“Where’s all the security?”
“What security?” was the response of the man on the door of the conference centre. “You mean bag checks, security men, all that palaver? Nah, we're Lib Dems, mate, we don't do that sort of thing... You pick up your badge at the table down there on the left -” he pointed, “- along with your conference programme an' that, and that's it. Welcome to Conference!”
Hearing the man's response to Dave's bewildered question as he pushed open the door, Nick glanced round and bit back a grin at his companion's confused expression. Poor bugger, he had to be finding this bloody terrifying after all that time hiding away from the world in that poky little flat of his, but nevertheless in that one quick look over his shoulder Nick had recognised the determined jut of that pointed chin.
Scared he might be, but Nick had also been delighted over the past few months to discover that Dave could out-stubborn a mule when he wanted to. When Nick had broken the news that Dave’s partner of barely three months was committed to attending the Liberal Democrat Autumn Conference, which would necessitate an extended weekend’s absence from their tiny, but wonderfully cosy, new house only a week after they’d moved in, Dave had blinked, swallowed, cast a fleeting, regretful look at their weed-choked postage-stamp of a garden, and with barely a tremor had announced that he'd come along too - to protect Nick from all those dangerously liberal, er... Liberals.
Nick had had to smile at Dave's obvious Tory conviction that the Lib Dem's annual get-together would be a chaotic free-for-all fuelled by drugs, alcohol, and free love, but Nick also hoped that he himself understood how intimidating the prospect of the up-and-coming weekend would seem to a man who had been a virtual hermit for the past few years, and who, even when he had been following a career in politics, had only ever attended the well-organised and lavish but doubtless considerably more formal proceedings of the Conservative Party.
Pausing just inside the door, he gave Dave a reassuring smile and waited for the other man to catch him up.
Seeing Dave hesitate as he entered the ultra-modern building, his wondering gaze skipping around the main hall, Nick glanced around himself, seeing as if for the first time the crowds swirling around the central concourse. There was a scattering of suits and ties, but they were vastly outnumbered by jeans and T-shirts, shorts and sandals, and even the occasional formal velvet jacket, frilled shirt and bow tie. Skirts were all lengths from ankle to… incredibly short, and there was much face furniture in evidence. There were beards of all types, hair of all shades and colours from the natural to the fluorescent, a bewildering variety of tattoos, and outfits of dubious but undeniably colourful ethnicity. Everyone was smiling, everyone was chattering away nineteen to the dozen, and no matter the outfit, the items which everyone had in common were a bright yellow conference badge and a canvas shoulder bag weighed down with the heavy, multi-page, shiny yellow booklets that were the Conference Programme and Agenda. Nick choked back another chuckle at the stunned expression on his partner's face.
“Come on, love,” he said briskly, “Let's pick up our badges and find out what's where, OK?”
Dave appeared to find the well-behaved queue at the registration desk reassuring, if confusingly welcoming - he was his usual impeccably polite self as he fielded friendly queries from his fellows in the queue, but was unable to quite prevent himself rolling his eyes at Nick at the tenth repetitition of, “Oh, is this your first conference? How lovely for you, you'll have to attend the new members' reception, and oh! don't miss Glee Club, and then there's...”
Escaping with packs and badges to hand, Nick made determinedly for the escalator to the next floor, where the conference plan told him that he would find the Lib Dem Gays stall, only to be brought up short by a strong hand grabbing his shoulder and a familiar voice saying,
“Nick, lad, how have you been? I thought you were coming down to visit after the European election? What's this I hear about you fraternising with the opposition, it really won't do, you know! How many times have I told you not to get tangled up with the Tories?”
“Paddy!” Nick came to a stop, his face dissolving into a smile which only widened when he heard the rest of Paddy's speech. Then he saw the sharp, fierce eyes under their bristling brows shift their gaze to look past him. Turning slightly, he caught a glimpse of huge, apprehensive blue eyes peering past his left shoulder and hastily stepped to one side, holding out an encouraging hand.
As David's hand slipped into his own, Nick announced with pride ringing in his voice, “This is my partner, David Cameron, Paddy.”
Then he relaxed and sent a mischievous grin Paddy's way, adding, “Dave, this is Paddy Ashdown, current leader of the party and official grumpy old -”
“- fart,” completed the older man, his broad, weatherbeaten countenance wreathed in cheer while he studied the man standing shyly behind Nick's tall, slim figure. Hesitantly, as Nick gave him an encouraging tilt of his head, Dave stepped out into full view. Dave's eyes, under the lock of hair which persisted in falling across his forehead, were fixed anxiously on Ashdown, and as Paddy studied him Nick knew that the older man was reading all of Dave's anxiety at meeting this friend of his partner’s, plus the other’s skittishness as they were jostled by the excited crowds surging past them. Hopefully, though, Nick reflected, Paddy would also be able to detect the stubborn courage with which Dave forced himself to confront these terrifying – to him – experiences, and would give Nick’s new partner credit for the man’s iron-spined refusal to give in to his fear….
Ashdown’s penetrating gaze swept Dave from head to foot, then returned to the other’s face; Dave, flushing a little, lifted his chin and stared back, and Nick drew a silent breath of relief as he saw Paddy’s lips quirk.
“Yes, I’m staring,” retorted Paddy. “Appalling manners, I know. I’m astonished at young Nick’s good taste this time round, that’s all! After that shower you introduced me to last year, lad – never mind. How d’you do?”
He extended a hand, adding as Dave tentatively accepted it, “Call me Paddy – everyone does!”
“Um, th- thank you, sir. I’m… I’m Dave. I’m very pleased to meet you…”
Paddy’s eyebrows shot up at Dave’s words, clearly recognising the ultra-well-bred Etonian drawl, but made no overt comment, instead saying cheerfully,
“If you’re not too busy tomorrow evening, how about you both dropping by for a drink with Jane and I? We’re at the Majestic. I know she’ll want to catch up with you, Nick - and she’ll want to meet you, too,” he added to the silently-watching Dave.
Nick was nodding, “Of course. About… eight, eight thirty? We’ll eat first.”
With a friendly nod Paddy continued on his way and Nick raised his eyebrows at his companion, grinning. Dave blinked.
“What?”
“There, you see? That wasn't so bad, was it? Paddy liked you! I told you not to worry!”
Flushing, Dave looked away. “I know. Sorry. I just... don't do new people very well. I'm such a coward -”
“- Hey.”
Moving instantly to reassure, Nick took Dave's hand and drew him in for a quick kiss, reluctantly making himself pull away when the other man's instant, enthusiastic response tempted him to deepen what had been meant as a comforting gesture into something much more passionate. Nick really didn't want to be arrested for public indecency on the first day of Conference, and there were some things even the Liberal Democrats wouldn't countenance. Shagging Dave senseless on the floor of the conference venue was most definitely one of those...
Bringing up his free hand, he stroked Dave's cheek, watching as the other man leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “Hey,” he repeated quietly, “Enough of that. I know how tough this is for you, and I think you're being incredibly brave, David. Genuinely. All I meant was that Paddy's probably the scariest person you're likely to meet - well, other than Vince, and everyone's frightened of Vince, he's, well, he's like the really strict maths teacher at school that everyone's a little bit scared of but likes really.”
“Vince? You mean Dr Cable?” Dave said, reviving a little and loosening his death grip on Nick's hand. Nick nodded, then turned to continue on his way, Dave at his shoulder.
“That's the one. I'm sure I've mentioned him before... Who else might we see, umm... Well, there's Danny - you've met him,” Dave nodded, the slight wrinkle of tension in his forehead easing, to Nick's relief. But then, that was why he'd mentioned Danny Alexander in the first place. It was impossible to be frightened of Danny.
“Then there's David Laws, he and James came over for dinner a few weeks ago, remember? You liked both of them...”
Chatting, the two men moved on towards the escalator up to the floor which held most of the stalls, with Nick nodding and smiling as familiar, half-familiar and vaguely recognisable faces came and went in the swirling, excited crowd.
“It's much more free and easy than the Conservative Conference,” said Dave suddenly. It was impossible to tell from his voice whether he considered this good or bad. Nick glanced at him, but his partner's face was turned away, watching three women - an immaculate blonde in a business suit, a jeans-and-T-shirt-clad thirty-something and a teenager with bright pink hair and more face piercings than the average Masai warrior - throw their arms around each other with loud squeals of excitement before settling into animated, giggling conversation, totally ignoring the logjam they were causing in the flow of people to and from the escalators.
“Really?” Nick queried, interested. “I've never been to the Tory conference - or the Labour one either, for that matter. I've always wondered how they compared to ours.”
Dave's free hand rubbed at the back of his neck and Nick, knowing that this was a sign of acute discomfort, was about to change the subject when the other said, carefully choosing his words, “Well, I... um... It was a lot more... formal. Everyone was very conscious of.... of where one stood in relation to those above and below on the social ladder. Plus, of course, who you knew was tremendously important. Before socialising with anyone one had to ensure that they were The Right Sort - attended the right school, were members of the right sort of clubs, knew the same sort of people as oneself... Also, it was expected that one dressed one's social position - suits, or at most smart casual wear. It was assumed that everyone would do their best to conform, because it showed that you belonged. Very few women dared to wear trousers, not even smart ones. That old cliche of twinset and pearls? There's a reason that it's a cliche!”
“It sounds dreadful,” Nick said feelingly, and Dave's face relaxed into a sudden affectionate grin.
“It would, to you. I mean, honestly Nick, your dress sense -!”
“Oi!” retorted Nick, pretending offence. “What are you implying?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” was the airy response. “Just wondering if you'll ever get round to chucking out that dreadful old corduroy jacket!”
“No.” returned Nick firmly, “And you know why.” Leaning close, he whispered, “The same reason I've never let you throw out those old denim cut-offs of yours...”
Dave blushed a bright pink, stuttering helplessly, and satisfied that he'd safely distracted his lover from revisiting his memories of the Conservative Conference - and the hurt and loss that those memories invariably brought with them - Nick finally spotted the rainbow-coloured emblem of the stall he was looking for and lengthened his stride, Dave following close behind.
On reaching the stall, Nick was pleased to recognise the two people currently holding the fort and immediately fell into a conversation about timetables and fringe events. They were looking for someone to man the stall that afternoon -
“Gosh, sorry, I can't, I'm asking a question for a friend of mine at this afternoon's debate,” Nick said regretfully. He hated to say No, because he knew they wouldn't have asked him except as a last resort. Everyone knew that Nick was usually heavily involved in the goings-on in the main hall at Conference.
“Um, I could? If - if you'd like? I mean, I am gay, and, um...”
Blinking with astonishment, Nick turned to look at Dave, who flinched under the combined gaze of his hearers and ducked his head, staring at his feet in embarrassment.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Stupid idea. I just thought -”
“No, that's fine,” said Nick hastily. “Actually I think it's a, a very good idea. You've been helping me out with the Society paperwork for months, you probably know as much about it as I do by now!
“What do you think?” he appealed to the other two, and Dave relaxed, smiling in relief as both activists nodded, agreeing that this was the best solution.
“Be careful though,” warned one, a young black woman who Nick remembered seeing at various Lib Dem fundraisers and Gay Pride events, “Now we know you're up for it, we'll be roping you in on a regular basis! You could get very tired of the view from this stall by Wednesday!...”
Dave was definitely getting braver, Nick reflected as the other man sorted out times and asked a few questions about the various leaflets and flyers on display. The person he'd met a few brief months before would never have dreamt of volunteering for something like this. This new assertiveness was a good thing, of course it was - so why did Nick have such mixed feelings about it?
He didn't want Dave to be bored, or thrown too far out of his comfort zone by encountering some of the more outrageous members of the society while he was manning the stall - fair enough. But at the same time Nick was uncomfortably aware that part of him was annoyed and - and - God, was he jealous?
Verdomme, Nickje , he found himself thinking. Grow up!
Why should Dave be forced to sit obediently in the main hall, just to applaud admiringly when Nick was called to the rostrum to read out his question? The Q and A session wasn't even on economics, which Dave could have turned into an article - it was on education policy. No, Dave had a perfect right to sit this one out -
“What time is your question?”
Nick surfaced from his silent argument with himself to hear Dave's query and hastily gathered his scattered wits together.
“Hm? Oh... The debate starts around three thirty, so any time after that, I think.”
Dave nodded, his face determined. “You haven't got the first question, though, have you? I don't want to miss you!”
Nick blinked, then began to smile as Dave explained that he had arranged for someone to relieve him as soon as the Q and A session started so that Dave could see Nick's time in the limelight and that he would then return to the Gays stall as soon as the next question was up for debate...
“... otherwise I wouldn't have volunteered,” Dave finished happily, slipping an arm through Nick's as they strolled on through the concourse, past stalls and displays, bookshelves and presentations.
“Nick! Hello! I was wondering where you'd got to - and ... Why, hello Dave!”
Nick swung round and grinned cheerfully as Simon Hughes, his long face wreathed in smiles, reached them and in his usual exuberant manner threw an arm around Nick's shoulders in a brief hug, while thrusting out his other hand for Dave to shake.
“Infiltrating the enemy camp?” the other man continued with a wink, as Dave tentatively took the proffered hand and gave it a hesitant shake.
Dave flushed. “Um, no, I - Er...” he stammered, then Nick rescued him.
“Oh, stop it, Simon, you know perfectly well that Dave's joined the party. David Cameron, a wild and woolly-headed Liberal Democrat - who'd have thought it, eh?” he teased lightly, keeping Simon distracted while Dave recovered his composure.
Simon's smile broadened. “You've actually joined? That's wonderful! In that case, how about coming to the new members' get-together this evening? There's free drinks, and you'll get to meet however many of our MPs who can get there.”
Dave hesitated, visibly torn, and Nick placed a comforting hand unobtrusively on his back, gently massaging muscles that he could feel were tense even through the soft wool of Dave's sober blue pullover - a most un-Liberal colour, as he had pointed out to his partner only that morning.
“It would be a good way for you to meet people, David,” he said encouragingly, “But if you'd rather stick with me that's fine. Whatever you want to do.”
“When is the new members' do?”
“Around seven, seven thirty. It's timetabled for seven but Lib Dem conferences hardly ever run to time!”
“That's when you've got that seminar on European Trade negotiations that Rob asked you to attend for him, isn't it?”
Nick nodded. “I doubt whether it'll overrun, though - it's very much a business meeting, from what I can gather, and it'll probably finish before your do, Simon. If it does I'll crash the party - why should you get all the fun? I wouldn't mind meeting some new members myself!”
Besides, said that little thought, buried so deeply that Nick was barely aware of it himself, I don't want to leave Dave on his own for too long, what if he meets someone? Or Simon ... what if Dave wants to be with him rather than me - he's very eager to spend time on his own all of a sudden! What if he's getting bored with me, how much do we know about each other after all -
“Yes, I'll do definitely my best to get there!” Nick announced firmly, adding with a grin, “If only for the free wine!”
oOo
“That went well, didn't it!” snapped Nick, unlocking the door to their hotel room with an irritated shove. “You were the life and soul of the party! I never knew you were such, such entertaining company, David!”
He heard himself almost spit the last words and felt vaguely astonished at the venom in his voice. Shame burned him as he saw Dave recoil, his eyes suddenly full of hurt and bewilderment, but that only fuelled his anger.
Slamming the door shut, Nick was aware that the several glasses of wine he'd downed at the new members' reception had loosened his tongue and his self-control, but he was just angry enough not to care. He'd been trying to drown his growing hurt and jealousy as he watched his partner - his shy, insecure partner - be embraced and charmed and hugged and kissed while showing no sign of discomfort. In fact, with every evidence of enjoyment! Enjoying being - being pawed - by all and sundry... but most especially by an ebullient, partying Simon.
Simon 'handsy' Hughes, who was single, fancy-free, believed in playing the field... and openly bi. Also charming, fun, extrovert - all the things Nick was not. Plus, of course, he was a damn sight better paid than Nick could ever hope to be...
Suddenly Nick's anger was gone, swallowed up by his misery. How could he blame Dave? Simon had so much more to offer than he did!
“I'm sorry, Dave,” he said wretchedly, sinking down on the bed and dropping his head in his hands. “I, I shouldn't have said that... I'm really sorry. Too much wine. If - if you want to go back... you were having such a great time before I dragged you away...”
Nick lifted his head and made himself meet Dave's bewildered gaze, and forced the words out. “...you go on back. I, I think I need to, to sleep this off. I'm sorry I ruined your... evening.” He hesitated, then made himself add, with a smile that he could only hope did not look as forced and unnatural as it felt, “Simon - might still be there, you know, he does love to party... and, well, if I don't see you again tonight -”
Dave wasn't looking bewildered now. Nick really wasn't sure what the expression in those gorgeous blue eyes was, but it certainly wasn't confusion. He bit his lip, caught helplessly by those eyes, just as he had been since he'd first seen them peering through a partly-open door a few bare months ago... he looked away, feeling his breathing catch against the solid lump of misery filling his chest, and closed his eyes. Not now. I'm not going to break down in tears like some emo teen. I will not!
“Nick.”
Dave's quiet voice brought Nick's gaze back to that loved countenance, still a little flushed from the wine Dave had downed at the party. There was little sign of it in Dave's voice, however. That was under perfect control. “Stop it. Just - stop it, all right? Now,”
Dave sat down on the bed next to Nick, reached out, and carefully took one of Nick's hands, entwining Nick's fingers with his own. Then he lifted it and held it against his cheek for a moment before gently kissing the back and lowering it to his knee.
“Now, what's all this about? Do you seriously expect me to go off with - with Simon? When I have you? Nick, listen to me.”
Shifting on the bed so that he was facing Nick, Dave took Nick's chin in his free hand and made Nick meet his eyes. Then he said, with a kind of implacable gravity in his voice which Nick had never heard before,
“I - love - you. Do you hear me? I love you, Nick Clegg, and with you in my heart how can I - how could I - ever want to look at anyone else? Bloody hell, Nick, you are my world! How can you not see that!”
Oddly enough, it was the note of almost angry frustration in Dave's voice by the time he finished speaking which convinced Nick. He straightened, the tight knot in his chest dissolving, and took a deep, slightly wobbly breath - then buried his head in Dave's neck as Dave's arms came round him in a warm, comforting hug. They felt firm, and steady, and - safe. As if they would never let him go...
Nick sniffed a little, and if a few tears escaped into the warm wool of Dave's jumper, who was to know? In a little while he lifted his head again to meet his partner's smiling eyes.
“Idiot,” said Dave lovingly.
Nick could only agree. “It was just - Simon was all over you, and you, you seemed to be enjoying it,” he began to explain, and Dave shook his head.
“Oh, Nick. Simon was just being Simon - don't you remember, he behaved the same way when he came to tea that time! You told me then what he was like, and I soon understood exactly what you meant! As for the others... well, we all got a bit handsy, I suppose. And huggy. One of the new members... well, they'd just lost their partner, so - once we were sure he was happy to get them - there were lots of comforting hugs from the rest of us. And then it, um... spread. You Liberal Democrats seem to be an incredibly touchy-feely crowd, and I... actually found myself enjoying it. It was nice getting so much human contact after... well.”
Nick flushed, ashamed of his childish reaction all over again, and Dave hastily put his arm round him. “I... I'm glad you had a good time, anyway,” Nick managed eventually, and Dave chuckled.
“I admit I was scared rigid when I first turned up, but by the look of it quite a few of the others were as well! And then Paddy arrived, made a beeline for me and insisted on introducing me to everyone as 'that nice lad Nick Clegg's partner'. I had no chance of skulking in a corner nursing a glass of wine while he was around. Then Simon arrived, and by then - well, it was a party.”
“Good old Paddy,” said Nick contentedly, then bit back a yawn and blinked with dismay. “Gosh, I'm sorry David, but I think I'm going to have to go to bed! On the first night of conference as well! If you want to go back down to the bar -”
Dave grinned at him, and Nick found his tiredness magically dissipating. When Dave got that look in his eye...
“Bed,” said Dave, his voice going low and rough, “Sounds like a very good idea...”
And leaning forward, he put one hand at the back of Nick's neck and drew him in for a kiss.
It was several minutes later that a breathless, red-faced Nick surfaced, gasping, “Did we lock the door?”
Dave, by now prone and half-undressed, simply yanked him back down again. “Who cares,” he purred into Nick's mouth, and Nick, willingly following him, could only agree.
This might be ridiculously early for bed at conference, was Nick's last thought before Dave's beloved and familiar touch destroyed any semblance of coherent thought, but no-one - absolutely no-one - is having a better time than we are right now!
And then Dave's hand found its way south, and Dave's mouth and tongue began doing incredible things to his skin, and Nick lost all interest in what, and how, and why, and knew only sensation, and being... and David.
All was as it should be, Nick decided later, with Dave's hot breath puffing against his neck and Dave's arm lying heavy across his chest. He turned his head a little, feeling soft hair brush against his cheek, and shifted a little closer to the man sleeping so contentedly beside him, pressing a kiss into the thinning hair before resting his cheek against the top of Dave's head and smiling sleepily into the darkness. He loved David, and now he knew - he was sure - that David loved him. This - this night, this conference, this bed - this was where they had truly became a couple.
At every Autumn Conference from now on, Nick vowed silently, this first night would be their true anniversary... and, eyes fluttering shut, he slept.
FIN