Act III
Guys, GUYS! We're on our third post!
Congrats on being such a lovely bunch of intelligent people. Being a mod is not as tough as elsewhere because you are all awesome and sensible and enjoy this for what it is meant to be: A FUN PLACE!
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a) If you are unsure about anything, look at the guidelines or feel free to write a message to lolitics_meme at ( Read more... )
Congrats on being such a lovely bunch of intelligent people. Being a mod is not as tough as elsewhere because you are all awesome and sensible and enjoy this for what it is meant to be: A FUN PLACE!
A few things:
a) If you are unsure about anything, look at the guidelines or feel free to write a message to lolitics_meme at ( Read more... )
"Would you care for a glass before you make the return journey?" Asked Bercow. George was thirsty, hot, and tired, and even Sally Bercow's curiosity couldn't make him decline the invitation. Anyways, John was there. For some reason, he clung to the reason like a shield."
Unfortunately, while Sally had remained unexpectedly silent, he had clearly overestimated John's friendliness.
After the second glass, blessedly cool if nothing else, George fell asleep. When he woke up. He was in a darkness. Defeated, he merely turned and swallowed the whimper that nearly came out of his throat.
-=-=
A thousand things can happen in an hour, or just one very important thing.
Nick sat in the cabinet listening to the thousand things and thinking about the one very important thing that would herald everything to come.
As if presenting a present, David had shown him a cabinet full of friendly faces.
This parliament was looking forward to a holiday. And for the first time in three and half years, it would have summer recess. And Nick Clegg's arrival had just rang the bell, metaphorically speaking.
Feeling faintly duplicitous, with blossoming bruises on the skin of hips and on his collarbone, Nick Clegg reacquainted himself with the cogs of the surviving government knowing that the inevitable reshuffle would see most of them gone.
David was sitting across from him, unflappable and cool, but George's absence felt conspicuous on his right. Instead, though his place card remained, pushed almost to the center of the table, his seat was occupied by Cable, who had shaken his hand and looked at him up and down in a frighteningly paternal manner. They had entered separately, but when Cable narrowed his eyes at David, Nick couldn't shake the faint suspicion that Cable knew everything that went on with them but was so far deeming it too unimportant to take much action.
He wondered if Cable knew Osborne was back. He had been reckless with David, but that seemed to matter less. A well-pressed suit could conceal a myriad of sins. People saw what they wanted to see. The red marks on their skins could fade, an indiscreet photograph could be blamed on doctoring, but the secret return of the chancellor of the exchequer, last known to consort with unsound economic policies and one of the disappearing lords, could go very badly if ill-handled.
"If Britain is still following the policies of the chancellor-" The minister was very new. Nick strained his neck to look at her, matching the place-card to her duties.
A sudden hush fell across the table. Nick looked across at David and just had a terrible thought. Someone knew
They found John Bercow waiting outside the office, strolling the hallway with his hand in his pocket in his casual suit. David practically physically shoved both Nick and him in at the same time.
"We saw George Osborne," Bercow said without ceremony, his face in that perpetual half expression between a smirk and genuine delight.
"By we-"
"Sally and I were having a delightful picnic when Mr. Osborne appeared on your bicycle, looking lost and irritable like the proverbial Porlock. We invited him for a drink. He passed out."
"Where is he now?"
"We thought it better to leave him there," Bercow said thoughtfully.
"You thought it better to leave him there," David's sounded tense. While other people's voice might go high, his went low. By the last word, he was almost inaudible. Bercow, to his credit, looked unintimidated.
"It's a balmy night and we gave him a blanket, a note, and a torch. I thought it best not to alarm anyone. Doubtless you all have your reasons." Nick couldn't help but note that John said "I". Clearly, his wife had something different in mind. He wouldn't be surprised if George's sleeping face was on her twitterpage, "I would be most interested to hear them on Wednesday."
"Good night, gentlemen."
-=-=
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The Clameron. And the hints that this isn't new, that they'd been together before, and oh, oh, oh, be still my heart.
George being kidnapped AGAIN. omg, you are evil.
And the Bercows!
omg I honestly can never wait for more of this fic and cannot wait to re-read it when you've finished and just sigh in happiness.
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I think I'm going to clean this up a bit after it's done and repost somewhere...But "done" seems a bit far away at the moment 0_o
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And ooooh far away? XD THAT MEANS EVEN MOAR FOR ME TO READ AND LOVE. You are bloody brilliant, author-anon. ♥
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