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31 October 2007 @ 06:46 am
Mountain Climbing (Part One)  
Title: Mountain Climbing, Part One of Three
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Character/s: NA/AC, AC/AW, NA/AW, AAA (yes: all)
Word Count: 7,400 (in three parts)
Rating: NC-17+ (really, no joke)
Summary: This is a FLASHBACK to the time period referred to as “Six Months Later” at the end of To Move Mountains. It is a series of vignettes telling the story of how the “Six Months Later…” scene evolved: the fallout from Andy’s ordeal and how the hell Nicholas ends up in bed with the Andes (if you were wondering), much less how the Andes end up with each other.

NOTES: I think in a lot of ways To Move Mountains was just the set up for this piece. However they did not blend well; once the story was done in To Move Mountains, it was done, and these scenes just dragged it down, so I pulled them. While you should read To Move Mountains in order to understand some of the tension here, I think this piece belongs on its own, and you can read it on its own (and I include a “prologue” for those inclined not to backtrack in the series).

Mountain Climbing

Prologue: Andy Cartwright is recovering from a brutal torture at the hands of Safi, the murderous sociopath. He’s home and Andrew Wainwright is trying to take care of him while coming to terms with his new role as Andy’s ‘something.’ Meanwhile, Nicholas is still and presumably permanently on the ‘outs’ with Danny (and Liz) and is trying not to self destruct over his mistakes in that relationship. In the meantime, he’s become Andy’s lover, and he doesn’t really know why…because Nicholas Angel understands everything and everyone but himself.

Andrew took care of Andy as best he could, which he realized was not so good. He never before quite understood that he relied on Andy to keep their life on an even keel, with laundry and cooking and getting the bills paid…it was with a sense of shame that he finally saw how much of a wife Andy was to him. Andy said nothing and just went behind him to fix everything he fucked up, although there was no hope for the wool suit he washed on “hot.” Andrew never experienced greater relief in his life than the day that Andy stated he felt strong enough to make dinner himself and told Andrew to go smoke a cigarette out his ass.

They slept together, mostly due to the night terrors that would bloom in Andy’s dreams when he was asleep. It was nearly platonic affection, brotherly in most ways, although Andy would kiss Andrew’s neck and chest lightly when he felt that Andrew was relaxed enough not to swat at him for it. It was a comfortable arrangement.

It was over a month later before Angel came back. They saw him every day at work, of course, but he was always distant and cordial and severe with them. They kept off of him, as did the whole department, given the tension that was not dimenishing between Angel and Danny. It was understood by pretty much everyone that Angel was close to snapping, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end of what would happen when that high-tension cord broke.

The night he returned, Angel stood on the stoop looking uncomfortable. Andrew did not say anything, just let him in.

Angel and Andy spent the night together. Andrew sat on the front couch and listened to them fucking, surprised to hear Angel’s laugh ringing out late that night. He sat on the couch the whole time, drinking.


Nicholas got up and put on his pants, walking to the kitchen to get something to drink, knowing that Andy stocked the icebox with bottled water if only because he told him too. He knew by now that Andrew would be on the couch, in his jeans and tee shirt, asleep and drunk or awake and drinking, probably avoiding the noises that might come out of Andy’s room when Nicholas was there. The whole thing reminded Nicholas of a university dorm, with people trading rooms in order to get laid. He hated it, but he had nothing else.

When he walked out of the kitchen, he realized that Andrew was not on the couch anymore. He walked back and found him standing in the doorway to Andy’s room. Andy was asleep, sprawled naked across the bed, oblivious to the light that was still on or the two men staring at him from the door. The wounds all across the back of his body were healed but fresh, some of the deeper cuts still showing as red and pink scars. Most the skin between the scars looked new and tight and Andy looked like a jigsaw puzzle just now put back together – in many ways, he was, 322 stitches later. Nicholas drank his water and looked over at Andrew, who slowly collapsed against the frame and butted his head on the wood.

“What do you do to ‘im?”

Nicholas put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor, understanding that it was not a prying question, but rather a worried one. “Not that, Andrew. Not that. He can’t take it…anymore. Maybe never. He still passes blood sometimes.” Nicholas tried to think clinically, to explain clearly and emotionlessly what he did not do in Andy’s bed.

Andrew looked up at the ceiling.

“He ever tell you about t’cellar?”

Nicholas shook his head. “No. He doesn’t talk about that time. Ever. Other than the report you filed and what I saw of his medial records…I don’t know anything.”


They both started at the sound of Andy’s voice. Andy was on his belly, propped up on his elbows, and staring at Andrew, angry.

Andrew shrugged and acted bored as he walked into the room and leaned against the wall.

“Nick ever tell you about the hospital?”

Andy frowned, and Nicholas grimaced. “He’s right, Andrew. Don’t. Let these things go.”

“Why Danny won’t talk to ‘im? Eh? Never told you? Surprised.” Andrew sniffed and glared at Nicholas, daring him to stop. Nicholas sighed and leaned against the door frame. He kept glaring at Nicholas as he talked. “He kissed me like I was a damn girl.”

Nicholas pursed his lips and looked at Andy, who just looked back at him, confused.

“It wasn’t important. I was upset…I…I don’t know.” Nicholas sighed and lightly hit the back of his head against the door frame just as Andrew did earlier.

“It wasn’t important?” Andrew stood up and wrapped his arms around himself, his voice suddenly uneven. “No it fuckin’ wasn’t. None of it was, was it, Andy?”

Andy was pulling sheets up around himself protectively, and the look in his eyes was unstable. Nicholas did not like where this was going.

“Andrew, you know what I mean. I was not thinking clearly, and neither were you. You, of all people, were not thinking clearly. You nearly got killed, you watched Andy being tortured…for god’s sake. Andy doesn’t need this.”

Andrew gasped angrily and fell to his knees, smashing his fists into the floor so hard that Nicholas was shocked he did not break bones. Nicholas just stared at this completely unexpected emotional outburst, unsure of what to do. Andy was frozen in bed, looking wild.

“God I hear you all night. Fuckin’. And I know that sound, the way he sounds, I’ve heard it before…” Andrew was choking and bent his head down to the floor. Nicholas was wary; he had been damaged by Andrew before and he did not underestimate him now. He walked over and crouched down, carefully avoiding touching him.

“What’s going on?” The obvious question felt like the best one. Andrew shook his head. Nicholas looked over to Andy, who was very clearly as confused as he was but far more upset.

Andrew pulled up and looked straight at Nicholas, furious, drunk but not all-gone-pissed, at least. “Tell him! Fuckin’ tell ‘im!”

Nicholas fell backwards just to get away from the force of his emotions. Then he turned to Andy.

“I kissed him. Next to your bed. We stood there and that is when Danny walked in…I don’t know what else he wants me to tell you.” He finished and looked back at Andrew, who was not appeased.

“All of it.” Andrew snarled.

“Andrew, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you are trying to do here. I told him. I don’t think he cares, really, and I don’t. So what are you doing? What is going on?”

Andrew moved forward on his knees, throwing his arms out towards Nicholas, who immediately shielded himself from attack. Instead he felt Andrew’s hands gently grasp his upper arms and as he looked up in surprise, Andrew fell on him, drawing him into a deep, hard, and open-mouthed kiss that tasted mostly of beer. Nicholas kicked his legs out for purchase as his weight was put off kilter. Andrew pushed down on him, forcing him all the way down to the floor, and then straddled him, pressing down on his arms and moving his pelvis slightly against Nicholas. Nicholas stopped himself from throwing Andrew off of him, making himself relax and letting the man do whatever it was he needed to do and wondering what the hell was going to happen when he got a hard-on, which he was due for any moment now under the circumstances. He turned his head to look at the wall, breaking off, trying to disassociate himself from this whole bizarre situation. Andrew pulled up and looked at him carefully, his snarl not quite gone.

“What did I do?”

Nicholas looked at him sideways. “Nothing. You didn’t do anything.”

Andrew shook him. “That’s not fuckin’ true.”

“Yes it is, Andrew! What do you want me to say?”

“I let you…Damnit, I let you do it.”

Nicholas nodded, finally understanding. Andrew dropped back into the kiss and Nicholas closed his eyes instinctively and arched his back as Andrew’s hips ground into his in an impersonal, sexual way. It was not violent, as he was honestly expecting, and he remembered that their first kiss at the hospital was unusually gentle as well. Andrew’s grip on Nicholas’ arms was like iron, but the rest of his motions were soft. Andrew kept riding him, pushing into his body as the kiss dragged on. While Nicholas was definitely turned on, part of his mind was completely detached and trying to figure out what he needed to do to protect Andy if this went to hell. It was not comfortable for him, as Andrew was wearing jeans, but he tried to make adjustments so that he would not have to stop the whole process, as he decided that might cause more havoc than just playing something-like-dead, and if nothing else influenced that decision, his worry for Andy’s safety did. Andrew’s kiss became ragged as his hips picked up motion and soon he had his head pressed into Nicholas’ naked shoulder as his whole body slid up and down, his hips twitching, and finally Nicholas’ head seared with pain as Andrew bit skin. He shuddered as he finally collapsed. Nicholas was certain that he never heard anyone come so quietly as that and he wondered how many nights Andrew listened to them on the couch, getting himself off to their sounds.

Nicholas could look over to Andy. He was sitting up, wrapped in sheets, a stunned look on his face. Andrew pulled back and sat against the wall, his eyes closed, breathing heavily, and utterly quiet. Nicholas propped himself up and pulled away from him a little. The silence was a lead weight in the room, on all of them. Finally Andrew opened his eyes and they were dark and angry.

“Y’saw I was covered in his blood when you got there.” He said it as if they were in the middle of the conversation, that forcing himself on Nicholas did not just happen.

Nicholas nodded.

“There was a reason for that…” Andrew finally cracked and shook uncontrollably, wringing his hands together and looking up at the ceiling again. Nicholas rolled up and put his hands on Andrew’s shoulders. He did not feel comfortable taking him into his arms, as he might have done for Andy or, god help him, Danny in such a situation. No, not that. But he held on to him with a firm grip as Andrew slowly sank down into whatever oblivion was waiting for him.

Together, Andy and Nicholas got him into the bed. The laid on either side of him and eventually, when the Andes were asleep, Nicholas got up and pulled the sheets up and turned the light off for the night before crawling back to lie next to them again.


He woke up the next morning feeling Andy’s hands on him. He knew it was Andy without looking.

Andy was taking off his pants, but there was nothing erotic to it. He was undressing Andrew as someone would a child, simply getting him out of dirty clothes for his own sake. His pants were crusted from his come and so was he; he figured he must have spilled a gallon of the shit on himself, getting off on Angel. As he thought of that, he groaned and laid back down, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until it hurt. He thought maybe he was going as insane as Safi…but no, he could never hurt Andy that way. Himself, maybe…

He cursed silently. He was drunk last night and he knew he unhinged himself thinking about Andy as he sat on the front couch. He tried not to think of Andy, or his body, or his eyes; but he only kept returning to the feel of the man, alive. Alive. That was all that mattered to him and he needed to know every minute of the night that Andy was still alive. Hearing Angel fuck Andy grated on him and worried him endlessly, and eventually, last night, turned him on. He went back to the room to check on Andy, and seeing him on the bed brought out everything Andrew feared and needed. He wanted to walk over and take Andy into his arms, but he was horny by then and knew what he would do. His attack on Nicholas was not what he planned and it was not even enjoyable and in retrospect was damned embarrassing, but at least he had not hurt Andy. Angel, he knew, could take care of himself. Now Andrew’s biggest fear was that he would not be able to take care of Andy without trying something very, very stupid.

He sensed Andy get off the bed, and he went to sit up, but found Angel’s hand on his chest pushing him back down.

“Fuck off.” He tried to brush off the touch but Angel’s arm was like steel.

“He’s not done.”

Andrew looked at Angel, who was propped up on his side, naked, and just looking at him as if they were at work and sitting at their desks and talking about the weather. Andy walked back in carrying a towel and Andrew frowned.

“He’s good at this. Leave him alone.” Angel laid back down all the way on his side and closed his eyes. Andrew jerked his head back to focus on Andy, who was sitting down on the bed, in between his legs. Andrew pulled himself up a little, uncomfortable with the entire situation; they shared the bed for several months now, but never naked, and certainly never with Angel there. Andy ignored the reaction and moved forward, and Andrew gasped in surprised pleasure as the warm, wet towel was rubbed over him, cleaning him, and sending waves of serenity through his body. He looked over at Angel, who kept his eyes closed, for all the world dead asleep.

“Saves taking a shower when you’re not done.” Angel said, somehow feeling Andrew’s gaze on him. Andrew cocked his head.

“I’m fuckin’ done.” Andrew growled, but stopped himself from just pushing the both of them off the bed when he saw Andy twitch his head, just a little.

Angel sighed heavily, as if he was annoyed at being woken up. He sat up and stretched and Andrew had to admit that for a man, Angel had a near-perfect body, if a bit small and delicate. Then Angel turned to Andy, who was sitting back on his heels, folding up the used towel.

“Get yourself off, then do him.”

Andrew’s jaw dropped but Angel just gave the order, got up and walked out to the bathroom to start his shower. He swiveled his head back towards Andy, telling himself that he needed to get out of the bed, now…but Andy laid one hand on his knee and looked at him with raw, unburdened need as his other hand reached down between his own legs.

Andrew threw his head back just to look somewhere else. “Christ, Andy, stop. This isn’t us, mate…”

He kept his gaze off to the side but he could see what was happening, peripherally. Andy rolled his head back and his grip on Andrew’s leg tightened as he worked himself into a hard jerk off and the bed shook with his exertions. Andrew felt his breath shortening and when Andy starting whimpering in excitement, and realized he was getting a hard on. He had dry fucked Angel and now he was getting off on Andy doing this fucking queer act in between his legs and Andrew just tried to pretend that he wasn’t Andrew anymore. Which, he admitted, was not hard to do these days.

Andy raised up on his knees as he came, gasping, and his come fell on Andrew’s own dick and he shuddered at the sensation of the warm liquid on him. And just as he came, in that moment, Andy bent forward and swallowed up Andrew’s cock, sucking hard. Andrew cried out and bucked and was suddenly fucking Andy’s mouth uncontrollably and desperately.

“Fuck no…Andy…fuck! Stop!…please…ohgod…FUCK! ANDY!”

He came, his back arching and his head thrown back and he knew without asking or saying anything that Andy would take it, and Andy would swallow, and Andy would clean him up when they were finally ‘done.’

As he looked up, shocked with himself and ashamed and appalled and still incredibly horny, he saw Nicholas, dressed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a dark, unreadable look in his eyes.

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