therealpm

*John rushes to his study, picks up his phone and flicks through the contacts until he finds the number he's looking for. He presses the call button and anxiously taps his foot as he waits.*

Come on, come on.... pick up....

From:

*Alastair sighs when he sees who's calling. Not that he particularly dislikes John as a person; just that he's never, ever the bearer of good news.*

Hullo?

From:

Alastair - it's Osborne.

Well, no it's John but I'm calling about-

He's come crawling back. Peter's trying to rush off to meet with him but I've managed to stall him for a few minutes.

I need your help. Make Peter see sense on this, please. Osborne's only going to...

You remember what Peter was like when he...

Just- just call him, or something - anything to stop him running back to that-

*John just about manages to stop himself stringing together a list of expletives to describe the Chancellor, but only just.*

-to Osborne. Please.

From:

Oh?

Oh. That entitled little bollocks. He's really on a roll this week.

I don't know, John... Peter's a grown-up, sort of. It's down to him to decide how to mess up his life. Do you honestly think he'll listen?

From:

*John's stomach drops.*

What- what are you-

Alastair, do you remember what Peter was like when Osborne left? He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't talk, he wouldn't-

Make him listen, Campbell!

From:

Fine, fine! Christ, I didn't realise I'd signed a contract as his life coach.

I'm not questioning that it's a terrible idea, just wondering if you remember how receptive Peter was, all the times I told him to break up with the tit when they were still together. But hey, since you've come running to me, I'll do my best. Is he there?

From:

*John wants to yell at someone but he can't work out who - Campbell for stalling, Peter for even thinking of contemplating getting back together with Osborne or Osborne for... well, being Osborne. He feels vaguely sorry for whoever annoys him first in the Commons later.*

Yes, he is. I'll hand you over. Just a moment.

*John rushes into the living room. Peter is almost finished with the decorations and John thanks all the wizards he can name that Peter hasn't left yet.*

Would you mind just talking to them for a moment?

*John thrusts the phone into Peter's hand then dashes off again so Peter can't pass it back.*

From:

Talking to who?

...hello?

Oh, it's you.

What do you want?

From:

Oh Peter, it's almost as if you aren't pleased to hear from me. But if you insist on dispensing with pleasantries - I want to know what you're playing at that's got Bercow in such a state. Something about your wanker ex, yes?

From:

That is none of your business.

*He hangs up.*

From:

I - oh, for fuck's sake.

*He presses redial, in the hope that Peter will have changed his mind in the last five seconds.*

From:

*Peter picks up the call more out of habit than any desire to speak to Alastair.*

Well?

From:

Well. Maybe you'd like to fill me in? You're supremely awful at keeping secrets, after all, so if you're up to anything dubious you may as well tell me now. Come on, I promise not to spread it around much.

From:

I wouldn't, I'm not and I find that promise exceedingly difficult to believe. Anything else?

From:

*Fiona, listening in from the living room, can't hold back a snigger. When have they ever left Peter to destroy himself in peace? It's not just that they're nosey and controlling, although if he got her under oath Fiona would be forced to admit that's a part of it. It's mostly that they wind up being the ones to sweep up the pieces every time he shatters, so it saves time and trouble all round if they can keep him from crashing in the first place.*

From:

*Alastair hears her sniggering and glares in from the hallway, trying to formulate a single gesture that conveys the sentiment: 'shut up, I'm just saying it's going to be hard to win him over' without losing track of his conversation.*

From:

*Fiona raises her hands and lifts her eyes in what she hopes is a 'so what else is new' gesture, then points to the door and raises an eyebrow questioningly*

From:

*Alastair's brow knits in concentration. It certainly sounds like his initial misgivings about this phone call were all justified, but he really doesn't want to spend the day haring around trying to save Peter from himself. When after all attempts at reasonableness, Peter is still trying to shut the conversation down, he shrugs at Fiona and nods. He starts looking around for his shoes.*

From:

*One of Alastair's shoes is under the sofa, where he kicked it earlier. Fiona fishes it out and hands it to him.*

From:

*Alastair takes the shoe with his free hand and sits down to tug it on, still talking into the phone. He jumps back up again and makes his way to the front door, trusting that Fiona will take care of gathering any necessary Peter-soothing/restraining implements.*

From:

*Fiona contemplates the question of bribes. If Peter's stressing himself out over that fucking Tory he probably hasn't eaten all day, and they might be able to lure him into sticking around for a conversation with fruit. They have grapes in the fridge, so she puts a few bunches in a bowl. A bag would be a more practical container for transport, but if she knows Peter he won't touch them unless they are nicely presented.*

*She locks the door and follows Alastair out to the car.*

From:

*Alastair is already waiting in the passenger seat. He looks down at the bowl of grapes Fiona puts in his lap, then back up at her as if to say, 'well, if you're sure.'*

From:

It's much harder to to cook for him when he's not a ravenous werewolf. Where is he?

From: