Erin Gilbert had very poor smarts in socialization. Until a few days ago, her list of acquaintances had included a handful of snooty colleagues, the kind lady at the small grocery store around the corner, her neighbour's dog and no friends whatsoever.
Most of the times people casually stumbled into her life, only to stumble out of it shortly after, leaving from slight to no sign of themselves.
Sometimes, however, people crashed into her life like wild trucks, breaking through gates and walls, scattering chaos and havoc in their wake.
Well, not really people. This was a unique case, so far.
Her name was Jillian Holtzmann.
As a very reserved and precise person, Erin was fairly squabbled by Holzmann's frenzy and general lack of grace in interpersonal approach. It didn't help that the girl's loud personality was accompanied by quite stunning looks, that bewildered Erin's delicate hormonal balance more than she liked to admit, even to herself.
Erin had never questioned herself too much about her own sexuality (she had had much more important things to care and worry about), so maybe she wasn't exactly straight, but she surely wasn't blind, and though it had taken her a little longer than strictly necessary to see through Jillian Holtzmann's quirky surface, it was pretty blatant that she was smart and crazy and hot just in equal parts. Which meant she was impressivelybeautiful, and quite dangerously so.
Erin realised her hands had been sweating when she tried to turn the page of the book she was reading and her fingers left wet marks in the paper. She rubbed them against her skirt and took a mental note to never think of Holtzmann's appearance again while handling anything delicate.
"Is it just you or is it hot in here?"
Erin nearly dropped the book. Startled, she looked up to find the very object of her thoughts poking in from the door, a half chewed straw hanging from her lips and a huge cup in her hand. The firehouse wasn't all for Erin anymore.
"Hey!" she greeted, a little too nervously. "What – I don't – It's not hot in here. Like, at all." A pathetic giggle escaped her lips before she could even realise. "I don't feel hot, at least. Not even slightly attractive," she added under her breath.
"Uh?"
"Nothing!" Oh, gosh, why was she giggling again? Why were her hands sweating again?
"You look all flushed there," Holtzmann pointed out, sprawling herself against the doorframe. She dipped the straw into the cup and took a long, noisy sip. "Must be an interesting book," she added with a wink.
"Actually it's not." Erin glanced down at the book, which was upside down, and frantically turned it. "Absolutely boring. I can't even remember what I've been reading." Which wasn't even a lie. Holtz didn't need to know Erin had been on the same page for half an hour because she'd gotten lost in Sapphic thoughts about Holtzmann herself.
Erin did her best not to listen to the disturbing noise of Holtzmann sucking whatever was in her cup. It wasn't even the noise itself to disturb her, but rather the fact that Holtz' lips were doing things to that damn straw and Erin's sanity wasn't strong enough to endure the unwanted fantasies that gesture was eliciting in her very fervid mind.
"You're definitely hot," said Holtzmann, walking in. She slumped down into the armchair next to Erin's, slung her legs over the armrest and crossed her ankles, making the loose buckles of her boots clink.
Erin felt every inch of space around her fill with Holtz' presence. It was like breathing rarefied air, all of a sudden: the excess of oxygen went straight to your head. This was Jillian Holtzmann: a tiny pixie with the most singular ability to take over a whole room just by stepping in. Erin had a wager with herself that there was a very long list of broken hearts on Holtzmann's probably unknowing conscience. She was also uncomfortably aware that her own heart was destined to end up on that list as well.
She glanced up surreptitiously at her companion, finding her concentrated on Erin's face. She tried to look away, but Holtz' blue eyes had already pierced through her and the wide grin she was giving Erin was alarmingly smug.
"You're awkweird," Holtzmann said in the bright tone of a compliment.
A rush of heat flared up Erin's spine to her neck and ears. Which was ridiculous, because it certainly couldn't be a compliment. What sort of psycho would ever mean that as a –
Holtzmann winked at her again.
Oh, right.
"That's not - that's not a word," Erin stuttered, wishing the two armchairs weren't so close to each other. She was almost sure Holtz could feel her blushing.
Erin couldn't even pinpoint an exact moment when she and sweet, little Jillian had become so close. To be completely honest, she couldn't even remember a development – any at all – in their relationship. There had been nothing and then, out of thin air, there had been everything. Holtzmann had started off with her blunt flirtation (and now, with hindsight, Erin reckons she should have known better) and ever since it had been like there was never a before. It felt like there was never a life without Jillian Holtzmann – and if there was, was it even life?
Thinking back now, Erin had to admit the whole Ghostbusters thing had come up with an extraordinary timing: what would have been of her if there had been no book on Amazon, no ghosts to hunt? She would have been sitting behind a desk for the rest of her existence, accomplished but not truly satisfied. Superficially content, but empty underneath.
And right now, blushing furiously under Holtz' shameless staring, Erin knew there was nowhere else she'd rather be.
"Awkweird is totally a word," Holtzmann protested, twisting into her armchair until her legs were draped along the back and her head propped on Erin's knees. "Hey, your chin looks funny from here!"
Erin gasped as her hands flew to her chin. Her book fell on Holtmann's head.
"Ouch!"
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Erin cried, clasping her hands over her mouth. She fumbled to remove Holtzmann's fingers from her forehead to check the damage she'd done, trying to focus on her guilt and not to think about their fingers intertwined and the blond curls brushing her legs, the warmth of her friend all over her naked skin.
"Holtz?" she begged. "Holtz, I'm so very sorry. Please, just – just let me see…"
Slowly, Holtzmann unclasped her hands and slid them off her face, revealing two insanely blue eyes staring straight into Erin's soul.
"Are you – are you hurt?" Erin bit her lip. Putting basic words together was suddenly harder than usual.
"I can't remember," Holtz replied, a peculiar dreamy touch in her husky voice.
Erin frowned. "You can't remember?"
"Your eyes are really stunning, did you know that?"
"You're going to get a bruise here," Erin groaned, her fingertips feeling the light swelling in the middle of Holtzmann's forehead.
"They're an odd shade of grayish blue, but awesome," Holtz continued, as if she hadn't heard a single word Erin had uttered. She scooted lower into the armchair, until her head was basically on Erin's lap. "They're oddsome."
Erin couldn't help a smile. "Oddsome's not a word either." For some reason, her hands went to cup on the sides of Holtzmann's face.
Holtz smirked. "Gettin' confident, aren't we?"
"Are you kidding me? You've literally crept up on me and I'm the one getting confident?"
"Hey, not my fault if your pretty face disables my discretion! Oh, wait, I don't have that anyway."
Erin's heart had cringed on that first part. She was very self-conscious and very aware of the fact that Holtzmann was A) probably just saying that and B) probably saying that to everyone she met – and thus flirted with.
"I wish you'd stop saying that," Erin sighed to herself.
She must have said that aloud instead of only in her head as she had intended (her filters were the worst, seriously), because Holtz bent her head back to blink at her questioningly.
"What?"
Erin barely moved her lips: "That I'm pretty."
There, she'd said it. She didn't want Holtzmann to feel bad for that, but it made her uncomfortable, being called something she knew she wasn't.
Feeling bad, however, didn't seem to have remotely crossed Holtz' mind.
"You wish I'd stop saying you're pretty."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Why do you keep saying that?" Erin retorted, a little too harshly.
Holtzmann innocently flapped her lashes a few times. "Why, my dear Dr. Gilbert," she stretched her arms over her head and let her hands rest on Erin's sides. "I simply looove to sound redundant and point out the obvious."
The palpable warmth of Holtz' touch was irradiating through the light fabric of the blouse, starting a fire in Erin's stomach.
"You - you mean that," she muttered, seeking for validation in Holtzmann's eyes. She couldn't possibly actually mean that.
"Yep," Holtz replied, overstressing the final letter. "Every syllable. Which isn't many, sadly. Beautiful sounds more fulfilling, whatcha say?"
Erin couldn't bring herself to reply. She was too busy pretending she wasn't having a major case of tachycardia.
"What about gorgeous?" Holtzmann offered enthusiastically. "Oh, oh, wait, I've got this: pul-chri-tu-di-nous." She looked up, waiting for Erin to smile. She did.
"Does it actually exists or did I just make it up?" Holtzmann wondered then. Erin's smile widened fondly. This girl may have been crazy and weird and unpredictable but she was pure gold.
"That's a proper term," she confirmed with a nod of approval. "Though I believe no one has heard that in the last few centuries."
"Holy shit, Batman, you're hard to impress!" Holtzman complained with a genuine laugh that shook her chest – oh so adorably.
"Why are you doing this?" Erin enquired. Her fingers had spontaneously started running through Holtz' blond curls, brushing over the tender skin of her temples. "This - this flirting thing. Because…"
"Erin."
"… if – if that's just for fun, I'm not the right person to – "
"Erin!"
"Sorry."
Holtz poked her fingers into Erin's sides with a provoking grin. "Look at us. Okay? Just look at us right now. Me draped all over you and my hands on your hips and your hands in my hair and everything." The grin became mischievous. "Are you seriously asking me why I, a very gay woman, am flirting with you, an indecently attractive, smart and lovable woman?"
Erin was at a loss for words. She was fighting a hard battle between her feelings and the insufferably sensible voices in the back of her conscience, yelling that she was going to regret anything that didn't involve running away from this. "Holtz, please…"
"You asked, sweetheart."
Holtzmann's skin was soft and warm under her ministrations, her eyes loving as she gazed at Erin expectantly.
"Why am I even interesting to you?" Erin asked, and, as predicted, immediately regretted it. She didn't even want to know. She knew that, whatever Holtzmann was going to say, it would simultaneously swell and break her heart. She craved too much to feel desired and hearing the most wonderful person she ever met explain all the reasons why she was desired would make Erin so fragile it would probably end up shattering her.
"You are just as insane as I am, Erin Gilbert, I hope you know that," Holtz blurted while tickling Erin's ribs. Erin laughed – heartily, genuinely.
"I'm just starting to come to terms with it," she confessed, and returned the tickling on Holtzmann's belly.
"So," Holtzmann's hands reached up for Erin's neck and dragged her down, close to her face. "You like that I like you."
Their noses were just a few inches from touching. And so were their mouths. And it was the most beautiful, terrifying distance Erin had ever come to face.
She slowly leant forward, let the tip of her nose poke Holtzmann's. "I love that you like me."
And the mere sound of it – corny and trivial as it may have sounded – did make her heart swell. But, to her own utter shock, it didn't break.
Holtz' hands entangled behind Erin's neck and dragged her further down, their lips ghosting over each other's. Erin could have sworn time had slowed down. Even stopped, perhaps.
All her musings on Holtzmann's quirky beauty flowed her thoughts again and she could tell, reading into Holtz' eyes, that she was thinking the same about her.
"What if I said I love you?" Holtzmann asked, tentatively, this time, as if she feared she was daring too much, and seeing her so shy and vulnerable, for once, made Erin's doubts thaw in less than a blink. She had never questioned her own sexuality, but this had nothing to do with sexual attraction: Jillian Holtzmann had conquered her, heart and flesh, and there was more than hormonal hots to this.
"You would absolutely terrify me." When Erin smiled sheepishly, her smile skimmed Holtzmann's. "But I would love that even more."
And maybe she was terrified. And maybe she didn't care. Maybe all she wanted was to take an irrational chance and dive into this – this crazy, wonderful thing that made her so anxious and so happy at the same time.
"I know this position is really awkweird," Holtz whispered on Erin's lips.
"Yeah, it kinda is."
"But I would really really like to kiss you right now."
"Oh." Erin felt herself blush from head to toe. Holtz' hands were cupping her face now and it was the most amazing sensation ever. "I'd – I'd love that, too."
And so it happened. Quietly, and slowly, and tenderly, and Erin accidentally forgot to breathe, because she'd never been kissed like that, like someone was hungry and desperate for her, and she was all that counted, all that mattered.
She tried to convey all of this to Holtzmann – the same feelings, the same passion – but she wasn't a good kisser and she didn't even have that much experience to make comparisons, but would have that made a difference? Would any other kiss have been able to compare to this? To the gentle caress of Holtzmann's lips on her own, to her hands digging into Erin's hair, pulling her closer, kissing her deeper?
Who cared about any kiss that could have been, when she had this?
When they finally broke apart – a whole lifetime later, or so it felt – they were both gasping for air and beaming quite stupidly.
"Wow," Holtz breathed, eyes shining. "Whatever you did with that tongue, I hope you can do it again, because it was hotrageous."
Erin was positive she was on the verge of a heart attack, because there was no chance her pulse could safely reach that rate. "That's – " she panted, still leaning over Holtz' adorably flushed face. "That's not a –"
Holtz ungracefully pulled her down again by her bow tie. "Erin," she warned. "Shut. Up."
And then they were kissing again.
And again.
And again.
And Erin never knew how they ended up on the floor, or how their clothes reached the other side of the room, but, all considered, basking in Jillian Holtzmann's arms, she found out she didn't really care.
A/N: Just back from the movie and my hands were itching to write something about these two adorable dorks. Please, forgive any typo or mistake that may have escaped my proof reading. Also, reviews are very appreciated. Hope you enjoyed the read!