and the invention of thumbtacks

anonymous asked:

Could you do one where the reader sees Holtzmanns hair down for the first time?

(This request just screamed adorable morning-after to me. I had way too much fun describing Holtzmann’s bedroom. Enjoy!)

You woke up to a stream of sunlight and a faint clatter that sounded a few rooms away. You opened your eyes and had that momentary jolt of “this-isn’t-my-bedroom” confusion before you remembered that you were at Holtzmann’s apartment. You smiled as you remembered the previous night. This wasn’t the first time you had slept over at your girlfriend’s, but this was the first time you’d done so with complete deliberation so that you didn’t have to rush out the next morning in last night’s clothes to get to work on time. You sat up, noticing that Holtzmann had already left the bed–well, it was more of a mattress on the floor made into a nest of pillows and blankets. Whatever she was doing out there was causing quite a racket.

You took a moment to fully absorb Holtzmann’s tiny bedroom in daylight. A handful of faded, curling posters of movies and shows from the ‘80s and ‘90s–Back to the Future, The X-Files, Buffy–decorated the walls among an assortment of hand-drawn schematics and pages of notes for new inventions, all haphazardly affixed with clear tape and thumbtacks. The only big furnishings were a rolling office chair, a retro free-standing fan, a trunk overflowing with clothes, and a rather hazy old mirror, which was simply leaning on the wall by the closet. Novelty fairy lights shaped like planets hung around the mattress-nest, and the floor was cluttered with partially dismantled gadgets among everyday items which appeared to have been kicked off, dropped, or otherwise abandoned at random intervals.

You got out of bed and picked your way across the floor to a little pile of your own clothing to get a shirt and sweatpants. From here, you followed the continuing noise out of the bedroom, past more apocalyptic clutter, and into the kitchen, where Holtzmann was at work ripping apart a microwave and tossing the parts into a pile on the floor, which explained all the scraping and banging sounds. Her back was to you, and it took you a moment to figure out what looked different about her. She was wearing mismatched socks, somewhat goofy patterned boxers, and a loose tank top, all usual for your girlfriend in the morning. Instead of straggling out of its last remaining bobby pins, however, her hair was hanging in curls around her shoulders. It looked even softer than usual and had the same electrical-socket lift you loved.

Holtzmann looked over her shoulder when she heard you padding towards her and met your gaze with a smile. “Good morning,” she said. “Did you sleep okay?”

You wrapped your arms around Holtzmann’s waist to hug her from behind. “Mhmm,” you hummed, nuzzling your face into her shoulder. Her hair was still slightly damp from a shower and smelled like a floral, spicy shampoo. “I’ve never seen your hair all the way down before,” you mumbled.

“You haven’t?” Holtzmann turned around to give you a kiss. “I guess I just let the pins try to stab me to death in my sleep and deal with it later, usually.”

“I like it both ways,” you decided. “It’s still all poofy, there’s just more if it now.”

“Plus I got the crusty mystery substances out of it.”

“Ew.” You wrinkled your nose. “How long have you been up?”

“Since about six,” Holtzmann said, turning back to the table.

“Six! Why? Have you eaten?”

“I had too many ideas to get back to sleep,” Holtzmann said as she took a pair of pliers to the microwave’s guts. “And I forgot that breakfast is a normal thing to do. Again.” She grinned up at you.

“Do you have actual breakfast food, or do you always just eat cold pizza on the way out the door?” you asked, walking over to the counter and cautiously moving some of the least dangerous-looking items on it aside to make room.

“Yes and yes. Food’s in that cabinet there.” Holtzmann waved the pliers vaguely.

You opened the cabinet. “Correction: do you have any breakfast food besides Pop Tarts and kids’ cereal?”

“Are you implying there are different types of breakfast food?”

You managed to pour two bowls of peanut butter cereal and took them over to the table. Holtzmann abruptly swept half of her project onto the floor, causing a huge clatter. You thought that her neighbours must love her. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw that bowl of sugar,” she said by way of explanation, and took her cereal.

You sat next to her and bumped her shoulder affectionately. “What do you want to do today?”

“I could try to finish the prototype of this collapsable-slash-expandable containment unit,” Holtzmann said, reaching across you to get a sheet of sketches from the other side of the table, “but something in the idea’s all disjointed. At this point I’m just torturing old appliances and harvesting their usable organs.”

You looked over the piece of paper Holtzmann showed you. There were an awful lot of question marks. “Maybe you need to sleep on it a little more,” you suggested. “What did you get, five hours?”

“A little less than that,” Holtzmann said. “I was distracted by how cute you looked sleeping in my bed and had trouble composing myself.”

“You’re such a dork sometimes,” you said, despite feeling like a very happy dork yourself. “But actually, take a nap. Weren’t you up late in the lab the night before last?”

“I kiiiiiiiind of never left the firehouse.”

You insisted that Holtzmann go back to bed as soon as she finished her food. “I’m just going to take a quick shower, then I’ll join you,” you said as you put the empty bowls in the sink. “I could go for a lazy day.”

Holtzmann was dozing when you returned from her bathroom. She looked beautiful with her eyes closed softly, her lips slightly parted, and her curls spread all across the pillow. Despite your best efforts, her eyes fluttered open when you lay down besides her. “Sorry,” you whispered.

“I wasn’t really asleep,” Holtzmann said. “Come here.” She rolled onto her side and pulled you under her arm as her little spoon. After a few minutes her breathing slowed and evened out again, and right on the edge of sleep, she mumbled, “You smell really good.”

“I used your shampoo,” you said quietly, a smile playing around the corners of your mouth.

A few more beats of silence passed. “Nice,” Holtzmann whispered, then definitely fell asleep.