Chapter Text
New York City greeted the dawn of Christmas Day, 2016, by ushering in thick flakes of powder that fell from the sky in waves, blanketing the city streets, a promise for the ‘White Christmas’ so many dreamt of experiencing during the holidays. All four Ghostbusters had gathered in the firehouse’s expansive living quarters, a part of the communal space that was just theirs, away from their experiments and equipment, where they could be a family. Abby and Patty had selected the tree, a sturdy Douglas Fir that had cost a pretty penny, but simulated every greeting-card holiday tradition the women could imagine in their fondest – and sometimes wildest – dreams. Erin had insisted in taking on the decorations of the space, using her meticulous eye for detail and a few decorating quirks to adorn the tree and surrounding area – a mantle, the dining room table, even the office space – with holiday cheer that was enough to make Hallmark jealous. Holtzmann had developed a few ‘odds and ends’ that allowed them to utilize low energy to keep the Yuletide burning bright, day and night, so they’d never go without that rush of cheer even when busts got too difficult, when tensions ran high, when they made mistakes or experienced failures.
Also, Holtz had taken it upon herself to dole out ‘Secret Santa’ assignments. They all bought presents for each other, but the tradition of Santa Claus was of some great importance to the quirky engineer, who they knew likely just wanted to nestle herself among a mass of presents under the mighty Fir on Christmas Eve. Erin Gilbert was the first to wake. Actually, she hadn’t quite gone to sleep; the evening before had been her happiest Christmas in, well, ever. She’d told her friends that it was the best in recent memory, and they hadn’t questioned the sentiment, though she’d seen a knowing look in Abby’s eyes as they misted, and that told her that her oldest and best friend knew the hidden truth behind her words. Erin wasn’t as good at dishing out emotional tirades; she wasn’t free with her endearments and pet names like Patty. She wasn’t the ‘den mother’ who always offered a sturdy shoulder to cry on, like Abby did. Even Holtzmann, with all her unique views on what affection could and should be had her beat; the engineer was apt to deliver the occasional speech or toast that rendered them all speechless with the earnest quality of her words; when she opened up, there was seldom a dry eye in the house. At least, until she cracked some joke at the end that brought them full-circle, and left them in stitches.
Patty and Abby had retired to bed in the dormitory, where they all had bunks and could sleep in relative privacy, though the women were all so close that it seldom mattered. There were two larger, private sleeping quarters – Holtzmann had claimed one, mostly because she rarely left the firehouse – but Patty, Abby, and Erin all had their own apartments. Tonight, however, they’d opted to stay together, as a unit. After Abby and Patty had gone to bed, determined to get some sleep so they could work on cooking a proper Christmas feast the next day, Holtzmann and Erin had stayed up, drinking mulled cider on the couch, chatting quietly as they were illuminated by nothing more than Christmas lights and moonlight. In recent months, Erin had detected a change in her friendship with Holtz. Where there had been daring flirtation before, Holtz had become a bit more… shy around her, and for a while, Erin wondered if she hadn’t done something to earn the tentative, almost nervous responses she occasionally got from the precocious blonde. Holtzmann had reassured her that there had been no such wrongdoing, that she was just getting used to changing dynamics that hadn’t been at all familiar to her at any point in her thirty-three years of existence. She’d had foster families, growing up, and several. Sometimes, she’d offer up details about her childhood when conversation struck randomly, but the other Ghostbusters knew not to ask directly, or the engineer would clam up and retreat. After the foster homes, she’d met Dr. Gorin, who had become both a mentor and – they thought – something akin to a mother figure. Later, her work led her to the Kenneth P. Higgins Institute and to Abby, and the rest was history as their paths intersected in a way the Large Hadron Collider would likely envy if it was capable of anthropomorphized thought.
Eventually, their mugs were empty, but their hearts were full. Erin had urged Holtzmann to retire to her bedroom, but the blonde had merely smiled at her in that toothy, dimpled way that was so utterly Holtzmann in its purity – a way that was brighter, somehow, when alight with the moon – and said she didn’t want to ‘lose the Christmas spirit.’ When she’d fallen asleep on the couch, Erin had been tempted to get up and give her the space; it wasn’t a huge couch, but the blonde was petite, and seemed smaller when she slept. That, and the second the thought of motion had crossed the redhead’s mind, the engineer’s body had seemed to subconsciously shift closer, almost like a heat-seeking missile, and curled up in her lap. Erin’s breath caught in her throat when Holtzmann’s hands found the thick strands of her ugliest Christmas sweater – complete with tiny bow ties, which had earned her many jokes and comments from Holtz earlier in the day – and nuzzled into her. Erin must have spent the better part of an hour trying to do her best impression of a statue; she knew the engineer had to have been exhausted, given the fact that she’d never adopted much of a ‘normal’ sleep schedule. The last thing she wanted was to move and risk waking the blonde who seemed so comfortable and at peace being close to her.
No, she’d realized within the next hour, the last thing she wanted was to give Holtzmann a reason to move away from her and think she had somehow burdened Erin by falling asleep, keeping her captive, or numerous other thoughts the brilliant blonde’s mind would likely leap to in a series of foregone conclusions that would spring through her like a Rube Goldberg machine when and if she woke. The quiet made Erin process her feelings, as she typically did when the world was soft and still around her; the rest of the time, she could put them on the back-burner and spend the processing power of her brain on things that mattered, or so she liked to tell herself, things like equations that would assist with Holtz’s next great invention or a project or something related to their work. To science, which was the real love she, Holtz, and Abby all shared: Patty was slow to jump onboard, but she was starting to take a mild interest, at least enough to listen to many long-winded ramblings from her three scientists, at least so long as she was caffeinated. The physicist listened to the steady thrum of her heart as it synced with Holtz’s. It never seemed so strong and calm simultaneously as it did when the other woman was near. Sometimes, she knew it was anything but calm when introduced to the engineer’s presence; sometimes, it hammered so obnoxiously hard that she was certain a coronary was in her future or the amplification would be heard not just by the people in her immediate proximity, but the world at large. She’d be able to single-handedly prove the existence of butterflies in one’s stomach when Holtz elated over something she’d done or called her some quirky endearment that was reserved just for her. They all had their nicknames from the blonde, of course, but they were different than, say, Patty’s classic ‘babys’ and ‘sugars.’ They were unique like the snowflakes that currently fell from the sky, each carefully composed and crafted by a mind that was so flawlessly genius, so unmistakably Holtzmann that Erin couldn’t possibly see them as anything but treasured gifts. Also, Holtzmann spoke like, a dozen languages, so that didn’t detract from her ability to make the redhead blush.
Right around three in the morning, soon after the snow began to fall and press against every visible window within Erin’s line of sight, the physicist’s hands developed a mind of their own and gently, tenderly began to stroke the wayward blonde curls that were spilling over Holtzmann’s face while she slept. Her hair was still in that ridiculous up-do that she knew took quite a bit of effort even if it was meant to look effortless, like she’d made no attempt to style it at all, but it was starting to dismantle itself as she’d run the paces of that evening at a thousand miles an hour. A few long – and Erin hadn’t been aware that Holtzmann’s hair was that long – curls had worked their way out of the messy bun and cascaded down the engineer’s back. Erin’s fingers twirled those, then tucked them aside and away. Her hands left the woman’s head to rub the blonde’s back instead, and she felt Holtzmann’s fingertips twitch once, then twice before she tightened her hold on Erin’s sweater, still soundly asleep. If she was just a little braver, Erin knew she might take a risk and attempt settling on the couch a bit more comfortably; it wouldn’t have been hard to maneuver them into a position where they could fall asleep in each other’s arms – or at least in a position that would cater to her being able to hold the engineer like she desperately wanted to do – without too much disturbance to their tender little bubble, the one where Holtz was blissfully unaware of the redhead’s quiet struggle, her internal war with herself about what she wanted vs. what was proper for that particular snapshot of time.
By five o’ clock, the Sandman won out against Erin Gilbert’s incredibly anxious mind and self-preservation in the face of potential embarrassment. At seven o’clock, Abby walked into the communal space, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, then took in the scene before her with a slowly upturned smile and an exhaled sigh of relief when her vision became clear. Erin’s body had shifted to where she was reclined sideways against the arm of the couch, legs tucked up in a gap between Holtzmann and the back cushion. Holtzmann was occupying the space in front of her, almost like they were spooning, but she was facing Erin’s slumbering form instead, her head cradled under the redhead’s chin, hands clenched tightly into the fabric of the physicist’s sweater – the early Christmas present Abby had given her as a joke, because there were ghosts in Santa hats and it was all too perfect – like she never wanted to let go.
Like she couldn’t let go.
Erin’s arms were equally fixed around the blonde’s body; one was underneath the redhead for comfort, but the other – the one Abby fixated on – was protectively slung around the engineer’s waist with one hand splayed out on the small of her back.
“Do you think we should wake them up?”
Patty’s voice was hushed – probably the quietest Abby had ever heard the native New Yorker – and Abby shook her head.
“Nah, they’re grown-ups. We’ll let them figure it out when they finally come to,” she replied.
“You know Holtzy made damn sure Erin was her pick for ‘Secret Santa,’ right?”
Abby turned back to face Patty, brow furrowed inquisitively, but the expression settled moments later and she tried to hold back a laugh.
“Why am I not surprised that Holtzmann wanted to take charge of ‘Secret Santa’ for that exact reason?”
“Sure, she rigged it, but it was for a good reason,” Patty said. They were all friends, but she and the blonde had become quite the odd couple developing a friendship in a short time that was an equivalent rival to the one Abby and Erin had known for years. “Baby girl has been racking those beautiful brains on how to ask Erin out for months.”
This time, Abby did laugh. She took another look at her best friend in the universe and shrugged her shoulders.
“Something tells me Erin’s gonna say yes. And it’s about damn time.”
A low groan sounded from the couch and a blonde head started to move.
“Shit, we gotta go. Last thing they need is knowing that we know,” Patty said, grabbing Abby by the crook of her elbow and tugging the short brunette toward the kitchen, even though Abby was trying to glue her feet to the floor for just a few seconds longer. “Give them some goddamn privacy.”
“All right, all right,” Abby responded, her words a sharp whisper that managed to hold reluctance for a second before she broke out in a dimpled smile of her own. “Merry Christmas, you crazy kids.”
When Holtzmann finally woke up, she was greeted by the twinkle of Christmas lights and condensation on the windows as morning rays poked through. As she squinted, she could see the idyllic brightness of New York City, covered in dense snow. As her body caught up to her brain and other basic faculties, she became aware of an arm over her waist, a hand on her back, the clean, floral scent of Erin Gil---
What in the name of…?
Holtzmann unfurled her hands, feeling her nimble fingers tremble a bit as her joints responded to having mobility again. Erin was snoring softly behind her, and it was the most wonderful thing the engineer had ever seen in her life. Though she had never been a Grinch, her heart swelled at least three sizes. Then, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t been quite as crazy as she thought when she had planned a rather elaborate way to ask the physicist out on a proper date that would hopefully determine if she had a snowball’s chance in Hell with the woman she’d been crushing on for nearly a year, Jillian’s confidence soared. She placed an infinitesimally delicate kiss against the redhead’s jawline while she slumbered, then whispered a secret into the physicist’s shoulder as quietly as she could manage.
“You don’t know it yet, Gilbert, but I just got everything I ever wanted for Christmas.”