2. Making Christmas cards (Paper Trails)
Ollie pokes his head into Malcolm's office. It's late, the Number 10 building nearly deserted, and Christmas lights give the hallways a warm glow.
"Er. Malcolm?" He says, seeing the man at his desk, head bent over a piece of paper, scribbling in square, blocky script.
Christ, he thinks, making his way over to peer over his shoulder. Even his handwriting looks like he's shouting.
"What?" It takes a moment to register the fact that Tucker has shopped writing and is looking up at him, eyebrow raised. "I'm kind of fucking busy here, ya twat."
"How many insults have you manages to fit on that page?" Ollie chuckles, reading something about the pancreas and bamboo shoots. "Verbally eviscerating ministers on-" He pauses in disbelief. "Is that a Christmas card?"
The other man grins, sharklike. "Yep." He finishes the body paragraph, Reeder staring at him as he signs it with "warmest holiday wishes, Malcolm Tucker", cracking a grin when a subscript is added; 'seriously, go burn in hell'.
"Really? You're going to send that?"
Malcolm throws it on the top of a pile of completed cards. "It's not like I have a sparkling reputation. A bit of a bollocking in a card isn't going to make it any worse."
Ollie grins and picks up another card. "Remove the genitals… gasoline-assisted immolation…" He pauses. "Is this a card to yourself?"
Tucker immediately looks up, eyes wider. "Don't touch that."
"What? I want to know, what does the great Malcolm Tucker say to himself?"
"I will fucking kill you if you open that card. I will slice open your throat and strangle you with your own vocal chords, then remove each of your fingernails and claw your stomach open with the-"
It's too late; Reeder has already opened the card. Malcolm's eyes narrow further and he shifts, adopting a defensive fighting stance.
Ollie looks more and more shocked the farther down he reads.
Eventually he opens his mouth. "R-really?"
"What?" Of all the reactions he'd expected, this had not been one of them.
Ollie turns to him. "Is what is in this card… the truth?"
Malcolm can't lie, not about this, not to him. "Unfortunately."
The other moves unbelievably quickly and Tucker finds himself with a lap full of Junior Advisor, a warm pair of hips attacking his, arms snaking around his chest and gripping his shoulders.
When they separate a minute later the Director Of Communications is at a loss for words (and isn't that ironic) and Ollie is grinning like a fool.
"I've wanted to do that for so fucking long." He sighs.
Malcolm doesn't respond, just pulls him to kiss him down again.