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Nicholas still remembers every detail of his first kiss: the surprisingly warm spring day, the sounds of traffic passing, the knowledge that the first chance he got, he was going to find Jimmy Rogan and make him pick up the rubbish he'd tossed out the window of his brother's car. But from the moment Mariah Clarke's beautifully bow-shaped lips touched his, and for the next seven seconds, Nicholas could only feel the pounding of his heart, lodged somewhere in his throat, his sweaty palms, and shaking knees. He knew even then that nothing would ever compare to those seven seconds, and he had been right. For the next twenty-five years, at least.
**
Halfway to Buford Abbey, Nicholas notices he does not have his cap with him. Coupled with this comes the equally awkward realization that Danny’s cap is instead sitting in the passenger seat, as if to remind him of what he is missing. He contemplates a quick return trip, but upon noticing the time, he drives on.
He never leaves Danny behind.
Two minutes later, he pulls over to think about this. Because once the thought has been had, it will not go away. He has not ever, since that May night, left Danny anywhere. Not the pub, the station, or either of their homes. Wherever he goes, so goes Danny. CID has taken to referring to them as 'Butterangel,' which bothers him less than he thinks it should, though he puts up a good show of scowling. But this morning, he hadn’t thought twice about it. Hadn’t even thought once, in fact. Had simply gotten up and left Danny’s place stealthily, so as not to disturb Danny’s quiet snores.
There is no need for Danny to attend this meeting, he tells himself. It will bore him to distraction. These are lies, of course. Danny may not eagerly attack the more mundane aspects of policing, but he always puts forth his best effort with them.
Bringing Danny simply because Nicholas enjoys his company is selfish. Technically, they are not partners; Danny is his subordinate. Danny...
The sudden sense memory of Danny’s fingers trailing down his back as he—panting on all fours—waited, his mind a crazy whir of feardesirelovewantneed causes Nicholas to shiver. His mind wanders to the pleasantly ravaged way he feels, the reek of sex he imagines still lingering on his skin. He shakes his head. He has a job to do, meetings to attend. Having Danny with him would be too much of a distraction today. Wasting time in this confusing place accomplishes nothing. He pulls back onto the road.
Fifteen minutes into the meeting, he thinks none of this would have happened if Danny’s lips didn’t resemble Mariah Clarke’s. The first time Danny kissed him, he had actually been startled at the same shy astonished pleasure he felt as he had those years ago. He had even counted the seconds. The first four, anyway. Then Danny's tongue had slid in to meet his own and all thinking stopped.
Unlike Mariah Clarke, though, Danny wanted to kiss him again. Seemed quite fond of kissing him.
The room is too warm and he looks around at the other Inspectors and Sergeants, who appear equal parts bored and distracted. The presenter from the County Constabulary uses a pointer to designate where on the new requisition form one would state the reason for said requisition. Nicholas straightens in his chair and squares his shoulders.
Yes, it is the distinctive bow shape to his lips, Nicholas decides. Though kissing Danny is nothing like he had imagined kissing would be when he was twelve. It is hard and sweet and hot and too addictive altogether.
Nicholas raises his hand and asks if there is a proper procedure for affixing additional pages should they be needed for required explanations. He dutifully notes the answer. He smiles as the inevitable joke is told of a new category for exploding stations. He ignores the titters from his fellow officers. He wishes fiercely that Danny was with him.
Watching Inspector Rushmore indicate on the overhead where, exactly, the size of needed clothing is to be entered on the new clothing requisition forms, Nicholas remembers he never even got around to telling Danny about the meeting today. He chooses not to think upon it, instead raising his hand once more to ask about requisitioning new stab vests.
**
A Sergeant from Forest of Dean flirts with him at lunch. Asks if Nicholas will stay for tea after the presentation, which Nicholas politely refuses. He thinks about phoning the station to check in, but decides against it. He goes outside and sits on a bench in the sun to look over his notes from the day.
He does, finally, phone in with seconds to spare. Doris tells him Danny is at lunch, but perhaps the Inspector should consider phoning him at the pub? He ignores the off tone in her voice; the meeting is starting.
**
Danny asked him if they were ever going to ‘feel too old for this shit’ and Nicholas murmured he’d felt too old after his first two weeks in Sandford, and Danny’s answering snort was a comforting vibration, because Nicholas’s head was resting in that perfect spot between Danny’s chest and stomach. He felt Danny’s fingers dip under the collar of his shirt and rub his chain and Nicholas was hit with such wanting where those fingers were concerned. He had just opened his mouth to tell Danny they needed to be in Buford Abbey in the morning when he felt one of Danny's fingernails scratch lightly at that spot on the back of his neck and Nicholas wanted his teeth there, wanted to feel Danny’s weight and strength along his spine, holding him down, even while Danny's arms would no doubt hold him up and he felt it then, that first frisson of something unnameable that caused all the air to exit his lungs.
**
The new weapons requisition form has ticky boxes. Nicholas almost giggles while repeating words in his head, though he couldn't have told anyone why. One hiccup does escape, however, when Inspector Rushmore informs those assembled to make certain to 'tick the correct box.' Nicholas's hands are cold as he pulls off Danny's shirt. Danny laughs and bats them away. All required forms must now be filed electronically, or in quadruplicate, so as to guarantee the order will be filled in a timely manner. He loves to make Danny laugh. It isn't something he often manages, but not for lack of trying. 'General Station Supplies' does not include a ticky box for toilet roll. Nicholas decides against raising his hand over the matter. Danny grasps Nicholas's hands between his own and rubs them together. When Nicholas asks about PCOS spray, he hears someone mutter 'aggro swans.' He looks around for Wainwright or Cartwright, but sees no familiar faces. Nicholas stares at his hands, encased between Danny's, transfixed by how well they fit together. Toilet roll can now be found on form 'Supplies - Miscellaneous,' along with anti-graffiti paint and CCTV domes. Danny stops rubbing and leans over their joined hands. Paperweights have their own ticky box now. Nicholas bites his lips together. Danny's mouth seals over their cupped hands and Nicholas jerks back at the strangely intimate touch of Danny's warm moist breath flowing over his chilled fingers. Though they are standard issue for every vehicle, foil blankets are now a subset of 'Disaster Relief Supplies - Miscellaneous.' When Danny lifts his head, Nicholas resists the urge to press his lips over the same spot and inhale. He refuses to even entertain requisitioning motivational posters and makes no note of it. Danny smiles, better now, places Nicholas's empty hands back on his sides, and kisses him hungrily. When calling to inquire as to the approximate delivery of requested items, please make certain to have the identification and confirmation numbers ready to recite. Later, after Danny's snores quiet to a low hum, Nicholas stares at his hands, convinced he can still feel Danny's breath tickling his palms. He cups them on Danny's back, to capture again some of the warmth he's lost in the meantime.
**
Nicholas sits in the car for long minutes before starting it, knowing he really ought to decide where he will end up before he leaves.
**
The cottage is too still. Nicholas thinks he should be enjoying the quiet more after a long day in a warm room filled with the drone of over-information, but he finds himself antsy, agitated. He pours a glass of wine, but doesn't drink it, and instead stands by the window that overlooks Spencer Hill. There isn't much to see in the dark, but the knowledge it is there allows him to believe he can make it out.
His earlier call to the station yielded little information on the day except Danny is awaiting him at the pub. He looks at his untouched glass of wine and paces a bit. This isn't where he wants to be right now.
His thoughts are shattered by pounding on his door. Nicholas smiles involuntarily because he knows who it is before answering. Danny stands at the threshold, swaying, his eyes slightly off-kilter. Nicholas steps aside to let him in.
"You're home," Danny says, uncertainty and a tinge of anger in his voice.
"Yes," Nicholas says, noticing Danny will not quite meet his eyes.
"Was thinkin' about walkie-talkies. We should get some."
Confused, Nicholas can only nod. "The station received its shipment last week." He reaches out his hand, but Danny does not take it. He wonders how long Danny's been drinking tonight. "Come to bed?" he suggests. He heads toward the stairs, hoping Danny will follow.
Danny does, as he has since the first night they met. He stumbles on the stairs, and Nicholas places a steadying hand on his elbow, pleased he is allowed this contact at least. They reach the bedroom, but Danny still won't look at him. Nicholas knows anger is an emotion Danny is not too familiar with, and as he deserves Danny's anger, he lets it be for now and simply helps him undress. When he kneels to pull off Danny's shoes and socks, Danny falls back onto the bed.
"You left me here," Danny says to the ceiling. "I thought we was partners."
Nicholas rests his hands on Danny's ankles, strokes the tender skin on the tops of his feet. "We are," he says. "I'm sorry."
Danny is quiet for so long, Nicholas assumes he's passed out and stands to move his legs onto the bed, but he sees Danny is still staring at the ceiling, unreadable expression on his face. Nicholas is suddenly terrified with the certainty he's fucked up. He would never again feel that initial surprised joy when Danny kisses him, or trace that perfect bow shape with his tongue while his palms sweat and knees shake. His heart is in his throat, beating wildly, but for different reasons now.
"Don' do it again," Danny says, looking at him finally.
Heart still playing mad staccato in his chest, Nicholas can only whisper, "I won't."
"Good." Danny closes his eyes and starts snoring.
END