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FIC: Over the Washing-Up
Fandom: UK Politics
Title: Over the Washing-Up
Ship(s): David Cameron/Nick Clegg, David Cameron/Samantha Cameron, Nick Clegg/Miriam González Durántez
Word Count: 385
Rating: G
Summary: A bit of pointless Clameron fluff. ;) I cannot resist taking up "errant comment" challenges. For this errant comment.
Disclaimer: This is a creative work 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.
Over the Washing-Up
“When do you think he’ll realise?” Sam asks Miriam.
Miriam considers, setting her head to one side, like a bird. “I do not know. Nick can be…oblivious.”
They steal another glance around the corner, to where their husbands are laughing over the washing-up. Nick’s washing, with David drying and putting the dishes away. Sam watches fondly as her husband moves around the kitchen, keeping up a humorous patter while taking every chance to touch Nick – a hand on the elbow here, a brush of fingers there. They’ve obviously each had a bit to drink with dinner.
“How long did it take Nick to realise you were interested in him?” Sam asks, in an undertone.
“Not long,” Miriam says, with a toss of her hair. Then she grins. “Mostly because I kissed him.”
Sam grins back. “Unfortunately, that’s not an option for Dave.”
“Too bad,” Miriam says, her eyebrows going up. “I would like to watch that.”
They look around the corner again, biting their lips to keep from giggling like schoolgirls.
“It’s been a month,” Sam complains in a hushed whisper. “How much longer?”
And then things suddenly start happening, and Miriam says, “Perhaps not much,” in an almost giddy tone.
Nick half turns to hand David a plate just as David steps up behind him, and David ends up right in the middle of Nick’s personal space.
The conspirators watch, breaths held, as David looks at Nick and Nick looks at David.
And then David is abruptly reaching out and pulling Nick into a kiss, and Nick is jumping, startled, before setting the plate down gingerly, blindly, behind him, and putting his arms around David.
Sam flails. There is no other word for it. She’s hopping up and down, her hands windmilling. “This is lovely!” she says – or chortles, rather. “Lovely!”
Miriam’s laughing, her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Even when alcohol unwinds, it is always David who is courting Nick.” She pokes Sam. “And you said David could not do as I did and just kiss Nick.”
“I was wrong,” Sam says, still grinning.
They peek around the corner again.
“I think,” Miriam says in her ear, “that we will have to finish the washing-up later.”
“Miriam, I do think you’re right,” Sam says.
They sneak another look.
“Much later,” Sam says.
~//~
Title: Over the Washing-Up
Ship(s): David Cameron/Nick Clegg, David Cameron/Samantha Cameron, Nick Clegg/Miriam González Durántez
Word Count: 385
Rating: G
Summary: A bit of pointless Clameron fluff. ;) I cannot resist taking up "errant comment" challenges. For this errant comment.
Disclaimer: This is a creative work 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.
Over the Washing-Up
“When do you think he’ll realise?” Sam asks Miriam.
Miriam considers, setting her head to one side, like a bird. “I do not know. Nick can be…oblivious.”
They steal another glance around the corner, to where their husbands are laughing over the washing-up. Nick’s washing, with David drying and putting the dishes away. Sam watches fondly as her husband moves around the kitchen, keeping up a humorous patter while taking every chance to touch Nick – a hand on the elbow here, a brush of fingers there. They’ve obviously each had a bit to drink with dinner.
“How long did it take Nick to realise you were interested in him?” Sam asks, in an undertone.
“Not long,” Miriam says, with a toss of her hair. Then she grins. “Mostly because I kissed him.”
Sam grins back. “Unfortunately, that’s not an option for Dave.”
“Too bad,” Miriam says, her eyebrows going up. “I would like to watch that.”
They look around the corner again, biting their lips to keep from giggling like schoolgirls.
“It’s been a month,” Sam complains in a hushed whisper. “How much longer?”
And then things suddenly start happening, and Miriam says, “Perhaps not much,” in an almost giddy tone.
Nick half turns to hand David a plate just as David steps up behind him, and David ends up right in the middle of Nick’s personal space.
The conspirators watch, breaths held, as David looks at Nick and Nick looks at David.
And then David is abruptly reaching out and pulling Nick into a kiss, and Nick is jumping, startled, before setting the plate down gingerly, blindly, behind him, and putting his arms around David.
Sam flails. There is no other word for it. She’s hopping up and down, her hands windmilling. “This is lovely!” she says – or chortles, rather. “Lovely!”
Miriam’s laughing, her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Even when alcohol unwinds, it is always David who is courting Nick.” She pokes Sam. “And you said David could not do as I did and just kiss Nick.”
“I was wrong,” Sam says, still grinning.
They peek around the corner again.
“I think,” Miriam says in her ear, “that we will have to finish the washing-up later.”
“Miriam, I do think you’re right,” Sam says.
They sneak another look.
“Much later,” Sam says.
~//~