The breakfast table, 18th Nov.

[therealpm]

*Peter wakes early, still bouyed up by the election results and heads downstairs for a cup of tea and a yoghurt. His phone buzzes as the kettle boils. An update from The Machine.

Sipping his tea slowly, he scrolls through the results and nearly spills it everywhere when he reaches The Machine's conclusions, which have been carefully bolded so he can't possibly miss them. A quick enquiry confirms that the results have been double, triple and quadruple checked- there is no uncertainty.

Grinning, he types out a text message.*


Text from 07### ######

John,

your presence is required. ASAP.

-Peter


*He sips his tea again, considering how to procede. A little background music wouldn't go amiss.*

Comments

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John stumbles into the kitchen just as Sally picks up the report.*

Really, there's nothing of any great importance in there-

*While John tries to justify some of the remarks made by his teachers, Oliver slips off back to the cupboard to retrieve a the rest of his father's school reports. Oliver places them in the middle of the table, picks one at random and then starts to look through it. When either of them find something particularly funny, they read it aloud to each other.*

*John, determined not to be in the same room as everyone else, returns to trying to find the book Oliver asked for. On the way he bumps into Freddie.*

Oh hello there, Freddie. How did telling Order who's boss turn out?

*Freddie tells his father that he's letting Order think she's in charge for now, but that really Freddie is the boss. John nods along.*

Of course, Freddie. Very wise of you to do so.

I'm trying to find a book for your brother. Would you care to help or are you busy at the moment?

*Freddie thinks about it for a moment, then tells John that he can rearrange his busy schedule to hang out for a while.*

Thank you, Freddie. The books are this way...

*The two go off to search for the book Oliver requested.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*The potion is almost brewed by the time John and Freddie return, triumphantly bearing a dog eared copy of 'The History of Potions'. Oliver lets out a shriek of joy and hugs John tightly, however by this time, Jemima and Peter have long discarded the report cards in favour of discussing the important question of how to bottle the brew (different techniques and flasks will affect how the mixture matures and stores) and merely look up with irritation as John enters the room.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

That's quite alright, Oliver. You're very welcome.

In fact, I think we need to change this here a little bit...

*John opens the book to the first page where the words "Property of John Bercow" are written. John summons a pen, crosses out his name and hands the ball point to Oliver.*

I think you need to write your name in there, don't you?

*Oliver almost squeaks in delight, then very carefully writes out his name underneath John's. Once done, he hugs his father, then runs off to the living room to settle down and read.*

Now, once you two have finished with whatever it is you're brewing and Peter has gone home, I think dinner is in order. Who wants a take away?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter's rather gratified that this time it's John on the receiving end of Jemima's glare. He quietly finishes bottling the brew as she tells John in no uncertain terms that uncle Peter needs to stay.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Jemima, Uncle Peter has already extended his stay quite a lot. He's a very busy man and undoubtedly has a lot of very important things to get back to.

No, I don't think he can do everything from our house. He needs to get home at some point, if at least to get to sleep!

...No, Jemima, Uncle Peter can't sleep round tonight.

Yes, thank you Jemima I am more than aware of the number of times Uncle Peter has slept here before.

Yes, and where.

And with whom.

Jemima, Uncle Peter is not staying the night!

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Potion bottled, Peter starts the washing up. It's relatively quick to do as he's taught Jemima the habit of washing up along the way. Once he's done that, he says his goodbyes to Sally quietly and slips out whilst John and Jemima continue to argue.

Freddie attacks his leg on the way out, claiming to have 'werewolfed' him, and he manages a smile as he carefully unlatches the boy from his calf. He makes sure Freddie is far enough away from the fireplace not to jump through, then steps in and leaves.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

-Fine! If it's that important to you, Jemima, he can stay!

Peter, what would you like for-

...Peter?

*Sally, unimpressed with John as ever, informs him that Peter has gone home and that he looked somewhat downcast as he left.*

...oh.

Well, I guess that settles that argument, then.

*Everyone in the kitchen gives John a Look.*

Oh very well...

*John gets his phone out to text Peter.*

Text from 078## ######

Peter,

If you would care to return for dinner we would all be very pleased to have you visit again.

-John

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Text from 07### ######

Automated reply: the owner of this phone has gone to sleep and will reply to you at a later date.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John sighs when he reads the reply.*

Uncle Peter will not be joining us for dinner.

*The rest of the family either look annoyed or sad.*

...I'll just go and get the take away menus.

*John goes to fetch the menus. When he's sure he's out of earshot, he calls Peter, not expecting to get through. As soon as it goes to voicemail, John hangs up. He tries again, and this time leaves a short apology and an invite to dinner the next night.*

*He then returns to kitchen with the take away menus, ready to order dinner.*

*Once they have eaten, John opens up a few news websites. One story in particular catches his eye.*

Text from 078## ######

Peter,

Congratulations on the new job.

-John

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter considers not replying to maintain the illusion that he's genuinely gone to sleep. Still... it is rather gratifying.

...he'll reply in the morning.*