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nehswritesstuffs · 4 years ago

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The Thick of UNIT - Part LIV

I just realized that, as of the prior chapter, this is now the largest story I’ve written based on word count! Yet another weird milestone to celebrate! Thanks to everyone for suffering through me for this long, as I--again--could not have done it without you.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

An unexpected visitor drops in for Conall’s birthday. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

After all was said and done, there was little that Malcolm Tucker had to worry about in regards of the wedding of his stepson to his niece’s best friend. Despite certain important-to-the-event people having almost come to a complete stop to look for him and Jamie during their accidental time shift, everything was set up and functioning in time for the bride to walk down the aisle per schedule and make it look as though everything had been planned as such.

Thusly, the ceremony and the reception was a big success overall. With the bride’s mother behaving herself and plenty of food and drinks and a playlist longer than Jamie was tall, there was little to stop the celebration from going well into the night. It was “a real banger”, as some of the guests were describing it, and it made the party-throwers feel all the better about their slapdash and last-minute efforts. Malcolm even knew that he was off his wife’s Shit List when she rested her head on his shoulder while they were dancing late in the evening, the song slow enough to allow most to merely shuffle in-place instead of actually dancing…

…though to be fair, the subsequent make-up sex with Kate later that night didn’t hurt either… but who was keeping track?

The rest of April passed in a bizarre, semi-tense haze. With referendum campaigning hanging over their heads outside Mainframe UK, those in UNIT who had to worry about the near-constant badgering from this official and that group were glad there was a place where they could run and hide in their work. An international status to their organization meant that they had options, and as May rolled around, it allowed for some sense of normalcy to hang in their air, even one soured by looming uncertainty. As it was manifesting differently for everyone, it only made sense that some were handling it better than others.

“Who the fuck do you invite to a child’s birthday party when none of your friends have wee nips anymore?”

Aparajita glanced over at Malcolm from her spot on the couch in his office. He was on his computer, his brow furrowed as he was scrolling through something (it was news; she knew in her bones it was one news site or another), while she had camped out with her laptop and mobile for a change in scenery and the chance to slouch more severely. Although she had been able to hear him muttering the question to himself several times already, it was the first time that day he had asked her personally.

“You know I’m the wrong person to ask this question, yeah?” she reminded him. He half-shrugged, still too engrossed with his computer to commit to the entire motion. “Why don’t you ask Husak? Her son’s a teenager now, isn’t he?”

“That doesn’t mean she has the answers,” he replied. “Neither does Hart in regards to his boys, and they’re much closer in age to mine.”

“Just invite the kids over and have some cake,” she suggested. “Maybe get Miss Oswald over there too. I’m sure she’d love to see Conall on his birthday.”

“…if she’s feeling up to it, anyhow.”

“I’m sure she would be. Oswald’s not the kind of person to just completely drop out of her child’s life—she’ll be there whether you ask her or not.”

“Don’t know if that’s a relief or a threat, but I’ll take it,” he replied. It was then that he heard footfalls in the corridor and the door opened—Kate. “Love, what are we doing for Conall’s birthday?”

“I was thinking along the lines of just inviting the kids over, Oswald as well, and just doing cake and ice cream,” she replied, plopping a stack of folders on his desk, as Themba was on holiday and couldn’t do it otherwise. She folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Our son would need to have proper friends before we begin to consider anything else.”

“Fuck—I’m not ready for him to have friends,” Malcolm cursed. “That means other small children running around the house and that is not acceptable.”

“Tell that to November,” Aparajita chimed in from the couch. She could feel the daggers that her boss was trying to glare into her, which only made her smirk. “Hey, all I know is that Kanda and I follow one another online and her last selfie looked just off enough for me to know that she’s starting to fill out a little before the bump officially arrives.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Kate said, letting out a sigh. It was difficult to not laugh at her husband, as the expression on his face was a mixture of disgust and horror, both at the affirmation of there soon being another child guaranteed to be running around their house and the reminder that said child was going to come from his daughter-in-law—whom he had known as a child herself. “I’m having an intern fetch us lunch, come on.”

“It’s a shame I have to leave my own office to get some fucking respect around here,” he grumbled. Aparajita flipped him her middle finger as Malcolm was gently pulled out of the office by his wife. They went into the lift and up to Kate’s office, which already had sandwiches and tea waiting for them. “That was fast.”

“I waited a bit before coming down to get you,” she said, sitting down on the sofa. “Now I see that the timing was perfect.” Kate saw that instead of sitting next to her, Malcolm was headed towards the glass wall, looking down over the atrium. “What’s the matter? You seem distracted.”

“I guess I don’t want to think too much about anything right now,” he admitted quietly. He scanned over the inhabitants of the atrium, watching as many attempted to juggle eating lunch while watching over their own work stations. “Every time I begin to think about something good, I get reminded of the shit that’s going on, and how now that I’m in UNIT, I’m virtually powerless to try to steer it all towards something a little less shit.”

“You’re not powerless—you could always strong-arm some old Whitehall acquaintances,” she mentioned. Kate took a bite of sandwich in an attempt to hint that lunch was still on. “You could call Cal or Nicola or… who was that MP you and Jamie were laughing about at the wedding?”

“Julius,” Malcolm replied. He lingered by the wall for a moment before joining his wife on the sofa, downing half of his tea in one go. “I just want to concentrate on Conall’s birthday, or even how by this time next year there’ll be two of them underfoot, without my mind wandering to that fucking cesspool I was lucky enough to escape.”

“Give it two years… then they’ll both be running around.”

“…a thought that both is terrifying and good to think about.” He munched pensively on a bit of sandwich, staring ahead of him at a speck of air without much focus.

“Hey.” She patted his knee, redirecting his attention. “Don’t worry your pretty head—we’ve got this.”

“Do we?”

“Yes. I think we can handle a first birthday, keeping the planet safe, and maneuvering around whatever June brings. Now if your mother was also coming for a visit, then that would be a different story…”

“Fuck—I don’t need Mam complicating things—don’t scare me like that.”

“Then relax. I’m not saying that you should forget everything else, but reminding you that it could always be worse. You could still be in politics at the moment, and where would that leave us, hmm…?”

“Not in a good place.”

“Exactly.” She kissed him on the cheek and smiled knowingly. “Would you like to talk about the logistics of our son’s birthday before or after we finish off dessert?”

“There is dessert?”

“…in the panic room.”

After; after dessert was good.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Finally, May 14th was upon the Stewart-Tuckers. Being a Saturday, most of the rest of the family would be able to attend the party without issue, which meant Kate decided it was going to be late in the afternoon, closer to an early dinner. With Malcolm and Gordon putting in an early day at the Mainframe, Fiona off getting the cake and other supplies, and Kanda coming along with Lex and Euan later, it was just Kate alone in the house with Conall as a familiar-sounding motorbike came rolling up the drive. She left the child in his play area and went towards the kitchen, seeing as her visitor was placing a brightly-wrapped box and her helmet on the counter next to the door.

“Ah, Clara, there you are,” Kate beamed. “I was hoping you’d make it.”

“Of course,” she replied. The two women hugged one another tightly—it had been too long, despite the inherent risks that came with her presence. “Why would I miss as big a day as today?”

“Which is why I’m glad Wednesdays are the troublesome days,” Kate said. Clara’s face fell and she avoided eye contact, sending a red flag in Kate’s brain. “It’s getting to be more than Wednesdays now, isn’t it?”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Clara claimed. “That rush, that feeling you get when you’re with him… in the TARDIS… with literally everything at your fingertips… it’s indescribable. I almost can’t get enough anymore.”

“Many before you have dealt with that…”

“…and many after me shall, and not everyone can handle it.” Clara exhaled heavily and forced herself to smile again. “Enough of that. Where’s the birthday boy?”

“Right this way.” Kate led Clara through the house to the sitting room, where Conall was playing in his enclosure, the plastic fencing threatening to fall as he bounced up against it in excitement.

“Muh! Muh!” he gasped. He stomped his feet as Clara approached, his giggling shriek high and light.

“Yes my darling—Mummy’s back,” Clara cooed. She picked him up and held him close, rocking him back and forth. “How have you been behaving for Mam and Dad?”

“Mam,” Conall replied, pointing at Kate.

“He’s been very good,” Kate elaborated with a laugh. “He’s starting to learn actual words, which shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does.”

“Were Gordon and Fiona quieter babies?” Clara wondered.

“No… it’s more like Malcolm needs to start watching what he says around Conall, or he shall be the one marching his arse down to playgroup, ready to apologize for inadvertently giving the entire class a new, and rather rude, favorite word.” Clara stifled a laugh—it was disturbingly easy to see, knowing how colorful Malcolm’s phraseology could get. “How about if we put together some tea? There’s a bit of time yet before the other guests show up, and I expect Fiona to still be out for a while…”

“Sounds lovely.”

Clara carried Conall as she followed Kate back to the kitchen, where the toddler was allowed to wander around while his mums put together tea. The boy got a baby-biscuit to gnaw on and some tea-tinged milk in a sippy cup while the women got proper biscuits and cuppas. Clara let him sit in her lap in lieu of the high chair, which made Kate shake her head.

“…what…?” Clara frowned. “What’s with that look?”

“What are you going to do when you walk in and he doesn’t remember?” she asked. “We’ve been lucky so far—what’ll happen when his being a child catches up to us?”

“Let’s deal with that once it happens,” Clara insisted. She stroked Conall’s hair—so fluffy and soft—as the boy relished the attention she was giving him. “I just want to enjoy this moment.”

“…that makes at least one of us…”

Kate and Clara both tensed and turned their attention to the door at the sound of the new voice. There, standing with her fists on her hips, was the Master, looking mildly vexed and bemused both at the scene before her.

“How’d you get here?!” Kate hissed as she reflexively stood. The Master read the room for half a moment before stepping forward.

“Now isn’t this rude? Not inviting the prettiest of the fairy godmothers makes it so that curses befall one’s children.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kate warned, stepping in between Conall and the Master. Clara held the boy close, making certain that he didn’t try to slip away and wander off.

“Dare I what?” the Master asked, her lips curving into a smirk. “Oh, the nipper. Don’t worry—your wee bairn is safe from me. I don’t like children, even if they are the Doctor’s child.”

“What makes you assume that?” Kate asked. “It only makes sense to protect a child if you can, even a lowly Human child… especially a lowly Human child with no way of defending itself.” The Master examined her fingernails for a moment, making certain none of them had chipped during the journey over.

“It’s all simple Time Lord nonsense, really,” she explained. “I’ve run into the Doctor’s genetic signature so many times now that it’s painfully obvious… especially when it’s being fussed over by the very person I all but shoved in his arms, hoping he’d get a leg up and have some fun for once.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Clara asked.

“Hmm… I guess not.” The Master sat down at the table and helped herself to some tea. “I take it you’re the only two who are aware of the entire situation as it is?”

“Us and a select number of people,” Kate said. She and Clara both remained standing, ready to move against the Master at a moment’s notice. “As far as most people know, he is a child my husband and I adopted… just an unassuming Human child.”

“…and what does the Doctor think about all this?” After waiting for a reply and getting nothing, the Master feigned shock. “You mean, the father does not know? He had to of known, with the whole puffing up like some flesh-balloon and all… unless… yes… you kept him away somehow, didn’t you? It had to of been months…”

“That is our business, not yours,” Clara stated. The Master tutted, wagging her finger in disapproval.

“Anything that involves that sap and his progeny most certainly involves me, as I have a special interest in the Doctor and those who are connected to him. I do have to say: when I played matchmaker with the two of you, I didn’t think I actually found someone who could knock gametes and spawn with him.”

“…what do you mean…?” Clara wondered cautiously. “Isn’t that a risk that people take?”

“Not Time Lords, and certainly not Time Lords with any being who is not a native of Gallifrey,” the Master shrugged. She sipped her tea and delicately picked up a biscuit. “You might be Gallifreyanoid, but you are genetically nowhere near our kind. It should be extremely difficult for a Time Lord to sync their fertile period with that of another species, and even then the genetic variance should be enough to eliminate most of that particular risk, rendering the couple functionally barren. This sort of union producing offspring is, frankly put, a big oopsie-doodle of a taboo for a very good reason.”

“…and what, might I ask, is the punishment for this taboo?” Kate asked firmly. The Master put down her cup and folded her hands atop the table.

“If there were one thing I was to ever say that you should believe completely and truly, it is this: I don’t know and I don’t plan on finding out soon,” she explained. “This happens so rarely that the punishment is not common knowledge, even amongst proper Time Lords, and I want to watch which direction this goes in before I start accusing my old school mate of heresy. Your secret is safe with me… for now.”

“So… you’re really going to keep our secret?” Clara frowned critically. “Why should you? What motivates that silence?”

“I just told you: I would be accusing my old school mate of heresy of the highest order and who knows what’ll happen to him? If he regenerates because of me, I want to be the one to pull the trigger, not a firing squad.” She looked at Conall and paused in thought. “Besides, I’d likely be the one who’d have to dispose of the nip and I do so dislike children. They’re moist where they shouldn’t be and smell rude at the worst times.” The Master cringed in disgust and continued munching her biscuit. “I babysat once—if it hadn’t’ve been so gross I would have sat on the baby.”

“You’re twisted,” Clara stated.

“I can’t help that I’m completely and utterly… bananas,” the Master said casually. “What I can help, however, is by keeping that pants-soiling secret of yours a secret… I swear by the bond the child’s father and I share… that is, until I need it to be not so.”

“…and when might that be?” Kate asked. “This child is here because this is the safest place for him to be not only for his own well-being, but for the planet and galaxy as well. You know as well as we do how existing can be dangerous.”

“True…” The Master finished off her cuppa and stood, her eyes not straying from Conall. “One day I’ll introduce our dearest Doctor to this wee scamp. Until then… know I’m watching you.”

“That’s it…?” Kate wondered. “No other warnings?”

“If this was a plant done on-purpose, then there would be someone watching from afar anyhow to make sure nothing went kersplat on the pavement; since it won’t be done officially due to the nature of this child’s existence, then unofficially will have to do.” The Master sauntered over towards the door and half-turned, looking back at Kate and Clara over her shoulder. “If you do anything… anything at all that I don’t like, then just know that you’ve been warned.”

A shimmering haze surrounded her and in a flash, the Master was gone—a vortex manipulator.

“Sweet fuck…” Kate half-whispered. She looked at Clara and watched her sink to the floor, Conall still in her arms. The boy was looking back and forth between his two mums, wondering what was going on. “Are you alright?”

“She knows…” Clara choked out. “Oh God… she knows…”

“Mam…?” Conall squeaked, looking at Kate. His eyes got wide as Clara’s, the boy looking as though he was going to cry.

“I don’t know how she was able to track us down, but she’ll have a more difficult time of it next go-around,” Kate swore. She knelt down next to Clara and Conall, realizing how badly the former was shaking. “She won’t hurt us. I promise.”

“She’s a Time Lady… and much better at all that stuff than the Doctor,” Clara said. “He’s admitted as such to me. If she wants something, she’ll get it.”

“…and I’m telling you that I won’t let her spook us that easily,” Kate said. Okay, sure, it was partially a lie, considering how they both were very afraid right then and there, but she knew it was possible to not allow the Master to have the upper hand in her game of wits. Clara twitched as the door opened—instinctively pulling Conall close to her chest again—and they looked at the new intruder: Fiona.

“What the hell is going on here?” the young woman asked. She put down the cake box on the counter and looked at the table, counting the used cups. “Did Dad come home for a bit? His car’s not in the drive…”

“I’d take that every day compared to what just happened,” Kate said. She helped Clara up as Fiona got Conall. “We just got a social visit from a Time Lord.”

“Oh fuck—the one who murders or the one we’re afraid will murder or an entirely new one altogether?”

“The Master,” Kate said. She watched as her daughter went pale—despite not being part of UNIT, she knew just enough to be aware of how much of a fucking clusterbomb that was. “She figured Conall out.”

“…how…?”

“We don’t understand why or how, but we understand that she does,” Kate said. More things began to crash into her mind, the huge implications behind the Master’s visit being too large to have crossed her mind all at once. “Get me my mobile—I need to call Malcolm.”

“Your mobile’s here on the table…”

“No, the work one. I need this encrypted and off the normal telecommunications grid and I don’t know if my legs will hold out.”

“Right.” Fiona left the room for a moment and returned with her mother’s mobile. When she returned, Clara was sitting at the table with Conall, while Kate was shakily continuing tea. “Hey, I got this—just call Dad.”

“Thanks.” Kate fumbled with her mobile, but was able to put a call through. It rang ominously; each passing tone through the speaker couldn’t pass soon enough.

“Shag-a-Scot Sex Services, how many I direct your call?”

“Malcolm, where are you?”

“Still at work—need me to pick something up before I fuck off for the day?”

“Where is Gordon? Bismuth? Dr. Shaw? Fuck… I’m going to need the Osgoods and Ji-Yu too… eventually…”

The line was silent for a moment, her husband clearly digesting her tone and words. “What happened?”

“The Master was here, and she knows about Conall; figured him out with one glance.”

“…fuck.” Another pause. “Do you need me to warn them while I’m still here?”

“Please… and do it discreetly. Don’t explain Conall to R&D and Tech quite yet, but just let them know we’re going to need to adjust the shields here, as it did nothing to keep a vortex manipulator out. Make sure you’re behind closed doors too—we need none of this getting out. It’s why I’m telling you now over the phone and letting you spread the word compared to repeating myself on here and further risk being accidentally overheard.”

“Consider it done.”

The call ended and Kate placed her mobile on the table, staring at it cautiously. A fresh cuppa and some biscuits had been placed before her, which allowed for a steeling sip.

“There goes our dessert-before-dinner party,” Fiona frowned. She made a face at Conall, which caused the toddler to giggle. “You bogey; don’t go attracting space-psychos on us now. That’s precisely why you’re here: to prevent that.” Conall babbled at her importantly, seemingly irritated with his sister. “Don’t you sass me—I know how to hide your biscuits.”

“Why can’t we be left alone?” Clara wondered. She continued stroking Conall’s hair as she looked over at Kate with tears stubbornly welling in her eyes. “All we’re doing is trying to do well by a child—why must the Time Lords always butt in and threaten with their rules and taboos and feel as though it’s their place to threaten the rest of time and space into submission?”

“Let’s face it: they’d be terrible lords and ladies if at least some of them didn’t,” Fiona offered. Seeing how shaken Clara and her mother still were, she knew that the only way the birthday party was going to get off the ground was going to be if she took charge.

The sooner the other party-goers could come over and take their minds off batshit-insane Time Lady antics, the better off everyone was going to be.

#The Thick of UNIT #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #Malcolm x Kate #The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #Aparajita Khan #Conall Basil Tucker Stewart #Clara Oswald #Fiona Stewart (OC)#and down here bc dash spoilers:#The Master

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so-very-small · 7 years ago

Note

I know you have a huge amount of ocs do you have a master list of them all?

yeah! it’s a hella long list, because i currently have 210 OCs, but here’s a list of em! if you’re curious about any of them, feel free to ask bc i love talking about them ^^;;

they’re organized by story name, with that being in bold. the rest are OCs. also, the ones with stars by their names are my favs

DDH Squad

Natalie White

Thomas Wood

Brenn Baker

Reg Rider

Tinna Flitt

Rani Rivers

Ny Elden ★

Gnash Tiwst ★

Moriain Winters

Dieanias Knight

Atmos

Malien

Lorien

Annia Elden

Quill

Friea

Dianna Queens

Tieanna P'tal

Myla Cesca

Damien Brunt

Talvasin

Dreya Moorose

Spark Theim

Briar Rose

Roland Wood

Mace

Rav AmiAmi

Polaris Asuran

Floaty

Artim Lore

Diah Eli

Jobal Theim

Khalen

Falling

Atlas Jones //Jamie Door

Key // Nalo Obi

Claire/Clint Smith

Stewart Stevens

Della Nova

Gemma Brown ★

Alistair Queen

ESN

4674

Russ

Takumi

Will

Louis

VID

Lou Walker

Max Moore

Sarah McKinley

Sven Winstrom

Noah Smith

Matt Loupe

Anneasa Loupe

Emra

Nyra

Absalom Stoltzfus

GSP

Elliot Fobb

Vim Coast

Spia

SJQ

Lizzy Gloss //Ellieas Gossill

Geoff

Her

Him

The Witch

Fandom OC's

Pirouette ★

Neria Surana

Ny Tabris

Eyre ★

Bronte ★

Zoltan ★

Smol Nano

Stockinette

Sparrow

Red

Leiana

Car

The Inventor

Tuck

MichaelPowell

Delilah Story

Delilah Weston ★

Jasper Levi ★

Melody Montrose

Felix Ace

Ruma Ord

Winston Everett

Allnatha

Fiona Ace

Marnie Ace

Second Gen DDH

Becca Baker-Rider

Nan Wood

Sonya Flitt

Thesaurus Busters

Molly

Jim

Matt

Ben

Ashton

GAV

Vinea

Oppineus

AGCH

Hanson

Caden James

Mr. Charles

Mr. Benson

Various

Callisto

Wilbur

Lih ★

Jamie Citrus

Lambert 'Lamby'Jameson

Nova Story

Nova

Louis

Kurt

George

Penn

Lottavan

Lottie/Charlotte ★

Donovan ★

The Hero

The Elder

Wizard

Georgia

Caine

Penn

Lance

Franklin

Moragana

Air Masks

Jace Jordan

Jefferson

Sebastain

Pirate

Reese Collette

Orville Zabala

Timm Collette

Bonnie Read

Viola Stuart

Jack Jayjay

Tia Ramos

Mary Fabre

Jim Jackson

Saffy Lous

Dill Lous

Ari Oliver

Sanny Jackson

Luis Jackson

Tree Jackson

Maci

Pen Percival

Ro Rolland

Marionette Wills

Marnya Rise

Regin Wills

Marrian Wills

Marius Sweet

Louise Pointe

Mathias

FairyTale

Raoul

Bennett

Flitt

Demini

Druids

Azare Moorose

Ocie

In The Midst

Leo Lance

Azriah Blanc

Debbie Wright

Iris Issa

Jane Martoffski

Pascal Rodin

Pupper

Road Trip

Alexandrite

Frank

Ares

Ares One (Shiloh Teer)

Captain (Wren Patton)

Ziah Lallo

Pogg Strom

G-lo (Gregory Lowell)

Sash Skai (Stazhk Skaitruvezt)

Annette (A-N3TT)

Knick/Seam

Knick

Seam

Nyami

Mourners

Mar Soot ★

Loc

Whill

Acci

Pevensie

Hands

Dot

Norman

Foster

Pole

Peach

Band-aid

Lion

Tater

Aline

Nevvy

Naruto

Sibling

Bekkett

Thot

What you Made Me

Lihs ★

Arlo ★

Time Travel

Barbra

Matter

Tock

Evelet

Nofie

Cloven Spire

Nan Issti

Hawke Dawnson // Hai

Boof

Tiki

Sian

Reys

Schrood

Bennedette

Marscapone “Mars” Pel

Wells

Books

Booker // Lambert “Lucky” Stravarious

Vic

Tekka

Parki

#ask #my ocs #if this is for the secret santa thing i can like link u to my oc art and stuff #but if ur just someone whos interested in my ocs here ya go remember u Asked for this #all 210 of them #Anonymous

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cluelessrebel1988 · 8 years ago

Video

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A video I made of all the canon characters and OCs currently in @theconvergenceroleplay. The song is “Marching On” by OneRepublic

The Characters are as follows:

Supernatural

Naomi (Amanda Tapping)

Jenna Winters (Odette Annable)

Sam Winchester (Jared Padalecki)

Dean Winchester (Jensen Ackles)

Charlie Bradbury (Felicia Day)

Kevin Tran (Osric Chau)

Jo Harvelle (Alona Tal)

Ruby (Katie Cassidy)

Lucifer (Mark Pellegrino)

Eileen Leahy (Shoshannah Stern)

Crowley (Mark Sheppard)

Castiel (Misha Collins)

Max Banes (Kendrick Sampson)

Andrew "Drew" Haraldson (Grant Gustin)

Harry Potter

Taylor Weasley (Melissa Benoist)

Dominique Weasley (Indiana Evans)

DJ Lake (Seán William McLoughlin)

Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint)

Fred Weasley (James Phelps)

Alexandra Summers (Idia Eisley)

Lily Potter II (Holland Roden)

Ginny Weasley (Bonnie Wright)

James Potter II (Dylan O'Brien)

Lucy Weasley (Saxon Sharbino)

Molly Weasley II (Zena Grey)

Jacob Kowalski (Dan Fogler)

Colin Creevey (Hugh Mitchell)

Victoire Weasley (Amber Heard)

Tom Riddle (Frank Dillane)

Logan Mills (Munro Chambers)

Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton)

Seamus Finnigan (Devon Murray)

Shona "Nani" Duncan (Zooey Deschanel)

Hermione Granger (Emma Watson)

Teddy Lupin (Luke Newberry)

Dean Thomas (Alfie Enoch)

Miles Thomas (Ryan Potter)

Lysander Scamander (Colin Ford)

Lee Jordan (Luke Youngblood)

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Jemma Simmons (Elizabeth Henstridge)

Natasha Romanov (Scarlett Johansson)

Darcy Lewis (Kat Dennings)

Angie Martinelli (Lyndsy Fonseca

Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell)

Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie)

Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow)

Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr)

Booker Harmon (Michael B. Jordan)

Steve Rogers (Chris Evans)

Peter Parker (Tom Holland)

Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce)

Elektra Natchios (Elodie Yung)

Mantis (Pom Klementieff)

Leslie Shade (Kylie Furneaux)

Peter Quill (Chris Pratt)

Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan)

Nebula (Karen Gillan)

Leo Fitz (Iain de Caestecker)

Daisy "Skye" Johnson (Quake) (Chloe Bennet)

Wanda Maximoff (Elizabeth Olsen)

Pietro Maximoff (Aaron Taylor-Johnson)

Sherlock

Mycroft Holmes (Mark Gatiss)

John Watson (Martin Freeman)

Sherlock Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch)

Molly Hooper (Louise Brealey)

Anthea (Lisa McAllister)

Mary Watson (Amanda Abbington)

Irene Adler (Lara Pulver)

Greg Lestrade (Rupert Graves)

Eurus Holmes (Siân Brooke)

Doctor Who

Rose Tyler (Billie Piper)

Jack Harkness (John Barrowman)

Jayda Osmi (Nicole Bonifacio)

Jacob Robens-Osmi (Tristan Wilds)

Sky Smith (Sinead Michael)

Clara Oswald (Jenna Coleman)

Percy Jackson

Hylla Ramirez-Arellano (Eiza Gonzalez)

Annabeth Chase (AnnaSophia Robb)

Hazel Levesque (Amandla Stenberg)

Frank Zhang (Booboo Stewart)

Kaiser Jäger (Max Riemalt)

Leo Valdez (Jake T. Austin)

Nico di Angelo (Jakub Gierszal)

Rachel Elizabeth Dare (Luca Hollestelle)

Will Solace (Burkely Duffield)

Zoë Nightshade (Anjli Mohindra)

Jackie Long (Melissa Benoist)

Reyna Ramirez-Arellano (Victoria Justice)

Clarisse La Rue (Leven Rambin)

Percy Jackson (Logan Lerman)

The Vampire Diaries

Elijah Mikaelson (Daniel Gillies)

Katherine Pierce (Nina Dobrev)

Davina Claire (Danielle Campbell)

Damon Salvatore (Ian Somahalder)

Stefan Salvatore (Paul Wesley)

Lexi Branson (Arielle Kebbel)

Elena Gilbert (Nina Dobrev)

Caroline Forbes (Candice King)

April Young (Grace Phipps)

Rebekah Mikaelson (Claire Holt)

Indiana 'Indie' Davis (Lily Collins)

Jeremy Gilbert (Steven R McQueen)

Bonnie Bennett (Kat Graham)

Vicki Donovan (Kayla Ewell)

Tyler Lockwood (Micheal Trevino)

The Hunger Games

Primrose Everdeen (Willow Shields)

Clove (Isabelle Fuhrman)

Madge Undersee (Abigail Breslin)

Finnick Odair (Sam Clafin)

Dexterous LaFevers (Colin Ford)

Glimmer (Leven Rambin)

Christopher 'Kit' Odair (Douglas Booth)

Johanna Mason (Jena Malone)

Shilo Mellark (Alex Pettyfer)

Annie Cresta (Stef Dawson)

Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence)

Thresh (Dayo Okeniyi)

Willow Mellark (Emily Rudd)

Merlin

Morgana Pendragon (Katie McGrath)

Gwaine (Eoin Macken)

Percival (Tom Hopper)

Lancelot (Santiago Cabrera)

Hunith (Caroline Faber)

Balinor (John Lynch)

Mordred (Alexander Vlahos)

Merlin (Colin Morgan)

Freya (Laura Donnelly)

Rielle (Indiana Evans)

Kara (Alexandra Dowling)

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Once Upon a Time

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Emma Swan (Jennifer Morrison)

Grace (Alyssa Skovbye)

Helena (Tristan Mays)

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Felix (Parker Croft)

Elsa (Georgina Haig)

Zelena (Rebecca Mader)

Aurora (Sarah Bolger)

Anna (Elizabeth Lail)

Killian Jones (Colin O'Donoghue)

Anastasia (The Red Queen) (Emma Rigby)

Fiona (The Black Fairy) (Jamie Murray)

Divergent

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Will (Ben Lloyd-Hughes)

Fox Marvel

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Scott Summers (Tye Sheridan)

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Jasper (Lindsey Morgan)

Hope Cooper (Zendaya)

Anise Lovett (Adelaide Kane)

Peter Maximoff (Evan Peters)

Brooklyn Winters (Crystal Reed)

Laura Kinney (Dafne Keen)

Jean Grey (Sophie Turner)

Star Trek

Khan Noonien Singh (Benedict Cumberbatch)

James T Kirk (Chris Pine)

The Maze Runner

Thomas (Dylan O'Brien)

Minho (Ki Hong Lee)

Elizabeth (Maia Mitchell)

Newt (Thomas Brodie-Sangsta)

Harriet (Nathalie Emmanuel)

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DC Cinematic and Television Universes

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Rey (Daisy Ridley)

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Shane Burciaga (Adam Lambert)

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Louis Adams (Dylan O'Brien)

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Clarissa 'Clary' Fray - TMI (Katherine Mcnamara)

Alec Lightwood - SH (Matthew Daddario)

Kayden Jacques - SH (Victoria Justice)

Jace Lightwood - TMI (Jamie Campbell Bower)

Maia Roberts - TMI (Meagan Tandy)

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Mal (Dove Cameron)

Jay (Booboo Stewart)

Ben (Mitchell Hope)

Giselle (Amy Adams)

Henry Turner (Brenton Thwaites)

Carlos De Vil (Cameron Boyce)

Twilight

Jane (Dakota Fanning)

Carlisle Cullen (Peter Facinelli)

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nehswritesstuffs · 5 years ago

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part L

Holy wah! Fifty chapters! Thanks for your continued readership and support, everyone! Now, as I’m certain everyone’s been anticipating (kinda), we get to kick off yet another story arc to weave into everything that’s going to take forever to get through and have lasting repercussions.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

They did it. They actually called it. Now it’s up to certain people to keep a vast majority of Mainframe UK from freaking out before anything actually throws down. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

“Well fuck me sideways and call me Mary—they’re actually gonna try to do it.”

Malcolm furrowed his brow and looked at his mobile momentarily. He was in the middle of making sandwiches for himself, Fiona—the lass wrapped up in feeding Conall his lunch on the other side of the room—and Kate—who was on her way back from an odd fuck of a shift at that moment—and did not appreciate Jamie’s hard veer away from the previous topic.

“Who is going to try what? We were talking about Wee George trying to actually make money off of shinty.”

“Dropping out of the European Union, mate—it’s all over the fucking news.”

Malcolm dropped his voice and turned towards the window, pretending to be interested in something outside. “Shit; so the vote’s planned? No more tabling?”

“It’s what it looks like—fuck. They can’t do this to me, not when Kendall wants to study in Dresden and Kennethia in Nice and Penny wants to attend grad school in Dublin and I still want to go visit all of them without needing to pass any fucking checkpoints like it’s the Cold Cunting War.”

“You know they’re just doing that to get away from you.”

“I don’t care what the fuck they’re doing it for! This bullshit could complicate things! I’d be a shite da if I wanted something that would complicate things like that for no discernable fucking reason!” Jamie then paused for a moment, which Malcolm took as not a good sign. “Wait a tic… how the fuck did you not know this? You always know shit like this before it drops.”

“Well, considering people have been bitching for a bit, it’s not surprising that someone upstairs is finally calling bluffs,” Malcolm replied. “Besides, I’m out of that part of the game now. I literally work for the United Fucking Nations whether they admit it or not—UK politicos have been steering the fuck clear of me more than usual. That, plus I don’t have to turn on the TV anymore… there isn’t even one in the kitchen or in-sight of it. Most days it’s best I don’t.”

“Must be nice.” Jamie paused, then cussed unintelligibly. “Fuck... I got a client calling; pick this up again later?”

“Don’t work too hard and make me look bone-fucking-idle.”

“Cheers.”

The call ended and Malcolm placed his mobile on the counter, stunned. What he thought was going to be a decent pissing match before lunch ended up being a bone-chiller. Fuck… who had the iron-cast balls to call something like that? What he’d told Jamie was right: he’d been out of the game for too fucking long indeed.

“What was that, Dad?” Fiona asked idly. Malcolm looked over his shoulder and saw she was still concentrating on showing her baby brother how to properly consume his soup-infused rice to mixed results. “You went quiet there all of a sudden.”

“I… uh…”

“Wee George isn’t in trouble again, is he? I know he’s Uncle Jamie’s nephew, but that idiot’s bad news…”

“No, no—it has nothing to do with Wee George.” He paused, watching his kids, and decided he was going to fact-check first. Ten seconds and a news app was open on his mobile, and guess what was all over the front fucking headlines. “Fuck… he’s not just having me on.”

“…about what…?”

“That fucking bullshit about leaving the EU… I knew I should’ve been paying attention…”

“Oh that? It’s just a bunch of hot gas and has been for years and is going to actually take years to get further than we are now, you know that. The Act isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

“It will when someone actually drops a steaming referendum atop the shit pile.”

Fiona’s face went pale. “Wait, what?! Already?!” She left Conall with the rice bowl and went to Malcolm’s side, looking at his mobile as well. “Jesus fucking Christ—Nona and Nonno are going to fucking flip their shit.”

“They won’t be the first or the last,” he scowled. “I already know your mam’s gonna be fucking livid when she gets home. This is not going to go down well.”

“What would it mean for you two…? I mean, you are UN, right? Should that not make any difference…?”

Malcolm exhaled heavily and locked his mobile screen, feeling a headache coming on. “Yeah, it shouldn’t, but this could throw a major hitch into daily operations. Our survival as a mainframe depends on the free movement back and forth of people, which would be more of a hassle if Britain’s out of the European Union. Shit… it’s not like we don’t have literal illegal aliens hanging out in the fucking mainframe as is.”

“I thought there were plenty of cross-jurisdiction mainframes,” she mentioned.

“There are, but that’s not our problem right now. What is our problem is how we’re going to operate smoothly with more barriers in our way or if we’re going to be abandoned with what’s left of Gibraltar after it’s forcefully severed from Tanja.”

“…you make it sound like you think it’ll pass in the poorest manner possible…”

“I didn’t even think they were brain-dead enough to levy the referendum; whomever pulled the trigger on this must be either off their fucking gourd or thinking they’re calling a bluff that doesn’t need attention.”

“They passed an Act and are actually acting upon it for once…”

“Just because they passed a fucking kidney stone doesn’t mean it’s actually going to be anything from enforced to enforced well. I should know.” It was then that Kate arrived home, her car coming up the drive and parking near the kitchen door. “Oh fuck—that’s not a good look. Love, I take it you heard the news?” He watched as Kate stormed into the kitchen, absolutely fuming.

“What contacts do you have that I can use to pressure this into redaction?” she snapped.

“None of my remaining contacts even warned me about the announcement,” he claimed. “I’m just as much in the fucking dark as you are. I only knew anything was going on because Jamie and I were having a chat and he saw it on the news.”

“I’ve already had three calls and ten panicked text threads over it, and that was after I left Outer London.” Kate ran a hand through her hair in frustration, which her husband found sexier than he was going to admit at that moment, and she spied the half-made sandwiches. “Which is mine?”

“Oh, fuck—I was in the middle of that when Jamie saw the news,” Malcolm realized. He hurriedly slapped the remainder of the sandwiches together and presented his wife hers. “Crisps alright with it?”

“Sure; Fiona? Can you please make a pot of tea? I get the feeling I’m going to be doing damage control for a while.”

“Sure thing, Mum,” Fiona said as Kate disappeared into the house. She then turned her attention to Malcolm. “Dad, I’ll take Conall today. All I was going to do was some laundry and maybe bake a pie. I think Giggles over there can handle that.” She jammed her thumb in Conall’s direction, who was somehow wearing more rice than he was seemingly left with. “I got him—you go and join Mum in keeping everyone calm.”

“Thanks.” Malcolm kissed both Fiona and Conall on the forehead before taking his lunch with him over towards the home office. Kate was already there, tapping furiously on the computer as she munched on her sandwich. “No one’s fucking listening, are they?”

“I swear, if I wasn’t already nearly home when I heard the news, I would’ve just turned right around and gone back,” she grumbled. She saw Malcolm plop himself down on the couch and open his laptop, sandwich next to him. “I thought you had Conall today.”

“Fiona didn’t have much planned, so she volunteered,” he replied. “I just want to know what sort of direction you want me to spin this.”

“No spinning, not now,” she ordered. “Just get with Nora and the two of you concoct what you’re going to send out to staff later today. I’m going to handle making sure none of our contracts blow up in our faces.”

“I understand my part, but isn’t what you’re doing something that should wait until after the shit can’t be scraped off the plate? Just use this time to prepare for the drop?”

“If we don’t start reinforcing things now, chances are the shit won’t even land on the plate and go straight to the table,” she reasoned. “We need both approaches, honestly, and the only way we’re going to get to whatever endgame there is, is honestly by going as hard as we can.” She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, using the moment to stretch. “Get ready to ride into work later.”

“We were supposed to have tonight and tomorrow off… together…”

“We can sleep in one of the panic rooms tonight,” she said as a condolence. “Now come on; let’s make sure that everything stays afloat while the others around us cock it up.”

“Permission to have an overdramatic phone call in Italian?” Fiona asked as she came in, two mugs of tea and the remainder of the pot with her. She set the tray down on the table next to Malcolm as he tapped away at an email to Aparajita and brought her mother her mug.

“Tell Antonio and Francesca I say hello and wish they’re well,” Kate requested. At that her daughter whipped out her mobile, scrolling through her contacts as she searched for her grandparents’ number. Once she did, she left the office and called them, going straight into rapid Italian as she walked back to where Conall presumably was detained. “They are likely to try to get her and Marco permanent visas if they think the need will arise—too much of globalists to consider taking all of this nonsense lying down.”

“It just makes me feel better about our daughter’s options,” Malcolm said. He noticed his mobile buzzing next to his plate and picked it up—HR. “Well, let the games begin.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

To say that there was panic in Mainframe UK was an understatement.

It wasn’t mass fucking chaos or total anarchy—naw, nothing that drastic and cartoonish. Instead, everyone was incredibly tense as the Stewart-Tuckers went into work that evening, an uneasy air having settled over everyone and everything. Aparajita met them at the lift that led to their offices, a grim expression on her face.

“They’re taking it rather well, aren’t they?” she frowned, gesturing in the direction of the atrium. “It’s positively hushed in there compared to before.”

“Did everyone do what I said?” Malcolm asked. His PA then produced two folders, one for her boss and one for his boss.

“We’ve got a decent poll of the mainframe and it seems like everyone’s in to work on either staying or somehow our people getting immunity from any additional travel and living restrictions that might arise,” she explained. “Even the ones who would normally align with a Leave ideology understand that our positions would be put in potential jeopardy if we were out of the European Union.”

“You aren’t bullying people, are you?” Kate wondered. “They are entitled to their own opinion, even stupid ones.”

“Yeah, they are, but I heard people tell me, in their own words without prompting, that even though they think the EU is a piece of shit, they’d rather be in it than out for the sake of UNIT.”

“So you can teach an old Tory new tricks,” Malcolm muttered. He then handed back the folder and walked away from the lift. “I got to see if Cullen’s in—wouldn’t answer my texts or calls all day. Be up in a tic.”

“Why do you need to see him?”

“…to make sure that he’s not keeping any secrets.” He turned his attention to Kate, who was way too wired on caffeine to do anything but scowl. “My place or yours?”

“Mine—don’t dawdle, because I might not make it for very long.”

“Noted.”

Quickly making his way through the mainframe, Malcolm was able to find Glenn with relative ease. The older man was sitting up in his office, looking as though he was nursing down an entire vat of coffee.

“What do you want…?” Glenn asked. “I just got up twenty minutes ago; haven’t even checked your messages.”

“Have you at least heard the news?”

“What news? That I have to rewire all of Security, again, just because of our easing off the power grid?”

“I’m talking bigger than that—much bigger.” Malcolm took out his mobile and pulled up the news feed, showing it to Glenn. The other man’s jaw dropped in complete shock.

“Fuck… that’s a wakeup call…”

“…in more ways than one. I just need to ask you something.”

Glenn looked at Malcolm cautiously, “…about…?”

“This: did you know anything about this decision? How close they were to sealing the deal? What they said to make Her Highness not sic her pack of rabid corgis on them? What did you know about this before now?”

“Fucking Hell, Malcolm, just as much as you, apparently,” Glenn replied. “If I talk to my contacts from the old days, it’s certainly not about shit like this.”

Malcolm sank into a chair and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. He covered his hands with his face, allowing them to slowly slide off and flop to his side. Fuck.

“It sucks not being in the loop, isn’t it?” Glenn offered. “You were in the thick of it for all those years, and now this comes out of seemingly nowhere for you. It must be rough.”

“I don’t need your fucking pity,” Malcolm groaned. “What I want to know is how the fuck they were able to work hard enough to get this fucking thing off the ground before the decade ran out. You know as well as I do that they can’t pick their own arse without having five meetings and a press conference about it first.”

“Not that I want either to happen, but at least we’d only be leaving the European Union, not the United Nations; it could always be worse.”

“Yeah, and you know that’s the next step, and what the fuck are they going to do in the meantime?” The office went silent, the clock on the wall the only thing audible for a few long, heavy moments. “It feels like everything we ever worked for is just being shat upon while we’re being told to bend over for more.”

“I still can’t wholly believe this is happening,” Glenn said. He was now browsing through his own mobile, presumably at a news feed. “You’ve been discussing this with the other, more outwardly-involved department heads, yeah?”

“All fucking day.”

“Okay then, so, realistically speaking, if we leave the EU, then what does that mean for UNIT?”

“It means a couple more hurdles, is all,” Malcolm scowled. “Don’t get me wrong, because I am all sorts of fucking worried in regards to this getting in the way of our personal and professional lives, but Kate is of the persuasion that Geneva won’t let us falter like that. We have too much to do, and the UN status hasn’t changed, though I have my doubts.”

“We can barely get the UN to admit we’re a part of it on a good day—why would they want to keep us here if that’s the case?”

“…because, it’s easier than boarding us up and holding a rummage sale to clean house.” Malcolm saw that Glenn was far from convinced—probably making the same face he made at Kate earlier in the day when she explained her reasoning to him, but he couldn’t let that be known. “Just relax—when have we known those shits to actually follow through on their threats?"

“Several times,” Glenn deadpanned. ”You lost your job the one time and began showing up at DoSaC in civvies like a lost puppy.”

“Now that one Jones couldn’t help,” Malcolm defended. “It wasn’t her fault Steve Fleming is such a flaming prick.”

“You sure do defend her a lot for someone who gave you the sack before,” Glenn noted. “Anyone else might think the two of you were shagging.”

“Harriet Jones, Prime Minister,” Malcolm said, briefly mimicking his old boss's accent, “was merely a competent individual with clear goals and the balls to reach them. One of the biggest disappointments of that life is not being able to secure her position after she figured out how to bring me back on. I can’t even remember anything that Saxon prick did, though at least now I know that’s on purpose.”

“So then no last-minute shagging admission?”

“Fuck naw.” He raised an eyebrow as Glenn squirmed. “What?”

“Olly owes me twenty quid, the posh git, and now I can’t even collect because he’s too far out of the game to track.”

“You had a bet on whether or not I was shagging Jones?”

“Well… wouldn’t you?”

Malcolm considered that, then nodded. “If I was looking in, possibly, but still… Jones… any urge there used to be was long gone by that point and you fucking know it.”

“True enough… though it’s not like we weren't entirely wrong about you shagging the boss. We just didn’t know which boss it was.” He saw that the other man was glaring now, but it was worth it. “Kate counts; you weren’t married to start.”

“I should lock you in a vault with nothing but a razor and two bottles of bleach.”

“You’re cross because I’m right.”

“I’m cross because that’s oversimplifying a lot of fucking nuance.”

“Shagging is shagging, Malcolm.”

“I love Kate—I only had respect for Harriet.”

“Considering she was one of the few people we ever saw you not cuss out in a fiery rage? It looked like you might’ve been shagging… or had a crush on her at the very least.”

“Did it seem like I was shagging our other bosses?”

“No, but you swore a lot more at them; it was almost like you were bound by law to never even euphemize around her.”

“…and you mistake my being considerate in regards to a competent lawmaker’s request as shagging? You are fucking dense—competence calls for concessions, and that was what happened. Nothing more.” They were quiet again, both of them allowing their minds to go back to a different time. “Doesn’t mean I don’t miss her.”

“What was the official reason they gave? Burglary gone bad?”

“Yeah; she’s back in Flydale North, where everyone else insisted she belonged,” Malcolm said quietly. He knew he was amongst only a small handful of people who were aware of the truth, and that it was unlikely that Glenn was also in-the-know, but it was just a fact that as long as certain people and things knew she was alive, the more attention she’d bring. Glenn thought she was buried, yet Malcolm knew it was only her political career that was dead as she retired into a peaceful life. “She wouldn’t have let this go.”

“No, she wouldn’t have,” Glenn agreed. “Now unless you have any other news for me, you might want to get a move on—if the situation is as dire as you say it is, then something tells me that Director Stewart has not slept today, whereas I have, and she will need much more attention.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm nodded. He stood and made for the office door, turning around once he got there. “Just make sure that if anyone in your department begins pitching a fit, let them know that we’re aware and actively figuring something out during our conscious hours.”

“There was never any doubt,” Glenn said. He waved his hand to shoo his visitor out, which was met with little resistance. Malcolm left, wandering the still-tense and quiet mainframe with ease.

After dropping off his overcoat at his office, Malcolm went up the lift to Kate’s, finding that she wasn’t there at her desk. He stepped back out into the corridor, where a large painting of his deceased father-in-law was hanging on the wall and shook his head.

“We’re in for it now, Your Mustachedness,” he said quietly. “I’m helping Tiger, and we’re doing the best we can. Just know that, okay?”

“Malcolm, come to bed,” Kate whined from inside the office. He poked his head in to see her standing in the doorway to the panic room, already in her pajamas, looking extremely sexy in her rumpled state. “You can pretend to be in a Harry Potter book in the morning.”

“You heard that…?” he winced.

“I think it’s sweet,” she replied. She closed the door as he came inside the panic room and kicked off his shoes. After helping him out of his jacket, she draped it on the back of her desk chair and began pulling him towards the bed. “They both would have liked you, you know.”

“We can’t know that.”

“I think so.” Kate hummed as she settled down on the mattress, watching as Malcolm took off his trousers and shirt, also hanging them up with care. “Mum would’ve liked you before her dementia hit for certain and Dad, if anything, would recognize how far you’re willing to go. He still would have loved having you around.”

“Good to know,” he replied. He then got into bed, allowing himself to become enveloped in a very sleepy set of arms. “Now all we have to do is get through this giant cockup.”

“We’ll do it,” she said, voice drifting off. “How do you put it? We cannot be fucked?”

“Yeah,” he grinned as the lights dimmed. “We are absolutely unfuckable.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: So, this is the part where I say that because of a variety of things (the shortened version of hindsight we currently have in mid-2020, my status as an American, the fact that I began writing this story as a whole only around when Conall was born in-universe, how this is an AU for a combo real-life AU and soft sci-fi AU, etc.), this entire subplot is likely going to be weird as hell and exhaustingly long. I had followed things fairly closely in real-time and am still doing specific research on the events/timeline/whatnot in order to make this go somewhat as it did without focusing on some of the more depressing bits. That being said, there are actually even weirder layers to the politics of this, as the fact UNIT also exists in this continuum would subsequently color characters’ opinions given its reach and role in planetary safety. Fans of TTOI are more than allowed their own theories as to how certain characters would have aligned to most real-world events** (I personally think that very few would have actually wanted a Leave vote unless pressured by constituents, as the show (thank fuck) took place in a pre-referendum world), but for the purposes of this fic we’re going to see some characters take stances that may or may not align with their regular characterization. Same goes for DW, even though with the nature of the show, it could actually write off the entire debacle and keep the UK in the EU if that’s what it really wanted.

Another thing to note is that, yes, clearly, in this AU, Malcolm Tucker worked for Harriet Jones when she was Prime Minister. I kind of touch on it in The Life That Never Was, but that’s neither here nor there at this point. Just know that he was definitely her guard dog and enforcer. She put him to good use and he was loyal in return, and she was the one in charge when the Steve Fleming Incident happened. The lead-in to the unseen election at the end of s3 would correlate to Harold Saxon getting to be PM and then afterwards events led to Nicola being Leader of the Opposition and all the s4 stuff happened as usual.

**as opposed to Jamie MacDonald and the Scottish Independence Referendum (I don’t recall them breaching it in s4), which I’m pretty sure if you don’t agree that he’d vote Leave in that case, you’ve watched a completely different show and conflated the Jamies

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #bollockingUNIT #satstewart #Malcolm x Kate #Jamie MacDonald #Fiona Stewart (OC)#Conall Basil Lethbridge Stewart #Aparajita Khan #Glenn Cullen #The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #I am so glad I had this prewritten and just in need of editing #as I have barely written in two weeks #I don't necessarily like going here but I am an oh man we're in for a wild ride

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nehswritesstuffs · 5 years ago

Text

The Thick of UNIT - XLIX

Wow this one got lengthy, but they it also got fairly introspective in spots.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

Kate has to take care of family business, while Malcolm takes care of things at home. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

Sitting down to breakfast, Kate pulled up the news on her mobile and enjoyed the semi-chaos that was her family while she could. Malcolm was on the other side of the table feeding Conall some porridge between bites of his own toast, while Fiona was finishing up the scrambling of some eggs for them all to eat. Within two hours, her husband and daughter would both be off to work, whilst she would be setting up the play cot in the office to take care of non-emergencies and squabbles with her youngest child bouncing in the background. It was comforting and for that she was glad.

“Mum? Do you know when you’re going to need to swap out the schedule again?” Kate glanced over at Fiona and raised an eyebrow.

“Why’s that?”

“They want to know at work so that they have fair warning—they’re starting to rely on me a bit too much for part-time.”

“I’ll make certain you have plenty of warning,” she promised. Fiona then brought over the anticipated eggs, filled with cheese, chopped ham and capsicum peppers, and mushrooms. “You certainly are having fun with cooking, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am,” Fiona beamed. She then turned towards Malcolm, who was allowing Conall to dip his pudgy baby hands directly into the cooled porridge as he settled down with his own breakfast. “Dad? Were you still thinking about trying out that vegetable garden this Spring?”

“Possibly—did you figure out what you wanted to grow in it?”

“I think just the basics to start,” she said. “Carrots, parsnips, beetroots—things that shouldn’t need too much attention—maybe some tomatoes, beans, and peas too, if you’re feeling adventurous.”

“This isn’t my project to be adventurous over,” he replied. He was about to tell Fiona she could do what she wanted when Kate’s mobile suddenly began to ring, cutting through the conversation. “Love, tell Themba to put a hold on it; it’s too early to be calling you already.”

“It’s not work—it’s Mum’s care home,” she replied. Malcolm and Fiona watched quietly as Kate took the call, giving short affirmatives throughout the conversation until the very end. “I’ll be there soon as I can. Thank you.”

“What’s going on with Gran?” Fiona wondered.

“She’s been sick with the flu for a while, that much I’ve known, but it sounds like she got worse last night. They’re not sure she’ll make it through the weekend.” Kate put down her mobile on the table and stared at the plate of food in front of her—it no longer looked like much of anything, let alone something to be consumed.

“Eat and I’ll pack a bag for you,” Malcolm said before shoving a large chunk of egg in his mouth. “You going to drive up or fly?”

“I think it’ll be best to drive—clear my head.”

“Then I’ll put together a lunch and some snacks so you can have a roadside picnic,” Fiona offered. She picked up her plate and went back over to the island counter, taking forkfuls of food while she prepped to make some sandwiches. “Don’t tell Gordy either—I’ll get a hold of him later tonight after Erica’s family thing.”

“Are you sure…?”

“It’s not like either of us have really strong memories of Gran, let alone from before she got hit with dementia,” Fiona said. “Just go, do what you need to, and let us know what’s happening if you can. We’ll be here, holding down the fort and ready to come up if you need us.”

“Thank you…” Kate picked her fork back up and began to force herself to eat. It was difficult, though she knew it was important. Taking another bite, she glanced over at Conall, who was now covered in porridge and attempting to poke some of the food up his nose. It made her laugh, even if it was just a tiny bit. “Oh you silly boy…”

“Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma!” Conall held his arms out, opening and closing his fists. Kate clucked her tongue and took a cloth from the table to wipe his hands and face.

“Yes, Mummy stands by her assessment of your silliness,” she replied. Conall was just starting to genuinely create syllables of his own volition and not simply parrot back what others were saying. Before long, she knew, he was going to be saying actual words and he wouldn’t be able to stop talking if he was any bit the Doctor’s offspring. Kate was almost done when Malcolm’s hands rested atop hers, with him having come over from his side of the table.

“I have him,” he insisted gently. He pressed a kiss to her hair and began to unstrap the baby from the highchair. “You just do what you need to.”

“I need to do this,” she replied back. “Let me do something that doesn’t involve my mum today.”

Malcolm nodded and took his hands away, silently conceding. He left the kitchen, presumably to go up the stairs and pack her bag. Kate then took Conall and placed him in the empty sink, where she began to take off his pajamas and rid the boy of the porridge that had found its way into his hair and somehow underneath his footed outfit. He giggled as he splashed against the water, enjoying the activity despite the fact it made him miss playing in his food.

After hauling the baby up the stairs—fuck, he was getting heavy—and putting a fresh nappy and pajama set on him, Kate left him in his cot while she went to get dressed herself. Malcolm was still in their bedroom, having finished packing an overnight bag for her.

“Bairn clean?” he asked.

“He is—left him in his cot.” She went into the wardrobe and pulled out some blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a warm flannel for over it. If there was anything she needed for the following eight hour car ride, it was comfort. “Think you can handle the place while I’m gone?”

“You know I can.” Malcolm watched his wife as she dressed, unsure of what to say. “Ring me if you need me. I can be up there in no time at all.”

“Thank you,” Kate replied. She turned towards Malcolm and exhaled heavily—this was going to be a long time apart, even if it was likely for only a day or two. “Promise you’ll be ready for night full of shagging by the time I get back?”

“Love, I’ll be ready for whatever the fuck you need me to do when you get back,” he promised. He took her into his arms and kissed her, knowing it was more important than ever to show her the affection. “I’ll call Rajit and let her know I’m not coming in after all.”

“…and I’ll make some phone calls on the way up, letting certain people know that you’re in charge until I get back, no excuses,” she said, leaning into his embrace. They stood together for a few moments, allowing themselves to enjoy one another’s company, before she broke the contact. “I really need to get going.”

“Then don’t let this old cunt stop you,” he insisted.

That was the only thing she certainly didn’t plan on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Within twenty minutes Kate was gone and it was up to the rest of the household to keep going as close to normal as they could. Malcolm and Fiona took turns keeping Conall occupied while the other dressed and readied for the day. Before long Malcolm was helping his son wave bye as his daughter left for work, which signaled the start of his workday as well. He gathered the baby and some of his toys and piled them all in the office’s play cot, glad that the containment unit was good for at least a few hours. Taking it for what it was worth, he also tossed in a couple hard biscuits for the boy to gnaw on and turn into mush if the need arose—parenting was damn fucking simple at this stage, which only made him yearn for and fear what was eventually to come.

Plopping down in the desk chair, Malcolm began logging into databases and pulling up files he needed to work on. He knew he needed to keep his mind off of more depressing matters in order for things to continue running. There was a certain amount of guilt he possessed for not going with his wife, though once an email popped into his inbox that required reading or his son made some sort of noise that made him to glance towards the play cot for a moment, he knew that he was indeed doing the correct thing. Kate would rarely talk of her mother in the present tense, which meant that she was already prepared for this moment. The difficult part would be after everything was all done and over with, when there would be no sense of worry and morbid anticipation remaining. That was the part she would likely need him for the most, and the fact he could provide her with a steady and stable home and workplace to return to… it made him feel infinitely better.

Though… now that he thought about it… it wasn’t as though his own mother was spry and youthful anymore either. She was in her mid-eighties and, despite having quit at Lex’s insistence in the 90’s, had more than a few decades of chain smoking on her as well. The day when the roles would need to be reversed was coming sooner rather than later, and it wasn’t exactly a fun thing to consider. Death in one’s family never was—nor should have been—considered fun, according to Malcolm, but as long as they were together, he and Kate were going to be prepared for whenever life decided to throw more shit at them. It was what he would want when his difficult-as-fuck mother decided to ascend to her next plane of existence (as he was certain Death was not going to take her that easily), and so he was more than happy to carry out the motions.

A few hours passed in that manner, with Malcolm and Conall going about their morning as they often did. Eventually, however, Malcolm’s mobile rang, the one who was calling making his eyebrow quirk.

“If you’re calling, then it’s got to be good,” he said to answer the call. He kept it on speaker, so that he could still type and listen in at the same time.

“We need you to come in,” Aparajita replied.

“You know why I’m working from home today,” Malcolm scowled. “The only other option is to take the nip in with me.”

“Can’t Fiona do it? Lex?”

“Both at work, as is Kanda and Euan; Gordon’s not at work, but that’s because he’s at a family event on his stepmam’s side and he promised her mam he’d come. They love the lad like he’s theirs.”

“Bring the baby then,” she dared him. “If he gets in the way, you can leave him with me… maybe even Hart. His boys aren’t far removed from Conall.”

“True.” He glanced over at Conall dancing as he sat, the tune tinnily emanating from the xylophone toy in front of him. “You can’t take care of it?”

“I’m the Lieutenant-Colonel’s assistant, not a lieutenant-colonel in my own right.”

“Fuck… I’ll be right there,” he groaned. “Remind me to remind Kate to remind Geneva to fix that.”

“I’d rank higher than Daadaajee ever did—he’d be proud next time he’s lucid.”

“We can only hope: keep the flames at bay.”

He then ended the call and placed the mobile in his pocket. Standing, he stretched the morning sitting session from his back and plucked his son from the play cot. “Looks like we’re taking a trip, lad.”

“Ma?” Conall babbled.

“Naw—she’s still gone. We’re gonna take a visit back to Mam and Da’s work. Gonna let you drive Chaachee Rajit up the fucking wall.”

“Chaaa!” Conall cheered. Malcolm knew the boy was only mimicking him, but it still did not make it tug at his heart any less. He left Conall in his footed pajamas and packed their things, piling all essentials into the car in what felt like record time.

Forty-five minutes later (fucking hell why) and Malcolm was being led through a side-door by Fajr, so as to allow few people to see the bairn secured in the carrier he was almost too big and strong for when it came to containment purposes. He was able to make it to his department with little incident, though once he was in his office setting up the play cot, the baby scooted away, crawling over towards the door to Aparajita’s empty sub-office and, subsequently, the corridor.

“No you fucking don’t,” Malcolm grumbled under his breath. He hooked Conall into one arm while he finished up the play cot down a useable limb. Once it was done he deposited the child and his toys. “Now, stay there. Da’s gotta have a shout.”

Conall giggled and began hitting one of the plastic noisemakers, which caused his father to leave him be and head down the corridor. Not much of his staff was there, which seemed off.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” he asked.

“Spread throughout the Mainframe,” Husak replied. “Jenkins and Beresford are on Security, Shaw’s hiding somewhere and Sanchez is making a coffee run.”

“Any word on the life-sustaining elixir’s ETA?”

“Roughly? Twenty minutes, if we’re lucky,” Hart said.

“What about Rajit?”

“Down on the floor; didn’t you…?” Hart trailed off and turned his attention to behind his boss, who turned around to find Conall crawling towards them. “Is that a baby…?”

“Fuck’s sake, lad,” Malcolm sighed as he turned and saw his son. He picked him up and held him under his arm, the lad wiggling and giggling and attempting to squirm his way out from his father’s grasp to freedom. “Da’s doing work-stuff right now.”

“You brought your son into work?” Hart wondered.

“Yeah, because there are no other sitters and we apparently can’t fucking function without either my wife or me here.”

Both Hart and Husak had no argument to that and shrugged. Going back to his office, Malcolm used the voice-to-text on his mobile to let Aparajita know “Prince Consort Malcolm’s fucking returned”, sending the text just as he returned to the piss-poor child containment room. Within minutes Aparajita showed up, and Conall crawled over to her, babbling up a storm.

“Oh, there’s Chaachee Rajit’s favorite not-nephew,” she grinned, picking him up. She then turned towards Malcolm, frowning. “I got half the molemen listening, and half of what’s left wants to listen but still is nervous about rank and protocol and confusion regarding such, not that I can blame them.”

“Gotcha—be good for Chaachee Rajit, okay?”

“Jiji!”

“One day I’ll get one of you Tuckers to say the entire name I give you,” she said, rolling her eyes. She flipped Malcolm two fingers as he went to leave, Conall attempting to mimic her motion as his father went into the lift. Malcolm knew his son was in the best of hands, even if they were hands that normally were adverse to children. He rode the lift down and strutted his way into the chaotic atrium, a hush falling soon as he entered the room.

“Alright, alright—what the fuck is so bloody important that I had to change out of my pajamas and drag my arse in to look at your dumbfuck faces?”

“We, erm, have an unconfirmed bogey wandering Sussex,” a Silurian piped up timidly.

“That’s it?”

“It’s how it is unconfirmed, sir, that causes us to require a more formal chain of command.”

Malcolm stared sternly at the molelizard. “I thought you were from the smart corner of the Tripartite.”

“Our bogey, aside from what looks like an empty crash site, is fucking invisible,” another Silurian added from a few seats away. Without even looking, Malcolm snapped his fingers and pointed at the new voice.

“Honor restored to the species,” he said. “Now, why are you bothering me specifically and not Colonel Bell, or Group Captain Arwell, or Captain Blythe—all of whom outrank me—or my assistant Khan, who pretty much is me when I’m not here, or Dr. Shaw, who was specifically hired to manage such things as spooks who go bump in the overcast morning?”

“Authority to scramble against such an unconfirmed bogey lies solely with Director Stewart or her second-in-command,” a moleman said. “You are that second-in-command, sir. She put you in charge. That supersedes rank.”

“I should punch you straight in your impotent dick, but I don’t want to bother finding you a chair to stand on,” Malcolm scowled. “Alright—what do we know about Sandra Storm?”

“I think you mean Susan Storm,” another moleman said.

“No—Susan is the wet dream, while Sandra’s the night terror. I know what comic books fucking are.” Malcolm rolled his eyes—for fuck’s sake. Did anyone in the room other than him graduate from secondary? “So…? Anyone…? What’s his fucking name…? Bueller?”

“The crash site is directly next to a wooded part of the Ashdown Forest—a section that is heavily implied to be ancient—which is where we’ve tracked the bogey to,” a molewoman replied.

“Any John or Joan Publics nearby to poke about?”

“I grew up around there, sir, and it’s an area that people tend to generally avoid if they can,” the molewoman added.

“Sounds promising,” Malcolm nodded. He whipped his mobile out of his pocket, searching through his contacts. “Anyone see Colonel Bell wandering around? I know she was supposed to have a meeting with Director Stewart today.”

With no one answering, he called Bell himself—he had to do everything around the fucking place, for fuck’s sake.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

By the time Kate had walked into the care home, she had been about six hours too late.

With everything long-taken care of in regards to figuring out final wishes, it was now her turn to begin executing them. Small mementos were passed to some of her mother’s friends in the home before Kate began the arduous process of moving the remaining personal possessions out of the room and back to her mother’s house proper. They had never gotten rid of it in all this time, instead leaving the cottage on the outskirts of Tranent filled with mothballs and shuttered up on all counts. That didn’t take into consideration its fair share of UNIT-begotten security tech that kept the place quiet and undisturbed between visits to her mother and Glasburgh. Kate opened the windows and began airing the house as she moved the first carload of boxes into the sitting room—the rest the care home agreed she could come and take the following day.

With the only things in the house being some Irn Bru and tinned beans, Kate put together her meager mid-afternoon meal and ate in the kitchen, noting precisely how different it was from the last time she sat down as such that morning. She could almost see her husband there with her, along with their children as they were, and it only made her miss them more. Pulling out her mobile, she scrolled through her contacts and rang up Malcolm—fuck it.

“Hey,” he answered. “You made it alright?”

“Yeah,” she replied. Looking down at her plate, she shuddered slightly. “I’m going to need to head into town in a bit to get some real food for dinner, but things so far are going as planned. Mum went peacefully as one can go with the flu—got most of her stuff right now, but I’m going back for the rest tomorrow.”

“Did you…?” He trailed off, but she knew what it was he was asking.

“No—wasn’t even halfway through England. Probably would have still missed her by half an hour had I flown after all was said and done.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

“It was a long time coming,” she reminded him. She poked at her beans and frowned. “How’s Conall doing?”

“Good as ever; hey, lad, want to talk to Mam?” The mobile went quiet and then there was a crashing sound, followed by a very cheery voice.

“Ma! Ma!”

“Oh, there you are sweetie,” Kate chuckled. “Keeping your father in line?”

“Ma!”

“Has your sister come home from work yet?”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Fiona.”

“Ma!”

“Alright—give the mobile back to Daddy, please.” She heard babbling and a rustling sound. “Call again later tonight?”

“Before or after I put him to bed?”

“I think that’s going to depend on how much Daddy misses Mummy.” Malcolm grunted on the other end—she had him. “Talk to you later?”

“Uh, yeah, fuck… talk to you later. Love you.”

“…and I love you.”

The call ended and Kate placed her mobile on the table screen-up. She knew she would have felt leagues better with Malcolm by her side and Conall playing in the corner, whether or not Gordon or Fiona could have come up as well. It was far from the case, however, and now she was in the home her mother moved into after divorcing her father, all alone with exception of the memories she had as a child, teen, and young adult, avoiding the things she’d rather not face. She had spent so much time wishing she’d’ve been born a Campbell instead, that when the Lethbridge-Stewart side of her finally caught up, it hit her so hard that the very thing that drove their parents apart… now she was in charge of it.

There was one key difference, however, that she knew would prevent Kate Stewart and Malcolm Tucker from becoming like Fiona Campbell and Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, and that was how little room there was for distance to even occur. Considering how much time they’d spent together before they started dating, she knew that her and her husband would only see that much more of one another now that they were married. They were aware of the risks their jobs had and were fully prepared to combat that as they planned their wedding. Now that she thought about it, after a couple years of taking turns working from home to care for Conall, they could put him in nursery school and then possibly even retire…

…except, by then it was possible that they would start to become too old to do things as they wanted. There had been no warning signs when her mother began to descend into dementia, which meant it was entirely possible that she could have the same fate. Even should she retire in time, what good would she be as a mother, grandmother, and wife if her faculties began slipping just as fast as her mother’s did? She shuddered to think—the prospect was a dismal one. It wasn’t one she particularly wanted to dwell on, so she finished off her beans and Irn Bru and put her dish in the sink and the bottle in the recycling bin.

There was plenty she wanted to finish before turning in for the night—figuring out which parts of the house needed a deep cleaning and which simply needed airing was going to be crucial if she was to bring everyone up for the memorial service. Maybe, she thought, there was even a bit of a chance she could use the place as a potential spot to retire to, should she and Malcolm decide that they needed to move one day. It was close enough to Jamie and far enough from Florence to where it was definitely a possibility, though only time was truly going to tell. Even if all it was used for was a jumping-off point for heading towards the Highlands or visiting Glasburgh, it was still worth keeping around for the time being.

Her stomach squelched and she groaned in frustration—time to head into town and see if there was anything proper to eat for later on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Malcolm ended the call and stuffed the mobile in his pocket. He looked at the baby wiggling in his arm and shook his head—he was still trying to escape no matter what. That’s what he got for attempting to raise the Doctor’s son, he supposed: a child with wanderlust and too much curiosity from the very beginning.

“Sir? We’re ready for you.” Malcolm turned around and saw a Silurian standing there, a bit nervous about interacting with him. “Is Miss Khan back?”

“No—let’s just get this over with,” Malcolm grumbled. He had taken Conall back from Aparajita so that she could have some time for herself and he could call Kate, though now that the call was over, his assistant was nowhere to be seen.

Following the mole-lizard, Malcolm went back into the atrium, where a monitor system had been set up for him. He sat down, Conall on his lap, and watched as it looked like some odd military documentary was on the screen. He was given a headset, which he put on grouchily.

“You there?” he asked.

“Yeah—you’re wired into my bodycam,” Colonel Bell replied. She coughed slightly, clearing her throat. “We’re almost at the drop-off point.”

“The driver better hurry the fuck up—we’re losing valuable light hours,” Malcolm scowled. He let out a sigh of relief as it seemed Conall was curling up against him for a nap—precisely what they needed in all fucking seriousness. Eventually there was significant movement on the camera: the convoy had stopped and the soldiers were on the way into the wood, walking directly past the small crater of disturbed dirt now being cordoned off by others dispatched from UNIT.

“Canmore, we are go,” Bell said. Malcolm rolled his eyes and shook his head as he adjusted the front of his coat to wrap around his son for a makeshift blanket.

“Okay, yeah, just tell me what you see,” he growled into the microphone.

“I thought that was the point of having a bodycam,” Bell replied. As she went further into the wood, the darker things became, which only served to irk her technical-superior even more.

“Less sass, more describing.”

“Okay… it’s really dark… that’s the main thing I’m noticing,” she said. Malcolm watched the screen with a clenched nervousness, which was completely ignored by Conall as the boy let out soft snores in his slumber. “This place has got to be fecking darker than when we lost power at the Mainframe.”

“…and unlike then, it’s not because of a power surge in Scarfy’s department that gets fixed in five minutes,” he reminded her. “What else?”

“It’s… old… there’s a presence here I cannot describe.”

“Spooks ain’t real, ma’am,” one of her soldiers butted in. “Fae are Human inventions combined with old memories of the Silurians.”

“Don’t tell me what is and isn’t real, corporal,” Bell growled.

“Kids, focus,” Malcolm warned. There was faint movement on the camera accompanied by a soft rustling—something caught their soldiers’ attention and rifles were raised.

“Who’s there…?!” Bell shouted. More rustling. “Show yourself or we may have to rely on force!”

Whole seconds ticked by, with no one moving and there not being a sound. Bell cleared her throat and lowered her rifle slightly.

“Canmore, sir? Permission to stand down?”

“What is it? Are you seeing something I don’t?”

“It’s… a gut feeling, sir.”

Malcolm hesitated, then nodded despite the fact she could not see. “Stand down.” He could see the ends of rifles lower themselves out of the screen—they followed the order. Bell then held her rifle in one hand, passing it to the soldier on her right.

“Hold this.”

“Uh… ma’am…?”

“Trust me.” Bell stepped towards the edge of some brush, kneeling herself down in the tall grass. She held her hands out, palms-up, before saying, “I think I know now why you won’t come out. It’s okay.”

“This is why we go through so much military brass,” one of the molemen sighed, breaking the tension.

“Get this fucker out of here,” Malcolm grumbled, having muted his mic. He then turned it back on, trying to figure out what the fuck Bell was doing. “Are you alright there?”

“Yeah,” she replied. Her hands then lowered slightly, which was accompanied by the sound of her swallowing hard. “Uh… sir…?”

“Bell…?”

“I think I found the bogey.”

Just then, what definitely looked like an extraterrestrial came into view on the monitor, fading into existence. It was Humanoid and stocky in appearance, though with a blue pearlescent skin tone and six fingers on each hand that rested atop Bell’s. The being wore what looked like a cloak and a dress, with nothing atop its smooth head. Its eyes were violet orbs—no pupils, no irises, no nothing—and it had no nose or mouth.

“What the actual fuck is that…?” Malcolm marveled. He snapped his fingers and a molewoman appeared. “What’s the Database say?”

“It doesn’t look like there’s anything… not at first glance.”

“Then look harder.” He then turned back to the screen. “Bell? You think you can communicate with them?”

“No… I don’t think so…” A rustling sound was heard and then a smaller figure tumbled out of the brush—it looked similar to the first extraterrestrial, only about the height of a child not even in Primary yet. The taller one helped it off the ground and appeared to fuss over it—a child. “Still… I don’t think they’re here to invade or kill or anything like that.”

“Make sure we don’t have anyone stumble upon them until we know precisely what the fuck these things are and why the fuck they’re hiding in the Hundred Acre Wood of all places,” Malcolm ordered. “Try to make it clear you’re not hostile—tell any locals who stumble by you’re a group of costume enthusiasts or something like that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Taking the headset off, Malcolm pushed his chair away from the station and stood, cradling the sleeping Conall against his chest. “Keep an eye on the situation and have Miss Khan let me know if anything else major happens. She’ll decide whether or not it’s enough of an emergency for me to step back in. If it’s not, then get up off your fucking arses, let your balls drop, and pull Dr. Shaw in.”

“Where are you going, sir? If I might ask?”

“Home—can’t you fucking see it’s naptime?”

…and home was where he went.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was late the following evening, but eventually Kate found herself driving down the road to her house once again. With the memorial service not for another month or two (she needed to figure when was best for everyone to make it), she had left her mother’s things at her old house and simply closed it back up, knowing that it was going to be a situation that needed addressing by more than just herself. Maybe, once she and Malcolm were able to schedule a week off together, but not now. It came with the territory of being a very hands-on Brigadier-Director; there was no such room for immediate bereavement time in the amounts that she needed. Two days was not going to cover it… not in the slightest.

Pull into the drive, turn off the car, and rescue her bag from the boot. Completely fucking exhausted, Kate trudged into the house, seeing that the lights were on. She kicked off her shoes and placed her bag down on the foyer floor—there wasn’t even any energy left to take it further than there. Putting her shoes on the mat, she went in search of her family, who seemed to be oddly quiet for a time that was not two in the morning.

“Malcolm? Fiona? Conall?” Kate stepped around the house cautiously, unsure of who was still there or if a naptime was supposed to be in effect. “Anyone home?”

“Ma! Ma! Ma!”

Poking her head into the sitting room, Kate found her husband and son both sitting on the floor amongst a sea of toys and discarded dry toasted oat cereal. Conall was already crawling over towards her, plush Silurian in one pudgy hand making his gait wobbly.

“See? I told you she’d be back,” Malcolm chuckled. “He discovered which was his favorite word while you were gone.”

“Did you now?” Kate picked up son and toy both, allowing Conall to cuddle against her. “Did you have a good time with Daddy and Fiona with Mummy gone?”

“Da!” Conall announced, pointing at Malcolm. He then pointed towards the door. “Oh!”

“Did Fiona disappear through there?” Kate asked. Conall stared up at her, as if he wanted to nod yet couldn’t.

“Jiji!”

Kate raised an eyebrow at Malcolm, who went pink in the ears. “Jiji…?”

“The lad got to spend some time with Chaachee Rajit—had to go into the Mainframe in order to make sure no one murdered some interstellar refugees.”

That made Kate’s eyebrow perk up. “From what system?”

“We’re not entirely certain yet. Ji-Yu has Kistane scouring the databases for some answers, but as of right now, there’s a small patrol keeping a section of ancient woodland in Sussex secure from intruders so that whomever is in there can exist without being fucking prodded with a pitchfork.”

“…and who gave the call? Bell?”

“No—you told the military that I was in charge, so I was.” He leaned in and pecked her cheek with a kiss, one that he lingered on, keeping himself close. “Try not to do that too often—Marcia gets word of this and she’ll have my fucking hide.”

“I’m not going to get in the way of any woman and her baby brother,” Kate promised. “Speaking of: where’s Fiona?”

“I don’t know—out.”

“You were supposed to watch over both the kids.”

“It’s difficult to do when one can drive away and the other can’t sit still long enough for me to take care of a work situation.”

“Then who’s going to distract Conall while Daddy makes good on his promise to Mummy? Our little phone call last night wasn’t enough.”

“The Tracys are,” Malcolm replied with a grin. He turned on the television and navigated menu screens until he brought up a recording of Thunderbirds Are Go. “What do you say? Start in the office so we can hear when the episode’s over?”

“You’re horrible,” Kate laughed. She helped him put Conall in a play cot before starting the episode, the bright colors and animation instantly captivating the baby. “This was nearly how Fiona happened, you know.”

“Something tells me that Marco and Gordon were a bit old to be stuck in a play cot then,” Malcolm joked as he pulled her along. Once they were in the office, he grunted as she tugged at his belt, urgently wanting to start. “Do you want to get it all in here or what?”

“This is just Round One,” she smirked. She backed him into the bookcase, leaning into him so that she could feel how aroused he was. “How does that sound?”

“Like a fucking dream.”

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Malcolm x Kate #Doctor Who #The Thick of It #fan fiction #Fiona Stewart (OC)#Conall Basil Tucker Stewart #Aparajita Khan #I've got quite the padding on this fic as far as prewritten chapters and I love it

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nehswritesstuffs · 5 years ago

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The Thick of UNIT - Part XLV

I think you’ll be able to tell which part of this chapter I enjoyed writing the most when you get to it. Just saying.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

After nearly a year of planning, the most dangerous infant in the galaxy finds his way home. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

The last couple days in September were generally quiet. Other than the Directors Stewart and Tucker’s anniversary, there was little to note as far as what impacted the mainframe and its general daily goings-on. It was very quiet, mostly punctuated by routine inspections, mandatory training, and a whole lot of preparing for shit none of them hoped ever threw down.

Meanwhile, however, deep in the depths of Mainframe UK’s medbay, Clara Oswald was beginning to grow restless. She was enamored with her son Conall, that much was certainly true, but without the Doctor by her side—without her freedom—she was edging closer and closer to Mainframe Madness in earnest.

“I think I’m about ready to go back,” she said. It was the last day in September as she was on the couch, bottle-feeding Conall while Kate was visiting—Malcolm had to have a shout at his staff, Glenn had the day off, and Sullivan was otherwise occupied.

“Are you sure about that?” Kate asked. “There’s still some wiggle room between now and when you told the Doctor to leave.”

“I am,” Clara nodded. She burped Conall and continued to feed him, noting how voracious his appetite had become. “If I stick around too much longer, it will be more difficult for me to leave in the end. I can’t create unnecessary risks just because I stuck around for too long.”

“Then I’ll install the baby seat in the car, begin the paperwork forgeries, and talk to Fajr about how to smuggle this little guy out without needing to break out the mindwipes,” Kate decided. “How does a week sound?”

“About like what I was going to suggest.” Clara looked at the baby and frowned slightly. “It’s going to be weird, going back to my normal life, pretending that none of this ever happened.”

“The least we can say that it is an act borne of love, not of disinterest or hate,” Kate reminded her. “The things we do for our children are beyond measure, and if we do well, then they know, even if they aren’t fully aware until later.”

“I’m just wondering how big he’ll be by the time I come visit first,” Clara mused. “I understand now more than ever how quick babies grow. He’s already sleeping through the night—soon he will begin walking and talking and then, bam, he’s off to Primary.”

“Then don’t take too long to visit,” Kate insisted. “Give yourself a month or two to readjust, but after that, try to come as often as you can. Give a ring and we can set up a day.”

“You’re too kind to me… to us…”

“I am doing what I would hope anyone else would do if the situation was reversed—something we all have to be reminded to do every once in a while.”

“Thank you,” Clara nodded. She blinked a tear from her eyes as she put the bottle down on the table and wiped some spit-up from Conall’s chin. “One day you’re going to be better at this whole eating thing, don’t worry.”

“Not for a bit,” Kate chuckled. “I’ll make sure you get to experience a messy pasta night.”

Clara smiled at that, not taking her eyes off the baby in her arms. “Sounds delightful.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It took a bit of intense planning, but Fajr was able to find a window of time during which they could move Conall and Clara out of Mainframe UK without anyone who wasn’t allowed to notice, well, noticing. It was in the middle of the day on Saturday and involved the use of a couple different shimmers and a side door that was generally only used for emergencies or when the Security Head just really, really wanted to take a quick walk outside. Fajr, Kate, and Clara reached the surface with relative ease, where they found Gordon and Malcolm waiting by the former’s car.

“Why does this feel illegal?” Gordon asked, doing his best to make sure only his stepfather heard.

“It probably is… somehow…” Malcolm shrugged. He greeted Kate with a kiss and opened the back door, where there was a car seat already installed. “Ladies first.”

“Yes, now—shit, Clara, get over here,” Kate hissed, noticing that the younger woman was not moving as she stared up at the sky. Fajr wasn’t entirely certain about what to do, shrugging at Kate with a confused look on her face, forcing the Mainframe Director to come over to Clara and touch her shoulder, snapping her out of it. “Clara? What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t seen the sky in almost a year,” she replied. …oh… She shifted the weight on her hips and the shimmer faded, showing her holding onto Conall in her arms, the boy wearing a space-print bodysuit and wrapped in a yellow-and-grey tartan blanket. “I haven’t seen the sky or breathed fresh air and it’s so odd now…”

“This is London; fresh air is fresher at my house, now come on.”

After getting Clara into the car and Conall in the baby seat, Kate, Malcolm, and Gordon all got in as well, leaving Fajr behind to continue monitoring things in the Mainframe. They made the drive out to the Stewart-Tucker home, the family welcoming in their friend and the newest member with open arms.

“This is where you live?” Clara marveled as she stepped inside the house. She looked around, absolutely floored at her surroundings. “It’s huge.”

“It was my father’s, bought in a favorable market,” Kate explained. “Now Malcolm and I live here, and is where we fully plan on raising Conall. Would you like to see the nursery?”

“Oh, yes, please,” Clara nodded. The baby was beginning to get wobbly from sleep and was frowning crankily—just like his father.

“Then follow me,” Kate said. She led Clara up the stairs and into the nursery, with Malcolm trailing not far behind. The room was a far cry from the greenish-blue splotched project from before, now with an even coat of paint, white furniture, and plenty of books and toys sitting about, with empty spots where some had been taken to the Mainframe for use. Kate took her purse from her shoulder and began to empty said toys and books, putting everything back in their proper place.

“It’s lovely,” Clara said. She laid Conall down in the cot, watching as he went promptly to sleep. “It looks like he’s already gotten used to the place.”

“Nips know when they’re home,” Malcolm said. He was hanging out over by the doorway, leaning on the frame as the scene unfolded. “Would you like to stay for tea?”

“No—I should get back to my flat,” Clara replied. “I don’t want to draw this out for too long.” She leaned over the cot and placed a kiss on Conall’s forehead, trying not to cry. “Goodbye, my baby boy.”

“Remember, you always have my mobile number,” Kate reminded her. Clara nodded and they left the room, Gordon ready to chauffer her back to her flat and debrief with her Zygon duplicate.

One last hug and she was out the door; that was it.

No more visiting Clara and Conall in the medbay, no more sneaking around the rest of the Mainframe when it came to their existence, no more worry about what would happen if the Doctor dropped in and saw what was going on—they made it through one of the most tedious and dangerous parts, allowing an intense weight to lift from Kate and Malcolm’s shoulders.

“It’s official,” she breathed as they collapsed onto the couch, “we’re parents.”

“I’m going greyer already,” he joked. His wife gently slapped his knee and he let out a short laugh. “At least I have an expert like you by my side—I’d be insane to not.”

“You’re insane anyhow,” she joked.

They put the news on and watched television until they could hear Conall crying—he was awake and in need of attention. After a bottle and a switch from television to the stereo, Kate laid down a blanket over the rug and put Conall down on it, then settling above him an activity center to encourage the lad to reach up and hit noisy, shiny things and interact with his environment. Malcolm made tea and the new parents sat on the couch, watching their son as he played.

About twenty minutes later, the kitchen door opened and shut loudly, causing Conall to look in its direction. “Mum! Dad! I’m home!”

“We’re in the sitting room,” Kate said, raising her voice just enough for her daughter to hear. “Have a good day?”

“Yeah; met some American tourists who were passing through and… oh!” Fiona gasped as she entered the sitting room, seeing the baby that was definitely not around when she left. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing home Conall today!” She went to where he was laying on the blanket and sat down on the rug, leaning over him so he could see her face. “Hello there—it’s me, your big sister Fiona.”

“It needed to be very last-minute, so we weren’t entirely sure he’d be home now,” Kate said. “Bismuth needed to find an appropriate window of time, and they aren’t exactly plentiful.”

“A text would have sufficed; at least then I’d have something to look forward to when I got home,” Fiona snarked, moving the activity center off to the side. She smiled at Conall and tickled him under his chin, eliciting a laugh. “Aren’t you a cute, pudgy, wee thing?” He rolled over onto his tummy and she squealed in excitement. “Oh! He can move on his own already! That’s great!”

“Just wait until you have to deal with a baby from scratch,” Malcolm warned. “They’re not always this cute and cuddly… and that’s before they turn into shitty teens.”

“Oh, it’s okay—I don’t know if I want to have kids myself,” Fiona shrugged. She picked up Conall and sat him upright on the blanket, holding his back so as to allow him to look around the room with his huge, curious eyes. He clumsily grabbed one of his toys, a light-up mobile, and held it out to her with a giggle. “Oh? For me? Thank you!” She took the toy and held it up to her ear. “Hi! Lex? Yes! We have Conall now! I think you and Euan need to come over. Won’t it be great when Gordy and Kanda give us another of these to play with?”

“Maybe if you like kids so much, you should go into early childhood development like Kanda did,” Kate suggested. “Don’t just sit a business degree if you enjoy other things.”

“Nah—the business degree will be what gets me a good job, which can fund being the fun sister and best auntie,” Fiona rationalized. “I know what I’m about, Mum.”

“Alright, just never say never to anything regarding your career or kids—you don’t want it to potentially bite you later on should circumstances change.”

“Sounds fair.” She then noticed Conall holding out his arms, opening and closing his fists towards her as he babbled incoherently. “It looks like someone wants a snuggle…” The teen grabbed the baby and held him close, sighing in satisfaction when he cuddled into her chest. “Yes. This is perfect.”

“Do we tell her how badly her heart will break when he doesn’t do that anymore?” Kate mused aloud.

“Ah, let her figure it out on her own,” Malcolm laughed. He then pulled his mobile from his pocket and activated the camera. “Hey you two; let me get a shot.”

“Conall, look at Dad!” Fiona said, pointing. The baby turned its head in the right direction and Fiona put her hand down just in time for Malcolm to get the perfect photo of the two.

“Excellent,” he grinned. “I’ll send it to everyone.”

“Proof I got to hold the baby first,” Fiona gloated in a sing-song manner. She then sniffed cautiously, her nose crinkling sourly. “Oh, smells like he needs to be changed…”

“…and that means that you can be the first to change him,” Kate said, making it clear that she was not moving from her spot on the couch. “Malcolm? Can you show Best Big Sister Fiona how it’s done?”

“Gladly,” Malcolm grinned. He stood and placed his cuppa down on the side table, waiting as Fiona stood with Conall in her arms. “First thing you have to know is that you’re gonna get pissed on sooner or later. Baby piss is a sign of trust—it’s a bond that’s rarely broken if you do it right.”

Fiona let out a croaking groan, extremely not-excited by the prospect. Babies were cute, but they were also rather gross, which made her glad Conall was not her child and was instead her mother and stepfather’s main responsibility.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A few days passed, with Malcolm and Kate taking turns working from home as they adjusted into their new routine. Their home office soon became a makeshift nursery in its own right, with a collapsible play cot put in the corner where Conall rolled around and played with his toys for most of the day. He would often pull the nearby parent’s attention away from their work, with nappy changes or demanding to be fed or even the desire to be held and soothed. In fact, Malcolm specifically took to working with Conall curled up against his chest while napping or quietly playing with a toy, a thing that was definitely less productive than he’d hoped, but fuck it. One look from those large, blue eyes and he was trapped in the boy’s spell. Was this what being a father was like? He wasn’t sure. The only thing he did know, however, as he allowed the baby to cuddle against him as he wrote violently explicit and threatening emails was that he was at home with his kid and no one was going to stop him otherwise.

There was something that bothered Malcolm as he went to work in the Mainframe itself, however. He didn’t know what it was at first, though it was a nagging, upset sort of feeling that was making him go bonkers as he sat in his proper office, with Aparajita outside typing away and his staff liable to walk in at any moment.

He missed Conall.

Maybe that was what being a father meant, he considered. Being there—or at least wanting to be there—and missing every moment he was gone. He found himself glancing at photos on his mobile, or the one he framed for his desk, or the app that allowed him access to the nannycam to see that the bairn was sleeping peacefully in his cot. A chuckle would escape him as he caught himself: the Wolf of Whitehall was fully domesticated in his yearning to be at home with his cub and pack.

“I need your approval on this release, sir,” Sanchez said one day, walking into Malcolm’s office. She passed him the manila folder filled with what she hoped to be sanctioned photos and statements, the compiling of such had taken her too long to put together without getting some sort of feedback. He took it from her without question—if she had gotten past Aparajita, then she was meant to be in there.

“This about the Sea Devil cemetery in Morar?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll give it a glance and if you don’t hear me attempting to work through the stages of lividity, then you’re fine.”

“Thank you.” She then paused, noting the photos on his desk. There was one that she had never seen before and it caught her eye.

“What…?” Malcolm frowned.

“Your grandson’s cute, sir,” she mentioned. He stared at her and blinked, silently demanding an explanation. She pointed at the photo of Fiona and Conall and went red in embarrassment. “Granddaughter...? Sorry—I don’t exactly do well with babies, but…”

“Iria,” he said evenly, folding his hands atop the papers on his desk, “what makes you think that’s my grandkid?”

“That’s Director Stewart’s daughter, yeah?”

“Go on…”

“…and she’s holding a baby… in a photo on your desk…”

“…which immediately leads you to assume grandkid?”

“Well, erm, I…”

“If my teenaged stepdaughter popped out a kid, chances are you would’ve heard before now and seen photos prior this one,” he explained calmly. “My wife and I wanted a kid that was ours, so we adopted a wee thing whose parents couldn’t take care of him. Simple as that.”

“Oh…” Sanchez let out an awkward laugh and shrugged.

“Yes…? Do I need to start having a shout at you as I do with Shaw?”

“No, it’s just that… that’s even cuter,” she admitted. She noticed he was going pink in the face—he was being bashful. “You ever had kids before?”

“Nope—no time and had been with the wrong person first go-around. It’s a bit late to start, but I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, that’s really cute; I didn’t think you did cute,” Sanchez replied. It was then that Aparajita came in with another stack of papers for Malcolm to sign off on.

“I didn’t think so at first either—the tit’s full of surprises,” she said. She plopped the papers on Malcolm’s desk and smirked. “Looks like you better get going, or you won’t be able to get through your backlog enough to justify working from home tomorrow.”

“You have been working from home a lot lately,” Sanchez realized. “Awww… I can’t wait to tell Gwendolyn that you do have a soft spot… and for a baby no less…”

“Leave your girlfriend out of this,” Malcolm snarled, narrowing his eyes and pointing with his pen. It didn’t work, however, and the two young women left the office in giggles, taken by the entire idea of their boss cuddling with an infant as he typed up a cuss-filled email full of threats and hyperbole.

Fuck.

#The Thick of UNIT #Kate Stewart #Malcolm Tucker #Malcolm x Kate #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #Conall Basil Tucker Stewart #Fiona Stewart (OC)#Fajr Bismuth #Gordon Lethbridge Stewart #Aparajita Khan #this makes me happy #you have no idea

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nehswritesstuffs · 5 years ago

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The Thick of UNIT - Part XLVII

Sometimes I really feel my American blood curdle in bafflement while writing this. Why, do you ask? I was calculating a bunch of inter-UK distances while writing this and... well... the common stereotype applies. Fifty miles from Glasgow to Edinburgh is less than a daytrip for me wtf (and that specific distance is unrelated to the plot, but just saying).

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

A lot of things have happened since last Christmas. With the new addition to the family crawling around, Florence finally making it for a holiday, and disruptions caused by Man and Nature, the Tucker-Stewarts just want this day to end. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

As it turned out, Kate was correct and Nora Moore, the HR Head, was completely taken aback the following day when the Director came into her office and recanted one of the prior declinations for the Scientific Advisor position. They promised one another that they would keep the hire secret until after everything was in place for Dr. Shaw’s return. The fewer who knew about the venture, the better, and it was more important to give William Osgood the send-off he deserved, not to mention his collective niece the recognition her new position required. Allowing rumor of an old legend’s return would have only overshadowed both accomplishments, which was something neither Stewart nor Moore wanted to risk.

Time passed thusly. Winter soon arrived and another Christmas season where the Mainframe was on technical invasion watch despite their Brigadier-Director’s insistence that she was going to take off for the holiday. Kate had more important things to do, she decided, as she was planning on hosting Christmas at her house for her in-laws and as many of the kids that could make it. With Marcia’s flight grounded in Paris due to a storm sitting over the UK and Lex long having promised to make this the Christmas she visited with Euan’s parents, the house was not entirely full that Christmas Eve afternoon, though full enough to make things interesting.

“Up you go,” Kanda said, scooping up Conall as he scooted across the sitting room rug towards the brightly-lit Christmas tree. The baby pouted dramatically, wiggling in an attempt to be released so as to exercise his recently-found freedom of movement: the crawl. He had already escaped from his play cot and was determined to investigate the shininess of the decorations, despite the fact he should do nothing of the sort. Instead, Kanda held him tightly as she carried him over to the sleeping Malcolm on the couch, depositing Conall next to his dad. The boy cuddled in happily and the man unconsciously wrapped his arm around the child, holding him in place. “That’s better. Now stay with your dad, okay? Make sure he behaves.”

Conall made a noise in response and Kanda left the scene, only after snapping a picture on her mobile first, heading into the kitchen. Gordon was there helping Kate bake biscuits, which made it rather convenient for showing both of them the photo.

“…and to think he was so worried at first,” Kanda said, showing off the image on her mobile. Gordon silently smirked, while Kate let out an audible laugh. “I see a lot of parents and kids who are very close at work, but this is one of the sweetest examples to-date.”

“Don’t talk so calmly like that; I can only imagine what he’s going to be like when Conall starts school,” Kate shivered.

“Probably will be dragged in every other day to the headmaster’s office because his son’s teaching the other students bad words,” Gordon shrugged sarcastically. His mother elbowed him gently in the side. “What…? You know I’m right. You sure as hell aren’t going to be the one to answer for it.”

“Be nice, dear,” Kanda insisted, kissing Gordon on the cheek. “The man can’t even understand Star Wars, even though he’s seen multiple movies and now works in an environment that is the closest we’re going to get to that universe. He needs his vices if he’s going to cope.”

Flat-out cackling, Gordon stepped away from the biscuit batter and went outside, where even though it was raining, he could howl in laugher as long as he needed to. Kanda effortlessly took up his spot stirring, making certain the batter was completely incorporated before it was poured in the pan.

“That was rather mean, at least for you,” Kate mentioned. “You don’t really quip like Lex does.”

“I have an old-school Asian mam—if I sassed my elders, then I was more likely than Lex to get a smacking, so I’m very used to not saying anything.” She shrugged at that, not bothered. “It’s just a cultural thing, I guess… or a my mam thing… either way, at least you know I understand sarcasm. A shockingly large amount of people don’t. Even I have to be careful when talking to others at work.”

“Your students…?”

“My coworkers—some of them act like they’ve never figured out they’re British.” It was then that Gordon came back in the house, wiping tears from his eyes as he did so, seemingly calmed down. He only looked nominally-affected by the storm outside, as though he had spent his entire laughing fit in his mother’s car. “Gordy—isn’t it true that my coworkers are a bunch of wet blankets?”

“I’ve met Americans with drier wit,” he replied. “I don’t know what it was about what you said, Kan, but I should not have laughed that hard.” He then glanced at the clock, frowning. “Wait… shouldn’t Fiona and Florence be back by now? They only went to go get more milk.”

“Chances are the stores are either already closed or very busy and running low,” Kate said. “I don’t expect them back for a while yet.”

“Yeah, they might need to find a shop that’s not run by a Christian or someone who isn’t culturally so,” Kanda supposed. “My auntie’s store makes a ton of money on Christmas and Easter because so many other shops are closed on holidays she doesn’t celebrate.”

“It’s still my little sister and a madwoman out there, in a named storm, on Christmas Eve, in my car.”

“It’s not as bad as it could be,” Kate mentioned. “We could operate out of Glasburgh, which is dealing with the possibility of flooding. Again.”

This shut Gordon up, with him grumbling under his breath as he held his fiancée from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. He grouchily kept up the contact until a sleepy-looking Malcolm walked into the room, Conall giggling as he was carried under one arm like a sack of potatoes.

“Look who’s finally awoken from his nap,” he observed.

“No one ever told me having a baby was the same as having Jamie’s hellspawn cat,” Malcolm scowled. He secured Conall in the highchair and found the boy a biscuit to gnaw on. “Suddenly dreamt I was drowning and when I wake up, it’s because this thing’s sitting on me chest and smacking my collarbone.”

“Is that what Mister MacDonald’s cat did when you shared a flat?” Kanda wondered.

“Same nightmare and everything—damn thing wanted to be fed despite the fact there was food in its dish. Fucking hated that beast.”

“You don’t hate Conall though,” Kate said.

“Yeah, but that’s because there’s no dish that’s still full and he doesn’t jump onto the table while I’m eating or shed in my food or scratch me on the legs for fun.”

“Okay… I thought you had a cat before, back with She-Who-Shall-Not-Be -Named,” Kanda said, confused.

“Yeah—one that was actually trained and didn’t piss all over the house and thought it owned the fucking place,” he replied. Malcolm finished putting some formula in Conall’s bottle and handed the baby his drink. “Jamie’s cat believed it was above being trained.”

“You sure it wasn’t just the cat acting like its owner?” Gordon deadpanned. Malcolm shrugged, unable to refute the claim. “At least watching you and Conall is good experience for when we start trying in September.”

“Don’t start trying for these time-and-resource-suckers on your wedding night—enjoy it being the two of you for a bit,” Malcolm warned.

“How would you know?” Kate asked. “Conall is our son, but it’s not like I had him.”

“Didn’t need to—our marriage came pre-loaded with a teenager.”

It was then that Gordon’s car pulled into the drive, the young man letting out a sigh of relief over that topic could finally be changed. “About damn time,” he grumbled.

Exiting the car and quickly going into the house, Fiona and Florence both were sopping wet as they attempted to not bring the storm in with them. Conall whimpered from his highchair as wind rushed in, ruffling his fluff of hair and varying papers and wrappers in the kitchen.

“It’s a bloody fucking mess out there,” Florence snarled. She shivered as she pulled off her coat, still reeling from the weather. “Oh, there now m’boy, don’t cry. Granny and Fiona both came back alright.” She went to Conall’s side and stroked his hair to soothe him. “Don’t tell me you’re raising a crybaby, Mael.”

“Conall’s a literal baby, of course he’s going to fucking cry,” Malcolm groaned. “He’d be a crybaby if he was fifteen and sobbing because a stuffed toy fell off the wardrobe.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that.” Florence plucked the boy from his chair—bottle, biscuit, and all—and took him with her to the sitting room. Fiona, meanwhile, placed the shopping bag on the counter, looking extremely exhausted.

“I’m never volunteering for something like that ever again,” she claimed. “I’ll risk going without milk in my tea if it means not going out in this weather.”

“I told you we had enough milk,” Gordon sniped.

“Hey, you could’ve gone instead of letting your little sister go.”

“No one forced you, and I’m not stupid enough to go out in this for just milk. Which we already have plenty of in the fridge.”

“I got crisps too! And jam!”

“Children,” Kate warned, “behave.”

“Ugh, Mum…”

“C’mon; let’s get you back over to Granny,” Malcolm said. He put a hand on his stepdaughter’s upper back and gently moved her along towards the sitting room, where Florence was sipping a drink while watching Conall play on the rug with some soft blocks and chunky toy cars. The baby saw his sister and father and giggled happily—more people to give him attention.

“There you are, you eternal ray of sunshine and joy,” Fiona grinned. She sat down crosslegged on the rug and picked up Conall’s stuffed penguin, making monster noises to turn him into a rampaging beast stomping on the baby’s block towers.

“I have to say, Mael: you really surprised me on this one,” Florence said as her son sat next to her. They watched as the siblings interacted, the baby babbling angrily while the teen destroyed more stuffed block towers. “When you worked for the Party, you had no wife, no kids, and no want for either. Now you got a wife, two stepkids, an adopted bairn, you’re actually home for a holiday or three…” She sipped at her drink—a Scotch whisky from the cupboard, which she had long been given clearance to partake in. “There’s a softness I didn’t think was in you… a gentleness I thought you gave up on long ago…”

“You’d be amazed at what being with the right person can do to someone,” he replied. There was a long pause between them, in which both kept their eyes on Conall and Fiona. He weighed his options, then decided to say it—fuck it. “Been thinking lately, now that I’m getting plenty of time in with the wean here, and… well… I wish there had been someone like that for you.”

“That’s a fucking fallacy and you know it.”

“The more I think about it, the more it didn’t have to be.”

“I would have rather raised you and your sister alone, knowing I had no one fucking you up while my back was turned, instead of wasting all that precious time and energy otherwise.”

“It didn’t have to be while we were growing up. You could’ve waited until we were older.”

“Times were different then, Mael—a marriage meant a woman’s freedom died.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“You were never a woman, let alone a woman then.”

“What I know is that I have a mam who is fucking difficult, who is a piece of fucking work, who should’ve had a husband or wife decades ago but was too damn proud to do anything about it,” he sighed in exasperation.

“I’m not a fucking carpet chewer; if I were to get with someone it would be a someone with a hefty, rideable cock and a decent pair of balls.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Florence took another sip of her drink and scowled. “I told you why—don’t make me fucking repeat myself.” She saw Conall throw a plush block at Fiona’s face and furrowed her brow in thought. “Besides, I can’t keep my mind off of this bairn you brought home.”

“What about…?” Malcolm’s heart skipped a beat—fucking fuck.

“There’s something that’s not right about him,” she claimed. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck… “It’s almost… unearthly… in a way…”

F-U-C-K

“What would make you say that?” Malcolm scoffed. “He’s just a baby, like all of us were at one point.”

“There’s something about his eyes… what do you know about his birth parents?”

“Shagged too much and couldn’t take on the responsibilities like they should or would like to—I imagine it’s how a lot of kids are given up for adoption,” he replied.

“Were they teens?” Florence wondered, “’cause I thought teens these days had better support systems if they were horny enough to shag while stupid.”

“I don’t know how old they were,” Malcolm insisted. Okay, it was only half a lie—as he knew roughly how old the Doctor and Clara were despite no exact ages—though it was one he eagerly told his mother. “What I do know is that the nip has a more stable environment than he would’ve had before, and that’s the important thing.”

“Just stable…?”

“Stable, loving, supportive; for fuck’s sake, Mam, what is your problem?”

“I don’t have a fucking problem.”

“Then why are you grilling me over the extra-bonus-grandkid? He’s just a wean. A nip. A child.”

“I’m just curious, is all. Lay the fuck off.”

“You’re the one who needs to lay the fuck off…”

Tired of listening to the arguing, Fiona picked up Conall underneath his arms and brought him over to the two adults, holding him between them. “The Tiniest Tucker says ‘no fucking fighting or I’ll poopy my nappy to bursting’.”

“…Fiona…”

“…Dad…” Fiona paused to let Conall giggle and kick in the air, nearly as though he was jumping. “I keep trying to play Kaiju and the two of you are over here bickering—it’s getting annoying.”

“Finally admitting Malcolm’s annoying?” Gordon said, walking into the sitting room. He and Kanda came in with a plate of biscuits each, which they both placed on a table out of Conall’s reach.

“Only when he’s fighting with Granny,” Fiona admitted. She placed Conall down so that he could return to his toys and she could eat some biscuits. “It’s most of what they’ve been doing the past two days.”

“It’s how they show each other they care,” Gordon deadpanned.

“Whatever you’ve been listening to, I’m certain it was tame compared to what I’ve heard,” Kanda mentioned. “I was there when Malcolm first announced he was moving to London—now that was a row for the ages.”

“I still maintain that it was a fucking dreadful idea at the time,” Florence said staunchly. Malcolm rolled his eyes and got off the couch, heading towards the kitchen. “You’re only leaving because you know I’m right.”

“I’m leaving to see if my wife, who I met thanks to moving to London, needs any help,” he retorted. After flipping two fingers for good measure, Malcolm went into the kitchen and saw Kate closing the dishwasher—she was done cleaning up. “Oh good, you’re free.”

“Why’s that?” she wondered. She made a pleased noise as her husband came up to her and wrapped his arms around her, unexpectedly grabbing at her rear as he pressed their bodies together.

“I want to have a shag loud enough that everyone in the house can hear it over the storm.”

“…including the kids?”

“Naw; they get to sit outside in the car while Mam and Malcolm remind Granny what she’s missing.”

“Stop fighting with your mum,” she groaned.

“We’ll stop fighting when we’re fucking dead.”

“At least you can even have a conversation with your mother,” she reminded him. “Mine can’t even remember who I am.”

“Yeah, I know,” he admitted guiltily. Fuck—she had him there. “I just want her to leave everything the fuck alone. She’s getting too nosy.”

“She used to be a journalist; it’s in her nature.”

He kissed up her neck, from the crook to the back of her jaw, murmuring lowly in her ear, “She suspects there’s something different about Conall.”

“…shit,” she realized.

“I tried to make it sound like I thought she was reading too much into things, but who knows how long that’ll last.” He continued kissing her neck, making it look like they were in the middle of foreplay should they be walked in on. “Be careful; she is more resourceful than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“I shall.”

Their conversation was then cut off by the mobile in Malcolm’s pocket buzzing: it was Lex. He stepped away from Kate momentarily and swiped the call through, holding the device up to his ear. “Hey kiddo—how’s Ayrshire treating you?”

Nothing.

“Lex…? You still there…?” He rolled his eyes and glanced towards Kate. “Must be Nature’s passing wind fucking with the call.”

“Uncle Malc…?”

Suddenly, all of Malcolm tensed as he heard his niece’s voice through the mobile’s earpiece. She sounded muffled and coarse, as though she was on the wrong end of a decent cry. Why the fuck was she crying, and why would she be fucking calling him, after sobbing her fucking eyes out, with the weather as bad as it was?

All he knew was there was a man who needed to have an extremely good excuse at the ready.

“Lex? Lex? What’s going on?” All he heard was her attempting to speak, but couldn’t make out a word through all the blubbering and presumed sinus blockage. “Alexandra, do you need me to come get you? What did that lad do to make you like this?” There was shuffling on the other end—the mobile being passed around.

“Nothing,” Euan replied, now on the other end of the call. “We’re coming back down to your place right now. We’re currently stopped for some petrol and a kebab and saw that the signal was strong here.”

“Right now…? It’s Christmas Eve, it’s fucking storming, and you promised your parents you’d spend the holidays with them.”

“I am not going to repeat what they said, but my parents crossed several lines and I am not going to make Lex or myself sit through any more of it,” Euan said. “I thought it’d pass, but they’ve gotten more xenophobic since I moved to London and are very unapologetic about it, to put things nicely. This has gone far beyond being overly-cautious and suspicious regarding strangers; I would not go out in this weather unless I thought it was absolutely necessary, and still I did not hesitate to pack the car.”

Malcolm paused, allowing that to sink in. “Don’t be shy when it comes to stopping more along the way, and be careful on the M6 while in Cumbria. Go around if possible. They’re sitting through some fucking awful flooding if the news is anything to go by. Keep us updated best you can.”

“Shall do.”

“…and Euan?”

“Malcolm?”

“Thanks for looking after Lex. She chose wisely after all.”

“Ha, she has better taste than you realize—see you soon. I’ll try to have her text along the way.”

At that the call cut and Malcolm was left staring at his mobile. He felt Kate’s hand on his shoulder and he turned to look at her.

“What was the call about?” she wondered.

“They’re headed here.”

“What…?! Lex and Euan?! In this weather…?!”

“Sounds like Mister and Missus McCrae were being less than hospitable,” he scowled. He then left the kitchen and poked his head into the sitting room, catching Fiona’s attention. “Looks like we’re going to need the last room after all—Lex and Euan are on their way.”

“What…?!” Fiona, Kanda, and Gordon all marveled at once.

“They must be bananas!” Gordon said.

“How are they seriously planning on getting here?!” Fiona wondered.

“Can’t they stay where they are only a day or two more? Why now?” Kanda asked.

“What did the lad’s parents do?” Everyone’s attention turned towards Florence, who was chewing a biscuit nonchalantly. “It’s the only thing that makes sense—Alexandra and her lad are both hopeless academics, but that doesn’t mean they’re stupid enough to go out in this fucking shit if it wasn’t necessary. That would make things very necessary.”

“I don’t know, but they did say something and Euan said he wasn’t going to repeat it,” Malcolm explained darkly. “Lex was too busy crying to say much; it must have been fucking vicious.”

“Fuck… I’ll get everything set,” Fiona said. She stood and rushed out of the room, heading for the upstairs.

“Malcolm?” Kanda’s voice was now quiet, worry very firmly taken over. “Is Lex alright? Where are they?”

“Didn’t say where they stopped, but they’re headed back on the road soon.” Malcolm watched as Gordon put an arm around Kanda to comfort her, both leaning into one another. “Don’t worry, I trust Euan’ll get her here safely.”

“Are you sure?”

“I know when someone sounds sincere and resolute over a mobile call,” he said, “and that lad has more conviction in his decision to drive down here than most of Parliament has on any given day and situation.”

“Good,” Florence nodded. “If there is one hint of anything else off by the time they get here, I don’t care if he is nearly twice my height, because I shall throttle that lad within an inch of his life.”

“Something tells me that he’s not the one who has to be worried,” Malcolm scowled.

Kate glanced around the room and saw the pallor that had settled in, effectively squashing anything festive that had been in the air previous. “Alright everyone,” she said, “it’s a long way from Ayrshire, so let’s get back on track with festivities. Lex and Euan would want us to not let their surprise return back get us down.”

Conall babbled seriously from his spot on the floor, where he was scooting his toy car back and forth. He accidentally let go on one swing, sending it across the room to land at Kate’s feet. The boy stared at it with his large eyes and began to shake—this was clearly unprecedented. She crouched down and rolled the car back, Conall clapping and giggling loudly as he grabbed for it again.

“I think someone’s discovered himself a new game,” she said as the toy made its way back to her. She saw as attention began to slowly shift towards Conall, signaling that he was, indeed, doing his job as Youngest Child and Literal Baby rather well. Let the boy be a distraction and everything would smooth over better than it would had he not been there… at least, she hoped.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Thus, they waited.

Dinner was about the same as originally-planned, though despite the text messages that slowly came in throughout the evening, there was still a sense of dread and worry that hung over the occupants of the house as they waited for Lex and Euan to arrive. Conall made it his duty to play with all the sad adults, his cherubic face and light giggles bringing smiles to their faces—however slight. He was still eventually put to bed, with Florence soon behind, then Fiona, then Gordon, and finally Kanda. Malcolm and Kate rode the entire wait out, however, making certain there would be someone to greet the couple upon their arrival.

It wasn’t until after two in the morning before Lex’s car came puttering down the drive. The rain was finally beginning to lighten, though much of the wind was still there. Lex exited the passenger side and ran into the house, directly into her waiting uncle’s arms. She was still sniffling, with her face red and puffy and clearly showing she was breathing from her mouth.

“Fuck… have you been crying since Ayrshire?” Malcolm wondered.

“Pretty much,” Euan replied for his girlfriend. He was now in the kitchen, their bags in-hand, having moved quick as possible into the safety of the house. “We were able to avoid the flooding fairly easily, and there wasn’t many people on the road to cause much traffic.”

“Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters,” Kate assured. “Have you talked to Marcia?”

“Her mobile’s been doing funny things in France, so we didn’t bother,” Euan said. “We don’t want one text to go through and not the other, let alone the call to drop mid-sentence.”

“Fair enough.” Kate looked at her husband and niece, seeing that his face was one that was reserved for only a special brand of ire. He was keeping Lex close, patting her with one hand while the other arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Malcolm?”

“Yes?”

“Show Lex and Euan to their room—they must be exhausted.”

He paused for a moment before kissing the top of Lex’s head. “Let’s get you settled, yeah? You can vent all about it in time.”

Lex nodded silently and allowed her uncle to help her and Euan to the room they were going to share. He gave Euan a nod on the way out and vice versa—they were now safe.

Heading back to his own room, Malcolm was just barely able to aim for the bed as he collapsed in exhaustion. All the worrying he’d done beat the everliving fuck out of him, and now he was ready to pass out and not exist for a while. He felt Kate get into bed as well, her weight on the mattress a comfort. Grabbing her around the middle, he snugged up along her back and settled further into sleep for the night.

“Malcolm…?”

“Yeah Kate…?”

“Don’t get to comfortable.”

“…and why the fuck not?” He was too achy and irritable for this—he was going to risk becoming a grand old tit if he stayed up only a few minutes longer.

“We forgot to put out the presents.”

…shit.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nearly the entire morning had passed before the Stewart-Tuckers all began to wake up, thoroughly exhausted from the day before. Everyone was glad to see Lex and Euan, even though the former had a massive headache and the latter was extremely grouchy and quiet. It did not matter that it was now Christmas proper—a sour sort of air hung about the house as they ate breakfast and gathered in the sitting room.

“Here we are, Conall,” Fiona said gently as she sat down next to the tree with her baby brother. She set him down on the floor and pulled a brightly-wrapped present towards him. He watched with wide eyes as she tore a small hole in the wrapping to reveal something underneath. After placing his hand on the hole, she moved it so more of the paper tore, eliciting a surprised squeak out of him. Conall ripped off more of the paper, revealing a soft toy Silurian. The baby cooed and hugged the toy in excitement.

“At least someone’s having a good time,” Gordon noted. He was seated in one of the oversized chairs, with Kanda sitting on the arm, both of them looking not at Conall, but at Lex and Euan on the sofa. “How about you guys? Are you alright?”

“At your own pace,” Kate insisted. She was standing by the tree, allowing her daughter and youngest son to continue opening presents while under supervision, while her husband and mother-in-law were across the room on the couch. “Don’t talk unless you want to.”

“They said I’m not good enough… that we’re not good enough,” Lex said quietly. She stared at Conall as he opened another present, this one a play lawnmower. “They said we’re part of why things are supposedly going sour.”

“What did they say so that I can make certain that the punishment matches the crime?” Florence demanded coolly. Lex shook her head and looked at her grandmother, refusing in her silence. “Alexandra, what happened?”

“My parents learned their prospective daughter-in-law and her family had roots from off the island, and they reacted poorly,” Euan frowned. “They are normally the sort of people to clean up their act in such a situation, but instead they lashed out. We… had a row.”

“It sounds like a lot more than a simple row to me,” Malcolm scowled. “A row is what happens when you forget to take the turkey out and it’s fucking frozen on Christmas Eve; this was much worse.”

“What do you mean by ‘clean up their act’, lad?” Florence asked. “Do you have a habit of bringing home people they don’t approve of?”

“No—if they don’t like something or someone and we’re in public or with company, they’ve normally gone and waited until later to complain or question me about it. Worst they’ve generally been was suspicious over who new neighbors were, or passing tourists, wondering if anyone would bring trouble with them. This time… they’ve made their stance clear.”

“…and they threw you out in the middle of a storm,” Kate surmised.

“No—they said I could stay until the storm passed,” Lex said, “but Euan refused. If I wasn’t welcome, then we weren’t staying. He didn’t want anything else to happen.”

“We appreciate that more than we can say,” Malcolm said.

“Wait… is this because of me…?” Kanda wondered cautiously. “You’ve gotten into fights for me before…”

“I wish that were just the case,” Euan said, shaking his head. “If it was over one person, we could figure out a way to approach making them act more civil, but this is far worse.”

“So then it’s also me, and my sister, and Lex herself,” Gordon said.

“It’s everyone, in one way or the other,” Lex added.

“I should have known something was wrong when we first got in: my mam said she hadn’t talked with our one neighbor from down the road in months,” Euan explained. “She came from Greece back in the Fifties as a child and was essentially the devoted neighborhood aunt; either my parents decided to cut ties or they said something that made her do so.”

“So this came from nowhere?” Kate asked.

“Far as I know—I have been in London for a long time, so something could have happened between now and then, but what put them on this path… I cannot say.” Euan looked at his hands and exhaled heavily. “You never expect something like this out of the ones who raised you, especially if they were so different before. They were never like this… no one we know is like this… I still don’t know what to say…”

“I think your exit last night will give them enough to think about,” Kate assured. "They won’t want to lose their only child like that.”

“We’ll see,” Euan replied. “Until then, I don’t plan on going back, and if I want to visit old mates I’m staying at the pub.”

“I think between Mam, Marcia, and us, we can find room for you at any Tucker gathering,” Malcolm said.

“They better fucking hope they’ve made up with you before I meet their pathetic sacks of skin,” Florence scowled. “No one treats one of my grandchildren like that and gets away with it without apologizing. Pro-fucking-fusely. This includes you now, lad.”

“I thank you for being so welcoming and understanding, everyone,” Euan said. “This... this is rough. I never really fought with my parents like this before, and now… I don’t know how to go from here.”

“When you’re ready, you’ll know,” Kate said. “My father and I didn’t talk for years—he completely missed Gordon being born and didn’t know he existed until early Primary, but once he did… he was one of the most devoted granddads and we were stronger than ever.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah,” Gordon chimed in. “Don’t worry. What will happen shall happen, and until then, we’re all here for you.”

“Thank you.” Euan’s eyes began to well with tears, interrupted by Conall abandoning his presents and crawling over, holding his arms up once he sat down in front of him. “Oh, you want to be held? Only if your nappy’s clean, you naughty wean.” He lifted the boy up to his lap and bounced him gently. Conall giggled happily, which only seemed to make Euan more melancholy. Seemingly sensing that the man was sad, the baby crawled down his lap and snuggled in close to his chest in a hug. He then bounced up and gave Euan a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cheek, wobbling as he moved over towards Lex to do the same.

“Oh, such a good boy you are, making sure your cousins are feeling better,” Lex chuckled half-heartedly. “Is he always this good at being able to tell when people need cheering up?”

“I’m not sure if it’s a talent or if it’s purely because he’s a baby,” Kate said. “I can’t deny that he’s the best at making people feel better.”

“Fucking odd if you ask me,” Florence mentioned. She watched as Lex placed Conall back on the floor and the baby scooted over towards a new present to open.

“Lay off it, Mam—he’s a fucking baby,” Malcolm groaned. “If anything he’s odd because he’s the next Tucker in line and the fact he has fucking empathy is confusing you.”

“Yeah, and I thought you were hiding being a fucking poof for so long and now you go and do this to me—all this wholesome biscuit-tin shite almost makes me want to vomit.”

“…and what would fucking stop me from getting remarried and gaining stepkids and adopting a bairn if I was a fucking poof and Kate was Al the Second? How is that family not wholesome?”

“I said biscuit-tin shite; open your fucking ears!”

“I don’t even understand what the fuck you’re trying to say!”

As Malcolm and Florence continued to loudly argue, Kate decided to take it upon herself to keep Christmas morning going and passed out some gifts. She brought Kanda and Gordon one each, then Fiona, and then bringing over some to Lex and Euan.

“I think I prefer this sort of row,” Euan said as he accepted his present. He watched as the fight moved itself over to the other side of the room, then went towards the kitchen so that the rest of the house muffled the sounds of mother and son bickering. “At least we know Granny’s just apt at putting things… oddly…”

“Get used to it—chances are I’ll be like that one day,” Lex teased.

“…like how? An ornery piece of shite?” Gordon teased. He laughed as he was flipped two fingers and reciprocated. Kate chuckled as well, glad to see that the family was now easing back towards something more akin to their normal now that everyone was together.

Now if only, she thought, she could stop the squabbling in the kitchen.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: I would just like to take this opportunity to apologize to all of Darvel, which is where the McCraes are supposed to be from. It seems like a lovely wee rural town from the outside perspective, but even the loveliest of places can have their versions of Euan’s parents. How nice it seems is part of why I chose it, along with the fact it used to be the nexus of a booming local industry (lace, then textiles in general) that is now all but completely dead. Being someone who is very proud of where they’re from despite the waning local industry, I’ve seen varying shades of Euan’s folks pop up in my own hometown in recent years, to my own horror and discomfort. It’s rough, and I know that for a fact, so please know that I’m not here to start shit regarding such things.

#The Thick of UNIT #bollockingUNIT #satstewart #Kate Stewart #Malcolm Tucker #Conall Basil Tucker Stewart #Gordon Lethbridge Stewart #Kanda Keng #Fiona Stewart (OC)#Lex Lewiston #Euan McCrae #Florence Tucker #my birthday present to you dear reader #here have some family drama #The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction

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nehswritesstuffs · 5 years ago

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The Life That Never Was - Part II

Yeah, I know it’s taken me a while to cobble this together, but it was kind of on the back burner due to varying workload reasons. It came together rather recently due to all the postulating and the like as I was going over current-ish chapters in the main story. It’s complicated.

Reminder that this is merely an AU of the AU and by no means anything that actually happened in The Thick of UNIT. Though there are references to real-life events and canon for both DW and TTOI, they’re all [respectfully] mangled thanks to the nature of this story. The jump-off point is the fourth section of this fic and details backstory to Dream Crab hallucinations that begin in ch. 16 of the main story.

The Thick of UNIT Chapter Index - Series on AO3

Part One: [tumblr] - [AO3]

Now married and living as a family, the Stewart-Tuckers begin to juggle life and its varying surprises, no matter where they come from. [15,631 words; Malcolm/Kate AU of the Dream Crab hallucination sort]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2004

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Leaning against the side of his car, Malcolm waited impatiently outside the primary school as it neared dismissal time. It was in the middle of a rare stretch of decent Spring weather, with the sun shining and not much hindering people from being outside. This, of course, meant that there were a bunch of fuckers out at Kate’s work, making it so that Malcolm was the one who had to pick up Fiona from school. Sam couldn’t do it for him because she had better things to do than be locked out of Number 10 because she had the nip in-tow, and at least he had both his work mobiles on him so that if he needed to bollock multiple ministers and MPs at once, he could do so at home without any undercutting of menace.

Time passed, more parents began to congregate around the school, and eventually the students were released upon the world. Malcolm was in the middle of a texting chain with Jamie over the newly-hired fuck-up in their department and how long to give him when Fiona came bouncing over, bursting with excitement.

“Hi Dad! I didn’t know you were coming to get me!” She hugged him and tossed her backpack in the boot soon as it was opened. “Where’s Mum?”

“She’s got to stay late tonight—some fuckers think they can just take off now that the sun’s hit their skin and reminded them they’re alive, which means that she has to stay until they’re certain there’s enough staff.”

“Oh, well that’s dumb,” she frowned. “How long do you think it’ll last? She promised to help my class with the school’s fête and I don’t want her to miss it.”

“You lot got one of them old-fashioned tea tents, yeah?” he asked. Before Fiona could respond, he caught sight of another man walking down the street, the sight of whom made his blood boil. “Chips, get in the car. Now.”

“Why?”

“Mussolini’s here to pitch a fit.”

“I heard that, you loch monster.” Malcolm cursed under his breath as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on-end—Loris Ferrero, Fiona’s unfortunate excuse for a sire, was fairly high on his list of people he would have rather not dealt with that day. “Oh, wait, does an oily roadside ditch count as a loch in Glasgow? I’m still a bit fuzzy on that.”

“The fuck you doing here, Loris?” Malcolm snarled. “You don’t get Fiona until next weekend.”

“Thought I’d take her a bit early—there’s a school I want to put her in and I might be able to get an interview this weekend.”

“That’s the school fête!” Fiona pouted. “I can’t miss that! I have to stay at Mum and Malcolm’s!”

“Too bad; you’re coming home with me,” Loris ordered.

“No! I’m staying!” The girl clung to her stepfather’s arm and attempted to look as irritated as possible. “I’m not going unless you drag me! And then I’ll scream!”

Loris narrowed his eyes as he attempted to win the stare-down between him and his daughter. When it seemed as though she was not going to back down, he snapped his fingers and pointed to the pavement next to him. “Come here now, young lady, or you are going to be in trouble.”

“No!”

“I am your father and you are going to listen to me.”

“Malcolm’s my dad when I’m staying with Mum, and I’m going with him,” she said firmly. Loris’s nostrils flared as he took the few remaining steps that were between him and Malcolm in order to get in the other man’s face.

“I don’t know what sort of lies you’ve been feeding her, but Fiona is my daughter, Tucker, and I want you to stay away from her.”

“Fucking hell—you barely know the lass,” Malcolm snapped back. He was careful to not raise his voice too loudly, for there were still other families milling about innocently. “She lives in my house, I take her to school in the mornings, and if I get the chance to go home at a decent hour, then she’s the one greeting me at the door. If I’m not, then at least I have her drawings in the office to keep me company, along with the ones m’niece did at her age, because that’s what family’s like, you shit.” He shifted so that Fiona was further behind him, keeping her as safe as he could under the circumstances; Loris might have only come to his eyebrows, but he still towered over her and Malcolm didn’t want the other man to use that to his advantage. “What do you have waiting at home? A set of tits a year older than Marco? Is she just there to warm your bed while you cheat on her with another set of tits-and-legs? A posh-as-fuck flat with nothing to do but melt her brain with the worst of what’s on the telly and talking to the fortune-hunters you bring home? I’d be fucking dead if I handed her over to you just because you said so.”

“My daughter needs to be in a proper school, with highly qualified teachers, low class sizes, and away from bad influences,” Loris sneered. “She’s going to go to the interview and get out of this state school. It’s the girls’ school associated with my old one; highly accredited and sought-after. With the protective show you’re putting on, I’d think you’d want what’s best for Fiona.”

“I do, which is why she’s staying here, with Kate and me.”

“I’ve heard people refer to you as the Gorbals Goebbels—if that’s the case, then I don’t think I need you or any of your… associates… around Fiona. Kate may think you’re a good man, but I know better.”

“You know better than my wife? The girl’s mother and primary custodian?”

“I like to think so, yes.”

The synapses in Malcolm’s brain were going off quicker than during the average ministerial cockup; he needed to figure out a way to get his piss-poor excuse of a counterpart to leave before they ended up in a spat that would attract more attention than just Fiona’s. He bobbed his head to motion towards the school gate, where a constable was chatting nonchalantly with one of the mothers while she was out on her afternoon patrol.

“Go on, take her,” he dared. “She already said that she’d pitch a fucking fit and not only does everyone at this school know I’m her mother’s husband and that they’ve never seen you in relation to the nip before, but you might get some unwanted attention from our local lady rozzer as she makes sure there aren’t any creeps going around snatching up wee babes.”

Loris considered it, curled his lip in a sneer, and took a step back, threateningly wagging his finger at Malcolm. “I should have done this a long time ago; see you both in court.”

“Good luck trying to find a judge that won’t have a grudge against either of us and invoke conflict of interest,” Malcolm grinned pleasantly. Loris backed away further and glared before turning his back and walking away. “Ciao, yeh cold, limp cannelloni.”

“Uh, Dad…?” Fiona squeaked soon as Loris was out of earshot. “What did he mean by that?”

“Nothing to worry about, Chips,” Malcolm replied. “Now let’s get back home so we can get your homework done and make sure dinner’s done by the time Mam gets back from work.”

“Yes!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, Kate was unable to help Fiona’s class at the school fête, leaving Malcolm and Gordon to fill in for her. Fiona’s teacher, Miss Jackson, was a tad nervous when her student dragged her scowling stepfather and sleepy teenaged brother into the tent bright and early that morning. She tried to tell the girl that it was alright—they could go to the store and find some treats instead—but she insisted that they use her perfectly decent substitutes. No one was willing to argue against the fact that they cooked and baked all the time at home, and that they were going to make sure that the tea tent was positively fantastic that year. Before Miss Jackson could protest too much, the fill-ins had already rolled up their sleeves and were putting together ingredients to prep for the cakes and biscuits that needed to be done for the first round of visitors in a few hours.

By the end of the day, the tea tent was a raging success, old-fashioned or not. It was so much so that the kids all requested to do it again the following year, and that Mister Fiona’s Dad and Mister Gordy could come help as well.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You, Minister, are irrevocably stupid, do you realize this?”

Malcolm leaned against the wall and listened quietly as Kate went and tore into the pasty, wide-eared, oafish sack of skin that was running Defense—he was going to be out in a month’s time at worst; won’t even be written down as having run it, most likely. Not like Malcolm had warned anyone about his idiocy to begin with. It was bad enough that all the MP departmental heads were there, as well as some non-departmental heads, but one of the items on the minutes was a UNIT naval base, meaning that Malcolm had to pretend to not notice his own wife as she set figurative fire to the room.

“I beg your pardon?” the MP scoffed. “Do you understand, Miss, the oversight that is being allowed by having your base leech the Royal Navy’s precious resources?”

“It’s not a leeching if it’s part of your regular UN, NATO, and Eurozone contributions.”

“…which we already pay out the arse for!”

“I would like to know your definition of ‘paying out the arse’ and when that threshold hits. Should we be paying out of our noses instead? Our ears? Please tell me, MP Rumbold.”

“Why I never…!” he gasped. “How dare you!” He glanced around, noticing that some of the others around the table were snickering in amusement. “It’s not funny!”

“Well you sure as fuck ain’t Yoda,” Transport snickered. Whatever the fuck that meant. “She’s got a point, you know.”

“I would think that being that I’m in charge of Defense that would mean that I know what’s the best way to spend my own budget!”

“You can’t just defund UNIT and take over all their assets within the United Kingdom—this is an international scientific community whose existence and continued operation is for the good of the entire planet,” Kate scowled. “If UNB Kernow is defunded and absorbed into the Royal Navy, it would be easily considered a slight at best and a threat of war at worst. Do you really want to be known for that? Accidentally declaring war on UNIT? The United Nations?”

“If it’s for the betterment of Britons, then yes.”

“You’re short-sighted and horridly simple.”

“…and you have guns and aircraft carriers and your own private army—that doesn’t sound very scientific if you ask me.”

Kate’s face went a livid red. “We have these things because while we are working in the labs to develop the most cutting-edge technologies to advance scientific knowledge and humanity’s wellbeing, there’s also a duty we have to defend. Weaponry and soldiers are in our possession, that much is certainly true, but the very idea of getting rid of them is ludicrous. We’d be calling the air force every time a weather balloon floats off-course and a survey boat loses power and requires reclamation, wasting time, personnel, and funds. If you are the Minister of Defense and you cannot seem to understand the acts of defending and proactivity, then I highly suggest that our esteemed Prime Minister reconsider your appointment and place someone with a bit more competence in charge.”

The entire conference room was silent, the only noise being the ruffling of papers. Someone coughed awkwardly and the Prime Minister, who was rather enjoying the conversation, cleared his throat.

“See me in my office later, both of you,” he requested. “We are tabling this for the time being; I want to get this over before tea if at all possible, especially considering how this meeting is only semi-on-the-books thanks to the nature of Ms. Stewart’s… department.”

Oh, fuck, Malcolm thought—Defense was in for it now. He locked gazes with Kate for half a moment and she knew what he did. There was no way she was going to come out of this with even a scratch. If Malcolm knew the Prime Minister—which he did thank you very fucking much—then shit was going to be hitting several fans in a couple of hours. The meeting continued and someone from Health began to make their case about something or other—he didn’t fucking care anymore. All he wanted to do was take Kate down the corridor to his office cupboard and let her get out any and all frustrations she might have. He was more than willing for her to take it out on him sooner rather than later; it was probably where they’d end up before the day was done anyhow.

“Jesus, put it away, Malcolm.” He glanced to his side and saw one of the lads from the Land Registry; fresh-faced and a wee bit naïve at times, but had the makings of a halfway decent person in him. “You’re tenting worse than a travelling sideshow.”

He glanced down towards the floor and saw that… oh… fuck… yeah, he was clearly fucking aroused.

“Can’t help being attracted to actual, genuine competence,” he whispered back. The lad glanced over at Kate, then back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s out of your league.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that while she’s currently their Head of Tech, but Ms. Stewart is also in line to become the full-on bloody Director of the entire UK division if the rumors I hear are true. You can’t just lust after someone like that.”

“Sure I can.”

Land Registry Lad rolled his eyes in frustration. “Malcolm, for fuck’s sake, she’s married; don’t you see that ring?”

“You mean the one I put on her last year? Yeah, I guess you can see it nicely, even at this distance.” He watched as the lad’s eyebrows almost flew off his face in surprise. “That after-meeting meeting needs to be short, actually, if our plan to pick the kids up from school together is going to pan out. Can’t do that, go out to eat, and get the teenager out to Surrey to his da’s and the kid in her bed at a decent time if she gets roped into listening to the entire two-hour shout.”

“…that’s where you get all those drawings pinned to your wall,” Land Registry Lad realized. “I always was told they were confiscated after someone else was fired and you put them there to freak people out.”

“Nope—my daughter and niece both provided me with some, actually. They keep me fucking going some days.”

“So you’re not a complete bloody psychopath after all… good to know.”

“…oh, and it’s Mainframe UK, not division. My wife is going to become Director of Mainframe UK before all’s said and done.”

“Gotcha…” The lad nodded, before his upper lip twitched upwards. “Fuck… I still can’t believe that you got married to her.”

“Jealous?”

“Mildly.”

“That’s fucking right.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Hey, thanks again for taking her short-notice like that,” Malcolm said. He picked Fiona’s backpack up from the floor and could feel his bones cry out in agony. It had been a shitty few days at work, but the fact that nothing was plastered all over the news meant that it was a shit week worthwhile and now he could enjoy the remainder of his Sunday and even the day after—the last fucking bank holiday before Christmas.

“It’s my pleasure,” Marco replied. “Neither of my flatmates have younger sibling, so it’s always fun to have Fiona around. Everything’s going to be okay with Nana Doris and Granddad Al though, right?”

“Doris and Alistair are going to be fine; they’re still a bit dehydrated, but it was only food poisoning after all. Kate said she’ll be able to come back home tonight for some rest—Doris’s daughter is taking over the hospital shift for now, since their not cleared yet due to their age and how severe it was when they actually got there.”

“About damn time,” Marco scoffed. “I don’t think that woman’s said all of two words to me the entire time I’ve known her and I was beginning to think the same for Granddad Al.” He then looked over his shoulder and frowned, seeing his sister was nowhere in sight. “Sorella! Sbrigati per favore! Malcolm sta aspettando!”

“Rilassare!” Fiona replied. She appeared from the kitchenette within moments, clutching a packet of crisps and a juice box. “It’s the last of my snacks! I can’t leave without them!”

“This is true—turn your back on uni students and your snacks vanish.” Marco ruffled his sister’s hair and smirked. “Be good for Mum, Malcolm, and Gordy, okay? I don’t need you dropped off with school and homework and projects all centered on the other end of town. It’s bad enough keeping track of my own stuff.”

“Promise,” the girl grinned. She hugged her brother goodbye and she and her stepfather both went down the stairs to his car, ready to go back home so that they could have everything ready for when the house’s other two inhabitants returned.

Traffic was shit. Then again, it was London, so traffic was always a steaming pile of diarrhea filled with sweet corn and raspberry seeds. It was a constant reminder of why he was glad that there were drivers for him while he was on the Party’s time, as it generally allowed him to concentrate on the tits and twats he was paid to keep in line, not the ones that were on the road. A lorry edged in front of him and forced him to stop at a light—he was livid.

“Dad?” Fiona asked, not even bothered by the tirades coming from her adult.

“Yeah?”

“When’s dinner?”

“In a couple of hours, why?”

“I was wondering if I could have my crisps and juice box. Can I please?”

“Since you asked nicely first, I believe you can,” Malcolm replied. He then heard the distinctive crinkle of crisp wrapper and loud munching. “Hey, spare me one will yeh?”

“Okay.” Fiona waited until he reached into the back and placed a crisp in his hand. “Let me know if you want another.”

“Will do.” He popped the crisp into his mouth and went on driving, glad they were nearly home. They were nearly onto their street, in fact, when another person blew the stop sign that would have given them right-of-way, causing Malcolm to slam on the brakes in order to not hit the car in the side. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Can’t you figure out what a bloody stop sign is?! Fucking cunt!”

“…uh… Dad…?”

Malcolm’s ears immediately perked at the sound of his stepdaughter’s voice suddenly gone small and timid. Seeing that there were no other vehicles coming, he kept his foot on the brake as he twisted around and looked at her, seeing that her crisps and juice were now everywhere and it looked as though she was about to cry.

“I’m sorry…” she squeaked.

“Give us a mo’; we’re almost home,” he said, trying to not grit his teeth. The remaining two minutes were deathly silent, with Fiona vacating the vehicle almost as soon as it was put into park.

Taking a deep breath, Malcolm braced himself for what he was about to view the full scope of: the back of his near-two-year-old, otherwise pristine, Jaguar covered in sticky, soggy mess. Soon as he saw the damage he went to the garage and found a rag and some cleaner, getting to work on preventing a stain from setting in.

“Shit, shit, shit…” he cursed under his breath. The juice was coming out, but it was still taking plenty of arm power.

“Am I in trouble, Dad?” Fiona asked warily.

“No Chips—it was the cunt who cut us off, not you.” He stopped scrubbing long enough to kiss her forehead in reassurance. “I know you’re careful. You’re far from a wee babe squeezing the box on purpose to see what it would do.”

“O-okay…” She still looked terrified, but not at Malcolm. With the way she was staring at the stain, he could tell that she was afraid of it, of proof of the mishap being a permanent reminder of the day she spilled in her stepdad’s nice car.

“Hey, we both ate in it before and there were no problems. You did not do this. Don’t be upset.” He put the rag down and held out his arms, silently giving clearance for a hug. Fiona took him up on it and clung to him tightly. “You’re worth more to me than a car.”

“Cars can’t call you Dad.”

“If they have a satnav they can, but you’re right that it’s not the same.” He held her at arm’s length and gave her a smile. “Go get some tea going and I’ll join you in a tic; I think we both need it after almost being in an accident like that.”

“Okay,” she nodded. She gave him a smile back before heading into the house, leaving him to finish cleaning up the mess. He was able to get the juice out and vacuumed up the remaining crisp bits quickly, making it a potential crisis wholly adverted.

Except, he thought as he got Fiona’s bag out of the boot, he needed to prevent it from happening again, and he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to take the best step to do so. That feeling wavered, however, when he entered the kitchen and saw his stepdaughter pouring them both a cuppa—he had to do something.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Later that night, after Kate had come back from picking up Gordon in Surrey, which itself had been after spending two straight days sitting in a hospital room occupied by her violently-vomiting father and his wife, all the Stewart-Tuckers were at home and getting ready for bed. With the kids sent to their respective rooms, Malcolm and Kate were in their own, the former sitting on the edge of the mattress in his pants as he stared into the middle distance, whilst the latter searched for a clean nightie.

“I know that look,” she said from the wardrobe. “You’re debating something serious.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied.

“Of course it’s something, or you wouldn’t be spacier than a Star Trek set.”

“I just have a lot to think about, is all,” he half-lied. She already knew about the crisps-and-juice incident and didn’t think it was good to lead in with that. They had agreed that there was no blame on their daughter and that was final—he wanted to keep it that way.

“Is it work? What do they have you skulking about now?”

“It’s not that.”

“Okay, whom do they have you stalking?” She looked directly at him, the elusive nightie now in her hands. “Malcolm, what is it?”

“It’s about earlier, with the car,” Malcolm admitted. He could only look Kate in the eyes for half a second before turning his vision to the rug. “It’s just been on my mind.”

“I thought you said you wanted to move past that,” she reminded him. “Were you just saying that to make Fiona feel better?”

“No, I do want to put it behind us but—fuck—I think I got to break down and do it,” he sighed. Rubbing the back of his neck, he groaned in resignation at the words that were about to be spoken. “I got to ditch the Jaguar.”

“What would you get otherwise?” Kate wondered. She saw her husband cringe at the idea. “Malcolm?”

“Vauxhall Astra, I think. Heard someone at work talk about hers and it’s decent enough as a family car from what I’ve gathered.”

“Malcolm Tucker in a hatchback? This is serious.”

“If the back of your car is one big spill, now that there’s been one in mine, it won’t fucking stop and before I know it there will be chips stuck in places we can’t get to and a giant tear in the leather seat backing from football cleats.”

“Neither of the kids play football.”

“…but they could pick it up tomorrow for all we know.” He felt his wife sit down next to him and place her arm around him, leaning into his shoulder. “It’s a British name, so no one at work can question it, and it’s not like I’m getting a Rover just because there are a couple slight hills going to your dad’s.”

“This is very sexy, you know,” she teased.

“The Jaguar is sexy—family cars are the anti-sexy. Driving a family car practically fucking announces that there’s no more fight left and you’re fully tamed.”

“Jaguars are sexy? I thought you said that you wouldn’t be caught dead in an S-type.”

“It’s the name, the badge, the fucking air behind it,” he scowled, knowing she was right but not wanting to dignify it. “I might as well just go all-in at this point and get the Dad Car.”

“…which, again, is very sexy,” Kate reminded him. She placed a hand on his thigh and let it wander, from his knee to his crotch and back, and felt him shudder in anticipation. “It’s the mark of a man comfortable enough with himself to put his family before his own ego. There is still plenty of fight in you,” she leaned into his ear, “it’s just that now it’s put to good use.”

Fuck, her touch was fire and electric and needles all at once, her breath a warming intoxicant, and there was no hope in escaping the spot he found himself in. Malcolm used one hand to pull her face closer while he put the other on the small of her back. He kissed her aggressively, pulling her on top of him so that she could feel him through his pants. There was very little he wouldn’t do for him or their children, and the amount of attraction it sparked between them was unfathomable in scale.

At least, they knew, it all had been a long time coming.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a couple days before Malcolm could work up the gumption to actually take the plunge and head over to a car supermarket to finally get his “Dad Car”. Kate dropped him off between lunch and going to pick up the kids from school, with them immediately noticing that something was amiss when they got home. Fiona saw the large, car-shaped object covered next to the garage and was immediately curious.

“Why’s Dad’s car under a tarp?” she wondered.

“He’s off getting a different one,” Kate explained. “That spill from the other day made him realize that this one is a bit too fancy for everyday use and is only going to bring it out on special occasions.”

“So like Easter and visiting Granny and Athair and work parties?”

“Something along those lines.” An unfamiliar vehicle pulled up in the drive and Kate chuckled to herself. “Speak his name…”

“Oh! Is that Dad’s new car?!” Fiona gasped. She ran up to Malcolm as he got out, giving him a hug as she did so.

“…an Astra?” Gordon realized, stifling a snicker. “He broke down and got an Astra?”

“Be nice—be needs to not be teased for a little bit so he doesn’t regret it in two months,” his mother deadpanned. “This is a big step for him. Besides, it could be the car you learn to drive in.”

“I thought I was learning in Dad’s old Golf.”

“You also split time between us, meaning it could be both cars.” She watched as her husband approached, a defeated look in his eyes. “How’s it drive?”

“Well enough; it’s decent, but I still have to get used to it.”

“Bit more practical,” Gordon commented. “Can’t keep putting old towels down in the boot every time you pick up dirt for the garden.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Malcolm nodded. He was extremely aware of the fact his face was beginning to grow hot—fuck, he was caught being embarrassed. “This is a car we can get dirty, but not too dirty. Still want it looking somewhat nice.”

“At least get it banged-up enough so I can take it during my training course without feeling guilty,” Gordon joked.

“Fuck, don’t make me think about that,” Malcolm scowled.

“Oh, can I learn to drive in this car?!” Fiona gasped, having caught the tail end of the conversation.

“Fucking—don’t remind me you two are going to be old enough to drive one day!” Malcolm snapped in exasperation. Fiona giggled and ran inside the house, while Gordon shrugged and followed her. “If they’re terrors now, I’d hate to see them behind the wheel of a car.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” Kate warned. She wrapped her arms around Malcolm’s middle and kissed him sweetly. “I bet you’ll be glad to teach them, when the day comes.”

“Let’s just get us there first, then we’ll talk,” he replied. He stared at the vehicle sitting in his parking spot, almost mocking him in a way.

A motherfucking hatchback.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Fucking hell, this school shite was going to drive Malcolm insane.

First off, he was supposed to be on a field trip with Fiona. Kate was too busy at work and it was, according to her, “his turn” to assist chaperoning the wee terrors as they ran around a cultural heritage site somewhere in the Green Belt. Secondly, he had to jump through a bunch of fucking hoops in order to even be allowed to chaperone, as though being a parent and government worker under intense scrutiny wasn’t enough. Thirdly, there needed to be some sort of rule against cancelling last-minute because of some surprise renovations that needed doing, because now it left him and his stepdaughter both with the day off from responsibilities and nothing to even show for it.

“The tit could have at least called me before we got dressed and left the fucking house,” he grumbled as they went back into his car. He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched as Fiona buckled herself back in. “So, what’s the plan, Chips? We still gonna go visit the Green Belt or do you want to spend the day in town?”

“Oh! Let’s go into town!” she gasped excitedly. Fiona was aware that Malcolm knew about all the best spots in Central London. “We can always go to the Green Belt later!”

“Sounds like the lady has made her decision,” he announced. The girl cheered as they pulled out of the car park and went down towards the city’s center, where there were plenty of things to do and see for the day. A while of driving—fuck London roads—and Malcolm pulled off near a café he knew was decent enough, ready to get in a cuppa while they planned the rest of their day.

“Oh! There’s Uncle Jamie!” Fiona noticed excitedly as they got out of the car. Malcolm’s stomach dropped as he turned, seeing the less-wee of his former flatmates walking up to them, hands jammed in his pockets.

“Malc? What the bloody fuck are you doing here? I thought you were out for the day hurling your guts out or something.”

“We were supposed to be going on a field trip, but it got cancelled so Dad and I are out for the day instead,” Fiona explained plainly. “What are you doing here?”

“Was having a shout in yer da’s stead and got hungry, so I found myself here,” Jamie explained. Malcolm knew that was as good an excuse as any—within walking distance there were a few different troublesome offices and departments. “So what, did Kate get a new car and you took it to not make the other dads jealous?”

Malcolm was about to agree when Fiona cut him off. “It’s Dad’s new one! The other one got dirty too easy, so he has this one now.”

It took a couple seconds for Jamie to process her words, but once he did, he burst into laughter.

“A fucking hatchback!” he wheezed. “The fearsome Malcolm Tucker in a bloody fucking hatchback!”

“You’re a piece of fucking shit, do you know that?” Malcolm snapped. “My son and daughter don’t have to worry about how big their school projects are or if the door accidentally opens into a post. At least I can fit all my kids in one car—don’t you and Jeanette need to take two vehicles to go anywhere?”

“I’m not the one who needs to worry about looking like a tit in a kid-hauler while trying to keep up the image of the bringer of fire and brimstone whenever someone shits their pants at work,” Jamie reminded him. “It doesn’t matter what I drive—I can be just as mental in my Mondeo than you ever can be in an Astra.”

“That’s a lie and you fucking know it.”

“Try me, Malc.”

“You’re a bloody fucking tit and I hate you.”

“You couldn’t hate me if you tried.”

“We were gonna get a snack, Uncle Jamie—want to join us?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jamie replied, grinning devilishly. He gave Malcolm the shit-eating-est smirk as the girl pulled him towards the café, not caring that the men were in the middle of a pissing match.

What the absolute fuck.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2005

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He wasn’t even entirely certain how it happened, at least not the entire thing, but that wasn’t what Malcolm was attempting to concentrate on. What he was attempting to wrap his head around, however, was the new PM. Harriet Jones, formerly MP Flydale North, now Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, had been one of the few MPs to have never been on his bollocking radar, and as such, no banter of any sort existed between them. He chose to stand as he was summoned inside her office, leaning against a bookcase.

“So you’re the fearsome Malcolm Tucker,” she said, voice nearly grave as she sat behind the desk. “You seem much more manageable than the whisperings around Whitehall.”

“Only when I don’t need to have a shout.”

“It has been recommended that I not be on the receiving end of one, therefore I haven’t.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I won’t be on any now, will I?”

“If you are at this point, then you would be facing a no-confidence vote in a matter of hours anyhow, and I’d be the least of your worries,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I will stop operating how I do business with anyone else.”

“So then you will still be shouty?”

“Yes.”

“…and swear worse than a sailor?”

“They just have to catch up.”

“…and be so all because you are my enforcer?”

“I am the Party’s enforcer, Her Majesty’s enforcer, the nation’s enforcer, because all I do is to make sure this place is a little less shitty at the end of the day. Whether it works or not is up to the history books, but the way I see it, the worst they can say is that I tried my fucking best to hold those shitstains outside this office together into some form of cohesive government.”

“You don’t have a savior complex, not at all.” Fuck him, she smiled—she was showing signs of being able to play on his level. Flydale North and Glasgow Northeast had more in common than he previously thought.

“So, you want me to keep Health in line, and who else?”

“All of them, preferably, though do keep a close eye on Health, as well as Defra, ODPM, DoSaC, and make certain that the Cabinet Office is all at least beginning to fall into place by the end of next month. Leave Culture be for a bit before getting on their case though—they’ve got a tough road ahead of them.”

“Whatever mess I’m not dealing with thanks to that fucking invasion bullshit, they’re scrubbing up—they’re actually the department I’ve always gotten on with best. They’re staffed with semi-competence in mind.” He chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Now that I think about it, they’re the only ones Kate’ll talk to voluntarily.”

“Kate…?”

“Sorry—my wife. She works for UNIT as their Head of Tech, but the position’s more of a bureaucratic placeholder while they wait for the current Brigadier-Director to retire.”

“Your wife works for UNIT?”

“My father-in-law practically fucking founded UNIT,” he boasted. “I’ll keep you fully abreast of what’s going on in there as long as you give me the room to do my fucking job. It’s already cleared with Kate, in fact.”

“What choice do I have? They’ll eat me alive if I don’t.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but you’re the one who is allowed to take that chance.”

“Chance got me in here, Tucker—if I keep on relying on such things, my policies are never going to go anywhere.”

“This is precisely what I like to hear,” he replied. “I am here to execute optimal optics and methodology for reaching your preferred platform; chance merely determines what path we take as we spin our way there.”

“Don’t go too heavy on the spin,” she warned. “After a while it becomes a bunch of empty words and we don’t want that.”

“They’re mostly empty anyhow.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean that the public doesn’t want us to at least act like we’re more sincere than we really are.” She held out her hand. “Mobile, please.” He gave her both his work mobiles, and his personal, all of which she programmed her own numbers into. “Now you have all my lines, including private ones. Don't screw this up.”

“I won’t cock it up if you don’t first, Your Right Honorableness.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

If there was anything that Malcolm disliked more than being in government, it was possibly handling the courts system.

One of the first things that had been done the previous year was make certain that there was a restraining order against Loris, which had somehow “gotten lost” as it passed between hands and taken over a month to actually take effect. Once that was done, several more months passed in order to find a judge that had no possible conflict between Loris’s business ventures and Malcolm’s position in the Government, which meant that it took months more to wait their turn to have their case heard. The day of the initial hearing, Malcolm had to dodge no less than five staffers in the corridors in order to stay level-headed before making their case before the judge, only for his blood to begin boiling soon as he saw Loris in the courtroom. His glare was so profound that it made Gordon jump soon as the lad saw him.

“Hey, relax,” the teen said, sitting with his father and stepmother in the row behind Malcolm, Kate, and Fiona. “I’ve tried injuring him via stare too—it doesn’t work that well.”

“Thanks for coming here as potential character witnesses,” Kate cut in, attempting to ignore her husband’s ire. “The fact we all get on is going to be loads of help.”

“Any time,” Jonathan replied. “Just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean we’re sworn enemies.”

“You both do so much for Gordon that it’s the least we can do,” Erica added. She turned towards Fiona and put on the kindest smile she could muster, given the circumstances. “I’m just sad that you have to be here, kiddo. Summer days are meant for playing and reading all day and getting up to mischief that doesn’t involve all this boring adult stuff.”

“That’s okay—if it means I can stay with Mum and Dad, then I’ll be here,” Fiona said. She looked at her stepfather, then father, and back before shuddering. They were still glaring at one another and the intensity was palpable. “I don’t think I’ve seen my dads this cross at each other before.”

“It’s only going to get worse, so be careful,” Gordon warned quietly.

Court was soon called into session and lawyers from both sides methodically began to make their cases. Malcolm and Kate’s lawyer stated a single home would be leagues more beneficial for Fiona—who was fast approaching puberty—and the need to keep her stable superseded raising her alongside a negligent environment over at her father’s, whilst Loris’s made the case of the girl being used as a pawn in an effort to punish him for the divorce and carry out a long-seated grudge. The judge, a woman in her late fifties, listened to both sides stoically from her elevated position above the involved parties.

“Before we get to any character testimonies or hearing from the adults in this case,” she said, “I would like for Miss Fiona Francesca Ferrero to address the court. This trial is about her, and she deserves to be heard as well, before all our adult squabbling drowns her out.”

Fiona gulped and sank slightly in her chair before looking at Kate and Malcolm, both of whom nodded encouragingly for her to go up. She was sworn in and took her seat, which required her to sit on a couple books in order to see over the railing properly.

“Now I’m going to ask you some questions, Miss Fiona, and you need to be as truthful as possible,” the judge said. Fiona nodded in affirmation. “I need a verbal reply please, sweetie.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll try, ma’am.”

“Thank you. Now, you know what this case is about, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can you explain it to me? In your own words? I want to make sure you know what’s at stake here.”

The girl thought for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Mum and Dad… well, Mum and Malcolm… they want me to live with only them, and Malcolm wants to adopt me so they they’re both my parents no matter what anyone else says. My first dad doesn’t want that, because he’s my dad too, even though I haven’t stayed with him for a while. He wants to put me in different schools where I live far away from Mum and Dad and my brothers, but says it’s okay because they’re good schools. It gets kinda complicated… I can’t really explain it more than that, but I know this is all about me and who I live with.”

“That’s fine,” the judge nodded. “You seem to have a decent grasp of the situation. How old are you?”

“Nine.”

“…and you have two brothers, one from each parent, correct?”

“Uh-huh! Gordy is sitting behind Mum right now and is gonna be seventeen in two months. Marco isn’t here, but he’s twenty-two already. Gordy also has a little sister and brother from his dad, who are also not here, and I think of them like my cousins. They’re seven and three. Malcolm doesn’t have any kids, so he’s allowed to introduce Gordy and me as his son and daughter if we’re out somewhere.”

“You know this for a fact?”

“Yeah. I was there when he asked Gordy if it was okay, and I know he asked Mister Jonathan—Gordy’s dad—if it was okay as well. He asked me too, but I barely remember because it was a long time ago.”

“Did Mister Tucker ask your father, Mister Ferrero?”

“I don’t remember, but I don’t think so, just based on how Dad acts around him. They don’t like each other at all.”

“…but Mister Tucker and your brother’s father, Mister Kowalczyk, get on well?”

“Of course! Dad will go and ask Mister Jonathan if it’s okay to do stuff with Gordy, like take him to work or up to Scotland to visit, and sometimes Mister Jonathan and Miss Erica—Gordy’s stepmum—will ask if they can do things with him too. I’ve even gone camping with them in… York…? I think it was York.”

“Your honor?” Loris’s lawyer interrupted. “May I interject for a moment?”

“Be precise about it.”

“I understand that Miss Fiona is not only a child, but the child in question, and that we need to hear what she has to say, but I cannot help feel that she sounds a bit coached and unnecessarily long-winded. If you may, I would like that put on-record.”

“I’ll allow it.” The judge did not see, but Malcolm grabbed onto Kate’s hand and squeezed; he was livid. “Miss Fiona?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Do you know what Mister Lake means by ‘coached’?”

“…like in sports?”

“Yes, except in this case, it means that someone might have taught you what to say. Did your mum or Mister Tucker talk to you about what to say today?”

“Yeah, but they told me to tell the truth. I’ve told you nothing but the truth, ma’am. They trust me to say what’s right.”

“I would like to make sure that is on-record as well,” the judge said. She paused momentarily, letting the statement settle in the room. “Miss Fiona, back to my questions. This one is about life at home: when was the last time you were scolded? Can you remember?”

“Mum yelled at me a few days ago for wearing my muddy shoes in the house,” Fiona said with little hesitation. “She made me help her clean the rug.”

“…and before that?”

“Umm… she made me bite a bar of soap because I cussed. That was a couple weeks ago, I think… maybe last week. I don’t remember when, but I remember doing it. She got one brand-new from the cupboard, and it was still gross, so I’m gonna try to not cuss, at least around Mum.”

“Has Mister Tucker ever scolded you?”

“Well, yeah, but not for cussing. More like for watching cricket; he can’t stand cricket, but I think it looks kinda fun, which is why I watch it sometimes while he whines on the couch and throws popcorns at me.” She mimed her stepfather throwing individual kernels at her, giving her biggest, most exaggerated scowl as she did so. The courtroom seemed to chuckle in unison at that, reveling in the child’s clear sense of honesty. “I feed it to the birds in the back garden during commercials, since it drops to the floor.”

“That’s good, thinking of the birds like that. When you’re scolded,” the judge continued, “does it feel like you’re ever in danger of something other than being made to help tidy up or that you’re bombarded with popcorn?”

“No ma’am,” Fiona replied, shaking her head. “I know better than to do something that would get me hit. Last time I got a spanking was in nursery school for hitting Gordon. Mum asked me afterwards if that was fun, and I said no, and that’s why I don’t hit people, or do things to get me hit, because it doesn’t do anything other than hurt.”

“That sounds very sensible of you,” the judge nodded. She glanced over at Kate, who was rubbing her temple in frustration at the public airing of her parenting methods, and went back to the girl. “That was your mum. What about Mister Tucker?”

Fiona burst into giggles, but then caught herself, going quiet and shaking her head. “Dad doesn’t even change the channel when I go out to feed the birds popcorn. Can I ask a question, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

“Are you asking if I think he’d hit me?”

“Yes, I am. Do you ever feel scared around Mister Tucker? He can be a scary man, from what I hear.”

“He’s not scary at all, ma’am,” the girl insisted. “When he married Mum, he became my dad, because you don’t just marry a woman with kids if you don’t want her kids too. It’s what he said. He loves me and Gordy as well as Mum. Why would he do that if he loves us?”

“It is just a question I have to ask, nothing more.” The judge saw Fiona’s worried face and knew how upset she was. “Sometimes we have to ask questions that seem silly or rude, because the court needs to have the answers on record for later, when we’re not all here. Does that make sense?” Fiona nodded. “Good. Now what about your father, Mister Ferrero? Does he ever scold you?”

“No—he doesn’t talk to me much about anything,” Fiona said. “There’s not enough to scold me.”

“When he talks with you, what is it about?”

“What I want for dinner, or if I’m okay for him to leave for a couple minutes to pick up his girlfriend, mostly. He’s not gone long, and I just watch TV then. When I was really little, Marco was there, so it wasn’t that boring, and now I just do what he did.”

“…and why isn’t your brother there now?”

“He’s in uni and is really busy, and he kisses boys sometimes, and our dad doesn’t like that.”

“He doesn’t like your brother kissing boys?”

“Not really. I don’t know why he would want to kiss anyone, because kissing is gross, but our dad gets upset when he kisses other boys. They haven’t told me why, but it all seems silly.”

“Do your mum and Mister Tucker say anything about it?”

“No. Mum and Dad really like Marco. Sometimes they let me spend the night or weekend with him at his flat, kinda like how sometimes I spend time with Gordy’s dad and stepmum and other siblings. If they say anything, it’s not to me, and it doesn’t keep me from visiting.”

If there was any time Malcolm was glad that he had plenty of practice hiding his emotions, it was now. He wanted to jump up in celebration—Fiona outing her sperm donor’s less-than-accepting ways while being on-record in the middle of a custody hearing… it was like bloody fucking Christmas in July. The man was worse when it came to social progression than a patriarch on a BBC program from his youth, putting whatever groups he happened to identify with to shame. He glanced over towards Loris only to see that the other man was glaring at them, clearly incensed and wanting his lawyer to give further objection to how the court was being run and hanging him out to dry.

Fucking perfect.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Malcolm’s head swam as he groggily woke up. He groaned loudly; this getting old shit was definitely not anything he would recommend to anyone. It was bad enough he had to still go into court for yet another day of custody hearings (because the Powers That Be forbid that they actually start earlier in the day to finish it in one go), but he had to wake up before his fucking alarm as the icing on the shite-cake.

“Don’t move,” Kate muttered into his hair. She held him a bit tighter, keeping him in place. “If the alarm didn’t go off, then we don’t.”

“Let’s see how much we have before we need to brace for a third straight day of being in the same building as fucking Fredo,” he grumbled. Malcolm reached for the alarm clock and cussed—it was flashing midnight. “FUCK!”

“What's wrong?”

“Power must have cut overnight; the alarm reset!” Both panicked as they threw the bedding off of them and rushed to their respective wardrobes.

“I thought that thing had batteries!”

“Cannibalized them last week for the fucking remote—I knew we were missing something at the store!”

“Okay, good, it’s only nine,” Kate breathed as she checked her wristwatch. She put her trousers and blouse on quickly, glad she didn’t need to dig for anything. “We can make this. I’ll get Fiona up and start breakfast; you shower.”

“Already on it,” he replied, grabbing his clothes and taking them with him into the ensuite. He was showered and dressed in minimal time, though he was just finishing up his tie when there was a knock at the door.

“The fuck is it?!”

“Dad! Uncle Jamie is on your mobile!” He opened the door to see Fiona standing there, holding out his personal mobile and looking very confused. That’s right—his work ones were off due to the leave he was taking for the hearing. “He says it’s important.”

“Everything’s a fucking emergency to that lump of cack. Ask what the fuck he needs, Chips.”

“Dad wants to know what the fuck you need,” Fiona repeated into the mobile. She paused, frowned, and nodded. “He says it’s for adult ears only, so talk to him you cunting bent jessie hiding behind your beard and her bairn.”

“Give it here.” Malcolm took the device and held it up to his ear, his tie drooping down half-made. He waited until Fiona left before snarling into the mouthpiece. “What the fuck is so fucking important you can’t just wait until I get back? I overslept and have court today!”

“The Underground’s been bombed.”

Malcolm’s stomach dropped and twisted, his heart skipping a beat.

“Sammy and I are only able to keep things together for so long, but you better get the fuck down here and do what you do best,” Jamie continued. “Courts are cancelled—keep Kate and the wean home today.”

“Fucking hell—why’d it have to be now of all fucking times?”

“I’ve got a car coming to get you any minute now and a series of emails in your work inbox to catch you up to what we know. If your mobile doesn’t start having a seizure in two minutes you might want to phone Harriet and get this settled. They won’t believe it was an electrical problem for much longer, mate.”

“See you in a tic.” Malcolm ended the call and rushed downstairs, grabbing his work mobiles and turning them on as he rushed into the kitchen. “Kate?! Have you heard from Gordon?! Marco?!”

“No… why…?”

“The Underground’s been bombed—Jamie just called to tell me courts are cancelled and I have to go into work.” He saw his wife’s face grow pale as she dropped the bagel she had been holding on the floor. “Call the boys and make sure they’re alright. Stay home with Fiona and don’t leave until either I say or you can get a UNIT escort. I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back, but it won’t be before dinner. I love you.” He kissed Kate deeply and hugged Fiona before his work mobiles finally buzzed to life. Texts and missed calls were flooding in, showing the panic that was taking root outside their house. “Chips, where’d you put my work bag?”

“I got it,” she said. Fiona skittered over to the home office and returned to find her mum and stepdad kissing again, though this time with tears in their eyes. She handed over the messenger bag and gave Malcolm another hug.

A car horn sounded outside—his ride.

“I’ll call tonight,” he promised. “Text me when you hear from Gordon and Marco.”

“I shall. Be safe.”

“I’ll do my damnedest.”

He rushed out the door, ready to go. As Malcolm got into the back of the car—with his usual driver for during the day, thank fuck—he saw one of his mobiles light up as a call went through. He answered, steeling himself.

“Yes, Madam Prime Minister?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dinner was a quiet, lonely affair as Malcolm sat holed up in his office in Number 10. After a fourth explosion on a bus and the entire day of attempting to help Jones quell the panic, it was now finally a short lull in what had been almost nonstop damage control since getting into the car that morning. He had half of a half a sandwich left and a couple slices of satsuma sitting on a plate next to his room-temperature coffee. Instead of his attention on finishing the remainder of his dinner, however, he was listening to the dialtone on his mobile, waiting for the other end to pick up despite the late hour.

“Hey.” It was Kate.

“How’s it going?” he asked. “I’m sorry for scaring you two this morning…”

“No, no, it’s alright. There would have been no way to not scare us with what happened.” There was an exhausted pause, then a sigh. “Did you get my texts?”

“Gordon, Jonathan, and Erica weren’t anywhere near getting on the Tube and weren’t taking those lines anyhow,” he recalled. “Marco and his roommates are on holiday in Cornwall. You told my family we’re all safe, and your da knows we were delayed and missed even considering getting on those lines, let alone any.”

“Good. I’m glad. How are things over on your end, other than fucked?”

“Sammy’s calmed herself down quite a bit since then—she gets on at Kings Cross a lot—and her cousin’s planning on coming over soon as she can get through airport security. Harriet was still shaking last time I saw her, which was about an hour ago. She’s doing great on camera and in front of press, but breaks the fuck down once behind closed doors. At least it lets me know she’s still human.” He took a slice of satsuma and popped it in his mouth, knowing he had to eat despite not feeling like it. “Is Fiona alright?”

“She is, though she’s been worried about you all day. I think she even worried herself to sleep, because she turned in early.”

Malcolm ran his free hand through his hair before propping his head up with said arm. “Too bad you can’t bring me takeaway and let Fiona sleep on the camp bed in my office.”

“That would be something, wouldn’t it?” Memories from before their marriage resurfaced, which he knew calmed her as well as him. “Give ‘em Hell.”

They said good-night and ended the call, leaving Malcolm alone to stew in his tired, drained state. There was little more he wanted than to go home to his family, but he knew he had to stay at work. In another life, he was certain, he would have remained in Number 10 without so much as a second thought, yet now… now he was beginning to see how the life took away from what he loved most.

He had to do it though. There was no choice.

“Malcolm…?” He glanced over towards the door and saw Sam standing there, looking worse than he was. “Harriet says she needs you to quietly put pressure on some people who are trying to drag innocent names through the mud.”

“I’m coming.” He knocked back the remainder of his coffee and popped some of his satsuma in his mouth before standing up and heading out the door. Just another day at the fuck-office, after all.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It took over an entire week before Malcolm was able to walk into his own house after all was said and done. He quietly entered and closed the door behind him, only to be tackled in a hug by Fiona. She sniffled as she rubbed her face into his shirt, not wanting to talk at risk of breaking into tears; his lack of time spent at home was clearly wearing on her.

“Don’t worry about me, Chips,” he said assuringly. He stroked her hair and held her around the shoulders—it was going to be alright, for them at least. “I saw Mam’s car here—she at home?”

“Upstairs,” she informed him. He kissed the top of her head and had her go back to the sitting room so that he could talk to Kate alone. Taking off his shoes, he moved about the house in stocking feet, near silent despite his drained state.

“Kate…?” he called out. He poked his head in their room and found her sitting on the bed with what looked like a letter in her hand. “Kate? Love?”

“Malcolm.” She looked at him and he could see that there were tears in her eyes, setting him on high alert.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as she rushed to her side. “Who do I have to murder?”

“No one,” she said through half a laugh. “I just got this from the court today; we won.”

“No fucking way…!” He took the letter and glanced over it, seeing that the judge had made her decision and that the last day would have been a formality anyhow, and that they were skipping it in regards to the current state of transport and other delays. Full custody, a more rigid restraining order on Loris, and clearance for Malcolm to adopt Fiona and give her his name… it was the entire cunting deal. “Fuck… is this even legal…? Can she do this…?”

“I don’t know, but what I do know is that Loris is likely to appeal, and even then, how long would it take that level of the courts before they found a fully impartial judge?”

“Shit, you’re right…” Malcolm began to breathe deeply, trying to restrain himself and not jump for fucking joy. “Does Fiona know?”

“No—I didn’t know what the letter said when I got it and I didn’t want to worry her…”

“Let’s go tell her then,” he insisted. “I’m only home for tonight and then I go back for who-knows-how-long. I’m going to make this fucking count.” He stood, giving her a hand up and pulling her directly into a kiss. “Let’s go tell our daughter that we won.”

“Won what…?” The couple looked towards the bedroom door, seeing that Fiona was cautiously spying on them.

“The court case; Loris can’t use you to get to us anymore,” Malcolm grinned. He extended an arm and allowed Fiona to join in on their hug. “No more threatening to put you in a different school far away if you don’t want to; no more disrupting plans just so you sleep at his flat for the weekend; no more bullshit and fuckery.”

“Nona and Nonno are going to be very cross,” she giggled. “I’m glad I still get to visit them.”

“I think we’ll have to update your passport before we go visit again,” Kate mentioned. Her daughter looked curiously at her, not entirely understanding what she meant. “Don’t you remember? One of the things we were going to court for was to allow Malcolm to adopt you. Your last name can be Tucker now.”

“I’d like that a lot,” she smiled. She hugged her parents both a bit tighter, not realizing how it made her stepfather’s heart swell in joy.

He was going to officially be her father, and it was the greatest fucking feeling short of what he felt on his wedding day. Letting go of Kate, he bent down and slung Fiona across his shoulders, picking her up as he held onto one arm and one leg.

“I’m home for the night, so why don’t we have some fun?” he laughed, spinning around in a circle. The girl shrieked in laughter—of course. He tossed her onto the bed and watched her bounce to a standstill. “How about if we make dinner and eat in the sitting room? Isn’t there a match on tonight?”

“Dad, you hate cricket!”

“…but I love my daughter more,” he winked. “Come on, what do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know—what do we have?”

“Go on ahead and figure it out; Mam and Dad need a little bit of Kissing Time.”

“Ew, gross,” she cringed before leaving. Fiona closed the door behind her so that she heard nothing when her parents tackled one another into the bed and got in a celebratory quickie before needing to make certain she didn’t use the stove to burn the house down on accident.

They won… and better yet, they got the best possible outcome. All three rode the high all the way until they went to bed that night, glad for the new chapter their family was about to take—together.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nothing really did get back to what Malcolm was comfortable describing as normal, but things eventually settled into something new that he knew he was going to have to deal with. It was fucking blasted, if he was honest, because everyone was still jumpy and the amount of precautionary checkpoints and additional clearance levels was driving him up the fucking wall. He glared out the office window as he waited for its usual occupant to show up. Soon as MP Nicola Murray saw him she jumped in surprise, having not expected anyone in her office, let alone the PM’s enforcer.

“Fuck, Malcolm, don’t scare me like that,” she cursed. “You’re going to give me a bloody heart attack one of these days.” She sat down at her desk and noted that he was still staring out the window. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Just thinking,” he admitted. “Nicola, I need to go over the script for the interview you’re giving on Channel Four tomorrow. We need to make sure it’s on the fucking nose, or it’ll sink this department quicker than a vengeful iceberg.”

“There’s something else on your mind though, I can tell,” she said. “I’m a parent too.”

“Maybe after we’ve retired into doddering old fools—I’m not opening up right now.”

“You sure? It can be hard parenting a girl, especially a feisty one.”

“Remind me again when she hits puberty and I might break.” He turned and ran his hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. “I’m just glad her brother’s not only calm, but has a decent other set of parents. I’d need to take up smoking again if their temperaments were anything alike in that regard.”

Uh-huh… not going to open up. Nicola simply smiled inwardly and allowed the Director of Communications—whom was most certain supposed to be there to have a shout at her—blurt out all his newly compounded worries and cares. It beat a bollocking any day of the week and she took it for what it was worth.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2006

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“My hands are tied, Malcolm. I’m sorry. Truly.”

If it had come out of anyone else, he would have cussed them out, verbally eviscerating them until there was nothing left worth worrying over. Instead, it had come out of Harriet Fucking Jones, which stunned him like a lorry at full speed.

“You mean… you’re sacking me…?”

“I have to,” she said, unable to make eye contact. “There’s been threat of a vote of confidence if I don’t, and we both know that if it comes to that, I’m done. The Party would be done. All we’ve accomplished for Britain, done… unless I give you the sack right here and now.”

He sank down into the chair, completely at a loss. What the fuck was he going to tell Kate? The kids? How long before they knew? Oh fuck…

“I’ve been able to afford you a driver to bring you back home, and supervised access for a week should you need to return for something, which I suggest you do regarding your things after a couple days if Sam can’t gather up the wherewithal to do so,” she continued. “Keep my numbers in your mobile though; whether we ever work together again or not, I still want to hear from you on occasion.”

He had been fucking sacked.

As he made the motions to leave, all sorts of emotions began to take seed within Malcolm. There was rage and anger, of course, but there was also embarrassment, worthlessness, and confusion. He only left once he was certain that Sam was going to be alright—they were going to ring one another later to check in—and barely recalled having several shouts on his way out the door. He was completely blinded as well as blindsided. Fucking Steve Fleming and his fucking machinations; if this wasn’t the Party making its leader put a bullet in its foot, he didn’t know what was.

A quiet car ride and dodging paparazzi later and Malcolm finally was home. He leaned on the shut door and breathed deeply. They were fucking fucked; the kids were likely going to have to stay with Jonathan or Alistair for a few days while the sharks lapped up all the blood they craved spilling out of him. It made him sick to think that now, because of a little fucking garden gnome with a superiority complex, he was a useless pile of shit.

Fuck.

“Malcolm…? You’re home early,” Kate noticed. She came out of the kitchen while drying her hands on a tea towel—that’s right, her day off.

“Love, I…” he began, yet his throat ran dry. Out of all the screaming and shouting he had been doing over the past few hours, there were barely any words left for his wife. “Listen, we have to talk.”

“Yes, we do,” she said. Wait, was she happy? Fuck, she was thinking about something else.

“Me first, because I really think you should know this…”

“…and I really think you should know this.”

“This is kind of super-fucking-important… a life-changer, so to speak.”

“…and my thing isn’t?”

“Kate, I don’t know if you’ve seen the news already, but…” He choked up again, unable to say it himself. She took him in her arms and hugged him gently, rubbing his back.

“I did see the news,” she said, feeling him tense at her words. “It’s wonderful.”

“Kate, love, I… I…” He swallowed hard. “I got sacked.” Fucking fuck, it felt terrible to say it out loud.

“…and…?”

She was being incredibly calm for this, he noticed. Malcolm looked into Kate’s eyes, wondering what it was that was keeping her so serene, what was keeping the half-smirk on her face.

“I got sacked,” he repeated. “I’ve been sacked, there’s paps waiting outside to watch our every fucking move, my career’s in ruins, the PM is going to be out of her fucking depths because I’m no longer taking care of mopping up everyone’s shit, despite the fact she has absolutely no fucking choice in the matter if she want to stay in confidence…”

“The house is paid for in-full, I’ve talked to Erica and she’s keeping both kids overnight, and we still have not only my career—which is still going splendidly, by the way—but your illustrious savings that we’ve barely touched,” she said. “Besides, I want you here, at home, taking care of things here for a change. It will be better for not only you, but the kids as well.”

“…but…!”

“Malcolm,” Kate leaned forward and kissed his lips, breathing against his mouth, “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes went wide as he stepped back to stare at her, jaw gaping in shock. “You’re… you’re… fuck, you can’t be serious.”

“I would not joke about a child,” she affirmed. She draped her arms around his shoulders and locked gazes with him. “Used today to fit in a trip to my lady-parts doctor—I’m due in November.”

Malcolm did the math in his head and furrowed his brow. “You mean, Valentine’s?”

“Possibly then, but it’s not like we shag only once in a great while,” she reminded him. “By Christmas, we will have a child. With the way you care for Gordon and Fiona now, I have no doubt that you can make the switch over to professional baby-minder with ease.”

Laughing breathlessly, Malcolm attempted to process the situation. He was now unemployed, but his wife was also going to have a baby. Him, a father, at forty-eight; not a stepfather or one by adoption, not an involved uncle, but someone who contributed to the overall gene pool of humanity. He was going to raise a child he made, that no one else could claim and take him to court for, and it already existed, was growing, inside Kate at that very moment. Taking a deep breath, he kissed her, holding her close as everything came splashing down in a wave of ecstasy and glee.

Fuck the Party; he was going to be a father.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It took only a couple days before Malcolm felt safe enough to step out of the house again, which he used as an excuse to go fetch Gordon and Fiona from Surrey. He thanked fuck that his Astra was so fucking inconspicuous and family-oriented, as it likely helped to keep eyes off him as he made his way through suburbia and back. They all made it back to the house without incident, and discovered that lunch was already waiting for them, as Kate had an evening shift and was therefore around to make sandwiches. As they all sat down at the table, the adults glanced at one another—the sooner they got the conversation over with, the better.

“Kids,” Kate said, “we have something to talk to you about… something that will change how we’re going to do things around here.”

“It’s not good, is it?” Gordon asked. Malcolm and Kate both blinked in surprise.

“Why do you say that?” Kate wondered.

“That’s usually what people say when they’re ready to give bad news, yeah? It’s not like I can’t watch the news or read the paper—Malcolm got sacked.”

“This is true,” Malcolm replied, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, “but this is going to end up being a good thing in the end.”

“I thought being sacked wasn’t a good thing,” Fiona mused.

“Normally it isn’t, especially in my caree—erm—former career and I’ve decided to use this opportunity to focus on what’s really important: my family.” Malcolm took Kate’s hand in his underneath the table, borrowing her strength for what was quickly becoming a disorienting discussion with the kids. “I’ve been talking with your mam and we’ve decided that I’m going to stay home instead of finding a new job… my job will be you.”

“Us?” Gordon raised an eyebrow in confusion. “You barely handle being at home on holiday very well.”

“This isn’t like the last time I was searching for a job after getting sacked,” Malcolm admitted. “Things get put into perspective differently when there’s a family involved, and though you’re right in that I’m probably going to go fucking bananas after a bit, I’ll get used to it, because I not only have to, but I want to, and you both need to know that.”

“Why do you have to stay home, Dad?” Fiona asked through some sandwich. “Is it because of the paps?”

“No, not because of anyone you know, yet,” Kate said. She saw the quizzical looks on her children’s faces and nearly could not stop herself from bursting into happy tears, fuck hormones. “Malcolm is going to stay home because I am having a baby in November.”

If there could have been two different reactions to the news, they had to come from Gordon and Fiona. The latter’s eyes went large with excitement and wonder, letting out a shrill and excited giggle at the very idea. At the very same time, the former leaned back in his seat and attempted to make himself look much smaller than he really was, his face turning green at the prospect.

“A baby?!” Fiona screeched. “I’m gonna be a big sister?! For real?! In real life?!”

“We wouldn’t lie about something like that,” Malcolm nodded. The girl jumped up from her chair and bounced around in excitement. Her brother, however…

“What… uh… great news,” the teen said quietly. He appeared wholly unnerved at the entire situation, ignoring how his sister was now suddenly bolting up the stairs in order to figure out what she was going to share with the baby and what she needed to put safely on high shelves. “Why…?”

“It just happened,” Kate said. She knew the look on his face; it was the gut-churning assurance that his mum was getting thoroughly shagged by his stepfather, at least enough to warrant the creation of a child between them. While part of him seemed to be at least somewhat aware back when he was told of Fiona’s impending arrival, it was different now that he was nearly an adult and knew everything that was involved in the creation of another human life. “What do you think, Gordon?”

Her son stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating his choice in words. He then threw those aside and attempted another question. “What’ll happen if they want Malcolm back in a year’s time?”

“I’ll tell them to fuck off,” the man in question replied. “Maybe I’d go back to them in another life, but like I said: my perspective is different this time. Being laid off from a newspaper as a young bachelor is another world from being sacked as Director of Communications for the Prime Minister while a middle-aged sap with a family. Your mam’s career is almost going too well—we’ll need someone at home looking after things full-time if she ends up having to focus more time at work.”

“The balance we had was good for raising you and Fiona for all these years,” Kate added, “but a baby comes with its own challenges and I don’t want to be putting the job of raising one of my children on strangers. Granddad and Nana Doris can’t handle babies anymore, Granny and Athair live too far away, I don’t want to rely too much on Erica, and you already have your day to report for training…”

“…meaning my staying home is the obvious choice,” Malcolm finished. Fiona then skittered back into the room, almost knocking over her chair as she sat down in it. She had remembered that there was still part of her lunch left and began to eat it as fast as she could without being scolded. “I love my wife and kids too much to let things derail just because my pride was damaged. Yeah, I’ll get back at them all one day, but it won’t be until they least expect it, when they will come down harder and be worse-off in the end. Until then, my only job is my family.”

“So then you’ll raise us like Athair raised you and Auntie Marcia and Uncle Johnny?” Fiona asked.

“Where do you think we got the idea?” he laughed. “It’ll be an adjustment, but it’s one I’m more than willing to go through if it means that I have a chance at what matters.”

“…and that’s us, and the baby,” Fiona grinned.

“You better fucking believe it,” Malcolm chuckled. “I’m a different man with you four, and it’s the best excuse to get me out of that life of threatening cunts and twats within an inch of their lives for sixteen hours a day.”

“Maybe this means we can start swearing less…?” Kate suggested casually. She took a bite of sandwich as she watched her husband’s face twitch in disgust.

“You can fish a cunt out of the Kelvin but you can’t ask him to not do what he does best and stink up the place,” he scoffed. “No can do, love.”

“Then maybe I should send all your favorite reporters a photo of you in the Astra in your joggers,” she threatened.

“You wouldn’t fuc—” He caught himself, instead shoving a large bit of sandwich into his mouth.

Sending all those sad, pathetic fucks a celebratory wank of a goodbye was one thing, but the Astra-and-joggers threat was entirely another. He was going to actually be decent regarding his language for once and it was going to, well, fucking suck a wart-crusted dick… that was, until Kate forgot about it the following week.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The doorbell rung and Malcolm had to wade through a sea of children to reach the front door. It was Fiona’s tenth birthday and it was Kate’s idea to have a party where they would invite her classmates from school as well as some family. He got to the door and opened it, finding his brother standing there with an overnight bag in one hand and a present in the other.

“About fucking time,” Malcolm said. “You said you’d be here three hours ago; what happened?”

“Cows on the rails or something like that,” Johnny replied, rolling his eyes. He glanced through the house to see the mass of children and chuckled. “Oh, this is driving you up the wall, isn’t it?”

“Nothing’s better than kids you raise, but nothing’s worse than the kids you don’t,” Malcolm muttered under his breath. His brother laughed at that, almost too amused.

“I see you’re taking the transition to stay-at-home dad in-stride.”

“Fuck off, you bent cumsucker.”

“Uh-huh. I’m not the one with almost thirty children under the age of twelve in his house, running about and doing as they please.” The brothers were about to get properly into an insult match when Fiona noticed them standing in the foyer, gasping in delight at the sight.

“Uncle Johnny! You made it!”

“Why yes I did,” the man in-question replied. He was attacked with a hug from his youngest niece, only just able to pass the brightly-wrapped box in his arms to his brother before it was knocked over. “Why would I miss my niece’s first birthday as an official Tucker when I’ve missed so many already?”

“A really, really good reason, I guess,” she shrugged. “Oh! That’s right! I have to be a good hostess and visit with guests!” She then ran off, only for Gordon to emerge from the party.

“Oh, good, let me take your bag, Uncle Johnny,” he said, a desperate undertone to his voice. He leaned in and said just low enough for the other men to hear, “These kids are driving me insane, and three of them are my own siblings.”

“Just think of how much adulting you’re going to get when you report to boot camp; Lex told me you’ve committed.”

“Please don’t tell Granny or Auntie Marcia yet—I need to do that myself,” the teen half-pleaded. “I’m just trying to come up with what to say so that neither kills me.”

“Well you’re going to need a damn good excuse for them considering one thinks there’s no more art to war anymore and the other protested Vietnam,” Johnny said. “The Air Force isn’t that bad though, and you’ll be an officer, right?”

“Hopefully, and I want to use it to get a transfer into UNIT soon as I can—some of the top people at Mum’s work got in that way without even seeing a single tour of duty. It’s risky, but it’s one I’ll take if it means I can avoid the hoops I’d need to jump through in Geneva.”

“Oh good, it’s you John,” Kate said as she popped her head into the foyer. “I need you and Malcolm to help Marco and me with the cake and ice cream; Gordon, bring Uncle John’s stuff up to the guest room and then come right back because you are not getting out of things that easy.”

“…but Mum…”

“No buts—if Marco can help, then you can help.” She then vanished back into the kitchen, leaving the three to themselves.

“Better do what she asks, or Hormonal Mam might make another appearance,” Malcolm warned. Gordon went pale and trudged up the stairs.

“Let me guess: she’s leaning into the stereotype hard?” Johnny whispered.

“Yes, and it’s been worth it since it gets him to actually do shit around here,” Malcolm replied. “Now let’s get going or we’re going to be on the receiving end.”

…and that was definitely something that the brothers could agree on as a bad thing.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was early Tuesday morning, on a lazy, rainy, relaxing summer day. With Fiona sleeping in and Gordon off at his father’s, Kate and Malcolm were nestled in bed together, him snuggled up behind her with one hand going towards a breast and the other resting on where their child was beginning to show on her abdomen.

“Morning,” he murmured, kissing her behind her ear. “Sleep well?”

“Now that I’m not vomiting every two hours? Yeah.”

“Good.” He held her tighter, already feeling that the bedsheet covering them was too warm. “Want to take advantage of the noise the rain’s making?”

“Not now,” she chuckled. She sat up in bed and gazed down at her husband. Tousled and horny, he was incredibly obliging and increasingly domestic since his decision to stay home. She bent down to kiss him, only to be cut off by the sound of his mobile ringing on the dresser. “Who is that…?”

“Probably Harriet,” he grumbled. “She’s trying to get me to come back.”

“Shouldn’t you answer it?”

“I don’t want to.”

Sighing heavily, Kate got out of bed and walked over to the dresser, looking at who the contact was on the mobile—Nicola Murray. “I’m answering it.”

“Kaaaate…” She ignored him and answered the call.

“Hello? This is Malcolm’s wife, Kate. Who is this?”

“Oh, hello—this is Nicola Murray, one of his coworkers from the Party. Is Malcolm there?”

“That depends on the reason behind this phone call.”

“The Prime Minister has been trying to get a hold of him with no luck, so she asked me if I could try to reach him.”

“Then your luck seems to be a bit better, as he’s right here,” Kate said. She turned around to see Malcolm sitting with his legs over the side of the mattress and scowling at her, which prompted her to put the mobile against her chest and whisper, “If you don’t answer one of them, they’ll keep calling.”

“It’s not my fault they can’t take a fucking hint!”

“Play. Nice.” She then handed him the mobile, giving him a stern look until he held it to his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Malcolm? It’s Nicola. Why the fuck have you been so difficult to contact lately?”

“I’m difficult to contact because I’m out of the game,” he said. Kate walked back around the bed and laid down, evident by the shifting of the mattress. She idly scratched his back while she laid there, letting him know she was with him.

“It’s a mess,” Nicola admitted. Fuck, off to a great start. “We are floundering left and right. Not everyone sees it yet, but Harriet and I do. It’s only a matter of time before it all goes tits up.”

“I’m not coming back.”

“Please.”

“It won’t work.”

“Tucker, we need you,” Nicola said. She audibly swallowed hard—this was not an easy call for her to make. “Please, come back.”

“My wife is pregnant and I already volunteered to be the one to stay home,” he replied.

“You’ll be making more than enough to afford a nanny.”

“No, Nicola, you don’t get it,” he groaned. “I love my stepkids, but this is the only child I personally have created and I am not going to let this opportunity pass. Gordon and Fiona were both already in school when I met Kate. This baby…” A lump began to form in his throat and he ran his free hand through his hair—fuck, this would be easier if he could simply cuss them all out. “I’m going to have a legacy. I spent so long thinking there wouldn’t be another blood-Tucker after me, and now it’s happening, and I want to be there for every moment. Go be Harriet’s right hand, because I’m fucking done with being the left.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“More sure of anything I’ve ever been in my pathetic waste of a life thus far.”

“There’s nothing we can say to change your mind?”

“If you ask me about freelancing a small project here or there in a few years, then maybe you might be able to convince me to part-time, but not now. It doesn’t matter if Harriet Jones, Prime Minister, comes begging on her hands and knees—I won’t come back like I was. Putting me out to pasture was the best thing she could have ever done. I don’t regret it.”

There was silence on the other end, and then Nicola clearing her throat. “Okay. I’ll tell Harriet I couldn’t get a hold of you, and that we should give up for now. You’d probably be too busy being scared of Peppa Pig’s dead-eyed stare to be of use to us.”

“You have a point.” He chuckled slightly, his thoughts wandering off. “Take care, Nicola.”

“…and you, Malcolm.”

Ending the call, he placed his mobile on the nightstand and looked at his wife. “It’s done.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kate wondered.

“I am near good as dead to them, professionally-speaking,” Malcolm claimed. He laid back into bed and looked her in the eyes. “No nanny. No absenteeism. None of that. I’m done with that life, because now it’s time to look after the kids.”

“I hold you to it.” She pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled hazily—she must not have gotten as much sleep as she thought she did. “I’m gonna have a bit of a lie-in since I don’t go in today. Want to join me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Six hours.

It had been six hours since Malcolm finally, unequivocally, became a father. For over three years, his children had without a doubt been Gordon and Fiona, yet the wee babe sitting in his wife’s arms as she was being bottle-fed had no other parents but them. It was another person who had his eyes, but it was also a someone who had Kate’s hair. The hospital room was quiet as the two adults sat next to one another on the bed, eyes glued to their daughter.

“How did you make something so perfect, love?” he wondered aloud. She chuckled at that, handing him the bottle without looking.

“We both made her, and it was not easy.” She wiped a bit of spit-up from the newborn’s chin and shifted her in order to pat her back gently. A tiny burp escaped her and she settled back down in her mother’s arms, fast asleep. “Be careful with what you say or Fiona will get jealous.”

“Fiona knows better than to think that she’s any less my daughter now that we’ve got this little darling,” he reminded her. “Our daughters are two of the best things the world has ever seen.”

“Hope there’s room in that admission for me,” a voice joked. The two glanced over to see Gordon standing in the doorway, smirking at his mother and stepfather. He was still dressed in camouflage and boots, very clearly being allowed out of training camp for only a brief moment.

“Of course, sweetie,” Kate beamed. Gordon came over to his mother’s side and kissed her on the cheek. “How’s it feel to be a big brother again?”

“Weird, but the good kind,” he admitted. “Can I hold her?”

“Of course.” She passed him the newborn and watched as Gordon sat down in the chair and held his youngest sister, bouncing her slightly in his arm.

“She’s tinier than my other siblings were, isn’t she?”

“No; this one and Fiona were roughly the same size at least, trust me on that one,” Kate replied. She watched her eldest tend to her youngest, a smile crossing her lips. The baby grunted as she woke, staring with sleepy eyes at the new person holding her. “I’m glad you were able to come over.”

“I am too; it’s just a good thing Granddad knows my drill instructor, or else I’d still be crawling through mud.” He glanced down at the baby and saw she was poking at the rough fabric of his uniform curiously. “What’s her name?”

“Florence Katherine Tucker, or Flossie to those who matter,” Malcolm said. “By now, you must be a baby pro, aren’t you?”

“It only means I’m having my own kids after I’m good and ready—no rushing into anything for me,” Gordon replied. He saw the baby scrutinizing him, at which he chuckled. “Yeah, I’m talking about you. I know you’re a lot of work, which means you’re not becoming an auntie for a long time yet. Nothing easy about you.”

“Would you believe this is the easy part?” Kate mentioned. Her son looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “The hard part is you, if you’ll imagine, when the babies that once needed all our attention suddenly don’t, and they go off into the world to show what they’ve learned. It’s wondering if they’re doing as they were taught or if they’re ignoring all the lessons that have been imparted over the years. Did we, as parents, do well or did we cock it up and released an idiot upon the world? We never know.”

“I should hope it’s not the latter for me,” Gordon smirked.

“No; so far you’re doing fine, lad,” Malcolm added. He too was taking pleasure out of seeing the two siblings—from the same mother, yet so different in age and stage in life—and the dichotomy between them. “You’d know if you were prone to cocking up.”

“Good.” Gordon glanced back down at his baby sister and whispered, “Don’t you do anything like that either. Dad’s still not used to not having several shouts a day anymore and I think the squirrels in the back garden are going to run away on accounts of verbal abuse.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, fuck you too.”

Gordon gave his stepfather the two-fingered salute—as if either of them gave a flying fuck.

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nehswritesstuffs · 5 years ago

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part XLIII

Here is a Christmas Eve update for everyone! Whether you need to get away for family for a few minutes, kill time while traveling, get your mind off something, or you’re not celebrating and need something to read, here’s a few thousand words of fluff for you. Merry Christmas!

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

Malcolm and Fiona have a heart-to-heart on a summer afternoon. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

Eventually, after all related parties had gotten a bit of rest and were capable of thinking semi-clearly despite their overwhelming exhaustion, Malcolm and Kate escorted Martha to her flight back to Canada and immediately went home to sleep in their own bed again. No work calls, no petty arguments that needed quelling—they were taking a late morning together before Kate headed back into work. The couple purposefully over-slept as well, getting in a bit of extra time alone before wandering out into the main of the house, which smelled of fresh biscuits.

“Morning!” Fiona said cheerily as they entered the kitchen. Much of the room was an explosion of baking supplies, which seemed to not bother her in the slightest.

“…what are you doing…?” Kate deadpanned. She frowned as Malcolm swiped a biscuit and began munching on it—still warm.

“I dunno; just felt like baking today,” Fiona replied. “Maybe if I get good enough I can go on Bake-Off.”

“You’re not going on Bake-Off, I know you,” Kate sighed in exasperation. “Just clean up when you’re done, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Fiona then continued to work on finishing up the biscuits while her mother and stepfather dodged her in order to get some breakfast. “Hey, Mum, how long do you think until we get Conall here?”

“Not for a few months at the least,” Kate said. “We’re giving Miss Oswald a little bit of time with him first, so we’re thinking maybe October or November. Why?”

“I was just wondering,” she shrugged. “Can you blame me for wanting to know when my baby brother’s gonna be here?”

“He’s gonna be a person, not a puppy; calm down,” Malcolm snarked. “If you don’t get into another school quickly, then you’re going to be helping out a whole hell of a lot more than you’re bargaining for.”

“Then maybe I can be a stay-at-home sister and take classes online.”

“No, I expressly forbid it; you are going to university properly and that’s final,” Kate cut in sternly, her tone quickly darkening. “You won’t always have this freedom—take advantage of it while you can.”

“Yikes, Mum, chill out—it was just an option. I didn’t think you’d really go for it…”

“Correct, because I won’t,” Kate said. “Now by the time I get home I want to see the information on three different schools that you’ve either applied to, or are in the process of applying to, and I am deadly serious, because you need to either be in school or have a job and playing nanny to your brother is not going to cut it.”

“I get it, Mum, relax,” Fiona frowned. She popped another tray in the oven and set the timer as her mother took some coffee and left to sulk in the sitting room. “What got her off on the wrong foot this morning?”

“I dunno, but it’s best to let her be, I’ve discovered, when the day starts like this, and it’s only been recently that I’ve noticed it’s getting worse.” Malcolm took his own sip of coffee and nodded. “At least it’s not often and I don’t go into work today.”

“What? You’ve got the day off and Mum doesn’t?”

“Miscommunication back when we wrote the schedules means that I have today off, while she has tomorrow,” he shrugged. “It’s almost like watching a lady version of me stomping about work when this happens; shame to miss, but I’m not going to be a fucking fool and get in her way.”

“That does sound pretty scary, not gonna lie,” she agreed.

The two continued to shuffle about in their morning activities, with Malcolm staying in the kitchen to test the biscuits that periodically came from the oven, remaining in his pajamas and robe until after his wife left for work mid-morning. He took a long, hot shower after that, dressing in casual slacks and a polo shirt in order to stay comfortable yet still be able to be seen in public should he need to leave the house. By the time he exited his bedroom and got started on his projects for the day, he found the kitchen cleaned up and Fiona plopped down on the sitting room couch with her computer, presumably looking up schools.

“Doing what your mam asked you to?” he checked.

“Yup.” She held up the laptop and turned it around so the screen faced him—that looked like a university website if he’d ever seen one. “I need to write some letters though, so I think I’m just going to research the schools themselves and pick out the three I want to put in at first, then start on the letters so that I at least have something to do tomorrow too.”

“It’s gonna take you more than today to apply to three?”

“Yeah—applying for university today is more difficult than back in the Bronze Age,” she joked. “I have to submit records and recommendations and all sorts of other things, so it’s not like doing it all online makes the process go any quicker. It’s worse than applying for a job.”

“You’ve never had a job.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen people apply for jobs and the pressure is much less severe than this,” she noted. “I’ll let you know if I need help.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He nodded and began to wander away, going over his list of chores mentally as he did so.

It took all morning, but Malcolm was able to get a majority of his tinkering done. He weeded two of the flower beds, fixed a rail on the gazebo, and attended to a sink in the main upstairs bathroom that was annoyingly leaky, finishing the plumbing job right before a late lunch. After turning the water back on to the piping and washing up quickly, he went to make himself a sandwich, only to find Fiona doing the exact same thing for herself.

“Looks like it’s that time,” he said idly, grabbing the loaf of bread and a plate. “How’s the applications coming along?”

“They’re… getting there,” she shrugged. She put the kettle on and made them both a cuppa to go with their lunch. It was disturbingly quiet in the kitchen, with both occupants having plenty on their minds. “Hey, uh, Malcolm? Can I talk to you about something?”

His attention was caught. “Of course—what is it about?”

“…um… I admit I’ve been a bit hesitant on my admission papers, but that’s because I’m trying to figure out if I really want to do something else first.” She put their tea down and sat at the table, seeing that a small pile of crisps had appeared on her plate of Malcolm’s doing.

“You don’t want to talk to your mam?”

“No… she really doesn’t understand how I feel about it…”

“…about uni? You know she sat enough classes to graduate, yeah?”

“Yeah, but it’s not about uni as a concept, but what I tell them when I apply.” She munched on a crisp and stared at the crust on her sandwich. “I’m considering changing my last name; I’m done with being a Ferrero. It’s just an Italian version of Smith, anyhow.”

“Won’t your grandparents be upset?” he wondered.

“Nonno calls my father an idiot to his face and Nona doesn’t say as much, but you can tell by the way she looks and acts that she is constantly embarrassed by him; they won’t mind. In fact, I doubt they’d blame me.”

“…and you don’t want to discuss this with your mam because her own relationship with her father came out stronger despite their differences, making her unable to see when things are irreconcilable,” He surmised. Fiona nodded silently. “Meanwhile, I don’t know my father aside from a couple vague and potentially made-up details, therefore not having any room to tell you all that ‘he’s family’ bullshit and not pressure you one way or the other.”

“Yeah.” They ate a few bites of lunch before continuing on. “I don’t think I’ll get away from Ferrero Financial or any of the issues from my previous schools unless I change my name too, which is part of the problem as well.”

“Sounds like a solid case as any,” he shrugged. “Have any ideas floating around?”

“Sort of…” She took a sip of tea and breathed deeply. “I was first considering ‘Lethbridge-Stewart’, like Gordy and Granddad, just ‘Lethbridge’, or even ‘Stewart’ like Mum, but I’ve been thinking about something else.”

The young woman grew quiet and Malcolm frowned. “What is it?” She didn’t answer him, clearly steeling herself for something. “Fiona? Kiddo? What are you thinking about?”

“I’d like to go with ‘Tucker-Stewart’, with your permission of course,” she said quietly. “I want it to be clear who my parents are, and it would help out Conall in the end having someone with his exact surname to boot.”

The only sound in the kitchen was the tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall. Malcolm stared at Fiona, his heart aching, while she avoided eye contact. Change her name? Partially to his? It was far from something he had expected and it was terrifying.

Yes, Malcolm, Scourge of Whitehall and Enforcer of UNIT, Tucker was metaphorically shitting his pants because of a wee nineteen-year-old.

“Fiona, lass, I’m not your father,” he said gently. He tried to keep his voice under control, yet could hear it—feel it—waver. “I’ll support you in the name change if that’s what you really want, but you still have to remember that. I’m just some man your mam married… nothing more.”

“…except that you’ve been a better dad to me the past few years than mine’s been in my entire memory,” she claimed, everything spilling out. “He was alright when I was little, but that was because we had Marco as a buffer. I barely see him when I’m over at his place, and when I do, he’s usually with one of his girlfriends. Did you know that since Mum, he’s given up on the family type and goes for women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-nine? It would be different if it accidentally happened once or twice, but he seeks that sort of thing out. I’m over eighteen now and Marco is married and in his thirties—that’s not right and I want nothing to do with it.”

“Fiona…”

“…and it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m more comfortable with you around than him. Loris Ferrero is my father, yeah, but I feel like Malcolm Tucker is my dad and I want my name to reflect that.”

“You aren’t worried that going by ‘Tucker-Stewart’ will make you look like Conall’s mam?”

“If anyone is seriously that stupid, then I don’t know what to tell you.” She drained her cuppa and went back to the teapot to pour herself another. “It just feels right.”

“This could be dangerous,” he warned. “Who knows how many people I’ve made enemies with over the years are ready and waiting to get at me, at my family, and your adoption of my name would make you only a bigger and more obvious target. Conall will likely be safe because enough time will pass between my forced retirement and when he wants to do anything, but you… you’re still liable to run into the sad fucks I eviscerated on a daily basis. Don’t go risking shit because I’m a better da than yours by virtue of not ignoring you.”

“None of them thought you had a family though,” she reasoned as she sat back down. “If they don’t make the connection, then things will be fine… though if they do, then they will know that not only did you raise competency, but that I learned from the best and am not to be fucked with.”

That hit Malcolm square in the jaw. “I didn’t raise you.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“No, I didn’t; you were fifteen and in boarding school when your mam and I first began dating…”

“So? You’ve been around for multiple years while I was in secondary, married Mum after needing to propose twice, were ready to help us out when we thought she died…” She trailed off, thinking, before shooting him a victorious smirk. “That portrait…”

“What portrait?”

“The one Nona made me sit last year; you have it on your desk at work, yeah?” He blinked at her—he did. “If you have a photo of me on your desk at work, then you’re my dad.”

“…but I have one of Lex…”

“You’re good as Lex’s dad, just ask her, which means there’s nothing stopping you from being as good as mine too. Fuck anyone who says otherwise, because I know what a real family is and we’re part of one. The only thing that’s missing is me calling you Dad, which can start whenever you’re ready by the way.”

“…what…?” Malcolm gaped. His eyes went wide as he felt tears stinging at the corners, blurring his vision.

You helped raise me, so you’re my dad. Fuck anyone who doesn't believe otherwise, because they can't understand what a real family is if it bit them in the bloody cock.

“Malcolm…?” Fiona stood and went around the table, taking the chair next to him as she tried to see what was wrong. “Are you alright? Why are you crying?”

“It’s… well… because… fuck…” He palmed his eyes and wiped away tears stubbornly. “Don’t fucking look at me.”

“Malcolm…”

“What the fuck did I just say?!” he snapped. She jumped in surprise, taken aback by the outburst. Her startled confusion only served to tug at his heart; he exhaled heavily and shielded his eyes with a hand, propping himself up against the tabletop.

“Should… should I…?”

“No, I’m sorry. Fuck. It’s just… you’ve said that to me before… sort of…”

That puzzled her. “When did I say that?”

Taking a deep breath, Malcolm tried to steady himself. His hands were shaking and his gut was roiling. Shit—this was too fucking difficult.

“When I was trying to figure out what was keeping me tethered to the Dream Crab’s hallucination,” he admitted. She knew the story behind how he nearly died that Christmas, yet it was about time she knew the story within the fucking story. “The only way to find the anchor was to find the people I was closest to and deny their existence. You, in that fucked-up cocktease of a dream, had been the very reason that your mam and I had gotten together in the first place. I don’t think you had been in Primary for a whole year yet…” He put a hand over his mouth and reached back, towards the false memories he tried to not revisit, or else risk sliding into an eternal depression. “Your mam and I won custody over you and we raised you here—you went to the village school and no one knew fucking different—it was one of the hardest fucking things to do, to tell that version of you that she wasn’t real, that she wasn’t the child I adopted and treated as me own…”

“How…?” Fiona wondered quietly. “I mean… how did I end up being how you met Mum?”

“Your mam had told me before then how you sometimes would wander away, and the Dream Crab took that, making it so you found me during one of those times. I asked her out to dinner afterwards and… well… you can sort of figure out how it all went from there.”

“The two of you took Dad to court…? And you won…?!” Tears were also beginning to blur her vision, for she wasn’t entirely sure what to do concerning the scenario. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“It was a hallucination where I’m the hero, remember?” he half-laughed. “I recall back around 7/7 that I did genuinely hope that it disrupting everything somehow, in some way, actually helped someone decent—if that pile of shite national tragedy could possibly be helpful to anyone—and because of the Dream Crab, it made it so that the judge just wanted the proceedings done and over with. Loris’s casual shittiness towards us and Marco didn’t hurt either, but it was mostly the judge not wanting to deal with the cuntastic commute that ensued afterwards. In reality the court proceedings would have just been suspended for a bit, but not according to the Dream Crabs. Twisted, I know.”

“Wait… 7/7… does this mean that you were there to meet Granddad? Before he got sick?”

“Gordon and I built the gazebo in the back garden with him—the Scarfies theorize that any interactions I had with him were based on the Doctor’s memories.”

“…and I got to be your daughter. Sooner.”

“Kate and I even gave you a wee baby sister…”

“…and this time, in real life, you still married Mum and became my dad. It’s just this time you gave me a baby brother instead.”

“Yeah… I guess we did.” He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily—for once, he felt better, if marginally so. “Make sure you run it by your mam first, but if you want to become a Tucker in-name, then it’s alright by me.”

A shriek of glee and suddenly Malcolm found himself being tackled in an excited hug. Fiona was so happy that she was nearly crying, which was an odd sight for her stepfather to see.

“Thanks, Dad!” she beamed. They looked one another in the eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter. “That feels so good to say.”

“It’s good to hear too,” he nodded. “C’mon; let’s finish lunch so that we can get back to our chores, or we’re going to have a cranky mam on our hands in a few hours.”

“Oh shit, that’s right,” Fiona grimaced. She pulled her tea and plate towards her new spot and took a big bite from her sandwich. “If I don’t at least look like I’m seriously lining things up, she’s going to blow her top.”

“…and that’s the last fucking thing anyone needs,” he agreed. The two hurried up and finished their meal, depositing their dishes in the sink before heading back to their respective tasks.

Nothing officially had changed, but there still was a different air as Malcolm prepared to take apart the vacuum cleaner in order to find the source of a rattling noise and Fiona went back to her computer. Even if the officialness of the matter would be struck down, they were still father and daughter, and nothing was going to change that.

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #Malcolm x Kate #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Fiona Stewart (OC)#The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #this is just a bunch of fluffy filler and talking #but it's fluffy filler and talk that I really enjoyed writing #because Malcolm and Fiona are a great father and daughter team #and I'm tempted to change Fiona's tag but idk yet

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nehswritesstuffs · 5 years ago

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The Thick of UNIT - Part XL

You know how it is when you laugh at your own jokes? I caught myself doing a lot while writing this one and hopefully it gets you to laugh as well, fair reader, as we’ve had a lot of heavy chapters as of late.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

When the Director’s away, even for a day, of course things plan on absolutely driving those left to find solace in coffee and bollockings. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

“I’m tellin’ yeh, Malc: come on up and we can head over to Jeanette’s brother’s in Ross and yeh can watch me get shitfaced and stare directly into the fucking sun. It’ll be a fucking laugh as any.”

Malcolm glanced over at his mobile, where he had Jamie on speaker so he could continue typing his scathing email review of Shaw, and raised an eyebrow. “I’d prefer to not be in the middle of arse-fuck nowhere with you and George—if that ain’t a disaster waiting to happen, I don’t know what the fuck is.”

“You can see it best up there! M’boys are coming too and you can bring Kate’s son along; Ken and Perce want to visit with their Uncle Malc and meet their new cousin at some point.”

“I’m still not going to Scotland—not for this,” Malcolm said. He took the call off speaker and put the mobile to his ear, turning away from the email so that he could look over the atrium. “It’s a fucking solar eclipse, Jamie. We’re getting it down here too.”

“Yeah, but totality will be higher up here.”

“You’re as subtle as a fucking balaclava.”

“What the fuck do you mean I’m as fucking subtle as a fucking balaclava?!”

“You just want to get me fucking back to all the old haunts and convince me to move back,” Malcolm frowned. He observed a couple molemen—they were flirting on the fucking job, as if he could fucking scold them for it—and shook his head despite the fact his friend could not see the action. “I can’t go back to Scotland… not now.”

“There’s UNIT up here, so is Kate’s mam, your mam, your sister, you can raise that nip you were telling me about in a sane place…”

“Glasburgh would be a demotion at this point, Kate’s mam hasn’t recognized her own daughter in years, my mam won’t take fucking help from no one, and if we leave with the nip then we’d have more to deal with than just some hurt feelings.”

Jamie grunted in frustration—he was found out and shut the fuck down. “You’re a fucking hard sell, you know that? Used to be all I needed to say was that if we got on a sleeper train we could watch George’s pub shinty team try to play while standing upright, but now trying to find an excuse to come up without being work-related is like finding a non-bent Etonian. I doubt you’d even come up this way for the nip’s sake at this point.”

“It won’t always be like this, I promise,” Malcolm said. He was beginning to regret telling Jamie about his and Kate’s pending adoption, though was increasingly glad that he had so far withheld the child’s origins, as he was flipping his shit at the prospect of a normal human child to turn into another version of them. Knowledge of potential for any extraterrestrial insanity might push things over the fucking edge. “Maybe once the kid’s a bit older and Kate and I are retiring we can move, but not now. Lexie’s here with a lad who wants to avoid his folks, Kanda and Gordon are getting hitched while they’re trying to get established in their careers, Fiona is already volunteering for babysitting duties between classes…”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I get it; fuck, Malc… you’re getting soft as an old, married cunt.”

“I’m not soft.”

“When was the last time you had a proper shout? Like, just find the nearest tit or bint and just rip into them like they’re a Christmas fucking turkey and you’re a half-starved dog?”

“Last month—one of my staff almost leaked some classified shit from the 60s that’s not available for public knowledge for another hundred years at least.”

“…and the time before that?”

“Before Christmas—molewoman almost fucked a member of a fringe group that wants to expose us as a general waste of taxpayers’ money.”

“See? You’re getting docile. All this domestic shite is making you lose your touch.”

“No, I’m just used to working with more fucking competence these days. How fucking often do you have to have a shout at your staff?”

“Yeah, but I at least got to hire the pieces of shit around here—you had no say in any of them there, or am I remembering this wrong?”

“You remember right; I’d get rid of the one, but he’s been here too long to touch so I have to deal with him being a limp fucking sack between bollockings and negative performance reviews.”

“Soft as a pot of overcooked pasta, a soggy bottom on an Empire biscuit, an over-warmed munchie box, a marzipan dildo…”

“You take that back! That’s my fucking line!”

“Make me, yeh useless fucking toothless shark.” Malcolm could hear the smirk in Jamie’s voice; it made him want to reach through the phone and smack him.

“Fuck off.”

“Gladly—chat you up later, mate. Jeanette says to cunt off.”

“Your words, not hers.”

They ended the phone call and Malcolm shut his mobile up in his desk drawer. Few things were like talking to Jamie—he was always reminded of good days and bad days, ones that could have been, those that he wished could have happened, and those that should have happened but didn’t because they were in such different times. There had been no playmates for him to give Jamie’s bairns—maybe just a couple years of babysitting at best—no shared milestones, no nothing of the sort, and he wasn’t going to go all the fucking way up to Scotland just to be reminded of that. His mobile rang inside the drawer; fuck it.

Malcolm signed back into his computer and, after tabling his evisceration of Shaw for when he wasn’t so frustrated, began typing away at a report he was due to hand over to someone at Transport regarding a rerouted train (they were owed at least an explanation from him after all the years they were nominally decent to work with) and ignored his mobile for a second time. He wasn’t in the fucking mood for Jamie’s shenanigans.

…except the third time, his attention was caught. He opened up the drawer and saw Fiona’s number on the caller ID.

Fuck.

“Yeah? What’s up, kiddo?” Yeah, try to sound natural, as though there had not just been five whole minutes of pointedly ignoring her. He heard her sniffle and something in the back of his mind went on alert. “Are you alright? Did you catch something?”

“I’m staying with you and Mum,” Fiona stated, sounding more cross than anything else. “Fuck this school and its inability to let me get anything done.”

“Fiona, lass, I thought you were saying that you were going to stick it out just until summer.”

“I was, but I can’t take it anymore, Malcolm. If I get asked about Ferrero Financial one more time I am going to bloody scream.”

“All talk of moving back into the house have to go through your mam,” Malcolm said. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes—he was too tired for this. “Why don’t you call her?”

“I tried, but she won’t answer. I think she’s in the Archive.”

“It’s still her house, not mine.”

“Can you make the case for me? Please?”

“I can’t promise anything, not on this.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Malcolm could detect the sass in Fiona’s voice—she was going to be fine. “How late are you and Mum working tonight?”

“We both get out at five today, but it begins changing after that,” he explained. “What I’ll fully accept in slow news cycles I am paying for with bizarrely shitty shifts.”

“Oh shit, got to go; talk to you later, love you, bye!” Fiona said quickly before ending the call. Malcolm stared at his mobile, watching as the main screen popped back up again.

“It’s called a mobile telephone and it is used to make phone calls from anywhere without cranking a box,” Aparajita sniped as she came into the room. She placed some papers and a cuppa on Malcolm’s desk, taking delight in how ruffled he was getting.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he grunted. “Longest fucking errand run I’ve ever seen.”

“I took a whole fucking holiday, thank you very much,” she shot back. She watched as he kept staring at his mobile as he reached for his tea, the expression on his face extremely curious. “Alright, I’ll bite: who was that on the other end?”

“Fiona; the lass has had enough of her wee school mates and professors, I think.”

“How is that so surprising?”

“At first I didn’t even answer the call—thought it was Jamie calling me back to try to work on me a bit more—but just the way she was talking to me… she said she loved me before hanging up.”

“…and…? She was calling you for help or advice or whatever; it means she trusts you, and oftentimes you’ll find those two together.” Aparajita smirked as she watched Malcolm shift uncomfortably in his seat. “You better get used to it—Oswald’s spawn is going to be telling you that before you realize it and I need you to still be able to function afterwards. Did she have to hang up quick?”

“Yeah…?”

“Then maybe it wasn’t even voluntary; could be it just slipped out. Relax, Malcolm, or you’re going to be a wreck before you even have the right to be.”

“You don’t know what I have the right to be or not.”

“I’ve been working with you for five years now—I think I have some idea.”

He flipped her a V as he took a sip of his tea. There was little refuting that, but he was not going to let her have the final say.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It took plenty of consoling over the following few nights, but after a gallon and a half of ice cream and a promise to help no matter what happened, Kate and Malcolm were able to get Fiona into a state that was sensible enough to finish off the semester. It did mean that, however, Kate had to march her daughter down to her school, where her father was waiting along with a dean of faculty so that all four of them could have a conversation about personal privacy and how people were going to need to increase their observation of it, especially if they did not want a scandal dropped on the school orchestrated by a former government spin-master who happened to be the young woman’s threateningly unseen stepfather.

In the meantime, while Kate was dealing with what were serious negotiations regarding her daughter’s ability to get work done in peace, Malcolm was in charge over at Mainframe UK. He wasn’t particularly worried or nervous or irritable or anything else of the like when it came to work that morning—things were nearly enjoyable, even—and was enjoying getting updates on the drama whenever Fiona would be able to slyly whip out her mobile. The one fucking day he would have enjoyed being in a Poxbridge college and he had to miss it, though this was honestly not only the safest, but the next best thing. It had been such a decent morning that he thought it fucking criminal when Aparajita finally knocked on his door.

“What?” he glowered.

“Are you going to be on your mobile all day like a child or are you going to pay attention to what’s going on around you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The eclipse is going to start in five minutes; all you’ve done this morning is giggle at play-by-play of some Oxbridge cunt getting eviscerated by your wife.”

“…your point being…?”

“You might as well watch it with the rest of us,” she offered. “It’ll be on the screens, but at least we won’t burn our eyeballs out.”

“Fine, I’ll come,” he whined. “I don’t know why I can’t simply monitor the situation from my office.”

“Eclipses come with disruptions to day-to-day life,” Aparajita shrugged. “We can’t allow it to mess with our sensors and let it go unnoticed. You know that.”

“Not that I want to,” Malcolm grumbled. He followed his PA to the lift and out into the atrium. Everything looked as though it was going smoothly, if a bit hurried for all the checking and double-checking that was going on. There were some who even were saluting as Malcolm and Aparajita passed, making both slightly uneasy with the formality.

“A little while and we’ll be back to normal,” Aparajita said aloud. Malcolm glanced at her, attempting to see if she said it for his sake or her own—he couldn’t tell.

“Fuck, and to think I could be in Scotland right now.”

“Is that what MacDonald was calling you about the other day?”

“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” he said, his eyes flitting from screen to screen. The eclipse had begun, with the moon beginning to creep over the sun’s domain. “All we can know for certain is that I could be in Ross, watching one of my best mates get absolutely shite-faced, and I wouldn’t even be able to join in because I’d technically be on-call.”

“You’re a spin master, not a doctor.”

“Yeah, but if this fucking thing goes and disrupts sensors, how the fuck are we going to explain the Trion Cultural Center in Clapton? The Tripartite presence in the National Trust? Lizard people in Wales?”

“You worry too much; we’ve got Hart and Husak. They can keep Shaw in line.”

“Shaw needs to suck a couple cocks before I can wholly trust him with a press release.” A flashing red light over in a corner caught his attention and his stomach dropped. “Report!”

“It looks worse than it is,” the molewoman at the station explained. “Plainview Zygon sighting over in Leeds—looks like it’s… a robbery…?”

“Robbing what? Whom?”

“An Asda.”

Malcolm blinked. “They’re robbing a fucking Asda?”

“It… erm… seems so…”

Inhaling deeply, Malcolm held his breath for five seconds before allowing himself to exhale. He pinched the bridge of his nose, already fucking annoyed. “Fucking… alright, dispatch a small section to the scene; make sure they have just enough firepower to back themselves up. Don’t want to make EVEN MORE OF A GODDAMNED FUCKING SCENE THAN WE ALREADY ARE.” He turned to a mole-intern and did his best to soften up.

“I need coffee—large, black, seven sugars, and a fucking candy bar. Whatever the fuck you can manage; ask my staff where I keep some in case of emergencies. I don’t even care if it’s a basic bitch Mars Bar.”

Okay, so only like a shark with one row of teeth instead of three.

“Never did I think I’d hear you say ‘basic bitch’ in my entire life,” Aparajita smirked as the intern skittered away.

“It’s amazing the things you pick up when there’s a nineteen-year-old in your house on the weekends,” he shrugged. He then saw yellow flash across a nearby screen, causing him to snap his fingers and point. “You. Why the fuck is your monitor pissing itself?”

The moleman recoiled in anticipation. “A pair of Zygons is taking an MP hostage in Cornwall.”

“For fuck’s sake—SOMEONE GET ME BLYTHE ON THE PHONE, NOW.”

“Sir…?”

“What?” he snapped. Another moleman was looking at him warily.

“Suffolk has a Zygon causing a commotion at the seaside amongst some elderly sunbathers.”

“The fucking…” He saw Aparajita hold out a mobile towards him. “Is that Blythe?”

“Her PA.”

“Close e-fucking-nough.” He put the mobile to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Captain Blythe is currently indisposed for a moment—what is your message?”

“Do you have the authority to scramble troops while she’s in the bog or whateverthefuck she’s doing?

“To a degree.”

“We got a Zygon-related hostage situation out your way if your sensors haven’t picked up on it already. Also need to know if you can quickly get some sea squaddies to Suffolk or if I need to kick some of mine over.”

“Suffolk sounds like it would step on certain toes if we were the first to respond. Where is the situation?”

“It’s… hold on,” Malcolm put the mobile to his shoulder, “where the fuck’s the hostage situation?!”

“The Lizard, sir,” the appropriate moleman replied.

“I got a fucking Sea Devil on the other end and you want me to tell him that it’s where?!”

“The Lizard Peninsula, sir.”

“Fucking…” he put the mobile to his ear again, “the Lizard Peninsula. Please tell me that’s a real fucking place and this wee cumstain isn’t just shitting me.”

“It is a real place—looks like we’re getting info now. I’ll get a cell right on it.” Malcolm ended the call and passed the mobile back to Aparajita, only for someone to tap him on the shoulder.

“Sir?”

“What?!” He glared in the direction of the voice, only to find it was the intern, returned with a black coffee and a pair of Curly Wurlys. Taking a breath, he forcibly calmed down before reaching out to take the offerings. “Thank you. Honestly. Don’t mean to take this fuckery out on you.”

“Uh… you’re welcome…?” The mole-intern gave a nervous smile and ran off. Malcolm took a preliminary sip of coffee and nodded—perfect.

“You better be careful, Rajit, or that kid’ll put you out of a job,” he joked.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, taking the candy so that he could hold the coffee in one hand and whip out his own mobile with the other. “You wouldn’t survive without me, and I’m not talking about coffee or candy or just forwarding your mail. The better question is: who are you going to terrorize now?”

“Someone who knows better than to cross me,” he said. He sipped the coffee and watched as a couple more screens went towards much brighter colors than he was comfortable with. The mobile on the other end picked up, the woman on the other end not entirely certain she was taking the call.

“Don’t you have an eclipse to watch like the rest of us?” Nicola asked.

“You wanna look a bit off your nut but overall fucking brilliant?” he asked. He waited for a moment, the other side silent.

“…what do you possibly need my help to spin?”

“We got a Sharp Sharon over here if I’ve ever fucking known one,” Malcolm grinned. “You know that woman we brought to your house who turned into a rubbery-looking magenta alien?”

“It’s difficult to forget.”

“Bunch ‘o fucks that look like her are being petty tits and I need am going to need a fucking out once the eclipse is done and normal fucking people glance around and look at the damage.”

“What do you suggest?”

“First you have to apologize to a Cornish MP for being taken hostage…”

“What the fuck, Malcolm; a hostage crisis?! How is that being petty?!”

“It’s more than just that, but it’ll make you look like a bloody fucking genius ready to dish up some fucking security protocol reforms. You in?”

Nicola made a sound in thought before groaning, “Fine. Do you have the script?”

“I’ll send it to you after everything’s contained and people are wondering what the fuck happened,” he replied. “Gotta make sure nothing actually bad has happened first. I wouldn’t put you in a position to take the blame for injuries or significant damage to public property. Ta.” He ended the call and pocketed the mobile again, accepting a halfway opened Curly Wurly from Aparajita. “Well, that’s a branch of Shit Creek we can float down.”

“I’ve got Bell coming down, as well as Arwell,” Aparajita said. “They can get back from Whitehall fairly quickly.”

“Glad it was them on the field trip and not me this time,” Malcolm replied. He gnawed off a chunk of candy and gnashed on it openly as he turned his attention back towards the molemen. “Alright! Who the fuck needs some Zy-B-Gone? If you don’t facilitate the cleaning of this shit up, I’m going to need to call Lieutenant-Colonel Bismuth back from her cunting holiday to help do the mopping, and I’m going to let her use you lot as the fucking brush.”

It was a good thing, Malcolm thought, that the threat of physical violence in his day and age was still a viable option to get underlings to cooperate… to an extent, of fucking course. He wasn’t cruel… simply tired of the day’s shit before it was even close to noon.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Kate sank down onto the sitting room couch at her house, completely spent emotionally and mentally. It had been a long day of negotiations, with the irritating double-combination of her ex-husband and the dean of faculty going nowhere in discussion for hours on-end, effectively trapping her all day as they didn’t even reach a resolution on what to do regarding Fiona and her inability to work without being pestered. It wasn’t even like Loris’s business ventures were grand compared to the parents of other students sitting lectures with their daughter; he was positively small-fry. After a day of doing absolutely nothing but listen to two men figuratively wank over their own self-importance, she had done the right thing and went down to Fiona’s dorm to help her pack—she allowed her daughter to drop out… albeit temporarily.

“Do you think I should wait until the Fall term to transfer or get in during Summer yet?” Fiona asked. She flopped down into an armchair while scrolling through her mobile. “I think I can secure a spot at Lex’s school without even so much as a sneeze now that I look at it…”

“Give it a month, then start looking around at where you want to apply over Summer so that you’re in for the Fall,” Kate replied. “Remember: you’re going to have to claim a culture and values clash and not any of the bullshit we just sat through. We’re better than running away from our problems.”

“We’re Lethbridge-Stewarts; we simply know when to back the fuck away.”

“What time is it? I’m famished.”

“Nearly eight.”

“Fuck.” Kate allowed herself to fall over, groaning into the cushions. “Curry it is then.”

“I’ll see what we still got left in the kitchen,” Fiona offered. She abandoned her mobile and went into the kitchen, leaving her mother lay with her eyes closed. A few moments passed and she shouted, “Oh, hey, Malcolm’s home!”

“About damn time,” Kate said. She remained in her spot as she heard the door open and shut, her husband shuffling into the house, and the distinct sound of a tie coming undone and a suit jacket being discarded right next to her. “Where’ve you been?”

“Work,” he replied, voice rougher than normal. “Fiona said you just got home; where were you?”

“Giving my daughter permission to drop out of university.”

“Those fucking cunts were that useless? Even after you threw my name around?”

“They aren’t ‘fucking cunts’ for nothing, you know,” she grumbled. “How was work?”

“MP Nicola Murray has given a press conference on how she commissioned an orchestrated set of stunts done by hired actors in rubber alien suits that presents a clear example of the potential holes in our national security and varying protocols,” he said almost mechanically. He waited until she rolled onto her back and laid down on top of her, settling his face right in her chest. “It was done during the eclipse because most people were being distracted and the rubber suits were to help give a sense of silliness to the whole thing. She’s already publicly apologized, though if you turn on any news station, her ‘genius’ is the talk of anyone with half a brain cell and the word ‘Zygon’ has yet to be uttered.”

“I thought you hated Nicola.”

“I’m severely annoyed by Nicola; couldn’t hate her if I tried.”

“All splinter Zygons in custody then?”

“Given to their respective leadership for punishment,” he affirmed. “Do I smell our new housekeeper making curry? I’ve survived off coffee and varying other vehicles for sugar all day.”

“That she is.” Kate scratched her husband’s back with one hand and his scalp with the other. “Who’s monitoring everything?”

“Arwell.”

“Then some food and a kip and I’ll head in early to relieve him.”

“No; stay; I want to wake up to you.”

“Maybe you still will,” she teased. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Thank you for holding down the mainframe.”

He squeezed her just a bit tighter; he had gone through much worse for her and would likely go through shit still. It was only just the beginning, after all.

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #Malcolm x Kate #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Jamie MacDonald #Aparajita Khan #Fiona Stewart (OC)#The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #I did enjoy writing Malcolm as a sweary shit regarding molemen again #I do miss it sometimes with all the other character and plot stuff that goes on #and down here because spoilers #Nicola Murray

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nehswritesstuffs · 6 years ago

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The Thick of UNIT - Part XXXVIII

This was really awkward to write and you’ll see why in a hot sec.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

Kate drops in on an old friend of the family [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

The calendar quietly turned to 2015 and things continued as they were. There was no invasion as was worried (which made the Brigadier-Director and her husband feel all the more justified in both taking the holiday off) and alert levels were brought back down to their normal, non-panicky, watchfulness. Even so, time went on and waited for no one.

“Ow! Mum! That hurt!” Fiona snapped, jerking her head. Kate ignored her and attempted to regather the strands of hair needed for the braid, wondering why this side was not going as well as the other.

“It’s either I do it or Miss Angela does, and which would you rather have?”

“Miss Angela.” The teen smirked as her mother tapped her shoulder with the comb. “I’m joking! I’m joking! Jeez—you’re just cross because you can’t come.”

“It’s not your fault that Marco proposed to Dan at Christmas and then they want to be married less than a month later,” Kate frowned. She adored her former stepson, though there were parts of him that reminded her too uncomfortably of his father—Loris wanted a quick engagement and never enjoyed waiting either. The elder Ferrero sibling’s saving grace, it seemed, was that at least he had been living with the man he was going to marry for over a few years at that point and marriage was more about dotting Is and crossing Ts and less rushing into a shit situation. It smoothed over many worries she would have possessed otherwise, with one of the few remaining being that she was merely irritated that she had already locked in her schedule for January and therefore couldn’t attend the ceremony or the reception afterwards.

“It’s our impulsive Italian blood,” Fiona joked.

“Then what’s Dan’s excuse?”

“Marco.”

Rolling her eyes, Kate tied off the end of the braid and began to pin it in place to mirror the other one. She took a can of hairspray to both and waited for the last of the mist to settle before admiring her work.

“Looks good—you’ll be the groomsmaid with the best hair, we can at least say that.”

“More importantly, is the muffin safe?”

“Yes, the muffin is safe,” Kate groaned. Fiona removed the baked good from under her pajama shirt and resumed munching on it now that it was no longer in danger from errant hairspray and inconveniently-launched hair fragments. Her mother went about getting them some more tea, taking solace in how peaceful it was otherwise—Malcolm was already at work for a morning shift and the two would at least get to have lunch together.

“Shit! I’m going to be late!” Fiona cursed. She shoved the rest of her muffin in her mouth and ran out of the kitchen. The teen reappeared mere minutes later, having changed into her dress and was now fighting with her coat.

“Did you get our gift?” Kate asked.

“It’s in the car!”

“Are Gordon and Kanda meeting you there?”

“Yes, and she’s driving both of us back to Gordy’s place, where I’m gonna crash for the night—we went over this, Mum!”

“I know.” Kate helped her daughter untangle her coat sleeves and got the garment on her. “Just relax—you’re going to do fine. Give my love to the happy couple, alright? They don’t visit often enough.”

“Maybe the whole being married thing will make visits to an ex-stepmum not nearly as weird,” Fiona chuckled. She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and turned to leave. “Thanks Mum—love you.”

“Love you too; hey, tea.” Kate shoved a travel mug in her daughter’s hand, which made the girl laugh. “Drive careful.”

“Always do.”

Within moments, Fiona was in her car and headed down the drive, going towards town. A couple minutes and half her cuppa later and she received a text from Kanda—her and Gordon ready to attend the wedding, her dress and his tie and waistcoat all the same soft shade of pink. It made her smile to see at least a glimpse of the pair dressed nicely, even if they wouldn’t see one another in person. Her son was absolutely smitten; why else would he consider wearing pink?

Finishing up her pre-work routine, Kate began to head into work with half a mind to bunk off and attend Marco’s wedding service anyhow. Having decided against it by the time she crossed into Inner London, she treated herself to a nice takeaway coffee from a nearby food truck, the outside air cooling it to perfect drinking temperature by the time she entered the false front and went down the lift.

Calm; everything was as close to calm as it possibly could get. There was a gathering of several departmental heads in the atrium, though considering the fact that the Elder Osgood and Glenn Cullen were laughing, no alarms were raised.

“Having fun without me?” Kate teased as she approached the group. She accepted a peck of the lips from Malcolm and glanced about—the gathering was the only suspicious bit in the entire atrium. “What’s going on?”

“Ji-Yu and I were just going over those tech protocols from the other day; we’ll be phasing them in soon with everyone and we found our way out here,” the Elder Osgood said. He glanced at his Tech and Maintenance equivalent and furrowed his brow in thought. “Did we go over it all?”

“All I need are updated Biometrics and we can begin implementation,” Ji-Yu said. She glanced down at her tablet and exhaled heavily. Tapping at the screen, she rolled her eyes in irritation. “Tucker, your pet raven’s found its way out again.”

“Junior is more intelligent than you’re aware,” Malcolm snarked. The two began to trade a couple (mostly) good-natured barbs, while Kate used the distraction to pull her Head of Security aside.

“How’s surveillance on Subject Twelve?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet. Fajr simply shrugged and handed over a file folder.

“Holding steady—I get the feeling that he’s simply biding time, laying low until he can disrupt the most effectively,” she replied.

“How annoying,” Kate frowned. She handed back the files—there would be no time—and checked to make sure that her keys were in her jacket pocket. “I’m going over there.”

“Ma’am, you can’t be serious,” Fajr gasped. “We don’t know anything about what’s going on, why he’s there, what he’s doing… it could be a trap.”

“…and if it’s a trap, then it’s been laid for me,” Kate stated. “Besides, it’s Saturday—too many students are going to be off on benders to bother with getting in the way.”

“Benders…? What…?” Fajr narrowed her eyes and gave Kate the most confused expression she could possibly muster on her Human face. “What are you talking about? What is there to bend at a university?”

“Remind me to explain a bit more about being an existential uni student when I get back,” Kate said. She walked towards her husband and briefly kissed him. “Going on a field trip—be back by dinner.”

“I’ll stroke myself into a nap while I’m waiting,” he replied.

Straight back up the lift and Kate quickly returned to the normal world as though she’d never stepped foot inside UNIT. She got into her car and pulled out her mobile; Bismuth had sent her the address and directions, as well as the Doctor’s faculty listing. It took only a minute to punch into the satnav before she was off; there was over a hundred miles to drive and she wished to waste no time.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bristol.

It felt as though the couple hours it had actually taken was no time at all despite the distance, and she was glad for it. After finding a parking spot, Kate got out of her car, glanced down at her mobile, and checked the address on the building—yes, it was the correct one to find the Doctor in, during office hours, even. The campus seemed mostly how she had imagined—young, angry, busy over by the pub—and it nearly made her nostalgic for her own uni days. She pushed that from her mind, however, as it would also involve other, more frustrating times, and she needed to remain concentrated on the mission at-hand:

Find the Doctor, determine his position, evaluate any potential changes to his mental status, and leave intact. No big deal… it was only an ancient extraterrestrial who could potentially lash out at any moment if he happens to be brooding or whatnot. Nothing to worry about.

A deep breath and Kate went inside, navigating the corridors until she found a door labeled “The Doctor” via a brass nameplate. Then again, even if it wasn’t labeled, there was a hand-written sign taped to the wood saying “GO AWAY HUMANS”, and if that wasn’t a hallmark of this particular face of the Doctor’s then nothing was. Opening the door, she found that it merely was the entrance to an ancillary office, where a bald, stuffy-looking man was sitting at a desk doing paperwork. He glanced up at her and pouted in irritation.

“He’s not seeing anyone today,” the secretary snipped. “Go away.”

“These are his regularly-listed office hours,” Kate reasoned firmly. “He has the time.”

“No, he does not.” The secretary raised a brow and adjusted his glasses. “Are you even a student? You look a bit old for it.”

“You are going to go in there and tell the Doctor that Kate Stewart is in to see him, and if you do not comply all I need is to send a prewritten text my husband for all of UNIT to magically show up on-campus.”

“Oh, it’s one of you,” he huffed. He came out from behind the desk and toddled over towards Kate, seemingly puffing himself up for some sort of intimidation factor that he believed he possessed (yet decidedly, to Kate, he did not). Any being that was merely a series of smooth egg-like shapes had no chance of intimidating anyone, let alone her. “You better get a move on, or you are very quickly going to find yourself in another dimension of suffering.”

Already bored, Kate kept her face straight as stone as she looked the secretary dead in the eyes. “Is that an underserviced Gerffiad motherboard that’s making your arm twitch like that? Underserviced means unlicensed, and unlicensed, those things are banned in several systems, including ours, and it would be a shame if someone alerted… higher authorities to come and retrieve their property, as the last I checked, none were supposed to be in this system.”

The secretary flinched, clearly caught off-guard by the threat. He considered her words and shuffled over towards the other office door, poking his head in first.

“A Missus Stewart is here to see you, sir; says it’s important,” the secretary said. An indistinguishable voice answered something and the bald man opened the door properly. “You can see him now.”

Kate stepped into the Doctor’s office to find that he was sitting at a desk, putting a pause on paper-marking for the time being. It was a grand space, with a split level and packed with books and relics from around the world and across the ages, all the chaos seeming centralized on a desk covered in papers and framed photos. The TARDIS sat alone in the corner and it hummed lightly in greeting; it recognized her, and it was glad for the change in company.

“Ah, Kate, it’s been a long time,” he said. The Doctor stood from his chair and walked over to greet her; they hugged, which surprised the human greatly. “I didn’t realize the world was in danger.”

“It’s not,” she replied. “I simply caught word that you were working for St. Luke’s. How long have you been here?”

“A long time—the domestic bug caught me while I was with my wife on Darillium. You remember her, don’t you?” He plucked a photo frame from his desk and showed it to his visitor, who did her best to hide her surprise and terror when it was not the person she originally thought. “I see a new ring on your finger; you remarried since we last saw each other, so you must understand how a functioning marriage needs constant work. River and I were hardly ever in sync chronologically, and the linear time together did us plenty of good.”

“…which led you to watch an entire city form from nearly nothing over the centuries? Keeping still and quiet, despite all the invasions and other extraterrestrial happenings?”

“Yes and no, but that’s not important. What’s more important is how you discovered me; did Alistair tell you about me being here, or was it something else that caught your attention? I didn’t think I was getting sloppy…”

That made Kate double-take, narrowing her eyes slightly. “My father’s been dead for over five years now.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if there was an old journal or file you needed to look over and found that he wrote about having seen me,” the Doctor said. He had Kate sit down as the secretary came back in with tea. Once he was gone again, the Time Lord leaned against his desk as he sipped the drink sloshing about in his saucer. “He was sent here as a fresh UNIT recruit to see something about some errant Sontarans, and then again a couple times as a brigadier by the time he realized who I really was and that I could change faces. This face was one of the ones he saw the most, to be honest, even though he kept quiet about it. Very good about keeping his mouth shut if I asked him, Alistair was—it’s one of the things I always give him, despite any flaws as to otherwise.”

“Why keep you being here a secret?”

“Previous to this face, I thought that this regeneration would be kept from me, that the one right before this one was supposed to be my last. I might have lived differently had I known there was another face waiting for me after the one with the bowtie and square jaw, and that is a dangerous fact that needs to be contained at all costs. Alistair was a good man, a man of principle despite his militaristic shortcomings, and he obviously kept my secret well.” He raised an eyebrow at Kate, watching as she stirred her tea. “Are you here to expose what I’ve been doing?”

“If I was, then no one outside of UNIT and a select few would believe me, branding us as tin-foil nutters yet again,” she replied. “No—I just wanted to know why you’re here, of all places, and thought you deserved the dignity of being asked in-person by someone who is neither armed nor a simple lackey before we place a mandatory shadow on you.”

“I appreciate the courtesy.” He took another sip of tea and attempted to stay quiet. Shifting in his seat and quickly looking about the room, he couldn’t help but look uneasy about their visit.

“What are you doing here?” Kate implored refusing to accept the non-answer. “You can’t be here simply for the abundance of sun and West Country charm.”

“As I said, it is a domestic bug, nothing more,” he insisted. “Nardole’s been here this entire time, which has been annoying, but it’s useful having someone else around with a lifespan that extends far past what humans are capable of living. If he weren’t around then things would be peaceful beyond compare, though I’d have no one to fetch crisps.”

She wasn’t buying it for a minute, yet Kate nodded as though she did. “I take it that soon enough you’ll be running around causing havoc again? My son needs some training if he’s going to be a Lethbridge-Stewart worth your company, you know.”

“With you as his mother, I’m certain he’s already there,” the Doctor replied. He seemed to stare off into nothingness as he took another sip of tea from the saucer, showing his guest how incredibly weary he looked. Weary and sad was not the Doctor, not one bit… and neither was a Doctor whom had not mentioned Clara yet, whether he had spent time with River Song or not.

“Thank you for your time,” Kate said. She stood to leave, which made the Time Lord jump to his feet.

“You just got here,” he mentioned. “Please, at least stay long enough to have another cup. It will irritate Nardole greatly.”

“I can hear that, sir,” the secretary deadpanned from the outer office. He shuffled into the room again, a feather duster in his hand. “I would prefer if you don’t irritate me; I can kick your butt, you know.”

“You keep on saying that phrase and I don’t think you entirely know the meaning of it,” the Doctor snipped. He sniffed the air experimentally as he walked with Kate over towards the door, at least wanting to see her out. “You married Malcolm? His scent is all over you.”

“In September—Benton did the honors. Since when were you part bloodhound?”

“Since whenever I need to be,” he joked. “Don’t be a stranger, Kate.” They then exchanged hugs and a quick kiss on the cheek. “I mean it: let’s irritate Nardole sometime with old stories. At least let the intern you have shadow me come up and introduce themselves. We need someone with at least half a brain to pop in every once and a while.”

“I know how to find you,” she half-chuckled. Kate walked into the outer office and shut the door behind her once she was in the corridor, carefully listening to what she could discern from behind the wooden surface.

“I’m beginning to think you have a thing for blondes, sir.”

“You don’t know everything about me, Nardole, so stop acting like you do…” The Doctor’s voice trailed off and it was all Kate could do to walk away and attempt to not panic the entire way out to her car.

‘He’s forgotten Clara,’ she thought, absolutely horrified. ‘He found River Song again and forgot Clara… he remembers Malcolm and my father, yet he forgot Clara... he has a photo of his granddaughter on his desk, yet not one of Clara, or their child…’ She made sure she was back on the M4 before ringing Fajr.

“Yes, ma’am?” the Zygon answered, voice pumped out of the car’s stereo. “Find anything?”

“Are you around anyone?” Kate half-snapped.

“No…? I’m in my office, the door’s shut, and you’re not even on speaker…”

“Good, because I’ve got bad news.”

“He’s two steps from going… what’s it called… Valeyard on us…?”

“Worse: he’s forgotten Miss Oswald.” The call went quiet and Kate glanced quickly at the screen on her dashboard—yes, it was still connected. “Bismuth…?”

“Don’t males from your general species typing often forget those with whom they mate?”

“Not this male, and not this mate,” Kate clarified. “He seems like such a shell of his former self that if it wasn’t for the cyborg secretary and the TARDIS in the corner I would’ve thought we caught wind of a look-alike.”

“Oh…” Fajr was silent for nearly an entire mile and she said something in a language Kate was incapable of speaking before resuming in English. “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know; he could only remember time spent with River Song, with no acknowledgement of Miss Oswald despite this being her home space-time coordinates. Something tells me it’s connected to either the cyborg-secretary that was so conveniently attempting to stop me from visiting, or whatever is the real reason he’s sitting on his arse marking papers… possibly both.”

“What did he say he was doing?”

“Sitting through a domestic bug—the Doctor is not easily domesticated, nor is Bristol’s entire history merely a bug to let run its course.”

“I’ll put my best agent on his detail, effective immediately.”

“Give him roughly a week, then put a tracker on him—he’s going to expect one anyhow and this way it at least shows that we are not completely attempting to babysit him.” Kate flicked on the headlamps and frowned at the fact it was already so dark. “I highly doubt he’ll do anything in the meantime, let alone at all, but protocol is protocol.”

“I’ll be sure to keep any information about this as far away from Miss Oswald as possible,” Fajr said. “I’ll await further instruction when you get back.”

“Wait for it tomorrow—I have a dinner to make and this sort of thing shouldn’t be decided on lightly.”

“Understood.”

The call ended and Kate spent the rest of the drive with varying news stations on the radio, only wanting them on as background. She pulled into the drive long after turning over to music and sat in the car after putting it in park. Allowing her mind to go blank, she didn’t even realize how long she’d been sitting there until Malcolm knocked on the window, making her jump.

“What the…?!” she gasped. Malcolm opened the door and allowed her to step out of the car before gently grabbing hold of her shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You’ve been sitting here in the dark for twenty minutes. I thought you were on a call or something at first, but…”

“Get inside,” Kate ordered. She grabbed her bag and headed towards the kitchen door. “This is massive—we need to be inside.”

“Kate, love, what’s wrong…?” Malcolm followed his wife inside and watched as she began to pace around the kitchen. “Where the fuck were you that’s got you shaken this badly? It’s so late…”

“Bristol.”

Malcolm stayed quiet, allowing himself time to go over the possible scenarios in his brain. “What’s the matter with the Doctor? Did he threaten you?”

“The exact opposite: I have an open invitation to come over whenever I want to have tea and irritate his cyborg secretary. He’s… just… there…”

“No threats, no nothing?”

“None.”

“…then I don’t see what the problem is, love,” he frowned. Malcolm grew increasingly uneasy while he watched Kate panic, something he knew she was only doing outwardly because it was him and no one else as her audience. “What happened? Is he monitoring Miss Oswald closer than we feared?”

“He’s not monitoring her at all—he’s completely forgotten her. There’s no monitoring because he doesn’t even realize there’s anything to keep tabs on…”

“They have a child together,” Malcolm scowled. “Didn’t think he was the kind of low-life cunt to forget someone as important as the woman he has a child with.”

“No—he merely is one who was never told, nor has figured it out yet,” Kate said. Her chest began to feel tight as panic was fully enveloping her now and sat down. She accepted some water from her husband and slowly sipped at it. “If we aren’t on our best behavior, he’s going to find out, and he’ll be the crossest thing in the entirety of the universe.”

“…and you don’t want to be collateral damage,” he surmised as he sat down. She nodded in reply. “We’ll be fine, Oswald will be fine, the kid’ll be fine… just, what’s the Doctor like, other than still ugly?”

“Calm, docile, kind, welcoming; I get the feeling he’s a bit more harsh when it comes to his secretary or certain students, but he’s generally not the same Doctor that nearly killed you with the Kantrofarri, accident or not, despite it being the exact same face.”

“What about the secretary?”

“Irritable and irritating—just wants to be left alone, seems like. He might be behind the memory loss, he might not, he might just be inadvertently enforcing it…”

“Then that just means they won’t prod into our business,” Malcolm stated calmly. “As long as neither of them decide to get up our shit, there shouldn’t be much of an issue... not when it comes to the bairn.”

“We can’t tell Clara about the Doctor and I don’t even know how telling the Doctor about Clara would go over considering the circumstances,” she said, voice wavering. “I’m just terrified, Malcolm. This isn’t like him. Even with the people he generally likes he is loads more abrasive.”

“Then ignore it,” he said. “Did you tell Fajr?”

A nod.

“Good—then have her put a security detail on him and let your staff do their job,” he insisted. “Now don’t you think about that ancient, crusty cunt for another moment, yeah? Don’t waste more energy on him than he’s worth.” He leaned in and kissed her, trying to make her concentrate on what was in front of her instead. “I’m fucking mad about you.”

“Positively mental,” she chuckled. She leaned against him, their foreheads touching and resting her elbows on his knees, before a loud squelching sound came from her stomach. “Fuck…”

“Then it’s a good thing you came home to dinner,” he replied. She sat up straight and sniffed the air—it did smell like Malcolm had been cooking, yet she had been so preoccupied that she didn’t notice until just then. “The fish and veg are probably drier than a dusty MP’s fanny at this point, but the potatoes kept well enough, and not enough can be said about the magic of a well-paired wine…” He went over to the oven and opened it, pulling out two plates of food that he subsequently placed on the table. Everything had definitely dried out, but the thing was that it was still there… both of their dinners were.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she frowned. She watched as he returned with two glasses of wine—one normal for her and one with half the amount for himself.

“Yes I did; you deserve the chance to eat with someone today,” he replied. His mobile chirped and he pulled it out of his shirt pocket, placing it on the table so he could check the message while eating. He chuckled and turned the device towards his wife. “To be this young again.”

Kate took the mobile and looked at the photo: Fiona taking a selfie on the dance floor while her eldest brother and his husband both kissed her on the cheek, one on each side.

“She sent you this?”

“Yeah, been texting me most of the day, honestly. I think she wants to show me off to her other relatives, and texting me is the closest thing…” He took a forkful of veg and shoved it in his mouth. “That’s fucking weird, isn’t it?”

“Not entirely,” she replied. “You being around shows that not only have I moved on from her father, but that we’re happier together than we ever were with him around. Speaking of Loris, did he ever show up, or do I need to inquire myself?”

“Inquire; I’m smarter than to bring up a previous year’s model. You didn’t marry me for the accent and dashing good looks.”

“…though they are perks,” she mentioned. She hooked his ankle with hers underneath the table, the couple eating like that until Malcolm stood when their plates were empty.

“I hope Marco and Dan don’t lose that,” he said, kissing the top of her head on his way to the dishwasher.

“Lose what?”

“The little things… the perks…” He put the plates and utensils in the dishwasher and turned it on before going back to her to wrap his arms around her shoulders. Ignoring his mobile’s buzzing to alert him to another text, he nuzzled the crook of her neck and grinned as he could feel her humming in anticipation. “How good this domestic shite feels.”

“I hope they never lose that either,” she agreed. They then began to kiss, the taste of dinner still on their tongues, and realized that things were beginning to intensify when Malcolm’s arse bumped into the island counter and he realized that Kate’s leg was already attempting to wrap itself around his own.

Up the stairs they went and proceeded to ignore more than a few texts as they proceeded to get handsy and giggly in the comfort of their bed. Malcolm made certain that for just a little while (though not that little, for fuck’s sake), his wife was able to forget about work. He distracted Kate so fucking thoroughly that she temporarily forgot about security protocols and intergalactic bogeymen. It was nothing but the two of them as they shagged each other until neither could think, which was precisely the plan.

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm x Kate #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Fiona Stewart (OC)#The Thick of It #Doctor Who #fan fiction #I basically have a ton of work put into Fiona's brother Marco that I'm likely never going to use #but that's how it goes when you're a writer and you flesh shit out to the levels you're supposed to #may contain traces of #Twelfth Doctor #and #I lead an anti Nardole appreciation life #no that's the legit tag okay

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nehswritesstuffs · 6 years ago

Text

The Thick of UNIT - Part XXXVII

Hopefully I can get the last part of my Whouffaldi PR!AU up soon, but until then, here’s this.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

It’s Christmastime once again. While the Mainframe panics, the Stewart-Tuckers have more important matters to take care of... such as sitting their youngsters down for a talk. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

A few weeks went by and Christmas loomed ever closer. The Stewart-Tucker Household attempted to get as many of their family members to agree to be together as possible for their first holiday season while married, though it only ended up being Gordon, Fiona, and Lex; Florence was laid up with a cold, Marcia was taking care of her, and both Euan and Kanda independently figured it was best to return to their respective parents’ and save the first Christmas together for another time. That was perfectly fine, however, as it meant that it created the perfect opportunity for Kate and Malcolm…

“We’re not going to get another chance like this,” he said quietly. It was Christmas Eve and the couple was cleaning up after dinner. “I know we’ve been putting it off for as long as we can in case something goes wrong, but this is important.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t important, but I don’t know if it’s the right time,” she replied. “Oswald could still lose the baby at this point and then what?”

“She’s at a very flat eight and a half months—far as I know, that doesn’t sound like she’s losing anything but her lunch when the kid begins kicking her fucking stomach.” He scraped the last of the dinner remnants from a plate into the garbage disposal before putting it in the dishwasher. “It’s them we need to talk to, and who knows when we’ll get them all together and not with any other halves milling about? I say we do it now.”

“What if they don’t agree with what we’re doing?”

“Then I guess they’re just going to have to grow the fuck up,” he replied. Waiting until she closed the dishwasher door, he pulled her in close and buried his face in her neck for a moment, leaving a kiss against her skin. “They’ll handle it better than you think. Now come on.”

With the dishes now being done, the pair crept out into the corridor, stopping just before the sitting room. Malcolm poked his head around the corner and saw Gordon, Fiona, and Lex calmly debating over what movie to watch by the DVD shelves. He glanced back towards Kate and nodded to confirm they were all present. Holding out his hand, he waited for his wife to take it before leaning in to peck her on the lips.

“Now or never, love,” he murmured.

“It’s now or when we bring the child home,” she corrected. She then walked into the sitting room, guiding him alongside her. “Kids? Can we have a minute?”

“What’s the matter, Mum?” Fiona wondered. The other kids’ attention was caught as well, all three now looking at them. “You look like something bad happened.”

“Oh, nothing bad happened at all,” Kate replied. “It’s just that Malcolm and I have decided on something rather important that will change things around here, and we want to make sure that you three are well-aware before it happens.” She sat down in an oversized armchair while he sat on the armrest, at such an angle that she could reach her hand up the back of his jumper without the kids seeing from their new vantage spots on the couch and other armchair; it was an action normally done to unnerve the younger ones, yet now was merely for the contact.

“Are you selling the house…?” Lex guessed cautiously.

“No,” Malcolm chuckled. “We’re actually going to be redoing a bit of it, to be honest. Fuck, no, now that I think about it, a shitload has to be done to make sure it’s all in order.”

“In order for what?” Fiona asked.

“For the baby we’re adopting,” Kate said frankly, a smile on her lips. She knew that going right in for the kill was precisely what needed to be done, as all three young adults sitting before her were in complete and total shock. They stared at the couple, disbelief slapped across their faces, completely silent until Lex choked out a question.

“Why…? Why are you two going to adopt a baby?” she sputtered. “Uncle Malc, you could barely handle me as a wee thing—if you really want to adopt a kid, wouldn’t you two be better off with a tween that you can leave home while you’re both working?”

“Yeah,” Fiona agreed, “you’re not old now, but you could be in shit shape when a baby’s my age. Christ, you could be like Gran, too addled to travel more than a block away from a care home without becoming dangerous, before a baby heads off to uni. Are you sure about this?”

“We’re absolutely certain,” Kate said. “This is why the three of you are very important when it comes to this child—if something happens to us and we cannot take care of it, then it falls on the three of you as its brother, sister, and cousin to take care of it in our absence. Our wills shall reflect this once we gain custody in a few months and I don’t want it to take anyone by surprise.”

“Why, though?” Fiona asked. “You’ve said nothing that would have lead up to this the entire time you’ve been together… why now?”

“Does it have to do with Clara Oswald?” Gordon asked quietly. Everyone in the room turned towards him, wondering what it was that led him to the conclusion. “Not many know she’s living in Mainframe UK right now, but I do, and I’m actually one of the fewer that has seen her thanks to taking rounds for Fajr. She’s not far along, and I haven’t gotten the chance to really talk with her, but there’s no mistaking it—she’s pregnant and the only one she would be pregnant by is the Doctor, putting the two of you on the very top of a rather short list of people who could possibly raise it and raise it safely. Is that the baby you’re adopting?”

“A regular Lethbridge-Stewart to make your granddad proud,” Kate replied, a thin smile on her lips. “Miss Oswald wants the child to grow up in a family that can love and take care of it, but knows that she and the Doctor cannot keep it safe. Malcolm and I are going to adopt it, as we both know about its extraterrestrial heritage and have access to UNIT in case of any unusual happenings during its upbringing.”

“The Doctor…?” Lex marveled, her mind clearly boggled. “You mean the tit in the police box from space? The one that hijacked Gordy and Uncle Malc that one day? You’re adopting his kid?”

“He is a raging tit, yeah, but he’s saved our lives on more than one occasion, sometimes even directly, and it’s the least we can do to keep his kid safe from harm and under the radar of the most dangerous fucking beings in the galaxy,” Malcolm said. “The ugly cunt’s one of said most dangerous fucking beings in the galaxy when push comes to fucking shove, so don’t think this is going to be all a bunch ‘o quaintness and sunshine when the shoe drops, because it will, and it won’t be pretty.”

“Wait… he doesn’t know…?” Gordon gulped, horrified. His mother and stepfather shook their heads and his jaw dropped. “He doesn’t know his own child is about to be born?!”

“Miss Oswald wants it quiet; she knows how easily he would go and cause havoc in order to keep her safe and the baby in their custody… a child of theirs would be a target bigger than anyone can imagine,” Kate explained. “This baby shall believe that we were simply miraculously old parents until it is mature enough to process the fact that it was adopted and what that means. After that, we are not telling them anything about their parentage until they are an adult, provided such an action is feasible and it does not learn otherwise earlier through alternative means. It’s a risky path, but it is one that we will gladly take.”

“Mum, I’m in uni and Lex and Gordy are just starting out themselves; neither of them have been dating a year yet, but they’re dating good people who would understand,” Fiona stated. “You don’t have to do this alone—we’re capable of helping out more than just being the backup.”

“We don’t have to, yes, but we are,” Kate said kindly. “You’ll understand one day, maybe if you become a mum yourself. I can’t leave this up to chance.”

“Yeah, don’t volunteer Euan until we work on his parents a bit more,” Lex said, playfully nudging Fiona. “That is one thing he and Kanda have in common: their parents aren’t exactly thrilled by me, or at least Euan’s won’t be when we finally get together.”

“I know that Lawan is just being a homesick shit who didn’t want to move to Glasgow to begin with, but what about Euan’s family?” Malcolm asked. “Do they think you’re too young or something?”

“No; his parents don’t like Poles,” she pointed at Gordon, “Italians,” she pointed at Fiona, “and probably even need some time to convince themselves that a wee bit of German,” she pointed at herself, “is alright to have in the family. I love Euan, and he doesn’t think like that, but those two are nuts.”

“They sound it,” Gordon said. “We should almost do a joint Meet-the-Parents, so that any disapproval directed at us gets repurposed into disliking each other.”

“That’d be nice, but I actually want Euan to not get immediately disowned,” Lex frowned. “Mrs. Keng is enough to drive away anyone and—”

“Can we go visit Miss Oswald?” Fiona wondered, interrupting the verbal sparring. Attention was now directed towards her, at which she shrugged. “What? I thought it’d be nice, since she’s trapped in the Mainframe, yeah? Give her some real visitors? No one’s really been to see her, have they?”

Malcolm and Kate looked at one another and nodded—what harm could it do?

“Miss Oswald’s father and remaining grandmother unfortunately died earlier in the year during the Insurgency, and her mother and other grandparents have been deceased for a long while,” she said. “Malcolm and I pop in from time to time, as does the Head of Data Management, since he is an old friend of hers, but you’re right in that she doesn’t get many visitors.”

“Then I want to go and meet her,” the teen said. “If her baby is going to be my little brother or sister, then it’s only right.”

“Are you sure?” Kate asked.

“Positive.”

“Then what about you other two?” Malcolm asked. Gordon and Lex both shrugged noncommittally—they were fine no matter what. “Alright, then I think we should call up Fajr and see if the girls’ credentials are still in the system.”

“Shit; let me change into another jumper!” Fiona cursed, bolting from her seat and out of the room. Her mother chuckled slightly and took out her mobile.

“I’ll go check in on those credentials,” Kate said. She left the room much more calmly than her daughter, headed towards another room where she could talk without interruption.

“You two are still fucking bonkers,” Lex said soon as her aunt was out of earshot. “Didn’t you move out of Mam’s because you couldn’t handle how loud I was as a bab?”

“There are two differences between now and when you were small,” Malcolm frowned. “One: I was in a different place in my life back then. Don’t necessarily judge an old married man’s family plans based on when he was single and just starting out. Second: one of the reasons why I moved out was because I was sick and tired of watching your father being pathetic and boring as fuck, with my sister wasting her time on him. I’m glad you came out of it, and nearly as glad that your da isn’t a bad man, but I’d much rather you have been born a Tucker after a one-night stand like your mam and I was than watch that tit flounder about as the most boring cluster-cunt I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re really fucking bonkers,” Lex deadpanned. “Lex Tucker? Where’s the alliteration?”

“Of all the things, your biggest hang-up is about allite-fucking-ration?”

“Not the biggest, but it’s one of the more obvious…”

“You know,” Gordon chimed in, purposefully changing subject, “what Fiona said earlier was correct. I can take care of Miss Oswald’s child if push comes to shove. I know she volunteered because of ties the Lethbridge-Stewart family has to the Doctor and… well… I’m still a Lethbridge-Stewart.”

“Wait, just like that?” Lex said. “Not going to ask Kanda—your very serious girlfriend—what she thinks?”

“Knowing Mum, she didn’t ask Malcolm what he thought before promising to adopt the baby.” He glanced at the man in-question, who nodded through a shrug. “See? It’s not just me.”

“If you do end up with Kanda though, you know… for good, then what if the two of you had kids?” Lex wondered. “They wouldn’t look anything like their ‘older sibling’ and that might cause problems.”

“You forget: I might be my mum and dad’s only kid they had together, but I’m technically the second of five. I know what being part of a blended family’s like and it’s not that difficult if you just act like everyone belongs together.”

“Simple as that?”

“Yeah—simple as that.” Gordon paused as his mother came back into the room. “Did Fajr clear it?”

“Both sets of non-emergency visitor credentials are still active,” Kate confirmed. “A bit buried since it was Frank who put them in, but they’re there. We can come down whenever we find the time.”

“Non-emergency?” Lex blinked. “You mean, if there was something that went down at the mainframe, we’d be able to get in no matter what?”

“Yes and no,” Gordon said. He moved his hands around as he talked, following his cousin as they all went towards the foyer. “You see, we have a variety of different security protocols that encompass a great number of potential scenarios that the Mainframe might encounter, Tripartite, terrestrial, and extraterrestrial in nature. Fajr, Frank, and their varying predecessors have long been building the foundational levels, which we add to every so often, and…”

“Stop boring her!” Fiona shouted from the top of the stairs. She quickly descended to the main floor, now wearing a different, nicer jumper. “Your job is so boring!”

“Says the one studying business,” Gordon scoffed. “I don’t know how you can stay awake in those classes…”

“Kids, behave,” Kate warned. “We don’t have to go, you know.”

“Mum…! Gordy’s the one being a tit!”

“I mean it.” She waited until Fiona began to pout in defeat before opening the door. “Alright, now let’s go.”

Traffic into London was surprisingly light, easily linked to the holiday having finally settled itself in and no one wanting to do anything but stay put on the rainy evening. Since the above-ground front was already “closed” for the end of the year, Gordon went and disabled the lock on one of the side doors, allowing them access to the building anyhow. His mobile rang immediately after they were all in, which he answered.

“Yes, it’s just us,” he said, not even bothering with a greeting. They got into a lift and the young man grinned. “Yes ma’am.” A pause. “No ma’am.” A smirk. “I’ll check in later, ma’am.” He ended the call and put the mobile back in his pocket. “Looks like I’m taking the Oswald-part of the round she’s on.”

“Is your boss cross or something?” Lex asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No—just panicking a little. Don’t blame her, really; not with the way things are right now.”

The lift opened to reveal that the Mainframe was packed, all hands on-deck. It was easy for the family to slip around everyone else unnoticed, with most of the attention—if there was any to spare—concentrated on saluting Kate. By the time they reached the lift to go into the medbay, Fiona and Lex were completely baffled.

“Why all the commotion?” Fiona asked. Her stepfather simply shrugged.

“We’re overdue for an invasion attempt,” Malcolm explained as they stepped into the new lift. “Christmas, like clockwork, every year for a couple years, UNIT had to be on the defensive; the fact people barely remember anything is all because of my office coupled with UNIT’s efforts and old fashioned Human resilience, because we didn’t want to look like we were the softest fucking target on the entire planet. It’s been a while since a proper attempt, hence the precautions. Your mam and I don’t feel like there’s anything to worry about though, hence why we decided to mostly just stay the fuck at home.”

“Yes; the closest thing we have had to an invasion on Christmas in a long while was two years ago when a scout pod of Kantrofarri broke up in the atmosphere and held several people hostage, killing one before being eliminated themselves,” Kate said. The young women glanced over at Malcolm and Gordon for a translation, which they gave by the latter miming grabbing onto the former’s face—the Dream Crabs.

The lift opened up onto the eerily silent medbay floor, letting the family off near their destination. Kate knocked on the door to Clara’s room and poked her head in, seeing that the unfortunate test subject was sitting on the couch with a book and cuppa. Wearing joggers and a sweatshirt that was clearly borrowed from the Doctor, she was just starting to appear as though she was pregnant, with a rounding stomach barely visible under her clothes.

“May Malcolm and I come in?” Kate asked. “We brought a few more visitors with us as well.” She watched as the other woman put down her book and looked at her quizzically.

“Yeah, come on in,” she replied. She raised an eyebrow as she watched the family enter the room, curious about the occasion. “What’s all this?”

“Miss Oswald, I’m sure you’ve met my son, Gordon, but this is my daughter Fiona and my niece Lex—Malcolm and I informed the three of them of our plans today and they in turn wanted to visit with you.”

Understanding swept across her face, leading Clara to smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll go make—”

“I’ve got tea, you handle introductions,” Malcolm insisted, gently putting a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from standing up and heading towards the kitchenette.

“Alright, Glenn,” she joked.

“Much more of that and the only tea you’ll have available is that fucking South African stuff I hear you love so much,” he threatened with a laugh. He went in the direction of the kettle, only to be hit by a pillow off the couch that was rather conveniently flying in his direction.

“You don’t like rooibos?” Lex asked. “I hear it’s getting popular.”

“It makes my stomach flip these days,” Clara explained. She watched as most of her guests sat down, amazed at how many people were in there and not in order to prod her experimentally. At least she knew the UNIT employees, which left her to sort out the other two via previously told stories and inference. She turned towards the eldest of the younger women and reached back into her memory. “Then you’re… Lex…?”

“Alexandra Lewiston, yeah; I’m Malcolm’s niece and work as a poli-sci lecturer and assistant at the university level.”

“…and I’m Fiona Ferrero, Kate’s daughter and a first-year business major,” Fiona cut in.

“That sounds about right, from what Kate and Malcolm have told me,” Clara nodded. She then turned towards Gordon and attempted to recall a conversation from the other day. “You are Corporal Lethbridge-Stewart, correct? I hear you are Bismuth’s protégé?”

“Yeah—though mostly I’m the son of Kate, grandson of Alistair, and brother to this thing,” he said. He ruffled Fiona’s hair and she flailed in an attempt to brush him off, though the damage was already done and her hair was completely out of sorts. “It was my sister’s idea to come over.”

“I appreciate the company, thank you,” Clara chuckled. Malcolm brought over everyone’s tea and passed it out, though the accidental hostess noticed her youngest visitor was still staring at her. “Yes…?”

“How far along are you?” Fiona wondered. “You don’t look very pregnant.”

“Thirty-seven weeks, from our best guess,” she replied. “I just felt the baby move for the first time a few days ago.”

“Wait, that’s…” Fiona quickly did the math in her head and looked to her mother. “That’s not right, is it?”

“Not if it was a Human child, no,” Kate said. She sipped her tea and glanced over at Clara. “Are things still the same since the last time we talked?”

“Still miserable, if that’s what you mean—all these tests and ultrasounds and experiments are going to drive me completely bonkers.”

“Welcome to life with Alessandra Sullivan as your Head of Biomedical,” Kate quipped.

“Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?” Fiona asked. Clara shrugged at that.

“So far? Just a baby—it keeps on changing, which is freaking me out a whole lot more than it is Sullivan.”

“…your baby keeps changing gender…?” Lex wondered, completely baffled.

“Ha! I wish it was just that!” Clara took a large gulp of tea and groaned. “It only had one arm the other day and now it has two as though nothing was off. Shit, even today it had extra fingers and toes at the start of the exam and by the end those had vanished.”

“You mean, that face-changing stuff… it’s happening now…? To the unborn nip?!” Malcolm asked, trying to not cringe. “Fucking hell, this must mean that Alessandra’s wetting herself in excitement.”

“Well-put,” Clara grimaced. Her hand unconsciously found her stomach and rested atop it. “I just wish there was a universe where this wasn’t a thing, where the Doctor and I could have this baby and not have to worry about anything else than what color the TARDIS will paint the nursery.” She noticed Gordon sitting quietly, nearly sizing her up. “Yes…? What’s that face for?”

The young man removed himself from his thoughts and shrugged. “Sorry; it seems a bit odd, not because I think it’s this thing or that, but because you’re a couple years older than me and I guess I’m more used to the idea of giving a kid up for adoption being what people my sister’s age do.”

“You’re not alone in that—actually, there are times when I seem to forget what’s going on, and then I remember.” She began gently rubbing her stomach—as though she was soothing the child inside—and she smiled before shaking her head. “If there was any way to properly care for this child myself, I would take it, run, and not look back… but it won’t be safe growing up with me or the Doctor, and what sort of parents would we be if we couldn’t keep our own child safe?”

“Well, considering I think they made child leashes as a response to kids like me, probably a normal one,” Fiona shrugged. Kate gently backhanded her daughter’s shoulder, which only made the teen chuckle. “It’s true! You were always looking for me until I was what, seven?”

“This doesn’t sound like this is the sort of conversation that will make Miss Oswald feel better about things.”

“At least she’s honest,” Clara laughed. “The fact you’re all here makes me feel better than anyone can possibly fathom. To know that this is the family that my child will grow up knowing… it’s comforting. You seem much more like a family than I’m certain a lot of others are here in the Mainframe.”

“It’s not like we have a lot of fucking choice falling out of our arses,” Malcolm scoffed. “One hint of something definitely not Tripartite in origin and I can almost guarantee you that the babe’s pants won’t be the only soiled ones that day.”

“Such a way with words,” Clara said rather flatly. She glanced over at Kate and pointed at Malcolm. “You married this? Willingly? No ulterior motives?”

“Hey, what can I say? Best sex I’ve had in thirty years.”

The older three watched in amusement as the younger three nearly choked on their tea and went red in the face, groaning in mortification. Regret over making the visit was beginning to set in, the younger ones hoping it was merely a ploy to get a rise out of them. Unluckily for them… it worked. Well.

#The Thick of UNIT #Malcolm x Kate #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #satstewart #bollockingUNIT #Doctor Who #The Thick of It #fan fiction #Lex Lewiston #Gordon Lethbridge Stewart #Fiona Stewart (OC)#Clara Oswald #this entire arc is going to be a doozy so strap in if you haven't already

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nehswritesstuffs · 6 years ago

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The Thick of UNIT - Part XXXII

I like this chapter. This is a good chapter.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

It’s two days before the Big Day and an important visitor drops in a bit earlier than expected [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

It was Thursday.

Everything was in a panic. Centerpieces lay half-completed throughout the house. Linens sat in various piles, waiting for Saturday morning. There was—luckily—enough as far as chairs and tables hidden away in the basement for the couple to utilize, yet they were all still in storage, covered in multitudes of old bedsheets and waiting for the day before the Big Day to get hauled out by the currently-absent Millennials. Nothing was finished, little was prepped, and it was weighing down on Kate and Malcolm both as they attempted to play catchup.

“I’m gonna kill her,” he growled as he looked through a box. It was full of utensil sets, though they were all jumbled and missing several pieces if his running count was correct.

“Don’t murder my niece before she’s officially my niece,” she warned idly. Kate was on the other side of the sitting room, examining a wine glass for imperfections before placing it back down to move on to the next one. “What happened now?”

“She got the wrong box,” he replied, setting it down on the table. “This is all the mismatched flatware, and she was supposed to bring the good ones—she knew she was supposed to bring the good ones.”

“It’s a box from a storage unit—you can easily have it fixed.”

“There is too much to do in two days for something as stupid as this to throw a fucking wrench in the plan.” He stepped away from the box and placed his hands on his hips. “I’m gonna have her bring the right box over and she’ll have to wash it all herself.”

“What were you even doing with a set of ‘bad flatware’ anyhow?” Kate asked. Malcolm bristled at that.

“I had been planning on either selling it or giving it to Lex as some startup stuff for when she first moved out on her own, but you see how well that’s panned out,” he replied. “It was just part of the shit I collected back when I was starting out, and haven’t needed because the flat UNIT moved me into was mostly furnished.”

“Then you can get rid of it.”

“You sure?”

“It’s either we have enough with our sets of good flatware, or we hire enough of the same set for uniformity.”

He couldn’t argue that, instead finding himself making his way to his fiancée’s side. No, soon, she would be his wife and he was ready to start thinking about them in those terms. Husband and wife—wife and husband—a married couple… it was so very surreal that he wasn’t entirely certain it was really happening. He gently put his hands on her shoulders and allowed her to lean into him, resting her head against his body.

“Want to take a break?” he wondered.

“Not now—there’s still work to be done.”

“That’s true, but that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a break. We’ve worked almost through lunch.”

“I’ll break for a sandwich, but not a shag. Not yet, anyhow.”

“Then I’ll make us some tea,” he said. Malcolm left the chaos of the sitting room for the chaos of the kitchen. Groceries were everywhere, no place for them to hide in the cupboards until Saturday, and it was enough to drive him mad. It was alright though, he thought, as it would all be gone by this time next week.

This time next week, he would be married, and to the right fucking woman too. He filled the kettle and let his mind wander—despite her temporary lapse in judgement, she was the most incredible woman he could have ever imagined himself being with. The world that the Dream Crabs had invented for him all that time ago now… it was the perfect sort of scenario. They would never be able to have a child together—the fucking gut punch if there was one—but they could be there for one another when times got rough. There was a reason why vows normally included “in sickness and in health”, after all. He put the kettle on and knew that he would take whatever he could get at this point, and right now was better than anything he’d ever had.

“You better be making enough for everyone.”

Malcolm turned and saw this mother standing in the kitchen doorway. He blanched at the sight of her—how the fuck did she even get in the house? When the fuck did she get into England? Where was the car she… okay, it was better to just stop fucking stupid questions to which he was never going to get a fucking answer.

“Fuck, Mam, don’t scare me like that,” he swore. “I thought you weren’t coming in until late tonight.”

“Naw; apparently traffic was smooth enough to let me cut all the hours off the trip that would’ve normally been spent sitting stiller than Parliament in a crisis. It’s a fucking miracle if there’s one. Won’t happen again in my lifetime, that’s for damn certain.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“The English can build the fucking tracks but it’s not like they can keep their trains on fucking time. Some of us have sons to give away at the altar, you know, and we’d like to know we’ll be on time, neither early nor late.”

“Mam, please...”

“Malcolm, who are you talking to?” Kate wondered as she went towards the kitchen. She opened the door and her heart skipped a beat as she saw her fiancé’s mother standing there. “Oh, Florence, it’s good to see you... and so soon too...”

Florence approached Kate and stared her dead in the eyes. “So you’re the lass that changed m’boy’s mind and has him bothering to go through marriage again. I don't know what it is with m’nips and insisting on getting hitched...”

“Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s bad,” Malcolm argued from across the kitchen.

“It’s a fucking scam that doesn’t work,” she fired back.

“You’re getting bonus grandkids out of this—shut the fuck up or we’re putting you on the next train to Glasgow.”

There was a wooden spoon sitting in a container on the counter; Florence grabbed it as she crossed the kitchen and began to whack at her son’s shoulder. He cowered and lifted his arms to protect his face.

“Don’t you sass me, laddie!”

“Don’t come to my wedding just to bitch nonstop about it!”

“Please don’t fight in my kitchen,” Kate said, raising her voice slightly. The two Scots turned their attention to her and she was in control of the situation. “Malcolm, this seems like a good opportunity to bring your mother’s bags up to her room. Florence, why don’t you come with me while he takes care of that and finishes up tea?”

This satisfied Florence, who put the wooden spoon back and approached her son’s fiancée confidently. “You have to be a competent one to catch Wee Mael’s attention and still operate that nutter squad.”

“UNIT’s a bit more complicated than a ‘nutter squad’, Florence...” Kate led the old woman from the kitchen and shot Malcolm a glare before disappearing herself.

You owe me one.

Following Florence to make sure that she didn’t vanish on her, Kate led her back to the sitting room, where they would at least be able to look out on the back garden through the French doors. Once she was certain her visitor was seated and comfortable, she dared start conversation.

“Your trip was good, I take it?” she asked.

“Speedy, but still fucking dreadful. I hate traveling.”

“Is that because of your previous jobs? I heard you had to travel a lot, with the government and as a journalist.”

“Probably; lost its appeal back in the fucking 90’s.” The older woman looked out the doors to the back garden and frowned pensively. “This is a really nice place you got.”

“Thank you—it was my father’s.”

“Passed on?”

“Not too long before I met Malcolm, actually,” Kate explained. She gestured towards a photo frame sitting on the end table. “Mum’s still alive, but she cannot travel too far from her care home on account of a weak constitution and severe dementia and won’t be around this weekend. That was them on their wedding day. They divorced when I was a girl, but at least it wasn’t messy.”

Florence picked up the photo and raised an eyebrow. “Al?”

Kate’s heart skipped a beat.

“You knew my father?”

“We were well-acquainted in my journalist days, asking for an official comment on one of their fucking ‘military exercises gone wrong’,” she said casually, replacing the frame. “Nice arse, though too prim and proper for my liking. Never forget an arse like that.”

“I’m sure he’d be… honored…”

“No, we can be honest: he hated me. Al never liked it when I showed up. He’d actually be mortified if he knew you and my Mael were getting married, that I was staying in his house, because we didn’t get on in the slightest.”

“Odd as this might be for me to say, but that is a relief,” Kate said. She then grew quiet as she heard Malcolm come back down the stairs and return to the kitchen. “May I ask you something?”

“Possibly.” Florence regarded Kate carefully, attempting to read her. “About what?”

“What did you mean when you said I changed Malcolm’s mind? I have an idea, but I want to make certain we are in the same page first.”

“After he divorced that venomous hussy, my Mael swore he was never going to get married again, saying that I was right and that everything was a fucking scam and that he’d never remarry long as he lived. Is that about right?”

“It’s the general idea.”

“Good, though I am still curious as to how you did it. What did you do to make him change his mind? Threaten to leave him? Fire him?”

“Neither,” Kate explained. “I change Malcolm’s mind as often as he changes mine—he came to the idea of marriage on his own. It was so much his own idea he had to propose twice before I agreed to it.”

Nodding, Florence took the information and stewed on it, her silence feeling something between approval and pride. Malcolm then came into the room with a full tea tray and balanced it on the one speck of coffee table that wasn’t filled with decorations and stemware. “Guess what I just learned?”

His face fell at his fiancée’s flat expression and his mother’s nonchalance. “What…?”

“My father knew your mother.” He almost dropped Florence’s cuppa on the floor.

“For fuck’s sake, Mam!”

“I didn’t shag Mister Double-Barreled Military Toff, if that’s what you’re so fucking worried about,” Florence growled, grabbing her tea. “Fucking stuffed shirt, that one. I’d’ve had better luck with that bent Captain of his… Bates, was it?”

“Yates, who is only half-bent, and he’s gonna be at the wedding with his husband, so behave yourself, Mam,” Malcolm warned. “You just can’t do and say shit and think everyone’ll be too fucking stunned to call you on it anymore.”

“You may have been the Wolf of Whitehall, but I was the one who raised you, and I will take you out if necessary, wedding or not.”

“…and the reason why we don’t get together often, right here,” he deadpanned.

“So who else is gonna be there?” Florence asked, leaning back into the couch. “The poof and his hubby, and…?”

“Do you remember a man named Benton?” Kate asked. Florence nodded. “He is conducting the ceremony.”

“I thought he was a used car salesman, not a vicar.”

“He’s an officiant, nothing more,” Malcolm clarified through grit teeth. “Mrs. Benton’ll be there too, Sammy—from m’old job—is bringing her son, Jamie and his wife, Cal and his wife…”

“…some people from work, a couple old friends of my father’s who may or may not be there…”

“Oh, and your auntie.”

“No, mum’s sister can’t make it after all—I can’t tell if ‘bad gout’ is a legitimate reason or she simply can’t be bothered to move more than five steps from her front door.”

“I can’t meet the bint at her funeral, love…”

“Then you take it up with her.”

“Fairly difficult when I’ve never even met her.”

“She’s cranky, but she’ll listen to reason.”

“She lives in fucking Yorkshire—why would she listen to reason? It’s not even like she can use the excuse of being with your mam…”

The couple then noticed that Florence was watching them silently while sipping her tea. Malcolm’s face fell into a scowl and he bit into a biscuit.

“What now, Mam?”

“Getting hitched, hmm?”

“Don’t give me that…”

“All I’m saying is don’t get rid of all your things or you’ll be moving onto our Lexie’s couch in a couple of months while the prenup’s getting executed.”

“We don’t have a prenuptial agreement, Mam,” Malcolm stated flatly. His mother almost choked on her tea.

“That’s how you lost your cat in your last fucking divorce, and nearly the house; lay that shit out now before it all goes to actual shit. Can’t predict needing it, so you better be safe than sorry.”

“Florence, I understand your concern,” Kate said, “but Malcolm and I have thought and talked this through plenty more than you realize. Both of us are going into this with much clearer heads than our previous marriages—I have been married and divorced once before and, I’ll admit, it’s not something I want to go through again.”

“I didn’t expect this wasn’t your first time through,” Florence shrugged. “If Al divorced your mam, chances are you’re more likely to divorce—it’s just something that happens.”

“So if you were unable to build a lasting relationship, it makes it more difficult for me to as well?” Malcolm threw at her.

“O’course,” she said, completely unfazed. Malcolm put his cuppa down and began to rub at his temples—only his mother.

The trio could hear the sound of the front door open and moments later, Lex and Fiona walked in, the former carrying a cardboard box almost identical to the one with Malcolm’s “bad” utensil sets. Florence grinned from ear to ear at the sight of her granddaughter, standing up to approach them.

“There’s my wee Lexie,” she tutted, bringing her in for a hug.

“Good to see you, Granny,” Lex beamed. “I miss you too much when I’m down here.”

“It’s still good for you to be out and in a new environment,” Florence said. She then turned to Fiona. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Fiona, Kate’s daughter. Lex and I are now roommates in Malcolm’s old flat. It’s good to finally meet you, Miss Tucker.”

“I’m your granny now—call me as such,” Florence insisted. “What’d you bring?”

“It better be my good flatware,” Malcolm frowned. Lex winced—she was caught.

“Hey, at least you didn’t have to tell me it was the wrong box…”

“I wasn’t the one who shoved all my shit in storage, nor was I the one who volunteered to get it,” he reminded her. Yeah, definitely caught. “Well, is it?”

“Yes, it is…”

“Good—go wash it now, and don’t put it in the dishwasher because it’s not good for the finish.” Malcolm pointed towards the kitchen and his niece reluctantly obeyed. Fiona followed close behind and soon as the young women were out of sight, Florence smacked the back of her son’s head. “Ow! What the fuck’s that for?!”

“Don’t be so hard on her,” she scolded. “She’s the one picking your care home, remember that.”

“…and who’s to say I won’t be picking yours?”

“Behave, both of you,” Kate warned calmly, “or there’s no saying what’ll happen if my father decides to come back to see me get married again and decides to do a full-on haunting instead. This was his house, after all, and you did say he didn’t like you… was that correct?”

Both Tuckers fell silent, for the first time the entire visit, and Kate knew that the moment was to be a rare one.

#kate stewart #malcolm tucker #malcolm x kate #the thick of unit #bollockingunit #satstewart #the thick of it #doctor who #fan fiction #lex lewiston #fiona stewart (oc)#part of me feels like i should've done something like this sooner #but another part of me just goes nah bro and so yeah #florence tucker #because spoilers

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nehswritesstuffs · 6 years ago

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The Thick of UNIT - Part XXXIII

It took thirty-three chapters and almost four years, but we finally have the wedding chapter. Thank you to everyone who has read this, whether you’ve been around since the beginning or just recently started, as it has been your continued support and readership that has kept this bizarre crackship AU going strong.

Chapter Index - FFN - AO3

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mister Malcolm Petair Alexander Tucker and Ms. Katherine Mary Lethbridge-Stewart, 27 September 2014, their back garden. All unauthorized guests will be bollocked, with a subsequent mind-wipe. Dinner to follow. [Malcolm/Kate, a Malcolm Tucker working in UNIT AU]

Saturday morning and all Hell had broken loose.

The only thing that really could have made things worse was a thunderstorm parking itself over the house. A decent rain had passed over the night before, making it so that the lawn was part-marshland and the hired tent was going to need drying; Marcia’s flight in from Canada had been delayed due to engine failures and she wasn’t going to be on another plane into the UK until late that night due to overbookings; and, to top everything off with a steaming pile of con-shat-ulations, the wrong cake had arrived from the bakery, violently pink and covered in Peppa Pig figurines.

“…and it better be here in one hour or you are going to wish you had never woken up this morning!” Malcolm shouted as the deliverymen hauled the cake out of the garden. Once they were out of sight, he went to check on how the water was draining in the back, only making it halfway through the yard before his mobile rung.

“I’m not in the mood right now,” he warned.

“Mum just wants to know how things are coming or if we should be prepared to stall for time.” It was Fiona, fucking bless. She had Kate and Florence at the flat, the thing still being kept up by her and Lex because the former’s rich-cunt father gave her more than enough housing allowance to cover it. Shitty as Loris could be, the least Malcolm could give him was that he made sure the lass was financially well-off… then again, what was money to a man who made more in one shit than most people did in half a year?

“It looks like what’s left the sun’ll take care of,” he noted, taking a careful look at the miniature swamp. “I never realized we have a fucking off-season turlough back here; thought this was the wrong island for it.”

“Hasn’t done that in a few years; don’t know why it did so last night. The rain wasn’t that bad...”

“I’ll text in about an hour and let you know.”

“Gotcha.” The call ended and Malcolm shook his head—leave it till now for things to cock up that hadn’t in a while. He trudged back to the pile of folding chairs and began setting them up near the flowering trellis in the middle of the yard, only getting through three before he saw Kanda and Gordon come around the corner; Lex was almost deliberately lagging behind, talking with a man he’d never seen before.

“Reporting for duty,” Kanda announced as they approached. She then caught sight of the standing water in the back of the garden. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s draining, so we should be good,” he replied. An eyebrow raised and he motioned towards his niece. “Who’s that?”

“Her date,” Gordon deadpanned. As he watched Malcolm’s eyes nearly pop from their sockets in surprise, he shrugged noncommittally at Kanda. “Told you she hadn’t warned him.”

“Then Gordon and I are going to finish setting up the chairs while you go say hi,” Kanda said, giving the two of them an out. They retreated towards the pile of unfolded chairs, leaving Malcolm to begin approaching his niece. As he got closer, he tried to hear what they were talking about, only able to pick up that the man’s voice was rather deep.

‘Fuck, how old is this cumstain?’ he wondered. What was this lad? Ten years older than her? More than that? Lex had never dated anyone with more than two or three years’ difference, making the sight jarring. Showing up with a surprise date on her arm was one thing, but this was an extra level that made his Overprotective Uncle Mode kick in almost immediately. How many people were in his life before Lex? Fuck, try not to think about that. Could he already have kids? Teenaged kids? His stomach did a flip at the idea. He was tall too, nearly two whole fucking meters if he had things right, and looking like he even exercised once in a while—not a lot, ‘cause he was still a skinny fuck, but enough to be an accidental threat if things came to blows. Malcolm knew it was time to do his duty and see if this man-boy was worth keeping around.

At least he could say the lad had the decency to look scared shitless at the sight of the Bollocking Shark, coming in for the kill.

“There I was thinking that your date was Kanda,” Malcolm smirked, finally within earshot. Diffuse with a joke, then strike.

“No—Kanda’s here all on her own as your not-really-but-niece-in-spirit,” Lex replied. She then motioned towards her date, a blushing sort of nervousness plastered all over her face. “Uncle Malcolm, this is Euan; Euan, you’ve seen photos of Uncle Malc…”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” the younger man said. Malcolm took note of the lad as he shook his hand—a firm grip and a country brogue so strong that he nearly expected comically unintelligible Scots more suited to an End Game character to come out his mouth next—and let the strange man on his niece’s arm do the talking. “I’ve heard so much about you… good things though. Lex really admires you more like a father than an uncle.”

“Got to do something while hers wallows his life away in fucking Perth,” he nodded back. Lex then caught his eye, noticing that she was glaring at him crossly. “What? What did I do wrong this time?” His niece then pulled him away from her date, leaving him just out of earshot.

“You disapprove,” she hissed lowly. Fuck—caught; she knew him too fucking well. Did his eye twitch or something? “What is it?”

“I know love doesn’t ask for the middle-aged uncle’s permission first, but isn’t he a bit old for you?” he wondered.

“No, he’s not; there are thirteen years between us, but they don’t exactly feel as though they’re all there.” She rested her hands on her hips and gave her uncle the most irritated face she could muster. “It feels like I’m dating someone around my age. Honest.”

“So he’s not just trying to find a new mam for his kids or a bit of something else now that the divorce is final?”

“Never married and never had kids; he’s a clean slate.”

“Fuck, what’s wrong with him?” Malcolm recoiled as Lex punched his shoulder, surprised at the reaction. “What?! Even your da was married and divorced at his age, and that’s one of the most pathetic sacks I’ve ever had the misfortune of dealing with. It’s just a good thing you’re also a Tucker, or else you’d be damned by the genepool…”

“So his not getting up to anything because he hadn’t found the right person yet is reason to ask what’s ‘wrong with him’?”

“I’m just saying that usually the best men are snatched at least once by the time they’re forty—some of the worst too, but it’s the ones that can’t figure out how to fucking adjust themselves in public that don’t even get touched.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Lex scowled. “Your goddamned wedding day and you’re cocking up meeting my boyfriend…”

“Whoa, you only said he was your date! Where the fuck this boyfriend business come from?!”

“May I please interject here?” Euan asked as he cautiously approached. “I can still hear you, you know.”

“Right, man-lad; how’d you meet m’niece and why is it a good idea to date her? If I’m more like her father than an uncle, then give me the story.”

“We met at work—through the other Scottish expats—and we’ve felt close for a long while,” the younger man explained. Malcolm kept eye contact, though noticed how he reached towards Lex, with her grabbing his hand. He was silently asking for strength and she was giving it, which was more than he could say about other relationships she had been in… fuck, more than he could say about his first marriage if he was honest. The lad was bashful as he seemed to recall memories that were better left unshared. “Besides, being shut up in an office during a temporary alien takeover puts a couple things into perspective, and for me it was the fact I want to get to know Lex more than as just a colleague. Our first actual date was after that Zygon stuff and since then it’s felt so right that I don’t want to go back to what we were before.”

Malcolm’s glare softened and his shoulders relaxed at that, instantly drawing the parallel. He nodded as he felt blood rush up to his cheeks in embarrassment. “Yeah, I guess it’s not that much different than Kate and me.”

“See? Now was that so hard?” Lex exhaled in exasperation, finally able to breathe freely now that the chore was out of the way. “At least now you’ve got four extra sets of hands today instead of three; Euan can more than pull his weight.”

“What do you teach? Do you teach?”

“I’m a mid-level lecturer specializing in Europe from the Fall of Rome to, roughly, the English Civil War,” he explained. “It’s a bit broader than I’d like, but there’s so much that the time period influences in today’s world that it’s actually more difficult to stick to just those centuries in just Europe, and I—”

“Less talk, more setup; chop, chop,” Malcolm said, pointing at the shrinking stack of chairs. “I need these set up and covered before we get started on making sure the tent’s dry and the tables set up underneath, and that I want done before those cunts come back with the right cake.”

“What did they deliver? A bat mitzvah cake?”

“I wish it were that nice,” Malcolm snarked, adopting a generic English falsetto momentarily. With a snort to end it, he made Lex burst into hysteric laughter that only proved to confuse Euan and grab Gordon and Kanda’s attention. He patted Euan’s back and, going back to Weegie, said, “Having read her bedtime stories has its advantages—I can get her to laugh in six words or less.”

“You’re a scarily good mimic, sir,” Euan replied. He watched as Lex breathlessly went towards Kanda and Gordon to explain what she found so funny. “Um… can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Did you… erm… ever try mimicking like that while you were in politics? I mean, since you moved down here from Glasgow… to make things easier…?” The older man shook his head.

“Only on the phone in order to throw people off the scent; nothing more.” He looked the man-lad square in the eyes and made sure he was paying attention. “Don’t apologize for being Scottish, and certainly don’t be ashamed of whatever wee glen you were brought up in. Where was that?”

“…Darvel…”

“That in South Ayrshire?”

“East, actually.”

“Figures; it’s been a bit. Anyhow, I don’t care why you left or who you the fuck were leaving behind, because that place made you, and if you’re going to get anywhere with my Alexandra, it will behoove you to accept yourself—all of yourself—and don’t compromise.” He shrugged and glanced over at the nips, seeing that Lex could nearly breathe again. “As long as you’re not a cunting prick about it, there’s no harm.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye.” Malcolm gave the man-lad a (genuinely!) friendly grin and began to walk away. “Now I meant it on the setup! It’s nearly nine and we need to be all set, with half the food prep, by the time the earliest birds arrive at eleven-thirty! And no flirting! Do that on your time, not mine!”

Seriously, what fucking good was he if he couldn’t have at least a bit of fun?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As he expected, the first arrivals showed up at eleven-thirty, nearly exact, despite the fact nothing was actually done. It was Jamie and his wife Jeanette, and they immediately began to help put hors d'oeuvres together as instincts kicked in and the three of them seamlessly began to move about the kitchen as they began to channel days long gone. By the time Cal and Veronica showed up closer to noon, Jamie had dropped enough pans to get all three men kicked out while “the competent and married” of their number could take over while “the competent one and the married two” could make final checks on the outdoors parts.

“Was this bit really a swamp when you woke up this morning?” Cal wondered, poking his toe against the now-dried grass. Malcolm scowled as he looked out at the horizon and the clouds looming northward.

“It was fucking dreadful,” he replied. “I was out here up to m’ankles, you two probably to your shins.”

“Alright, just because I look shorter than I normally do next to Jeannie today doesn’t mean I’ve fucking shrunk,” Jamie growled. “She’s the one in the heels from Hell that have her breathing the fucking stratosphere.”

“It’s what you get for marrying a woman taller than most fucking men,” Cal teased. “Veronica and I being the same height makes things that much easier to manage.”

“You bent tit—my lass is the perfect fucking height for a cuddle and you’re just jealous because I saw her in the school local first.”

“Lads, you’re both wee, randy shits that give me hope for a long and active marriage, alright?” Malcolm snarked. He glanced back towards the house, staring at where the kitchen was before shaking his head. “If it weren’t for the two of them, I wouldn’t be kicked out of my own kitchen—despite the fact I’ve got culinary competency falling out of my cunting arse—and you’d both still be eating curries and pies and munchie boxes back in that filthy flat, with only your own right hands and a single heated blanket for comfort.”

“Not that flat—we’d at the very least be in Ruchill,” Cal replied. “Now, tell me again: who’s that lad with your Lex again?” The men turned their attention to over by the patio, where the younger four were tacking streamers around the doors and windows, still having not changed into their nicer clothes.

“Another instructor at her university; seems harmless enough.”

“He looks like he could be fucking twice her age,” Jamie chimed in.

“He would be if she was closer to Fiona’s,” Malcolm shrugged. “She’s not a fresh face at uni anymore, lads. We’re the ones getting old.”

“Fuck that, mate; we’re fucking Highlanders.”

“You two might have Highlands in you, but I doubt for me,” Cal groused.

“Yeh wee fuck, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think yeh just missed the joke,” Jamie said, voice nearly grave. Malcolm shook his head and perked up at the sight not that far away: Benton and his wife coming around the drive, accompanied by two men that he could only fathom a guess were Mister and Other Mister Yates.

“Lads, behave; the Old Guard’s here. This is the closest we’re gonna get to Kate’s da attending and I don’t want either of you fucking this up.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

If there was anything in particular that Kate didn’t like, it was sitting around waiting.

Now granted, she was particularly good at it, being that it was partly how she was able to make her way up in the UNIT ranks—waiting for the precise moment to strike—but that did not mean that she enjoyed it by any stretch of the imagination. Now she was sitting at the breakfast bar at Malcolm’s old flat, in an elegant pale blue dress, drinking tea while listening to old stories about the man she was about to marry, as his mother regaled her and her daughter of tales that were likely lifted from a spy thriller.

“You really gave up being James Bond for Malcolm and Auntie Marcia?” Fiona marveled. She had, so far, been completely entranced by Florence’s stories, enamored by the sheer amount of thrills they contained. Her mother, on the other hand, was not nearly as impressed.

“I know history hasn’t been kind to the likes of us, but I highly doubt things were as exciting as you claim,” Kate deadpanned. She took another sip of tea and watched as her new mother-in-law scowled.

“It’s the fucking truth—I wouldn’t lie about being Special Ops like that,” Florence defended. “I was one of the absolute fucking best the Crown had at its disposal and don’t you forget it. Getting into reporting wasn’t easy either, but at least I wasn’t risking making me kids orphans quite as often.”

“Did you ever take them along?” Fiona asked, unfazed by the potential tension.

“A couple times; if it is frowned upon today, trust me in that it was severely fucking frowned upon back then. Most of the time if I had to take them though, it would be that Marcia took care of Mael while they stayed by me desk. I could start leaving them home alone together once Mael was about six, and by the time Marcia started uni, the lad was good enough to be home on his own for a couple hours.”

“What about before Malcolm? When it was just Auntie Marcia?”

“Our neighbors at the time, the Lewistons, were very understanding and would take her when me parents couldn’t; it was actually their boy that Marcia married, and I doubt that sorry sack has done anything of note since they split. If there is a God, he better be taking good fucking care of Jack and Bernice or else he’ll have another think coming by the time I get there.”

It was just then that Fiona’s mobile rang, cutting off all other conversation for the time being. “Yeah?” The teen paused. “Good; see you.” She then ended the call and grinned triumphantly. “That was Lex—Thunderbirds are go.”

“Everyone isn’t waiting on us, are they?” Kate asked, worried.

“Nah; we’re about halfway there, but it should be a full house by the time you get here if traffic is what I think it’ll be,” Fiona reported. “Let’s just get you ready to go.”

One final check of her dress and makeup and Kate was ushered out the flat and down to the underground carpark where Lex’s wee car was waiting for them. She was shoved into the back and Fiona happily got behind the wheel, exercising her newly-laminated driver’s license with the sort of zeal only one could have while rather young and reckless (or, in Florence’s case, old and still reckless).

Despite the semi-harrowing ride, relief came just as Fiona stopped at the double-mini roundabout that they needed to take to get onto their street. There was no one else on the road, allowing the young woman to idle where she would’ve otherwise been in the way.

“Last chance, Mum,” she said, looking at Kate via the rearview mirror. “If you don’t want to go through, I’m sure we’ve got Granny’s permission and the entire United Kingdom we could run to.”

“If you don’t go home and bring this car trip to an end now instead of prolonging it, I will make certain that your license is stripped and you put on a permanent do-not-drive list.”

“Good enough for me,” Florence shrugged.

Fiona then drove the car up to the front of the house, from which they could see that there were plenty of other vehicles parked along the side and on the lawn. Lex greeted them, allowing Florence to head into the back garden by herself and pulling Fiona and Kate into the library where there was a bouquet of flowers waiting and they were still cut off from everyone. The young women only left when Gordon came in, having recently changed into his UNIT military kit.

“Oh, Gordon, you look just like Granddad,” Kate sniffled, overcome by the sight of her son. Of course, they only looked vaguely alike, but it was the uniform—the way he held himself—that made her begin to tear up at the very sight of him.

“I’m sure he would’ve loved to be here—Gran too, if she could’ve been lucid enough.” He hugged her, holding tight. “I love you, Mum.”

“I love you too,” she replied. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Everyone’s seated, Lex is set with the camera, and Mister Benton’s ready to go!” Fiona whispered as she opened the door a crack. “How about you two?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Kate said, grabbing the flowers. Her daughter gave her a thumbs-up and disappeared. A minute later and they could hear music—their cue was coming.

Kate and Gordon hooked arms and waited for their signal to begin making their way through the house. They heard the correct note and left the office, slowly heading towards the sitting room doors to keep in-time with the music.

Once they stepped outside, however, the crowd of guests and the accompanying decorations and fuss seemed to melt away. Kate saw Malcolm standing between Jamie and Benton and she instantly began to focus in on him and him alone. She had seen him in some rather nice suits before, and he had definitely seen her in nicer dresses, but when she locked eyes with him, she could see that not only was she the most beautiful person he had ever seen, he was the same for her. Before either could get their bearings, they were standing directly in front of one another, close enough to whisper quietly.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Only if you are.”

He smirked—of course they were.

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