15 minutes of fame
There will be no freeze until after the conferences are over, should you want a freeze at all.
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 the fill is about in a first ( Read more... )
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 the fill is about in a first ( Read more... )
There are so many secrets.
You pretend you can hide things. You try so hard to do so. Don't tell a soul, avoid the leaks, keep people sweet with bribes and bills.
He'd tried excellently fitted clothes and matte make up and strategic camera angles. It had worked so well. And it had all come down to this.
Sam's eyebrows shot through the strands of her fringe. Her fingers trembled on the bone china of the saucer she held.
"David? Did you just wet yourself?"
David's hand found the damp patch staining his trousers, attempting not to whimper. His breath shuddered. "I- Yes. I -" He swallowed, letting oxygen re-enter his bloodstream, flood his cells, and regain his sensibilities. "I'm, I'm so sorry, Sam. It's the full-bladder thing. You know what I'm like. Wednesdays-"
"It's a Friday, David." Sam's voice was slow, measured, as she replied, but dripping with disbelief. Her husband was in his forties. Not his nineties. Not his noughties - was that a word? They used it as a phrase now, she was - "David."
"I have to go." A moment later, and David had disappeared down the hallway. Sam heard the flat door slam shut. Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, and headed to the kitchen to fetch a tea towel.
-
"You're racing through those," a short gingery ex-Chief Secretary to the Treasury commented, dropping down into the seat opposite Nick's desk.
"High rate pension cuts to pay for the rise in the income tax threshold. Joyous," Nick waved the papers vaguely at the man on the other side. "Have you come to gloat, or to decipher Danny's handwriting?"
A smirk lit David's face. "Want me to tell you what it all means?"
Nick's mature response was to throw a Liberty-bird-stamped stress ball at David's head. It bounced, and before David could feign outrage, or Nick laugh, the door opened and it collided with the shiny forehead of the British Prime Minister. "David!" The gasp Nick gave managed to be simultaneously of amusement and concern. When he noticed the tightness of the Prime Minister's expression, however, the latter emotion took precedent.
"Could I have the room please, Mr Laws?" Cameron requested.
"But of course, Prime Minister." Laws nodded sharply to his namesake, flashed a parting grin at Nick, and left the room with a "Be back in a bit with those extra notes for you Mr Clegg."
The moment the door closed, Nick was on his feet, hand at the small of Cameron's back. "What's the matter? You look -"
"My water just broke. In front of Sam." David gave a whimper, his hand pressing against the swell of his stomach. He jolted against Nick, without warning, pain running through him. Nick's hands tightened on him, drawing him close instinctively. A careful touch drew David towards the couch, where he all but collapsed. The hands that came across his face were not to do with pain, but with concern. Nick knew those lines.
His fingers traced the crumpled skin. "It's going to be OK. You knew we risked her discovering us. It's nothing we haven't prepared for."
David's voice cracked as he replied, "But not now. Not with the baby coming. Please."
"Too late for that I fear," Nick chuckled gently. "Come on now. You know we can do this."
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Will there be a Part 2 (or even more) soon?
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Part 2 please, like now?
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Loving this and really looking forward to more!
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*bounces up and down grinning*
Are you SURE it's only going to have 2 parts?? XD
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David did not feel like he could do it.
Not at all.
Nick's body was warm, and firm, and a comfort, through pain which rose and fell and crested again excessively swiftly.
He was having a baby.
Up until this point, he had had the ability to resist that reality - to some extent - for it was always in the future. It was some day ahead, but seven months became six, which became five, and in a life that moved so fast, the day was here, and now, and bloody hell. It hurt. It hurt now.
It appeared the universe wasn't satisfied with allowing him to be terrified of having a baby, it had to be the child of an affair. Sam had to have realised, by this point, that he had not “wet himself” in the traditional manner. He hadn't been able to spare a thought for the obvious differences in the shock he'd found himself.
It wasn't going to plan, nothing was working as he had intended, and it frankly was not fair. And all Nick was doing was stroking his back, as if that was going to make one jot of difference.
The Liberal Democrat's touch was suddenly claustrophobic, far, far too much.
“Get off me,” David snapped out. “Don't touch me. Just, stop it.” Immediately, guilt rose within him, bitter and acidic in his throat when combined with his whirling thoughts.
Nick sat back on his heels, released him, but he did not appear hurt. Instead, his lips held that infuriatingly understanding smile, sympathy but not quite pity. “You appear to be panicking a little, David. I can see it behind your eyes. And you don't generally panic.”
Attempting a defence, barriers rising at once, David replied, “I think I have a right on this occasion to be a little perturbed.” A hysterical giggle bubbled in his throat, but it quickly transformed into a half-choked sob.
“It's going to be alright.” Nick reached out for a moment, as if wishing to hold David again, before resisting, at the very last instant, and turning the movement into a semi-casual recline against the cracked leather of the sofa. “We've read the books. Sally is on her way. You don't know that Sam has found out.”
“She has, I know she has.” David whispered his complaint.
A stern frown took hold of Nick's forehead. “You can't think of that right now. This is about the baby, the baby and nothing but the baby.” He cocked his head to the side in confusion. “OK, you and the baby. But that goes without saying. You can't involve your wife in your thoughts. Suspicions won't get us anywhere.”
“What will get us somewhere?” David's tone and unhappiness implied that, in his opinion, there was absolutely nothing that would get them anywhere. He was stuck, in an office in Downing Street, crumpled to a floor with a body that was rapidly spasming at it prepared to push a child into the world, a body that was not prepared, with a wife who was -
Ever calm Nick interrupted, “Panicking again. Breath David.” He paused, clearly waiting for a response, and when David finally looked up, he placed a comforting hand upon his knee. “Getting us somewhere is me popping to your office to fetch you some fresh trousers and underwear, and you sending Sally a text to tell her to hurry up.”
David's resistence crumpled, and, with a slightly resentful quirk of a smile, he fished in his phone from his pocket. When he took it in hand, he found it lit, a text from Sam flashing on the screen.
Do we need to talk?
Wasn't that the question of the year?
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And I TOTALLY approve of the sudden appearance of the question mark! ;)
I smiled at Nick's "semi casual recline" when he changes his mind about touching David again! Poor David!!
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Please do keep writing this one anon...
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Please tell me you will finish! I need to see this finished!
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Have you given up on this story? I hope not because it is wonderful and I really hope for additional chapters to read!
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