Warning: a small bit of swearing, sexual innuendoes, drunken behaviour, sap, and sexy misuse of Nicholas' muscles.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)

Yarp, it's a house party. I couldn't find any research on alcohol intake + asplenia so I just went for it. If anybody finds out something to the contrary, I'd appreciate a heads up and a link. Thanks. :)

Into a Swan by Siouxsie

oo5.

The music was loud, the beer flowed, and the bad feelings slowly washed away. Boxes lined the walls, but there was plenty of room to sit down, which was what they did. Bottles had accumulated into a mountain range that stretched from the kitchen to the dining room. Smoke wafted in grey-blue rivers, but the fire alarm had been shut off. The whole cottage smelled like cigarettes and booze, like a pub, which was great because the NWA affair had ruined the Crown.

Nicholas stepped over a box full of books, two shots of scotch in hand. He smiled easily and gave one glass to Doris and the other to Tony.

Doris grabbed his belt. "Twenty quid for a strip?"

Nicholas laughed incredulously. "I'm not that drunk."

"I'll get you out of those pants yet," she replied, holding a wad of bills in her hand. Four beers and six guilt trips later, he was Doris' official eye candy. She had wriggled him out of his vest, jacket, and shirt. She was fully capable of tearing the rest off before sunrise.

Wainwright tossed Nicholas' peaked cap at his feet. "Go on," he sneered, cigarette in hand, "put it on, Nicholarse."

"Oh, do." Doris smiled like an alligator.

"Christ," Nicholas hissed, but obeyed. A flash made his heart sink. "Danny? Did you just snap a photo?"

"Nope."

"Danny."

Danny shrugged innocently as he put his phone away. He took a long pull on his beer and grinned at Nicholas' harried expression. "Stop lookin' so grim! You'll get frown lines if you keep that up."

Tony grinned devilishly. "You'll make an upstandin' pimp one day, Danny."

"Thanks!"

Saxon barked in agreement. Bob chortled with his eyes closed, arms crossed, face flushed and propped against a nearby stack of DVDs. The Turners sat on either side of him, prodding him with empty beer bottles, and tittered when this elicited absolutely no reaction.

Nicholas opened another beer and down a third of it in one go. He felt it bubble down his throat, heat his skin head to toe. Doris watched him with nothing short of amusement.

"Hey, Chief."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever had a one night stand?"

"Yes."

The Andy's laughed. Danny blushed. The Turners ceased tormenting Bob and watched with anticipation. Tony's glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, but he didn't notice.

Doris was flummoxed by his reaction. "Really? Where?"

"A pub." He took another icy gulp. "In London."

Cartwright smirked. "And?"

"And now I prefer cranberry juice."

"Was it any good?" Doris asked enthusiastically.

"Was she hideous?" Wainwright demanded.

Nicholas finished his beer. "Um," he swallowed with effort, "I don't remember, exactly."

"Liar!" Tony shouted, and was joined by everyone else. "Tell us!"

"Nosy bastards," Nicholas retorted. He tried to appear sober and intimidating, but only looked spectacularly buzzed. "I'm not telling you anything." They booed and hollered as he picked his way through the disgruntled crowd and flopped beside Danny. After a tirade of curses and pleading, he was left alone. They sat cut off from the rest of them by a small alcove of boxes. They relaxed and enjoyed the spectacle everyone created.

"It was a bloke, wassinit?" Danny mumbled.

Nicholas stared at his empty beer bottle, lips pressed into a bloodless line. "How'd you know?"

"The face you made when Andy said 'she.'" Danny regarded him with bleary compassion. "Is that why you broke up with Janine?"

"For an inebriate, you are perceptive, Constubble Butterman." Nicholas closed his eyes and exhaled softly. "Missed her dad's funeral. Entirely my fault. The job and all that." He gestured vaguely. "So, I did the clichéd thing. Got pissed off. Got drunk. Got laid."

Danny studied his face. "Did somethin' happen? Was it really bad?"

"No." Nicholas smiled cryptically.

"Janine found out?"

"No, no, of course not." He leaned against Danny. "I just couldn't live with her anymore. I went back to the dorms. Was that a bit rude?"

Danny chuckled. "Kind've."

"Ah," Nicholas murmured, uncontrite. He rubbed his left knee and leaned back against the boxes behind him.

"Still wearin' them gloves." Danny rested his head on Nicholas' shoulder. "Ever gonna get rid of them?"

"No." Nicholas stiffened. "Bad enough I took my shirt off."

"Lemme see." Danny traced the pale scars that crisscrossed his partner's chest. Two vaguely square-shaped marks had been made by the defibrillator's paddles. One was clean and neat, an incision over the place his spleen used to be. A number of smaller scars littered his left side. They became long and pale and ropey down his arms.

"Whoa," Danny said.

Nicholas made a one-shouldered shrug. "What about you?"

"Me?" Danny looked bashful, but unbuttoned the top half of his own shirt. "A constellation of scars marked his sternum and belly, some long and slender, others jagged and star-shaped. Bullet holes.

Nicholas looked flushed and wet-eyed. He traced each scar with his left index finger. "This was supposed to be me you silly bastard."

"'M not silly."

Nicholas rested his chin on Danny's head. "If you died, there wouldn't be a point. In anything."

"That's what I thought."

"Mm."

They sat in silence. The music wasn't quite as loud, people weren't quite as close. The air smelled like pub and Danny felt warm and alive. Life was perfect.

"Nick?"

"Hmm?"

Danny inched closer, pressed their hips together. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Course." Nicholas pressed his lips against Danny's temple. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I think that I—"

"Hey, Nick. Where'd you go?" Doris' voice floated towards them. "I still got that twenty quid."

Danny fell silent. After a long pause, he admitted, "I forgot what I was going to say," and started laughing.

Nicholas smiled knowingly. "Duty calls," he said breathily. "Don't remember this when you sober up, alright?"

Danny nodded. "Gotchya."

Nicholas reluctantly pulled away and stood up, and navigated the boxes and drunken police officers sprawled across his living room floor. "Yes, Doris?" The alcohol lowered his voice, made it deep and syrupy.

"I seen this thing off the telly." She sounded delighted. "Lie down. I'm gonna drink a line of shooters off ya."

"Ah."

R+R is like chocolate chips on a muffin: totally unnecessary but sooooooo good.