FIC: How Long Til the Rovers Start? (Hot Fuzz, NA/DB, PG)
Pairing: Nicholas/Danny
Length: 1133 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Nicholas does not regret what he said that night.
Notes: Written expressly for ecto_gammat for the Hot Fuzz holiday fic exchange. I just realized I never posted it here. Many thanks to annlarimer for the read-through and suggestions. Not Christmassy at all.
How Long Til the Rovers Start?
Tom Cruise dove across the tiny television screen and twisted his body just in time to miss the bullet heading toward him. Danny crowed, pumping his fist in the air. Nicholas smiled, wished all life would slow to quarter-speed when bullets were flying. Then he wouldn't be sitting in a squeaky vinyl chair next to Danny's hospital bed. He had to admit, though, for all that had happened, to see him sitting up, ready to return home the next day, excited about a movie without a shadow of recent events on his features, well. Nicholas felt giddy just watching him. He liked the feeling.
"I love you, Danny," he said, going with the moment.
No response at first, and Nicholas wondered if he'd been heard. Then Danny turned his head and blinked at him. Nicholas kept his expression neutral. He gripped the arms of the chair, palms sweating.
"Yeah?"
Nicholas nodded.
Danny shrugged. "Ta." He turned to the telly. "We're about to miss a good part!" His attention was back on Tom Cruise and his superhuman abilities that could only be caught on high-speed film. But that was unimportant, in the end. Nicholas's heart, previously somewhere in his upper thorax, plummeted to his gut. But that was unimportant as well. Danny was alive. Danny was alive.
**
"I love you, Danny! Oi, everyone! I love this man!" Andy shouted his proclamation to the entire pub, his hand grasping Danny's shoulder and shaking. Danny was smiling into his pint. "Not like a bender, you realize," Andy stopped and raised a finger to drive home his point. In the process he swayed and looked about to fall, if not for his partner grabbing his arm to place him, not too gently, in a chair.
Everyone laughed and raised a glass to Andy's non-homoerotic love for Danny. Nicholas gave his on-command polite smile and raised his as well. The pub reopening coincided with Danny's final check-up, his stamp of approval to return to work, and a night of drunken reminiscing Nicholas could well do without.
"No, it was really hard! Landin' like that on the ground. But I didn't feel it til later." Danny looked over at him for confirmation. Nicholas nodded. It was true. The adrenaline of the day had pushed aside all thoughts of pain. Plus, firing two guns whilst flying through the air! He had to admit, that had been brilliant. Worth the bruise that had covered his right side from shoulder to ankle.
**
"That was nice. Tonight."
Danny shrugged, stumbled a bit, but Nicholas was there, as he planned to always be, if he could help it. He managed to put Danny to rights with the barest touch to his elbow, reluctant to hold on any longer than needed. He remembered a time when he freely kept his hands on Danny - his hand, hair, arm, anywhere not covered by a blanket of tubes or bruises. Recently, though, he'd kept his distance. The skin of his hands seemed to dance with its own itch to reach out.
"Usual pub chatter," Danny said finally, looking at his feet.
Nicholas glanced out of the corner of his eye. Danny seemed lost in thought, had been for the past hour or so, even at the pub. Quite unlike the man who specialized in external monologues. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
"They're your friends. Happy to have you back."
Danny snorted. "Yeah. Everybody loves me."
Nicholas's breath caught in his throat. Something about this conversation wasn't going where he'd expected. Not that he planned their conversations. Well, there was that one when he'd made it a point to watch Lethal Weapon before visiting so as to have something to distract Danny from the pain, but that didn't count. This crooked avenue had him a bit lost.
"You know what they're saying with all that, don't you?"
"I assume they're using their inebriated state to openly let you know they care." He scratched his eyebrow. Thought a bit. "Does it have to be more?"
Danny stopped outside his gate. Nicholas expected to hear, "Well, this is me," in that same expectant tone of voice he'd used since that first night. It had become their thing. Instead, Danny kicked the gate a couple of times, wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Sorry your dad's a nutter, Danny. Glad you're not dead, though." He kicked the gate again. "That's what they mean with all their 'I love you, mans.'"
"Oh." There was something more he should say, but his brain wouldn't go where he needed it. Instead, it was fascinated by the motion/reaction of Danny's foot crashing into the gate. Crash. Shudder. Crash. Shudder. Finally he shook himself out of it. He placed his hand on Danny's arm, "Will you...you're going to hurt something."
"Doesn't hurt." Danny scowled.
"I meant the gate."
Danny gave him a small smile, but he stopped. "Well, this is me," he said, quietly.
Nicholas studied his face, though he couldn't say what he was looking for. He realized his hand was still on Danny's arm. Was quite comfortable there, actually. For the first time in three weeks, his skin didn't want to crawl off his body. But then Danny stepped away and headed up the walk, and Nicholas realized there had been a moment. A beat where something was supposed to happen and he had missed it.
"That wasn't what I meant," he said. He walked to the door where Danny had turned, waiting.
Danny's brows pulled together.
"While you were in hospital. And I said that. I love you. That wasn't what I meant." His breath was fighting to come in short gasps, but years of training forced calm into him. In a way, this could be viewed as little different from an SO19 exercise; same level of danger. Danny's look passed from confusion to blankness - the same blinking, empty expression he'd given that night. Nicholas rushed on. "Though I feel I should add that I am...sorry about your father. And more than a little pleased you're not dead."
Danny pulled out his keyring and concentrated on it. "Yeah?"
Nicholas swallowed. Waited. Danny kept sneaking glances at him, though he still pretended to fumble with his keys. Cheeky bastard. His door probably wasn't even locked.
"I meant." He swallowed again. Breathe, he told himself. "I mean. I--oh, fuck it! Look, if I kiss you now, are you going to punch me, or what?"
Danny slowly put his keys back in his pocket and opened his door. He seemed to pause for a brief second before turning and smiling at Nicholas, looking a bit rakish. His heartbeat sped up. "Why don't you come in and find out," Danny said before stepping inside.
Nicholas let out the breath he'd been holding and followed.
End.
Length: 1133 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Nicholas does not regret what he said that night.
Notes: Written expressly for ecto_gammat for the Hot Fuzz holiday fic exchange. I just realized I never posted it here. Many thanks to annlarimer for the read-through and suggestions. Not Christmassy at all.
How Long Til the Rovers Start?
Tom Cruise dove across the tiny television screen and twisted his body just in time to miss the bullet heading toward him. Danny crowed, pumping his fist in the air. Nicholas smiled, wished all life would slow to quarter-speed when bullets were flying. Then he wouldn't be sitting in a squeaky vinyl chair next to Danny's hospital bed. He had to admit, though, for all that had happened, to see him sitting up, ready to return home the next day, excited about a movie without a shadow of recent events on his features, well. Nicholas felt giddy just watching him. He liked the feeling.
"I love you, Danny," he said, going with the moment.
No response at first, and Nicholas wondered if he'd been heard. Then Danny turned his head and blinked at him. Nicholas kept his expression neutral. He gripped the arms of the chair, palms sweating.
"Yeah?"
Nicholas nodded.
Danny shrugged. "Ta." He turned to the telly. "We're about to miss a good part!" His attention was back on Tom Cruise and his superhuman abilities that could only be caught on high-speed film. But that was unimportant, in the end. Nicholas's heart, previously somewhere in his upper thorax, plummeted to his gut. But that was unimportant as well. Danny was alive. Danny was alive.
**
"I love you, Danny! Oi, everyone! I love this man!" Andy shouted his proclamation to the entire pub, his hand grasping Danny's shoulder and shaking. Danny was smiling into his pint. "Not like a bender, you realize," Andy stopped and raised a finger to drive home his point. In the process he swayed and looked about to fall, if not for his partner grabbing his arm to place him, not too gently, in a chair.
Everyone laughed and raised a glass to Andy's non-homoerotic love for Danny. Nicholas gave his on-command polite smile and raised his as well. The pub reopening coincided with Danny's final check-up, his stamp of approval to return to work, and a night of drunken reminiscing Nicholas could well do without.
"No, it was really hard! Landin' like that on the ground. But I didn't feel it til later." Danny looked over at him for confirmation. Nicholas nodded. It was true. The adrenaline of the day had pushed aside all thoughts of pain. Plus, firing two guns whilst flying through the air! He had to admit, that had been brilliant. Worth the bruise that had covered his right side from shoulder to ankle.
**
"That was nice. Tonight."
Danny shrugged, stumbled a bit, but Nicholas was there, as he planned to always be, if he could help it. He managed to put Danny to rights with the barest touch to his elbow, reluctant to hold on any longer than needed. He remembered a time when he freely kept his hands on Danny - his hand, hair, arm, anywhere not covered by a blanket of tubes or bruises. Recently, though, he'd kept his distance. The skin of his hands seemed to dance with its own itch to reach out.
"Usual pub chatter," Danny said finally, looking at his feet.
Nicholas glanced out of the corner of his eye. Danny seemed lost in thought, had been for the past hour or so, even at the pub. Quite unlike the man who specialized in external monologues. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
"They're your friends. Happy to have you back."
Danny snorted. "Yeah. Everybody loves me."
Nicholas's breath caught in his throat. Something about this conversation wasn't going where he'd expected. Not that he planned their conversations. Well, there was that one when he'd made it a point to watch Lethal Weapon before visiting so as to have something to distract Danny from the pain, but that didn't count. This crooked avenue had him a bit lost.
"You know what they're saying with all that, don't you?"
"I assume they're using their inebriated state to openly let you know they care." He scratched his eyebrow. Thought a bit. "Does it have to be more?"
Danny stopped outside his gate. Nicholas expected to hear, "Well, this is me," in that same expectant tone of voice he'd used since that first night. It had become their thing. Instead, Danny kicked the gate a couple of times, wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Sorry your dad's a nutter, Danny. Glad you're not dead, though." He kicked the gate again. "That's what they mean with all their 'I love you, mans.'"
"Oh." There was something more he should say, but his brain wouldn't go where he needed it. Instead, it was fascinated by the motion/reaction of Danny's foot crashing into the gate. Crash. Shudder. Crash. Shudder. Finally he shook himself out of it. He placed his hand on Danny's arm, "Will you...you're going to hurt something."
"Doesn't hurt." Danny scowled.
"I meant the gate."
Danny gave him a small smile, but he stopped. "Well, this is me," he said, quietly.
Nicholas studied his face, though he couldn't say what he was looking for. He realized his hand was still on Danny's arm. Was quite comfortable there, actually. For the first time in three weeks, his skin didn't want to crawl off his body. But then Danny stepped away and headed up the walk, and Nicholas realized there had been a moment. A beat where something was supposed to happen and he had missed it.
"That wasn't what I meant," he said. He walked to the door where Danny had turned, waiting.
Danny's brows pulled together.
"While you were in hospital. And I said that. I love you. That wasn't what I meant." His breath was fighting to come in short gasps, but years of training forced calm into him. In a way, this could be viewed as little different from an SO19 exercise; same level of danger. Danny's look passed from confusion to blankness - the same blinking, empty expression he'd given that night. Nicholas rushed on. "Though I feel I should add that I am...sorry about your father. And more than a little pleased you're not dead."
Danny pulled out his keyring and concentrated on it. "Yeah?"
Nicholas swallowed. Waited. Danny kept sneaking glances at him, though he still pretended to fumble with his keys. Cheeky bastard. His door probably wasn't even locked.
"I meant." He swallowed again. Breathe, he told himself. "I mean. I--oh, fuck it! Look, if I kiss you now, are you going to punch me, or what?"
Danny slowly put his keys back in his pocket and opened his door. He seemed to pause for a brief second before turning and smiling at Nicholas, looking a bit rakish. His heartbeat sped up. "Why don't you come in and find out," Danny said before stepping inside.
Nicholas let out the breath he'd been holding and followed.
End.