aka Lolitics is my 6th sense
Welcome to our glorious sixth post.
That's right: 6! But let's move on to not bore you with interesting facts ;)
All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
Otherwise it will get very chaotic.
Places of interest:
1) Unfilled prompts can be found on ( Read more... )
That's right: 6! But let's move on to not bore you with interesting facts ;)
All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
Otherwise it will get very chaotic.
Places of interest:
1) Unfilled prompts can be found on ( Read more... )
“Of what?” David softened his voice ever so slightly - it was only because he was used to David that he noticed it. David’s expressions didn’t used to be so easily told by Crispin, but he’d gained plenty of practice.
“W-what if -” William hung his head, shadows letting his face fall into relief. Crispin abandoned all homicidal thoughts at the urgent look David gave him.
“I’m going to - going to - going to find James.” He stammered over the words, stood up and left the room, making sure to close the door firmly behind him.
---
By the time Crispin had coaxed James out of the bedroom he was hiding in (that involved telling James that maybe he could try and help Crispin find a date. No he wasn’t going to get involved with a Labourite, and definitely not Ben Bradshaw, no matter how much it would “teach him a lesson”), William had gone.
“I’m in the sitting room!” David called out; clearly hearing them coming down the stairs. When they walked in, he’d opened the bottle of wine that had featured heavily in Crispin’s homicidal daydream. “That man,” David announced dramatically, looking up at them. “Has a lot of issues.”
“All sorted?” Crispin asked lightly, looking at the glass of wine in the smaller man’s hand.
“Not a chance. I think I eventually told him he needed to see a therapist.”
“Quite.” The youngest man’s voice was tight as he rescued the bottle of wine. “He’s not coming back, I take it?”
“He’s gone.” It wasn’t quite an answer, but clearly good enough for James. The lobbyist rummaged in the cupboard for two more glasses and poured Crispin a generous helping. “If anyone else in the House comes out, then they can go and see Chris Bryant, ok? I’m not an expert on these issues, and I have little desire to -”
“More wine?” James interrupted.
“Please.” David held out the glass. He looked tinier than normal, curled up on the sofa.
One bottle led to another. They weren’t drunk, it was just taking the edge off. James was channel hopping idly. He made a contented sound and leant back against the couch. David and Crispin exchanged wary looks as the familiar jingle of Strictly Come Dancing filled the room. They then studiously avoided each other’s eyes. “Don’t complain.”
“You didn’t want me to have William Hague in the house, but you’re quite happy to see Anne Widdecombe… dance?” David seemed hesitant to use the verb. The last time his children had come around, they’d insisted on watching Strictly - so Crispin could see why.
“Entertaining. Revenge.” James shrugged, finishing off his glass and reaching for the bottle again. “Gay men make the best dancers.”
“Do we?” Crispin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think my ex-wife would agree.” The Yeovil MP chuckled from the couch. “I took dancing lessons for the wedding. Didn’t work.” He let his head fall backwards against the top of the chair. “I’ve never even danced with a man.” He added as an afterthought.
“Want to?” James offered. His partner rolled his eyes. “Shut up Laws.” James dragged Crispin to his feet, the ex-army man feeling uncertain. “I’m going to lead. So follow me.” Crispin did as he was told, tripping over James’ feet. The younger man was laughing.
“I did warn you.” Crispin pointed out, stepping back and releasing James’ hand.
“And I thought David was a bad dancer.” The dark haired man grinned at him. The seated made a noise of discontent. “Come up and prove otherwise then.” His partner challenged as Crispin sat down again.
David was clearly less than sober; otherwise he wouldn’t have got up, and his eyes were bright. He stood up and put down his glass, looping his arms around James’ neck. The younger man pressed their foreheads together with a grin.
---
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