Brilliant news; Armando Iannucci posted on Twitter that 8 more episodes of "The Thick of It" are to be made. In the mean time, I hope that you continue to enjoy reading this. Who doesn't love awkward post sex moments?

OoOoO

It was a Saturday and so she didn't need to be out of bed at an obscenely early time of day. Savouring her first thought of the day, Natalie snuggled into the duvet and stretched languidly. Her hand came into contact with warm skin. She sat up and saw Malcolm Tucker sleeping beside her, the events of last night springing to mind. What had she done? Natalie squeaked before covering her mouth with both hands- she wasn't ready for him to wake up just yet. But it had been wonderful. Hopping out of his bed, Natalie reclaimed her underwear from the carpet and wrapped herself in a burgundy dressing gown that was hanging from the door. She had some serious thinking to do, and it couldn't be done on an empty stomach.

There was something exhilarating about being downstairs in Malcolm's house, silence her only companion. When she realised that she was walking on tiptoes Natalie berated herself- she wasn't trespassing because he had invited her here. Brightly coloured cards on the mantel piece caught her eye. Taking advantage of her solitude, Natalie decided to investigate and opened the first one, taking in the glittering 'congratulations' emblazoned across the front.

'Malc,

Congratulations on finally being old enough for the swearing, the threats and generally pretty fucking scary behaviour to become socially acceptable. I'm actually a bit jealous. Maybe I should have written in bigger letters so that you don't have to do that zombie arm stretch old people do whenever they have to read something.

Lots of love and kisses!

Jamie'

Even through the written word, Jamie managed to be offensive. Natalie couldn't help but be grudgingly impressed as she returned the card to its original place, heading into the kitchen. She sorted through cupboards, concentrating on finding everything that she needed to make a fried breakfast- Malcolm was Scottish, so there was no way he could object to greasy food- as opposed to the possible consequences of last night. Growing bolder, she switched on the radio as she cooked, humming along to a tune she vaguely recognised. Thankfully there were plates and cutlery on the draining board beside the sink, so she didn't need to root around for them. Dividing up the food into relatively even piles, Natalie turned to carry the plates upstairs and nearly dropped them in surprise. Malcolm was stood watching her, clearly contemplating something.

"Jesus, Malcolm. You scared me." Natalie squirmed as he looked her up and down, realising that she was wearing his dressing gown. At the time it had seemed a sensible idea, but it was strange being barely dressed in his home when Malcolm was fully clothed. He took a plate from her and headed for the dining room.

"So you're still here then." He sat and started eating with gusto- she had been right to suppose that he would enjoy a cooked breakfast.

"Er... yes I am." Unable to start eating, Natalie rolled up the sleeves of his dressing gown and wondered what he had meant by the statement. "Would you like me to go?" Malcolm lowered his cutlery and looked at her as though she had grown another head or announced that she was defecting from the Tories in order to join the Lib Dems.

"No, I'm just a little bit fucking surprised is all." Malcolm didn't have to lie; he was surprised that she hadn't left first thing in the morning like he had expected her to. Instead she was sitting there, looking relatively relaxed about the situation- which may be a direct result of last night- and there was something strangely beguiling about the way she fidgeted with the sleeve of his dressing gown.

"Oh..." Natalie poked at her food, feeling more than slightly foolish. Why hadn't she just left? Staying had felt right, but leaving was the infinitely more sensible option.

"Jesus, Mary and Jefferson fucking Airplane, I'm glad you're still here, right?" Malcolm watched as a blush spread across her cheeks and a smile devoid of artfulness quirked the corners of her lips. It was, he thought, altogether too easy. They finished breakfast in a companionable silence. As she placed her cutlery in the middle of her plate, Natalie wondered what she ought to say or do next.

"What happens now?" Slightly apprehensive, Natalie bit her lip. She had no idea what she wanted to happen, and it seemed like a good idea to have Malcolm's perspective.

"We unite the parties, reconcile the forces of fucking darkness and light so that every politician wants nothing more than world peace. We make it so that all the poor people and rich cunts can live harmoniously- maybe even cross the divide and fucking produce a whole army of little middle class kiddies that can have the best of both worlds; fucking tea and scones for afternoon tea and a public school education, they can even go to football matches with lunchboxes packed full of quails' eggs and flasks of champagne-" Malcolm sighed when he caught sight of the stricken expression on her face as she looked anywhere but him. It was blatantly obvious that she was trying not to cry. He considered the value of keeping himself in Natalie's good books and in an attempt to make amends reached across the table to take her hand. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Natalie pulled her hand away from underneath his and stood. She refused to cry in front of Malcolm Tucker. "I shouldn't have expected anything less from you. I- I don't know why I did this."

"Natalie?" He groaned as he watched her disappear and listened to the quick tread of her feet on the stairs. Why couldn't he have held his tongue? Because she was a fucking vacuous, insipid Tory bitch. Malcolm recalled the way she had flinched and felt, what- guilt? He dismissed the thought as soon as it arrived. What he felt was anger at himself for jeopardising a resource of helpful information.

Malcolm stood and followed her up the stairs. By the time he arrived in his bedroom she was almost fully dressed.

"I have to go now." He watched, unsure how to proceed, as she tugged her jumper over her head.

"Wait." When he caught hold of her arm as she tried to pass him, Malcolm wondered if he was about to be slapped as anger flashed behind her eyes. "Your top's inside out." She looked down and nodded, plucking at the white label bearing washing instructions. "I don't want you to go."

"Malcolm, you just don't get it; if a guy wants a girl to stay after sex then... he actually has to be nice to her. I don't know how you've managed in the past with that, but I'm not staying to find out." Natalie wriggled free and shrugged off her top, staring at it intently as she set about fixing it. He couldn't help but look at her.

"I really would like you to stay; I'll buy you dinner and pretend to watch whatever the fuck it is that you want to see on TV." It would be worth it, too.

"You know exactly what I mean." She smiled sadly. Malcolm watched as collected her fallen hair pins from the floor. Spotting one behind a lamp, he retrieved it and handed it back.

"You look lovely. And Jamie was wrong; I'd rather have you than fucking Natalie Portman, wouldn't I?" He watched as she fixed her hair into a bun, uncertain if she intended it to be messy or not. Either way, there was something charming about it. Natalie turned and frowned at him.

"Don't. I'm cute and you want to sleep with me again- I get that- but that isn't enough to make this into more than a one off." Since his divorce, Malcolm had often been thankful that his personal life, with the exception of a few flings, had been free of the confusing entity that was a woman. They were so much fucking effort.

"That's not it. I like you." Malcolm moved to stand behind her and kissed the side of Natalie's neck.

"Malcolm-" He continued, causing her to fall silent quickly.

"I like you, so for fuck's sake, bear with me." Natalie laughed aloud, and he felt her shaking underneath his hands. She turned around and leant against him.

"This is ridiculous." She leant up and gave Malcolm a gentle kiss, savouring the feeling of his hands in her hair. "Alright, I'll stay."

OoOoO

"I'm going to work now." Natalie kissed his cheek, briefly enveloping Malcolm in the scent of her perfume, and disappeared into the hallway. Momentarily he ceased scanning his blackberry, watching her retreating back.

"Try not to come to close to destroying the world with your almighty fucking powers of darkness." The closing of the front door was the only response he received. Malcolm smiled. Every time she had visited over the previous few weeks they agreed it would be the last, yet Natalie's visits were becoming more frequent, as was her staying overnight.

Unaware of how the recent appearance of bottles of her shampoo, shower gel and various items of clothing were grating on his nerves, Natalie unpacked her computer and checked her pigeon hole. It was empty. She had to fight the urge to squeal in delight; the powers that be had given her project against ID cards the green light. Every evening in recent history had been spent adjusting the style of their argument and editing the literature accordingly, and every morning since the process had started, Natalie had found her pigeon hole filled with her work, covered in post-it notes from various people 'suggesting' changes.

She logged on to the intranet, fully intending on gloating to Phil, when a screen name that almost always made her heart plummet turned green- it seemed that Stewart had been waiting, invisible, for an opportunity to virtually accost her. Reluctantly, she accepted his invitation to mutually webcam.

"Natalie, how are you this morning?" The question was innocent enough, but she wondered if Stewart had some way of knowing that she had spent the night with Malcolm. Maybe they had tracking devices now. It was an illogical fear, yet an uncomfortable thought.

"Fine, yeah. Listen, my stuff wasn't on my desk this morning. Has it been held up, or...?" Before celebrating, it was best to establish the facts. Still, Natalie couldn't stop the excitement bubbling up in her altogether, so she drummed her fingers on the table.

"Everyone is happy with it, especially Helen and her team." Stewart's mention of the Shadow Home Office couldn't have been anything but planned. "And so I wanted to have a little meeting with you."

"Alright, I'll come over to your office now." Just as Natalie went to sign off, Stewart's voice stopped her.

"This is the meeting. We're having an online conference. Face to face has been replaced by face to book. We have casually gone where many men- and women- have gone before, because cyberspace is now my space, and yours-" Although he was clearly enjoying the flow of his speech, Natalie was yet to ingest enough caffeine to be able to tint the blue of his skies to a more realistic shade.

"Stewart, you're less than twenty feet away from me. This is ridiculous- it's an epic fail, if you like." It felt slightly sacrilegious to refer to an online meme in what was the central office of the Conservative Party, a place she had been eager to join for its substance and solid traditions. Still, it seemed that Stewart was pleased by her display of awareness for such things, and he chortled in an exaggerated way to let Natalie know that he understood the jibe.

"Alright, come over to my office." As he closed over her laptop, Natalie rolled her eyes. Another good thing about being promoted was that she would be surrounded by more like minded people, if all went to plan. Every department had contact with Stewart, but with more capable superiors, she would hopefully be on the receiving end of his spiel a lot less often. Outside the door to the office, Natalie almost bumped into Phil.

"Where were you last night?" He attempted to embarrass her by speaking loudly enough that the conversation was audible to several people.

"With a man, but then you'd know all about that." Smiling to herself, Natalie turned and made to enter the office, but Stewart was already stood in the doorway.

"Natalie, please try and be a little more sensitive and tolerant- imagine what it would be like to have your choice of partner ridiculed by us all. That being said, Phil, she owned you." The irony of that statement made Natalie want to laugh aloud as she sat on the proffered chair- Stewart would be so tolerant of her thing with Malcolm that she would probably lose her job. Stewart closed the door, blocking out the sounds of the department, before sitting behind his desk.

"So, what did you want to speak to me about?" Unfolding her hands, Natalie placed them flat on her lap in an effort to stop them from sweating.

"Think of the ideology of this party as... a person. Through different times, this person wears different clothes, but ultimately it's the same person. You are currently a little patch darning the sock that is Peter Mannion, MP. But the person now feels like you'd be more appropriately put to use decorating their jeans, shall we say." If it wouldn't have jeopardised the promotion Stewart was hinting at, then Natalie would have given in to the temptation to tell him to hurry up. However, she felt that it was expedient to allow him to continue. "So how do you, little patch, feel about this?"

"I'm very interested."

"That's good, because Nancy feels that you'd be an ideal addition to her team, and JB has cleared it." Stewart slid a form across the table towards her. "Take the morning off to read over this, and I'll see you again after lunch, okay?"

"Yes, thank you Stewart. Does Peter know?" Although Peter's career was in its twilight years and there were no real opportunities left in the shadow DoSaC, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for her boss. There was no telling if he'd survive the next election, or even reshuffle as a member of the shadow cabinet, and it must be difficult seeing his aspirations- hopes that vaguely mirrored her own- coming to an end.

"Not yet, no. You can tell him about your decision after lunch." Stewart turned to his computer, and Natalie knew herself to have been dismissed. Leafing through the form, Natalie took in the requirements of her new position, but what really stuck out was that her salary had risen drastically. She would, with some careful budgeting, be able to afford a flat of her own- it would need to be small, but it would be hers.

"Off again? I've hardly seen you all week." Emma appeared by her side, half teasing, half serious. She was carrying a bundle of folders for Peter about their latest policy reform. Quickly, Natalie stuffed her new contract into her briefcase behind her laptop. Instead of scouring over these for the last few weeks with Phil and Emma, she had been working for another department. Natalie wondered how many people had noticed this impending change.

"Yeah, I'll tell you about it at lunch. Meet me in Costa Coffee as soon as you can." Natalie watched her closest friend stepping into Peter's office. She would miss working with Emma, but hopefully she would be offered a promotion too- she had the ability, but her recent blip with Ollie had been a distraction. Natalie walked away from her desk for what she knew may be the last time.

OoOoO

"Sam! Get me a cup of coffee, would you- and one for yourself." Malcolm sank into the chair behind his desk and rested his head in his hands. How could the Prime Minister imagine going to the summit without his guidance? It was like a socially awkward and less toned Batman trying to cope without Chief Gordon. This amusing train of thought did nothing to alleviate the growing sense of unease: what the fuck was Tom's game? He blinked in surprise as Sam set down the mug of coffee, jolting him from his reverie.

"Are you feeling alright, Malcolm?" Sam was frowning, concerned. If she had been anyone else, Malcolm would have told her where to stick her worry, but Sam made better coffee than any other PA he had ever had.

"I'm fine. Fucktastic." He couldn't quite muster his usual sarcastic joviality, and she wasn't convinced by his attempt, but there was little Sam could say to fix anything. In fact, she managed to make things worse.

"Malcolm... there's something I should tell you." The last time Sam had sounded so nervous, she had broken serious news. He sat up a little straighter. "I was talking to Josephine upstairs..."

"Go on. Listen, the sooner you tell me, the sooner I can put a stop to whatever the fuck it is, okay?" He was dreading hearing whatever it was, despite this encouragement. Already Malcolm was thinly stretched, and things were going badly enough without another problem to nix. Josephine was Tom's PA, so he could be sure that the mistake would snowball.

"Well, she says that she's booked a ticket for Steve Flemming to fly to Spain." Sam shifted uncomfortably.

Steve Flemming. Malcolm was shocked. If Steve was back- he fought the urge to overturn his desk, knowing that such a display would do nothing to help him.

"Thank you, Sam." He pinched the bridge of his nose and waited for the roaring in his ears to subside. It didn't.

Surely this was a temporary appointment.

Fuck.

OoOoO

Still tipsy from her evening of celebrations with Emma, Natalie tottered along the garden path and knocked on Malcolm's door. She hadn't expected to hear from him today, because the unspoken agreement between them was that they'd text an invitation for dinner, and Malcolm hadn't texted during the evening. He had called her half an hour ago just as she was about to wind down for the night, and even through her alcohol induced haze, Natalie had sensed that something was different. The door opened and Malcolm appeared, scotch in hand. Wordlessly, she followed him to the couch.

Malcolm pushed a packet of crisps towards her and settled back, taking a deep drink from the crystal tumbler. Perhaps it was the large quantities of alcohol she had spent her evening drinking, but Natalie didn't feel the need to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that Malcolm gave her, and so she kicked off her shoes and curled up beside him. It was just sex, but that didn't mean they couldn't cuddle, did it? Going for broke, she wrapped an arm around his back. After Michael McIntyre finished bouncing around the stage, Natalie decided to talk.

"You're awfully quiet, Malcolm." She squeezed him gently, certain that there was more going on with Malcolm than usual.

"Yeah, and you're pretty drunk." He felt a surprising surge of fondness as he looked down at her, which he instantly associated with the scotch. Natalie yawned, and he kissed her forehead. She wasn't expecting it, but Natalie knew better than to comment if she wanted him to repeat the gesture again.

"Mm, I'm moving departments. I've been promoted and now I'm working for Nancy Campbell- from bad to worse, I know." She watched, pleased as Malcolm's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I haven't been so fucking ashamed of myself in... ever, actually. I always did have a bit of a thing for the bad girls, but you're a complete fucking she devil now. Tell me, is that quaff thing because it looks pretty or to hide the little horns just fucking growing out of your head now?" He fed her the last of the crisps, laughing as she bit at his fingers.

"Well, you said that my hair's pretty, so I'll let that one slide." She stretched and stood up. "Now, let's go to bed."

"Hold on just a fucking minute there, has all the right wing propaganda you're surrounded by every day caused your little plastic fucking Politics Barbie mind to implode? Just because you're a real storm trooper now doesn't mean that you-" The anger Malcolm felt at being interrupted was short lived as they kissed.

"It must have, because I'm still here." The absurdity of her situation caused Natalie to laugh aloud. "Maybe the immense pressures of keeping that train wreck of a government on the rails and looking after your own interests have turned your little Action Man head in the right direction." She struck a pose, pouting at the mirror.

"Yeah, the National Association for the Truly Fucking Awful Puns called- they want that one back." He followed her out of the room, looking forward to the night much more than he had any part of the day. Since when was a false relationship with a member of the rival party supposed to be simple? Malcolm rolled his eyes. Or fun.

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Thanks for reading. Please review. In episode 8 Malcolm mentions "JB, Cal Richards, and their hordes of fucking robots...", so I took it that JB is the leader of the opposition at the time. I know it was comparatively short, but I'll update soon.