Second post in like three hours BECAUSE I CAN.
sixwing wanted to read this, but I couldn't get a direct connection over AIM, so I'm just posting it.Title: It's Common Sense, Really
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Pairing: Nicholas Angel/Danny Butterman
Rating: PG-ish.
Summary: The things one realizes late at night while watching action movies with a friend are various and, at times, potentially mind-scarring. But then you think about it, and maybe it was obvious all along...
They’re about halfway through Terminator 2 when Danny rolls his head to the side, face pressed to the back of the couch, and watches Nicholas with a calculated eye until he takes an appropriately large gulp of his beer. Then he says, casually, “You’re a lousy date, you know.”
The now beer-soaked magazine on Danny’s coffee table is easily replaced. The expression Nicholas is making while staring wide-eyed at Danny and gaping like a fish, coughing weakly, is priceless.
“What?” Nicholas says eventually, but by this time Danny is watching the screen again. Still shocked, Nicholas leans over in front of Danny, trying to gain his attention. “A lousy what?” But Danny only places a hand on his chest and shoves him back into his seat, making a shooing motion with the remote control.
“Well, it’s true, innit?” Danny says calmly, reaching past Nicholas to grab a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the end table. He tosses a few into his mouth and chews, glancing sidelong at his dumbstruck partner. “Leave everything up to me. ‘Where do you want to go tonight, Danny? What movie are we watching tonight, Danny?’ And you never invite me in for another beer; we always have to come back to my place…”
“I don’t have any at my flat,” Nicholas says weakly. He glowers at Danny. “And like you’re such a great date, anyway? Always take me out to the same place, and—we are not dating!”
Took the silly bastard long enough. “Aren’t we?” Danny says, the very picture of innocence, around a mouthful of peanuts.
“No!” Nicholas stands up, sits down again, repeats this process, and settles for rearranging some soaked magazines. Something blows up onscreen, and Nicholas jumps.
“Sure we are,” says Danny. He washes the peanuts down with the last of his beer, and steals Nicholas’s, because he doesn’t seem to want it anymore. “And you’re lousy at it. My point.”
“I am not, and we are not,” Nicholas shoots back, angry. “Danny, what are you talking about?”
Danny levels his friend with a frank look. “Have another beer,” he suggests.
“No! I do not want another beer! I want to know what’s going on in that thick head of yours!”
“All right.” He finishes Nicholas’s beer for him, settles back into the sofa cushions, and ignores the furious look he’s being given. “Every night we go out to the pub together, every night we come back here and drink some more and watch films, every day I buy you Cornetto from the shop, you won me a cuddly monkey from the fair and bought me flowers for my birthday, you’ve probably spent the night over here more times than you’ve slept in your own bed, and that one time I almost died—for your sake, I might add—you crawled over the rubble to get to my lifeless body and held my hand while the ambulance got there like at the end of so many action films I can name where the hero keeps vigil over the love interest’s body, you tell me we’re not dating, and they call me stupid. You’re a weird one, aren’t you?”
Danny allows Nicholas a few moments to absorb this, even keeping himself from laughing at the thoroughly gobsmacked expression on his partner’s face. Eventually, quietly, Nicholas manages to say “But I…but we…you…” He sits back against the sofa a bit, staring into space. “But we never even kissed before, so we can’t have been—”
“Yeah, whose fault is that?” Danny says, arching an eyebrow. “Told you you’re a lousy date. No wonder your CSI gave you the boot.”
Nicholas just stares. Then he explodes, true to form. “We are not dating! We don’t go on dates! Of course I haven’t kissed you, you bloody git! I don’t—”
Danny patiently watches the look of indecision set up camp on his friend’s face. “Yeah?” he prompts, and sees the uncertainty grow. “You don’t what?”
“We’re just friends,” Nicholas says tentatively.
“‘Course we’re friends,” Danny says. He tosses a peanut in the air and catches it in his mouth, waiting.
“…so I don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
“Oh my God.”
Danny smirks. He flings the last peanut into his mouth and pats his forlorn friend on the shoulder, surveying the picture of lost and mildly horrified confusion sitting next to him on the sofa. “Not your fault, mate,” he says loftily. “I’m just that irresistible.”
Nicholas turns and glares at Danny. It is his Action Hero expression, one that has been known to send chav teenagers running for the hills and turn hardened criminals into cowering, apologetic puddles. “You,” he says gravely, mouth set in a firm line of the sort that a vicious attack dog adopts when it is considering whether to liberate a man of his brain stem. “This is all your fault.”
“Pretty much,” Danny says brightly.
“If not for you, I’d be perfectly average, normal, regular—”
“And dead,” Danny puts in, seriously. (Although coming from Danny, it’s less serious than casually businesslike, but it gets the point across.)
Nicholas is silent. For a moment. “Yes. Yes, I would be dead. But I still blame you for everything bad that happens to me. Ever since I met you you’ve succeeded in being obnoxious, rude, careless, stupid, violating of rules and common sense and personal privacy, and you insist upon prodding at borders of logic and rationality like a little boy poking a dangerous attack dog with a stick, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it may very well lunge up and bite his face off! That’s what you are; you’re either ignoring the fact that this is a very bad idea or you just don’t realize it at all!”
Danny waits a moment for Nicholas to get his breath back. “You done?” he says after a moment, watching the screen.
“Yes! Yes, I am done.”
“Good. Right, then. Yeah, I’m pretty much just ignoring it, if you wanted to know, and also I find it interesting that you consider your undeniable attraction to me a bad thing.”
“It’s not undeniable,” Nicholas says, in a pouting sort of fashion, and crosses his arms over his chest.
“You’re not trying,” Danny taunts, grinning, and Nicholas growls at him. “Come on, stop sulking. What’s it gonna hurt?”
“Our working relationship, for one thing!” Nicholas snaps. Danny scoffs.
“What working relationship? We act just the same on the job as off. Besides, I don’t see how us dating is gonna be much different just because both parties involved are aware of it.”
Nicholas looks for a moment as if he wants to rebuke the statement that they are dating, but decides against it, apparently considering it a losing battle. “What if the others find out?”
“What others?”
“At work! Doris and the Andes and everyone!”
“Find out what?”
“Danny!”
“Oh. They already know, don’t they? They’re not stupid. Smarter than me at least, most of ‘em.”
Nicholas stares, open-mouthed. “They already know?”
“‘Course they do.” Danny grabs the peanuts off the side table. “Doris said we make a lovely couple the other day while you were out. I had to tell her we’re not accepting third parties, hope you don’t mind. Sure you don’t want another beer?”
“I don’t believe this.”
Danny glances into the kitchen in thought. “Why not? We’ve got…five left, I think.”
“No, you stupid—I don’t believe they all know…I don’t believe that I didn’t.” Nicholas is apparently traumatized to some degree, if the way he’s sitting with his head in his hands is any indication. “I hate you all,” he says, muffled into the heel of his hand.
“Don’t,” Danny says, only a little teasingly, and nudges him with an elbow. “Come on, Nick. Buck up. It’s not the end of the world.”
“You sure about that?” Nicholas says weakly, with great accusation. Danny only laughs a little.
“All right, look,” Danny says diplomatically, pushing himself up from the sofa. “I’ll walk you home and we can talk about it tomorrow, if you want.”
“I’ll go by myself,” Nicholas snaps, power-walking to the front door. Danny shrugs and follows him, because after all this time Nicholas still can’t figure out how to undo the lock on Danny’s front door from the inside. He shoves his friend out of the way, gently, and takes over, unlatching the door and swinging it wide.
Nicholas stares out at the front gate while Danny looks at him. “I still hate you, you know,” he says quietly.
“That’s all right,” Danny replies cheerfully. “Most folks do, I think, but it’s okay as long as they like me as well. You going home now? Sure you don’t want me to walk you?”
“Yeah. No. Yes, I’m going, no, I don’t want you to walk me.” With this, Nicholas steps out the front door, looking resolute, and jumps as Danny’s hand lands on his shoulder.
“Hey.”
“What.”
“You gonna give me a goodnight kiss?”
Nicholas turns around and takes a swipe at Danny, who only catches the out-flung wrist and laughs while Nicholas grinds his teeth. “I do hate you, you know,” he says, stubborn and as grudgingly as possible. But Danny only smiles at him and, slowly, pins the wrist in his grip against the front door so that Nicholas’s arm is stretched across his chest. He smirks, and Nicholas stares at him with growing apprehension as he leans closer.
“Danny—”
“Hint,” Danny says, resting his elbow on Nicholas’s shoulder. “Think of the British government. It’ll go by faster.” Nicholas only has half a second to process this before Danny kisses him.
Nicholas, being the kind of person he is, valiantly pretends to be completely unaffected by this for at least twenty seconds. Then, with a noise caught somewhere between sorrow and unbridled rage, he kisses Danny back.
This seems to have a great measure of success until Nicholas realizes that they are standing on a doorstep completely out in the open, whereupon he pulls back, stares at Danny in an accusatory manner, and stomps away down the walk.
Danny just grins and watches him go. “See you tomorrow, then?”
“Grah!” is Nicholas’s eloquent response, just after which he slams the door to Danny’s gate shut and strides off toward his flat.
The night is silent after this, and Danny leans against his front door and smiles pleasantly at the neighborhood for a while. “That went well,” he says to himself, nods, and goes back inside.
The now beer-soaked magazine on Danny’s coffee table is easily replaced. The expression Nicholas is making while staring wide-eyed at Danny and gaping like a fish, coughing weakly, is priceless.
“What?” Nicholas says eventually, but by this time Danny is watching the screen again. Still shocked, Nicholas leans over in front of Danny, trying to gain his attention. “A lousy what?” But Danny only places a hand on his chest and shoves him back into his seat, making a shooing motion with the remote control.
“Well, it’s true, innit?” Danny says calmly, reaching past Nicholas to grab a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the end table. He tosses a few into his mouth and chews, glancing sidelong at his dumbstruck partner. “Leave everything up to me. ‘Where do you want to go tonight, Danny? What movie are we watching tonight, Danny?’ And you never invite me in for another beer; we always have to come back to my place…”
“I don’t have any at my flat,” Nicholas says weakly. He glowers at Danny. “And like you’re such a great date, anyway? Always take me out to the same place, and—we are not dating!”
Took the silly bastard long enough. “Aren’t we?” Danny says, the very picture of innocence, around a mouthful of peanuts.
“No!” Nicholas stands up, sits down again, repeats this process, and settles for rearranging some soaked magazines. Something blows up onscreen, and Nicholas jumps.
“Sure we are,” says Danny. He washes the peanuts down with the last of his beer, and steals Nicholas’s, because he doesn’t seem to want it anymore. “And you’re lousy at it. My point.”
“I am not, and we are not,” Nicholas shoots back, angry. “Danny, what are you talking about?”
Danny levels his friend with a frank look. “Have another beer,” he suggests.
“No! I do not want another beer! I want to know what’s going on in that thick head of yours!”
“All right.” He finishes Nicholas’s beer for him, settles back into the sofa cushions, and ignores the furious look he’s being given. “Every night we go out to the pub together, every night we come back here and drink some more and watch films, every day I buy you Cornetto from the shop, you won me a cuddly monkey from the fair and bought me flowers for my birthday, you’ve probably spent the night over here more times than you’ve slept in your own bed, and that one time I almost died—for your sake, I might add—you crawled over the rubble to get to my lifeless body and held my hand while the ambulance got there like at the end of so many action films I can name where the hero keeps vigil over the love interest’s body, you tell me we’re not dating, and they call me stupid. You’re a weird one, aren’t you?”
Danny allows Nicholas a few moments to absorb this, even keeping himself from laughing at the thoroughly gobsmacked expression on his partner’s face. Eventually, quietly, Nicholas manages to say “But I…but we…you…” He sits back against the sofa a bit, staring into space. “But we never even kissed before, so we can’t have been—”
“Yeah, whose fault is that?” Danny says, arching an eyebrow. “Told you you’re a lousy date. No wonder your CSI gave you the boot.”
Nicholas just stares. Then he explodes, true to form. “We are not dating! We don’t go on dates! Of course I haven’t kissed you, you bloody git! I don’t—”
Danny patiently watches the look of indecision set up camp on his friend’s face. “Yeah?” he prompts, and sees the uncertainty grow. “You don’t what?”
“We’re just friends,” Nicholas says tentatively.
“‘Course we’re friends,” Danny says. He tosses a peanut in the air and catches it in his mouth, waiting.
“…so I don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
“Oh my God.”
Danny smirks. He flings the last peanut into his mouth and pats his forlorn friend on the shoulder, surveying the picture of lost and mildly horrified confusion sitting next to him on the sofa. “Not your fault, mate,” he says loftily. “I’m just that irresistible.”
Nicholas turns and glares at Danny. It is his Action Hero expression, one that has been known to send chav teenagers running for the hills and turn hardened criminals into cowering, apologetic puddles. “You,” he says gravely, mouth set in a firm line of the sort that a vicious attack dog adopts when it is considering whether to liberate a man of his brain stem. “This is all your fault.”
“Pretty much,” Danny says brightly.
“If not for you, I’d be perfectly average, normal, regular—”
“And dead,” Danny puts in, seriously. (Although coming from Danny, it’s less serious than casually businesslike, but it gets the point across.)
Nicholas is silent. For a moment. “Yes. Yes, I would be dead. But I still blame you for everything bad that happens to me. Ever since I met you you’ve succeeded in being obnoxious, rude, careless, stupid, violating of rules and common sense and personal privacy, and you insist upon prodding at borders of logic and rationality like a little boy poking a dangerous attack dog with a stick, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it may very well lunge up and bite his face off! That’s what you are; you’re either ignoring the fact that this is a very bad idea or you just don’t realize it at all!”
Danny waits a moment for Nicholas to get his breath back. “You done?” he says after a moment, watching the screen.
“Yes! Yes, I am done.”
“Good. Right, then. Yeah, I’m pretty much just ignoring it, if you wanted to know, and also I find it interesting that you consider your undeniable attraction to me a bad thing.”
“It’s not undeniable,” Nicholas says, in a pouting sort of fashion, and crosses his arms over his chest.
“You’re not trying,” Danny taunts, grinning, and Nicholas growls at him. “Come on, stop sulking. What’s it gonna hurt?”
“Our working relationship, for one thing!” Nicholas snaps. Danny scoffs.
“What working relationship? We act just the same on the job as off. Besides, I don’t see how us dating is gonna be much different just because both parties involved are aware of it.”
Nicholas looks for a moment as if he wants to rebuke the statement that they are dating, but decides against it, apparently considering it a losing battle. “What if the others find out?”
“What others?”
“At work! Doris and the Andes and everyone!”
“Find out what?”
“Danny!”
“Oh. They already know, don’t they? They’re not stupid. Smarter than me at least, most of ‘em.”
Nicholas stares, open-mouthed. “They already know?”
“‘Course they do.” Danny grabs the peanuts off the side table. “Doris said we make a lovely couple the other day while you were out. I had to tell her we’re not accepting third parties, hope you don’t mind. Sure you don’t want another beer?”
“I don’t believe this.”
Danny glances into the kitchen in thought. “Why not? We’ve got…five left, I think.”
“No, you stupid—I don’t believe they all know…I don’t believe that I didn’t.” Nicholas is apparently traumatized to some degree, if the way he’s sitting with his head in his hands is any indication. “I hate you all,” he says, muffled into the heel of his hand.
“Don’t,” Danny says, only a little teasingly, and nudges him with an elbow. “Come on, Nick. Buck up. It’s not the end of the world.”
“You sure about that?” Nicholas says weakly, with great accusation. Danny only laughs a little.
“All right, look,” Danny says diplomatically, pushing himself up from the sofa. “I’ll walk you home and we can talk about it tomorrow, if you want.”
“I’ll go by myself,” Nicholas snaps, power-walking to the front door. Danny shrugs and follows him, because after all this time Nicholas still can’t figure out how to undo the lock on Danny’s front door from the inside. He shoves his friend out of the way, gently, and takes over, unlatching the door and swinging it wide.
Nicholas stares out at the front gate while Danny looks at him. “I still hate you, you know,” he says quietly.
“That’s all right,” Danny replies cheerfully. “Most folks do, I think, but it’s okay as long as they like me as well. You going home now? Sure you don’t want me to walk you?”
“Yeah. No. Yes, I’m going, no, I don’t want you to walk me.” With this, Nicholas steps out the front door, looking resolute, and jumps as Danny’s hand lands on his shoulder.
“Hey.”
“What.”
“You gonna give me a goodnight kiss?”
Nicholas turns around and takes a swipe at Danny, who only catches the out-flung wrist and laughs while Nicholas grinds his teeth. “I do hate you, you know,” he says, stubborn and as grudgingly as possible. But Danny only smiles at him and, slowly, pins the wrist in his grip against the front door so that Nicholas’s arm is stretched across his chest. He smirks, and Nicholas stares at him with growing apprehension as he leans closer.
“Danny—”
“Hint,” Danny says, resting his elbow on Nicholas’s shoulder. “Think of the British government. It’ll go by faster.” Nicholas only has half a second to process this before Danny kisses him.
Nicholas, being the kind of person he is, valiantly pretends to be completely unaffected by this for at least twenty seconds. Then, with a noise caught somewhere between sorrow and unbridled rage, he kisses Danny back.
This seems to have a great measure of success until Nicholas realizes that they are standing on a doorstep completely out in the open, whereupon he pulls back, stares at Danny in an accusatory manner, and stomps away down the walk.
Danny just grins and watches him go. “See you tomorrow, then?”
“Grah!” is Nicholas’s eloquent response, just after which he slams the door to Danny’s gate shut and strides off toward his flat.
The night is silent after this, and Danny leans against his front door and smiles pleasantly at the neighborhood for a while. “That went well,” he says to himself, nods, and goes back inside.