9th October, 7 am. Prison Cell.

[therealpm]

*A combination of sunlight and the sound of snores more akin to a donkey being sawn in half than anything that should emanate from a human throat drag Peter up from the depths of sleep and deposit him, dazed and confused, in a somewhat tangled mess of blankets and more limbs than he remembered having last night.  He struggles to sit upwards, blinking back the fog clouding his brain and reaches for the mug of water he always keeps on the desk beside his bed. 

The wall of bottles and wineglasses in his way gives him some clue as to the source of the acrid taste on his tongue.  He swirls the water round his mouth to clear it, then considers the noisy lump at the end of his bed more carefully.  On closer inspection, it is clear that the errant limbs belong to the lump- Peter hasn't turned into a were-spider or something similar in the middle of the night and sprouted extra, which is a relief- his clothing bills are high enough already.

On even closer inspection, including a 'gentle' prod with one foot, the lump turns out to be a somewhat bleary and hungover Speaker of the House of Commons.

Well.

That would go some way towards explaining the provenance of the bottles, the contents of which could probably have been used as a downpayment for a family home.  In London.

He prods the lump again and receives only a muffled grumble in response.*

Comments

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John grumbles and pulls the duvet closer around him to try and shield himself from whatever it is that's poking him.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter sighs and pokes him again. His legs are cramped from lack of space.*

It's dawn.

*He smirks at John's squeak of fear at being found by Madame Deputy Speaker and gestures innocently at the window.*

The sun is up, rise and shine.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John pulls the covers back so his head is poking out and he struggles to look through the door.*

Dawn, I can explain - it's not what it looks li...

*He catches up to what Peter means, groans, and then buries his head under the covers again.*

Not getting up. Light hurts.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Really? My head feels fine.

*That's a lie, Peter's head feels like an overstuffed dust bag, but John doesn't need to know that. His eyes wander over the room, little snippets of the night coming back to him in bits and pieces.*

Your singing really is awful, you know.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John groans at Peter's comment. In all truth, John cannot remember much after he started singing. He just hopes he do anything to upset Peter too much.*

*John pulls the covers even tighter around himself and tries to fall back to sleep to let the hangover run its course.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter prods him again*

Come on, up. I was promised a visit to the children so they could show me this 'George of the Jungle' character.

*Another lie, but one he suspects John isn't going to notice.*

Breakfast wouldn't go amiss either.

*'Nor would getting out of this room for a while, the place stinks of stale grape.'

He pokes John once more for good measure.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*Did I really promise that? John thinks.*

*John groans and sticks his head out of the covers*

You can't see the children now. I can't see the children now - I'm far too hung over to be of any use to them at the moment.

Just... just wait until they've gone to school then I'll get up.

*He hides from the light again*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter sighs and slips back under the covers.*

Fine. But on your own head be it if Dawn turns up for the first shift this morning and finds us like this.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John groans again. If Dawn find them like this, she'll call DEFRA and have Peter taken away, he just knows it.*

*Slowly, John drags himself out of bed, one limb at a time. He squints in the harsh, early morning light.*

*He grabs a piece of paper and scrawls a note to whomever is next on guard duty, explaining that he's taken Peter for an early morning stroll. He places it on the desk outside the cell, then tries to tidy a few things away.*

Come on, I think I still have some hangover cure potion in the cupboard...

*How lowers the wards and lets Peter out, letting them snap shut as soon as he's clear. They make their way through the fireplace and into the kitchen as swiftly and silently as possible. John winces when he sees the wine bottles - had they really drunk all that? - and puts them in the sink. He finds a portion and a half of hangover cure potion. Peter said he was fine, so John takes the lot himself. It will take a while to work, but nevertheless he should be back to normal far quicker than if he let the alcohol take it's natural course.*

...tea?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter tuts as John drinks the potion.*

Overdosing will only build up tolerence, you know. Could cause liver failure.

*He nods in reply to John's offer of tea. Some form of caffeine sounds marvellous.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John grunts at Peter and makes the tea. Already the potion is starting to settle his stomach. By the time the tea is made, John is starting to feel as though he is less likely to throw up.*

*He hands over Peter's tea (too much milk) and makes a few slices of toast for them to share. He places those on the table and takes a seat opposite Peter, cuddling the tea close to himself.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter scowls into his cup, tips it down the sink and makes himself a new one, pointedly without milk.

They sit in silence, broken only by the quiet crunching of toast, until the door creaks open and Sally walks in.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*By now John can open his eyes without the light hurting.*

...Good morning, Sally.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Good morning Sally.

No, I received some rather bad news and John decided we needed to see a film to take my mind off it.

A little better, yes, thank you.

Probably.

No, I don't think either of us are quite in a fit state to dr-

Thank you.

Yes, see you later.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Goodbye, dear.

...yes, I'll have a shower.

*Sally leaves.*

*John finishes the last of his toast and sips at his tea.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter sniffs.*

Good, you could certainly do with one. You smell like wet d-

...like you haven't had one in days.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

You're a fine one to talk, Peter.

*John finishes his tea then starts to make his way out of the kitchen.*

If you want anything else, you know where it is.

*John leaves to have a shower, clean his teeth and try to piece back together what happened the night before.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter considers his position.

John has undoubtedly warded him into the apartment. He may be hungover, but he's not stupid. Any books which might contain useful information for Peter to peruse later would be too bulky for him to hide without a shrinking spell of some sort and those are not simple to apply to a magical object, even were his magic not partially bound.

What does he want?

First and foremost, he supposes, it is to survive the 'cure' that Cable will shortly be administering. Without his books and lab, Peter is hamstrung when it comes to improving the thing. He certainly can't conduct the wide ranging research that Cable would need.

Hmmm.

Better get somebody else to do that for him instead, then.

Checking that Sally is still upstairs, sorting out the children for school and that John is still occupied in the shower, Peter slips away to the living room, closing the door behind him and crouching in front of the TV.*

Machine, are you there? I need you to do some research...

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*Finished with his shower and brushing his teeth, John has managed to piece together very little from the previous night.*

*Clean and dressed (in fresh clothes), John's head is starting to clear, though he knows it will be some hours until he is right again.*

*John makes his way downstairs, memories about discussing poetry or something similar coming back to him, when he spots Peter crouching in the living room talking to the television.*

What are you doing, Peter?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter forgets that his hearing isn't as good in this form and only hears John approaching when the man is right outside the room.*

Leave!

*He hisses to The Machine, hoping the screen goes blank in time. He scowls at John in annoyance as the man enters the room and presses a few buttons.*

Trying to get the dvd player to work. It's being recalcitrant.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

You were talking to the television, Peter. Why on earth do you want to watch a DVD any...

*The pain in John's head flares as he starts to argue with Peter. More for his own sake than Peter's, he drops the discussion.*

Let me sort it, then. Which DVD do you want to watch?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

I don't, I want to know how check that it works so that I can watch that thing you were talking about with the children when they return from school.

...you do have that DVD, don't you?

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

What thing? When was this? What DVD?

*John replays Peter's comment in his head.*

Peter, you can't stay here all day and wait to watch DVDs with the children. You have to go back.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

....why?

The paperwork for DEFRA has been completed. Why do I need to go back?

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John pinches the bridge of his nose*

Because if you do not return and Dawn discovers that you're here, she will not hesitate to call DEFRA and have you taken away. That is why you need to go back, Peter.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

What business of hers is it whether I am here or there?

*He folds his arms*

You are the one who is legally responsible for my conduct, not her.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Peter, do we really have to have this argument now?

*Judging from the look on Peter's face, they did.*

Dawn does not think you're safe. She doesn't like the idea of werewolf rehabilitation at all. She doesn't think the potion or the collar work well enough.

That's why she all but threatened to call DEFRA when she found you here. You know Dawn as well as I do, Peter - very rarely does she outright threaten, she simply does.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

So despite the completely baseless nature of her beliefs, my personal liberty is superceded by her personal insecurity? Tell me, what else would you accede to in order to appease Ms Primarolo?

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John wants to argue back, oh he really does, but the pounding in his head is only getting worse and Peter's more than likely still upset about something, and he's got so much work to do...*

Peter, just- just shut up!

*John tries to think of something to say to return the situation to something vaguely normal (well, normal for them), but all the phrases that jump to mind would simply make things worse. As such, he goes to the kitchen to pour himself a pint of water in an attempt to get rid of his headache. Maybe when he can think more clearly, he'll be able to work out what to do.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter drops onto the sofa, head in his hands. It hurts: having so little freedom or control that he has to sneak about even to talk to his child creation. He has no choice any more, no input into decisions made about what will happen to him. John could decide tomorrow that Peter doesn't need books or work or a bed or even the limited freedom to walk about unhindered in a cell and there is nothing Peter could do, no laws he can count on, to stop that from happening. A small part of his mind wonders whether John would do those things, if it meant keeping Dawn on side.

'He hasn't exactly stood up for you before. Where was he when Dawn chained you to a wall, or Alastair nearly drowned you? He'll promise the world when he's had too much to drink, but when it comes to doing anything...'*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John sips his drink and tries to think of a way out of this. Now he's calmed down (and the throbbing has subsided) he begin to try and think a way out of this.*

*Firstly, he could just ignore Dawn. Peter said it himself, John is legally in control of Peter - and of his children. If he were to do that, Dawn would run to DEFRA and there's a distinct possibility Peter would be taken away.*

*Secondly, he could ignore Peter's wish to stay in the flat and make him go back to the cell. That idea was a no-starter to begin with.*

*Thirdly, he could try trawling through the regulations to see if there was any reference to werewolves being allowed near children. If it explicitly states they must be kept apart, then there is no hope at all. But if they're vague enough, John might be able to persuade DEFRA that he isn't breaking any rules. A sympathetic ear might be needed at DEFRA - Peter's case worker seemed to be either liberally principled or easily charmed - but it could theoretically be possible.*

*John wanders through to the living room and goes to the cupboard with all their personal filing. He finds the DEFRA contract and begins to flick through it, occasionally sipping from his water.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter watches as John returns to the living room. He expects the man to at least say something, but John gives no indication that he's noticed Peter's existence, and instead starts to flick through what looks like Peter's DEFRA paperwork. Peter feels sick. He's not sure what John's doing, but given their argument a few minutes ago, this doesn't bode well.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John finds the relevant part of the document. The wording is vague, but not vague enough. While John may choose who interacts with Peter, DEFRA have the final authority - if they disagree with John's decision they have the final word and can invoke almost any penalty they like. Knowing the general attitude that DEFRA seem to take on these issues, they would more than likely side with Dawn.*

*John sighs*

*It looks like they'll have to do this the sneaky way.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter looks up sharply when John sighs, but John seems no more inclined towards discussion than he was earlier. Peter's heart thumps loud with nerves as he sits and waits, hating every helpless minute.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John finds the timetable for who's on guard duty, a pad of paper and a few pens. He takes all these things over to where Peter is.*

If we're going to get Dawn out of the way long enough for you to see the children, you're going to have to help me to rearrange the timetable.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter's mouth drops open with relief. He recovers control of his face quickly, but his mind still spins.*

Yes... of course.

*He grabs a pen and studies the timetable closely.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*Too busy drawing out a few space, empty timetables, John doesn't spot Peter's shock. He copies out one exactly as things currently stand and then begins trying to shift things around a bit.*

If we move Nigel to this slot from there... and extend Dawn's shift that day so we can cancel out mine there... but then Frances will be on for too long. Hmm.

*John scribbles over his workings and tries again.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter takes an empty copy and fills in all the places where he doesn't mind being in the cell with 'Dawn'. He then tries to slot all other potential guards around those.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*Having scribbled on his page to the point that most of his comments and suggested solutions are unreadable, John takes a new timetable and starts again.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter passes a completed timetable across to John. It relies rather more heavily on Paddy and Norman (neither of whom Peter rates as mages, Paddy because he isn't and Norman because it's Norman) than the original, but as that cuts down on Dawn's shifts, Peter hopes it will go unremarked.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John looks through the timetable.*

No, Peter, Nigel isn't going to be on night duty; he's terrified enough of you in the day as it is.

We'll need to swap that shift around.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*By the time they've settled on a final version of the timetable, it's almost lunch time and Peter still hasn't taken his potion. Peter nudges John out of his contemplation of the draft and asks him where it's kept.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John nearly kicks himself - how could I forget about the potion?!*

Don't worry, I'll get it - would you like some lunch too?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*He nods, and lunch passes amicably enough.

The afternoon is spent quietly: catching up on casework (John) and reading novels of his own choosing (Peter). The peace is broken by the slam of a door and a screamed 'The nerve of that woman!' in what sounds suspiciously like Sally's voice. The two men exchange glances, neither wanting to be the first to investigate.*