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zaubraTitle: Wanted: A Flatmate to Help Rule the World
Ship(s): Ed Balls/Yvette Cooper/Ed Miliband; Ed Balls/Yvette Cooper; Yvette Cooper/Ed Miliband
Word Count: 2,734
Rating: PG-13, for language
Summary: Five times Yvette Cooper kissed Ed Miliband like a friend, and one time she didn’t.
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. It is true that real-person fiction is of dubious legality - if you are one of the persons named within, or know one of them, please bear in mind that stories such as this are written for entertainment value only, in full knowledge that they are not based in truth, and that ultimately they are a labor of love; also, if you are one of these people, stop reading immediately and go run the country.
Wanted: A Flatmate to Help Rule the World
- or, five times Yvette kissed Ed like a friend, and one time she didn’t –
one
The beer bottle falls over. “And – he scores!” Ed says, raising his fist in celebration. He scrabbles around on the floor for another missile to launch. “He scores! Ed Miliband scores again! He’s been on fire today, and no mistake. That’s his third goal of the game!”
The flat door goes. “Ed, I’m home!” Yvette calls. He hears her puttering along the hallway into the kitchen. “I got that cheddar you wanted, but they were out of asparagus…Ed? You in there?”
Footsteps, and then an explosive silence. “Christ,” Yvette says, and goes back into the kitchen.
Ed glares at the beer bottles all over the floor. How did they get there? Yvette will be so angry. Some of them even seem to be moving a little.
The couch dips next to him, and Yvette is there. Ed reaches for the beer bottle she’s holding, but she shakes her head and gives him a glass of water instead. He pouts a little, but Yvette doesn’t seem to buy it.
“So,” she says, taking a swig from the beer bottle, “what happened?”
“Vivian broke up with me,” he says. He doesn’t look at her, but glares into his water instead.
Yvette sits next to him in companionable silence for a bit, drinking beer and nudging him into drinking his water. “She wasn’t right for you anyway,” she offers at last.
“How do you know?” He means to sound biting, but only manages plaintive. Damn it all.
“I just know,” she says. “Too conventional. Too bourgie.”
“But I loved her,” Ed protests, starting to tear up at the unfairness of the world.
“Mmm,” Yvette says. “Maybe. But you’ll get over it. And faster than you think.”
“You’re so mean,” Ed says.
Yvette laughs. “We’re young, Ed, it’s part of being young and stupid. Enjoy it while it lasts.” She leans over and kisses him, solid and warm and friendly, then pulls back and wrinkles her nose. “Christ, your breath is disgusting.”
Ed kicks a beer bottle, just to show her. She sighs and gets up to fetch the rubbish bin.
two
“I still think it’s not quite right that he has the same name as I do,” Ed says, sticking his head into Yvette’s room.
Yvette rolls her eyes at him and pulls her top the rest of the way on. “You don’t hold a trademark on the name Ed, Edward. And what have I told you about knocking?”
“I know there are other Ed’s, of course,” Ed says, ignoring her last comment and sitting on her bed instead. “But you’ve never gone on a date with one before.” He watches her in the mirror as she puts her makeup on, bold splash of red lipstick highlighting her gorgeous lips. “I can only conclude that it’s me you’re really after. Your subconscious has spoken, and it cries out my name.”
She snorts inelegantly and makes an obscene gesture. “In your dreams, Miliband.” A hairpin or two completes her look – she’s always been remarkably low-maintenance, for a girl – and then she’s turning toward him, looking impatient. “Hand me my handbag – you’ve nearly sat on it.”
Ed hands it over. “You’re sure you don’t want to just stay in with me?” He waggles his hips at her. “We could have fun…owww!” That handbag hurts.
Yvette looks satisfied. “Have fun with your hand, Ed,” she says. “And stay out of my room. I might bring him home.”
“Ewwww,” Ed says, with feeling.
“Just for that, I will,” Yvette tells him. “And I’ll make sure to be very loud.”
He pouts. “You find a new bloke, and you have no time for me anymore. Watch, you’ll probably fall in love with him, and marry him, and then you’ll be Mrs. Balls and you’ll move out and have three children and a career, and how will we take over the world together then?”
Yvette laughs, then leans down, tips his face up, and kisses him. “Don’t worry, Ed, I promise to let you help me rule the world someday. Maybe you can be Chancellor when I’m Prime Minister.” She picks up her handbag again and slips on her heels, long legs flashing under her short skirt, and Ed enjoys the view.
In the doorway, she stops, and looks over her shoulder. “And one thing’s for sure – take it from me, I’m never going to be Mrs. Balls.”
three
She’s kept her word, Ed thinks, surreptitiously pulling at the bowtie which is threatening to strangle him. She’s kept her word, and kept her name. Still, it’s hardly fair – he’d been mostly right, and now he’s lost his flatmate to an infuriatingly smug and self-satisfied poser who has the gall to have his name.
Ed scowls in Balls’s direction, and Balls catches his glance and gives him his best glower back. He can’t hold it for long, though – fucker is entirely too happy with himself – and bursts out laughing instead. Terrifying sound.
“Boys,” Yvette says, scoldingly, but even she can’t hold sternness for long. She’s radiant, in a blue velvet gown which makes her look like a princess – “White isn’t for me, thanks,” she’d said, “always makes me think of the cult of virginity and being sold for your hymen,” and added, when both Ed’s choked, “and besides, I look better in blue” – and she seems to be losing the battle to keep a permanent smile off of her face.
“He started it,” Ed protests. “He started it by stealing you from me.”
Balls grins unrepentantly. “Suck it, Miliband.”
“Oh, honestly,” Yvette says. “You two have to get along, you’re my Ed’s.”
“But I’m the one who gets to keep you forever,” Balls says, voice going soft and intimate. She turns her face up to him, glowing, and he kisses her, staking his claim and making his promises.
Ed rolls his eyes, but he feels his annoyance slipping away. He can’t hate Balls too much, not when he makes Yvette look like that.
She emerges a bit breathless, her hair a bit mussed. Unlike many brides, she doesn’t seem to care. “You both get to keep me forever,” she says, petting Balls’s collar back down, trying to catch her breath.
“Hey…” Balls objects.
Yvette grins wickedly up at him. “You just get to be the one who gets to sleep with me forever.”
Balls considers, hands resting lightly at her waist. “I suppose I can live with that,” he says, and his eyes are disturbingly soft.
Ed clears his throat, and they notice him again.
Balls grins at him. “Miliband, come perform your brotherly duty, or whatever it is, and dance with my wife. I need to go sort something.”
On the dance floor, Ed swings Yvette around. She looks so ridiculously happy, it makes his heart ache. “I really am happy for you, Yvette,” he says in her ear. “I can’t see what you see in him, personally,” – she tries to glare at him, but fails – “but he makes you shine, and that’s enough for me.”
She smiles at him, floating in his arms, and reaches up to steal a kiss. “Thanks, Ed,” is all she says, but it’s enough.
The song comes to an end, and Balls is at his shoulder. “This one’s mine,” he says, as Elvis begins to play over the speakers. Yvette laughs and goes to him.
Ed watches them as they sway together, two souls, blissfully content, and can’t help but smile.
take my hand
take my whole life too
for i can’t help
falling in love with you
four
“Ed’s gone to thrash Peter,” Yvette says, coming up behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders, reassuring and firm.
He can’t quite keep the quaver out of his voice. “I just…I hate seeing him so upset, Yvette. It’s not healthy, and he doesn’t deserve it. Nobody deserves this.”
Yvette squeezes his shoulders. “I know. I know. But we’re doing all we can.”
“Are we?” Ed asks, desperately. He twists in his chair to look up at her. “Are we?”
“Well, Douglas has gone to find someone to patch the wall without making a big fuss,” she says, practically. “Alistair called Sarah to give her a head’s up. Harriet’s going to try to have a word with Tony – much good it’ll do, but she’s going to try. And Ed’s disemboweling Peter.”
He shakes his head, frustrated. “I mean…”
“I know,” she says, quietly. “But what can we do?”
They stay like that in silence for a few moments, Yvette’s hands on his shoulders still anchoring him, helping him to blink back the shameful tears. He clears his throat. “Promise me something, Yvette?”
“Anything,” she says.
He looks up at her, knowing she’ll see how upset he is, trusting her not to think less of him. “When you’re Prime Minister, promise me this isn’t how it’ll be. Promise me.”
“Oh, Ed,” she says. She leans down, kisses him; he closes his eyes and clings to her, taking comfort in her strength.
Against his mouth, she whispers, “I promise.”
five
“You won! You fucking won!” Backstage, Yvette launches herself at him, straight into his arms. Ed staggers backward under the onslaught, but manages to stay upright, as she buries her face in his shoulder and hugs him fiercely.
He looks wide-eyed at Balls. “She’s a bit excited,” Balls explains, struggling to control his grin.
“Uh, I just beat your husband, Yvette, I didn’t think you’d be this happy for me,” Ed says.
“Of course I’m fucking happy for you,” she says, laughing. “Ed and I knew he wasn’t going to win, and if not him, well, we certainly weren’t going to be supporting the little fucker.”
Balls snorts, and her eyes widen. “Oh, did I say that out loud? I’m sorry, Ed, I know he’s your brother, but, well, I’m so happy for you!”
He laughs, ruffling her hair. “Thanks, Yvette. You are going to be my right-hand woman, right?”
“Technically, that’ll be Harriet,” she says, but her eyes are twinkling. “Oh, what the hell, sure.”
They stand there for a moment, still embracing. Ed’s heart is racing, his brain running too fast. He’s Leader, and Yvette is his right-hand woman, and Yvette’s man will probably help too, and they are going to rule the fucking world.
“I should leave you to your public,” Yvette says mischievously, and he looks around, and realizes that everyone in this room wants a piece of him, and he panics for a moment. Fuck, he actually has to rule the world.
Yvette sees something of this in his eyes, and laughs, pulling him down into a quick kiss. “You’ll be fantastic,” she says, and her face is fierce. “You’re going to make me so proud.”
And with that, and a final hug, she leaves him to his fate.
Ed watches her, watches as she laughs, hugging anyone and everyone, watches as she and Harriet and Diane giggle together and make some very rude comments about the questionable ability of men to run anything larger than a microwave. He isn’t left alone for a moment – people swarm around him, wanting to know his plans, congratulating him, asking him what it feels like to have broken his brother’s heart – but above it all, he can’t help focusing on her laugh, her golden hair, her whirlwind.
Balls corners him, eventually, and presses a beer into his hands. Ed doesn’t ask him where he got it, but pops the top gratefully.
“Good fight,” Balls says, raising his own beer in salute.
“Thanks,” Ed says. “Your voters put me over the top, so um, thanks?”
Balls makes a good-natured face at him. “Well, we couldn’t let David have it, now could we?”
They stand there in silence for a minute or two, drinking beer, the masses held off by the patented Balls!Glare. Ed tries to keep his eyes off Yvette, but it’s difficult. She glows; she fills the room.
Balls says abruptly, “It’s her turn next, you know.”
“Sorry?” Ed asks.
“I ran this time,” Balls says. “It’s her turn next time.”
“Well, thanks for that,” Ed laughs. “You’re already planning for ‘next time’? Thanks for your overwhelming confidence in my leadership.”
Balls grins. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back – for now. Just – don’t fuck with us. Don’t fuck with her.”
Ed doesn’t answer, but finishes his beer instead. In the corner, Douglas is dancing with Yvette, heads thrown back, laughing; she twirls out, her face open and happy, and Ed feels his heart skip a beat.
He clears his throat. “I…I don’t expect to actually ever be Prime Minister,” he admits. Balls watches him, noncommittal. “There’s just too much of a hole right now, I’m bound to fail.”
Balls doesn’t tell him not to think like that, like Yvette would, doesn’t give him any crap about believing in himself. “Then why run now?” he asks instead. “Why not wait until your darling brother fucked up, and go for it then?”
Ed shrugs. “Someone has to.” He leaves unsaid, better me than her. He leaves unsaid, because David would never have appreciated her the way she deserves, would never have given her the opportunities she deserves. He leaves unsaid, because this way I can be her Hague, and she can be my Cameron. “I honestly think I’ll be better at it than David.”
He wonders how much Balls guesses.
and one
Balls opens the door. “Don’t you dare let Yvette see that. She’ll kill you.”
Ed hides the champagne behind his back, and hurries inside. The shouting of the reporters fades away as Balls waves at them and shuts the door behind him. “Where is Yvette?”
Balls grimaces. “Maddy got overexcited, and you know how that always ends up.”
“Your wife is cleaning up puke on the night she’s going to become Prime Minister?” Ed asks disbelievingly. “And you didn’t feel like you should be the one volunteering for that particular joy?”
“Nope,” Balls says, grinning. “Besides, Yvette wouldn’t have let me. I think focusing on the kids is keeping her from getting too nervous.”
Ed snorts dismissively. “Like she has anything to worry about.” He sets the champagne on the table, but covers it with his coat when Balls sends him a pointed look. “This is coronation night.”
“Don’t let Yvette hear you say that,” Balls warns him again.
“Already gotten the riot act on that one?” Ed asks, laughing. There’s a newspaper on the table; it’s half-crumpled, but he can see Yvette’s beaming face peeking out one side.
Balls’s rueful grin is answer enough. “I was fool enough to suggest packing earlier today.”
“Ouch,” Ed says. “But surely she’s got to be ready now. I mean, you're going to have to get down to London to kiss hands soon.”
“Yvette will be ready when Yvette’s ready,” Balls says, unflappably.
They sit in silence for a few minutes. Balls has a beer for him, as always. Upstairs, they can hear Yvette with the children - growing up so fast, now. He wonders how they’ll like living in Number 10.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you,” Balls says eventually. There is no accusation in his voice, but no surprise, either.
Ed considers lying or dissembling, but there’s really no point. “I always have been.”
They watch the telly, watch the numbers roll in, and by the time Yvette comes downstairs, it’s official. Ed pops the champagne cork and sends champagne gushing all over her; she shrieks – half in fury and half in laughter – and Balls picks her up in a bridal carry and whirls her around, while she hangs on desperately and demands to be put down.
When he does, she clings to him with her eyes shut, dizzy, and Ed watches her face, watches the open happy glow of it, and feels something inside him break and something else heal, all at the same time.
She turns to him, reaches to tug him into a kiss, but he turns his head away and pulls her into a hug instead. “Ed,” she says, and hangs onto him, and he meets Balls’s eyes, and knows that Balls will never tell her.
They are her men, the men who love her, and some things are beyond words.
“My Prime Minister,” he whispers into her ear. My love.
-----------------
A/N: Feedback is much loved!
Ship(s): Ed Balls/Yvette Cooper/Ed Miliband; Ed Balls/Yvette Cooper; Yvette Cooper/Ed Miliband
Word Count: 2,734
Rating: PG-13, for language
Summary: Five times Yvette Cooper kissed Ed Miliband like a friend, and one time she didn’t.
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. It is true that real-person fiction is of dubious legality - if you are one of the persons named within, or know one of them, please bear in mind that stories such as this are written for entertainment value only, in full knowledge that they are not based in truth, and that ultimately they are a labor of love; also, if you are one of these people, stop reading immediately and go run the country.
Wanted: A Flatmate to Help Rule the World
- or, five times Yvette kissed Ed like a friend, and one time she didn’t –
one
The beer bottle falls over. “And – he scores!” Ed says, raising his fist in celebration. He scrabbles around on the floor for another missile to launch. “He scores! Ed Miliband scores again! He’s been on fire today, and no mistake. That’s his third goal of the game!”
The flat door goes. “Ed, I’m home!” Yvette calls. He hears her puttering along the hallway into the kitchen. “I got that cheddar you wanted, but they were out of asparagus…Ed? You in there?”
Footsteps, and then an explosive silence. “Christ,” Yvette says, and goes back into the kitchen.
Ed glares at the beer bottles all over the floor. How did they get there? Yvette will be so angry. Some of them even seem to be moving a little.
The couch dips next to him, and Yvette is there. Ed reaches for the beer bottle she’s holding, but she shakes her head and gives him a glass of water instead. He pouts a little, but Yvette doesn’t seem to buy it.
“So,” she says, taking a swig from the beer bottle, “what happened?”
“Vivian broke up with me,” he says. He doesn’t look at her, but glares into his water instead.
Yvette sits next to him in companionable silence for a bit, drinking beer and nudging him into drinking his water. “She wasn’t right for you anyway,” she offers at last.
“How do you know?” He means to sound biting, but only manages plaintive. Damn it all.
“I just know,” she says. “Too conventional. Too bourgie.”
“But I loved her,” Ed protests, starting to tear up at the unfairness of the world.
“Mmm,” Yvette says. “Maybe. But you’ll get over it. And faster than you think.”
“You’re so mean,” Ed says.
Yvette laughs. “We’re young, Ed, it’s part of being young and stupid. Enjoy it while it lasts.” She leans over and kisses him, solid and warm and friendly, then pulls back and wrinkles her nose. “Christ, your breath is disgusting.”
Ed kicks a beer bottle, just to show her. She sighs and gets up to fetch the rubbish bin.
two
“I still think it’s not quite right that he has the same name as I do,” Ed says, sticking his head into Yvette’s room.
Yvette rolls her eyes at him and pulls her top the rest of the way on. “You don’t hold a trademark on the name Ed, Edward. And what have I told you about knocking?”
“I know there are other Ed’s, of course,” Ed says, ignoring her last comment and sitting on her bed instead. “But you’ve never gone on a date with one before.” He watches her in the mirror as she puts her makeup on, bold splash of red lipstick highlighting her gorgeous lips. “I can only conclude that it’s me you’re really after. Your subconscious has spoken, and it cries out my name.”
She snorts inelegantly and makes an obscene gesture. “In your dreams, Miliband.” A hairpin or two completes her look – she’s always been remarkably low-maintenance, for a girl – and then she’s turning toward him, looking impatient. “Hand me my handbag – you’ve nearly sat on it.”
Ed hands it over. “You’re sure you don’t want to just stay in with me?” He waggles his hips at her. “We could have fun…owww!” That handbag hurts.
Yvette looks satisfied. “Have fun with your hand, Ed,” she says. “And stay out of my room. I might bring him home.”
“Ewwww,” Ed says, with feeling.
“Just for that, I will,” Yvette tells him. “And I’ll make sure to be very loud.”
He pouts. “You find a new bloke, and you have no time for me anymore. Watch, you’ll probably fall in love with him, and marry him, and then you’ll be Mrs. Balls and you’ll move out and have three children and a career, and how will we take over the world together then?”
Yvette laughs, then leans down, tips his face up, and kisses him. “Don’t worry, Ed, I promise to let you help me rule the world someday. Maybe you can be Chancellor when I’m Prime Minister.” She picks up her handbag again and slips on her heels, long legs flashing under her short skirt, and Ed enjoys the view.
In the doorway, she stops, and looks over her shoulder. “And one thing’s for sure – take it from me, I’m never going to be Mrs. Balls.”
three
She’s kept her word, Ed thinks, surreptitiously pulling at the bowtie which is threatening to strangle him. She’s kept her word, and kept her name. Still, it’s hardly fair – he’d been mostly right, and now he’s lost his flatmate to an infuriatingly smug and self-satisfied poser who has the gall to have his name.
Ed scowls in Balls’s direction, and Balls catches his glance and gives him his best glower back. He can’t hold it for long, though – fucker is entirely too happy with himself – and bursts out laughing instead. Terrifying sound.
“Boys,” Yvette says, scoldingly, but even she can’t hold sternness for long. She’s radiant, in a blue velvet gown which makes her look like a princess – “White isn’t for me, thanks,” she’d said, “always makes me think of the cult of virginity and being sold for your hymen,” and added, when both Ed’s choked, “and besides, I look better in blue” – and she seems to be losing the battle to keep a permanent smile off of her face.
“He started it,” Ed protests. “He started it by stealing you from me.”
Balls grins unrepentantly. “Suck it, Miliband.”
“Oh, honestly,” Yvette says. “You two have to get along, you’re my Ed’s.”
“But I’m the one who gets to keep you forever,” Balls says, voice going soft and intimate. She turns her face up to him, glowing, and he kisses her, staking his claim and making his promises.
Ed rolls his eyes, but he feels his annoyance slipping away. He can’t hate Balls too much, not when he makes Yvette look like that.
She emerges a bit breathless, her hair a bit mussed. Unlike many brides, she doesn’t seem to care. “You both get to keep me forever,” she says, petting Balls’s collar back down, trying to catch her breath.
“Hey…” Balls objects.
Yvette grins wickedly up at him. “You just get to be the one who gets to sleep with me forever.”
Balls considers, hands resting lightly at her waist. “I suppose I can live with that,” he says, and his eyes are disturbingly soft.
Ed clears his throat, and they notice him again.
Balls grins at him. “Miliband, come perform your brotherly duty, or whatever it is, and dance with my wife. I need to go sort something.”
On the dance floor, Ed swings Yvette around. She looks so ridiculously happy, it makes his heart ache. “I really am happy for you, Yvette,” he says in her ear. “I can’t see what you see in him, personally,” – she tries to glare at him, but fails – “but he makes you shine, and that’s enough for me.”
She smiles at him, floating in his arms, and reaches up to steal a kiss. “Thanks, Ed,” is all she says, but it’s enough.
The song comes to an end, and Balls is at his shoulder. “This one’s mine,” he says, as Elvis begins to play over the speakers. Yvette laughs and goes to him.
Ed watches them as they sway together, two souls, blissfully content, and can’t help but smile.
take my hand
take my whole life too
for i can’t help
falling in love with you
four
“Ed’s gone to thrash Peter,” Yvette says, coming up behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders, reassuring and firm.
He can’t quite keep the quaver out of his voice. “I just…I hate seeing him so upset, Yvette. It’s not healthy, and he doesn’t deserve it. Nobody deserves this.”
Yvette squeezes his shoulders. “I know. I know. But we’re doing all we can.”
“Are we?” Ed asks, desperately. He twists in his chair to look up at her. “Are we?”
“Well, Douglas has gone to find someone to patch the wall without making a big fuss,” she says, practically. “Alistair called Sarah to give her a head’s up. Harriet’s going to try to have a word with Tony – much good it’ll do, but she’s going to try. And Ed’s disemboweling Peter.”
He shakes his head, frustrated. “I mean…”
“I know,” she says, quietly. “But what can we do?”
They stay like that in silence for a few moments, Yvette’s hands on his shoulders still anchoring him, helping him to blink back the shameful tears. He clears his throat. “Promise me something, Yvette?”
“Anything,” she says.
He looks up at her, knowing she’ll see how upset he is, trusting her not to think less of him. “When you’re Prime Minister, promise me this isn’t how it’ll be. Promise me.”
“Oh, Ed,” she says. She leans down, kisses him; he closes his eyes and clings to her, taking comfort in her strength.
Against his mouth, she whispers, “I promise.”
five
“You won! You fucking won!” Backstage, Yvette launches herself at him, straight into his arms. Ed staggers backward under the onslaught, but manages to stay upright, as she buries her face in his shoulder and hugs him fiercely.
He looks wide-eyed at Balls. “She’s a bit excited,” Balls explains, struggling to control his grin.
“Uh, I just beat your husband, Yvette, I didn’t think you’d be this happy for me,” Ed says.
“Of course I’m fucking happy for you,” she says, laughing. “Ed and I knew he wasn’t going to win, and if not him, well, we certainly weren’t going to be supporting the little fucker.”
Balls snorts, and her eyes widen. “Oh, did I say that out loud? I’m sorry, Ed, I know he’s your brother, but, well, I’m so happy for you!”
He laughs, ruffling her hair. “Thanks, Yvette. You are going to be my right-hand woman, right?”
“Technically, that’ll be Harriet,” she says, but her eyes are twinkling. “Oh, what the hell, sure.”
They stand there for a moment, still embracing. Ed’s heart is racing, his brain running too fast. He’s Leader, and Yvette is his right-hand woman, and Yvette’s man will probably help too, and they are going to rule the fucking world.
“I should leave you to your public,” Yvette says mischievously, and he looks around, and realizes that everyone in this room wants a piece of him, and he panics for a moment. Fuck, he actually has to rule the world.
Yvette sees something of this in his eyes, and laughs, pulling him down into a quick kiss. “You’ll be fantastic,” she says, and her face is fierce. “You’re going to make me so proud.”
And with that, and a final hug, she leaves him to his fate.
Ed watches her, watches as she laughs, hugging anyone and everyone, watches as she and Harriet and Diane giggle together and make some very rude comments about the questionable ability of men to run anything larger than a microwave. He isn’t left alone for a moment – people swarm around him, wanting to know his plans, congratulating him, asking him what it feels like to have broken his brother’s heart – but above it all, he can’t help focusing on her laugh, her golden hair, her whirlwind.
Balls corners him, eventually, and presses a beer into his hands. Ed doesn’t ask him where he got it, but pops the top gratefully.
“Good fight,” Balls says, raising his own beer in salute.
“Thanks,” Ed says. “Your voters put me over the top, so um, thanks?”
Balls makes a good-natured face at him. “Well, we couldn’t let David have it, now could we?”
They stand there in silence for a minute or two, drinking beer, the masses held off by the patented Balls!Glare. Ed tries to keep his eyes off Yvette, but it’s difficult. She glows; she fills the room.
Balls says abruptly, “It’s her turn next, you know.”
“Sorry?” Ed asks.
“I ran this time,” Balls says. “It’s her turn next time.”
“Well, thanks for that,” Ed laughs. “You’re already planning for ‘next time’? Thanks for your overwhelming confidence in my leadership.”
Balls grins. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back – for now. Just – don’t fuck with us. Don’t fuck with her.”
Ed doesn’t answer, but finishes his beer instead. In the corner, Douglas is dancing with Yvette, heads thrown back, laughing; she twirls out, her face open and happy, and Ed feels his heart skip a beat.
He clears his throat. “I…I don’t expect to actually ever be Prime Minister,” he admits. Balls watches him, noncommittal. “There’s just too much of a hole right now, I’m bound to fail.”
Balls doesn’t tell him not to think like that, like Yvette would, doesn’t give him any crap about believing in himself. “Then why run now?” he asks instead. “Why not wait until your darling brother fucked up, and go for it then?”
Ed shrugs. “Someone has to.” He leaves unsaid, better me than her. He leaves unsaid, because David would never have appreciated her the way she deserves, would never have given her the opportunities she deserves. He leaves unsaid, because this way I can be her Hague, and she can be my Cameron. “I honestly think I’ll be better at it than David.”
He wonders how much Balls guesses.
and one
Balls opens the door. “Don’t you dare let Yvette see that. She’ll kill you.”
Ed hides the champagne behind his back, and hurries inside. The shouting of the reporters fades away as Balls waves at them and shuts the door behind him. “Where is Yvette?”
Balls grimaces. “Maddy got overexcited, and you know how that always ends up.”
“Your wife is cleaning up puke on the night she’s going to become Prime Minister?” Ed asks disbelievingly. “And you didn’t feel like you should be the one volunteering for that particular joy?”
“Nope,” Balls says, grinning. “Besides, Yvette wouldn’t have let me. I think focusing on the kids is keeping her from getting too nervous.”
Ed snorts dismissively. “Like she has anything to worry about.” He sets the champagne on the table, but covers it with his coat when Balls sends him a pointed look. “This is coronation night.”
“Don’t let Yvette hear you say that,” Balls warns him again.
“Already gotten the riot act on that one?” Ed asks, laughing. There’s a newspaper on the table; it’s half-crumpled, but he can see Yvette’s beaming face peeking out one side.
Balls’s rueful grin is answer enough. “I was fool enough to suggest packing earlier today.”
“Ouch,” Ed says. “But surely she’s got to be ready now. I mean, you're going to have to get down to London to kiss hands soon.”
“Yvette will be ready when Yvette’s ready,” Balls says, unflappably.
They sit in silence for a few minutes. Balls has a beer for him, as always. Upstairs, they can hear Yvette with the children - growing up so fast, now. He wonders how they’ll like living in Number 10.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you,” Balls says eventually. There is no accusation in his voice, but no surprise, either.
Ed considers lying or dissembling, but there’s really no point. “I always have been.”
They watch the telly, watch the numbers roll in, and by the time Yvette comes downstairs, it’s official. Ed pops the champagne cork and sends champagne gushing all over her; she shrieks – half in fury and half in laughter – and Balls picks her up in a bridal carry and whirls her around, while she hangs on desperately and demands to be put down.
When he does, she clings to him with her eyes shut, dizzy, and Ed watches her face, watches the open happy glow of it, and feels something inside him break and something else heal, all at the same time.
She turns to him, reaches to tug him into a kiss, but he turns his head away and pulls her into a hug instead. “Ed,” she says, and hangs onto him, and he meets Balls’s eyes, and knows that Balls will never tell her.
They are her men, the men who love her, and some things are beyond words.
“My Prime Minister,” he whispers into her ear. My love.
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A/N: Feedback is much loved!
