Summary: You’re a long-time friend of Holland March, but after a night out on the town together, you two finally realize your true feelings for each other.
˙⋆✮content warning: mature (but not explicit - no smut), swearing, mentions of alcohol, that's it i think! potentially a part 2 with smut?? if y'all want lol
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author's note: i wrote this today pretty quickly, not really proofread lol but lmk if y'all want a part 2! i'm thinking smut perhaps (rubs hands together evilly) ok love ya bye⭑.ᐟ
Your knuckles made light contact with the glass pane of Holland’s bedroom window.
tink, tink, tink.
You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes still adjusting to the dark as you scanned the cul-de-sac for any movement.
Suddenly, Holland’s handsome (albeit concerned) face appeared behind the glass, and he shakily pushed the window pane to the side, creating a gap to pull you through.
You hoisted yourself up onto the windowsill, definitely lacking grace, as Holland’s large hands gripped your waist and pulled you inside his bedroom.
“What the hell are you doing here? At-at this time of night?” Holland questioned, his hands resting low on his hips as he stood above you. His voice was in its usual high-pitch.
You couldn't help but grin at the sight of Holland looming above you, and you brushed off your clothes from where you knelt on his shag carpet.
“Oh, c'mon. Don’t scold me like I’m some kid, Holland.”
Holland scoffed at your sarcastic response, and he shook his head disapprovingly as he began pacing the length of his shabby bedroom.
“I don’t know what kind of self-respecting adult knocks on another adult’s window and sneaks in. I thought only kids did that.”
You rolled your eyes at the detective’s lame words.
“You fell through a glass floor at that party, like, two weeks ago.”
“How the fuck is that relevant right now? Plus, that shit definitely wasn’t up to code--”
Defiantly, you rise from the floor, your chin tilted upwards so as to meet the tall man’s blue eyes with your own.
“Don’t get all high-and-mighty with me, Holland. And I like the conscious choice to not refer to yourself as another self-respecting adult. Fitting.”
Holland sputtered, his brain almost short-circuiting at your response. You made his head spin. In a good way, you’d hope.
“You still haven't answered my fuckin’ question,” Holland spat. His eyes narrowed at you. You looked like you were dressed to go out tonight. You looked really good.
“Just wanted to say hi.” You shrugged, being too casual now. Holland was starting to see red.
“Just wanted to say hi?! You could’ve called, instead of just doing what you did.” Holland pointed at his bedroom window, to your hiding spot in his bushes.
“Where’s the fun in that? Plus, I didn’t wanna wake Holly up by calling this late.”
Holland gestured with his hands, dismissing your words.
“Wouldn’t have mattered, anyways. She’s at Janet’s tonight.”
“Then what's the fuckin’ problem, Holland?”
You stood there, arms out and palms turned towards the detective. Your eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. Holland always knew how to get you riled up.
You two often argued like this; it was dramatic, cartoonish, and wildly stupid. But the arguments never persisted for long, and the emotions never stayed high. You two just tended to bicker, and it drove Holly and Healy nuts.
Holland paused, his lips pressed together in a tight line. Then, he gave a lazy shrug.
“Okay, I’ll be honest… you scared me when you knocked on the glass. I thought you were someone coming to kill me.” Holland spoke with nonchalance, his tone had lowered a pitch.
You couldn't help but let out a half-stifled laugh, shocked at Holland’s words. Your hands dropped to your sides, lowering your defense.
“Oh, fuckin’-- c’mon, Holland. You really think some dude who’s gonna break in and kill you would knock beforehand?”
“Some hitmen are really well-mannered, actually.”
You scoffed at the detective.
“Whatever. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go out tonight, but since you're so lame, nevermi--”
“No, no! No. I mean, yeah. Yeah, I’ll go out tonight.”
You smirk, knowing the private detective could never say no to a night out on the town. Plus, it had been a while since just you two hung out together.
You always seemed to get dragged along on Holland and Healy's side quests, using you as a distraction to catch the perp, or just to pick your brain about a case they couldn't crack.
But tonight, it was just you two.
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You gave Holland a few minutes alone to get ready for the fun night ahead. You leaned against his kitchen counter, eyes washing over the souvenir magnets and polaroids scattered across the refrigerator.
Holly and Holland smiling at the camera at the Hollywood sign, or Holly and her school friends at the bowling alley. There was even a polaroid of you and Holland that Holly took, when you had a beach day together. The polaroid was half-tucked behind a photograph of Holland and his late wife, holding Holly as a baby.
Your eyes darted back to a brightly-coloured Disneyland magnet, silently chuckling to yourself, knowing that Holland’s never even taken Holly to Disneyland.
You absentmindedly sipped at a glass of wine that you took the liberty of opening, knowing that Holland never really drank wine, he just kept a bottle ‘in case of emergencies’. Really, it was your bottle of wine that kept around, just for you.
You glanced at the clock on the stove, and groaned loudly. He'd been getting ready for over 20 minutes, now.
“Come on, Holland! We’re not gonna meet the fuckin’ Queen of England tonight, let’s GO!” You shout before tipping back your wine glass and draining it in half a second.
You used the back of your hand to wipe your mouth clean, and your eyes fell on the tall figure exiting the master bedroom.
Holland was dressed in his dark cobalt blue dress suit (arguably, your favourite suit of his), with a unwrinkled (for once), crisp white button up underneath and donned with a yellow-patterned tie. His hair was pushed back, with that signature dirty-blond strand fallen against his forehead.
Damn, he looked good. And he knew it.
A freshly-lit cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he fixed his cuff links while he walked towards you. You must’ve been slack-jawed at the sight of the handsome detective, because Holland was smirking at you.
“That’s all I gotta do to shut you up? Put on a freshly dry-cleaned suit?” Holland remarked slyly, tapping the ash from his cigarette into an ashtray. He grabbed the almost-empty wine bottle off the counter and took the final swig, smacking his lips at the bitter taste.
“Y’know, for a guy like yourself, you clean up well.” Your tone was laced with sarcasm. Holland raised his eyebrows in scrutiny.
“A guy like myself? ‘Fuck that’s ‘spose to mean?”
“You know what I mean, Holland. Catch!”
You toss him the keys to his car. After all, he was more sober than you right now. For once.
Holland shook his head in utter disbelief at you.
“You invite me out, and you don't even drive?” He half-teased, guiding you both to the front door to leave.
Holland opened the passenger door for you, and you felt his large hand on the small of your back before you climbed inside. You were already a little wine-drunk, so you giggled, and Holland’s heart started beating faster in his chest at the angelic sound. Holland mentally scolded himself for his involuntary bodily reaction.
The drive downtown was filled with the usual bickering, broken up by belly laughs.
Finally, Holland pulled the car up along the curb, parking in front of the disco club dubbed ‘The Odyssey’.
He hopped out of the car and opened your car door for you, and you smiled dumbly.
“What’s with the gentleman-act all of a sudden?” You questioned, eyebrows raised.
Holland pretended to look offended, scoffing at your remark.
“I’m always a gentleman, I don’t know what you're talking about,” He deflected as you both made your way inside the nightclub. Not without Holland getting into a bit of trouble with the bouncer, first.
Once you two were inside, it was pretty smooth sailing. You both made a bee-line for the bar, ordering drinks faster than you could say ‘The Nice Guys’.
“Fuck me, it costs a goddamn arm and a leg just to order a Rusty Nail. All it is is fuckin’ whiskey.” Holland muttered under his breath, leaning against the bar counter.
You toss back your head to let out a high-pitched fake laugh, playfully slapping the shoulder of the gentleman standing next to you at the bar. This caused Holland to do a double take, and furrowed his brow in frustration. He couldn't believe the audacity; you flirting with another guy when this was supposed to be your night out together!
The bartender handed you a cocktail, and suddenly you snuck away from the stranger, hunching behind Holland to hide yourself.
“What the hell was that all about?!” Holland barked at you. You snickered.
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, Holland, Christ.” You muttered as you sipped at your free cocktail. There was no way in hell you could afford to buy your own drinks tonight.
Holland relaxed a bit, mentally kicking himself for his reaction. ‘Of course,’ he thought to himself, ‘she was just using him to get a free drink. She probably thinks you can't afford to buy her one, you fuckin’ loser!’
“Don’t worry, I’ll work my magic later and get you a free drink, too. But it’s gotta be fruity-- no guy is gonna buy a chick some scotch.” You teased, leaning closer to Holland now that the other guy had disappeared into the crowded dance floor.
The smell of Holland’s cologne was intoxicating; more than the actual cocktail you were sipping on. Holland’s eyes were on you, and he was painfully trying to maintain respectful eye contact and not check you out under the disco lights. But he couldn’t help it; his eyes washed over your body anyway, and he could feel his breath hitch in his throat.
You were both silent for a moment, tense from the sudden realization of the proximity of your bodies. It was busy in the nightclub; you could blame it on that. But you two suddenly felt this undeniable magnetism between you, and you both tried to distract yourself with the drinks in your hands.
But soon, the glasses were empty, and you two couldn't distract yourselves from each other any longer.
“Do you… wanna step outside for a second?” Holland gestured towards the exit, reaching for his carton of cigarettes in his breast pocket.
You nodded, feeling almost dizzy from the disco lights, alcohol, and closeness to Holland. Maybe some fresh air would do you some good.
Trailing close behind Holland, you made your way outside, the hairs on your arms prickling at the cool sensation of the night breeze. You absentmindedly rubbed at your arms to warm yourself up, and Holland noticed while he lit his cigarette.
He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it over your shoulders before you could protest. You gave him a shy 'thanks’, grasping the cobalt blue jacket and wrapping it around your frame.
Holland’s gaze washed over you for a moment, and he nervously thumbed at his cigarette as he exhaled, the smoke curling up towards the starry night sky.
“Sorry for shouting at you like that,” the words burst out of Holland's mouth, surprising you both.
You shrugged, confused. You two were always shouting at each other, it was your way of communicating.
Holland’s eyes darted around anxiously.
“Back there, with the other guy. I, uh, didn’t realize you were just doing that to get a free drink.”
Holland looked almost deflated. You glanced at the ground for a moment, replaying the scene in your mind again before speaking.
“Oh, hah. Yeah. That’s okay, I should’ve maybe mentioned I was going to do that--”
“No, no. You don’t need to. It’s not like I own you,” The words rushed out of Holland’s mouth like Niagara falls. He felt so stupid. Why would he say that?
Your eyes flickered up to meet Holland’s. You reached for the cigarette that hung between his lips, taking Holland by surprise. You took a quick pull, letting the smoke tickle and burn at your throat before exhaling.
Holland leaned against the brick wall of the alleyway, watching you through half-lidded eyes. His hands were trembling, so he stuffed them into the pockets of his dress pants as you took another pull of his cigarette.
“Holland, how long have we known each other?”
Your question was sudden. The words just fell out of you. But it was a genuine question.
Holland took a beat, reflecting on the time you two have spent together.
“‘Couple years, I ‘spose.”
“And we’ve never even kissed.” You sounded almost disappointed, before taking another hard pull of the cigarette, making the cherry flicker brightly. The cigarette was almost spent.
Holland looked at you, astonished. He had no clue that had even crossed your mind before. But it had definitely crossed his, many times.
Before Holland could speak, you continued.
“I guess we’re just strictly friends, huh? I never got any inclination that you’ve ever found me attractive.” You dropped the cigarette and used the toe of your shoe to grind it into the cement.
Before you could look up from the sidewalk, Holland’s large hands were cupping your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. Holland’s slightly chapped lips met your own, and he let out a soft whine as your hands found purchase in his blond locks.
Your bodies were flush against one another as he stepped forward to deepen the kiss. You could feel the coolness of the brick wall through his suit jacket as your back pressed against it. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip, begging for permission to explore your mouth. Your lips parted in agreement, letting out a low moan.
Holland took a step back, his breathing heavy and erratic as his eyes searched yours. Your lips and cheeks were flushed from the passionate kiss, and Holland thought you looked absolutely stunning washed in moonlight.
“Either you’re stupid for not seeing it, or maybe I’m stupid for not kissing you earlier.” Holland’s voice was low and breathless.
You burst into a fit of laughter, before collecting yourself and responding,
modern social media should stop offering "sync with your phone contacts to follow them" options and start offering "block all your phone contacts so they never see your account" options
his fucking mom died giving birth to him. like. jesus christ. i thought the direction this movie was taking was "lars is in love with his brother's wife so he sublimates those forbidden emotions into being in love with a doll" but the actual direction it went is so much more brutal. HIS MOM DIED GIVING BIRTH TO HIM he never met his mom. and now his sister in law whom he clearly adores even if he's no good at saying it - now she's pregnant. and it could still happen. she could still die. it doesn't matter that medicine has come a long way, she could still die she could die giving birth she could die she could die she could die.
and it's not just that he doesn't want karin to die. he also knows what happens to the man that gets left behind. he was the one who got stuck with dad when gus left home. with a grieving dad who didn't know how to be a father anymore. lars doesn't want gus to become their father. and he doesn't want the baby to go through what lars went through.
but he can't control those things. he can't control what happens to karin and gus and their unborn child. so he creates a girlfriend who can't have children. it won't happen to him, he won't let it. and still it doesn't matter because he can't stop worrying about karin. and gus. and the baby. he thought having a girlfriend would solve all his problems. but his sister in law is still pregnant and his mom still died giving birth to him. and he can't control anything. fuck
