| A little Hot Fuzz sequel to tide you over till the new TDK fic goes up on the 30th: |
[Sep. 21st, 2008|08:10 pm] |
Title: Adjustments
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Pairing: Nicholas/Danny
Rating: PG-13/R
Notes: This piece follows Perfection; I thought it was time to switch over from sounding out first-times to choosing one of said first-times and building on it. Of the three I'd turned out, I thought that Perfection presented the best platform for continuation - so there you have it. I realized that the orchid and the reference to Danny's boxes had potentially opened up some quirky domestic possibilities (unless I've misjudged; in which case, feel free to tell me which one actually deserved a sequel). Where all the various sub-sections of Perfection were from Danny's point of view, I think it's fitting that this one should be comprised entirely of Nicholas's.
Summary: People, plants, and boxes make for cramped quarters indeed.
(If you missed the first part, Perfection, it's here.)
Acquiescence
For the first time in his life, Nicholas was having difficulty getting to work. Normally, it involved the mornings he woke up in Danny's bed - or, alternatively, the mornings that he woke up with Danny in his. Given that both sets of circumstances combined accounted for roughly three mornings out of five (and were a definite on their days off), the issue needed to be addressed. It was all well and good that Danny's drowsy kisses and half-awake caresses meant more to him than arriving the customary half an hour early, but the fact that even a lazy-arse of Doris's caliber had begun to give him funny looks was just asking for trouble. Some days, even Saxon looked worried.
"I'll save it for once we've got home, then," Danny said, chasing Nicholas across the bedroom with the sock he'd dropped on his way out of the bathroom. "I promise!"
With an exasperated sigh, Nicholas snatched the sock off of him. "I've been better about packing for overnight, but that's not so much the issue. It's that the routine's been disrupted, and I fear our work may start to suffer."
Danny gave him a dubious look. "You remember how late Dad used to get in, right?"
"I'm not your dad," Nicholas said, hopping on one foot as he struggled to put the wayward thing on. "I'm your - " Partner? Lover? Other half, for crying out loud? " - well, yours. And I don't want to go getting either of us in trouble."
"Seeing as you're the Inspector, I'm not sure how that'd work. If you don't slap us both on the wrists, then nobody will. It's a win-win situation. Cake all around!"
"It's an awkward situation," Nicholas corrected him, hunting around for his shoes. "Danny, where - oh." Danny was on his way back in the bedroom door with Nicholas's shoes in hand. "Thanks," he muttered sheepishly, tossing them to the floor and stepping in.
"I suppose we could set up a schedule," Danny offered, somehow already dressed. "You know, a few days here and then a few days at your place, just so we get into some kind of rhythm. Or whatever. Honestly, I'm not fussed, but I hate that you are."
Nicholas straightened up and looked at him, suddenly embarrassed. That Danny hadn't even noticed a problem was certainly telling, and it made him feel all the more guilty for having brought it up. Perhaps they were doing all right after all. Although it did still tug on Nicholas's heartstrings something fierce to see all of Danny's things sitting around in boxes. He wanted to help, wanted to...
"How much longer have you got a lease on this place?" he asked, chasing the thought.
Danny stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, screwing up his face. "About two and a half months, I think - why?"
"Were you dead set on renewing it?"
"I hadn't thought about it," Danny said, shrugging. "Landlady's always done it for me."
Nicholas nodded decisively. It was hardly worth debating any further.
"At least we won't have to pack your things for the move. That'll save us time."
Danny stared at Nicholas for several nerve-wracking seconds until the offer had sunk in.
"I want you to make dead sure you mean that," he said, finally. "Do you?"
Judging by the grin he couldn't contain, the lump in Nicholas's throat could only be good.
"Aw, Nicholas."
Instead of being right on time, they were ten minutes late.
Compliance
"Nicholas?" ventured the pile of boxes standing directly in the doorway. "Nicholas!"
"Coming!" Nicholas panted, taking the stairs two at a time. It seemed as if he'd been ferrying stacks of boxes piled three high up to the first floor for hours now. It was a good job he had a spare bedroom. Without it, he had no idea where they'd keep Danny's DVD collection and rather astonishing backlog of comics. Nicholas would have to grill him about those sometime. Danny tended not to rave about books the way he did about films, but the occasional flash of geekishness made Nicholas narrow his eyes.
Between the two of them, they got the final four boxes - blessedly small, but heavy - wrestled up the stairs in about five minutes flat. They collapsed on the daybed, panting, surveying the dust-and-cardboard carnage. Danny reached over and brushed something away from Nicholas's collar, half smiling. Nicholas didn't try to stop him.
"I've got lots of stuff, haven't I?" asked Danny, brushing off his fingers.
"More than I've ever had," Nicholas told him, and it was nothing less than the truth.
"What, really? You mean this place was furnished and all?"
"The only items I contributed are the peace lily and my clothes."
Danny frowned and reached for him again. This time, it didn't appear to have anything to do with lint or even random playfulness. He tugged Nicholas in by the shoulders and gave him the sort of slow, searching kiss that suggested one of two things: either he was willing to listen to Nicholas until he'd tired himself out talking, or they could have a nice, unhurried snog exactly where they were and save the whinging for later.
After ten minutes and a great many discarded articles of clothing, it was clear that Danny had more in mind than just a snog. Nicholas sank back against the duvet and let Danny do as he pleased, sighing with exhaustion and relief. If this was his reward for having done most of the strenuous bits, he wasn't about to complain.
"Your stomach's growling," said Danny, much later, running his fingers absently through Nicholas's close-cropped hair. "Got any ideas regarding dinner?"
Nicholas shrugged, pursing his lips against the sunburst tattoo on Danny's shoulder.
"Sorry," Danny sighed, trailing his fingers down Nicholas's spine. "You're knackered."
"Pub," Nicholas said, partly because it took so little effort, and partly because the thought of cooking in his kitchen when the floor was covered with boxes made him cringe.
He could feel Danny's frown in the way that his hands slowed and came to a stop.
"Fine with me. Better get dressed, though. I'll not have your arse on display, thanks! Half the women in town are still eyein' it, and the other half have tried to do worse."
Nicholas kissed Danny's shoulder. He'd see his floor again, but it'd take time. And as for his arse – well, he was more than happy to let Danny lay claim to it.
Allowances
Nicholas was fairly proud of himself: it took until the third time he tripped over a random stack of eternally in-transit DVDs for him to call Danny out. The result, as he had anticipated, was not pleasant. Danny had a way of simultaneously wearing that kicked-puppy look and radiating sheer indignation that kept Nicholas in perpetual anxiety over whether he'd been too harsh – and whether retaliation would be forthcoming.
"Sorting them out's taking a lot more time than I thought. Some had got badly out of order, see? I'm on the Rs, though. Almost done," added Danny, hastily, shoving them randomly into place on the purpose-built rack from Ikea that Nicholas had painstakingly installed in what had once been his spare closet. It wasn't as if he'd been using it.
"I see," said Nicholas, chewing on his lower lip. "And this particular variety of alphabetical order would call for the Rs to come after – " he leaned closer and squinted, realizing for the first time that he might need to consider reading glasses " – the Ps. What's become of the Qs?"
"Haven't got any," Danny said, shrugging. "I don't think. Are you all right? Headache or something, yeah? Didn't think I let you drink that much last night, but – "
"Please try to keep them out of the way? Maybe up against the wall, at least, until you've got them all sorted? I'd like to be able to bring your laundry in here without tripping and tossing it this way and that. It takes a long time to fold."
"It weren't my idea, exactly, you doing that," Danny pointed out. He had a flawless repertoire of guilt-tripping mechanisms, and he wasn't afraid to use them. Nicholas didn't know whether to be disturbed or proud that their relationship seemed to have brought that out in him almost overnight.
"I don't mind it," Nicholas said, which was mostly the truth. "So the least you can do is keep your clutter to a minimum. Fair?" Danny's eyes crinkled a little. Nicholas set his lips in a straight, determined line. He mustn't let it get to him, he mustn't –
"You and Mum would've got along right enough," Danny sighed, and walked past him dejectedly, taking the stairs at a moping, leisurely pace.
Oh, for heaven's sake, Nicholas thought, taking them two at a time after him. By the time he caught up, Danny was in the kitchen, rummaging in the freezer.
"What's fitting punishment this time, d'you think? We appear to be flat out of ice cream, all sorts. There's no Ben and Jerry's, and there's definitely no more Cornettos. You must be eating those behind my back. That or we're infested with – mmm? "
A kiss and a movie, Nicholas reasoned, were good enough punishment for starters.
Acceptance
The bedroom looked rather different from when Nicholas had (belatedly) first moved in. The bed was (far) less likely to get made, and (somehow) Nicholas discovered that he was all right with that. By some miracle, the floor tended to stay (almost) as clear as before, except for when Danny (frequently) forgot and left his pants or the occasional stray shirt lying about. The broad windowsill, at least, was lovely, what with the peace lily at one end and the orchid at the other. There had been some near misses with the curtains, but they were working on that, too.
Danny's DVD collection had eventually got sorted, although Nicholas had had a far larger hand in the task than he'd originally planned. In the process, he'd discovered that Danny had in his possession not only Wayne's World, but also Wayne's World II. These had, no doubt, given him pause, but he'd deemed it best not to ask. If Danny ever suggested the dualogy, however, it would be a different story.
Most nights now – when they weren't on an emergency swan-call or escorting their co-workers home from the pub – they settled for more mundane pursuits than movies and pints. There was the eternal conundrum of how two people managed to produce that much more laundry than just one, and there was also the non-conundrum of how two people managed to eat over twice as much food as Nicholas had been accustomed to keeping around (especially given that one of them was Danny).
The shopping was, Nicholas guiltily had to admit, often the highlight of his domestic week. Even under new management, there was hardly an aisle or a corner of the Somerfield that didn't leave them either in stitches or lost in serious thought. And there was, of course, the ice-cream section. Danny had taught him to treat it with proper respect.
The kitchen was a tip at best and a war zone at worst. Nicholas tried not to think about it.
In the end, they more than got by. Nicholas needed only to glance at Danny fast asleep on his shoulder, Kindergarten Cop lately concluded, to reaffirm what he already knew. |
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