Work Text:
Detective Inspector Alec Hardy was standing in one of the vegetable aisles in Asda, when the answer struck him, and it surprised him how obvious it was.
The reason, it turned out, was him.
He frowned at a butternut squash, picked it up and put it in his cart. How had he not realised before? The answers were always there, they always came eventually but sometimes it took a frustratingly long time for his brain to unscramble the clues it was given. This particular case had had him scratching his head since the late summer.
Just a few weeks after the Winterman case, they had had another case they had needed to put some overtime into. Having decided they both needed to spend more time with their families, or at least in the same house as their respective children, they had begun working at each other's homes in the evenings. Sometimes the older kids would join them at whichever house they were at, sometimes they would make their own arrangements, but everyone seemed to agree that at least if Hardy and Miller were going to work constantly, having them do it at home was an all around benefit.
Everyone except David Barrett, Ellie’s father, who had chewed them out about leaving ‘gory images’ strewn around - ‘As if it was his house or something, not Ellie’s,’ Hardy thought, grabbing a net of red onions to add to his growing collection. They had had a really long day and late night and finally fallen asleep together on the sofa. David’s main complaint had been the pictures left out where one of the children could have seen them, but he also managed to squeeze in a comment about Ellie not being a fit mother, one about Hardy being an overbearing boss and a snide remark about how unseemly it was that they had been ‘snuggled up together’.
Hardy and Ellie had both let the comments slide until he had made one about Joe and how she had ‘latched onto’ Hardy through the trial. That was when Hardy had pointedly asked where David’s own support of his daughter had been during that time and immediately regretted it. It wasn’t his place to get involved. They had worked at Hardy’s for a while until Ellie realised she needed to be home more and their work arrangements would need to change.
When Ellie had revealed to Hardy that she had not only set up a comfortable work area in her bedroom for them, but also redecorated in shades of deep blue, Hardy had suspected something was up. Ellie was a person of sunshine and warmth, who liked bright colours and hot days. The polar opposite of him, with his broody, wintry blues and chilly disposition. It made no sense to him at all that she would choose blue, a notoriously cold colour, for her bedroom.
Throughout July and August he had pondered on and off about why this might be. Now, in early September, wrapped up in a new navy blue overcoat that hid his sombre blue-grey suit, he realised that blue was his colour. She had deliberately chosen blue for her most personal space and now it became so obvious to him why, that he rolled his eyes at a bag of Maris Pipers as he dropped them into the cart.
Turning over some stewing veg and selecting a few to put into a bag, Hardy thought about their new routine. Instead of staying at the office until ridiculous times of night, they both clocked out around 6pm most days, unless a call out or interview required them to be on site. Paper work, going over case details and the general brain work of being detectives often took place on a comfortable sofa in Ellie’s room, or at Hardy’s kitchen table. More and more often, as they became comfortable with each other as close friends as well as colleagues, it ended in them waking up in the early morning, either for Ellie to drive home to her boys, or for Hardy to receive a cup of tea from Tom if they had fallen asleep on Ellie’s bed.
Ellie had, Hardy realised, made him comfortable in her most private, personal space. No mean feat, given Hardy barely felt comfortable in his own personal space most of the time. He could kick himself for not realising it sooner. The one time he had been in her room previously, putting a feverish Fred to bed while his mum rounded up hot water bottles and medicines, he had thought the room felt too stark, with barely any colour at all. A blank canvas waiting expectantly for it’s new character.
He knew Ellie and Tom had redecorated when they had moved back in, but the clinical white walls, bedding and lack of soft furnishings had made the whole room feel more like hospital quarters than a place of rest. ‘I’ve seen morgues with more personality,’ he thought wryly as a bag of wonky carrots became his next victim. It had seemed entirely incongruous to the Ellie he knew and loved, given how colourful everything about her usually was. Especially her language when taking him to task about some social gaff he’d managed to blunder his way into.
‘Loved?’ he wondered, as the thought caught him off guard. ‘Did he love Ellie?’ He supposed he did, in his own way. He’d grudgingly admitted that she was the reason he’d chosen Broadchurch for his and Daisy’s new start. She was the best detective he’d ever worked with, effortlessly complimenting his impatient, overly-analytical mind with her compassion and problem solving. She had become his best friend in the short time they had worked together, and even after an absence of two years had slotted back into his life like a lost jigsaw piece. They simply fit together. They complimented and challenged each other. They perfectly balanced each other out and supported each other through difficult times. They were unconditionally available to each other in whatever way was needed, whether it was a co-conspirator or a helping hand, a gentle touch or a harsh dose of reality. ‘Was that love?’ He supposed it was.
‘Did that mean they were headed for… other things?’ Hardy tried to navigate his thoughts around the topic of there being an intimate relationship between them. They had both, unsuccessfully, dated other people but always, inevitably, gravitated back to their comfortable bubble. But that, he was fairly certain, was all it was.
‘Did he want to have a sexual relationship with Miller?’ His wandering mind ambushed him with the question as he rounded the end of the produce aisle and headed towards the bakery. Was that where all this was headed? He skidded to a halt in front of some fresh loaves as the question reverberated in his mind. He couldn’t find an answer immediately, from which he inferred that that wasn’t his interest in Ellie. If he wanted more from her, wouldn’t he find her sexy in some way? Not that he ever really thought of anything or anyone in those terms, but as far as he understood, that was how it was supposed to work. She was very attractive of course, and when they would wake up curled around each other in the wee hours of the morning, he’d noted how comfortably his body fit around hers, how soundly he had slept, even fully clothed and surrounded by case files.
‘Could he even imagine kissing her, as a lover would?’ He frowned deeply at the thought. Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to be going down that particular route, given he wasn’t sure he’d have an answer to it any time soon.
”No,” he said out loud, scowling at a shelf of cheese baps, then quickly schooling his expression when an old lady gave him a scathing look from behind a bag of donuts. There, decision made. He did not want a sexual relationship with Miller. Just the intimacy that a platonic, loving friendship born of complete trust in each other brought to them both.
‘At least for now,’ his mind added and he immediately swatted the thought away, leaving it orphaned amidst the cakes and fresh cream delicacies, as he skirted the edge of the store and made his way to the teabags.
‘But,’ he thought, adding an extra bag of the tea Miller liked and a variety of herbals for himself and Daisy - given the weather was chillier now - ‘he should probably reciprocate her offering in some way.’ He wasn’t a great friend, social cues were still pretty much a mystery to him, but he had learned that simply mirroring Ellie’s actions seemed to placate her and prevent her from labelling him an ‘inconsiderate knob’. She bought lunch, he would supply the coffee. She picked him up for a shout, he would surprise her with a bacon sandwich stop on the way back, and so on. It wasn’t about keeping a tally, so much as letting the other person know that they thought of each other.
“That’s called pebbling, dad,” Daisy had instructed him one afternoon when he’d quizzed her about why people did that. “When you care about someone, you do little things for them, and they do things for you. Not out of a sense of obligation or anything, but just because it’s a nice thing to do.” Hardy had stopped to pick up a KitKat on his way to work the following day, and secretly delighted in the wide grin that lit up Ellie’s face when she saw it on her desk next to her mug of stewed tea. He was glad that at least Daisy hadn’t inherited his lack of social intelligence.
The question was, what could he do to show Ellie that her actions were not only understood and appreciated, but reciprocated. That, in his own shy and gruff way, he was willing to welcome her into his space too.
————
Daisy was painting at the dining table, when he returned, and she immediately looked up, giving him her usual small smile. He returned it with an identical smile of his own and carried the groceries through to the kitchen. He filled the kettle and set out two mugs before embarking on putting away the groceries.
“What do you fancy for dinner, Dais?” he called out, looking at the spoils in the fridge and hoping she didn’t want anything too complicated. He closed the door and picked up the fresh mugs of tea.
”How about Jacket Potatoes? I can do them if you like. I have to let this dry for a while anyway,” she added, as she accepted the steaming mug from her father and took a tiny sip.
Hardy sat down opposite her, placing his own drink on the table. “You sure? I don’t mind cooking.”
The girl shrugged. “Nothing else planned. You could sit and read for a while if you wanted.”
Hardy nodded. “Alright, if you’re okay with that.” He craned his neck to one side to try to make out what she was working on. Whatever it was, it was colourful and really interesting, with lots of layers of paint and different marks to analyse. “What’s this?” he asked, indicating the large sheet of paper, which Daisy immediately picked up and held in front of her, revealing two cats curled up on a window seat in the sun.
”School project for a still life module.”
”Isn’t still life supposed to be fruit and such?” Hardy liked to sketch occasionally but had never really taken much interest in other people’s artwork until his daughter did, and only knew the basics.
Daisy rolled her eyes. “It’s a pun dad? They’re still, like objects, but they’re alive. See?”
Hardy saw. “Very clever,” he conceded, impressed as much with his daughter’s considerable artistic skills as with her command of language. Like him, Daisy wasn’t really what they called an ‘all rounder’ at school. But in the subjects she was good at, she excelled. Now, at the beginning of her second year of ‘A Levels’, she had decided on English and French, and, with some encouragement from Hardy, Art. She hadn’t wanted to do anything involving maths or science and was worried she would be bored in subjects like History or Geography. Hardy had been the one to suggest a more enjoyable subject like Art, so she could devote more study time to her languages and she had agreed that that seemed like a good idea.
An idea struck him. “What goes with blue?” He asked abruptly, knowing the answer even as he studied Daisy’s painting. One ginger and one tabby cat, curled up in a shaft of sunshine on a blue sofa, the edges of which turned navy as they stretched out away from the light.
”Orange.” Daisy confirmed his thoughts. “Why?”
”Ehm… I was thinking maybe we could redecorate some. Get the place cosied up a bit for winter maybe. And it wouldn’t hurt for you to have room for your painting and homework either.”
Daisy frowned. “But you and Ellie need space to work too. I don’t mind you working all the time nearly as much if you’re doing it at home.”
”Well, you remember I told you Ellie set up a place for us to work in her room, so we could avoid the boys seeing any case files? I was thinking maybe I could do something like that too. That way,” he continued hurriedly before Daisy could derail his train of thought with a list of questions. “You can use this table, and if you have friends over you’ve plenty of room to spread out and watch TV or whatever, without having me breathing down your necks.”
Daisy stared at him impassively for a moment. She wasn’t going to let on that she suspected there might be more to it than that. She and Tom Miller weren’t exactly close, but their parents were both work partners and best friends, so she had plenty of opportunity to talk to him. She was well aware that the nights her father didn’t come home because he was working at Ellie's, they often ended up sleeping on Ellie’s bed together. She had used to resent him working all the time, but she had come to understand and even be proud of the fact that he worked so hard to keep them all safe. And if working late meant he kept Ellie in his life, which Daisy had quickly worked out was good for him in many ways, so much the better.
“I think that’s a great idea, dad,” she said, graciously following his lead. “Your room is plenty big enough for a work area. And maybe we could put some floor cushions or bean bags down here for when I’ve got friends round?”
Hardy picked up his tea and nodded. “Aye, okay that sounds good.”
Daisy picked up her own tea and eyed him cheekily over the top of her mug as she took a mouthful. “I’ll even help you shop if you like.” Then she huffed out a laugh every bit like her father’s as she watched his entire body relax from its previously agitated demeanour.
”Would you? You don’t mind?”
“Of course not. I can’t leave you helplessly wandering up and down the store not knowing what to get, can I?”
Hardy raised an eyebrow, amused at her cheek. “Right, well, when we’re knee deep in home furnishings at DFS, I’ll remind you that it was your idea.”
”I’m sure you will.”
————
“Don’t worry dad, she’ll love it,” said Daisy, reaching up to kiss his cheek and pulling on her coat.
”Oh.” He looked surprised. “You’re going out?”
Daisy sighed in exasperation. “I knew you weren’t listening to me earlier. I’m going to the cinema with Chloe to see that new horror movie that’s out. She’s driving, we’re stopping for food on the way back. I’ll be home by eleven.”
Hardy swallowed and nodded, a bit disappointed that his daughter wouldn’t be around to buffer the situation. Daisy caught his look and gave him an encouraging smile.
“I’ve very helpfully left out a shit ton of painted pieces that need to air dry because I varnished them earlier,” she said. “Kitchen table, coffee table, nook desk and even part of the landing are already taken.”
”Oh, is that right?”
”Yep. You two will just have to work upstairs,” Daisy threw back over her shoulder as she slid the patio door closed.
Hardy took in a deep breath, looking around the room. Daisy had indeed covered every available surface in a variety of paper, canvas and a couple of clay figures, all accompanied by neon pink sticky notes that all had ‘DRYING. DO NOT MOVE’ in his daughter's rounded capitals, written on them. He was trying to figure out how to explain this in any kind of believable way when he heard female voices outside and went to open the patio door.
”Oh well, have a lovely time both of you,” Ellie was saying to Chloe and Daisy. Chloe turned as Hardy slid the door open and leaned out, giving him a half wave.
“Hi Hardy,” she said amiably and he gave a polite nod of acknowledgement.
“Dad, can Chloe stay over tonight?”
He immediately nodded. “Of course she can. You know you don’t need to ask permission to have people over anymore, especially if it’s just you two, or Tom.”
Ellie turned to him and grinned. “Be grateful she asks. Can’t tell you how many times I've come home to find half the football team sprawled across my living room.” She handed him the tote bag of files she had brought up from her car as she went indoors.
”See ya girls,” Hardy said as he pulled the door closed behind Ellie, who had stopped in the lounge, part way through taking her coat off, eyeing the debris of a teen girl’s art portfolio.
“I take it we’re working upstairs then?” she asked and, without waiting for an answer, made her way into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Hardy hovered a moment, then decided to just let things play out. “Yeah, my room,” he said. “I’ll take these on up and set up the laptop.” Ellie made a vague noise of affirmation and he took the stairs two at a time, trying not to feel nervous. It was silly to be worried, he knew that. He just hoped Ellie would understand that he had made this effort for her and why. But he did wonder if it might be a bit too much.
Daisy had told him not to be silly when he had voiced this thought to her, pointing out that he had simply done the same as Ellie had, creating a cosy working space for them to relax in and continue a tried and tested routine they already used at the Miller house.
He busied himself with pulling out the files and organising them onto the coffee table, and had just finished when Ellie walked in with their drinks. She gave a very slight, surprised raise of her eyebrows when she saw the burnt orange coloured sofa and white coffee table, very similar to the set up in her own room. On the wall above the sofa was a framed painting of two cats on a blue sofa, sleeping in the sunshine. One lean and brown, one smaller with marmalade fur, curled up together nose to tail, so tightly it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began. The signature - ‘D Hardy’ - brought a soft smile to Ellie’s lips.
She placed the tea on the table, took a seat against one of the plush throw cushions in a tasteful navy jumbo cord, and immediately reached for a blue and rust coloured Afghan covered in gold stars. Kicking off her shoes and tucking her legs under her, she pulled half of the blanket across her lap, bunched the rest up in the middle of the sofa for when Hardy inevitably realised he was also cold, and picked up the nearest casefile.
Hardy let himself relax and took his place beside her, picking up his drink simply to avoid having to say anything.
“This is nice,” Ellie said simply, after a few moments. She didn’t look up but continued reading the paper in front of her.
”Yeah?” Hardy’s voice barely registered but she must have heard because she bumped her shoulder against his and smiled as he picked up a file and settled back into the sofa.
She glanced across at him, then carried on reading her file.
”Yeah.”