(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]

*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?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter waves one hand dismissively.*

Sacrifices must be made in order for progress to occur.

...I had planned to be there when Oliver opens his presents, if only for the novelty of seeing it happen on the correct day. Provided Order is agreeable, then of course I can bring Jack along too.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John takes a sip from his tea to hide his "Communist" remark.*

Order will be fine as long as she doesn't have to share her favourite spot on the window seat. The more the merrier for Christmas.

*John picks up another letter, reads through it and winces. He makes a note on the pad of paper to forward that one to Vince at BIS.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*He sets his cup down, allowing himself to sink back further into the cushions. He relaxes- the adrenaline from his earlier encounter slowly ebbing away, leaving a strange sense of loss intermingled with relief. He watches John scribbling away- grey head occasionally bending closer to the pages to grasp some finer point, and feels his eyelids begin to droop.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*Freddie bounds into the room and onto Peter, knocking the man sideways into John. Started, John looks at the confused wizard.*

*To his credit, John blushes only slightly.*

If you want to read letters from my constituents so badly, Peter, all you have to do is ask.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Huh?

*Peter scrabbles for a handhold on the back of the sofa, dragging himself off John and into an upright position.*

A little less enthusiasm next time, Freddie, if you don't mind.

*He rubs his eyes: whatever sustained him throughout that conversation has now almost entirely gone and he feels immoderately sleepy.*

If that was my aim, I'd simply stand for election.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Against the Speaker? You're not as bad as Farage, are you, Peter?

*Even John can see Peter's getting sleepy.*

Coffee? Or perhaps heading home for an early night might be a better solution.

No, Freddie, I'm sure Uncle Peter doesn't want to stay for a sleepover tonight.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter gives John a glare at the comparison to UKIP*

....


Wash your mouth out.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John takes another sip of his tea.*

Terribly sorry, Peter. But at least it appears to have woken you up a tad.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*For lack of a better response, Peter harumphs and covertly elbows John in the ribs.*

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

What on ear-

...

*John attempts a glare in Peter's direction but, predictably, it fails. Instead, while Peter is busy answering a question from Freddie, John follow's Peter's lead and gently elbows him back, eyes not leaving a particularly repetitive letter about membership of the EU.*