![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FIC: More than a Best Man
Fandom: UK Politics
Title: More than a Best Man
Ship(s): Liam Fox/Adam Werritty, Jesme Baird/Liam Fox
Word Count: 578
Rating: G
Summary: Liam Fox faces life after resignation. Sequel to The Foxhunt. Can also be found at the meme.
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.
More than a Best Man
“I just wanted to let you know,” Liam says, the words like pieces of glass. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. You didn’t deserve…”
Jesme cuts him off, her voice strong and unwavering. “Don’t you start apologising to me, Liam Fox. You owe apologies to many people, but not to me. Never to me.”
“You’re my wife,” Liam says.
“Not for much longer,” Jesme counters.
The bottom of Liam’s stomach drops, and he sinks blindly into his chair. “Jesme. Are you sure?”
“After all of this, I’m damned if you aren’t going to make Adam an honest man,” Jesme says.
Oh. He blinks, runs a finger over the smooth wood of his desk, tries to collect himself. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Truth from a politician, how droll,” Jesme says, and somehow the careful lightness of her voice breaks the dam.
~//~
As the media dissects his resignation letter, ripping the flesh from another politician’s bones, Liam flees to a place of comfort. With his resignation, it’s at last open to him again – it’s only been a week, but it seems like forever since he’s been here, since he’s eased open the squeaking gate and toed off his shoes at the door.
Adam has the television on. His own face stares at him from the screen, as a talking head witters cheerfully on, barely able to contain her delight.
“Adam,” Liam says, when Adam doesn’t look at him.
“Adam,” he says again –
And then Adam is turning to him, his face contorted, his arms reaching out, and Liam is stumbling to his knees by the sofa and burying his face in Adam’s chest, and the talking head is talking on, gleeful and vicious, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter.
~//~
Much later, Liam breaks a lazy kiss at the sound of Jesme’s voice. The television, forgotten so much earlier, shows her outside their house, with reporters shoving themselves between her and the house. Liam winces.
“How is Jesme holding up?” Adam asks, tracing a shape on Liam’s ribs.
“I think we’re about to find out,” Liam says, as Jesme whirls on a particularly pushy young man.
“Fine. Ask your question,” she says, looking distinctly unimpressed.
“Mrs. Fox, what’s your reaction to your husband’s statement? Did you know he was cheating on you with Mr. Werrity?”
“It’s not cheating if your wife knows all about it,” Jesme says. “I love Adam, and I’m looking forward to dancing at their wedding.”
It’s not particularly funny – Liam wishes Jesme had kept quiet and not put herself in the firing line – but he can’t help laughing, at the look on that reporter’s face, at the way he falls back as Jesme pushes past him toward the house.
Adam isn’t laughing. Liam catches sight of his face. Ah.
“We’re getting a divorce,” he says.
Adam looks up at him then, slowly.
Liam reaches down for his hand. “Want to be more than my best man?”
It’s been a bloody awful week. He’s lost his job, his future, his supporters, and his reputation. He’s been mocked up and down the country. He’s had to swallow his pride and resign; he’s had to submit his private life to public scrutiny; he’s had to give up a whole universe of dreams.
But as Adam smiles, sunny and open and a bit wet, and Liam kisses him, the world seems to right. He has lost so much; but he has, perhaps, gained back his soul.
~//~
Title: More than a Best Man
Ship(s): Liam Fox/Adam Werritty, Jesme Baird/Liam Fox
Word Count: 578
Rating: G
Summary: Liam Fox faces life after resignation. Sequel to The Foxhunt. Can also be found at the meme.
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.
More than a Best Man
“I just wanted to let you know,” Liam says, the words like pieces of glass. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. You didn’t deserve…”
Jesme cuts him off, her voice strong and unwavering. “Don’t you start apologising to me, Liam Fox. You owe apologies to many people, but not to me. Never to me.”
“You’re my wife,” Liam says.
“Not for much longer,” Jesme counters.
The bottom of Liam’s stomach drops, and he sinks blindly into his chair. “Jesme. Are you sure?”
“After all of this, I’m damned if you aren’t going to make Adam an honest man,” Jesme says.
Oh. He blinks, runs a finger over the smooth wood of his desk, tries to collect himself. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Truth from a politician, how droll,” Jesme says, and somehow the careful lightness of her voice breaks the dam.
~//~
As the media dissects his resignation letter, ripping the flesh from another politician’s bones, Liam flees to a place of comfort. With his resignation, it’s at last open to him again – it’s only been a week, but it seems like forever since he’s been here, since he’s eased open the squeaking gate and toed off his shoes at the door.
Adam has the television on. His own face stares at him from the screen, as a talking head witters cheerfully on, barely able to contain her delight.
“Adam,” Liam says, when Adam doesn’t look at him.
“Adam,” he says again –
And then Adam is turning to him, his face contorted, his arms reaching out, and Liam is stumbling to his knees by the sofa and burying his face in Adam’s chest, and the talking head is talking on, gleeful and vicious, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter.
~//~
Much later, Liam breaks a lazy kiss at the sound of Jesme’s voice. The television, forgotten so much earlier, shows her outside their house, with reporters shoving themselves between her and the house. Liam winces.
“How is Jesme holding up?” Adam asks, tracing a shape on Liam’s ribs.
“I think we’re about to find out,” Liam says, as Jesme whirls on a particularly pushy young man.
“Fine. Ask your question,” she says, looking distinctly unimpressed.
“Mrs. Fox, what’s your reaction to your husband’s statement? Did you know he was cheating on you with Mr. Werrity?”
“It’s not cheating if your wife knows all about it,” Jesme says. “I love Adam, and I’m looking forward to dancing at their wedding.”
It’s not particularly funny – Liam wishes Jesme had kept quiet and not put herself in the firing line – but he can’t help laughing, at the look on that reporter’s face, at the way he falls back as Jesme pushes past him toward the house.
Adam isn’t laughing. Liam catches sight of his face. Ah.
“We’re getting a divorce,” he says.
Adam looks up at him then, slowly.
Liam reaches down for his hand. “Want to be more than my best man?”
It’s been a bloody awful week. He’s lost his job, his future, his supporters, and his reputation. He’s been mocked up and down the country. He’s had to swallow his pride and resign; he’s had to submit his private life to public scrutiny; he’s had to give up a whole universe of dreams.
But as Adam smiles, sunny and open and a bit wet, and Liam kisses him, the world seems to right. He has lost so much; but he has, perhaps, gained back his soul.
~//~