Hey guys, I've been incredibly busy with school but here we are. I had this fanfiction and another on the back burner, but I managed to force myself to finish this.
As I've stated before, I don't know much British politics and whatever, so don't expect much from me, but enjoy regardless!
"I don't fucking do parties. They're loud, irritating, and filled with dense fucks like yourself." Was what Malcolm Tucker had said, as he pulled out his BlackBerry and had planned to call someone -anyone- just to get Ollie out of his hair. Every year, someone attempted to get Malcolm to the annual Christmas party, just to see what he was like out of the office, to which nobody succeeded. "Sam! Get this little boy out of my hair!" Sam, one of the only few people Malcolm was ever friendly with popped into the office and looked between the two.
"Ollie, he's having a temper. Just get out of here while you can." Sam said, shrugging.
"I'm just trying to invite him to the Christmas party." Ollie said, looking to Sam with fake innocence.
"To which it will never happen, you fuck. Just quit your insistence. I have other more important things to fucking do than listen to your babbling, let alone go to a alcohol-ridden shindig that I will not enjoy." Malcolm grumbled, looking through his contacts. Sam watched as he contemplated on different contacts, his finger hovering above the call button. She could imagine his thoughts now, should he yell at Joan from culture? Perhaps he could get his hands on that guy from Transport- he was a good for nothing fuck-up. Ollie was definitely deserving of yelling, but his mere presence was a headache.
"You know, I'll be there. I know Jamie I'll be there and Sam always comes every year. I'm pretty sure Clara Oswald will be there too...you should have seen her at the last party, wearing that dress..." Ollie casually brought up, giving Sam a grin. Sam rolled her eyes, but noticed that Malcolm's eyes had flashed up to Ollie. He had certainly hit a nerve with the spin doctor. Sam knew that Clara had been working for about a year in the office and had several daring conversations with her boss. Sam, if she wasn't Malcolm's personal assistant, would never have the guts to say the things Clara said.
It was when Clara was the new girl, as she became the Secretary of Education. There was high praise from the Prime Minster -affectionately called Prime Cunt by Malcolm- and she wanted to see her for herself. Rumors spread around the office like wildfire when she first appeared, at how young she looked and if she could actually hold a position, along with the floating whispers at how gorgeous she was. Malcolm didn't interact with her, regardless of what had been said about her. She didn't fuck up, so Malcolm had no reason to yell at her on the phone.
It was until she did end up fucking something up, to which Malcolm, instead of taking to the phone, went to her directly. Sam decided to follow, as she wanted to see the lass and if the rumors were correct. Judging by Malcolm's long strides and mutters about how 'incompetent the fucking cunt was,' meant that she did something terrible.
"Where is the Secretary of Education?" Malcolm barked at someone- Jack, from the Department of Transport, who raised an eyebrow.
"You mean Clara? She's in her office, like usual. She's holed up there doing all her work. Finally come to see what she looks like?"
"Fuck no. I don't have her number. I need to tell her off."
"So you're collecting her digits?" Jack joked. A glare from Malcolm shut him up. "She doesn't take bullshit, you know."
"She's about to get a fucking awakening then." Malcolm continued to stride over to her office and once he did, he barged straight in, finding the young woman on one of her three computers, typing away. Sam got a good look at her.
This Oswald woman seemed like she'd be more appropriate in teaching. She wore a simple white blouse and had modest makeup, yet still managed to look stunning, as the rumors said.
"I'll be with you in a moment, just wait." She said, without even looking up.
"You don't tell me to wait." Malcolm growled, walking straight for the desk. Clara, unfazed by this, looked up. She still typed away regardless, eyes glaring directly at Malcolm.
"Ah, Mr. Tucker. I had thought you'd come for me sometime. What did I do to earn your appearance?" She said nonchalantly, smiling at him.
"Don't play fucking stupid with me, you cunt. You completely changed our fucking education policies!" Sam sighed. Right, the Labour Party was known for being the education party.
"Okay, and?" Sam stared at her boldness. Anybody else with their first encounter with Malcolm would quiver in their shoes and cry their eyes out for their mummy. Malcolm seeemd apalled by this response.
"Okay, and?" He growled at her, fists clenched, "Miss Oswald, I don't think you understand what you're doing."
"I think I very much do, Mr. Tucker. I don't think you ever been a child before or ever understood how the education process works."
"How the fuck do you know then? You look like you just came from the fucking womb!" Sam sighed at Malcolm, who was still bristling. Clara didn't seem to give a fuck.
"I taught students before. Don't make assumptions you don't know. Your opponents won't take you seriously. I changed the policy for the benefit of the party. If you don't understand it, then how unfortunate. Maybe you should stop shouting and look at the education system. Pictures with children won't make education seem like the prime of the party when you don't have a good plan. You'll fall flat." For once, Malcolm seemed to be out of words.
"You're going to regret this, Oswald." He grunted and walked off. Sam stayed, eyes wide. Clara exhaled and looked to Sam.
"I knew he was going to come over. He'll see that it was actually a good change." Clara smiled, showcasing her dimples. "Let me introduce myself. Hello, my name is Clara Oswald, and you are?"
Since then, Sam and everyone in the entire party and possibly government was friends with her, seeing her as the gregarious and sweet young woman with sharp wit, taking education by storm with the renewed policies. Everyone found her quite easy to talk to- all except for Malcolm. Sam knew all the little glares he gave when he saw her with Clara, chatting away or as Clara walked by. Sam knew he didn't resent her- if anything, she found her to be a specimen to behold. Something to be studied, something to be seen, and more importantly- someone he could relate to, even if he didn't want to admit it. Sam found it adorable, but Malcolm saw it as a weakness. That was most likely why he attempted to not associate himself with Clara.
"Malcolm, Clara is here for you." Sam had told him one time and she was quick to notice that he was looking at his reflection in the window; adjusting his tie, combing his hair through his silver locks- all signs that he was making sure he was in perfect condition to talk to Clara.
"Tell her to fuck off." Malcolm said, with a futile attempt to sound like he didn't give a shit, when Sam knew all too well that he damn well did. She motioned for Clara to come into the office, smirking as she did so. Clara was wearing another one of her infamous dresses. This one had flowers on it. It definitely was on the border of not being safe for work.
"Malc, I need to talk to you about this. I don't know how to deal with the media." She lamented to the spin doctor, but didn't make it sound as though she was begging for his help. He looked up and his eyes practically widened to the size of polo balls. Sam also noticed the usage of a nickname; perhaps Clara was much more acquainted with Malcolm now...in or out of the office. Sam, at the time, said nothing and went back to her post, listening for any shouts, to which she heard none.
Clara was certainly something.
All of that being said, Sam watched as her boss pretended to contemplate the options, but she knew that he was going to go.
"I'll think about it. Now get the fuck away from me." Malcolm muttered, turning back to his Blackberry. Ollie grinned at Sam, who just shook her head in disbelief. Just the mention of Clara's name certainly had an effect on Malcolm, something Sam knew was a rare sight.
The Christmas party was often civilized, normal, and relaxed. It was filled with cheap wine, forced conversing, and lousy gift-giving. As well as really bad company, but it was worth it by looking at Clara Oswald, Malcolm decided. So what if he fell right into Ollie's trap? It was still true; Clara was here, with the nicest dress he had ever seen. It made her look damn sexy, yet so damn modest. How did she do it? Oh- he didn't care.
Malcolm watched as Ollie led Clara to the drinks table. Oh, for fucks sake. He hated it. He hated Ollie, he hated the twats around him- he just wanted to talk to Clara without his walls. He wanted to be the normal chap from down the fucking lane, where he could court Clara like any normal man. But no, he was cursed with his fucking position and all the other cocks that wouldn't let go. He watched as Clara laughed at one of Ollie's shitty jokes, fuck, why was her laugh so fucking nice to his fucking ears- fuckity, fuck, fuck. He needed to excuse himself- get away from all the others and plan a way to leave. He could hear Clara say something to Ollie, but he didn't care. Malcolm walked out and before he knew it, he had bumped into Clara's shoulder.
"Malc, I didn't expect to see you here." Clara said, calling him once again with that nickname that just seemed to stick between them. Malcolm looked to her.
"I just came to show up, is that a problem?" Malcolm said, only cursing himself in his head. That was not smooth, Malcolm.
"Mmm, I don't really believe that, but alright." She sighed, "I am so tired of Ollie already. No offense to him, but he's just too much." Oh, finally, something he can talk about.
"You got out of there while you can. He's so fucking annoying-"
"Malcolm! Clara!" His voice rang through and the two winced. Perfect fucking timing.
"What do you fucking want, Ollie?!" He shouted to the man, who just seemed to be grinning from ear to ear. Jamie was besides him, mimicking the same exact grin.
"Mistletoe." Jamie pointed out. Everyone had ceased their conversation, looking towards their direction. Clara looked quite embarrassed, cheeks tinting red. Malcolm furrowed his brow.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He demanded. A snicker arose from a few of the other members of Number 10. "Fuck no. Fucking hell no."
"You know, they won't leave you alone until you do something." Clara said, turning to Malcolm. "So..."
"You're drunk." Malcolm responded and Clara shook her head.
"Havent touched a cup yet, unless it holds water. I don't do much alcohol in or out of work." Clara muttered, "So let's just..." She leaned forward, grabbing onto Malcolm's lapels and giving him a kiss.
It wasn't one of those chaste kisses that you'd expect. Clara was different- at least to Malcolm. He hadn't kissed a woman in god knows how long, so it felt foreign, like a new, yet at the same time familiar pleasant feeling. It felt so solid in a place of blur, with his mouth doing something else than yelling; something positive. Something that just clicked with him. It felt- god, it felt magnificent, but it was ending. Clara was pulling away. He remembers there are others in the room; possibly the whole of Number 10, but he honestly doesn't care. He looks to Clara, ignoring the irritating fucks on the side, who are clapping enthusiastically.
It ended too soon, he realizes. He realizes he wants more and judging by Clara's similar expression, she seems to agree. They make some sort of agreement for later- whenever, with their mere eye contact and walk their separate ways. Ollie is still grinning. Jamie walked towards Malcolm, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"So, how was it?" Jamie asked, smirking.
"Shit. Just as I expected. Worst thing ever. I'll regret it forever." Malcolm muttered, but in reality, all he wanted was her lips on his yet again. Jamie, clearly noticing that Malcolm meant none of it, only smirks and walks off, leaving Malcolm in desire for her lips and perhaps, if permitted, even more than just that.
Only one more hour, he thinks, one more hour.
He went to work the following Monday. Malcolm feels happy, for once. He didn't feel like he wanted to explode. The weekend felt magnificent- better than he had thought. It was filled with more than he could ever want, with Clara's permittance.
His jubilance was noticed by everyone from Number 10. It was just unsettling.
"Good morning Sam," he said, as he walked up to his office. Sam looks to him in surprise. He did say good morning to Sam, but Sam never heard him say it with such cheer.
"Good...morning, Malcolm." She responded to him. Jamie came in a few moments later, a cup of coffee in his hand.
"Is he in?" Jamie asked. Sam nodded, to which Jamie only placed the cup down and marched to Malcolm's office door, yelling quite loudly, "SO ON A SCALE FROM ONE TO TEN, HOW WELL DOES SHE FUCK?!" Sam's eyebrows rose and in seconds, Malcolm's yelling could be heard, practically shooting every possible curse word in Jamie's direction.
So much for jubilance.