8 - upwards to infinity
Welcome to our eighth prompt post.
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1) 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.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real ( Read more... )
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1) 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.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real ( Read more... )
1.
It wasn't so much that Gordon Brown made friends with Tony Blair but that Tony made Gordon his friend, absorbed him into the sphere of his own existence. Gordon went in, cautious but far from reluctant, and soon found himself more valued by Tony than by friends he'd had for years and years; Harriet, Peter, Alistair.
He learned some things about Tony, that Tony would say one thing and do the other, that Tony loved debating but hated it when he couldn't change people's minds, that Tony loved success but only when it was his own. He learned that he grew frustrated with Tony - his attitude and his smug demeanour, and Tony grew annoyed with him - his stubborn silences and his refusal to admit Tony being right, even when he was, and so they would fight, and then make up without ever uttering a single apology.
"You have to admit," Harriet said to him once, between drags from her cigarette, "it's dysfunctional."
"It's nothing," Gordon replied, adding, "all friends fight sometimes."
"Not like you and Tony fight," she told him, gazing pensively off into the distance. "Not as intensively, not as often."
"Well, we are best friends," Gordon said as if it explained anything.
Harriet didn't like Tony, which was strange, because most people liked Tony - liked Tony at least until they got to really know Tony, which he tried to make sure never happened. Tony let Gordon closer than most, perhaps because Gordon hadn't really desired such privileges, to see Tony's flaws and weaknesses laid out bare. Similarly, he soon noticed that Tony got closer than he was comfortable with, Tony there to look into his own raw nerves, poke them to see what would happen.
So perhaps it wasn't quite normal, but it was how they worked, how they always had.
"It's almost like there's a layer there I'm not seeing," Harriet added.
"Let's not talk about Tony any more," Gordon pleaded, growing steadily uncomfortable.
He spent too much time in his own head as it was, thinking about how bad he was with other people. They forced him into conversations about trivial things that he failed to draw up opinions on, and this seemed to make other people uncomfortable in his company. He could engage on economics or politics, but discussions rarely lingered on those subjects, and so he was forced to stay quiet.
For all the problems he had with Tony, at least Tony had taken him for what he was, untroubled by his social limitations or awkwardness. If anything, Tony had seemed fascinated by it, drawn in and engrossed in everything Gordon had to say, and then engaging with him in a way that people rarely did; passionate and honest. Tony still had a way of making him feel as if he truly was brilliant, like Tony's reactions, whether admiration or annoyance, validated it. In return, Gordon validated Tony, even without meaning to, as with every argument they both walked away feeling more secure in their own viewpoint, so that neither of them was ever wrong, and neither of them was ever right, and they went around this, each time returning more confident than the previous occasion.
So perhaps they were a little dysfunctional.
Harriet smiled, throwing away the cigarette stub. "You're right. Let's not talk about Tony."
But all he ever thought about was Tony.
2.
"You two are like lovers, your universes revolving around each other," Peter said once, and Tony laughed, and Alastair told Peter to fuck off already, and Gordon said nothing.
Tony wasn't gay, he knew that much, so he and Gordon couldn't be like lovers, even if the intensity level of feeling was comparable. Gordon frustrated him because Gordon rarely agreed with him, and when he did, it wasn't due to Tony's influence on him but rather vice versa. They had been friends long enough for Gordon to know what Tony wanted out of him, but Gordon refused to give, even as Tony gave him all he could, in friendship and in enmity. Tony just gave and gave and gave and Gordon would treat him as if he did all the taking.
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3.
"I've got a problem," Tony said as they sat in Gordon's stamp-sized student flat, him on the desk, Gordon on his own bed.
Gordon smiled over the pages of his book. "You've got several. I think Harriet composed a list once."
Tony frowned. "Fuck off. It's only because of your badmouthing that she hates me."
"You dug your own grave during your first meeting with her," Gordon said with a shrug. "Would've done well not to tell that nun joke."
"Listen," Tony said, ignoring the remark. "I need to tell you something."
Gordon looked at him, keen on listening, but under his gaze he saw Tony grow visibly uncomfortable, and so he looked away.
"Are you going to tell me any time today, Tony?" he asked, turning a page on his book.
"I'm ...I'm concentrating."
Gordon hmm'ed in agreement and waited, but a small silence passed, as did another.
"That nun joke was hilarious," Tony said. "Harriet just hasn't got a sense of humour."
Another silence.
"That party next week, I don't think I'll be bringing that girl along," Tony finally managed. "She's ..not my type."
"Right," Gordon said.
"So that means her friend isn't coming along, either."
Gordon merely nodded.
"Well, glad to see you care," Tony said, sounding annoyed.
"I wasn't sure I'd be going, anyway," Gordon said honestly.
"You are going," Tony said.
"I might not."
"But you are."
"I've got an essay to write."
"No, you haven't."
"But I might."
The bed dipped as Tony sat down next to him on it.
"Why do you always do that?" For once Tony merely sounded tired, not annoyed.
"Sorry," Gordon replied. "It's just .. you could've asked."
"You to the party? Christ, it's not as if we're dating," Tony said with a laugh.
"I never said that." He was blushing at the implication, Tony sitting so close they were almost touching.
Tony's hand slid to hold his own, but Gordon's escaped it.
"It's just a joke," Tony insisted, still too close, the atmosphere growing steadily stranger. "You always--"
"I always what?"
Tony's eyes were studying his face, he could see from the corner of his eye, but for once Tony seemed content on not fighting his point.
"I'm hungry," Tony said. "Have you got anything to eat?"
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Gordon was drunk, he could see. Drunk enough to stop him having that perpetually nervous edge he always had, but not drunk enough to actually engage with people like a normal person would. Gordon was intimidated by people he didn't know, and he intimidated others even more, by saying things that came off as slightly inconsiderate, or just plain too brainy for casual conversation.
In some sort of sick sense Tony loved it, because then Gordon focused on him, letting him navigate them both through the social spaces and out of them. Now it was just two of them, at the back garden of whoever was hosting the party, a friend of a friend, behind a tool shed where people were smoking up.
"I don't like coming to these things," Gordon mused in a frustrated voice, "I'm not good at them."
"You're fine," Tony insisted, and took one too many steps, his feet landing close to Gordon's. "Don't worry about it."
Gordon took a step back, leaning against the fence as he dropped his gaze to the grass they were standing on. "I suppose."
Tony observed the shift in Gordon's features as he once again stepped closer. "What's wrong?"
"You're acting weird," Gordon said, looking confused as Tony was close enough for their breaths to mingle, Gordon trapped between him and the fence.
"Why would you say that?" Tony asked, and his heartbeat quickened because he wasn't sure if he was ready to do this, ready to really, actually do this, Gordon's eyes looking at him cautiously, blush on his cheeks growing.
"Because you are," Gordon said and Tony knew he was so close, if he could get away with this he could get away with anything.
"Really?" he asked, his hands finding Gordon's arms, his gaze dipping to Gordon's lips and blood began leaving his head, rushing south.
"Yes," Gordon said, quietly, and Tony kissed him, frantic enough to bump noses but not caring enough to stop, pulling Gordon closer and holding him still, and when the moment was right, deepening the kiss. Over-eager, he licked his way past Gordon's lips, his hand tilting their heads just right, but the moment he did, Gordon pulled away.
"Are you gay?" he asked, breathless and looking more than a little shocked, but Tony still had a hand on his hip, holding them close. It took Tony a couple of seconds to recover enough to respond.
"As gay as I am prime minister," he said, which to his great surprise made Gordon chuckle.
"So just in your fantasies, then?" Gordon said but Tony barely listened, as in one big go it dawned on him that Gordon hadn't said no, hadn't punched him, hadn't as much as tried to push him away.
In a surge of victory, he pulled Gordon closer, in for another kiss, and then switched tactics, pushing them both against the fence instead, even as it let out a slight creaking noise. Their bodies made contact, warm and increasing in heat with each moment, and Tony only pulled away when he realised he couldn't take any more without it getting out of control.
"We should probably get back inside," Tony said casually, as if nothing had happened.
Gordon nodded.
As they were heading back in, Gordon smoothing his hair with his fingers, Tony had to ask. "Do you think I'd become a good prime minister?"
"I don't know," Gordon said. "Would you be Labour?"
"Of course I'd be Labour," Tony replied. "Don't be daft."
"Yes, Mr Prime Minister," Gordon answered with a smile.
5.
Gordon didn't know what happened after one snogged their best friend, but he wasn't surprised when Tony didn't hold his hand as they walked home in relative silence. It felt as if everything was the same, only slightly askew. He didn't know what to do in these situations, and he usually expected somebody who knew better to guide him through it; Tony, Peter, Harriet.
When he said bye to Tony and began walking up the stairs to his flat, and Tony followed him, he was confused.
"I thought I told you I'd stay over at yours tonight," Tony said, hands in his jacket pockets, not looking at Gordon in the eye.
"You never told me," Gordon replied.
"Well I am. Can't go home drunk, can I?"
"You aren't that drunk."
"You don't know how my parents get."
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"Do you not want me to stay, is that it?"
"You can stay, it's fine."
Gordon's response was only met with sulking silence. Gordon sighed. He didn't want Tony to get like this, not during the night when everything was confusing enough as it was.
"Where else are you going to go at this hour," Gordon said. "Stay."
"Let's go inside, then," Tony said. "It's getting cold here."
When inside, Tony shrugged off his jacket and took Gordon's hands in his own to warm them. Gordon looked at their hands together, befuddled by the gesture.
"Do you want something to drink?" he asked, and Tony kissed him again, cold hands pulling him closer and slipping against the back of his neck, the small of his back, kissing with more enthusiasm and determination than at the party, kissing until they were both breathless and Tony's fingers were no longer cold, working fast to unbutton Gordon's shirt.
"Please," Tony spoke with his mouth against Gordon's neck, his careful fingers finding new skin and Gordon's own hand sunk into his hair, rubbing against scalp, unsure what he was supposed to do.
"Are you sure this is a good idea," Gordon asked, Tony's mouth hot against his skin, sending a tingling sensation all over.
"I'm pretty sure this is the best idea out of them all," Tony replied, and lifted his head to look at Gordon in the eye, his hand taking Gordon's once again, leading them to the bed.
Gordon worried his bottom lip between his teeth, and Tony observed him as they sat down onto the bed. Gordon felt strange and with his shirt buttons opened, too exposed somehow, and Tony's hands moved to caress his cheek.
"Do you trust me?" Tony asked, his fingertips running down over throat, settling over collar bone. "If you don't want me to, I won't--"
"I do," Gordon said, unsure what else to say, what else to do, he'd done this so many times but not with a boy, not with anybody as close to him as Tony was. "I do want to."
Tony grinned and leaned in to kiss him.
6.
Gordon was perfect under his touch because Gordon under his touch did not argue with him and took to suggestion well, and made all these little noises, low and deep, that only pushed Tony to do more. His mouth mapped Gordon's skin and even as parts of his brain wanted things quicker, he consciously slowed himself down, to take it all in. Gordon was flushed all over, too self-conscious of his state of undress, and because Tony couldn't bring himself to say the things that perhaps needed to be said (I want you I love you you're so beautiful like this), he tried to say them with actions, prove everything by touch.
Half-way through, Tony trying to distance their bodies as the friction between them got to be almost too much, his mouth licking and biting the spot just below Gordon's ear, he suddenly felt Gordon's big hand around himself, grasping and tugging, no rhythm at first and then too fast. Tony tried to move against the touch, make some sort of an effort but it only rushed him faster over the edge, crying out against Gordon's shoulder as he came, sticky fluid landing on both of them.
"Sorry," he said, dazed, and it's then he understood that he wouldn't always be the one leading, taking charge.
Attempting to gain a hold of the situation, he moved his own hand to touch Gordon, hear those little noises grow louder as he did, and surprise when his mouth replaced his hand. Tony had no real knowledge of how this bit worked, just theoretical understanding having been on the receiving end, but he didn't even care, because this was actually happening, and if they could always be like this, learning and not arguing, on the same page and in sync, they'd be perfect.
Or not so perfect, as he choked a little and Gordon apologised, and Tony assured him it was fine, and arranged them to sleep next to one another on Gordon's tiny bed.
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Tony kissed him gently, still only half-dressed. "We don't have to tell anybody."
"You want to keep," Gordon began but trailed off, visibly uncertain how he ought to phrase the happenings of last night.
"First evening we didn't end with an argument," Tony said, trying to keep his voice casual even as he worried Gordon would say no, would reject him now that they'd come so far already. "Must be doing something right, no?"
"Even if we kept it a secret," Gordon said pensively, "Peter would find out."
Tony reached for Gordon carefully, moving closer so they were holding each other.
"Peter's not a fucking wizard, he wouldn't find out," he said.
"Peter always finds things out," Gordon said, but allowed Tony the closeness, Gordon's own hands moving to hesitantly settle on Tony's hips.
"Sod Peter," Tony said.
"Yes," Gordon agreed and leaned in slowly, his eyes flicking back and forth between Tony's mouth and Tony's eyes, as if they'd never done this before, and then finally, their mouths meeting in a kiss.
7.
They still fought afterwards, they fought often and about stupid, irrelevant things and about big and important things, and Tony would have his ego bruised by a comment or Gordon would get frustrated with the irrationality of the disagreement and raise his voice. They fought and jealousy tinged some arguments now, as if Gordon's universe didn't still centre around Tony and vice versa, as if they didn't still mean a world to each other, as if they weren't still everything to one another in a way that was almost strange, almost a little cruel.
But they also grew comfortable with one another, tenderness overwhelming each touch, and stupidly passionate with each other still, even as years had gone on and Gordon had graduated and all of their friends knew, in an open secret that everybody but them regarded as childish.
It didn't magically become simple between them, as much as they might've hoped, but it did become easier somehow, more honest somehow, and less troubled, each argument still containing the undercurrent of care. It was more pronounced, and signalled that it couldn't simply end between them. They couldn't just walk away.
The feeling ran too deep.
-fin-
Author's notes: God how I struggled on how to end this. The thing is, could write these two forever but it's essentially be boring pointless plotless crap that goes around in circles. I'd hate to repeat myself consciously.
Oh and the title very pretentiously takes after the title of the original hug-a-hoodie!fic, from the Cure song "If only tonight we could sleep", one lyric begins "if only tonight" and ends "we could fall" blah blah: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/c/cure/if+only+tonight+we+could+sleep_10074035.html
Hope you enjoyed. :)
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oh my god this is a thing of great beauty
it's like everything TB/GB was always meant to be. I lovelovelove the emotions between them and he perhaps was in love with Gordon Brown and how Tony goes about breaching the topic with Gordon. And the way Tony is soooo confident in his straightness while Gordon is more hesitant is totally my fanon for them.
Also, HOTNESS. As the anon who posted the loliticssecret about hot!young!Gbro, there were nommy mental images goin' on here. Also, you should definitely write these two forever, yes pls.
Ugh I could go on and on and on about how much I adore this fic but I'll give it a rest now. IN CONCLUSION: I LOVE YOU AUTHORANON.
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