8 - upwards to infinity
Welcome to our eighth prompt post.
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real ( Read more... )
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real ( Read more... )
HIV fic
Any or indeed no pairing, just friends, but not Clameron. No offense to Clameron - I love it as much as the next anon - but I don't want it in this situation
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Andy hates being serious, especially with Ed, because it’s Ed and they should be spending their time playing football and drinking games and watching films, not having to go through this.
It goes without saying that if Ed knew Andy was perfecting this geostationary, arms-length orbit, Ed’d probably punch his lights out. It’s not Andy’s place to decide stuff like that. Andy’s done enough to fuck up the future, Ed doesn’t need him to ( ... )
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“We can’t just keep this secret, Andy,” Ed crouches beside Andy, hunched over the toilet, his palm on his back, fingers spread. Andy’s muscles writhe under his touch as his whole body wretches.
“Don’t.” Andy coughs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Ed strokes his back, miserably. “Jus’ shu’p.” He heaves again.
Andy’s shied away from every conversation Ed’s tried to have about this since being put on medication. It’s made him cynical and angry, and Ed knows that’s the medication’s fault (anti-depressants that make people more depressed? What the fuck?), but however much you prepare yourself for ‘mood swings’, to have Andy turn into a vindictive little shit with no libido is still hard to deal with.
“Andy, this is fucking insane. We can’t just-”
“There’s no ‘we’ about it. I’m ( ... )
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Also this bit:
and the animal rights lobby (they stop medical testing - Ed doesn’t like animal cruelty any more than the next person, but in a Sophie’s choice between a mouse and Andy, there’s no competition.
really hit hard since EB's dad canonically(?) is very anti-testing and managed to get a large lot of policy rebuked.
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Ed’s frustration always ends on the shoulders of whoever he’s talking to, so Ed Miliband knows if he does turn up and something is wrong (all sorts of possibilities go through his head, all soap opera style, secret lovers, second families, espionage), he’ll take the heat of Ed’s wrath ( ... )
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Ed chokes on his tea, surprised at Andy’s sudden announcement.
“I didn’t come here to sack you, Andy.” Miliband says, incredulous, still not raising his voice or losing his temper.
“I know. I’m not resigning because of you. I’m resigning because I’m ill.” Andy indicates the sick bowl in his lap, pulling down his t-shirt to show the blotchy rashes on his chest.
“Ill?”
“I’m on anti-retro virals.”
“What?”
“He’s got HIV.” Ed supplies, aggressively, to their surprised boss.
“AIDS? Andy, you’ve got AIDS? How long?”
“Have I known or have I got?”
“Have you known-”
Ed mutters ‘fucking typical’ under his breath at that. Typical that all Miliband wants to know is how long Andy’s been lying. Ed doesn’t and never will forgive himself that that was the first question he asked, too. It isn’t fair. No one ever asks Andy how he’s doing, just how long he’s known or how long he’s got. He hates the concept of time more than ever ( ... )
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*stocks up on tissues and waits for update*
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*cries*
*begs for more*
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