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19 June 2007 @ 10:15 pm
fic: what do you call this sort of thing anyway? (4/?)  
Title: What Do You Call This Sort Of Thing Anyway? (4/?)
Authors: chibijelly & iamstillthemoon
Rating: this chapter - PG for some language and some goldfish abuse.
Word Count: this chapter - 2,577.
Pairing: eventual Nicholas Angel/Martin Wilson.
Disclaimer: I own none of this. Well, except for maybe Martin's character... because you really don't have much to go off during the film...

Overall Summary: The "relationship" between one Nicholas Angel and one Martin Wilson started as a work partnership but developed into something far more confusing over time.

Notes: Yeah. This took forever and a day. I just posted it to get it done and over with. Don't mind the ~*~CLIFFHANGER~*~. *bangs head against something hard and metal-like*

Previous Chapters:

Nicholas Angel knew exactly where Martin’s apartment was located, and that didn’t bother Martin the slightest bit. After all, Nicholas always did pay copious amounts of attention towards even the tiniest details in life. More importantly, Martin was far too busy trying to keep up with his partner as they partly jogged and partly ran back from the park. His feet felt heavier and heavier along every step of the way.

Nicholas slowed to a stop outside the gate to Martin’s place, and the younger man took that as his cue to fish about his pockets for his set of keys. Yawning, he walked up the short path in the front yard and unlocked the front door, walking right in. “Make yourself at home,” he said quite off-handedly, his breathing still a bit irregular from the sudden strain on his out-of-shape body. Martin went straight to the washroom to wash his face, not catching Nicholas slip off his trainers before stepping in onto the carpet.

Martin Wilson’s flat was quite humble, just enough space for a single man like him to reside. There were plenty of blues and white with old, comfortable furniture and plenty of books scattered on various tables and shelves throughout. Its overall appearance—elegantly disheveled, chaotically organized—was just the way Martin preferred it to be.

“You have a goldfish,” he heard Nicholas say from outside the washroom. He patted his face dry with the towel he kept next to the sink before heading out to the sitting room. “Indeed I do,” he replied, a hint of pride evident in his voice. After all, his goldfish had managed to survive for longer than a week’s time. This one was going on three years; the previous one only lasted three days.

Nicholas was standing in front of the smallish aquarium, staring at the decent-sized goldfish that was lazily swimming around inside. “Does it have a name?” he asked.

“I call him Ford.”

Nicholas shot him a bemused look. “Don’t even…”

“What? I think I was drunk at the time.”

“Do you get drunk often, Martin?”

“Well, not anymore…” But, once again, Nicholas wasn’t paying attention. Instead of listening to Martin, he was busying himself with poking at the glass of the fish’s tank, causing Ford to swim out of the plastic foliage and assess the situation with his fishy brain.

“Don’t harass my Ford,” Martin said, sitting himself down on the edge of his sofa to pull his trainers off.

Nicholas glanced over at him, and then stuck his hand into the tank in a defiant manner.

“Nick, no. Don’t be childish.”

The older constable paid no mind once again, and his entire hand found its way into the water.

Nicholas!” Martin hissed, jumping up from the couch. “I swear to God if you lay one finger on that fish…”

And Nicholas did. All five fingers, to be exact.

“Put him down!”

“I didn’t even pick him up! I’m simply keeping him suspended mid-tank.”

“I told you not to be childish.”

This would be childish…” Nicholas plucked the fish out of the tank and ate it.


But Ford found his way safely back into the tank, and the goldfish hurriedly swam to seek refuge in the little castle near the fake, Technicolor rocks, having not been eaten after all. Nick grinned mischievously at Martin, having successfully duped him big time.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, wiping his hand dry on his shirt.

“You are so… unbelievably… horrible,” Martin gasped, successfully surviving the miniature heart attack set upon him. He approached the tank and set a hand on either side of its top, peering down into the water to check on Ford.

“Believe it,” Nicholas replied, cheekily.

“If you had a fish, I would do the same exact thing.”

“That is exactly the reason why I have a peace lily.”

“They’re edible, aren’t they?”

“Not if you want to keep your manhood.”

Rolling his eyes, Martin picked up his sneakers and padded over toward his room. He threw them inside the doorway before heading to his small kitchen. “Do you want anything?” he called, to which he heard Nicholas reply, “Cranberry juice?”

Martin peered inside his refrigerator. “Uhhh. Don’t have any of that, I’m afraid. But there’s plenty of water. Unless you want tea, of course.”

“Water, please.”

“Water it is, then…” Martin put the kettle on the stove for himself and grabbed a bottle of water from the inside of the fridge door. Closing the door over with a bump of his hip, he brought the bottle to his partner in the next room. Nicholas had taken to lounging in his recliner, the one his sister had gotten him a while back. It was his favorite place to fall asleep while trying to get reading done.

“You sleeping?” He reached out and prodded his partner’s shoulder with the water bottle.

“Wha? No. ‘Course not.” Nicholas stifled a yawn, taking the bottle and uncapping it.

Martin smiled to himself, heading off to tend to the kettle and his tea mug, and when he came back, he took a seat on the edge of the sofa. “Don’t worry, you can sleep if you want,” he mumbled between sips of incredibly hot and equally delicious tea. “I’ll pop off to bed after this cup.”

Rubbing at his temples, Nicholas groaned slightly. “Yeah, but we’ve got work.”

“Shift doesn’t start for another two hours or so. Ever heard of a power nap?”

“I… damn, this is a really comfortable chair.”

“The most.” Martin smiled over at him. Nicholas rubbed at his eyes before reclining a bit more. Then he was out like a light, snoring quietly.

The younger constable simply sipped at his mug of tea, trying his most not to stare over at his partner. He leaned back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling before his eyes wound up traveling back to the sleeping Nicholas.

With an annoyed sigh, Martin got up from the couch and went to his bedroom, muttering to himself underneath his breath. He set the tea on his night table and crawled into bed, pulling the comforter tightly around himself. But he couldn’t nap, nor could he even keep his eyes shut, not when Nicholas Angel was sleeping in his La-Z-Boy in the other room.

He settled on staring at his alarm clock, and when that didn’t help, he crept out of bed, taking the blankets with him to curl up on the couch just so he could watch Nicholas.

As he sprawled out on the couch, his partner mumbled something incoherent and swatted at his nose. And then, without warning, he kicked at the coffee table. Martin winced from the sound, rolling onto his side.

“Oh… GOD,” Nicholas hissed, pulling the afflicted leg in toward his chest.

“You alright, then?”

“Ah… ow, yeah. How long have we been asleep?”

“I’m still awake. You were out for a few. Then you kicked.” He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Do you kick often?”

Nicholas had taken to leaning back into the chair once again, his hands folded on his chest as his eyes closed. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mumbled, the last words muffled by a yawn.

Martin all but believed that he had fallen asleep again, but then he was asked a question. He was asked a question that made his stomach lurch.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Nicholas’ voice was slurred, detached.

His eyes darted. “Nope?”

“Why not? They help relieve stress.”

Martin rolled his eyes slightly, laughing nervously as he rolled onto his side, his back to his partner. “Men do too,” he muttered.

“Pardon? Men do what?”

Hissing slightly, Martin gritted his teeth. There he had gone again—speaking without thinking. “Nothing for me?” he tried saving himself. “Men do nothing for me. What do you think I said?”

Men do too.”


“I don’t care if you’re a fag, Martin.”

“I never said I was one.”

“Well. Just letting you know.”

Martin pulled the blankets tighter around himself. The last thing he wanted was his partner—his idol—thinking anything funny was going on.

When he thought Nicholas was asleep again, he quietly rolled back over to face him. The older man was silent, his eyes closed. Martin rested his chin in his hand and simply watched him. And then he started to stare. He couldn’t help it, really, and he didn’t even realize he was doing so until Nicholas opened one eye and looked down and over at him. “You’re staring, Martin,” he said rather matter-of-factly.

“W-what? Am I?”

The one eye rolled. “Yes, Martin. You are.”

“Mm. Sorry, then.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Nicholas shrugged, yawning before stretching his back. “Anything in particular you’re starin’ at?”

Martin closed his eyes, shaking his head before rolling back to face the couch once again. He waited a few moments before speaking.

“I just sort of idolize you, is all.” His voice was hesitant, his words picked carefully. “If you didn’t notice already.”

He heard Nicholas make a small noise of amusement. “I hope I’m a good role model for you then, Martin,” he said.

“You are. The best, even. You’re the reason I kept at my studies.” The young constable lay on his back, resting his hands beneath his head as he looked up at the ceiling. “You came to the Academy and lectured a few times. And I sat in the front and just… you were amazing. And you still are.”

“Oh?” There was a hint of surprise in Nicholas’ voice. “I’m glad you learned something from me, then.”

“I learned plenty, actually. Thank you.”

“It’s my job—my life, Martin.”

“I want it to be mine, too.”

“Just don’t end up as wound up as me.”

Martin glanced over at him, smiling slightly. “So you’re admitting to it, then?” he asked.

“I don’t mean to be it. I just am, I suppose.”

“Maybe if you just switched off from time to time,” Martin suggested, his finger idly playing with the slightly frayed edge of his blanket. “You’d be better off that way. I know you must be under a considerable amount of stress from time to time. I notice it. And that’s never good, Nick.”

“And that’s exactly why I have a peace lily,” Nicholas replied. “And a girlfriend.”

Nicholas had a girlfriend? That was news to him. Then again, Nicholas Angel rarely shared personal information…

“Oh. Well, understandable.”

“You should get one of each.”

“I’ve got a goldfish, if that counts? He’s good company. But as far as girlfriends are concerned… no.”

“Ah, why not?”

“I don’t… do… well with girls?”

He kept his eye on Nicholas, and he swore he saw a look of uneasiness wash over the older man’s face. “Yeah?” He shifted his head, and he swallowed. “And why is that?”

Martin had to think fast, stretch the truth. He had to make something up if all else failed “Last relationship I had was in college,” he said, hoping the nervousness in his voice wasn’t too apparent. “Involved lots of drunken sexual escapades. Don’t feel like getting much into that right now.”

“If you can ever remember said escapades...”

“Scattered bits and pieces. I loved Molly, but it was just too destructive, you know?”

“Mmhm. But why no other?”

“Haven’t had time…”

“Martin, if even I can find time…”

“I’m not ready for a relationship?” He was grasping for straws.

“Pfft. A smart, amiable man such as yourself… why would you not be ready?”

“I just don’t think I’m ready, Nick.”

Nicholas sat up in the recliner, leaning over so that his elbow rested on his knee. “Why not?” His voice and face were both filled with concern as he looked to his partner, his chin in his hand. “You can’t put things like this off forever, Martin.”

“I know I can’t…” He sat up as well, still wrapped in his blanket.

“Then stop doing it. You can’t stay stuck forever. You want to have children? Raise a family? Carry on your name?”

“Not particularly,” he mumbled. Martin liked children, but not to the point of actually wanting to raise them. Children seemed like too much of a hassle. Besides, why would he worry about that when he didn’t even have a mate in the first place?

“Then what do you want out of life?”

“Love and happiness.” His answer was quick. He knew exactly what he wanted from life. Love, happiness, the man sitting across from him—no.

“You gotta have a girlfriend to get love, Martin…” Nicholas propped his feet up on the coffee, leaning back once more against the recliner, his eyes closing as his hands interlaced upon his chest.

Martin said nothing. He hoped he had done enough talking, slipped enough clues.

“Huh. Unless.” Nicholas was sitting up again, as if a great revelation had just occurred to him. “You don’t want a woman, do you?” he said, his voice as professional as it was while on a crime scene, the voice Martin had come to associate with incoming trouble.

“W-what? No.”

“Don’t lie to me, Martin. I study people. Just tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth.”

“You want love. From what?”

“Fine. I’m gay! I like men. I like men, okay?” He huffed testily, curling up and hiding beneath the blanket on the couch. Nicholas promptly sat up in his seat and pulled the covers off of him. Martin peered up at him. His partner stared at him intensely, and he felt himself growing uncomfortable, uneasy.

“What? What is it?” he finally asked.

“You like men?”


“You love men?”

Martin nodded wordlessly.

“You want to grow old with a man that you love, a man who makes you happy.”

“If I’m fortunate enough, y-yes.”

“Why does it make you stutter, Martin?”

“Y-you just make me st-stutter, I think.”

Nicholas was still staring at the younger man. He sat back in his chair. “Does the Chief Inspector know about this?”

Martin paled. “What? My stutter?”


“N-no! No, Nick, no. Of course he doesn’t know.”

Nicholas sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Look, I’m really sorry if it bothers you,” Martin mumbled, situating himself so he sat cross-legged in the middle of the couch. He pulled the blanket around him as if trying to hide. “I had to tell you eventually, I suppose.”

Nicholas looked over at the clock on the wall. “Well, anything else you want to get off your chest while we’re at it?”

Martin shook his head, staring down at the carpet. “There’s nothing else,” he mumbled.

They sat like that for a while, in an awkward sort of silence. When he heard the sound of Nicholas’ snores, he spoke up. “Nick, can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

His partner stirred slightly, opening an eye. “Wha?”

“A hypothetical question.” Martin was sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning in close. “Can I ask you one?”

“You can ask me anythin’. I tell you that everyday at work. And don’t apologize.”

“Okay. Not apologizing. What if someone was madly in love with you and they happened to be a man? Not me, of course. Just in general.”

Nicholas tilted his head, frowning slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t know unless he told me.”

“But what if he did tell you. How would you react?”

“Uhm, would depend on the situation, actually…”
Current Mood: nervousnervous
Current Music: BoA - Lady Galaxy
(Deleted comment)
sammiface!: doctor who | i can only do so much!chibijelly on June 20th, 2007 02:22 am (UTC)


alouette_sparra: brokenalouette_sparra on June 20th, 2007 02:32 am (UTC)
Chiiiibiiii... That's not faaaiiiir... EVIL, EVIL CLIFFHANGERS! I may have mentioned before, but really, Nicholas Angel is the last person who I'd take advice about girlfriends and downtime and the ilk from. I have sudden urges to turn a quote from this into a macro. : )

Hmmm... that last sentence. So many slashy possibilities. The bird likes.

Poor Martin, getting all flustered around Nic, and then Nicholas has got to go and use his professional voice, which only makes Marty more nervous.

I swear to God, if Nicholas breaks Martin's heart, I will kill you. I know I won't have to make good on that threat, but I thought I ought to mention that...
sammiface!: hot fuzz | nothing funny.chibijelly on June 20th, 2007 02:35 am (UTC)

Sorry. Couldn't resist.

I tried to make some of it come off as slightly slashy. Good to know I accomplished that in a good-enough manner.

Martin has such anxiety problems. He'll be fine. Eventually.

..... *runs off from last part of the comment* I'M NOT SAYING ANYTHING.
alouette_sparra: oswaldalouette_sparra on June 20th, 2007 03:54 am (UTC)
Why, oh why, are you not saying anything? Hmm...?
sammiface!: the office | amusement.chibijelly on June 20th, 2007 04:00 am (UTC)
I'm very sneaky like that.
alouette_sparra: loadingalouette_sparra on June 20th, 2007 04:57 am (UTC)
And I made you a macro too... *sigh*
sammiface!: black books | evan.chibijelly on June 20th, 2007 05:27 pm (UTC)
WHICH I LOVE. holycrap.
alouette_sparra: Angelalouette_sparra on June 20th, 2007 06:18 am (UTC)
You know, every time I read this, I find more reasons to love it...

Especially Protective!Nicholas when Martin mentions lilies being edible.

And Childish!Nicholas tormenting the fishie...

And... oh feck it, I just love Nicholas in the entire damn thing.
sammiface!: hot fuzz | captain wow.chibijelly on June 20th, 2007 05:26 pm (UTC)
Nicholas, in general, is just so much fun. XD
(Deleted comment)
sammiface!: the good night | gary.chibijelly on June 20th, 2007 04:01 am (UTC)
... That it does.
stelluci: Cheeseburgerstelluci on June 20th, 2007 03:02 am (UTC)
OMG so glad to see this story and then...

And then...


I will cry tears of blood from my eyeballz if the next chapter doesn't come soon.

Ill b waitin hear fer teh cheezbrgr drop plz.
sammiface!: black books | evan.chibijelly on June 20th, 2007 03:54 am (UTC)
stelluci: frustrationstelluci on July 27th, 2007 04:27 pm (UTC)

I found this in the good ol' archive, and I'm just harassing you to finish it.


*throws candy in face*
sammiface!: hot fuzz | sergeant deskjob.chibijelly on July 27th, 2007 10:44 pm (UTC)
Yeah, if only the thing called "creativity" still existed inside my being. :|
(Deleted comment)
sammiface!: hot fuzz | DO NOT WANT.chibijelly on October 11th, 2007 12:25 am (UTC)
Lexipantshaliyah on September 1st, 2008 03:59 am (UTC)
Finish? Pureeze?

..You can has cookee!