Clameron

Framed - Part 2

misdemeanor79 — Mon, 24 Oct 2016 19:02:59 GMT

Fic: Framed

Author: I wrote these here words, for you, so I am the Author!
Fandom: Politics RPS
Pairing: Clameron
Rating:NC-17
Word Count: 52,680 in total
Warning: Character Death, RPS, Blood, Strong Language.
Disclaimer: Not real, it is pure fiction that I made up in my head, no nastiness meant to the lives of anyone involved.

What lengths would someone go to, to get what they think is owed to them?

6

“So what is so urgent then, George?” William asked as he bounded into George’s office. He flattened down his tie as he lowered himself briskly into the chair situated in front of George’s desk. He arched his eyebrows as he waited for a response, confused by the silence that greeted his question. George was still to look at him, deep in thought as his fingers of one hand drummed a repetitive, hypnotic rhythm. Finally he looked across at William and sucked air through his teeth.

“I think we’ve got a problem, a big problem. Which one way or another needs sorting out.” He leant forward in his seat and braced his elbows on the desk that separated him from William. “It appears that David has fallen for his Liberal Deputy.” William’s expression changed to one of bemusement.

“That maybe so, but Nick is holed up with Michael, right? Everyone knows they’ve been together for a long time. What makes you think that just because David has a crush on Nick that anything will change, I mean, David should know better than to tread on another man’s toes, right?” George sat back and steepled his fingers.

“He should know. He probably does know, William. But that doesn’t appear to have stopped him. He told me a while ago that he and Nick had got closer than they should have, and yesterday he told me that he was in love with him.”

William rubbed at his temple, trying to take stock of the information George was telling him. “But... what about Nick and Michael?”

“Well, this is what I’ve been telling David; that there was no chance that Nick has enough back bone to leave Michael, but David said he was telling him last night, and something in the way he said it has me worried, William, I think he might just have gone and done it.”

“We need to find out what’s going on, David owes it to us to be truthful.” George nodded at William’s suggestion. “What on earth is he thinking of?”

“I knew it would be a bad idea going into this government with the Liberals... I know it was the lesser of two evils, but still. I bet Nick will have him so loved up he’ll be pushing all their flimsy policies before we know it.” George hammered a fist down onto the hardwood of his desk, his face tense with rage.

“Calm down, we need to keep our heads and think this through properly. Maybe if we get them to confide in us about their relationship, we’ll be able to monitor things more closely?” William looked hopeful, but the stern grit that George wore on his face filled him with a dread that worried his bones to their core.

“It won’t be enough, and you know that. Something needs to happen, something radical. Some that will turn this Coalition on its head.”

“You mean something severe enough to end it and force another general election?” George nodded, a malicious smile tweaked at the corners of his lips.

“There is no way we can lose; we’d be the governing party, just us, no yellow bastards diluting our ideals.”

“Maybe we can just talk David into seeing some sense?” George laughed incredulously at his colleague and friend.

“Don’t be so naive! You remember what it was like to be in love, William.” George leaned forward again, his face serious once again. “We’ll get the facts together and discuss what to do, I have a few ideas, and we’ll need Theresa on board though.” William nodded in compliance and got to his feet.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, George.” William said sombrely.

“Trust me.”

David had woken up startled, his chest heaved deep breathes as his looked at the alarm clock through his blinking eyes. Directing a tirade of curses at himself for forgetting to set his alarm, he sat bolt upright and jumped out of bed. He quickly showered, dressed and rushed through a quick breakfast, hoping that the small amount of sustenance would see him through until he could grab something more substantial after his meeting with his cabinet. After double checking he’d got everything, he snatched his phone off the bedside table and hurried out of the door, down to the offices below.

With his head down and purpose in his long strides he navigated the corridors briskly towards the cabinet office, hoping to get there before a vast number of his team in order to look prepared, not wanting them to see him in such disarray. As he made his last turning onto the corridor that lead to the Cabinet meeting room, he was met with the tall frame of Michael Moore stalking towards him, a solemn look on his face. Of his entire Cabinet members to have to met on this morning, he would have put Michael’s name at the bottom of the list; he was riddled with guilt as Michael moved closer towards him. David swallowed his fear.

“Good Morning, Michael. Leaving already?” David tried his best to sound light hearted but he could see that Michael’s mind was on other things, as he managed a quick tightening of his lips in response. David’s heart pounded in his chest, mixed emotions surged through his body; sadness and guilt pushed against the swelling relief and happiness that was rising within him. “Everything okay?”

Michael looked at David for what felt long time, as if searching something. David squirmed internally under the intense scrutiny of Michael’s dark brooding eyes, hating every prolonged second. Michael finally found his voice. “I think I’ll be okay, thank you.” Michael went to continue on his route to where ever he was heading but for some reason he was restrained by David’s hand on his forearm; puzzled, he once again searched David’s eyes, this time for an explanation.

“I’m sorry.” David said in a lowered voice. “I know he really didn’t want to hurt you.”

Michael pulled his arm free with as little force as possible, not wanting to cause too much of a scene in the quiet corridor; a murky look of confusion fell on his face. “I’m sorry... I don’t understand.”

David’s face contorted as he started to understand. “No... I’m sorry, I must have things confused, I’ll let you get on.” David attempted his most charming smile, hoping he’d sounded convincing enough. Michael didn’t move and over his shoulder David watched as George and William looked at them and entered the meeting room, not without sharing a look with each other first. David swallowed hard, his throat went dry and it felt like it was compressing. The glimmer of happiness he had previously felt was now splintering into a thousand pieces.

Michael stood firmly, his feet planted in position in a wide stance; his hands on his hips as he loomed over David. “I’m guessing when you say ‘he’ you mean Nick, has he said something to you?” Michael found himself scowling at David; he tried to soften his features the best he could despite his simmering anger, conscious of who might see him looking intimidating towards his boss.

David shook his head in reply. “No...” he closed his eyes, he knew he sounded feeble. When he opened them he saw Nick over Michael’s shoulder where George and William were previously stood. David’s mouth dropped open, Michael turned to follow David’s gaze. Nick started to walk towards them, his face was panic stricken. Before Nick could get a word out, Michael had turn round to face him, blocking his route through.

“Have you spoken to David this morning?” He asked his voice was barely more than a whisper. Nick shook his head, his brow furrowed as he Michael’s jaw line tensed at his response. Michael stepped out of Nick’s way and shared a glance at each man standing in front of him. Nick didn’t say anything but he could see Michael hurting as he was piecing together the information internally. Michael turned to Nick and stared with unfocused eyes at his face. “I’d hoped you’d be able to talk to me first.” He then turned his attention to David. “My apologies, David, but I fear I won’t be able to attend today’s Cabinet meeting... personal reasons.” He bowed his head quickly before taking his leave and making his way down the corridor.

“Nick... I’m sorry, I saw him, asked if he was alright, next thing I’m making excuses for you...” David rambled through his words quickly until Nick held up a hand to stop him.

“Shit, David!” Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you turn your phone on?” Nick asked sounding agitated. David’s head fell forward as he suddenly remembered just grabbing the handset of the bedside table and pocketing it, forgetting he had switched it off the previous night.

“I... I turned it off last night; it was driving me mad with distraction... I...” David looked both flustered and apologetic as he explained.

“That would explain it. I didn’t get chance to tell him last night, I’m sorry. I really am, I sent you a message, and another this morning, saying that Michael’s mother was taken into hospital overnight... look, I better go after him.” Nick placed a hand to David’s forearm and squeezed. David looked mortified.

“I’m... sorry, Nick... I really am. I had...”

“I’m to blame, I should have told him last night, when I said I would. Hush, please. Just let me go after him. I’ll set things straight. I owe it to him and you.” Nick’s voice was tainted with worry as the realisation of what had happened started to sink in; he shared one last fraught look with David before hurrying down the same route Michael had gone.

Nick finally found Michael shrouded in the warming glow of the morning sun in the courtyard at the back of the Cabinet office, his face didn’t reflect the warmth of the weather that touched their skin. Nick approached cautiously, unsure of what to say. Michael surprised him by turning to face him square on, his eyes void of emotion. The broken look on his face caused Nick’s heart to drop as the weight of his actions pulled him down, and no words would form as he tried to explain. The tense silence was finally broken by Michael’s muted tones.

“If you weren’t happy with me anymore, you should have told me, maybe we could have worked things out, and maybe I wouldn’t have to hear about it from the Prime Minister... I feel a fool.” He raked a hand over his face, and when their eyes met again, Nick could now see the hurt.

“You’re not a fool; I should have spoken to you, you’re right... I just needed to talk it through with someone, and... David was there.” Nick shrugged, trying to pay down David’s involvement, hating himself as the deceitful words passed his lips. “I... I couldn’t tell you, I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words, I needed to be sure and I wasn’t.” Nick turned his face towards the nearest building, not wanting to look Michael in the eye as his heart broke.

“How long have you felt like this? I should have known... maybe I just couldn’t bring myself to see what was happening.” Michael’s mouth worked over time as the endless possibilities and hypothetical solutions came into his mind.

Nick raised a hand to stifle the flow of mutterings. “Please don’t blame yourself, Michael. This has nothing to do with anything that you’ve done. I... just...” Nick paused momentarily to think about what he really did want, trying to push the doubt from his mind. “I just found I needed someone new.” Nick bit down on his bottom lip to curtail the possibility of the truth from escaping.

Michael’s hurt was now mixed with suspicion and his hands rested on his hips in a slightly more aggressive stance, which however imposing it felt to Nick, he knew he deserved it. With eyes of brewing thunder that peered out from below a taught brow, Michael stared at Nick, and Nick knew what he was looking for; the truth.

“Have... have you found someone?” Michael tried his best to mask the pain that the words kicked up as he spoke them.

“No... It didn’t seem right to... well...” Nick gestured wildly with his hands, as he struggled to find the words. He knew they wouldn’t be there to be discovered as they were lies, lies that he didn’t have the conviction to say and make them sound convincing. He could see Michael was tentatively considering what he had told him and eventually nodded slowly, the innocence on his face caused Nick to react involuntarily. “I love you, Michael, I do... Just not how I used to...”

“And that’s not enough.” Michael finished Nick’s sentence for him, solemnly. The two men looked away from each other. Nick felt as if he’d said enough, worried that he would say something he shouldn’t if they were to remain in this awkwardness. “If it is okay with you, can I drop by and collect a few things later?”

“Sure... if you need some time to... I don’t know... I’m going to try and get a flight up to Scotland first thing in the morning, so if you’re worried about me being there, and that’s why you want to leave then you have a few days to sort things out, I know I’ll be there tonight, but I’m sure we can work something out.” Michael attempted a small smile that never quite settled on his lips.

“Thank you. I should get back... before I’m missed.” Nick bravely joked and it was replied to with a faint smile and a nod. Nick said a quick goodbye and made his way back to the office. Each step was an effort as he left the security of Michael’s love and compassion behind him and headed blindly into a world of uncertainty and secrets with David.

Framed - Part 1

misdemeanor79 — Mon, 03 Oct 2016 19:34:55 GMT

Fic: Framed

Author: I wrote these here words, for you, so I am the Author!
Fandom: Politics RPS
Pairing: Clameron
Rating:NC-17
Warning: Character Death - bit of blood and also strong language
Word Count: 52,680 in total
Disclaimer: Not real, it is pure fiction that I made up in my head, no nastiness meant to the lives of anyone involved.

What lengths would someone go to, to get what they think is owed to them?

It weighed on his mind relentlessly; there was no relief, no place of solace for him to hide. Even when he thought he was safe little reminders were everywhere; testing his conscience, reminding him of his guilt. There was no escaping the crushing feeling that grasped at him through every waking moment and gripped his dreams during the stark hours of darkness.

He couldn’t go on like this.

It needed to stop; one way or another, things had to change. He just needed to find the courage to tell the man who loved him that he had given in to the temptation of another. He needed to make a decision. A decision that would hurt him and the man he loved, as he did still love him, of that he was adamant, but time had doused the flames of their lust leaving him yearning for the searing heat of newly kindled desire that they had once shared, before the over familiarity and routine had crept into their carnal relationship. He did love him, he just wanted more. He was weak and Michael deserved better.

He needed to stop being a coward.

Nick Clegg met Michael, a short time after he had joined the flanks of the Liberal Democrats, the gentle Scottish giant had fascinated Nick for almost a year before he’d had the courage to act upon his feelings, feelings that Michael apparently reciprocated much to Nick’s pleasant surprise, and the two men had been together, happily, for almost the past five years. Until the day that the 2010 general election was announced in front of the press on Downing Street by Gordon Brown, a moment which would call time on Gordon’s tenure as Prime Minister, and apparently on Nick and Michael’s relationship as they had known it. Michael proved to be the solid rock that he had always been throughout their relationship during the election campaign; balancing helping Nick while organising his own campaign just over the Scottish border. The travelling was gruelling, yet Michael was there; as always. His level headedness kept Nick grounded when he could have so easily been swept up in media storm that was “Cleggmania”, a term that Michael had found ridiculous, and caused him much amusement as he read through the newspapers. It wasn’t that Michael didn’t back his partner; he knew he was more than able; it was just as if he was reading about someone completely different, not the Nick he knew and loved.

It had been Michael who had been there to pick up the pieces in the early hours of the friday morning when the results were coming in and things hadn’t gone to plan for the Liberal Democrats. He had rushed down from his own results to be at Nick’s side, travelling down to London as Nick prepared to embark on the most pivotal few days of his political career. Although Michael hadn’t been a member of the Liberal Democrats negotiation team Nick had asked him to stay in London to be with him and he obliged without hesitation. How could he not be there to support Nick as he made the biggest decision of their party’s recent history?

Many had complimented Nick on his courageous decision to go into Government with the Conservatives; where was that courage now?

After the Coalition formed their lives became hectic, Nick’s schedule as Deputy Prime Minister was full to the brim of visits, speeches and press conference; his feet rarely touched the floor and when they did Nick found he was too tired to give anything his full attention; this included Michael. Nick was aware of his short comings and to stifle the guilt that was brewing inside him he offered Michael the position of Scottish Secretary as part of the reshuffle caused by David Laws’ sudden departure from the Cabinet, in a hope they may see each other a little more often. Sadly the plan fell short of its aim, as Michael’s schedule became more almost as full on as Nick’s. Nick’s time away from Michael turned into time spent with David Cameron.

Always when you least expect it.

Nick hadn’t anticipated David Cameron’s dedication to the cause of working together as a Coalition for the good of the country, and his determined yet easy going manner was an endearing feature that Nick admired; one that he had always appreciated in Michael. As they worked closely together and more frequently it became harder and harder for them to mask the mutual feelings of desire, and in a moment of lust driven weakness, Nick found himself locked at the lips with the Prime Minister as hands roamed and sought out warm skin that the cotton of their shirts masked.

Once wasn’t enough.

The need to feel the heat of David again became like an addiction to Nick, and although these trysts became more frequent, it wasn’t enough to quench his yearning; as soon as one moment of ecstasy was reached, they were planning for the next, and it couldn’t happen soon enough. Although he was riddled with the guilt of being unfaithful to Michael, he couldn’t help himself. He needed more, he felt weak and ashamed, but as soon as David laid his hands on him, these feelings paled into insignificance as the pleasure washed over him.

This is where he felt it most, when he was most uncomfortable, every Tuesday at the weekly Cabinet meetings. He sat opposite David; their eyes often locked onto each other’s as they mentally undressed and relived their shared moments of gratification. While Michael sat a short distance away, tired eyes blind and oblivious. Nick felt their weight though and there was no place to hide from his emotions as they ripped at his heart as it once again lost a battle against his groin. He mustered a bit of strength to look to his right down the table and meet Michael’s dark eyes and smiled gently, a gesture that Michael shyly returned. Nick could feel David looking at him and Nick looked back, David’s features were expressionless but Nick could see the knowing in his eyes, and Nick subtly nodded, and a decision was made.

He owed it to Michael, he deserved better.

The first prickles of perspiration tickled at Nick’s temples as a wave of awkwardness and guilt crashed over him. The constant feel of David’s eyes watching him intently as he moved around his office, trying his best to ignore them, unnerved him. “Nick... please.” The sound of David’s plea stopped Nick in his tracks; he turned to face his illicit lover and sighed deeply. It was a sigh that dripped with resignation. “You’ve not spoken to him have you?” David didn’t need Nick to answer him verbally, the look on his face said more than a thousand words; it was now David’s turn to heave a sigh from his broad chest.

“I’m sorry. I’ve tried... it just isn’t that easy, David.” Nick’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he tried his best to explain the reasons for his shortcomings. He hated himself for being so weak when he needed to find the courage to act in order to stop the guilt that was weighing him down. Most of all he hated himself for hurting Michael, his anchor that kept him centred in the tumultuous waters of politics with his stability and unfaltering love. As he looked over at David he could see the hurt that muted the usual shine of his blue eyes. “I’m... sorry. I was intending to tell him Tuesday evening, but he had to attend a function and was travelling back...” David held up his hands, halting Nick’s rambling oration.

“Nick, please. I’m tired of your excuses now. I know it can’t be easy; you’ve been together a long time. But the longer you leave it the more hurt you’re causing.”

“Do you not think I understand that?” Nick’s voice escaped his mouth as a loud bark that shocked them both. “He deserves better, I owe it to tell him to his face, not over the phone or in an email. Do you not think that’s right?”

“I think it’s convenient to your stalling, Nick.”

“He loves me.” Nick claimed through gritted teeth, his face warming as the blood coursed through his veins. He knew he had no reason to be so angry with David; after all, it wasn’t David’s fault that he was feeble.

“Nick!” David closed the distance between them and grasped at the material of the arms of Nick’s suit jacket. “I love you. Can’t you see? You’re hurting me just as much as you’ll hurt him. You said you’d tell him...” David let go off Nick’s arms and let his hands drop lifelessly to his side as he lowered his head slightly; Nick remained startled as David continued talking, the power of hearing David say those words for the first time was overwhelming. “I don’t think I can go on like this for much longer, please make a decision one way or the other, Nick.” David looked into Nick’s eyes, pleading with him.

“I’ve made my decision, David. I know I’ve taken my time to tell Mike, but it’s you I want to be with.” Nick’s rough palms cupped David’s jaw tenderly, assuring his hurting lover with his actions as well as his words. He tentatively leant forward and placed a delicate kiss on David’s warm lips, it wasn’t brimming in the usual passion they shared, somehow the emotions it stirred within each man ran deeper and as David kissed back, Nick could feel their grip on each other tighten; he didn’t want to let go.

“You have to leave him.” David whispered next to Nick’s ear. “You can’t keep this up, you’re hurting, I know you are.” He tightened his grip.

“I can’t tell him about us, can I?” Nick felt David shake his head against his, before planting a kiss to Nick’s neck.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Nick. We need to be careful; there is an awful lot at stake here, a lot of things that can go wrong, badly wrong, and not just for us.”

“You’re right.” Nick sighed as he let his arms slip from David’s back and stepped away. “Just give me another week, David. I’ll tell him this time.” David nodded his compliance to Nick’s request slowly and solemnly. Nick kissed David’s cheek, breathing in his scent, filling his lungs with all that David was, knowing that it would have to be enough to get him through to the next time. The next few days would be long and difficult, but Nick finally realised what was at stake and he knew what he needed to do. Nick’s feet felt heavy as he made his way towards the door of David’s office, although his heart held the hope of David’s love, he couldn’t shake the dread of ending his lie, only to start living a new one by David’s side.

The sun was well on its daily journey as it started to fall from its lofty position and dipped tentatively below the horizon. David signed off his last piece of paperwork with a flourish of his wrist and a small, but triumphant smile. A faint knock at his office door brought him back to reality and caused his brow to furrow in puzzlement. He pushed himself to his feet and let them take his weary frame to his office door and gradually revealed a slightly flustered looking Nick as he opened the door.

“Nick! I thought you’d have left for the day.” David said as a heart warming smile spread across his lips.

“Oh... well, I’m off now actually, I just thought I’d drop in and tell you that Mike’s home today and I trying my best to pull it together to ensure that I find the courage to tell him I’m leaving him.” Nick dipped it his head, averting his sad eyes from David’s. David quickly looked up and down the corridor that ran past his office and placed a hand of support on Nick’s arm.

“I know it can’t be easy, Nick. But you’ll do the right thing. I know you will, I believe in you.” David heard the steady repetition of encroaching footfall and dropped his arm and lowered his voice. “It’s for the best.” The two men straightened up to their full height, regaining their air of professionalism, as the slim figure of George Osborne appeared in the corner of their eyes. “Well, thank you, Nick. Let me know how you get on.” Nick nodded in reply, understanding.

“Of course. Thanks for your time, David.... most appreciated.” Nick turned on his heel and made his way down the corridor, leaving David and George at David’s doorway, their eyes locked firmly on his shrinking form as he put more and more distance between himself and them. George cleared his throat and as intended, commanded David’s attention.

“Strictly business, David?” David’s eyes narrowed as he gestured for George to enter his office. “Or pleasure?” George’s lips curled into a derisive smirk as he watched David’s face harden to his words. “You’re wasting your time, you know that don’t you? I mean, he’ll never break things off with Michael, muscular liberalism my arse!” George snorted vilely at his own joke, causing David to turn his back on his friend as his blood boiled under his skin. “The sooner you open your eyes to his weakness the better!”

David breathed in deeply, trying his best to calm the storm that was brewing within him; he knew George far too well to bite back to his snide comments, knowing full well that was exactly what his friend was hoping for. “Well, if you must know, he was here to tell me that, actually, he is going to tell Michael he’s leaving him tonight.” David snarled through gritted teeth with purpose, as he took a step towards George, who looked slightly unnerved at David’s intensity. Once again, George cleared his throat, checking his voice wouldn’t betray him.

“What makes you think this time will be any different to the last time he fed you that line?” George puffed his chest out; trying not to cower under David’s formidable presence.

“Because I told him if I didn’t I wouldn’t be around anymore.” David nearly hesitated as he considered each word as it formed in his throat, but couldn’t afford to lose face and his words entered the atmosphere with intent.

“Well... at least one of you has some courage and conviction.” George placed his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. “Look, David. Do you think this is sensible? You’ve had your fun, your roll around in the hay. Don’t you think it is time you put all your energy into running the country, being the Prime Minister, and not getting your end away with your wet liberal Deputy?”

“It isn’t like that; you should know that by now. I love him.” David snarled and as George snorted again in disdain, he couldn’t quell his exasperation. “I can’t see why you just can’t accept the Liberal Democrats within this government, George? I mean, I thought you would love a good fig leaf to hide behind.”

“I just don’t want this to ruin everything we’ve worked for. If this gets out... I mean, what if Michael talks? This could be the start of the end.”

“Michael won’t talk; Nick’s not going to tell him.” David said quietly, head lowered, as he looked for George’s reaction with upturned, forlorn eyes.

George shook his head in disbelief.

“Oh great, a lie to cover dishonesty!” George rubbed at his temples. “I won’t let this bring us down; I’ve worked too hard and too long for you and any Liberal Democrat to ruin it for me, for us as a party. If anything happens I won’t let it lay, David.”

David stood motionless in the centre of his office as George made his way to the exit. He paused momentarily.

“Just think for a minute David, with your head and not your dick.”

Fuming and in disbelief at the apparent stupidity of his friend, George powered his way down the corridor, his mind racing of the possible outcomes from the Prime Minister’s reckless behaviour. He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his phone, pausing from his march to type in a quick message:

You won’t believe this now. Meet me tomorrow as soon as you can.

The gaggle of press, punctuated with a number of police officers, that always seemed to be assembled on the pavement outside of his home, had become such a familiar sight to Nick over the past year that it no longer fazed him. He allowed the press to silently take his picture as he strolled from his ministerial car into the house, sharing a nod of gratitude to the police officers that ensured his safety. He’d hoped that he had been able to get home before Michael in order to settle his nerves and go through in his mind what he needed to say, again; but as soon he stepped over the threshold Nick was aware of his partner’s presence. With a chipper tone in his voice that didn’t match the look on his face, Nick called out a cheerful greeting that was replied with an equally cheerful sounding voice; Nick closed his eyes to the twang of guilt that pulled in his chest at the noise that sounded from the kitchen.

With apprehension in his stride, Nick made his way to the kitchen to face the man he had shared so many fond memories with; the man whose heart he needed to break. As soon as he appeared in the doorway Michael’s tall frame came into view, a small smile curled at the corner of Nick’s lips as Michael seemed to dwarf his surroundings. Michael smiled as he noticed Nick leaning against the doorframe, and with a few steps he was in front of him and he swooped down slightly to kiss Nick’s cheek tenderly. “Welcome home.” He whispered as he pulled away.

“I should say the same to you, good trip?” Nick watched as Michael moved away from him, back to the other counter where he continued with preparing their dinner. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Some good bits, a lot of bad to go with them though. I think they’re going to want their independence...” He looked over his shoulder as he spoke; looking for Nick’s reaction, but his face remained expressionless as he was lost in his own thoughts. “...why ask, if you’re not really bothered?” Nick caught the last few words of Michael’s reply and they brought him back to reality with a startled bump.

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking about the consequences of Scotland breaking away...” Michael frowned, but accepted Nick’s answer and gestured for the other man to sit at the table.

“Dinner isn’t far off, please sit and talk with me, I’ve missed you.” Nick tried his hardest to keep his composure as he lowered himself onto the offered chair, but Michael’s ever present kindness was stripping off the layers of courage he’d been building up. “Are you okay? You look tired.” Nick looked up at Michael and nodded; an empty smile pulled at his mouth but didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m fine. I know you’re probably tired, but after dinner, I’d like to talk to you, unless...” Nick couldn’t finish the sentence, unsure of how to conclude his request without placing any uncertainty in Michael’s mind. Michael placed two plates on the table and sat down opposite Nick. His dark eyes fixed firmly on Nick’s faltering gaze, patiently waiting for Nick to continue.

“...Unless? Unless I wouldn’t want to talk to you? Why wouldn’t I?” Nick sensed a small amount of hurt in Michael’s attempt to sound jovial, which caused his stomach to twist into a tight knot. “I’m tired but I’m happy to talk with you.” Nick pushed his food around his plate with this fork as he listened to Michael, still unable to meet his eyes properly. “Nick, are you sure you’re okay?” Desperately wanting to avoid answering Michael directly with words, Nick managed to find the willpower to put a forkful of food into his mouth and nod timidly.

The rest of the meal went the same way, Michael cheerfully chatting idly away, while Nick filled with increasingly unsettling nerves. Nerves that added to his guilt as he occasionally glanced at Michael’s honest, happy face and nerves that cast doubt within him about what he was about to do. Nick got to his feet and cleared away the dinner plates. “I’ll sort this out, why don’t you go and relax; I’ll be with you in a moment.” Michael smiled up at him and nodded before also getting to his feet and making his way towards the living room.

Once alone, Nick placed the plates in the sink and braced himself against the counter; his eyes firmly closed. Images appeared like fireworks in his mind and his legs felt week under the strain of trying to process their meaning. He could see David happily smiling while Michael appeared before him, a broken man, and vice versa. He hated having to choose, but he knew it was the only way; the only fair way. He’d gone as far as going behind Michael’s back, seeking intimacy with David, he owed Michael the truth and with one last determined word with himself he knew there was no going back.

Michael was sat on the sofa when Nick appeared in the living room, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, one of his elbows propped up on the arm of the sofa as his fingertips supported his head as his mindlessly stared at the television screen. Nick sat uneasily, perched on the edge of the sofa, his throat arid and his palms perspiring. He felt the warmth of Michael’s sizeable palm through the cotton of his shirt that covered his back. Nick looked across at Michael, who smiled lopsidedly back at him with a curious expression on his face and his eyes searching for something within Nick. Nick coughed, testing he had a voice to say what he had gone through a thousand times in his head already that day; nothing could prepare him for the anguish as the words that were born on the back of his tongue died before they passed his lips.

“I thought you wanted to talk to me about something.” Nick shrugged half heartedly.

“It’s too late for work now, it can wait.” Michael smiled as Nick’s response and with his hand pulled an inwardly shell shocked Nick closer to him and kissed his temple. Nick’s head swam, he now owed it to David as well as Michael; they both deserved better

The television provided little distraction to the fever of need that David harboured as he restlessly traipsed over the floorboards of his flat. The need to know whether Nick had told Michael was all consuming; it was all that occupied his thoughts. His finger tips burned with an incessant itch to pick up his phone and send Nick a message or even to risk calling him; but as hard it was to resist, David knew he had to. He knew that if Nick had spoken to Michael or not he’d still need some space and some time to think. As desperate as David was for Nick to be to completely his, he knew that Nick loved Michael, not with the same passion and fervour as he once did but there was still love there for David to see, and he needed to respect the difficult decision that Nick faced.

David collapsed into his armchair with a heavy sigh; he looked with gloomy eyes at the phone he’d left on the coffee table, just out of his reach; urging it to ring. Despite Nick’s deep feelings for Michael, David knew that Nick wanted to be with him; and as he sat alone in the dim blue of his surroundings, it was all he had to keep him company; the hope that Nick had found the courage to put an end to his betrayal of Michael. He deemed his desire to have Nick to himself was selfish but he reasoned that it was necessary, believing the less running around and lying that Nick would have to do without Michael would make it an easier task to keep their relationship under wraps. The media fallout if they were discovered would be catastrophic to their leadership and government; David was resigned to the truth in George’s words; they had worked too hard and had climbed too high to take such a fall.

David snatched the phone of the coffee table and looked at it; he closed his tired eyes and with a low sigh, for his own sanity, he switched it off. He dragged his weary body towards the bedroom where he undressed and went through his bedtime regime on autopilot; his mind preoccupied on both important business and matters of the heart. He slipped between the crisp cotton sheets and relished the coolness against the warmth of his skin. He lay on his back, rested his forearm across his forehead and with his other arm reached out to the empty space next to him. The sheets were soft and cool against his hand as he clasped at the material, a pull of anguish in his chest as he wondered whether Nick was sleeping alone or in the warmth of his partner’s arms.

***

Nick listened to Michael’s steady breathing in the darkness, safe in his sleep as Nick lay awake and troubled with the knowledge that he had let David down; regretting that he had told David his plans, he had a few days of the initial week remaining of which he said to David he needed. Why did he add the extra pressure on top of the weight of the deed upon himself? He rolled on to his side, cradled his head on his hands and felt the frustration clasp at him as noticed the unsociable hour. He felt the bed move as Michael shifted his weight and slung and arm over Nick’s waist, he kissed the smooth skin of his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” He whispered softly. “You’ve been tossing and turning all night.”

Nick placed a hand over Michael’s and squeezed it, holding it firmly against his chest. “I’m fine, just not that tired I guess, sorry.” Michael kissed Nick’s shoulder again, leaving his mouth where he had kissed for a short time, lost in thought.

“I’m worried about you; you need to take better care of yourself.” Nick laughed hollowly, nervous and bemused. “I’m serious, Nick.” Nick felt Michael roll back over, sensing the irritation in Michael’s voice he remained quiet, not wanting an argument at this time. He remained motionless in the darkness, waiting for Michael’s breathing to fall into its relaxed rhythm once again. Nick listened for a while and when he was happy that Michael had drifted back off to sleep, he reached for his Blackberry on the bedside table and typed out a hurried message to David.

The opportunity didn’t arise. But I will do it before the week is out. Love you.

Nick waited and waited for a reply, and after what seemed like forever he longed for sleep to find him as he cowered in the fear that he’d upset David so much that he had ignored his message. He closed his eyes, hopefully finding sleep and bringing an end to another day of betrayal and torment.

TBC

Cindernick - Part 1

raederleofan — Sat, 30 Jul 2016 00:13:08 GMT

b>Title:</b> Cindernick
Author: raederleofan
Fandom: British Politician RPF
Rating: NC-13
Pairing: Clameron
Disclaimer:This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely for the purpose of telling a story and is in no way intended to reflect reality. No offence, insult or harm is intended. It's NOT REAL, guys, okay?

Summary: The title says it all, I feel. This is an unashamedly romantic clameron fairy tale. Any resemblance to a traditional fairy tale with a similar title is wholly intentional.

Cindernick, a Clameron Fairy Tale

Fic: Keeping Hope 1/12

secretshipper — Wed, 18 May 2016 01:59:08 GMT

Title: Keeping Hope
Rating: PG
Synopsis: Three years after the events of Not Completely Cast Away, Nick returns with David to Penrhyn. There, David glimpses some of the life that Nick left behind, and learns the truths Nick has been hiding
Author's note: Having had the idea for a sequel in my head for some time now, I am finally getting to writing it. If you've not read Not Completely Cast Away, you can do so here.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't really happen and is unlikely to.

Keeping Hope

Chapter One

It was dark by the time David got back to the house in Notting Hill, the early, summer evening having finally wound down and the moon riding high in the cloudless sky.

Initially, after he and Nick had moved to Oxfordshire, David had intended to sell the house in order to pay off their new mortgage, but after Nick sold the film rights to his book they had been able to afford both houses with relative ease. It was a situation that had proved advantageous as David was frequently in London during the week, his acceptance of a place in the House of Lords effectively tying him to the capital for as long as he continued to work in Parliament.

When they had spoken by phone earlier in the day, Nick had told David he would be driving to London that evening, and so it came as no surprise when David saw Nick's Fiat parked in the driveway. He parked his own car in the space next to it and turned off the engine, reaching over to the passenger seat to grab his jacket before getting out and heading toward the front door, turning on the car's alarm as he went.

Inside, the hallway light had been left on, but Nick had already gone to bed, so David trudged wearily up the stairs and to the bedroom, pushing open the door and smiling softly as he saw Nick curled up on the bed, asleep. He had missed Nick during the five days he had been alone, having driven down himself on Sunday and been kept in London longer than usual by a series of meetings he could not postpone, and resisted a sudden, powerful urge to wake Nick immediately with urgent touches of hands and mouth. Although Nick had been back for three years now, his battles with sleep – both in adjusting to a bed once again and in finding sleep once there – had been long-fought, and the victory was not quite assured, even now. The slightest disturbance could upset the delicate balance of Nick's sleep-wake cycle, undoing months of hard work.

Contenting himself with a long moment of staring at his sleeping spouse, David padded silently to the en-suite bathroom and prepared for bed.

As expected, when David returned to the bedroom and slid quietly beneath the covers, Nick stirred, one eye blinking open, then closed, and Nick turned and shifted, allowing David to curl close at his side. A sleepy kiss was placed on David's lips and a drowsy ‘hello’ said in his ear. David said nothing, but instead wrapped Nick in his arms and held him close.

Some nights, when David arrived home after Nick was already in bed, that sleepy kiss would awaken passion enough to rouse Nick from sleep, and they would make tender, unhurried love to one another, afterwards falling into a blissful slumber. Other nights, like this one, Nick simply returned to sleep as soon as David was settled in bed.

It still surprised David that, after all these years, he could never be sure which of these events might transpire. It seemed whenever he attempted to guess, the exact opposite would happen; he would arrive home expecting Nick to groan sleepily as he wrapped himself around David, and within minutes Nick would be grasping frantically at David's pyjamas. A memory of one of those nights, of Nick's slender body writhing desperately against him, left David longing to wake Nick. He tightened his arms around Nick and, with a sigh, kissed Nick on the forehead and closed his eyes.

In the morning, after having slept surprisingly easily, David woke to the sound of his phone ringing on the bedside table. He groaned, grasping blindly for it as Nick stirred at his side, burrowing further beneath the duvet to block out the noise. His alarm, David realised as he held the phone in front of his face; he had forgot to turn it off. Quickly silencing the shrill beeping, David plonked the phone back where it had been and turned to Nick.

‘Sorry,’ he said as Nick emerged from under the duvet. ‘Didn't mean to wake you.’

‘I was already awake.’ Nick leaned up and kissed David lightly. ‘Did you get in late?’

‘After midnight,’ David commented, pulling Nick forward for another kiss. ‘I missed you.’

‘Missed you, too,’ Nick whispered against David's lips. He pressed himself close against David's body, one hand caressing David's face while the other clung lightly to David's hip. It was a position so familiar to David, a consistency so complete, that for a moment he was transported by memory to the very first time Nick had held him this way; that night in Devon just seven days after Nick had returned from Penrhyn.

During their two years of marriage, through all of its turbulence and triumph, through tenderness and tempers and tears, this simple touch from Nick had never failed to rouse in David such passion, such urgency and need, that the intensity of those feelings often left him trembling. He reached out, needing to touch Nick's body, needing to feel the weight, the certainty, of Nick in his arms, and kissed Nick again, whispering, ‘I love you.’

‘Always the charmer,’ Nick murmured, his smile lighting the boyish features of his face, crinkling the outer corners of his eyes. ‘I love you.’

David hugged Nick close, letting his hands roam lazily over the bare skin of Nick's back and arms, deliberately teasing himself by not indulging his building desire to do more.

‘How was the drive down?’ he asked.

‘The traffic was awful,’ Nick answered. ‘I wish I'd taken the train.’

‘You hate the train.’

‘I hate travelling at all,’ Nick said, his smile quirking into one of wry amusement. A familiar frown passed across his features, but did not stay, his expression transforming once again into simple happiness.

‘Why did you, then?’ David asked. He kissed Nick's forehead tenderly.

‘Catherine.’

Nick's one word answer was explanation enough. Catherine Percer was Nick's publicist. A thin, middle-aged woman whose overly persistent manner came close to bullying, and was only tolerable because of her shrewd business instinct. The daughter of a military man, David often thought Catherine would have been better suited to the hard voiced, hard line career of a drill sergeant, but he could not fault her dogged insistence in pushing Nick's interests. She had managed all of Nick's public appearances, and had proven herself a tough negotiator when Nick had sold the film rights to his book.

‘They still want me to walk the red carpet for the film,’ Nick explained, and then added, a note of wariness in his voice, ‘And you.’

‘Oh,’ David uttered in surprise. He knew Nick was involved in a long-running dispute with Dreamworks, who were insistent, despite Nick's resolute refusal, they wanted Nick to attend the première of Keeping Hope. The information they also wanted David there, however, was completely new.

‘They're concerned if both of us are not there then it will seem as if we are snubbing the film.’

‘Ridiculous,’ David commented. ‘Everyone knows you don't like public appearances.’

‘Apparently that doesn't matter,’ Nick answered, his voice sounding both irritated and stressed. ‘They want us there anyway.’

‘Can't Catherine get you out of it?’

‘She's tried,’ Nick sighed. ‘But they've started to pull contract clauses, with some pretty wild interpretations, I might add, and pile on the pressure. She wants to meet with me and discuss options.’

‘And those are?’

‘At this point: additional financial incentives for me to attend, and possibly a contract breach case if I still refuse.’

‘They're that desperate?’ David asked, beginning to feel somewhat stressed himself. He would not have minded doing the red carpet bit if Nick had asked; the media attention he could handle.

After he and Nick had wed, the fuss the media kicked up had lasted for months, with paparazzi hounding both of them, wherever they went, until they had moved out of London. What David did not like was Nick being forced into the public eye again, especially when Nick had made it clear from the start he did not want that.

In the two years since Nick's book had been published, he had made one television appearance, in a documentary commissioned by the BBC, and had attended three ticketed book talks at a London Waterstones, the minimum number he had agreed to in his publishing deal. All of those had been in the six months following the release. Since then, after they had moved, Nick had happily settled into a routine far removed from the hectic, spotlight-heavy one he had known before Penrhyn. David knew that, at least in the beginning, a lot of Nick's resistance had come from his time spent in isolation and the subsequent social anxiety. Nowadays, and even though the anxiety was still sometimes problematic, Nick maintained his aversion of publicity simply because he no longer wanted that kind of lifestyle.

‘Oh, that reminds me,’ Nick said, making David realise he had missed Nick's reply. ‘Simon has invited us to dinner tonight.’

‘Yes, I know,’ David replied. ‘He called me yesterday evening, said he had invited a few others.’

‘Duncan and Jo, probably.’ Nick unwrapped himself from David's embrace and threw back the covers, getting to his feet. ‘They're still showing Tess off to everyone.’

‘Still?’ David laughed, watching as Nick walked to the bathroom, pushing the door open wide. ‘How old is she now?’

‘Ten weeks.’

‘Ten weeks,’ David echoed quietly. Had it really been that short a time since Nick was last in London? Usually Nick visited only two or three times a year, but here they were in June and Nick had already driven down four times. David wondered if Nick was making progress in better dealing with the stress of travelling – perhaps Arthur had been focusing on that in their recent sessions.

Nick emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, and walked to the wardrobe, where he kept a few changes of clothes stored for his infrequent visits. He flicked through them, quickly selecting a smart pair of trousers and a white shirt; no tie, Nick never wore one any more.

‘Are my good shoes still downstairs?’ he asked distractedly.

‘Should be,’ David replied, sighing internally as he realised Nick did not intend to return to bed. ‘Unless you took them home last time you were here.’

‘Don't think I did,’ Nick mumbled, beginning to move things this way and that within the wardrobe. David laughed to himself as he watched Nick leave devastation in his wake. Nick's side of the wardrobe always resembled that of a teenager rather than a man in his fifties, with rumpled clothes left in untidy piles and shirts half-falling from hangers.

At first David had industriously tidied and folded Nick's clothes, leaving them neatly arranged for when Nick visited, but whenever Nick did visit he left everything in disarray again, and after a while David had given up, putting Nick's lack of care down to the temporary nature of his presence in the house. Nick had not said anything, but David knew Nick no longer considered the Notting Hill house as home.

David got up. Home or not, and David had to admit lately he himself tended to think of the house more as an exceptionally comfortable hotel, he had always been something of a neat-freak. He made the bed as Nick dumped his good shoes unceremoniously at the foot of the wardrobe and went back to the bathroom to shower.

Not wanting to dwell on Nick's unusually rushed manner, or his own sharply felt desire, David opened his own side of the wardrobe and began to flick through the many suits he kept there, choosing, with much more thought than Nick had, one an elegant shade of dark blue, along with a white shirt and a navy blue tie covered with fine white dots. He had several meetings today, in spite of it being a Saturday, and could not dress as casually as he usually would have of a weekend.

In the bathroom, as Nick showered, David began to brush his teeth, casting furtive glances at the frosted glass of the shower cubicle. He wondered idly, as he watched the outline of Nick's body, how long Nick intended to remain in London. Would he drive back tomorrow morning or would he stay the week?

Recently, David had begun to feel the almost constant separation was putting a strain on his and Nick's relationship. There was no specific reason for him to feel that way, only a thought deep inside that there was an invisible distance growing between them, too much familiarity at being apart.

For the past year Nick had been making a home for himself in Oxfordshire; spending time with neighbours, making friends, joining the local community garden project. All of his activities were designed to strengthen his ties to the house and the life he had there, whereas David, spending four days a week in London, had little to no time to do the same. He more and more felt as though he was living two separate lives, with no way to bring them together, to marry them into something he could feel happy with.

This growing discontent with their situation hung heavily in David's heart, often playing on his mind during the time he spent away from home. He knew Nick felt the same way, though neither of them had spoken of it; he knew the meaning of the expression Nick wore every time David left on Sunday night, could read it as perfectly as if Nick had spoken the accompanying thought: I wish you didn't have to go.

The fact Nick did not say anything did not stop David from feeling his heart clench every time he saw the sadness in Nick's eyes. Even after three years, after countless therapy sessions with Arthur, Nick still had an aversion to being alone, and still kept part of himself locked away in a place David could not reach. Sometimes it was that, more than anything else, which worried David – that he knew there were things Nick still felt he could not talk about.

David rinsed his toothbrush and then his mouth, opening the bathroom cabinet to get his razor as Nick slid back the glass shower panel, stepped onto the bathroom mat, and grabbed his towel from the rail by his side. He wrapped it around himself and then took a few steps forward, putting his arms around David's waist and kissing the back of his neck.

‘Shower's free.’

‘Mm,’ David hummed, turning in Nick's arms so he could return the embrace, and trying to hide his unhappy expression. He thought he had succeeded until Nick tilted his head inquisitively, stroking David's back through the fabric of his pyjama top.

‘You okay?’ Nick asked, smiling kindly.

‘I'm fine,’ David answered. He pulled Nick closer, searching for a way to tell Nick what was troubling him without sounding like a needy teenager. ‘I've missed you, this week has seemed to last a long time.’

‘I missed you, too,’ Nick said softly, kissing David on the cheek. ‘We seem to spend a lot of time apart at the moment.’

‘I'm sorry.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ Nick reassured him, smiling affectionately. ‘It's as much my fault as yours.’

‘I'm the one who's never at home,’ David huffed. ‘I'm always busy with-’

‘You not being at home is only half of the equation,’ Nick interrupted. He leaned back, regarding David in a forthright manner. ‘As I said, it's as much my fault as yours, I should spend more time here with you.’

‘You are busy with the community garden, I know how important it is to you.’

‘Nothing is more important to me than our marriage, David,’ Nick said, sighing, obviously as frustrated by their situation as David was. ‘I-I think after all the press attention I became a little, a little afraid of being here, but I shouldn't have let that get in the way of spending time with you, and I'm going to make more of an effort from now on.’

‘Nice speech,’ David chuckled. Nick grinned at him. ‘Did Arthur give you that in one of his many lectures?’

‘He certainly did not,’ Nick laughed, shaking his head. ‘You know as well as I do he gave up lecturing me about you after we got married.’

‘Oh,’ David said playfully, ‘and what does he lecture you about now?’

Nick smiled enigmatically, but David saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and did not press for an answer. They had spoken about what Nick's therapy sessions involved but Nick never went into much detail, mostly it concerned Nick's continued anxiety over large social gatherings and using any kind of public transport, though there were other things Nick discussed with his therapist he would not talk to David about; David knew most, if not all, of them were directly related to Penrhyn and the time Nick had spent on the island.

In the beginning, David had been surprised Nick had remained in therapy for as long as this. Somehow he had got the idea that after a few months Nick would stop seeing Arthur as regularly, or even stop seeing him at all; he had not expected that three years after Nick had returned from Penrhyn he would still be meeting with his therapist on a weekly basis. It highlighted to David that he really did have very little understanding of the complexities of mental health, up to that point at least. Of course the problems associated with a trauma on the scale of that which Nick had been through could not be fixed in a time period of weeks or months, David understood that now, having watched Nick struggle with countless issues caused by his almost six year period of total isolation, from the serious and still persistent sleep problems to more mundane concerns like the fact that Nick still sometimes retreated into his headphones and listened to the sounds of the ocean to calm himself if he was feeling stressed.

The change in Nick's character was less apparent now than it had been when he had first stayed at Chequers, gone was the near constant nervousness and the abrupt mood swings David had grown used to in the early days of their relationship. The fright at loud noises had also faded, with Arthur's help, and Nick no longer felt the need to sleep on the floor or walk around barefoot.

‘How will you see Arthur if you are here?’ David asked, thinking Nick missing sessions probably would not be approved of.

‘I'll drive,’ Nick answered, his wariness vanishing as David changed the subject. ‘Or take the train, he has been going on about that recently, says it's one of the last things we need to work on.’

‘Surely not the train?’ David grinned. ‘He truly is horrible to you.’

‘I'll tell him you said that,’ Nick said with a laugh, nuzzling his face against David's neck for a few moments before stepping away and giving David a look of regret. ‘If I didn't have to meet Catherine in less than an hour, and if she wouldn't give me a worse lecture than Arthur ever has if I were late! This was not, not how I wanted to spend Saturday morning. There was a lot less getting dressed and a lot more of you in my version.’

‘Sounds very similar to what I would have liked.’ David smiled and leaned forward to give Nick one last quick kiss.

‘I'm surprised you didn't jump me as soon as you got in last night,’ Nick chuckled as he left the bathroom. David turned back to the mirror with a short laugh, inspecting his cheeks and chin before squirting some shaving foam into his palm.

‘I thought I had better let you sleep,’ he commented.

‘What was that?’ Nick's voice called back a few seconds later.

‘I said,’ David repeated, raising his voice, ‘I thought I had better let you sleep.’

There was no answer, but David heard Nick give another low chuckle, followed by the sound of a drawer being opened and then closed. David lathered his face with the shaving foam and began to shave. He was almost finished when Nick returned to the bathroom, mostly dressed but with his shirt hanging open, and leaned past David to get the deodorant from on top of the cabinet.

‘I'm going to be late,’ Nick said in a stressed voice. ‘Just checked the traffic report; Edgware Road is at a standstill.’

‘Go through the backstreets?’ David suggested, rinsing his razor in the sink and towelling his face dry.

‘They'll be just as bad as people try to avoid the traffic,’ Nick answered, he quickly used the can of Lynx he was holding before putting it back and grabbing his toothbrush from the cup by the sink. ‘I'll have to take the tube.’

‘It won't be so busy on a Saturday.’

‘I suppose not,’ Nick sighed. As he started to brush his teeth, Nick reached out his hand and idly brushed a spot of shaving foam from David's ear, rinsing his finger clean under the still running tap before inspecting the other side of David's face. Evidently there were no similar spots there because Nick nodded in approval and smiled around the handle of his toothbrush, white foam gathering at the corners of his mouth, looking both totally adorable and absolutely ridiculous.

‘I can go with you on the tube if you like?’ David offered as Nick rinsed his mouth and wiped it with a flannel. ‘If you don't want to go on your own.’

‘No, no, I'll be fine,’ Nick responded, buttoning his shirt. ‘I should go alone. Arthur says it will be helpful.’

‘He's really pushing you on that, isn't he?’ David asked.

‘Yes,’ Nick answered. ‘He wants me to finish therapy this year, so he's pushing me on a couple of things right now.’

‘Finish?’ David raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, finish,’ Nick smiled, nodding lightly. He looked pleased and proud. ‘He says it's time, that I'm ready, ready to live without the safety net.’

‘How do you feel about it?’

‘I'm pleased, obviously I'm delighted,’ Nick said, a small frown appeared and his smile faltered a little. ‘To be honest, David, I'm scared. I'm worried that I won't be able to cut it without him to talk sense to me.

‘Arthur obviously thinks you can,’ David said, drawing Nick forward and stroking his neck affectionately. ‘I think you can. You know you're stronger than you give yourself credit for, you always have been.’

‘I love you, David,’ Nick whispered, wrapping his arms around David's shoulders. ‘I know I've not been, not always been easy to live with-’

‘Nonsense.’

‘No, no,’ Nick insisted. ‘I know at times I've made things difficult, I know you have been frustrated, even angry, with me.’ Nick broke off, sighing and taking a step backwards to look David directly in the eyes. ‘There are so many things I haven't told you, things that I should have told you a long time ago.’

‘I said I would wait,’ David told him, smiling softly. ‘For as long as you needed, until you are ready.’

‘I think I am,’ Nick said. ‘My last four sessions with Arthur have been- I want to tell you and he has been helping me with the worst thing, the one that- But now is hardly the time! Are you going to be busy this afternoon?’

‘I have meetings all day,’ David said regretfully.

‘Still going over Lords reform?’

‘Trying to muster enough support to get it past the rebels.’

This was the second time a bill for House of Lords reform had been prepared. The first, in 2012, while Nick had been on Penrhyn, had been dropped after facing opposition from both Labour and the Conservatives. The latest attempt had made it through the Commons but was now being held up as it was debated in the Lords. Whether it would pass or not was difficult to predict.

‘I'm sure you will get it through this time,’ Nick said. He flexed his fingers on David's shoulder. ‘I have to run, David. Can we find some time to talk later? Before the party, perhaps?’

‘I'll try to be finished by six.’

‘Oh good,’ Nick smiled. ‘That gives me a few hours to get ready. Party starts at eight.’

‘You'd think he would have them earlier now he's not leading the Lib Dems any more,’ David chuckled.

‘You know Simon,’ Nick grinned, shaking his head. ‘Must dash. I'll see you this evening.’

‘Say hi to Catherine for me.’

After Nick had left, David took a shower and got dressed. He was preoccupied by what Nick had told him about being ready to talk through some of the things they had thus far avoided concerning Penrhyn. David had never really minded Nick's reluctance to speak about what happened there; he was worried over it, thinking of it as the last barrier that Nick had, but knew that Nick would find a way to cross that when he was able. Knowing that Nick had used his recent sessions with Arthur to broach the subject, and the knowledge that Nick was soon to stop seeing his therapist, made David realise just how far Nick had progressed towards completely recovering from everything that had happened to him.

Two years ago, when Nick's book about Penrhyn had been published, David had bought a copy in secret and read it with growing fascination, not only for what was in it, but also for the things that had been deliberately left out. There was no mention of the day of the plane crash, nothing about David until the very end - and then only a brief mention. A lot of the detail was in how Nick found food and water, and the things he had done to keep himself occupied. Most tellingly of all, Nick had made no mention of the scar on his chest or what had happened to his mood after the day he injured himself.

In the years since his return, Nick had only told Arthur the full details of his experiences on Penrhyn. Even David had only limited knowledge.

Nick wanting to tell him the rest left David wondering what exactly he was going to say. He knew Nick had kept the worst of it to himself, as if he was afraid of how David would react, or afraid of something else, something inside himself.

Through the course of the day, David found himself unable to properly concentrate. He funmbled his way through a meeting with another Conservative Lord who was supporting the Lords Reform Bill, before eating a hasty lunch and making his way to George Osborne's office in 30 Millbank, where George, now the chief election stratagist rather than chancellor, wanted to discuss David's role in the upcoming 2020 elections.

‘David,’ George greeted him warmly, rising from his chair and holding out his hand. ‘Good to see you. How are you? How's Nick?’

‘We're fine,’ David said, shaking George's hand and then sitting down.

‘Is he still in Oxford?’ George asked conversationally.

‘No, he drove down yesterday,’ David replied. ‘Had to meet with Catherine Percer.’

‘About the première, I suppose. What is it, two weeks away now?’

David explained the situation, George listening sympathetically and offering helpful suggestions.

Their friendship was not as close as it had once been, but was better than two years earlier when David and Nick had married. George had refused to attend the wedding, telling David bluntly that he thought it was a mistake. They had not spoken for six months.

It had hurt David to know that the man who had until then been a dear friend did not support his decision to marry the man he loved. They had rowed bitterly when David asked George to be his best man for the ceremony, and George had stormed out after telling David that the marriage would not last six months and not to come crying to him when it all went wrong.

Two years on, George was more accepting, but the friendship they shared had never fully recovered. Even though George had apologised for his words some eight months earlier, things between the two of them were still stilted.

‘Anyway, David,’ George said when he had given a final, condemning opinion of Dreamworks. ‘About why you're here.’

‘Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?’ David asked. George gave a sly grin.

‘Because you're not stupid,’ George answered. He tapped his ball point pen on a stack of papers in front of him. ‘How would you feel about being our poster boy for the gay vote?’

‘I'm hardly a boy,’ David responded gruffly, shooting a hard look in George's direction.

‘No,’ George agreed. He leaned back in his chair, smiling a little smugly. ‘You are Lord Cameron, former prime minister and leader of the Conservatives, who two years ago married a man who was once your political rival.’

‘And that's the angle, is it?’ David asked testily. ‘Using my marriage as political currency?’

‘It wouldn't be like that, David.’

‘Wouldn't it?’

‘No,’ George insisted adamantly. ‘We want you to do a couple of interviews, that's all. Perhaps a poster.’

‘We?’ David questioned, unconvinced by George's assurances.

‘All right, Boris,’ George sighed. ‘Boris wants you.’

‘That's absolutely terrifying,’ David joked uncomfortably, shifting position. ‘Did he say why? Or is this another of his not-so-brilliant ideas to endear us to the population?’

George shrugged, sighing again, a weary look on his face. Strategising for the election was a job that had been made that much harder when Boris had taken over as leader of the Conservatives after David had stood down. After a series of typically Boris comments in recent months, the tolerance of the public to the bumbling politician had begun to fade, and it was looking increasingly likely that there would be another leadership election within a year.

‘You know I have to talk it over with Nick,’ David said when George remained silent.

‘I know,’ George answered. ‘I didn't expect you to agree right away.’

‘Do you have a timetable in mind?’

‘Nothing this year,’ George said. ‘We were looking at next March, if you agree. You'll be fighting for your Lords seat at the same time, provided the Bill goes through.’

‘I'll let you know soon, then,’ David told him, glancing at the clock on the wall and getting to his feet. ‘I have to get going, I'll call you next week.’

‘Thank you,’ George said politely, shaking David's hand. ‘Oh,’ he added, seeming to only just think of it. ‘Ask Nick if he can get me tickets to the première.’

Some long overdue Clameron fics, and a vid :)

fayzalmoonbeam — Tue, 05 May 2015 15:55:43 GMT

Afternoon, all :)

This General Election malarky seems to have kicked my muse into gear once again, and I've been riffing on Coalition slash for a week or two. The results of which are below. Basically, two fics and a vid about my favourite, angst ridden couple ;). Enjoy :). Would love to know what you think! fics hosted over on A03.

Ashes and Roses

Summary: Lord Freud said some awful things about people with disabilities at a fringe meeting of the Conservative Party conference in October 2014. Ed Miliband called David Cameron out on it in Prime Minister’s Question time that week. It was such an angry exchange that my narrative senses went off and this fic was written. All conjecture, no offence intended.

Warnings: Mentions the death of a child, and some sexual references. Oh and there's swearing. A lot of it.

Mutability

The night before the General Election, Nick contemplates all that has gone before.

Nick Clegg: I will survive (elements of David Cameron/Nick Clegg)

Fic by Proxy: In Your Place.

ficbyproxy — Mon, 02 Mar 2015 10:37:54 GMT

Title: In Your Place
Rating: NC17
Summary: A world turned upside-down, where Nick Clegg is Prime Minister, where David Cameron never became leader of the Conservatives and works as a SpAd – and keeps finding himself having private meetings with the Prime Minister.
Warning: If you're squicked by rimming don't read this.
Author's Notes: My one and only clameron fic. I wrote two endings for it, so you can have the other, not so pleasant, ending here, rather than the happy one I posted to the meme. Since I've agreed to let Lizzy post this, I'm going to have her post the version of it that I much prefer.
Disclaimer: Obviously not real. Written with no implication that it could ever be true. Like anyone needs this in a fic where Nick is PM.

It's going to be another of those meetings. David can tell as soon as he walks into the Prime Minister's office and sees him sat behind his desk, brown hair glinting auburn in the sunlight and yellow tie slung across the back of his chair. He can tell as soon as the Prime Minister looks up at him, lips curling into a predatory smile.

'Close the door,' the Prime Minister says, words careful and calm.

David turns with his heart hammering in his chest and pushes the door closed, takes one last fleeting glimpse of the corridor outside, and then bare brown wood fills his vision. He doesn't turn back, doesn't need to for the moment, waits there to see what order will follow the one just spoken.

'Not talkative today?' the Prime Minister enquires with a sardonic laugh. 'No important advice for me?'

'No,' David answers curtly. 'Just get on with it.'

'All business, aren't you?'

The creak of the Prime Minister's chair indicates that he's got to his feet, but David doesn't hear the footsteps that follow, muffled to silence by the carpet. David flinches without meaning to as the Prime Minister steps up behind him and stands close against his back.

'I thought you liked our meetings,' the Prime Minister purrs in his ear.

Like is an understatement; can't live without is closer to the truth, not that David will admit it to the smug-faced and self assured man who is standing behind him. But he doesn't want to dance around the reason why he's here, not today, not when the Prime Minister has been overseas for more than a week and there haven't been meetings of any kind. What he wants is to be roughly ravished, fucked against the Prime Minister's desk, or door, or wall, or anywhere; he doesn't care as long as it happens, and happens soon.

'I have other things to do today,' David hisses. He doesn't, this is his last meeting of the day, he'd made sure of it before he even knocked on the door. 'I'm not at your beck and call.'

'Perhaps not...' Fingers curl themselves in David's hair, brushing lightly at the back of his head with blissful, torturous slowness. 'I can always give you a new job.'

'You'd like that wouldn't you?' David laughs dryly. He'd like that too, but he's not about to give his hand away; likes the pretence, the mock fight for dominance even when he knows he has none, not here.

'Look at me,' is the answer, and David twists to see the Prime Minister smiling at him, one corner of his mouth curled upward and blue eyes clearly showing amusement. 'If you'd rather talk politics, I can certainly oblige you.'

'How was the trip to America?' David asks immediately, watching the smile grow on the Prime Minister's lips as he speaks. 'Did you settle the issue with the extradition-'

'Take off your shoes,' the Prime Minister interrupts.

'What?'

'Your shoes, take them off.'

The Prime Minister steps back enough that David can follow the instruction, bending over clumsily and lifting first one leg and then the other as he pulls his shoes from his feet. He hesitates for a moment with his head level to the Prime Minister's waist, and then slips off his socks too, balling them up and shoving them into his left shoe, and stands up again.

'Jacket too, and trousers, but not your shirt.'

David slides out of his jacket, tossing it to one side and then fumbling with his trousers until he can push them down over his legs. They join the jacket on the floor, and David stands silently, feeling the Prime Ministers gaze travelling his body while the man strokes a thumb across his chin in apparent thoughtfulness. It's enough to make David feel self conscious, although nothing more than his legs and feet are visible, the rest hidden by his shirt.

'Wait by my desk,' the Prime Minster orders.

'Yes, Prime Minister.'

The meek response earns David a throaty chuckle, and he smiles while he's sure it can't be seen, darting across the floor to the front of the Prime Minister's desk and turning so he can watch as the Prime Minister picks up the discarded clothing, folding the jacket and trousers, and placing them carefully on one of the low chairs against the wall. He doesn't take off any of his own clothes before walking to David, stepping right up to him and pushing David further back against the desk, hands grabbing the waistband of David's underwear.

'The President and I managed to see eye to eye on the issue,' he says impossibly lightly, before ducking his head and nibbling behind David's ear.

'That's...' David falls silent for a moment as his underwear is slid over his hips and down his legs, and mumbles, not quite sure of what he means, when a hand roves over his already hardening cock. '...Good.'

'Indeed,' the Prime Minister agrees at his throat, tongue fluttering over the steady beat of David's carotid. 'But I didn't expect to have any trouble. Obama is quite reasonable, it was easy to persuade him of the government's position on the matter.'

'Shut up,' David responds gruffly.

'I thought you wanted to talk politics?'

There's another laugh, and the Prime Minister's chest shakes against David's. All part of this game, whatever it is, that they're playing. David can't really complain, since he's the one who started it, taking up the challenge when they'd been over by the door, but with the hand on his cock moving, agonisingly slow, David can't keep his thoughts clear enough to keep up with a conversation about extradition treaties.

'I thought you didn't,' David says.

'I said I'd oblige you,' comes the soft-spoken answer. The hand on David's cock strokes faster for a few seconds and then slows again.

'Do you get off on politics or something?'

'I think the more relevant question is whether you do. You're the one who-'

'Shut up!'

David follows the outburst with a rough nip at the Prime Minister's earlobe, but the Prime Minister simply laughs again.

'A right tomcat today. I take it you missed me?'

'Not in a million years.'

'Oh,' the Prime Minister answers with one hand now on David's back, 'I think you did.' As if to prove the point, the Prime Minister jerks his hand a few times, causing David to yell loudly. 'Quiet.'

Quiet, David thinks hazily, through the cascading shivers rippling their way up his spine. The Prime Minister's hand is hot around his bare flesh. How could anyone stay quiet when someone is doing that to them?

He closes his mouth, breathing in great bursts through his nostrils, and whimpers in the back of his throat. This, every time this; he wouldn't change it for anything, wouldn't want anything else, not when those hands reach for him and set his skin aflame with their touch, the low, long and hard grazing of fingernails along his thigh.

Still shivering, David fastens his mouth to the Prime Minister, sucking and biting, dragging his lips across the harsh scrape of emerging stubble on the skin of the Prime Minister's neck, prickly sharp against the sensitive flesh of his tongue.

'Turn around.'

The command comes from somewhere near David's hairline, and he obeys instantly, twisting until he is facing the desk, planting his feet firmly on the expensive carpet and curling his toes into the springy, twisted strands that compose its surface, feeling them tickle between his toes. The Prime Minister presses himself against David's back, hands and arms curling around David's waist possessively; he's hard, the knot of arousal firm against David's rear. David arches back for more contact, more of that hardness swelling so close to his bare skin, and hears a sharp intake of breath at his ear, a hard grunt that is the only crack in the Prime Minister's steady composure.

Pleasure and pride, in equal measure, flare in David at the noise, bright and blinding at having finally pierced that icy stance and found something lurking in the depths beneath, something that David has wanted to see or to hear, and wants to again. He pushes back once more, flicking his hips in a grinding circle, and is rewarded with another groan, but his sense of having some advantage over the man behind him lasts only a fraction of a second before it is ripped away. The Prime Minister's hand skates under David's shirt and finds the hard stub of a nipple, and his other slides down across David's belly, gripping tight and moving slow, leaving David panting and trapped between the want to push forward into that hold or back into the tempting hardness.

A mouth falls upon David's neck, devouring the skin while hands taunt and tease, working David to a pitch of ecstasy. He throws his head back against the Prime Minster's shoulder, gasping into the air above him and biting back moan after moan after moan, sensations racking his body, drawing it this way and that under the Prime Minster's burning touches.

'Didn't miss me at all?' the Prime Minister asks quietly against his skin. 'Not even a little?'

'N-not f-or a s-se-cond,' David insists brokenly.

Not a second, no... Every second, of every minute, of every day; the whole week of impatient waiting for him to get back, and then two more before today when their meeting was written in to David's schedule along with innumerable others.

'That really is a shame.' The hands on David's body move to his shirt, unfastening the buttons before peeling it away from his upper body. 'I've been thinking of doing this all week.'

'Have you?'

'Oh yes.'

The low, sultry tone of the reply goes straight to David's groin, as does the sentiment. It's not only himself who pictures this, who wants and waits, who feels the fire burning through him the second he steps over the threshold of the Prime Minister's office, sweeping him away, like a path of lava running hot, boiling over every millimetre of his skin.

David's shirt falls to the floor, and then the Prime Minister's mouth is once again on his neck, nipping, biting, licking. David leans forward, hands meeting the desk with a thump, fingers tense and twitching, as the Prime Minister's tongue presses forward, slides in a damp line all the way down David's spine and lower, and slips to a place that makes a strangled cry wrench its way from David's throat. He looks down at his hands, fingers splayed out across the leather-covered surface of the desk, sweaty dampness showing in an outline whenever he curls his fingers, seeking purchase that cannot be found.

The Prime Minister's hand presses firm on the small of David's back, urges him forward until he is lying on the cool surface in front of him, arms stretched out above his head, hands grasping the far edge of the desk as that tongue dances, slick and slippery, pushing inside him. He clenches his teeth against a wail, inhales the smell of leather and paper and ink, rocking back in desire and desperation, legs shaking and sweat dripping from his brow.

'P-p-pr--'

He can't get the words out, can't cling to the formality of titles, like some obscure barrier, in the hope that it will keep his head from swimming, not when he's naked across the Prime Minister's desk; not when the Prime Minister is on his knees behind him; not when that mouth is doing what it is.

'Nick,' he gasps eventually, the shorter word falling easily from him, drifting out and hanging in the air; it's never been said before, never once in all of David's lusty utterings has that word been spoken. There is no answer except for a quick flick and dart of tongue, a harder push that has David trembling against the desk.

He arches, back and back, pushing against the glorious heat, begging silently for more of that; don't stop, don't stop, I'd give anything.

The cry David gives, unintentional and filled with furious need, when the Prime Minister pulls away, is met with two words, hushed against his thigh.

'Shh, David.'

David realises then that he has been begging out loud, words slipping in a chaotic mess from his lips, accidental, with meaning like never before, or meaning that he has desperately tried to deny, and to conceal from the man behind him.

'Nick, please,' David gasps out helplessly, fingers tightening on the edge of the desk, nervousness curling through his stomach when the Prime Minister doesn't immediately respond. David feels him stand up, cloth brushing against David's bare skin, and then a warm hand is sliding slowly over David's back to his shoulder, grasping firmly and gently urging him to turn over. With eyes closed, David obeys, biting down on his lip and breathing hard, settling nearer to the middle of the desk than he was before.

There's a moment of shuffling, the sound of a belt being unbuckled, and then the rough scrape of leather against wood, and before David fully registers what is happening the Prime Minister has climbed onto the desk, straddling David's waist, his lower half now bare except for his socks and shoes. David looks up, and sees blue eyes looking at him intently, a soft smile playing on the Prime Minister's lips.

'I think that's enough preamble, don't you?' the Prime Minister whispers seductively.

God, yes, David thinks, remaining silent as the Prime Minister fumbles quickly in his pocket before sliding his jacket and shirt off and throwing them carelessly onto the chair behind his desk. He quickly rips open the packet he'd taken from his pocket, slips the condom onto David, then positions himself, pulling David up so that they are touching chest to chest.

Christ, Nick is tight, and hot. His hands are clamped on David's shoulders, fingers pinching hard into David's skin as he pushes himself down slowly, so fucking slowly that David can't breathe, pausing after each movement and gasping rapidly in David's ear.

'Fuck, Nick,' David breathes.

'That's the idea, yes,' is the half-laughed response. The Prime Minister stills for a few seconds, a few short groans escaping into the air at the side of David's face. He shivers, and then he moves, thighs straining under David's palms as he pulls himself up and then pushes down again.

'Oh, oh God,' David gasps, hands clinging to the Prime Minster's hips and guiding his movement gently, not wanting him to go too fast and have this end, because he is close, so close to the brink already, teetering on the edge and trying desperately to keep himself from toppling over. With uncharacteristic submission the Prime Minister follows the directions of David's hands, slows his pace to match, leaving David in awe of this change in dynamic, this new-found and subtle level of control that he now has. This is a tiny glimpse of the man behind the minister, the person who is hidden beneath the bravado of the game of dominance they play with each other.

'Kiss me, David,' the Prime Minister whispers roughly, his mouth pressing against David's, hands sliding into David's hair. His mouth is musky and hot; David devours it hungrily, not caring that he can taste a lingering bitterness, dragging his lips against Nick's and hearing a series of desperate whimpers rise in response. It's a victory greater than any David has ever known, to have broken the Prime Minister's guard so completely, to have those hard, short grunts give way to the soft and pleading sounds Nick is now making, and David doesn't care; this is no longer a game of who can get the upper hand.

'Nick,' he says softly when Nick breaks the kiss, his head falling to David's shoulder, the rush of his uneven breaths coursing against David's skin as he continues to move, shaking and trembling. David wonders how he has never noticed that Nick's apparently nonchalant manner is as false as his own, that Nick hides behind the pretence of indifference just as much as David does, perhaps more.

'Fuck, I missed you,' Nick pants hotly in his ear, quick and quiet.

'I missed you too,' David admits, delighting when the words make Nick whimper again, his hands shaking, his whole body quivering slightly.

'Did you?' Nick asks, the tone of his voice something close to frantic.

'Yes,' David insists, moving his hands so he can hold Nick's face and kiss him again, look him in the eye as he adds, 'I couldn't wait to see you.'

'D-david.' Nick closes his eyes, stuttering madly and moving just a fraction faster. David gasps breathlessly and returns his hands to Nick's hips to slow him once more. 'David, please.'

He's never seen Nick like this, this out of control, this willing to give himself up to what David wants. Nick moves and rocks, pushing back against David for more, tries to go faster, and when David refuses to allow it, Nick begs; pleads and whimpers and moans, and oh God, it's intoxicating, every second of it sends David's head spinning. Whatever game they had been playing before, it is over now, it has long been over; there is nothing but the two of them in this office, not the Prime Minister and the political advisor, just him and Nick, with no lies carefully placed between them to shield the truth.

I love him, David thinks, and the thought breaks his resolve. He moves his hands faster, urging Nick to do the same, and says, 'Moan for me, Nick. I love to hear you.'

'Dav-id,' Nick stammers. He's slamming himself down roughly between each word, every movement sending a cacophony of sensation skittering up David's spine, his arms are wrapped around David's neck and he is just clinging on as if his very life depends on keeping that hold. 'Oh, don't stop, don't fucking stop, David. I love you too.'

It's those last four words more than anything else that make David give one last cry of Nick's name, his head swims with them as he hears Nick's desperate yes, David, yes and the last few frantic seconds of movement cease. He flops back on the desk, Nick falling on top of him in a sprawling heap that must be uncomfortable, and wraps his arms tightly about Nick's shoulders, breathing heavily.

Neither of them speaks for what seems like a long time. Nick repositions himself carefully, lying half on the desk and half on top of David, head resting against David's chest and his fingers stroking softly across David's stomach. David lies in a state of bliss, smiling because Nick loves him and things will be different from now on, he won't have to hide his own feelings anymore, not when Nick feels the same.

At length, Nick gets up, sliding off the desk and beginning to put his clothes on. He still doesn't speak and, curiously, his face is back to being impassive and detached, shoulders set squarely as he pulls up his trousers and buckles the belt. David gets down from the desk and grabs at his crumpled shirt, quickly buttoning it and crossing the room to retrieve trousers and jacket. The silence is stretching out like an ocean before him; something is wrong but David can't fathom what it is, why Nick is now acting the professional statesman again after his admission of love.

When he looks up after tying his shoes, Nick is looking at him, biting his lip fiercely, a look of devastation marring his handsome features.

'My wife,' he says quietly, and David can see his lip tremble. 'My wife, she knows. Not who, but she knows there's someone-'

Nick takes a deep, despairing breath, looks down at the floor.

'I can't see you anymore, David.'

'Nick,' David says, whimpers it in a desperate rush of breath as he goes to where Nick is standing. No no no...

'You'll liaise with someone in the Treasury Office from now on,' Nick tells him.

'Nick, don't do this,' David pleads, grabbing Nick's shoulders frantically and pulling him so they are pressed together. For a second he sees Nick's resolve breaking, one tiny second where he can see all of Nick's pain, all of his longing, reflected in those beautiful blue eyes, before that too vanishes, slips back behind the mask of Prime Ministerial dignity, and Nick steps away from David's hold on him.

'It's already done.' The Prime Minister sits down at his desk, meeting David's heartbroken expression with a steady stare.

'I love you,' David whispers, but turns away when the Prime Minister remains silent, when there's no sign of the man he knows lives beneath the cold surface of the Prime Minster's steadfast professionalism.

'Goodbye, David,' the Prime Minster says. David nods then, gulping down his misery and heading for the door.

'Goodbye, Nick,' he says as he closes it, bare brown wood filling his vision, and blurring as tears fill his eyes.

Last joint appearance?

general_smuts — Sat, 28 Feb 2015 20:50:26 GMT

Hey,

I thought this video of what was quite possibly their last joint appearance should be posted here, even though this community is sadly nowhere near as busy as when it all began :(

http://youtu.be/B-HcssFspeI

Nice to see that they still get along well after all this time!

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away, Epilogue

secretshipper — Sat, 14 Feb 2015 11:11:13 GMT

Title: Not Completely Cast Away
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Word Count of entire fic: 53,000
Synopsis: Nick has been missing presumed dead since September 2010, this is the story of what happens when he turns up alive and well five years later.
Author's note: And it's finally done. Hurrah!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't really happen and is unlikely to.

Epilogue, (or, the scene that never made it)

Warm and comfortable, completely covered by duvet and with Nick wrapped around him, David blinked awake at some time around eight-thirty in the morning. He yawned, turning his head outward, his cheek brushing against the soft cotton of the duvet cover, and then gave a contented hum as he shifted his weight on the bed so he could hug Nick closer.

Nick did not stir, and David kissed him lightly on the cheek, smiling to himself as he closed his eyes and lay in silence.

A short while later, David felt Nick wiggle his foot, his instep moving back and forth across David's leg, toes curling as if to hug the skin there.

‘Good morning,’ David whispered as Nick opened his eyes.

‘Good morning,’ Nick sighed happily.

‘Did you sleep well?’ David asked, pressing lazy kisses to Nick's mouth. Nick nodded, moaning low in his throat, his fingers stroking the small of David's back. ‘Would you like breakfast?’

‘Mm,’ Nick hummed. ‘Breakfast sounds perfect. What would we have?’

‘Anything you want,’ David said. ‘Though I quite fancy a bacon sandwich.’

‘Oh, bacon,’ Nick said longingly. David laughed.

‘Haven't you had bacon since you got back?’

‘No.’

‘Well, clearly this is a situation that cannot be allowed to continue.’ David wiggled a little, running his hand down Nick's side and kissing him again. ‘Would you like anything with your bacon? Tea? Coffee? Orange juice?’

‘You,’ Nick breathed against his mouth.

‘I'm not sure I'm on the menu,’ David said teasingly.

‘You did say anything I wanted,’ Nick replied.

David did not answer. He brushed his lips lightly over Nick's, curling his hand at the back of Nick's neck. The phone on the bedside table rang, and David groaned unhappily, sticking his hand out from under the duvet and grabbing hold of the receiver.

‘Hello?’ David answered, trying to ignore Nick's hand as it made its way across his stomach.

‘David,’ George's voice said. He started to say something else but David interrupted.

‘I'm taking the weekend off, George. Call Simon.’

‘I hear Nick spent the night,’ George replied.

‘So?’

‘I'm not the only one who heard.’ George sounded annoyed.

‘What's your point?’ David asked, only half paying attention. He suppressed an involuntary noise as Nick kissed his neck.

‘Don't you think you should deal with this?’

‘I'm hanging up now, George. If there's anything urgent that needs to be dealt with, call Simon.’

David pressed the disconnect button while George was mid-reply. He looked at the phone for a few seconds and then sat up, folding the duvet away from his face. Smiling, David launched the phone through the open bedroom door and out into the hallway, where it clattered to the floor and slid off toward the living room.

‘Problem?’ Nick asked as David lay down and pulled the duvet back over them.

‘Our secret is out,’ David answered.

‘Oh.’ Nick looked at David thoughtfully. ‘I can go if–’

‘Don't you bloody dare,’ David muttered, pulling Nick into a hug. ‘I'm not going to let some backward thinking idiots–’ He stopped, looking at Nick apologetically, and then said honestly, ‘I can't lose you again. I don't care what they say.’

Nick smiled at him and stroked his face.

‘You won't lose me.’

Smiling back, David took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Then he said, ‘It's not like they can make much of a fuss. Gay marriage is legal now.’

‘That an offer?’ Nick snorted jokingly.

‘Is that a yes?’ David asked without thinking.

Then, realising what he had said, he quickly looked at Nick, swallowing hard. Nick was staring at him, expression faintly terrified and mouth open in shock.

‘Right, well,’ David babbled, attempting to make light of his question. ‘That would be–’

‘Absurd,’ Nick supplied, nodding. ‘Completely, completely absurd.’

‘Absolutely mad,’ David agreed, unconsciously mirroring Nick's movements. He met Nick's eyes with his own and found himself suddenly whispering, ‘Say yes.’

‘Yes,’ Nick whispered back almost immediately, with a sharp intake of breath.

‘I don't have a ring,’ David said, gulping as the gravity of the situation began to sink in.

‘I don't need one,’ Nick responded.

‘Right.’ David smiled nervously. He leaned forward and kissed Nick lightly on the lips. ‘So, that's, uh– Are there any other life changing decisions we'll be making today?’

Nick kissed him again, laughing and resting his forehead against David's. ‘Let's just have breakfast,’ he mumbled. ‘I believe someone promised me bacon.’

You can download a complete e-book version of Not Completely Cast Away here.

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away 12/12 + Epilogue

secretshipper — Sat, 14 Feb 2015 11:04:15 GMT

Title: Not Completely Cast Away
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Word Count of entire fic: 53,000
Synopsis: Nick has been missing presumed dead since September 2010, this is the story of what happens when he turns up alive and well five years later.
Author's note: Finally finishing up my posting of the edited version after computer meltdown meant I had to do a lot of it over again.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't really happen and is unlikely to.

Chapter Twelve

On Friday night at a quarter to nine, David was sitting in his office amidst a stack of papers, methodically sifting through them while he decided which of them absolutely could not wait until Monday to be dealt with. He worked carefully, with deliberate attention to the task before him, and was not particularly mindful of the time since he had no other plans for the evening; no matter what time he went home he would still find himself fretting over what he was going to say tomorrow.

Tomorrow!

David's heart leapt at the thought and for a moment he lost the thread of what he was reading. It was something he had found happening at regular intervals, the frequent flurries of restless excitement becoming increasingly pronounced as the week wore on and the day of Nick's return drew ever closer.

He had considered meeting Nick at the airport, with visions of Nick's face brightening as he saw David waiting for him and the frankly ludicrous idea of launching himself into Nick's arms like some over exuberant young lover would do to their sweetheart.

When he had dismissed these thoughts as ridiculous, the product of his lovestruck state of mind, David had left a faltering message on Nick's voicemail asking Nick to call him as soon as he got back, along with the tentative suggestion they could meet with each other on Saturday afternoon.

That was the reason why David was sitting silently in his office at such a late hour, flipping through all manner of paperwork; he was taking the weekend off.

Simon had been instantly receptive to the idea of taking charge of the country for the weekend, and David had flushed scarlet at Simon's reaction to his blatantly transparent reasons for wanting Saturday and Sunday away from the office; the older man had smiled slyly, his brown eyes twinkling as he commented it would not be a problem. David had almost expected to be patted on the arm and told to 'go get him, tiger'.

David was immensely grateful for Simon's understanding. His concern for Nick, and to a lesser degree David, had an air that was almost paternal, as though he were a worrisome father watching over an only child, determined no one would have the chance of hurting them if it could be helped and doing what he could to ensure their happiness.

Shaking his head as he realised he had become lost in his thoughts, David set his mind back to his work, hearing the muted chimes of Big Ben from outside the window as it struck nine o'clock. Shortly after the sound ceased, David heard a small knock on the door that connected his and Simon's offices via the short corridor.

‘Come in,’ David called, his attention still turned to the papers before him. He began to order them again, not really concerned with whatever Simon wanted, but after a few moments had passed and Simon still had not spoken, David looked up with an impatient frown. ‘I'm busy here, Simon, so hurry up and–’

Nick was standing in the doorway, a nervous look on his face as he waited in silence. He was holding a large object wrapped in heavy cloth and eyeing David with uncertainty.

‘Nick,’ David gasped.

‘Simon said it would be okay for me to stop by,’ Nick mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor. ‘If you're busy I can–’

‘No,’ David blurted, jumping up from his seat. ‘I wasn't expecting, I mean, I thought you would be back tomorrow. Come in, come in.’

‘I managed to get a direct flight from Los Angeles,’ Nick said, closing the door and taking a few steps forward. ‘I won't take up too much of your time. I only came to give you this.’ He placed the cloth covered item on David's desk and backed away a few steps. ‘It's one of the things I brought back with me. I wanted you to have it.’

Moving to the other side of his desk, David stretched out his hand to unwrap the object Nick had left there.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘I made it,’ Nick answered softly, hovering about a foot away from where David was standing. ‘Took forever to get it right but–’ Nick stopped abruptly as David unfolded the edges of the cloth and looked at what was inside. When he continued, his voice was a little too loud.

‘Too much time for thinking and all that,’ he said, and waved his hand.

‘Nick, this is exquisite,’ David breathed, staring down in shock.

The old, battered piece of driftwood wrapped in the cloth had been smoothed down, and carved into its surface was a near perfect representation of the Houses of Parliament. David ran his hand over the image, feeling the coarse wood beneath his fingers and admiring the level of detail. It must have taken months to make with the tools that were available to Nick.

‘I–It seemed right, for–’ Nick said falteringly. As he spoke, Nick's eyes were closed, and each word was said slowly, as though it took considerable effort. David looked at him curiously, frowning.

Nick was lying to him; alternately clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides as he recited the fabricated reason why he had brought the wood carving to David's office.

‘–for you to have it. You being Prime Minister.’

‘Nick,’ David said quietly, gently taking hold of Nick's arm.

‘Unless you'd like a chess set instead,’ Nick continued, opening his eyes to look at David and smiling widely. There was no happiness on Nick's face, even with the smile; he looked like he was about to cry, and seeing it made David feel slightly heartbroken. ‘I have half a dozen of those so if you'd rather–’

‘Nick,’ David repeated, taking one step closer and bringing his hand to Nick's face.

At the touch, Nick inhaled shakily, turning his head away and breaking the contact.

‘Don't,’ he whispered sharply, his face screwed up in pain. He shook his head, hands clenching again and beginning to tremble. ‘I shouldn't have come.’

With his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, Nick turned away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave. He made it to the door before David had a chance to react, but once there the frantic, uncoordinated movements of his hands left him tugging on the handle as he unsuccessfully attempted to get it open. It gave David enough time to catch up with him, and he grabbed hold of Nick's hand, using it to spin Nick around to face him.

‘David, please,’ Nick implored, his voice small and urgent. ‘Let me go. I have to go.’

David tugged Nick to him and wrapped his arms around Nick's shoulders, hugging him close as Nick began to babble rapid, upset words against his chest, repeating his plea that David let him leave but not struggling against David's hold on him.

‘Please, I can't do this. I told him I didn't want to do this. I told him it was... Please, David? I need more time, that's all. Just a bit, a bit more time and then I'll be able to see you without, without it hurting that I don't get to have you. I know I don't get– Please, I know, I–I–I–’

Unable to stand the misery in Nick's voice, the terrible stuttering of his words as he begged for more time to lessen his heartache, David did the only thing he could think of to stop it; he lifted Nick's chin and kissed him, brushing the backs of his fingers across Nick's cheek.

‘You already have me,’ he whispered against Nick's lips.

‘You don't mean that,’ Nick choked out, clutching at the material of David's shirt, his expression hopeful and hopeless all at once.

‘Every word,’ David answered, kissing Nick at the corners of his mouth. ‘Every word. I love you.’

‘David, don't say that,’ Nick sobbed, though at the words he leaned into David's upper body and wrapped his arms around David's middle.

‘I thought I'd never see you again,’ David confessed, holding Nick tightly and running his fingers through the smooth strands of Nick's hair. ‘I thought you had gone back to stay. God, Nick, don't ever scare me like that again.’

‘I'm sorry,’ Nick said, his words muffled against the material of David's shirt. ‘I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't– because I didn't want to call you when, when– Arthur said I had to let go, that's why I went back. Only I didn't want to let you go, too, and I kept telling him I wasn't ready to see you.’

‘Shh,’ David soothed, crushing Nick against him, only half-understanding what Nick was talking about. He puzzled it over in his mind while they stood silently embracing each other and realised Nick had be coerced into coming to his office, had not wanted to do so at all.

Confused, David asked, ‘Didn't you get my messages?’

‘What messages?’

‘I left messages on your voicemail while you were away,’ David explained.

‘I don't know how to check it,’ Nick said. He lifted his head from David's shoulder to look at him, biting his lip in embarrassment. ‘I tried to listen to them but the phone kept asking me to record a message first and– What did they say?’

‘I'll show you how to listen to them later,’ David replied. He hugged Nick again, sighing happily and staying quiet for several minutes before asking, ‘Will you come home with me?’

Nick laughed quietly, nodding against David's shoulder.

‘Yes.’

‘Let me put these reports away. Won't be a minute,’ David said, letting go of Nick and smiling at him. Nick smiled back, his gaze soft and happy.

‘I left some things in Simon's office,’ he told David, stepping toward the door. ‘I should get them, if you, that is if you don't mind me dragging them up to your flat?’

‘No, not at all,’ David smiled. He began to pick up the papers that were scattered over his desk as Nick left the room, placing them hastily and a little untidily into folders and stacking the folders on the corner of his desk. He was almost finished when Nick came back, and David turned to see he had a holdall slung over his shoulder and was carrying a large box with pieces of wood sticking out of the top. Placing the last folder on his desk, David walked over to Nick.

‘What's all that?’ he asked, puzzled.

‘Six chess sets, a lot of carved animals, cups, a bowl, a half made–’

‘Why did you make six chess sets?’ David interrupted.

‘I had a lot of time on my hands,’ Nick said, shrugging. ‘You'd be surprised how quickly staring at the ocean gets boring when you can do it whenever you like.’

‘But six chess sets,’ David commented as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. He opened his office door and gestured for Nick to follow him into the corridor. ‘You didn't even have anyone to play against.’

‘I didn't make them to play chess,’ Nick explained, waiting as David closed the door and started toward the stairs. ‘I made them to keep busy.’

‘Right,’ David said, though he did not really understand.

The security guard at the door of number ten looked momentarily shocked at seeing the prime minister leading his former coalition partner toward the upper floor, but as David turned the corner and started up the steps, he saw the man's face quirk with amusement and felt like he was back in university, sneaking someone up to his room for the night. The thought made him smile.

Inside the flat, David closed the door and turned to Nick, taking the box Nick held and setting it down carefully on the sideboard. Nick stood by the door as David quietly put his jacket on a hanger. When he turned around, Nick was smiling at him.

‘What?’ David asked.

‘You redecorated,’ Nick said, dropping his bag on the floor out of the way.

‘Yes,’ David nodded. ‘I forgot you never got to see it before you left.’

‘It's nice,’ Nick complimented, looking around. ‘Very homely.’

‘Would you like a tour?’ David offered politely. He walked over to Nick and held out his hand for Nick to take, grinning as Nick slid his own into it. But when David went to lead the way to the kitchen, Nick stood fast, tugging David back until they were facing each other in front of the door.

‘I don't think I want a tour,’ Nick said, looking at David intently, his eyes round and sincere. He took a step closer. David felt his stomach flutter restlessly as Nick's hand came to rest on his hip.

‘Tea?’ David asked dumbly, mouth dry. Nick shook his head, another step bringing his and David's bodies together, their chests touching. David's head clouded, and he responded with surprise as Nick kissed him, the nervousness and uncertainty David had grown used to in Nick's manner gone completely; Nick's movements were not shy or hesitant but bold and demanding.

‘Bedroom, David,’ Nick whispered against his lips, hands already unbuttoning David's shirt and making David realise he was simply standing there as Nick stripped him of his clothes, along with the ability to form coherent thought.

Stepping backwards, he dragged Nick with him, trying not to stumble as he forced his hands to stop shaking. He tugged Nick's top over his head, moaning as Nick's lips found his own again before the t-shirt had even hit the floor.

Backing along the hallway to the bedroom, David grabbed frantically behind himself for the door handle. As he pushed it down, the door flew open, sending him and Nick spilling into the room. They stumbled, Nick holding on to him and guiding him toward the double bed, where they fell onto the mattress, shifting until they were facing each other with their heads on the pillows.

David smiled, kissing Nick tenderly to hide his growing nervousness. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, each beat pounding loudly in his ears as he started to register something like fear and desire and urgency all rolled together, combined into something that made him tremble and robbed him of the ability to speak.

No one had ever looked at him the way Nick did, with eyes that seemed to see him as the world and everything in it, and he had never taken someone to his bed knowing they loved him; that he loved them in return.

‘You're shaking,’ Nick said softly, moving until they were flush against one another, his arm resting on David's side.

‘I, uh,’ David stammered, closing his eyes. Nick kissed him, slow and sweet.

‘I thought being nervous was my thing,’ he whispered.

‘Seems not,’ David answered. He gulped, wetting his lips with his tongue and opening his eyes. ‘No one's ever looked at me the way you do.’

‘How do I look at you, David?’ Nick asked, the soft grey of his eyes shining as he held David's gaze.

‘Like that,’ David breathed. He buried his head between Nick and the pillow, his mouth close to Nick's ear.

‘Should I kiss you instead?’ Nick whispered, lips brushing gently across David's neck, softly trailing kisses along his throat and bare shoulder, in a line over his collar bone.

‘I love you,’ David whispered, feeling it then, the emotion behind the words swelling in his chest. His stomach flopped wildly as Nick made a high pitched noise against his skin, breath hitching loudly in his throat.

‘David, I–I–’ Nick gasped, his expression uncertain for the first time since they had left David's office.

‘Tell me,’ David pleaded, desperate to hear the words, for Nick to say them on purpose when he knew David was listening. Biting his lip, his eyes shiny and brow furrowed in the middle, Nick looked at him longingly, as though he were gathering his courage within, struggling against the last part of himself that said he could not have this happy ending after all he had been through.

David touched his face, brushed away the beginnings of tears at the corner of Nick's eye and whispered again, ‘Please, tell me.’

‘I love you,’ Nick breathed, soft and quiet, closing his eyes as more tears gathered in beads along his eyelashes. David kissed him; once, then twice, leaning up from the mattress with his neck aching.

‘I'm yours,’ David said unevenly, aware he was babbling but not caring. ‘Nick, I'm yours.’

His eyes were watery and his body shaking; his hand on Nick's face as he drew Nick a little closer, kissing him as deeply as he could while he drew shallow, uneven breaths. Nick moaned his name, and David felt a tiny, almost imperceptible shift, an inflection in the tone of Nick's voice indicating he had accepted, finally believed, that it was true.

The mood moved, moulded itself around the change, transformed into something more evenly balanced, where each of them was equally loved and loving, equally vulnerable.

The preceding years and all the things that had happened since Nick came home flashed through David's mind; the search and rescue operation, the funeral, crying alone in this very bed with his heart aching, and the helplessness of his fight to deny his feelings for Nick all laid bare for what it was. What it had been all along.

David held Nick to him, laughing and crying and allowing the feelings that had lain dormant in his heart for so many years to come to life at last, lighting up like the sun after a long, cold winter. He kissed Nick's face, pressed their cheeks together, and whispered words he had never said before.

‘Make love to me.’

Much later, when they had collapsed, shaking and sweating and panting, for a second time, and David had pulled the duvet off of the floor, settling it over both of them, Nick lifted his head to look at David in the half-light of the bedroom.

‘David?’ he whispered.

‘Mm,’ David hummed.

‘What are we going to do now?’

David turned on his side and kissed Nick tenderly, smiling.

‘I'm getting on a bit, you know. I don't think I can manage three times in one night.’

‘That's not what I meant,’ Nick blushed, pressing his face to David's bare chest.

‘Ah,’ David said. ‘Time for me to be serious, is it? In that case, I thought you could stay here tonight.’

‘Really?’ Nick squeaked, looking up in surprise. ‘What about– I mean people would know, about you and me.’

‘They already know,’ David answered. ‘At least, Simon knows. George knows, which means Danny knows, and the entire Treasury likely does as well.’ David grinned and rubbed Nick's back, chuckling, ‘And after the noise you were making earlier, I think it's safe to say everyone here knows, too.’

‘David,’ Nick snickered, once again hiding his face.

‘That would be precisely what they heard,’ David teased, kissing Nick's temple, which was the only part of Nick he could reach.

‘Do you have to be so, so flippant about it?’ Nick mumbled.

‘I dare say they're used to it, and you must sound a damn sight better than Cherie Blai– Ow, did you just pinch me?’

‘It was the only way to get you to shut up,’ Nick said, raising his head and regarding David sternly.

‘Not the only way,’ David winked. Nick shook his head, his expression perilously close to a smile, and flopped down onto his back.

‘You're incorrigible,’ he said to the ceiling.

David leaned up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand and looking down as Nick pretended to be cross.

‘What will you do?’ David asked, stroking Nick's chest and enjoying the sensation of Nick's chest hair tickling his fingers. ‘Do you think you will go back into politics?’

‘No, I don't think I could,’ Nick replied, though he did not look saddened, merely thoughtful. ‘I'm still... not doing so well at being around people. It's getting better but– Anyway I've been contacted by a publisher, they want me to write a book about Penrhyn.’

‘What kind of book?’

‘Something about how I survived, what it was like, that sort of thing,’ Nick answered. He turned onto his side and nuzzled his face against David's neck. ‘Don't worry, I'm not going to write that I spent five years dreaming about the prime minister giving me a hug.’

‘That's good,’ David chuckled. ‘It would be very short if that's all you had in it.’

‘Oh, I don't know,’ Nick said, smiling slyly. ‘Some of my dreams were very detailed.’

‘Were they?’ David raised his eyebrows.

‘They were,’ Nick nodded. He pulled David down for a kiss, grinning as he whispered, ‘And for some of them, I wasn't even asleep.’

‘You definitely shouldn't put those in your book,’ David laughed. He stretched his arm out behind Nick's head, lying down fully and yawning as Nick settled comfortably.

‘So you're going to accept the offer, I take it?’ he asked soberly.

‘I think so,’ Nick answered. ‘Arthur says it will be a good opportunity to, how did he put it, finish that chapter of my life, or some such. But I want to do it. If anything, at least I will have it clear in my head.’

‘This would be the same Arthur who sent you to my office to give me a parting gift,’ David muttered.

‘I know you don't like him,’ Nick said calmly, shooting David a stern look when he tried to protest. ‘You don't, and it's obvious you don't, so stop denying it.’

David closed his eyes and fell silent. He did not like Arthur, did not like the way he pushed Nick to do things that hurt, even if he could see that sometimes Nick needed to be pushed. Nick stroked David's cheek softly.

‘He only does what he thinks I need, David.’

‘What does he say about me?’ David asked.

‘That I fixated on a fantasy of you,’ Nick answered honestly. ‘That my feelings are more for the idea of you than they are for you, and that I'm trying to cling to something familiar because nothing else is.’

David felt unexpectedly hurt at Nick's therapist's view of their relationship. He rubbed his forehead, scratching an itch with his fingernails, and lay in silence.

‘It's not true,’ Nick whispered in his ear. ‘Maybe it was when I first got back, when everything scared me and you were the only friendly face in a sea of confusion, but I– Christ, you're about ten times more annoying than anything I ever pictured. You're stubborn and pig-headed. It takes you forever to admit when you're wrong about something. You make terrible jokes at all the wrong times and you keep silent when you should be speaking up, and–’

‘This isn't really making me feel better,’ David pouted.

‘–and,’ Nick repeated. ‘You make me laugh, even your daft Star Trek jokes make me laugh. When I'm with you I feel happy for no reason at all other than you're there. You're not perfect, you're not anything at all like I thought you would be, but you're real, David, and it's you I love, not some fantasy.’

‘I get the idea,’ David said softly, stopping Nick's words with a kiss.

‘Good, because whatever problems I have, none of them are about you and me. The rest of it; not eating properly, sleeping on the floor, being scared...’ Nick gestured with his hand, falling silent for a moment before continuing. ‘That will get better with time. And whatever Arthur thinks about this, I still need him.’

‘I know. I'm sorry.’

Nick sighed, resting his head on David's shoulder. He took hold of David's hand and entwined their fingers.

‘I'll be ready to tell you one day, David.’

‘I'll be here when you are,’ David mumbled. He curled himself a little tighter around Nick's body, kissing Nick on the forehead. ‘However long it takes.’

Epilogue

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away 11/12 + Epilogue

secretshipper — Thu, 12 Feb 2015 14:27:32 GMT

Title: Not Completely Cast Away
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Word Count of entire fic: 53,000
Synopsis: Nick has been missing presumed dead since September 2010, this is the story of what happens when he turns up alive and well five years later.
Author's note: Finally finishing up my posting of the edited version after computer meltdown meant I had to do a lot of it over again.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't really happen and is unlikely to.

Chapter Eleven

Westminster was all the duller on David's return, monotonous to the extreme and full of emptiness, and worry. David found himself constantly wondering if Nick was all right on his own; twisting his phone in his hands and trying to decide whether to call or not. He wanted to call, to hear Nick's voice, but was not sure if it would be welcome since Nick had not made contact, not even by text, since David left three days ago.

It had never occurred to David beforehand that he might miss Nick, but he did. He missed waking up next to him and listening to his sleepy groaning.

The first morning he had been back David had stretched out his hand expecting to find Nick next to him, and had sat up startled when he realised Nick was not there, looking around frantically until he remembered Nick was still in Devon. The second morning David had lain in bed on the brink of tears, clutching his phone and willing Nick to call him, or for the courage to call Nick.

Odd though it was, David felt a profound sense of loneliness. It was as though a piece of his life was suddenly not there any more, and David was confused why the four days he had spent with Nick now amounted to something other than it had been.

Something about his line of thought unsettled David and he pushed it quickly out of mind, looking at the the clock and then his diary. It was nearly six o'clock.

David was due to make a last-minute appearance at a charity event at seven and needed to get changed before he left. He did not intend to stay long and had only agreed to attend because it was preferable to spending the night alone in the flat above number ten, even though it would have meant he could watch the new episode of Moyen's Game today instead of Sunday. David felt sure that doing so would only have reminded him of the way he and Nick had curled up together to watch it in Devon, and everything that had happened since.

When David reached the Norton Rose building, he stepped out of the car and was greeted by Richard Desmond, who shook his hand and directed him inside to where the other guests were having drinks in one of the reception lounges.

David entered the tall glass building with his security team a few steps behind him, and made polite conversation with a few of the other attendees until he spotted Simon standing by one of the flower arrangements, listening attentively to an attractive blonde while his hand lingered on her forearm.

On seeing David, Simon said a few words to his companion and walked over.

‘Simon,’ David greeted him as soon as he was in earshot. ‘I didn't know you would be here.’

‘Last minute thing, rather like you, I imagine,’ Simon replied, smiling. ‘How are you? We haven't had a chance to talk since you got back.’

‘Fine. Fine,’ David nodded. ‘How– How is Nick? Did he get back to London all right?’

‘Didn't you hear?’ Simon asked with a frown. David shook his head. ‘Oh,’ Simon went on. ‘Nick isn't back in London yet. He went to Oxford to meet with his doctor. He's staying there until Monday.’

‘Right,’ David mumbled, worried again. ‘He's all right, isn't he?’

‘Haven't you spoken to him?’

‘Not since Sunday,’ David admitted, closing his eyes as he thought of the quiet goodbye and the sad look on Nick's face. ‘I didn't want to make things more difficult for him.’

‘I'm sure you wouldn't be,’ Simon smiled sympathetically. He patted David on the arm affectionately. ‘Why don't you call him? I'm certain he'd like to hear from you.’

David mumbled something non-committally before they were interrupted by Richard, who wanted to introduce them both to one of the charity patrons, a portly gentleman in his fifties who gushed unashamedly about how pleased he was that David and Simon could attend. David smiled politely for as long as he could before excusing himself and leaving to talk to an old acquaintance he noticed arriving.

Later that night, after David had left the reception and arrived back at Downing Street, he climbed the steps to the flat and went straight to the bedroom.

It was too late to call Nick now, he decided as he lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling. He would call tomorrow.

Christ, I miss him, David thought unhappily as he drifted off to sleep.

When David turned to page six of The Telegraph on Thursday morning he was confronted by the headline: Clegg's Mysterious Coffee Companion, along with a small, slightly blurry picture, obviously taken on a mobile phone, of Nick and a smart-looking man of around Nick's age sitting in the corner of a coffee shop drinking tea. The man was touching Nick on the arm and Nick's gaze was downcast, his face sad.

David felt a flush of anger at the apparent familiarity of the unidentified man. He slammed the paper on the table and then, surprised at his reaction, stood up and paced the room.

It's Nick's doctor, David told himself, because surely it must have been. Nick had not seen or spoken to anyone but himself, Simon, a few aides, and doctor Rimbaugh since his return from Penrhyn, and Simon had mentioned that Nick was in Oxford to meet with his therapist. David wondered why Nick was spending so long there before returning to London.

Sitting down again, David read through the short article accompanying the picture. According to the journalist, Nick had spent twenty minutes in the coffee shop before leaving. It also mentioned that Nick was staying in the Old Bank Hotel on Oxford High Street, and had been seen returning there at around seven-fifteen the previous evening – alone, David noted mentally, with relief he did not register.

David looked again at the picture above the article, feeling a pang of hurt for the visible sadness of Nick's expression. Clearly the other man was attempting to comfort Nick, and David was gripped by a fierce longing to do the same, to hold Nick to him and keep holding until that unhappy look was replaced by a smile, no matter how long that took. He could not help but feel that the reason for it being there at all was due to him; it was almost identical to how Nick had looked when David had reluctantly kissed him goodbye and left to drive back to London.

It was partly that thought which led David to pick up his phone and write a text message.

I see you're in the paper today.

He sent it to Nick, sipping his coffee and waiting anxiously for a reply. It came less than a minute later.

Alive and in the paper? Big day for me, isn't it.

Alive? David sent back, beginning to smile to himself without noticing.

Papers came this morning for me to sign. Now I'm officially alive as opposed to just alive, not that there's much difference.

That's good news. David sent. He had forgotten the coroner's decision had not been reversed while they were in Devon.

Yes it is. I even got some money back, which means I don't have to borrow from Simon any more. How is London? Enjoying being back in the thick of things?

Picking up his coffee mug, David walked through the flat to the living room and sat down on the sofa while he debated his reply.

'London is terrible and I miss you' was his first thought, and he even got so far as to type the first three words before he changed his mind.

Is that how you paid for those scones? You know how it is, rushing around and listening to the Labour front bench bluster on about nothing.

Of course it is. Did you think I stole them? I remember what that was like. I don't miss it at all.

Actually I thought you charmed them out of the bakery with your puppy dog eyes. How is Oxford?

Puppy dog eyes? Crowded. Arthur insists on dragging me about the place though. He says it's therapeutic.

You know, that look you have that makes it impossible to say no to you. So that's how you ended up in the paper, then?

David drained his coffee mug and stood up again, feeling restless. The way Nick was answering his messages straight away gave David the impression Nick was as eager to talk as he was, and he smiled widely as he deposited his empty cup in the sink and grabbed his jacket, intending to continue the conversation during his walk to Parliament, and for as long as possible after he got there.

I think that look only works on you, David. :) If it is then there will only be more of it. Which paper? So I can avoid it today.

Telegraph, page six. But I haven't read the others yet so it could be in those, too.

Hm, no denying the 'puppy dog eyes' work on you. I'll take that as a good sign. Damn, Arthur is here, I have to go. It was good to talk to you, and thanks for telling me about the paper!

David spent the weekend making the final preparations for a statement he was due to give in the house on Tuesday afternoon, after Simon's question session was over, and swapping text messages with Nick, very regular text messages. He still had not worked up the courage to call Nick, but since Nick had shown no sign of wanting him to, David continued with the text conversation they were having, happy they were talking at all.

On Monday morning he hopped out of bed and slung on his dressing gown, immediately taking up his phone. Nick would be back in London today and David was going to suggest they should see each other, perhaps have dinner together. He sent off a text saying just that as he waited for the kettle to boil. There was no answer.

Not thinking anything of it – perhaps Nick was busy – David drank his coffee and read the morning papers before taking a shower and getting dressed. He checked his phone for a reply from Nick as he made his way downstairs and when there was still nothing, David began to feel a little uneasy, but dismissed the feeling as pure paranoia. Nick was not awake, or was out somewhere with Arthur, or even on his way back to London and somewhere with no signal.

He made his way along Whitehall to Parliament and walked to George's office, knocking on the door and going inside.

‘Morning, George,’ David greeted him cheerfully.

‘Oh, good morning,’ George commented as David sat down. ‘I didn't expect to see you until later. Thought you'd be at the airport.’

‘The airport?’ David echoed questioningly. He flipped through his briefcase for the notes he had made the night before, frowning and wondering what George was talking about. ‘Why would I be?’

‘Isn't Nick's flight today?’ George asked, looking up from his own papers, which were spread out on the low table in the middle of the room.

‘He didn't say anything to me about a holiday,’ David answered, slipping out of his suit jacket and leaving it on the arm of his chair.

‘Oh,’ George exclaimed, his eyes widening. ‘I thought he would have told you.’

‘Told me what?’

‘That he's going back to Penrhyn,’ George said. ‘Danny said he called last night and asked–’

‘What do you mean he's going back to Penrhyn?’ David interrupted, jumping to his feet.

‘That's what Danny told me earlier. He said Nick–’

David did not wait for George to finish. He grabbed his jacket and crossed the room, flinging the office door open. Then he stopped and turned back to George.

‘What airport?!’ he demanded.

‘Heathrow,’ George replied. ‘But David–’

‘What time is the plane?’ David cut in. George looked at him, brow furrowed.

‘Ten-fifteen,’ he stated.

It was five past nine. Heathrow was a forty minute drive, at least. It would be close but perhaps he could get there before Nick got on the plane.

Why didn't he tell me? David thought desperately as he rushed through the corridor, his heart racing and his mouth dry. Anguish welled in his chest and he realised he was close to tears, distraught at the thought of Nick leaving, of losing him.

Thrusting his hand into his pocket, David grappled with his phone, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from people as he passed them. He fumbled with the earpiece, dropping it on the floor as he tried to fix it behind his ear, stumbling blindly ahead as he grabbed it up and shoved it roughly in place.

‘Nick,’ he said into the phone, waiting impatiently as the voice recognition dialled.

The number you have dialled is currently unavailable, please leave a message.

Twice more David called, each time he was transferred straight to Nick's voicemail.

‘Fuck,’ David cursed, leaving the building and heading back along Whitehall toward Downing Street at a brisk pace, his blood pounding so loudly in his ears he almost did not hear the footfalls of his security team rushing along behind him. Once through the gate he headed for his car, parked at the end of the street, and instructed the driver to take him to Heathrow.

As he slid into the back and shut the door he threw his phone down on the seat next to him, leaving the earpiece behind his ear as he repeated Nick's name and waited to be connected.

‘Nick,’ he said frantically after the beep. ‘Nick, I don't know if you will get this. I'm on my way to the airport. Please, Nick, don't leave. Don't get on the plane.’

Jabbing at the disconnect button as the car moved along Whitehall, David reached down and slotted the earpiece hastily back into its holder.

‘Come on, come on,’ he mumbled anxiously at the lights around Parliament square, as each second they stayed red made him feel like he would not make it in time.

The drive to Heathrow was agonising. David muttered and cursed under his breath each time they got stuck in traffic, and watched the clock on the interior display ticking closer and closer to ten-fifteen. It was five to ten by the time the car pulled up to the roundabout that led to the terminals, and the intercom fizzed to life.

‘Which terminal, sir?’ the driver asked.

Suddenly realising he had no idea which of the five Nick's flight was leaving from, David's heart sank. He quickly picked up his phone and rang George, cutting through the hurried questions about whether he was all right and asking, ‘What terminal is Nick's flight leaving from?’

‘I don't think you'll make it in time, David,’ George answered.

‘Just tell me,’ David shouted, bristling with anger and worry.

‘Four, terminal four,’ George sighed. ‘KLM flight 1028 to Amsterdam.’

David hung up without another word and pressed the intercom button.

‘Terminal four,’ he told the driver, flopping back in his seat as the car began to move again. He looked at the clock; one minute to ten.

I'm not going to make it, he thought. I hope he got my message.

Rushing straight from the car when it pulled up to the entrance, David ran into the terminal and up to the information desk.

‘Amsterdam, flight 1028,’ he wheezed at the male attendant, leaning against the counter as he tried to slow his breathing.

‘Too late for that one,’ the attendant answered, beginning to click at a keyboard. ‘Next flight to Amsterdam is–’

‘Gate, what gate?’ David interrupted.

‘No gate, it's ready for take off.’

‘No,’ David sobbed, turning away as tears started to sting his eyes. He walked through the terminal to the large windows that faced the runway and looked out at the taxiing planes, spotting the distinctive blue and white design of a KLM Airbus disappearing out of sight behind the far end of the terminal building.

David looked at the departure board, at the listing for Nick's flight and the words 'gate closed' in capital letters next to the flight number. It blinked as the screen updated a few minutes later, and AIRBORNE 10:16 appeared.

Leaving the window, David walked slowly back to the car, saying nothing more to the driver than ‘Downing Street’ as the man held the door open for him. In the privacy of the back of the car, David sat numbly, leaning forward and staring at the floor.

Nick had said he wanted to go back to Penrhyn, that he missed it and wished sometimes he had stayed, but David had not thought he was speaking with any real intention to actually go back.

Yes, Nick was having considerable trouble in adjusting, seemed to struggle with things even when David had been with him, but David had honestly thought Nick was coping remarkably well, considering all he had been through. Had he been so wrong in his judgement, or so blinded by confusion over his own feelings he had missed how Nick really felt?

Sitting back in his seat as he realised he had forgotten to put on his seat belt, David puzzled over what he would do once he arrived back in Westminster as he pulled it across his chest and clicked the catch home. Nick's flight was to Amsterdam, and presumably there would be a connecting flight from there to somewhere closer to the Cook Islands. He recalled reading that Nick had gone through Los Angeles International during his return to the UK.

The information was not useful, however, since David could hardly contact any of the airports Nick might use and cause an international incident over... what was this anyway?

In his haste to reach the airport David had not really thought about why he wanted so desperately for Nick to stay. He only knew he felt a keen panicky sensation whenever he thought he might not see Nick again, an enormous and oppressing feeling of emptiness that loomed darkly overhead, ready to swallow him whole.

How could everyone else be so calm about this? Surely they must feel the same sense of loss and confusion and heartbreak David did? Someone, at least one person out of the people Nick had told, must have told Nick they wanted him to stay. Surely?

Either they had not or Nick had not listened, and David felt suddenly furious that none of them had told him of the situation before this morning. Clearly the knowledge was common enough that George had heard, why not himself?

By the time he arrived back in Westminster, David was fuming. His face reddened and his eyes narrow with rage, he stormed into the first office his feet carried him to, unaware it was Simon's until he opened the door without knocking.

‘Out,’ David snapped at the young female aide who was sitting with Simon. The woman jumped up and scurried from the room, looking shocked and a little frightened.

‘Steady on, David,’ Simon said, eyebrows raised in surprise at David's abrupt entrance. ‘There's no need to scare the poor girl.’

‘Why didn't you tell me?’ David demanded, his voice high and angry. He walked to Simon's desk and placed his palms flat against the surface, leaning forward and looking at Simon furiously.

‘Tell you what?’ Simon asked.

‘About Nick,’ David shouted. ‘That he was leaving.’ Simon stared at him in confusion.

‘I thought Nick told you,’ he said. ‘I didn't know myself until last night when he called and said he wouldn't need a place to stay.’

‘And you agreed?’ David exclaimed loudly. ‘You just let him go back without even trying to stop him?’ He stomped his way across the floor to the window and stood there in silence, trying to restrain his anger.

‘Stop him? Why would I stop–’

‘Why?’ David yelled, wheeling around to face Simon again. ‘You mean to tell me you think it's a good idea for him to go back there?’

‘Not at first, but after he explained it, it made a lot of sense. I don't understand why you're so worked up,’ Simon frowned.

‘Because I love–’ David snapped his mouth shut, eyes wide as he realised what he had been about to say. He sank down onto the nearest chair, trembling and breathing hard. Simon tilted his head to one side, a kindly half-smile replacing his frown.

‘I did wonder how long I would have to watch you wallowing around here before you realised that,’ Simon said. He got up and put his hand on David's shoulder, squeezing gently.

‘What?’ David mumbled, still reeling.

The words milled around inside his head, tumbling over themselves with a sort of hypnotic fascination, as if they had been there all along, waiting to be recognised.

I love Nick. I love Nick. I love Nick.

‘I said I wondered–’ Simon started, but then stopped, studying David carefully for a few moments. He crossed the room and poured a measure of whisky into one of the crystal glasses that sat on the bureau, returning to where David was sitting in stunned silence and handing it to him. ‘I think you could use this, judging by the look on your face.’

‘I– Thank you,’ David replied, downing the whisky in one gulp and feeling it burn his throat.

‘Of all the places where I thought the penny might drop, I never dreamed it would be while you were standing in my office,’ Simon chuckled, taking the empty glass from David's hand. He reached out and put it on the edge of his desk.

‘Sorry,’ David breathed.

‘Oh, don't be. I feel honoured, in a strange sort of way.’ Simon waved his hand. ‘At least now I won't have to put up with the pair of you pining. I swear I've wanted to bash your heads together this past week, anyone can see you're completely smitten with each other.’

‘Then why did he leave?’ David asked sadly. He lowered his head, feeling upset all over again by Nick's return to Penrhyn. ‘He didn't even say goodbye.’

‘Goodbye?’ Simon echoed, sounding lost. Then David heard him gasp, and Simon's hand was gently patting his back.

‘No wonder you stormed in here looking ready to hang me from the rafters,’ Simon said. He rubbed David's back vigorously a few times before adding, ‘He's coming back, you know.’

‘What?’ David squeaked, his head snapping up.

‘Nick,’ Simon smiled. ‘He went to Penrhyn with Doctor Rimbaugh, some sort of farewell as part of his therapy, and to collect his belongings. He's not staying there, David. He will be back on Saturday.’

Chapter Twelve

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away 10/12 + Epilogue

secretshipper — Thu, 12 Feb 2015 14:07:28 GMT

Chapter Ten

‘Ow!’ David yelped, hopping away from the table. He slumped down on the sofa, leaning over to examine his foot and wrapping his hand around the toe he had just stubbed on the table leg as it began to sting painfully.

Damn it, he thought.

This was the third time today he had injured himself, having already cut himself while shaving and burned his hand on a saucepan while cooking breakfast, and while he kept telling himself he was simply having a bad day, the real reason for his clumsiness was because he was hopelessly distracted.

The reason for that was something he was trying desperately not to think about.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his toe, David walked over to the patio doors and looked out. Nick was still swimming, his arms slicing neatly through the water as he made his way back and forth across the bay. He had been swimming for about an hour, and just watching him made David feel tired – not that the sleepless night was helping him feel any less so.

‘I promised myself if I ever got the chance I would tell you something.’

Why did he have to wake up right then? Just as Nick had started whispering in the dark next to him? If he had stayed asleep then he could have spent today in blissful ignorance instead of kicking tables and burning himself because he could not keep his mind off of what Nick had said. He would not have spent all morning watching Nick smiling at him and wondering how Nick could smile at him, could even smile at all, when...

Stop thinking about it, David told himself crossly. If he doesn't want to tell you when you're awake.

But David was unable to stop. The words kept running through his mind over and over, repeating themselves in an endless loop, no matter what David did to try to forget them.

‘When you have nothing you need something to hold on to. I had you.’

David closed his eyes, thinking of how small Nick had sounded when he said those words, how Nick's hand had felt as it stroked lightly across his face; slightly cold, infinitely tender.

‘You were the thing I dreamed about, my one perfect moment, the one thing I never let go of. You have no idea what you mean to me, or how much I wish–’

Even before Nick had abruptly stopped speaking David had understood what Nick meant, what he wished for. There had been no need to guess, even though Nick had not spoken the words; he wanted to stay with David. In that moment, as he pretended he was still sleeping, David had wished he could give Nick what he wanted, as impossible as it was.

‘Even if I know it has to end, even if this is all I'll ever have, I got to have my dream, and I'll never regret it.’

At that point David had turned over. Nick had stopped talking, and David had started to drift back to sleep, thinking Nick was finished. Now, David watched Nick swim and told himself the last four words had been something he dreamed. Nick had not really said them; did not really mean them. He knew it was a lie, and it did not stop them sounding in his head along with the rest.

‘I love you, David.’

Stepping outside, David made his way to the railing and leaned against it as he called Nick's name. Nick stopped swimming, his head poking out of the water above the low swells of the waves. Even from where he was standing David could see Nick smiling.

‘Lunch is ready,’ David shouted down.

‘Be right there,’ Nick yelled back, making his way to the beach and grabbing the towel he had left lying on the sand. He started to towel himself dry as he walked toward the steps. David went back into the house.

What on earth was he supposed to do now? Nick deciding to take a swim had been one of the more fortuitous things to happen today, it meant David could be alone with his thoughts.

Ever since he had felt Nick curl against his side and mumble a sleepy good morning he had been struggling to know how to act. How could he behave like everything was normal? Pretend he had not heard Nick's whispered secret and now knew something he was not at all sure he wanted to know? He had known Nick had feelings for him, that much was obvious right from the beginning, but David had never once considered it might be anything like... love.

Even as Nick was saying the words David had felt everything click into place. It all made sense, suddenly: the way Nick looked at him, the things Nick had been saying, the sometimes insecurity and the clingy yet distant attitude.

Nick had spent years thinking about seeing him again, had apparently spent years dreaming about it, too. It bothered David that Nick felt he had to admit his feelings in a dark room when he thought David was asleep, and thus could not hear him, as though he had some daft liberal idea that he was still keeping the promise he had made to himself even if David never knew.

It seemed, to David, that Nick thought so little of himself he was willing to accept what little he could have and feel grateful for even that, and after spending years wanting the very thing he now had he still accepted it would end as a matter of fact.

I should never have come here, David thought, and felt immediately guilty for wanting to deprive Nick of his happiness, small and fleeting as it was, but he could not help it. If David had known how Nick felt he doubted he would even have stayed at Chequers. It felt horribly, monumentally cruel to give Nick something he had desperately wished for only to snatch it away, because that was exactly what was going to happen on Monday. David would leave, had to leave, and Nick would be alone all over again. It would not be the same as being on Penrhyn, but in some ways David thought it would be worse.

‘What's for lunch?’ Nick asked. He walked over to where David was standing and casually kissed him on the cheek. ‘I'm starving.’

‘Cheese and pickle sandwiches,’ David replied, then, feeling like he should attempt some sort of normal conversation, ‘Have a nice swim?’

‘Mmm, yes,’ Nick said, brushing his lips over David's neck. David closed his eyes and hoped Nick thought the reaction was because of what he was doing rather than the fact David felt horribly uncomfortable all of a sudden. A few seconds later Nick pulled away. ‘Is– Are you all right?’

‘Yes, yes,’ David replied. He smiled and handed Nick his lunch.

‘You sure?’ Nick asked, putting the plate with the untouched sandwich back on the kitchen counter. ‘You've been a bit... off... since this morning.’

‘Just a bit clumsy today, that's all. I stubbed my toe on the table before you came in and–’

‘It's because of last night, isn't it?’ Nick interrupted. David felt startled until he realised Nick was talking about what had happened before he had fallen asleep. That memory would have been a much more pleasant one to have stuck in his head all day. ‘If– If you didn't want me–’

‘What? Nick, no,’ David exclaimed as he watched Nick's face begin to fall. He sighed, pulling an increasingly upset-looking Nick to him.

‘It's not that, not at all,’ he insisted, thinking: Damn it, David, isn't it bad enough you're going to leave on Monday? Do you have to ruin everything for him as well?

‘What am I supposed to think?’ Nick said, standing stiffly in David's arms. ‘You practically flinch every time I come near you.’

‘I'm sorry, I've been a bit–’ David stopped for a moment; should he lie or tell Nick the truth? ‘I heard what you said last night. I was awake’

‘H–how m-much of it?’ Nick stammered, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip. He tensed further in David's hold, and David let him go.

‘All of it, I think.’ David stepped back as Nick put his hand to his face.

‘Look, I can understand why you are freaked out, can we just forget–’

‘No we damn well can't forget it,’ David interrupted hotly. ‘You might be able to pretend nothing is wrong here, but I can't.’

‘What exactly is wrong with it?’ Nick frowned, confusion writ large across his face as he lowered his hand and stared at David.

‘What?’ David asked, stunned that Nick did not know what he meant. ‘Don't you think it's a bit strange? To, to– accept this so easily.’

‘Yes, David,’ Nick said coolly. ‘I wanted a few days of happiness after five years of–of– What normal person would want that?’

Across the room, David's phone began to ring, dancing across the coffee table. David stared at it, wondering who was calling and if he should answer it, until it stopped. Whoever was calling had been put through to voicemail.

‘It doesn't matter really,’ Nick said when David turned back to him. ‘This isn't about me, is it.’

‘What do you mean?’ David questioned.

‘This is about you,’ Nick answered. ‘It's about you needing a way to deny you feel anything, or even want me at all. It's just another excuse for you to keep yourself closed off.’

‘That's not true,’ David snapped.

‘It is, and what's more you damn well know it,’ Nick answered angrily. ‘You're just too bloody pig-headed to admit it.’ David's phone started to ring again, and he looked at it longingly, wanting a way to escape what Nick was saying. Nick stalked over to it and picked it up, thrusting it roughly in to David's hands. ‘Answer it, David. I think we're done shouting at each other.’

With that, Nick strode down the hall and into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind himself. David answered the phone.

‘David,’ George said on the other end. ‘You'll have to come back early.’

‘Good afternoon to you too, George,’ David replied wearily.

‘Sorry,’ George mumbled. ‘But you do have to come back. Someone forgot to put a meeting into your diary and you're needed here with me on Monday.’

‘Is there no way–’

‘If there was do you think I would be calling?’ George cut in.

‘No, I suppose not,’ David sighed. He sat down at the dining table and drummed his fingers on the wooden surface. As if today was not bad enough, now he had to tell Nick he was leaving early. David doubted Nick would believe it was not his choice, considering the argument and David's discomfort at Nick's feelings toward him.

‘Everything all right there?’ George asked. ‘You sound a bit upset.’

‘I think I've made a pig's ear of everything, George’ David confided quietly.

‘With Nick?’

‘Yes with Nick, who else would I be talking about?’

‘I told you it was a bad idea to let him get too close to you,’ George said matter of factly. ‘One day you'll learn to listen to me.’

‘Thanks for the sympathetic ear,’ David replied.

‘Sorry,’ George said again. ‘What did he say that upset you so badly?’

‘That he loves me,’ David said quietly.

‘Oh,’ George gasped. David heard the sound of papers being shuffled and George mumbling to someone under his breath.

‘Sorry, Danny wanted something,’ George said a few seconds later. ‘Is that all he said?’

‘Isn't that enough?’ David asked incredulously. He sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair to the nape of his neck.

‘I don't understand why you're surprised,’ George replied lightly. ‘Or upset, to tell the truth.’

‘You don't think it's strange?’

‘Not really,’ George answered. ‘It's probably left over feelings from, well you know, from whatever was going on between the two of you before he, uh, went to Rio. You did kiss each other.’

‘Who told you that?’ David gasped, fidgeting in his seat.

‘You did,’ George said, sounding confused. ‘In your office after the funeral. Although you'd had a bit to drink that day so maybe you don't remember. The point is, David, you had all of those things to help you get over however it was you felt back then, Nick didn't. He needs some time to catch up, that's all.’

‘Maybe you're right,’ David sighed, though he did not believe it.

‘Of course I am,’ George replied, his voice smooth and assured. ‘So, I'll see you this evening, we have some–’

‘Tomorrow, George,’ David interrupted hastily. He did not want to leave before he got the chance to talk to Nick.

‘It's only two o'clock,’ George said. ‘You could be back here by nine and we–’

‘Tomorrow,’ David repeated sternly.

‘All right, tomorrow.’

David hung up, muttering a swift goodbye and putting his phone on the dining table. He leaned forward on his elbows and ran his hands over his face, feeling tired and confused.

What George had said made sense, but in his heart David knew it was not true, least of all the part about having got over his feelings for Nick; he just was not sure what those feelings were or what they meant.

Sitting at the table with the backs of his fingers pressed against his eye sockets, David wondered why it was that the men in his life said the same thing about him; that he was closed off. Had he always so rigidly avoided intimacy?

He thought back over his admittedly few relationships, from the casual dalliances of his youth to the more mature but still inconsequential affairs after his career had begun to take off. It had never bothered him that he had not settled down. He merely thought he had not met the right person, someone who he would want to settle down with, and with the pressures of his job, especially after he had become leader of the Conservative party and later prime minister, finding a partner to share his life simply did not seem that important.

Did that mean he had closed himself off? He did not think so, but perhaps there was something to it since both Andrew and Nick had expressed the same view. Andrew had said it in resignation, the tone of his voice quietly accepting, before he left; Nick in anger and frustration. And when Nick said it, it had hurt. Not because David thought it true, although he was beginning to consider the possibility, but because he did not want it to be true, not with Nick, and if he could only unravel his thoughts and clear the confusion cluttering up his head then he would have... well he would have done something other than allow Nick to think he did not care at all, if that was what Nick thought.

Sighing wearily, David looked toward the counter where his and Nick's lunches were waiting to be eaten. He did not feel hungry any more but that did not mean Nick was not. He got to his feet and picked up Nick's plate, holding it out in front of himself as he went to Nick's door and knocked gently.

‘Nick?’ David called uncertainly. ‘Would you like your lunch?’

‘I'll eat it later, David,’ Nick replied just as David began to reach for the handle to open the door.

‘All right,’ David said. ‘I'll leave it in the fridge then?’

Taking the silence he received to mean agreement, David walked back to the kitchen, stacked the plate on the emptiest shelf of the fridge and closed the door, then he collected his own and did the same, not wanting it to go to waste, even if he was not hungry at the moment. He went outside and sat on the steps that lead down to the lawned section of the garden, watching the sea rippling below and unexpectedly craving a cigarette.

Great, David thought sarcastically, reminded of the stress and worry that had caused him to take up smoking again in the first place; a particularly difficult few months during 2013 when the economy looked set to slide into recession again despite all efforts against it, and when even he had started to question the wisdom of their strategy to deal with the deficit.

He got up swiftly, determined not to slip back into bad habits, and trotted down the steps to the beach, taking off his shoes and walking in the shallows. The water was cold enough to take his mind off of his craving, but not enough that it stopped him worrying about what he was going to say to Nick.

How was he going to explain he was so completely thrown by everything that had happened since last week? Admit to Nick that he did feel something for him, and he did not want to leave but had no choice? He stood still, feeling the water licking around his ankles and watching the seagulls flying overhead.

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

It was nearing five o'clock when David went back to the house, huffing his way barefoot up the steps and drying both feet and ankles with a towel before putting on fresh socks. He left his shoes off and went to the fridge to retrieve his lunch, noticing Nick's sandwich was no longer where he had placed it.

As he ate his nearly unpalatable sandwich in silence, David wondered if Nick would come out of the bedroom at all that evening to spend time with him, or if Nick thought David did not want his company any more. He did not want to spend what would be his last night with Nick with both of them sitting in separate rooms or even, David admitted with reluctance, sleeping in separate rooms, though the latter thought troubled him and left him wondering why he felt quite so upset by the prospect of going to sleep and waking up alone.

After finishing his meal and washing the plate he had used, David tiptoed along the hallway and listened outside of Nick's door for some sign the other man was awake, but he could hear nothing from inside the room that indicated one way or another. Nick did sleep a lot because of his medication, perhaps he did not want to be disturbed.

It was only when David realised he was gnawing on his bottom lip so much that it was beginning to hurt, a welt forming and stinging viciously, that he quietly opened the door and poked his head inside.

The room was dark, curtains drawn against the already fading light outside, and Nick was asleep, hugging a pillow close against his chest with his legs curled up. He was frowning slightly, even in sleep, and his mouth was set in an unhappy line.

As he walked toward the bed, David thought he had never seen someone of Nick's height look so small, so vulnerable. He sat down and stroked Nick's arm. Nick stirred and opened his eyes, looking at David silently.

‘I'm sorry,’ David said quietly, unsure whether he was apologising for his part in their argument or for his earlier than anticipated departure. ‘I– It did freak me out. I'm not sure how I feel about all of this.’

‘I never expected you to feel the same,’ Nick whispered sadly. ‘I knew you wouldn't, that's why I never said anything.’

‘I don't understand how you can settle for this,’ David admitted.

‘Because it made me happy, David. After everything–’ Nick exhaled heavily and closed his eyes again. ‘Is that so wrong?’

‘No,’ David replied, shaking his head as he spoke.

It sounded like the sanest thing in the world; such a heartbreakingly simple thing to want. With all the confusions and complications of his life David had forgotten things were not the same for Nick as they were for him. What Nick had been through had changed him, changed the way he looked at the world and what he valued. Nick did not worry about what other people might think of their relationship; it made him happy and that was all that mattered.

David wished it could be as simple as that for him, too, even though he knew it could not.

‘I have to leave in the morning,’ David said regretfully. Nick nodded, but did not look at him. ‘Would you like to go back to Chequers?’

‘No,’ Nick replied. ‘I'd like to stay here, if that's okay?’

‘The house is paid up until Wednesday. I can make it longer if you–’

‘Wednesday's fine. I have an appointment with Arthur on Thursday anyway,’ Nick broke in. His voice sounded less upset now, but it was still pensive as he asked, ‘Will you stay with me tonight? To sleep, not– I just, I'd like a hug that's all.’

‘Of course I'll stay,’ David answered. He lay down and gathered Nick into his arms, stroking gently at Nick's hair as Nick let out a few deep, shaky breaths and wrapped his limbs about David's body, pulling David as close as he could.

‘I don't think I thought this through too well,’ Nick mumbled into the crook of David's neck. ‘I knew you would leave, but it still hurts.’

‘Will you be all right?’ David asked, not ready to admit he was hurting too, for different reasons but just as much.

‘Yes,’ Nick breathed after a moment's hesitation. He laughed once, short and low. ‘I think a few days to myself will help.’

Holding Nick a little closer, David laughed too. He felt Nick smile against his cheek, the movement swift against his skin before it faded.

‘I wish I could make you happy,’ David whispered, because it was true; more than anything he wanted for Nick to be happy, and if circumstances were different he would have stayed as long as Nick wanted him to.

‘You have,’ Nick whispered back.

They talked softly for a while but then fell silent, holding each other as though the world were coming to an end, which in a way it was.

The world where he could hold Nick like this would cease to exist come morning, and David felt a bitter stab of anguish thinking back on Nick's whispered confession the previous night. He felt tears welling in his eyes; he did not want to lose this, did not want to let it go, and even as Nick's hand found his own and held tight, David could find only sorrow in the knowledge that this was their goodbye. He looked at Nick, saw Nick, saw the simpleness of the world he had woven for himself on Penrhyn, where his only concern was to stay alive and hold on to that dream; the moment Nick thought he would never have.

Their moment. This moment.

‘David,’ Nick whispered suddenly, his voice cracking. ‘Hold me, David.’

‘I'm here,’ David answered. ‘I've got you. I've got you.’ Nick sobbed in response, and David saw his eyes were glossy with unshed tears, already mourning a loss that had not yet come, but would soon. Too soon for both of them.

Nick clutched at him, his hand wrapping around David's so tight it hurt, and David bit back a sob of purest grief. It was like watching Nick's heart break before his eyes, made all the worse for knowing it was Nick's heart and this had not been because of the remnants of residual feelings that needed a last, quick airing before being packed away. Suddenly David understood why Nick had made the choice he had, why he had kept his feelings hidden.

Despite the fact he was not yet ready to live in it, Nick had not lost sight of the real world for a second; he had always known how this would end, and had accepted the ending as payment for the chance to have this at all.

It was a trade Nick had made without hesitation. Sacrificing his heart to have four short days with David, knowing he would have nothing at the end of it. David did not know if he would do the same, or could do the same, but he knew that for Nick there had never been any question; he would have given all of himself and more to touch his dream, even for the briefest time.

With that thought in his mind, David kissed Nick, whispered his name and held him, loved him, and found his own perfect moment in Nick's arms.

Chapter Eleven

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away 9/12 + Epilogue

secretshipper — Thu, 30 Jan 2014 22:06:26 GMT

Title: Not Completely Cast Away
Rating: G
Word Count of entire fic: 53,000
Synopsis: Nick has been missing presumed dead since September 2010, this is the story of what happens when he turns up alive and well five years later.
Author's note: Back to editing at last.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't really happen and is unlikely to.

Chapter Nine

Waking the following morning in a tangle of blanket, David stretched lazily, smiling serenely as he turned on his side and looked at the ticking clock that sat on the unit beside the bed. Ten past eleven. He sat up, trying to recall when he had last slept so late; probably the last time he had stayed awake nearly all night with–

‘Nick?’ David said groggily, realising then Nick was not next to him. David eyed the scattering of his and Nick's clothes strewn across the floor next to the bed, and then heard the faint sound of singing, out of tune and unmistakably Nick, coming from beyond the bedroom door.

‘... no matter what may be the style or season...’

Grinning, David reached over the side of the bed and tried to locate his boxers, picking up one item of clothing after another and frowning when he could not find them among the discarded clothing. He grabbed his trousers and pulled them on swiftly, going to the door and peering along the hallway.

Nick was still singing, oblivious to everything about him as he reached into the fridge and took out the milk.

‘...my heart is lighter. Every time you're walking by my side...’

David covered his mouth with his hand, laughing to himself and moving forward so he could lean against the wall while he watched Nick go about his business.

Aside from the terrible singing, another thing added to the absurdity of the situation: Nick was wearing David's underwear, but with Nick being now several sizes smaller the boxers hung low, barely clinging to Nick's hips. They looked ready to fall any second, a fact not helped by Nick's phone being clipped to them, the weight of it distorting the waistband.

Nick had stopped singing and was now humming along with the chorus of the song he was listening to, taking a sip of tea as he buttered a slice of toast, and David let his eyes drift over the exposed skin of Nick's back and legs. He had to admit, despite their being far too large, Nick looked good in the boxers; Nick looked good, period. His toned and muscular physique made David feel momentarily self-conscious, out of shape and confused what Nick could possibly see in him, with his slightly pudgy midsection and receding hairline.

That he knew what Nick's body felt like under his hands seemed unreal and if Nick had been fully clothed instead of nearly naked, David might have questioned whether it had happened at all. He walked over to where Nick was standing next to the counter, still humming, and kissed him on the back of the neck.

‘Good morning.’

‘Hey, look who's finally awake,’ Nick said cheerfully, and a bit too loudly thanks to his headphones. He turned to David, face lit up in happiness. ‘Good morning, lazybones. Tea?’

‘Tea would be lovely,’ David answered, pulling the headphones out of Nick's ears so he would be heard. ‘Do you know you're wearing my clothes?’

‘Grabbed the first thing I found,’ Nick shrugged, looking down. Then he chuckled, ‘I had to escape the sound of you snoring.’

‘I do not snore,’ David exclaimed, but Nick only laughed louder.

‘Do too, rather loudly in fact. You woke me up.’

‘Your singing woke me up,’ David said.

‘Gosh, I guess we're even, then,’ Nick laughed. ‘I hope you're not deaf or anything.’

‘Oh, I'm traumatised,’ David teased, kissing Nick on the cheek. ‘Probably for life.’

‘That bad was it?’ Nick asked, eyebrows raising.

‘Would've been better if you'd still been in bed when I woke up.’

‘You were snoring, I was hungry,’ Nick said, handing David a fresh cup of tea and stepping away from the counter. He rubbed his hand over the scar on his chest, scratched it absently while David pretended not to notice. ‘I would have stayed if I'd known you wanted me to.’

‘Why wouldn't I want you to?’ David frowned, bothered by the sudden wariness in Nick's voice and the way Nick was now avoiding looking at him.

‘You might have changed your mind,’ Nick replied, staring at the floor. ‘Or been disappointed.’

‘Disappointed?’ David echoed. He put his tea down and took Nick's hand. ‘Is that what you think I am?’

Nick shrugged, and David sat down with a sigh, dragging Nick to the chair opposite him.

‘What's this about, then?’ he asked, putting his hands on Nick's shoulders.

‘It's nothing,’ Nick replied.

‘It doesn't seem like nothing, Nick,’ David insisted, bending forward. ‘Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong?’

‘Nothing is wrong. Really, David, it's nothing,’ Nick mumbled, glancing at David with a bashful smile. ‘I'm being terribly insecure and ridiculous, that's all.’ Nick laughed ruefully and put a hand over his face, shaking his head. ‘Why on earth would you want someone who is such a mess? Who feels too panicky to stay in bed and then gets maudlin over it.’

‘Well for one thing he looks good in my clothes,’ David said. ‘Gorgeous, as a matter of fact. And for another...’ David tugged Nick's chair across the floor until their knees were touching, then leaned forward to kiss Nick quickly. ‘For another, he's not such a mess as he thinks he is, just worries too much.’

‘You're making light of things,’ Nick admonished.

‘Only where it's needed,’ David replied, returning his hands to Nick's shoulders. ‘Why were you too panicky to stay in bed?’

‘I don't know,’ Nick answered. ‘I just had to get up.’

‘Maybe you should speak with Arthur about that?’ David suggested gently, rubbing his thumb along Nick's neck as Nick let out a long, relaxed sigh and then smiled.

‘And risk another lecture on how sleeping with you is a bad idea? I think I'll pass.’

‘Another lecture?’ David squeaked, suddenly alarmed. ‘You mean you told him?’

‘Not all of it, not about the– I didn't mean to. I was asking about something else and it slipped out. I'm sorry,’ Nick explained, flushing with guilt.

David sat silently, wondering what Nick had been talking about when he had made the inadvertent disclosure to his therapist, and then asking himself why it bothered him so much. It was not as if the man could tell anyone what he and Nick discussed during their sessions.

Though he had conspired to keep the knowledge of their move to Devon secret, and was undoubtedly worried what would happen should the wider public learn of the nature of their relationship, that was not David's main concern. During the past two days those things had begun to seem less important. It was that Nick had once again kept something from him that troubled David the most. He did not expect Nick to tell him every thought in his head, but David again had the nagging feeling Nick was deliberately keeping some part of himself closed off, that there was something he was holding back, and that filled David with an inexplicable sense of apprehension.

Nick rested his hand on David's knee, face creased with nervousness.

‘I was asking him about my sleeping on the floor,’ he said quietly. ‘The night you got back from Germany, and... It was an accident, I swear. I know you don't want anyone to know.’

‘It's not that,’ David reassured quickly. ‘People already know.’

He stopped, studying Nick carefully, but Nick's face was unreadable beneath the nervous frown.

‘I guess I wish you would talk to me,’ he added finally.

Nick began to chew on his bottom lip.

‘There are things I can't talk about, David, not to you,’ Nick said. He placed his hand over David's and squeezed gently. ‘Please understand, some things I am not ready to tell anyone yet, I need to work through them myself first, and I have questions you couldn't possibly answer. Arthur is a stranger, he didn't know me before.’

‘Does that make it easier?’ David asked.

‘Yes,’ Nick answered immediately, nodding lightly. He looked at David and smiled, shuffling from the chair so he was kneeling on the floor in front of David and reaching up a hand to touch David's cheek. ‘You've done so much to help, but I don't want you as my therapist.’

When Nick kissed him it was nothing more than a single press of lips, followed by the lightest of touches to his face, and a look that seemed to convey there was more to all of it than simple physical affection; something greater and as yet undefined. David chased the thought, snatching for it as though it were the string of a runaway kite, always blown just out of reach.

There was more, something Nick had not told him about Penrhyn, but it was not, as David had first feared, some great, catastrophic secret, too awful to be spoken. It was something precious, held back for fear of losing it; something connected with the way Nick looked at him, touched him, almost as though...

The thought was broken by the loud, musical ring of the door bell, and David started with fright.

‘The shopping!’ he exclaimed as Nick stood up and dashed down the hallway into the bedroom, emerging seconds later and tossing a t-shirt at David.

‘Better put that on,’ Nick grinned, before ducking back out of sight. David pulled the t-shirt hurriedly over his head and straightened his hair, then he opened the front door.

‘Delivery for a...’ The driver checked his hand-held terminal. ‘...Cameron. 'Cor blimey, it's you off the telly!’

Bustling past David, carrying the green basket of groceries, the man, who David guessed to be in his late thirties, said cheerily: ‘On holiday are ya?’

‘For a few days, yes,’ David replied, moving to help with the contents of the basket. The driver seemed not to hear and continued babbling rapidly in a thick west-country accent.

‘Ain't a bad place, this. Would have took you for somewhere a bit fancier, but this is nice, eh?’ He placed several items of shopping on the kitchen table, carrying on a strange sort of one-sided conversation, oblivious to David's brief responses and wary expression. ‘Never been one for your lot m'self. The missus though, she took a liking to that Clegg fellow after those TV debates. Made her right happy when he turned up alive after all this time. Hell of a thing, that, just imagine spendin' all that time out there on your tod. Don't really bear thinkin' about.’

From the corner of his eye, David could see Nick lurking at the bedroom doorway, smirking in amusement. David rolled his eyes and gestured at the chattering delivery man, and Nick shrugged, holding his hands up as if to say: What am I supposed to do?

For a moment, David had a vision of Nick strolling into the kitchen wearing nothing but boxers, and the thought of the probable look of shock on the delivery driver's face made laughter bubble up. He quickly coughed into his hand to hide it, frowning as Nick laughed silently and disappeared.

David turned his attention away from the hallway and back to the now silent driver, who had emptied the basket and was holding his terminal out for David to sign. Quickly scrawling his signature, David led the man to the door and said a polite farewell, breathing a sigh of relief once the door was closed.

‘Looks like you made a new friend,’ Nick chuckled, emerging from the bedroom.

‘His wife prefers you,’ David replied, still feeling a little bewildered by the experience.

‘So I heard.’

Nick walked over and slipped his arms around David's waist, pushing him back against the front door.

‘Want some help putting everything away?’

‘Oh, now you offer to help,’ David said playfully. ‘Where were you when I was having my ear talked off?’

‘Your talkative friend probably wouldn't appreciate me walking around dressed like this,’ Nick answered, leaning back slightly to emphasise his lack of any clothing aside from David's boxer shorts.

‘A sensible person would say you could have put on some clothes,’ David responded, smiling.

‘Any sensible person would have stayed right where I did,’ Nick laughed. ‘If I'd come out here he might have invited his wife round for tea.’

Shaking his head in resignation David stopped talking and put his arms around Nick's shoulders, and Nick fell silent too, nuzzling his face into the side of David's neck and breathing softly in David's ear. David was glad Nick seemed to have stopped worrying if his cautious advances were welcome, though he wished Nick had chosen a better location than in front of the door to decide that he wanted a cuddle. At least there was no window.

After a while, Nick sighed. ‘I suppose I should make good on my offer of help.’

He made to step away, but David stopped him, suddenly reluctant for their quiet moment to end.

‘It's cold by this door,’ Nick grumbled, but stood where he was until David let him go, before moving off and beginning to put the groceries away.

When they were finished Nick trotted off toward the bedroom to get dressed, and David walked to the patio doors and looked out.

The weather had improved since the previous day, with glimmers of sunlight shining down on the sea. David wondered if Nick would go swimming again.

It was odd Nick was so susceptible to the cold and yet had no qualms about stripping off to swim in what must be near freezing water. Perhaps swimming was another thing Nick had grown accustomed to doing while on Penrhyn, comforting for the familiarity of it, enough so that the temperature of the water was not a problem. Perhaps he simply did not notice. It did not matter, David decided. He unlatched the door and opened it a fraction.

The air was crisp, with the familiar salty twang of the coast, and David let out a long breath, feeling relaxed. This was the first real time away from the responsibilities of office he had been able to find since September the previous year. A few days grabbed here and there were all well and good to keep his stress levels low, but a real holiday, without something or other meaning he had to cut it short, was a rare pleasure.

Although, David thought, this was not really a holiday at all. If Nick had not been there, if he had not been rescued, David would likely have spent the recess in Downing Street as he did most others. David wondered why he was viewing the trip to Devon as some kind of romantic getaway; it certainly was not meant to be.

Before David could consider the question too deeply, Nick returned from the bedroom, chatting casually about how they might spend the day as he joined David in front of the patio doors. David turned away from the window and its view of the coast.

‘We could have lunch on the beach?’ he suggested.

‘Looks nice enough outside,’ Nick said, craning his head through the gap between the door and the edge of the frame, so his voice was slightly muffled. ‘I hope it doesn't rain today.’

‘Doesn't look like it will,’ David commented. He found it suddenly amusing they were talking about the weather, the age-old fall back of stilted conversation, as if they had nothing else to talk about, and laughed quietly as Nick ducked his head back inside the house.

‘What?’ Nick asked, giving David a confused smile.

‘Oh, nothing,’ David said. ‘Just thinking about the weather.’

Nick squinted at him funnily, one eyebrow curling drastically downward, and then shook his head, smiling again.

‘You are strange sometimes, David.’

‘This coming from the man who likes to sleep on the floor,’ David responded, then bit his lip, hoping he had not hurt Nick's feelings with the remark.

‘The floor is comfortable, I'll have you know,’ Nick grinned. ‘You should try it some time. Might toughen you up a little.’

‘I think I'm quite tough enough, thank you,’ David laughed. He gave Nick a playful shove, which only made Nick chuckle.

‘Face it, you're a massive softy,’ Nick taunted. ‘Not that I mind. You're really comfortable to sleep on.’

‘Is that all I am to you?’ David asked, putting one hand on his chest in a gesture of mock heartbreak. ‘Nothing but a glorified pillow?’

‘A very lovely, very kind...’

Trailing off, Nick looked down at the floor, shuffling from one foot to the other. David wondered what Nick had been about to say, and he put his hand on Nick's arm.

‘You know you're more than someone to–’ Nick mumbled. ‘I mean I wouldn't crawl into anyone's bed.’

‘I know,’ David frowned, feeling a little unsettled by Nick's abrupt change of mood.

‘I just want you to know this–’ Nick waved his hand at the space between where they were standing. ‘–isn't simply because you're here.’

‘I wasn't suggesting you–’

‘Because it means something to me, David. It isn't because I'm lonely.’

‘I know that, Nick,’ David said. He found it vaguely troubling that Nick had used the word lonely in the present tense, as if it was something he still felt. Did he? David was not sure. Nick's outward display of mood seemed to be divided into two categories: sometimes he was boisterously happy, and others, like now, he was shockingly nervous and uncertain.

‘I'm sorry,’ Nick sighed, rubbing his face in a way that made David wonder if he was crying. ‘I think I–I think I'd like to be alone for a little while. I wouldn't be very good company.’

‘If that's what–’ David began. Nick nodded fervently, his head still bowed, and rushed away.

As he stood alone by the door David wondered what had just happened. The last part of their conversation had him completely baffled. Had he somehow given Nick the impression that he thought Nick was only sleeping with him because it was convenient? Because he had certainly never intended to imply anything of the kind. Even if the stories about Nick's bed hopping during his youth were true, which David doubted very much, David knew him well enough to know he would not 'crawl into anyone's bed', as he had put it.

Maybe Nick had wanted David to know that their sleeping arrangements were not out of convenience and meant something. David had never doubted it. They meant something to him, too, he just was not sure what they meant yet. It was difficult enough to adjust to Nick being alive, without the added confusion of how he felt about the man.

Still, David felt unexpectedly touched at Nick's wanting to reassure him that...

‘Bloody hell,’ David said out loud to the empty room.

Yes, it was as simple as that, but he had it the wrong way round. What Nick had wanted, and what David had failed to provide, was reassurance it meant something to David, too.

Feeling frustrated with himself, David tried to decide whether he should go and knock on Nick's door or leave the other man to himself for a bit. Nick had asked to be alone, but perhaps this was one of those situations where it was better to straighten things out sooner rather than later. Although David did not have the slightest idea what he would say when he was not sure of his own feelings.

His feet had carried him down the hallway, and he stood in front of Nick's door contemplating the least confusing way to tell Nick he was not entirely sure of all this. He stopped short of actually knocking when he heard Nick speaking on the other side of the door.

‘You're the one who suggested it. I never wanted to– ’

There was a pause as Nick listened to the response, and then:

‘I know that, but it's not exactly easy, Arthur.’

David lowered his hand, not wanting to disturb Nick when he was talking to Dr. Rimbaugh. His face creased with worry as he speculated on who had called whom, with the uncomfortable feeling the call was a result of the conversation he and Nick had just shared in the living room.

‘It's not his fault,’ Nick was saying. ‘I'm the one who gets upset over the smallest...’

Not wanting to hear any more, David walked away.

It was twenty minutes later when Nick returned from the bedroom, approaching David cautiously as he tended to the soup he was heating.

‘David,’ Nick began, smiling hesitantly. ‘I wanted to apologise for rushing off like that.’

‘It's all right,’ David said, balancing the wooden spoon he was using on the edge of the saucepan and turning to face Nick. ‘Are you feeling better?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Nick answered, nodding. He glanced around the room a few times and then looked back at David. ‘It's nothing you– I mean, I wasn't upset with you, David. Things are just... confusing, sometimes, and it's difficult to explain. Little, little things sometimes remind me of ho– Arthur says it's normal, but it can get a bit frustrating when–’

‘Nick,’ David said softly, interrupting the continuing stream of words. ‘Slow down.’

‘Sorry,’ Nick mumbled, an apologetic look flashing across his features. ‘I wanted to explain before it all gets muddled again.’

‘Explain what?’ David asked, turning off the hob so he could give Nick his full attention without worrying about the soup burning.

‘Why I, why sometimes I–’ Nick gulped and took a deep breath, his hands clenching at his sides. ‘It reminded me of my house,’ he said finally.

‘Sorry, what?’ David uttered in surprise.

‘My house,’ Nick repeated.

‘I didn't realise you had one,’ David breathed. It had never occurred to him there would be buildings on Penrhyn.

‘I think it used to be a holiday home, from when people still lived there,’ Nick explained. His expression was halfway toward wistful as he spoke. ‘It wasn't very much, but the old hotels seemed too big for just me. They were all falling down anyway.’

David stood in silence. In all the times he had thought of it, he had pictured Nick living in some insubstantial shelter fashioned out of fallen trees and driftwood, like he had seen depicted in films. The thought that Nick had left behind a house made him feel unexpectedly sad; somehow it cemented the idea in David's mind that Nick had not merely survived on the island for five years, he had made a home there. A home he was now separate from, and also missed more than a little.

‘I'm sorry,’ David said, feeling his words were clumsy and insufficient.

‘It's not your fault,’ Nick responded quietly, reminding David of how Nick had said the very same thing to Dr. Rimbaugh. ‘I don't want you to feel like you can't say things because it might remind me of something else.’

‘I don't. Well, perhaps a little,’ David admitted.

‘You shouldn't,’ Nick said. He smiled at David and took hold of his hand. ‘If you stopped saying every word that reminds me of Penrhyn we would have very short conversations.’

Smiling back at Nick, David squeezed his hand. He felt better for knowing he had not upset Nick intentionally, but the conversation about the house Nick had lived in felt unfinished, and David still had no idea what it had to do with Nick's insistence he was not sharing a bed with David through loneliness.

Nick seemed to read David's confusion because a few seconds later David found himself being led toward the sofa. He sat down, watching as Nick settled at his side and turned to look at him with a determined look set firmly on his face.

‘It's not really the house,’ Nick said. ‘Certain things– They remind me of– Arthur says it is because, he says some emotional responses trigger the memory and–’ Nick stopped, squeezing his eyes shut and touching his forehead. ‘I just don't know why it is that memory. It's not even that bad, so I don't know why I keep thinking about it.’

‘I don't understand, Nick,’ David said in confusion. ‘What do you keep thinking about?’

‘The accident,’ Nick replied, gesturing to the spot on his chest where the lightened scar line was hidden beneath his shirt. ‘The day I got this.’

‘Oh.’

David felt lost, unable to grasp the jumping thread of Nick's thoughts and how the scar on his chest could possibly have anything to do with them sleeping together. Nick's earlier sentiment of wanting to explain before it all got tangled again made a lot more sense, but it seemed Nick was not having much success in untangling whatever it was he wanted to say.

‘I fell,’ Nick explained quietly. ‘There was a storm. I was over on the other side of the island when it started, and I had to walk back to the house in the rain. I slipped when I was crossing one of the inlets and fell onto a strip of metal stuck in the bank.’

The unwelcome image of Nick staggering along in the rain, hand pressed to his chest as blood trickled from beneath it, made David inhale sharply. Nick looked at him.

‘It didn't even hurt, not really,’ Nick went on. ‘I was more more worried about getting out of the rain. When I got back to the house I used the last of my shirt to bandage it. I was terrified it would get infected; I suppose I'm lucky it didn't. It's just–’ Nick broke off, looking down at his hands. His voice was shaky as he finished the sentence. ‘–that's when I realised I was going to die there. On my own. And no one would even know it.’

Oh god, David thought, understanding Nick was describing the very moment when he had lost all hope of being rescued. His hands shaking, David reached out for Nick, wanting to reassure himself of Nick's presence as much as he wanted to reassure Nick that he would not die alone in some faraway place. Nick turned to him and buried himself in the embrace, arms wrapping tightly around David's upper body.

‘I've got you,’ David said instinctively. ‘I'm here.’

‘All I kept thinking was how I'd never get to tell– talk to you about, about us kissing each other, and how much I wish I'd stayed after that aide dropped off those papers, instead of leaving everything up in the air because of some stupid, stupid idea I was betraying my party by liking you.’

‘You couldn't have known,’ David whispered fiercely, tightening his grip on Nick.

‘You have no idea how many times I thought about this,’ Nick answered, his voice rough with emotion. ‘About you holding me like this; how much I fucking wanted– so damn hard it hurt to even think about you. Some days the thought of seeing you was the only, the only thing that kept me going. Christ, you don't know how much I missed you.’

Holding Nick tightly, David stroked his hand up and down Nick's back while Nick clung to him. He felt like crying, could feel tears prickling behind his eyes at the thought of how desperately lonely Nick had been.

However much of a struggle David was finding it to deal with their situation, what Nick was going through must be made doubly difficult by the surfacing memories of what he had been through, amplified by feelings he had undoubtedly suppressed because they caused him too much pain.

It was as though Nick's return, and their growing relationship with each other, had opened a door somewhere that Nick had kept firmly closed, allowing all of the emotions he felt to spill out in a jumbled heap. For the first time David was glad Nick had someone like Doctor Rimbaugh to talk to; Nick was right, there was no way David could help him to understand what all of it meant.

But knowing Nick had thought of him so often, had thought of being held as he was right now, David wrapped Nick a little tighter in his arms, and he did not let go.

Chapter Ten

I REALLY hope there are more press conferences like this one (Pics/Video)

booey_875 — Thu, 10 Jan 2013 16:30:30 GMT

This may be old news as many people are already aware of the press conference that Cameron and Clegg held this past Monday. But this...needed to be here. IMHO this is the second best press conference after 2010 Rose Garden. Enjoy I hope.

Video of entire event is available at the link below. Let me know if the link doesn't play...

http://www.c-spanvideo.org/program/310243-1

Three main highlights:

In his opening statement, Nick calls him "Dave" - not "The PM", "Mr. Cameron" or even "David"

13:33 DCam saying "We are married --not to each other. We are both happily married and this is a Government not a relationship..."

26:54 Gary of Channel 4 asking: "And Prime Minister - you’ve made it quite clear that you’re not in love with Nick Clegg..."

Pictures (all are from Zimbio - many others still there):

Dave and Nick visiting schools together

manics_fan — Wed, 05 Dec 2012 00:08:21 GMT

There's not been much to post recently with regards to David and Nick, but after a few days of the usual "tensions in the coalition" screaming from the headlines because of the Leveson split David and Nick go off for some good ol' coalition bonding, and when they're not looking at houses together, it seems that they're off visiting schools together.

Here's a video of David and Nick answering a school child's very important question... about what football teams they both support.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-20595308

Nick's doing his very best to look manly in from of David. It's not working, Nick!

That manly hands on hips pose still isn't winning David over... I don't think laughing was the reaction Nick was hoping for.

So he gives it up. Better luck next time, Nick!

I looked around for more photos but couldn't find any since Daylife doesn't seem to do news photos anymore.

Help I need somebody! 9/9

weredem — Sat, 27 Oct 2012 03:41:25 GMT

Summary: Their secret is out.

Rating: NC17 for sex and fine Anglo Saxon language.
Author's Notes: Clameron, AU. Doctor Clegg, MD. Sorry the ending took a while - writer's block struck!
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen.

David has had better days. He knows he has to tackle the issue of his "relationship" quickly, before the shit hits the fan, but he really doesn't know what to do next. There are three possible courses of action - ignore it and hope it will blow over; a fantasy, because the Conservative Party is never going to leave this alone. He could deny everything, and pretend that he isn't shagging a LibDem who just happens to be male and a whole lot of trouble; that option might be a wiser course of action but it would literally tear the heart out of him, and Nick as well. Or he could try to manage this mess, convincing his opponents that it's really no big deal, even the LibDem bit, which some of the back benchers will find it harder to forgive than the fact that he's bisexual. Whichever way you look at it in fact, he's pretty much fucked, and not in a good way.

He heads back to Downing Street, walking, to give himself time to think, but even then, his thoughts are still in a turmoil. He's only in his office for half a minute before there's a knock and George Osborne pokes his head round the door. "Dave... you won't believe this! I've had a call from one of our backbenchers saying that the LibDem Rottweiler, Cleggover, is your lap dog! You're the secret boyfriend everyone's been wondering about! Can you believe that? It's hilarious!"

He waits for David to laugh, but the silence stretches between them until it becomes acutely uncomfortable. He sees the amusement die in George's eyes, and become something else, a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. Finally, David breaks the silence.

"I suppose that's one way to put it." George can probably hear the unhappiness in his voice. He finds that he's getting used to the shocked way his Conservative colleagues tend to look at him when they find out - as he was leaving the House of Commons, there had been a distinctly frosty atmosphere developing. Still, George is one of his oldest friends, so if he can't talk about it with the Chancellor, fat chance of him talking to anyone else.

"I've been sleeping with him for about six months now," David says quietly. "The thing is... it's become serious..."

"So what are you going to do?" George gets right to the point. That's what he really likes about his friend - no bullshit when things get critical.

David sighs. "I was really hoping you had a suggestion," he says tiredly.

" Let's take a step back and look at this for a moment. If 15% of MPs -- that's 46 out of 306 -- write to the 1922 Committee, they can force a vote of no confidence in you and call for a leadership vote." George is always hot with the numbers, though to be honest it's just depressing. It feels wrong to have them voting on his premiership just because he has a boyfriend - a man who really loves and cares for him and is loved in return. It's like they're judging him on daring to love outside their narrow little limits. It's just not right!

He does have a glimmer of an idea though, one that relies mostly on his ability to bluff an opponent. It might work, or it might not, but at this point he has little to lose by trying it. He needs to speak to the LibDems first though, to get them on side. Hurdle number one. He gathers his thoughts together and picks up his phone; five minutes later, a puzzled Vince is sitting in his office.

"I suppose you've heard about my little problem," David begins.

The older man gives a sigh. "Prime Minister, at least three different MPs have called within the past half hour, all of them eager to dish the dirt on you. You don't exactly have a lot of friends in some quarters. Nick, on the other hand, has a lot of friends and a promising career - so some people around here are willing to bat from his corner. For his sake, I'll support you as far as I can."

It's more than David expected, considering the mess that's developing, all because he's fallen in love with a crazy LibDem doctor.

"So what are you planning to do, Prime Minister?" Vince studies him with open curiosity.

"I may have a way out of this!" David says, and then he explains to the LibDem leader. Vince looks surprised, and then thoughtful.

"Intriguing approach - honesty," he says. "It would be interesting to see whether it works or not. But if you are thrown out by the Conservative party, you're quite welcome to join the LibDems. Perhaps the threat of a LibDem Prime Minister might have a salutary effect on your enemies." David shakes his head - that would just be swapping one sort of betrayal for another, and he has too many friends in the party who would be hurt by that. Oddly enough, that thought is what finally makes him decide to go through with his plan - he does have some support left. He hopes it's enough.

All David needs to do now is to wait. Everything seems calm in Westminster at the moment, but it's deceptive because behind-the-scenes, there's frantic activity going on; and in the usual parliamentary way, alliances are being made and deals struck. He can almost hear the phone calls; which MPs are positioning themselves for leadership, and who is getting ready a sharpened knife, in preparation for stabbing him in the back in a great political tradition that stretches back to Julius Caesar. On his part, he's waiting for Nick, and then they'll see.

***

Nick is just as worried as David; although most of his attention has been on his patient, he can't help but worry about the PM and how his party will react now that they know the truth. He's not sorry that he's fallen in love with David. Hell, no! But he's under no illusions that life for the pair of them is going to be very difficult for the foreseeable future. The Conservative party, unlike the LibDems, has the 1922 committee - influential backbenchers who have the power to call David to account for his conduct, and to make his life miserable in various ways.

He forces his mind on to more important things when he gets to the hospital and briefs the doctors on the old man's condition. The fact that he's one of Britain's leading emergency medicine specialists, as well as being influential within the government when it comes to health policy ensures that the old MP is guaranteed expert care. The young doctors in casualty want to impress him; so his quite confident that everything possible is being done for his patient. Three hours after he arrives, he's finally satisfied that everything has been done to stabilise Winner. The old man's family are there - a wife and three daughters, one of whom is the new editor of the Daily Telegraph - and they're quite aware that the old man owes his life to Nick.

Nick doesn't do his job for praise, so he tries to make his escape when the relatives appear, but the eldest daughter seeks him out after she's checked on her father's condition.

"I know who you are, Doctor Clegg!" Annabel Winner says without preamble. "I've also heard quite a few rumours today about your alleged relationship with Cameron. Is it true?"

Nick knows better than to talk to journalists by now - even crusading ones like Annabel who've made their names through exposing injustice and hypocrisy - so he smiles politely and tries to pretend that he hasn't been asked that particular land-mine of a question. Annabel looks sorry for a moment. "It is, isn't it. And it would still be a secret if you hadn't saved my father's life."

Nick shrugs. "I did what needed to be done," he says softly. Nothing else mattered at the time, and he's never going to regret that; he believes in the Hippocratic oath with every fibre of his being, and he always will. Just that this time, it's got him into trouble.

She studies him for a moment. "Tell Cameron to watch his back," she says. "The chairman of the 1922 Committee is after his head." She gives a wry smile. "And if you do decide to go public with your relationship, give me a heads up. I'll make sure the publicity is positive - I owe you that much."

Nick looks at her for a moment, then he nods; one of these days - probably soon - he's going to take her up on the offer.

He finds a moment to text David as he comes out of the hospital; he receives a short reply within moments - the PM must have been waiting for him to call.

Come straight to Downing Street. Use the front door.

Nick blinks in surprise; he doesn't usually come in through the front - it's where all the tv cameras and journalists lurk, but he trusts David so he does as he's asked. It's a strange experience, showing his pass to the police on duty, then walking very publicly along the street past all the journalists. He's very aware of the flashes from their cameras and a few curious catcalls as he makes his way to the famous door. Perhaps the rumours have begun to circulate already?

When he enters Downing Street, he's met by an aide and escorted to one of the main Reception rooms. David is waiting there, and when he sees Nick, his face lights up in welcome. Nick knows he should be more circumspect, but he can't help but enjoy the moment - at least they're together. Except that he appears to have walked into a press conference.

David comes over, and to Nick's surprise, slides an arm round his waist, despite the fact that they're in public. He leans closer, and breathes in Nick's ear, "Trust me!"

"Always!" Nick says, then there's a photographer there, taking a photo of them, together! Nick makes himself smile into the camera, despite the fact that he's blushing, and after fussing over a few shots, the woman leaves, and reporters are shoving microphones forward.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming," David says. "This is just a short meeting to introduce you to my partner, Nick Clegg. I've been in a relationship with him for a while now, and I've asked him to move into my flat." He sees Nick tense as the shock hits. " You may know that he's a LibDem MP, but don't hold that against him..." He chuckles. "He has his party's full support..." He reaches for Nick's hand and squeezes it.

So that's it. It's admittedly a surprise that the PM is prepared to publicly acknowledge their relationship, but a welcome one, nonetheless. Nick returns the squeeze and smiles at David, then forces himself to face the (carefully selected) press pack.

"Bill Murray from Channel 4. Aren't you the MP who attacked the PM over his new communications bill?" One of the political journalists calls out. "And how can you possibly make a relationship work when you're from different parties?"

David laughs, though Nick feels his fingers tighten and knows how nervous the PM is, though he absolutely doesn't show it. "If anything, our professional differences are beneficial," David says. "Discussing politics with someone who has a different point of view is a great way to clarify things for me. I'm sure we Nick feels the same. We disagree ideologically, but we have no major disagreements when it comes to our personal life," he says. He looks at Nick and smiles.

"Anna Smith, Daily Express. How did you meet? And if I may, do you love each other?"

"We met when David fell off his Segway," Nick answers, "and yes, I love him."

"I know politicians don't get a good press when it comes to their personal lives," David says. "But in this day and age, I'm happy to admit that I'm in a loving, committed relationship. And yes it's with a man. I know that there'll be members of my party that will disapprove, but I'm not going to apologise for the person I choose to love. That's all."

***

The worst thing about this whole business is waiting around afterwards to find out what everybody's reaction is, Nick thinks. Not that he cares very much - he'll go dinosaur hunting any time, any place, anywhere - but he does worry about David. Or more precisely, the Conservative party. They have the power to remove the PM from the leadership. He's doing what he can to help, and yes that includes calling in the promised favour from Annabel Winner, and absolutely not opening his mouth and putting his foot in it to any of the other journalists. There's so much he could say about the stupidity of prejudiced people, but now is not the time.

They wait together, lounging on the far too comfortable, Downing Street squishy sofa, tangled up together, almost content. David is holding him, head resting against Nick's chest. The first papers will be viewed on Sky and the BBC around 9:30 PM. Nick can tell that David is still nervous.

"If you're worried about headlines, don't make speeches about love," he says softly. David huffs in laughter and runs his fingers through Nick's hair; tonight is the first time they absolutely don't have to hide their relationship; walking upstairs next to David, in front of everyone - staff, security, Cabinet colleagues... Memorable and a little daunting, no matter how much they've wanted it. No sneaking around - though admittedly, there had been some good times when they'd concealed their relationship.

Their relationship is headline news on virtually every news channel, with potted biographical details of Nick and the expected recap of the PM's previous partnerships. A few of the reporters have even dug up some of Nick's ex-colleagues to give brief sound-bytes about the day he met David Cameron. Mostly straight, factual reports so far, although one channel had a guest commentator from the Daily Mail who was predictable both shocked and avid for more details. Hypocrite!

And there it is; the first press report. Nick feels David tense, because the power of the press is undeniable - they could whip up a storm of disapproval if they choose to... The Tories will see which way the wind is blowing, and jump in that direction, before they can be pushed.

It's the Telegraph, praising the honesty and courage of the PM and his partner. Nick can tell that David is a little shell-shocked, and because he knows it's going to be alright, he turns and hugs the PM close. Then they end up kissing, and that's pretty much it for a long while.

Nick loves the way his man tastes, and he could go on snogging for ever, quite happily, but he has something on his mind. He presses his hand to David's chest, pushing him away, and the PM looks at him in puzzlement. Nick blushes, and reaches into his pocket.

"Um... there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Nick admits. He ferrets out a small box he's been carrying round for months - around the time David came out to Danny, in fact - and offers it to the PM, who opens it in puzzlement. His eyes widen as he stares at what's inside.

"Prime Minister, will you marry me?" Nick says hesitantly. David is quiet for the longest time, then he takes out the engagement ring and slips it onto his finger.

"Yes!" he says softly. " But I insist on a proper wedding!"

" It'll take legislation for that," Nick says. "Unless you want to fly to Sweden?"

"We'll get the law changed in six months!" David says. Grinning, they high-five. They're going to change the world.

The End.

Help! I need somebody! 7+8/9

weredem — Sat, 27 Oct 2012 03:27:47 GMT

Title: Help I need somebody 7/9
Summary: Nick furthers his career in Parliament.

and part 8/9

Summary: Nick drops hints about his own private Coalition, then accidentally reveals all.

Rating: NC17 for sex and fine Anglo Saxon language.
Author's Notes: Clameron, AU. Doctor Clegg, MD. Those who are curious about Parliament's medical facilities see http://www.parliament.uk/documents/upload/hofchandbk.pdf
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen.

About a week later...

David was right, the LibDem party has spotted Nick's potential because he's spoken to by Vince at the LibDem weekly party meeting, the day before Prime Minister's Question Time. "We'd like you to ask the Prime Minister about his ridiculous stance on Internet freedom at PMQs," Vince says. Because he's officially David Cameron's deputy in the Coalition, he generally gets his MPs to ask the Prime Minister the questions he can't. And tomorrow, he's going to put Nick to the test.

"We need someone to publicly confront Cameron about it, and I've heard that you're not the sort to be intimidated by that smug Tory bastard. After that hospitals debate you did last month in Sheffield, the Labour Party is calling you the LibDem Rottweiler! Just the sort we need to fight for our policies."

"Oh, Cameron doesn't intimidate me," Nick says. "I'm not afraid of any posh Tory git, no matter who he is." Out of the corner of his eye, Nick sees Danny close his eyes briefly and shake his head in disbelief at Nick's audacity . He manages to hide his grin.

"Well you should be," one of his colleagues says. "Cameron's an arrogant bastard - totally and completely - and he won't hesitate to stick the boot in if he gets the chance, even to his Coalition colleagues."

"Flashman!" somebody else agrees.

"Bastard. Right, got it." Nick says. The conversation moves to other things. Nick risks a glance at Danny and their eyes meet. He can almost read the question, "what the hell are you doing?" He winks back at his friend.

Nick and a couple of his colleagues work on the question he's going to ask the Prime Minister and when they're finally happy with it, Nick goes away by himself to prepare for the debate. While he's reading through the draft of the new Communications Data Bill which the Tories are proposing, his phone vibrates. He presses a key and a text message from David appears on the screen: -

R U coming tonight? Silly question I know, because I'll make sure you do - several times!!! Cam.

Nick smiles, and texts back: - Hot. Want to get you naked so much. U bring corkscrew as planned. Nick.

He spends the rest of the afternoon doing the endless reams of paperwork that this place seems to generate, before eventually finishing around 7 p.m. When he bundles his paperwork into his briefcase, he finds himself pausing before he considers putting in the papers about tomorrow's question - before leaving them locked in his filing cabinet instead. It's not that he doesn't trust David, but it's possible that the PM might accidentally glimpse his papers (which he reads with his coffee in the morning).

His first stop after work is the nearest wine shop where he buys a bottle of vintage champagne, and then he heads to Downing Street, going in the back way and flashing his ID at security. They know him by now, and they know that he's probably going to spend the night, but they're sworn to secrecy, and anyway it's probably treason to give away the Prime Minister's secrets. Still, Nick is always polite. And last time he visited, David gave him a key and pass to the Downing Street flat.

He lets himself in, and walks through the flat, bypassing the kitchen and lounge and finding his way to the bedroom. He is shedding clothes as he goes, so he enters the bedroom naked where David is waiting for him, naked; he is carrying the champagne though. David laughs and points towards the top of the drawers, where he's left the corkscrew. Nick opens a bottle with a loud pop and pours some of the bubbling, golden liquid into two long stemmed glasses. He gives one to David and they toast each other. The liquid is cool and pleasantly dry in flavour, which is as you'd expect from a Krug.

David sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, already in a state of arousal, and a grinning Nick drops to his knees and slowly drips some of the champagne onto David's erection. He eagerly begins to lick it off and David groans, fingers tightly in his hair as he pushes Nick closer, but the LibDem has other ideas and shoves the PM back onto the bed. He bites his lip in concentration as he nudges David's knees apart and uses slick fingers to good effect...

Moments later, David groans as his lover pushes into him and begins to move; as always with Nick, it's so good that he loses himself in sensation , clutching his lover's body, and yes, begging for more and harder and deeper, which is such a damn cliché, but it's exactly what he feels. Then he comes so hard he screams, Nick being just as vocal as he, too, climaxes.

They hold each other in contentment after that, then later they change places, and it's David's turn to choose how they pleasure each other. It's quite democratic, Nick thinks, which is both pleasurable and unexpected. When he first started this relationship, he thought David Cameron would prefer being on top all the time, but that's not the case at all. They're equals in the bedroom, and the PM likes everything. Life is so good...

"David, I love you..." Nick says, for the very first time. And if he had any doubt about the PM's feelings for him, they vanish when he sees the warmth that fills David Cameron's eyes at those magic words. He pulls Nick close and hugs him. The only thing that mars the occasion is that David hasn't declared his own feelings for Nick. Not yet, but for the moment, Nick is patient.

***

Nick is uncharacteristically quiet this morning, and David doesn't know why. He suspects it might be because he didn't say those three bloody little words back to Nick last night. Three little words that will change the course of his life forever, and he just can't say them. Not right now. Of course he thinks he loves Nick, it's just that... Aw hell, his life is so complicated already.

"Got to dash!" Nick says, slurping down his coffee rapidly. He grins at David - which relieves the PM because at least Nick apparently isn't angry with him - and grabs his briefcase. "I'm sure I'll see you at PMQ's, at least from a distance." His smile gets wider, then he moves in close and kisses David with an almost bubbly enthusiasm that makes them both regret he's got to dash. It's really rather strange, and not in character, and leaves David scratching his head in puzzlement as he heads downstairs to his Downing Street office. It doesn't stay in his mind for long though, he's got a full morning of meetings scheduled.

He holds the usual preparatory session for PMQ's a couple of hours before the parliamentary day begins, so that he' s about as primed as he could be, considering that some of the backbenchers love to throw surprise questions his way. There is some guidance as to topic, but the exact wording of the question is often a surprise. Today they're expecting questions on the closure of a major steel plant, Internet freedom and education so he's well briefed on those topics, though he usually thinks pretty fast on his feet.

When PMQ starts, David answers the usual question one, which is a declaration of his Parliamentary business of the day and is a time to remember fallen members of the Armed Services. After that, he fields questions from Ed Miliband on the usual topics of the economy and potential disasters in Europe. When Labour is finished, the Lib Dems get a chance to throw couple of questions at him. He looks expectantly at the LibDem backbenchers and then, to his surprise, he hears Bercow say, "the member for Sheffield Hallam." Nick is standing, looking at him, his blue eyes amused though his expression is calm.

"Prime Minister," Nick says, "I'd like to ask you about the new Communications data Bill. Could you tell me what measures you're putting in place to stop this outrageously authoritarian bill from being used to undermine the Human Rights Act?

David blinks in surprise. It's a damn fine question, so it's a good job he's thought about the subject in anticipation. "I realise that under the Human Rights Act, everyone has the right to privacy," David says. "But you have to remember that terrorists these days will use any opportunity they can to attack the freedom-loving democracies of this world. We need to be able to stop them using modern technology against us..."

"Will you yield?" Nick is on his feet, shouting out the words totally against protocol, because no one is supposed to interrupt the Prime Minister in the middle of a speech. Admittedly, it's hard not to smile at Nick because the doctor has made the PM yield several times recently and it's usually been both sexy and hot for them both. David is glad he's leaning against the dispatch box because he can feel a beginnings of an erection, just thinking about Nick's body hard against his.

"Apparently no one has told the member for Sheffield Hallam that the Prime Minister doesn't usually yield the floor during PMQ's," David says amusedly. "However, I'm curious, so just this once... I will yield." Only Nick could have interpreted that tiny pause, and he evidently does, because he suddenly looks smug.

"I merely wanted to point out to the Prime Minister that he seems to think that his partners in the Coalition are gullible. We believe this law is both oppressive and intrusive: - the Liberal Democrats believe in a person's right to keep something of themselves unobserved by the state. I'd also like to point out to the Prime Minister that I don't think he'd be very happy, for example, if someone in the security services was reading all of his phone texts..." He sits down, his eyes sparkling with exhilaration.

David can hear some of the Labour and LibDem MP's shouting, "rottweiler!" which is apparently Nick's new nickname in the House. His own backbenchers are countering with, "poodle!"

"The member for Sheffield Hallam raises some interesting points," David counters, thinking of his own hot text messages to Nick yesterday, "but I might add that the price of liberty is eternal vigilance. We have to take these measures to ensure that you continue to live in a free society!"

He sits down, pleased because he counts that a win, and PMQs isn't always so combative. He knows he looks flushed too, which his opponents will be wrongly interpreting as anger. It's not that at all. He loves the cut and thrust of debate, but it's seldom had such a sexual undertone to it; when he gets out of here, he's going to have to relieve some of that built-up sexual tension, one way or another...

***

Nick is waiting for him when he finally escapes from the crowd of Tory backbenchers that congregate for his post question time lunch, pleading a headache (a shameless lie) and makes it to the sanctuary of his office. Neither of them speak - they're so far beyond that now; they know each other so well. The look that's exchanged between them is blisteringly hot, and then Nick is before him, his hand reaching for the bulge in David's trousers which he rubs with a proprietary smile; he's done this to the Prime Minister. This is his, then he's pulling open David's zipper and freeing the Pm's hard member, sinking to his knees and applying that wicked mouth to his self-appointed task of making David come within minutes of getting through his office door.

Sometimes, like today, quick and ruthless is the way to go, and David quite happily lets Nick take control; it's another reason why they're so successful together. They know each others' needs so well. And yes, it does count as yielding.

Nick teasingly takes him right to the edge, and keeps him there until David is pleading for him to finish it. Then Nick has the lube out and those talented fingers are being employed so well that what slips from his lips is damned close to begging.

Nick's laughter is soft against his cheek as he slides in, up to the hilt, and it's as close to perfect as it can get when they're not in bed and haven't got nearly enough time... Then he's being fucked up against the wall and there's no doubt as to who's in charge of this round. Neither of them last long, regretfully. David jams his hand in his mouth to stop himself screaming as he comes, and Nick moans as he joins the PM moments later. David's wondered before this whether he's ready to admit that he loves the feisty, independent-minded, amazing doctor, but now he knows. Yes. A thousand times yes. Partners indeed.

They end up tangled together on the couch afterwards in delicious, purring contentment. "That was unexpected," David says, and Nick knows he doesn't mean the sex.

"I'm sorry." He kisses David apologetically. "I couldn't tell you Vince had picked me for PMQs.."

"You enjoyed it!" David accuses, half-outraged, half-laughing. "Admit it!"

"Well... yes," Nick says. "You know how much I love the debates..."

"Will I yield? To you...?" He's smiling. "Always, Nicky...," David says softly. "You have an unfair advantage over every other politician in the Chamber, I hope you realise that. I can't say no to the man I love!"

"Oh!" Nick shows his appreciation by kissing his Prime Minister very thoroughly for a while. Then he sighs. "You know I'm too bloody stupid to take advantage of you again. It wouldn't be fair... Even if my party asks me again."

"I never doubted you had integrity," David tells him. "You have more honesty than any man I've ever met." Nick knows David won't get in his way, whatever he chooses to do. It's called trust.

They look at each other, because they're both coming to the same conclusion. David finally voices the thought. "We have to tell Vince." He sighs."The man is probably going to have a heart attack!"

"Don't say that! It's not a topic for jokes!" Nick rebukes him.

"Sorry," David says. "You must have seen a lot of those." He puts his arms around Nick and pulls him in close, in apology.

"Yes - and it's always a battle to get people through something like that." Nick says sadly. "You know, it was one of the first things I did when I got to Westminster - finding out if they had a defibrillator for use in emergencies."

"And...?" David asks, curious.

"There are several - in fact, there's one in a cupboard just behind the Speaker's chair. And a stretcher, believe it or not! I looked."

"That's just depressing," David says.

He and Nick hold each other after that, not needing to speak, just reveling in being close to each other. So far, they're making it work, just about, but who knows what tomorrow will hold. So they just enjoy the moment.

Nick does make it back to his office an hour or so later, and he's aware of Danny watching him from the moment he comes through the door, practically walking on air because he's so happy. Knowing that your boyfriend loves you does that to a guy, he thinks.

"Right after PMQs? Really!?" Danny says in a knowing tone that says he's guessed exactly where Nick's been and what he's been up to, and he doesn't quite approve.

"Um.. well... yes," Nick admits. He has the grace to blush. Danny just shakes his head, mystified as to the attraction the PM seems to exert over his friend. So Nick tells Danny his heart's desire and enriches his vocabulary listening to the Scots MPs colorful language. When he's finished, Danny stares at him, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and respect.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" he says softly.

Nick nods. "Will you help?" he asks.

"I'm your friend, aren't I." It's a declaration, not a question. "Even if I do think you're totally, bloody crazy!"

***

They choose the following morning, because Vince has business meetings and speeches to various worthy institutions scheduled for most of the week, and besides, Nick can bring Danny along as a referee.

Vince looks up as Nick comes into his office, followed by the younger man. "Nick. You said it was urgent?" He looks at Danny and frowns. "It must be serious if you've brought backup..." Danny blushes slightly, but leaves Nick to do the talking - completely absolving himself of the responsibility, if it all goes wrong, Nick notes, as they sit opposite Vince round the big conference table. He decides just to come out with it.

"I thought you ought to know - I'm in a relationship with someone. It may affect my work, I guess, because he works in Parliament... Um, gosh... He's.. well... a Conservative MP!" Vince blinks, because it's quite an admission. He doesn't know whether to be more surprised at the fact that Nick's lover is a man or a Tory.

"You do like to live a complicated life, don't you," he says with just a hint of exasperation, but his acceptance is almost immediate. "Oh well, we'll just have to make the best of it. Is it serious? Your relationship, I mean."

"Oh yes," Nick says. "Very. The thing is, he's going to catch hell from his party when they find out."

Vince shakes his head. "You're not kidding! My advice to the pair of you is to get Cameron on your side. He may be an opportunistic bastard, but I've never seen any signs of that kind of prejudice in him. If he supports your... friend, then the Tories will follow the party line."

"Oh, if only it were that easy," Danny says with a hint of sarcasm.

Before Vince can question that remark, there's a knock at the office door, and it opens. David Cameron walks in. He nods at Danny and walks over to where Nick is sitting. Nick smiles up at him. "I was just telling him...," he says cheerfully. "...but I hadn't quite got to the punch-line."

David frowns. He puts his hand on Nick's shoulder and Nick covers it with his own; their fingers tangle together in a way that signals their intimacy. Vince stares at Nick, then at the PM, and back again. The penny drops.

"Oh... crap!" It's the first time any of them have heard him swear.

End of part 7

Part 8

Three weeks later

It isn't the first time that Nick has appeared on television, but when he's been interviewed in the past, it was when he was a doctor commenting on various health related matters in his local area. Also, he's talked to the press a few times when he was running for Parliament - short interviews to camera giving reporters carefully crafted sound-bites fed to him by his campaign manager and the like. This is the first time he's been in the studio, being interviewed by a political reporter.

He's been asked to sit on the panel of a popular evening politics programme with a Conservative MP called Andrew and a female Labour MP of some distinction, Cathy. Their female host for the show, Kirsty, seems quite fluffy and light-weight, but Nick has been warned to watch out for her because behind that smile lies a mind as sharp as a steel trap. Then again, he's getting a reputation himself for fearlessness, when it comes to debates.

They talk for a while about the government's economic policy, and Nick - somewhat fortunately because he's being helping out Danny - has a good grasp of various aspects of his party's views on the matter. He and Andrew manage some good points between them because Cathy blusters quite a bit denying the debts of the former government are her party's fault. Then they move on to the Health Service, which is Nick's area of expertise and he wipes the floor with both of his political rivals.

"Of course. You used to be a doctor until quite recently, didn't you?" Kirsty moves on to some more personal matters.

"I was," Nick acknowledges. "Then I had the chance to come into politics and try and do something for health from within the government."

"That's quite a change," Kirsty says. "Yet you're already making a name for yourself - recently at PMQs you managed to score a hit against David Cameron - and they're calling you the LibDem Rottweiler! I can quite see why." Nick shrugs, self-deprecating, but there's a hint of a pleased smile that he's been noticed. "How are you finding Westminster? It must be quite a culture shock."

"It is, but I'm enjoying it so far," Nick says. "Though admittedly, the hours are awkward when it comes to fitting in my personal life." The Labour and Conservative MPs both nod in agreement.

"Travelling from my constituency to London means that I only get to see my wife twice a week," Andrew says.

"Of course, you don't have a wife or family, do you?" Kirsty says. "So what's it like, being young free and single - and very eligible - in Westminster?" She smiles, shark-like. It's a rhetorical question; she doesn't really expect an answer.

"I wouldn't know," Nick says. "I'm in a serious relationship with someone who works in Parliament."

"Really!" Kirsty says, her eyes bright with interest. "Anyone we know?" Nick can tell that the other two guests are just as interested in this nugget of gossip.

"He and I prefer to keep our relationship private," Nick says coolly. He sees the surprise in their eyes at his admission that he likes men, and an obvious look of revulsion in the Conservative MP' s face. It annoys him, because really! Who gives a damn in this day and age except the Conservative Party, which is probably why he says what he does. "Though I will say that he's a Tory MP..."

"Bloody hell!" Cathy says. She grins at him. On the other hand, Andrew wrenches off his microphone, flings it down on the table and marches off the set in disgust - he knows better than to say something rabidly homophobic, but they all know that's what he's thinking.

"Well this is turning into a very interesting edition of our show," Kirsty says to the camera. "You heard it here first folks - our newest LibDem MP has decided to form his own coalition with one of his Conservative colleagues, and I don't think the rest of his party will approve of such a close collaboration." She turns to look at Nick. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell us his name?"

"As someone very famous once said, I couldn't possibly comment," Nick said tartly. The Labour MP is still grinning at him as the programme winds up.

***

Walking into the House of Commons the day after you've done an interview that mentions your sex life is the weirdest experience Nick has had yet. The thing is, it wasn't a calculated gesture on his part - his admission just sort of slipped out, so he really doesn't know how David and his party are going to react to it. He hasn't spoken to the PM yet, because David was giving a speech last night to some city types.

He thinks maybe he's too honest and open for this place, because he hates keeping his relationship secret, and it's going to be worse now that people are curious. A lot of people seem to be noticing him today, and he can pretty much tell their party affiliations by their reactions to him. The Labour members are grinning and giving him the thumbs up, because they don't give a damn, and are quite happy to enjoy the free show. The LibDems are cautiously supportive, which he welcomes. However, the Conservatives seem to think he's the devil incarnate, even the more liberal of them. It's kind of a badge of honour, he thinks, to rile a load of dinosaurs and give them a push towards the 21st century.

It's going to be busy today in the House, because there's a big debate in the House about the European economic crisis, and various pressure groups are agitating for or against staying within the EEC. Nothing new, except that an urgent question has been tabled for the PM to explain his present policy. Nick has his own views on that, which are fairly likely to be a world away from David's, but they seem to have an unspoken agreement between them not to wreck their relationship by arguing about party issues. Not in their private time anyway. Debates in the House are something different.

He takes his place on the second bench from the front, claiming a place before the chamber fills up too much, and listens to the Constitutional Reform debate that's due to end shortly; after that David will be here for the Urgent Question. The chamber rapidly fills up for the much anticipated fight, and the place in front of Nick is taken up by the present Father of the House, the much loved and respected Leonard Winner. He's been an MP for 32 years and is most famous for heckling Tony Blair on numerous memorable occasions, including one incident where he used most unparliamentary language (which Madame Speaker Boothroyd, perhaps deliberately, misheard as rucking flanker). Anyway, the salty old reprobate stares balefully at Nick which gives him the impression that Winner is practicing his nastiest expression in preparation for use on the PM - despite the fact that they're supposed to be on the same side. Nick is pretty much below his notice, although Liberal Democrat, and thus, automatically categorised as suspect.

At about 5 to 12, David enters, heading for his usual spot. His eyes flicker towards Nick's bench, and he frowns. Nick wonders whether he's in the doghouse for opening his mouth on tv yesterday, but David has other problems today. They'll work it out between them eventually, in the bedroom if necessary, he thinks, because he's a romantic and he trusts that they'll always have love..."

Nick settles down to watch the proceedings which are being led by Miliband, who's demanding a referendum on Europe. He's not likely to get it - the government has too much at stake to allow such a challenge to their interests. Still, he's hard hitting today, and David is obviously getting annoyed, not least because Ed Balls is doing his usual winding up act, motioning with his hands to tell David to calm down dear...

Winner is recognised by the Speaker, and the house awaits his latest barb in hushed expectation. Except that...

...Winner's hands go to his chest, clawing ineffectually, then he's toppling forward onto the floor of the Chamber, feebly struggling, like a downed colossus.

Shit! Nick is up out of his seat as fast as he can move, and he's kneeling beside Winner, checking the pulse point on his neck . He can't feel a heartbeat, and a quick glance along Winner's chest shows that he's just stopped breathing! Heart attack. Nick knows at once what he has to do - his hands are finding the correct spot through long practice, and as he begins heart compressions, he 's looking around for David.

"Dave! Defibrillator!" He nods towards the Speaker's Chair. He only hopes that his lover remembers - and of course, the PM does. Less than a minute later, David is shoving his way through the gawping spectators with the machine.

"Thanks, love," Nick acknowledges, then his mind is occupied with other things as he fights to save the old man's life. He uses the machine to shock his patient and after three tries, manages to restart his heart. He doesn't even notice the wide eyes of Ed Miliband, who isn't the only one who's noticed his slip. In fact, they're in the centre of a cone of silence as the whispers spread outwards and more eyes turn their way.

David has noticed, of course. He can see at least a dozen of the surrounding MPs are staring not at Winner, but at him, and some of their expressions are far from friendly. Then Westminster's own medics are there to lend Nick a hand, and they're pumping life saving drugs into the old man, stabilising his condition and putting him on the stretcher to carry him away.

Though he knows that he's being watched; actually, in spite of it, since there's little point in hiding any more, he grips Nick's shoulder and squeezes in reassurance. He bends down and speaks two words softly in Nick's ear. "They know." Nick freezes momentarily, then he turns to look at David, shocked, because he realises that somehow he's given away their secret. David squeezes his shoulder again, wishing he had the courage to kiss Nick. "It's not worth a man's life, Nicky," he says softly and Nick smiles at him, his eyes filling with warmth.

"I have to go with him in the ambulance," he says and David nods.

"Do what you have to do," he says. "I'll take care of things here."

End of part 8/9

Help! I need somebody! 6/9

weredem — Fri, 26 Oct 2012 01:01:07 GMT

Title: Help I need somebody 6/9
Summary: Nick and David spend the night together.

Rating: NC17 for sex and fine Anglo Saxon language.
Author's Notes: Clameron, AU. Doctor Clegg, MD.
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen. My medical knowledge is subject to artistic licence.

He stares into the dark, because he's restless tonight. He thinks it's because of the unfamiliar, warm body by his side. Nick sleeps, sprawled untidily across the bed, the soft sound of his breathing curiously soothing for David. The PM sighs; he has a lot to think about tonight, and it has nothing to do with his hellish day. No, he slept a little, enough so that he feels rested, and it's solely due to the comfortable presence of Nick by his side. That's not what's keeping him awake now.

Since his divorce last year, David' s bed has been a big, empty space, indisputably lonely and even a bit desolate. Nick fills that emptiness, not just because he cares or that they're lovers; it's more than that. David finds himself moving in his life towards a relationship with the LibDem MP, and it's natural for his... boyfriend? partner? to sleep with him in his bed.

Yes. The sleeping together bit. Up till now, what they had done together could be called a quick fuck. No strings attached. No deeper meaning. But this is different; it's become something else and David doesn't know what. Nick murmurs something and turns on his side, snuggling in against David, smiling in his sleep. He rests his head against David's shoulder, one arm slung carelessly across his chest, fingers splayed. David smiles. He likes this far more than he should, and he gently kisses the top of Nick's head.

He really doesn't know what to do next. Nick has hinted that he wants an open, honest relationship of the sort where he doesn't have to hide. He's absolutely not ashamed of loving another man.

Well sure, David can see how that would work - about five seconds before he's forced to resign by the 1922 Committee, his Cabinet colleagues and most of the Conservative party. He'd have a few supporters, sure, but certainly not a big enough percentage to survive a vote of confidence in his leadership. And yet, David can't deny that they're good together; and it's not just because he feels lonely (which he does).

"Hmmm... you're thinking too loud...," Nick says sleepily. "You've sighed at least twice in the past few minutes. I can tell your brain is over-thinking something."

David sighs again. "You. Me. Us... I'm trying to work it all out in my head. I like being with you and I do want to see more of you; it's just that, well, I can't see how this is ever going to work. You know as well as I do what would happen if it ever became public..."

"One step at a time," Nick says softly. "I'm not saying you should wear a rainbow T-shirt and walk in the Gay Pride march. Just... be more open. I'm not ashamed of what I feel for you, and I don't think you should be, either." While he's talking, his fingers have been making small, circular stroking movements across David's chest; around one nipple, which is definitely showing signs of interest. "Here we are, in this lovely, big bed...," Nick says, "Don't you think we should take advantage of it.?"

David takes the hint, pushes Nick onto his back and kisses him. It does feel different, being in a bed. For one thing, they can take it slow, unlike their quickies in his office. So this time, he enjoys exploring Nick's mouth; the man has luscious lips and he has this habit of biting them which just draws David' s attention to them on a regular basis. So this kiss explores, unhurried and gentle, and he finds that Nick is quite oral; he moans as David plunders his mouth so thoroughly. It's a really hot sound, and encourages further slow and deliberate exploration. He could spend a lifetime at this - learning more about Nick and the ways he likes to be touched.

He moves so that he's on top of Nick, who's spread his legs so that their bodies fit together pleasingly. It feels good; the hardness of Nick's erection against his belly and the light fur of hair across his chest. And still, the duel of tongues and lips and breath because he hasn't stopped kissing Nick, even as their hands are roving across each other's bodies. Sweet as honey, those lips, and ten times as addictive.

He's stashed lube under the pillow, optimist that he is, and it's quite a job to unscrew it one handed, because his other hand is tangled in Nick's hair and he's kissing still. His slick fingers begin a slow, careful preparation, and he laughs as Nick pushes against him, moaning, desperate in his urgency, needing more. Then he's inside his lover, moving, trying to make it last, which he does manage for a while, but it's still good and perfect that he just can't hold on any longer. Nick comes almost at the same time as he does, vocal in his climax, though his shout is lost because David's mouth covers his once more in a final, burning kiss.

Afterwards, it's like coming down from a high plateau, as their breaths gradually slow and their bodies still. "That was incredible...," Nick says quietly. "The best yet." The two of them are lying together in the centre of the bed and Nick is curled up against David, wonderfully comfortable and warm.

"Mmm," David acknowledges sleepily. His lips brush against Nick's shoulder. "It's all been good..."

"So what do you want?" Nick says. "I like you. You know that - it's not like I fall into bed with every smooth-talking, bloody Conservative that I meet... Have you decided yet?"

"I wish... oh god, I don't know." David's arms tighten around him. "Can we take it slow? Just one step at a time. Then I wouldn't feel as though I was about to fall off a cliff. But I do want to be with you. So much..." He feels Nick chuckle, so close to him in the night.

The trouble is, David Cameron is so far in the closet it'd take a telescope for him to find the door, Nick thinks. "Look - I told you that I don't want to live my life in the shadows. I want to have a relationship with you - and I don't mean that I want to be your secret lover. But for now, I'd be happy if you can just admit to one other person that we're together..." His hand finds David's and their fingers tangle together.

He hears David sigh softly. "All right." David's voice is the quietest of whispers as his lips brush once more against Nick's shoulder. So they' re doing this, Nick thinks and he can't deny that he feels happiness blossoming somewhere deep inside him. He's known for some time that he's falling for the PM - God help him - and they're both standing on quicksand, because of who they are and what they do. Still, he's never been a coward - he likes to face things head on - which is all very well, except when you're in a runaway vehicle careering down a slope with no end in sight...

David is right - take it slow and easy, one step at a time, and maybe they can find a way to make it work. It's really the only choice there is, because now that he has this thing with David, there's no way in hell that he's going to give it up without a fight. He snuggles back in David's arms with a sound of contentment and feels the PM relax against him. Right now, this is the best place in the world and they both know it.

***

Nick supposes he's Danny Alexander's unofficial PPS; it's one way to learn the ropes for new MPs, and besides, they get on fairly well together. It's just as well - he'd hate to be stuck sharing an office with someone he didn't like. But there's a degree of respect between them, Nick thinks; his skills in medicine which Danny witnessed in the House a while ago, and his very vocal support of LibDem policy have earned him a certain trust from Danny. Likewise, Danny's cool head in the House and his encyclopaedic knowledge of the Treasury and the Party have earned him Nick's esteem. Plus, he's kept quiet about Nick and David so far.

Still, this is not going to be a certainty, he thinks, as he texts confirmation to David: Danny is here. Do you still want to do it?

Yes. The reply is short and swift. A few minutes later, there's a rather tentative knock, and Danny calls permission distractedly, looking up from his endless paperwork. He stares at David Cameron in surprise. "Prime Minister," he says politely

"Danny..." David says. He looks about as uncomfortable - no - positively shifty, as Nick has ever seen him. Nick can't help but grin, which makes David annoyed. He glares at Nick. "You're no help. I'll remind you that this was your idea!" Danny is looking between them, increasingly puzzled.

"I'm sorry," Nick says, and means it. He moves closer to David and reaches for his hand. He sees David tense, like Nick's touch is going to burn him, and the PM only holds still with an effort. Nick squeezes his hand gently, more in reassurance than anything else, and colour floods David's face.

"Look. You know that we're... involved," Nick says to Danny. "Well, things are getting a bit more serious..." Danny raises an eyebrow and waits for the punch-line.

"We're in a relationship!" David blurts. "There. I've said it! Are you happy now!" He glares at Nick, who has never seen the PM so flustered.

"Ouch!" Danny says, wondering whether he should run and look for cover.

Nick is grinning Cheshire-cat wide, his blue eyes filled with warmth. Instead of replying, he puts his arms around the PM and hugs him. After a long moment, David sighs forgivingly and relaxes against him, his arms tightening around Nick in response.

"Thank you," Nick says warmly as they pull apart. "See you tonight." David makes a sound of assent, nods to Danny and hurriedly escapes, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"...And that was... what?" Danny asks Nick when the door has closed.

"David Cameron coming out publicly for the very first time," Nick tells him. "We picked you because you've guessed anyway. Baby steps!"

"Oh!" Danny says. "Thank you so much for that." He can't help but laugh. "He's not exactly very comfortable about it."

Nick ranks that the understatement of the year. "You think?" he says, grinning. The ball is now in his court.

***

End of part 6

Help! I need somebody! 5/9

weredem — Fri, 26 Oct 2012 00:54:14 GMT

Title: Help I need somebody 5/9
Summary: Nick and David grow closer.

Rating: NC17 for sex and fine Anglo Saxon language.
Author's Notes: Clameron, AU. Doctor Clegg, MD.
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen.

It's a strange life he's leading these days, Nick thinks. From being a doctor in a busy casualty department, in a few months he's become a LibDem MP in Parliament and he's conducting a secret affair with the Prime Minister. Definitely not a relationship though; just sex. Good sex! They're on the same wavelength most of the time, like when they just looked at each other after his maiden speech in the House and minutes later they were having each other in the Prime Minister's office. Surreal. But hot. Oh yes.

In fact, when he gets back to the small office he shares with Danny Alexander, he's been so well-fucked that it shows in the way he moves, and definitely in the careful way he sits down. Danny notices, because he's young and bright and pretty observant. Nick sees his eyes narrow and a puzzled expression crosses his face, but Danny hasn't quite made the connection yet. He may think that Nick is up to something, but as yet he hasn't quite figured out what it is. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that Danny hasn't figured out who...

The next time Nick and David meet is about a week later, when Vince has called Nick into his office for more consultation about the health bill that the government is preparing. After a meeting which lasts hours, so that it's past 7 p.m., Nick emerges from the LibDem Deputy Prime Minister's office and almost bumps into David, whose office is next door. David smiles at him, coolly professional, and with a hint of the "arrogant bastard" that he does so well that the Labour opposition have nicknamed him, "Flashman."

"Doctor Clegg," David says, and oh he looks so cool and collected; so different from the last time he and Nick were together and his face was flushed and his hair askew from where Nick had tangled his fingers in it while David was inside him.

Nick knows he's being played, but he can't help himself; he has to push back, because that's the way he is. Besides, David kind of expects it now; there's a curious symbiosis between them, like biceps working against triceps, the doctor thinks. Push and pull. More like give and take, right now. He matches David's arrogance with his own certainty that he has the moral high ground over any Tory, and yet it's fun too, this duel of wits between them. Oh, David is the consummate player in these sorts of games.

"Prime Minister," he acknowledges, not giving an inch. David's eyes flicker towards his office - cheeky bastard - but Nick's not going to play. He's not - repeat - not David Cameron's fucking sex toy! If the honourable member wants a good seeing to, it and its honourable owner can come to Nick for once; not the other way round!

As he heads back to his small office, he lets his fingers brush teasingly, for the smallest moment, against David's - just a hint that he's not totally rejecting the PM, then he's hurrying through the corridors of the Cabinet Office, to the room he shares with Danny - close to the centres of power so he can be useful to his party.

At this time of day, Danny will probably have finished for the day so it'll be free. Except that it isn't. Danny is surrounded by piles of paperwork, so deeply involved that he barely looks up as Nick enters. Damn! Nick sighs and reaches for his phone to send David a text.

Too late. David barrels into the little office without even knocking - arrogant sod - and comes to a halt, a look of comical surprise on his face as he sees Danny. The young LibDem MP's eyes go wide, then as he looks between Nick and David, wider still.

"Oh!" he says, and flushes red.

"Prime Minister. Gosh. What a surprise. You wanted those papers..." Nick's lie is frankly undermined by the fact that he's somehow blushing fiercely.

"Sure. That thing I needed." At least David's delivery is smoother. "If you can't find it, never mind. I'll get it later." His eyes are filled with laughter, because after all, nothing has happened and certainly nothing can be proved. Bastard.

"You'll only get it later if I can find it!" he says tartly. David's lips curve, but he knows when to shut up, and he heads back up to his office, sadly - for the moment - unfulfilled.

Danny is giving Nick what he privately terms, "the look." The "what the hell do you think you're doing, and shall I book you into a psychiatric facility?" look that says he's finally made the connection between Nick and his mystery lover.

"I don't think I'll comment," Danny says sourly, "I really don't want to know!" because let's face it, he doesn't have to say anything. Nick is no fool, and he knows he's reckless and stupid and all the other adjectives Danny could use. Nick has only known the younger man for a few months, but he knows Danny isn't going to tell anyone, whatever he may think. Old head on young shoulders, as his mother used to say. Nick appreciates his discretion, and of course, his lack of prejudice. That's one thing the LibDems have got absolutely right, unlike the Conservatives, who'd make David suffer if his sexual indiscretions ever became public.

"Thanks Danny," he says softly, and he means it. Danny just glares, shakes his head in disgust at the whole grubby furtiveness of it all, then goes back to work, and Nick is wise enough to take the hint and bury himself in paperwork. He thinks he might have time later to see David, but Danny takes a rather subtle revenge by piling about six months of LibDem party office mail on his desk which require personal answers, so that's that idea down the tubes.

***

As it happens, the next morning fate takes a hand, before they can even think of arranging something else. Nick is helping Danny to work through some policy ideas because he has to make a speech at one of the Mayor's functions, when Vince's personal assistant bursts in.

"Put the tv on!" Linda yells, with such a sense of urgency in her voice that both men stare at her in alarm. Danny reaches for the remote and does what he's told, and the two MPs stare in horror at the total devastation that's being shown in an emergency newsflash.

"Plane crash!" Linda says in anguish. "A 767 flying out from Heathrow..." The watch in stunned silence as the footage emerges from the scene - it's immediately obvious from the state of the wreckage that it wasn't survivable, otherwise Nick would have been out of the door and headed to whichever London hospital had to deal with the hundreds of casualties. No, from the round, crater-like hole in the ground, it had fallen fast and straight, from a great height, rather than the tear-shaped impact site of a plane attempting to land.

As more details emerge. the scale of the disaster becomes clear - a plane full of tourists on their way to Italy at the height of the tourist season - and worse, a group of talented youngsters on their way to an international sports tournament. The footage is heartbreaking, and none of them can concentrate on work. Not for the first time, Nick wonders if he's made the right career choice, because all his instincts tell him that he should be out there helping, even though he can probably do more for people in the end, by helping the government get its policies right.

They watch too, when David is shown on tv, being escorted around the disaster site by the chief investigator. His face is drawn and grave, and he gives the camera a few respectful words of sympathy and grief.

As a member of the Cabinet, Danny is called to accompany Vince to a meeting of Cobra, to discuss the likelihood of terrorism, which is what they're all thinking. Nick is kept busy for the rest of the day acting as Danny's PPS, compiling information for Vince on disaster preparedness, which is actually a rather good use of his time, because with his medical expertise in running a casualty department, he spots that they're actually unprepared in some counties for any large scale disaster; they might have coped with 50 casualties at once, but more?

***

Nick is finally headed home at around nine, when his cell-phone buzzes. It's Danny.

"How'd it go?" Nick asks him. "I wrote up those stats for you. Tell Vince you were right; three rural counties were woefully under-resourced and couldn't have coped with a big disaster. We really need to go over our disaster planning."

"Sure. Thanks Nick," Danny says, then he pauses; it's what you might call a significant silence, and Nick picks up on it straight away.

"Problem?" he says softly.

Danny makes an indecisive sound. "Well yes. You're David's... friend, aren't you?" Nick blushes, embarrassed, even though Danny's not there to see it.

"Uh-huh," he says carefully. He's really not going to get into a discussion about his relationship with the PM; not that he'd know what to say. When he comes to think about it, he's not sure exactly what he is to David? Friends? Not exactly. Friends with benefits would be more accurate. Still... "Why do you ask?"

The MP's voice drops. "He looks dreadful," Danny says. "Since he came back from the crash site. I guess he could use a friend right now... He's headed back to his office."

"I see." Nick stares at the phone in his hand uncertainly. He ends the call and sits, indecisive. He has no idea what to do, or even whether David would want to see him right now. But he took an oath once to help people and he's always stuck by it.

***

David stares off morosely into space. He can still see the terrible scenes from the crash site replaying like a movie inside his head; the pathetic, twisted remains of the aircraft and its inhabitants; the scattering of personal possessions around the site. He remembers the sight of a small plastic doll, its face half-melted. The sickening smell of jet fuel and burned things...

With a sound of distress, he dashes to his executive washroom and throws up again, though by now there's nothing left in his stomach to bring up and his mouth is filled with the sour aftertaste of bile. He holds onto the edge of the sink with shaking hands. In his whole life, he'd never seen anything as horrific as that - 300 human beings wiped out in an instant. He shudders and retches again and sobs aloud, then unexpectedly, a warm arm is around his waist, and Nick's hand is against his forehead, brushing back lengths of his hair. Nick frowns, runs a washcloth under the tap and folds it, before pressing the cool fabric against the back of David's neck.

"Try that," he says gently. It does help, strangely - or perhaps it's just the reassuring strength of Nick's arm around him - and the nausea eases. David lets himself be led out of the bathroom and guided to the couch. Nick sits next to him."I can tell it was really bad," he says softly. His eyes become distant, remembering. "I've been to a few bad motorway pile-ups," he says. "I know how awful it can get..." His fingers close over David's.

"I just keep seeing that place..." David says and chokes back a sob. "I swear I can still smell the smoke..." His eyes meet Nick's. "Oh God..."

Nick does the only thing he can; the only thing left to him. He puts his arms around David and pulls him close, and then David is holding on to him as his grief is unleashed. Nick knows then that for all his arrogance and his Flashman bravado, David Cameron is as human and compassionate as the rest of them, and like everyone else, he needs someone to hold him when the world goes to hell. He also knows, from a professional standpoint, that people need human contact at a time like this, to remind them that they're alive. He has his arms around David for a long, long time, letting the other man hold onto him tightly.

Eventually David's grief works itself out, and Nick gently draws back, after placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Come on. You need to go to your flat - it's more private there." David nods and the two of them make their way upstairs. Nick looks around with interest at the 10 Downing Street flat - he's never been there before. They always kept their liaisons confined to the office, which was a roundabout way, Nick thinks, of denying that there was a proper relationship between them. Still, now that he's crossed the threshold...

"Where do you keep the alcohol?" Nick asks. David nods towards an ultra-modern drinks cabinet, which sort of fits his personality, Nick thinks. Sleek, gleaming and a bit naff. He finds some rather expensive looking brandy and pours out a generous measure, passing it to the PM. David gives him a shaky smile, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Doctor's orders!" Nick tells him, and David for once does as he's told and takes a big swallow of the warming spirit. Nick is relieved to see some of the colour come back into his face, banishing that grey, drawn look he'd had downstairs. He stands and reached out to squeeze David's shoulder, then turns, intent on heading down now that he knows David is okay, but...

"Stay." Nick turns back startled. David's so-blue eyes are filled with hope. "Stay with me tonight. I don't want to be alone."

A straightforward request; not made because he's desperately needy or depressed. Just a simple desire for human contact in the face of tragedy. Their eyes meet. David is leaving it completely up to him, whether he wants to stay or go. Yet they both know that this is something new; a step further in their "relationship," whatever that means and wherever it may lead.

"Yes," Nick says simply.

End of part 5

Help! I need somebody! 4/9

weredem — Fri, 26 Oct 2012 00:43:23 GMT

Title: Help I need somebody 4/9
Summary: Nick gets a job offer.

Rating: NC17 for sex and fine Anglo Saxon language.
Author's Notes: Clameron, AU. Doctor Clegg, MD.
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen. My medical knowledge is subject to artistic licence.

Somehow, after their memorable encounter, the two of them don't meet again for almost a month. It's mostly David's fault, because he's been on a tour of the Far East and Australia, trying to encourage business links. Then there's the parliamentary recess of almost two weeks at the beginning of June, though he doesn't get to relax much during that time. Anyway, it's far too long before he sees Nick again. He doesn't even have to make an effort this time; Nick appears by the side of the LibDem party leader, Vince Cable.

The Conservative party and the LibDems are trying to thrash out ways to spend their latest health service budget wisely. Of course, it's a hugely controversial topic and there are a lot of diverging views to take into account from both parties. Vince asks Nick to comment a few times on current Health Service practice and Nick is articulate and confident during the meeting. Just sometimes, he looks towards David and their eyes meet. He doesn't let anything obvious show, but there's a spark of something there...

Towards the end of the meeting, David deliberately catches his eye once again and tries to subtly signal Nick to meet him later. He made sure that he mentions in Nick's vicinity that he's going to his parliamentary office. He heads straight off, and sure enough, within about 15 minutes there's a quiet knock on the door and Nick walks in.

"Prime Minister." Nick's voice is cool; polite.

"Nick." He sees the doctor's mouth curve slightly. "So... How have you been?" God this is awkward.

"Fine," Nick says. Then he takes pity on David. "Interesting news. I've been asked by Vince to consider standing for Parliament - the Sheffield Hallam seat!" He grins at David's surprised expression.

"That's... unexpected." David thinks about it for a few minutes. That particular parliamentary seat was recently left empty by the tragic death in a car crash of the former incumbent. Actually, he thinks that Nick would make a great MP - he's articulate, honest and he genuinely cares about what happens to people. Still... "You do know that you're going up against a couple of tough opponents, don't you. The Conservative Party have asked Michael Portillo to stand for election, whilst Labour have chosen Abby Smith, one of their up and coming spin doctors, to stand against him."

"So you think I shouldn't even try?" Nick's voice holds a note of challenge. David grins widely. He knew when he said it, that Nick would react to his comment; if he's honest, he said it deliberately because he loves the fire in Nick's blue eyes when he's pushed. Hot. Definitely. He moves closer, standing right in front of the doctor.

"You'd be good at it," he tells Nick. "Because you love a fight..." He sees from Nick's expression that he's beginning to understand this game. Give and take. Cut and thrust. Push and pull. That's why he's smiling now, as he tilts his chin up and bites his lip.

Oh hell, that's such a turn on. Then he's kissing the LibDem hard and Nick's hands are warm, sliding round his waist, under his jacket. He just enjoys those luscious lips for a few moments, then reaches out; he can feel the long, hard length of Nick's growing erection beneath his hand. Nick moans and pushes into David's touch. Moments later, the PM's fingers are moving in long, sure strokes along Nick's hardness, even as Nick's fingers are reaching for him in turn. It gets frantic after that, and he's coming with a muffled cry as he hides his face in Nick's shoulder and feels the other man shudder against him. For a few moments, there's only the sound of Nick's panting as he leans against David.

Finally, they move apart, and their eyes meet. "So... We're using each other for sex now?" Nick asks with only a hint of irony as he cleans his hand and straightens his clothes.

"I suppose we are," David acknowledges softly. It's a statement of irrefutable fact. Something hot flashes in Nick's eyes.

"If that's what you want," he says. "That works for me." He pauses, thoughtful. "But if you ever want more than that, there'll be conditions. I don't hide in the closet..."

The thing is, they both know that's never likely to happen. It's uncertain whether or not Nick will even stay around and it's unlikely that he will want to spend more time round here without a substantial pay rise. He probably can't afford to stay in London without it. Anyway, he's going to be busy with the by-election for now, so he'll be up in Sheffield for a time. The PM doesn't waste time on if onlys and what ifs.

***

David hears the news not long afterwards with some surprise. The by-election has been a huge and unexpected success for the LibDems, and Nick Clegg is now one of their MPs; it turns out that he's an articulate and even passionate public speaker, and he's had a lot to say about how he'd work for health service reform. The constituency had a hospital under threat of closure, so the Labour candidate had started with a huge disadvantage, and the Tory candidate had proved too posh a choice for the electorate.

In other words, miracles do happen, David thinks. Instead of having Nick round Parliament for a few more weeks, it looks like it's going to be years. And if he's walking around with a hint of a smile on his face, and his steps are a little bit more jaunty today, well nobody else but Nick would know the reason why any way.

Some people do know that he counts Nick as a friend; the people who saw them together in the restaurant, for example, and Nick's colleague, Danny Alexander. So when the LibDem members of the Cabinet are congratulating each other on the morning after the by-election, he just says quietly Danny to send his good wishes to Nick. No big deal, except that he feels better today than he has done for a very long time, problems of the economy notwithstanding. He thinks about it later. Is it just because he is pleased for a friend, or is there something else going on here? Perhaps it's better not to go into it, because that particular can of worms had better stay firmly shut.

***

David tries to keep his distance, when the newly elected MP for Sheffield Hallam comes to Parliament. Conservative and Lib Dem MPs don't really socialise with each other, even in a Coalition government, and particularly not a new MP with the Prime Minister. That would be considered unwise by both of their parties. Still, he does notice Nick sitting in the House several times. However it's not until a debate on the health part of the Budget that the Speaker finally recognises Nick and he gets to make his first speech in Parliament.

It's quite a good effort, and it's obvious that Nick has put a lot of work in to it. He even manages to speak without referring to his notes which is the sign of a good public speaker. Oh he's definitely on the way up, David thinks. The LibDem party would be foolish not to spot his potential and promote him quickly, and it's not just because he has a pretty face.

That thought makes him smile, and that's what Nick sees when he looks over and sees the Prime Minister. He grins back in return, because it could be that Nick's just triumphant after completing his maiden speech, though that's not the case at all. When their eyes meet, David knows that Nick's smile is just for him.

This time, the two of them are barely through the door of his office before David is on his knees, and his hands are opening Nick's zipper and he's giving Nick a blow job with almost desperate urgency. He wants and needs the taste of this man deep down in his throat; and he isn't disappointed, because after only a few minutes, Nick is crying out and his salty taste fills David's mouth; apparently the sight of the PM on his knees is enough to do it for Nick. After that, David gets his way, when he shoves the newly elected MP for Sheffield Hallam across his desk and fumbles for the lube he knows Nick keeps ready in his pocket. It's warmed by the heat of Nick's body. Then he's inside Nick, moving slow and deep until Nick gets with the program, his body pushing back against David, whimpering with the pleasure of it.

He bites Nick's shoulder when he comes, which will probably bruise, despite the layer of cotton of his shirt intervening, and when he's done, he probably stays on top of Nick for longer than he should. It feels too good; this intimacy, but he knows that in the end, he has to pull away.

"So... still using each other for sex then," Nick says softly, afterwards. David wishes he were psychic so he could interpret that peculiar little silence after he speaks.

"Um... yes," David agrees, because that's what they agreed, and anything else is unthinkable. Isn't it?

"Huh." That's all Nick says, which is where they leave things. Unresolved. Except for the sexual tension, that is.

End of part 4

Help! I need somebody! 3/9

weredem — Thu, 25 Oct 2012 02:35:54 GMT

Title: Help I need somebody 3/9
Summary: David is back in Parliament after his accident.

Rating: NC17 for sex and fine Anglo Saxon language.
Author's Notes: Clameron, AU. Doctor Clegg, MD.
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen. My medical knowledge is subject to artistic licence. Curiously quiet here by the way!

In the three months since his embarrassing Segway accident, David has almost recovered. He still has occasional twinges of pain in his wrist, but that's about it. At least he's finally lost the horrid yellow cast from his arm:- he took quite a bit of stick from his Westminster colleagues about that one, but he kept it on. He'd been curiously attached to it... or perhaps it was the memory of a pair of mischievous blue eyes belonging to a certain handsome medical man.

He sighs because he's woolgathering again and applies himself to the problem at hand - preparing for PMQs against Ed Miliband. He and his team work on possible issues for a while; it's likely that the opposition will challenge him on youth unemployment and the latest figures on the state of the economy. They plan their likely responses to Miliband and head for the House.

Ten minutes later, David is moving through the Lobby carrying his filing papers when a familiar figure crossing in front of him makes him abruptly come to a stop.

"Dr. Clegg! Nick!" The doctor turns towards the PM in surprise, then blushes slightly.

"Prime Minister. I didn't expect... er... Hi."

"What are you doing here?" David says. He can't quite hide the pleasure in his voice at seeing Nick again.

Nick grimaces. "Long story. Basically, I'm taking a sabbatical. I left my job at the hospital and asked my godfather, Paddy Ashdown if I could help out in his office for a while. He asked me to be a special adviser for health. And here I am. I thought it would be interesting to see our democracy at work."

"You're a LibDem special adviser?" David clarifies, and starts to laugh. "So the yellow cast wasn't entirely an accidental colour choice."

Nick blushes again. "Well... no," he admits, his eyes filled with mirth.

"Look. I have to go..." David regretfully gestures towards the House of Commons chamber. "I'm sure I'll see you later.

***

As it happens, he doesn't get the chance to catch up with Nick for quite a while, though he catches distant glimpses of the doctor as he conducts business around Parliament. In fact, it's about three weeks later that he finally has the opportunity to talk to Nick again, when he walks into one of the many eating establishments in the House. Nick is sitting alone at a table, Parliamentary badge dangling around his neck, picking at a salad unenthusiastically. For once, David isn't being followed around by his usual horde of policy advisers, party faithful and assorted hangers on, so he approaches the doctor.

"Mind if I join you?" David says. Nick looks up in surprise, and smiles in welcome.

"I'd be honoured," he says, but as always with Nick, there's a hint of challenge there too. It's part of what David likes about the feisty doctor; a healthy sense of scepticism about the world in general, and authority in particular. David slides into the seat next to him.

"So how are you? Do you like working here?" David says.

Nick shrugs. "It's interesting. I enjoy the arguments, even when they get heated, and I actually feel like I'm contributing something useful to the debate. Very few people around here seem to have worked for a living before they entered Parliament!" David grins because there's a grain of truth in that, and briefly pauses to order a light chicken lunch from the table server.

"I was surprised to see you," David says.

"In a way it's your fault," Nick says. David raises an eyebrow. "I opened my mouth too wide on the press issue during your visit," he admits. "My employers took offence."

"Oh," David says, "I'm sorry." It's a lie; he's really, really not.

"Don't be," Nick says philosophically. "I don't regret it."

David's lunch arrives, and they eat in companionable silence for a while. The food is pleasant, though nothing special, which is probably why the place is half empty. There are a few Labour MPs on a neighbouring table, sharing a bottle of wine. David likes this place because he doesn't feel too conspicuous, quietly sitting in the corner.

"Nick!" Danny Alexander appears, looking harassed, and says in a rush. "I've been looking for you. Have you seen that paper on..."

David turns around and Danny's mouth falls open almost comically as he realises who Nick is with.

"Oh... Er... Um... Prime Minister!" Whatever he's going to say next will forever remain moot, because there's a rising commotion from the next table. They look over just as the honourable member for South Hexhamshire staggers to his feet, his face purpling. He clutches vainly at his throat, clawing it, and then topples forward, crashing to the floor. Nick is out of his seat in an instant, shoving concerned spectators out of his way without hesitation.

"Get out of the way," David orders, "he's a doctor."

Nick drops to his knees beside the unconscious man and turns him over. The old MP is turning blue, his eyes rolled back in his head. Nick forces his mouth open and swears loudly. "Did he have fish?" Nick snaps at the MP's companions. They nod. "Damn!" Nick swears again. "Fishbone in the throat!" He tries to reach it, but can't, then looks up at David. "I need a sharp knife," he orders. "Pour vodka on it to sterilise it!"

David finds himself obeying that command voice without question. Then he's kneeling, following Nick's orders to hold the patient's head still, and watching in awe as the doctor - an emergency medicine specialist - expertly performs an emergency tracheotomy on the choking MP on the floor of the restaurant. Then David hears the almost miraculous hiss of the old man's breath through the hole, and his colour is returning to normal.

The House's own medical team choose that moment to arrive, and the two paramedics seemed to recognise Nick's expertise. "I need a trach tube," Nick orders, and he works with them to stabilise the patient. Finally satisfied, he watches as they take the MP off to hospital.

His shirt is covered with blood, and David sees his hands are shaking slightly. "Come on," he says to Nick. I have a washroom attached to my office, and I can loan you a shirt." Nick follows him, as the watching crowd spontaneously applaud the pair of them. They do seem to make a good team.

Nick dives straight into the washroom when they get to his office, and emerges five minutes later, shirtless and slightly damp.

David can't stop grinning and it's not just because of the view. Nick looks at him, and his lips curve in a satisfied smile. "Is it always like that?" David says, exhilarated. "Saving a life, I mean."

"It's always a rush," Nick admits. "It's a great feeling, isn't it," and the two of them are looking at each other, the pair of them on cloud nine. Then somehow, David's up against the wall next to the door, as Nick is kissing him with a fierceness that matches his own passion. Oh God, the man can kiss, and David is quite happy to let him do whatever he wants. His fingers fumble for the door lock and he clicks it on, then his hands are at Nick's belt, pulling it open, even as Nick's deft fingers are working at the buttons of his shirt. They pull each other's clothes off, and then they're skin to skin - on the couch in his bloody Parliamentary office - and the bloody doctor actually has condoms and lube in his damned pockets. Talk about being prepared.

David is the one on his back on the couch, more than happy for Nick to dictate where this is going and he moans as the doctor kisses his way down David's chest, There are no words exchanged between them; there's simply no need. Nick's lips trail fire down his belly and then his mouth is level with David's erection, and he flicks the tip with his tongue, making David groan and push his hips upwards. Nick teases and tantalised with his tongue, until David is cursing under his breath , then he's nudging David's thighs apart and spreading his fingers liberally with the lube.

David whimpers as the doctor's skilled fingers work inside him. It's been far too long; acceptable, discreet partners aren't exactly easy to find, especially not such handsome, and... yes, well-endowed ones.

There's a hint of wickedness to Nick's smile as he makes David wait, panting, desperate, while he eases on a condom, then he's pushing his way into the PM's welcoming body and they're moving urgently against each other. As Nick thrusts into him, David thanks his stars that the damn office is soundproof, because he's making enough noise to bring security, because it's even better and more satisfying than he remembered. Then he feels his body tighten, and he's climaxing with a hoarse gasp. Nick moans, then David feels his hips stutter in rhythm, and he cries out, sagging forward on top of David. The PM enjoys the feel of Nick inside him for as long as he can then regretfully pulls Nick in for a kiss.

"Doctor Clegg," he says softly, "your talents aren't just in medicine. I wish I didn't have a meeting this afternoon, but..." He's grinning though, because this is the best damned lunch break he's had in a long time. He heads into his private washroom to clean up.

Nick smirks, because after all, he's just fucked the PM, and it was bloody good for both of them. No regrets. He pulls on the spare shirt David left for him, and tidies himself up, then heads out the door before the PM reappears. Talk would just spoil a pleasant experience, he thinks. And besides, it's not as if he and David Cameron would ever be more than just a quick fuck to each other. Get real. A LibDem and the Prime Minister? Not in this Parliamentary lifetime!

David is just as practical and pragmatic as Nick, and just as realistic. He also knows that it could never work between them. Yet he feels just a shade disappointed when he emerges from his bathroom and Nick is gone.

End of part 3/9

Help! I need somebody! 2/9

weredem — Thu, 25 Oct 2012 02:26:13 GMT

Title: Help I need somebody 2/9
Summary: David is spending some time in hospital.

Rating: NC17 for sex and fine Anglo Saxon language.
Author's Notes: Clameron, AU. Doctor Clegg, MD.
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen. My medical knowledge is subject to artistic licence.

David wakes slowly, as pain filters down into his unconscious mind. As the discomfort grows, his mind surfaces from sleep, and he groans softly. The pain meds are wearing off, and his body is protesting the battering it took yesterday in several places, but mainly in his arm and chest. The scrapes he's suffered are sore, but strictly second league compared to his collection of fractures. It's early in the morning, around six.

The button to call the nurse is conveniently placed, and he presses it with his good hand (the one that isn't bright yellow). A couple of minutes later, a cheerful blonde bustles in and after greeting him, proceeds to take his pulse and temperature. She charts the details and asks him to rank his pain out of ten, for the record. (It's about a six). There are various other checks performed which he assumes are to assess his level of alertness, in case he's developed concussion; he vaguely remembers the medical staff checking on him a few times during the night. Whatever.

He knows that they're friendly and efficient; the best that the National Health Service has to offer. Of course, apart from the private room for security, he's insisted that he be treated the same way as everybody else. It's a political decision, but it's the right thing to do. He's given a couple of Paracetamol for the pain; nothing else until the doctor has been to see him, which will be shortly, apparently.

After checking him, the nurse leaves him, and he fumbles with his good hand to try and switch on the TV. He calls up the news channel and to nobody's surprise, he's the top story. He winces as he watches the fateful footage; himself, on the Segway, at least for a few minutes, and then the accident. He looks surprisingly pathetic being lifted into the ambulance, all scraped and groggy. In the present political climate though, he doubts that he'll get any sympathy.

"What on earth were you thinking?" David turns to look at Dr. Clegg who has just arrived. He's watching the news footage with a bemused expression.

"Damned if I know!" David answers truthfully. Clegg picks up the charts and studies them, giving a pleased smile.

"I just want to keep an eye on you for a few more hours, Prime Minister. If everything goes well, you should be ready for discharge this evening." His fingers are gentle as he checks the bump on David's head and Clegg then gets him to lean forwards so that he can check David's lungs with a stethoscope. Meanwhile, the PM is starting to remember one or two things from the night before.

"Oh!" he says.

"Did I hurt you?" Clegg says in a concerned voice. He carefully helps David to sit back on the bed.

"I... er... might have said a few things last night that I didn't really mean... That is to say, the medication made me feel a bit strange." He knows he's blushing. Clegg's chuckle is unexpected.

"Don't worry, Prime Minister. I strongly believe in the duty of a doctor to maintain confidentiality. Whatever you say to me won't go any further. Though I have to admit, some of the remarks you made were a little surprising..." He's smiling, so at least he's not offended.

"Um... Well." David really doesn't know what to say.

"Let's call it the drugs talking, shall we." Clegg is thoroughly professional, which only makes David more embarrassed. "I'll be back to check on you later."

David doesn't know where to look. It's not often that he puts his foot in his mouth so thoroughly, these days. He basically propositioned a man he doesn't even know, and what's worse, Clegg is just the sort of guy he'd really like to go out with. He's always liked tall, dark haired, intelligent men and if he was keeping a tick list, Clegg would score on all points. Not that he has a love life, these days.

Since his divorce, and all the heartache that involved, he's been alone, although someone always seems to be trying to fix him up at every Conservative fundraising dinner or state event. Respectable, attractive Tory ladies of a certain age seem to appear out of the woodwork. Which is all very nice, but the problem is that at this moment in his life, he would prefer someone a little taller, stronger and well... male. Not that he wants that particular little secret to become public knowledge.

Anyway, there's not much chance of the handsome doctor being interested in a slightly battered, aging politician who definitely needs to learn when to say no when it comes to stupid publicity stunts that are meant to make him look sporty. He sighs and shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a position to lie in that doesn't make his ribs ache.

***

Nick goes about his rounds quickly and efficiently, because everything seems to be running smoothly this morning - at least until he gets to casualty, where there seemed to be rather a lot of people with cameras of all kinds. At least one reporter appears to be talking to a cameraman with a mike in her hand, and Nick can guess exactly what the topic is under discussion. Cameron and his damned accident. The powers that be have apparently decreed that the press should have full access to this part of the hospital.

Oh, this is really too much! He barely holds onto his temper as he orders several of these vultures out of his treatment room, then he's on the phone to hospital security and arranging for the reporters to be escorted out - they've got their pictures now so why should they be bothering the patients!

Sorting the mess out takes an hour; he's probably going to be in trouble with the Hospital Administration over this, but he thinks that patients should come first. Anyway, he's in charge of casualty, so if they don't like it, they could always fire him. It's not like he hasn't got options.

He's not in the best of moods when he goes to check on the PM later. In fact, he's feeling rather combative. David Cameron smiles at him when he walks in. It's a nice smile. Nick is used to seeing the PM all red and shouting during parliamentary debates on TV so the fact that he looks kind of cute when he's not annoyed is a bit surprising. Nick isn't in the mood to be pleasant, and he knows that David has picked up on his mood when the PM frowns.

"What's the matter?" David says.

Nick glares at him. Part of him knows that he really shouldn't take it out on the PM, but he snaps anyway. "This hospital would be running a lot smoother if it wasn't for you." David raises an eyebrow.

"Would you care to explain that?" he responds mildly.

"Lots of reasons," Nick says. "Starting with all the bloody press interfering with the smooth running of my department!"

"Tell me about it," David says. He smiles rather disarmingly. "This is my life. I can only apologise, Dr. Clegg. I'm sorry to cause so much trouble." He doesn't lack charm.

It's not enough. Despite the fact that he's got the PM apologising to him, Nick is still angry. "We'd have more staff to deal with this mess if it wasn't for all of the changes you've made in the Health Service," he snaps.

David's eyes gleam. "So where do you think I'm going wrong with it?" he challenges.

"Well for a start, you could open the government's purse and give us some more money," Nick says.

"We increased spending on the Health Service by 17% last year," David answers. Nick flushes, because the answer isn't what he expected.

"Well why did my last hospital close its casualty department from lack of funds?" Nick says, not wanting to give up the moral high ground.

"You'd have to ask them," David says. "We give a health authority a certain budget - what they do with it is up to them. But I might point out that the better our doctors get at looking after patients, the greater the burden is that's placed on our health service, particularly with the large numbers of elderly people we now have in our society. Perhaps they just had to prioritise." He's leaning forward, his eyes sparkling, and Nick realises that the PM's really enjoying the debate. But he's not defeated yet.

"Well then, why don't you make it easier for people to care for elderly family members at home, to take pressure off the hospitals?" Nick challenges. He realises that he too is enjoying the cut and thrust of the argument.

"That's a good point," David says. "What would you suggest we do?" Nick finds himself outlining at least five different strategies the PM could use to enhance community care, starting with giving carers more rights. His voice trails off as he realises that somehow, rather than being the Prime Minister's antagonist, he's now advising him what to do. He shakes his head; he has to laugh softly at the irony of it. No wonder David Cameron is the Prime Minister; he's very subtly charmed Nick into supporting him. Bastard.

David is openly grinning at him, unashamed and unrepentant. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to realise that there aren't really two sides to this argument. We do care what happens to people, despite what you might think. We're always trying to do the right thing for as many people as we can. The problem is, we have to make tough decisions - do we give more money to pensioners, the disabled, health or welfare? There are no easy answers." He sighs and rubs his bruised forehead. "You make a sound argument for community care though. Ever thought about going into politics? We could use someone like you." Nick stares at him. That's not what he expected the Prime Minister to say.

***

By the time evening comes along, Nick has decided that he's happy for David Cameron to be discharged into the care of his own, no doubt private doctor in London. He's surrounded by his entourage when Nick comes to his room to give him final instructions on after care. David shoos the half dozen members of his staff out like a flock of birds. They flutter off to arrange his transport back to London. He listens carefully to Nick's instructions, and grimaces when Nick tells him to take things easy for awhile. "In my job?" he says with a wry smile. He stands, and winces, his hand going to his ribs.

"Do you want a wheelchair? I can arrange it..." Nick says. David shakes his head.

"Best for the press to see me walk out of here under my own steam," he says. "Image and all that..." He holds his hand out to Nick and the doctor takes it. "Thank you, Dr. Clegg. I enjoyed our debate." He blushes slightly. "Sorry about that other thing."

Nick stares down at their clasped hands, and impulsively lets his thumb gently rub against David's hand. "It's Nick," he says softly. He grins. "And just so that you know; I believe strongly in doctor-patient ethics. Otherwise, I would have let you buy me dinner." He grins widely at David's surprised expression. Then the PM's lips curve.

"I guess I'll have to owe you one," he says, and Nick knows he's not deceiving himself as to the heat directed towards him from those blue eyes. For the first time, he's sorry that the PM won't be staying, despite the uproar he's caused in Nick's department. No doubt his bosses will be pleased with the PM's satisfactory treatment but Nick knows he's going to catch hell for overruling their decision about the press.

He watches as the PM thanks the nurses then limps off painfully towards the exit, surrounded by his flock of bodyguards, advisers and assorted hangers-on. Love or hate Cameron, it's certain that he's a powerful personality; the sort of man who lights up a room, and Nick feels the place is curiously empty after he's left. Then the nurse is calling Nick to the phone, and he sighs because here comes trouble.

End of part 2/9

Help! I need somebody! 1/9

weredem — Thu, 25 Oct 2012 02:18:52 GMT

Title: Help I need somebody 1/9
Summary: David is injured and taken to hospital. He meets a very nice doctor.

Rating: NC17 for sex and fine Anglo Saxon language.
Author's Notes: Clameron, AU. Doctor Clegg, MD.
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen. My medical knowledge is subject to artistic licence.

It's meant to be a publicity stunt, organised by his media and communications chief at a new enterprise zone, but within thirty seconds of climbing on the Segway, things start to go wrong for the Prime Minister. The machine is counter-intuitive, as far as David can tell; move the controls forward to speed up. Yeah, right!

Somehow he gets it wrong, because suddenly he's moving far too fast along the concrete path, then the inevitable happens;- he hits a rough patch of ground and then the Segway is skidding out of control, tipping sideways at high speed, and he's sent barrelling towards the hard concrete.

He flings out his hands to try and break his fall, and white hot agony spikes along his right arm as he slams into the ground. Then the rest of his body meets the hard surface and he's sliding across the concrete for what seems like an eternity, before his body comes to rest.

He's in agony. His arm is broken; obviously misshapen just above the wrist. He probably hit his head because he's seeing double, and it hurts to breathe, because there's an ache in his chest. And there's a fair bit of blood from a dozen scrapes across his arms, face and knees.

He hears his protection officers and other members of his staff running towards him, along with the inevitable press photographer. He closes his eyes briefly; he's aware of the flash of the camera capturing his misfortune. God, the timing couldn't be worse; he can just imagine the headlines tomorrow. Their concern won't be for him, the bloody vultures - instead, they'll be comparing his fortunes to those of the economy, no doubt unfavourably.

He dizzily tries to sit up and groans with pain. It feels like he's broken a couple of ribs and blood is trickling down the side of his face. His bodyguard takes one look at his arm and calls for an ambulance, and within a few minutes, his arm is splinted and he's being lifted on a stretcher and rushed to casualty, blue lights flashing. The efficient ambulance-woman has put an inflatable splint on his arm, and he's feeling a little better. Then he's being pushed through the double-doors of the hospital, and into the emergency room.

After a few moments, a doctor in blue scrubs appears with a nurse and begins an examination. He frowns at the sight of the PM and begins his examination,

"Ow!" David yelps as the doctor prods at a lump on his temple that's probably where he hit his head. Then he carefully lifts David's arm and studies the misshapen forearm with interest.

"My chest hurts," David tells him. The doctor nods and continues his exam. Not big on his bedside manner, David thinks.

"Hmm. You'll need a scan of your head, plus we'll do x-rays of your chest and arm. Then we can see about cleaning up these scrapes.

"Can I get something for the pain?" David asks.

"Not a chance!" Dr. Clegg snaps. His intense blue eyes regard the PM coldly, then he's heading out of the room, leaving a bemused David behind him.

The nurse fusses over him, while he's waiting to be wheeled down. "You can't have any drugs yet, Prime Minister," she explains. "It can mask the symptoms of concussion and the like."

"Couldn't he just say that?" David complains.

"Oh, don't take any notice of Dr. Clegg's moods," she laughs. "You're lucky to have him. He's the best there is for trauma injuries..."

"Huh!" David knows he's lucky, but so far today, he's only had bad luck! Maybe his "lucky" streak is still continuing. He just doesn't like Clegg much.

****

Of all the emergency rooms in all the world, why did David Cameron have to come into his, Nick wonders. The one damned politician who's done more than any other to bring down the Health Service, in Nick's opinion. His last job was in a casualty department that was closed due to government finance cuts. And what a stupid way for the PM to injure himself; playing on some rich boy's toy!

Of course, he's totally professional, giving Cameron the same efficient service he would give to any other injured person. He holds himself to strict standards of excellence, and though it would probably be satisfying to let the man suffer, that would be so far against his own conscience that the thought never even occurs to him. Of course, Cameron probably thinks he's deliberately holding back the pain meds, but really, he's not.

The medical reports come back and they show pretty much what he expected - two cracked ribs (no lung complications), a cleanly fractured radius and fortunately for Cameron, no breaks in his very hard skull. Still, it'll probably be prudent to keep the PM in hospital for a day or so, just to make sure there are no complications due to concussion - plus his arm needs to be set, and that'll necessitate some pain medication. Nick sighs. It looks like he'll have to put up with the posh git for a little while longer.

***

Much to his satisfaction, David has been given a private room in the hospital, adjacent to Ward 54. The downside is, he's wearing a rather unflattering hospital gown, although his people are even now getting him some vital supplies, like pyjamas. His ribs are strapped up and his scrapes have been cleaned and dressed; all that he needs to worry about now is his arm.

About half an hour ago, a nurse gave him a couple of squishy green pills to take after they decided he hadn't done lasting damage to his head, and everything has gotten a lot better since then. He's really feeling rather good; floaty and cheerful. It's really hard not to start giggling, and there's certainly no pain. The handsome doctor comes in, and holds up an x-ray so that he can study the break in David's arm. He's really not that bad after all.

"Good news. It's a clean break, although you'll need to have the bone immobilised with a cast. Fortunately for you, there won't be any need for a general anaesthetic because the ends of the bone are cleanly aligned." Dr Clegg nods in satisfaction. David can't help but notice how pretty he is. Tall and dark haired, with those stunningly blue eyes and a body that's fairly (but not excessively) fit.

Clegg's fingers are gentle as he takes hold of David's forearm and applies soft cotton bandaging to his arm. Then he's adding the outer, fibreglass layer. He has long, slender wrists that David can't seem to take his eyes off. Until...

"It's the wrong colour!" David slurs. "LibDem Yellow... It should be blue..."

Amusement sparks in the doctor's eyes. "It's the only colour we have, Prime Minister" he says tartly, but there's something not quite truthful about the tone of his voice. Besides, David has been in politics for years, and he knows bullshit when he hears it. Still, the fact that Clegg has given the leader of the Conservative Party a big sunshine-yellow beacon on his arm is kind of funny. He settles himself comfortably in the bed and waits for it to set hard.

Hard... Hard is fun...

Oh, these drugs are really good; they've definitely wheeled out the happy pills for him. He does giggle then, and sees the look of disbelief in Clegg's so-blue eyes.

"Don't you ever smile?" he asks Clegg. "You'd look much better if you did... Let me buy you dinner..."

Now the doctor does look surprised, and a reluctant half-smile crosses his face. "I think you're a bit high, Prime Minister," Clegg says.

"That wasn't a no," David tells him. Clegg shakes his head, but he's still smiling. "See, I knew you'd look cute when you smile...," David tells him.

The doctor is blushing slightly, but he doesn't look offended. "Try to keep your cast dry, Prime Minister," he says coolly, wisely ignoring David's proposition.

"I know a great karaoke bar," David says and begins to sing his favourite Smiths song quietly to himself... Soon afterwards, he drifts into a healing sleep.

End of part 1/?

general_smuts — Tue, 18 Sep 2012 12:04:01 GMT

I'm posting this in a few places, cos it's for a great cause and I really wanna see Clameron with moustaches!

Paralympic Picspam

general_smuts — Mon, 10 Sep 2012 11:24:16 GMT

Posted these on Tumblr, but thought I'd post them here too!!

Clameron's date at the ~~Coldplay concert~~ Paralympic Closing Ceremony!!

Nick trying to cop a feel while David pretends to look normal XD

Another Coldplay song? We just wanna go home and shag :(

Don't cry Nick, they WILL finish someday!

Finally it's over!! Sexy time!

Clameron Manips

krzcowzgomoo — Sun, 12 Aug 2012 11:44:40 GMT

So I have made quite a few Clameron manips for tumblr and it has just occurred to me that I have never shared them here, and that is a tragedy. Because one of you might, by some miracle, actually want to see them. :D

And the rest of these are rather NSFW so scroll with caution :)

Part one of the Elevator Saga

And part two of the Elevator Saga

And my personal favourite:

"The Candidates"

Clameron

Framed - Part 2

Framed - Part 1

Cindernick - Part 1

Fic: Keeping Hope 1/12

Some long overdue Clameron fics, and a vid :)

Nick Clegg: I will survive (elements of David Cameron/Nick Clegg)

Fic by Proxy: In Your Place.

Last joint appearance?

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away, Epilogue

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away 12/12 + Epilogue

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away 11/12 + Epilogue

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away 10/12 + Epilogue

Fic: Not Completely Cast Away 9/12 + Epilogue

I REALLY hope there are more press conferences like this one (Pics/Video)

Dave and Nick visiting schools together

Help I need somebody! 9/9

Help! I need somebody! 7+8/9

Title: Help I need somebody 7/9Summary: Nick furthers his career in Parliament.

Summary: Nick drops hints about his own private Coalition, then accidentally reveals all.

Help! I need somebody! 6/9

Title: Help I need somebody 6/9Summary: Nick and David spend the night together.

Help! I need somebody! 5/9

Title: Help I need somebody 5/9Summary: Nick and David grow closer.

Help! I need somebody! 4/9

Title: Help I need somebody 4/9Summary: Nick gets a job offer.

Help! I need somebody! 3/9

Title: Help I need somebody 3/9Summary: David is back in Parliament after his accident.

Help! I need somebody! 2/9

Title: Help I need somebody 2/9Summary: David is spending some time in hospital.

Help! I need somebody! 1/9

Title: Help I need somebody 1/9Summary: David is injured and taken to hospital. He meets a very nice doctor.

Paralympic Picspam

Clameron Manips

Title: Help I need somebody 7/9
Summary: Nick furthers his career in Parliament.

Title: Help I need somebody 6/9
Summary: Nick and David spend the night together.

Title: Help I need somebody 5/9
Summary: Nick and David grow closer.

Title: Help I need somebody 4/9
Summary: Nick gets a job offer.

Title: Help I need somebody 3/9
Summary: David is back in Parliament after his accident.

Title: Help I need somebody 2/9
Summary: David is spending some time in hospital.

Title: Help I need somebody 1/9
Summary: David is injured and taken to hospital. He meets a very nice doctor.