Warning: Danny/Nicholas; a bit of kissing, nothing outrageous.
Disclaimer: sadly, I don't own the amazingness that is Hot Fuzz. Huzzah to those who do.
01 - Unquestionable Moral Authority
Nicholas squinted from underneath his peaked cap. The narrow lane was quiet and warmed by sunlight. He yawned openly and rubbed his eyes. Danny's steady munching was the only sound between them.
"Hey, Nicholas, how did you get stabbed? Y'know," he grinned, "in Lun-din."
"Danny, it's not a moment I'd care to revisit." Nicholas spotted a fleck of mud on his radio and flicked it off. "Suffice to say, the suspect was apprehended." He stood up and clasped his hands behind his back.
Danny shrugged and continued eating his ice cream, content to sit on the ground. "Just askin'," he muttered.
They both watched as an old woman approached on an old, teal bicycle. Mrs. Fletcher on her Saturday run to the new flower shop. "Danny, Nicholas, hello!" She smiled, did a double take, and stopped in front of them. "Have Georgie's pigs been around town again?"
Nicholas and Danny grimaced at the same time. That debacle was still fresh on everybody's mind.
"No ma'am," Nicholas replied wearily. "We…ah," he glanced at Danny, "were conducting some private exercises. Field review and all that." His brows furrowed. "As you know, a police officer must always—"
"Oh, so you were practising." Mrs. Fletcher nodded hastily and resumed pedalling. "That's very nice. I won't be taking up your time, then!" She waved over her shoulder, bell trilling. "Cheers!"
Danny laughed at Nicholas' livid expression and finished his cornetto. "Even Mrs. Fletcher isn't interested in police regulations. Don't see how you're going to convince everybody else. 'Specially the Andy's." He licked his fingers and caught the Sergeant's stare. "What?"
"Nothing." Nicholas cleared his throat. "Come on, Danny. Time to be getting back."
"Aww. Doris and Tony are at the pub if anythin's wrong."
Nicholas clenched his jaw. "Being at the pub doesn't count. We're on duty." He marched down the lane. "Where is everyone else?"
"Dunno." Danny stood up and pulled at his shirt. "Can we go to the shop?"
"No."
"Aww."
They entered Sandford's main square. Nicholas walked briskly past the fountain to where their squad car was parked. Danny followed reluctantly, eyes scanning the shops along the street. "Didja hear about Annette's old place?"
Nicholas froze, car door half-opened. "No," he replied slowly. "What about Annette's?"
"Somebody's sprayin NWA all over the place." Danny pointed to the shop in question. "Too bad, ain't it? They nearly had it sold to some bloke out of Dublin two weeks ago."
"They what? Why didn't anyone tell me about this?" Nicholas slammed the car door shut and stepped onto the curb. "Hurry up, Danny!"
"I'm coming."
It was strange to see Annette's shop without its 'one schoolchild' poster. Nicholas dug into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys. He unlocked the door and rushed inside, but the interior was dark and dusty. He glanced at Danny. "Where was this graffiti, exactly?"
"Upstairs." There was a careless point for emphasis.
Nicholas frowned. "I see."
The stairs creaked suggestively all the way to the second floor. Nicholas clutched the handle of his nightstick and stepped into the hallway. There were three rooms: two to his left and one to his right.
"Here," Danny carelessly pushed past, "I'll show ya. Nobody's up here during the day, anyway."
Nicholas grabbed for his sleeve, but missed. He muttered something blasphemous and followed, scanning the empty hallway. His neck prickled when Danny simply pushed the door open, but no one was there either.
Nicholas gave his partner a withering look. He walked into Anette's old office and glanced around, studying the walls. "Danny."
"Ya?"
"There is no graffiti in here."
"Oh." Danny shrugged. "Wrong room, I s'ppose." He made to walk away.
"Danny."
"Ya?"
"How did you find out about this?" Nicholas glanced out the window and scowled at the people below. He fixed Danny with a penetrating look. "The door is locked. There are no signs of a break-in. I'm the only one with the keys."
"Ya, I know."
"You're beginning to sound like the Andy's." Nicholas crossed his arms. "Now what's this about?"
Danny grinned mischievously. It was the only warning Nicholas had before cold, sticky lips hit his own. He instinctively stepped back, but didn't break away. It was sloppy and inappropriate and the most interesting police matter since Georgie's pigs. Dimly, he realized his back was against the wall, vest pressing uncomfortably against his spine.
"Mm…." Nicholas gently pushed Danny away. "On duty," he croaked, "we're…on duty, Constable."
"I know," Danny murmured breathily, sounding perfectly reasonable. "But nothin's going on and you didn't want to visit the shop, so…."
Nicholas' brows met his hairline. He straightened his cap and cleared his throat, eyes glued to the floor. "This really isn't a constructive use of police time. We're supposed to be working."
It was Danny's turn to raise his eyebrows. "So what?" He asked, breath smelling like chocolate and caramel. "You still have trouble switchin off, don't ya?"
"I'm going to have to be honest. This makes me uncomfortable." Nicholas wiped his lips with the back of his hand, but he could still taste a hint of ice cream.
"So, you wanna visit the shop then?"
"I—no." Nicholas actually hesitated. "Are you always this forward?"
Danny shrugged boyishly. "Sure. We're mates, aren't we?" He suddenly grinned. "Guess what! I bought Supercop yesterday."
Nicholas' face blanked. "Oh," he replied dumbly, then squeezed his eyes shut. "Wait, what about this whole NWA business?"
"Let it go, Nick."
"No, I mean your little stunt—"
Danny pressed him against the wall again, his body soft, heavy, and insistent. Nicholas protested incoherently and clutched the hand that slid down his hip. He tried to pull away, to rationalize, but could only mumble a few regulations against Danny's mouth. He resisted for a moment more, then slowly relaxed.
And suddenly everything Danny said made sense.
Oh, there's more.