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(fiction) HIGNFY - Missing What I Should Be Kissing
by Colette-O-Tron (colacancol)
at June 19th, 2006 (01:31 pm)

current mood: still pleased
current song: Morrissey - Pashernate Love

An old one from me, to kick us off... well, not that old... from a couple of months ago, all the way back in March... I've been into this whole fandom for a while now... And yes I do accept the fact that it is strange, but then so am I *laughs* Don't crucify me, it's what I do ^_^ I've fangirled over the boys of Have I Got News For You since I was thirteen, and after finding the Glove!Love community I feel complete... More people out there in the world, who are just like me... And then, one lonely night I was inspired to write a fic for the fandom... Actually scratch that, it's a lie - one night when I had drank four glasses of red wine and was watching UK Documentary+1, in my drunkeness I thought it would be a good idea to start a fiction... Little did I know, I'd be hooked onto it and reeled in like a fish... HIGNFY rocks *grins* Since then I ended up joining the community, and meeting some fabulous friends there... I couldn't recommend it enough over there, so make sure you give it a visit!

Title: Missing What I Should Be Kissing
Author: colacancol
Fandom: HIGNFY
Pairing: Paul/Angus
Rating: (PG)

Synopsis: During the show, Paul makes an offer that Angus can't refuse... But sadly, he knows that he has to... Thinking it over in his head, the impossibility of it all, the risk of scandal, the chance of being caught out - he realises just how much it would mean to him if he actually went through with it...

Disclaimer: It’s fiction (though one can hope!) and I don’t own them, though I do own the story so if you want to use it for anything, feel free but leave my name on it and let me know *grins* 

Missing What I Should Be Kissing

Laying his hands flat to the table, he looked up at his host, a wicked glint in his eye. ‘If I get this question right,’ he grinned, ‘then I’m going to give you a kiss!’ He had implied that the reason behind what he had said was down to how he expected his answer to the question to be an incorrect one. Oh how he’d heard that kind of talk so many times. And let‘s face it - he was so hardly ever right, that Angus did wonder whether he actually read the newspapers. Or perhaps he merely adlibbed, bluffed his way through the entire show, and as he expected hadn‘t laid eyes on one single page of newsprint for years. Yes, that’s right - he must have. What did he, an everyday comedian, know of politics? That man was only in it for the laughs. The audience had always loved his wise cracks and his witty one-liners. But he considered him to be as rude as they came - a prankster, a joker, a man not be taken seriously under any circumstance, not even when in the surround of this light-hearted panel show. 

As he hoped the programme hadn’t sank so low as to be a game show just yet, he could see no reason for him being here. This was a serious debate, with humour as a sideline. It was far beyond the leagues of The Weakest Link, another question after question of mindless drivel, nine dullards lined at their podiums, with the marvel that was Anne Robinson, the world’s first official octogenarian dominatrix, hired but with no other purpose than to titillate the old, tired and decrepit; or Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, having to resort to offering sums of money which almost rivalled that of the host’s ridiculous salary, matched by answering questions on a kinder garden level, all of which to justify its very presence on modern television. So yet, why did he care so much? Why did it matter? Though he deemed him to be an ignorant oaf, he was still so undeniably charming in his own way. A handsome man. At most times, such a wicked glint was indeed visible in Paul’s eyes, but was usually accompanied by his undying humour and greatest attempt at dry wit. Except this time, it clearly was not. What was all of this kiss business? He found himself more than interested to find out. 

Angus turned his head, a man quite obviously desperate to hear more. ‘And if it’s wrong,’ the younger man went on, ‘then you’re going to give me a kiss.’ A smirk lingered as the words left his lips. The host was now forced to suddenly sit up, a mixture of confusion and intrigue evident from his expression. ‘Excuse me?‘ a sharp intake of air making him cough, as he asked. What ever did he mean? The staleness of what was the clear liquid in front of him, a glass tumbler placed on the counter, almost caused him to choke. He would have liked to have thought that it had gone down the wrong hole, and that he hadn’t been so startled by the very notion of locking lips with his fellow panellist. Bypassed his oesophagus and drove itself instead along his windpipe, en route to his respiratory system. Damn the cheapness of that complimentary BBC tap water. Now he could see what the glint in his eye represented. It was a glint of desire, a glint of lust even. Paul would never say something along such similar lines, without there being a little more to it. He contemplated the way in which he would answer this, thinking over the many different possibilities in his own mind. 

On the one hand, such an appealing situation, to be in the position of making love to that man. Angus had always thought of him as more than just a friend. And he knew if anyone did, that he must be gay. I mean, just to look at him - camply dressed in suits that wouldn’t look out of place in Elton John’s wardrobe; or sometimes the kind of jumpers you might expect to see put upon nine year old boys, the kind who have more knowledge on the subject of toy steam engines, than on members of the opposite sex. Sweet but saucy. He was so adorable, from those baby blue eyes, to that floppy, foppish hairstyle, which would take each and every available opportunity to droop down onto his forehead, so that he would flick it back every so often, only as to tease him. Like the kind of woman that would sit at the bar rather than taking a traditional seat, dressed and covered in cheap jewellery, a boob tube, a PVC mini-skirt, expecting you to be the one buying the drinks in return for so much more. Knowing that he would have him on his knees every time. ‘Oh, hell,‘ he cursed, an inaudible whisper. 

Though the thought of fulfilling his partner’s wishes was a particularly tempting one, he knew he had to remain strong. He simply refused to let his emotions get the better of him, especially not on national television. Not on air. Unless he wanted to make the headlines in every major tabloid, be the talk of the redtops. If he wasn’t too careful, he might end up on the show next week, except only this time perhaps as a question topic. And besides, how he could get away with doing it in front of a television audience of thousands, he would never know. With such a threat as that looming over his head, being fired from his high profile position as host of Have I Got News For You, how could he find himself handling such a scandal? He had to plump for the wiser of his two options. ‘Erm, no’ he replied in that sarcastic tone of his, ‘I DON’T think so…’ He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling proud of his own decision. But he hardly meant what he had said. In fact, it may have even been a leader amongst some of his latest and greatest lies. Wincing, he prayed that the cameraman had not picked up on the reaction following his answer. 

However, the one man this studio floor that could do more damage than those filming, had noticed him, and was now bitterly disappointed. That man was Paul. His saddened eyes pleaded with the older man, yet still he would not change his mind. And now he could see that he was adamant, with all that he had said. Though instead of dwelling on the fact, taking it straight to the heart, he did what he always had to and always will. He merely cracked a joke to hide away the pain, and was left sitting there with just three words on his lips.

‘Why not, Angus?’