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"Right. So how does this runnin' thing work again?" A pair of birds chase each other between some nearby maples. The sun is low in the sky, and few clouds threaten to conceal it from the earth below. There's a slight breeze, fairly frequent. Perfect day for running, Nicholas thinks, as he stretches his quads in preparation for the monumental task ahead of them. "Well Danny, some may say it's as simple as putting one foot in front of the other, but in truth, I've found it a little more complex than that." He points to Danny while changing stretch positions, "There's a timing to it, a rhythm that you've got to maintain if you don't want to hurt yourself." "Fancy that." Danny tilts his head, "What're ya doin' right now, then?" Angel turns back to his partner, a lilt of disbelief in his expression: "Stretching, remember? It's one of the most important steps, keeps your muscles from hurting themselves." He returns to a neutral stance. "Thought you were going to follow me through the routine?" He shrugs. "Looked difficult." Nicholas places his hands on his hips: "I went too fast, didn't I?" The question is apologetic in tone, and after a second to contemplate, he timidly puts a hand to his own cheek. "Yeah, I just kind of went off; that's on me." "S'alright. Frankly, could watch you doin' that for hours." Danny moves his own hand to cup the one Nicholas has placed on his face, taking it into his own and back down to chest level. "You're fit, you know that?" Angel lets out an amused huff, smiling down upon their entwined fingers. "So you've told me." He plants a quick kiss on the constable's hand, then gets back to business. "Right, so we're going to want to stretch our quads and calves." "Quads and calfs." Danny bounces on his feet excitedly. "Probably do some ankle rolls afterwards." "Ankle rolls. Got it." "Right, now pull your right foot up behind you like this." He demonstrates. "Wot, next to my arse?" "W—" Nicholas pauses— "Well yeah." "M'kay." He copies the stretch. "Like 'is, then?" Unbalanced, he wobbles wildly, left arm flailing. "Yes babe, you got that." With this while, Nicholas once again runs through the workout plan in his head: They were already making good time; It didn't take as much work as he thought it would to get the lovable oaf out of bed this early (he's apparently something of an early riser when he's not going to bed trolleyed) and they'd nodded off the previous night already in athletic togs. Now they're here, stretching outside the Spencer Hill cottage. Nicholas had planned a modified version of his usual jogging route since it was the constable's first time, only passing one farm before cutting through the high street, and foregoing the loop around the model village on the return trip. He expects to be taking far more breaks for water, which he's incorporated effectively into his master timeline with plenty of time to return home, shower, and even clock in early at the station. By the end of the warm-up, the two of them aren't quite in front of that timetable anymore. Angel had to add a different exercise since Danny was having trouble with the lunges, and at one point they had stopped to watch a family of ducks that were making the rounds. Nicholas really hadn't wanted to pause for that last one, but decided that his partner's excitement was well worth falling a few minutes behind the clock. "Wooooh!" sings Danny, panting: "You're right as always Angel, seems I worked up quite the sweat 'ere." It's true, the armpits of the constable's grey shirt (which has "Wild West Land 1867" printed on it with a little drawing of a horse and cowboy) are thoroughly stained. "Danny, we've not even started the jog yet." He speaks between labored breaths; "We 'aven't?" "Well we haven't moved, have we?" Danny takes a quick look around. "S'pose not. Bollocks." Hunching over, supporting his hands on his knees, he continues: "Maybe we can take a break 'fore we go off? Maybe finish that limited edition Point Break anniversary puzzle we star'ed?" Nicholas nervously adjusts the collar on his white polo. "I'm sorry hon, we're already about..." a quick check of the watch— "eight minutes behind on the timetable." "Christ, okay. The timetable." "Right. Ready to go on? You tell me when you need a breather, alright?" "I just did, but alright, let's do this thing Kermie." The sergeant sports his widest grin: "Right you are, Ms. Piggie."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"C'mon Nikky, how—" the constable wheezes— "how much longer?" "We're almost there, hon, just keep pace!" Nicholas yells back. He's about twelve paces ahead of Danny, though he's been purposely running slower as to not leave him any further in the dust, quite literally, as it's clear Brannigan Farm's gravel paths haven't had a good bit of rain for quite a tick. The farm itself stretches out on either side of them: on one a field of sunflowers towers over, providing a wall of shade, and on the other, rolling hills lead the eye down to the distant farmhouse and neighboring barns. When Nicholas reaches the upcoming crossroads, he finally slows to a stop, breathing heavily but steady. Despite the strain, he shouts encouragements towards his slowly incoming partner: "You're so close, Danny! You got it, come on!" Practically heaving he's breathing so hard, the constable slows to a stop in front of his sergeant, nearly doubling over. "Christ almighty," he manages to squeak out. "That's my cuddly monkey." "Not too... cuddly right now... wouldn't think." Talking is clearly a struggle for him at the moment, but he continues anyway, "Soppin' wet... monkey... more like— Y' cuddle me right now, you'll look like y' wet yourself." "Aw, c'mon, I think you did quite well! I'm proud of you." "...That so?" "Would I lie about that?" "I s'pose not, but we've only star'ed not twen'y minutes ago, an' I already feel like my 'ole bloody body's tryna' polish me off." He pulls the water out from his little waist pouch, and Nicholas notices it already appears half-empty. Angel takes a good look at his watch; they aren't too much further behind than they had been, though they haven't made up any time either. He examines his beloved, glistening with sweat and goggling down her majesty's finest filtered tap water on the rocks, and decides what the hell, might as well use some of that allotted break time. "We can take a sit." "Thank Christ." Immediately, Danny plants his arse on the grit. His relief is instantly recognizable. He nods at Nicholas, who is still standing; "Come on then, you joinin' me?" "Uhhm..." The sergeant looks around, "Yeah yeah, just give me a tick." Not wanting to dirty up his togs more than necessary, he chooses to sit instead on the grass outlining the path. Danny looks Nicholas up and down, then at the sunflowers waving in the breeze. His gaze hovers between the two. "Oi, in't this where you rammed Reaper's car with my Volkswagen?" His excitement mounts, "An' then wellied 'is mum in the nob?" Nicholas nods somberly. "Yeah. Parked your car just up that hill there," he adds while pointing with his head, "and his mum was shooting at me from right behind... that wall over there, where it meets the gate." Since the mass arrest a year or so ago, the property had fallen to James's brother, Timothy, who has a far bigger penchant for floriculture than standard farming. "Woooah!" Despite still catching his breath, Danny stands up to make his way over to the gate in question. "You mean I'm standing at th' first scene of the '07 NWA takedown? That's fuckin' mental! Can't believe you still remember right where it happened," he comments while rubbing the weathered stone, voice projecting to cover the distance he traveled. Nicholas goes to join him. "I remember every time I've been shot at, actually." "Oi, that's migh'y impressive; and you've been shot at a fair 'mount more than I 'ave, 'aven't you?" Nicholas turns to face his partner, "Yeah, but—" he brushes his hands gingerly over Danny's chest, trailing down until one rests right where he knows a scar resides— "I've never taken a blunderbuss shot straight center." Danny's hands cover Nicholas's. "You almost did though, love." Danny's voice lowers, "Y'were still shot at, I just sorta... got in the way, tha's all." "That's not all, and you know it." Hearing that normally buttery smooth voice break, Danny presses his forehead to his Angel's and lets his eyes be drawn shut. Nicholas quickly follows suit, and they stand there like this, hands clasped on the constable's chest, foreheads held together, listening to the rhythm of the other until Nicholas's brain is jumpstarted: "Shit, wait," he exclaims before freeing his watch hand, "aw bollocks, we've got to get a move on, and fast." "Aww, can't we stay 'ere like this? 'Is was like, therapeu'ic or some'ing." It was too late, the sergeant was already pulling Danny back to the path; "Nope, We're twelve minutes behind the ideal timetable, we've got to get back on that." "Right right, the bloody timetable." "Ready to keep going?" Danny puts on a determined face, "Aye, if ten buckshots to the tum and a sea-mine couldn't do me in, I don't see how a jog could either. Let's step on it." Then the two keep running, leaving memories of blood and dust behind in the rhythm of the sunflowers' sway.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Nicholas and Danny have managed to reach the bulk of the village— the former quite easily, the latter not nearly as so. They're along South Street, nearing the Sandford Police Station.
As they approach it, Danny taps his partner on the shoulder, indicating they slowdown to walking speed, to which Nicholas complies. "Everything fine?" he asks.
Danny stumbles winded through his response: "Can we... stop infrontof... th' station?"
Angel, who is having a much easier time speaking, steals a glance at his watch. "I suppose so. It'll have to be quick."
They come to a stop right outside the pristine establishment, which had only finished construction a month or two prior after being toppled by last year's sea-mine explosion. Freshly planted vines have yet to climb the length of the wall or surrounding fence, and the plaques near the door look uncharacteristically shiny. Some more time, Nicholas thinks, and it'll slot its way back into the village's rustic aesthetic.
While the sergeant brandishes his water jug, the constable begins to air out his T-shirt. "You say there's blokes who... do 'is out of enjoyment? Jus' for the 'ell of it?"
Nicholas takes a second to swallow his water: "Do what?"
"Run!"
"What, fun-runners?"
"Mm, not real. Can't be." Danny goes to reach for his own dwindling water supply. "Liars, all of them."
"Liars?" Nicholas hands Danny his own bottle, which he gladly accepts.
"Yeah, masochists." He takes a steep swig.
"Masochists?!"
Danny shrugs while handing the bottle back. "'S the only explanation."
"You know, I quite enjoy running, are you saying that I'm a masochist? That I derive any sort of pleasure fr—" his mouth hangs open as his partner raises knowing eyebrows at his words— "Actually, don't answer that." He clears his throat and fumbles the bottle back into its holster. "Gosh, look at the time, we should really be gettin' a move on."
"Aww wot, can't we stay 'ere a tad longer? In fact, why don't we take a peek inside? See if they need anythin' from us while we're out..."
Angel's eyes go accusingly askance: "Hang on, are you trying to sabotage the run?"
"W— no, it's jus— well— yeah, but wot if they, y'know, need us, for, uhm..." His words trail off as he motions meaninglessly towards the building.
Nicholas scoffs, "Babe, you didn't stop us here seriously expecting one of our coworkers to go shouting out the door looking for us, did you?"
"Well I—"
Just then, the depot door swings open, revealing an ecstatic Doris. "Ah, Angel and Butterman! Just the gents I was looking for!" she shouts.
Nicholas's jaw wavers in shock. Danny, meanwhile, smile big and proud, claps excitedly. "Ayy, look at that!"
Doris continues: "I hope I'm not bothering you or nothin', it's just I saw you guys out there, and I really need this small job done, and well, the lot of you seem perfect candidates since you're already out and about—"
"That's quite alright Sergeant Thatcher, how can we assist?" Angel calls back unfeelingly.
"Oh smashing, loves! Come inside, it's just something we need delivered." She motions them to the door, and the couple approaches with wildly different levels of enthusiasm.
Led by Doris, the three of them pass the lackadaisical window attendant and bimble over to the evidence room. She punches the (still painfully obvious) 999 code into the keypad. "One second, loves." Into the room she goes, searching through the unorganized clutter of tagged items. The new storeroom is a wee bit more spacious than its predecessor, though it still pales in comparison to the one Nicholas remembers from back in London. When Doris exits the glorified closet, there's a 1/32nd scale police car— 1998 Vauxhall Astra— resting in her palms. "Cute, ain't it?"
Danny lights up with an audible gasp, gingerly taking the car into his hands so he can inspect the detail. "Wicked!" he remarks, fiddling with the functional driver's side door.
Angel purposely diverts his gaze from his more cheery half, since he knows seeing him this delighted would make him forget how annoyed he's supposed to be right now. "What's this about, Sergeant?"
"You two remember the Slighter case?"
"No" Danny answers, simultaneously with a "Yes" from Angel, who, hearing this, whips back around:
"Hang about: Danny, you
don't
remember that case?"
"Nope." Now he's messing with the model paddy wagon's spinny wheels. "That's alright though, 's what I got you for."
Nicholas shakes his head. He's smiling too: he just doesn't realize it. Turning his attention back to Doris, he continues: "That toy car goes missing from the model village, an eyewitness calls in claiming they saw Graham Slighter pocketing it, the kid denies it, there's a whole bother about it. That finally got sor'ed out yesterday, didn't it?"
"Yes sir!" Doris confirms, "and now that it don't need to be kept here as evidence anymore, you gents get ta' return the thing home."
Nicholas calculates the temporal ramifications of this detour at a rate of knots. "We'll get right on it, ma'am," he affirms, failing to hide the dismay from his delivery.
"Cheers!" She starts going back about her day.
Nicholas grabs Danny by the arm to lead him back outdoors, and the constable manages a chipper "Bye, Doris!" before he's yanked unceremoniously down the hallway.
Immediately once outside, Angel begins sprinting, though he doesn't get far without Danny. "Hon, for Christ's sake, we've got to run!"
"Aw wot, you're still on this?"
Nicholas splays his hands, "Danny, this was a massive hit! Our timetable is in critical condition, we can no longer afford to piss about!"
"Yeah yeah yeah, that bloomin'... timetable of yours..." He catches up to his nimble partner, and the two start racing again. "Y'know, that brain of yours would be real annoyin' if it weren't so fuckin' impressive. And attractive."
"Thanks babe, but save your breath for the exercise; There'll be plenty of opportunity to flirt when we're back up at the cottage."
"Bugger." Danny manages to give Nicholas's shoulder a quick bump even at this intense sprint, "but jus' know you're even cu'er when you're all huffy."
Nicholas gives in: "If a bugger's what you're looking for, save that talk for when I can do something about it."
"If you give me a stiffy while I'm in shorts boltin’ it towards High Street, I'm tellin’ the Andys that you cried during The Muppet Movie."
The sergeant utters a slack-jawed chuff, "If I give YOU a stiffy?!"
A random passerby the two bolted past processes what she just heard, and turns back dumbfounded to watch the running couple bicker off into the distance.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They did not keep up their sprint. By the time they're rounding the corner to High Street, they're essentially power-walking. The only reason Nicholas hasn't noticed (and subsequently remedied) this is the passionate conversation the pair have kept on the whole way here. "I'm tellin' ya, the twig runnin' the news shop 'as a fancy for you!" "You cannot be serious." "I am! Progue Roper has tried to get in your trousers ev'ry time we've gone in. Every. Single. Time." "That's preposterous; A, the whole village knows we're together, and B, I arrested his mum!" Danny shrugs, "Maybe 'e hates 'is mum. You well know I ain't too keen on my dad, wot with the murderins an' all, and Annette was very much a part of that." He bobs his hands (one still holding the Vauxhall) like a scale. "S' not too far-fetched." Nicholas goes quiet for a second. "You think you'll ever see him again? Your dad?" A crick forms in Danny's mouth while he processes. He shakes his head, "On me mum's grave, I really 'ope not. Christ, if 'e knew I was plannin' on marryin' you, I fink he'd really, actually, for reals kill the both of us. You for sure; if he doesn't kill me, he'd certainly try to off the part o' me that loves you, and the part of me that loves gents in general, I'd imagine." "Christ." "Mhmm." Solemnly, he fiddles with the car, opening and shutting the tiddly doors while he gazes at it half-lidded. "My mum, meanwhile, she'd've loved you." He returns focus to Nicholas to poke him in the temple— "your noggin, 'specially. I think it'd take 'er a mo to come to terms wit' you being a bloke, but I like to picture she would've made th' effort." Angel dons a somber smile, "That's lovely to hear, really. And hey," he hums, brushing thumb and knuckle across Danny's cheek, "if that's how you reckon she'd feel, then the part of her that's still alive in your memories does love me." "Huh. Funny 'ow that works." Danny points absentmindedly at his partner. "So— My feory's that Progue knows we're a pair—" "Oh not this mess again—" "—but he's tryna establish 'imself as a contender in case we split up or somethin'." "I am not participating in this discussion anymore." "Wait, Nikky—" Danny begins. He's come to a halt right out front of The Crown Pub, and he's pointing at the front doors— "'Old on a tick, would'ya?" Nicholas spins around: "Yeah? Everything alright?" "Yeah, everythin's fine— could we take a stop at the pub?" "Surely you're not going to make me dignify that with an answer." "It's jus' to get some wa'er!" Proving his point, Danny takes out his empty bottle. "I do need a refill of the ol' flask." Nicholas just stands there, brows arched and mouth slightly agape. "Augh, c'mon! It'll be in 'n out." Danny does need to keep hydrated, Nicholas ponders, and his own water level is quite low. "Fine, but no conversations, and we're getting right back to sprintin' once we're out so we can—" "So we can keep on the timetable, yes yes, now in with ya!" Danny holds the door open, and gestures inside, "Let's get wet!" The Crown is about as bustling as one would expect a bar to be in the early morning, which is to say hardly at all. Despite this, the pub's atmosphere still simmers around the pair like dust floating in a kitchen window's sunbeam. There are only two other patrons: one who is clearly curing their hangover with more amber, and the other being some poor sap whose idea of a fulfilling morning is grinding for the top score on the arcade machine. Nicholas wonders if they're having more success than he is. "Mornin', gents!" sings Janet Baker from behind the bar. She's got one of her twins (Roger, Nicholas believes) bouncing in her arms. Her wife, Mary, pops her head out from the back room, presumably to get a read on what other pricks could possibly be walking into a pub this early. After the Porters were sent off to the nick, the two wives had taken it upon themselves to manage The Crown, since there was no one to inherit it and the couple'd already been struggling to find work they could both do without hiring a sitter. It had been a grand relief for the town's populace, even grander than when Dr. McBrazen moved in to fill the medical vacancy the '07 incident left. While Nicholas struggles with how to respond without sounding impatient, Danny swings in front of him to take the brunt of the social interaction. "Mornin' Janet! You ladies keeping good business?" "Aye, too well sometimes," Janet responds. Janet Barker is quite tall, and what Danny would describe as "appallingly" ginger. Multitudinous freckles line her face and arms, and her bright orange hair curls wildly around her face. Apparent rosacea leaves strangely shaped patches of red along her cheeks. Mary, now lounging against the doorway, adds on: "After business like last night? The slow mornings are mighty welcome." Mary Barker is a stunning woman, with an accent even lighter than Nicholas's. Her hair's in thick black dreadlocks— about chest length— that slowly transition into a bronze at the ends. The front of it is held back by a headwrap. There's small patches of vitiligo visible on her hands and wrists, and complexly woven wristbands extend quite far up her arms. Angel marches up to the bar, but not before taking his partner by the arm to pull him along. "Well then, it may please you to hear we won't dawdle. We've got to finish this jog in time for work." "It's all good fun though;" Danny clarifies before giving Nicholas a peck on the cheek. Angel tries really hard to still look annoyed as he turns to meet Danny's cute, comfy eyes, though the constable must see right through him judging from the softness in his smile: "This Muppet acts like we don't got four 'ole hours 'til clock-in." "It's three hours, actually." "That so? 'S not much difference: time's all made up anyway." He receives a slow but forceful prod in the forehead from the Muppet in question. Nicholas turns his attention back to the other couple: "Really though, we'll be sure to get out of your hair." Mary begins to wrap up her dreads— "Aww, that's quite alright, you're not a bother." "Yeah, stay as long as you like! Always love seeing you gents." Ecstatic, Danny claps. "That's so nice! Y' hear that, Kermie?" "Time crunch, Ms. Piggie." Disappointment strikes the constable hard, but it's only visible on his face for a second. "I s'pose we should get on wit' it." Mary rests her elbows on the counter. "What'll it be then?" Danny wiggles his empty bottle in the air, "Pint o' water please, Mary." "Right you are, love." Nicholas follows suit; "Make that two." "Don't even got to get a glass out; You two are making my job so easy." After she takes their water flasks, Danny whispers to Nicholas— "I'm gonna go chew th' fat, be back in a tick." The sergeant goes to his watch; "Well Constable, I don't know if we really have—" When he looks back up, the cuddly monkey's already halfway down the bar. "...time for that." Danny stops across from Janet, and gives a nod to Roger. "Yer babe's gettin' quite large, in't he?" "That 'e is, Constable!" She leans in closer: "Though, if you think he's big, you might well lose the plot at 'ow Martin 'as grown." "That so?" Janet holds up a finger, "Just a mo." She brings Roger to the back room, daintily dodging out the way of her working wife, then walks back out carrying Martin. "OUUGHHH! " Danny exclaims, seeing the noticeably bulkier lad, "By the Power of Greyskull!" He reaches a hand out to the little bloke, who begins to lark around with his fingers. "Can't 'magine 'ow bloody insufferable feedin' 'em's got ta be." "Oh, it's nuffin' daft," she remarks, "I reckon it's a lot easier since it's both've us." "You'd be th' expert." Nicholas, who has been wistfully observing his partner's conversational prowess, is snapped out of his stupor by the thump of two fully loaded plastic water bottles tossed on the treated wood beside him. "There y' go, all refilled!" Mary beams. The sergeant blinks rapidly. "Oh! Um, thanks," he stutters out, returning his to his holster, "really appreciate it." "Ahh, don't mention it," she responds, absentmindedly wiping down a glass. "You said you were on a jog coming in here?" "Yes." "Both of ya's?" Angel's eyes are sent briefly askance. "Y...yes." "Ah! So you're finally getting him to tag along?" Nicholas wasn't aware this was a topic of town discussion. "Well, it's only our first attempt." He chooses not to fill her in how severely he'd reckoned without Danny's penchant for distraction in his original day-plan. "Well it's wonderful to hear he'll be getting exercise; Your babe's getting quite large, isn't he?" "Uhm... no, body's the same shape as always, really." "You'd be the expert." Angel quite likes Danny's pudge. Though, he supposes it's not time or place to be telling his bartender that, or really anything about the comfort of his weight when they cuddle or how every speck of him can be slept on like some high-end pillow— arguably better than some high-end pillows— or how any feelings of indignity last mere moments when the constable so chooses to carry him around simply because there's a certain sturdiness that tubby folks can provide. Heaven forbid he goes on about how only in Danny's arms, carted around, does he not mind impotence, which he reckons all stems from the first time he had to relinquish full control of his fate to him, playing dead out of pure instinctual trust, somehow at ease even while tumbling about in the trunk of some car he never got a good look at. Even now, when the constable decides to hoist him around, he goes limp on reflex, perfectly content save for some minor annoyance he's ought to feel being removed from whatever tosh he was toiling about with at the time. No, Nicholas considers, she doesn't want to hear all that.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Back on High Street, the boys need only take a right onto Sadler to get back on their way. Guess the jog's taking them round the model village afterall, Nicholas resigns to himself.
Danny fiddles with the wheels on the Vauxhall; "I'm real sorry 'bout the time I've been wastin'."
"Well that's quite alright, babe, it's partly on me for not anticipating this thoroughly. I would've halved our route had I mulled it over more."
"Nonsense. Your plot were brill, hon, they always are. I mean, christ, I've felt leagues better since you star'ed plannin' out meals."
Nicholas recalls Danny's old eating habits. They used to consist of fervent snacking and frequent Cornettos, his only consistent meals being elevenses and evening nibbles at the pub, both of which hardly count. It's gotten a lot healthier now, though: thanks to Nicholas's intervention, their daily intake now consists of frequent Cornettos, evening nibbles at the pub, AND breakfast. The improvement is vast.
Danny continues, "This 'ole thing were you tryna include me in your routines, and I've rather mucked that up gettin' us sidetracked at jus' about eveythin'." He takes a mo to glance at his watch, though he only pretends to have gleamed anything from it. "Are we still even able t' make it to work on time?"
"Yes, though if there's any more delay, we might have to split off so you can shower at your flat and drive to the station yourself."
"Aye, that won't work; My togs are at your place. Should jus' shower together."
Patience waning, Angel pinches the bridge of his nose. "That won't work either, dear—" He counts off on his fingers— "A, my shower barely fits the two of us, and B, gettin' proper clean takes ages when we do that!"
Danny sighs, "Fair, we always have a do of it."
"Look, as long as we keep on, we won't have to fret about it, so from here on out, no more distractions."
Right as he says that, two of the station's cars coast by, sirens blaring.
The constable's gaze follows them down High Street. "Aye, seems they're 'avin' action already. Bloody brill, cheers to them." He points across the street to their next destination, "Let's get a move on, then?"
"W-wait, hold on, we should go check that out."
"You wot?"
"They might need help."
"Come on, you're chief inspector, you don't gotta concern yourself with every spot of bother in Sandford."
"I'm only
acting
inspector, Constable, and it seems the theatre's closed."
"Oooh, nice one."
"Thank you."
"But look," Danny contends, pointing down High Street, "they've stopped out front o' Somerfield. If we tag along, we might 'ave to speak with
her
."
"Possibly."
"Nikky she discomfits me and gets your knickers in a twist because of it, it would hardly be productive."
"Constable, these are personal problems we have to put aside for the sake of the service. We are officers of the law, it is our duty to uphold it wherever and whenever it's infringed upon. Our policework took back the village from the NWA's quiet reign, and now that it's out of their grasp, it's our responsibility to keep these streets and the people on them safe. So come on, partner, are you with me?"
Danny doesn't even try to resist the allure of his Angel's silver-tongued speech. "Auuugh, I'm in love with ya', fuck yeah let's punch it!"
And so the two do the most running they've done in the past half-hour past Sadler and down to Somerfield. The rest of the officers are already in the shop, save for Walker who is stationed outside the doors with Saxon. He gives a slight nod to Nicholas when he approaches.
"Bob, what's the situation?"
"'Ell 'e've got sum 'ore 'loody whingin' offa de Yank 'anager, 'ays she coughta blo'e nickin' gubbins 'rom th' 'oy aisle."
"Right." Nicholas leans back to bring himself closer to Danny's ear— "I reckon I caught about half of that," he murmurs.
Danny nods. "He said 'Well, we've got more bloody whinging from the Yank manager, says she caught a bloke nicking gubbins from the toy aisle.'"
Nicholas returns to Walker, "And who all was sent?"
"Andys."
"Andys," Danny repeats.
Nicholas wags his hand, "I hate to be rude, but do those two really have the necessary tact to be handling this alone?"
Walker shrugs, "Naurnaurnaur, I'm 'ure de 'rod's 'alkin' thar ears off. Non'a us real'y 'ake 'er aull 'at ser'ous, 'spes'ly 'ince 's th' fird call sh'mae'is month."
"'No no no, I'm sure the broad's talking their ears off. None of us really take her all that serious, especially since it's the third call she's made this month,'" Danny translates.
"That may be so," Angel starts, "but if she's really being that disruptive of valuable police time, I'd like to have a word with her myself. The detectives can fill me in."
Danny nudges his partner with his elbow, "Oi, then maybe if we got time, you can 'fill me in' back 'ome!" This comment makes Angel's eyes bulge.
"Sex..." Constable Walker mumbles absentmindedly.
Nicholas thwaps the back of his hand against Danny's shoulder— "Get in, you big ape." Back on his mission, he stoutly advances through the glass doors and straight back to the manager's office with Danny immediately in tow. The harsh buzzer sounds as they plow through the door, greeted by Angie Donnovin and the Andys mid-argument. Tina Folger sits unnaturally poised in the corner, checking her nails as though uninterested in the intense debate permeating the energy of the room.
Tina was originally supposed to be arrested alongside all the others involved in the NWA Conspiracy, but was unintentionally expunged; her arrest paperwork failing to pass anyone's memory when all had to be redone thanks to the entire police station collapsing into a pile of rubble and dust. By this stroke of luck, she also gained a promotion to manager of this Somerfield location, though didn't desire such a position of responsibility, so instead, in an act of nepotism, invited her dear friend Angie to move in and take over.
Angie, being a cold-blooded Yank, sticks out like a sore thumb during conversation. She has absorbed seemingly zero British slang into her lexicon despite living in England for the better part of three years, and sounds a bit like a cowboy from one of Danny's western movies when she gets enthusiastic or shirty. Appearance-wise, she boasts a great amount of shiny blonde hair a shade or two darker than Nicholas's. It sits beautifully in incredible and massive sausage curls that give her an almost storybook appearance. A button nose sits perfectly center in her amazingly unblemished face, marked only by light freckling and golden piercings upon lip and eyebrow. Her frightening eyes, green as a jungle after the rain, invade everyone's personal space— even from afar.
Nicholas has only been in the Somerfield manager's office a few times since Skinner could no longer call him in for simple amusement. Now, every time he walks in, he's taken aback by the absurd amount of redecoration that's gone on: psychedelic carpets line the walls alongside tapestries that hang loose, undefined edges that wave about at the slightest gust of air. Fake plants (which Nicholas feels are a personal slight against himself) occupy space in about every corner there is. In an act of utter depravity, the plastic palm towering beside the door is garnished with little bells and whistles that Nicholas knows would have no place on a living specimen, cute as they may be. The signs, posters, cards, plaques; all are hand-written in the most beautiful (though sometimes difficult to parse) penmanship, as Angie's a practiced calligrapher. Quite honestly, he thinks they serve better as pieces of art than actual words meant to label or convey information. It's not his place to say, really, but such things should be effortless to read, no?
By the time Angel has processed all of this, his and his partner's presence have been noticed by the blonde behind the desk. She towers intensely over it, perfectly poised to hurl insults at whoever she should please, lacking so evidently the calm, polite, searing demeanor of her predecessor. "Nicholas Angel," she spits, accent bleeding through his last name. "That's great, more fucking cops." She relaxes a bit when she catches Danny's eye, "'Cept for you, sugar, you're welcome anytime."
The constable's eyes wobble a bit, desperate to break line of sight. "I'm jus' as much an officer of the law as the Sergeant, ma'am, I'd 'ope you'd treat us wit'— treat us BOTH wit' th' same level a' respect and... and dignity."
"Aww, that's cute." She daintily takes her seat. "If you two are such respectable policemen—"
"Officers," Nicholas and Danny correct to themselves simultaneously.
"—then how about you do your damn jobs and arrest this asshole?"
Nicholas and Danny turn to each other, brows furrowed in confusion, until a young man steps out from behind the exasperated-looking Andys.
Nicholas cocks his head, "It's Slighter."
Danny gestures around the room— "'S really not."
"What? Yes it is!"
"Mmm no; 'ose nasty curtains make everythin' in this room bloody dim."
"No hon, the kid there, that is Graham Slighter. He was under investigation for the theft of—" Nicholas grabs the hand Danny's holding the model car with and shakes it by the wrist— "this."
"Yeah," Graham starts, "and ya' di'n't find me guilty 'a anythin' then, and ya' won't find me guilty 'a anythin' now!"
"Pah!" Angie scoffs.
"So sorry," Nicholas begins, "but can I get a rundown of the situation?"
The Andys grumble, then remove their sunglasses in time with each other while Cartwright turns to speak: "Well the lady claims—" he blinks his eyes a few times— "woah, it
is
lighter."
Wainwright postulates: "Reckon it's because we took our shades off."
"You guys are such great detectives," Angie adds blandly.
The two glare listlessly at her, then continue from where they left off. "Angie here claims that Graham tried to nab some toy car from the shelves and make off without payin' for it." The other Andy continues, "Graham here denies any act of wrongdoing, and we're tryna get a peek at the tapes, but she keeps sayin'..."
Angie fills in— "That section of the toy aisle actually doesn't show up on the footage, it's just outside of any camera's view."
Simultaneously, the Andys shout "Then how'd you see him steal anythin'?!"
"I walked onto the floor when I saw him in the shop! I didn't trust him!"
"Then that'll show up on the telly!" Wainwright keeps on, "We still need to see 'em! Daft cunt."
"I BEG your pardon?!" Angie gasps, acrylics hitting the wooden surface of her desk.
"Detectives!" Nicholas interjects, "Miss Donnovin, in order for us to take any possible action against Mr. Slighter, we'll need to find some sort of evidence."
"Yeah, and you're not gonna find any here. You don't need evidence, what's going on is clear." She points a sharp nail at Graham— "This little shit stole the little car from the little town, I watched him do it, and that didn't work out so now he's trying to steal one from my shop!"
"Bloody 'ell," the kid responds, "you're the one who lied to th' police about me? For God's sakes, yer tryna' get me arrested!" He points back at her, "This woman's got it out for me!"
"Lying thief!" She flings back.
"I was just tryna' buy dog food, I weren't anywhere even
near
th' toy aisle!"
"PEOPLE PLEASE!" Angel snaps, taking the attention of the whole room. "Miss Donnovin, let us decide what is and is not evidence. Until we have anything besides the words out of your mouth, we cannot in good conscience take
any
police action against anyone. So please, let us see the security footage we require."
Angie's stare burns holes into the sergeant. "I'm not doing
anything
for you," she hisses, venom and drawl alike dripping from her matte red lips.
"Then do it for me." It's Danny, speech firm and absolute. At this, her gaze softens into something more akin to silent terror. "Ma'am, I'm askin' you t' please stop mistreatin' my fellow officers—" his eyes drift askance towards the detectives— "well, jus' my partner, really, he don't deserve none o' that. All e's been sayin' is, if we don't see th' foo'age, then we don't pinch the lad. 'S 'at simple."
Room petrified in silence, Angie looks Danny up and down in a way that makes him want to peel his skin off, which in turn makes Nicholas want to pull her locks out. "Fine," she finally decides, "Leave. Get out of here." She puts an optimistic finger to the side of her mouth, "Except you, Danny, feel free to stay and review these tapes with me."
Nicholas Angel does not hide his rage well. Danny, however, keeps himself collected enough to hold him with his free hand and reply with a resolved "Actually, the sergeant and I ain't actively on duty, and've got other business to attend to. Cheers."
"Oh, so now you
don't
want to see the fucking tapes?"
Nicholas stares her out. "Detectives Cartwright and Wainwright are the ones investigating, you can show them," he growls back.
"Oh, what's wrong, Angel? Can't Butterman do any official policework without you?"
Danny moves to take his partner's hand in his grasp. "'S not worth it, babe," he whispers to him.
"You're right," Nicholas snarls, "She's not," and the two march out the door.
Finally out of that overwhelmingly suffocating office, Nicholas finds that he can't get himself to speak. Halfway down the baking aisle, he gives Danny's hand a pull.
"Was' wrong, babe? Besides, y'know—" Danny notices how his partner's unoccupied arm is twitching and squirming seemingly uncontrollably. "Oh bollocks; That bad, eh?" He hands him the wee paddy wagon; "'Ere ya go, fiddle wit this, dear."
Posture small and tense, Nicholas takes the model in both hands, spinning the wheels and flipping the doors violently.
"Come on then, babe, take a sit." The constable places a gentle hand against Nicholas's back to lead his love to the floor with him. Now situated, Danny speaks softly: "You want t' 'ear me rattle on?"
Nicholas nods.
"M'kay, that I can do." He quickly readjusts himself— "Crazy 'ow Somerfield got put in the hands of someone even more of a fuckin' arse'ole than Skinner. I s'pose Skinner weren't so obvious about 'is arse'olery, actually quite th' polite gen'lemen. Wanker though, we all know. Sinister. Pretended 'e wasn't th' worst. Angie looks more innocent, though. Not that they're not both fit, but Skinner 'ad a
feel
about 'im, y'know? I'm sure you do, considerin' you suspec'ed 'im early doors. But y'know, Angie, she's got the girly 'air an' the dainty nails. A lot like me mum's, actually, 'er nails. Mum wore those too. Oh actually, story I 'aven't told you yet: It were from the day 'fore the first village of the year content. Wanna say I were... eighteen? At th' time? Maybe six'een. It were when all those travelers moved into the park; A good lot of 'em were performers. Clowns and musicians an' all that. One of them magician blokes— what're they called..."
"Magicians," Nicholas offers weakly.
"Yeah, them: A magician walks up t' me while i'm off tryna get to an 'ang wit' my mum, and I'm immediately intrigued. Never seen anythin' like it, 'cept on the telly. E's pullin' card tricks on me, lobbin' 'is fingers off everywhere, goin' absolutely mental on me. Then after a long while, 'e runs out of easy tricks, but seein' 'ow excited I were about the 'ole thing, the bloke offers to teach me some a' them. Those two hours sparked in me a passion for close-up magic that I aven't fallen off since, as you well know.
A more relaxed Nicholas thinks back on the various tricks Danny's pulled on him with fondness, though there's one part of Danny's story he's still hung up on: "You said you were on your way to see your mum. That was only a day or two before she— before the traffic collision. Did you make it to her that day?"
"Way late, yeah. I was supposed to be talkin' wit' her while she did 'er nails for the contest. By the time I came 'round, she'd already made it t' the last step." Sensing further questions from Nicholas, Danny elaborates. "She weren't that cross with me after I told 'er why I were late. She actually quite liked the travelers; Thought it meant good fings that Callahan Park were clean and fresh enough to look appealin' to the lot of 'em. I do really think it were just my dad who blamed them for 'er death. Now that I'm on about it, that magician's body's were prolly down there wit' the rest of 'em. Still can't believe my dad were doin' all that for so long. Anyways, my mum weren't crossed with me, but after she drove into the gorge, I couldn't 'elp but hate myself for it. That were one of the last times I spent with 'er, and instead of bein' there for all of it, I went and got distracted. 'S shameful, honestly."
Nicholas caresses Danny's cheek, "It makes sense to think that in retrospect, but I think a first time spark of a lifelong passion has just as much value as the last of a long line of experiences. Maybe it's okay to be late to those things if you find yourself doing what you love in the meantime."
"Not that I don't adore you, babe, but you gotta' admit that's rather fresh comin' outta your mouth."
Nicholas stands up, and offers his hand for his partner to do the same. "Clearly I mean in moderation, nothing daft."
Danny takes the hand: "Wot, like missing funerals?"
"Hey!" Nicholas pulls his partner to his feet; "You only got to hear that 'cuz I was two pints wet at the time."
"Oh, so you're a lightweight now?"
"Oh yeah, always was."
"You certainly hide it well; Christ."
"Thought all the times I sicked up after four drinks would've tipped my hand."
"Jus' thought you 'ad a weak stomach." After some time, Danny peers down at some random baking trays all stacked together. "It's alright, Nicholas, I know you're only sayin' all that to try 'n cheer me up. If I wore a mind like yours then, I woulda' realized time wit' my mum were far more impor'ant than learnin' parlor tricks from strangers livin' outta caravans in the parks."
"You know I think your closeup magic is real important, right? You used it to save my life; you pulled a fast one on a whole mastermind organization!"
"Halfa' that was your actin' skills. I mean, you stayed completely limp th' 'ole time, even when I accidentally tapped your balls liftin' you up. Sorry 'bout that, by the way, not sure I ever 'pologized."
"'S quite alright, and I trained myself to play dead while serving in London." Nicholas brushes some hair behind Danny's ear, "Truth is, throughout that whole thing, I had complete trust in you. I thought, 'if anyone's gonna get me out of this, it's gonna be Danny,' once of course I pieced together you lodging the blade in my notepad." Nicholas still hasn't told him that his knife actually pierced skin, that some small amount of the red was blood and not tomato. It's not important, anyway; He'd been too in shock to feel any of it, and the scar is small and barely noticeable.
Danny's expression changes to something more pleased, and he once again meets Angel's stare. "Oh, come 'ere," he starts, a prelude to a long and gentle kiss they're both happy to share after the exhausting interactions in the manager's office. Once they separate, the constable catches sight of a security camera trained right at them.
Nicholas follows his gaze over his shoulder. "You think they're watching us on the monitor?"
Danny responds "If so, I 'ope Angie sees this:" and grabs both of Nicholas's asscheeks while staring the thing down.
"Danny—" He begins to say, rolling his eyes to try and hide (unsuccessfully) how pleased he really is with the whole situation.
"'Old on, Nikky, I've got to make sure she sees."
Nicholas just reaches his arms across Danny's shoulders, "You're redoubtable, you know that?"
"Don't know the meanin' of th' word" he answers, still kneading.
Now resting the bridge of his nose atop his partner's scalp, the sergeant chuckles to himself: "No, I don't suppose you would."
While this goes on, Nicholas imagines how it must appear to any innocent shop patrons just trying to get their hands on some cake mix. He can't imagine it'd be all too pleasant seeing Danny's hands all over
his
cake mix halfway down the aisle, so, reluctantly, he goes to whisper a ceasefire into Danny's ear:
"We still have a timetable to keep on, babe."
Danny grimaces, and dejectedly removes his palms from Angel's cheeks. "Damn thing keeps spoilin' our fun."
"And it'll spoil our promotions if an up-and -coming sergeant and the current acting chief can't manage to show up to their jobs on time."
"Can this up-and-coming sergeant keep 'is hand on your arse while we walk out?"
"If he can keep it in his pants."
"I will
'appily
keep your arse in my pants."
Ignoring how red-hot he can feel his face turning, Nicholas daintily drops the mini police wagon into his partner's outstretched palm. "Fingers over shorts, you big monkey; unfortunately for our libidos, we're very much in public."
Danny pumps a fist; "Fuckin' ay!" he whispers to himself.
"I love you so much" Angel hums in response.
"Well fancy that, I love you too!"
A quick snog in the baking aisle later, and the two officers are walking out the shop doors, Danny's hand firmly planted on Nicholas's ass. The Andys— who are smoking against their police car outside— lower their shades in unison, cigarettes dangling limp in their slack-jawed mouths.
Suddenly Nicholas finds he isn't as pressed about getting into work on time.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"I'm gonna miss this li'le car."
"And we're going to miss our shifts."
Nicholas and Danny are two hours and seventeen minutes behind the ideal timetable. Their shifts both start in forty-five minutes, and they're only now crossing into the park that holds the model village. It's alright though: Nicholas has accepted this after making it through the four other stages of grief during the long walk up here. Besides, he's glad they're taking the time, as he can admire the way the breeze jostles the distant trees and the how the freshly-watered grass shimmers in the sunlight. Sandford's park maintenance has continued to be truly exceptional even after the village of the year contest became a much lesser priority.
Danny retakes Angel's attention: "You fink the people 'o made these guys could make some for us? Think it would be brill to have our own."
"I suppose. What would you do with one?"
"Well Idunno, prolly send it 'cross the table at ya' while we're eatin'. Maybe stuff ketchup packets inside the front, send 'em to you."
"So as a nuisance?"
Danny giggles, "Yeah. What would you do?"
Nicholas ponders for a bit, "Decor. I'd get a couple, make a display in the garden. Put them among the plants."
"Oh that's perfik."
"Why thank you." They're a few meters away from the outskirts of the village model now, and with this new angle, a strange shape reveals itself from behind a plaster building. "What do you suppose that is?" he asks Danny.
"Dunno. It's movin', though."
Nicholas takes a few cautious steps closer, and stops dead in his tracks once he parses out what it is. "Oh good grief, it's a goose."
"A goose?" Danny pauses beside his partner to get a good look at the thing: "That's bloody typical, ain't it?" As the boys look on, it waddles around the fake streets. "Wot's that in it's mouth?"
Upon closer inspection, the animal's carrying a tiddly Somerfield-branded truck away from the village's confines. "Oh christ, Danny, it's taking the lorry!"
The constable starts circling the model village; "You go at 'im from 'ere, I'll come at 'im from th' other side!"
Nicholas tries to corner the beast, but it moves faster when it notices his approach. Danny wraps around the other side, startling it back towards Angel. The two have its exit completely covered. When they both make a reach for it, it dodges their arms and weaves between them along the circumference of the village facsimile. The two stumble a bit, but continue to chase it, looping around the circumference of the diorama multiple times, frustratingly coming no closer than some grazed feathers.
"Loop back around High Street!" Angel orders to the constable, who complies with little hesitation.
"Cheeky bugger—" exclaims Danny, as he leaps towards the goose. It senses his pounce, however, and takes a brief bit of flight straight into Nicholas's face to dodge it. As the constable tumbles and rolls across wet grass into an equally soaked bush, the sergeant careens backwards off his feet, unable to properly anticipate the face-full of feather he's forcefully receiving. He makes a grab for the goose's legs, but it's already dismounted him, heading further away into the open field. Nicholas goes to stand up, but slips on the waterlogged lawn, feeling the gritty cold of mud splattering across his arm when he once again makes contact with the ground.
Danny, unintentionally taking a few twigs and leaves along with him, leaps out of the bush right into the bird's path. Angel shouts "Don't let it get away!" as he gets himself resituated. The constable manages to scare it back a few feet, but it's much faster, and skates around him. Nicholas jumps forwards towards it right as Danny jumps at it towards his side, which unfortunately leads to a collision where the heavier of the two takes the lighter with him straight into the next bush over, and the goose is free to leave virtually unscathed.
The two officers— who at this point are absolutely covered in mud, grass, and wounds— lay there in the leaves and branches, breathing heavy and labored. "Ow," Nicholas whispers with a strained voice.
"'Pologies." Danny is trying his best to escape the leafy trap without pushing his partner down into it further, but it's awkward and difficult without any sturdy surfaces to grab onto, and he keeps falling back onto Nicholas's chest.
"Hon, hon, just push off from me; I'm right on the base."
"'Kay." With a lot of struggling, the two finally tumble out, landing unceremoniously on the slick lawn. When they stand back up, the fiendish bird is nowhere to be seen. "'Ow'd 'e do that?"
A lightbulb goes off in Angel's head: "The goose! Dear Lord, Danny, Slighter was framed!"
"Wot? My lighter? You know I still don't own one."
"No, darling, Graham Slighter."
"Ligh'er than what?"
"Christ..."
"An' by how many grams?"
"No no no no, Danny:
Graham. Slighter.
" Nicholas enunciates slowly.
"Ohhh. Who's 'e again?"
"
Seriously
Constable?"
"Nah, I'm just joshin' ya, e's the bloke who got away with the wee-theft-auto."
"But don't you see? He didn't do it, it was the goose. He was framed."
"Bloody 'ell, lad trained a goose to nobble tiny cars for 'im?"
"W— no?"
"No?" Then Danny gasps, "The goose trained 'IM! Just like that movie tha' came out last year, wot wit' the rat and the wet chef an' th' hair pullin' and shit!"
"Danny what in the blazes are you on abou— oh for the love a' Pete:
Framed
, Constable,
FRAMED
. With an F."
"Ohhhh." Absentmindedly, he brushes some dirt off the model car. "Shame, honestly, could you imagine? Though, if it weren't Graham, why're 'is fingerprints all over the Astra?"
Nicholas short circuits. "How. How do you know that. Were you part of the initial investigation?"
"Investigation? I'm talking 'bout the prints I'm seein' on it right 'ere." His face scrunches up— "Ahg, no, wot am I finkin': those are mine. I apologize, that were daft of me."
Nicholas carefully removes a twig caught in his shirt; "It's alright, love."
"Cheers." Danny leans down to roll the police car down the replica of High Street. "So long, li'le car." It's set off. "Aw piss, I di'nt close th' driver's side," he realizes, though any concern vanishes once it comes to a halt next to the little fountain. "Actually, that's perfik." Unfortunately, upon taking his leave, he takes a step backwards onto another out-of-place Astra, and while the constable does succeed on catching his balance, the car is sent careening near the other, and
snap!
Knocks its driver’s side door clean off. "Mmm, typical." He turns back to his sergeant, "Wanna go round up that goose, then?"
"Oh forget it, hon," Nicholas cries, throwing up his arms and plopping down exhausted on a nearby bench, "yet another bird's havin' a cheeky bit of fun giving me the slip." He buries his face in his hands.
Danny takes a seat beside him, petting Angel's blonde head. "Yeah, aven't been treating you proper, those water foal."
"It's fowl," he corrects, muffled slightly by his palms.
"I wouldn't go that far."
Staying hunched over, Nicholas gives his face respite from his hands, leaving them dangling between his thighs. "I'm going to embarrass myself filing the lookout on this anserine twat."
"Woah woah woah," Danny starts, moving his hand to his partner's shoulder, "You've gone five days on the trot wi'out either the Andys takin' the piss out've you— Let's not be so quick to toss that streak; they'd 'ave a field day wit' this."
"Think I did away with that when they caught me arse-handed outside Somerfield."
"Well no need to make it worse." He cudgels his brain: "Maybe my goose call will work bet'er than my swan one did."
"I'm not sure geese are ones to come when they're called, notorious bastards they are."
"Dunno. Maybe if you trained one."
Nicholas chuckles, only at the ground at first, but when he brings his eyes to the constable's, it's obvious how distant those anxieties seem to him now. "That so?" he eggs on, positively glowing in the joyousness radiating off his better half like the moon reflecting the sun.
"Sure: if you can train it to, say, nab toy cars for you... teachin' it recall's gotta seem like child's play."
More tittering. "You're somethin' else, you know that?"
"I'm jus' saying, I really fink it's worth puttin' that one back on the table!" He adds between chuckles.
"Yeah, and how about the rat one?"
Danny leans in close; "Y'never know;" he begins, waving his finger about, "bugger could 'ave been wearin' a real big hat."
The sergeant spills laughter. "You're impossible," he barely wheezes out, and now the constable's giggling too.
"'Magine he pulls up in one of them bearskin hats all 'cause he's hidin' some goose controlin' 'im!"
"How'd those Yanks even think that up? Controlling someone with their hair, it's utter rubbish!" Nicholas sticks his own hands into his partner's locks and starts pulling around; "Wash this bowl! Bake a soufflé! Kill the Queen!" He commands in jest.
Bubbly giggling bursts from Danny before he tries to have a go at Angel's hair. Unfortunately, he finds that his short cut leaves little to grab onto. "Aww, no fair! You're immune!"
"Doesn't matter anyway," Nicholas jeers, "the little rat hands are already all up in your scalp."
"Crumbs!" Danny feigns, giving a dramatic snap of his fingers. "I 'ope the rat bastard don't make me do anythin' fruity!"
Nicholas's grip on his partner's hair tightens, and he responds low and sultry. "Why, Ms. Piggie, I think it wants you to snog me."
The constable plays along; "Oh heavens! I'm just some ginger wet, I don't know 'ow to suck face! Please Mr. Rat, can't you do it for m—"
Danny doesn't even get to finish his line before Angel yanks him into a proper kiss. It starts light, the two mostly laughing into each other's lips, but it evolves into something more intense, and by the end they're sprawled out on the bench, Nicholas on top of a supine Danny.
They stare at each other like this for some time, until Nicholas notices a wee leaf stuck to Danny's cheek. He's quite frankly amazed it stayed there through the snog. He points to his own cheek: "You got something right here." Danny rolls his eyes and wipes vaguely at his face, missing incredibly. "No, other side." Before his partner can make a second attempt, Nicholas plucks it off himself.
"Got it?"
"Yeah."
"Y'know, I fink you've got somethin' on your mug, too."
"Oh?"
Danny sits up, taking Angel with him until the smaller man's seated in his lap, then gives him a ginger kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Nevermind, guess I were mistaken."
Nicholas nods almost imperceptibly, content beyond reason. "Well that's just extraordinary."
Danny thinks for a bit, "Hey Nicholas?"
"Yes Danny?"
"You said earlier that Graham Slighter was framed." He enunciates that last word very clearly, as if reminding himself how it's supposed to feel on his tongue. "Wot did'ya mean by that?"
The sergeant is suddenly painfully aware of his position in the constable's lap. It's hardly the place for the discussion of policework, but he really doesn't want to depart from the grasp Danny has on his waist. He supposes their proximity does lend itself well to secrecy, though from whom this talk would be kept secret he can't say, as their region of the park is quite empty. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, he resigns to his situation: "Well, Constable, after seeing the prowess and temerity with which that goose took the model truck, it's safe to say it's been on this gig for a good while. In fact, it's entirely possible this one bird is responsible for every misplaced model since the repairs finished, and equally possible someone else by the park more often might have noticed this already."
"Uh huh..."
"Should that person have some ill will towards Slighter, they could maliciously call in with the claim they witnessed him stealing what, in reality, the goose did."
"Go on..."
"Of course, with any sort of forethought, the chances of that going anywhere are infinitesimal, anyone can see that, so it's far more likely the intent wasn't incarceration, but petty inconveniencing: exacting revenge of some sort."
"Course." Danny is completely lost.
"Angie apparently made the call and is sticking by it."
Danny mimes a phone up to his ear, going "Howdy pigs" in a strong American southern accent.
"Unfortunately no real crime was committed, certainly not one we can prove. Does Angie even have any motive? What could she have against Graham Slighter?"
"Why don't ya' ask Tina? She's datin' 'im afterall."
Nicholas's eyes widen, "That so?"
"Yeah yeah, they've been together since secondary."
The sergeant reaches for a notebook that's not there, and his fingers convulse with the realization. "And how do you know all that?"
"David's mum's boyfriend's li'le sister was th' same year as 'em."
"Right, and who's David?"
Arms wrapped around Nicholas's lower back, Danny shrugs. "Jus' some bloke workin' at the post office." He briefly brings a finger to his lower lip, "Snaggletooth down to 'ere. Disturbing. Thought 'e were a vampire at first."
"Well for two twenty-year-olds in a long term relationship, they were remarkably uninvolved in the Somerfield office."
"Don't s'pose they've split up, do ya'?"
Angel puts an excited hand to Danny's upper arm, "Constable that's it!"
"Wot's it?"
"Graham and Tina broke up, and now Angie's exacting petty revenge on him on behalf of her, and wasting valuable police time in the process."
Danny unhooks his hands from behind his partner; "Right, and 'ow's the goose factor in?"
"The actual thief; Angie probably got the idea from watching it."
"Hah!" Danny claps excitedly, "That brilliant noggin of yours! Another case solved, then?"
"Unfortunately, there's no way to prove any of it." Angel can't help but smile at his partner's evident disappointment. "Take it as a personal victory, constable."
"Bollocks."
He unhooks his leg from around his partner, and they stand up from the bench together. "Come along, then, let's mosey home and shower up."
"Wot, just a mosey? But Nikky what about th' timetable?"
"Oh, screw the timetable!"
Danny shakes his head, bright smile exposing his bucked teeth. His Angel stands there, covered in sweat and mud, saturated grass stains scattered wildly across his once-white polo, skin pinkening around various cuts and scrapes, the most beautiful thing on earth. He can't peel his eyes away. "I fink I get it now, why people do this."
Nicholas's face contorts slightly— "Do what?"
With a fallen face, Danny's attention is suddenly diverted to something behind the sergeant, and he points at it with fervor; "RUN!"
It's the goose, wings spread, toy truck still firm in its bill, legging it straight towards the boys with murder in its shiny black eyes.
Nicholas plants himself in the grass, readying his stance. "No Constable, we can still win this."
"Ya really want t' go toe t' toe? Wit' that beast?"
The goose grows closer. "It's at a disadvantage, its deadliest weapon's preoccupied with the lorry."
Closer still. "Well far be it from me t' let ya go at it alone." Danny situates himself next to Angel and vaguely copies his fighting stance.
The goose's charge picks up speed. "Come on then, partner," Nicholas begins as the foul thing closes what's left of the gap—
"Let's lay down the law."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It's forty-seven minutes past the start of their shifts when the heroic pair hobble through the station doors battered, bruised, and with their hair not yet dry from their showers. Danny's arm is slung over Nicholas's shoulder, and if the clerk cared enough to be more observant, he might've noticed how a good chunk of Danny's weight was being fully supported by Nicholas. However, he doesn't really care, and only mutters a nonplussed "You're late" with barely enough energy to get the words out of his mouth.
Nicholas, still holding Danny upright, searches around his vision with his mouth hung open. "Yes, well, our errand turned into a bit of a goose chase."
At this, the Andys peer in from the hall, speaking simultaneously— "Dear fucking Lord!" Cartwright takes over, "You two look fuckin' awful." Wainwright continues, "Yeah, what the fuck were you cunts doin'?"
Fumbling for an answer, Angel turns to Danny, who returns his look of confused terror with the sweetest smile known to man, and suddenly Nicholas has it all figured out. His expression is gentle when he brings his gaze back to the detectives— "The Constable and I were spending quality time together. Evidently we... lost track of the clock." That last part is a massive lie. Nicholas has known exactly how late they were all the way up until that spot of bother with the goose, when Danny's lovely nattering finally got his internal clock to switch off.
Wainwright scoffs, "For forty minutes?" Cartwright now: "Or are you gonna tell us that was actually 'valuable police work' you were off doin'?"
"Hey," Danny starts, "Maybe it's alright to be late if ya' find yourself doin' what you love in the meantime." Nicholas smiles immensely at this.
The Andys look the two of them up and down, and then Cartwright speaks: "Well if you two are done doin' each other, maybe you can finally get t' yer fuckin' jobs?" Wainwright giggles profusely, and they disappear back into the hallway.
Nicholas's face is red hot, but Danny's cheeky grin calms his humiliation. Danny shakes his head: "They're ones t' talk; I once wandered in on 'em snoggin'
hard
. And I'm talkin' Wainwright flat on th' desk with 'is legs 'round Cartwright, papers strewn about everywhere, fuckin' moanin' into each other—"
"Alright alright, I get the picture, Danny."
"Y'know I tried to 'and some documents to 'em, and they jus' kinda gawped at me 'til I left. In fact, I fink one of 'em flipped me off as I were turnin' 'round."
"Is this an official report you're making?"
"Uhm..."
The clerk sighs, "Are you two done?"
The couple jumps slightly, startled by the reminder they're not alone. "Right," Nicholas responds, "sorry."
They finally limp off to their lockers, scratches scabbing over, minds already delirious from exhaustion though the day's not even halfway done, Danny's ankle thoroughly sprained. "So—" he addresses his Angel one last time before they clock in—
"Same again tomorrow?"