This is my first "The Thick of It" fanfiction and I hope that it is believable. Malcolm Tucker is a fascinating character full of contradictions; he claims not to know the difference between scruples and low fat kettle chips but is deeply loyal to the government he keeps afloat, he doesn't give a fuck about offending people or their feelings but on his way out of Number 10 he took the time to make sure that Sam wasn't being harassed and then of course there was the time Terri tried to 'communicate'. Anyway, he was perfectly happy to pimp out Ollie on the chance of learning more about the Tories plans but what about himself? This is set during the third series.

****

It was a proving to be both a quiet and less-shit-than-average day for the workers of the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship- that is to say that Malcolm Tucker, the Director of Communications, had not made an appearance on their floor yet and was scheduled to be spending the day with the foreign office team. The absence of their foul mouthed co-ordinator wasn't the most professional thing to hope for, nor was it the best thing for the department long term, but this was politics and if anything went wrong- which it often did at DoSaC, then there was always somebody else to point the finger at and ultimately direct Malcolm's wrath towards. This philosophy was favoured by almost everyone in the office, none more so than the morally lax Ollie Reeder.

He was supposed to be redrafting Nicola's speech to reveal the latest initiative she was putting into play, but in reality nobody actually gave a shit about DoSaC and the minister was enough of a nervous wreck that she wouldn't notice he'd done nothing but toy with conjunctives and rephrase a couple of the Mannion jokes. Theoretically Ollie knew that he should deliver the fruits of his labour to his boss immediately, but workplace politics were so much more fun than working in politics. Glenn was elsewhere and had been for the past half hour, so indulging in his favourite sport of antagonising the old sod was going to have to wait. Ollie turned from the monitor and stood, heading towards the vending machines for a quick snack and a more leisurely snoop into the goings on of others- the only challenge in keeping his morning shit free would be avoiding- bollocks.

"Terri, hi! I'm just heading over for a snack, can I get you anything?" The civil servant shook her head emphatically, which was odd because none of her diets ever lasted beyond the first coffee run of the day. It saved him a couple of quid on galaxy bars and crisps, so Ollie wasn't too bothered about why she had decided to abstain from indulging.

"No, Ollie, no; you can't go over there." Terri gave a not-so-subtle tilt of her head and when he turned to investigate she stepped in front of him, pointless considering that he was a foot taller and could see over the top of her head. "Glenn and Robyn are over there!" She repeated the head tossing of her head, drawing stares from people occupying the nearby desks.

"Really?" She nodded twice and Ollie widened his eyes. "That's amazing, Terri. Honestly."

"Isn't it lovely! I mean, who'd have thought Glenn was brave enough to flirt with anybody."

"No Terri- what's amazing is that I didn't know it was possible for me to not give a fuck about anything quite as much as this, in fact... wait... Glenn is flirting?"

"Yes."

"With an actual human being?" Despite what he was seeing- Glenn's hand on Robyn's shoulder- it defied the realms of possibility.

"Yes."

"But it's Glenn."

"Yes."

"And it's flirting. Shouldn't he be worrying about his heart just giving out at that age?" Terri ignored this remark, not willing to commit totally to bitching about or defending Glenn. This was the easiest stance to take- as a civil servant she didn't have political opinions, and it was the simplest approach to take about office loyalties too.

"He's liked Robyn since he met her, and there hasn't been anyone since his divorce." Ollie smirked, watching his aged colleague laughing sycophantically at a joke mousy Robyn had made, doubtlessly as bland as her Debenhams two piece suit.

"Yeah, probably because the rest of the dinosaurs died about, I don't know, only few million years ago. This I need to see- listen, thanks for the heads up Dot Cotton." Ollie continued on his way to the vending machines whilst studiously ignoring Terri's protestations. This was promising to be the most fun he'd had at DoSaC since the time Fat Pat had tried to give Malcolm a lap dance at the Christmas party.

As though summoned by the thoughts of his underling, Malcolm Tucker stepped out of the elevator, hurried through the cluster of desks and collided with Ollie, almost resulting in causing him the heart failure he had predicted would claim Glenn. If Ollie believed in karma he'd stop using foul language and be kinder to those around him- as it was, he didn't.

"Fuck me Malcolm! Y-" The Scot pulled back and shrugged off his coat, dumping it unceremoniously on the nearest desk, destroying the perfect order of its contents as surely as he had done to the collective quality of the day in the department.

"Ollie, I didn't know that you felt that way!" Malcolm lifted his hand to his mouth theatrically before dropping his mocking tone. "I knew you were a bit James Fucking May, which is actually why I wanted to ask about this... situation." Only a short distance away, both Glenn and Robyn heard as Malcolm raised his voice and ceased their conversation, the latter scurrying away into an office. After giving an anxious smile to the spin doctor, Glenn pulled out his blackberry and headed in the opposite direction. Ollie thought about what Malcolm could possibly want him for, and more intently about how best to diffuse the situation.

"Oh, er, about Nicola's speech- it's almost done but I thought I'd better-"

"Nicola's speech and pond life; what do they have in common, genius boy?"

"Uh... I wrote one, and I am the other?" Malcolm blinked in surprise, running a hand through his greying hair.

"Good guess, but no; I don't give a flying fuck about either. Are they shagging?"

"What... Nicola and pond life? I know she's a bit dumpy, but-"

"Leave the jokes to me, Marcus Fagstocke; I've got a complete clusterfuck to sort out later at the foreign office and this is quite possibly the only part of the day I won't be thinking about just snapping, you know? For instance, I could quite happily take this desk tidy," Malcolm picked up the plastic pink desk tidy he had knocked over and examined it, "shove it up your arse, and every time Robyn wants to sharpen one of her Hello Kitty pencils she can ram it up your cock in the hope of it meeting this little metal sharpener and twist. That's quite tempting... okay, I lied; I do feel like snapping. So tell me about Glenn and Robyn now."

"Right... the thing is I don't actually know, Malcolm. I doubt it- I mean, he probably can't get it up for a start. Anyway, ask Terri. She seems to know everything about those two." In his usual disconcerting manner, Malcolm continued staring at Ollie as though in an attempt to burn the flesh from his face. "So... is there a reason you care? After all, it isn't like this can be used to get information about the opposition." Terri was staring at the scene from behind a plant pot in her usual conspicuous way. Ollie tried to catch her eye, but she stared determinedly at the air between the two men.

"Just a bit of seasoning to this very fucking bland porridge that is DoSaC. Adds a bit of variety to the usual taste of shit left by the series of fuck ups this department consists of, y'know?"

"Speaking of DoSaC, why is it that you're honouring us with your delightful presence this morning?" Ollie hoped that the words weren't too obviously laced with sarcasm. Then again, something was bound to set Malcolm off soon so why not this?

"You don't kn- you mean that you don't fucking know?" Ollie was never going to be able to predict Malcolm's moods because the man swung with alarming speed from unnaturally from his own profane version of almost-civil to one scary fucker. The day went from mediocre to a nightmare in the few seconds it took for Malcolm to highlight his own ineptitude.

"Ollie, remember in the papers it said that..." With surprising speed Terri rounded the potted plant and came over to try and act as damage control. "That Mannion's lot have been badmouthing the department and our commitment to the... the..." Malcolm raised an eyebrow, watching with mild interest as Terri became increasingly flustered.

"The... the... The fact that nobody here has a fucking clue about anything- that is what the opposition should be broadcasting. In fact, without me here to fucking mother the lot of you the probability of anything actually going right is about as likely as Glenn getting fired into Robyn." Unfazed by the way he had just shouted into her face, Terri soldiered on.

"Actually, that's looking like a distinct possibility at the... at the moment..." Malcolm stared at Terri as though she had suggested a group hug. "All I'm saying is-"

"Shut it Oprah. Mannion and his lot have been using media coverage to suggest that Nicola's new initiative is all words... who could say such a thing after all that DoSaC has done for the public? But what has DoSaC done for the public? Fuck all, chiefly. So I've talked to Tom and the people at the treasury and we're throwing enough money at this thing to buy a fucking small country.... well, a fucking small country house... in somewhere shite like Yorkshire. Smug and Glum's in there having a tizzy about it now, so Terri you can fuck off and help her get sorted. What are you waiting for; a personalised invite? Dear Mrs Coverley, kindly fuck off and do what I'm telling you to do, if of course it is convenient as I know you're often busy planning on watching X Factor with the hubby, worrying that you're not home enough and then eating a tub of ice cream in the loos to cheer yourself up. Sincerely, Mister Fucking Darcy." Taking the hint, Terri rushed over to her desk to collect a small manila folder before heading towards Nicola's office.

"And you, Ollie, you are going to take your girlfriend out tonight and casually mention that the project has been put on a hiatus." That was the best way to get the Tories to look in the opposite direction.

"But I'm supposed to be at Julius' party tonight- it's compulsory." Malcolm had forgotten about that baldy twat's documentary on the House of Lords being released and the mandatory accompanying bourgeoisie nibble-eating soiree. There was no way out, not even for him; Tom had made it clear that he wanted at least a show of a united front because the reception would be crawling with journalists. Why that meant he couldn't slip out quietly before the premiere started was beyond Malcolm.

"So invite her along! Dinner's on that wanker anyway; cheaper than Venice, no? Do I need to spell out everything for you?" Malcolm turned on his heel, conversation clearly over, and headed towards Nicola's office.

"Thanks Malcolm.... you scheming Scottish bastard, for killing any hope I had of getting laid tonight. Again." He paused at the door but didn't turn around.

"I heard that." Ollie decided that at this point the continuation of his life was more important than maintaining his facade of dignity and so ran towards the stairs out of the building, deciding that a cigarette break was called for. "And I want Nicola's speech to have been given lipo and a fucking face lift by the time I'm done in here." The blissful rush accompanied by nicotine could wait, then. Ollie returned to his desk, barely noticing that Glenn was back and attempting to use his computer once more.

"How's the speech coming, Ollie?"

"Only about as painfully slowly as you do over Robyn."

"That is bang out of order." It was a sign of how truly crap things were that Ollie didn't have some kind of caustic rejoinder on the tip of his tongue, and instead focussed on revamping the speech for the press conference. Sensing the mood, Glenn too returned to work.

****

Two hours later, Malcolm Tucker was pacing in the office of cabinet minister Nicola Murray like a caged lion. His mood had worsened at an exponential rate since he had entered the room and caught sight of her drab clothes and incompetent face, knowing what he would have to work with in an effort to make the initiative seem exciting and relevant.

"Well, thank you Malcolm for your constructive criticism and for being so bloody patient with me." Exhausted, she leant back in her chair and turned her careworn face towards the ceiling.

"Oh any time sweetheart, now get your miserable arse back in gear and listen to me; we're not finished until I say we're finished, and the fat lady has not opened her fucking big mouth and started to sing." His ranting drew to a close as Ollie breezed through the door, a self satisfied smirk on his face.

"Is Fat Pat going to serenade you Malcolm? Here's your speech, Nicola, and it isn't just a speech it is a Marks and Spencer's full bodied, roasted opposition speech courtesy of Ollie Reeder." He handed the sheets of paper over to his boss, watching as scanned through it. Malcolm stood directly behind her and read over Nicola's shoulder.

"Could you not do that, please?" She dropped the speech onto her desk, looking resolutely ahead.

"Not do what? What is it now?"

"Not stand so close to me. Only it's making me rather nervous." Tucker sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking.

"Given the choice between you, darling, and a sock with a happy face drawn on to it, I'm sorry to tell you that you come in at a not-so-fucking-close second both in regards to my sex life, should I become that desperate- and I mean desperate, and in people skills as a fucking minister. I mean at least the wank sock can smile as it pleases people, right?" Resigning herself to having her personal space invaded, Nicola lifted the papers to an angle both she and Malcolm could read from them.

"Why do you have to be unnecessarily offensive?"

"So you're conceding that a causing a little offense is necessary? Because it is when I'm trying to get through to you, minister." Ollie left the room before things turned nasty, which they invariably did whenever Nicola decided to challenge Malcolm. If it wasn't up to scratch, which he very much doubted would be the case, then they could come and find him. In the mean time he had to convince Emma that Julius' party wouldn't be completely fucking boring, i.e. lie through his teeth- not that he had any problem doing so but his girlfriend would be expecting such liberties to be taken with the truth by now. He went to the desk and dialled the number, fiddling with the cord of his phone.

"Emma, hi. D'you fancy going out tonight?" Ollie hated how pathetic he sounded making the request. Still, when Malcolm said 'bend over' you said 'fuck me harder' no matter whom you happened to be. It was a comforting if perverse thought that far more important people than him such as the Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland were humiliated by Malcolm on a regular basis.

"That depends on where you're planning on taking me." She sounded tired and irritable, which wasn't a surprise seeing as her days essentially mirrored his.

"Where? It's a party at the St. James' hotel, and it'll be loads of fun."

"Malcolm's asked you to bring me to Julius' grand unveiling of the feature film, Peers Are People or something like that, so you can get me drunk and try to dig up information, hasn't he?" The way she immediately assumed the worst almost hurt Ollie. Almost, but not quite.

"No! Malcolm's got nothing to do with this." Ollie stuck a finger up at the now smirking Glenn, wanting nothing more than to wrap the cable around his wrinkled neck and pull.

"Right, the way Dr Goebbels had nothing to do with the Second World War. Bye Ollie." The line went dead and he was left listening to a dialling tone along with Glenn's muffled laughter.

"Way to go, Romeo."

"Oh, fuck off. Like you have a date for this thing anyway." Reminding Glenn of how sad and lonely his life was always made him feel so much better about every problem that had arisen so far in during their working relationship.

"Then like your good friend Angela Heaney, you have an absolutely dreadful source."

"At least the last time I had sex was during the last week, never mind this century." A frosty silence descended, broken only by the tapping of keys as the two of them ignored one another. Looking vaguely murderous, Malcolm left Nicola's office and stood in between their desks.

"You and Emma are on for tonight, yeah?"

"Actually, no Malcolm."

"What do you mean no? She's still your bird, isn't she?" Glenn intervened, taking slightly too much pleasure in the bombshell he was about to drop.

"What Ollie means to say is that his beloved Emma has declined his offer on the perfectly reasonable assumption that you put him up to it, Malcolm. Our young friend is flying solo tonight." With a flourish he pushed the return button to send the latest email in his virtual conversation with Terri.

"Pathetic; you can't even interest your own girlfriend in spending time with you. Well, I'll see you pair of sad sacks tonight. Fuckity bye." The Director of Communications left with an oncoming headache and the knowledge that no matter how hard things got at DoSaC it was nothing in comparison to where he was headed- the Foreign Office.

"At least he thinks I'm potential sex bait. You don't even get in the picture." Glenn shot him a withering look before rising and heading in the direction of the coffee machine. The phone started up again and on the first ring he answered, hoping desperately that Emma had changed her mind- partly so that he could rub it in Glenn's face and partly because it would give him brownie points with Malcolm.

"Ollie, I need to see you in my office right away." It was Nicola, and she sounded like she was on the verge of hyperventilation. Lovely.

****

Inside the atrium of the St. James Hotel, Ollie Reeder wasn't the only person asking himself how his day had become so completely fucking dreadful. Various members of the government, opposition and all high flyers in the political world all along the spectrum of importance from the insignificant and stuttering secretaries to the biggest fish in the pond were fantasising about escape. What set apart each of Malcolm's dreams was that they included was killing Julius with his bare hands. In some the peer was followed by Tom due to the unbearable fact that he was being forced to mingle whilst wearing a tuxedo of all things.

"You know Ollie; I didn't think this day could get any worse until I saw your face." Perhaps torching the joint would be a better idea- it would save time and arson would be more difficult to trace.

"Malcolm, I didn't know you felt that way!"

"Fuck off."

"Yes Malcolm." Obediently Ollie turned to go when he came face to face with Phil and a brunette in a chartreuse cocktail dress Malcolm had never seen before, presumably Phil's date for the evening. The Director of Communications had always assumed that Phil carried a torch for Mannion, but perhaps not. Ollie was distressed by the arrival of his nemesis. "Phil... what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Your mother- its good quality hardcore stuff and so Julius agreed to let me screen it instead of his documentary." With the air of someone who had heard too many of the arguments between the young men before, the unknown female stepped around them and offered her hand to Malcolm.

"I'm Natalie Ward; a policy adviser to Her Majesty's Opposition. I'm also roommate to Phil and Emma, who was wise enough to turn down the invitation you most likely had Ollie offer her to tonight's scintillating event." He shook her hand, observing her wry smile. "And you're the famous Malcolm Tucker of course. I've heard all about you from Ollie- apparently you pair are the central nervous system to the government. Is it true that you couldn't get by without him?" At this Ollie froze, Phil smirked and Malcolm's eyebrows rose in perfect unison.

"Oh yeah, Ollie's fucking indispensable." His eyes widened in disbelief- what could have caused Malcolm's surge of kindness? Was he terminally ill? The benign smile on his face only served to consolidate the theory in Ollie's eyes.

"I mean really, Malcolm, you know I do what I can." Shamelessly he continued the facade, unaware of the hole he was digging. "Which isn't that much."

"Too right it isn't that much, more like sweet fuck all as far as DoSaC is concerned, never mind anything else. The only thing you're good for is adding to the statistics we send to pressure groups of the number of queers employed by the government- oh sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings Phil." Ollie excused himself and headed in the general direction of the bar with Phil hot on his heels.

"So why are you here? I have it on good authority that you and Lord Nicholson over there aren't exactly the best of friends." She plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a sip.

"Out of the goodness of my shrivelled black heart- I pity the poor bastard that much. You?"

"Someone had to babysit those two." Natalie's eyes darted towards Ollie and Phil, who were arguing loudly on their way up the stairs and attracting a great deal of attention. "And of course I was sent to see what nefarious scheme you'll put into play. I'm amazed you haven't already tried asking whatever it is that you think I'm stupid enough to tell you about our side of the fence."

"Would I do that? What kind of things have you been hearing about me, Natalie?" Malcolm smiled despite being internally seething that she was too smart to be slipped the hiatus line. He lifted an entire bottle of champagne from a passing waiter. "I think I'm going to need this- is there a problem here?"

"Sir, you can't take that much." The nervous waiter couldn't meet Malcolm's eyes.

"Who are you talking to, my cock or my face? You know Natalie, I didn't believe Julius when he told me that all of the staff in these fancy fucking venues are rent boys- in fact this is the first time Baldy's been right about anything I can think of."

"Please sir, I'll be happy to pour you a glass but you can't-"

"Can't what? Listen son, I'm not interested but if you wait around in the men's toilets I'm sure a bald man with a fucking ridiculous accent will tell you how to earn yourself a couple hundred quid or so, okay?" He headed towards the ornate stairway that the majority of the guests had already made their way up and caught sight of Glenn, his arm linked with that of Robyn.

"Well fuck me sideways."

"Share your bottle with me and I'll pretend to consider it." He caught sight of Natalie as she dropped her blackberry into the small clutch bag she wielded. "They closed the bar, which is probably the only reason people are going to the conference room." No chance was the Mary Whitehouse version of the first thought that passed through Malcolm's mind- in order to retain his sanity through forty five minutes of what was sure to be first class shite made by an upper class piece of shite he would need to be as drunk as possible. But then he was Malcolm Tucker, and there was a way in which every situation could be manipulated to suit his needs.

"I don't see why not." He offered Natalie his arm.

"My good looks aside, remind me why is it that you want me to fuck you sideways?"

"A friend of mine's getting lucky tonight and not even I saw it coming." They passed through the doors to the conference room which had been turned into a cinema for the evening and took two of the only remaining seats in the middle of the room- the back was fully occupied by those who hoped to sneak out. "I didn't think it was possible."

"Oh, you mean Glenn." The lights dimmed and Malcolm took a swig of champagne with which to fortify himself as an enlarged image of a certain head resembling an egg appeared on the screen.

"How much do you know about DoSaC? Your life may well depend upon the answer." If Ollie couldn't manage to keep his mouth shut about simple things like a bit of office romance then he would need to evaluate what information he could be trusted with. Natalie pulled the bottle from his hand and drank from it.

"That would be telling. Besides, I want to learn how much you know about us." I'll know everything that you're going to tell me, Natalie Ward, because I'll have you singing like a fucking canary. They sat quietly for most of the feature presentation, the highlight of which was the closing credits. As the room cleared Julius could be seen mingling and belatedly it occurred to Malcolm that if he didn't get up then he would actually end up talking to the ponce.

"We need to go." Pulling Natalie to her feet and picking up the golden clutch bag, Malcolm attempted to follow the stream of people passing Julius and using the side exit as a short cut to the restaurant. If making himself into her superman didn't cause her to spill the beans he would be very surprised indeed. What he had failed to take into account was that Julius would actually want to speak to him- surely nobody was that masochistic.

"Malcolm, a word if you please." He stopped and released the vice grip on Natalie's arm.

"Julius! That was a great piece of work- it really showed that you put so much effort into making the project work. In fact, you could even win an award for it." He turned and looked at his fellow peers, basking in their approval before replying.

"You really think so?"

"Fuck no. That mock-you-mentary, and you will be fucking mocked for it, was as about as substantial as your fine head of hair. It was pretentious bullshit and the only connection the public are going to feel with you after that will be that they'll begin to despise your shiny smiling face too." He turned, leaving a flabbergasted peer of the realm behind, and led Natalie to the dining hall.

"At least you call a spade a spade, even if you do call it a bastard first." For a moment Malcolm wondered if his plan to charm information out of the opposition was going better than he could have anticipated as Natalie placed her hand on his, but then he felt her bag being tugged gently from his grasp and released it. "I'll see you later." He went and looked for the seat with his name plaque, and to his dismay found that it was beside Nicola Murray- a cruel twist of fate to be sure. Julius had planned this entire thing, including the seating arrangements, and had sat him here with the nobodies in order to belittle him. He sat down and reached for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table, trying to focus on the next steps in cultivating his plan as opposed to Robyn's twittering. More realistic than vain, Malcolm saw that it was unlikely he could seduce Natalie- she was at least twenty years his junior for a start despite her blasé jokes, but that didn't mean he was blacklisted as a potential friend.

"What did you say to Natalie? I don't really care if you hurt her feelings, but explaining it to Emma's going to be like 'Mission Impossible' only without the cool gadgets."

"Who's Natalie?" Robyn withdrew from her conversation with Glenn long enough to feign interest.

"Emma's roommate and kind of like my opposite number."

"Oh." Nicola nodded. "How did she survive her first time meeting you, Malcolm?"

"I'll have you know I was the perfect gentleman." A couple of moments' worth of awkward silence passed. "Fuck the lot of you."

"Are you sure you don't want to fuck Natalie? For the good of the party, I mean." Malcolm didn't know if he was going to throttle Ollie or congratulate him on a rare moment of coming close to the truth.

"Near enough, now tell me everything you know about her." Malcolm reached for a slice of bread from the basket in the centre of the table, noticing that the inability to speak had claimed the table once more.

"She's twenty four, likes reading and Chinese food and... you have got to be shitting me! It was a joke, admittedly in ill taste, but then so are all of my jokes." Surprisingly it was Nicola that voiced the collective opinion, perhaps in revenge for his earlier comment of her resembling Ronald McDonald gone transsexual depressive.

"Do you really think this girl would pick you over... what was the charming phrase you used- a wank sock, Malcolm?" Beginning to enjoy herself more than she had done all day, Nicola sipped at her glass of dry white wine. "How old are you anyway?"

"Seeing as she's a woman, Miss Jane Bloody Marple, she probably doesn't need a wank sock, and I said he was almost right. I'm not planning on shagging her- it doesn't take much at all in that department to extract valuable information, as Ollie boy is living proof of. I'm just going to... why am I answering to you lot? Ollie, tell me about her."

"Malcolm, Emma is going to kill me if she finds out about this, as in properly kill me."

"Which is nothing compared to what I'm going to do with this steak knife if you don't change your tune." He lifted the implement in question and jabbed the air with it, ignoring the stares from surrounding tables.

"Alright, but I don't know her that well. She went to uni with Emma, when she took over Mannion's blog from Phil it became a bit less of a laughing stock, and she's the one that eats all of the food I leave in Emma's fridge."

"And?" Malcolm rotated the knife.

"That's it. That's all I know, honestly." It wasn't much to work with, but he was confident that he could find out some very useful information from Natalie indeed.

****

The meal was an uncomfortable affair for the vast majority of the guests because even though the food was delicious they were expected to make polite conversation about the premier of this gross PR exercise they had been summoned to bear witness to. Straight after desert Glenn and Robyn had made a bid for freedom and, much to Ollie's amusement, left together. A short while later Nicola had actually muttered 'Thank God' when her husband phoned to say there had been a family emergency, leaving Malcolm and Ollie sitting together. Malcolm was eating the best parts of the cheeseboard and letting Ollie's nervous rambling wash in one ear and out of the other until finally something was said that caught his attention.

"Oh shit- we have company." In the eyes of many Natalie had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire when she extracted herself from a conversation with Julius and sat at the nearest table hidden from view; the table occupied by Malcolm Tucker. "Natalie- please sit down. It's great seeing you again. Have some cheese. Have you lost weight? You're looking very well tonight, not that you don't always look great." With a clatter Malcolm dropped the cheese knife and turned his bollocking face on Ollie.

"You are trying to pump me for information. I'm disappointed Malcolm; I've heard so much about you but nobody said anything about you being predictable." Her eyes sparkled with barely concealed mirth as he struggled not to unleash his anger.

"Natalie, don't be silly. I wouldn't do anything like that, would I Ollie?"

"Save it." She didn't appear to object to his attempted duplicity as she helped herself to the last of the wine, leaving Malcolm seconds to work out how to play this. Natalie wasn't stupid, that much was clear, so he could come clean. She would either respond well to this or everything would go up in smoke.

"Well, seeing as you to know one another so well I'm going to give Emma a text and see if she needs anything." It was cruel, but it was also entertaining to cast doubt on the legitimacy of his claim.

"Emma's at the cinema so her phone's going to be switched off for another hour at least. Why don't you stay with us and chat?" It was with mild interest that Malcolm observed the exchange.

"I- I'll try anyway."He stood and slid into the crowd without a backwards glance.

"Dance with me? I'm not one for the Oxbridge fucking pleasantries, but it... what?" Natalie shook her head with a pitying smile.

"I know exactly what you're trying to do. I came to say thank you for earlier before you prove me right and try to get in my pants, wheedle something out of me about Peter or feed me some false information about DoSaC."

"You're right. That was the master plan." No swearing, not theatrics and no lies, all of which he was renowned for.

"Excuse me?"

"Apart from the bit about getting in your knickers, although if you're up for it..."

"Are you being serious?" She looked at him incredulously.

"Deadly." The gamble would only pay off if he bided his time, and although he wasn't a patient man by nature Malcolm wasn't.

"I see." Natalie drained the last of her wine. "Then let's dance."

"Are you out of your fucking tree?" It was Malcolm's turn to be surprised. Never in a million years did he think she was going to sleep with him simply because he'd asked, or for any other reason.

"You asked me to dance and I said yes." The evening would be a complete waste of time if he didn't get some plan or another put into action, and this was legal whereas sticking a fork in Julius' eye wasn't. He stood and offered Natalie his hand wondering just what in the name of hell was happening. Clearly this could be capitalised upon.

Malcolm placed a hand on her back, thinking how pleasant the silk material felt, and they began to waltz in time to the music. Over the head of his latest conquest Stewart was giving her the strangest look, certainly not being 'down with the mellow vibe' or whatever catchphrase he was using at the moment.

"Why did you accept?" Natalie hesitated. "Come on- I told you why I asked."

"It's Phil. He was coming over to ask me to dance and I needed an escape route. I'm not planning on sleeping with you."

"You'd rather dance with me that Phil? Isn't he your boyfriend? Evening Tom." The Prime Minister nodded and raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious of his intent.

"If I answer this then I get to ask you another question."

"You're bargaining with me even after all of the horrible things you've heard. I'm only going to accept because you have balls." As she laughed Malcolm knew that he had been right; honesty was the best policy with her until strategically he had to lie to her, but by then she wouldn't be expecting it.

"It's because Phil is a little bit too interested in me. I don't much care if you use that against him in some kind of campaign." She was slim, young and pretty so Malcolm didn't have much difficulty envisioning why he would be interested in Natalie.

"Ah... Now what are you going to ask me?"

"You didn't stipulate that I had to ask tonight."

"Are you sure that all of the funny looks you're being given are better than having lover boy's boner up against you?" It was true that other couples dancing as well as the people sitting around tables were looking in their direction, but Natalie only shook her head.

"Why is it so odd that Malcolm Tucker is dancing with a member of the opposition? After all, everyone knows that you're the man with the plan." They continued to sway, finding the night less unbearable than either had anticipated.

****

Thanks for reading. Please review, otherwise Malcolm will be very unhappy indeed.