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25 October 2007 @ 08:45 am
To Move Mountains (Part 3)  
Title: To Move Mountains, Part Three of Seven
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s: NA/DB (implied), NA/AC, AC/AW, AAA (just a hint)
Word Count for Part Three: 2,900
Rating for Part Three: NC-17+
SUMMARY FOR PART THREE: Nicholas takes over Andy (in several ways); Andrew is lost without Andy; and dangerous waters start stirring.

WARNINGS are in effect. Ref.:
Part One
Part Two

To Move Mountains: Part Three

Nicholas stepped over Andy. It was not something they arranged before hand, and it reminded Nicholas of scenes out of the The Marketplace, but Andy slept on the floor next to his bed. As far as Nicholas was concerned, his bed was for him, or Danny, or Liz, and preferably all three; Andy was not welcomed there. He went to bed the first night with Andy on the couch up front, and woke up with Andy on the floor. He never said anything about it, and Andy never slept anywhere else.

The situation at work was far more stressful than Andy on his bedroom floor. His first day back, both Andrew and Andy turned in resignations; Nicholas promptly refused both of them; and Andrew called the game by walking out and not coming back. Nicholas kept him on the roster anyway.

Andy kept track of Safi, reporting to Nicholas about her every few days. She sometimes invited him in and sometimes shut the door in his face, but either way, Andy kept checking and it was enough for Nicholas, for whom Safi became background noise.

Danny talked to him officially and politely, and it killed him inside every time. He tried to talk to him privately a few times and invited him to the pub but Danny just shook his head. Liz was much more forthright, throwing a stapler at him when he walked into her office. No one was happy, and certainly, no one was less happy with Nicholas Angel than Nicholas Angel himself.

But he also had to assuage everyone that his head injury was just an accident, that he was not fighting with either of the Andes, and no, he had no idea why Andrew was not showing up for work. No one believed a word he said, but barring Andy saying anything either, the story stood as the official history of the incident. The gossip raged around him like a cyclone, and he knew it, but he was left with the option of taking out an advert in the paper stating “I’m a bender and I had sex with half my staff and I like Threesomes and I like it rough” or just ignoring the rumor mill.

Otherwise, he reminded himself painfully, life in Sandford continued on as it always did.


Andy, for his part, did not even try for Nicholas’ bed. He started out on the couch the first night, but it was too cold in the front, and he retreated to Nicholas’ room in the dead of night for the warmth of the heater there and the comforting sound of hearing someone nearby. Somehow, being on the floor and being stepped over and generally being ignored was balm to his soul. He could pretend that he did not even exist.

After a few days, Angel sat down across from him at the kitchen table while Andy fixed himself a ham sandwich. He bought his own food and fixed it for himself, if only because Angel’s idea of food was fruits and vegetables and brown rice.

“You can stay as long as you need to.”

Andy looked up with his eyes, but kept fixing his sandwich. “But?”

“No ‘but,’ just letting you know.”

“Not expecting ‘em back.” He stated it rather than asked.

“Not really.”

Andy nodded and put down the sandwich. Nicholas was looking out the window, his lips pursed.

“You mind me on the floor?” He asked, trying to sound as if he did not care.

“No.” Nicholas’ gaze did not move. He looked incredibly tense, as if he were fighting something out, and his jaw was clinching. Andy sat back in the chair.

“Then what?”

“You. On the floor.”

“So it does bother you, then.”

Nicholas’ gaze turned on him and Andy’s heart stopped.

“No, Andrew. I mean now. On the floor. Now.” He picked up Andy’s plate and set it down at his feet.


Fucking Andy was his last break with everything: Danny, Liz, reality. It was also his revenge, more on himself than anything, but if Andy was willing to be his whipping boy, then god damnit Nicholas was going to whip. He went for broke: he made him eat sitting on the floor, and then made him crawl to the hallway and sit there alone while Nicholas fixed his own dinner. He refused to let him get undressed and made him sit on his knees outside the shower when Nicholas bathed, letting him see him naked but not allowing him to touch. Andy did not even question it.

Finally, Nicholas was in his sweatpants in the bedroom with Andy sitting Indian-style on his blankets, looking up at him, trying to look blank and tough but mainly looking confused. Nicholas leaned against his dresser and crossed his arms.

“Get undressed.”

Andy stood up and began to take off his clothes. Nicholas stepped over and slapped him. They stood, facing each other, Andy fighting back fear and surprise and anger.

“I did not say, stand up,” Nicholas growled and slapped him again. Andy finally sunk back down the floor, in shock. Slowly he peeled off his clothes, unable to look at Nicholas when he pulled off his pants to reveal his erection.

Nicholas was actually relieved. He was playing this hard and he knew Andy liked to be strong-armed but being hit physically is different from being beat down psychologically. Part of him wanted to break Andy into pieces, but he did not want to destroy him.

“On your knees, and put your forehead on the floor.”

Andy glared at him. Nicholas bent over, grabbed his hair, and yanked. As Andy gasped for air Nicholas put his mouth to Andy’s ear and began stroking skin with his tongue. He kept the grip on Andy’s hair tight while he lapped delicately at his ear, breathing hot air on the sensitive nerves there, trailing his tongue down, around, and into Andy. He ran his other hand down his back and brushed over his ass, running his fingers in light circles until he reached his ball sack. He still kept it light as he sucked on parts of Andy’s ear and stroked his scrotum, playing with the hair he found in that area until Andy whined. Nicholas dropped to one knee next to Andy and pressed against him, still light in touch and presence. Then he grabbed Andy’s balls and squeezed.

“Whufff!” Andy head went down in pain and Nicholas released his grip.

“Unless I judged Andrew wrong, he’s never fucked you, has he?” Nicholas taunted as Andy let out a small, whimpering moan. “But I’m willing to guess that you think about him a lot when you masturbate, don’t you? Andy?”

Andy nodded.

“Fine, then. Let us say that your dick belongs to him, and your ass belongs to me.”


It was his first time and it was excruciatingly painful, despite Nicholas’ liberal use of lube and his generally empathetic efforts. Still, at some point, as his head was pressing into his blankets and his fists balling the material into knotted wads, he felt something like relief. Someone wanted him, needed him, and was using him. It was not right; the whole situation was completely fucked up for everyone involved and the sensible side of Andy knew it, but he needed this. When Nicholas first pushed into him Andy felt the rush of pain run him over but it was a delirious feeling that pulled him outside of himself, and he remembered being on the locker room floor with Danny holding him down and taunting him and coming on his face and it was sublimely erotic.

As Nicholas’ pace picked up against and in him, Andy forced himself to pull back, to understand what was going on. Nicholas was furious, angry at everyone and everything and himself and his hold on Andy’s hips was so fierce his nails were drawing blood, but Andy knew it was his role to take it. Like he took it from Andrew, he was taking this from Nicholas, and he could be loved for that.

He pushed down with his knees against the floor to ground himself as Nicholas plowed into his ass, slamming his body against Andy with more power than anyone imagined such a slight man might have. But he was strong, and Andy knew how strong he was, and he clinched his legs trying to keep his balance. Finally Nicholas was overcome and let go and yelled out nothing as he dug his way into Andy’s soul, coming inside of him, and clawing his back as he tried to hold on while his thrusts turned aggressive and completely out of control.

When he was done he pulled out and pushed down on Andy’s back so that he was crouching on his legs, Nicholas on hands and knees over him, panting. He felt Nicholas kiss the back of his neck.

“Stay here, Andrew. Stay still.” Nicholas said and rested his forehead on the back of Andy’s head.

Andy did not move.


Nicholas was in bed that night alone, with Andy on the floor, blissfully asleep. It was a cathartic moment for both of them, for nearly the same reason: they were in love with people who rejected them, who completely turned their backs on them, for reasons that were righteous or at least genuine. Now all Nicholas and Andy had left were each other.

He rolled onto his side and clutched his pillow to his face and refused to cry.


Andrew went home. His parents were working-class retirees who spent a lot of time drinking and playing poker, and did not mind one of their children whose names they sometimes mixed up coming in and crashing for a few days. With the oldest, they were used to it; with the middle, they put up with it; with Andrew, they ignored it for his sake as much as their own. He only walked through that door when something bad was happening, and his father remembered enough of his own temper at that age to tell his wife to just stay out of the boy’s way.

He liked being home and he was a good poker player so for a couple of days it was relaxing. Then word circled through the mill that one of the Andrews nearly killed that Nice Inspector Angel From London and that Young Wainwright quit his job. His father was not quite so understanding of that, and after huge argument, Andrew stormed out and went back to his flat.

Sitting alone in the dark living room, smoking a cigarette and listening to The Police, he considered his options. He could go back to his job, and he was sure Angel would let him, despite everything. Something told him that Angel knew, intimately, what was going on and would not ever hold it against him, despite the head injury. Angel could be counted on for a fucked up sense of fairness like that. Going back would mean working across from Andy again, though, and the very idea broke his heart.

He stopped at that thought. To walk away from a life long friendship, from someone who was closer to him than any member of his own family, a man who he knew as boy and man and friend and colleague, was too much like breaking up. Too much. Andrew leaned forward and bowed his head. He did not know why it bothered him so much that Andy was a bender, and a perverted one at that; it was wrong and fucked up but Andy was still Andy, after all. Still…something told him there was more to Angel’s visit that night than professional concern about a case. He saw it in Angel’s face when he called him out. And that, more than anything, made it impossible for him to walk back into that building without trying to kill someone. Why he felt that way, he decided not to explore. It was just the way it was.

He knew he could get hired on at Joe Burnett’s farm for the rest of the harvest season, just like when he was in school. It would suck but pay the rent until he figured out what to do next with his life. He tried not to think about the fact that transferring out of Sandford was the only possible solution that did not involve becoming indigent.


Andy’s visits to Safi’s were irregular and short. Whatever her story was, she was keeping it close to the vest. She asked about his black eye, wondering if it came from Andrew, and he told her it did, but not how or why. One day, finally, she told him to sit down on the bed. He did, promptly, and she giggled.

“You take orders good.”

He tried to act nonchalant, but he felt himself blush.

“You take orders from me, eh?”

“No. Just accepting an invitation.” He adjusted himself into a closed, nearly defensive position.

“Got no need to get all tight ass, Pretty.” She sniffed unhappily and sat down across from him.

“You the one holding out.”

“I ain’t seen your man lately.”

“Wot?” Andy wondered why she would bring up Angel all of a sudden.

“You two used to be tight. Now he kick you up, kick you out, and just…what?”

Andy registered with surprise that she was talking about Andrew. “Not mine, not like that.”

She frowned and a dark look passed over her face. “Sure he wrong about you Pretty, but a man don’t get that wound up ‘xcept over property.”

“What the fuhk are you talking about?”

She shrugged.

“So you gonna tell me why you’re here?”

“I told you that a long time ago, Pretty.”

“You’re lyin’.”

“Maybe I’m here for you.” She moved forward into a crawl and crept up on him. He was not opposed to the whole idea, but then he’d have to tell Nicholas, and christ that was a very bad idea. He pushed her back, and sucked in his breath at the look she gave him. It was hatred, some kind of deep animosity, and it was spooky. He drew up to face her down. She fell back to her original position and shrugged again, her face blank.

He got up. “You need protection, call.” He walked out without looking back.


Nicholas was soon into a routine; not a routine he ever in his life expected, but then again, that summed up his entire experience in Sandford. He left notes on Andy’s blankets or his desk telling him what he expected that day, whether it was work to be done around the house or the station or more personal requests, such as wearing a particular shirt to work or not wearing anything when Nicholas got home. He did not get off much on it, overall, but it was very calming to him to have that much control over something in his life. And the sex was not quite meaningless; they never kissed on the lips but with practice Andy was getting a lot better at oral. He gave him the standing order to get himself off whenever he wanted, once he discovered that Andy was not doing any such thing at all. Finally, one night, Andy rebelled. Or something like that.

“Just fucking do something!”

Nicholas sighed and put the paper aside. Reading it was about the only way he kept up with Liz at all, these days. Andrew was sitting on the floor, not next to him, but not far off, his legs crossed and his arms crossed and generally looking crossed.

“I’m your fucking bitch and you won’t touch me.”

“I touch you a lot, Andy.” Nicholas shook his head.

Andy glared.

“Andrew, I’m not in love with you, and I’m not going to make love to you. I thought we understood that.”

“I’m not…” Andy stopped and looked at the wall. “Fuck all, Nick. I’m only human. I turned down Safi for you. And I could have used that.” He spoke quietly, and honestly, and Nicholas was caught off guard. Heart-to-heart talks were not much in their repertoire. Nicholas leaned back in his chair and studied Andy.

“What do you want?”

Andy looked surprised to be asked.

“Do you even know, Andrew?”

Andy did not respond.

“Come to bed.” Nicholas got up and went to his bedroom. He striped down and got into bed, and soon Andy was standing in the doorway. He just stared at him, his usual look of disdain and rebellion on his face.

“So what’s this?”

“Get undressed and get in bed.”

Andy did and laid next to him, flat on his back, his arms crossed. Nicholas rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. Andy stared straight up at the ceiling.

“Andy, I’m not Andrew.”

Andy nodded. Nicholas sighed and pulled the sheet back on Andy, leaving him naked on the bed. Nicholas sat up and rubbed his face, then rolled on top of Andy, pushing his arms aside.

“We’ve been here before.”

Andy nodded, and Nicholas rolled his head down to kiss his chest. Andy sucked in air and wrapped his arms around Nicholas.

“God, Andrew…I need this too…” Nicholas understood that fact only as he said it, running his kisses up Andy’s neck. Their bodies were hot and reacted naturally, and both of them came later that night pressed together, crying out, hands everywhere, covered in sweat, and thinking of other men in their arms.

Current Mood: coldcold
zombie survivalist: bucky bitesbeccavox on October 26th, 2007 01:05 am (UTC)
I am now going to the 'fridge to get a hard cider. You're killing me with the angst (but keep it coming)...

I was hoping Andy would rebel a bit, by the way... :)

So what's up with Safi? Will we know soon? I'm addicted to this little soap opera...probably because it's written better than the ones on tv.
panda: House: lollipop!pandatini on October 26th, 2007 04:46 am (UTC)
mikes_grrl on October 26th, 2007 01:14 pm (UTC)
You are both very kind. I had not thought of this as a soap opera, but really, if you put the whole Ring Cycle together, it just IS a soap opera, isn't it?? LOL!

It does not end with To Move Mountains, either. Just so you know...my living hell called FanFic Obsession...
lacking in glitter: subtexttawg on October 27th, 2007 01:03 am (UTC)
Angel could be counted on for a fucked up sense of fairness like that.

I love the way you can sum two characters up so neatly.
mikes_grrl on October 29th, 2007 11:42 pm (UTC)
Awwwww...I'm SO yours....