Alec is barely into his second cup of tea this morning when a small bundle of fabric is dropped into his lap. He starts, sloshes the tea over his hand, and decides that it is not going to be an auspicious day for him.

"Christ!" he snaps, shaking his scalded hand. He looks up to see Ellie Miller. Her fists are on her hips and she doesn't appear to be too sympathetic about his hand. She flashes a smile at him, but there's a determined edge to it that sends a silent alarm off in his mind. She's up to something.

"It's my birthday," she tells him.

"Happy birthday." He is wary; she can get physical when he doesn't respond correctly to social cues, and he's already got a scalded hand.

"Thank you. That's your present to me." She gestures to the bundle of fabric in his lap. He looks down at it as though it might bite him, but as far as he can tell it's an innocuous bit of off-white cotton.

"What did I get you?" he asks, already thinking he probably doesn't want to know. She smirks at him, her brown eyes sparkling with amusement at his expense. She gestures again and he picks up the bundle, spreading it open. It's a t-shirt, just a plain t-shirt…until he turns it around to face him.

"Seriously?" He glares at the lettering on the front. "What is this?"

"My present is you wearing that all day." Her smile is absolutely radiant, but that doesn't make it any less evil. He narrows his eyes at her.

"Why, exactly?"

"You asked me what I wanted. I told you it was this and we shook hands on it. You're not going back on your word, are you?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Christ, Miller, I agreed not to wear a suit and I thought you were joking."

Her chin juts out in a way that tells him she's prepared to be stubborn about this. "We shook on it. It's either this or my orange jacket. Your choice."

He makes a face as he looks over the orange monstrosity. He can't bloody wear that thing, he'll look like a traffic cone. His eyes turn back to the t-shirt. At least he can wear his suit jacket over the it…

"Bloody hell—"

Ellie can't quite believe that Hardy's gone along with her birthday wish, but he's as good as his word. Right across his chest for all to see are the words "Worst Cop in Britain."

If anyone ever asks her, she will of course deny that she spilled her entire cup of coffee over his suit jacket. She doesn't think that she's fooled anyone with that, but it did the trick. He can't wear a soaking wet jacket over his new t-shirt.

She is pretty damn pleased with herself as they walk along. It might be her favorite present this year.

He is positively scowling. For some reason, the more he glares, the wider her smile gets. It is absolutely evil of her, she knows, but…it's just too damn funny.

"I'm sure no one's even noticed," she says in a soothing tone. He shoots her a dark look. Everyone that's walked by them has taken a good, long (and usually wide-eyed) look. Nige flat out pointed at him earlier. People have definitely noticed.

She feels a little bad, so she buys his afternoon tea.

"You're downright diabolical, Miller," he tells her as he crosses his arms over his chest while they wait for their drinks.

"Yeah, but that's one of the reasons we get along so well."

She grins brightly back at him when he frowns at her, but she notices he doesn't argue with this assessment.

After a long, grumpy moment, he makes a noise (har-umph!) and thanks her for the tea.

About halfway through the afternoon, Hardy switches from being defensive about the shirt to being almost defiant. His shoulders are back, his head is high, and he seems to be daring someone—anyone—to say something to him about it.

SOCO Brian's eyes get huge when he reads the shirt, but one look at Hardy's face is enough to send him scurrying away without a word. Ellie watches this transformation with some interest.

For once, his inability to interact while others like a normal human being seems to be working in his favor. After all, no one would dare cross him at the moment, not with that message blazoned across his chest and pure reckless fury in his eyes.

She takes pity on him around five o'clock in the evening and tells him he can take it off.

He immediately heads home to change into, she has no doubt, a rumpled suit and blue button up shirt.

Once he's changed out of that infernal piece of clothing, Hardy heads back across town to Ellie's. He has her actual present, but after the spectacle she made of him today, he isn't at all sure she deserves it.

Bloody Miller and her bloody shirt and these bloody townspeople. He shakes his head. And everyone wonders why he's such an arsehole all the time!

Still, he has to smile a little bit when he remembers how terrified Dirty Brian had been after he'd glowered at him. There is a certain amount of satisfaction to be derived from being the town's biggest shit-head.

He knocks on Ellie's door. She opens it with a slightly nervous smile, as if she's trying to gauge just how angry he is with her.

"You're very lucky," he says as he shakes a finger at her, "that I never go back on my word. And that we're friends."

Her eyes light up at that word—friends.

"Happy birthday," he says, and hands over a box which he'd wrapped (rather abysmally) himself. She takes it, looking surprised.

"Bless!" She looks down at it (and politely doesn't mention what a mess the wrapping is). Her eyes come back up to his. "Thank you, Alec."

He ignores his first name. "Don't thank me yet. It's nearly my birthday, and you owe me," he reminds her.

She pales, just a little, and he resists the urge to smile with an effort.

"See you tomorrow, Miller," he tells her, and turns on his heel to head home.

"Yeah, tomorrow. Night, Hardy!" she calls after him. He can hear her shaking the box and he stops fighting his grin as he walks away.

He's given her a huge box of chocolate and a bright orange socks to wear with her bright orange jacket.

Ellie laughs out loud as she unwraps them.

He's right: she's lucky that they're friends.

He'll never tell her, of course, but Hardy wears that blasted t-shirt to bed at night.