Paradise Found
Fandom: Death In Paradise
Pairing: Richard Poole/Fidel Best
Rating: R-15
Word Count: 6,590
Summary: Set after episode 1.08: Richard returns to England, taking Fidel with him.
Warnings: Homophobic and racist comments by one character.
Spoilers: Small ones for 1.08
Notes: #4 in my Richard/Fidel series, the rest of which are here
Paradise found
Richard waited until he and Fidel were alone that evening, sitting on the beach in front of his house, before broaching the subject. He had been thinking about the Commissioner's news, about the fact that he might have been able to go home, all day. To begin with, it had seemed like a dream come true but now he just felt bad for trying so hard to make that phone call. He had been so wrapped up in the idea of going back to England, he hadn’t stopped to think of what he’d be leaving behind here. Fidel, for one thing. Sure, he still expected Fidel to grow tired of him, to find someone his own age, someone who wasn’t in the words of Camille, ‘stuffy, uptight and wouldn’t know how to have fun if he tried’. Then there were Camille and Dwayne. He knew how they saw him, but they treated him more like friends than his colleagues ever had back in England. Even Catherine had gone out of her way to welcome him, to try and make the transition a little easier by making him tea and roast dinners.
He still wanted to go back home, though this time his plans weren’t quite so permanent.
“I’m going to return to England for a while,” he told Fidel. “Just over Christmas so that I can see my family and sort out a few things since it looks as though I’ll be staying here for longer than I intended originally.”
Fidel just looked out at the ocean, watching the waves roll gently onto the white sandy beach.
“When do you leave?” he asked quietly.
Richard saw the downcast look on Fidel’s face, even though the other man tried to hide it.
“I was going to ask if you’d like to come with me,” he continued. “I’ll be there for just over a month; that will give me time to spend the holidays with my mum and dad, see my sister, and get things in order.”
Fidel’s expression changed, a huge grin spreading across his features. “Really? Won’t your family mind if I am with you?”
Richard had been wondering that too, but he knew they wouldn’t. There were likely to be a few ill-disguised sniggers and whispers from former colleagues but he knew his family would welcome Fidel and that was all that mattered. If he was being honest he didn’t really like most of his former colleagues, or value their opinions, anyway.
“My mum would love to meet you.”
He looked surprised. “You told your mother about me?” When Richard nodded, Fidel leaned over to kiss him, and then paused.
“Don’t worry about the cost of plane tickets,” Richard told him, not even waiting for him to say it. He knew that on Fidel’s salary, air fare to England might be a bit much. “I’m paying; consider it a Christmas present.”
This time, Fidel leaned all the way in and pressed his lips to Richard’s. “Thank you.” There was another pause, before Fidel asked,
“Are they going to be able to manage without you for that long? Without two of us?”
“And people think I’m the one who worries too much,” Richard teased. “It will be fine; Camille and Dwayne can manage just fine on their own, though I dread to think what state the paperwork will be in by the time we return.”
Fidel sat back on the beach, a thoughtful look on his face. “Didn’t you say it would be winter back in England? Will it snow? I’ve never seen snow.”
Richard laughed. “I don’t know; we’ll have to wait and see. Come on,” he said, standing up and dusting off the back of his trousers. “I need to feed Watson before we go to bed.”
“Watson?” When he saw Richard’s cheeks tinge pink, Fidel smiled. “You finally named the lizard.”
“I couldn’t very well keep calling him ‘it’, could I?” Richard pointed out, ignoring Fidel’s amusement at his choice of name. The name suited him. After all, Watson made a good sounding board when he was trying to figure out a particularly puzzling case, something that Sherlock Holmes’ companion had always been there for in the books.
The thought reminded him that he needed to ask one of the others to take in Watson while he was away…
~.~
The conversation with Camille and Dwayne would have gone better had they thought to inform Camille of their relationship before this point. She had seemed more than a little upset that Dwayne, the Commissioner, and even her mother, knew before she did and had stormed out of the café with a look on her face that made everyone but Richard afraid to follow her.
“Contrary to your words inside, this was not about keeping you in the dark and making you look foolish,” he said, carefully dusting off a spot on the wooden veranda with his handkerchief and sitting down next to her. “It was purely accidental that you were not informed.”
“If you’re trying to say you’re sorry, you’re doing a terrible job of it,” she told him.
Richard huffed. “I’m not, so that’s alright then, isn’t it? Fidel told Dwayne, under duress apparently, and Catherine… Well, I had no intention of telling her anything but my fever a few weeks ago made me say a few things that I shouldn’t have.”
“And the Commisioner?” she asked, glaring at him.
“The rules dictate that our direct superior must be kept informed should personal relationships form between colleagues. As Fidel and I work together on a daily basis, I felt that he should be apprised of the situation,” Richard told her.
Camille sighed. “Fine, but you should have told me,” she grumbled. Her expression softened and she glanced across at him, smirking. “So, you like younger men…”
“He’s not that much younger than me! Anyway, I’ve seen those barely-legal pretty-boys you flirt with on a Friday night when you’ve had a few drinks-”
“Hey, I’ll have you know that I look, but that’s all,” she protested, before smiling at him, a genuine smile and not the teasing one of moments earlier. “He’s a sweet young man, Richard. Don’t hurt him.”
Silently cursing her for turning this into a Hallmark moment, he nodded. “I have no intention of hurting him, I assure you. I care about him.”
She hugged him impulsively, quickly backing off and holding her hands up in apology. “I’m glad. You need someone as much as he does.”
For a moment, they sat in silence until Richard remembered something. “Camille, I wonder if I could ask a favour of you. I need someone to take care of my lizard…”
~.~
Two months later, three days before Christmas, Richard stepped out of the doors at Heathrow airport and looked around at the dull skies and clouds. Ah, home. Pulling up the collar of his coat to protect him against the chill in the air, he looked back, realising that Fidel was no longer walking beside him.
The other man was standing in the doorway, getting underfoot of the other passengers trying to get in or out of the terminal, looking up at the grey sky in disbelief. When Richard took his arm and steered him out of the flow of foot-traffic, he moved.
“Where is the sun? It’s freezing!” he complained, burrowing deeper into the coat he was wearing.
Richard shrugged. “It’s not that bad, actually. This is pretty warm for December.”
“Warm? It is like being in a refrigerator.”
Smiling, Richard flagged down a taxi and waited for the driver to load their suitcases into the boot before giving him the address of his London flat. Beside him, refusing to relinquish his coat now that they were in the heated taxi, or even unzip it, Fidel shivered.
“We’ll be back to my flat soon; it will be warm there,” he promised. “My mother said she was going to nip in this morning and air the place out. She probably put the heating on before she left.”
When they arrived at his flat twenty minutes later, Richard was pleased to see that his mum had indeed put the heating on when she had called in. She had also restocked his refrigerator with essentials such as milk, and left a note reminding him to call her when he got in to let her know he had arrived safely.
First things first, however, he thought. It took him a bit of persuasion, but eventually Fidel took off his coat, still not looking entirely convinced that he wasn’t going to freeze to death if he did so.
“Where do you want me to put your things?” Richard asked him. “My room is large enough, but I don’t wish to presume; I can make up the spare room, if you’d rather.”
Fidel shook his head. “I’d like to stay with you,” he said, picking up his bags and following Richard into the master bedroom, putting them into the corner, out of the way, to unpack later. Giving Richard a kiss, he indicated to the note still in Richard’s hand. “Hadn’t you better call your mother?”
Richard nodded. “And afterwards, we could go and get something to eat. It is nearly tea time. There are a number of pleasant little restaurants within walking distance- Italian, Chinese, traditional English, Cajun.”
“You mean, go back out in the cold?” Fidel didn’t look thrilled at the thought.
“I suppose we could order a take-away,” Richard offered. “I just wanted to take you somewhere nice for your first night here.”
Fidel sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain; the change in temperature is just a bit of a shock, that’s all. I would love to go out for dinner.”
Richard went into his bedroom and opened his wardrobe, looking for a moment before taking out a heavy, three-quarter-length, black, wool coat and holding it up in front of Fidel. The other man hadn’t really owned any cold weather clothing to bring with him and so it was no wonder he was cold.
“It should fit you, and it will be warmer than the one you were wearing.” Richard handed it over and pulled a pair of gloves out of a drawer. “Try it whilst I call my mum, and then we can decide where to go.”
~.~
After unpacking and resting a while first, they had taken the short walk to Franco’s, a little family-run Italian restaurant that Richard had been into a few times. It was small and cosy as opposed to the bigger, fancier restaurants that surrounded it, and the staff made them feel welcome the moment they stepped through the door. After a lovely meal they walked through the brightly lit streets of central London, back to Richard’s flat. The Christmas lights were on, hanging from lampposts and buildings and casting a multi-coloured glow. The bars they passed had Christmas music playing and decorations up inside.
“I always prefer the city at night, especially near Christmas. During the day it’s hectic, with people shopping and everyone pushing and shoving,” Richard said. “At night it’s peaceful. You can just enjoy the surroundings without everyone else getting in the way.”
Fidel smiled. “It’s pretty,” he agreed, pausing to look at a huge Christmas tree that had been covered with hundreds of tiny white lights and set in the centre of the park. After a moment, he turned to Richard, a hopeful look on his face. “Can we go to the museum while we’re here? The Natural History Museum; that’s the one with the dinosaurs, isn’t it?”
“It is. We can visit there, and anywhere else you want. I promised my mum we would spend Christmas day with her and my dad, and I need to drop by the office sometime- the old office,” he corrected, “to collect a few things. I also want to see about putting my flat up for rental. It seems silly to leave it empty. The rest of the time, however, is yours.”
He was rewarded with one of Fidel’s brilliant smiles and he just knew that he’d let himself in for a tourist trail around most of London’s well known attractions. In spite of his usual hatred of trekking around places full of tourists with cameras, dawdling and generally annoying him, he realised that he didn’t mind. It might be nice to see those places with someone else, to actually stop and enjoy them…
Richard frowned at himself as he thought that. He was losing it; that was the only explanation.
Noticing Fidel trying to disguise a yawn, he changed direction to take them on a quicker route back to the flat and ignoring Fidel’s protests.
“We’re here for three weeks,” Richard reminded him. “It was an early start this morning and a long flight; we can come back tomorrow when we’re rested.”
Fidel smiled. “Now I get it; you just want to go to bed,” he teased
Richard may have denied it at the time but not a little later, when he was curled up in bed with Fidel at his side. If he was being honest, he had wanted some alone-time with Fidel. All day long they had been in airports, on planes or in restaurants, with people everywhere. Now, back at the flat, he had Fidel all to himself, even if it was just for a little while.
~.~
Two days later, Richard knocked once on the door of his parents’ house before letting Fidel and himself in.
“Richard!”
An older woman came hurrying toward them and pulled Richard into a tight hug, kissing his cheek as he let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Mum, I’ve only been away for a few months,” he protested, but his mother had already got sidetracked and had let him go. She was looking at Fidel, standing to one side and trying not to get in the way.
“Richard, where are your manners? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
He smiled, urging Fidel to join them with a hand on the small of his back. “Mum, Dad, this is Fidel Best. Fidel, my parents, Irene and Robert Poole.”
Fidel gave them a shy smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Poole,” he said, holding out a hand to shake. Richard’s father took it, greeting him, but Irene bypassed it and gave him one of the same rib-crushing hugs she had given her son.
“We don’t stand on ceremony here,” she told him. “You call me Irene; you’re practically family, after all.”
He cast a confused look at Richard, one that wasn’t missed by Irene.
“Well, you are. It’s not often he brings someone home to meet us,” she told Fidel. “Only once before, actually. What was his name? Alistair?”
Richard tensed at the name, hoping his mum wouldn’t ask too much. He thought he had loved Alistair at the time, right up until he’d found his supposed partner in bed with a young man he’d picked up in the local pub. After that, Richard had fended off his mum’s questions, saying they had parted ways amicably, never wanting to admit what had really happened.
Luckily his mum changed the subject, but not before Richard saw Fidel cast him a concerned look. He forced a smile, assuring Fidel that there was nothing wrong and knowing that he would ask about this later. That was going to be a fun conversation, he thought.
His mum had already looped her arm through Fidel’s and was leading him into the living room, leaving Richard no choice but to follow. If he left them alone for too long, his mother would probably get out the photograph albums.
“So, Fidel, tell me all about Saint Marie,” Irene was saying as she sat down and patted the empty seat on the sofa next to her. “Richard didn’t tell us much, well, except that it was hot.”
Fidel laughed softly. “That sounds about right. For the first few weeks all he did was complain about the heat.”
Richard sat down next to Fidel and listened as his lover answered his mum’s questions, heard the pride in his voice as he told her about the island. He actually missed it a bit, something he never expected to do. He suspected that a lot of what he liked about the place revolved around the man sitting next to him, but he’d come to think of it as home and that surprised him. Only a few weeks earlier he had been so desperate to get his old job back, to leave, and now he was thinking how long it was until they went home.
Robert had already gone back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner, something that he’d done for as long as Richard could remember. The rest of the year, his mum would prepare dinner but on Christmas day, the kitchen was his dad’s domain. Every now and then he would emerge in his Santa Claus-covered apron to listen to what Fidel was saying before going back to his cooking.
Richard’s sister, Lucinda, had arrived just before dinner, spending a long while gently teasing her brother for actually bringing a date. Fidel had watched, bemused, as the Richard Poole he knew back in Saint Marie vanished. Here, Richard was taking Lucy’s teasing with good humour, giving as good as he got, and generally relaxing as he usually only did when he and Fidel were alone. Of course, the glasses of wine he’d had might have had something to do with it too.
Fidel genuinely liked Richard’s family; they had made him feel welcome straight away, treating him as one of their own. He remembered Irene’s comment that he was practically one of the family, that Richard rarely brought anyone home to meet them. He had seen Richard’s reaction when they mentioned Alistair, the only other man that Richard had introduced them to, but he didn’t want to ask. The curiosity was going to drive him crazy, but he suspected that it was a story Richard would rather share when they were alone, if at all.
A few hours later they were full from the huge Christmas dinner they had eaten, and then the slices of cake, chocolates, nuts, and the buffet-style tea that Irene had insisted they have. They had spent most of the afternoon sitting in the living room, catching up. Eventually it started getting dark, and Lucinda left, as did he and Richard, arriving back at Richard’s flat at around midnight.
“I’m sorry about my mum’s questions,” Richard said as he changed for bed. “She can be rather relentless.”
Fidel grinned. “I know. Now I see where you get it from.”
Richard glared. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” he asked, changing the subject.
“We can work that out tomorrow,” Fidel told him, getting into bed and pressing close to Richard. “Right now, we have other things to occupy us.”
~.~
By the end of that week, Richard had seen more of London than he had when he lived here. He had never bothered with the tourist spots, only visiting them if he was investigating something. With Fidel, however, he had actually taken the time to enjoy the city. He had previously spent time in the Museums, but again he had been treated to seeing them through the eyes of someone who had never seen the exhibits before, experiencing it all again with Fidel’s enthusiasm.
He was also getting closer to having to go and see his former superior, to collect the few things he had left behind at Scotland Yard when he thought his posting to Saint Marie was going to be temporary. He’d put it off until after the Christmas holidays, and a bit longer than that, preferring to spend the time with Fidel and his family than with colleagues he wasn’t really looking forward to seeing again.
“You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to,” he told Fidel. “If you would rather meet me later on, I would completely understand.”
Fidel frowned. “Not unless you don’t want me to come with you. I’d like to see where you worked before.”
With a sigh, Richard smiled. What could he say? That he was fully expecting his colleagues to make at least a few tasteless remarks at his expense once they realised that Fidel was Richard’s guest and not just coming along for a professional visit, or that he didn’t really want Fidel to realise just how much most of his former colleagues disliked him. He couldn’t help the fact he was good at solving the kind of cases that left his colleagues stumped. They thought he was being a know-it-all, just showing off, even though that was never his intention. Okay, maybe he did get a little thrill from seeing the befuddled expressions on their faces as he explained how the crime had been committed but that wasn’t the point. That talent, however, hadn’t made him the most popular person on the team. He even knew about the party they’d thrown after he left.
It no longer bothered him, but what he didn’t want was Fidel to start feeling sorry for him.
He stood outside the building that had been his home away from home for years and took a deep breath before going inside. The desk sergeant, one of the few people he had missed, smiled when she saw him, ushering him in through the staff doors and giving him a hug whether he wanted one or not.
“Lindsey, it’s good to see you again. Sergeant Lindsey Mackintosh, this is Detective Fidel Best, one of my colleagues from Saint Marie.”
The woman looked him over speculatively and then smiled. “Pleased to meet you,” She glanced back at Richard. “Oh, he is adorable, Richard. Such a lovely smile.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “He is also standing right there and doesn’t need you fawning all over him.”
“No need to get jealous, Richard,” she teased, letting him know that she hadn’t believed a word of his ‘colleague’ introduction.
“Oh, by all means, continue,” Fidel told her, flashing her another smile. “I would never object to compliments from a beautiful woman.”
Lindsay laughed. “If you ever get tired of this grumpy old sod, you give me a call, sweetie.”
After arranging to meet up with Lindsay at the end of her shift, to catch up when she wasn’t on duty, they left, heading deeper into the building. Richard nodded to a few of the people they met, ignoring the ones he didn’t like, not feeling the need to be polite to them now that he didn’t have to work with them any more. They went to his old office to collect the few things he’d left there, now neatly packed into a box and left on the cupboard top, before heading out again. His former superior’s office was the end office in the corridor. As they passed by, Richard pointed to a blonde haired man in an expensive, designer suit. He was sitting behind a desk, staring at a computer screen that, even from this distance, Richard could see had nothing to do with work. Not unless someone had been murdered over a game of Spider Solitaire.
“That’s the man they gave my job to,” he told Fidel in a low voice, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. He might think of Saint Marie as home now, but that didn’t stop him being angry at the way they gone about his transfer. “His father is an MP, a rather influential one. Daddy wanted his son to be promoted, and I was the one unlucky enough to be shoved out of the door in order to make room for him.”
“Well their loss is our gain,” he said. “You know, from what I’ve heard so far, I think I can say that I don’t like your colleagues very much.”
Richard nodded. “That makes two of us, then.”
“You still miss is, though, don’t you? Being here in the city. In the cold,” Fidel added.
Before Richard could answer, however, a lanky man in his early fifties noticed him and called out, alerting the others in the room. Richard sighed as he came over, a smirk on his face.
“Don’t tell me they sent you back already, Poole?” he quipped. “Had enough of you, have they?”
Richard gave him a polite smile. “Actually, I’m just here to see the Chief Inspector, and show Detective Best around a little. Why, DI Sands? Is your arrest record suffering now there’s no one here to think for you?”
The man’s expression darkened and Richard knew he’d overstepped the mark but it was too late now. Unfortunately, DI Sands had already turned his attention to Fidel. At first he just looked the younger man up and down curiously before Richard saw the realisation in his eyes. Typical, he thought. Usually, Sands had the deductive skills of a cocker spaniel but he had to choose this moment to grow a brain. DI Sands’ smirk reappeared.
“I see you’ve settled in fine, Poole, shacking up with the natives. What’s that they say? Once you go black-”
Chief Inspector Davis emerged from his office just in time to see Richard break Sands’ nose with a quick fist.
“Fucking fag; I’ll have you up on assault charges!” Sands threatened, clutching at his now-bleeding nose.
Richard leaned closer. “Go ahead, and I will in turn make it known what a racist, homophobic pig you are. Good luck with your career when that reaches the newspapers.” He straightened his jacket casually, ignoring the fact that Sands was still in apparent agony. “I rather feel that an apology is due, don’t you, DI Sands?”
“Poole! My office, now!”
Richard stepped around Sands and did as requested, Fidel following quietly. He went into the Chief Inspector’s office, holding the door open for Fidel. He didn’t want to leave the other man outside, not with Sands.
“What the bloody hell were you thinking, Richard?” Davis demanded, indicating for them to sit down. “If he files charges…”
“He won’t. I meant what I said; if he does, I will make sure that every grimy aspect of that man is aired to the public,” Richard promised. “I don’t know how much of that you heard, but he deserved it.”
Davis sighed. “Probably but, damn it, this isn’t a schoolyard. You can’t just go with the ‘he started it’ defence.”
They sat there in stalemate for a moment, Richard refusing to even look sorry, and the Chief Inspector waiting for him to say he was. When it became clear that it wasn’t going to happen, Davis glanced over at Fidel. He was sitting on a chair in the corner, trying his best to keep out of the firing line.
Richard took the hint. “Chief Inspector, this is Detective Fidel Best of the Saint Marie police force. Fidel, meet my former CO, James Davis.”
Davis shook his hand, apologising for the impression he’d got of Scotland Yard so far.
“I thought I could show Fidel around a little, let him see how a big city force works.”
Davis nodded. “We’ve just got the upgraded facial recognition software,” he told them both. It was something that had been in the planning stages before Richard left. “It’s rather impressive.”
Looking eager to show it off, like a child with a new toy, Davis led them down to a series of rooms on the floor below his office. Richard could see the amazement on Fidel’s face as he gave them a demonstration before showing Fidel around the rest of the facilities.
“It would take us three days to get a DNA sample confirmed,” he said. “And fingerprints… it’s so fast.”
Davis looked confused until Richard explained that most forensic evidence had to be sent to the next island to be processed.
“However, Fidel is an expert with visual fingerprint comparison. He once printed an entire crime scene in a single night, comparing the prints manually until he found a match.”
Fidel beamed at the compliment, even as he tried to deflect it, trying to tell them that he’d had some help. They talked for a while longer about techniques, comparing notes on how things were done, the conversation turning back to Richard as they walked toward the lifts.
“I would like you to know that I opposed your transfer,” he said. “And I did try to send word that they were interviewing for your old job.”
Richard nodded. “I appreciated it. Unfortunately, the Commissioner on the islands failed to inform me of your call until it was too late to do anything about it.”
“I did wonder why you hadn’t called back. So, what now?”
“I’ll be returning to Saint Marie at the end of January. The strange thing is that I’m looking forward to returning.”
Davis looked to Fidel in disbelief. “And this would be the same man who practically begged me to let him come home barely a week after arriving?”
Fidel laughed. “I’m not surprised. He didn’t seem particularly fond of, well, anything at first.”
“It’s too hot,” Richard grumbled. They were talking about him as though he couldn’t hear them. “And that damn sand gets everywhere. Oh, and try getting a decent cup of tea and you get the same reaction you would if asking for a mug of arsenic!”
Davis smiled. “Yet you still claim to miss it.”
Richard really couldn’t answer that.
~.~
“Do you really miss Saint Marie?” Fidel asked when they were back at the flat that evening. They had spent the morning at Scotland Yard before meeting some of the colleagues Richard actually liked, such as Lindsey, for a few drinks in the afternoon once their shifts had finished.
Richard climbed into bed beside Fidel, pulling the duvet over them both before turning to face him.
“As surprising as that is, I do. I will never get used to the feeling of living in a greenhouse, but I find myself thinking of ‘when I get home’. I would miss it if I never went back.” He slid an arm over Fidel’s waist and pulled him a bit closer. “And of course, there is someone in particular that I would miss a great deal.”
“Oh, really? And who might that be?”
“Watson. I’ve grown rather attached to the little monster.” He laughed at the indignation on Fidel’s face. “But I would miss you more than a hundred Watsons.”
Fidel raised an eyebrow at him. “I should hope so.”
Richard shifted closer to kiss him. “I’m sorry about today,” he said, all trace of teasing gone from his voice. “About DI Sands. I was dreading something like that happening- although I didn’t expect him to be that much of a pig to my face- which was why I offered to go on my own.”
“I don’t care what he said. What matters to me is that you stood up for me, though I think there was a bit more to that punch than just what he said today,” Fidel observed. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
Richard smiled. “Maybe a bit.”
He moved in for another kiss, this time feeling Fidel’s arms slip around him to pull him closer. Rolling onto his back, he took Fidel with him, the younger man lying sprawled atop him and giving him much more of that smooth flesh to run his hands over. He loved how Fidel reacted, the soft, contented noises he made with each touch. The way Fidel was laid had their bodies pressed together in all the right places and Richard could feel Fidel’s hard cock against his. The other man let out a groan as Richard worked a hand between them, wrapping it around Fidel, stroking him.
“More.”
It wasn’t just Fidel who wanted more that this, but he wasn’t sure that Fidel would want what he did. So far, Richard had always topped, unwilling to give up control to anyone after Alistair had betrayed him. Richard had trusted the man and he’d just walked all over that.
“I-” he paused, not sure how to ask. He sighed; maybe it was better to keep quiet.
“What is it? You can tell me anything, Richard.”
Now or never, he thought. “I’d like you to top; I want to feel you inside me… If that’s something you would want to try, of course. You don’t have to, if you don’t want.”
Stopping him with a kiss, Fidel smiled. “Yes please.” He frowned slightly. “You’ve never wanted me to before this- why now?”
“I’ll tell you the whole pathetic story later,” Richard promised. “But right now, I can think of much better things to be doing.”
There was no argument from Fidel as he leaned over Richard to read into the bedside cabinet and retrieve the lube. His enthusiasm brought a smile to Richard’s face; he couldn’t believe he’d been worried about broaching the subject.
~.~
Two weeks later they were on a plane heading home. Richard’s flat had been cleared of his personal items and the son of one of his father’s friends, who had been looking for a flat, was going to begin renting it from the following Monday. Some more of his belongings were being shipped out to Saint Marie, but it would take a few weeks for them to arrive.
Next to him, Fidel was reading a spy novel he had bought at the airport. When he noticed Richard watching him, he slipped the receipt into the book as a bookmark and put it aside.
“I never did tell you about him, did I?” Richard said, remembering a conversation at his parents house almost a month earlier, and another in bed, though admittedly they had been rather distracted that time and had the explanation had never happened. Now was as good a time as any; the other passengers around them were either asleep or listening to the in-flight movie with their headphones in.
Fidel shook his head, knowing exactly who he meant even if he never said the name. “No, but you don’t have to.”
“I think I do,” Richard told him. “I met Alistair six years ago during an investigation; he was a doctor who had been treating the victim in the case we were working on. After it was finished, he called me, asked me to dinner.” He glanced at Fidel trying to gauge his reactions, wondering if perhaps he shouldn’t have gone into detail, but Fidel was listening intently. “We had been together for almost eight months when he moved in with me and I believed that he cared about me. Or at least I did until I left work early one evening to surprise him and found him in bed- our bed- with some blonde piece of jailbait that he’d picked up. Turns out that he wasn’t the first and all I could think was ‘how could I have been so stupid?’. I’m a detective, for pity’s sake, and I never saw it.”
“It’s not your fault,” Fidel said softly. “He was the one who cheated on you.”
Richard sighed. “When I confronted him, do you know what he said? That I had driven him to it by never being there, always working. Even when I was at home, he told me, I was still working, still being Detective Inspector Poole.”
“You are, but that’s not a bad thing,” Fidel assured him, lowering his voice to add, “I happen to find you being all authoritative very sexy.”
That simple reassurance from Fidel eased a weight off his shoulders. He had been worried that Fidel would think the same- after all, how many times had Camille told him that he didn’t know how to have fun or to stop working?
“Actually, I always find you very sexy,” Fidel said softly, breaking into his thoughts.
He saw Fidel looking around to make sure that no one was listening, no cabin crew close by, before leaning closer to whisper, “Do you know what I have always wanted to do…?”
He must be crazy, Richard thought as he joined Fidel in the cramped airplane bathroom a few minutes later. They were going to get caught and what then? He could just imagine the tabloid headlines: Detective Inspector caught with his trousers down! Police officers in mile high romp!
“We’ll have to do this quickly,” he told Fidel, but the other man was way ahead of him. Deft fingers had Richard’s trousers unfastened and pushed down within seconds, and he felt cool, slick fingers probing at his arse.
“Where did you get- you know what? I don’t want to know,” he said, pushing back against Fidel’s fingers, urging him on. He was rewarded moments later with Fidel easing into him oh so slowly, and found himself pressing a hand to his mouth to keep quiet.
~.~
When he got back to his seat, Fidel was apparently engrossed in his novel once more. He couldn’t have been concentrating too much, Richard thought, as he man looked up and grinned as he approached.
He sat down, making himself comfortable. “You are a bad influence on me.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, and don’t try that ‘I’m so sweet and innocent’ look on me, you kinky little sod.”
Fidel just laughed. “Admit it; that was fun.”
~.~
When they finally arrived back on Saint Marie, they found Camille waiting for them with the Land Rover. She waved as they got off the boat, coming over to help them with their bags.
“Did you enjoy yourselves? You will have to tell me all about it,” she was saying. “I hope you took lots of photographs.”
Fidel had; he’d insisted that Richard cooperate for a few of them too, getting passers-by to take them so that they could both be included. It had seemed ridiculous to begin with- he wasn’t overly fond of having his photo taken- but now he rather liked the idea. He intended to get a couple of those to keep as he didn’t have a picture of them both together.
“And did you have a good flight?”
He had to smile as Fidel nodded, the innocent expression back on his face. “Fantastic, actually.” Any minute now he’d be telling her exactly why, Richard thought, glad when she was sidetracked by getting into the Land Rover.
“So, have you and Dwayne managed to destroy the station in our absence?”
Camille frowned. “Richard! I came out here to save you having to take a taxi and to welcome you back, and you ask me that? I have a good mind to let you walk home!”
Richard climbed into the passenger seat and turned to her with a smile. “I was just joking. I’m sure you have handled things admirably.”
“Was that a compliment?” she asked Fidel, looking confused. “What did you do to him while you were gone?”
Fidel smirked and she rolled her eyes. “No, please don’t answer that.”
The drive to his house didn’t take long and, after saying hello to Watson and giving him a piece of fruit, Richard walked out onto the porch. He was still melting with the heat, especially after the weather in London, but he had to admit that it was beautiful here with the blue sea and white sandy beach.
“He’s smiling again. Now he’s starting to scare me,” he heard Camille say to Fidel as he went back inside.
“I’m just glad to be home.”
~.~
End.
Pairing: Richard Poole/Fidel Best
Rating: R-15
Word Count: 6,590
Summary: Set after episode 1.08: Richard returns to England, taking Fidel with him.
Warnings: Homophobic and racist comments by one character.
Spoilers: Small ones for 1.08
Notes: #4 in my Richard/Fidel series, the rest of which are here
Paradise found
Richard waited until he and Fidel were alone that evening, sitting on the beach in front of his house, before broaching the subject. He had been thinking about the Commissioner's news, about the fact that he might have been able to go home, all day. To begin with, it had seemed like a dream come true but now he just felt bad for trying so hard to make that phone call. He had been so wrapped up in the idea of going back to England, he hadn’t stopped to think of what he’d be leaving behind here. Fidel, for one thing. Sure, he still expected Fidel to grow tired of him, to find someone his own age, someone who wasn’t in the words of Camille, ‘stuffy, uptight and wouldn’t know how to have fun if he tried’. Then there were Camille and Dwayne. He knew how they saw him, but they treated him more like friends than his colleagues ever had back in England. Even Catherine had gone out of her way to welcome him, to try and make the transition a little easier by making him tea and roast dinners.
He still wanted to go back home, though this time his plans weren’t quite so permanent.
“I’m going to return to England for a while,” he told Fidel. “Just over Christmas so that I can see my family and sort out a few things since it looks as though I’ll be staying here for longer than I intended originally.”
Fidel just looked out at the ocean, watching the waves roll gently onto the white sandy beach.
“When do you leave?” he asked quietly.
Richard saw the downcast look on Fidel’s face, even though the other man tried to hide it.
“I was going to ask if you’d like to come with me,” he continued. “I’ll be there for just over a month; that will give me time to spend the holidays with my mum and dad, see my sister, and get things in order.”
Fidel’s expression changed, a huge grin spreading across his features. “Really? Won’t your family mind if I am with you?”
Richard had been wondering that too, but he knew they wouldn’t. There were likely to be a few ill-disguised sniggers and whispers from former colleagues but he knew his family would welcome Fidel and that was all that mattered. If he was being honest he didn’t really like most of his former colleagues, or value their opinions, anyway.
“My mum would love to meet you.”
He looked surprised. “You told your mother about me?” When Richard nodded, Fidel leaned over to kiss him, and then paused.
“Don’t worry about the cost of plane tickets,” Richard told him, not even waiting for him to say it. He knew that on Fidel’s salary, air fare to England might be a bit much. “I’m paying; consider it a Christmas present.”
This time, Fidel leaned all the way in and pressed his lips to Richard’s. “Thank you.” There was another pause, before Fidel asked,
“Are they going to be able to manage without you for that long? Without two of us?”
“And people think I’m the one who worries too much,” Richard teased. “It will be fine; Camille and Dwayne can manage just fine on their own, though I dread to think what state the paperwork will be in by the time we return.”
Fidel sat back on the beach, a thoughtful look on his face. “Didn’t you say it would be winter back in England? Will it snow? I’ve never seen snow.”
Richard laughed. “I don’t know; we’ll have to wait and see. Come on,” he said, standing up and dusting off the back of his trousers. “I need to feed Watson before we go to bed.”
“Watson?” When he saw Richard’s cheeks tinge pink, Fidel smiled. “You finally named the lizard.”
“I couldn’t very well keep calling him ‘it’, could I?” Richard pointed out, ignoring Fidel’s amusement at his choice of name. The name suited him. After all, Watson made a good sounding board when he was trying to figure out a particularly puzzling case, something that Sherlock Holmes’ companion had always been there for in the books.
The thought reminded him that he needed to ask one of the others to take in Watson while he was away…
~.~
The conversation with Camille and Dwayne would have gone better had they thought to inform Camille of their relationship before this point. She had seemed more than a little upset that Dwayne, the Commissioner, and even her mother, knew before she did and had stormed out of the café with a look on her face that made everyone but Richard afraid to follow her.
“Contrary to your words inside, this was not about keeping you in the dark and making you look foolish,” he said, carefully dusting off a spot on the wooden veranda with his handkerchief and sitting down next to her. “It was purely accidental that you were not informed.”
“If you’re trying to say you’re sorry, you’re doing a terrible job of it,” she told him.
Richard huffed. “I’m not, so that’s alright then, isn’t it? Fidel told Dwayne, under duress apparently, and Catherine… Well, I had no intention of telling her anything but my fever a few weeks ago made me say a few things that I shouldn’t have.”
“And the Commisioner?” she asked, glaring at him.
“The rules dictate that our direct superior must be kept informed should personal relationships form between colleagues. As Fidel and I work together on a daily basis, I felt that he should be apprised of the situation,” Richard told her.
Camille sighed. “Fine, but you should have told me,” she grumbled. Her expression softened and she glanced across at him, smirking. “So, you like younger men…”
“He’s not that much younger than me! Anyway, I’ve seen those barely-legal pretty-boys you flirt with on a Friday night when you’ve had a few drinks-”
“Hey, I’ll have you know that I look, but that’s all,” she protested, before smiling at him, a genuine smile and not the teasing one of moments earlier. “He’s a sweet young man, Richard. Don’t hurt him.”
Silently cursing her for turning this into a Hallmark moment, he nodded. “I have no intention of hurting him, I assure you. I care about him.”
She hugged him impulsively, quickly backing off and holding her hands up in apology. “I’m glad. You need someone as much as he does.”
For a moment, they sat in silence until Richard remembered something. “Camille, I wonder if I could ask a favour of you. I need someone to take care of my lizard…”
~.~
Two months later, three days before Christmas, Richard stepped out of the doors at Heathrow airport and looked around at the dull skies and clouds. Ah, home. Pulling up the collar of his coat to protect him against the chill in the air, he looked back, realising that Fidel was no longer walking beside him.
The other man was standing in the doorway, getting underfoot of the other passengers trying to get in or out of the terminal, looking up at the grey sky in disbelief. When Richard took his arm and steered him out of the flow of foot-traffic, he moved.
“Where is the sun? It’s freezing!” he complained, burrowing deeper into the coat he was wearing.
Richard shrugged. “It’s not that bad, actually. This is pretty warm for December.”
“Warm? It is like being in a refrigerator.”
Smiling, Richard flagged down a taxi and waited for the driver to load their suitcases into the boot before giving him the address of his London flat. Beside him, refusing to relinquish his coat now that they were in the heated taxi, or even unzip it, Fidel shivered.
“We’ll be back to my flat soon; it will be warm there,” he promised. “My mother said she was going to nip in this morning and air the place out. She probably put the heating on before she left.”
When they arrived at his flat twenty minutes later, Richard was pleased to see that his mum had indeed put the heating on when she had called in. She had also restocked his refrigerator with essentials such as milk, and left a note reminding him to call her when he got in to let her know he had arrived safely.
First things first, however, he thought. It took him a bit of persuasion, but eventually Fidel took off his coat, still not looking entirely convinced that he wasn’t going to freeze to death if he did so.
“Where do you want me to put your things?” Richard asked him. “My room is large enough, but I don’t wish to presume; I can make up the spare room, if you’d rather.”
Fidel shook his head. “I’d like to stay with you,” he said, picking up his bags and following Richard into the master bedroom, putting them into the corner, out of the way, to unpack later. Giving Richard a kiss, he indicated to the note still in Richard’s hand. “Hadn’t you better call your mother?”
Richard nodded. “And afterwards, we could go and get something to eat. It is nearly tea time. There are a number of pleasant little restaurants within walking distance- Italian, Chinese, traditional English, Cajun.”
“You mean, go back out in the cold?” Fidel didn’t look thrilled at the thought.
“I suppose we could order a take-away,” Richard offered. “I just wanted to take you somewhere nice for your first night here.”
Fidel sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain; the change in temperature is just a bit of a shock, that’s all. I would love to go out for dinner.”
Richard went into his bedroom and opened his wardrobe, looking for a moment before taking out a heavy, three-quarter-length, black, wool coat and holding it up in front of Fidel. The other man hadn’t really owned any cold weather clothing to bring with him and so it was no wonder he was cold.
“It should fit you, and it will be warmer than the one you were wearing.” Richard handed it over and pulled a pair of gloves out of a drawer. “Try it whilst I call my mum, and then we can decide where to go.”
~.~
After unpacking and resting a while first, they had taken the short walk to Franco’s, a little family-run Italian restaurant that Richard had been into a few times. It was small and cosy as opposed to the bigger, fancier restaurants that surrounded it, and the staff made them feel welcome the moment they stepped through the door. After a lovely meal they walked through the brightly lit streets of central London, back to Richard’s flat. The Christmas lights were on, hanging from lampposts and buildings and casting a multi-coloured glow. The bars they passed had Christmas music playing and decorations up inside.
“I always prefer the city at night, especially near Christmas. During the day it’s hectic, with people shopping and everyone pushing and shoving,” Richard said. “At night it’s peaceful. You can just enjoy the surroundings without everyone else getting in the way.”
Fidel smiled. “It’s pretty,” he agreed, pausing to look at a huge Christmas tree that had been covered with hundreds of tiny white lights and set in the centre of the park. After a moment, he turned to Richard, a hopeful look on his face. “Can we go to the museum while we’re here? The Natural History Museum; that’s the one with the dinosaurs, isn’t it?”
“It is. We can visit there, and anywhere else you want. I promised my mum we would spend Christmas day with her and my dad, and I need to drop by the office sometime- the old office,” he corrected, “to collect a few things. I also want to see about putting my flat up for rental. It seems silly to leave it empty. The rest of the time, however, is yours.”
He was rewarded with one of Fidel’s brilliant smiles and he just knew that he’d let himself in for a tourist trail around most of London’s well known attractions. In spite of his usual hatred of trekking around places full of tourists with cameras, dawdling and generally annoying him, he realised that he didn’t mind. It might be nice to see those places with someone else, to actually stop and enjoy them…
Richard frowned at himself as he thought that. He was losing it; that was the only explanation.
Noticing Fidel trying to disguise a yawn, he changed direction to take them on a quicker route back to the flat and ignoring Fidel’s protests.
“We’re here for three weeks,” Richard reminded him. “It was an early start this morning and a long flight; we can come back tomorrow when we’re rested.”
Fidel smiled. “Now I get it; you just want to go to bed,” he teased
Richard may have denied it at the time but not a little later, when he was curled up in bed with Fidel at his side. If he was being honest, he had wanted some alone-time with Fidel. All day long they had been in airports, on planes or in restaurants, with people everywhere. Now, back at the flat, he had Fidel all to himself, even if it was just for a little while.
~.~
Two days later, Richard knocked once on the door of his parents’ house before letting Fidel and himself in.
“Richard!”
An older woman came hurrying toward them and pulled Richard into a tight hug, kissing his cheek as he let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Mum, I’ve only been away for a few months,” he protested, but his mother had already got sidetracked and had let him go. She was looking at Fidel, standing to one side and trying not to get in the way.
“Richard, where are your manners? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
He smiled, urging Fidel to join them with a hand on the small of his back. “Mum, Dad, this is Fidel Best. Fidel, my parents, Irene and Robert Poole.”
Fidel gave them a shy smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Poole,” he said, holding out a hand to shake. Richard’s father took it, greeting him, but Irene bypassed it and gave him one of the same rib-crushing hugs she had given her son.
“We don’t stand on ceremony here,” she told him. “You call me Irene; you’re practically family, after all.”
He cast a confused look at Richard, one that wasn’t missed by Irene.
“Well, you are. It’s not often he brings someone home to meet us,” she told Fidel. “Only once before, actually. What was his name? Alistair?”
Richard tensed at the name, hoping his mum wouldn’t ask too much. He thought he had loved Alistair at the time, right up until he’d found his supposed partner in bed with a young man he’d picked up in the local pub. After that, Richard had fended off his mum’s questions, saying they had parted ways amicably, never wanting to admit what had really happened.
Luckily his mum changed the subject, but not before Richard saw Fidel cast him a concerned look. He forced a smile, assuring Fidel that there was nothing wrong and knowing that he would ask about this later. That was going to be a fun conversation, he thought.
His mum had already looped her arm through Fidel’s and was leading him into the living room, leaving Richard no choice but to follow. If he left them alone for too long, his mother would probably get out the photograph albums.
“So, Fidel, tell me all about Saint Marie,” Irene was saying as she sat down and patted the empty seat on the sofa next to her. “Richard didn’t tell us much, well, except that it was hot.”
Fidel laughed softly. “That sounds about right. For the first few weeks all he did was complain about the heat.”
Richard sat down next to Fidel and listened as his lover answered his mum’s questions, heard the pride in his voice as he told her about the island. He actually missed it a bit, something he never expected to do. He suspected that a lot of what he liked about the place revolved around the man sitting next to him, but he’d come to think of it as home and that surprised him. Only a few weeks earlier he had been so desperate to get his old job back, to leave, and now he was thinking how long it was until they went home.
Robert had already gone back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner, something that he’d done for as long as Richard could remember. The rest of the year, his mum would prepare dinner but on Christmas day, the kitchen was his dad’s domain. Every now and then he would emerge in his Santa Claus-covered apron to listen to what Fidel was saying before going back to his cooking.
Richard’s sister, Lucinda, had arrived just before dinner, spending a long while gently teasing her brother for actually bringing a date. Fidel had watched, bemused, as the Richard Poole he knew back in Saint Marie vanished. Here, Richard was taking Lucy’s teasing with good humour, giving as good as he got, and generally relaxing as he usually only did when he and Fidel were alone. Of course, the glasses of wine he’d had might have had something to do with it too.
Fidel genuinely liked Richard’s family; they had made him feel welcome straight away, treating him as one of their own. He remembered Irene’s comment that he was practically one of the family, that Richard rarely brought anyone home to meet them. He had seen Richard’s reaction when they mentioned Alistair, the only other man that Richard had introduced them to, but he didn’t want to ask. The curiosity was going to drive him crazy, but he suspected that it was a story Richard would rather share when they were alone, if at all.
A few hours later they were full from the huge Christmas dinner they had eaten, and then the slices of cake, chocolates, nuts, and the buffet-style tea that Irene had insisted they have. They had spent most of the afternoon sitting in the living room, catching up. Eventually it started getting dark, and Lucinda left, as did he and Richard, arriving back at Richard’s flat at around midnight.
“I’m sorry about my mum’s questions,” Richard said as he changed for bed. “She can be rather relentless.”
Fidel grinned. “I know. Now I see where you get it from.”
Richard glared. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” he asked, changing the subject.
“We can work that out tomorrow,” Fidel told him, getting into bed and pressing close to Richard. “Right now, we have other things to occupy us.”
~.~
By the end of that week, Richard had seen more of London than he had when he lived here. He had never bothered with the tourist spots, only visiting them if he was investigating something. With Fidel, however, he had actually taken the time to enjoy the city. He had previously spent time in the Museums, but again he had been treated to seeing them through the eyes of someone who had never seen the exhibits before, experiencing it all again with Fidel’s enthusiasm.
He was also getting closer to having to go and see his former superior, to collect the few things he had left behind at Scotland Yard when he thought his posting to Saint Marie was going to be temporary. He’d put it off until after the Christmas holidays, and a bit longer than that, preferring to spend the time with Fidel and his family than with colleagues he wasn’t really looking forward to seeing again.
“You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to,” he told Fidel. “If you would rather meet me later on, I would completely understand.”
Fidel frowned. “Not unless you don’t want me to come with you. I’d like to see where you worked before.”
With a sigh, Richard smiled. What could he say? That he was fully expecting his colleagues to make at least a few tasteless remarks at his expense once they realised that Fidel was Richard’s guest and not just coming along for a professional visit, or that he didn’t really want Fidel to realise just how much most of his former colleagues disliked him. He couldn’t help the fact he was good at solving the kind of cases that left his colleagues stumped. They thought he was being a know-it-all, just showing off, even though that was never his intention. Okay, maybe he did get a little thrill from seeing the befuddled expressions on their faces as he explained how the crime had been committed but that wasn’t the point. That talent, however, hadn’t made him the most popular person on the team. He even knew about the party they’d thrown after he left.
It no longer bothered him, but what he didn’t want was Fidel to start feeling sorry for him.
He stood outside the building that had been his home away from home for years and took a deep breath before going inside. The desk sergeant, one of the few people he had missed, smiled when she saw him, ushering him in through the staff doors and giving him a hug whether he wanted one or not.
“Lindsey, it’s good to see you again. Sergeant Lindsey Mackintosh, this is Detective Fidel Best, one of my colleagues from Saint Marie.”
The woman looked him over speculatively and then smiled. “Pleased to meet you,” She glanced back at Richard. “Oh, he is adorable, Richard. Such a lovely smile.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “He is also standing right there and doesn’t need you fawning all over him.”
“No need to get jealous, Richard,” she teased, letting him know that she hadn’t believed a word of his ‘colleague’ introduction.
“Oh, by all means, continue,” Fidel told her, flashing her another smile. “I would never object to compliments from a beautiful woman.”
Lindsay laughed. “If you ever get tired of this grumpy old sod, you give me a call, sweetie.”
After arranging to meet up with Lindsay at the end of her shift, to catch up when she wasn’t on duty, they left, heading deeper into the building. Richard nodded to a few of the people they met, ignoring the ones he didn’t like, not feeling the need to be polite to them now that he didn’t have to work with them any more. They went to his old office to collect the few things he’d left there, now neatly packed into a box and left on the cupboard top, before heading out again. His former superior’s office was the end office in the corridor. As they passed by, Richard pointed to a blonde haired man in an expensive, designer suit. He was sitting behind a desk, staring at a computer screen that, even from this distance, Richard could see had nothing to do with work. Not unless someone had been murdered over a game of Spider Solitaire.
“That’s the man they gave my job to,” he told Fidel in a low voice, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. He might think of Saint Marie as home now, but that didn’t stop him being angry at the way they gone about his transfer. “His father is an MP, a rather influential one. Daddy wanted his son to be promoted, and I was the one unlucky enough to be shoved out of the door in order to make room for him.”
“Well their loss is our gain,” he said. “You know, from what I’ve heard so far, I think I can say that I don’t like your colleagues very much.”
Richard nodded. “That makes two of us, then.”
“You still miss is, though, don’t you? Being here in the city. In the cold,” Fidel added.
Before Richard could answer, however, a lanky man in his early fifties noticed him and called out, alerting the others in the room. Richard sighed as he came over, a smirk on his face.
“Don’t tell me they sent you back already, Poole?” he quipped. “Had enough of you, have they?”
Richard gave him a polite smile. “Actually, I’m just here to see the Chief Inspector, and show Detective Best around a little. Why, DI Sands? Is your arrest record suffering now there’s no one here to think for you?”
The man’s expression darkened and Richard knew he’d overstepped the mark but it was too late now. Unfortunately, DI Sands had already turned his attention to Fidel. At first he just looked the younger man up and down curiously before Richard saw the realisation in his eyes. Typical, he thought. Usually, Sands had the deductive skills of a cocker spaniel but he had to choose this moment to grow a brain. DI Sands’ smirk reappeared.
“I see you’ve settled in fine, Poole, shacking up with the natives. What’s that they say? Once you go black-”
Chief Inspector Davis emerged from his office just in time to see Richard break Sands’ nose with a quick fist.
“Fucking fag; I’ll have you up on assault charges!” Sands threatened, clutching at his now-bleeding nose.
Richard leaned closer. “Go ahead, and I will in turn make it known what a racist, homophobic pig you are. Good luck with your career when that reaches the newspapers.” He straightened his jacket casually, ignoring the fact that Sands was still in apparent agony. “I rather feel that an apology is due, don’t you, DI Sands?”
“Poole! My office, now!”
Richard stepped around Sands and did as requested, Fidel following quietly. He went into the Chief Inspector’s office, holding the door open for Fidel. He didn’t want to leave the other man outside, not with Sands.
“What the bloody hell were you thinking, Richard?” Davis demanded, indicating for them to sit down. “If he files charges…”
“He won’t. I meant what I said; if he does, I will make sure that every grimy aspect of that man is aired to the public,” Richard promised. “I don’t know how much of that you heard, but he deserved it.”
Davis sighed. “Probably but, damn it, this isn’t a schoolyard. You can’t just go with the ‘he started it’ defence.”
They sat there in stalemate for a moment, Richard refusing to even look sorry, and the Chief Inspector waiting for him to say he was. When it became clear that it wasn’t going to happen, Davis glanced over at Fidel. He was sitting on a chair in the corner, trying his best to keep out of the firing line.
Richard took the hint. “Chief Inspector, this is Detective Fidel Best of the Saint Marie police force. Fidel, meet my former CO, James Davis.”
Davis shook his hand, apologising for the impression he’d got of Scotland Yard so far.
“I thought I could show Fidel around a little, let him see how a big city force works.”
Davis nodded. “We’ve just got the upgraded facial recognition software,” he told them both. It was something that had been in the planning stages before Richard left. “It’s rather impressive.”
Looking eager to show it off, like a child with a new toy, Davis led them down to a series of rooms on the floor below his office. Richard could see the amazement on Fidel’s face as he gave them a demonstration before showing Fidel around the rest of the facilities.
“It would take us three days to get a DNA sample confirmed,” he said. “And fingerprints… it’s so fast.”
Davis looked confused until Richard explained that most forensic evidence had to be sent to the next island to be processed.
“However, Fidel is an expert with visual fingerprint comparison. He once printed an entire crime scene in a single night, comparing the prints manually until he found a match.”
Fidel beamed at the compliment, even as he tried to deflect it, trying to tell them that he’d had some help. They talked for a while longer about techniques, comparing notes on how things were done, the conversation turning back to Richard as they walked toward the lifts.
“I would like you to know that I opposed your transfer,” he said. “And I did try to send word that they were interviewing for your old job.”
Richard nodded. “I appreciated it. Unfortunately, the Commissioner on the islands failed to inform me of your call until it was too late to do anything about it.”
“I did wonder why you hadn’t called back. So, what now?”
“I’ll be returning to Saint Marie at the end of January. The strange thing is that I’m looking forward to returning.”
Davis looked to Fidel in disbelief. “And this would be the same man who practically begged me to let him come home barely a week after arriving?”
Fidel laughed. “I’m not surprised. He didn’t seem particularly fond of, well, anything at first.”
“It’s too hot,” Richard grumbled. They were talking about him as though he couldn’t hear them. “And that damn sand gets everywhere. Oh, and try getting a decent cup of tea and you get the same reaction you would if asking for a mug of arsenic!”
Davis smiled. “Yet you still claim to miss it.”
Richard really couldn’t answer that.
~.~
“Do you really miss Saint Marie?” Fidel asked when they were back at the flat that evening. They had spent the morning at Scotland Yard before meeting some of the colleagues Richard actually liked, such as Lindsey, for a few drinks in the afternoon once their shifts had finished.
Richard climbed into bed beside Fidel, pulling the duvet over them both before turning to face him.
“As surprising as that is, I do. I will never get used to the feeling of living in a greenhouse, but I find myself thinking of ‘when I get home’. I would miss it if I never went back.” He slid an arm over Fidel’s waist and pulled him a bit closer. “And of course, there is someone in particular that I would miss a great deal.”
“Oh, really? And who might that be?”
“Watson. I’ve grown rather attached to the little monster.” He laughed at the indignation on Fidel’s face. “But I would miss you more than a hundred Watsons.”
Fidel raised an eyebrow at him. “I should hope so.”
Richard shifted closer to kiss him. “I’m sorry about today,” he said, all trace of teasing gone from his voice. “About DI Sands. I was dreading something like that happening- although I didn’t expect him to be that much of a pig to my face- which was why I offered to go on my own.”
“I don’t care what he said. What matters to me is that you stood up for me, though I think there was a bit more to that punch than just what he said today,” Fidel observed. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
Richard smiled. “Maybe a bit.”
He moved in for another kiss, this time feeling Fidel’s arms slip around him to pull him closer. Rolling onto his back, he took Fidel with him, the younger man lying sprawled atop him and giving him much more of that smooth flesh to run his hands over. He loved how Fidel reacted, the soft, contented noises he made with each touch. The way Fidel was laid had their bodies pressed together in all the right places and Richard could feel Fidel’s hard cock against his. The other man let out a groan as Richard worked a hand between them, wrapping it around Fidel, stroking him.
“More.”
It wasn’t just Fidel who wanted more that this, but he wasn’t sure that Fidel would want what he did. So far, Richard had always topped, unwilling to give up control to anyone after Alistair had betrayed him. Richard had trusted the man and he’d just walked all over that.
“I-” he paused, not sure how to ask. He sighed; maybe it was better to keep quiet.
“What is it? You can tell me anything, Richard.”
Now or never, he thought. “I’d like you to top; I want to feel you inside me… If that’s something you would want to try, of course. You don’t have to, if you don’t want.”
Stopping him with a kiss, Fidel smiled. “Yes please.” He frowned slightly. “You’ve never wanted me to before this- why now?”
“I’ll tell you the whole pathetic story later,” Richard promised. “But right now, I can think of much better things to be doing.”
There was no argument from Fidel as he leaned over Richard to read into the bedside cabinet and retrieve the lube. His enthusiasm brought a smile to Richard’s face; he couldn’t believe he’d been worried about broaching the subject.
~.~
Two weeks later they were on a plane heading home. Richard’s flat had been cleared of his personal items and the son of one of his father’s friends, who had been looking for a flat, was going to begin renting it from the following Monday. Some more of his belongings were being shipped out to Saint Marie, but it would take a few weeks for them to arrive.
Next to him, Fidel was reading a spy novel he had bought at the airport. When he noticed Richard watching him, he slipped the receipt into the book as a bookmark and put it aside.
“I never did tell you about him, did I?” Richard said, remembering a conversation at his parents house almost a month earlier, and another in bed, though admittedly they had been rather distracted that time and had the explanation had never happened. Now was as good a time as any; the other passengers around them were either asleep or listening to the in-flight movie with their headphones in.
Fidel shook his head, knowing exactly who he meant even if he never said the name. “No, but you don’t have to.”
“I think I do,” Richard told him. “I met Alistair six years ago during an investigation; he was a doctor who had been treating the victim in the case we were working on. After it was finished, he called me, asked me to dinner.” He glanced at Fidel trying to gauge his reactions, wondering if perhaps he shouldn’t have gone into detail, but Fidel was listening intently. “We had been together for almost eight months when he moved in with me and I believed that he cared about me. Or at least I did until I left work early one evening to surprise him and found him in bed- our bed- with some blonde piece of jailbait that he’d picked up. Turns out that he wasn’t the first and all I could think was ‘how could I have been so stupid?’. I’m a detective, for pity’s sake, and I never saw it.”
“It’s not your fault,” Fidel said softly. “He was the one who cheated on you.”
Richard sighed. “When I confronted him, do you know what he said? That I had driven him to it by never being there, always working. Even when I was at home, he told me, I was still working, still being Detective Inspector Poole.”
“You are, but that’s not a bad thing,” Fidel assured him, lowering his voice to add, “I happen to find you being all authoritative very sexy.”
That simple reassurance from Fidel eased a weight off his shoulders. He had been worried that Fidel would think the same- after all, how many times had Camille told him that he didn’t know how to have fun or to stop working?
“Actually, I always find you very sexy,” Fidel said softly, breaking into his thoughts.
He saw Fidel looking around to make sure that no one was listening, no cabin crew close by, before leaning closer to whisper, “Do you know what I have always wanted to do…?”
He must be crazy, Richard thought as he joined Fidel in the cramped airplane bathroom a few minutes later. They were going to get caught and what then? He could just imagine the tabloid headlines: Detective Inspector caught with his trousers down! Police officers in mile high romp!
“We’ll have to do this quickly,” he told Fidel, but the other man was way ahead of him. Deft fingers had Richard’s trousers unfastened and pushed down within seconds, and he felt cool, slick fingers probing at his arse.
“Where did you get- you know what? I don’t want to know,” he said, pushing back against Fidel’s fingers, urging him on. He was rewarded moments later with Fidel easing into him oh so slowly, and found himself pressing a hand to his mouth to keep quiet.
~.~
When he got back to his seat, Fidel was apparently engrossed in his novel once more. He couldn’t have been concentrating too much, Richard thought, as he man looked up and grinned as he approached.
He sat down, making himself comfortable. “You are a bad influence on me.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, and don’t try that ‘I’m so sweet and innocent’ look on me, you kinky little sod.”
Fidel just laughed. “Admit it; that was fun.”
~.~
When they finally arrived back on Saint Marie, they found Camille waiting for them with the Land Rover. She waved as they got off the boat, coming over to help them with their bags.
“Did you enjoy yourselves? You will have to tell me all about it,” she was saying. “I hope you took lots of photographs.”
Fidel had; he’d insisted that Richard cooperate for a few of them too, getting passers-by to take them so that they could both be included. It had seemed ridiculous to begin with- he wasn’t overly fond of having his photo taken- but now he rather liked the idea. He intended to get a couple of those to keep as he didn’t have a picture of them both together.
“And did you have a good flight?”
He had to smile as Fidel nodded, the innocent expression back on his face. “Fantastic, actually.” Any minute now he’d be telling her exactly why, Richard thought, glad when she was sidetracked by getting into the Land Rover.
“So, have you and Dwayne managed to destroy the station in our absence?”
Camille frowned. “Richard! I came out here to save you having to take a taxi and to welcome you back, and you ask me that? I have a good mind to let you walk home!”
Richard climbed into the passenger seat and turned to her with a smile. “I was just joking. I’m sure you have handled things admirably.”
“Was that a compliment?” she asked Fidel, looking confused. “What did you do to him while you were gone?”
Fidel smirked and she rolled her eyes. “No, please don’t answer that.”
The drive to his house didn’t take long and, after saying hello to Watson and giving him a piece of fruit, Richard walked out onto the porch. He was still melting with the heat, especially after the weather in London, but he had to admit that it was beautiful here with the blue sea and white sandy beach.
“He’s smiling again. Now he’s starting to scare me,” he heard Camille say to Fidel as he went back inside.
“I’m just glad to be home.”
~.~
End.