Thawing a chill
Disclaimer: I do not own Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot books or tv series, any related characters or property. I write only to entertain and I make no profit from this work.
Warnings: male/male relationship
Pairing: Hastings/Poirot
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They had fought again. Poirot was a most difficult man to get along with, Hasting was one of the few who accepted him for all his faults. They often disagreed and sometimes he felt his friend thought very little of him. Of course Poirot made it up to him. He knew logically that his friend thought highly of him. That his friend was quite proud of him actually.
Still as he sat in the park, in the pouring rain, he felt the familiar crushing sense of feeling a lack of control. He hated his fights with his friend. The Captain felt unusually depressed in the light of his situation. What could he do to make this up? Why hadn't he thought clearly before speaking? His words had spurred on the fight like a good motor on a car. His words had caused hurt in his friends eyes. Now he had to face up. He rather felt like childishly running away from his act. Of course he squashed that angrily! A soldier never gave in.
He sighed, the sound muted by the storm around him. He remembered his harsh words.
"You treat me like a child! I'm sick of it!"
"Are you even as intelligent as you are arrogant?"
"If your going to be this way, I may as well leave! Don't you dare follow me! I can handle myself, I am no child!"
He remembered the way his friend had look as he was leaving. Poirot's eyes were wide and so expressive. Disbelieving hurt was clear.
He barely felt the cold rain on his skin. He figured he had gone numb an hour ago.
He must have been quite out if it, for he felt a warm body hugging him close. Then a coat being pulled around him. "Poirot?" he asked, uncertain.
He heard a huff. "I am not happy. I am wet. I am cold. I am worried. You will return to my home where we can suitably warm up. Comprendre?" he said sounding rather annoyed. When he had suitably done up the buttons, he pulled me up. Together we made our way to Poirot's unit. I'm sure we made quite the pair to anyone watching us.
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Hasting POV
I only realise when we reach the warmth of the unit that I am freezing. I watch without speaking as he strips me of my wet coat and wrap me in blankets, before leaving to his kitchen. He returns with a hot chocolate and sets it in front of my expectantly. All the while muttering away in his native tongue.
I find myself smiling, despite my feelings of guilt. My strange friend still cares so much. Even when I have upset him so. He is still angry but his actions show his kindness.
He looks me over, nodding to himself. He hands me a pile of clothes. "You must rest." he declares before taking up a book and sitting.
I look down to a towel and a pair of thick sleeping clothes. I take the hint and leave to take a hot shower.
I can't deny I feel better now. I am quite greatful to him. He seems to have calmed down. He smiles, pleased. "You must rest." he repeats, gesturing to his bed. I hesitate but settle under the blankets. Extra ones have been placed on top. I fall asleep without fully realising it.
AN: R and R.