Cloud no. 9
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 prompt, and commenting on that with your fill.)
3) Try not to get too srs business. ( Read more... )
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He’s trying his best.
He’s trying with everything that he’s got to mend the broken remains of his ambitions. He’s dedicated hours, months, and years of his enthusiasm for this moment. He’s given up his life to be Leader of the Opposition. Yet they don’t want his effort - they don’t want him. Douglas hadn’t even had confidence in him.
They’re all looking at him, expectantly, as he rises to confront the Prime Minister. They’re all behind him now - quite literally - but Ed’s not really sure if that’s with a blade or with encouragement. He wants to prove them wrong; he needs to show that he’s more than his brother ever could be.
… And he’s slaughtered. The venom spreads too quickly and suddenly he’s stranded among unflattering newspaper headlines, whispers of his brother’s supposed resurrection to front-line politics and unsupportive cabinet members. He can’t fix it. He’ll never fix it. The years will drag as he digs the holes deeper underground until he becomes a national joke. Everything will close in on him and the water will rise and rise until he can’t breathe and then-
“Ed? Ed? You’re crying.”
He’s disturbed by a firm, short shake of his arm. Nothing exists for a moment when Ed blinks open his moist eyes and the haze of sleep gradually ascends. He’s not sure where he is, and then when he does realise his location the emotions flood back. He’s stinging with the aftershock of his dream, and, out of instinct, shuffles over to the warmth of the other body and clings to the male beside him. His stomach gnaws away at itself in anxiety and he visibly trembles in the elder of the two’s arms. His nails dig into their back and his breath comes in short, shaky gasps.
“Ed? What’s wrong?”
“I- I couldn’t breathe,” he mumbles, stricken. “They wouldn’t let me breathe, Douglas. The water, they put it there, they hated me.”
Douglas doesn’t know how he should react because it’s Ed. It’s his boss - his best friend for years. The only reason they had come to sharing a bed was due to the faults of the hotel.
But he can’t bare Ed’s face twisted with hurt and confusion like that - looking up at him and pleading silently for attention and guidance like a lost child. He can’t allow Ed to feel pain.
“Who did?” He asks in a whisper, stroking Ed’s back softly.
“You did. Everyone did. I kept trying to fix it but nobody cared - they let me sink.”
He hates that it does, but this hurts Douglas. In fact, it aches. He embraces Ed tighter, as if it were some sort of guarantee that he would never dare let him sink. Ed sniffs and returns the hold, so that the two are crushed together, hopelessly searching for the resolve to the fact that they’ve both never uttered aloud.
“They all wanted David. No-one believed I could do it. They let me die,” Ed murmurs, still sore, from the crook of Douglas’ neck.
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“You won, Ed. Your brother lost. The Labour Party voted, democratically, and the result was that they wanted you as leader. We believe in you,” Douglas explained. "I believe in you… and trust me; we’re not going to let you die.”
“Thank you,” Ed smiles, his voice discreet and tame. “Really?”
Douglas lets out a delicate laugh and nods, gently stroking Ed’s hair.
Ed’s nails relax on Douglas’ back as his anxiety gradually lifts. But the position stays like that for some time, with the younger pressed close against Douglas as he runs his fingers through his hair.
Ed doesn’t need it anymore but he equally doesn’t want it to stop. He likes listening to the soft thud of Douglas’ heart, of his deep, slow breaths and the warmth emitting from his body.
“… Douglas?”
“Yes?”
“How long can I stay here?”
Douglas stops stroking his colleague’s hair and looks down at him curiously.
He’s met with a terrified look from Ed, as he murmurs an apology and tries to shuffle to the other side of the bed.
“Please, no,” Douglas pleads as he tries to grab Ed, only realising how pathetic he sounded when the words had escaped. “I- I-”
Ed looks at Douglas expectantly, but Douglas has no words to portray what he means.
“… What do you mean by stay?” Douglas finally manages to say. “Okay, look, if you don’t feel the same way, then you can pull away. Just… stay still.”
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He groans quietly and Douglas swears it is the most beautiful fucking thing he has heard.
It’s frantic now because it’s years’ worth of emotion that is protesting its need to leave as soon as possible. It’s everything they’ve never spoke about for years - it’s the nightmare of the denial rising and rising until you can’t breathe.
Because Ed’s too scared of drowning now and Douglas can’t let him sink. He can’t deny reality when it’s kissing down his neck and he’s pleading and writhing for more. He can’t drown when his face is flushed, back arched and moaning because of the very thing he denied. Douglas makes it so that Ed can’t deny by the desperate scratches on the inside of his thighs and the hickeys on his neck.
When it’s over, Douglas pulls him close. Ed’s eyes are half-lidded with lethargy and the only motion he manages before sleep is to nuzzle closer to Douglas.
“You can stay here forever," Douglas whispers to his sleeping partner.
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Hope that was okay, I know it's a bit short ;)
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