FIC: A Very Merry (PC) Christmas
this is for the hot fuzz holiday fic exchange. it is my christmas present to tawg. hopefully it is to her liking. :)
To: tawg
From: mbmincey
A Very Merry (PC) Christmas
For a modern British Police Officer like himself, celebrating Christmas was problematic. Nicholas had to ensure nobody could possibly be upset by his celebrating the birth of a baby born to a carpenter and his life partner, under unsuitable accommodations, while being watched by three strangers from abroad. Such festivities might provoke minority groups. Never mind that Sandford had no visible, or meaningful in terms of numbers, minorities to offend. That hardly mattered. It was his legal duty not only to practice ‘Diversity’ as defined by police guidelines, but also to promote it, no matter how stupid and Orwellian it may be.
However, Nicholas can understand the concept of Father Christmas being threatening. A man who approached children with gifts and broke into people’s houses in the middle of the night…Nicholas suspected Father Christmas was a pedophile, but he has yet to prove it. He told Danny his pet theory while helping him with his Christmas cards, and earned a queer look.
“You’re completely mental, you know that, right?”
“Let’s just say that Father Christmas’ activities are highly circumspect.”
“You’re jus’ mad ‘cause he stabbed you.”
“Bah, humbug,” Nicholas muttered, stuffing another envelop. Danny seemed determined to mail a card to everyone he’d ever met. “I have every right to be mad. I’d rather skip the whole thing, anyway.”
“What?”
“Christmas.”
“Because you’re a diagnostic,” Danny eyed him pityingly. “Lot’s of people like Christmas and without setting foot in a church. I think you jus’ don’ like to have fun.”
“We atheists are a notoriously fractious and hateful bunch, as no doubt we will continue to be in hell, but that’s not why. It’s just too much of a hassle trying to fulfill everyone’s unrealistic expectations about one day of the year. Do even half these people send you a card?”
“That’s not the point, is it?” Danny shakes his head at him, “You worry me, Nick.”
Unfortunately, learning the meaning of Christmas and all that rubbish had to wait. The Home Office had further complicated his holiday thanks to ‘Diversity’, capital ‘D’. The definition of ‘Diversity’ was in the hands of nameless, faceless bureaucrats who shouted loudest and longest in the tendering process. Sandford County was required to tender a contract for Diversity training each year. Nicholas had the distinct honor of carrying out a Community Impact Assessment for Sandford Constabulary’s Seasonal Festivities, the most nonsensical, insulting and, quite frankly, sinister job of the year. And like all PC catch phrases, the actual meaning disappeared after acquiring capital initials, replaced by a new, mostly empty meaning.
Nicholas could say the same thing about Christmas. Christmas was now a secular affair, its original meaning replaced by commercialism, schlocky gimmicks, and dogs barking Jingle Bells. The whole season irritated him, but that was not the reason Nicholas hated Christmas. He could not help but notice these pitfalls while he stood on the outside of things. It was easy to cynically laugh at people rather than dwell on the fact he had no family to visit, received no Christmas cards, and spent most of the holidays dealing with theft, domestic disputes, and stupid, drunken yobs. Bitter? Most certainly. He would gladly treat Christmas like any other day of the year, but since he was the Inspector, he had certain obligations to fulfill.
“Chief,” Fisher had said, most gravely, “I really think we need to start planning the pot luck dinner.”
“Chief,” Doris had said, “We are doing Secret Santa this year, right?”
Nicholas now had to organize a party for all his staff and their family members, all while following official guidelines. He had to decide whether to serve alcohol, provide non-alcoholic drinks, and make sure it had its own designated table. He has to ensure that the Station’s décor embraced Diversity by including equal amounts of Hanukkah and Kwanzaa decorations, and get rid of anything that might remotely offend or oppress anyone. It was not because Home Office was truly enlightened or tolerant, but for simply covering their asses. However, the considerable lack of Jesus proved to be offensive to at least one of his staff.
“What do you mean we can’t have the Nativity Scene in the yard,” demanded one of the Turners. Nicholas was not sure which. “We always have a Nativity Scene. We ain’t celebrating the birth of Santa, fer heaven’s sake!”
“We can’t risk upsetting non-Christian ethnicities,” Nicholas rubbed his temples. Turner clutched a dusty plastic Jesus to his chest, no doubt found buried in an attic somewhere. When had the Sandford Police Department fallen into a time warp where nothing ever changed? At the moment, Nicholas felt very far away from London where people made sense.
“Anything discussed in the Diversity seminar isn’t allowed by Somerset. Baby Jesus is a no, so Baby Jesus has to go.”
He almost cracked a smile, but Turner looked too serious now, so he contained himself. He resented feeling like the Grinch after he and Cartwright just spent the last five hours of their off-time untangling fairy lights and precariously standing on the roof of the station. Right bloody ingrates, it’s their bloody holiday, not his.
“Hey, Nick,” Andy said. “As a white Christian heterosexual male, I’m feeling very discriminated against. Can I file a compliant?”
“If you have the nerve to, go right ahead. Let me know how it turns out.”
“We can at least have a Christmas tree can’t we?” Turner asked even more sour and belligerent than normal.
“Of course we can,” Andy said brightly. “But official guidelines say we have to call it a friendship tree. Didn’ you watch the tape, er, seminar?”
“Sod it,” Turner muttered. “I’m goin’ to the pub.” Turner trotted away with Baby Jesus under his arm and refused to help finish.
Why the celebration of Christmas required a Community Impact Assessment, Nicholas had no idea. In fact, it’s the dumbest thing he ever heard. Nicholas thought about sending the thing back and telling the Home Office he has little tolerance for dumbassery such as this. It probably didn’t even occur to his superiors that trying so hard not to offend became offensive and that such initiatives were pandering to a problem that did not exist. But never mind, the Home Office didn’t care that Nicholas had to pour over templates for hours, checking every event, communication, and plan for Sandford Constabulary’s Community Impact.
All he needed to do was lay back and think of England. And buy Bob Walker a present, as he was Walker’s Secret Santa. Bollocks if he knew what Bob would like, he barely understood a word the man said. Nicholas had hoped to get Danny since he had already bought him a gift, but instead had to make a last-minute trip to the mall. In a crowd of panicked shoppers, Danny hobbled after Nicholas. Nicholas wished Danny had stayed at home, but he insisted on doing his shopping himself.
“What do you think?” Danny asked, holding up two different jumpers.
“They’re both nice,” Nicholas shrugged.
“You’re no help. Which one do you think Doris would like best?”
It won’t matter because she’ll like either of them. Or she could pretend to like the gift and return it for a refund. The gift you spent hours looking for, never to be seen again. Even though you asked her what she wanted for Christmas, and then offered to get her a gift card so she could pick it out herself. Followed by her complaining that you should know what she likes after all these years. He’s guessing. Maybe that was only Janine.
“The blue one.”
Danny looked at both jumpers critically and chose the red one.
Christmas at the station proved to be a more intimate affair than at the Met, or perhaps it felt that way with so many people in a much smaller building. It wasn’t unusual for his staff and their families to celebrate at the station. After a large meal, he felt fairly content to sit there and watch everyone have a good time. He regretted having to leave soon and resume patrol, but he didn’t feel like pulling rank and making someone else do it. He’s quite fine with that, but Danny has another agenda and asked Nicholas to swing by Aunt Jackie’s house.
“Dinner’s at fourish, if, y’know, yer in the area.”
Nicholas can’t help but detect the hopefulness in Danny’s voice and saying no becomes unthinkable, even if he found himself on the other side of town. Saying no to Danny was impossible and someday Danny was going to figure that out. When he does, Nicholas can only hope he’s merciful.
“Of course.”
“Great!” Danny beamed, “Be there or, er, be else…where….”
Danny hugged him, which proved awkward with Nicholas sitting down and Danny standing up. The result was Nick’s face pressed into Danny’s belly, a scenario that has crossed his mind under less innocent circumstances with the lights off. It had the unexpected effect of making him blush.
“You,” Danny ruffled his hair. Or tried. “Don’ forget now!”
“I won’t,” Nicholas assured him, trying desperately to push his hair forward again and looking to see if anyone noticed any of this. He would prefer his heart continue to be a hypothetical notion to his staff. After all, the Grinch’s heart wasn’t supposed to grow until after he saved Whoville.