~800 words :: Hot Fuzz :: Danny/Nicholas :: 12/25/07
You ask someone back to yours after a night at the pub, that’s pretty clichéd, isn’t it? And what could be more romantic than Point Break? But Nicholas just doesn’t seem to get it.
“How can someone so brilliant be so fucking thick?”
The cuddly monkey just stares back at him. Danny doesn’t even bother asking the peace lily. He suspects they’re both too loyal to Nicholas to say a word against him. Not that loyalty is bad; Danny’s loyal, too, but bloody hell!
It’s not like Danny’s all that experienced himself – not that much experience in this area you can get in a town like Sandford – but you ask someone back to yours after a night at the pub, that’s pretty clichéd, isn’t it? And what could be more romantic than Point Break?
If it had just been the once, Danny would have put it down to him just not giving enough hints, but it’s been months now and it’s got to be such a regular thing the Andys are calling it their date night and putting more innuendo than ever into every ‘Nicholarse’ and ‘Fanny Butterman’. And surely Nicholas has noticed the cranberry juice in the fridge – it’s all that’s in there besides beer and takeaway that should have been binned weeks ago. Would cranberry juice be in Danny’s fridge without an ulterior motive? It would not.
Danny’d wondered at first if it was just that Nicholas wasn’t into blokes. Nicholas never pointed out the sofa was one of the few surfaces not completely covered in crap, so Danny didn’t really have to sit that close, and he didn’t even raise an eyebrow when Danny went from sitting close to stretching his arm along the back of the sofa, and then to actually putting his arm around Nicholas.
Thing is, he didn’t really seem to notice it, either. Or if he did, he never acknowledged it. So maybe he was just being polite, didn’t want to embarrass Danny or make things weird between them.
But that was before Annie Thomas lost her dog and had to have Nicholas and Danny round to look for it. Maybe it really was lost the first time, though Danny has his suspicions about that, too. But it weren’t lost the third time; he heard muffled barking coming from the back of the house. And by the sixth or seventh, they’d get there only to find the dog had ‘come home on its own’, but wouldn’t Inspector Angel have a cup of tea and some biscuits for his trouble?
And Nicholas Angel, Inspector Angel, the man who’d single-handedly uncovered the NWA’s plot to keep undesirables out of Sandford, seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Annie Thomas obviously fancied herself as the new inspector’s wife. And she isn’t the only one. Half the town’s single women (and a few who aren’t) have been making eyes at him.
No, there’s no getting around it. Nicholas is just that thick. Danny really has to admire Janine for being able to get to the breaking-up stage in the first place.
But tonight’s the night. He’s not going to let some desperate widow snatch Nicholas from him. “No more waiting for him to make the first move,” Danny tells the cuddly monkey. He’s checked his pants for skid marks and cleared off the bed in case they make it that far, and he’s going to get good and pissed and do something even Nicholas will have to notice.
Or that was the plan, anyway. But it’s halfway through their Rush Hour marathon and he’s not got any further than his arm around Nicholas’s shoulder and his thigh against Nicholas’s, which is pretty much as far as he gets every movie night.
It’s just…what if he fucks it up? Sure Nicholas gave him a plant and spends all his free time with him and has his hand on Danny’s knee, but what if Danny’s reading the signals wrong? What if-
Wait a minute. Back up. His hand on Danny’s knee?
Danny looks down. The hand gives his knee a squeeze. It’s definitely attached to Nicholas’s arm, which, as expected, is attached to Nicholas. And when Danny looks up again, Nicholas has this look on his face, almost a smile, but not quite, like he’s afraid he might be fucking things up.
Danny shifts a little, squirms around to face him, and suddenly Nicholas’s hand isn’t so much on his knee as up his thigh, moving higher til there can’t be any question about reading anybody’s signals wrong. The fact that Danny’s got his hand in Nicholas’s pants has probably got the point across, too.
They do make it to the bedroom eventually, but only to pass out near dawn after Danny’d insisted on rewatching the end of the film, seeing as they’d been a bit distracted the first time round. Rush Hour 3 will have to wait til tomorrow night.
Danny doesn’t mind.