Warning: mild swearing, very mild implied sex scene, and romance.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. :(
I had this chapter done ages ago, but I just didn't want to edit and finish it. I hope everyone enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'll miss this. :(
(The very end bit of) The Hot Fuzz Suite by David Arnold
o10.
Nicholas silently sat up, head cocked towards the hallway. After a moment, soft, rapid thumping resumed on the front door. He glanced at the clock—6:58 AM—and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He put on his rumpled trousers, slipped out of the bedroom, and crept into the kitchen. Even with curtains drawn, sunlight snuck in and set the pale green walls aglow. He unlocked the door and opened it just enough so two furry little bodies could dart inside. McClain released a grateful prrt and arched against his shin. Bohdi ran to the water dish and slurped noisily.
"Left them out again?" Danny stood in the hallway, rubbing one eye.
"I'm afraid so." Nicholas sauntered over to the kettle, filled it, and turned it on. "Tea?"
"Nah, I think I'm gonna head off today."
"Where?"
Danny shrugged. "Dunno. Just need to get out."
"Ah." Nicholas struggled to open a teabag. The scars had thinned and silvered, but his hands would never be the same. He glanced at Danny and dropped the teabag into an empty cup. "What do you think of the new station?"
Danny sat down on a nearby stool and planted his elbows on the kitchen island. "Bit weird having it near the outskirts and all, but it'll do." He managed a small smile. "Nice that everythin's going back to normal." The kettle whistled and jettisoned a column of steam into the air.
"Yes, it is." Nicholas opened up the fridge, which had been camouflaged as one of the cupboards, and took out a carton of milk. He glanced at Danny. "Are you sure you don't want something?"
"Not hungry."
"All right." Nicholas grasped brown, pre-sliced bread from the cupboard and arranged everything on the kitchen island. He sat down on a stool next Danny, tea in hand, and started eating. He could hear the cats thumping down the hallway, engaged in a furious tussle over a piece of lint. "Look I know," he paused, then amended with, "I've heard that you don't like people coming with you, but would you mind if I tagged along?"
"If you want."
"I'm asking."
Danny speared him with a quick, irritated frown. "Don't matter."
Steam rose in curling tendrils around Nicholas' face. He sipped pensively for a moment, then sighed and put down his tea. Sunlight glinted off his hair and revealed spots that were grey rather than blond.
"I'm not trying to push you, Danny. If you would prefer to do this by yourself…."
"No, it's all right." Danny grasped a slice of bread and ate it without butter. "I'm just…it just puts me in a mood, y'know?"
"I know."
"Dad's in prison, Mum's dead, and with the whole NWA thing…." He winced and drummed his fingers nervously. "Everybody's sorry and I wish they weren't. I wish…I just want to be left alone."
Nicholas hesitated then nodded. "It's always like that." At Danny's enquiring glance, he shrugged. "You try to take things head on, but life doesn't work that way, does it? Life hits you from the side."
"Ya." Danny sighed. "Felt like that when you took on a sea mine?"
"No," Nicholas whispered. "After the mine, when you were lying in the rubble. When you looked right through me."
They sat in silence for a while. The two cats stretched out on the couch and purred. Nicholas got up and opened the curtains, nearly blinded by the early morning light that gushed into the room. He grunted and resumed his seat while Danny laughed. The tension immediately dissolved into the bright complacency of a sunny day. He stole a sip of Nicholas' tea, then a kiss, but couldn't quite disengage. His lips were seeking and reaffirming. Lust pulled them together like magnets.
Somehow, the bed found them. Nicholas gasped when Danny lifted him up and tossed him on the mattress. No one had ever worked up the nerve to attempt it before. He laughed into Danny's ear and coaxed the hem of his boxers off of his hips. It was complicated work since Danny was doing the same to him. His zipper made a slow, metallic purr that filled the room. Nicholas groaned when his trousers were pushed down around his thighs.
"Jesus, Danny."
It was the first and last phrase either of them managed for the better part of an hour. Then time and rational thought resumed, and they were two separate people again. Nicholas stared at the ceiling, mildly aware of the uncomfortable heat in the air and the phone ringing in the main room. He glanced at Danny, who was already showered and dressed. The darkness in his face had lifted.
"I'd like to be alone for a bit," Danny said and donned his jacket. At Nicholas' accepting silence he fiddled with his watch. "But after…I wouldn't mind if you came." He quickly walked down the stairs, and the front door opened and closed with a faint click.
Blocks of sunlight slowly crossed the floor. Nicholas sat up and surveyed his room, which had been immaculate before breakfast. He got out of bed for the second time that morning, put on the pair of pants Danny had tossed over his shoulder, and walked into the main room. Without a mobile, he had been reduced to a landline, which cost a fortune. He dialled the station and Tony's extension.
"Inspector Fisher."
"Hello Tony."
"Oi! You're late, Nick." He sounded mildly amused. "Danny keepin' you busy I s'ppose?"
Nicholas fiddled with a nearby pen. "I have a favour to ask."
"Sure."
"I need you to cover for me."
"You need what?"
"I won't be in until later." When stunned silence met his declaration, he sighed. "It's his mum's anniversary. I'm…going to meet him at the church."
Tony's squint could be felt across the phone. "He don't let anybody go with him. Must have done somethin' right, Nick."
"I hope so."
"Ya, don't mind. I saw where you put the paperwork, I'll get on it. But you owe me a pint."
Nicholas smiled. "Yes I do," he said warmly. "I…ah, thanks."
"No problem." Tony hung up without warning, as was his tendency.
Nicholas put the phone down and regarded his kitchen, which was littered with bread crumbs, dirty spoons, and cups of cold tea. He sighed and went about cleaning it up, then went into his room and took his sheets off the bed. His cottage had the newest appliances, including a washer-dryer that had baffled Nicholas and Danny for days. He set it to what he hoped was the right cycle, but didn't turn it on. Instead, he went into the bathroom and had a long shower.
After he had dressed and shaved, Nicholas went back into kitchen and turned on the washer-dryer. He watched for a moment and was relieved when suds appeared. Its hum was pleasant and monotonous—the sound of a home.
"Alright, you pair. Be good." Nicholas spotted his gloves and put them on, lifted his sunglasses off the table, and headed towards the door. Neither cat deigned to lift its head as he walked outside. He paused on his front step and studied the small garden. Several bees performed acrobatics among the blooms, and the breeze smelled earthy and a little sweet.
Nicholas slipped into the car. The engine started with a growl and rumbled amicably under his fingertips. He could feel the vibrations through the steering wheel. He smiled at such a small, unexpected victory, and put the car into first gear. The drive was uneventful and short. He had to pass through the main square, but it was a lovely Sunday afternoon and most of the traffic was in the form of pedestrians and bicycles. Almost everyone there waved at him, and he spent half the trip waving back.
Mrs. Fletcher stood outside the reopened Leslie's Garden. Nicholas pulled right up to the curb and parked illegally on the corner. She met him on the sidewalk, her elderly face creased by concern. "Hello," she said with uncharacteristic solemnity.
"Hello, Florance." He took the bouquet out of her hands. "Thank you, I know it's your day off. How much do I owe?"
She waved her hand. "Not a thing, Inspector. I'm just glad Danny has some company today. It's not a time to be alone, is it?"
Nicholas' face eased. "No, it isn't." He turned back towards his car, but Mrs. Fletcher's voice stopped him.
"You take care of that boy." Her voice thrummed with disapproval. "He hasn't got anybody else."
He nodded and watched her thin frame disappear into her shop. Another round of greetings caught him off guard, and he walked back to his car muttering pleasantries. The drive resumed with its interior filled with a subtle perfume.
The church property exuded a bright, green calm. Insects darted back and forth like golden motes of dust. Nicholas parked and took a moment to survey everything. It was like the NWA had never existed. He stepped out of the car and walked across the groomed cemetery lawn, limp nearly imperceptible. He unfolded his glasses and slipped them on. Danny wasn't near a grave, but perched on the stone wall. He looked lost in thought.
Nicholas took a deep breath, but didn't alter his pace. Danny spotted him, hand over his eyes, expression hidden by its shadow. He slid off the wall and started walking, head bowed. They met in the centre of the cemetery, at a headstone that read Irene Butterman.
End.