Richard Book is Innocent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oxfordtweed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tweedandtinsel2010-12-04 05:16 pm
oxfordtweed) wrote in tweedandtinsel2010-12-04 05:16 pm
Entry tags:
Nicky Angel (1/7)
Title: Nicky Angel
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s:Like in the film, + one or two
Word Count (chapter/total): 1,300 / 15000
Rating: PG? How'd that happen?
Summary/Warnings:Nicholas gets an unexpected lodger.
Yes, this is a re-post, and you've probably seen it before. But I've made a few changes to the narrative, fixed some glaring continuity issues, and changed the way I'm posting stuff, so you're getting it again.
If you haven't seen it before, this is an idea the preceded Lamp Light by months, but for whatever reason, I just never really worked on it much. It's basically a reversal of what happened in Lamp Light, with a lot less angst, and a bit more fluff. That said, it's still kind of angsty. I wanted to play with the notion of Nicholas suddenly and unexpectedly becoming a father, and completely missing out on the first few years. There's also a bit of Douglas Adams inspiration in here, mainly from Mostly Harmless.
The new pub owner was a nice old man, but the problem was that he was just that; kind of old, so the pub’s hours had changed, and not for the better. Rather than hire help to take care of the patrons that preferred to stay out late, he would just kick everybody out around midnight, and tell them to go finish getting pissed elsewhere.
So Danny and Nicholas would do just that. They stumbled out to the cobblestone street, taking a few moments to remember which direction Danny’s flat was, and wandered off in that direction. They finished getting pissed, and watched a few DVDs before Nicholas eventually left. He stumbled home on his own, on the argument that if he stayed to watch Payback, he’d just fall asleep halfway through and wind up with a burning pain in his neck the next morning.
Getting home, he’d realized that he’d forgotten to turn the air conditioner off before leaving for the pub, and swore he could see his own breath in the cold air. He locked the door, turned off the air, and very carefully made his way to his bedroom, trying very hard to undress and not knock anything over. He got as far as getting off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt before falling asleep.
It was Sunday, so whoever it was that was knocking on his front door better have had a damn good reason. Nicholas pulled himself out of bed, realizing that he’d gone and done it again; got too drunk to even undress himself properly. It always amazed him that he managed to find his way home on such occasions.
As he made his way to the front door, he flipped the air back on. Leaning against the wall, for support more than anything, he slowly figured out the locks on his door and pulled it open, not recognizing the woman standing on his step.
“You’ve got the wrong address, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head lightly.
“Hang on,” she said before Nicholas could shut the door and go back to sleep. “Where can I find Nick Angel?”
Nicholas blinked a few times before realizing that she was talking about him. “Nicholas,” he corrected. “And I told the last person that I’m not issuing any more statements. The matter is closed.”
“No, Nick,” she said. “It’s me. Tricia.”
Nicholas looked at her for a few moments before covering his face with his hand. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” he said, pushing the door open for her to step inside. “Come in.”
She looked over her shoulder quickly as she followed Nicholas inside, shutting the door behind her.
“Let me go get changed,” Nicholas said as he made his way to the stairs. “Just be a minute.”
He disappeared to the first floor, leaving Tricia alone in his front room. She slowly walked along the shelves with stacked books and little statues, pausing hesitantly at the rack of katanas that was over the mantelpiece. She sighed deeply, turning round in time to see Nicholas emerge from his bedroom in clean clothes.
“Out late?” she asked, bemused.
“Very,” Nicholas responded as he made his way to the kitchen. “I’m sorry; I must have missed your call.”
“I didn’t ring,” Tricia said simply as she followed him.
“Oh.” Nicholas said, fishing out two mugs from the cupboard. “Tea?” he asked.
Tricia made her way to look out the window. “Uhm, sure,” she said distractedly.
Nicholas shrugged it off, and put the water on to boil, getting the cups ready. He tried to think of a reason why she might be there, but without caffeine, his brain simply refused to work, so he settled on asking if she wanted sugar.
“Sure,” she replied, looking out the window again.
As Nicholas located the sugar, he noticed the small car sitting out front that did not belong to the neighbours, so he assumed it was hers. They stood in an awkward silence for several minutes, Nicholas jumping at the opportunity to do something when the water finally started to look like it was getting hot.
“What brings you here?” he asked finally as he poured the water into each of the two cups. “I’m not used to people showing up unannounced. Even the reporters have learned to call before knocking.” He handed her one of the mugs that had migrated to his cupboard from the station, keeping the pink one with Princess written on in sweeping script for himself. He noticed Tricia looking at the mug, but said nothing. He’d grown rather attached to the mug, despite having been someone’s idea of a joke back before the station had been rebuilt. Plus, it was bigger than the one that had been stolen, so he wasn’t going to complain.
“Well,” Tricia said hesitantly. “I suppose I should start by telling you that I’ll be going to Italy with my fiancé tomorrow.”
“Congratulations?” Nicholas ventured.
“It’s for his work,” she clarified.
“Okay,” Nicholas said, still lost. “And you came all the way to Sandford to tell me this?”
“Well, no,” Tricia said. “Not exactly.” She took a drink of her tea. “There’s a slight…complication.”
“Okay.”
“I suppose I should have probably mentioned this sooner,” she continued.
“Mentioned what?” Nicholas asked, still completely lost, and not exactly convinced that it could be totally attributed to his hangover.
“Well,” she said. She looked back out the window, and this time, Nicholas had to look with her. “You know all that you said about being too young to start a family?”
Nicholas very nearly dropped his mug. “What?”
“His name is Nicky,” she continued.
“What?” Nicholas repeated.
“Brandon’s job’s going to have him travelling all across the world, and we really don’t want to keep uprooting him every two months.”
“What?” Nicholas repeated again, putting his mug down on the counter and really looking at the car parked outside. “You’re sure he’s mine?” he asked. “Why not just put him in a boarding school, or something, like a normal parent?”
Tricia shifted awkwardly, putting her own tea down on the kitchen table. “Well,” she said. “I figured with you retiring out here and all—”
“What?” Nicholas was beginning to feel a bit like a broken record. “Retired? Who…never mind. You told me –”
“He’s yours, Nick,” Tricia insisted. “Please. I know this is sudden, but it would be better for him. We can’t just drag him from place to place. It’s not good for a child. It’s time you took some responsibility for your actions, anyway.”
Nicholas shifted his jaw. “It would have been nice to know,” he reasoned.
Tricia shrugged. “Yeah, well,” she started. “You didn’t want a family, and it was all about your career, then. But you’re settled out here, now—”
“Who told you that?” Nicholas all but demanded. When Tricia didn’t answer, he turned round and made his way to the front room. She followed him out, looking round at all the trinkets and potentially expensive items stacked on shelves. Nicholas paced the room, sat down on the sofa, decided he was too anxious to sit still, and eventually started pacing again. “Don’t you have other family?” he asked. “Someone that’s not me?”
“Nick, please,” Tricia pleaded.
Nicholas stared at her, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Look at me and tell me there’s no other alternative,” he said flatly.
“I wish it were that simple,” she said.
Nicholas sighed, his arms dropping to his side. “Fine,” he said, defeated. “Whatever. Fine.”
Without another word Tricia turned and walked out the front door, leaving Nicholas alone in the sitting room. Several minutes after she left, Tricia pushed the front door open, practically dragging a reluctant little boy into the cottage.
“Nicky, come on,” she tried to reason. “Come meet your dad.”
“I hate him!” the child screamed, throwing a stuffed dog at the floor. “I don’t want to stay here! I hate it!”
“You’ve only just got here,” Tricia said, pulling the boy into the room so she could shut the door.
“This is certainly encouraging,” Nicholas muttered, determined to do the right thing.
“I want to go back home!” The boy kicked at his mother and tried to open the door, but she had thought ahead enough to lock it behind her. When the door refused to open, he ran into the kitchen. “Take me home!”
Nicholas buried his face in his hands. He had apparently fathered the anti-christ.
“Nick, I really have to go,” Tricia said softly, already unlocking the door.
“Fine,” Nicholas said, still rubbing his face. He didn’t look up to watch her leave; just listened to the front door open and then shut again, followed immediately by the shatter of glass in the kitchen.
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s:Like in the film, + one or two
Word Count (chapter/total): 1,300 / 15000
Rating: PG? How'd that happen?
Summary/Warnings:Nicholas gets an unexpected lodger.
Yes, this is a re-post, and you've probably seen it before. But I've made a few changes to the narrative, fixed some glaring continuity issues, and changed the way I'm posting stuff, so you're getting it again.
If you haven't seen it before, this is an idea the preceded Lamp Light by months, but for whatever reason, I just never really worked on it much. It's basically a reversal of what happened in Lamp Light, with a lot less angst, and a bit more fluff. That said, it's still kind of angsty. I wanted to play with the notion of Nicholas suddenly and unexpectedly becoming a father, and completely missing out on the first few years. There's also a bit of Douglas Adams inspiration in here, mainly from Mostly Harmless.
The new pub owner was a nice old man, but the problem was that he was just that; kind of old, so the pub’s hours had changed, and not for the better. Rather than hire help to take care of the patrons that preferred to stay out late, he would just kick everybody out around midnight, and tell them to go finish getting pissed elsewhere.
So Danny and Nicholas would do just that. They stumbled out to the cobblestone street, taking a few moments to remember which direction Danny’s flat was, and wandered off in that direction. They finished getting pissed, and watched a few DVDs before Nicholas eventually left. He stumbled home on his own, on the argument that if he stayed to watch Payback, he’d just fall asleep halfway through and wind up with a burning pain in his neck the next morning.
Getting home, he’d realized that he’d forgotten to turn the air conditioner off before leaving for the pub, and swore he could see his own breath in the cold air. He locked the door, turned off the air, and very carefully made his way to his bedroom, trying very hard to undress and not knock anything over. He got as far as getting off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt before falling asleep.
It was Sunday, so whoever it was that was knocking on his front door better have had a damn good reason. Nicholas pulled himself out of bed, realizing that he’d gone and done it again; got too drunk to even undress himself properly. It always amazed him that he managed to find his way home on such occasions.
As he made his way to the front door, he flipped the air back on. Leaning against the wall, for support more than anything, he slowly figured out the locks on his door and pulled it open, not recognizing the woman standing on his step.
“You’ve got the wrong address, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head lightly.
“Hang on,” she said before Nicholas could shut the door and go back to sleep. “Where can I find Nick Angel?”
Nicholas blinked a few times before realizing that she was talking about him. “Nicholas,” he corrected. “And I told the last person that I’m not issuing any more statements. The matter is closed.”
“No, Nick,” she said. “It’s me. Tricia.”
Nicholas looked at her for a few moments before covering his face with his hand. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” he said, pushing the door open for her to step inside. “Come in.”
She looked over her shoulder quickly as she followed Nicholas inside, shutting the door behind her.
“Let me go get changed,” Nicholas said as he made his way to the stairs. “Just be a minute.”
He disappeared to the first floor, leaving Tricia alone in his front room. She slowly walked along the shelves with stacked books and little statues, pausing hesitantly at the rack of katanas that was over the mantelpiece. She sighed deeply, turning round in time to see Nicholas emerge from his bedroom in clean clothes.
“Out late?” she asked, bemused.
“Very,” Nicholas responded as he made his way to the kitchen. “I’m sorry; I must have missed your call.”
“I didn’t ring,” Tricia said simply as she followed him.
“Oh.” Nicholas said, fishing out two mugs from the cupboard. “Tea?” he asked.
Tricia made her way to look out the window. “Uhm, sure,” she said distractedly.
Nicholas shrugged it off, and put the water on to boil, getting the cups ready. He tried to think of a reason why she might be there, but without caffeine, his brain simply refused to work, so he settled on asking if she wanted sugar.
“Sure,” she replied, looking out the window again.
As Nicholas located the sugar, he noticed the small car sitting out front that did not belong to the neighbours, so he assumed it was hers. They stood in an awkward silence for several minutes, Nicholas jumping at the opportunity to do something when the water finally started to look like it was getting hot.
“What brings you here?” he asked finally as he poured the water into each of the two cups. “I’m not used to people showing up unannounced. Even the reporters have learned to call before knocking.” He handed her one of the mugs that had migrated to his cupboard from the station, keeping the pink one with Princess written on in sweeping script for himself. He noticed Tricia looking at the mug, but said nothing. He’d grown rather attached to the mug, despite having been someone’s idea of a joke back before the station had been rebuilt. Plus, it was bigger than the one that had been stolen, so he wasn’t going to complain.
“Well,” Tricia said hesitantly. “I suppose I should start by telling you that I’ll be going to Italy with my fiancé tomorrow.”
“Congratulations?” Nicholas ventured.
“It’s for his work,” she clarified.
“Okay,” Nicholas said, still lost. “And you came all the way to Sandford to tell me this?”
“Well, no,” Tricia said. “Not exactly.” She took a drink of her tea. “There’s a slight…complication.”
“Okay.”
“I suppose I should have probably mentioned this sooner,” she continued.
“Mentioned what?” Nicholas asked, still completely lost, and not exactly convinced that it could be totally attributed to his hangover.
“Well,” she said. She looked back out the window, and this time, Nicholas had to look with her. “You know all that you said about being too young to start a family?”
Nicholas very nearly dropped his mug. “What?”
“His name is Nicky,” she continued.
“What?” Nicholas repeated.
“Brandon’s job’s going to have him travelling all across the world, and we really don’t want to keep uprooting him every two months.”
“What?” Nicholas repeated again, putting his mug down on the counter and really looking at the car parked outside. “You’re sure he’s mine?” he asked. “Why not just put him in a boarding school, or something, like a normal parent?”
Tricia shifted awkwardly, putting her own tea down on the kitchen table. “Well,” she said. “I figured with you retiring out here and all—”
“What?” Nicholas was beginning to feel a bit like a broken record. “Retired? Who…never mind. You told me –”
“He’s yours, Nick,” Tricia insisted. “Please. I know this is sudden, but it would be better for him. We can’t just drag him from place to place. It’s not good for a child. It’s time you took some responsibility for your actions, anyway.”
Nicholas shifted his jaw. “It would have been nice to know,” he reasoned.
Tricia shrugged. “Yeah, well,” she started. “You didn’t want a family, and it was all about your career, then. But you’re settled out here, now—”
“Who told you that?” Nicholas all but demanded. When Tricia didn’t answer, he turned round and made his way to the front room. She followed him out, looking round at all the trinkets and potentially expensive items stacked on shelves. Nicholas paced the room, sat down on the sofa, decided he was too anxious to sit still, and eventually started pacing again. “Don’t you have other family?” he asked. “Someone that’s not me?”
“Nick, please,” Tricia pleaded.
Nicholas stared at her, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Look at me and tell me there’s no other alternative,” he said flatly.
“I wish it were that simple,” she said.
Nicholas sighed, his arms dropping to his side. “Fine,” he said, defeated. “Whatever. Fine.”
Without another word Tricia turned and walked out the front door, leaving Nicholas alone in the sitting room. Several minutes after she left, Tricia pushed the front door open, practically dragging a reluctant little boy into the cottage.
“Nicky, come on,” she tried to reason. “Come meet your dad.”
“I hate him!” the child screamed, throwing a stuffed dog at the floor. “I don’t want to stay here! I hate it!”
“You’ve only just got here,” Tricia said, pulling the boy into the room so she could shut the door.
“This is certainly encouraging,” Nicholas muttered, determined to do the right thing.
“I want to go back home!” The boy kicked at his mother and tried to open the door, but she had thought ahead enough to lock it behind her. When the door refused to open, he ran into the kitchen. “Take me home!”
Nicholas buried his face in his hands. He had apparently fathered the anti-christ.
“Nick, I really have to go,” Tricia said softly, already unlocking the door.
“Fine,” Nicholas said, still rubbing his face. He didn’t look up to watch her leave; just listened to the front door open and then shut again, followed immediately by the shatter of glass in the kitchen.