Work Text:
THE NEXT PART
‘Will someone please tell me what happened in Ashbottom!’
When the ACC asked a question, Wieldy found was a good policy to give a truthful, succinct answer.
‘We arrested two people, Ma’am, Fred Farmer and his wife Beryl, for the murder of his father, her father-in-law, in order to inherit the house he owned before he sold it and went into care.’
‘I know that, part, Inspector. I meant, what happened between… Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee.’ The corner of Wieldy’s mouth turned up into a smile; that was Frank’s nickname for Andy and Peter. Odd that she should use it too.
‘I couldn’t say, Ma’am.’
‘Where are they, anyway?’
‘Gone to pick up Malcolm Shields. He’s the builder we think was responsible for Craig Cullen’s death.’ The boss was certain he’d had dropped a pile of bricks on his customer after he’d complained once too often about shoddy workmanship. He was probably right, he usually was, although there was an argument to be made for the wall having collapsed by itself and the whole thing being an accident. Given the shoddy workmanship.
Arrest someone first, ask questions later, had always been Dalziel’s motto, otherwise - he’d say - you give the buggers chance to get away.
In the past, Peter might have brought a modicum of sense to proceedings. But since Ashbottom, that had changed. Which was presumably why the ACC was asking. Maybe from her point of view things were off somehow, but from Wieldy’s, it felt as if the world was in balance for the first since he - and Andy - had first laid eyes on Peter Pascoe.
It hadn’t helped that a long-forgotten transfer request of Pete’s had finally received approval. The ACC had handed him the offer letter from Edinburgh with a congratulatory smile that suggested she was hoping for an unexpected silver lining to losing one of the best detectives in the Wetherton force; to also rid herself of the other.
Unfortunately, Peter had effectively turned it down by tearing the letter into eight neat pieces and dropping them in the bin. Wieldy had almost rescued them; Peter was still on a high from Ashbottom, he might change his mind. But even if he did, he could always make a phone call. It was just highly unlikely he was going to.
It was a relief when his mobile rang. The briefest nod from the ACC told him to go ahead and answer it.
’Wieldy? Get your arse out to the Brandon development on Morse Road. Shields is giving Peter a hard time and I need someone to break his nose for me.’ Whatever Dalziel wanted him for, it obviously wasn’t that. Or maybe he had some sort of weird sixth sense that he was under pressure from ACC.
Whichever it was, duty called.
*
It was only when he found Dalziel out in the beer garden, leaning against the back fence, with a lit cigarette hanging from his fingers, that Peter realised he hadn’t seen him smoke in months. Even just the odd one.
‘Andy?’ He started, glanced over his shoulder, and when he didn’t tell him to piss off, Peter crossed the lawn to join him. ‘Are you okay?’ He’d known their arrival on scene so quickly after the Rugby team’s coach crash would bring back memories.
‘When they called me, the night of your crash, they didn’t tell me how badly injured you were. They just that you’d been involved in accident and could I go to the hospital. I fully expected to find you with a cold compress to your head, chatting up one of the triage nurses.’ Surprised by his tone, Peter put a hand on his back. ‘Please don't ever do that to me again.’
Touching his forehead to Andy’s shoulder, he murmured, ‘It wasn’t intentional.’
He felt Andy’s cheek brush against his hair. ‘I know, Sunbeam. Just your enthusiasm for the job overriding your enthusiasm to keep breathing.’
Peter leaned his forearms on the top of the wooden fence, shoulder to shoulder with Andy, backs of their hands touching. He reached over, plucked the cigarette from stubby fingers and took a long drag on it. ‘I saw you sitting with Martin as he died. I knew it would bring back bad memories.’
Grey green eyed him curiously. ‘Since when have you smoked?’
‘I haven’t. But I’ve had the odd drag now and again. Just not usually tobacco.’
‘DCI Pascoe. I am shocked!’
‘Not you’re not.’
‘I might have been.’
He offered it back, but Andy shook his head. ‘I wasn’t smoking it. I just wanted to hold it. Not sure the people who make those nicotine patches understand that.’ Peter found an ashtray on one of the tables behind them and stubbed it out. When he returned to the fence, Andy asked him, ‘Do you remember all that with Kay Mclean? When you put a microphone in my jacket pocket to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid?’
Peter nodded with a smile. ‘Too late, as I remember.’
His smile was mirrored back at him. ‘My first reaction, when I found it, I was fuming. But then I realised what it meant; that you were worried enough to do something like that. I kept it in my pocket for weeks afterwards. Like it was some sort of love token. Dry cleaners found it there when I took it in.’
‘I can give you something better than a surveillance mic if you want.’
‘Don’t take the piss, you.’
‘I remember when you told me you’d found it. It was the first time you’d referred to me as your best friend. I just sat there, gobsmacked, and chuffed, trying not to show either.’
Andy brought his hands together, linking his fingers. ‘It’s sort of gone beyond even that, hasn’t it?’ Peter didn’t think the question needed an answer. ‘I always thought if we did owt like that, it would change things, wreck them.’
‘Hasn’t though, has it?’
‘Ah, well, we’ve come at it from a different place, so to speak. Made all the difference.’
Peter hesitated. ‘How long were you thinking about it for?’
‘On and off, over the years; usually stupid, drunken fantasies when I let myself. Never for a single moment did I think you’d be interested, and I would never have approached you first. It’s important you know that. You, and any disciplinary board that might ask.’
A cold chill went through him. ‘Has someone-‘
Andy’s eyes widened. ‘What? No! No, lad, sorry. I’m just thinking out loud. Honestly wouldn’t matter if someone had, I’d just retire. No fuss.’
‘I doubt anyone would bat an eyelid.’
‘Don’t you remember that course we had to go on? Sexual Harassment in the Workplace?’
‘Hard to forget. Everyone was so much better at it after that.’
‘Everyone was walking on eggshells for weeks.’
‘You’ve nothing to worry about. If anyone says anything, I’ll just say I instigated it.’
‘Do you seriously think the ACC would believe you came on to me?’
‘I’d tell them exactly what happened.’
He huffed softly. ’I’m not sure whether she’d be surprised or looking to collect a bet off someone.’
It was almost worth doing it just to find out. ‘We’re both consenting adults. I might be of lower rank but I am a DCI, hardly young and impressionable. No one could say you took advantage. If anything, I was the one who did that.’
‘Bollocks. Like you said, consenting adults, both of us.’ He stood up straight. ‘Ignore me. Seeing those kids after the crash, I kept thinking how you must have looked to that young PC who checked your pulse in the car. Some days I’m selfishly glad it wasn’t me who had to wait for the ambulance with you trapped and bleeding. Other days, I think about how I’d have felt if you’d died out there and I’d not been with you.’
‘You were with me. You stayed with me. Sort of been with me ever since.’
‘We were joined at the hip before that, according to Ellie.’
Peter sighed softly, turned and leaned back against the fence. ‘Ellie’s had a lot to say about you and me over the years. None of it good.’
‘Aye, although given what happened in Ashbottom, she wasn’t completely wrong.’
‘Do you regret it?’
He shook his head. ‘Never think that. All I regret when it comes to you is that it’s not always been smooth sailing.’
‘That’s on both of us, not just you. We’ve tested our relationship to destruction and it’s held firm. That’s got to mean something.’
’It means everything, Petal, always remember that.’
*
They spent the morning at Newark House, a gorgeous gothic manor on the edge of town, where the peace and quiet had been shattered in the early hours by a reported break in. The owners - Mr and Mrs Cherry - had called the police, and the ACC had sent her most senior ranking detectives simply because of the size of the Cherrys’ donations to various police charities over the years. With no other priority cases on the go, they’d been happy to drive over and take a look, becoming more and more curious every time Mr Cherry evaded the question of what had been stolen.
In the end, he’d given them a USB stick and told them it contained photographs of a very valuable collection of lithographs; Victorian porn, as it turned out. Highly explicit. All before lunch.
Peter made a call to the Arts and Antiquities Unit and handed the case over to them, trusting the USB stick to the internal mail system. He and Andy were sitting in his office vaguely wondering about lunch when Wieldy stuck his head around the door and asked if they fancied a trip back out to the zoo.
The morning cloud had burnt away to leave a glorious, warm, June day. They left their coats in the car, letting Wieldy take charge, hanging back, enjoying the sunshine. It felt special there.
‘Good memories, this place,’ Andy murmured, giving voice to what Peter was thinking.
‘Except for almost being eaten by a tiger.’
‘Aye, but whose fault was that?’
His, and the bastard who’d opened the gate and let the tiger in. Tried to kill him. ‘You’re right. They are good memories, of that day with you and Rosie. And the evening.’
They shared a smile, the moment interrupted by Wieldy.
‘Snake theft, Sir,’ he reported as he approached. ‘An Eastern Indigo.’
‘Poisonous?’
‘No. But two days ago they moved a King Cobra out of the same enclosure, it’s gone down to London.’
‘Day trip?’
’Reptile exchange.’
It was an explanation. ‘You think that’s what they were after?’
‘The cobra would have been worth a lot more. The Eastern Indigo sounds exotic, but every zoo in the UK has one apparently.’
‘Do we need forensics out here?’
‘I’ve called them. The scene’s been taped off. There’s not much we can do until they get here, if you two want to take a walk….’
Peter smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks, Wieldy.’
*
Peter closed the front door behind him and leant back against it, feeling the warm arousal that had been fizzing between them all day. The Manor House, the Victorian porn, the afternoon at the zoo…. He’d not felt like this in years; even that night in Ashbottom had been different; curiosity and brevity, maybe a little bit of jealousy after that woman Florrie had tried to muscle in on what he’d already been considering his.
This was want, pure and simple.
He took a step forward, seeing the same feelings reflected back at him in Andy’s gaze, tempered by doubt.
‘Pete-‘
‘You want this as much as I do.’
‘It would kill me if you regretted anything.’
‘We should only regret the things we don’t do. Isn’t that what they say?’ It was patently bollocks, and Andy’s expression told him so, but he’d read it somewhere and it sounded plausible.
Another step forward, he put his hands into the lapels of Andy’s coat and pushed it from his shoulders, catching it, reaching around him to hang it on a hook. ‘Please.’
‘Cheating sod.’
Peter followed him upstairs, into his bedroom. In the hotel in Ashbottom, he’d handed over control and he was willing to do the same this afternoon but only to a point. Back then, he hadn’t been sure, happy to call it a one-off, tucked safely away from the world. But boundaries had never been their forte.
Pulling his tie undone, unbuttoning his shirt, he dropped to his knees.
‘Pete-‘
Working Andy’s fly open, he told him, ’I want to do something I wanted to do a long, long time ago.’ Glancing up, he smiled at the surprise on the oh-so-familiar face. ‘Remember Haycroft Grange? When we blew up your drugs bust? After you told me what was going on, that it had been a sting, I just wanted to get down on my knees and blow you.’
‘Likely I could have done with that at the time.’ There was a lot he wasn’t saying, but it would wait. It had to. The moment Peter managed to free Andy’s cock from his clothing, he took it into his mouth. It hardened beautifully along his tongue.
A large hand curled around the back of his neck, the other settled on his head, fingers combing through his hair, the slightest of pressures. Andy made the most wonderful noises while Peter set about learning this as quickly as he’d learnt everything else from Dalziel.
*
It was a warm, sunny evening. Andy was sitting out on the wrought iron bistro set he’d bought years ago and rarely found the time to use. He’d opened a bottle of white wine, cold from the fridge, poured two glasses, and was wondering if he should cut the hedge sometime when Peter came out. His light blue shirt was open at the neck, sleeves rolled up, blond hair still damp from the shower. He was gorgeous. Andy had thought that from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on his new sergeant; freshly promoted, eager to please, standing expectantly in Dalziel’s office. He remembered thinking, Christ, lad, you’re going to break hearts, including mine.
‘All right, Sunbeam?’
‘Aye, sorry. The leg’s aching.’
‘That’ll be from kneeling on it.’ Maybe he put the red flush on Peter’s cheeks, maybe it was just from the hot shower. He sat down, picked up his glass, and smiled at Andy. ‘Stop your worrying.’
‘Fine. You know… I hadn’t thought about Haycroft Grange in years.’
‘No reason you should have. But I told Wieldy, that night you were away at the conference and he came round with a curry.’
‘You told him what?’
‘How I’d had this massive crush on you at the time. How that evening, after we’d crashed the drugs bust, I’d have got on my knees and sucked you off if you’d asked me to.’ Andy looked at him, wide-eyed. ‘That’s exactly how he reacted.’
‘You’ve not been harbouring that fantasy all these years.’
‘No.’ He smiled kindly, shook his head. ‘Just these last few days.’ Swapping his glass to his left hand, he brushed his fingers over Andy’s wrist, where it rested on the table between them.
‘I can’t remember the last time I got a blow job within ten minutes of coming home from work.’
Peter laughed at that. ‘I’m not about to make a habit of it, just so you know.’
‘You don’t need to, lad. Look at me. I’m lucky if I get it up once a year!’
‘Didn’t seem to have any trouble this afternoon.’
‘Aye, well, a gorgeous young man gets on his knees and puts my dick in his mouth, it’s not rocket science to work out what’s going to happen next.’
‘I’ll bet you didn’t have any trouble getting it up for Florrie Stockton.’
Andy chuckled. ‘She really got under your skin, didn’t she?’
‘She interrupted us while I was trying to get you into bed.’
‘She didn’t put that much of a dent in your plans, given where you woke up the next morning.’
‘Granted.’ He curled his fingers against Andy’s palm, tracing the lines there with his nails.
‘You also said it was a one-off. What happened in Ashbottom stayed in Ashbottom.’
There was a definite hesitation in Peter’s touch. ‘I didn’t-‘
For a second, he was genuinely confused. ‘Didn’t what?’ Then he got it, and he couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Coerce me? I don’t think any bugger could, Sunbeam. Even you. He curled his fingers over Peter’s, just stroking his knuckles. ‘Don’t ever think I don’t want you. I’m just surprised the feeling’s even remotely mutual.’
‘When I’m with you… I feel safe, cherished.’
‘Anyone who loves you would give you that, Petal.’
‘I love you. And I know you don’t believe it, but the attraction that was there that evening at Haycroft Grange has always been there, waxing and waning.’
‘More one than the other, I suspect.’
‘I’m not saying it’s been easy. I was a complete bastard to you sometimes. Anything I didn’t like about my life, I blamed on you. But the thing almost dying is realising that one day you might not have the opportunity to apologise. And how much the people you take for granted actually mean to you.’
‘Pete… I love you, Petal. I need you to know, to really know, that’ll never change. The physical stuff, it’s… more than I ever thought I’d have, with anyone, never mind with you. But if you find someone else you want to be doing that with, that’s okay. You never have to keep anyone from me, and I’ll never ask you to leave. This is your home too.’ The expression on Peter’s face was wry amusement. ‘What?’
‘I know I’ve been fickle in the past, but I didn’t realise your opinion of me was so low.’
‘You know that’s not it.’
‘I didn’t come on to you in Ashbottom because I got bored of my own right hand. Honestly, I sort of understand why you find it so difficult to believe that, and I won’t deny it’s complicated, but you’re not just… an easy lay until something better comes along.’
The idea amuses him. ‘An easy lay? Christ, Sunbeam, I imagine I’m anything but.’
‘You are… really good in bed.’
‘Don’t, you’ll make me blush.’
‘As far as I’m concerned, this is where I belong. The physical thing is… good, it’s great, actually. And I think if life’s taught us anything, is that we’re supposed to be together. We’ve fought it, both of us, over the years, yet here we are.’
‘I don’t want you to be here just because you think you should be.’
‘Did I mention the part about the sex being great?’
Smiling, sliding his fingers through Peter’s, Andy reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses.
*