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... )
Any pairing, multiple fills, you know how it is
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:D
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Chris looks up from his report, mouth already quirking into a smile. “I never work in my office. I just use it as a base for my secret plans to overthrow the government and become Prime Minister in a blaze of glory.”
Bercow grins, open and wide. If Chris didn’t see that grin eighteen times a day, he’d think he’d just told the funniest joke Bercow had ever heard. “To be quite honest, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if you did.”
Chris grins back at him. Phone hacking can wait. For a moment. “What can I do for you, Mr. Speaker?”
“I was wondering…” Bercow begins, then trails off. His mouth is slightly open, his brows drawn down, his eyes focused somewhere south of Chris’s chin.
Reflexively, Chris looks down. Ah. He laughs. “I stole this from my researcher Rhys. He doesn’t work on Saturdays, and I just wanted something comfortable.”
Bercow seems fascinated by the gaudy red of the shirt, the brash white lettering spelling out “Never Kissed a Tory” across Chris’s chest.
“Sorry,” Chris says, getting up and sketching a mock bow. “I wouldn’t have worn it if I’d known I’d be offending present company.”
Bercow jerks his eyes away from the shirt. “As Speaker, I am of course impartial, and cannot be offended in such a manner.” His mouth slips into a half smile again. “But I admit to being slightly confused.”
Chris arches an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“I seem to recall that you were once a member of the Conservative Party yourself,” Bercow says.
Chris smirks. “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”
“So says the vicar,” Bercow observes. His eyes are glinting. “But surely a former member of the Conservative Party can hardly wear that shirt?”
Chris shrugs. “It’s just a shirt.”
“An inflammatory shirt,” Bercow says, and is it Chris’s imagination or is he a little closer?
Chris watches him. “And what would you say if I said it was the truth? Or the truth since I left the Party, in any event.”
Bercow hesitates, and the tip of this tongue darts out to his lips. Chris lets Bercow catch him looking, just to see what will happen. It’s a Saturday, and he’s in a mellow mood, and feeling reckless.
“Is it?” Bercow asks. His voice has gone softer.
The office, never large, feels too small. Chris swallows, feels the muscles in his face jump.
“Why?” he says finally - and lets his smile sharpen, just a little.
Bercow opens his mouth, shuts it again. After a moment, an answering smile flickers onto his face, equally sharp. “Because,” he says, “everyone should be kissed by a Tory.”
He steps forward, lifts a hand to Chris’s face, and pulls him down into a kiss.
It’s chaste at first, just a simple press of lips to lips, but Chris doesn’t play by those rules. He slides a hand around the back of Bercow’s neck. Bercow gasps, a tiny sound in the space between them, as Chris deepens the kiss; but it must be in surprise not dismay, for his hands tug Chris closer, and he kisses back sure and steady.
After a minute, Chris pulls back. It’s a Saturday. Chris has work to do, Bercow presumably came down here to tell him something, and both of them have spouses. Neither of them should be even thinking about something like this, with the lives they lead.
Bercow’s eyes are shut, his lips swollen, his face flushed. There’s a faint smile on his face, a dimple in his cheek. His hands are warm and sure on Chris’s back.
Chris kisses him again, just because he can.
“You’re not even a Tory,” he murmurs a few minutes later, as John kisses his jaw. “Mr. Impartial Speaker.”
John laughs, and the sound, warm and throaty and amused, goes straight to Chris’s head. “Are you going to quibble at that at this particular moment, Mr. Bryant?”
“Chris,” Chris says, and pulls away enough to strip the damned shirt off over his head, throwing it into a corner without looking. “Call me Chris.”
John slides a hand into his hair, skates another hand across Chris’s back.
Chris hears a growl - can it be his? - and finds himself catching John around the waist.
“Chris,” John says against his mouth, laughing and breathless, sunny and warm.
Chris smiles, sharp and wicked, and kisses the name out of John’s mouth.
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Bercow grins, open and wide. If Chris didn’t see that grin eighteen times a day, he’d think he’d just told the funniest joke Bercow had ever heard.
Eeeee! Bercow's smile! It's true, he does smile like he's heard the best joke in the world eighteen times a day. <333
Chris smirks. “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”
Lol Chris. They can bond over how they deserted the Tories because they were the nasty party. Bercow just forgot to cross the floor in the process.
“Because,” he says, “everyone should be kissed by a Tory.”
Why do I feel he got this quote from Sally? XD
And what a hot kiss, too. And one I suspect will lead to other hot things.
And I enjoyed Chris's reckless "This is dumb... but it's Saturday and I want to so let's do it anyway" thought process. This seems a very Chris thought process- a half second of Earth logic and then diving into the pool full of sharks because he thinks he sees something shiny on the bottom and he can swim faster than a shark, probably, or at least kick them in the face when they try to eat him.
Chris smiles, sharp and wicked, and kisses the name out of John’s mouth.
Ngggh.
In conclusion, Brycow. :D There should be more.
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a half second of Earth logic and then diving into the pool full of sharks because he thinks he sees something shiny on the bottom and he can swim faster than a shark, probably, or at least kick them in the face when they try to eat him.
I THINK YOU HAVE JUST WRITTEN THE INTRODUCTION TO A CHRIS BRYANT BIOGRAPHY. *giggles forever*
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I just use it as a base for my secret plans to overthrow the government and become Prime Minister in a blaze of glory
I KNEW IT
“Because,” he says, “everyone should be kissed by a Tory.”
Excellent thinking there
“You’re not even a Tory,” he murmurs a few minutes later, as John kisses his jaw. “Mr. Impartial Speaker.”
/ded from d'awwwing and squeeing
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I'm so glad you enjoyed it, anon. <33
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