Richard Book is Innocent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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tweedandtinsel2010-12-04 07:51 pm
oxfordtweed) wrote in tweedandtinsel2010-12-04 07:51 pm
Entry tags:
Treasures
Title: Treasure
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s: Like the film
Word Count: 1,100
Rating: G, on like, a Disney level. O_o
Summary/Warnings: Danny thinks Nicholas' cottage is empty and boring.
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
waffleguppies for the exchange. This takes place shortly after the NWA (maybe two months after the Battle of Sandford) stuff all went down, and follows my own timeline and whatnot.
Danny watched quietly as Nicholas stood in front of the sink, very carefully washing one of the four glasses he owned. He knew it wasn’t Nicholas’ fault that the cottage – which he’d only been allowed to move into the week before – was almost completely empty. It had been easy to assume that Nicholas didn’t bring anything with him when he moved from London because the original terms of the transfer were only temporary. When the sergeant was finally told that he could quit sleeping on sofas on a rotating basis, and move into a space of his own, Danny had immediately offered to go to London to help Nicholas pack his things.
Nicholas easily explained that it wasn’t necessary, and Danny wasn’t sure what was worse; that his ex had apparently sold or given away all of his things, or that Nicholas didn’t seem to care about the loss.
“It was all just material possessions,” Nicholas reminded him as he carefully dried the glass before setting it on the shelf. “Anything I needed, I took with me when we broke up.”
“Weren’t none of it important?” Danny asked, still uncomfortable by the absolute bareness of the cottage.
Nicholas easily reached under his shirt collar and pulled on the gold chain he wore, holding it aloft long enough to make sure Danny saw.
“Yeah, but—” Danny’s words were cut off sharply as the sound of something very heavy falling in one of the upstairs rooms rattled the entire cottage.
Nicholas’ hand darted out, seizing a large serrated knife from the cutting board. “Someone’s upstairs,” he said, a nervous tinge on the edge of his voice. “Was that from my room? I can’t tell.”
Danny shook his head as he slowly got up, carefully pulling the rather dangerous knife from Nicholas’ hand. The doctors said panic attacks might be expected, and Danny certainly didn’t want one happening around plenty of sharp objects in arm’s reach. “Crawlspace,” he said simply.
“I haven’t got a crawlspace,” Nicholas said indignantly.
“Your room also ain’t above the kitchen.” The certainty in his voice was enough to calm Nicholas’ nerves, if only just by a small amount. “Come on. I’ll take point.”
He tugged on Nicholas’ rolled sleeve lightly as he led the way to the stairs, pushing open the door just at the landing. “Nothing in the big empty room, here,” he said simply, leaving the door ajar. With Nicholas close behind, he walked over to the wall opposite the two bedrooms, inspecting the panels carefully. “See,” he said simply, pointing at a horizontal line that had no earthly business on the wall. “I bet it...”
He pushed his weight against the out-of-place panel, managing to free it from its position in the wall. Carefully setting it aside, the two of them peered into the narrow opening.
“They never told me—” Nicholas jumped sharply as a large barn owl began fussing about, knocking over several planks that had been leaned against the vaulted ceiling, and eventually found its way out of a broken window on the far end of the space.
“Better get that fixed,” Danny pointed out as he ducked into the space. “They’ll be roosting in here in the winter if you don’t.”
“Danny, don’t go in there,” Nicholas protested, following after him anyway. “Wind up with tetanus or something...”
“Oh, that’s what fell,” Danny said flatly, lifting his hand slowly from the dusty planked floor. The sunlight from the window glistened lightly through a translucent golden muck that slowly dribbled from his skin. “S’at... s’at honey?”
“Don’t get any of it on you!” Nicholas said quickly.
Danny only laughed. “Yeah. Too late.” He rubbed the palm of his hand against the nearest box, only managing to get several decades’ worth of dust and cobwebs glued to his hand.
Trying very hard to hide his disgust, Nicholas pushed past Danny, doing his best to avoid the sticky mess on the floor, and made his way over to an un-jostled stack of boxes. Ignoring whatever it was Danny was up to with his ever-growing mess, Nicholas carefully opened the flaps, only considering afterwards the possibility of nests of spiders or mice in the box.
Cautiously, he peered into the flaking cardboard, surprised at what he found instead. “Oh, wow,” he gasped, carefully reaching into the box.
“What you got?” Danny asked. “More fruit jars?”
“No, a bunch of old books,” Nicholas said, carefully opening a moderately-well-kept Edgar Allan Poe collection.
Danny snorted. “Who reads books?” he caught the absolutely sour look on Nicholas face. “In a crawlspace, I mean,” he amended. “Let’s take this all downstairs.”
He carefully turned right the box full of assorted mason jars and even more carefully deposited the bits of broken glass into it before backing it out of the space. “I’ll put this one in the kitchen,” he said dryly as he made his way down the steps, leaving Nicholas to figure out how to get out of the small space on his own.
Eventually, the sergeant did manage to get the box backed out the same way Danny had done, and carefully carried his treasure downstairs, setting the dusty box next to the coffee table before going back up for more.
Twenty minutes later, Danny found himself wondering if Nicholas’ desire for cleanliness was actually bordering on obsessive as he watched Nicholas carefully dust off each individual book before setting it on the previously empty shelf, situating it alphabetically according to the author’s last name.
“You know, the books don’t know which ones they’re next to,” Danny pointed out, still trying to scrub the remnants of dusty honey from his fingers.
“No,” Nicholas agreed. “But I like to know exactly that.” He picked up a very yellowed paperback and carefully ran a small towel over its cover. “Otherwise how am I expected to find them when I want them?”
Danny admitted defeat, knowing that he was guilty of almost exactly what he’d been chiding Nicholas for with his own DVD collection. “Yeah,” he agreed. Satisfied that his hand wouldn’t stick to everything he touched, he tossed the hand towel he’d been using into the kitchen. “You need help with that, or is it a one-person job?”
“Your hands clean?” Nicholas asked as he shelved the book under W.
Danny held up his hands to show just how clean they were, effortlessly catching the small towel that Nicholas tossed in his direction. “By title, right?” he asked innocently.
Nicholas responded by waving his towel in Danny’s general direction.
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s: Like the film
Word Count: 1,100
Rating: G, on like, a Disney level. O_o
Summary/Warnings: Danny thinks Nicholas' cottage is empty and boring.
Written for
waffleguppies for the exchange. This takes place shortly after the NWA (maybe two months after the Battle of Sandford) stuff all went down, and follows my own timeline and whatnot.Danny watched quietly as Nicholas stood in front of the sink, very carefully washing one of the four glasses he owned. He knew it wasn’t Nicholas’ fault that the cottage – which he’d only been allowed to move into the week before – was almost completely empty. It had been easy to assume that Nicholas didn’t bring anything with him when he moved from London because the original terms of the transfer were only temporary. When the sergeant was finally told that he could quit sleeping on sofas on a rotating basis, and move into a space of his own, Danny had immediately offered to go to London to help Nicholas pack his things.
Nicholas easily explained that it wasn’t necessary, and Danny wasn’t sure what was worse; that his ex had apparently sold or given away all of his things, or that Nicholas didn’t seem to care about the loss.
“It was all just material possessions,” Nicholas reminded him as he carefully dried the glass before setting it on the shelf. “Anything I needed, I took with me when we broke up.”
“Weren’t none of it important?” Danny asked, still uncomfortable by the absolute bareness of the cottage.
Nicholas easily reached under his shirt collar and pulled on the gold chain he wore, holding it aloft long enough to make sure Danny saw.
“Yeah, but—” Danny’s words were cut off sharply as the sound of something very heavy falling in one of the upstairs rooms rattled the entire cottage.
Nicholas’ hand darted out, seizing a large serrated knife from the cutting board. “Someone’s upstairs,” he said, a nervous tinge on the edge of his voice. “Was that from my room? I can’t tell.”
Danny shook his head as he slowly got up, carefully pulling the rather dangerous knife from Nicholas’ hand. The doctors said panic attacks might be expected, and Danny certainly didn’t want one happening around plenty of sharp objects in arm’s reach. “Crawlspace,” he said simply.
“I haven’t got a crawlspace,” Nicholas said indignantly.
“Your room also ain’t above the kitchen.” The certainty in his voice was enough to calm Nicholas’ nerves, if only just by a small amount. “Come on. I’ll take point.”
He tugged on Nicholas’ rolled sleeve lightly as he led the way to the stairs, pushing open the door just at the landing. “Nothing in the big empty room, here,” he said simply, leaving the door ajar. With Nicholas close behind, he walked over to the wall opposite the two bedrooms, inspecting the panels carefully. “See,” he said simply, pointing at a horizontal line that had no earthly business on the wall. “I bet it...”
He pushed his weight against the out-of-place panel, managing to free it from its position in the wall. Carefully setting it aside, the two of them peered into the narrow opening.
“They never told me—” Nicholas jumped sharply as a large barn owl began fussing about, knocking over several planks that had been leaned against the vaulted ceiling, and eventually found its way out of a broken window on the far end of the space.
“Better get that fixed,” Danny pointed out as he ducked into the space. “They’ll be roosting in here in the winter if you don’t.”
“Danny, don’t go in there,” Nicholas protested, following after him anyway. “Wind up with tetanus or something...”
“Oh, that’s what fell,” Danny said flatly, lifting his hand slowly from the dusty planked floor. The sunlight from the window glistened lightly through a translucent golden muck that slowly dribbled from his skin. “S’at... s’at honey?”
“Don’t get any of it on you!” Nicholas said quickly.
Danny only laughed. “Yeah. Too late.” He rubbed the palm of his hand against the nearest box, only managing to get several decades’ worth of dust and cobwebs glued to his hand.
Trying very hard to hide his disgust, Nicholas pushed past Danny, doing his best to avoid the sticky mess on the floor, and made his way over to an un-jostled stack of boxes. Ignoring whatever it was Danny was up to with his ever-growing mess, Nicholas carefully opened the flaps, only considering afterwards the possibility of nests of spiders or mice in the box.
Cautiously, he peered into the flaking cardboard, surprised at what he found instead. “Oh, wow,” he gasped, carefully reaching into the box.
“What you got?” Danny asked. “More fruit jars?”
“No, a bunch of old books,” Nicholas said, carefully opening a moderately-well-kept Edgar Allan Poe collection.
Danny snorted. “Who reads books?” he caught the absolutely sour look on Nicholas face. “In a crawlspace, I mean,” he amended. “Let’s take this all downstairs.”
He carefully turned right the box full of assorted mason jars and even more carefully deposited the bits of broken glass into it before backing it out of the space. “I’ll put this one in the kitchen,” he said dryly as he made his way down the steps, leaving Nicholas to figure out how to get out of the small space on his own.
Eventually, the sergeant did manage to get the box backed out the same way Danny had done, and carefully carried his treasure downstairs, setting the dusty box next to the coffee table before going back up for more.
Twenty minutes later, Danny found himself wondering if Nicholas’ desire for cleanliness was actually bordering on obsessive as he watched Nicholas carefully dust off each individual book before setting it on the previously empty shelf, situating it alphabetically according to the author’s last name.
“You know, the books don’t know which ones they’re next to,” Danny pointed out, still trying to scrub the remnants of dusty honey from his fingers.
“No,” Nicholas agreed. “But I like to know exactly that.” He picked up a very yellowed paperback and carefully ran a small towel over its cover. “Otherwise how am I expected to find them when I want them?”
Danny admitted defeat, knowing that he was guilty of almost exactly what he’d been chiding Nicholas for with his own DVD collection. “Yeah,” he agreed. Satisfied that his hand wouldn’t stick to everything he touched, he tossed the hand towel he’d been using into the kitchen. “You need help with that, or is it a one-person job?”
“Your hands clean?” Nicholas asked as he shelved the book under W.
Danny held up his hands to show just how clean they were, effortlessly catching the small towel that Nicholas tossed in his direction. “By title, right?” he asked innocently.
Nicholas responded by waving his towel in Danny’s general direction.