FIC: The Best of Friends
Nov. 13th, 2011 02:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zaubraInspired by all the lovely Nutvies at the meme. When did I become such a Nutvies shipper?! Oh, boys. <3 (My first Nutvies fic. Eeee!)
Fandoms: UK Politics
Title: The Best of Friends
Ship(s): Philip Davies/David Nuttall
Word Count: 655
Rating: PG
Summary: Philip has to convince David to let him participate in one of Tom Watson's bright ideas. Except he doesn't, because David doesn't have a right to forbid it, because they're just friends, that's all. The best of friends. But David is frowning, and perhaps friends don't like seeing friends frown... Can also be found here 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.
The Best of Friends
“What?” David asks, slowly. There’s a frown between his eyebrows, and that worries Philip, not because he has feelings and wants David to always be happy, any more than you want your friends to always be happy. No. It worries Philip only because the frown has caused David to move away from him on the sofa, and that is only a problem because it’s November and he’s cold. Not for any other reason.
“It was Watson’s idea,” Philip says, which is true, although perhaps he didn’t need to say it quite so hurriedly, but the frown is still there, and Philip thinks he ate something bad for lunch, because there’s a funny feeling in his stomach. Probably the aubergine & fruit couscous timbale. You try to keep an eye on your health, and they assault your stomach with crimes against humanity.
“But you think it’s a good one,” David says, and the frown has moved to his mouth. Philip resists the urge to lean forward and kiss it away, because that would be mushy, and they don’t do mushy. (Also David might push him away, at the moment, and that would be upsetting, because Philip might fall off the sofa.) He gingerly puts his hand on top of David’s instead, because David’s hand is shaking, and a friend would help to stop it.
He clears his throat, and tries to sound reasonable. Whatever their friendship has become – a closer friendship, that is all – it doesn’t mean it’s become something that gives David the right to look betrayed, or something that should make him feel like a betrayer. “I’m on the Committee. We have to get answers out of Murdoch somehow.”
David is quiet, considering the matter. It’s one of the things Philip likes about him, as a friend; David can sit very still and think, and after a few minutes he’ll be ready to stand up in the Commons and give an oration so masterful and eloquent that people will be leaving the Chamber because they know that they won’t be able to answer it. Which is always excellent, because the fewer people in the Chamber, the less impeded Philip’s view is of David, and the smaller the chance that he’ll be distracted from David’s speech by the sight of Dennis Skinner scowling at them from across the floor. After all, friendship demands that the speeches of one’s friends should be given absolute attention, which is difficult when Skinner is involved.
David’s hand turns over in his grasp, and it isn’t shaking any more, but winding its fingers around Philip’s own. Philip would let go, because it’s almost too much like holding hands, but it’s not really, because friends sometimes hold hands, especially when they’re drunk, although Philip isn’t drunk, even if his head feels a bit like it. Besides, letting go might make David frown again, and that wouldn’t be very friendly.
“All right,” David says, and Philip opens his mouth to protest, because David shouldn’t be saying that like he has the right to decide what Philip does, because they don’t have that kind of relationship, but then David is going on, and Philip seems to have forgotten words. “As long as I get to come and watch.”
Philip thinks about this. “I suppose,” he says, slowly, “that we’ll need an impartial observer to judge the effects on Murdoch and take notes. We wouldn’t want him to weasel out in a moment of…distraction.”
“Exactly,” David says, and proceeds to show Philip just how much he agrees, which is only natural.
If it feels at moments almost like David is staking a claim - almost like David is reminding him of something, before this assignation with Murdoch and Watson and Watson’s belt and perhaps a bit more - almost like David is saying something, without words – well, that would just be silly.
Because they are friends. Good friends. The best of friends.
And that is all.
~//~
Fandoms: UK Politics
Title: The Best of Friends
Ship(s): Philip Davies/David Nuttall
Word Count: 655
Rating: PG
Summary: Philip has to convince David to let him participate in one of Tom Watson's bright ideas. Except he doesn't, because David doesn't have a right to forbid it, because they're just friends, that's all. The best of friends. But David is frowning, and perhaps friends don't like seeing friends frown... Can also be found here 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.
The Best of Friends
“What?” David asks, slowly. There’s a frown between his eyebrows, and that worries Philip, not because he has feelings and wants David to always be happy, any more than you want your friends to always be happy. No. It worries Philip only because the frown has caused David to move away from him on the sofa, and that is only a problem because it’s November and he’s cold. Not for any other reason.
“It was Watson’s idea,” Philip says, which is true, although perhaps he didn’t need to say it quite so hurriedly, but the frown is still there, and Philip thinks he ate something bad for lunch, because there’s a funny feeling in his stomach. Probably the aubergine & fruit couscous timbale. You try to keep an eye on your health, and they assault your stomach with crimes against humanity.
“But you think it’s a good one,” David says, and the frown has moved to his mouth. Philip resists the urge to lean forward and kiss it away, because that would be mushy, and they don’t do mushy. (Also David might push him away, at the moment, and that would be upsetting, because Philip might fall off the sofa.) He gingerly puts his hand on top of David’s instead, because David’s hand is shaking, and a friend would help to stop it.
He clears his throat, and tries to sound reasonable. Whatever their friendship has become – a closer friendship, that is all – it doesn’t mean it’s become something that gives David the right to look betrayed, or something that should make him feel like a betrayer. “I’m on the Committee. We have to get answers out of Murdoch somehow.”
David is quiet, considering the matter. It’s one of the things Philip likes about him, as a friend; David can sit very still and think, and after a few minutes he’ll be ready to stand up in the Commons and give an oration so masterful and eloquent that people will be leaving the Chamber because they know that they won’t be able to answer it. Which is always excellent, because the fewer people in the Chamber, the less impeded Philip’s view is of David, and the smaller the chance that he’ll be distracted from David’s speech by the sight of Dennis Skinner scowling at them from across the floor. After all, friendship demands that the speeches of one’s friends should be given absolute attention, which is difficult when Skinner is involved.
David’s hand turns over in his grasp, and it isn’t shaking any more, but winding its fingers around Philip’s own. Philip would let go, because it’s almost too much like holding hands, but it’s not really, because friends sometimes hold hands, especially when they’re drunk, although Philip isn’t drunk, even if his head feels a bit like it. Besides, letting go might make David frown again, and that wouldn’t be very friendly.
“All right,” David says, and Philip opens his mouth to protest, because David shouldn’t be saying that like he has the right to decide what Philip does, because they don’t have that kind of relationship, but then David is going on, and Philip seems to have forgotten words. “As long as I get to come and watch.”
Philip thinks about this. “I suppose,” he says, slowly, “that we’ll need an impartial observer to judge the effects on Murdoch and take notes. We wouldn’t want him to weasel out in a moment of…distraction.”
“Exactly,” David says, and proceeds to show Philip just how much he agrees, which is only natural.
If it feels at moments almost like David is staking a claim - almost like David is reminding him of something, before this assignation with Murdoch and Watson and Watson’s belt and perhaps a bit more - almost like David is saying something, without words – well, that would just be silly.
Because they are friends. Good friends. The best of friends.
And that is all.
~//~
