Chapter Text
One of the guys was getting married at the station. Alec was honestly shocked that he got an invite. It was a Thursday morning, and he was in his normal mood, not grouchy, but preferably unavoidable. John, his name was, one of the uniformed officers that was quiet and reliable. He tentatively knocked on the door, and with a wave in, he shuffled in and placed the envelope on his desk. Alec made a questioning sound, before the officer said, “Just if you’re available. Y’might be a shitface, but you’re still our boss. And the fiance wanted to invite ya,”
Alec felt offended for a moment, before nodding and grabbing the invitation. “Thanks, John.” He shuffled back out of the room, and Alec opened the envelope, revealing a wedding invitation in the spring at the local church. He almost laughed at it, but the hurt shone slightly brighter than the humor in it. He tossed it aside.
Later, at lunch, Ellie had badgered him into picking up sandwiches at the new spot around the corner.
“You really can’t think that they actually want me there. Be serious Miller.” He took a bite of the mayonnaise filled sandwich, making up for what Bill refused to be allowed in Alec’s own home.
“Well, everyone else at the station is going! It would be weird if you didn’t go.” She shooed away a seagull.
“It was a pity invite, Miller. What, am I supposed to show up and sit in the corner like a punished child because none of the people that work for me want to talk to me?” His fingers made their way to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Here, see it this way. You go, take your hunk of a man on your arm, and make one or two conversations. Give ‘em a gift, a nice toaster or something, and then,” she points a chip at him, “leave after the ceremony. You won’t have to talk so much that that pacemaker drops out on you from stress, but you also don’t look like an asshole who refuses to go to his co-workers' wedding. Easy peasy!”
He groans. He knows she’s right, and Bill would’ve come to the same conclusion. One day they’ll knock his head into a pole for being so clueless about this stuff.
“You know I’m right, you can just say it.”
“You’re right, Miller. I just, you know I get- well I get nervous about that stuff. Eugh, feelings, whatever. Thanks.”
She looks so satisfied that if you looked up the word ‘smug’ online, her face would pop up.
“Anyways, let me tell you the new gossip around the station- don’t give me that look! I know how much you secretly like being a snoop about your officers…”
“Toasters are nice, we could do that. Newlyweds normally need things like that. Could give them a free fertility check-up.” Bill was stirring something in the saucepan on the stove, his sleeves rolled up and his bowtie sitting untied around his neck. It smelled relatively edible, but it was a shot in the dark.
“Yeah, just hop on down to the toaster store. Where does one even buy a toaster these days? Online? Daisy said that there’s something called Amazon. Would it be better to buy one in person? How expensive should we go? How expensive even is the average toaster?”
He knew he was working himself into a tizzy, but there were so many things to worry about, so many factors he couldn’t seem to figure out about the social etiquette of buying a toaster.
“Alec, it’s okay. A toaster is a toaster, it’s not like they’re expecting a big expensive gift. We’ll go a town over and go to the department store. We can worry about price when we cross that bridge. We have money, it’s not like we’re on a budget. Tell me what’s really going on, Alec.” Bill leans against the countertop next to the stove, arms crossed. He’s frowning, almost on the edge of impatient, but he’d never admit it.
“It’s just, y’know,” He tosses his glasses off of his face and onto the table, mumbling under his breath.
Bill stalks forward, sitting on the table next to Alec, facing him. He grabs his chin, forcing him to look up.
“What is it.” His voice is sharp but kind, patient and waiting for Alec to respond. His grip on his chin is soft but undeterred, his gaze flicking from eye to eye as he waits.
“M’just nervous-”
“Nervous? The detective that marched right into my office and demanded to be given a patient’s files regarding a case without ever meeting me is nervous about a wedding? I’d think you’re the one who’s getting married if I were a less wise man.”
Alec rolls his eyes, pouting slightly. “You know how they hate me there-”
“And I know that you don’t really care about that, what you’re saying isn’t the real reason why you’re so nervous. Alec. Tell me what is bothering you.” His voice now has an edge to it, impatience to the situation.
Alec sighs, resigning himself to admitting his silly fears.
“I’ve never really told the guys at the station about… about us?” He says it quietly, but they both know that it was heard.
Bill is silent, calculating. Every movement he makes is a calculation, something he plans out, but he needs a moment for this, a second to think about what he will say next. His hand loosens his grip on Alec’s chin, but Alec reaches up, holding it to his face.
“Do you, um, do you not want to be seen with me, like that?” Bill sounded almost resigned, readily able to accept that answer, with sadness in his eyes.
“No, no, that’s obviously not what I mean,” Alec almost jumps to his feet, needing to be face to face, nose to nose for this conversation, as if his movements will prove that the sentiment isn’t what he means. “I want to be out there with you. You must know I do. But you know how hard it is to be out there like that. But I want to try, with you.” He cups Bill’s face, making him look him in the eye.
“You don’t think I’m scared? You don’t think that I wake up every day with the thought in my head that I’ll get beaten and killed because of what I am? Because what you are to me? I’m terrified, but I want to be out with you. I want to hold your hand in public and kiss you when we meet at work for lunch. I want to try for you. I want to be scared with you.” His words are almost a mumble, shared strings of vowels between them, almost shared breaths between them.
“I want to be scared with you too.” Alec cups Bill’s face, a question of sorts, projecting the ask of if he believes him. Do you know how much I want to be scared with you? Do you believe me? The message is woven between the words, buried underneath his front of fear.
Bill just nods, leaning into his touch. They press their foreheads together, letting the intense moment still between them, allowing it to pass slowly. The tension gradually melts off of them with the warmth spreading between them.
“Together,” the doctor whispers, and they both nod urgently. A peck, neither knowing who initiated, just needing the physical confirmation that they both understand that they are willing to go through it together, no matter the consequences.
A few weeks later, Alec had received a knock on the door of his office, and he almost groaned about being interrupted right as he got into the groove of his paperwork. He felt productive today, and no bitching to him would hold him back.
He sighed, getting it over with. “Yep.”
The door opened, and Alec didn’t look up, finishing writing the sentence he was currently working on. The visitor didn’t say anything, so he parried a glance. His eyes looked up, and then back down to his desk before they registered who was in front of him, standing in his office door.
Bill. Was there. He looked completely out of his element, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for acknowledgement.
The detective immediately relaxed, his pen slipping from his grip as he stood up from the desk chair.
“Bill. Um, Hi. I didn’t know you were, I didn’t know you even knew where I worked.”
He raised his eyebrows, opening and closing his mouth for a moment. “You’re the head detective, and there’s only one police station in Broadchurch…”
“Yep, sorry, stupid. I mean, what’s up? Is everything okay?” He started around the desk, standing in front of his partner.
He noses forward slightly, asking for consent to give him a peck. Their noses brush together, Bill's cavernous to Alec's full and rounded one. Bill leans forward slightly, pressing their lips together in a chaste touch, almost just a brush of air.
“Now it is.” He murmurs.
Alec playfully slaps his chest. “Sap.”
Bill smirks.
“But seriously, what are you doing here?” Alec has gained his composure from the shock of seeing him here, and his excitement slowly builds.
“Can’t a man take his boyfriend on a lunch date?” He grabs his own chest, mock offended.
“Bleh, don’t say boyfriend. Sounds like a teenager.” Alec crosses his arms and backs away to grab his keys and wallet from his desk.
“‘Lover’? ‘Man of my dreams’? ‘Intimate partner’… as my past studies called it?” He rounds the desk and grabs Alec’s jacket, helping him put it on like a mother hen, one arm before the other.
“Well, where did you have in mind, ‘designated intimate partner’?” He opens the door, and freezes for a moment when he realizes that the whole office watches them, their playful banter and casual touches. His moment of hesitation only lasts a moment, but the residue of the flash of emotion is left on him. It shows in his tight stance, his taut shoulders, in the immediate scowl that his face melts into. He registers movement behind him, a swishing of clothing as Bill stands next to him. He knows that Bill immediately sees his emotion, where it comes from. He holds out his arm for Alec to cling to, and he leans in to murmur in his ear.
“Together. Come on, let's get some food in you.”
Alec accepts his arm, and nods almost imperceptively, as they make their way out of the office. A few heads pop back down from where they emerged to watch the drama, and a small string of whispers follow the two men. Ellie smacks one of them as they lean in to talk to her about it, and he has to hide a smile at the display. He can feel the shock emanating off of them, but is relieved to see no immediate large display of outrage. He grabs on tighter to Bill's elbow. His posture doesn’t waver until they hit the sidewalk, and he finally gains some semblance of normalcy as he feels his feet hit the concrete. He stops abruptly, and Bill has to backtrack a step to face him.
“Are you alright?” Bill’s eyes are concerned, and he scans Alec’s face.
Alec doesn’t respond, only rushing forward to kiss his ‘lover’ (bleh). He’s unable to express anything else, only a magnetic forcefield that centers itself around Masters. The ‘man of his dreams’ just faced one of his own biggest fears with confidence to help him feel more comfortable. The kiss is just on the edge of indecent, almost like Alec can’t use any words to describe his appreciation for standing with him, only his lips and physical grip on him can. Their lips mash together, forceful and yet natural at the same time. Warmth spreads through his arms, his veins that connect to his broken heart. He’s so thankful for the relationship with Bill, the friendship included, even if it was a small moment of struggle for them both. Bill responds immediately, cupping his face and sharing his familiar taste with the detective, sliding their lips together as if it were second nature, almost violent in the way that they almost devour one another, almost trying to meld into one, their jaws working and their spit slicking together to make a combination that teeters on too intense for the setting.
They pull apart, and Alec gets his ‘I’m about to make a bad joke’ face, a smug smirk blanketing his features.
“I am now.” He wipes at the corner of his mouth, raising his eyebrows once to enunciate his horrible joke.
Bill rolls his eyes, his thoroughly snogged demeanor doing nothing to help his authenticity of annoyance.
“Sap. Let’s go to the new chippy down the road.”
They walk hand-in-hand down the road, ignoring the shocked looks of the police station they were two feet away from. So much for subtlety.
Bill and Alec were in Alec’s shack of a home on the coastline. The sun shone and indicated midday at its angle. The windows were open, letting the salty fresh air into the home.
The record player was sung a song of strangers in the night, and Masters hummed along as he took out his suit, and laid it on the bedding next to Alec’s. The home had slowly melded into one that had both of them written on it. In only a few months of dating, toothbrushes had been left behind, blankets transferred from flat to home, medical journals had snuck their way into the bookshelf in the sitting room. It felt almost natural, the way their lives meshed together. Before, in both of their past relationships, it had felt like overpacking a suitcase, trying to fit the things that mattered in it, and removing items that someone said should be gone. Yes, those relationships had changed them fundamentally, which had helped them become what they were today. It helped them begin to enjoy their sedentary lives, able to wind their ways out of work, finally starting to be able to rest the buzzing need to be involved in their respective professional careers. What was left over of themselves from before slid easily together, enough space for the both of them and their quirks.
Alec picked up knitting again after years of embarrassment, and Bill started drawing, his anatomy lessons creating a basis for his skills. They sat together on the deck drinking wine and complaining about the world, sometimes sharing a cigar.
In the present, Alec sat against the headboard with his ankles crossed on the bed, a coffee cup with steam slowly rising out of it nestled in his hands. It fogged up his glasses slightly, and he sighed, listening to the crackling music, the waves hitting the rocks, and a voice with a slight rasp to it as it hummed out the melody to Frank Sinatra.
They’d had a slow morning, one filled with long, languorous kisses and comfortable silence as they drifted in and out of sleep.
They’d both taken the Friday off in order to adjust to their new lifestyle. It had started with Bill telling Alec that he worked too much, and should enjoy the day off. Alec had then shot back that Bill was the same way, and they bickered until they came up with the truce to both take it off, and since they had the day off, might as well spend it together.
Alec takes a sip of his coffee, swallowing loudly. The poorly wrapped toaster sat in the corner, its edges not tight and a heap of clear tape making it somewhat resemble a rectangle. They’d laughed their asses off upon seeing the frilly bow on top. In the sober morning though, it was slightly embarrassing. He decided that it didn’t matter though, and continued sipping his coffee.
“If we start getting ready in an hour, we should have enough time to drive to the church,” Bill glanced up from unzipping the plastic jacket that held his suit.
“What do people even talk about during weddings?” Hardy’s face was scrunched up, his fingers tapping on the mug.
“Babies, I think.” Bill knelt on the bed, lifting the suit.
“That’s not fair! I know nothing about babies. Dais was a baby once. Didn’t pick up much.”
“How is that not fair?” He puts the hanger on the top of the door, and it sways in the light wind.
“You know all about babies! You’re a baby doctor for God's sake.”
Bill turns back to grab Alec’s suit, doing the same. “I know nothing that a socialite would consider ‘important’. I guess…I guess people talk about the weather too? And…how they know the bride and groom?”
“Why do you sound so unsure about that?”
“I only watched it in a movie once.” Masters kneels back on the bed, crawling over to the left side where Hardy is laying.
“You and Libby were in the social circles of important people, how did you never go to a wedding during that time?”
Alec opens his arm in invitation for the man to settle himself against his skinny body.
“Well I did! I just never made small talk. It was always something with work. A grant, or a new discovery, a new study.”
Masters lays his head between Hardy’s armpit, facing the man as he lays a hand on his chest. Alec’s hand settles around his shoulder.
“We’re doomed.”
“We can just force Ellie to talk to us. She loves talking.”
“Mleh.” Hardy’s eyes have started to blink slowly again as he enjoys the warmth from Bill. He sets the coffee mug on his stomach as his hand holds it lightly. Bill traces the wrinkles of the worn t-shirt Alec wears, slightly too big on him, as Bill wears a slightly larger size. He has plenty of his own sleep shirts, but yet here he is.
They lie there long after the record has stopped spinning, as the sun continues to slant and the curtains slow their swaying from the wind relaxing. If you squint, you can see the rays of sunlight coming in from the windows, a nice golden colour.
If you squint, you’d see a doctor and a detective. A larger man sitting up and grabbing an empty coffee cup slipping from the detective’s hands. You’d see the doctor slide off the reading glasses of the other man, setting them on the side table. You’d see him settle back down after setting an alarm for 45 minutes and you’d watch him sigh as he shamelessly cuddled the detective, completely content.