8 - upwards to infinity

[lolitics_meme]

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

Comments

Fill - Love, Or Fear Of The Cold 2a/3

[anonymous]

Lol, self-insert much. Apologies!

They had been queuing for fifteen minutes by the time it became clear the match would be cancelled after all. Gazing round at the thick, pure snow, Nick realised he didn't mind at all.

"Where shall we go instead?" he wondered lightly, wrapping Alastair's unresisting hand in his. "I don't know about you, but I'm pretty hungry. There's a Starbucks round the corner..."

So they retreated to the warm safety of a crowded coffee shop. Alastair was so used to visiting these places on his own; it made an unexpected though not altogether unpleasant change when Nick offered to go up and order for them both. Sitting down together at last with their toasties and coffees, the two men eyed each other across the table - Nick warm and encouraging, Alastair wary and exhausted. The latter absent-mindedly started screwing up a napkin, muttering, "Thanks for this, Nick."

"No," Nick corrected, "thank you, Alastair."

"But the - the date." He had to spit out the word like it was poison. "The snow. The trains won't be running."

Nick looked up from his coffee, incredulous. "Why are you worrying? Are you responsible for the weather now?" There was amusement in his eyes as he shook his head. "Really, Al, there's nothing you did that made things go wrong. Stop feeling so pressured all the time and you might be able to have a litte f-"

Suddenly Nick was cut off by a young woman, barging out of the ordering queue to catch his attention. "You," she spat, knocking the table with a hip. "Why don't you fuck off and die, you lying jerk?" Nick sighed and averted his eyes as if this were a daily occurence. The woman went on bitterly, "I'd never voted your way before last year and, by god, I never will again. I hope you're happy now you've got what you really want!"

She was turning away to return to the queue when Alastair reached up to tap her on the shoulder. "Excuse me," he said flatly, and she glanced back, eyes widening in surprise. "What would that be, exactly?"

"Huh. Hello." The woman glanced from Alastair to Nick and back again, some of the venom in her voice fading as her eyes narrowed. "You ask me, he's only been after a government spot from the start. None of you lot are in it for the sake of the country. It's about the power, I'm telling you."

"Oh?" Alastair grimaced. "Please don't group me with the politicians. And you don't have the right to talk to anyone like that for simply doing his job the best he can. Now," and he gave the stranger a withering look up and down, "would you like to get out of our day, please? We're trying to have coffee."

Flustered, the woman backed off. "Fine. And tell Miliband to get his act together, would you?"

Rolling his eyes, Alastair shrugged, "I'll see what I can do." Turning back to Nick, he added, "The public, hmm? Wish they could shut the fuck up for five minutes..."

Although he had been silent throughout the interaction, Nick raised his head and muttered, ashamed, "You shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?" Alastair hadn't been expecting this. "She was abusive to you. I think I was pretty damn polite, given the circumstances."

Nick stared into the table, trying to avoid the curious eyes now fixed on them from all sides. "Do you do that normally?" he managed. "You stand up to people who... call you things?"

"What things?" demanded Alastair slyly. He sat back and grinned, still relaxed about the whole event. "Of course. As if you'd let them get away with it unless they're much bigger than you and, frankly, I don't meet many people much bigger than me. Why?" He paused, studied the look of shame and humiliation on Nick's face. "What's the matter?"

Nick could feel his own sticky hands twist together under the table and wished the ground would swallow him up. "I hate it," he confessed. "It's - I try to take it graciously but... that woman was one of the nicest I can remember. Every day, there's more people. People who were lifetime Liberals, or saw me on TV before the election. They all hate me now," he shrugged, apparently resigned to this fate.