(no subject)

[therealpm]

*He's almost finished setting up the hex for tomorrow (Frances is persistent, a simple phone block will not be enough), when he remembers the still rather pitiable state of his wards.*

Hmmmm.

*He finishes the spell, then dashes off a quick text.*


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

John,

change of plan. Coming over this evening. Prepare the spare bedroom.

-Peter


*He's pretty certain John still feels enough residual guilt to maintain the apartment's wards against an angry Frances.*

Comments

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John is... "busy" with Sally when his phone goes off.*

Oh for goodness...

Sally, it might be important.

*Disgruntled, John stops what he's doing and picks up the text. He sighs.*

Sally, it appears that Peter is coming round in a short-

...No, Sally, not to join us. Why on earth would you even think of suggesting that?

Certainly not! How could you begin to image-

No, Sally! Sally, this is not the time for this argument.

*John gets up out of bed, texts a quick reply then goes to make himself look presentable.*

Text from 078## ######

Peter,

I suppose I have no choice in this matter? Be aware it is a most inconvenient time but I am accommodating you nonetheless.

-John

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

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

John.

no. I'm in your living room.

-Peter

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

...He's in the living room. I really need to sort out those wards sooner rather than later.

*John makes his way downstairs when he's sorted.*

Tea, Peter?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter has already wrapped himself up in a blanket and is cuddled up on the sofa with Jack, his overnight bag tucked neatly under the coffee table.*

Yes please.

*He fidgets a bit*

You really ought to see to those wards at some point.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

...do you know, Peter, I had already come to that conclusion myself some minutes ago?

*John fetches tea and biscuits (and sorts out some water and food for Jack, just in case) then takes the tray back through.*

To what do we owe the pleasure of your company tonight, Peter?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter sniffs, curious, then frowns- a ghost of a memory surfacing from a few months ago. He dispels it with a quick shake of his head.*

Do I need an excuse to visit?

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Yes, particularly when you interrupt...

I suppose not, but that doesn't mean there isn't one.

*John sips at his tea.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

True. I was mostly just testing your wards. Did you know there's a rather large hole by the north-east windows?

*He gestures helpfully.*

Not even a weak spot, simply a hole. With no magical protection at all.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John rolls his eyes and tries to control his temper.*

Thank you, Peter. I shall see to it tomorrow.

I am rather tired at the moment.

Sally, stop sniggering.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*At 7.30 am, John knocks on the spare bedroom door.*

Peter, I'm making breakfast. Hurry up and get to the kitchen before Oliver eats all the toast!

*John walks away back to the kitchen, tea mug in hand, whistling to himself cheerily.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter stirs into wakefulness, confused. It's 7:30. Normally he's been awake by this point for at least an hour.

He checks his phone: no messages, and grins. The blocking (and presumably the hex) worked then.

Feeling somewhat cheerier, he gets dressed and heads off to the kitchen.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*By the time Peter makes it to the kitchen, John is wearing a crown made for him by the children, the words "Politician of the Year" ('politician' spelled wrong and with a backwards 'c') scrawled on the front. John is busy cooking bacon and eggs, but still manages to magically pass Peter his tea as he comes through the door.*

Good morning, Peter! Did you sleep well?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter frowns. Dreams are generally the brain attempting to process the events of the day, and as those events had included some rather odd signals from Sally, his dreams had been worrying and weird.*

...moderately.


*He sips his tea, trying to blink back some of the images.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Marvelous!

*John finishes making breakfast and sets it all out on the table. They all dig in to eat.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter tugs the crown off John's head and peers at the lettering. He looks baffled.*

...whatever for?

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John snatches the crown back and carefully puts it back on his head before replying.*

The Political Studies Association awarded me their "Politician of the Year" prize. The children were rather proud and so made this delightful crown for me.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

I see...

...well.

*Peter carefully opens a yoghurt.*

No accounting for taste.

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Alastair doesn't so much come through the Bercows' door as erupt into their home, with Fiona close behind. Hoping that the offspring are all at school, he deliberately raises his voice for the first time in a while. In a way, it's almost like coming home.*

Mandelson! Show yourself so I can force your words back down your throat with a bread knife, you lying bastard!

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter hangs up- the mobile seems a little unecessary right now, and moves just a little closer to the fireplace. The thought of just hopping straight through and leaving Campbell to look like a fool is very appealing.*

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Alastair spots Peter's eyes darting to the fireplace, and the penny drops. He strides forward, but Peter is much closer to it than the two men are to each other, and Alastair doesn't want to be left standing in front of an empty grate.*

Are you going to run away, back to your stupid little boyfriend? Grow a fucking backbone!

[dasouzzle.livejournal.com]

*Jenny pops out of the fireplace into a roomful of shouting and a faceful of wooly jumper. She stumbles backward, away from the poor soul she's barreled into, and hits the back of her head on the mantel.*

Ow!

*On second glance her victim reveals himself to be Mandelson. Well, at least he's going to be easy to find.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter jumps back as well, then automatically steps forward to offer a hand.*

Oh, I'm so sorry...

...Baroness McIntosh.

*His stomach sinks.*

...Madam Deputy Speaker, to what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?

*He's pretty certain he can guess, but still....*

[dasouzzle.livejournal.com]

You're nicked, sunshine. The Lord Speaker would like a word.

[bigalcampbell.livejournal.com]

*Alastair takes Peter's temporary motionlessness as an opportunity to move in behind him and take hold of his arm, slightly more tightly than necessary. He addresses Jenny.*

Sorry, who're you? It's just that we're a bit busy here at the moment. Peter has things to do. Don't you, Peter?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

...Baroness McIntosh, this is Alastair Campbell. Alastair, Baroness McIntosh, one of the Deputy Lord Speakers.

*He carefully dislodges his arm from Campbell's grasp and mumbles something about going to make tea.*