(no subject)

[therealpm]

*Peter skims through Hansard. He's been far too busy plotting revenge attending to House of Lords business to watch the debates today, but with the statement on the equal marriage consultation and Treasury questions, it seems reasonable to invest a little time digging out the choicer quotes. Especially if he's expected to turn up to the Lords for those sort of things.

Most of the debate is pretty predictable, but towards the end Bercow takes a point of order. Most odd; there's still a statement to go.

As he reads through the exchange, the corners of his mouth begin to turn up, until by the end he's sporting a full blown smirk. It's not just that Osborne was made to sit there and be reprimanded for his disregard of parliamentary procedure, but that it's done in such a way as to make Bercow's dislike for the man painfully obvious. Peter is reminded of nothing so much as Jack's tendency to growl, and even nip, when he spots a long-lens camera. A sort of dogged, over-protective loyalty that's as endearing as it is amusing (he buries the pang of resentment he still feels every time he sees someone mocking his George. It's a tenacious habit but one he is determined to break). He gets out his phone.


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

John,

interesting performance with Osborne yesterday. I'm touched.

-Peter

Comments

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Will I be permitted to consume biscuits while on these premises?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Possibly. Under controlled circumstances and with a defined upper limit.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John falls down into a seat.*

Fine. Tea.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter looks up from his sheaf of papers*

Kettle's next to the sink, as always. There should be clean mugs on the tree.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

...

*John fetches the tea, grumbling to himself all the while.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Whilst John is in the kitchen, Peter's phone buzzes with a new text. It's Osborne. Peter calls through.*

Change of plan. I have another visitor in half an hour or so.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John wanders in with two mugs of tea.*

Well whoever it is I'll be sure to make a third cup when they arrive.

How many biscuits did you say I could have?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

I'm sure it will go far to soothe yesterday's rift between the two of you.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

...oh.

Where are the biscuits?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

In the tin.

*He gestures to a box on the coffee table. It is mercifully free of skulls and appears to have been bought from M&S.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John opens the tin. The biscuits look old and soft - or maybe, judging from the packaging at the bottom of the tin, that's just what "low calories, sugar free" biscuits look like. John makes a mental note to bring his own biscuits in future.*

*He takes a small one so as not to appear rude then nudges the tin over to Peter.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter disdains the biscuit tin in favour of tea and texting a reply to Osborne- his attention entirely focused on the small screen of his phone.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*Irritated at being ignored in favour of the Chancellor, John attempts to strike up a conversation.*

Freddie's flying is coming on well.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

That's nice.

*Peter receives another text and immediately grabs the phone to read it, eyes lighting up as he does so.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John takes a large sip of his tea.*

He was rather hoping to go on an outing with you at some point in the near future.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*The doorbell sounds*

He must be early...

*Peter abandons his cup of tea and calls over his shoulder.*

Yes... yes... I'll text to arrange a time at some point. See you later.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John gulps down the last of his tea and leaves the empty mug on the table - at first not on the coaster as a means to spite Peter, but just as he gets to the fireplace, he realises taking his frustrations out of the woodwork is petty and so with a wave of his hand the mug jumps onto the coaster.*

*He leaves, blocking out the sounds of Peter and Osborne.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter lets Osborne in, sits him down in the living room, then gathers up the spare mugs and makes them both tea before settling down himself. They engage in small talk for a little while. It is not until Peter makes an offhand comment explaining his absence on Thursday that the conversation turns to George's reason for being there.

Peter lets George talk for a good while. He listens patiently as the man explains both the personal and political strain he was under at the time- the unfriendly atmosphere in George's party not only to same sex, but inter-species relationships (amongst those who know of such things, anyway) and his own sense of hopelessness at the thought that Peter would never be cured, would die alone in a cell.

Peter listens to all this and considers it in silence. There are unwelcome shades of his time with Ashby, thought the reasons for the supposed unsuitability of him coming into contact with children are different.

He sips his tea and wonders how best to word his response. Despite Bercow's fears and Campbell's low expectations, he does remember what those awful few moments of being told he was a monster, and the subsequent days after, felt like. He also notices that despite a long list of reasons, the one thing George hasn't given Peter is an apology. He switches to drumming his fingers and allowing the silence to drag out further.*

I'll think about it.

*George starts to protest, but Peter holds up a hand.*

You know the way to the door.

*He waits until he hears not just the door, but the garden gate close behind Osborne as well, before he gets up and starts a fire.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John gets back home after PMQs, statements and debates. Osborne hadn't been in the chamber at all. He tries not to think about it and instead heads to his study to writeg out responses to constituency letters and pass on concerns to relevant ministers. A letter about the changes to the tax code is passed on to the Treasury quickly, addressed to Danny Alexander.*

*He doesn't notice the fireplace flare, or Peter's arrival.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter tries to quietly make himself some tea- he's come here more so that he doesn't have to stare at the same four walls of his own living room after that emotional rollercoaster than to see John. His plan is thwarted by the presence of Freddie, who is in the kitchen colouring in a map of Europe, but launches himself at Peter with a piercing yell, arms stretched wide for a hug the instant Peter crosses the threshold.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John starts at the noise and instantly rushes to where the thinks the sound came from.*

Freddie! Freddie are you al-

...Peter. Good evening.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter stands rooted to the spot, mostly because Freddie has decided to cuddle his leg.*

Good evening. I was just about to put the kettle on before-

*He indicates Freddie.*

-would you like a cup of tea?

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John's eyebrows shoot up. Turning up unannounced and making John tea are not like Peter at all.*

Please.

I'll be in the livingroom.

...Freddie, let go of Uncle Peter's leg, please. He does need that one.

...no, Freddie, that does not mean you should cling to the other one.

Freddie, let go of Uncle Peter.

You'll have to ask him if you can have cuddles later.

*John nods at Peter, then leaves. He picks up some of his work and heads to the sofa in the front room.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter makes the tea, then follows John to the living room, sitting next to him on the sofa. He peers at John's constituency work.*

They are still complaining about HS2?

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

...it will cut their gardens in half, Peter. It's a very important local issue as well as a national one.

*John sips at his tea.*

Thank you for the tea.

*He tries to think of a way to ask about the conversation with Osborne without being too obvious about it. His comments are made while reading another letter.*

Sally was going to do and internet search for the best Christmas turkey later this evening - shall we get an extra large one so Jack can have some, or do you have plans to be elsewhere this year?