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Loved So Very Deeply By a Chosen Few

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"There is a beautiful thing inside you that is thousands of years old. Too old to be captured in poems. Too old to be loved by everyone. But loved so deeply by a chosen few." - Nikita Gill

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Erin walked into the kitchen rubbing the sleep from her eyes to the sound of a power drill. Daring to blink with the harsh sun coming in from the slits of the blinds over the counter, she cleared her throat in attempt to speak for the first time of the day. When a harsh grumble of noise barely passed through her lips, she padded with bare feet and lopsided snowflake print pajamas over to where her fiancee was, in fact, using a power drill at seven forty am on the weekend.

 

“No inventing before nine,” She managed to whine loud enough to get Holtzmann’s attention.

 

The sound of the drill motor stopped and Erin stared at the tool to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating in the early Saturday hour. But — in fact, there was actually an eggbeater where a bit normally would have been, covered in the tan, sticky substance that the blonde was whipping up in a large bowl. She looked sheepishly through the mess of knotted curls that were perched on the left side of her head. “Sorry, doll,” Holtz stated, pressing a warm kiss to her favorite human’s cheek. “The motor on the Kitchenaid died — this was faster than fixing it; I’ll do it later.”

 

No longer minding the racket, Erin slid both arms under the edge of Holtzmann’s worn, baggy blue crewneck sweatshirt that had the nineties peace frog on it. Placing her fingers on the waistband of a pair of basketball shorts that may or may not have at one time been Kevin’s, Erin resisted stuffing the tips down the elastic. She nuzzled the exposed vein of her neck with her nose, then nipped a kiss over the spot. “Why are you out of bed so early?”

 

“Supes hungry, babes,” Holtz responded simply, “And ordinarily on a Saturday, I’d love to just feast on you, but —“ A loud rumble vibrated through her intestines and Erin giggled as she felt it. “My body just insists on a three course breakfast. Sorry to wake you.”

 

“Mm, it’s okay, I guess,” Erin yawned and pulled herself away, earning a puppy-sounding whimper from Holtz at the loss of heat. She glanced down at the mixture in the transparent pyrex. “Are you making pancakes?”

 

“Crepes,” She responded simply, reaching a hand to stroke Erin’s cheek with her thumb. “Wanna help?”

 

“Yeah,” Erin nodded, kissing Holtz’s palm before taking the improvised beater and revving the motor a few times. “Let’s get cookin’ good lookin’.”

 

Holtz cackled and touched the small of Erin’s back before spewing out instructions of what she needed next. After cranking up the bluetooth music system in their townhouse and selecting a playlist together, Erin set to work scrambling eggs and heating sausage on a griddle while Holtz manned the crepe batter and whipped up a cheese and strawberry filling for the middle. They danced around one another, occasionally literally. The burners were off and the crepes were nearly filled when a Bruno Mars song came on and the two of them had to completely stop what they were doing to put their pinky fingers to the moon and perform an elaborate lip-synch that likely could have gone viral if they’d stopped to record it.

 

Ending in a fit of giggles and a long kiss, the two finished making breakfast and settled down in the little nook of the kitchen that they ate in. By the end, there were strawberry flavored kisses and the lingering smell of sausage grease lingering in Erin’s auburn locks, but she hardly cared. The blue gemstone on her left ring finger caught the overhead florescent light and she shrugged as she brought her hands together under her chin. “Do you want to get married today?” She questioned to Holtz who had just stretched her arms up above her head, revealing her bellybutton as her sweatshirt rode up. There was a crude, dramatic yawn stretching her mouth wide as she winced one eye down at her someday wife.

 

“Eh, not feelin’ it,” She said, scratching her stomach and shimmying a little in Erin’s direction.

 

They’d been playing a game for nearly five weeks since the Christmas engagement — one of them would ask the other if it was the day to get married, but neither of them were really inclined to set a date for the future either.

 

“I’m gonna wife you when the moon is right,” Holtz winked and leaned to the side, rubbing her face between Erin’s pajama-covered breasts. She tried not to laugh but failed when Holtz also didn’t succeed in blowing a raspberry against the thermal-textured fabric.

 

“Well, if you don’t want to get married, what do you want to do today?” The older woman asked, scratching between Holtz’s shoulder blades when she stretched out over the curved bench.

 

In one long breath, she hastily spewed out what she’d clearly already thought of as their plan, “Work on the Ecto-Jammer, cuddle, dance, try to watch more of that documentary series, take you to dinner. Make fun of you for painting your toenails in the dead of winter when I’m the only one who sees your feet.”

 

Swatting her butt playfully, Erin enjoyed the yelp she got in return. “I like well-manicured feet!”

 

“Sissy stuff,” Holtz teased, rolling off of Erin and catching herself on the floor before she could be spanked again. She crawled out from under the table on the other side, swiping the dirty dishes, rinsing them and stuffing them into the dishwasher. Sticking out her tongue, she moved with haste to the bedroom where she pulled on a pair of extra baggy sweatpants, which she may or may not have at one point recovered from a dumpster, then set off down to the landing of the tri-level staircase, pulling on her work boots and dashing down the steps without tying them.

 

Erin finished cleaning up from breakfast, scrubbing the three pans they’d cooked with and took her time getting herself dressed for the day after a quick shower. Knowing Holtz’s agenda included dinner, she found an outfit that she’d be comfortable enough to snuggle on the sofa and go out to eat in, a cozy long sweater-dress with a turtleneck and matching cable-knit leggings. Adjusting her lapis necklace over the folded, high-top neck, she hummed to herself while gathering her laptop and taking it to the downstairs office and lab area, having promised an article to the Physics Review journal by the following Tuesday.

 

It had only been an hour, but she came downstairs to find Holtzmann having covered her previously clean whiteboard in a doodle of cartoon Holtz and Erin with exaggerated features, surrounded by little ghosts, their tiny sheet-like arms around one another. Their wide grins and dark, lifeless eyes made the bubble-letter: FRIENDS banner above them a little creepier than probably intended. Snickering, Erin snapped a photo of the art, intending on posting it on the Ghostbusters social media page later. She turned to find Holtz with her hands in the middle of wiring a small device together, ever-present goggles protecting her eyes, a little pair of pliers sticking out of her teeth.

 

The device she’d been working on for over a week was, officially, a server to house the latest app she was developing, which would ‘block mobile devices from ecto-pollution and save Apple and Android users from ghost affecting their phones.’ Unofficially, she’d discovered the latest drone-spying techniques from the government to shut down mass protests and wanted to protect those exercising their rights to assemble.

 

When expressing her concern that the government would try to stop her, since they were technically funding the project, Holtz shrugged. “Erin, how many senators actually read my specs before pushing funding through some backdoor legislation? Approximately zero, aside from Colonel Sanders, who probably would approve anyway, I think I’m good.”

 

She hadn’t noticed Erin’s presence in their lab as the older scientist settled herself in the wide desk, her notes for her professional literature already neatly displayed on a stand. Erin hadn’t realized she had been humming to herself in concentration, until about two thousand words into her article, the lyrics to the song that had been reverberating in her chest met her ears.

 

Jumping a little when Holtz had her arms around her shoulders and cheek pressed against her own, singing, “When the night falls, loneliness calls!” She pressed a button on her watch, instructing the device to, “Play Whitney Huston!” As the beat began, Holtz kissed her own hand and tossed it lovingly to the ceiling. “May she rest in peace.”

 

Climbing off Erin, who was watching under a very poor attempt at ignoring her, she started to strut around the room to the long introduction. She moved her lips to the words, kicking her legs up and over, bending back almost dangerously low, twirling around the metal support beams that sectioned the large room, grinding up and down them. Just as the chorus was about to come on, she leapt across the floor and landed in a crouch, crawling to Erin, tugging the rolling chair in the middle of the room.

 

With the world’s baggiest pair of sweatpants failing to be terribly seductive, she managed to peel them off while spinning, kicking them and her boots to the top of her lab table. Erin let out a snort through her nose as she tried to hold back her laughter, refusing to give in as the first refrain ended and she thought it might stop so she could get back to work.

 

However, Holtz spun her chair, loudly singing, “I've been in love and lost my senses, spinning through the town. Sooner or later, the fever ends and I wind up feeling down…” She was on the floor again, landing in an Abby-worthy breakdance move that had Erin once more struggling not to encourage her performance.

 

As the second chorus started, Erin rolled her eyes and Holtz whooped loudly as she stood up, shoved the desk chair back, and sang along. Moving her hips in what Patty had titled her ‘white girl moves,’ her fingers jiving as Holtz rubbed herself up and down her fiancee’s body. “I wanna dance with somebody! With somebody who loves me!” The song continued, Erin singing ‘somebody’ while Holtz took the high-pitched ‘who’ and then twirled one another in and out around the potentially deadly nuclear equipment that lined the shelves of the room.

 

After the dance intermission, the ladies worked separately in the lab on their projects until a little after noon, when Erin gathered sandwiches, chopped vegetables and chips to bring upstairs to eat while watching the documentary Holtz was interested in, that she could focus on for a whopping twenty minutes at a time before needing something to fidget with while at least absorbing the information auditory for the remainder of an episode.

 

The lazy Saturday continued with the blonde puttering around the apartment, Erin in the middle of a book until Holtzmann found enough of an attention span to take a shower and get dressed for dinner.

 

Taking the subway to a place in Brooklynn that sold Cuban street-style food, the engineer was particularly excited to find their train car nearly empty, giving her plenty of room to dance to whatever music was playing on her headphones. The moves to silence appeared to be just madness to Erin, who snickered and finally pulled her fiancee into her lap and held her there until they arrived at their stop.

 

There was a time in her life when Erin probably would have been mortified to have a female, five foot three, bundle of raw kinetic energy sitting on her lap in a public place, but as they entered their third year of knowing one another, she could hardly be bothered to care what anyone else could possibly think about their relationship. Pressing a kiss to Holtz’s leather-jacket covered shoulder, she earned the blonde tipping her head back with a delighted squeak and squinty eyes.

 

Dinner came with a beer, which Erin nursed until her chicken Picadillo came while Holtzmann wolfed down a large helping of shoestring, spice-covered fries, on her third beverage as she made flirty eyes at her girlfriend while eating.

 

After dinner, she wanted to continue the hazy affects of alcohol and once home, popped open another adult drink while plopping herself in front of their upstairs TV, her body relaxed enough to focus on more of the show that they’d been attempting to get through for two weeks. Erin had retreated to the master bathroom, bringing her little basket of nail supplies with her.

 

Holtzmann teased her ruthlessly as she filed and polished a second coat of red over her tan right toes. After Holtz grabbed her unpolished left foot and tried to play “This Little Piggy,” Erin carefully twisted and pounced on her, stretching her legs out then sitting on them with her full weight.

 

Upon realizing what her fiancee was going to do, Holtz screamed a high-pitched sound of torture, flailing her upper body and trying desperately to move her legs to no avail. Erin tore her left sock off and slid a set of dividers between her toes. Holtz tried shoving her off with her forehead, making mock crying calls as Erin began to not only polish her toenails, but use a soft, baby pink color as well.

 

“You’re the worst,” She pretended to sob as Erin laughed and held the bottom of Holtz’s foot steady, just to prove her point.

 

“Look how pretty!” She teased, moving so Holtzmann could see her handy work. Her pale feet were now decimated by the girly polish and Holtz crossed her arms, pouting.

 

“You’re a bully,” She whined, kicking her still-covered right foot and the drying left one in protest.

 

Erin was pleased with herself as she set out to complete her right side, happy some ten minutes later when she wiggled all ten of her red toes. Holtz remained dramatically paralyzed, though she’d sprawled herself across the plush carpet and let out grunting sounds every thirty seconds or so to remind Erin she was still pouting.

 

When Erin had almost started to pack up her supplies when a sock-covered right foot traveled across her lap with aching slowness. She raised a brow at Holtzmann, who with her bottom lip jutting out stated, “You started this, you gotta finish.”

 

“I thought you didn’t like it?” Erin chuckled, tugging the polka-dotted fabric off and tossing it in the pile with her own.

 

“Well, they gotta match,” Holtz grumbled, sitting up and trying to give her fiancee a stink-eye, failing miserably when Erin merely pecked the protruding lip.

 

“The only time your socks even match is when I put them on you. If they don’t match, what difference do your toenails make?”

 

Holtz hooked an arm around Erin’s neck, kissing her nose. “I wanna be pretty.”

 

Giggling, Erin took the pink back out and started to polish the right toenails of Holtz’s foot, finding she had to actually sit on her legs to complete the task, as Holtzmann was notoriously ticklish. She was almost done when Holtz stopped her with a dramatic squawk when she got to the fourth toe. “Don’t I get a party nail? I heard that’s a thing?”

 

“After the top layer dries,” Erin explained, finishing then waiting a minute, wiggling back and forth before finding a fine-pointed sharpie in a collection of pens in Holtz’s upstairs art supplies. Tackling the pale toes once again, she drew a black smiley face on every nail. “There. Now they’re all ready to party.”

 

Actually giggling Holtz wiggled them and helped Erin pack up the polish and tools, pulling out her Sega Genesis from the cabinet the TV was on, handing Erin a controller. The physicist tried to argue but found the game station booting up and a blue hedgehog across the screen. “You got to paint my nails now you have to let me kick your butt in return.”

 

“Oh, like it’s hard,” Erin rolled her eyes, accepting her position as Tails while Holtz got to (always) be Sonic. She, as predicted, lost three times in a row before Holtz called it quits and turned all the electronic devices off.

 

Accepting a long, cuddle of a hug, Erin kissed Holtzmann’s lips a half dozen times before motioning to head downstairs.

 

Jumping from the fourth step, Holtz scurried into the bedroom to illuminate the overhead fairy lights so it wouldn’t be dark when her fiancee entered, making Erin smile sweetly in thanks. After they bumped into each other repeatedly in a silly fashion while brushing their teeth, Erin took the bobby pins out of Holtz’s hair, neatly storing them on the magnetic strip near her brush so they wouldn’t litter the counter.

 

The taller of them changed into a knee-length red nightgown with a polar bear graphic in the middle. Holtz had already climbed on top of the mattress, down to her underclothes, blonde tendrils spiraling across her shoulders. She raised a brow at Erin’s choice of nightwear, mumbling into her chest when the woman was close enough, “You know you didn’t need to bother putting that on, ‘m just gonna take it off of you.”

 

Erin let out a single laugh before slipping her hand under lose curls, kissing the top of her head. “I was hoping so.”

 

Setting her chin up on Erin’s sternum so she could look into her eyes, Holtz wondered out loud, “Want to get married tomorrow?”

 

“Hmmm…Tomorrow’s a Sunday?” She tutted her cheek with her fingertip before shrugging and shaking her head. “Nah.”

 

Snapping her jaw open and shut with a loud biting sound, Holtz growled. “Fine. Another time then.”

 

Erin giggled and released her head, tumbling to the bed beside her, squeezing her hands and leaning to her pillow, taking Holtz down with her. The engineer kissed her loudly, wedging her bare knee up Erin’s nightgown and winking. “You know…” She paused suddenly, sitting up and licking her lips as she appeared to be having a genuine moment. “I don’t think I told you I loved you today.”

 

Sliding her body up a touch, Erin rolled her eyes to the right as she tried to recall. “Come to think of it, I’m not so sure you did, either,” She responded, lacing their fingers together.

 

“I love you,” Holtz said with a wide grin, moving down again and kissing Erin’s lips. “I love you so damn much.”

 

“I love you, too,” Erin returned the sentiment quietly, holding Holtzmann’s body as close as she physically could, tracing the triangle tattoo on her arm before sealing her lips over it, while Holtz did the same on her matching one.