock as she reaches Holtz’s apartment door, but it quickly swings open before she even gets the chance to prepare herself. Erin is beginning to sense a theme here.
She is greeted by a very ruffled-looking Holtzmann. She’s wearing an I Want To Believe cropped t-shirt and a big cardigan, sweatpants hanging low on her hips. Her blonde hair is falling out of her usual bun, unwashed curls messily framing her face. Erin feels her heart race at the sight - in a completely platonic way of course - and is overcome with an urge to tuck Holtz into bed, to take whatever it is that is making her feel like this away, to -
“Erin,” Holtz says, her eyes lighting up ever so slightly. “Thank you.”
Erin smiles, peering into the darkened apartment. 80s yacht rock is playing faintly from Holtz’s phone, and cereal boxes are strewn all over the kitchen table. Holtz’s famed plant collection is in various states of disarray - a watering can appears to have been tipped over and left there - and her couch is covered in blankets and pillows. Crumbs is lying on the table, half-asleep. An empty can of Pringles lies in the middle of it all.
“Holtzmann, are yo-”
“I… do you want to come in?” Holtz smiles. It is a kind of smile Erin has never seen before - softer, sadder, gentler than the normal brash and effervescent exterior of the scientist. It wells up a feeling inside of her that is unfamiliar - not quite pity, but an overwhelming sense of love and kindness towards the soft woman standing before her.
Erin nods, handing the tiny blonde her gingerbread latte. Holtz smiles warmly, clearly grateful.
“Here. Welcome to my depression cavern.” Holtz walks over to her blanket-covered couch, gesturing towards her laptop, which is open to the Netflix page for The X-Files.
“Are you… are you in the middle of season 3?”
“Season 3, episode 12: War of the Coprophages.” Holtz grins at her glowing laptop screen. “Scully looks so good in this one.”
“I thought you said you started re-watching it two days ago.”
“I did.”
“Oh, Holtz...” Erin sighs lovingly, taking a seat next to the blonde on the Blanket Sofa. Holtz is surprisingly warm, for the lack of heat in her apartment. It is mid-November and below 30 degrees outside.
“Did you turn on the heat at all?”
“No… I haven’t really moved from this one spot for a couple days.”
Erin sighs another “Oh, Holtz,” but gets up to turn on the heat. A low hum radiates through the studio apartment.
“There. That should be better for you now.” She sits down gingerly next to Holtz, who has resorted to laying on her back and staring at the ceiling (which is covered in an astronomically-correct map of glow-in-the-dark stars) for now.
“Holtz, I just wanted… I came by today to make sure you were okay. You know you can always tell me, or Patty, or Abby, any of us, you can tell us anything, you know that? I… I love you, I care about you a lot.” Erin turns to Holtz, whose gaze is intensely focused on the Pleiades.
The tiny scientist doesn’t say anything for a while - just stares at the stars - until Erin notices a tear slowly sliding down her cheek.
Everything within her begins to break.
“Holtz, I’m so sorry if I’ve -- if I’ve overstepped any boundaries by coming here today, I really am, I didn’t mean for you to-” She stops at the sight of Holtz swallowing, shaking her head, wiping away the tear.
“Erin. Erin Gilbert.” She sits up, inches closer to Erin, cross-legged and teary-eyed. “You… have been the most positive force in my life in a long time. Please don’t apologize for anything.”
Erin is taken aback, feeling her heart break and put itself back together again a million times over. Her hands reach out to clasp Holtzmann’s, lifting them to her mouth to kiss them, gently, hoping this small act will work to kiss and fix every single piece of her.
“I...depression is something I’ve always struggled with. Since I was little. And I don’t like telling anyone, because it becomes some sort of game of pity and I don’t like being pitied, I don’t like having people feel bad for me. I just -- when it happens, when I have an episode really bad like this, I take time off for myself and it seems to help some days, and other days it seems to make everything worse. But you, Erin Gilbert, you have made everything better just by… being here. So thank you.” She coughs loudly, breaking the sentiment. “Sorry.” A small smile creeps onto her face.
Erin says nothing for a while, just nods, holding Holtzmann’s hands in hers, intertwining their fingers together and separating them over and over again. She leans forward, placing a kiss on Holtz’s forehead, and everything is radiating warmth and light as they sit together in a mound of blankets, Scully’s face staring back at them from the computer screen.
“Do you want to… watch The X-Files with me?” Holtz asks, looking up at Erin.
“Jillian Holtzmann, I thought you’d never ask.”
---
They are thirty minutes into the episode, lying together on Blanket Couch, fingers still intertwined.
Erin can’t help but love the feeling of Holtz’s head on her chest. Holtz’s hair smells good, like vanilla and some sort of spice, Erin notes. Very Holtz-like. She hums a happy sigh, tracing patterns up and down Holtzmann’s arms. They are safe. They are warm. They are together.
They reach the end of the episode, and Erin looks down at the tiny blonde as the ending theme plays only to realize she has fallen asleep. Her eyelids are fluttering slightly, her breathing slow and rhythmic. Erin leans down to press a soft kiss on Holtz’s mop of curls. Sleepy girl.
Erin shuts the laptop, moving it off of the couch slowly, trying not to wake the sleepy scientist. And then -- shit -- Holtz’s phone slips out from under the blankets and crashes down onto the floor. Erin lifts it up, checking for any damage. As the screen glows, Erin surprised to note that the lockscreen is a picture of the two of them, the same picture she used for Holtz’s contact on her own phone. Something within her warms at this simple fact, knowing Holtz loves that picture just as much as she does.
“Erin?”
Shit.
A sleepy Holtz rolls over, rubbing her eyes. “Erin, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s okay! It was just your phone -- it fell off the couch.”
Holtz grins, reaching up to take her phone from Erin.
“I like your lockscreen, by the way.”
“Oh. Thanks. I look really good in that picture, so.” Holtz’s cheeks turn red.
“Mhm.” Erin bites back a smile, but doesn’t comment any more on it.
She watches as Holtz unlocks her phone, opening Farmville.
“Are you… are you playing Farmville right now?”
“Hey. Shush. I have six cows that I need to milk right now.”
“Six seems a little excessive,” Erin chides. “I would think three would be the cow limit.”
“Erin. My villagers need milk.” Holtz bites back a laugh.
“Alright. All I’m saying is it might be more cost-effecti--”
“Do you want to play for me, then, Ms. Gilbert?”
“Oh, I’m not really into that kind of thin--”
Holtzmann hands her phone to Erin, who stares, baffled, for several minutes, before hesitantly tapping on a chicken. It clucks.
“How do you do this? What the hel--” Holtz reaches back, guiding Erin’s hands toward the animated cow.
“Like this.” She gets the milk like - well, like a Farmville expert - and feeds her chickens.
“You really have this down, don’t you?” Erin watches in awe as Holtz’s fingers fly across the screen.
“I have a few years of experience under my belt. It’s become second nature.”
“A few -- years?”
Holtz whips her head around, staring Erin in the eyes. “It sounds like you have a problem with my... with my freetime habits,” she stammers, blushing.
“I don’t have a problem with your -- freetime habits-” Erin chokes over the word, bursting into laughter. “What the hell is a freetime habit, Holtz?”
“I… don’t know. I got nervous. I have a pretty girl laying with me on my couch and I don’t know what to do with her really, and I really don’t want her to leave, and I--”
Now Erin is the one blushing, and something comes over her and she can’t see straight suddenly and the only logical thing she can think of doing, the only reasonable action that might come out of this conversation, is kissing Holtzmann. And so she does.
Their mouths fit together instantaneously, and the first thing Erin is aware of is how soft Holtz’s lips are. They are so soft, FUCK they are so soft, and Erin’s hand is in the back of Holtz’s hair and tugging slightly at the curls at the nape of her neck, and then somehow Holtz sits on her phone and Kiss on My List by Hall & Oates starts playing from her yacht rock Spotify playlist for some ungodly reason, and both women dissolve into a fit of giggles, foreheads touching.
“I love you, Erin Gilbert.”
“I love you, Jillian Holtzmann.”
And that was that.