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... )
The wedding is a small affair and Ed's father looks like he's about to have a fit, and Michael's parents are confused but happy. Michael feels miserable. Ed is quite the lovely girl but she will never ever let him join the Conservative party.
"You'll take my name, won't you?" Michael asks gently and Ed just scowls.
"No, and the baby won't be called Byron or some such shite, either, I can tell you that much," she tells him and has more of the wedding cake.
"Yes, dear," Michael agrees and watches her eat and later in the evening, sing karaoke.
"I can't even drink in this state!" she says miserably and he holds her then.
Later in their wedding night, he splays his fingers over her tummy and then moves to kiss it. Her hands find his hair and the touch is soft, gentle, so unlike her prickly persona.
"While you're down there," she sighs and Michael figures it's the least he can do, and smiles as he nudges her thighs apart.
**
Ed lags behind on studies because of the baby taking up so much of their time, and she hates Michael for studying English and literature, wasting his time on something that is less than guaranteed to land him a nice job. Michael visits a couple of speaking engagements organised by the Conservative representatives on campus, and also some of the Labour, which Ed attends as well on the nights they can recruit a babysitter.
Little Byron grows up so fast it's remarkable, and when Ed graduates with a degree in Economics, he's five and ready for school.
"How did you and daddy meet, mum?" he asks her once, as Michael pours over the book reviews in the weekend edition of The Telegraph (which Ed hates, and thinks they should just get the Mirror and FT, no more, no less).
"We met at a party," she tells him and nudges Michael to do his son's shoelaces back up.
Michael does.
"Like a birthday party?" Byron asks.
"No, better," Ed smiles. "The Labour party."
**
Michael gets a job in the Times and Ed gets a job for FT and Michael needles her a bit about becoming a journalist and how badly her writing flows, her vocabulary limited to the economics things he doesn't really understand. But he loves her, really, because she's still beautiful and prickly and doesn't remind him of a mistake but rather of home and Byron and how she's made sure he's not crap in bed anymore.
Eventually Michael becomes his own man and gathers up the courage to join what Byron has by now been taught is the Wrong Party by his mother, and this would be confusing to a 7 year old, only it isn't.
"He takes after me," Ed says sweetly and Michael snorts.
"I'd say we're both rather brilliant, dear," he tells her.
"Same old Tories," she says with an eye-roll.
"I love you, too," he replies.
**
He wants to work for the Conservative party, like Ed has begun working for Labour's financial team, but he's rejected for not being conservative enough. Ed finds this more than amusing.
"Stop laughing," Michael says pathetically, but she won't, until she does, pushing him to sit down on the sofa.
"Byron's on a play date," she says, and takes off her shirt.
"Oh," Michael says as she straddles him, and he wonders why he's never on top when they have sex, and she presses herself against him, licking a stripe over his collar bone as he leans back, gasping with surprise, his hands unsure what to do, settling on her hips.
"Tories are absolute shite in the sack," Ed whispers and Michael swears the lisp is beautiful, sexy, all the amazing things Ed herself is. "You've got 20 minutes to prove that statement wrong."
He would've left the party and re-joined Labour, had she asked that moment, but she didn't, and for that reason Michael knows he will never ever leave her.
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Michael is well-liked at his job but Ed is really going places, becoming Gordon Brown's right-hand woman, and Byron grows up and goes to university, and comes back in three years with a degree in molecular biology and an announcement.
"Mum, dad," he says with a blond, gangly-looking boy next to him who's been around for tea many times but whose name Michael always forgets. "I'm bisexual. And this is Stephen, who I'm moving to Bristol with."
Michael doesn't drop his teaspoon in the sugar. Ed clears her throat.
"Well," she says. "That's quite lovely. You know, Labour have got their own LGBT organisation."
"So do the Conservatives!" Michael pipes up.
Ed glares at him. "Well, if he wants to join a party that are hypocrites regarding gay rights."
"For fuck's sake," Byron says. "I'm not joining any party."
"I'm actually a member of the Liberal Democrats," Stephen says.
Michael gives Ed a look. Neither of them laugh out loud, at least not until their son and his boyfriend have left the house.
"It is awfully sweet, though," Ed says happily.
"We've raised him well," Michael agrees.
"Well, I've raised him well," Ed replies. "While you read poetry."
"I studied poetry," Michael says calmly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Vast difference."
Ed leans back against his touch. "I love you so much, you know."
"I know," Michael says.
"I even hope your stupid party realises how clever you are," Ed says, her hand reaching up to sink into Michael's hair. "Even though you'd all still be horribly wrong, of course."
"Of course," Michael agrees. "Why can't you be more like me? I for one like the current Labour prime minister."
Ed makes a face. "Don't remind me. I was being all nice and now you made me think of him out of all people."
"I do apologise," Michael says, pulling her closer when she begins to move away. "What were you saying about my stupid party?"
"That they'd be smart to take you," Ed says. "I mean that. Just don't remind me that I meant that."
Michael just kisses her in reply.
Authornon is just a sucker for any Goveballs, hatesexy or fluffy and utterly AU and I don't even know. Hope you enjoy, OP.
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I think I love you
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BYRON!
"How can you not be into football," Ed asks, and she's really crying now,
"Well, I've raised him well," Ed replies. "While you read poetry."
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This is a mental fic and I love it.
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how did you know
<333333
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Also probably the only one. But even if there were more it would be the best.
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