Fandom The Thick of It
Character(s)/Pairing(s) Jamie MacDonald, Malcolm Tucker; Malcolm/Jamie
Genre Drama/Future!Fic/Slash
Rating PG (R if you count the cursing)
Word Count 535
Disclaimer The Thick of It c. Iannucci, BBC
Summary Jamie has one question for Malcolm about the leak.
Warning(s) spoilers for all series and specials of The Thick of It
Notes I was talking to friend about the Tickel scandal and there was an image that got stuck in my head from our discussion, so it became this longish drabble. Two ratings because some sites I crosspost to require an actual accurate MPAA rating.
Silence
Malcolm landed on one foot, not both feet. He was out of the government for good, but he would not go to jail. His trial after the inquiry was over and he was now free to start the next chapter of his life. He was home and Jamie had arrived not long ago. Malcolm poured the wine and handed one of the glasses to Jamie before joining him on the couch.
"You weren't really responsible for that, were you?" Jamie asked. He took a sip of his wine. It was red, sweet, smooth and very fragrant.
Malcolm said nothing. He leaned back into the corner of the couch and inhaled the fragrance.
Jamie's eyes narrowed. He knew Malcolm long enough to understand his silences. Malcolm was not a man of excuses. The silence meant responsibility. "You fucking didn't." His eyes were fixed on Malcolm's face.
Malcolm took more than a sip of his wine and set the glass aside. He looked at Jamie. He had no retort or response to the accusation. The court found him innocent, but like with anything political, the situation was very grey.
Jamie waited for an answer. The longer the silence lasted, the more his facial expression contorted. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?" he asked.
Malcolm made a face as though he had bitten down on something sour. He watched Jamie stand up and move about the room. Malcolm let Jamie react. Nothing he could say to Jamie at this point would diffuse the situation.
"We've been at the root of all sorts of fuckery since we met," Jamie said, "but this is lowest shit I think you've ever pulled. He was a cunt, but there are easier ways to get rid of cunts than that." Jamie paused, his eyes reading Malcolm's expression. Jamie took three strides and he was in front of Malcolm, leaning down so their faces were inches apart, a hand resting on the couch just behind Malcolm's shoulder to keep his balance. "Say something."
Malcolm held Jamie's gaze. He reached out and put a hand on Jamie's chest to push him out of the way so he could stand, but his hand remained stationary, fingers splayed against Jamie's shirt. "I didn't lie at the inquiry or the trial," he said in firm voice.
"But you fucked up somewhere," Jamie said.
Malcolm's fingertips slid down Jamie's chest until they dropped away in a fist. "Yes, I fucked up," Malcolm said. "I had the medical file on my computer."
"Why did you have the medical file?" Jamie stepped back then. "It's like a pirate handed you a chest of lit explosives and you decided to put it in the fucking powder room."
Malcolm stood up and walked over to Jamie. He made eye contact and kept his voice calm and low. "Someone sent them to me. I kept them, thinking they might be useful." He kept eye contact. This was the most explanation he would offer.
Jamie shifted his weight and Malcolm's posture adjusted accordingly without either of them noticing. Jamie ran a hand through his own hair. "Were they useful?" Jamie asked, eying Malcolm.
There was a long silence. "For someone," Malcolm said.
The End