19 - More potassium than DMil's banana
*waves to everyone who is still around*
It's great to still see people prompting and writing :) We may have lost a few people on the way but we also had some new intake. Thanks for keeping this place alive!
Let's hope that conference season and the next election will help to pick up the pace a bit.
The ususal stuff:
1) All fills for prompts of ( Read more... )
It's great to still see people prompting and writing :) We may have lost a few people on the way but we also had some new intake. Thanks for keeping this place alive!
Let's hope that conference season and the next election will help to pick up the pace a bit.
The ususal stuff:
1) All fills for prompts of ( Read more... )
Anti-nuclear, anti-America, anti-EEC, anti-City. Anti, anti, anti, anti. It had been a tough fight, a real hair-pulling, eye-scratching brawl, but Labour was finally casting off its old bandages, revelling in its new pink skin, comfortable, courageous, ready. At last.
It had been a long road.
"A long road?"
A voice in his ear. Gordon would have jumped if he hadn't come to expect it by now.
"Don't read over my shoulder," he said, shielding his notes from view with a large, inky hand. They were crumpled notes, messy, dotted all over with arrows and question marks and an almost-illegible scrawl, but Gordon liked them. (Apart from this one small paragraph that he had been going over for the last hour and trying to improve, which meant that on balance he didn't like them at all.)
"I just had to," said Tony, leaning back again, "Looks like you're making some progress."
"This sentence is wrong. It should go at the start, but then the whole argument gets twisted."
Gordon didn't glance over at his - his something. He wasn't sure. Whatever Tony was to him - friend, partner (no, sounds suspicious), comrade (no, that's even worse), he didn't like to mull over the issue, though it was always present in the back of his mind, like so many other topics. Maybe he was just a Tony.
Yes, thought Gordon. Just Tony. That works. He might have smiled if he'd had any sleep that night.
It was 4 o'clock in the morning and Gordon had a speech to deliver to conference in a few hours time. It was a slippery-cold night, and raindrops beat heavy and hard on to the roof above their heads, a fat wet sound that rattled the hotel windows behind their shutters and made the floor thrum imperceptibly beneath his feet. Of course, Tony was there with him, helping him along, too hyperactive to go to bed, like an encouraging meerkat. He had to admire the man: he was devoted, perhaps more so than himself, although that was unlikely.
He was talking about something now, so Gordon decided to listen.
"We can't simply fight this never-ending battle of ideas, you know, that's not the way forward. We have to concede - gracefully - where the Conservatives have got things right. I mean, nobody wants to vote for a party that's so pointlessly combative all the time. There's got to be another way."
"The policy review was a good start," said Gordon, underlining a word with such force the paper nearly tore in two, "but getting people to listen is another matter."
"Well, that's where Peter comes in. And Neil's really been making the most of the whole resignation thing - you're putting that in your speech, aren't you? Not to bang on about it, but..."
"Yes," said Gordon. The word he had underlined was 'Lawson', after all. Tony didn't need to tell him twice. In a way, he thought, it was endearing, that concern (it must be concern), even if he wasn't a man particularly used to being endeared by anything.
"That's great. I actually wouldn't be surprised if someone challenged her soon, with the way things are going."
"They wouldn't win."
"I know. But all the same -"
Gordon rose from his seat and stretched, although it was more of a restrained shuffle than anything else. He turned to Tony, really looking at him this time - analytically. He hadn't been doing so before. Not out of malice, no, but Tony would understand: he had to focus.
Tony smiled blankly, gazing up at him. Expectant. Ever the loyal lieutenant.
He stuffed his notes back into his pocket. If he was completely honest, he didn't think he'd ever met someone in politics who understood him better than Tony.
"I have to sleep. I'm done for tonight."
"Oh, thank God for that!" A short burst of laughter, like a skipping record. "Though at this rate, you'll only get one hour."
"That's enough," said Gordon, smoothing back his dark hair with an air of finality, "Thanks, Tony."
Tony seemed inordinately satisfied with those words, so Gordon turned to leave.
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Then, at that, he stopped. Too suddenly, in fact. His legs were weighing him down, stuck in a pit of treacle. He didn't resist.
"I dunno if you've heard, Gordon, about the rumours of the reshuffle soon - they say you're going to be promoted."
"People say a lot of things."
"I know, and I hope they've been talking about me, too - but, well, what if you do get promoted? It's just - I hope we can still talk the same way we do now. Staying up 'till four, working side by side. It's been quite a ride."
"A long road?" offered Gordon. He chuckled. It was funny to him, anyway.
"That's right. So...let's make the best of it."
Tony stepped forward, reaching out towards the other man. His thumb moved to brush the side of his jaw, the round of his chin, the swell of his bottom lip. His mouth suggested itself against the shell of his ear, breath warm and sweet as mint.
Gordon's voice was low, his head downturned.
"I have to sleep."
Tony pulled away. There was no visible change in his demeanor.
"That's okay. Get some rest. You'll need it."
"I think you're underestimating me."
"I wouldn't! But good luck for tomorrow."
"Yeah, you too."
Gordon left.
As he trudged down the corridor and back to his own room, he took one look back at the door. It was still open. He squinted back at it as he turned the corner, the figure of his friend/partner/comrade (no) still somewhat visible.
Tony was turned away, looking out the window.
Finally silent.
When the lock to his own room clicked shut, Gordon smiled. He couldn't help it. Whatever Tony was to him, whatever it was they did together, that man was more dependable than he seemed. Underneath that enthusiasm was a heart devoted to change and reform as much as he himself was. He understood now. He realised why he felt the way he did.
He knew he could always rely on his friend.
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