Hold My Hand (Nick’s POV)

a Tale from the Sandford PD

by Setcheti

 

 

Rating:  FRT

 

Disclaimer:  I do not own Hot Fuzz.  I am simply borrowing Hot Fuzz because I enjoyed the movie and wanted more.  A lot more.  But there was no more to be had unless I wrote it myself, so I did. J

 

Someone was holding his hand.

 

The other hand was larger than his, softer than his…the sensation was nice, warm and comforting.  He decided that he liked it.

 

But why was someone holding his hand?  His mind felt sluggish, making the curiosity bob about rather like an old cork in the water.  But still…why?  As far as he could remember, no one had held his hand since he was small.  His uncle, that had been it, his uncle.  But his uncle’s hand hadn’t been soft, it had been callused and strong and firm of grip.  So, not his uncle, then.

 

Something about prison started to surface, then sank with obvious unimportance.  Hmm. Not his uncle.  But it didn’t feel like a woman’s hand, so not his mother, or his sister…

 

Thoughts swam like fish just under the surface, vague and hard to identify.  It was possible his mother was dead.  The thought about his sister was too elusive and he let it go.  He didn’t think it was her, anyway; she had small hands.  No, he thought the hand-holder must be a man, because the hand holding his was large.  Yes, a man – or rather, another man, because he, himself, was a man.  Yes, quite.  So two men, holding hands…

 

Hmm, somehow that didn’t seem quite right.  And it brought back his original curiosity with an addition:  Why was another MAN holding his hand?  Nick was fairly sure he wasn’t holding the man’s hand.  His own hand seemed to be lying quietly engulfed in the man’s larger grip, not putting out any effort at all to either reciprocate or pull away.  It just didn’t make sense, he wasn’t a passive person.  Danny thought he was a bit too active sometimes, in fact.

 

Wait, Danny?  Hmm.  Danny did have larger hands than Nick, didn’t he?  Softer, too, because Nick’s were more callused and scarred.  The man holding his hand could, he supposed, be Danny.  He chased a darting thought around for a moment and came up with a handful of the idea that Danny was his partner.  That seemed to fit.  They were partners, so Danny was holding Nick’s hand.

 

All right, that wasn’t going to work either.  They weren’t that sort of partners, or at least he didn’t think they were, so Danny had no reason to be holding Nick’s hand like this.  Although it was nice, and comforting.  His sluggish thoughts kept sliding back to that idea.  Comforting.  Nice.  Yes, he decided, it was nice, to know there was someone else there, someone he trusted, someone who cared about him…

 

Could that be the reason Danny was holding his hand?