A Copper's Instinct: Chapter 9
Title: A Copper's Instinct
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Characters/Pairings: Nicholas/Danny, Nicholas/OC, Doris, Bob, Andes, Saxon, Turners, OC
Rating: PG-15
Chapter 8
The mood in the station that morning was... weird. Not markedly hostile, at least not almost to the point of open warfare as it had been the previous day, but there was a sense that something should have broken, the air should have cleared in the wake of Nicholas's startling storm-out, and now that it hadn't, nobody was too sure about how to act. It was like someone had gone in with a facemask and a pair of pliers, sweat beading on their temples, and cut the red wire, but they were all still frozen in place, waiting to see if the thing would go off or not.
Evan and Owen were not communicating by Post-Its, but neither were they communicating verbally. The changeover took place in uncertain silence. The Andes were in early, but they still weren't talking, and one or the other kept finding excuses to escape from their office and the presence of the other. The best that could be said about the lack of communication between Tony and Doris was that it was... well, polite.
Bob and Saxon were late. So, not particularly unusually, was Danny.
Nicholas's hair was still damp from the hurried shower when he came in, so he didn't exactly smell, although he kept catching paranoid whiffs of something in the periphery of what Danny had affectionately dubbed Smell-o-vision.
Danny...
He signed in for the morning and filled in the unmarked sign-out from the day before. He wasn't too sure of the exact time, though, which bothered him in a vague sort of way. It was funny, the things that ended up nagging at you when you knew, this time for certain, that you were never coming back... Leftover milk in the fridge. A phone number you couldn't quite erase from your mobile.
He felt like shit.
Danny was seven minutes late. He didn't try to sneak in or pretend he'd been in some other part of the station- two tactics he often deployed to disguise his lack of punctuality- he just walked in and got changed, and the others who spotted him- Doris and Owen and an Andy on yet another photocopier run/excuse- let him pass without comment. It was hardly surprising that they did. Determination had set on him overnight, like a suit of armour. Today, his body language implied, was a day for Getting Shit Done. Everything he did seemed to merit capitals, no matter how mundane, from Putting On Deoderant to Sorting the Fiddly Bits on his Shoulder Radio. It was good to feel like this, after such a week of miserable bewilderment and self-doubt. Felt fucking ace, actually, and he only hoped he could keep it up.
He saw Nicholas in the doorway of his office, his back to him. Suddenly it felt like those first weeks all over again, that little rush of daring whenever he touched him on the arm or flicked lint off his epaulette or called him Nick, never being a hundred percent sure that he wasn't going to object.
"...'Ey."
The arch of Nicholas's whole body, usually held as tall as it possibly could, one hand on the doorjamb, the other a loose zipline to the doorknob, sagged.
"Hello, Danny. Thought you were trying to work on your punctuality."
"Still a work in progress, that," Danny admitted. Nicholas sounded knackered. Danny decided he wasn't going to contemplate how much that might have to do with Lassie the Wondercop. He'd set his own parameters, as Nick would probably have put it, and he was sodding well going to stick to them.
"Gonna have to try harder when there isn't anyone around to nag you about it," said Nicholas, still not turning around. The hand on the doorknob was tight, whiteknuckled.
Danny nodded. His stomach lurched, tipped up like Indiana Jones's mine cart, but he'd seen it coming, and he could ride it, for now.
"Listen, Nicholas... it's not what you think. It just really fuckin' isn't, all right? I never told her what you think I told her, an' I wouldn't, either. Ever. I told her 'bout us 'cause she gave me some good advice, thasall. She doesn't know. I'd never put you in danger like that, mate, I... I don't even know why you'd..."
He stopped.
"Nicholas, will you at least fuckin' look at me?"
Nicholas shook his head, heavily. He couldn't, he just couldn't seem to turn around. "It doesn't even matter anymore. They're-" Hesitation. "They're making me transfer."
“Bollocks,” said Danny, immediately. “Who's 'they?' Tell 'em to fuck off.”
This already wasn't going right. Danny was supposed to be too stunned and upset to be asking proper questions. Nicholas stared at the dimples his desk made in the carpeting, almost angrily. "They, Danny. The ones you were going off about earlier this week, the ones in London in charge of us all?"
Danny poked him in the back. “Yeah, an' you said you wouldn't let 'em if you could help it. Last time you told 'em to fuck off. This just happen overnight, did it?”
Nicholas... shrivelled in his unironed shirt at the touch, like an old peach with a too-large skin. "Yes. I've got no choice, this time."
“See, I know I'm not zactly Miss Marples, but I remember last time I thought you was lying to me for no reason, about... about that 'dog'.” Danny parroted bunny ears with his fingers, although he knew Nicholas couldn't see them. His voice was quiet, tempered, merciless, like a lawyer in court, like Nicholas socking it to Martin Blower. All he wanted to do was leave Nicholas alone about it and just try to comfort him, never mind what was really happening, to pander to that terrified little voice that demanded to know if Nicholas still even wanted to be comforted by Danny, if he even still wanted Danny at all, but he held his ground.
“I got all worked up about it, then it turned out it wasn't like that at all. An' that's exactly the vibe I'm getting' right now. There's somethin' goin' on, en't there?”
Irrational anger swilled with horrendous guilt in Nicholas's stomach. It was already terrible enough already, just contemplating Alpha, the rest of his life, without Danny slinging accusations about lies Nicholas was only telling to try to make it easier for everyone else. He walked forward into his office, motioning for Danny to shut the door, keeping his own voice low.
"Like there was something going on between you and Doris, yeah? Dangermouse is rolling in that grave you swore on."
Danny shut the door, leant on the filing cabinet to the left of the big window.
“So that'd be a yes, then?”
"It bloody well isn't! I'm being forced to move back to London, there's absolutely nothing I can do about it, and no, please don't visit me."
“Y'know, I remember when I told you to go back to London. Think I prob'ly also said something about there bein' nothing you could do about it, as well,” said Danny. “Turned out I was just about as fuckin' wrong as I've ever been in my life about that. Just sayin'.”
He folded his arms.
“It's 'cause of him, right?”
"Partially," admitted Nicholas, digging his fingers into the back of his chair. "Although if I go without seeing him for thirty years it'll still be over too soon."
Danny breathed in, steadied himself. It felt like a donkey hoof in the chest, hearing Nicholas say that, more than anything else so far. Not painful, but such a shock, so strong that it was almost positive. If only Nicholas would just look, just glance round at him, if only he could get him to show some life, some fight...
“You... you know he's...”
He dropped his voice.
“You know he's a wolf, right?”
Surprisingly, Nicholas didn't startle or react by falling over and pulling the chair with him. It did produce a little bewildered eye contact, however.
"What? No he's not. He's a fucking agent."
Oh, thank Jesus and Bruce Willis and all those weird Indian gods with the blue skin and extra arms and shit. Never mind that his partner looked like someone had stuck one of those long hook things they'd seen in the Egyptology exhibition in London up his nose and rammed it around in there. It was a definite result.
Danny ploughed on. “He's a fuckin' wolf is what he is. I broke into his room last night.”
Nicholas's jaw tensed. "Ordinarily, that would get you suspended of duty, Danny."
"Yeah, well, lucky there's nothin' ordinary about this, then, en't it?" Danny fished in his pocket and brought out his mobile, fumbled with it, his usual phone-related clumsiness sharpened by his extreme terror of pressing the wrong button and erasing the evidence he'd gathered instead of sticking it in front of Nicholas's flaring nose. “Y'can suspend me later. Look.”
Photos slideshowed across the fiddly little screen, herded by Danny's thumb on the fiddly little buttons underneath. “This's a diary. See, ringed every month. Every full moon, Nic'las, I looked it up in that almanac you gave me. Could just mean he knows 'bout you, right, but look.”
More pictures slalomed past, slowly. “Back of his wardrobe. It's a shirt wrapped round a fuckload of feathers. I nicked one, got it here somewhere. S'off a Darbyshire Redcap, jus' like the dead one up at Slater's Farm. So I went up there, must've been about three, four last night. Practic'ly froze my bollocks off. An' look. Fuckin' big paws for a dog, right?”
"But they said there weren't any marks on the dead chicken, didn't they? This doesn't make any sense..."
“Makes sense to me,” said Danny. “You like chasin' things, right? Doesn't mean you'd go after anyone's chickens, 'course, but if you did... I bet he was just havin' a bit of a laugh up there, an' that one prob'ly had a... chicken heart attack or somethin'. Besides.”
He skipped back a few photos. “Took me a while to spot this'n. He's got this drawer full of snacks an' shit. Zoom in. Mars bars, Wotsits, Hog Lumps, tube of Smarties, Tim Tams, Pedigree Chicken Chewy Sticks. Bang.” He smacked the little screen with the back of his knuckles, looked up. “He's a fuckin' wolf.”
"But why would they hire somebody specifically because they're... I mean, what if those dog treats are supposed to be for me?" His neck shrank into his shoulders after he'd realized exactly what he'd said, what it sounded like. "To... to lure me, or, or-"
“I dunno, Nic'las,” said Danny, gently. He flipped his phone closed. “I dunno anythin' that's been going on your end. All I know is you can't trust a word he says. It's not just you. Maybe you're the point, but he's been workin' on all of us- you, me, Doris an' Tony, the Andes, the Turners- shit, maybe even Bob an' Saxon for all we know. Think about it. Whatever he's said, you jus' got his word for it. It's not just you an' there sure as fuck en't 'nothing you can do.'”
Nicholas's hands clenched on his desk, head bent forward, teeth grinding. "He said- he said he'd go after my mum, if I didn't go. I've only got the one, and- and besides. He's right."
“He's r- he said what?” Danny straightened. “Right. Right, I'm gonna find that cunt and run his balls through the shredder. Wanna come'n watch?”
"Danny," said Nicholas. It hurt to talk. "He's right. I've been- been having an o-office affair with you, my right-hand subordinate, I've... clearly no compunction about taking advantage of my position in inter-officer relations, nor any restraint. I almost- I ought to go to hell for that, Danny. You're sweet, but- but ultimately, it's being the most unfair to you. You'll be free of it, when I'm gone."
“Fuck off,” said Danny, incredulously. “He's right about fuck all. You fuckin' saved us, I dunno when you're ever gonna get that through that skull of yours. You got compuncture n' restraint comin' out your ears, I should know, every time you get on one of these weird Catholic... wolfy... guilt trips of yours you make me feel like the fuckin' Childcatcher luring you off the straight an' narrow. An' I'm telling you, Nic'las, I c'n see that little fucker's got you tied up in bunches, but if you start callin' me being in love with you an office affair I'm gonna get seriously fuckin' upset. I'm deadly serious, I'm talkin' Defcon Five, yelling an' throwing shit like a loony here.”
Danny sighed, winding down like an old clock, leaning against a little side-desk which had been rescued from the other station. Way back then, his dad had kept a framed photograph of the three of them on it; mother, father, little cowboy-hatted son. Nicholas kept the tabletop bare but tidy, and now Danny perched tiredly on the overhanging surface as if it was an awkward sort of stool.
He took a deep breath.
“Listen. I'm never gonna be like him. I'm never gonna be a supercop like you. I'm always gonna like Cornettos an' sleeping in an' takeaways- I'm never gonna be able t'outrun a suspect from a standing start, an' I c'n never remember how you're s'posed to move the little horses. I'm never gonna be the smart one or the- the fit one, I'm not pretty an' sometimes I got no idea what anyone's goin' on about. I jus' thought- I thought you didn't want all that. "
It was almost funny, really. With his voice threatening to pitch up and wobble like nobody's business, he was actually trying very hard not to get seriously fucking upset.
"Thought I could be enough.”
"I... I don't know what I want, I think."
This was fucking painful to acknowledge. All his life, Nicholas'd known exactly what he'd wanted, and how to go about getting it. Right now, though...
"I'm not- I've never thought of myself as gay. I'm not. I don't think."
His hands were hot and sweaty.
"So... I don't understand why I'm involved with you. I don't understand- why- I even- remotely interested in- in-"
Alex.
He ran a fingernail along a groove in the desk wood grain, started again.
"I don't even know why you'd want me. I blew you off. A lot. I don't have any of your interests, everyone here fucking hates me even when I'm trying my best, just like London, just like... And I don't know why, which probably means I'm just an unlikeable twat. I'm not... good with realizing what's going to hurt you, and I've been trying to give you space, but that just makes it seem like you're starting to hate me too. The only way I can seem to motivate you is with- with fucking sexual favours, and how do you think that makes me feel? And then somebody new just drops out of the blue, and I- I don't even know what the fuck is wrong with me-"
He was starting to cry, he realized belatedly. It would probably be a good idea to stop right now, but-
"I'm always going to be a wolf. I'm always going to be the fucking spoilsport, because it's always going to bug the fuck out of me if things aren't done right, and by all rights you shouldn't trust me any more than we should trust him. Don't. Just- let me leave-"
“But you don't want to,” Danny said, stubbornly. Nicholas had just more or less straight-out told him everything he'd ever been afraid of, that they had nothing in common, that Nicholas didn't even know if Danny had anything he wanted, that he'd been so laughably self-absorbed that the sex had become the only way Nick could get anything from him, and he couldn't even afford to feel hurt, because there were more important things at stake here than Danny Butterman's ego. Seeing Nicholas so upset and not even being able to make him feel better- it just brought it home even harder.
Only the hand on Nicholas's shoulder suggested any of this, lacking its usual reassuring weight, like a scared animal ready to leap away at any second.
“Why should I let you when you don't even want to? 'Course I don't hate you, none'f us hate you- we need you. We're your team.”
"Need me to do what?" said Nicholas, miserably. "Sleep with the rest of my staff? Should I corner Tony by the water cooler? Take Doris to my house? Jump Evan when he's all alone on the night shift? Bribe the Andes into a threesome with cigarettes and a raise? I don't know when to stop, Danny. They all know that, and fucking despise me for it. Look at Doris's behavior-"
“Doris is pissed off at you 'cause you been actin' like I'm the Invisible Man all week,” said Danny, matter-of-factly. “Go on, let's hear the rest of it. What other things've you done lately that make you such a rubbish police officer? That aren't to do with you an' me. Where's all this proof everyone hates your guts, that's not to do with that little bastard who's nuts've still got an emergency appointment with Tony's ShredVac 9000? Name fuckin' one.”
Silence. "I.. haven't exactly had a chance to pull up a casefile for it," mumbled Nicholas.
“An' who else've you shagged, then?” said Danny, mercilessly. “If you're so much'f the office bike, 'f you got so little restraint, who else?”
"I would have," whimpered Nicholas, squinching his eyes shut. "I would have, if he hadn't cuffed me."
The hand on his shoulder hand clamped down all of its own accord before Danny managed to snatch it away, half-conscious that he'd nearly gripped hard enough to dislocate out of sheer outrage and shock and horror. “You- he did WHAT?!”
"M'sorry," said Nicholas, drooping further. "Woke up and tried to run. Tried to hurt him enough to leave me alone. I was so fucking useless."
“I'm gonna kill him,” said Danny. His fists were grinding away by his sides. “Fuck the shredder. Spade round the head an' bury him in the veggie patch. Better yet, you still got the key to the catacombs hangin' about? Fuckin'... I shoulda been there. I shoulda gone over 's soon as I knew he'd gone home with you, 'steada arsing round half the night with chicken feathers. I'm gonna fucking kill him.”
"He'd kill you first. Stronger'n even you, maybe. And I deserved it."
“Yeah, well, we can do it together, then. Make it a fuckin' party.”
"As tempting as that is..."
“I'm serious, though,” said Danny, behind him, suddenly quiet. “We took on the entire village, you'n me. He's nothing compared to that, he en't shit, 'cept he's done what my Dad an' his mates couldn't- he's got right into that big 'ol head of yours.”
A finger sneaked up and touched Nicholas, gently, in the side of the head, barely the ghost of a poke. “That's why you been tryin' to hurt me enough to leave you alone. An' it's not gonna happen, Nicholas. Not unless I really thought you wanted me to, an' you're doin' a fuckawful job of persuadin' me of that, so far.”
Nicholas was trembling under the slight pressure, even more obvious with the delicacy of the touch, more of a balloon near an amplifier than a cocker spaniel approaching the vet.
He'd never thought of it like that before.
"How... how much does Doris know? I want to know."
“She knows you've got a thing about frisbees,” admitted Danny, with a shaky grin. “She knows we go on... on walks on the fields an' that. Then after... she knows what we do after. She...”
He trailed off, mumbled something.
"I want to know."
“I said she thinks it's cute,” repeated Danny, louder than necessary, and flushed. “S'a girl thing, prob'ly, I dunno.”
"Cute?" Nicholas looked like he didn't know whether he ought to be horrified, or suicidal. "How, um, how detailed is the.. after?"
“Prett-y fuckin' detailed,” said Danny, going for broke. He paused, then added, helpfully, “She knows where you have moles.”
Definitely suicidal. Bright red, Nicholas stammered, "B-but- why the hell would you tell anyone about- about intensely private, um, private-"
“Because it's Doris! 'Cause she's been my best mate since we were in playgroup an' cause she asked! She gave me the best piece of advice anyone ever has apart from you, an' that's all she wanted in return, few dirty stories, I trusted her not to go spreadin' it around! That's what you do, Nic'las, you trust your mates an' you tell them what's going on!”
He deflated.
“She'd never use it against us. An' I just felt... I got you all to myself, but that's all I got. Can't tell anyone. Can't let anyone see. Gotta watch our backs all the time. 'F you vanished off the planet tomorrow I'd be the only one who'd ever know we'd had anything. It's a... it's a fuckin lonely feeling, Nicholas.”
"How do you think I feel?" Nicholas smiled, but it was shaky, pained. "Only ones to remember me and my moles are you, my mum, and fucking Doris."
“Yeah. You're pretty bloody secretive for someone with no restraint,” Danny pointed out.
"Fuckoff," said Nicholas, grinning around wet eyes, and leaned forward onto Danny's shoulder.
“Nope,” said Danny, into his neck. "Sorry."
Nicholas burrowed. Danny was so big, so comfortable, his scent and his righteous anger making Nicholas feel calm and loved and safe, even from himself. Despite their differences- no, it was the differences that made it all work. Another supercop wouldn't understand or take the time to, would anger too easily and lash out when frustrated and the whole relationship either would either implode around the job or never get off the ground in the first place.
It was Danny, with all his ability to accept, to balance Nicholas that Nicholas needed, not some flash-in-the-pan con-artist with an arse that probably ought to be illegal within the UK. So what if he forgot halfway through what chess pieces were supposed to do and tried to jump Nicholas's king, or if he burned down his own kitchen or, hell, slept through every one of his shifts? Danny'd never truss Nicholas up and threaten him.
Well, not unless Nicholas asked him to.
"M'sorrytoo."
Danny folded him up in a big bear-hug. “I love you, you silly sod,” he said, as if there wasn't anything less complicated in the world. “Let's go kick some secret agent arse.”
Chapter 10
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Characters/Pairings: Nicholas/Danny, Nicholas/OC, Doris, Bob, Andes, Saxon, Turners, OC
Rating: PG-15
Chapter 8
The mood in the station that morning was... weird. Not markedly hostile, at least not almost to the point of open warfare as it had been the previous day, but there was a sense that something should have broken, the air should have cleared in the wake of Nicholas's startling storm-out, and now that it hadn't, nobody was too sure about how to act. It was like someone had gone in with a facemask and a pair of pliers, sweat beading on their temples, and cut the red wire, but they were all still frozen in place, waiting to see if the thing would go off or not.
Evan and Owen were not communicating by Post-Its, but neither were they communicating verbally. The changeover took place in uncertain silence. The Andes were in early, but they still weren't talking, and one or the other kept finding excuses to escape from their office and the presence of the other. The best that could be said about the lack of communication between Tony and Doris was that it was... well, polite.
Bob and Saxon were late. So, not particularly unusually, was Danny.
Nicholas's hair was still damp from the hurried shower when he came in, so he didn't exactly smell, although he kept catching paranoid whiffs of something in the periphery of what Danny had affectionately dubbed Smell-o-vision.
Danny...
He signed in for the morning and filled in the unmarked sign-out from the day before. He wasn't too sure of the exact time, though, which bothered him in a vague sort of way. It was funny, the things that ended up nagging at you when you knew, this time for certain, that you were never coming back... Leftover milk in the fridge. A phone number you couldn't quite erase from your mobile.
He felt like shit.
Danny was seven minutes late. He didn't try to sneak in or pretend he'd been in some other part of the station- two tactics he often deployed to disguise his lack of punctuality- he just walked in and got changed, and the others who spotted him- Doris and Owen and an Andy on yet another photocopier run/excuse- let him pass without comment. It was hardly surprising that they did. Determination had set on him overnight, like a suit of armour. Today, his body language implied, was a day for Getting Shit Done. Everything he did seemed to merit capitals, no matter how mundane, from Putting On Deoderant to Sorting the Fiddly Bits on his Shoulder Radio. It was good to feel like this, after such a week of miserable bewilderment and self-doubt. Felt fucking ace, actually, and he only hoped he could keep it up.
He saw Nicholas in the doorway of his office, his back to him. Suddenly it felt like those first weeks all over again, that little rush of daring whenever he touched him on the arm or flicked lint off his epaulette or called him Nick, never being a hundred percent sure that he wasn't going to object.
"...'Ey."
The arch of Nicholas's whole body, usually held as tall as it possibly could, one hand on the doorjamb, the other a loose zipline to the doorknob, sagged.
"Hello, Danny. Thought you were trying to work on your punctuality."
"Still a work in progress, that," Danny admitted. Nicholas sounded knackered. Danny decided he wasn't going to contemplate how much that might have to do with Lassie the Wondercop. He'd set his own parameters, as Nick would probably have put it, and he was sodding well going to stick to them.
"Gonna have to try harder when there isn't anyone around to nag you about it," said Nicholas, still not turning around. The hand on the doorknob was tight, whiteknuckled.
Danny nodded. His stomach lurched, tipped up like Indiana Jones's mine cart, but he'd seen it coming, and he could ride it, for now.
"Listen, Nicholas... it's not what you think. It just really fuckin' isn't, all right? I never told her what you think I told her, an' I wouldn't, either. Ever. I told her 'bout us 'cause she gave me some good advice, thasall. She doesn't know. I'd never put you in danger like that, mate, I... I don't even know why you'd..."
He stopped.
"Nicholas, will you at least fuckin' look at me?"
Nicholas shook his head, heavily. He couldn't, he just couldn't seem to turn around. "It doesn't even matter anymore. They're-" Hesitation. "They're making me transfer."
“Bollocks,” said Danny, immediately. “Who's 'they?' Tell 'em to fuck off.”
This already wasn't going right. Danny was supposed to be too stunned and upset to be asking proper questions. Nicholas stared at the dimples his desk made in the carpeting, almost angrily. "They, Danny. The ones you were going off about earlier this week, the ones in London in charge of us all?"
Danny poked him in the back. “Yeah, an' you said you wouldn't let 'em if you could help it. Last time you told 'em to fuck off. This just happen overnight, did it?”
Nicholas... shrivelled in his unironed shirt at the touch, like an old peach with a too-large skin. "Yes. I've got no choice, this time."
“See, I know I'm not zactly Miss Marples, but I remember last time I thought you was lying to me for no reason, about... about that 'dog'.” Danny parroted bunny ears with his fingers, although he knew Nicholas couldn't see them. His voice was quiet, tempered, merciless, like a lawyer in court, like Nicholas socking it to Martin Blower. All he wanted to do was leave Nicholas alone about it and just try to comfort him, never mind what was really happening, to pander to that terrified little voice that demanded to know if Nicholas still even wanted to be comforted by Danny, if he even still wanted Danny at all, but he held his ground.
“I got all worked up about it, then it turned out it wasn't like that at all. An' that's exactly the vibe I'm getting' right now. There's somethin' goin' on, en't there?”
Irrational anger swilled with horrendous guilt in Nicholas's stomach. It was already terrible enough already, just contemplating Alpha, the rest of his life, without Danny slinging accusations about lies Nicholas was only telling to try to make it easier for everyone else. He walked forward into his office, motioning for Danny to shut the door, keeping his own voice low.
"Like there was something going on between you and Doris, yeah? Dangermouse is rolling in that grave you swore on."
Danny shut the door, leant on the filing cabinet to the left of the big window.
“So that'd be a yes, then?”
"It bloody well isn't! I'm being forced to move back to London, there's absolutely nothing I can do about it, and no, please don't visit me."
“Y'know, I remember when I told you to go back to London. Think I prob'ly also said something about there bein' nothing you could do about it, as well,” said Danny. “Turned out I was just about as fuckin' wrong as I've ever been in my life about that. Just sayin'.”
He folded his arms.
“It's 'cause of him, right?”
"Partially," admitted Nicholas, digging his fingers into the back of his chair. "Although if I go without seeing him for thirty years it'll still be over too soon."
Danny breathed in, steadied himself. It felt like a donkey hoof in the chest, hearing Nicholas say that, more than anything else so far. Not painful, but such a shock, so strong that it was almost positive. If only Nicholas would just look, just glance round at him, if only he could get him to show some life, some fight...
“You... you know he's...”
He dropped his voice.
“You know he's a wolf, right?”
Surprisingly, Nicholas didn't startle or react by falling over and pulling the chair with him. It did produce a little bewildered eye contact, however.
"What? No he's not. He's a fucking agent."
Oh, thank Jesus and Bruce Willis and all those weird Indian gods with the blue skin and extra arms and shit. Never mind that his partner looked like someone had stuck one of those long hook things they'd seen in the Egyptology exhibition in London up his nose and rammed it around in there. It was a definite result.
Danny ploughed on. “He's a fuckin' wolf is what he is. I broke into his room last night.”
Nicholas's jaw tensed. "Ordinarily, that would get you suspended of duty, Danny."
"Yeah, well, lucky there's nothin' ordinary about this, then, en't it?" Danny fished in his pocket and brought out his mobile, fumbled with it, his usual phone-related clumsiness sharpened by his extreme terror of pressing the wrong button and erasing the evidence he'd gathered instead of sticking it in front of Nicholas's flaring nose. “Y'can suspend me later. Look.”
Photos slideshowed across the fiddly little screen, herded by Danny's thumb on the fiddly little buttons underneath. “This's a diary. See, ringed every month. Every full moon, Nic'las, I looked it up in that almanac you gave me. Could just mean he knows 'bout you, right, but look.”
More pictures slalomed past, slowly. “Back of his wardrobe. It's a shirt wrapped round a fuckload of feathers. I nicked one, got it here somewhere. S'off a Darbyshire Redcap, jus' like the dead one up at Slater's Farm. So I went up there, must've been about three, four last night. Practic'ly froze my bollocks off. An' look. Fuckin' big paws for a dog, right?”
"But they said there weren't any marks on the dead chicken, didn't they? This doesn't make any sense..."
“Makes sense to me,” said Danny. “You like chasin' things, right? Doesn't mean you'd go after anyone's chickens, 'course, but if you did... I bet he was just havin' a bit of a laugh up there, an' that one prob'ly had a... chicken heart attack or somethin'. Besides.”
He skipped back a few photos. “Took me a while to spot this'n. He's got this drawer full of snacks an' shit. Zoom in. Mars bars, Wotsits, Hog Lumps, tube of Smarties, Tim Tams, Pedigree Chicken Chewy Sticks. Bang.” He smacked the little screen with the back of his knuckles, looked up. “He's a fuckin' wolf.”
"But why would they hire somebody specifically because they're... I mean, what if those dog treats are supposed to be for me?" His neck shrank into his shoulders after he'd realized exactly what he'd said, what it sounded like. "To... to lure me, or, or-"
“I dunno, Nic'las,” said Danny, gently. He flipped his phone closed. “I dunno anythin' that's been going on your end. All I know is you can't trust a word he says. It's not just you. Maybe you're the point, but he's been workin' on all of us- you, me, Doris an' Tony, the Andes, the Turners- shit, maybe even Bob an' Saxon for all we know. Think about it. Whatever he's said, you jus' got his word for it. It's not just you an' there sure as fuck en't 'nothing you can do.'”
Nicholas's hands clenched on his desk, head bent forward, teeth grinding. "He said- he said he'd go after my mum, if I didn't go. I've only got the one, and- and besides. He's right."
“He's r- he said what?” Danny straightened. “Right. Right, I'm gonna find that cunt and run his balls through the shredder. Wanna come'n watch?”
"Danny," said Nicholas. It hurt to talk. "He's right. I've been- been having an o-office affair with you, my right-hand subordinate, I've... clearly no compunction about taking advantage of my position in inter-officer relations, nor any restraint. I almost- I ought to go to hell for that, Danny. You're sweet, but- but ultimately, it's being the most unfair to you. You'll be free of it, when I'm gone."
“Fuck off,” said Danny, incredulously. “He's right about fuck all. You fuckin' saved us, I dunno when you're ever gonna get that through that skull of yours. You got compuncture n' restraint comin' out your ears, I should know, every time you get on one of these weird Catholic... wolfy... guilt trips of yours you make me feel like the fuckin' Childcatcher luring you off the straight an' narrow. An' I'm telling you, Nic'las, I c'n see that little fucker's got you tied up in bunches, but if you start callin' me being in love with you an office affair I'm gonna get seriously fuckin' upset. I'm deadly serious, I'm talkin' Defcon Five, yelling an' throwing shit like a loony here.”
Danny sighed, winding down like an old clock, leaning against a little side-desk which had been rescued from the other station. Way back then, his dad had kept a framed photograph of the three of them on it; mother, father, little cowboy-hatted son. Nicholas kept the tabletop bare but tidy, and now Danny perched tiredly on the overhanging surface as if it was an awkward sort of stool.
He took a deep breath.
“Listen. I'm never gonna be like him. I'm never gonna be a supercop like you. I'm always gonna like Cornettos an' sleeping in an' takeaways- I'm never gonna be able t'outrun a suspect from a standing start, an' I c'n never remember how you're s'posed to move the little horses. I'm never gonna be the smart one or the- the fit one, I'm not pretty an' sometimes I got no idea what anyone's goin' on about. I jus' thought- I thought you didn't want all that. "
It was almost funny, really. With his voice threatening to pitch up and wobble like nobody's business, he was actually trying very hard not to get seriously fucking upset.
"Thought I could be enough.”
"I... I don't know what I want, I think."
This was fucking painful to acknowledge. All his life, Nicholas'd known exactly what he'd wanted, and how to go about getting it. Right now, though...
"I'm not- I've never thought of myself as gay. I'm not. I don't think."
His hands were hot and sweaty.
"So... I don't understand why I'm involved with you. I don't understand- why- I even- remotely interested in- in-"
Alex.
He ran a fingernail along a groove in the desk wood grain, started again.
"I don't even know why you'd want me. I blew you off. A lot. I don't have any of your interests, everyone here fucking hates me even when I'm trying my best, just like London, just like... And I don't know why, which probably means I'm just an unlikeable twat. I'm not... good with realizing what's going to hurt you, and I've been trying to give you space, but that just makes it seem like you're starting to hate me too. The only way I can seem to motivate you is with- with fucking sexual favours, and how do you think that makes me feel? And then somebody new just drops out of the blue, and I- I don't even know what the fuck is wrong with me-"
He was starting to cry, he realized belatedly. It would probably be a good idea to stop right now, but-
"I'm always going to be a wolf. I'm always going to be the fucking spoilsport, because it's always going to bug the fuck out of me if things aren't done right, and by all rights you shouldn't trust me any more than we should trust him. Don't. Just- let me leave-"
“But you don't want to,” Danny said, stubbornly. Nicholas had just more or less straight-out told him everything he'd ever been afraid of, that they had nothing in common, that Nicholas didn't even know if Danny had anything he wanted, that he'd been so laughably self-absorbed that the sex had become the only way Nick could get anything from him, and he couldn't even afford to feel hurt, because there were more important things at stake here than Danny Butterman's ego. Seeing Nicholas so upset and not even being able to make him feel better- it just brought it home even harder.
Only the hand on Nicholas's shoulder suggested any of this, lacking its usual reassuring weight, like a scared animal ready to leap away at any second.
“Why should I let you when you don't even want to? 'Course I don't hate you, none'f us hate you- we need you. We're your team.”
"Need me to do what?" said Nicholas, miserably. "Sleep with the rest of my staff? Should I corner Tony by the water cooler? Take Doris to my house? Jump Evan when he's all alone on the night shift? Bribe the Andes into a threesome with cigarettes and a raise? I don't know when to stop, Danny. They all know that, and fucking despise me for it. Look at Doris's behavior-"
“Doris is pissed off at you 'cause you been actin' like I'm the Invisible Man all week,” said Danny, matter-of-factly. “Go on, let's hear the rest of it. What other things've you done lately that make you such a rubbish police officer? That aren't to do with you an' me. Where's all this proof everyone hates your guts, that's not to do with that little bastard who's nuts've still got an emergency appointment with Tony's ShredVac 9000? Name fuckin' one.”
Silence. "I.. haven't exactly had a chance to pull up a casefile for it," mumbled Nicholas.
“An' who else've you shagged, then?” said Danny, mercilessly. “If you're so much'f the office bike, 'f you got so little restraint, who else?”
"I would have," whimpered Nicholas, squinching his eyes shut. "I would have, if he hadn't cuffed me."
The hand on his shoulder hand clamped down all of its own accord before Danny managed to snatch it away, half-conscious that he'd nearly gripped hard enough to dislocate out of sheer outrage and shock and horror. “You- he did WHAT?!”
"M'sorry," said Nicholas, drooping further. "Woke up and tried to run. Tried to hurt him enough to leave me alone. I was so fucking useless."
“I'm gonna kill him,” said Danny. His fists were grinding away by his sides. “Fuck the shredder. Spade round the head an' bury him in the veggie patch. Better yet, you still got the key to the catacombs hangin' about? Fuckin'... I shoulda been there. I shoulda gone over 's soon as I knew he'd gone home with you, 'steada arsing round half the night with chicken feathers. I'm gonna fucking kill him.”
"He'd kill you first. Stronger'n even you, maybe. And I deserved it."
“Yeah, well, we can do it together, then. Make it a fuckin' party.”
"As tempting as that is..."
“I'm serious, though,” said Danny, behind him, suddenly quiet. “We took on the entire village, you'n me. He's nothing compared to that, he en't shit, 'cept he's done what my Dad an' his mates couldn't- he's got right into that big 'ol head of yours.”
A finger sneaked up and touched Nicholas, gently, in the side of the head, barely the ghost of a poke. “That's why you been tryin' to hurt me enough to leave you alone. An' it's not gonna happen, Nicholas. Not unless I really thought you wanted me to, an' you're doin' a fuckawful job of persuadin' me of that, so far.”
Nicholas was trembling under the slight pressure, even more obvious with the delicacy of the touch, more of a balloon near an amplifier than a cocker spaniel approaching the vet.
He'd never thought of it like that before.
"How... how much does Doris know? I want to know."
“She knows you've got a thing about frisbees,” admitted Danny, with a shaky grin. “She knows we go on... on walks on the fields an' that. Then after... she knows what we do after. She...”
He trailed off, mumbled something.
"I want to know."
“I said she thinks it's cute,” repeated Danny, louder than necessary, and flushed. “S'a girl thing, prob'ly, I dunno.”
"Cute?" Nicholas looked like he didn't know whether he ought to be horrified, or suicidal. "How, um, how detailed is the.. after?"
“Prett-y fuckin' detailed,” said Danny, going for broke. He paused, then added, helpfully, “She knows where you have moles.”
Definitely suicidal. Bright red, Nicholas stammered, "B-but- why the hell would you tell anyone about- about intensely private, um, private-"
“Because it's Doris! 'Cause she's been my best mate since we were in playgroup an' cause she asked! She gave me the best piece of advice anyone ever has apart from you, an' that's all she wanted in return, few dirty stories, I trusted her not to go spreadin' it around! That's what you do, Nic'las, you trust your mates an' you tell them what's going on!”
He deflated.
“She'd never use it against us. An' I just felt... I got you all to myself, but that's all I got. Can't tell anyone. Can't let anyone see. Gotta watch our backs all the time. 'F you vanished off the planet tomorrow I'd be the only one who'd ever know we'd had anything. It's a... it's a fuckin lonely feeling, Nicholas.”
"How do you think I feel?" Nicholas smiled, but it was shaky, pained. "Only ones to remember me and my moles are you, my mum, and fucking Doris."
“Yeah. You're pretty bloody secretive for someone with no restraint,” Danny pointed out.
"Fuckoff," said Nicholas, grinning around wet eyes, and leaned forward onto Danny's shoulder.
“Nope,” said Danny, into his neck. "Sorry."
Nicholas burrowed. Danny was so big, so comfortable, his scent and his righteous anger making Nicholas feel calm and loved and safe, even from himself. Despite their differences- no, it was the differences that made it all work. Another supercop wouldn't understand or take the time to, would anger too easily and lash out when frustrated and the whole relationship either would either implode around the job or never get off the ground in the first place.
It was Danny, with all his ability to accept, to balance Nicholas that Nicholas needed, not some flash-in-the-pan con-artist with an arse that probably ought to be illegal within the UK. So what if he forgot halfway through what chess pieces were supposed to do and tried to jump Nicholas's king, or if he burned down his own kitchen or, hell, slept through every one of his shifts? Danny'd never truss Nicholas up and threaten him.
Well, not unless Nicholas asked him to.
"M'sorrytoo."
Danny folded him up in a big bear-hug. “I love you, you silly sod,” he said, as if there wasn't anything less complicated in the world. “Let's go kick some secret agent arse.”
Chapter 10