rareslash | (no subject)

Title: Aftermath
SarahMc – catwoman@merseymail.com
Fandom: Have I Got News For You (yes, it is a fandom, dammit!)
Pairing: Paul Merton/Angus Deayton
Rating: PG-13 for swears and hurt feelings
Disclaimer: Lies, lies the lot of it. And those other parts? Also lies!

After what had seemed an eternity, it was over. Angus felt raw, open, as if he’d been raked over coals and blasted by saltwater. It was all part of the fun, of course, part of the satirical process. Should’ve seen it coming, really. Traitorous bastards. He didn’t want to speak or pretend or even think anymore. He wanted to sleep. And he didn’t want to have to ever look at Paul or Ian ever again.

So, of course, Paul had to be waiting by the coats when Angus was leaving the studio. He was leaning against the wall in front of the coat hangers wearing an intense stare and that jacket, mercifully re-zipped now. Angus half-nodded at Paul and smiled tightly, the pretence of civility slipping back into place between them. Just smile and move on, he told himself, the last thing you need right now is a conversation.

"You off then?"

Bastard.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll be, uh, yeah."

Paul watched him as he coughed and fidgeted with his suit a moment before trying to inconspicuously sidestep past and reach the coats. Paul turned with him, his eyes never leaving Angus' face. He was perceptive, Paul, and he knew more about Angus than either would care to let on.

"Good show tonight, you reckon?"

A mumbled response, a nervous laugh and a deliberate effort not to meet Paul’s eyes. Angus grabbed his overcoat from the hook, his eyes fixed on the ground as he pulled it on. Five quick strides and he’d be gone, wouldn’t need to worry about Paul or Ian or the whole damn show for another few days. The tabloids would be all over it, of course, but it wasn’t the tabloids that mattered. "Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you next week then."

"Yeah," Paul waited until Angus was halfway to the door before adding, "maybe."

Angus slowed down briefly, trying to make a snap decision over whether or not to turn around, to shout something back or to just keep walking as though he hadn’t heard anything. He was about to settle with the last option when he realised that he’d stopped moving to weigh up the possibilities. Bugger.

Okay, too late to plead ignorance. He could still walk away, maybe try and retain some shred of dignity. If it had been Ian he probably would have done, too, but this was Paul. The challenge hung in the air and this time he didn’t have to laugh it off for a camera. He turned around.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, call me crazy but maybe the BBC won’t want a coke head on their satirical news programme." The tone was light, Paul might have even been smiling, but there was a familiar gleam in his eyes, echoing a game that Angus wasn’t in the mood to play.

*
It was all about competition between him and Paul. It was a struggle for power when they kissed that made his blood burn though his veins and his fingernails dig hard into Paul’s arms. It was about who pulled away first, who gave away more, who could get the most out of anything. It was about who was kissing and who was being kissed.

Paul was a competitive guy when it came to Angus, both on and off-screen. Never vicious, his remarks, but always barbed and occasionally laced with venom. Angus gave as good as he got, if he could. When he couldn’t, he’d use his hands. Paul may have been a quicker thinker but Angus knew just where to touch him to make him shiver. Paul wouldn’t say, 'I love you'. He’d say, 'I want you'. But Angus could make him say either.

It wasn't a regular thing. Happened once every few months, perhaps. It wasn’t monogamous - it wasn’t even an affair. It was a release of tension, Angus told himself. A sensation but not an emotion.
*

Angus bared gritted teeth and wondered if Paul had noticed if his fists were clenched. "Maybe," he tried to match Paul’s amused tone but he could feel his voice crack, "no thanks to you if I do stay on."

Paul shrugged, "Just doing what’s best for the show, Angus. Me and Ian can carry on like we did, we’ll get some poor schlub who can read an autocue to fill in for you and you can kick back and spend some time with your slapper. I’m sure she’ll love that."

"What, you jealous or something?" He was angry, he rationalised afterwards, it was all he could think of to say. And weirdly enough, it hit a nerve. Not something anyone else would have recognised, he thought with satisfaction, but he’d definitely seen that moment of shock, quickly covered up.

"Don’t make me laugh."

Angus’ eyes narrowed, his lip twitching into a smirk, "You didn’t think you were the only one, did you? Never saw you as the sentimental type, Paul."

Silence.

"I really did have Caroline, you know. Your Caroline." He hadn't, but it was a lie he was used to. Usually a joke between them, it was so easy to bring out the cruelty of their everyday banter.

"Fuck you, Deayton."

"I might if I didn’t know what was under that jacket."

"You would, too, wouldn’t you?" There it was. The short laugh, barely covering the bitter tone, was just as accusatory as anything the News of The World could print. Which was understandable since Paul knew much more about Angus than the News of the World and wasn’t above bringing up past exploits. Christ, the man could be obnoxious when he wanted to be.

It wasn’t worth the hassle, Angus told himself, better to just turn around, go home and forget about it all. Stick with the original plan. He was turning to leave when he heard that taunting lilt, "Don’t I get a goodnight kiss first?"

If he wasn’t in enough trouble already, Angus might have hit him. Instead, he grabbed Paul’s shoulders and bit down on Paul’s bottom lip, pushing him up against the wall as he did so with a satisfying thud. It was a brief, rough kiss that left him panting as he pulled away, noting the familiar gleam in Paul’s eye. Not tonight, he thought. Probably never again.

"Goodnight," he said and flashed his tight smile again before stepping back towards the door.

Paul’s eyes never left his.

"Goodbye."