Untitled (Michael Gove/Ed Miliband)
"You can’t keep coming here Michael.” A small knock at the door had awoke Ed Miliband from his gentle slumber, and upon finding Michael Gove once again at his front door, he saw no other option but to let him in. The man seemed tiny in the dim half-light cast by the lamp in the street. He wasn’t quite shivering yet, but his arms were wrapped tightly around his torso, barely sheltered from the cold in his thin white shirt. His tie was missing.
“I’m sorry. I had no where else to go.” It was the fifth time in a fortnight the Conservative had paid Ed a late night visit, alone on his doorstep, sometime between ten and midnight. Not a second before or after. Ed could almost work out the pattern, but not quite. Gove was always terribly consistent.
The younger man led the way through the doorway and into the living room. Documents and stacks of paper cluttered the coffee table, the tokens of being Labour leader laid bare for the other man to see. Ed rubbed his eyes, shaking away the sleep which still threatened to claim him if he let it. Late hours and early mornings had their effect after all. He gestured for the other man to sit on the sofa, thankfully clear of any files, and went into the small kitchen to make tea for Gove and coffee for himself.
“I’m sorry if I woke you.” Gove called clearly through the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about it.” Ed yawned, adding milk to the mugs of hot liquid and stirring. “You take sugar don’t you?” He carried the cups carefully through to the room. He had a history of spilling tea and was more than likely to repeat the mistake when tired. He made room on the coffee table by shifting the stacks of paperwork onto the nearby seat.
“I’m sorry if this is somewhat inconvenient for you Edward. It’s just that…you live the closest and…”
“Why do you let them do this to you?” Ed cut in. Sitting beside Gove and sipping his coffee. He didn’t need to say their names and the Education secretary knew better to deny anything. “I should have words with them…” The Labour leader continued.
“No…” Gove protested weakly.
“I have to Michael, it isn’t…it’s not…party policy.” Ed finished, blushing a little. “It may not be disrupting their jobs, but it is certainly disrupting mine. You can’t sleep in my house forever Michael. And they shouldn’t keep kicking you out.” The younger man took a large gulp of coffee, his cheeks burning.
An awkward silence filled the room as the two men sipped their drinks. Ed could feel the strong instant coffee beginning to take effect on his body as his eyes widened and the heavy feeling began to subside from his limbs. Gove eventually spoke, breaking the stalemate. “Perhaps you should focus on your own…situation…before judging mine.” He chose his words carefully, tiptoeing around the other man. He couldn’t afford to be kicked out of the house at this time of night, especially without a jacket.
Ed sighed, placing his coffee, if not a little heavily, down on the table in front of him. “I don’t begrudge you anything Michael. You know that.” The other man frowned a little at the sentence. It didn’t sound quite right to his ear, and he couldn’t think of the reason.
“Nonetheless.” Gove continued. “No one is getting hurt. I don’t see what is wrong with the deal.” Ed didn’t think the statement was entirely true, but he didn’t argue. He spent so much of his time arguing during the day. Both men finished the rest of their hot drinks in silence, Ed collected the empty mugs to wash up and Gove picked up a magazine from amongst the piles of paper, flicking through the glossy pages with a smile.
The Labour leader walked into the living room, having made sure the kitchen was spotless before leaving. He wasn’t a perfectionist, but he knew how Yvette would frown on her visits if there were dirty mugs scattered around the place. From experience, he knew not to get on the wrong side of Yvette. Gove grinned from behind the magazine. It was one of the celebrity gossip types, Balls had probably been reading it on his last visit.
“Ah…Ms Hilton…” Gove began as Ed sat back down.
“Who?”
“…I really don’t see why young women these days are so obsessed with being stick thin…I personally prefer a more voluptuous bed-mate. The poor girl looks half starved…”
Ed peered over the page to look at the photograph Gove was referring to.
“I prefer Scarlett Johansson.” Ed muttered vaguely.
“…And those tiny dogs they carry around in their handbags…Chihuahua’s…” The younger man grimaced as Gove explained his distaste for the combination of tiny dogs and shoulder bags but noted that the Conservative politician’s thoughts had appeared to have moved on from Ed Balls and Andy Burnham. That was a relief at least.
“Michael.” Ed cut in just as the conversation moved onto cosmetic surgery.
“Do you maybe think it’s time for bed? It‘s 1am…and tomorrow is a Wednesday.”
Gove placed the magazine on top of the coffee table, his face twisted. “I can’t sleep without a book.”
Ed sighed deeply, but reluctantly walked over to his bookshelf in the corner of the sitting room, grabbed a book at random and pressed it into Gove’s open arms. The older man inspected the cover carefully.
“As much as I admire your humour Edward, I really don’t appreciate the implications of you handing me this…”
“You know I never even noticed.” Ed glanced over at the book. Hard Times by Dickens. He smiled a little. “Not everything I say or do is an insult. I’m not Ed Balls.” He finished. Gove seemed to flinch slightly at the name and once again Ed decided not to pursue it. “You can sleep in my room. As usual.” He added, following the other man into the narrow dimly lit hallway but stopping at the stairs. “Goodnight.”
Ed didn’t wait for the other man to reach the top. He stormed back into the living room, flicking the light off with a satisfying click, before settling down on the sofa, still in the thin shirt and boxer shorts he had quickly wriggled into before answering the door. He burrowed his head deep into a cushion, trying to get comfortable and failing. He hadn’t bought the sofa with the intention of using it as a bed and he had turned the spare bedroom upstairs into an office when he moved in. Guests were something other people had.
***
Sleep had slowly begun to swallow Ed whole when there was a shuffle from the kitchen and the small crack of a kneecap hitting a cupboard.
“Ow…shit.”
The tiny voice woke Ed up completely. The politician snapped up from the sofa. “Michael?” Ed calls as the light snaps on, the brightness blinding him momentarily. The smaller man came out of the kitchen holding a mug of something steaming.
“What are you doing?” Ed sighed, more relaxed now he was once again fully awake, but with all hopes of sleeping again that night over.
“I couldn’t sleep and was thirsty. I made some Horlicks. Want some?” The other man extended his arm holding the cup sheepishly. The younger man nodded. “May as well.”
“Right.” The Conservative disappeared once again into the small kitchenette, this time without the minor accidents, and Ed stood up off the sofa, stretching out his limbs and giving out a loud yawn. He glanced at the chair in the corner of the room, covered in stacks of paper piled high and remembered what day it was.
As if reading his mind a call came from the other room. “Want me to help you with your notes?” Gove appeared in the doorway, now carrying two mugs of Horlicks.
“No, Douglas will be around later.” Ed muttered vaguely. “And anyway, you shouldn’t be helping me, I’m the enemy.” He smiled at the last word and Gove handed him his mug with a grin.
“Hardly an enemy Edward.” He sipped his own drink, his lips upturned slightly at the corners. “After all, you have helped me out a few times now. I’d just like to repay you somehow.”
“Do you help Andy and Ed with their notes?” Ed asked quickly. A mistake he knew as soon as the words had left his lips. Gove froze once again, but after a moment resumed his previous position, in true political style, the half-smile still playing on his thin lips.
“No. We don’t really talk that much.” He muttered, the sound muffled by the mug currently at his lips. “They only talk to each other.” Ed frowned. It couldn’t be that he felt sorry for the other man? He placed a reassuring hand on Gove’s shoulder.
“You know you can talk to me Michael.” Gove replayed the line in his head. Yes, Michael…Ed called him Michael. That was what felt different to him.
“I know.” Gove replied, his own hand moving down to rest on Ed’s bare knee. The Labour leader’s eyes grew wide as they followed the hand, lingering a moment, before meeting with Gove’s across the short space. The Conservative leaned in slowly, his lips pressing against Ed’s ear.
“Come to bed.” He muttered, his hand sliding north towards Ed’s boxers.
“It’s my bed.” Ed finally said after composing himself and realising that he could actually talk.
“In that case...come to your bed…with me.” Gove’s tongue reached out and licked at the top of Ed’s ear, making the younger man gasp as his hand finally reached the bulge in the politician’s boxers, cupping gently.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” The man gulped, hating himself as he questioned it. It was getting harder and harder for him to speak as Gove slipped his hand under the elastic and started stroking his length slowly, coaxing splutters and moans from Ed’s throat. “You…don’t…” Ed begun but all meaningful words and sounds were lost as the older man’s long fingers brushed along the underside of his cock, his whole body shuddering with the contact. He automatically laid back, giving Gove better access as he felt his boxers being pulled down, over his pale thin legs. The cold air hit his cock, making it twitch beneath Gove’s hands.
“Hold still.” Gove murmured as his tongue connected with the tip of Ed’s penis, making the younger man cry out, his hips buckling forward. “Still…” The Tory repeated, moving down to slick the length of his cock with his tongue, his mouth hot and moist around the other man. His hands pushed gently at Ed’s hips, keeping him still beneath him as he took the cock into his mouth, slow at first but soon gaining speed as the other man squirmed underneath, his hands moving to grasp at Gove’s hair.
“Don‘t stop.” Ed gasped as Gove moved one hand from his hip to cup his testicles, stroking along the skin as his mouth licked and sucked at Ed who was now beginning to near his climax. Gove moved his fingers from the sack momentarily to slick them with saliva from his mouth which was still full with Ed. He reached back beneath the younger man with one hand and began to probe at Ed’s tight opening with his wet fingers, pushing in one finger, then two…
Ed cried out, using language which Gove had never heard from the Labour leader, his hips once again thrust forward violently as he spilled out. Gove’s hand once again returned to Ed’s cock, coaxing out the last of his orgasm.
Eventually, after minutes of heavy breathing and a dazed expression on his deep features, Ed murmured “Well, that was…” He looked down at his half-naked body. “Messy.” He sighed and pulled a face. Gove was finishing his Horlicks. Ed pulled up his boxers quickly, he couldn’t stand to look at his own cock, useless, for much longer. He needed a shower, and Gove was glaring at him from the other end of the sofa, amusement playing on his face.
“Why did you do that?” Ed asked with a frown.
Michael put down his mug. “I said I owed you. It was repayment. For letting me stay, I mean.”
“You don’t have to drop to your knees to make people like you Michael.” The other man appeared to shrink at this, it felt too much like an accusation for comfort.
“But…you enjoyed it.”
“Yes…” Ed admitted. “That’s hardly the point.” His breathing had slowed by now to its regular pace and his head felt clearer then it had all evening. However, upon searching his brain for the correct sentence to say next, he found nothing. “I’m going for a shower.” He finished, pathetically, getting to his feet and leaving the room as fast as he could.
***
Ed stepped out of the shower, dried himself off with a white fluffy towel and dressed in a fresh vest and pair of boxer shorts. He tried to think, as he rubbed at his hair with the towel who had bought him them. He wasn’t one to buy his own underwear. Yvette, probably, or his mother. Looking out for him as usual. At least he knew how to work the washing machine now without the bubbles spilling out all over the kitchen floor. He got lonely sometimes, working long nights and early mornings, but he got on okay.
The shower had worked wonders in calming his nerves, the cool water on his face relaxing his limbs and waking him up. It was 4am after all. He would be at the commons in eight hours, stood opposite Cameron and Osborne and Hague and Gove. Ah, Gove…he had thought about him in the shower too.
He finished drying his hair and stepped out of the small bathroom, walking along the dark landing to his own bedroom. Gove was awake, the bedside lamp switched on, illuminating his features. He was doing a crossword by the look of things, Ed’s floral bed sheets (definitely his mother’s) pulled up to his chest. He was wearing one of Ed’s old t-shirts.
He grinned when he saw the man’s face peeping around the door.
“Hi.” Ed smiled, nervously, walking over to the bed. He hesitated, before pulling the quilt aside and getting in beside the other man. The bed was a double, thank Marion Mother of Miliband, although it hadn’t held two for years. Unless, of course, that time Burnham and Balls had crept into Ed’s room during a house party counted. Ed had inspected the sheets afterwards with a grimace.
“Ten across…Van Gogh painted these…”
“Sunflowers.” Ed confirmed, snuggling down into the sheets. He paused. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier…about making people like you. It was out of order.”
“It’s fine…” The other man brushed the comment away, settling for penning the answer in the crossword.
“No…what I mean is…I like you.” Ed said. “Without what happened. I like you regardless.” Ed repeated, feeling his cheeks redden. “You’re a pain in the arse coming here week after week because Ed and Andy kick you out…but the truth is they don’t deserve you.” He finished by sliding further under the duvet, pulling the sheets up to his neck in embarrassment.
A long silence fell between them. Gove placed his pen down on the bedside table and turned to the younger man.
“You do?” His own pale cheeks had turned Scarlett and Ed gave a small nod, his head now almost completely buried beneath the sheets. The Conservative leaned forward and caught Ed’s lips, just visible above the quilt, in a kiss, almost chaste. His hands remained above the sheets, refusing to roam beneath this time. “Thank you.” He smiled as he pulled away from the Labour leader.
Ed frowned in confusion as the other man reached for the bedside table and picked up what appeared to be a bookmark.
“Please Michael…you’re not going to read?” Ed let out a sigh. The bookmark had a number jotted in one corner in small precise handwriting.
“No. I’m calling David. I can’t make it to today’s questions.” Gove smiled, as if it were obviously why. Upon seeing the puzzled look on the younger man’s face he sighed “Isn’t it obvious? You’ve been up all night, unprepared. There’s no way I can watch you make a fool of yourself in front of the entire house.”
“Bastard.” Ed grinned, burying himself further into the duvet and slipping an arm around Michael, his head resting on the other man’s chest.
“I’m sorry. I had no where else to go.” It was the fifth time in a fortnight the Conservative had paid Ed a late night visit, alone on his doorstep, sometime between ten and midnight. Not a second before or after. Ed could almost work out the pattern, but not quite. Gove was always terribly consistent.
The younger man led the way through the doorway and into the living room. Documents and stacks of paper cluttered the coffee table, the tokens of being Labour leader laid bare for the other man to see. Ed rubbed his eyes, shaking away the sleep which still threatened to claim him if he let it. Late hours and early mornings had their effect after all. He gestured for the other man to sit on the sofa, thankfully clear of any files, and went into the small kitchen to make tea for Gove and coffee for himself.
“I’m sorry if I woke you.” Gove called clearly through the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about it.” Ed yawned, adding milk to the mugs of hot liquid and stirring. “You take sugar don’t you?” He carried the cups carefully through to the room. He had a history of spilling tea and was more than likely to repeat the mistake when tired. He made room on the coffee table by shifting the stacks of paperwork onto the nearby seat.
“I’m sorry if this is somewhat inconvenient for you Edward. It’s just that…you live the closest and…”
“Why do you let them do this to you?” Ed cut in. Sitting beside Gove and sipping his coffee. He didn’t need to say their names and the Education secretary knew better to deny anything. “I should have words with them…” The Labour leader continued.
“No…” Gove protested weakly.
“I have to Michael, it isn’t…it’s not…party policy.” Ed finished, blushing a little. “It may not be disrupting their jobs, but it is certainly disrupting mine. You can’t sleep in my house forever Michael. And they shouldn’t keep kicking you out.” The younger man took a large gulp of coffee, his cheeks burning.
An awkward silence filled the room as the two men sipped their drinks. Ed could feel the strong instant coffee beginning to take effect on his body as his eyes widened and the heavy feeling began to subside from his limbs. Gove eventually spoke, breaking the stalemate. “Perhaps you should focus on your own…situation…before judging mine.” He chose his words carefully, tiptoeing around the other man. He couldn’t afford to be kicked out of the house at this time of night, especially without a jacket.
Ed sighed, placing his coffee, if not a little heavily, down on the table in front of him. “I don’t begrudge you anything Michael. You know that.” The other man frowned a little at the sentence. It didn’t sound quite right to his ear, and he couldn’t think of the reason.
“Nonetheless.” Gove continued. “No one is getting hurt. I don’t see what is wrong with the deal.” Ed didn’t think the statement was entirely true, but he didn’t argue. He spent so much of his time arguing during the day. Both men finished the rest of their hot drinks in silence, Ed collected the empty mugs to wash up and Gove picked up a magazine from amongst the piles of paper, flicking through the glossy pages with a smile.
The Labour leader walked into the living room, having made sure the kitchen was spotless before leaving. He wasn’t a perfectionist, but he knew how Yvette would frown on her visits if there were dirty mugs scattered around the place. From experience, he knew not to get on the wrong side of Yvette. Gove grinned from behind the magazine. It was one of the celebrity gossip types, Balls had probably been reading it on his last visit.
“Ah…Ms Hilton…” Gove began as Ed sat back down.
“Who?”
“…I really don’t see why young women these days are so obsessed with being stick thin…I personally prefer a more voluptuous bed-mate. The poor girl looks half starved…”
Ed peered over the page to look at the photograph Gove was referring to.
“I prefer Scarlett Johansson.” Ed muttered vaguely.
“…And those tiny dogs they carry around in their handbags…Chihuahua’s…” The younger man grimaced as Gove explained his distaste for the combination of tiny dogs and shoulder bags but noted that the Conservative politician’s thoughts had appeared to have moved on from Ed Balls and Andy Burnham. That was a relief at least.
“Michael.” Ed cut in just as the conversation moved onto cosmetic surgery.
“Do you maybe think it’s time for bed? It‘s 1am…and tomorrow is a Wednesday.”
Gove placed the magazine on top of the coffee table, his face twisted. “I can’t sleep without a book.”
Ed sighed deeply, but reluctantly walked over to his bookshelf in the corner of the sitting room, grabbed a book at random and pressed it into Gove’s open arms. The older man inspected the cover carefully.
“As much as I admire your humour Edward, I really don’t appreciate the implications of you handing me this…”
“You know I never even noticed.” Ed glanced over at the book. Hard Times by Dickens. He smiled a little. “Not everything I say or do is an insult. I’m not Ed Balls.” He finished. Gove seemed to flinch slightly at the name and once again Ed decided not to pursue it. “You can sleep in my room. As usual.” He added, following the other man into the narrow dimly lit hallway but stopping at the stairs. “Goodnight.”
Ed didn’t wait for the other man to reach the top. He stormed back into the living room, flicking the light off with a satisfying click, before settling down on the sofa, still in the thin shirt and boxer shorts he had quickly wriggled into before answering the door. He burrowed his head deep into a cushion, trying to get comfortable and failing. He hadn’t bought the sofa with the intention of using it as a bed and he had turned the spare bedroom upstairs into an office when he moved in. Guests were something other people had.
***
Sleep had slowly begun to swallow Ed whole when there was a shuffle from the kitchen and the small crack of a kneecap hitting a cupboard.
“Ow…shit.”
The tiny voice woke Ed up completely. The politician snapped up from the sofa. “Michael?” Ed calls as the light snaps on, the brightness blinding him momentarily. The smaller man came out of the kitchen holding a mug of something steaming.
“What are you doing?” Ed sighed, more relaxed now he was once again fully awake, but with all hopes of sleeping again that night over.
“I couldn’t sleep and was thirsty. I made some Horlicks. Want some?” The other man extended his arm holding the cup sheepishly. The younger man nodded. “May as well.”
“Right.” The Conservative disappeared once again into the small kitchenette, this time without the minor accidents, and Ed stood up off the sofa, stretching out his limbs and giving out a loud yawn. He glanced at the chair in the corner of the room, covered in stacks of paper piled high and remembered what day it was.
As if reading his mind a call came from the other room. “Want me to help you with your notes?” Gove appeared in the doorway, now carrying two mugs of Horlicks.
“No, Douglas will be around later.” Ed muttered vaguely. “And anyway, you shouldn’t be helping me, I’m the enemy.” He smiled at the last word and Gove handed him his mug with a grin.
“Hardly an enemy Edward.” He sipped his own drink, his lips upturned slightly at the corners. “After all, you have helped me out a few times now. I’d just like to repay you somehow.”
“Do you help Andy and Ed with their notes?” Ed asked quickly. A mistake he knew as soon as the words had left his lips. Gove froze once again, but after a moment resumed his previous position, in true political style, the half-smile still playing on his thin lips.
“No. We don’t really talk that much.” He muttered, the sound muffled by the mug currently at his lips. “They only talk to each other.” Ed frowned. It couldn’t be that he felt sorry for the other man? He placed a reassuring hand on Gove’s shoulder.
“You know you can talk to me Michael.” Gove replayed the line in his head. Yes, Michael…Ed called him Michael. That was what felt different to him.
“I know.” Gove replied, his own hand moving down to rest on Ed’s bare knee. The Labour leader’s eyes grew wide as they followed the hand, lingering a moment, before meeting with Gove’s across the short space. The Conservative leaned in slowly, his lips pressing against Ed’s ear.
“Come to bed.” He muttered, his hand sliding north towards Ed’s boxers.
“It’s my bed.” Ed finally said after composing himself and realising that he could actually talk.
“In that case...come to your bed…with me.” Gove’s tongue reached out and licked at the top of Ed’s ear, making the younger man gasp as his hand finally reached the bulge in the politician’s boxers, cupping gently.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” The man gulped, hating himself as he questioned it. It was getting harder and harder for him to speak as Gove slipped his hand under the elastic and started stroking his length slowly, coaxing splutters and moans from Ed’s throat. “You…don’t…” Ed begun but all meaningful words and sounds were lost as the older man’s long fingers brushed along the underside of his cock, his whole body shuddering with the contact. He automatically laid back, giving Gove better access as he felt his boxers being pulled down, over his pale thin legs. The cold air hit his cock, making it twitch beneath Gove’s hands.
“Hold still.” Gove murmured as his tongue connected with the tip of Ed’s penis, making the younger man cry out, his hips buckling forward. “Still…” The Tory repeated, moving down to slick the length of his cock with his tongue, his mouth hot and moist around the other man. His hands pushed gently at Ed’s hips, keeping him still beneath him as he took the cock into his mouth, slow at first but soon gaining speed as the other man squirmed underneath, his hands moving to grasp at Gove’s hair.
“Don‘t stop.” Ed gasped as Gove moved one hand from his hip to cup his testicles, stroking along the skin as his mouth licked and sucked at Ed who was now beginning to near his climax. Gove moved his fingers from the sack momentarily to slick them with saliva from his mouth which was still full with Ed. He reached back beneath the younger man with one hand and began to probe at Ed’s tight opening with his wet fingers, pushing in one finger, then two…
Ed cried out, using language which Gove had never heard from the Labour leader, his hips once again thrust forward violently as he spilled out. Gove’s hand once again returned to Ed’s cock, coaxing out the last of his orgasm.
Eventually, after minutes of heavy breathing and a dazed expression on his deep features, Ed murmured “Well, that was…” He looked down at his half-naked body. “Messy.” He sighed and pulled a face. Gove was finishing his Horlicks. Ed pulled up his boxers quickly, he couldn’t stand to look at his own cock, useless, for much longer. He needed a shower, and Gove was glaring at him from the other end of the sofa, amusement playing on his face.
“Why did you do that?” Ed asked with a frown.
Michael put down his mug. “I said I owed you. It was repayment. For letting me stay, I mean.”
“You don’t have to drop to your knees to make people like you Michael.” The other man appeared to shrink at this, it felt too much like an accusation for comfort.
“But…you enjoyed it.”
“Yes…” Ed admitted. “That’s hardly the point.” His breathing had slowed by now to its regular pace and his head felt clearer then it had all evening. However, upon searching his brain for the correct sentence to say next, he found nothing. “I’m going for a shower.” He finished, pathetically, getting to his feet and leaving the room as fast as he could.
***
Ed stepped out of the shower, dried himself off with a white fluffy towel and dressed in a fresh vest and pair of boxer shorts. He tried to think, as he rubbed at his hair with the towel who had bought him them. He wasn’t one to buy his own underwear. Yvette, probably, or his mother. Looking out for him as usual. At least he knew how to work the washing machine now without the bubbles spilling out all over the kitchen floor. He got lonely sometimes, working long nights and early mornings, but he got on okay.
The shower had worked wonders in calming his nerves, the cool water on his face relaxing his limbs and waking him up. It was 4am after all. He would be at the commons in eight hours, stood opposite Cameron and Osborne and Hague and Gove. Ah, Gove…he had thought about him in the shower too.
He finished drying his hair and stepped out of the small bathroom, walking along the dark landing to his own bedroom. Gove was awake, the bedside lamp switched on, illuminating his features. He was doing a crossword by the look of things, Ed’s floral bed sheets (definitely his mother’s) pulled up to his chest. He was wearing one of Ed’s old t-shirts.
He grinned when he saw the man’s face peeping around the door.
“Hi.” Ed smiled, nervously, walking over to the bed. He hesitated, before pulling the quilt aside and getting in beside the other man. The bed was a double, thank Marion Mother of Miliband, although it hadn’t held two for years. Unless, of course, that time Burnham and Balls had crept into Ed’s room during a house party counted. Ed had inspected the sheets afterwards with a grimace.
“Ten across…Van Gogh painted these…”
“Sunflowers.” Ed confirmed, snuggling down into the sheets. He paused. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier…about making people like you. It was out of order.”
“It’s fine…” The other man brushed the comment away, settling for penning the answer in the crossword.
“No…what I mean is…I like you.” Ed said. “Without what happened. I like you regardless.” Ed repeated, feeling his cheeks redden. “You’re a pain in the arse coming here week after week because Ed and Andy kick you out…but the truth is they don’t deserve you.” He finished by sliding further under the duvet, pulling the sheets up to his neck in embarrassment.
A long silence fell between them. Gove placed his pen down on the bedside table and turned to the younger man.
“You do?” His own pale cheeks had turned Scarlett and Ed gave a small nod, his head now almost completely buried beneath the sheets. The Conservative leaned forward and caught Ed’s lips, just visible above the quilt, in a kiss, almost chaste. His hands remained above the sheets, refusing to roam beneath this time. “Thank you.” He smiled as he pulled away from the Labour leader.
Ed frowned in confusion as the other man reached for the bedside table and picked up what appeared to be a bookmark.
“Please Michael…you’re not going to read?” Ed let out a sigh. The bookmark had a number jotted in one corner in small precise handwriting.
“No. I’m calling David. I can’t make it to today’s questions.” Gove smiled, as if it were obviously why. Upon seeing the puzzled look on the younger man’s face he sighed “Isn’t it obvious? You’ve been up all night, unprepared. There’s no way I can watch you make a fool of yourself in front of the entire house.”
“Bastard.” Ed grinned, burying himself further into the duvet and slipping an arm around Michael, his head resting on the other man’s chest.