Work Text:
After the Explosion, the Days
Day 1:
It wasn't that Nicholas didn't know before then, exactly. He'd sort of known when he'd said no to returning to the Met; he'd sort of known when he saw "Point Break" in that services station; he'd sort of known when he'd raced off to get Danny that peace lily. He'd definitely sort of known when Danny jumped in front of him and he felt like he was breaking apart, auto-pilot clicking on and giving chase – and hadn't that worked out well? But there was sort-of-knowing and there was knowing-knowing, and Nicholas had stopped making sense even in his own head.
The point was, he hadn't known-known until a nurse was ushering him into a white, impersonal hospital room, and there Danny was, asleep and snoring slightly, drip in his arm and mask over his face, breathing and alive.
An hour later, Danny woke up, went "Ow", and then started crying before Nicholas could say anything. All he could do was press the morphine button and promise Danny that everything was all right, he was going to be all right. Danny seemed to believe him, or the morphine kicked in, because he stopped crying after a bit. And then he fell asleep again. Nicholas sat and watched him.
Day 2:
Danny woke up properly the day after his surgery, blinking at Nicholas, sitting at his bedside.
"Hey", Nicholas said, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.
"Ow," Danny said, but there was no crying this time. Instead, Danny coughed and rasped, "Water?"
Nicholas passed him a glass. "Don't drink too fast," he warned. "Do you feel –" and then he stopped, not sure how to finished the sentence. Danny wasn't fine, that was obvious. But Danny nodded, passing the glass back to Nicholas.
"M'okay." He turned his head slightly. "Hurts all over."
Nicholas pressed the morphine switch for him. "It'll be better in a minute," he said.
"T'nks" Danny said. His eyes widened. "You came back for me," he said, looking almost surprised.
"Yes," Nicholas said and Danny smiled.
"Came back," he murmured, eyes slipping closed as the morphine kicked in. Nicholas felt suddenly more relaxed than he'd felt since – since that night at Danny's. He decided to think about that later.
Day 3:
"The police station exploded?" Danny exclaimed, and then had to close his eyes for a moment while he caught his breath. Nicholas watched his chest moving – it looked painful, but the doctor had said it was to be expected. His fingers twitched to call the nurse, but he forced himself not to. Instead, he waited until Danny's breathing had calmed somewhat.
"Don't you remember?" he asked, not sure what he wanted the answer to be.
"No! I bet it was amazing," he said despondently and he looked so...sweetly disappointed that Nicholas found himself smiling, even though it wasn't funny. He still had nightmares. The explosion and the thirteen minutes and eighteen seconds following, before the ambulance arrived, had been the worst minutes of his life.
"Still," Nicholas said, "you remember the important bits." And Danny grinned at that, open and genuinely happy. Nicholas thought reminding him about his father would be unnecessary right now – they could discuss that some other time.
"We were better than any action movie," Danny declared.
Day 5:
"Skinner's house? How'd you manage to get that?" Danny's eyes were wide, interested, and Nicholas chose to believe that it wasn't all morphine.
"I asked him," he said. It wasn't the full story – apparently Skinner's lawyer believed that donating the house to the Sandford police department might help him in court. It wouldn't, not with the list of murders Nicholas had spent the day before compiling, but the house was spacious and the service needed a home.
"No way!" Danny said. "Awww, I wish I could've been there." He beamed at Nicholas, all admiration and fondness. Nicholas ducked his head.
Day 7:
Life in Sandford returned to normal surprisingly soon – well, normal by the admittedly insane standards of Sandford. By comparison, the hospital in Buford Abbey was...neat, but impersonally so, clinically modern. The nurse who tended to Danny was young and wore a headscarf; she was friendly to Nicholas in a detached way, the way people were polite in London. It was, Nicholas decided, comfortingly un-Sandford, sane in a way that completing several hundred pages of paperwork about, and directing interviews with mass-murdering villagers was decidedly not.
The nurse might be detached with him, she was clearly endeared to Danny. When he arrived at the hospital, he noticed that Danny had gained an extra helping of pudding, and the nurse was chatting away to him, fluffing his pillow. Nicholas was almost jealous, but mostly he was grateful that someone was there for Danny when he couldn't be.
"Brought you some DVDs," he said by way of hello, and didn't add that they'd be carefully screened for explosions and/or murdering cults. Danny made a happy noise.
"Didn't have to," he said, but he was smiling widely and reaching for the bag already.
Danny decided to watch "Lethal Weapon 3" and Nicholas decided to stay. It was odd, really, that Danny still liked these films. Nicholas had had a psychologist see Danny to make sure he wasn't suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, but Nicholas supposed it wasn't surprising.
Then Danny said, without looking at him, "Have you seen my dad?"
Nicholas had been expecting it, but not then. He'd planned to talk about it once Danny was out of hospital, with a cup of tea and maybe some tissues at hand. There are tissues here, but they were the clinical type, harsh and grainy.
"Yes," he said, hoping Danny wouldn't ask – wouldn't want him to describe it. He didn't have to look at Danny to know that Danny was on the verge of crying. He moved his hand next to Danny's and was grateful when Danny took it, squeezing.
"Is he – is he all right? I mean, I know he's not, I know he's in jail and he's got to stay and –"
"He's being taken care of," Nicholas interrupted, looking up and meeting Danny's eyes. Danny looked back and Nicholas didn't think about the rage on Frank's face, didn't think about the harsh light of the prison cell. Danny's cheeks were wet, but he nodded and squeezed Nicholas' hand again.
Day 11:
Nicholas spent a lot of time cataloguing Danny (breathing: good; moving his arms: some hesitance, but no visible flinching; hasn't drifted off for an hour). He spent hours in the hospital, sometimes with Danny awake, sometimes asleep, and it gave him something to do, made him feel...useful. And it did come in handy, really.
"Swan got out again," Nicholas said. He'd timed the comment carefully, just as Danny was starting to fidget, wanting to itch at his scars. He wasn't disappointed; Danny looked up, hands stilling.
"Did you have to chase it down?"
Nicholas let himself grin. "I let the Andes deal with it. I had...paperwork." Danny laughed and Nicholas watched him. "Afterwards, we had to re-institute the swearbox." He shook his head in mock-disappointment, even though the swearbox was yet another sign of Sandford returning to normal. It had been weird around the station with the Andes being polite and friendly.
"Have to watch my mouth when I get back, then," Danny said.
"It'll only be another few days, then you can come –" Nicholas paused. "You can come stay with me." It was a stupid idea, but where else would Danny go? His cottage was ready now, neat and clean from too many evenings spent moving his belongings around and vacuuming, trying to make it feel like he belonged there. And he wasn't going to leave Danny on his own, he knew he couldn't.
Danny grinned wide at him and started talking excitedly about ordering films online, and Nicholas made up his mind to just be careful.
Day 13:
Danny was quiet on the drive from Buford Abbey, though Nicholas suspected that was because he was focusing on shifting so that the drive would cause the least amount of pain. He wished he could distract Danny, but his mind was coming up blank.
Danny groaned. "Are you all right?" Nicholas asked, looking over. "Don't itch!"
"Tell it!" Danny said, prodding his chest.
"Five minutes," Nicholas said. "Almost there." Danny rolled his eyes.
"I know. Used to drive to Buford Abbey all the time when I was younger." Nicholas risked another glance. Danny's hands were resting on his knees. "Mum's brother's wife's cousin Jamie used to live there. We'd go visiting." Danny paused and grinned."She used to let me stay in the apartment and watch films while mum and dad did their shopping. She had loads of great films. I think she's in America now, being a lesbian."
Nicholas was surprised to find himself smiling. Danny shifted and then Nicholas stiffened when Danny patted his knee.
"You should smile more," Danny said, his hand resting heavily on Nicholas's knee, and Nicholas blinked, trying to think of an appropriate response. "Hey, wasn't that your cottage?"
Nicholas did not curse. He looked for a place to do a U-turn.
Day 17:
The skin beneath Danny's bandages was taut, but the scars weren't as red as that had been, no sign of inflammation or infection, Nicholas noted. He applied the anti-septic cream slowly, meticulously, cataloguing the feel of the scars – not, he reminded himself, the feel of Danny's skin, the soft beat of his heart under the top scars. This was routine, one friend helping another; Danny shouldn't have to strain himself.
(Nicholas suspected that Danny might be capable of doing this himself now – his mobility had improved rapidly, possibly due to the walks Nicholas forced him on. However, this gave Nicholas the opportunity to observe the healing process and catalogue the changes. It might be useful to know some day.)
Danny squirmed under his hands. "Still sore?" Nicholas asked, ghosting a hand over one scar.
"Less," Danny said, "More numb, like you know when you've been sat in the car for ages and your arse has gone all weird?" Nicholas didn't – there were exercises you could do to avoid pins and needles, after all – but he nodded and moved his hands more softly.
"You don't have to be careful," Danny said quietly. Nicholas stopped for a moment, trying to work out what that meant. "It felt nice, is all," Danny said and when Nicholas looked up his cheeks had gone pink. Nicholas looked down quickly and breathed in deeply.
"I think that's all of them," he said, getting up and grabbing a tissue, wiping his hands.
Day 19:
The note on the kitchen table said that Danny had gone for a walk. Which was fine with Nicholas, of course; walks were good for Danny, and while he usually walked with Nicholas, there was no reason he shouldn't go for a walk on his own.
Nicholas had seized the opportunity to change the sheets in the master bedroom and give the bathroom a quick clean. Then he made himself a cup of tea, remembered his caffeine policy and poured it out. He got out the duty roster for the week after next and thought about changing Tony's hours, maybe let him patrol more often. The villagers liked him.
It had been an hour since he got home, and Danny was still out. Nicholas knew Danny was a grown man. He knew that Danny was born here and probably knew the area and knew where he was going.
He got his coat and headed out.
Nicholas found Danny sitting on the wall in front of Frank's cottage. Danny didn't look like he was crying, but he didn't look happy either. Nicholas sat down beside him, trying to think of what to say.
After a minute or two, Danny reached over and took his hand. Nicholas squeezed and let Danny lean against him.
Day 23:
"Danny!" Doris exclaimed, coming forward to kiss him on the cheek. "It's good to see you here." Danny gave her a hug, his arms coming around her with only the smallest amount of strain, Nicholas noticed.
"Butterman, you finally got off that big arse of yours," Cartwright called out. Wainwright smacked him upside the head.
"Good to have you back," Tony said. "Will you be returning as constable, or will there be –"
"G'dsinyus," Fisher interrupted. Saxon barked and wagged his tail, and Danny leaned down to pat him.
"Lunch?" Doris asked, looking hopeful. Nicholas had work to do, and he knew Doris was due to go on round in half-an-hour, still...
"Nah," Danny said. "I should probably get some work done. I bet I'm behind." There was a small crash followed by ows as Nicholas managed to hit both Andes with a pen and a stapler respectively. They glared, but didn't make any comments.
"Lunch in an hour," Nicholas offered. There was a low-grade grumbling, but everyone returned to their various duties, and Nicholas headed into his office. Behind him, he heard Doris talking to Danny.
"You doing all right?" she asked, and then, lowering her voice in a way that made it even more audible, "Nicholas taking care of you properly?" Nicholas flinched, but didn't turn around. The Andes sniggered.
Day 27:
"Bedtime?" Nicholas asked as the credits rolled over the screen. Next to him, Danny shifted, knocking his knee against Nicholas' thigh.
"Not yet," Danny said, looking at Nicholas. "I – Nick –" He stopped, frowning.
"Is anything wrong?" A worrying thought struck Nicholas. "Nothing's hurting, is it?"
Danny huffed a laugh. "It ain't that," he said, "It's just. My nurse, Amy –"
"Ameera," Nicholas corrected.
"Ameera," Danny continued, looking away. "She thought you were my partner."
Nicholas felt something freeze inside him. "I am," he said, trying to stay calm.
"No, you know. Partner like –" Danny stumbled over the words, "like poofs, partners like that." Nicholas tried to think of a response – anything he could say to make this normal. Danny shifted again, closer and looked at Nicholas. Nicholas tried to meet his eyes without blushing, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. "It weren't – I mean, I didn't mind."
"What –" Nicholas swallowed and tried again. "Danny, you're still ill."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Danny asked. "Don't you like me?"
"Danny!" Nicholas said, reaching out to rest his hand on Danny's knee. "You know I – of course I like you." Danny beamed, leaning forward.
"Then there's no problem," he said and kissed Nicholas. The kiss was sweet, Danny's lips warm against his. Danny's big hand came to rest on his face, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss; Nicholas felt his stomach flip. Too easy, he thought, and he pulled away.
"Danny, you're going through a difficult time right now," he said, his hand coming up to touch his lips. They felt the same.
"You won't kiss me 'cause my dad?" Danny said, and he looked like he was about to cry, but he glared at Nicholas. "You're wrong. I wanted to kiss you before we even knew about the murders, before George Merchant even blew up." Nicholas opened his mouth to say something, but Danny continued. "Wanted to kiss you when you were a muppet." For a moment, Nicholas thought that Danny was back on the morphine, and then suddenly it made sense.
"Oh," he said and he couldn't stop the smile from spreading over his face.
"Yeah," Danny said. "Can we get back to the kissing now?" He looked hopeful and Nicholas felt warm, an odd fuzzy feeling blooming in his stomach.
"Do you want to go somewhere more comfortable?" Nicholas asked and then, when Danny's grin turned suddenly lascivious, rolled his eyes. "So you don't strain your scars, Danny."
Danny took his hand, entwining their fingers. "Whatever you want, Nicholas," he said and Nicholas squeezed his hand and smiled.