8 - upwards to infinity
Welcome to our eighth prompt post.
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
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 ( Read more... )
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
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 ( Read more... )
“I had the test a week ago. Yeah, I knew. But... Ed, I’m sorry. Things just.. happened. I was going to tell you, but then...”
“I know. You got your fucking test and thought ‘just deserts’ and fucking divine retribution, and so your Catholic heart did a fucking backflip.” Ed snarls, happy at finding an outlet for his welling anger. “You know, And, just because God thinks you need to be bitchslapped into line when you fuck some randomer, doesn’t mean I do.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You think you deserve it, though, don’t you? Because you’re fucking stupid like that.” Ed wants to shake Andy sometimes. Andy thinks Ed’s got problems, but Andy has the potential to see karma in train timetables. Some nights, it’s raining and Andy thinks it’s because they’ve been fucking too much ( ... )
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*stocks up on tissues and waits for update*
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*cries*
*begs for more*
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“What?”
“We haven’t had sex in months. Fuck me.” Andy tries to nudge Ed’s cock through his trousers with his foot, but Ed’s grip on his ankle tightens. With his finely-honed animal instinct, Ed is wary of requests like that. He misses the old days, when Andy wouldn’t even have to ask because they’d been fucking every other night.
Something’s evidently wrong, but Ed knows Andy won’t say what - it could be anything from a bad day to inoperable bollock cancer - and hates Andy’s tactic of distracting himself via sex, football or beer. He doesn’t feel used because he’s not that fucking pathetic, but it would be nice to be told where Andy’s sudden sex drive comes from, and if it’s something he should worry about. So, as usual these days, he gets annoyed ( ... )
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Andy directs Ed upstairs, and is surprised how good he feels when Ed does exactly as Andy tells him. He tells Ed where to put his hands, when to touch him, when to shut his eyes, even when to breathe a few times. Under instruction, Ed wanks Andy, relieved at being allowed - no, being ordered - to forget that Andy’s getting sicker by the day ( ... )
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Damn you and Billy Bragg to hell don't stop god damn you
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Ed takes to following Andy around, as if he can repel any threatening infection with just his presence, laced as it is with anti-bacterial soap and antiseptic wet wipes, and every other anti- product he can lay his hands on.
He’s constantly vigilant against anyone who may be suffering from anything: the slightest sniffle from any visitor (postman included, Ed’s very fucking careful) and Ed stalks over and dares them to be in the same room as Andy. If Ed suspects he himself might have a cold, he retreats to his own house for a week, afraid even to ring for fear of sending bad bacteria down the phone line. Never let it be said Ed isn’t skilled at overreaction ( ... )
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“You shouldn’t’ve sent that email. You should be there, backing up Miliband. Not here.” Andy gestures around the room from his seat on the high hospital bed, and it’s so anachronistic and plain wrong“I’m doing the right thing,” Ed snaps, clearly unsure of what he can do to make amends to the party while still keeping Andy as top priority. “Miliband’ll have a reshuffle soon. He can put Alan back at Home Office, Yvette can go to the Treasury, and he’ll have to promote some others to Cabinet ( ... )
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Ed’s allowed to lie there all day because it’s only a matter of time. The doctors nod sadly at him as they pass, reverent and respectful of the institution of death. Andy’s not even gone and everyone knows he’s lost. Andy dozes most of the day, slipping in and out of consciousness.
The only words Ed hears him say are ‘sorry’ and ‘god’. Ed isn’t sure if Andy’s apologising to God or not, but it makes him even angrier, because that means Andy is going through the motions. Repenting his sins and preparing for purgatory, damnation or salvation ( ... )
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