FIC: The Forty-Sixth Plan
May. 12th, 2011 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zaubraTitle: The Forty-Sixth Plan
Ship(s): George Osborne/David Cameron
Word Count: 1,062
Rating: PG, for implied sexual situations and profanity
Summary: For a prompt on the meme, which asked for anything containing the phrase, "I know exactly what you're doing. Put your pants on and go home."
Warning: Infidelity.
Disclaimer: All works posted on this journal are creative works of fiction, composed of fictional characters inspired by the public personas of living people. No injury or disrespect is intended to the persons named. If you've found this by googling yourself or someone you know, stop playing on the Internet and go run the country.
The Forty-Sixth Plan
Over the years, George Osborne has thought about making a move on David Cameron at least five hundred times. He’s made a plan to do so at least two hundred times. He’s actually started one of those plans around forty-five times. He’s succeeded in the plan – exactly zero times.
It’s not that he’s not interested enough. Oh, George is interested enough. But his instinct for self-preservation always kicks in at the vital moment, preventing him from taking that fatal leap which would make it impossible for David to wilfully ignore his advances any longer.
So there’s a long history behind the fact that he is currently standing stark naked in David’s bedroom in Eleven Downing Street, waiting for David to come up the stairs and find him.
This way, after all, George won’t be able to back out. Once David comes through that door and sees George standing here waiting for him, on display in all his naked glory, David will have to say yes or no. He won’t be able to laugh it off, or pretend George is too drunk to know what he’s saying, or deliberately misunderstand, or use any of the other redirecting mechanisms which he’s used approximately twenty times so far. (The other approximately twenty-five times, George pressed the abort button before David even noticed anything was amiss.)
George hears the door go, and swallows. David is whistling.
‘George?’ David’s in the kitchen now. ‘George, where are you? I thought we were going to have lunch. Don’t tell me you’ve buggered off and I’m talking to myself. I’m no Tony Blair.’
George wets his lips and calls, ‘I’m in here.’
‘Why are you in my bedroo…’ David laughs, trailing off as he comes through the doorway.
They look at each other for a long, long minute.
David’s eyes are comically wide, his mouth hanging open. George supposes he does look ridiculous, naked in the middle of the floor, his clothes folded neatly on the bed.
George breaks first. ‘I…I was just…’ he says lamely. He has no idea how he could possibly finish that sentence.
‘I know exactly what you’re doing,’ David says, closing his eyes and letting his head thunk back against the doorframe. ‘Put your pants on and go home.’
George is within an instant of doing it, of picking his clothes off the bed, putting them on, and fleeing with his metaphorical tail between his legs. (Despite what Ed Balls might think, he is not actually the Devil.)
But he takes a last look at David, and he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s finally got up the courage to make a move, and he’s damned if he’s going to surrender without a fight.
He gets to David just as David’s eyes open again, going wide at the sight of a very naked George striding toward him. ‘George…’ David begins.
‘Give me one chance,’ George says, and reaches a hand to tip David’s chin up. ‘You can kick me out after if you like. But give me a chance.’
David’s eyes soften, just a little, and George knows he has him. David always is too kind for his own good, too reluctant to hurt a friend. For fuck’s sake, George had had to argue with him for hours before he’d man up and fight a proper No campaign against Clegg, and David’s only worked with the man for a year.
But now that loyalty is working to his advantage. George leans in, running his thumb along David’s chin gently, like he might pet a frightened cat. He wants David to know that he has the chance to back out.
But David doesn’t back out. His eyes flutter shut, eyelashes drifting down to rest on rosy cheeks, offering himself up in trust.
George kisses him.
It’s chaste at first – every first kiss George has ever dreamed of, rolled up into one. He can feel the shyness in David’s kiss, and he takes it slowly, silently pouring reassurance and affection into each second. Finally, he risks lowering a hand, setting it carefully on David’s hip, drawing David a little closer.
And David moans, moans against his mouth, and draws back, startled and wild-eyed. George stares at him, willing his nether regions to be less interested, drinking in the rumpled hair, the kiss-swollen lips, the flushed cheeks.
‘I can’t,’ David says softly, but he’s not looking away, and he’s not pulling back.
‘I think you can,’ George says, because he’s already physically naked here, he might as well go all in.
David looks away then. ‘It’s not that I don’t want…it’s not that I haven’t always wanted…but I’m Prime Minister, and I’m married…’
George hasn’t heard the last part of that, not really. ‘You’ve always wanted?’ he says, over the roaring in his ears.
David looks at him again, and the shyness has gone from his lips to his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he says, simply.
‘And you think I’m going to let you get away now?’ George asks. His voice has gone rough, and David’s eyes widen helplessly.
Perhaps George should feel badly about this. Perhaps he should remember their children; perhaps he should remember Frances, who’s never done anything to deserve being cheated on; perhaps he should remember Sam, whom David adores. Perhaps he should walk away now; he knows David would let him, and that David wouldn’t follow.
But George is too selfish for that. Is it selfish, to choose what you want in life, and to go after it? He chose David a long time ago, and this moment is simply a continuation of that. His decision has been made for years.
He nudges a leg between David’s thighs, and watches David’s head fall back. ‘Tell me yes,’ he says quietly, and puts one of David’s hands on his own bare hip. ‘Tell me yes, David.’
There’s a long moment, when the die is in the air but hasn’t fallen yet. George swallows, and shivers in the cold air, and waits.
And then David’s head is coming up, and there’s a spark in his eyes, the spark George fell in love with, all those years ago. ‘Yes,’ he says.
George is kissing him before the moment is over, kissing him for real, and this time David is kissing back, opening his mouth and letting George in.
The forty-sixth plan was the charm.
***
A/N: Comments are very much loved (and anon commenting is on), but never required. <33
Ship(s): George Osborne/David Cameron
Word Count: 1,062
Rating: PG, for implied sexual situations and profanity
Summary: For a prompt on the meme, which asked for anything containing the phrase, "I know exactly what you're doing. Put your pants on and go home."
Warning: Infidelity.
Disclaimer: All works posted on this journal are creative works of fiction, composed of fictional characters inspired by the public personas of living people. No injury or disrespect is intended to the persons named. If you've found this by googling yourself or someone you know, stop playing on the Internet and go run the country.
The Forty-Sixth Plan
Over the years, George Osborne has thought about making a move on David Cameron at least five hundred times. He’s made a plan to do so at least two hundred times. He’s actually started one of those plans around forty-five times. He’s succeeded in the plan – exactly zero times.
It’s not that he’s not interested enough. Oh, George is interested enough. But his instinct for self-preservation always kicks in at the vital moment, preventing him from taking that fatal leap which would make it impossible for David to wilfully ignore his advances any longer.
So there’s a long history behind the fact that he is currently standing stark naked in David’s bedroom in Eleven Downing Street, waiting for David to come up the stairs and find him.
This way, after all, George won’t be able to back out. Once David comes through that door and sees George standing here waiting for him, on display in all his naked glory, David will have to say yes or no. He won’t be able to laugh it off, or pretend George is too drunk to know what he’s saying, or deliberately misunderstand, or use any of the other redirecting mechanisms which he’s used approximately twenty times so far. (The other approximately twenty-five times, George pressed the abort button before David even noticed anything was amiss.)
George hears the door go, and swallows. David is whistling.
‘George?’ David’s in the kitchen now. ‘George, where are you? I thought we were going to have lunch. Don’t tell me you’ve buggered off and I’m talking to myself. I’m no Tony Blair.’
George wets his lips and calls, ‘I’m in here.’
‘Why are you in my bedroo…’ David laughs, trailing off as he comes through the doorway.
They look at each other for a long, long minute.
David’s eyes are comically wide, his mouth hanging open. George supposes he does look ridiculous, naked in the middle of the floor, his clothes folded neatly on the bed.
George breaks first. ‘I…I was just…’ he says lamely. He has no idea how he could possibly finish that sentence.
‘I know exactly what you’re doing,’ David says, closing his eyes and letting his head thunk back against the doorframe. ‘Put your pants on and go home.’
George is within an instant of doing it, of picking his clothes off the bed, putting them on, and fleeing with his metaphorical tail between his legs. (Despite what Ed Balls might think, he is not actually the Devil.)
But he takes a last look at David, and he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s finally got up the courage to make a move, and he’s damned if he’s going to surrender without a fight.
He gets to David just as David’s eyes open again, going wide at the sight of a very naked George striding toward him. ‘George…’ David begins.
‘Give me one chance,’ George says, and reaches a hand to tip David’s chin up. ‘You can kick me out after if you like. But give me a chance.’
David’s eyes soften, just a little, and George knows he has him. David always is too kind for his own good, too reluctant to hurt a friend. For fuck’s sake, George had had to argue with him for hours before he’d man up and fight a proper No campaign against Clegg, and David’s only worked with the man for a year.
But now that loyalty is working to his advantage. George leans in, running his thumb along David’s chin gently, like he might pet a frightened cat. He wants David to know that he has the chance to back out.
But David doesn’t back out. His eyes flutter shut, eyelashes drifting down to rest on rosy cheeks, offering himself up in trust.
George kisses him.
It’s chaste at first – every first kiss George has ever dreamed of, rolled up into one. He can feel the shyness in David’s kiss, and he takes it slowly, silently pouring reassurance and affection into each second. Finally, he risks lowering a hand, setting it carefully on David’s hip, drawing David a little closer.
And David moans, moans against his mouth, and draws back, startled and wild-eyed. George stares at him, willing his nether regions to be less interested, drinking in the rumpled hair, the kiss-swollen lips, the flushed cheeks.
‘I can’t,’ David says softly, but he’s not looking away, and he’s not pulling back.
‘I think you can,’ George says, because he’s already physically naked here, he might as well go all in.
David looks away then. ‘It’s not that I don’t want…it’s not that I haven’t always wanted…but I’m Prime Minister, and I’m married…’
George hasn’t heard the last part of that, not really. ‘You’ve always wanted?’ he says, over the roaring in his ears.
David looks at him again, and the shyness has gone from his lips to his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he says, simply.
‘And you think I’m going to let you get away now?’ George asks. His voice has gone rough, and David’s eyes widen helplessly.
Perhaps George should feel badly about this. Perhaps he should remember their children; perhaps he should remember Frances, who’s never done anything to deserve being cheated on; perhaps he should remember Sam, whom David adores. Perhaps he should walk away now; he knows David would let him, and that David wouldn’t follow.
But George is too selfish for that. Is it selfish, to choose what you want in life, and to go after it? He chose David a long time ago, and this moment is simply a continuation of that. His decision has been made for years.
He nudges a leg between David’s thighs, and watches David’s head fall back. ‘Tell me yes,’ he says quietly, and puts one of David’s hands on his own bare hip. ‘Tell me yes, David.’
There’s a long moment, when the die is in the air but hasn’t fallen yet. George swallows, and shivers in the cold air, and waits.
And then David’s head is coming up, and there’s a spark in his eyes, the spark George fell in love with, all those years ago. ‘Yes,’ he says.
George is kissing him before the moment is over, kissing him for real, and this time David is kissing back, opening his mouth and letting George in.
The forty-sixth plan was the charm.
***
A/N: Comments are very much loved (and anon commenting is on), but never required. <33
