Title: Sunday In

Author: Amber (a href="/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin"anemptymargin/a)

Fandom: Hot Fuzz

Pairing(s): Nicholas/Danny

Posted to: anemptymargin, 10iloveyou, sandfordpolice

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Prompt: Too Much

Summary: Domesticity is too much for Nicholas Angel.

Notes: Written for 10iloveyou table Opposites. Many thanks to Missy for the beta!

Word Count: 727

Disclaimer: This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.

Sometimes it really all seems like it's far too much to handle. It's almost certainly more than he deserves. It's been nearly a year since Danny came to the cottage to stay, no fuss really – just a rucksack and some boxes. They fell into a comfortable rhythmbroken up only by the necessity of duty to the force. Sunday mornings are their time alone; no telly, no mobiles, no movies, and most definitely no work. They slept in late, usually, and it was no exception this particular instance.

"Mmm… morning, monkey." Nicholas smiles, tracing his palm over the side of Danny's stubby cheek.

"Nicky…" Danny whispers, a slow grin spreading across his lips. No matter how often they wake up in the same bed, he always seems surprised that Nicholas is still there.

"I should say afternoon, actually." At first, it would annoy him; lying in bed half the day without his morning run or coffee – or even the drone of one of those awful morning chat shows Danny likes to watch. Gradually, he had gotten used to letting it all go. For just one day a week where it was about being together.

"Afternoon." Danny echoes, eyes still heavy with sleep. "I slept like the dead."

"Sounded that way."

"Did I wake you?"

Nicholas shakes his head, "No. Was thinking about coffee."

Danny wrinkles nose; "Mmm, tea? Please?"

"I think we're out."

"Aww." He groans and shifts against the mattress, folding back the duvet like a small child about to protest. "We should do the shop today."

Nicholas had long learned that letting Danny shop alone would only end up in a pantry full of beans and sweets. "We'll see." He slips out of bed while Danny, as usual, rolls back over for another few minutes of peace as he wakes. Managing to salvage a battered PG Tips pyramid from the bottom of a box that was forgotten in the pantry, Nicholas brewed tea and instant coffee straight into their oversized mugs. A half a packet of Hob-Nobs tucked in his pocket ensures they may not get out of bed until well after lunch.

"You found tea." Danny grins wide, sitting up in the bed already when Nicholas returns.

"I found tea."

Danny inhales the aroma off his mug as though it were something exotic and not their usual off the shelf bags doused in cream and sugar. "You're too good to me, Nicholas."

"It's only tea." He can't help but smile, the thought crossing his mind that for a horrifically routine domestic moment – it's absolutely brilliant. "And, some biscuits."

Those childish eyes again, wide like saucers at the prospect of chocolate digestives. "You've got biscuits?"

And like that, they're sitting in bed; casually chatting about the garden or maybe taking a drive next week – if Nicholas can be bothered to actually leave town on festival week. He watches Danny with a comfortable ease, tucked against their pillows as though it were simply meant to work out that way. It's all too much again, too lovely… too idyllic. The slow and creeping feeling that a bomb might go off in the square buzzes in the part of his brain that always wants to think something really is going on – because he has been right in the past.

"You're not listening, are you?" Danny asks suddenly, halting his train of thought.

Embarrassed, caught, Nicholas shakes his head. "I'm sorry, just… thinking."

"Oh?" A long slurp of his tea.

Nicholas nods and Danny nudges him with his foot, demanding more information. Finally, he says; "I don't deserve any of this."

Danny furrows his eyebrows, looking oddly cartoonish over the rim of his mug. "You're not happy?" It sounds wrong coming from him, and not just because it's horribly untrue.

"No, I'm happy." He smiles, knowing he looks far more defensive than he feels. "I'm just… too happy. It's too much, the cuddling and kisses and tea and shops and being a proper old married couple." He laughs and the sound feels foreign and strangled in his throat. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're having a Sunday." Danny smiles again, sweet and simple. "Nothing's too much for you, Nicky… you're amazing."

His cheeks warm, but he doesn't argue – he's lost that argument before. Instead, he kisses Danny gently, spilling coffee on the bed without caring. "You're too much."