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 2/5

[anonymous]

It hurt when Peter didn't offer to show him the photo. Two days had passed since his gleeful announcement - two days full of not-quite-subtle taunts from Alastair, awkward silences and spiteful looks - but the spring was still in Peter's step as he scurried around, singling out the one or two very trusted individuals with whom he could share the shiny fresh photograph.

"Aw," Alastair heard Tony sigh, when Peter showed him the picture. "He looks genuinely nice, Peter. Young, but smart. I'm so pleased for you."

"You'll say anything to keep me happy, Tony," Peter beamed, pocketing the photo and glancing warily at Alastair. "Thanks. Anyway, I think I've got a debate to be at, so I'll leave you to it..."

"Hey," snapped Alastair. "Don't I get a look at the precious little angel? I'm curious as to what bit of fluff could tempt you into a relationship. Pass it here."

Reluctantly, Peter handed over the photograph. Alastair ran his gaze over it and his heart sank at the sight of youthful, olive features and bare, toned arms. "He's pretty," Alastair remarked quietly, just managing a sneer and a glance at Tony to make sure he was already wandering off. "So, which website did you order him from, again?"

Peter snatched it back. He grabbed the sleeve of Alastair's jacket and twised it, aware of how silly he must look, teeth clenched in barely-suppressed anger as he glared at the larger man. "I'm trying to ignore this," he growled, voice barely level, "but if you don't cut it out this instant and accept the fact that Reinaldo and I are in normal, loving relationship, then so help me - !"

"What?" demanded Alastair. "So help you what? Are you and your little princess going to shower me with deadly pink sparkles? Don't I have a right to not care about this teenage manslut you've taken under your wing?"

"How could you?" The distress in Peter's eyes was obvious, and Alastair's heart was in his mouth as he realised his mistake. No-one had ever looked at him with that much reproach and desperation (no-one he hadn't intended to look like that, anyway). "How could you, Alastair?"

"I-I'm sorry -"

"All I wanted was for you to be happy for me," Peter spat, releasing his sleeve and backing away. "You were happy enough when I was alone, weren't you? Funny, but ever since I met someone who loves me, and got laid for the first time since we were in fucking opposition, you've had nothing to offer but spite and homophobia!"

Angrily, Alastair tried to stop Peter storming out. "Listen to me," he protested. "It's not how it seems, it's really not! I just... I can't understand why... that boy's not right for you!" he finished, shaking the other man in frustration.

Peter regarded Alastair coldly. "Then tell me," he muttered, "who is?"

After waiting almost a minute for an answer and receiving none, Peter swept from the office, clutching the photograph of the young man and slamming the door behind him. For once, Alastair didn't feel like distracting himself with compulsive scribbling or shouting. Instead, he sloped back to his own office and silently buried his head in his hands.

Yep. It stung badly. He seemed to be the only fucking creature on the planet that had worked out how to sting itself.