‘I remember coming up here when we were at Cambridge,’ Arthur says conversationally as Poirot inspects the path. The bushes and hedges and drooping tree limbs. ‘His family threw some amazing parties, back in the day. We’d take our sweethearts out here for a bit of…you know. Well, he would. I was sweet on his sister, swell girl, but she wasn’t that interested.’
‘Mon pauvre Hastings,’ Poirot replies without sounding much sorry for him at all.
JAPP: Well, let you taste some proper English cooking. That’s your mashed potato, this is your peas - mushy peas, we call them. You’ll love ‘em. And this, the pièce de résistance - faggots.
POIROT: Faggot?
JAPP: Faggots. And there’s spotted dick for afters.
POIROT: Dick?
JAPP: Yes. It’s called that because …
POIROT: But this is tragic, Chief Inspector!
JAPP: No, no, it’s fine.
POIROT: I can eat none of this wonderful food!
JAPP: What? Why?
POIROT: Because… I have an allergy of the faggot.
JAPP: An allergy?
POIROT: Oui. I do not know how you say it in English, but in Belgian it is known as la phobie de faggot.
JAPP: I never heard of that.
POIROT: I am so sorry. I should have warned you.
JAPP: This is a blessed upset, I must say. Still, you can have some spotted dick. You haven’t got a phobie de dick, have you?
POIROT: Non.
Boy howdie he doesn’t have any problem with dick. As captain hastings is well aware
Look, more recs! I know it’s a tiny fandom but I think I’ve found it on Tumblr and have been happily reblogging Captain Hastings’ darling “head empty, only Poirot” gazes. These are all David Suchet’s Poirot. Also, I refuse to recognize Hastings’ marriage/ranch/etc because I thought it was clumsy and unconvincing and therefore never happened.
(I unironically love Hastings. He’s sweet and a bit dim, but he’s not actually stupid, just a few steps behind Poirot like everyone else. Okay, maybe more than a few steps. The thing about the series is that Hastings is 40 at the absolute youngest (Hugh Fraser was in his mid 40s) and Poirot only slightly older. So both of them are a product of their time. As before - period-typical and internal homophobia ahoy. )
Anyway! On to Poirot/Hastings Fic Recs Part II. I have been in fandom for 30 years and have never made rec posts before, but I can’t FIND any, so apparently I have to do this myself if I’m going to get recs.
The Mystery of the Runaway Heir, by Kate_Wisdom, involves a young man who disappears on the eve of his engagement to a lovely girl. Hastings doesn’t know why someone would run away from that. Poirot does know. Eventually, Hastings realizes why some chaps just don’t settle down with a wife, and that he’s going to be one of those men.
We Can Have It All, by tofugumball, is a Poirot gently leading Hastings to the conclusion that Poirot already knows. Neither of them is going anywhere, and they’re happy as they are. Not exactly romantic but you get the sense that the discovery of those feelings is not too far away.
A Less Than Steady Hand, by nowstfucallicles, is another "Hastings figures it out” fic. I can never get enough of them, they’re like catnip. Hastings knows that Poirot is hiding something from him. He finds out what it is, and after some thought, decides this isn’t a bad idea. Another soft one! I love the soft ones.
Couldn’t Utter My Love, by TheGoodDoctor, is an established relationship fic where they’re in the middle of a case that’s gone wrong and Poirot is doubting himself, and realizes he can’t give Hastings something that Hastings might want and frets over it. It is SOFT, though there’s maybe a tiny bit of angst that lasts a few seconds only because Poirot catastrophizes. Delightful writing, including “I was given charge of all the young Hastings children every summer and I dare say it gave me something of a reputation……Ever since, people hardly seem able to stop giving me their offspring.” Marvelous to see Hastings through Poirot’s eyes.
Still Life With Flowers, by Rebecca, is a post-Veiled Lady fic that starts when Japp bails Poirot out of jail. Japp thinks he knows what’s going on. He’s wrong. Isn’t he? Suddenly, Poirot isn’t so sure. And then Hastings isn’t so sure. Then they’re both sure.
The Case at Bois-Sur-Le-Lac, by indiegal85, is 90% casefic and 10% Hastings going "oh, I say” about his feelings for Poirot. Over 14,000 words and a lot of fun to read.
Count The Strokes, by tea_for_lupin, is one of the only explicit fics in this fandom that ring true for me. Hastings knows what he wants, and Poirot gives it to him.
