13 - It's your lucky day
13 YEARS POSTS!
What an achievement, my honourable friends! Hopefully we'll still go strong after this ;)
The usual things:
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 ( Read more... )
What an achievement, my honourable friends! Hopefully we'll still go strong after this ;)
The usual things:
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 ( Read more... )
At the words, muttered with some venom, Chris recoiled slightly considered asking Paddy to take David to the station and no further - but David was gazing into a middle distance, thoughts, Chris presumed, on a young public affairs consultant. The words hadn't been aimed at him - at anybody, but the world itself. That frustration in David - understandable irritation - was rarely seen beyond inefficient walk routes and piles of erroneous numbers compiled by George Osborne.
Paddy popped his head around the door. "Hop in," he instructed. "I haven't got all day-"
"Paddy you don't-" David's good manners exceeded practicality on this occasion.
"I've a meeting with Helen at four so you'd better get your skates on," Paddy prompted.
"But-"
Understanding David's confusion without the need for words, Paddy explained, "As supposed to be a phone call, but much better in person. Now, are you coming?" Paddy didn't want for a response, merely gave Chris a vague wave. "Have a nice weekend," and a moment later, David had been chivvied into the car and it was roaring down the road.
000
"Travel sweet?" Paddy offered, determinedly chirpy despite the half hour of fairly oppressive silence. "I've eaten all the orange ones, but there are other flavours left over. The tin's in the glove box."
"I'm fine, thank you," David demurred.
"It would appear, however, if we are hare-tearing it back to The Smog that something is not fine. I don't mean to pry-" Paddy paused, hands fiddling a little over the cream leather of the steering wheel. "But is your young fellow quite well?"
At once, anger flared in David's stomach. Chris had no right, no right at all to gossip about a man he'd never met. "What did Chris say?"
Paddy hastened to soothe. "Nothing improper. Just that you needed to get to St. Thomas' Hospital, London urgently - and that it probably involved my former speechwriter." For a long minute, there was silence, a silence which indicated that David didn't quite appreciate Paddy's hint that he ought to speak. "I don't want detail, but I would appreciate an estimation of wellbeing on a scale of severity from sniffles to potentially fatal."
The last word hit David in the chest like a punch, and his fingers tightened on the door handle. "I don't know, Paddy. I'm not a doctor. I imagine that there will, however, be doctors at the hospital who can lay it out for you."
Paddy refused to reply, merely raised an eyebrow. The silence allowed embarrassment to swell over David and eventually, almost inaudibly, he muttered, "Sorry."
"It's fine," Paddy said, moving to overtake another car. "And if we get there, and your lad's fine, and I get a speeding ticket - there will be a bill being sent to your house."
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O god, I need to know if he's okay, right now.
Do I even need to tell you that I love this fic and am hanging onto my screen and keyboard pressing F5 for more?
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And this is why Paddy wins the entire universe &hearts'
Also David needs therapy. And a hug.
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I also adore how you've written David - so confused and conflicted.
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