Groundhog Day.
Title: Groundhog Day
Pairing: Clameron
Rating: R
Synopsis: In which the Gods of Fandom decide that Nick should live the same day over and over.
Authors note: Written for a meme prompt.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't really happen and is unlikely to.
Awful was far too feeble a word to describe a day like today. Disastrous was nearer the mark.
Nick sighed and slid into bed next to Miriam. Whatever the outcome was, he would deal with it tomorrow.
*****
Pulling himself from his bed, Nick crept quietly to the window. He gingerly tugged at the net curtain, not wanting anyone outside the house to see him looking, and peered through the hazy fabric to get a view of the street. Odd. He had expected to see reporters gathered en masse on the road outside, waiting for him to come out so they could pounce on him and ask questions.
'Mr Clegg, is the coalition over?'
'Deputy Prime Minister, is it true that your party has asked you to resign?'
But the street below was empty, not one reporter or TV news camera in sight. Frowning, Nick moved away from the window and went to get dressed.
It was not until he reached the kitchen that he realised that Miriam and the children where no where to be found.
“Miriam? Boys?” he called.
No answer. Nick scratched his head, trying to think if Miriam had told him of any plans to leave early today. Unable to recall, he moved to the front door to collect the newspapers, dreading the front page. Looking right and then left, he bent down, snatched the pile from the doorstep and hurried back inside. He could not see any reporters, but that did not mean they weren't there. Quickly closing the door, he trotted back to the kitchen and threw the papers down on the counter, putting the kettle on and making himself a cup of tea before settling down to read.
Odd again.
No blaring headlines about the ruined coalition; no huge photograph of himself, or David, or both of them; no jarring commentary on page six about how the coalition was doomed to failure from the very start. It was as if yesterday never happened.
His phone buzzed, signalling the arrival of a text message, and he pulled it from his pocket to read. It was from Miriam.
Hi honey,
We'll be back around lunch time.
The boys say hello.
See you when you get home.
“But they got home yesterday,” Nick mumbled to himself, feeling increasingly puzzled.
Stalking reporters or not, there was nothing he could do but to go to Parliament and face the music.
***
Nick entered Parliament feeling confounded. There were no crowds of reporters outside, none on the green across the road, either. No one rushed to meet him as he entered, and the few good morning's he received were simple and amiable; no one seemed angry or upset. He made his way to his office and sat down at the desk, examining more newspapers and realising that, for some unfathomable reason, they contained yesterdays headlines.
A short knock pulled his attention toward the door. David was standing in the doorway grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Good morning,” he said, stepping inside and moving toward Nick's desk. “Catching up on the news, I see.” Nick wondered why David was so cheerful, especially since last night he had been ready to throttle Nick with his bare hands.
“Um, yes,” Nick replied.
“Saying anything nice about us today?” Nick considered the possibility that this was a vague insult and he sat stupidly, not speaking, until David said, “Earth to the Deputy Prime Minister? Come in, please?”
“Huh?”
David raised his eyebrows. “Listen, whatever has got you so distracted, you'd better get it out of your system before midday. We've got a press conference, remember?”
“Press conference?” Nick repeated dumbly.
“Yes.”
Wasn't that yesterday? Didn't that end badly? Nick did not say any of these things, he simply sighed and said: “Yes, of course, David. I remember.”
“Good,” David said as he walked back to the door. “I'll see you later.”
What the hell is going on?
***
The press conference, as predicted, had not ended well. It had ended very badly; worse than Nick remembered - if he did remember. Hard questions from journalists and even harder comments from the public had rocked the coalition to its core. It was floundering, and Nick could see it dissolving before his eyes. Why did the public only focus on the bad things? They had done so much good during their short time in office.
His head pounding, Nick headed home. Miriam and the boys were back from Spain (again?), and after the boys were abed, Miriam comforted Nick with a hollow-sounding, “It will all seem better in the morning.”
Nick doubted it.
He sighed and slid into bed next to Miriam. Whatever the outcome was, he would deal with it tomorrow.
***
Nick turned over in bed and reached for Miriam. She was not there. She must have got up already, he thought, and rose from the bed to look out of the window. Once again the expected reporters and TV cameras were missing.
What the...?
Without bothering to change he rushed downstairs and flung the front door open, grabbing the newspaper sat on the doorstep. Yesterday's headline; yesterday's date. If this is someone's idea of a joke, it isn't funny.
Nick took the stairs two at a time and kept running into the bedroom. He grabbed clothes and pulled them on, lacing his shoes swiftly. As he left the house his phone buzzed, signalling the arrival of a text message.
Hi honey,
We'll be back around lunch time.
The boys say hello.
See you when you get home.
Nick dropped his phone, hands shaking with fright. A joke with the papers was one thing, but Miriam would never have agreed to participate in whatever was happening. After fumbling on the ground for his phone, he went back inside the house and switched on the television.
On BBC Breakfast, Bill Turnbull was sitting on the sofa with Sian Williams . They were bantering back and forth. The date displayed in the lower corner was yesterday's.
Nick felt numb.
He blinked and rubbed his eyes a few times to make sure he was not seeing things. The date remained unchanged.
I must be going mad.
***
Nick bought two more newspapers and checked every date display he saw on the way to work. All told the same grim story; today was indeed yesterday.
He slipped into his office as quietly as he could and closed the door. If yesterday was anything to go by, David would be here in a few minutes to remind him about the press conference. Nick sat down at his desk and looked at his watch.
At 9:37am there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.” Nick busied himself with the newspapers.
“Good morning,” David said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Catching up with the news, I see.”
Exactly the same as yesterday.
“Yes, David.”
“Saying anything nice about us today?”
Nick closed his eyes. “No,” he replied, hoarsely.
“I hope you're not getting sick. We've got a press conference, remember?”
“Yes.” Nick cleared his throat. “Yes, I remember, at midday.”
“Good,” David said as he walked toward the door. “I'll see you later.”
After the door had closed, Nick mumbled, “Yes, I suppose you will.”
***
Even knowing the questions and revelations beforehand give Nick no chance to stop the damage done at the press conference.
He listened to Miriam's 'It'll all seem better in the morning' and nodded. She might be right, after all.
Before going to bed he wrote a small note to himself and placed it on the bedside table.
Today is Tuesday 15th August.
Tomorrow is Wednesday.
Then he slipped into bed beside Miriam and closed his eyes.
***
On waking, Nick did two things one after the other. First, he reached out a hand to touch Miriam, then he looked to the bedside table; both the note and Miriam were no where to be found.
The newspaper and television again showed yesterday's date; a day that was now - to Nick at least - four days ago.
At 7:12am when Miriam's text message arrived, Nick threw his phone at the wall.
***
Nick left the house, walking aimlessly through the streets, unsure where he was going. He somehow ended up at a grubby coffee shop situated on a back street. No one would think to look for him here; his phone was broken and he intended to be unreachable until the press conference. It would give him time to look for a solution, perhaps even a way to come out of the this without so much damage being done.
Ordering himself a cup of tea, Nick sat down at one of the tables in the dimly-lit café. When it finally came, the tea tasted awful - watery and cheap - but he thanked the waitress anyway. How was he going to get out of this situation? Not only was he living the same day over and over, he was living a day in which a terrible thing happened. Why not another day? There were plenty of other days that he would not have minded living over and over; the day the Liberal Democrats had got into office, for example. That would have been a good day. Instead, he was stuck living the day of the worst press conference in existence.
Maybe it was an opportunity to change things? Maybe, if he could just figure it out, there was a way to not only stop the press conference being a disaster, but also to make it a success. How that might be possible he did not know, but since he seemed to be stuck in this day, he could at least try. He drained his tea and looked at his watch. 10.33am. Better get to work.
***
At least things were different when he walked into Parliament that day; people were looking for him. David had tried to call him after finding his office empty, and when there had been no answer, he had sent an aide to look for him.
Nick apologised, saying that he had dropped his phone and it was broken, otherwise he would have called to say he was running late.
“I'm just glad you're here now,” David said, looking visibly relieved.
“You thought I'd miss the press conference?” Nick asked.
“I thought you might have forgotten it,” David replied.
Nick sighed. One of these days he would ask David why he seemed to think his deputy was so forgetful, but today was not the day for that. Today would never be the day for that. “No, David, I haven't forgotten it.”
“Good. I'll see you later, then.” David looked back to the papers he was studying.
When he got to his office, Nick tossed the newspapers in the bin without looking at them at sat down. What to do about the press conference? There was no time to talk to David about it now, it was due to start in ten minutes, and he still did not have a plan on how to deal with it. Perhaps today it would be better to let it pass as it usually did? But what if, when he woke up tomorrow, it was tomorrow, and not today? He decided he could not risk it.
***
Nick slumped into bed feeling defeated. Somehow, he had managed to make things worse - if that was even possible.
His plan to bring up the revelation before the press mentioned it had backfired. Now it was not a question of 'you didn't know about this?' but rather one of 'you knew about this and didn't do anything?'. David had been furious; had said that Nick did not trust him and what kind of coalition could they run together without trust?
Nick felt dejected. Whatever he was going to do tomorrow, he certainly would not repeat his actions today.
***
Miriam and the children weren't there when he woke up. The 7:12am text message had arrived, surprising him until he remembered that he had not thrown his phone against the wall today, and anything he did yesterday did not matter. That thought gave him pause; he could do anything he liked without consequence. Anything. That could be a lot of fun. But he had no time to dwell on the thought; he had to get to work as quickly as he could.
It was before 8.30AM when Nick stepped into his office and closed the door behind himself. How to do this? Obviously he had to speak to David as soon as possible, tell David about what would happen at the press conference, but what would be the best explanation of how he had found out? He would think of that when the time came, right now he had work to do. He quickly scribbled a list of the main points he and David would have to address and then scrolled through his contacts list until he found David's number.
“A bit early for you to be calling, Nick,” David answered.
“Morning to you too. I need you to come to my office as soon as you get in. It's important.” Nick hung up before David could reply.
***
David arrived at Nick's office at 9:03am. He looked as though he had been in a hurry. Good, Nick thought.
“What it is, then? You haven't forgotten about the press conference, have you?” David said, sitting down in a chair.
“No, I haven't,” Nick replied, “The press conference is precisely what I need to talk to you about.”
“Oh. Why?”
Nick quickly explained what he knew, watching as David's face turned from confusion to utter shock. “How did you find this out?”
“That doesn't matter right now,” Nick stated. “What does matter is that if we don't deal with this it will destroy the coalition, trust me.”
“I do,” David mumbled absently, staring at the list Nick had handed him half-way through their conversation. “There is more here than can be dealt with in a day, Nick.”
“I know. But let's get started anyway.”
David nodded.
***
The press conference had gone better with David aware of what would happen. Between them they had managed to make it not quite a disaster, but still it was not enough. It was obvious that their response had been hasty and the press pounced on the lack of detail.
Tomorrow he would get more.
Nick closed his eyes and went to sleep.
***
Nick had been living the same day for over a fortnight and he was, quite frankly, feeling a little sick of it.
The one upside to it was that David and he made more progress on the press conference every day, with Nick carefully remembering everything they had managed to settle on the previous run so they would not have to go through it again tomorrow. Every day a new tangle was straightened, and pretty soon they would be able to walk away from the press conference with the outcome completely reversed.
In the mean time, Nick did not see the harm in having a little fun.
At 9:36AM, Nick got up from his desk and walked to his office door, waiting there silently until he heard footsteps outside. He yanked the door open before David had a chance to knock. The Cheshire cat grin on David's face fled, replaced by a small measure of shock.
“Good morning, David,” Nick said, smiling widely. “I'm just catching up on the news.”
David seemed to pull himself together for a moment, until he opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted.
“No, they're not saying anything nice about us, I'm afraid.”
David shut his mouth quickly, he seemed unable to register what was happening. Nick took this confusion as the opportunity he had been waiting for.
“Why do you think I've forgotten the press conference, David?” he asked, tilting his head to one side and looking at David with the most earnest expression he could manage - he hoped he pulled that off, because he really wanted to burst out laughing. David's face was a picture; eyes wide and mouth agape as he stood in the doorway, obviously fighting to form words. Nick decided he liked the look of David flustered, and pressed his advantage. “I'll see you at midday, David,” he said, gently leading David out of his office and closing the door behind him. The Prime Minister walked off down the corridor wondering exactly how long Nick Clegg had been a mind-reader.
Inside his office, Nick wrapped his arms around his waist and laughed until it hurt.
***
Nick had to repeat the disastrous press conference today to refresh his knowledge of what would be said and asked. He did not like the experience one bit, but it was a necessary evil to endure. Afterwards, David and he were not speaking, and Nick found this situation made him feel slightly hurt, as David and he were working so well together on the days when they teamed up to solve this mess. Nick stayed at his office late into the night, and fell asleep with his head resting on the crook of his arm.
He woke in the morning and found himself alone in an empty bed.
***
Nick had started to get used to waking up alone; stopped stretching out for Miriam on impulse as soon as he woke. He had even become used to the quietness of the house in the morning with no one else around.
He would make his tea and watch the news, even though he knew, word-for-word, the banter between Sian and Bill. Sometimes he unconsciously talked along with them.
In Parliament he would sometimes indulge in his little 'I'm really a mind reader' game, amused at David's shocked reaction every time he answered a question before it was asked. But that had very quickly lost its appeal, so Nick did not do it very often any more.
It had been six weeks since he had begun to live this perpetual deja vu, and Nick had to admit that he was getting quite good at it. Very little changed from day-to-day. He would work with David before the press conference, and then again afterwards, sitting surrounded by papers in David's office until well after the sun had set.
This evening was no exception.
“Have you managed to find out who leaked the memo?” David asked, looking up momentarily from the pile of papers in front of him.
“No, not yet. I think I'm close though.”
“Good.”
They both worked in silence again for a while, and then David reached up a hand to his shoulder and pressed his thumb in circles, obviously trying to relax a tense muscle. Before Nick knew what he was doing, he had slipped both hands onto David's shoulders and started to massage them through his shirt.
“Nick,” said David, his voice quiet, and Nick returned to his senses with a thump. His hands stilled but he did not move them away immediately, a realisation forming in his mind: he wanted to...
“Sorry,” Nick mumbled, barely more than a whisper. He let his hands fall to his sides and struggled with his thoughts.
Well, you could, couldn't you. You know it won't matter tomorrow.
“Nick?” David had stood up and was now facing him.
You can do it, then you'd know. You can... “Just this once.”
If David had a reply to this spoken thought he never got a chance to say it, because Nick had closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together in the space of a heartbeat; tilting his head just so and flicking his tongue into the softness of David's mouth. When the pounding of his heart had quietened enough for him to hear his thoughts, he became aware of two things: One) David tasted like expensive coffee, and two) David was kissing him back.
***
Nick woke the next day with a smile on his lips, despite the empty bed that greeted him. For a few minutes he did not move at all, he simply closed his eyes and let the memory of the previous evening replay in his head.
He had kissed David.
That alone was not why he was smiling.
David had kissed back.
Even that, although close, was not the reason for the happiness in his heart.
“I've wanted you to do that for months.”
Oh, yes, that was it.
The idea that the kiss had not been a sudden thing that David might regret - even if he would not remember it - but something that they had both wanted. That was enough, Nick thought, to allow himself the memory of it without any guilt. Except now he was not happy with just the memory, he wanted to do it again. It did not help that he knew he could if he wanted to, or that it would be welcome if he did - but he thought now that the exact same situation to bring it about would feel contrived and that it would somehow be trapping David into an event of Nick's design. Even if it had not been so the first time, it certainly would now; all he would have to do is...
Enough.
He dragged himself away from his bed and the pleasant memory, and headed for the shower.
***
Nick could not quite believe it when he found out.
David was infuriated. “Get to my office, now!” he barked into the phone, practically slamming it back into its cradle. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door and George Osborne opened it, looking like a frightened schoolboy. David's voice held a coldness that made Nick shiver. “Close the door, George.”
“Is there something the matter, David?” George said as he did. His voice sounded small, worried.
“You might say that, George.” David walked over and handed him a sheet of paper; George's hands immediately started to shake.
“Where did you get this?” George croaked out, wide-eyed.
“Is it true?” Nick asked.
George nodded, almost imperceptibly; and Nick watched - horrified and amazed - as David squared his shoulders and punched George squarely in the face.
The blood brought Nick back to reality; it was seeping through George's fingers as he held his hand to his nose, his face a mixture of shock and hurt, and his eyes glassed over with tears. Nick helped him to sit down and grabbed a handful of tissues, encouraging George to use them in place of his hand.
Don't let David do that tomorrow , Nick thought to himself, feeling sudden pity for George's situation. He was sure that George had not meant for this to happen; he knew that George would never do anything deliberately that would hurt David or the Conservatives. George looked at him miserably as he fussed with the tissues, wiping George's fingers of redness, and Nick suddenly felt like hugging him.
David, meanwhile, had retreated to his desk, his expression equal parts anger and grief, and Nick could tell that he regretted what he had just done.
All the more reason not to let it happen again.
For a long time none of them spoke.
It was George who broke the silence.
“I'm sorry, David.”
David grunted, bit his lip, and then said: “I'm sorry too, George.”
It was a start, at least.
***
The extra information George had provided helped them a great deal at the press conference, as did the statement George issued alongside it. The Evening Standard was now portraying the story as one of foul play; a deliberate attempt to split the coalition that had been unsuccessful. It was nearly the best ending to this day Nick had experienced, nearly.
Now he and David were working in David's office again, trying to unravel the last few parts of the puzzle. It was difficult for Nick to keep his mind on what he was doing. He would find himself absently staring at David's lips when he was speaking, remembering what it had been like to kiss them, but he forced himself to pay attention. They were so close now to making things right. A few more days.
Nick wondered what would happen when the task was accomplished. Would this day finally roll over into the next? It felt like that was the reason he had been trapped in this day, to fix something which had gone wrong and was not supposed to. As strange as it was, Nick was apprehensive about this day finally ending; he had, after all, no idea what would happen tomorrow.
At least you know what won't happen.
***
They had done it; unpicked the knot and assembled all the pieces. The press conference had gone perfectly - perfectly.
So why did he keep waking up to the same day? Was there something else he was supposed to do?
Nick's head hurt and his eyes felt heavy. The whiskey had not helped either of those things - Nick had never really believed that it would, it had been no help any of the other times he had lived this version of today. He had let the press conference go by as it had the first day, too downhearted to continue the miraculous turnaround. David was not speaking to him, again, and he had dragged a bottle of whiskey to his Westminster office and closed the door; ignoring the phone and deliberately ignoring the repeated knocking that occasionally came from outside.
What was the point of this day if not to fix the press conference?
Did it matter?
He pressed his face into his arm to block the light from his eyes, feeling exhausted and a little too drunk for comfort. The simple thing of it was that Nick felt incredibly lonely. Every conversation he had was never remembered, everything he did seemed meaningless as tomorrow he would just have to do it again, and it never seemed to make a difference. He always woke up in a bed that was not shared; to a house that was empty; to a day that he worked so hard to keep fixing only to have it broken again upon waking.
And he did all of it alone.
He sighed heavily as he realised he was crying, but made no attempt to stop. Eventually, he slipped into the empty darkness of unconsciousness.
The sound of a movement in the room filtered dimly into Nick's awareness; footsteps approaching his desk and a cool hand laid on his forehead. He screwed up his face and whined, determined to retreat back into the blackness of sleep. This plan was scuppered by the insistent voice saying his name. “Nick?”
“G'way,” he mumbled incoherently.
“Nick, you need to go home.” It was David's voice, and Nick was confused. In the twelve times he had lived this day, David had never come to his office before. Then he remembered that he had forgotten to call Miriam and tell her he would be late.
Echoing this, David's words pressed into his mind; they were fragments.
“...called me.”
“...late.”
“Hrmp,” was Nick's only response. The headache that had started earlier intensified to a piercing thump that made his eyes sting with pain when he opened them. Through his somewhat blurred vision he could see David's face was creased with concern.
“Christ, Nick, you're a state.”
“Coalition is over,” was Nick's slurred reply. David frowned harder.
“This isn't about the coalition, this is about you.”
“What do you care?” Nick grunted derisively. If he had been properly aware of things, Nick would have noticed David's pained wince upon hearing that, but he had closed his eyes again, wishing that David would just leave him alone.
David didn't. He persisted with his suggestion that Nick should go home, shaking Nick's arm gently until Nick opened his eyes again. “Come on,” David said, hauling Nick to his feet and realising too late that this had been exactly the wrong thing to do. Nick's head swam dizzily and he his feet floundered. David lowered him back into the chair and knelt beside him.
“How much did you drink?”
“Not enough.”
“Surely it isn't that bad, Nick? We can work on fixing things.”
“This isn't about the coalition. This is about you.” Thankfully, Nick's head had stopped its spinning, and his thoughts were somewhat clearer now.
“What about me?”
The effects of the whiskey had not worn off, however, and Nick answered with much more honesty than he intended. “It just upset me that we weren't talking. I like you, David.”
David smiled, “I like you too, Nick.”
In his semi-drunken state, it took Nick a few moments to register that David had shifted closer and that his hand was now resting gently on Nick's knee; warmth seeping through the fabric of his trousers to his leg. Nick closed his eyes, tears welling in them afresh as he realised how comforting the simple gesture was; he must actually have started crying because David's thumb was suddenly on his face, and Nick felt dampness beneath it as it stroked along his cheek bone. When David's palm settled against his cheek, Nick leaned into the touch and opened his eyes, only to close them again when David started to kiss him.
David's hand threaded around the back of Nick's neck and held him in place, and Nick gave a strangled moan of desire as David's tongue pushed between his lips. David jumped away as though he'd been scalded.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that.”
“David, I...” Nick began, but David interrupted.
“No, you're drunk and it was wrong of me to...”
“But, David,” Nick said. He got to his feet, praying that he would not be overcome with dizziness again, and gripped David by the arm. He could think of nothing to say except what David had said when it had been Nick who initiated the kiss. “I've wanted you to do that for months.”
***
At 6:30am when the alarm went off, Nick opened his eyes and shrugged the covers from his body. He stepped into the shower still feeling sleepy, and dressed in the same clothes he always wore. Today was the 198th time he had done this, and it was a routine that was as familiar as it was suffocating.
At 7:12am when Miriam's text arrived, he left it unopened.
He arrived in Parliament at 8:32am and immediately called David.
At 9:03am David arrived at Nick's office looking flushed and breathless, just as he always did. Nick smiled. Today he would tell David everything. “David,” he began. David listened.
“Wait,” David looked confused and disbelieving, “Are you seriously telling me that you are living the same day over and over?”
“Yes.”
“I think that the stress is getting to you,” David said.
Nick smiled; he'd expected this, and there was only one way to deal with it. “I think that, until I called you this morning, you thought I'd forgotten the press conference completely, and you were so convinced of this that you had planned to drop by my office at around half-past-nine to make sure I remembered.”
“"How did you know that?”
“I told you, David. I've lived this day 197 times before.” Nick leaned back against his desk, gathering strength for what he was going to say next. He cast his eyes downward, unable to look at David as he spoke. “The thing is that, uh, well, I didn't always do the same thing every time.”
“What do you mean: you didn't do the same thing?” asked David hesitantly.
“I'm sorry, David, really I am, but once I sort of... kissed you.”
“You what?!”
Nick's head snapped up quickly, and he looked at David with what he hoped was an apologetic look. He started to babble. “Look I, it was only the once, well, I only kissed you once, and to be fair, you did kiss me back. You kissed me once as well, just yesterday, I mean last night, I mean...” he trailed off, his head getting tangled on how to refer to a today that was yesterday. David was gaping at him.
“I kissed you?” David breathed.
“Yes.”
“You... let me?”
“Yes.”
“You would,” David hesitated for a moment, “again?” The last word was so quiet that Nick almost did not hear it, but it hung heavily in the air until Nick said, just as quietly:
“Yes.”
Nick did not know who had moved first; had it been him who had dragged David forward, or was it David who had pushed him back? Whichever of the two was true, Nick found himself pinned between David and his own desk, and David's mouth was against his own. He moved his hand to David's neck, determined that, this time, David would not pull away, and then he wound his free arm around David's waist and hitched him closer still. David gasped, giving Nick the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue inside David's mouth, flicking it once and then sliding it along David's own. The moan this elicited was like a match to Nick's desire, it set him aflame; he kissed David, over and over, dipping his tongue again and again into the welcoming softness and humming in response to the soft whimpers David gave.
A part of Nick's mind was insisting that he stop now. There was a reason why he had called David to his office and this certainly was not it. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, panting rapidly, and said, “Sorry. This isn't exactly why I asked you to come here.”
David was looking at him like he had not heard a word Nick had just said; his eyes were unfocused and his lips bruised and breathless.
“There's something more important we have to deal with right now,” Nick added.
David's gaze was fixed on Nick's lips as he spoke.
“David!”
“Huh?” David suddenly seemed to realise where he was, and that he had his arms around Nick. He made to step away, but Nick held him in place.
“I didn't mean that you should go anywhere just yet,” Nick grinned cheerfully, placing a quick, almost chaste kiss on David's lips. “But when we've both calmed down a little, we need to talk about the press conference.”
“What about the press conference?” David asked, his body relaxing in Nick's embrace.
Nick took a deep breath and replied, “Unless we work very fast, the press conference will destroy the coalition.”
“What do you mean?” David looked puzzled, but Nick patiently explained the situation he had found himself in, living this day over and over. The ambush by the reporter, the questions, how David and he had worked together on so many of the days to piece together and eventually stop the damage that was done.
“There are some things we need to do before the press conference, but first I think we should talk to George. And David,” Nick looked at David with a serious expression on his face, “I want you to sit down at my desk and let me handle it, okay?”
David frowned. “Why?” he asked.
“Just trust me. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret.”
“I do trust you.”
Nick nodded, extricating himself from David's hold and indicating toward the chair behind his desk. When David was seated, Nick picked up the telephone receiver and called George. “Hi George, it's Nick. Could David and I see you in my office? Quick as possible, thanks.”
They waited in silence until George arrived. “Something the matter?” he asked, upon entering the room.
“George, please sit down.” Nick waved his hand at a chair the was fully 2 metres away from David thinking that this would allow him the chance to intervene should David try to punch George again. David was looking confused, and George was looking a little worried.
“What's this about?” he asked.
Nick shuffled carefully through a pile of papers he had prepared that morning, digging out the memo and handing it to George. Once again, George's hands immediately began to shake. “Where did you get this?” he croaked.
“What is it?” David demanded impatiently, he made to rise from the chair but Nick moved smoothly to his side and pressed a gentle yet firm hand on his shoulder.
“Let George explain, David.” He turned his head to face George and said softly, “Go on, George.”
“I'm sorry, David,” George said, hanging his head, “Theresa made me do it.”
“Made you do what?” David asked, once again trying to get up.
Nick tightened his grip on David's shoulder, saying as he did so, “Just stay here, David.” Nick's voice was tense, and David looked up at him questioningly, then nodded slowly and settled back in the chair.
George shuffled uneasily, and then continued, “She said that it was best for the party and by the time I realised that she had her own agenda it was too late to do anything about it.”
“Do anything about what?” David was becoming increasingly impatient, “Just get on with it, George.”
“About the fake leaks of cracks in the coalition.”
“What?”
Nick kept his hand on David's shoulder, letting his fingers tighten in a comforting gesture. “Let George finish, David.”
George eyed Nick curiously, his brow furrowing in confusion. What exactly did Nick know? “So, like I said, I didn't know she had her own agenda at first, and by the time I found out what was really going on it was too late. I refused to help her any more, but she carried on anyway, something about being the second female Prime Minister.”
“George,” Nick asked, “You do still have the e-mails she sent you, don't you? We'll need those to fix this.”
“Fix this?” George squeaked. “But how could we?”
“You made the leaks anonymously, yes?”
“Yes.”
Nick grinned, removing his hand from David's shoulder now he was sure that David would no longer want to punch the Chancellor, and said, “We're going to pin it on her.”
David and George both gasped.
***
George had forwarded the emails as promised, and prepared a statement to the press to be released at the same time as the press conference explaining that he had received several e-mails from Theresa attempting to solicit help in breaking the coalition. Nick and David were sat in David's office, working out some final details of what they would say at the press conference; Nick having furnished David with a list of all the questions that the reporters would ask so he could prepare answers in advance. The press conference was in half an hour, and they had just enough time to gather notes and paperwork before the car arrived to take them to Downing Street.
The press were assembled as they had been at the first joint press conference David and Nick had given together, seated in chairs in front of twin podiums. Nick and David took their places, David turning to Nick and receiving a silent nod before he began to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I welcome all of you here today. I know this press conference was supposed to be about the progress of the Coalition on restoring freedom and civil liberties, but a matter of great importance has arisen, one which Nick and I feel should be dealt with as swiftly as possible. I ask you to hold all questions until the end.”
“Earlier today, the Deputy Prime Minister made me aware that a member of the press was planning to use this event to publicly announce several leaks he had received from the Cabinet office, leaks which appeared to show deep seated rifts in the coalition government. It is with some regret that I must confirm that there were leaks made, and I will deal more fully with that momentarily, but first, let me say that those leaks have no basis in fact. They are untrue.”
The assembled reporters started chattering loudly amongst themselves. David raised his hand and said, “Please, please. Let me continue.” He waited until they had quietened and then began to speak again. “There is no rift in the Coalition Government. The leaks were made by a person with their own agenda, and that person will be dealt with. A full statement about this incident will be issued in due course.”
The reporters voices clamoured loudly as David finished speaking, calls of his name and questions - mostly about who was responsible. One by one David answered them, looking at his notes from time to time. Nick stood at his side. When it was over, Nick and David re-entered Downing Street together, walking to David's personal office and closing the door behind them.
“That went well,” David said, smiling widely in a way that Nick had not seen before.
“Well, it took a long time to work everything out and I, mmmpf-” Nick was silenced by David kissing him, pushing him back against the door and tangling fingers into his hair as the weight of David's body settled against him, pinning him firmly in place. Nick's head began to tingle and he moaned loudly, unable to stop himself;. He slid his hands to David's sides, clinging desperately to the fabric of David's jacket.
“Stay with me tonight?” David murmured, sprinkling kisses at the corners of Nick's mouth and nipping lightly on his bottom lip.
“Sam?” Nick asked.
“Not here,” David replied, his soft kiss-bites moving down to Nick's neck.
Once again the voice in Nick's head was saying insistently: You could you know, it won't matter tomorrow. He moved his hands to David's shoulders, nodding rapidly as David's mouth nudged its way beneath the collar of his shirt. Nick decided, as David began to unfasten his tie, that he would call Miriam later.
Epilogue: Today is Tomorrow.
Something is different.
That was the first thing Nick thought upon waking, but it took him several moments longer to grasp that it was true; something was different. His half-sleeping mind made a mental check of his surroundings and registered the smell of another person and the warm weight of a body pressed into his side. He quirked one eye open tentatively and found his vision filled with dark hair that belonged to the head resting on his shoulder.
Reaching out with his free arm, Nick touched the hair, stroking it gently with his fingers. This caused the body laid against his own to shift lightly and a soft voice to whisper, “Mmmm, that's nice.”
Nick held his breath. This was real; he had woken up and he was not alone and this was real. He gulped down a sob and murmured, “Why are you here?”
The figure turned and a smiling face replaced the fuzzy hair in his vision. “This is my bed, I'm supposed to be here.” Sleepy eyes gazed into Nick's as an arm fell across his chest and pulled him closer. Nick leaned forward and captured the smiling mouth with his own in a slow, lazy kiss.
“I think the real question,” said David when they parted, “is: What are you doing here?”
“You asked me to stay.” Only I didn't expect I would still be here in the morning when I said yes.
“Are you sure? That doesn't sound like something I would do.” David's voice was thick with amusement.
“Oh? And is this...” Nick ran a hand down David's chest to his hip and held it firmly as he flipped himself on top of David. “...something you would do?”
“Quite probably” David chuckled, pressing upward into Nick. Nick raised himself up on his hands and looked down at David, a strong memory of the previous evening settling in his mind.
David panting beneath him as they writhed together on the bed, whispering to each other between kissed. Mouths and hands roaming over every part that is within reach. His name on David's lips as they both shuddered with completion. Lying entwined as their breath began to return to steadiness.
It was with this vision in his mind that Nick lowered his head to kiss David again, harder this time, moving his tongue in synchrony with the movement of his hips. He felt David's legs wrap around him, hands clutching his shoulders and hair as David made desperate, frantic movements beneath him.
Afterwards, they rested side by side - unmoving except for the occasional stroke of entwined fingers - as the dawn light began to creep beneath the curtains. To Nick, it was like the world had been made anew. A whole new day greeted him, one that he had never seen before and in which he would have to learn things as they happened. He turned to David and watched him breathing. “David,” he whispered.
“Mmm,” David hummed in answer.
“What are we going to do now?” Nick asked.
David opened his eyes, and Nick could just barely see the blue hues in the dim light. “I thought we'd have breakfast and then a shower, or a shower and then breakfast.”
“I don't mean that,” Nick said.
“I know,” David replied, softly serious.
“So?”
“I don't know,” David admitted. He turned to Nick and ran a hand down his arm. “Let's figure it out later.”
“All right.”