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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 65 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Chapter 65 seems like a good time to tell you that there’s nothing we love more than talking to you guys about this story! We are both on tumblr (@theartificialdane and @veronicasanders) and we’d love to hear from you!! We also have other Galactica content there under the “galactica” and “galactica wardrobe” tags. XOXO!! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Bianca threw a wrench in the annual holiday party when she brought Courtney as her date, and Katya tried to (not) deal with her surprise pregnancy.

This Chapter: Miss Fame and the team work on the final lineup for the spring runway, and Katya figures some things out.

***

It was Violet’s luck that she was a light sleeper, the first note of her alarm barely ringing before she had grabbed her phone from under her pillow and turned it off.

There really wasn't a need for Violet to wake up at 6, for her to start her day so early since she couldn’t go to the gym because of her ankle, but habits were hard to break, and she liked how quiet the world was in the morning, how it felt like she was the only one awake.

She wasn’t hungover, had barely had a drink because of her crutches, but she had a feeling all of her coworkers would be wearing sunglasses and asking each other to shut up, the Friday after the Christmas party always an experience.

Sutan’s bedroom was dark, his curtains swallowing the ever present lights of Harlem, the man asleep next to her, his head resting on his pillow.

It took everything in Violet not to reach out and run her fingers through his hair.

She had been so annoyed with him last night, so uncomfortable in the beautiful red dress she had bought with his money, the simmering anger not leaving her until she had felt Sutan’s clever fingers undo the zipper on her back, skin against skin finally freeing her from the smoldering fire.

“Stop staring at me.” Violet froze, Sutan’s voice deep with sleep.

“I’m not.”

“Oh?” Sutan cracked an eye open, a smile playing on his lips as he reached out, grabbing her hip on top of her blanket. “Could have fooled me.”

“Well,” Violet smiled back, allowing him to pull her in, “Maybe I was. A little bit.”

***

As her alarm sounded, Courtney groaned, burying her head into Bianca’s neck. Bianca laughed, reaching over to hit snooze, giving them a few more precious minutes in bed before Courtney had to get up.

Bianca had never been much of a morning person, but she’d discovered that, in many ways, this was her favorite part of the day. When the world was dark and still, and they were curled together under the covers, naked and warm. She trailed her fingers up and down Courtney’s back, pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You okay, sunshine?” Bianca asked.

“Mmmhmm...I just don’t want to go to work.”

Bianca smiled, one hand settling into the curve of Courtney’s waist, enjoying the way they fit so perfectly together.

“Then don’t,” she stated, warming up to the idea of taking a day off, just the two of them. “Call in sick.”

��I wish,” Courtney scoffed, a deep sigh leaving her. “But I can’t, so…”

“Why not?”

“The day after a party? Everyone will think I have some crazy hangover.”

“Yeah, so?” Bianca laughed.

“Plus, I’m pretty sure Miss Fame is less than pleased with me right now. I don’t want to give her any reason to be annoyed. And there’s a big meeting to decide on the spring runway, and I have to-”

“Alright, alright...forget I suggested it,” Bianca said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I just really liked the idea of spending all day in bed with you.”

Courtney raised herself up on her elbow, gazing down at Bianca with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Maybe, um...can we do that tomorrow?”

“You’re on, angel,” Bianca said, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair.

“And...we still have about seven minutes before the alarm goes off again.” Courtney brushed her lips against Bianca’s neck, murmuring, “You wanna go back to sleep, or…?”

“Hmmm...” Bianca cocked her head, pretending to think. “I may have some other ideas…”

Courtney let out a delighted squeal as Bianca flipped her onto her back with a wicked grin.

***

Maxwell groaned as a loud clatter sounded through the design floor.

“Sorry!” Kiara whisper-shouted, quickly picking up the pair of scissors she had dropped. Trixie had gone to the department head meeting about 20 minutes ago, which meant that everyone had given up the pretense that they were working. Alexis had gone straight for the couch to take a nap as soon as the door had closed behind him, April still nursing a terrible-looking green smoothie at her desk. “Sorry everyone!”

“Don’t even think about it girl!” Bob smiled, his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, and Maxwell groaned again, sliding down so he could rest his head on his arms, Bob chatting away.

He loved his boyfriend, he really did, but there were few things more annoying than when Bob had managed to get into any tabloid, the perceived fame of it always going directly to his head. And of course, it was made even worse by his friends and family back home in Georgia playing right into it, acting as if it meant anything at all.

“Listen, I didn’t ask to be born fabulous, but it’s my cross to bear, and I’m-” Bob laughed, adding, “Exactly!”

“He’s really getting into it, huh?” Maxwell looked up to see Violet standing next to his desk, looking over at Bob, Jovan at her side holding three cups of coffee.

“Here,” Jovan smiled, giving one of them to Maxwell, the scent filling his nose.

“Oh god I love you,” Maxwell grinned, taking the liquid magic. It was probably not healthy to be on his third cup already, but he didn’t care.

“Love you too boo,” Jovan grinned, taking a seat on the edge of his desk, Violet doing the same, balancing her crutch so she could take her own cup. They didn’t talk, and Maxwell loved that, Violet fitting so nicely into their little boys club that he barely even thought about the fact that she was a girl and straight most days.

***

“Pearl! Pay attention!”

Pearl snapped out of it, the wheels of her chair squeaking as she moved, her eyes wide open at the commanding tone in Fame’s voice.

“Sorry!” Pearl sat up straight, Bendela hiding a snicker behind a sketchbook, her brown eyes clearly filled with delight over Pearl getting reprimanded.

“God,” Fame rolled her eyes, her hand on her hip, her outfit of the day a white cropped cashmere sweater and white linen high waisted pants, her blonde hair in a high delicate updo, a golden belt snug around her waist. “Did anyone come to work today?”

If they had been alone, Pearl would have opened her mouth to point out that she was the one who always arranged for the Christmas party to be on a Thursday, but they weren’t, so Pearl kept her mouth shut.

“Fame,” Raja’s voice was warm, and it apparently functioned just as intended, her tone a soothing balm on whatever had Fame into such a tizzy. “We’re almost done.”

If Pearl had to make an educated guess, she’d say it was probably the whole Courtney and Bianca thing, though it could be anything from her breakfast grapefruit not being ripe to morning traffic to a photographer catching a bad angle of her last night.

“You’re right,” Fame sat back down, sliding her chair over to Trixie. “So, fourth look. What do you have?”

“I was thinking about these pants?” Trixie held out a sketch, and Pearl folded her hands over her stomach, watching her best friend do his job exceptionally well.

Fame tapped her fingers against the table, french tips hitting the wood and Pearl made a mental note to see if she could sneak in a visit to Fame’s office, providing their boss with an orgasm before lunch a great Christmas gift to everyone in the company.

***

V-List Alert: BDR’s Latest Blonde Bombshell

[Pictured: A large photo of Bianca and Courtney kissing on the red carpet, along with a few smaller shots of them looking giggly and affectionate. And lastly, a grainy, low-res photo of them on the street after the event, kissing while a driver is opening the car door.]

Well, well, well…

Okay, so to begin with, let’s all admit that BDR showing up on a red carpet with some sweet young thing is nothing new. In fact, it would be strange if she didn’t. But the shameless PDA last night at Galactica’s annual Christmas party—both on and off the carpet—had us wondering...who the hell is the new paramour?

We did a bit of digging and strap in kids, cause it gets juicy…

Turns out that this little darling is named Courtney Jenek. Sound familiar? No? Yeah it shouldn’t. But she happens to have two very interesting connections to BDR: 1, apparently she’s friends with B’s baby sister, princess of the underground punk scene Adore Delano. And 2, even more hilariously, Lil Courtney here is the Executive Assistant to none other than Miss Fame of Galactica.

Wonder what the illustrious and brand-conscious Miss Fame thinks of her bestie using her staff in what appears to be an extremely filthy unprofessional way? And how’s it all gonna play out?

We can’t wait to watch this drama unfold…

***

As Courtney slipped on her coat and grabbed her bag to head downstairs for yet another coffee run, she glanced at her personal phone, laughing to herself when she saw the 17 missed calls from Morgan. She scrolled through the text messages in the elevator.

MORGAN: COURTNEYYYYYYYY!!!

MORGAN: OMG PICK UP

MORGAN: WERE YOU PLANNING TO TELL US YOU’RE FUCKING BIANCA DEL RIO?????

TYRA: She’s WHAT

ADORE: You guys didn’t know? ;)

TATIANNA: Yawn, old news :p

MORGAN: BITCH

MORGAN: COURTNEY I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T PICK UP

MORGAN: COURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEY

Courtney called her back, laughing some more when she picked up even before the first ring.

“You know I’m working, right?”

“I am going to murder you,” Morgan announced.

“Wow Morgan. A hate crime? I really thought more highly of you,” Courtney replied with a giggle.

“Omigod, shut up! How could you not have told me already?!”

“Well...I don’t know, I wasn’t sure what it was at first-” she said.

“It’s still fucking major!” Morgan laughed. “I guess it makes sense, though. God, you always chose the worst men.”

Courtney chuckled, nodding as she exited the elevator and headed for the coffee shop.

“So what did your parents say?”

“Uhhh...I haven’t exactly told them yet.”

“Courtney!”

“What? It’s not gonna be dramatic or anything, you know my brother’s gay.”

“Omigod, Court, you absolute idiot. You have to-”

“One sec.” Courtney lowered her phone to give the orders for the meeting, then went back to the phone. “Sorry, I’m on a coffee run.”

“Yeah, I heard. Listen, Courtney, you have to tell them! Do you really want them to find out that you’re dating a woman who’s almost twice your age from a fucking tabloid?”

“I don’t think my parents subscribe to American fashion blogs.”

“Did you even read the link I sent you?! Someone’s gonna send it to them, trust me.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell them,” Courtney told her with an eye roll. She really didn’t see the big deal though; telling her parents was the last thing on her list of worries at the moment.

“Also…” Morgan’s voice lowered, taking on a sing-song, teasing tone now that the business was out of the way, “When are we hanging out? ‘Cause you know I absolutely need all the sordid details.”

“Soon, I promise.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“I’m kind of busy tomorrow,” Courtney admitted.

“Busy getting railed, you mean?”

“Maybe…”

“Ha, you slag.”

***

Maybe she was avoiding going home. That was certainly possible. But on Friday, Katya just seemed to keep finding things to do to prepare for the next week of school. It would be their last week before winter break, so she knew that any kind of serious learning would be difficult. Rather than spend her time fighting with the kids to focus when they just weren’t capable of it, she planned as many fun projects as possible, and though a lot of them were old hat for her by now, the prep work never seemed to end.

Which is why, when Jasmine, the woman who ran the afterschool program, came to her door at almost 6:45, she was still there.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you…”

“It’s no bother, come on in,” Katya said, a big smile on her face, especially when she saw that Jasmine had Grace with her--one of Katya’s favorite students.

“You know we close at 6, and Grace’s mom is running late today,” Jasmine said. Her tone of voice was light and cheerful, but her eyes told Katya a different story--that this wasn’t the first time it had happened, and that she was likely furious. “I gotta get home, and Dani’s out with the flu, so...do you mind keeping her here until Leslie shows up? It should be soon, she texted me ten minutes ago that she’s on the way.”

“No problem. We’ll have a great time, won’t we Grace?”

The little girl nodded, skipping into the classroom happily.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jasmine said. “Thank you!”

Katya turned to Grace, who had dumped her jacket and backpack on the rug and was already prowling around the book bins, likely looking for her favorite Junie B. Jones stories. Soon, the two of them were settled into bean bag chairs in the comfy zone, Katya reading a few chapters out loud to her before realizing that she was probably hungry and suggesting a snack. Grace was just finishing her juice box and goldfish crackers when her young mother, Leslie, came rushing inside, harried and out of breath, apologizing profusely.

“Mama!” Grace jumped up from her seat at the little table, knocking the chair over in her excitement to leap into her mom’s arms. She hugged her tightly, face buried in her neck, and Katya could see some of the tension in Leslie’s face melt away.

Katya stood up from her own seat, picking up the book they’d been reading.

“I’m gonna put this book in Grace’s backpack so that you can finish it together this weekend,” she said, and Leslie shot her a look of pure gratitude, nodding.

“Grace, can you say thank you to Mrs. Zamo?”

“Thank you Mrs. Zamo!” she echoed cheerfully, taking the backpack and her jacket as Leslie dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

“Honey, can you go wait for me on the bench for a minute?” she asked, tugging gently on one of her pigtails.

“Okay!”

As Grace skipped into the hallway to wait, Leslie turned to Katya, tears filling her eyes.

“I’m really so sorry about being late, I-”

“It’s okay,” Katya said, head tilted sympathetically. “I get it, things happen.”

“It’s been happening all week. I got this new job, and the hours are so tough and the commute is shit, but it’s an extra two dollars an hour and I can’t say no to that. But I just feel like...I feel like I can’t do anything right.”

“I understand,” Katya nodded, putting a hand on her arm. The truth was, though, she didn’t understand. Not really. She’d never been in a position where an extra two dollars an hour would make such a big difference in her life--not even when her dad cut her off. She’d always had money, and by the time her trust fund was depleted, she was living with Trixie, whose generous salary more than covered what they needed, her meager teacher’s salary mostly paying for fun extras, keeping them entertained and living their best lives, or just going in the bank.

She knew she was lucky, but until that moment, seeing the pain in Leslie’s eyes, the fear that she was failing at life and failing her child, maybe she didn’t understand just how lucky.

“I was sitting on the bus thinking about her waiting and waiting, wondering where I was.”

“Can I tell you something?” she asked softly. “Grace didn’t care that you were late, she was just happy to see you when you got here, because it’s really obvious what a good mom you are.”

“Sometimes I feel like the worst mom ever,” Leslie admitted, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“No way. Grace is an amazing kid. She’s smart and kind and enthusiastic--and it’s totally okay if you need some more help. That’s what all of us are here for. I can talk to Jasmine about maybe extending the hours next week, until you can get your schedule sorted. Or maybe Grace can go home with Joey’s mom...don’t you all live in the same building?”

Leslie nodded, a deep sigh leaving her. “Thanks, that’s a good idea. I...I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. Just remember that you’re not in this alone, you know?” Katya handed over a box of tissues from her desk.

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry, I-” Leslie wiped her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” Katya said, giving her a warm hug.

***

“Oh god!” Gigi groaned, pushing the door to the modeling apartment open, her shoulders aching, her fingertips numb. “Finally!” She dumped her bags down in the hallway, slumping against the wall.

She had been around the town with Sutan all day, shopping for what he called a model wardrobe, Gigi trying on several pairs of heels and flats, her new backpack and purse stuffed with a newly printed book and her brand new phone, their last stop of the day Gigi’s new gym that was just around the corner.

“Gigi?” Bimini popped her head out of the kitchen door, the golden rim around her eyes and her crimped hair clear indicators that meant she had been shooting, Bimini rarely bothering with removing hair and makeup on set. “Welcome home sweetie! How did it go?”

“I’m exhausted!” Gigi pushed out from the wall and kicked her sneakers off. “Who knew shopping could be that hard?”

Gigi heard Symone giggle, her friend sitting at the table and painting her nails, the apartment's newest arrival chopping vegetables for whatever vegan crock pot Bimini was cooking for everyone. They had someone new arrive every couple of days, most girls only staying for a night or two in the bunk beds in what Naomi had dubbed the summer camp room before they were shipped off again if they didn’t interest any of the agents.

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“I know,” Gigi groaned, dumping down in a chair to rest her aching feet, “but I thought you were kidding.” Symone had gone on the trip two weeks ago, her Instagram exploding with content now that she had a brand new phone to post with.

“Did he give you the drink speech too?”

She had eaten lunch with Sutan at an awkwardly fancy restaurant, three sets of cutlery surrounding her plate, her manager going through each set as well as her wine glasses, explaining it to her. Gigi’s mom had always insisted on good manners, but it hadn’t been anything like that.

“The ‘never leave your drink unattended’ one, I mean.”

“Mmh,” Gigi nodded. “The whole entire speech.”

She hoped it’d be unnecessary, but Sutan had run her through what he called the basic safety procedures like putting a hand or a napkin over her glass when she wasn’t paying attention, her manager drilling it into her skull that she shouldn’t accept poured drinks or opened bottles from strangers in clubs unless she saw the bartender prepare it.

“Is he seriously doing all that?” Naomi raised an eyebrow. “So far, all my agent has told me is that if I showed up in any tabloid looking messy, he’d drop my ass.”

Suddenly, Sutan’s mothering didn’t feel as smothering, the attention and assistance the man had poured over her nothing compared to the terrifying thought of being left basically on her own like Naomi.

***

At first, Katya wasn’t sure why she stopped at Macy’s on the way home. Especially now, on a Friday night during the holiday season, when the sales clerks were at their most frazzled.

She wandered around, unable to get Grace and Leslie out of her mind...and in particular, the look of pure joy on Grace’s face when her mother appeared in the doorway. Leslie was a single mom, and by the look of her, she was pretty young, but she had managed to raise an exceptional kid who was sure how much she was loved.

Why was Katya so afraid of having a baby? It was like she’d told Leslie--she wouldn’t be doing it alone. Not by a long shot. No, she was fortunate to have the most wonderful man in the universe by her side. And lord knew, Trixie would make up for any maternal instincts she may lack herself. And plenty of people, people much less capable and loving than her, had babies every day.

She stopped, looking around, realizing that she’d found herself in the baby department. Specifically, in front of a shelf full of tiny little infant shoes. She smiled to herself, knowing exactly what she needed.

When she arrived home, she was thrilled to see that Trixie had prepared dinner, heating up some leftover chicken and mashed potatoes and throwing together a salad--exactly what she was in the mood for.

She smiled when she saw him, announcing, “I brought you a present.”

Trixie’s face lit up, and for a split second she could imagine that exact same expression of joy on a tiny child, the thought making her insides warm as she handed him the little bag.

He looked inside, where the two tiny pink moccasin slippers sat in their plastic box, his head then snapping up to look at her with an expression of amazement.

“Kat, are you-” His eyes were bright with tears, hopeful but still a bit tentative.

She shrugged slightly, self-consciously, afraid to say what she’s been thinking out loud, but Trixie seemed to know anyway.

He rushed forward and swept her up into the biggest, tightest hug she’d ever had, repeating over and over how wonderful she was going to be. She took his face in her hands, kissing his tear-stained cheeks, finally sure that as a team, they could do it.

8 notes · View notes

punkscowardschampions · 5 years

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Junior & Nancy

Gay nerds

Junior: Nance, how on earth are you tackling this art project? To say I'm discombobulated is an understatement that isn't getting me an A any time soon! Nancy: 😕 sums it up in a way. Obviously I can fall back on the twin thing but is that too safe? 😩 But we couldn't be more different Junior: 😖 Like, I love how vague and open to our own interpretation it is...but also I fucking hate how vague and open to our own interpretation it is! 😢😂 No one would blame you; least of all me, 'cos I was tempted- being the sore thumb I am when counting our ten- and I've not even got the twin angle everyone is so about in all areas of art tbh Junior: If nothing else, Buster is a willing participant in a photo op always? Junior: Ooh, you could get something matchy match from your childhood photos (I know they exist) and splice it with portraits of you now...Think that elevates it Nancy: You've put your finger on it. Nancy: But I don't think you're so right about the lack of blame 🤔 even with the boy/girl straight/gay redhead/brunette angle it still feels ??? Nancy: Basic 😒 Junior: I get you Junior: Meant to become the next Magritte in just 4 weeks, like !!! Junior: Well, I've heard at least 4 girls from class saying they're going to do a heavily made-up portrait next to a #nofilter #naturalbeauty one so Junior: We'll do better than that by default but I'd like to come up with something vaguely original still Junior: Miss' sanity relies on us lowkey, no pressure 😷😜 Nancy: I had that passing thought let it go though 😜 Nancy: You could text her Nancy: 😕 yes pressure Nancy: What to do? Junior: I like to keep it in professional hours Junior: for her sake, she gets a bit amorous when she's had a glass o vino after work Nancy: 😮 she does? Nancy: can I bribe my way to top of the class by raiding the cellar Junior: That was my second suggestion 😏 Junior: Take one for the team please 🙏 Nancy: but she's straight STRAIGHT Nancy: couldn't be enough Nancy: back to the mindmap Junior: Damn straights 😒 Junior: if all else fails, we can put this grade next to our last Junior: break the fourth wall, v meta Nancy: our school gets the one bohemian who is Nancy: put her next to the sterotypical art teacher Junior: did you mean my mother? 🤔 Junior: her, the engineer, hilarious 😂 Junior: Mum'd be up for it, you may borrow her Nancy: I might yet Nancy: when's this due again? Junior: we've still got 3 weeks, don't worry Junior: just trying to get it over and done with here Nancy: I should Nancy: The Tempest essay is due soon Junior: Don't remind me, even the gayness can't make it enjoyable, like many a teen show 🤷 Junior: Could combine? Somehow? Umm Junior: The supernatural characters and the humans...why yes, I am clutching at straws Junior: This term is killing me Nancy: If I'd get away with handing in some shots instead of an essay I would Nancy: not happening Nancy: 😩 Nancy: What ideas have you had? For the juxtaposition...forget the tempest Nancy: burn that Junior: If only, 1000 words=1 photograph, no contest really Junior: again, if only Will had 💀 Junior: The idea I can't get out of my head, even though it has been done to death so is BEYOND basic, is mashing up a classical art piece with something modern and pop culture...to say something about me (eww!) Junior: Tbf, they usually use Renaissance or very very famous art pieces so I could win points by using some relevant surrealism/ going beyond calling Mona Lisa #flawless Junior: Its all I've got Nancy: I think it's good Nancy: Let's both run with overused concepts and make them not basic in our way Nancy: act like we planned it Nancy: nobody has to know we had no other ideas Junior: Absolutely 😎 Junior: Total confidence is key, comes so natural to the both of us, like Junior: I think worrying about being 'original' is the true hack thing to do here anyway 💅 Nancy joined the chat 13 hours ago Nancy: 😖 yes Nancy: stealing that all Nancy: now if you could keep it going and give me some thoughts on shakespeare to plagiarize 😜 Junior: If I could, I would but even SparkNotes isn't helping me Junior: shall we peruse the best film/stage adaptations? maybe tomorrow night if you're free Nancy: I've seen the 2010 version a few times for obvious reasons Nancy: but yeah the others not so much Nancy: we need to do something that isn't me asking my mum for help Junior: Oh, babe 😂 that's the real tragedy here, you doing that to yourself Junior: maybe I'll borrow her and she can do mine for me Junior: still down for a movie night obviously Nancy: 🙉 Nancy: Lead female character Nancy: Shakespeare should've Nancy: Please do take her Nancy: mum swap 😂 Junior: As much as Bill LOVED any excuse for a drag show darling... stick with the evil queens and witches 😘 Junior: Let's do this, full family swap! Let them drive you insane for a bit whilst I live the life 😬 Nancy: Switch that around both my parents are so type A Nancy: Plus you've got all the brothers and sisters to dodge behind Nancy: Buster takes more heat off than most but he's still just one boy Junior: well, mine would refuse to be bound to a type, just as annoying I promise Junior: Its true I can mostly fade into obscurity with all their shenanigans, yet it still somehow isn't the case, just 12 nosy people in your business instead of the usual 2, with a disinterested brother flexing off in the background Nancy: 🙈 Nancy: I'm not having kids Nancy: Don't care if the future wife is frantic Junior: It is an issue that divides all of us tbh Junior: I don't think I'd mind one, to put all my efforts into Junior: but unlikely Junior: unless I co-parent from the sidelines with your wife Nancy: weirder scenarios have come about Nancy: I'd prefer a kitten Junior: steal one when you come over Junior: Ma'd probably notice but really, do we need so many? Nancy: Gran's such a dog person can I get through the door Junior: True, true Junior: Always living on such extremes this fam Junior: I don't know 😏 Nancy: look at me and my brother ultimate homo and hetero Nancy: embarrassing Junior: 😂 Junior: I'd love to suggest he doth protest too much but lbr Nancy: dad's never been prouder 😂 no teen pregnancies for his little girl Nancy: shakespeare would write that Junior: Who are we putting our money on to go first Nancy: that's harder than it sounds Junior: Rio is obvious choice but I sometimes think Grace might go insane and come along and take the claim Junior: *Shudders* Nancy: change the subject I beg you Nancy: I'd rather hear about your attempts to avoid your secret admirer who's a girl and hopelessly 💘 Junior: well, I would rather pretend that was not a thing 😬 Junior: as your brother once eloquently put it, when he was very pissed, 'i could clean up and get untold amounts of pussy' Junior: and that's that on that Junior: considering getting a face transplant 'cos my off-putting demeanour is not doing enough 😒 what problems to have, eh? the privilege of it all! 😂 Nancy: maybe we should go under together Nancy: moral support and potential discount Nancy: if I get told I don't look gay one more time I'm returning my badge Junior: well, where is your crewcut and tank top, like? 🤔 Junior: out here confusing the masses like that, idk Nancy: 🙉 Nancy: Not an identical twin playing tricks either how dare I Junior: why can't you just get in your box and like it, god damn it Nance! Nancy: unrelated except about boxes but should I get some new kit for this project or am I just stalling Nancy: a memoir Junior: any excuse 😜 Junior: but yes, do it Junior: i'm using it as excuse to go 'round all the best art galleries in town again so Nancy: Can I tag along Nancy: they're so quiet it's everything Junior: Naturally Junior: We're art students, we've gotta act like it, I'll keep the pretentious commentary to a minimum if you keep the equally as pretentious 'grams down too 😘 Nancy: I'll try Nancy: The feed wants what it wants though Junior: Can't argue, just leave the real money outta the shot Junior: Gotta leave my fangirls wanting more, like 😂 Nancy: That I will promise Nancy: Not trying to be mobbed by straight girls Junior: You mean you resist the lesbian stereotype of LOVING that too?! Nancy: Somehow it's managed Junior: no mean feat, one of the few gays in the village Nancy: Don't clap it's too loud 😂 Junior: *Finger clicks like this a slam poetry night* Nancy: Thank you Nancy: [sends a selection of childhood pictures] how early years can I go before everyone's rolling their eyes Nancy: Thank you too mum for these. Why did you do this to us? 🙈 Junior: Awww what 👼 Junior: This is how I like to remember Buster, before it all went wrong... 😉 Nancy: 👶🥕 Nancy: The glory days Junior: Weren't they just? Junior: At least you didn't have an extra older sister to dress you up, that's worse...the photos I could bring out, good lord 🙄 Nancy: 😜 And I wasn't that sister. You've welcome Buster Nancy: 🍀 Junior: *Whispers* Can we agree he needs SOMEONE to give him a makeover tho Nancy: I volunteer you as tribute Nancy: I've tried Junior: Maybe next family gathering Junior: if he shows Nancy: Bide your time Nancy: birthday present failsafe idea Junior: the amount of birthday celebrations in this fam is unholy Junior: We have a better social life than I would ever wish for, ugh Nancy: don't make me think about it Nancy: I'm sharing and it's made no difference Junior: wouldn't want you to miss out on all that good good attention we all crave 😂 Nancy: 🙈 Junior: Speaking of attention, have you heard the latest gossip that has piqued our peers? Nancy: You tell me Nancy: I can't think of anything off the top of my head Junior: Mark Colm Junior: a massive gay? Junior: I can't make up my mind if they're just hysterical and he's just a bit camp Junior: or there's something in it Nancy: He's one of us Nancy: Definitely crushing on the headboy I've seen him looking Junior: Isn't everyone? Junior: Even the teachers, complete popularity contest got him that position Junior: Interesting, though... Nancy: Besides me in my minority of one Nancy: And Sian would never Junior: Sian Gaffney? She's never gay! Thought you didn't do straight girls, you're reaching there Nancy: 🙉 not her she's dating the oldest Keenan lad Jake? Blake? idk Nancy: She'd love to ride half our class anyway Junior: Ohh you mean Mrs Kelly, duh Junior: yeah she's one of the only decent teachers about, doesn't seem like she goes in for all that popularity politics Nancy: No she doesn't Junior: Seems like a good place to while away a lunchtime Nancy: don't tell everyone how fun it is there'll all wanna join me Nancy: not ready to say goodbye to my happy place Junior: I think your secret is safe from the masses, even if I suddenly got uncharacteristically chatty Junior: Even the ones that don't take the piss and are relatively decent human beings Junior: still rather go get a nandos or whatever it is they do Nancy: Yeah I'm an open book if anyone asks 😂 Nancy: I'll stick with the one stereotype I'm okay with embracing, my eager vegetarianism Nancy: No offence lads Junior: Its all kale and charitable acts with this one Junior: No ulterior motives at all 😏 Nancy: just a rich girl with more wealth than she can give away 😜 Nancy: nothing else to see here Junior: mhmm okay 👌 Junior: we'll pretend I don't know you better than that Nancy: Hey you don't know everything Junior: True Junior: are you in the mood for telling? Junior: 🤔 Nancy: Sometimes Nancy: Can't put it all in my art Junior: not if you don't want Miss to think you're trying to tell her something Junior: flattered but straight, like Nancy: She's not the one Nancy: She'll be flattered to hear Junior: Indeed Nancy: When there is someone it'd be nice to talk about it Nancy: Sometimes like I said Junior: Well, you know where I am Junior: When there is someone Nancy: But I wouldn't know where to start Nancy: I can't put words to it ?? Not the right ones Junior: That's not just you Junior: If I'm to understand all the songs and poetry professing they too have no words Junior: Can but try 🙂 Nancy: Helpful Nancy: What about you? Headboys to one side. Any crushes? Junior: No, no Junior: No point, is there Nancy: Doesn't mean there's a way to stop yourself Nancy: Wish I could just No at myself Junior: I don't know, I don't find it too hard Junior: but you're out so its different Junior: I wouldn't want to go out with anyone...even if Mark is a gay Junior: what would he want with me Nancy: You're a catch Nancy: Out or not he'd be punching above his weight to have you Junior: I don't think there's any point being with someone if you can't be open with it Junior: Being a dirty little secret isn't going to feel good for either party Nancy: For some people it feels worth it Nancy: Just to be with, or around them Junior: Perhaps Junior: Safe to say I don't feel that deeply for any lad here so yeah Junior: keeping on my shelf for now, like Nancy: There's a junxtaposition, us on our respective ledges Nancy: I can't remember what being happily single is like Nancy: Another lesbian stereotype for the list Junior: Don't, how depressing 😂 Junior: I am not about that angsty teen art life Junior: How do we get you a lady? Junior: Do we have to hit the clubs? Nancy: 🙈 Nancy: No no no Nancy: Give that up for a bad job and worse idea Nancy: I'm too picky Junior: You're speaking to me Junior: vowed a celibate here Junior: we can do this for you Nancy: We can't Nancy: Leave me in my rut Junior: Fine fine 😋 Nancy: I'll be in my dark room angsting 😂 Junior: Noted Junior: I'll drag you out for museums and Tempest film marathon tomorrow, yeah? Junior: 'Til then madame Nancy: Looking forward to it Nancy: Stay inspired 💚 Junior: Stay golden 💛

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Just The Game We're In- Chapter 7, Part 1 (Ortega)

A/N: hello all i’m v tired!!!!! here is part one of two of chapter 7 bc i didn’t want to subject mobile users to mental amounts of scrolling again! thank u to everyone that’s shown love and interest in this fic, it honestly warms my heart and means the world to me. sadly, I can’t say when you’ll all see me again. I start my job in 2 weeks and I don’t have part 2 written yet, but i’m going to try to make time for writing so that you guys aren’t left hanging. i love and appreciate u!!! thanks to the amazing Dottie, my aq brits gals, and especially pureCAMP who motivated me to write the final two sections with a speed that will probably never be paralleled again. love u all!!!!

Plot Summary: Willam is a senior political advisor to the government’s minister for social affairs and citizenship, Sharon Needles. Throw in a crush on co-worker Courtney, Sharon acting weird around Willam’s colleague Alaska, an incompetent press department headed by Actual Living Zombie Jinkx Monsoon, and Willam’s job couldn’t get much more stressful. No wonder spin doctor Bianca Del Rio is permanently at the end of her tether…

Finishing the final line in the leaflet she’d been working on, Willam hit the save button in satisfaction. Looking around her desk, she immediately tried to find the to-do list she’d made and crossed off Refugee Housing Policy Literature. She leaned back in her chair and stretched, her back cracking as she interlocked her fingers and lifted her arms high into the air. How long had she been sitting at her desk? Casting an eye over to the clock, she was a little taken aback when she realised it was 5pm. Even if the clock hadn’t been there she probably could have told the time by the office’s human equivalent of a sundial; the comms team were packing up their things, pulling their coats on, and making to leave.

Willam supposed she wasn’t that surprised she’d lost track of time. Truth be told, she had almost lost track of what day it was. For the past two months she’d cocooned herself in her work, throwing herself into each job Sharon gave them as Bianca’s hint at a promotion replayed over and over in her mind like a screensaver. It had been all go at the department pretty much since Sharon’s plane had hit the tarmac at Heathrow airport; her presentation at Brussels had been incredibly well-received and the approval from so many other countries pretty much pressured the Prime Minister into backing the policy and giving it the green light, much to the delight of the department and the chagrin of the opposition. Over the past few weeks, Willam had taken the lead in crafting responses to jabs from Phi Phi both in the media and in parliament, organising positive coverage and press opportunities from the newspapers, and creating the literature that would be given out at the policy’s official launch a month away. She was exhausted, but it was a good exhaustion, like how Willam imagined a runner would feel after completing a sprint- she wouldn’t know, she hadn’t run since she was in school- but this job was a sort of series of sprints, Willam supposed. It was fast-paced and intense and sometimes utterly terrifying, but the euphoria at the end was so worth it.

She honestly hadn’t given Courtney a second thought. And her heart definitely didn’t still jump a little as she looked over to her desk and saw her getting ready to go home. In reality, Willam knew that if she wanted to move up the ladder, she didn’t have time to start anything with anyone, not that Courtney wanted to start anything with her, clearly. Which was fine. Willam was okay with that, in fact she was completely over it. The whole thing had just been a stupid crush, totally fleeting. Courtney was just her friend, that was all.

As Courtney approached her desk, Willam made that little speech to herself in her mind, just to remind herself that if any old feelings decided to pop up during their conversation, it was just a false alarm. Like a fire drill. Not real feelings, just her heart playing tricks on her.

Work was more important.

“Hey,” Courtney smiled, looking at Willam and then at the clock. “A bunch of us are going over to Pearl’s flat for dinner if you want to join. It’ll probably descend into a wine night, and I’ve told them a million times that I have to be up early tomorrow, but of course they won’t listen. You in?”

Courtney’s face seemed so hopeful, and it reminded Willam of how she’d looked at her when she’d asked her to stay at her flat all those months ago, and then when she’d asked her to stay in her bed. Her heart felt as if it was being wrung out. Fire drill, fire drill.

“It sounds great, but I’m going to stay and look at these polls Bianca sent over,” Willam quirked her mouth into an apologetic grimace. Seeing Courtney’s bright expression falter a little, Willam felt compelled to add something that would make it better. “Like you said, early start tomorrow, right?”

Just as Willam had hoped, the smile was back on Courtney’s face. “Oh I’m super excited! The weather’s supposed to be really nice too, and the hotel is apparently amazing!”

Willam couldn’t help but crack a smile. “The weather’s not going to matter. We’ll be stuck in conference rooms 90% of the time. Do you think we can ask to do all the debates outside like in primary school?”

As Courtney gave an amused laugh, Willam felt her heart thud in her chest. Tucking her hair behind her ears, Courtney gave her a shy sort of smile.

“Still, even if it is going to be work guising as a weekend away, I’m looking forward to it. I’m so excited for us to spend time together again,” she said softly, then gave a sort of cough and backed up. “As in, like, all of us. Me, you, Alaska, Sharon. It’ll be fun.”

Willam tried to stop herself reading into what Courtney had said. Fire drill. “Yeah, no. It’ll be good.”

Courtney sort of awkwardly hovered at Willam’s desk, her eyes cast almost nervously to the floor. Willam felt as if she was made entirely of ice, not wanting to move in case she scared her away as if Courtney was some sort of forest animal. Just as Courtney opened her mouth to speak again, Trixie yelled from across the department.

“Is she coming or what? I’m fucking starving!”

Courtney furrowed her brow and flared her nostrils, seemingly annoyed at being interrupted. “No, she’s staying to do work.”

Katya tilted her head to the side and gave Willam an awed look in response to the information. “You’re staying past five again? What the fuck, Willam? You’ve been working harder than Rihanna and Fifth Harmony combined!”

“Well some of us have got to get shit done around here,” Willam shrugged nonchalantly. Turning back to Courtney, she couldn’t help her face softening. “Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early!”

Courtney gave a small laugh she didn’t quite seem committed to. “Can’t wait. Night, Will.”

As Courtney walked away from her desk, Willam noticed her shoulders were sort of slumped.

“Alaska! Pearl’s?” Adore shouted, distracting Willam. Alaska made a pouty face.

“Can’t. I’ve still got the debrief from Brussels to write up,” she groaned, leaning on her palm with her chin.

“That was due ages ago! Sharon’s going to kill you,” Violet gasped, shocked. Alaska leaned back in her chair, her poker face excellent.

“Not if Bianca gets there first. Enjoy your night, ladies.”

Shouting goodbyes across the department, Willam took a moment to think about the weekend ahead. She supposed it wasn’t really the weekend per se; tomorrow was Friday, but it was also the very first day of the party conference, also known as the biggest piss-up of the political calendar. Comms members were left behind in order for MPs, cabinet ministers and their political advisors to let off steam. Sure, the days were filled with debates, speakers and networking, but the evenings were reserved for debauchery. Much as Willam had been throwing herself into her work, she was secretly looking forward to a chance to let her hair down a bit, and even if that chance was only at a Hilton hotel in the South of England then she’d still take it. Her excitement was balanced by a little nervousness, though. Over the weekend Sharon would properly present her policy to the members of her own party for the first time, and the rumblings within the party revealed that there were several ministers who were still frosty towards Dosac as a result of the entire legacy fiasco. Willam could only hope that Sharon would be able to turn the charm on as she was usually able.

Just then, Sharon came out of her office a little furtively, walking towards Alaska’s desk and scanning the office.

“Is that everyone gone?” she asked, her voice low but still audible. Alaska smiled up at her girlfriend, clearly happy to be able to drop the professional charade.

“It’s just Willam. So we’re all good,” she beamed. Sharon smiled back at her and sat on her desk, leaning in and kissing Alaska’s forehead gently.

“I still have a functioning set of eyeballs so let’s keep everything U-rated, you gross sons of bitches,” Willam snorted, trying to pretend she was disdainful but really felt her heart both warming and breaking at how affectionate the two of them were. Alaska moved her mouse with one hand while Sharon held her other, their fingers laced together. Sharon took some time out from gazing adoringly at her girlfriend to shoot a glare Willam’s way.

“That’s a shame, we were looking forward to doing that very secret and bad thing we do with your Sharpies after you go home,” she drawled, earning a snort from Alaska.

“So how are you guys even going to function this weekend anyway? I don’t suppose the hotel’s going to conveniently fuck up another booking?” Willam smirked, clicking onto her emails at the same time. Alaska rolled her eyes.

“Do you think we have a combined IQ of four? No, of course not,” she laughed, then looked up at Sharon. “It’s going to be good old-fashioned sneaking around. Sharon will get a double bed so we just have to make sure the hallways are clear every time I’m going to hers. It’ll be easy.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be very easy. I mean it’s not like the entire party and all their advisors are going to be staying in the same hotel or anything,” Willam looked pointedly at her, feeling a little exasperated.

“Trust me, Willam, we’ll be careful. Just like we’ve been these past five months.”

Trying not to shake her head, Willam just exhaled deeply. She was happy for them both, but she was probably never going to stop worrying about their ticking time bomb of a relationship and how long they both had until they were found out. If they weren’t worried about it, then surely someone had to be? Looking across at them both, she bit her tongue as she saw that Alaska had turned around in her chair and now had both of her hands in Sharon’s, the minister leaning in giving her a sweet kiss. Out of respect, or perhaps nausea, Willam averted her eyes back to her monitor. Sure enough, the polls were there in a mass email from Bianca, along with a reminder of the bi-elections in May. It seemed ridiculously early for a reminder already, but Willam supposed that was how politics worked. Support had to be drummed up well in advance, and she reasoned that she’d probably be approached at the conference by a lot of hopeful potential MPs wanting to worm their way into the House of Commons. Clicking on the PDF file, she scrolled through pie charts and graphs searching for relevant statistics. She was suddenly distracted by a ringing from the phone in Sharon’s office. Looking up, she furrowed her brow at Alaska and Sharon, similar confusion painted over both their faces. Calls weren’t supposed to go through to Sharon’s office unless they had been vetted by Jinkx, and Jinkx had already left. If it was Bianca or somebody else from within the party, they’d contact Sharon’s iPhone.

“Hmm. Weird. I’ll answer that and then we can head back to mine? I’m making lamb,” Sharon said proudly, then swung her legs off Alaska’s desk and walked through to her office.

As she heard Sharon’s muffled voice answer the phone, Willam finally found the statistics she’d been looking for. Screwing her face up, she slowly read the numbers in front of her again. They couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be possible.

“Alaska,” Willam yelled over to her friend. “Have you read the polls Bianca sent over?”

Alaska simply shook her head. Willam spoke again. “Read them and go to page 56. I’m not quite sure I’m seeing what’s in front of me.”

Alaska dutifully followed Willam’s orders. Willam watched as she clearly reached the page she was talking about, her face completely falling in shock. “Oh shit. This is bad.”

As Willam turned to Sharon’s office, she was only shocked further when she saw the minister standing by her desk, her face as white as a sheet and the minister very visibly shaken. Concerned, Willam rose from her seat and made her way to her office, Alaska following behind. As they walked into the glass-fronted office, Sharon turned to both of them, her expression one of fear.

“What is it? Who was phoning?”

Sharon wordlessly pressed a single button on the phone and the conversation began to replay.

“Hello, Sharon Needles, Minister for Dosac?”

A male voice- aggressive, hissing. “You’re fucking dead the next time I see you, you fucking traitor bitch.”

“…sorry?”

“You fucking heard me, you cunt. I’m going to throw acid in your face then make sure you’re fucking hanged, you quisling bitch.”

“How did you get this number?”

“You should be more concerned about the fact that I’m going to make sure you fucking die, you terrorist sympathiser cunt! Watch your fucking back.”

With that, there was the sound of an empty telephone line, the flatline a start contrast to Willam’s own heart, which was hammering in her ribcage. Alaska, who had previously been standing with her mouth wide in shock, omitted a little squeak and rushed behind the desk to hold her girlfriend, the both of them visibly upset. Death threats to politicians were unfortunately common, but this was the first time Willam had ever had to deal with a physical phone call, most of the abuse being able to be ignored on social media. This was different- a voice, a person, someone who had physically sought out a phone number that was incredibly difficult to obtain, and this made Willam nervous. Looking at Sharon again, she could see that she was still fearful, her whole body language tense. Alaska was crying, her frame shaking as she tried to quieten her sobs, tears rolling down her face and dropping onto the floor.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Nobody’s going to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice shaky and breath irregular. Sniffing, her voice suddenly grew dark and, releasing her hold on Sharon, she turned to Willam.

“I want that fucking scum put away tonight. I’m phoning Bianca. We need to track the number. I’ll fucking kill him,” she said, storming out of the office. Willam had never seen Alaska this angry- her fists were physically clenched as if she was about to fight, and her jaw was clenched tight.

“Alaska, don’t phone Bianca-” Willam began, as Alaska returned to the office with her mobile. Seething, Alaska whipped round to Willam, her eyes wide in their sockets.

“What the fuck? Of course I’m phoning Bianca, this is fucking serious! We need to get this fucking rotted, disgusting filth locked away! How the fuck are you okay with this?!”

“I’m not okay with it at all!” Willam cried, instantly realising she needed to calm Alaska down. Sharon looked resignedly at her girlfriend.

“Baby, it’s okay, I’m fine-”

“No, you’re not fine! You’ve just received a threat on your life, how can you be fine?!” Alaska yelled in outrage as she tried to scroll at her phone but was prevented by her hands shaking furiously.

“Alaska, you need to calm down,” Willam said softly, Sharon stepping out from behind her desk and wrapping her arms around the taller girl. Heaving a huge sigh Alaska sank into the hug, her face a sort of mix of seething and upset. Taking a moment to clear her head, Willam spoke again.

“Look, I’ll phone Bianca. I’ll also ask her to phone the police. She should have contacts that won’t leak so we can ensure this stays completely out of the media. We’ll make sure you’ve got security- I’ll phone the lobby and make sure you’ve got someone that’ll take you to your car when you leave the offices. That’s all we can do at the moment,” Willam added apologetically, feeling bad for Sharon. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sighing, Sharon nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just never happened to me before, you know, an actual phone call. It was just an empty threat, these things always are. I mean, you’re not exactly going to warn a politician before you kill them, are you?”

Alaska tensed up. “Sharon, don’t say that.”

“Well all I’m saying is, they know that this shit is only going to result in tighter security. It’s just an empty threat, they want to see me rattled. Which is exactly what I’m not going to give them.”

Willam reflected on what the man had said. “Do you think this is about all you’re doing for the refugees?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just his choice of words. Traitor, quisling, terrorist sympathiser. They’re classic EDL buzzwords for anyone that wants to let in any migrants at all, never mind ones fleeing war.”

Sharon was silent, looking to the floor in contemplation. Willam took that as an invitation to continue. “Would it be an idea to quieten down on the housing policy and maybe focus on another area of social affairs? We don’t want this to become anything bigger.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes at Willam, her gaze snapping up from the floor. “No. This is exactly what bigots like him want, they want me to stop trying to do something. In a few months, people like him are still going to be as angry about this policy as they are now. There is no way I’m letting this derail anything.”

Still a little uncomfortable, Willam watched as Sharon sighed, then pulled out of the hug and gave Alaska a reassuring smile.

“Are you sure you want to still go to the party conference?” Willam asked hesitantly, Sharon instantly shutting her down.

“Willam, I said this wouldn’t interrupt anything, okay? I’m fine. Everything is business as usual.”

Sucking a breath in through gritted teeth, Willam decided to broach the subject of the polls. “Okay, well if everything is still business as usual. I should probably let you know…you’re ten points behind in the polls.”

Sharon’s mouth dropped open. “Ten points, what the fuck?! What the hell have I done, blended a baby, a puppy and a kitten together in a fucking KitchenAid?!”

Alaska sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “It might be because of your policy. The public knew you were left wing, but could deal with it as long as you weren’t doing anything. People are annoyed you’re doing your job.”

“Fucking fabulous,” Sharon hissed. Alaska shot Willam a glare as if to thank her for ruining their previously romantic evening. Feeling guilty, Willam crossed to Sharon’s desk and picked up her handbag.

“Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out and fix it. I’ll even get Courtney involved,” Willam said as she handed the minister her bag, regretting her last sentence as soon as it was out her mouth. “You guys just go enjoy your night, okay? Or at least try.”

Both Sharon and Alaska gave her a smile of gratitude, Sharon taking her back from Willam’s grasp. “Thanks, Willam. You’re a gift.”

Alaska smirked, seemingly a little more cheerful. “We’ll be thinking of you when she’s got three fingers in my-”

“GO HOME,” Willam yelled, cutting her friend off, her disgust muted at her relief that the couple seemed a lot happier again as they both laughed softly, linked arms and began to leave the office.

The calm and quiet of the department contrasted the instant pile-up of tasks in Willam’s head. Heading to Sharon’s phone and ringing down to the lobby for security, she resigned herself to the fact that it was going to be a long night.

***

Heaving her trundle suitcase down the very final step in her stairwell, Willam pushed open her door and entered into the crisp morning air. It was, for now, a cold day, but there was still the promise of it getting warmer as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Rubbing her eyes a little, she stifled a yawn. As she looked at the time, Willam cursed whoever had booked the hotel so far away. Still, she was a little excited at the prospect of getting out of London. Sharon’s driver was meant to be picking them all up at 6am, but Willam had been texted by Alaska and made aware they were running a little late.

Willam was pretty exhausted. She’d been up all night analysing the polls and figuring out a way to combat Sharon’s falling approval ratings, finally coming up with an answer. She supposed she would have been quicker if she’d contacted Courtney and told her all that had gone on at the department after she’d left, but she hadn’t wanted to ruin her night with the comms girls. Besides, the thought of spending time alone with Courtney wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing to her right now.

Her thought process was interrupted as a sleek black car with blacked-out windows pulled up into Willam’s street.

Well, it’s either Sharon or a long-overdue hitman.

As the car arrived beside her, a single window was lowered to reveal Sharon in a huge pair of sunglasses. Beaming a smile, she shouted out to Willam just as the boot of the car popped open.

“Get in loser, we’re going to engage in stimulating, politically-driven conferences and debates!”

As Willam rolled her eyes and lifted her case into the boot, sitting it beside Alaska’s and Sharon’s, she heard the muffled voice of Alaska from inside the car say something about constantly wondering why she was attracted to her girlfriend. Opening the other side door, Willam climbed inside and sat opposite the couple.

“Hey. How was your night?” Willam asked politely, feeling small-talk would be appropriate before she launched into work matters. Alaska gave a long-suffering sigh and took Sharon’s hand.

“We ended up getting a sub-par chippy because someone’s lamb shanks were so raw they could’ve walked out the fucking oven.”

“Hey, nobody ever told me you had to cook lamb for approximately six hundred years!” Sharon cried incredulously, then laughing as Alaska broke out into a smile beside her. Feeling it was too early for such displays of affection, Willam decided to change topic.

“So, before we do anything else, I think I figured out the drop in the polls,” she began, getting her phone out to illustrate her plan before hearing Sharon groan opposite her.

“Willam, it’s six in the morning. Can we at least wait til the sun’s up before we start talking work?”

“Hey, I’m proud of this idea! I think you’ll like it,” Willam insisted. As Sharon simply rolled her eyes in response, Willam carried on. “Your decrease in approval ratings is mainly amongst the over 40s demographic. So, instead of trying to win them back, we’re going to balance them with the 18 to 25s.”

“Fuck,” Alaska sighed, Sharon bringing her hands up to her face then dragging them down her cheeks. “Will, they never fucking vote.”

“Only because nobody’s connecting with them! Now, we know they like Sharon from the response she gets on twitter. And what is the thing that most 18 to 25 year olds connect with the most?”

“…good policies on higher education?” Sharon tried hopefully.

“Memes!” Willam declared proudly. Sharon and Alaska stared at her as if she’d just grown another head.

“I’ve woken up on another plane of reality,” Sharon blinked blankly.

“Is it not kind of insulting to say that the only way Sharon can connect with younger voters is through memes?” Alaska tilted her head a little.

“Insulting to Sharon or insulting to- you know what, it doesn’t matter, the point is that the memes are politically relevant! I set you up a snapchat account and all you’ve got to do is post some funny, wholesome pictures or videos every now and again. The kids will love you, turn you into a massive meme queen, become more engaged and invested in you than they already are, hype you up no end on social media and increase your approval ratings!”

“Um. What the fuck is snapchat,” Sharon asked, her face blank. Sighing and shaking her head, Willam gestured for Sharon to give her her phone and downloaded the app as Alaska patiently explained how it worked to her girlfriend. Soon enough, Willam was signing into the account she’d made for her boss.

“Okay,” she said, handing it back to Sharon. “Now, do a video or something. Say you’re on your way to the party conference and are excited to hear everyone’s ideas and visions for the future, blah blah blah, political horseshit.”

Looking a little nervous, Sharon positioned the screen across from her face and gave a false smile as she held down the video button.

“Hi everyone, Sharon Needles here and I am on my way to Bournemouth for the party conference! I am so excited to get down and start hearing everyone’s amazing ideas for the year ahe- the video stopped.”

Exasperated, Willam rested her head in her hands. Alaska simply laughed affectionately.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it, sweetie,” she smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “But in all seriousness, this isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had, Wills. How much of it was really down to Courtney?”

Willam felt as if she’d suddenly choked on something. “Oh, um, I never had to contact her in the end. The idea sort of came to me.”

“Speaking of contacting people, did you get in touch with Bianca about that phone call?” Sharon asked, her voice suddenly grave. Willam had. Bianca had seemed a little rattled that whoever it was had managed to obtain a departmental phone number but was convinced it was nothing more than an empty threat, and Willam conveyed this to Sharon.

“She’s got someone at the Metropolitan working on it. Shouldn’t be too hard to trace the number once they phone the network provider,” she explained, her heart seizing up as she recognised the familiar new-build flats outside the window. “We should probably stop talking about this now that we’re at Courtney’s.”

“Why? Wasn’t she made aware?” Sharon asked, her voice turning a little stern.

Willam let out a sigh. “I didn’t tell her.”

“What? Why not?”

Because I’m scared to text her? Fire drill. “Because I don’t want this getting round the department more than it has to.”

Just as Sharon appeared satisfied with Willam’s answer, the car stopped right alongside Courtney, who was standing beside a huge suitcase, a smaller but very full backpack that was looped around its handles, and a Sainsbury’s bag that seemed to contain wellington boots. The small blonde beamed with joy, then rushed around the back to put everything into the boot.

“Jesus. What in fuck has she packed?” Alaska snorted an affectionate laugh as the boot slammed loudly from the back of the car and Courtney clambered into the seat beside Willam.

“Good morning, campers! Ah, I am so excited! This is going to be the best weekend,” she squealed happily, clapping her hands together in excitement.

“I hate to disappoint, Courtney, but I don’t know how exciting it’s going to be for you watching a bunch of speeches that are irrelevant to your line of work and watching me debate the assholes we share a party with.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got the diversity disco tomorrow night,” Willam said dryly, her awe at the erratic planning of each conference growing more and more each year.

“Yeah, it’ll be surprisingly fun!” Courtney nodded enthusiastically. “Plus, all the other advisors are usually lovely! Trixie was saying last night that we needed to look out for one of her old friends from HR- Farrah, I’ve met her once or twice but had no idea she was a party member. Apparently she’s one of Sasha Velour’s girls and she’s sort of in at the deep end, so we need to look out for her.”

“Sasha Velour, ugh. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to work with her, she’s so pretentious. Like she could shoot explosive diarrhoea over the entire House of Commons and she’d still think she was the best person in the room,” Willam wrinkled her nose disdainfully. Sasha was one of the party’s many new arrivals after the expenses scandal those six months ago, and in that time Willam hadn’t been convinced by her at all. Her approval ratings seemed to be good, but any interview she did always seemed to make her come across as too hyper-intelligent for anyone else. Hell, she’d managed to out-smug Raja Gemini.

“I know Bianca got on at her for using too many long words in her interviews,” Alaska chipped in thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. From what I’ve seen in cabinet meetings she’s pretty quiet. Keeps herself to herself. She’s quite buddy with some of the other new ministers, but if all I’ve got to worry about this weekend is a party clique then I’m not worried. I survived high school, for Christ’s sake,” Sharon shrugged nonchalantly. “How long do we have in this car?”

Alaska checked her phone. “Two hours and twenty minutes.”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.”

Courtney perked up. “Hey, I know what we can do to pass the time!”

Willam’s face grew scheming. “Oh shit, the game we used to play going up to MediaCity?”

“YES! Party political Guess Who,” Courtney replied, her face equally as mischievous. Turning to Sharon, she explained. “It’s like Guess Who, but with the members of the party.”

“Thanks, Courtney, I’m really glad you explained that to me,” Sharon deadpanned.

“I’ll start then. I’m thinking of a cabinet minister,” Alaska smiled, giving nothing away.

“It’s Sharon,” Willam said instantly, earning her a weird look from Courtney.

“Fuck you, it’s not Sharon!” Alaska blurted out.

“Why would it be Sharon?” Courtney asked, her face still dumbfounded.

“She’s a fucking cabinet minister, isn’t she?” Willam stuttered, eager to cover up her misdemeanour. “Okay, is she a woman?”

“Yes.”

“What colour hair has she got?” Sharon asked, warming to the game.

“It’s yes or no questions only, you fucking amateur,” Willam joked. “Has she got brown hair?”

“Yep.”

“Well that narrows it down,” Courtney rolled her eyes. “Has she made a lot of media appearances in the last three months?”

Alaska narrowed her eyes in thought. “Not really.”

“Was she at last year’s party conference?”

Alaska snorted a laugh that very obviously gave something away. “Yes.”

“Did she make headlines for bringing a bunch of guys back to her hotel room she found on Tinder and riding each one of them like a pogo stick?” Willam cut in immediately.

“Yes!” Alaska blurted out excitedly.

“Is it our beloved Minister for International Trade, Miss Trinity Taylor?!” Courtney suddenly squealed, excitement getting the better of her. All four girls burst out laughing.

“Fuck you, Court, that was my answer!” Willam laughed, whacking her on the arm despite not knowing what possessed her to. Courtney simply batted her eyelashes at her.

“You snooze, you lose, babe!”

As the others kept laughing, Willam felt her heart freeze up. Did Courtney realise what she’d said? Inwardly, Willam shook her head. Of course she didn’t. It was just an offhand comment, something she obviously wouldn’t read into as much as Willam had and something that Willam was stupid for reading into anyway. Fire drill.

Two hours, twenty minutes and most of the cabinet members and MPs later, Sharon’s driver pulled up outside the Hilton they were to be staying at for the weekend. Courtney had been right; from the outside, at least, it did look good. Each floor was stacked high on top of the other, with chunky balconies outlining each one. It was very business-like but also classy, perfect for the weekend ahead. As Sharon’s driver opened the doors and a Hilton employee rushed to the boot to retrieve their luggage, the four made their way up the marble steps past a few hungover-looking smokers and into the hotel lobby, where Sharon took the lead in checking them all into their respective hotel rooms.

“On behalf of the Hilton, we’d like to wish you a very warm welcome and hope that you enjoy the conference,” the receptionist chirped, smiling as he slid four identical key cards over the countertop. “Your rooms are 505, 511, 512 and 513. We offer 24-hour room service although the front desk does close at midnight. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Sharon tilted her head. “Could I have a bottle of champagne sent up to room 512 at around six o’clock tonight please?”

The receptionist barely stopped himself from raising his eyebrows. “Absolutely, I can fix that for you right away Ms. Needles.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, turning away from the desk. Willam fixed her with a frown.

“A bottle of champagne? Are we in Empire?”

“What? It’s the party conference, let me live. ‘Party’ is right there in the phrase.”

“Right in front of ‘conference’,” Willam muttered under her breath. Scooping up the key cards from the reception desk, she shrugged. “Okay, Alaska, you take 511-”

Alaska gave her a grateful smile that thanked her without any words.

“- I’ll take 505 and Court can have-”

“Oh Christ, don’t put me anywhere near the number thirteen,” Courtney said, her voice a little panicked. Willam had forgot about Courtney’s large amount of superstitions. It was one of the things she found so endearing about her.

“Alright, Stevie Wonder,” Willam rolled her eyes to mask her affection, handing her the other key card. “Should we head up to the welcome address? We’ve still got half an hour but it’d be good to go and see who’s turned up.”

Nodding in agreement, Alaska dashed over to the porter who had stacked their suitcases high on a golden luggage trolley and told him which room they were all to go to. Once she’d ensured the safe arrival of their belongings, the four of them made their way to the lifts and travelled up several floors to a floor free of any hotel rooms; the doors opened to reveal a sort of holding area, with a slightly worn red carpet and cream wallpaper. That being said, Willam could hardly see most of her surroundings on account of the sheer volume of people currently in the room. Her observations were interrupted by a man in a smart suit who she vaguely recognised as one of the interns at Number Ten, handing her a sheet of paper.

“Welcome to the annual party conference!” he smiled, desperation to hopefully be picked up by an MP or a Minister so he could begin his ascent to the top of the political world seeping out of every pore. Willam cast a glance at the sheet, which appeared to be the agenda for the weekend.

“God, there’s entirely too much mingling going on in this room,” Sharon exhaled, her tone a little overwhelmed. “It’s like being in a snake pit.”

“Well look, there’s Latrice over there! She likes you, why don’t you go and chat to her?” Courtney pointed out the large, cheerful Communities and Local Government Minister, who was standing by the table of nibbles and laughing loudly with the girl serving behind it. Pulling a face and shrugging, Sharon straightened her posture and made her way over to Latrice, leaving Alaska, Courtney and Willam still hovering by the lifts. Willam watched as Alaska scanned the room, her eyes suddenly resting on someone and her face jolting in recognition. Faltering a little as she remembered the two girls beside her, Alaska began to slowly move towards who she’d seen.

“I’ve just spotted, um…someone I knew from uni. I’m just going to go catch up- you guys don’t mind, do you?”

Alaska barely gave either of them time to reply with a yes or no as she quickly disappeared into the crush of people. Curiosity piqued, Willam craned her neck in an attempt to see who Alaska had been so focused on, but it was impossible to see where Alaska had gone in the shifting crowd. Letting it drop, Willam became aware that only she and Courtney were left. Her palms began to sweat as she searched for something to say, but Courtney didn’t seem to feel as uncomfortable.

“Look, there’s Nina from Work and Pensions,” she kept her voice low as she subtly pointed to the new minister, who was standing on her own sipping from an orange juice and scanning the room. “Should we go say hi?”

Willam scoffed. “Nah. She won’t know who we are and to add to that, she’s isolated herself by choice. The rumour is that she smoked too much weed while she was at uni so she’s one of the most paranoid people you’ll ever meet. Fierce debater, though.”

Courtney’s eyes grew wide, a little shocked at the revelation. Calming herself and shrugging, she gave Willam a little smile. “Well, we can just keep each other company until the conference starts.”

Willam couldn’t control the way she beamed a smile back at her. Suddenly scrambling for conversation, Willam looked to the floor, a little nervous. “So, any big plans for tonight?”

Courtney bit her lip slightly. “I was thinking of heading to the SkyBar and trying to make some pals. I know there was some talk amongst the advisors for drinks after dinner. Sound good?”

Willam was only a little taken aback at Courtney’s invitation. Stammering a little, she pulled an apologetic face. “Sorry. I’m going to stay in and work on a little more analysis of this taxation policy that’s getting debated tomorrow. Try and conjure up a couple more figures for Sharon to throw in.”

Courtney momentarily looked as if she was injured. “Oh. Okay.”

Willam all but flinched, wondering what she’d done to result in Courtney’s drop in spirits. She was a breath away from trying to save the situation- perhaps saying she’d come for one single drink if only to see that smile reappear on Courtney’s face again- when she was stopped by a cry from within the crowd.

“Courtney?” came a soft, high voice, the words followed by a tiny blonde girl who looked entirely too young to be in politics. She wore a baby pink pencil skirt and suit jacket which were perfectly tailored, and her blonde hair hung in delicate waves framing her face. As she turned her head very slightly, the light hit her cheekbones in an almost blinding fashion, indicating that if politics didn’t work out she could always go into makeup artistry. If Willam hadn’t seen her before, Courtney certainly seemed as if she knew her.

“Farrah! It’s so good to see you, I had no idea you were working for the party until Trixie mentioned it!” she beamed, happiness restored as she gave the girl a quick hug.

“Yeah, well, Sasha scouted me after someone obviously noticed my performance in admin over at human resources. But oh God, Courtney, there’s so much! I feel like I’m constantly behind and everyone is so much more advanced. I mean Naysha- you know Cynthia’s Naysha over at International Development?- rumour is she’s getting considered for an advisory job at number ten,” Farrah reeled off, anxiety riddling her tone. Willam’s ears perked up at the mention of the number ten job, her detached interest which she’d held previously suddenly increasing. Farrah seemed not to realise the impact of her words and was still carrying on. “Meanwhile I’m still over here not really sure how to use the photocopier! Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?”

With that, Farrah turned to Willam and warmly stuck a hand out for her to shake. Hesitantly, Willam gave a tight smile and took Farrah’s hand. “I’m Willam. I work with Court, I’m Sharon Needles’ political advisor.”

Farrah’s face sort of sank, the smile that had previously been plastered to it melting away. “Oh God. I should have registered. It’s Dosac you guys work for, right?”

Starting to feel a little like she had the power to ruin everyone’s mood, Willam nodded, her brow furrowed. Farrah pulled a sort of pained expression.

“What is it, Farrah?” Courtney asked, concern written all over her face.

“God. I mean I shouldn’t care, right? It’s just politics after all, I mean that’s what happens, isn’t it? But oh God, you’re both going to have to deal with the fallout and I just can’t help but feel partly responsible because I helped her write it…I mean I proof-read it, but that’s still some responsibility, right?” the small blonde stammered, her face only growing more and more fretful.

“Farrah. Talk to me,” Courtney asked, a frown deep set on her face.

“Jesus, are you crying?” Willam tilted her head, awe momentarily taking the place of concern.

Sniffling a little, Farrah took a deep breath. “Sasha’s speech later today. It’s about politics and the media. Sharon doesn’t really come off well in it.”

Willam gave a deep sigh, bringing both hands up behind her head. This was all she needed to add to her already sky-high stress levels. “What exactly does she say?”

As soon as Farrah opened her mouth, she immediately shut it again as her gaze focussed on someone just over Willam’s shoulder. As Willam turned to acknowledge whoever it was, she came near face-to-face with two girls at the same time. Appearance-wise, they couldn’t have contrasted more; the one on the left had flawless dark skin, with colourful makeup that contrasted her pure white shift dress. Her dreadlocks hung over her shoulders and down her back, the little gold embellishments hanging from the odd dread giving Willam the impression of a sort of Christmas tree. The girl on the right, however, immediately raised Willam’s hackles despite her unthreatening appearance- a huge, candyfloss mane of white-blonde hair sat on her shoulders and only accentuated her pale face, which was painted with just a simple red lip and two huge wings of eyeliner. She wore a plain teal suit dress, which was impeccably ironed and crease-free. Willam looked down at her own slightly crumpled white shirt and black pencil skirt self-consciously. The two girls were recognisable as Shea Coulee and Sasha Velour respectively. Like Sharon, they’d both been new starts all those months ago after the expenses scandal- Shea taking up the post as Minister of Defence and Sasha filling the vacancy for Minister of Justice. They had both been strong presences in parliament, managing to gain considerable traction on policies they’d dreamed up, and their approval ratings were good amongst the public. However, Willam had heard small snippets of rumours that flew around the party indicating that Shea and Sasha were more than simply colleagues. If anything was going on between them, however, they didn’t show it as they stood beside each other, their posture and expressions statuesque.

“Farrah! There you are, we were wondering where you’d managed to get to,” Sasha smiled pleasantly, her voice deep and placid.

“I was just talking to Willam and Courtney. Sharon’s girls,” Farrah stuttered, hasty to conceal that she’d revealed anything to them both just moments ago. Sasha raised a single eyebrow in interest, turning to Shea and sharing a look that seemed to be a mixture of amusement and something else Willam couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Sorry, is there a problem?” Willam couldn’t help but challenge. Sasha, for her part, looked taken aback at Willam’s forthright manner. Her smile was still calm and her tone was even as she spoke.

“Not at all! If anything I think it’s sweet that Sharon still has advisors after her performance so far in her position,” Sasha said, her level tone hiding the bite to her words. Courtney narrowed her eyes.

“She has three advisors, actually, so she’s not exactly short of allies.”

“Tell that to our party, girl,” Shea laughed, throwing her head back. “Three advisors and she still manages to fuck up. That’s kinda bad.”

“I wouldn’t call getting approval from a number of European leaders fucking up,” Willam said, trying her best to keep her tone calm but her flared nostrils potentially giving her away.

“And there was me thinking Sharon’s approval ratings had plummeted. But maybe I have my numbers wrong,” Sasha said lightly, Willam wondering how she managed to make a shrug sarcastically apologetic. “Anyway, they’re letting people in to the welcome address now so I was thinking of getting going, Farrah? But it was lovely to meet you both. If you’d ever like to come spend a day or two over in Justice, you’d be more than welcome!”

Shea gave Sasha an amused smirk. “What she really means is, if you find yourself wanting to work for a department that’s actually going places, her door’s always open.”

Willam’s face scrunched up in distaste as Sasha gave a disapproving look and batted Shea lightly on the arm. “Your mouth is going to get you in mad amounts of trouble one day, I swear.”

As they moved away, Farrah’s apologetic goodbye and a promise to see them both later muffled what Shea replied, but Willam could have sworn it was something about Sasha having never had any complaints about her mouth before. Her eyes were still narrowed and trained on Sasha like a sniper as she spoke.

“I knew there was a reason that stuck-up bitch didn’t sit well with me. What’s the damage control plan?”

Courtney furrowed her brow. “There’s not much we can do except make Sharon aware. We can’t control what Sasha’s going to say, unless we can find something on her?”

Willam raised both eyebrows. “I don’t know if we can get any solid evidence that her and Shea are fucking but surely their interactions are evidence enough.”

Courtney went to speak then stopped, her words getting caught in her throat. To Willam’s curiosity, her expression became briefly antagonised as she paused, then opened her mouth again. “How come you can see what’s going on with them clear as day but you don’t see…”

She sort of trailed off, expression becoming even more pained as something stopped her speech in her tracks. Confused, Willam prompted her. “Don’t see what?”

Courtney sighed and simply shook her head. Before Willam could press her about it any more, they found themselves both being shoved forward a little in the crowd as everyone began to make their way into the conference hall. The flow of the human tide brought Sharon back to them as they shuffled forward towards the doorway like cattle.

“Okay. Issue. Latrice told me there’s a rumour that Sasha’s speech is basically just her dragging me for a considerable amount of time,” Sharon said quietly, her face not giving away her obvious nerves.

“Yeah. We heard it from Farrah, so I don’t think there’s any element of fiction to it,” Courtney grimaced, hating to be the bearer of bad news. Sharon let out a huge breath.

“Fuck. So I’ve got death threats, falling approval ratings, and now my own party hates me.”

“DEATH THREATS?” Courtney all but shouted, causing a few heads to turn her way. Willam cringed, trying her best to shush her and turning to Sharon.

“Thanks, Sharon.”

“She’s an advisor, she deserves to know!”

“Deserves to know what? Did you keep something from me?” Courtney turned to Willam, suddenly accusatory. Willam found herself hoping she was somehow standing above a trapdoor that would miraculously open and lower her into the void.

“Look, I’ll tell you later,” Willam insisted, desperate to placate her. “For now, let’s just hear what the Chancellor of the Exchequer is going to drone on at us about through his fucking nasal passages for the next half hour.”

Willam didn’t miss the way Courtney’s shoulders slumped, her body language completely defeated. She felt a stab of guilt at her heart, wondering if she should regret not telling Courtney. On one hand, she truly did believe that keeping the death threat between the three of them was the best way to handle it. However, something in her gut made her question if part of her had just really wanted to keep her distance from Courtney. Fire drill? I don’t even know anymore.

Willam’s thoughts were interrupted as the three of them were joined by Alaska just as they crossed the boundary of the conference hall and took their seats relatively near the back of the room. Sitting on her chair with a thud, Alaska leaned into Sharon’s ear and whispered something. Sharon’s face became outraged.

“What the fuck, why did everybody else find out about the bloody content of this speech before I did?”

Willam leaned forward to face Alaska. “Who the hell did you find out from?!”

“My friend from high school told me. He-”

Willam cut her off, suddenly confused. “I thought you said it was a friend from uni?”

Alaska paused for a second and blinked, seemingly realising she’d slipped up. “Did I? I meant high school. Anyway, he told me. Everybody seems to have heard, so maybe we need to think of a strategy to deal with the fallout?”

Sharon nodded, her expression determined. She seemed eager to get back on top, and Willam felt a sudden fire and drive to help her get one up on the other members of the party.

For now, though, they had to sit through an old, rich white man loving the sound of his own voice for a considerable length of time. Willam concluded it was just like any other day in parliament.

***

Trying their best to keep their heels quiet against the wooden floor, the four girls snuck into the very back of the hall and sat down gently on four available wooden seats. Willam craned her neck to the very front of the room, where she could see a single long table where the chair sat with Sasha. She seemed at ease and completely nonplussed by the situation, sorting her index cards out calmly while her face gave nothing away. Fishing the weekend’s agenda from her bag, Willam studied the description again.

16.00- 16.30 – Hall 2 – Minister for Justice

Secretary of State Sasha Velour discusses the public’s view of politicians in the media, taking different landmark events from the political calendar and offering her own analysis as to how they in turn affected the approval ratings of the party.

Sighing and shaking her head, Willam could only hope Sharon didn’t get brought up as many times as people seemed to be implying. All day she’d been an absolute jittery, rage-filled nightmare; every speech the four of them had sat in had featured impatient foot-tapping indicating that Sharon’s attention was miles away. She hadn’t touched any food at lunchtime either. Willam just had to thank God that she didn’t have any debates to take part in until tomorrow, as she’d probably just open her mouth and start spewing particles of her own brain. Looking at Sharon now, Willam could see that she was just staring steadfastly straight ahead, her eyes trained on the other young minister. Willam watched Alaska look nervously at her girlfriend, then as she lifted a single hand and made to hold it in Sharon’s. Locking eyes with her, Willam gave Alaska a warning look and, sighing, the other advisor backed down. Willam felt bad, but it was for their own good- the hall was filled with people, and a gesture like that would have been far, far too obvious.

The small murmur in the room quietened to a complete silence as the chair took to the podium and introduced Sasha, Willam’s gaze immediately snapping over to Shea who was sitting on the other side of the room and whose deafening claps soared over the polite applause of the rest of the crowd.

Taking a confident stance at the podium, Sasha smiled pleasantly at the chair.

“First of all I’d like to start by thanking the chairman for such a warm introduction, and by thanking all of you for coming along. I promise I won’t keep you all for long, as I know we have a big night ahead of us!”

WIllam grimaced as the crowd gave a polite chuckle. “Fucking get on with it, then.”

Pausing as she shuffled her index cards, Sasha looked down at the podium, then looked back up at the crowd. “Politics and the media. It’s a relationship that, it could be argued, is incredibly symbiotic. Without politics, would the media have any reason to exist? Without the media, politics, yes, would still exist, but would it be the democratic institution it has come to be today? The media has become one of the most important vehicles through which politics is conveyed, and for one simple reason; public engagement. The media is vastly accessible to the majority of the population through newspapers, television, radio, and more recently, social media.”

“We know what fucking media entails,” Willam hissed under her breath, perhaps a little too loudly as an elderly MP turned around from the row in front and gave her a disapproving look.

“Why is this accessibility so important? Well, it only increases the scrutiny that politicians- us- are put under by the very people that have voted us into our position. The electorate put their trust in us and, through the media, they are given a chance to check up on the people they used their vote on. It’s only reasonable that they expect us to be responsible, respectable members of parliament, after all, we are representing them. We reflect our electorate, and in turn, our electorate reflects us.”

Willam leaned slightly to her left and whispered to Sharon. “She can’t be mentioning you. She’s been rabbiting on for five minutes and all she’s done is use stupid, meaningless phrases.”

Sharon frowned and made to shush her as Sasha carried on.

“Take, for example, the opposition’s leadership contest. Phi Phi O’Hara’s behaviour towards her competitor, Manila Luzon, showed a level of childishness, churlishness, and just downright sexism. How is this reflected in her electorate? Well, we know both Piers Morgan and Katie Hopkins endorsed her campaign…so I shouldn’t need to say too much more to illustrate my point!”

This time, a bubble of genuine laughter burst in the hall, Willam’s expression stony in the face of it all. She didn’t have to turn to look at Sharon to know that her face was the exact same, the tension radiating from her like heat from an oven.

“Now we can laugh at situations like these- except when they’re occurring in our own party. As members, MPs and Ministers, we should constantly be aiming to do our electorate proud. We must always remember that whatever we are doing, it reflects on the whole party. And this is why in every situation we are in, we must remember that our actions have wider consequences than simply ourselves,” Sasha stopped, moved one index card in front of the other and carried on, her tone now one of pride instead of neutrality. “For example, our minister for defence, Shea Coulee. Within her first month of appointment, as I’m sure you’ll all know, Ms. Coulee flew out to Syria to witness the effects that drone strikes from our country had had on innocent communities. Within a month of her arrival back in the UK, her department had drawn up a piece of legislation that should have ensured tighter control and accuracy of drone strikes. We know now that the legislation was blocked by opposing parties- disappointing, yes, but what couldn’t have been predicted was the overwhelming public support as a result. Defence had previously been a department that many wished didn’t exist- an area of the government which was cold and lacked humanity. Ms. Coulee, through media appearances and connection with the public through platforms such as hustings, surgeries and even on Twitter, has managed to bring humanity, dignity and warmth to a position that many were too afraid to fill.”

Willam looked over once again at Shea, whose face was lit up in gratitude at the glowing praise. Just as she was about to roll her eyes, Willam was jolted back into attention by Sasha’s next sentence.

“Dignity is one of the most important qualities to possess in our area of work, and that’s why I was saddened when I watched the events of Sharon Needles’ Daily Mail interview and its aftermath.”

Willam instantly felt every single muscle in her body tense up, the blood coursing through her veins. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Sharon, who had sucked in a tremendous amount of air at once through her nostrils. A few heads turned around in their seats to crane their necks in the direction of Sharon and her advisors. Unable to move in her seat, Willam could only listen to the rest of the speech.

“True, she opened the door to a conversation that really needed to be had- the staggering amount of sexism politicians face from the media every day is vast…however, that’s a speech for another day!” the audience laughed again and Willam had to fight the urge not to pick up her chair and start smashing their moronic heads in. “But the thing that I felt really undermined her point was the way she conveyed her anger. She could have stayed and debated Shangela Wadely. She could have de-railed the interview into a really productive discussion. But instead, she stormed out. She voided the chance of gaining something really positive out of a bad interview. Through sheer luck, Chad Michaels had wanted to highlight the same thing but the party has to wonder- what would have happened if Ms. Michaels had not invited Ms. Needles onto the news? The integrity and public view of the party was thrown into disarray. Would we all be free to walk out of any interview we choose, to refuse to answer questions simply because we didn’t like them? Are we all free to speak how we like on media appearances, to swear as Ms. Needles did on Radio Five Live? As politicians we are always eager to relate to the public, but should our endeavours to be relatable go as far as being brash or being crude?”

“This bitch seems to talk entirely in rhetorical questions,” Willam hissed to nobody in particular, her resentment growing with each line of Sasha’s speech. The Justice minister carried on.

“We know that Ms. Needles’ endeavours have clearly failed, hence the fall in approval ratings next to Phi Phi O’Hara. But is this solely due to the attempt to be relatable? It is likely that it has more to do with the leaking of the Prime Minister’s legacy, which we now know came from her department. Months of work from advisors at number 10 gone completely down the drain, and it should serve as a reminder to us all to tighten the security and our protocol within our departments, to ensure that the lines between civil servants and political workers are made abundantly clear. With this error of judgement-”

“Fuck this. I’m not staying to have my character assassinated any longer,” Sharon suddenly hissed through gritted teeth, all at once snatching her bag up from the floor and walking out of the row she sat in, not even caring about the looks she drew from at least the three rows of chairs in front. Panicked, Willam looked across at Courtney, whose gaze was fixed on Alaska who was following her girlfriend out of the room as if attached by a string. Making her own decision, Willam jumped up from her chair and made her way to the exit, hearing Courtney’s heels scraping across the wooden floor approximately a second afterwards. Bursting through the double doors, she was grateful to see that Alaska had restrained herself, and was standing not too close to a deflated Sharon who was slumped against the wall. Willam opened her mouth to speak, but Sharon got there first.

“Courtney, could you please phone Jinkx and tell her we need all hands on deck to firefight this. Pre-warn her. Phone Bianca as well and see what the line is. Alaska, could you nip down to reception and ask if they can bump our-” Sharon suddenly coughed very violently in an attempt to cover the mistake Willam had already heard. “- my champagne order forward to five o’clock? I feel as if I need it and about twenty Valium.”

Obediently, Courtney retrieved her phone from her bag and crossed to a quieter end of the corridor to make the phone call. With the other advisor gone, Alaska risked a squeeze of Sharon’s hand and a quick kiss on her cheek before she dashed across into the lift. With just Willam and Sharon left, Sharon tore her hands through her long, ice-grey hair and gave a heart-wrenching sigh. Willam felt for her.

“Hey. It’ll be okay, you know,” Willam braved a small smile which she hoped looked reassuring. “Tomorrow is a new day and you just have to go out there and do what you do best. Lacerate that cotton-wool haired bitch in the debate and then kill your speech. It’s a bump, but you can redeem yourself in less than 24 hours.”

Sharon gave Willam a sort of helpless look, her blue eyes seeming more like pools than their usual ice. “It’s not that I’m worried about. I know I’m good, I know I’ll be fine tomorrow. I just…have I really been as bad as Sasha said? Have I really been that shit for the party?”

Willam’s face instantly contorted in disbelief. “Oh, God, no! Sharon, you’ve been the best thing that’s happened to this party since you arrived. Bitch just needed someone to attack and she’s jealous you’ve had more media appearances than any other minister so she spun everything you’ve done into something bad.”

“I just feel like I’ve let everybody down,” Sharon’s voice was flat, and Willam had to fight the weird urge she had to hug her.

“Listen. Bianca Del Rio scouted you out because she saw something special in you. And when you came to Dosac, everyone else saw it too. Well, Alaska more than most, but anyway,” Willam threw in a joke in an attempt to cheer the minister up and earned herself a small quirk of a smile at the mention of her girlfriend’s name. “And the public saw it more than anyone. Okay, your approval ratings dropped, but whose don’t? It’s just a case of finding your feet again, and you can do that. We all believe in you, Sharon. You’ve not let anyone down.”

Her smile small but still present, Sharon pushed herself off of her leaning position on the wall and stood with a little more poise. “You know, it seems strange, but for someone who started off as my harshest critic I can really always count on you to cheer me up.”

Willam bristled a bit. “Yeah, well. Shit evolves. We all came from fish once.”

Sharon snorted a laugh, then composed herself. “Well, I’m grateful for you anyway.”

Allowing herself a smile, Willam looked over at the corner of the room from where Courtney was making her way back to the two girls.

“Okay, so Jinkx is already on it- calls are coming in already, apparently- but the line Bianca gave them is that this does not affect the validity or credibility of your stance or policies in any way, and the party is not split,” she addressed Sharon, then pulled a face as her tone became concerned. “Bianca is livid at Sasha. She said something about her being so intent on dividing the party into pieces that she’s going to cut up her dead body into similar pieces before she dissolves it in acid to make the murder look like an accident.”

Raising her eyebrows, Willam gave a shrug. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like Bianca to me.”

“Well, ladies, it’s only quarter past four,” Sharon said, the confidence back in her voice. “And we’ve suddenly got a bit of free time on our hands. I suggest we drink until we can only see in greyscale.”

Courtney’s face lit up before Willam made the same feeble excuse she’d given to Courtney before. Really the truth was that the less time she spent around the other advisor the better, the entire day already seeming like some slow, painful water torture with every second she was around Courtney’s perfume, smile or bright eyes.

Excuses and goodbyes made for the evening, Willam found herself in the hotel lift being elevated towards a night of room service, a cold shower, and shitty TV game shows.

It really was the glamour that she loved the most about her job.

***

Willam lay completely awake, her eyes burning as they bore into the darkness that hung above her head. Casting her eye to the only light source in the room, she gave a loud sigh when she saw that the numbers on the digital clock- the only light source in the room- read that it was one in the morning. Exasperated, Willam turned over in the huge double bed the hotel had provided her. There was nothing wrong with it whatsoever; the sheets were soft and the mattress was comfy, but Willam had been kept awake for a couple of reasons. One of which had been the loud moaning and banging of the headboard that had started up just as Willam had originally decided to head to bed, all interspersed with cries of Sharon’s name that made Willam want to just die. Around five minutes into the ordeal, Willam decided that she’d had enough, turned over to face her bedside table and reached for the hotel phone. Punching in the room number of the source of the banging, she sighed with relief when things in the next room fell silent and a clearly irritated Alaska picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought this was the room of Minister for Social Affairs and Citizenship Sharon Needles?” Willam sing-songed down the phone, delighting when she heard Alaska’s voice catch in her throat on the other end of the line. “Don’t shit yourself, bitch. It’s me. But be more fucking subtle. Or fuck more subtly. I’m scarred for life here, I’ve got fucking PTSD. Post traumatic…scissoring disorder.”

Willam could practically hear Alaska rolling her eyes. “You’re a first class cunt, you know that?”

“Night night, sleep tight, hope your sex was shite,” Willam deadpanned, before crashing the phone against the receiver and turning over once more in bed.

That had been the only distraction of the evening that Willam could physically prevent or even interrupt. But for the rest of her attempts at sleep she’d been tortured by her own thoughts. Primarily (or at least that’s what she tell herself) thoughts of Sasha’s speech ran riot in her mind, Willam feeling more and more irritated with each passing minute at the Justice Minister’s audacity to attack Sharon as she had done. The fact that Sharon had had to follow Darienne meant that anything would have been an improvement, a fucking mammal with a head, but Sharon had really taken a failing department and launched it into the stratosphere. She couldn’t understand where Sasha’s remarks had come from, and Willam was convinced that Sharon had been doing a formidable job. She’d been fruitlessly grasping at ways Sharon could get back at her the next day, interspersed with stabs of guilt at the thought of resorting to childish point-scoring. Still, if they weren’t fighting fair then Willam was prepared to be as petty as was allowed.

Every so often these thoughts of irritation would be balanced by stomach-churning thoughts that made Willam’s heart feel constricted and panicky. Today was possibly the most time she’d spent in Courtney’s vicinity for quite a long time. It was easy to avoid her at work because she could just escape to her desk and sit and become engrossed in her own jobs. But today had been exhausting, and every single thing Courtney did managed to make Willam’s heart ache all the more. Why the fuck could she not just get over the stupidity of her feelings? She’d been distancing herself from Courtney for about a month and a half now, but the desired effect- that she’d be over her by now- just wasn’t happening. There was a particularly scary thought that barged into Willam’s brain at around midnight, which appeared in a sort of scary whisper.

If I can’t get over my feelings for her, I just need to tell her about them.

Willam had physically grit her teeth, helplessly pulling her pillow over her ears in an attempt to keep the thoughts away to no avail. How could she even have thought a thing like that? How would that be successful in any way? There was no way Courtney would react well to such a thing, let alone return her feelings. But memories stabbed at her mind, little small things that Courtney probably didn’t think twice about but things that Willam clung to like a comfort blanket. The biggest one was their kiss at Christmastime, but there were other occurrences too- meaningful looks, awkward blushes, cryptic sentences which had been started and then dropped.

Stop this.

Closing her eyes again, Willam attempted to clear her head. One of the very few helpful things her mum taught her when she was little was to count to the highest number she could think of until she got to sleep, so for possibly the millionth time that evening Willam began to go through the number line obediently like a small child.

She’d got to possibly 103 when there was a whisper of a knock at her door, so small that Willam couldn’t be sure she’d heard it until it came again, a little louder but still incredibly hesitant. This was no member of staff. Dread collecting in the pit of her stomach, Willam slid out of bed, padded over to the door then peered through the peephole.

Who she saw on the other side made her truly believe that God absolutely hated her with a passion.

Sighing heavily, Willam opened the door to reveal the one person she didn’t want to see on the other side. Courtney’s stance was apologetic and she didn’t meet Willam’s eyes.

“Hey. You okay?” Willam asked, admitting to herself that there had to be a good reason she was knocking her door at 1am.

“I was up at the bar with Farrah and lost track of time,” she began, her voice soft. “It was only when I got to my room that I realised I must have dropped my key card somewhere…I knocked on Alaska’s door, but she must be asleep. Reception’s closed…I wouldn’t ask, but…”

Trying her best not to show her visible dread, Willam simply stood aside and held the door wider open, allowing Courtney to enter. She thought briefly about switching the bedside light on or offering her a comfier alternative to sleep in than her current velvet leggings and off-shoulder yellow top, but she didn’t want to run any risk of her kindness being misconstrued as anything more. Settling down under her sheets and feeling Courtney slip under the duvet beside her, it was miles away from their last time sharing a bed. Willam had never felt more tense, terrified of brushing against the other advisor.

“Thanks, Will,” Courtney’s soft voice drifted into the darkness and felt like a stab to Willam’s gut. “You’re a good friend.”

“It’s alright.”

Exhausted, Willam returned to staring into the darkness, resigning herself to the fact that if she wasn’t getting any sleep before then she certainly wouldn’t be getting any now that Courtney was sharing her bed. Her heart ached, hating the fact that she had allowed the other girl to affect her feelings this much and wishing she could return to the old friendship they shared. Anything was better than this.

After an ambiguous amount of time- it could have been hours or minutes- Courtney spoke again.

“Willam?”

The almost-question hung heavy in the air, Willam’s breath completely stopping at the weight her name suddenly held. She couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Courtney, obviously believing the other girl was asleep, gave a little sigh. “Never mind.”

The previously cosy bed suddenly ice cold, Willam felt goosebumps prickle at her skin. They were centimetres from each other but Courtney had never felt so far away, and Willam’s thoughts from earlier hung like a weight in her mind.

#ortega #just the game we're in #witney #shalaska #sashea #au #group fic #willam bellli #courtney act #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #sasha velour #she coulee #farrah moan #tw death threat #rpdr fanfiction #jtgwi

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