"Today is born the seventh one
Born of woman the seventh son
And he in turn of a seventh son
He has the power to heal
He has the gift of the second sight
He is the chosen one
So it shall be written
So it shall be done"
You might've guessed it: We are on the 7th prompt post. Hurray!
And although seven is "the most magical number there is", the rules for
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Cue jealously and madness, and the Milibros getting found out and a sexy foursome ending?
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Crazy foursome was just a suggestion anyway, and something that I know I could never write XDD
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It's partially written, and will get posted, but I'm going on a mini-break tomorrow (oooh, get me). Expect fic for this some time around next weekend.
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It’s just his luck, Andy thinks, that he should end up in a room next to David Miliband’s. He has people in and out from the moment they get back to the hotel, discussing policy and soundbites and sodding airbrushing just loud enough to stop him getting any kip ( ... )
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This is awesome. Poor Andy, he should know better than think his own Ed would sleep with DMil rather than him.
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“Are you alright, mate? You’ve got a face longer than a list of Gove’s cock ups.”
All he hears in that sentence is the Education Secretary and genitalia and his stomach squirms, because maybe it’s not even just him and David. It makes him feel pathetic, that, because he’s thinking about it like some lovesick school girl, his mind caught up on ‘but I thought that what we had was specialThe day passes in a blur - the speeches themselves, and the packing, and then piling onto a train, destined for London. Ed sits next to him, uninvited, and Andy knows he’s acting like a pillock but his eyes are burning and he doesn’t want to speak to him any more than is necessary so he buries his head in a book, and pretends that he's busy ( ... )
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*(im)patiently waiting for next part*
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