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Emma knew that her reputation was that she was a posh bitch, and honestly? She wasn’t too offended by that. She’d worked hard at being equal parts off-putting and intelligent and she wasn’t ashamed of the fact that that meant the men she worked with hated her. They were all the worst examples of the male species anyway, so why should she care?
That didn’t mean she had no morals.
Adam and Fergus really thought they were subtle. And, well, if they’d only been working with the guys (and Terri) at DoSAC then they’d probably have been safe, but Emma was much more perceptive. Emma noticed every brush of their hands, every moment of lingering eye-contact, every rumpled suit lapel. She really didn’t know how those two idiots thought they could get away with a secret relationship when they couldn’t stop touching each other in the middle of the office. An arm around the waist here, a hand on the shoulder there, really, it all added up.
One particular Tuesday morning stood out to Emma, as the last moment she had any faith in the perceptiveness of her colleagues. It was a perfectly normal beginning to the day, other than the fact that Fergus was late. Late for him anyway. Peter had actually arrived before Fergus that Tuesday, almost an hour before in fact. Of course, Peter didn’t notice that his obnoxiously early Junior Minister was late – too caught up on the phone with his wife; Emma wasn’t sure what the fight was about this time, but it added to her ever-growing list entitled: Why aren’t you divorced yet?
Emma, of course, noticed immediately Fergus’ darkened office. There was also no Adam, which was a clear sign that Fergus was in fact not at work yet, as opposed to in some sort of meeting.
It was 8:55am on the dot when both men finally showed themselves in the office. Their matching eye-bags and dishevelled clothing they easily could have gotten away with, even with Emma’s eagle eyes, and the lack of gel in Adam’s hair could be put down to oversleeping. If only Fergus had the forethought to do up the top button of his shirt, or even tie his tie, anything that would have covered up that eyesore of a hickey decorating the junction between his neck and shoulder. Really, Fergus, really? Didn’t anyone believe in being classy anymore?
She couldn’t help but stare, mostly because she couldn’t believe her suspicions were actually right, but also because there was a part of her (a very small part of her, mind you) that hoped Fergus would spot her – very obvious – staring, and do his bloody shirt up before any of the numerous fucking homophobes they worked with noticed the dark bruise. She eventually managed to catch his eye, before very pointedly turning her attention to his neck and back up, raising her eyebrow.
The next time Emma saw Fergus that day his suit was completely straightened out and tie done up tightly to his throat – she couldn’t be certain it was her look that had made that happen or if maybe Adam or even Fergus himself had noticed the mishap; she was just glad it was out of her sight.
Emma was sure that the boys didn’t know she knew. At least, she was certain they didn’t know until one fateful frosty Monday morning in January. Fergus and Adam were both in by the time she and Phil turned up alongside Peter – having his daily phone argument with Tina – so that gave Emma hope for a relatively normal morning. No lovebites or rumpled shirts, no Adam and Fergus drama, not today, thank God!
She really had had thought too early in the day. She didn’t believe in jinxes, not really, but if this Adam and Fergus shit went on much longer she just might have to start.
They were late to the morning meeting, because of course they were. Stewart had strutted into the office announcing said meeting to all their faces – including the guilty duo – and yet they were still late. Emma didn’t even question why she’d been the one sent to find the Adam and Fergus, as if they were her naughty kids she was picking up from pre-school, even though Glenn was sat right there. Sexism, probably. Most of her experience in DoSAC was driven by that, really.
Emma was truly stumped for their location, though. They weren’t in Fergus’ office, which was the first place she checked (obviously), but it was also the only place she knew them both to frequent. And so, she began to wander aimlessly around their floor – it was more stretching her legs now really, rather than actually searching for the two missing Lib Dems. They didn’t really need them anyway. She figured she’d do a loop before heading back to the meeting, she didn’t have time for a scavenger hunt.
It was only as she turned a corner toward the back, to a rather hidden part of their floor that she began to hear the sounds of muffled voices, which only grew louder and clearer the closer she got to the cleaning closet. If she worked in the private sector, she probably would have been worried at the volume of the shouting, but her ears had adjusted to the higher-than-average decibel range DoSAC worked at.
“-don’t understand why you won’t just tell me!”
She knew that voice. She was sure of it.
“Why does it matter? Do you really need to know each and every person who communicates with me?”
Okay she definitely knew that voice, too.
“No, no, you know I don’t. But it’s the principle of the thing! Why won’t you tell me?” Fergus whined, actually whined.
And, Jesus Christ, if that didn’t tell Emma way more about their sex life than she needed to know.
“Because I don’t want to tell-”
“Oh you don’t want to tell me? Like that’s not the most suspicious thing in the world, Adam Kenyon. Jesus fucking Christ, you could have just told me you were done with me. Didn’t need to go out and find the next warm body to have them lined up for after you leave me. Fucking shit. What have we fucking done here? Fuck.”
“No, no, Fergus just fucking listen to me for one moment, will you? I don’t want to tell you, yet, okay? Yet being the operative word here you fucking prat. I will tell you. I will, I promise. Just not now. You don’t need, no, you don’t want to know yet. Believe me.”
“Sure. Fine. What-fucking-ever, Adam.”
Perhaps it was time for Emma to intervene – the drama was interesting, yes, and it certainly brought more excitement to her day but they did all have jobs to do, and a country to run.
Knocking loudly on the closet door, she cleared her throat in the most obnoxious way she could manage and called through the solid wood, “Well, boys, if you’re done in there I’m sure that Stewart and Peter would greatly appreciate your presence in the meeting that you’re now,” she glanced at her watch, “nine minutes late for.”
#
Emma might have been a posh bitch, and she might have been a Tory, but that didn’t mean she was the worst person in the world. She would never out Adam and Fergus – she did have some morals left. Plus, one of her uni friends was gay – she didn’t speak to him anymore but that was beside the point. He’d been through some shit back when they were still close, and that was at university, where there were a lot more open-minded people around. The government was a whole other story. And anyway, it was the best for everyone, DoSAC was already barely clinging on to existence, it really didn’t need a sex scandal opening the floodgates of criticism, let alone a gay sex scandal.
So, it really was the best for everyone if Emma just went on with her life pretending not to know that every night Adam and Fergus were leaving the office separately, only to meet up later in order to wine, dine, and fuck each other’s brains out before turning up at work the next morning together. She considered herself quite the martyr, thank you very much, for sitting on such explosive information about the Junior Minister and his Special Adviser.
Thus, she couldn’t be blamed for letting things slip out every now and then. An underhanded comment here, a small homophobic attack there – she was only human. Plus, DoSAC was a stressful environment and while Phil was a very fun punching bag, it was nice to take it out on someone outside of her party every now and then.
Emma really couldn’t stand all the posturing that went on when Adam and Phil were within ten feet of each other – the private school boys in the both of them reared their ugly heads. The Rajesh Raj situation really needed sorting and she couldn’t be dealing with all the cock-measuring that was currently going on when she was trying to save their Minister from his own fuck up.
“Okay kids, Raj can make it for eight o’clock- What’s going on? Have you two just… kissed?” She would not allow herself to smile at her own inside joke… no she would not. Even if she did, just a little bit, neither of them was looking at her so what did it matter?
“Give him this: final list of staff cuts, just needs his signature. If it makes him happier he can pretend he’s sectioning you under the mental health act,” Adam snapped at Phil, resolutely ignoring Emma’s presence.
“Sure. But tonight Dobby does not ride with Dumbledore,” Phil retorted, smirking, clearly pleased with his zinger of a reply as he retreated back into Peter’s office.
Finally Adam turned to her, acknowledging her existence for once, “Brilliant, brilliant, does he have any references based in reality?”
She didn’t know why Adam was asking her this question of all people – as if she had any clue about the hamster wheel that ran in Phil’s head.
“Listen. Don’t fuck about, Adam, just make sure Fergus gets Peter to the church on time, okay?”
“Alright. Get a boyfriend.”
What a twat.
“Oh – come out.”
Adam froze. Emma had never seen him look so like a rabbit in headlights. For a second he was lost for words, eyes locked with Emma’s, mouth slack. She couldn’t believe it; she’d actually created a comeback so fierce Adam couldn’t retaliate. It had been so simple too. Phil really didn’t need to try so hard.
The moment was interrupted by Peter storming out between the two of them, headed straight for Fergus’ office like some sort of chubby, wrinkled torpedo. Taking his chance to break out of this weird, tense connection, Adam legged it – evidently hoping to cut Peter off.
Emma didn’t think much of any of the Adam and Fergus events she had been privy to, at least not until Fergus requested her presence in his office. He’d even politely requested it via Robyn, rather than yelling her name across the floor. That had never happened before, so she figured there was only one reason for it.
They knew she knew. They knew she knew and they were about to confront her about it. Fabulous. She was a busy woman, but evidently these boys she worked with just didn’t understand that.
The matching awkward, forced, pleasant smiles on Fergus and Adam’s faces from their places behind the desk were enough for her to want to about-turn on her heels and walk straight back out. She was not in the mood for this, she didn’t think she’d ever be in the mood for this.
“Hi Emma… I know it’s weird for us- for me to call you in like this, but- uh, well, take a seat.” Fergus said. He was practically shaking with nerves – how on Earth this man had become an MP Emma would never know.
“I don’t think I will, Fergus, I know what this is about and I don’t need to ‘take a seat’ because this isn’t going to waste any more of my day than it needs to. Drop the smiles you two, you look like you’ve both shat yourselves rather tremendously. Which, well, I suppose you have, rather, haven’t you?”
“Now listen, Emma-” Adam started, unconsciously moving himself in front of the desk, in front of Fergus.
“No, you listen, Adam, you full-of-yourself prick. Who do you think got you and Fergus into this mess, hm? If you could keep your teeth off his neck for one night, good lord. Now, I’m not here to judge. Whatever you two boys get up to in your own time is your business, just keep it out of my face. And definitely keep it out of the office! Don’t be bringing arguments from home and certainly don’t be showing off any… marks that connect the two of you. The rest of our colleagues might be blind and stupid but if you keep shoving it in their faces like you have been then they’re eventually going to catch on. And I’m sure that’s the last thing you want. Because as soon as the office knows, well, then the press is going to know because you can be sure as fuck someone would be willing to use you two as scapegoats for whatever drama of the day occurs next, right? So fucking keep it in your trousers, and keep those trousers at home in a drawer somewhere.”
And with that – quite admirable final word, she thought – Emma strode from Fergus’ office to her desk. She had real work to do, after all.