the pacific - the good things in life
Feb. 13th, 2014 12:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
augustbirdTitle: the good things in life
Fandom: The Pacific
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 8,377
Characters/Pairing: Ack Ack/Hillbilly
Summary: President Haldane doesn’t need a First Lady. He has Edward Jones. AU
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters--they are based off of the actors' portrayals of characters in HBO's The Pacific, not the real people themselves.
Author's Note: I. Uh. This fic. NOT SURE WHY OR HOW I WROTE IT. I honestly can't come up with a good excuse for it since out of all of the fics I'm supposed to be writing...this is not among them. REGARDLESS, the boys in this verse are serious GQMFs (LIKE THEY SHOULD BE IN ANY VERSE) and I foresee like 30000 million other fics about them in this universe if I have the time to write them. This is also the same verse I'll be using in the epic Speirs/Lipton fic I'm writing forbachaboska later this summer so some elements of this fic will be explained with that one. Thank you to skylilies and haydncal for the cheerleading! <33333 Unbetaed.
“You were supposed to be at the climate change briefing three minutes ago.”
Andrew looks at the time and swears under his breath. He shuffles the papers on his desk into some semblance of a stack and tries to fit it all into an expanding folder, “Right. You were just in here ten minutes ago, telling me to get a move on. I just got caught up in—” he waves at his computer screen and closes the expanding folder.
Eddie’s holds out a coffee, “Don’t worry about it. Cheung’s running late and when she shows up, she’s just going to ask us to repeat everything amyway.”
Andrew swings his briefcase off his desk and gives Eddie a half smile, “At least she’s usually more punctual than Wengert. Half the time I’m not sure if he even gets the memos.”
“Oh, he does. I make sure of it,” Eddie says falling into step alongside Andrew.
“I didn’t doubt it for a second,” Andrew agrees.
“At least he’s reasonably competent after showing up thirty minutes late to international summits.”
“Guess there’s a reason I haven’t fired him yet,” Andrew says and opens the doors.
Eight faces turn towards him.
“Good evening,” Andrew says with a smile as he maneuvers to the head of the table and takes a seat. Eddie takes the one next to him and sets the briefing packet down in front of him. “Apologies for being late, I got caught up in a Medicaid spreadsheet.”
His Secretary of Energy laughs. “Well, Mr. President, I’m sure this meeting will go a lot smoother than that.”
_____________
_____________
Andrew is leaning back in his leather chair, staring up at the ceiling when Eddie walks into his office. He knocks on the door as an afterthought before pulling it shut. Andrew doesn’t even look over, “Please tell me you brought at least ten shots of espresso.”
Eddie moves around the desk and perches on the desk, dropping a folder onto his keyboard, “That might actually kill you.”
“I remember one time during my dissertation—”
“Well, truth be told, you aren’t twenty-nine anymore.“
“You know, I’ve been giving second thoughts to cocaine—”
“No you haven’t.”
Andrew flops forward, curling one arm around Eddie’s waist and settles his forehead against Eddie’s hipbone as he presses his face into the expensive fabric over Eddie’s thigh. Eddie pushes his fingers into Andrew’s hair, streaked through with prematurely grey hairs. Andrew’s voice is muffled, “I am so goddamn tired.”
“I know,” Eddie murmurs, fingertips pressing into the soft skin behind Andrew’s ear.
“I just want to take you and Addy up to Vermont,” Andy says into Eddie’s leg, “And teach her how to fish and sleep for three days. No blackberries.”
“No phones,” Eddie agrees, “Didn’t know that you could teach people how to be in a coma.”
“I’m really looking forward to Friday.”
“Don’t let Liz catch you sleeping through her wedding.”
Andrew sits up and Eddie lets his hand drop. Andrew looks down at the folder on his keyboard.
“You brought me more work.”
“The statistics on the corn lobby you asked for,” Eddie says, “And some supplemental information about ethanol production that the DOE insisted on adding.” He looks at the way that Andrew is listlessly flipping through the pages before adding, “I’ll bring you another cup of coffee.” He slips off the desk and turns to grab the smartphone he’s set down on Andrew’s desk when Andrew catches his hand.
“Hey,” Andrew says.
Eddie looks at Andrew. His phone is blinking—four new messages since he walked into the room—but he but doesn’t make a move to leave. Andrew smiles at him, tiny and fond and Eddie feels a surge of affection for the tired eyes, the private slump of his shoulders and the looseness of his tie. He leans forward, presses a closed mouth kiss to the corner of Andrew’s mouth, and feels Andrew’s lips lift in a smile.
“Thank you,” Andrew murmurs, “For being my better half.”
_____________
“No,” Andrew says.
“You aren’t going to win yourself any friends if you keep pushing in this direction,” Chesty says, “I keep warning you, Andy. You’ve already got half of Washington livid and the other half is wary.” He has a glass of scotch balanced on the palm of his hand, feet propped up against a priceless antique table in the sitting room.
“They’ve been leeching off the federal government for way too long.”
“Goddammit Andy, my career is on the line here too. All I’m asking is to do a bit of damage control, placate some of the lobbyists. How the hell do you expect to get any campaign contributions next year?”
“Christ Chesty, all of that money comes with strings attached.”
“And if you don’t accept it, we have no goddamn campaign next year,” Chesty sets the glass down, “This is an outstanding display of naiveté, even for you Andy. Where the fuck is Eddie when you need him to knock some goddamn sense into you?”
“I hate this conversation,” Andrew says, “How many times have we had this argument by now? I’m not comfortable taking money from corporate sponsors. Can we please move onto the real topic here? Your visit to Turkey?”
“The real issue here is that clearly I’ve indulged your idealism for far too long,” Chesty rises to his feet, “You think you can play outside the rules in Washington? Fine, but it’s the fast track to political suicide and you’re taking me down with you. I’m not just going to stand aside and watch you fuck up decades of my life.”
Andrew shakes his head, “Nobody said you have to run with me again, Lewis.”
Chesty picks up his glass and walks across the room. He picks up the decanter of scotch and pours himself a new drink.
_____________
_____________
“Hi Addy,” Andrew says as his daughter opens the car door and slides into the passenger seat.
“Hi dad,” she replies without inflection, “You’re early.”
Andrew looks at his watch, “I thought we agreed on five-thirty? It’s five thirty-three.”
“Yeah I know,” Addy says, “You just usually get here like, twenty minutes late. I didn’t think you’d be here for a while.”
“Oh,” Andrew says, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
“Who’s following us?” Addy asks, “Where’s Eddie?”
“Amelia’s following,” Andrew replies, “Eddie’s probably already landed in Boston.”
“Oh,” Addy says and falls silent.
“I don’t ever mean to be late, Addy,” Andrew says as he pulls out of the boarding school parking lot, “I’m sorry for making you wait, I really am.”
“It’s cool, dad,” Addy says, “You’re an important guy.”
“I love you Addy. You know you’re more important to me than anything else, right?”
Addy keeps looking out the window, “I love you too dad.”
Washington Dulles is still a long drive away and Andrew doesn’t quite know how to broach the silence. Usually when he picks Addy up, Eddie is with them and they keep up a conversation with Andrew as the silent third wheel. No matter how many times Eddie assures him that Addy adores him, things haven’t really been the same since Sarah’s death. It’s hard for Andrew not to fall into that old cycle of survivor’s guilt—wondering if they could have caught the leukemia earlier if he had been home more often. He wonders if Addy blames him for the loss of her mother.
“How have you been?” Andrew asks, “What are you guys learning now?”
“Good,” Addy says and pulls out her phone. She’s been asking for an iPhone but Andrew doesn’t think that a thirteen year old needs a smartphone. If she wanted to play Angry Birds, she could just do it on the laptop Eddie gave to her last Christmas. She already has a keypad on her current phone anyway—one that she uses to send of thousands of texts. Andrew doesn’t know why thirteen year olds text so much.
He’s about to ask her to elaborate when his phone rings. The phone connects to the car speakers but Addy doesn’t even look up from answering a text as Andrew answers it, “Hello?”
“Andy,” it’s Burgin, his head of PR, “We have a bit of an issue. When you get to the airport, don’t be tempted to talk to any of the reporters.”
Addy sets her phone down on her lap and looks at Andrew.
“What do you mean by issue?”
_____________
Eddie waits for them at Logan International. Addy abandons her luggage the moment that she sees him, breaking out into a wide smile and running at him for a hug. Andrew follows at a slower pace, having a low but agitated conversation with whom Eddie only hopes is Burgin.
“I missed you,” Addy says into Eddie’s jacket as Eddie hugs her back, “You should come visit Garrison more often.”
“I missed you too Addy,” Eddie says, “Go get your stuff and let’s get out of here. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Addy affirms and goes back to get her suitcase.
Andrew ends the call just as he reaches Eddie and looks at him. In an ideal world, Eddie would reach out and smooth the palm of his hand over the stubble on Andrew’s jaw, pull him close and lean his forehead against Andrew’s shoulder—but they’re still a long way from the ideal world and the events of the entire afternoon had been a rude wake-up call.
“I know what you’re thinking, Eddie.”
Eddie shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers, looking at Andrew, “You know I really should.”
“Stay. It’s Lizzie’s wedding. She’d be devastated if you couldn’t come.”
“I’m sure your sister would understand.”
“You’ve known my family for years. Hell, half of your family was invited. It’d be weirder if you didn’t show up. It’s not like I invited you on a private trip to Tahiti or something.”
Addy stops next to Andrew and looks between the two of them, “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure if I can come to your aunt’s wedding,” Eddie says.
“Why? Did you do something to piss her off?”
“No, I just—”
“Stay,” Andrew insists.
One of the secret service agents touches Andrew on the shoulder, “Sir, your car is ready.”
“Thank you,” Andrew replies at the same time his daughter grabs Eddie’s arm in one hand and her tiny suitcase in the other, dragging them both towards the car. Eddie resists for only a moment before he lets her pull him across the tiny strip of airfield—but not without looking back over his shoulder at Andrew.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
_____________
_____________
“Addy!” Patricia beams as she opens the door, “And Eddie—oh I’ve missed you two.”
“I’ve missed you too, mom,” Andrew says.
“I see your face every day,” Patricia dismisses, “And you don’t call home nearly enough.”
“I love you too,” Andrew agrees. Eddie hauls Addy’s bag into the house as Addy squirms out of Patricia’s hug and heads into the kitchen. Patricia plants a kiss onto Eddie’s cheek with a smile.
“Grandma, have you already had dinner?”
“Not yet Addy, we’ve been waiting for you,” she looks back at Andrew who shuts the door after himself. She has her hands bunched up into her sundress and there’s a frown on her face. She shakes her head before she leans up to give her son a tight hug, her voice wavering “Oh, this can’t be easy for you two.”
“Hey,” Andrew squeezes her shoulders, “It was bound to show up again sooner or later. I’m sure this one will blow over like the last.”
“I love you Andrew,” she pulls away and turns toward Eddie, “And I love you too Edward. I don’t care what anyone else says, you boys are the best thing to happen to this country.”
Eddie kisses her cheek as she hugs him, murmuring, “Love you too ma.”
She sniffs as she pulls away and turns away to dab at her eyes with a tissue, “I set up the guest bedroom for you two. I’m putting Addy in your old room, Andy.”
“Thanks,” Andrew ducks to press a kiss to the side of her hair as he moves past her to drop off their bags.
“Dinner’s in ten minutes!” she calls to their retreating backs.
_____________
“I don’t think it’d pass,” Eddie says, “We’re already accumulated too much debt and China would probably just outcompete whatever incentives we offer.”
“Think of all the jobs we could take back,” Andrew insists, “I really think we should start thinking about this more seriously.”
“It’d be a long term project, son,” Greg says, tapping his pipe out onto the table, “And I don’t know if I’d trust your successors to not screw things up.”
Addy taps away at her phone, having long ago lost any interest in the conversation.
“No more politics at the table,” Patricia commands as she sets a pie down in the middle of the table, “Addy, put your phone away. Greg, will you at least clean that before you get up? Eddie, do you mind cutting this? I’ve got to go get the ice cream from the freezer.”
Addy shuts her phone and puts it on the table. A moment later it buzzes.
“You’re a popular girl, Addy,” Greg says sweeping the ashes of tobacco into a napkin, “Who are you talking to?”
“A friend.”
“What are you and your friend talking about?”
Addy shrugs, “Stuff.”
Andrew exchanges a quick glance with Eddie who lifts a piece of pie onto a plate and slides it over to Addy, asking, “How’s Jillian? Are she and Carlos still dating?”
“Oh my god, she won’t shut up about him,” Addy says, “It was okay for the first three days but they’ve been going out for two weeks now and it’s always, oh sorry I can’t hang out with you because Carlos and I are going to go watch a movie, or hey is it okay if I bring Carlos to dinner?”
“I thought you were okay with Carlos?”
“He’s boring. And he has like, a total of two shirts.”
“Is he still in your math class?”
“Yeah he sits behind me and makes me pass notes to Jillian. It’s stupid because they could just hide their phones under their desk and just text like everyone else.”
“Has Mrs. Wallick gotten any better?”
“No, I still hate math.”
Patricia appears at the door, ice cream in hand, “I hope you guys haven’t started eating already.”
“Waiting for you, darling,” Greg says as Eddie hands him a piece of warm apple pie.
Patricia gives Addy a huge scoop of ice cream and skips her husband. Greg makes an insulted noise but Patricia just smiles at Andrew and Eddie, “We’re watching our cholesterol in this house.”
“I just want ice cream,” Greg mutters.
“The doctor said your triglycerides were through the roof,” Patricia counters and gives Eddie a sizeable serving.
“I’d listen to her, dad,” Andrew says, “What about that close call last summer?”
Greg scowls at him but picks up his fork. Addy’s typing away on her phone again. Andrew reaches under the table and settles his hand on Eddie’s leg.
Eddie gives him a tiny smile.
_____________
Eddie holds the toothbrush in between his teeth as he flips the page of the report, squinting down at the line graph predicting a tenfold output of nuclear energy if the federal government doubled the amount of current funds directed towards materials research. It’s not horribly off—Eddie thinks—based on how enthusiastic some of the kids he drank with at MIT were back in the day, and it’s certainly better to invest now rather than wait until it becomes too late. He just doesn’t know how he’d propose to move the funds around without causing a major squabble every step along the way.
Andrew steps out from the shower of the tiny bathroom and is careful not to drip water onto the binder balanced at the edge of the sink as he runs a towel over his head. Eddie lets his eyes wander to the skin of Andrew’s inner thigh for only a moment before he’s spitting into the basin.
“I’m getting soft,” Andrew says as he wraps the towel around his waist, “Haven’t been able to run much this week.” Eddie rinses his mouth and spits.
“I’ll install a pull up bar in your office,” Eddie says, “The historical building preservation society won’t be able to decide whether they want to cry or come at me with pitchforks.”
Andrew laughs, comes up behind Eddie and presses a kiss to the side of his head. Eddie wipes his wet hands on Andrew’s towel and closes the binder. His voice is quiet when he speaks, “This isn’t like last time, Andy.”
“I know.”
“This time there’s a higher chance of a leak—hell there’s three years worth of incredibly suspicious history.“
“I know.”
“I should have made you attend more charity benefits. I could have gotten Virginia to come with you.”
“I’m not going to ask your sister to be my beard, Eddie.”
Eddie sighs and picks up the binder, slipping past Andrew to get back to the guest bedroom. He’s organizing the files on his laptop by the time Andrew finishes brushing his teeth and takes a seat on the opposite side of the bed, back to Eddie. Eddie looks over at him, contemplating the line of his shoulders before shutting the lid of the laptop and setting it on the nightstand. The bed’s smaller than they’re used to sharing so Eddie only has to reach out before he’s tracing the line of Andrew’s spine with his fingertips, calluses against Andrew’s skin.
“We’ve talked about this before,” Eddie murmurs, settling a hand across the curve of Andrew’s ribcage, “We can’t jeopardize anything. Whatever your successor does with what you’ve put into play during your term is probably going to determine the future of all our projects. We can’t have any our policies doubted even for a second because we’re—“
Eddie doesn’t know how to finish the sentence without choking on his own bitterness so instead he presses his forehead against Andrew’s shoulder and listens to his breathing. After a few moments, Andrew shifts back and Eddie moves away. Andrew gets under the covers and catches Eddie by the back of the neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
“I know,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips and it’s the most heartbreaking thing that Eddie has ever heard. But this—this is something that they willingly chose, a sacrifice they knowingly made even before Andrew was sworn in. Eddie pushes a hand into the hair at the back of Andrew’s head and presses closer, fitting his body into the spaces next to Andrew’s, pressing skin against skin.
“I would though,” Andrew says against Eddie’s ear, hand sliding over Eddie’s stomach and pushing past the band of his boxers, “If it were up to me, I would.”
And then Andrew’s hand closes around Eddie’s cock, strokes him slow and Eddie’s breath shudders. He doesn’t know how Andrew manages to do this to him every time, after all these years. It takes longer than it used to but Andrew presses his lips to Eddie’s temple, breath ghosting against his hair as he works Eddie’s cock, pulls the low groans from Eddie’s lips, applying more pressure and quickening the speed of his strokes just the way that Eddie likes it—
Eddie stiffens against him, presses his face into Andrew’s neck and comes into Andrew’s hand. Andrew works him through the comedown, leaning in for a kiss. Eddie has his eyes closed but he feels Andrew roll over and the sound of a tissue being pulled from the box. A moment later, the warmth of Andrew’s body returns and Eddie opens his eyes again and touches Andrew’s stomach, thinking about the soft crease between leg and hip.
Andrew’s hand settles on his wrist—and it’s their unspoken code: Andrew’s too tired. Eddie shifts his hand and moves closer so that he’s curling an arm over Andrew’s side. Andrew leans back to turn off the light and set an alarm on his phone—and then he’s pressing himself closer to Eddie, sliding a leg between Eddie’s.
It’s earlier than they usually get to sleep but Eddie’s always so tired and next thing he knows, he’s out.
_____________
_____________
“Where’s dad?” Addy asks as she takes a seat next to Eddie at the dining room table. Eddie has social security statistics spread out over the table but he’s doing a shitty job of trying to convince himself that he’s getting any work done with the way that he keeps on having to scroll back up the excel sheet. He’s got a pretty firm grasp on actuarial mathematics but the numbers aren’t sticking today.
“He’s back in DC,” Eddie says.
“Uh,” Addy digs her spoon into her bowl of cereal, “Is he not coming to the wedding?”
“No, I think he’s planning to make it back in time.”
“Okay,” Addy says and crunches on whatever Fiber One cereal Patricia deemed appropriate for cholesterol management. She flips through the two pages closest to her, “What are you doing?”
“Failing at trying to fix social security.”
“Oh. I thought that was one of those things that couldn’t ever be fixed.”
“Certainly seems that way,” Eddie says and gives up for the time being. He closes his laptop and nods at Addy’s bowl of cereal, “Is that any good?”
Addy takes another spoonful and chews before shrugging, “No. It’s pretty gross.”
“Maybe I’ll just stick to coffee,” Eddie says. Addy shrugs again.
“Hey Eddie,” Addy says after a few moments, “Are we um, are we not allowed to talk about you and dad?”
“With me?” Eddie asks, “Or with anyone?”
“With you,” Addy says, then she sounds a little cross, “Obviously I know not to talk about it with anyone else.”
“Of course you’re allowed to talk about it with me,” Eddie says, “What’s on your mind?”
“I don’t think it’s fair,” Addy says, “Jillian’s mom has been married like, eight times, and you guys can’t even like, kiss each other in public. Not that I’d want you guys to kiss in public—that’s kind of gross. But like, you can’t even hold hands or anything.”
Eddie wants to reach over and hug Addy but he settles for a smile instead, “Your dad and I knew what we were getting ourselves into. Give us another decade and we’ll be back in Massachusetts.”
Addy looks back down at her cereal, drawing circles with her spoon in the milk, “Are you guys going to get married?”
“Maybe,” Eddie says, “Would you be okay with that?”
“Yeah,” Addy says immediately, and then adds in her usual bored tone, “Could I call you mom?”
“You could try,” Eddie says, smirking.
For a second it almost seems as if Eddie’s managed to coax a smile out of Addy but she ducks her head and looks at her bowl, bangs covering her face. Eddie takes a sip of his coffee.
“Eddie,” she says, “Can I tell you something?”
Eddie looks at her as she pushes he hair back behind her ears, arms crossing over the table before her. Her hair was getting long, Eddie notes, and he was sure she hadn’t worn this much eyeliner the last time he saw her.
“You can tell me anything.”
“Um,” she looks at the table, “Sometimes when I try to remember what mom was like, I have to think for a really long time before I can remember her face.” She looks up at Eddie, “Is that terrible?”
“No,” Eddie says, reaching over to squeeze one of her hands, “You’re just getting older.”
_____________
“I am going to kill that asshole,” Elizabeth yells.
“Let me finish your hair first,” Virginia instructs.
“I got into a dress for him at his wedding. I was a goddamn bridesmaid at his wedding and he can’t even grant me the privilege of being in the same state so I can shout at him?”
“Don’t worry Liz,” Eddie says reassuringly, “He’ll be back before the ceremony.”
“The ceremony’s in two hours,” Elizabeth hisses, then clutches at her dress, “Oh my god, the ceremony’s in two hours.”
Viginia tries to pry Elizabeth’s fists from her dress, “Honey, you’re going to ruin the fabric.”
“I’m getting married,” Elizabeth says fearfully and sits down.
“Stay,” Virginia orders and picks up the curling iron. Elizabeth buries her face in her hands and Virginia glares at Eddie, as if it’s his fault that Andrew decided on an impromptu trip to DC.
“Maybe you should go check on Addy,” Virginia suggests and Eddie’s glad for the excuse to leave.
_____________
_____________
_____________
_____________
Elizabeth is radiant as she walks down the aisle between the white chairs, her eyes trained on Rick who stands before the priest with his hands folded. There are five bridesmaids and three groomsmen and only one secret service agent sitting next to Eddie in the audience. The wait for the ceremony lasted three times as long as the ceremony itself.
Andy hurries in after the photographer has already taken the wedding party into the surrounding forest to take pictures. When Eddie sees him, he’s struggling to tie his bowtie.
“Where’s Liz?” Andrew asks as they duck around the back of the reception hall, “I really need to apologize.”
“The photographer took them somewhere,” Eddie replies, batting Andrew’s hands away, “I hope you have a great excuse. What’s the deal in DC?”
“I talked to everyone,” Andrew says, “One on one. It’s why it took so long.”
“Let’s hope it sticks,” Eddie mumurs, tying the bowtie neatly.
“I trust them,” Andrew says, catching Eddie’s wrist. Eddie looks up at him for a moment and manages a smile before pulling away and putting a respectable distance between them.
“I missed Addy as a flower girl,” Andrew says, “Out of everything, I think that’s what I regret the most.”
“She said she’d be okay if—you and me—“ Eddie clears his throat, “Maybe there’s another chance for you to see her as a flower girl, that’s all I’m saying.”
Andrew looks at him, his smile broadening, “You think?”
“Unless,” Eddie starts, “Unless for some reason you objected—“
Andrew elbows him with a grin on his face, “Shut up.”
Eddie grins back.
_____________
_____________
_____________
_____________
“I wish dad didn’t start pretend dating Aunt Virginia,” Addy says to Eddie over the phone, “I swear, it’s all anyone ever talks to me about at school. Who cares about how much money she makes or how she met my dad?”
“I’m sorry babe,” Eddie says as he scribbles equations on the back of an old Federal Reserve report, “Even Jillian?”
“Jillian is the worst!” Addy proclaims and Eddie hears a whump of sheets and imagines Addy flinging herself onto her bed dramatically, “She keeps on making stuff up about Aunt Virginia and saying that she heard it from me. I think she just likes being the center of attention.”
“I’m sure she’ll realize soon enough that what she’s doing is stupid.”
“She’s my aunt,” Addy sulks, “And I can’t say anything because I suck at lying.”
“Hey,” Eddie says, “What you’re doing is really important for us, you know that right, Addy?”
“I know.”
“Love you Adds.”
There’s a pause and then, “And subtracts.”
Eddie stops writing and grins into the phone, “You haven’t said that in a long time.”
Addy doesn’t respond for a while and when she does speak, the words come out rapidly, “You’re my favorite calculator, Eddie.”
Eddie sets his pen down because Addy hasn’t said I love you voluntarily since she was nine. Eddie realizes that she’s more scared than she lets on.
“Addy,” he says quietly, “You know I’m not going to leave.”
“Well duh,” Addy replies, but it comes out a little too fast.
“I love you and I’d never leave you,” Eddie promises.
“Gross,” Addy says, “You can feel free to leave me when you get old and wrinkly. You guys can go be old and wrinkly together.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, “I have to go finish some work. I love you.”
“You already said that,” but Addy sounds pleased before she drops back into her normal bored tone, “Okay, love you too, bye.”
_____________
“You were so fucking lucky that I was between boyfriends, Edward,” Virginia snaps as Eddie opens the door to his mostly-unused apartment. She pushes past him and dumps her bag and sunglasses onto his dining room table, “The next time paparazzi gets into my face, I’m going to punch them.”
“Didn’t realize you were the next Sean Penn?” Eddie says, “Please feel free to come in Virginia. Make yourself at home.” He closes the door and she glares up at him from her position stretched out along his couch.
Eddie moves into the kitchen, “Should I even bother pouring the whiskey into a glass or would you prefer I just brought out the entire bottle?”
“What a great headline that would make,” Virginia says, “President’s girlfriend found wasted in her brother’s apartment: possible threesome?”
“I’ll just bring you the entire bottle,” Eddie concludes and sets it in front of her, handing over a glass.
“Fine. I will admit that you are my favorite older brother,” Virginia says.
“I’m your only older brother. Any reason you’re here? Or are we just catching up?”
Virginia eyes the laptop he’s already pulled back onto his lap but doesn’t let it deter her, “Oh, just wanted to flaunt the life of being the President’s significant other. There’s a load of scrutiny involved, Eddie—did you know that people still remember the incident when I charged the stage at Miss West Virginia?”
“Welcome to Washington.”
“I didn’t even remember it until someone brought it up.”
“It’ll get better once the next new shiny thing hits and the media loses interest.”
“I hope it’s soon,” Virginia mumbles and takes another drink, closing her eyes. Eddie taps away at his keyboard and they fall into a comfortable silence.
“What would you do if I just fell asleep here?” Virginia asks suddenly.
“I’d probably bring you a blanket. Probably end up sitting here all night with you, but completely involuntarily on my behalf,” Eddie lifts the laptop, “Writing up recommendations to Congress.”
“Where’s Andy?”
“Brazil?” Eddie glances down at his watch, “Yeah, Rio de Janeiro.”
“Oh,” Virginia says and then she closes her eyes again, “You know, every time I think about telling you to go fuck yourself with your stupid plans, I always realize something.”
“What’s that?”
She sits up and actually looks at Eddie. “I believe in you. I believe in everything that you’re doing and I think Andy is a great president.”
Eddie isn’t sure what to say.
“And I want you to be happy,” Virginia says, “We fight a lot and I spent a lot of my childhood alternating between hating you and wanting to be you but in the end, I want you to be happy. And Andy really makes you happy. So I’m okay with this.”
“Oh,” Eddie says.
Virginia smiles at him and it’s a little lopsided.
“Virginia,” Eddie swallows and he’s never wanted to hug his sister more than he did in that moment, “Thank you.”
_____________
Andrew has circles under his eyes and his shoulders are slumped as he hunches over his coffee. He straightens when he sees Eddie though, and spares a smile.
“Hey,” Eddie murmurs as he takes a seat next to Andrew, “You should still be sleeping.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Andrew says and doesn’t stop Eddie from stealing his mug.
“No,” Eddie says but they both know he’s lying.
“I left you a note,” Andrew says, “The morning of Liz’s wedding.”
“I read it. I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it.”
“I keep having the same dream. Sometimes I start earlier and sometimes I get farther into the campaign.”
Eddie picks up Andrew’s hand and intertwines their fingers, “It’s not real, Andy.”
“It feels real. It feels like I’m there, and I keep losing you every time. I keep being afraid that it’s messing me up, that I’m going to do something stupid and fuck something up.”
“I’m right here. I’m always going to be here.”
Andrew bites his lip and looks at the table.
“Oh hell,” Eddie murmurs, grazing a kiss across Andrew’s knuckles, “I’m scheduling you time off.”
_____________
Eddie knows that there will be bruises and bite marks scattered along his torso come tomorrow morning. Eddie had been careful not to let Andrew leave anything visible—even if he could barely think with the other man panting into his ear, fingers digging finger-shaped bruises into Eddie’s hips. But it wasn’t like Eddie couldn’t give as good as he got—in the dim light, he can see red marks from where he had raked his short nails across the length of Andrew’s shoulderblades.
He probably won’t be able to sit comfortably tomorrow—but for tonight, he presses his lips to the angry marks on Andrew’s back. He doesn’t complain when Andrew rolls over and settles his hand on Eddie’s neck, thumb against Eddie’s pulse.
“Hey,” Andrew murmurs into the space between them. Eddie opens his eyes and looks at Andrew.
“If I ran for reelection,” Andrew asks, “Would you be my vice president?”
Eddie laughs and the vibration of it spreads along Andrew’s palm.
_____________
Fandom: The Pacific
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 8,377
Characters/Pairing: Ack Ack/Hillbilly
Summary: President Haldane doesn’t need a First Lady. He has Edward Jones. AU
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters--they are based off of the actors' portrayals of characters in HBO's The Pacific, not the real people themselves.
Author's Note: I. Uh. This fic. NOT SURE WHY OR HOW I WROTE IT. I honestly can't come up with a good excuse for it since out of all of the fics I'm supposed to be writing...this is not among them. REGARDLESS, the boys in this verse are serious GQMFs (LIKE THEY SHOULD BE IN ANY VERSE) and I foresee like 30000 million other fics about them in this universe if I have the time to write them. This is also the same verse I'll be using in the epic Speirs/Lipton fic I'm writing for
bachaboska later this summer so some elements of this fic will be explained with that one. Thank you to skylilies and haydncal for the cheerleading! <33333 Unbetaed.“You were supposed to be at the climate change briefing three minutes ago.”
Andrew looks at the time and swears under his breath. He shuffles the papers on his desk into some semblance of a stack and tries to fit it all into an expanding folder, “Right. You were just in here ten minutes ago, telling me to get a move on. I just got caught up in—” he waves at his computer screen and closes the expanding folder.
Eddie’s holds out a coffee, “Don’t worry about it. Cheung’s running late and when she shows up, she’s just going to ask us to repeat everything amyway.”
Andrew swings his briefcase off his desk and gives Eddie a half smile, “At least she’s usually more punctual than Wengert. Half the time I’m not sure if he even gets the memos.”
“Oh, he does. I make sure of it,” Eddie says falling into step alongside Andrew.
“I didn’t doubt it for a second,” Andrew agrees.
“At least he’s reasonably competent after showing up thirty minutes late to international summits.”
“Guess there’s a reason I haven’t fired him yet,” Andrew says and opens the doors.
Eight faces turn towards him.
“Good evening,” Andrew says with a smile as he maneuvers to the head of the table and takes a seat. Eddie takes the one next to him and sets the briefing packet down in front of him. “Apologies for being late, I got caught up in a Medicaid spreadsheet.”
His Secretary of Energy laughs. “Well, Mr. President, I’m sure this meeting will go a lot smoother than that.”
Breakfast with the President
By LORRIE STENGEL – March 14, 2011 | ROLLING STONE
My day starts at five thirty as I make my way up the driveway of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
President Haldane starts his day at four AM with his morning ritual of running across the National Mall. The few people who populate the streets often turn and stare as he passes them on the sidewalk. I’d say it wasn’t every day that the most powerful man in the world passed you on the street, but for the citizens of Washington DC, it’s evidently more common than one might think.
“Security hated the idea,” he tells me over a breakfast of organic granola and free range milk, “I had to sneak past them at first. Laura—she’s my head of security and I love her, she does such a great job—she used to threaten to lock me into my office and ground me if I kept slipping out. I don’t think Eddie was having any of that.” He looks to his right, where the famed political aide sits, a tall tanned man with curly hair nursing a coffee and a copy of the Washington Post. He’s wearing a dress shirt and a tie and looks more like the leader of the United States than President Haldane in his worn Harvard t-shirt.
“Important men are expected at a lot of dinners,” Jones agrees with a hint of a smile, “It’d be inconvenient if the President was confined to his room on a regular basis.”
“Eventually I did it enough times that they just gave up and gave me security detail,” President Haldane tells me.
“Aren’t you scared that someone might want to hurt you?” I ask.
“Not enough to stop me from going on,” he says, “Sometimes people approach me and tell me how they think I’m doing. Sometimes they tell me that they think I’m doing a decent job. Times like that I wish I could really convey to them how most of that has been the result of my fantastic staff. And sometimes they come and tell me what they think I’m doing wrong and it’s great actually, to hear what the layman thinks could be improved. If nothing else, it keeps my ego in check and keeps my head wrapped around what enormous improvements still lay ahead.”
It’s hard to imagine what might faze the President. A former captain in the Marines during the Gulf War, President Haldane has taken bullets and shrapnel in dedication to his philosophy of leading from the front. With several purple hearts under his belt and a term as a senator for the state of Massachusetts, Andrew Haldane was the dark horse who took the electoral race of 2008 by storm through his charisma and down-to-earth attitude about rehauling problematic policies and the entrenchment of politics in Washington DC. Although he has made his share of unpopular decisions, polls have consistently shown that a majority of the American public think he’s doing a relatively good job.
“It’s important to constantly look for places where we can improve,” he says as he offers me a cup of coffee, “My campaign manager has been pushing me to start touring more often so I can prepare for the 2012 campaign. But there’s still so much to be done in Washington and I feel like I need to show that I can do a good job here before I can confidently start courting people for their votes.”
As the youngest president the United States has ever seen, Haldane has endured his fair share of criticism. Critics have picked extensively on his inexperience, suggesting that both his age and his lackadaisical resume barred him from being able to effectively lead the federal government. Yet three years later, President Haldane has pushed through several reforms that has made him unpopular with senior politicians in Washington, but elevated him in the eyes of the general populace. He has set his sights unwaveringly on reassigning bureaucratic jobs and streamlining the efficiency of the federal government. He is known for personally co-authoring several pieces of legislation with his trusted right-hand man Edward Jones. He meets with foreign officials several times a week and sits in on countless meetings.
It’s hard to imagine the sheer number of things that he has crammed into a single day.
And yet he still has time to lean forward and ask, “Have you tried this granola? My cook Brandon recommended it to me and I have to say it’s fantastic. He has impeccable taste.”
I decline politely and his attention is captured by Jones who hands over an iPad. CNN plays muted in the background and I look at the headlines scrolling underneath, cupping my mug of coffee between my hands. The coffee here is excellent, if a little on the strong side—but one look at the tired men in front of me and it’s pretty clear why.
“I’m sorry Lorrie,” President Haldane says, “But I’m going to have to excuse myself. Please feel free to stay as long as you want. Brandon makes a great brie frittata.” He flashes me his signature smile: a little shy and entirely honest like he’s sharing a moment with me. It’s the same smile that won him the hearts of citizens across American and it’s even more powerful in real life.
Jones whisks him out of the room, their heads tilted together and having a low conversation about how to run a country. Me on the other hand: I drink the rest of my coffee and eat one of Brandon’s famed frittatas.
Andrew is leaning back in his leather chair, staring up at the ceiling when Eddie walks into his office. He knocks on the door as an afterthought before pulling it shut. Andrew doesn’t even look over, “Please tell me you brought at least ten shots of espresso.”
Eddie moves around the desk and perches on the desk, dropping a folder onto his keyboard, “That might actually kill you.”
“I remember one time during my dissertation—”
“Well, truth be told, you aren’t twenty-nine anymore.“
“You know, I’ve been giving second thoughts to cocaine—”
“No you haven’t.”
Andrew flops forward, curling one arm around Eddie’s waist and settles his forehead against Eddie’s hipbone as he presses his face into the expensive fabric over Eddie’s thigh. Eddie pushes his fingers into Andrew’s hair, streaked through with prematurely grey hairs. Andrew’s voice is muffled, “I am so goddamn tired.”
“I know,” Eddie murmurs, fingertips pressing into the soft skin behind Andrew’s ear.
“I just want to take you and Addy up to Vermont,” Andy says into Eddie’s leg, “And teach her how to fish and sleep for three days. No blackberries.”
“No phones,” Eddie agrees, “Didn’t know that you could teach people how to be in a coma.”
“I’m really looking forward to Friday.”
“Don’t let Liz catch you sleeping through her wedding.”
Andrew sits up and Eddie lets his hand drop. Andrew looks down at the folder on his keyboard.
“You brought me more work.”
“The statistics on the corn lobby you asked for,” Eddie says, “And some supplemental information about ethanol production that the DOE insisted on adding.” He looks at the way that Andrew is listlessly flipping through the pages before adding, “I’ll bring you another cup of coffee.” He slips off the desk and turns to grab the smartphone he’s set down on Andrew’s desk when Andrew catches his hand.
“Hey,” Andrew says.
Eddie looks at Andrew. His phone is blinking—four new messages since he walked into the room—but he but doesn’t make a move to leave. Andrew smiles at him, tiny and fond and Eddie feels a surge of affection for the tired eyes, the private slump of his shoulders and the looseness of his tie. He leans forward, presses a closed mouth kiss to the corner of Andrew’s mouth, and feels Andrew’s lips lift in a smile.
“Thank you,” Andrew murmurs, “For being my better half.”
“No,” Andrew says.
“You aren’t going to win yourself any friends if you keep pushing in this direction,” Chesty says, “I keep warning you, Andy. You’ve already got half of Washington livid and the other half is wary.” He has a glass of scotch balanced on the palm of his hand, feet propped up against a priceless antique table in the sitting room.
“They’ve been leeching off the federal government for way too long.”
“Goddammit Andy, my career is on the line here too. All I’m asking is to do a bit of damage control, placate some of the lobbyists. How the hell do you expect to get any campaign contributions next year?”
“Christ Chesty, all of that money comes with strings attached.”
“And if you don’t accept it, we have no goddamn campaign next year,” Chesty sets the glass down, “This is an outstanding display of naiveté, even for you Andy. Where the fuck is Eddie when you need him to knock some goddamn sense into you?”
“I hate this conversation,” Andrew says, “How many times have we had this argument by now? I’m not comfortable taking money from corporate sponsors. Can we please move onto the real topic here? Your visit to Turkey?”
“The real issue here is that clearly I’ve indulged your idealism for far too long,” Chesty rises to his feet, “You think you can play outside the rules in Washington? Fine, but it’s the fast track to political suicide and you’re taking me down with you. I’m not just going to stand aside and watch you fuck up decades of my life.”
Andrew shakes his head, “Nobody said you have to run with me again, Lewis.”
Chesty picks up his glass and walks across the room. He picks up the decanter of scotch and pours himself a new drink.
America’s Best Kept Secret
THE ADVOCATE
Widower President Haldane doesn’t need a first lady: he has Edward Jones.
By Clinton Rizo
In our seemingly progressive era, it’s surprising how tightly we have clung to our traditions as we call for social reform and tolerance. We continue to hire men over women, even with all of the equal pay policies we tout. We prefer our representatives to be religious, even as atheism and agnosticism spreads. And many of us are still uncomfortable with the fact that there is no first lady.
“I’m not surprised,” said Sylvia Deaton, a professor of gender studies at the University of Chicago, “People can be pressured into saying something or thinking that they believe something. But when push comes to shove and they actually have to act on it, their subconscious continues to resist. President Haldane is a great leader and he is undeniably charismatic. Ask any well educated layman about his policies and they’re likely to approve. But ask people what they think about his family values and they’re likely to pause before answering you.”
Indeed, some of the most damaging advertisements against President Haldane’s campaign in 2008 focused on his lack of a spouse. One advertisement focused on the instability of Haldane’s family life, claiming that without the anchoring presence of a spouse, the stress of being in such a demanding environment would eventually break him down. Others cited his irresponsibility in being a single father sacrificing raising his daughter for a chance in the spotlight.
“Heteronormativity has been drilled into all of us at a young age. The family unit consists of a mother, a father, and their children. This is what we’re familiar with and this is what we’re comfortable with. When such a prominent family deviates from the norm, it’s hard for us to wrap our heads around this difference and accept it.”
Deaton had been ecstatic when Andrew Haldane was elected to the presidency, though she had her doubts about how the public would react. Shawn Blaney, a professor of modern history at Creighton University was able to articulate some of the thoughts after the election results were announced: “At first, it was shock—despite his intelligence and clear passion, none of us were quite sure that the junior democratic candidate could sway enough of the public to vote for him. And then we started looking at him a little bit closer and it was at that moment we actually realized that we didn’t have a First Lady.”
Traditionally, the First Lady serves as the hostess for all major events carried out at the White House but the role has been expanded in recent history. Many First Ladies have taken on domestic causes of their own and served as an ambassador all the while providing unwavering support for their husbands. Although there have been a few Presidents without wives since America’s founding, there have been none within recent memory.
“We’re missing a very iconic figure,” Blaney said, “The First Lady is not only a role model for women in the United States but has international influence too.”
However, policy analyst and avid LGBTQ activist Jacquelyn Coney argues that what we’ve received in return is far more progressive: “It’s not that we don’t have a First Lady, he’s just not a woman.”
She is, of course, referring to one of the most well recognized figures in the current federal administration: Edward Jones.
“If Jones were female, there would be absolutely no doubt as to his title,” Coney contended, “He wields an incredible amount of influence over the President—at times it seems like the two of them are tag teaming the presidency. Yet he has this quiet way of going about it that nobody really notices how much power he has. It seems to me that it’s pretty much exactly like how a proper First Lady would go about doing things.”
Jones has attracted attention as the president’s most trusted aide ever since Haldane took office. When Jones isn’t out of the country on official state business, more often than not, he’s within physical reach of the president. His commitment to his job and his level of professionalism is undeniable—so much so that it seems difficult to separate Jones from his career. Even in an era where every detail of somebody’s life can be scrutinized down to the smallest moment, Edward Jones has kept most of his personal life private.
“He’s not a robot,” said Coney, “He smiles, he gets angry. I’ve met him—he’s actually got a wicked sense of humor and a quiet sort of charisma that balances President Haldane very well. I think he could easily run for an elected position and win. And yet, he’s content with being in a position where people perceive him entirely as part of the government machine. I don’t think this was entirely by accident. I don’t think he wants to draw attention to just how close his relationship with President Haldane is.”
Haldane and Jones met during the Gulf War when Jones was transferred to Captain Haldane’s unit. The two seem to have been inseparable ever since. After the war, Jones followed Haldane to Cambridge. Whereas Haldane completed his PhD at Harvard, Jones was only a mile away at the MIT Sloan School of Management. Haldane stayed in Boston for several years, then moved to Washington when he became a senator. Jones quit his job and was hired by a financial firm in Washington in less than half a year.
Haldane also met and married his late wife Sarah Holland and had a daughter named Adeline. The two seemed very much in love during their brief marriage and if tensions existed between the three of them, they never manifested. In fact, Jones fulfilled the role of Holland’s primary caretaker during the last tragic stretch of her leukemia as senator Haldane committed to his job. Even now, despite his busy schedule, Jones carves out time to spend with Adeline, and prefers to take his vacations with the Haldane father-daughter duo.
It’s a family unit that mainstream society isn’t used to yet. Perhaps that’s why we haven’t looked too closely at the first family. It’s evident that President Haldane and Jones share a deep bond born from years of trust—they can turn to each other for unconditional support and love. Regardless of the nature of their relationship, one thing seems to be certain:
President Haldane doesn’t need a First Lady. He has Edward Jones.
“Hi Addy,” Andrew says as his daughter opens the car door and slides into the passenger seat.
“Hi dad,” she replies without inflection, “You’re early.”
Andrew looks at his watch, “I thought we agreed on five-thirty? It’s five thirty-three.”
“Yeah I know,” Addy says, “You just usually get here like, twenty minutes late. I didn’t think you’d be here for a while.”
“Oh,” Andrew says, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
“Who’s following us?” Addy asks, “Where’s Eddie?”
“Amelia’s following,” Andrew replies, “Eddie’s probably already landed in Boston.”
“Oh,” Addy says and falls silent.
“I don’t ever mean to be late, Addy,” Andrew says as he pulls out of the boarding school parking lot, “I’m sorry for making you wait, I really am.”
“It’s cool, dad,” Addy says, “You’re an important guy.”
“I love you Addy. You know you’re more important to me than anything else, right?”
Addy keeps looking out the window, “I love you too dad.”
Washington Dulles is still a long drive away and Andrew doesn’t quite know how to broach the silence. Usually when he picks Addy up, Eddie is with them and they keep up a conversation with Andrew as the silent third wheel. No matter how many times Eddie assures him that Addy adores him, things haven’t really been the same since Sarah’s death. It’s hard for Andrew not to fall into that old cycle of survivor’s guilt—wondering if they could have caught the leukemia earlier if he had been home more often. He wonders if Addy blames him for the loss of her mother.
“How have you been?” Andrew asks, “What are you guys learning now?”
“Good,” Addy says and pulls out her phone. She’s been asking for an iPhone but Andrew doesn’t think that a thirteen year old needs a smartphone. If she wanted to play Angry Birds, she could just do it on the laptop Eddie gave to her last Christmas. She already has a keypad on her current phone anyway—one that she uses to send of thousands of texts. Andrew doesn’t know why thirteen year olds text so much.
He’s about to ask her to elaborate when his phone rings. The phone connects to the car speakers but Addy doesn’t even look up from answering a text as Andrew answers it, “Hello?”
“Andy,” it’s Burgin, his head of PR, “We have a bit of an issue. When you get to the airport, don’t be tempted to talk to any of the reporters.”
Addy sets her phone down on her lap and looks at Andrew.
“What do you mean by issue?”
Eddie waits for them at Logan International. Addy abandons her luggage the moment that she sees him, breaking out into a wide smile and running at him for a hug. Andrew follows at a slower pace, having a low but agitated conversation with whom Eddie only hopes is Burgin.
“I missed you,” Addy says into Eddie’s jacket as Eddie hugs her back, “You should come visit Garrison more often.”
“I missed you too Addy,” Eddie says, “Go get your stuff and let’s get out of here. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Addy affirms and goes back to get her suitcase.
Andrew ends the call just as he reaches Eddie and looks at him. In an ideal world, Eddie would reach out and smooth the palm of his hand over the stubble on Andrew’s jaw, pull him close and lean his forehead against Andrew’s shoulder—but they’re still a long way from the ideal world and the events of the entire afternoon had been a rude wake-up call.
“I know what you’re thinking, Eddie.”
Eddie shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers, looking at Andrew, “You know I really should.”
“Stay. It’s Lizzie’s wedding. She’d be devastated if you couldn’t come.”
“I’m sure your sister would understand.”
“You’ve known my family for years. Hell, half of your family was invited. It’d be weirder if you didn’t show up. It’s not like I invited you on a private trip to Tahiti or something.”
Addy stops next to Andrew and looks between the two of them, “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure if I can come to your aunt’s wedding,” Eddie says.
“Why? Did you do something to piss her off?”
“No, I just—”
“Stay,” Andrew insists.
One of the secret service agents touches Andrew on the shoulder, “Sir, your car is ready.”
“Thank you,” Andrew replies at the same time his daughter grabs Eddie’s arm in one hand and her tiny suitcase in the other, dragging them both towards the car. Eddie resists for only a moment before he lets her pull him across the tiny strip of airfield—but not without looking back over his shoulder at Andrew.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
Trending Topics: #youknowuwinnin, #becauseoffacebook, #gaypresident, William & Kate, Robert Pattinson, Justin Bieber, Edward Jones
“Addy!” Patricia beams as she opens the door, “And Eddie—oh I’ve missed you two.”
“I’ve missed you too, mom,” Andrew says.
“I see your face every day,” Patricia dismisses, “And you don’t call home nearly enough.”
“I love you too,” Andrew agrees. Eddie hauls Addy’s bag into the house as Addy squirms out of Patricia’s hug and heads into the kitchen. Patricia plants a kiss onto Eddie’s cheek with a smile.
“Grandma, have you already had dinner?”
“Not yet Addy, we’ve been waiting for you,” she looks back at Andrew who shuts the door after himself. She has her hands bunched up into her sundress and there’s a frown on her face. She shakes her head before she leans up to give her son a tight hug, her voice wavering “Oh, this can’t be easy for you two.”
“Hey,” Andrew squeezes her shoulders, “It was bound to show up again sooner or later. I’m sure this one will blow over like the last.”
“I love you Andrew,” she pulls away and turns toward Eddie, “And I love you too Edward. I don’t care what anyone else says, you boys are the best thing to happen to this country.”
Eddie kisses her cheek as she hugs him, murmuring, “Love you too ma.”
She sniffs as she pulls away and turns away to dab at her eyes with a tissue, “I set up the guest bedroom for you two. I’m putting Addy in your old room, Andy.”
“Thanks,” Andrew ducks to press a kiss to the side of her hair as he moves past her to drop off their bags.
“Dinner’s in ten minutes!” she calls to their retreating backs.
“I don’t think it’d pass,” Eddie says, “We’re already accumulated too much debt and China would probably just outcompete whatever incentives we offer.”
“Think of all the jobs we could take back,” Andrew insists, “I really think we should start thinking about this more seriously.”
“It’d be a long term project, son,” Greg says, tapping his pipe out onto the table, “And I don’t know if I’d trust your successors to not screw things up.”
Addy taps away at her phone, having long ago lost any interest in the conversation.
“No more politics at the table,” Patricia commands as she sets a pie down in the middle of the table, “Addy, put your phone away. Greg, will you at least clean that before you get up? Eddie, do you mind cutting this? I’ve got to go get the ice cream from the freezer.”
Addy shuts her phone and puts it on the table. A moment later it buzzes.
“You’re a popular girl, Addy,” Greg says sweeping the ashes of tobacco into a napkin, “Who are you talking to?”
“A friend.”
“What are you and your friend talking about?”
Addy shrugs, “Stuff.”
Andrew exchanges a quick glance with Eddie who lifts a piece of pie onto a plate and slides it over to Addy, asking, “How’s Jillian? Are she and Carlos still dating?”
“Oh my god, she won’t shut up about him,” Addy says, “It was okay for the first three days but they’ve been going out for two weeks now and it’s always, oh sorry I can’t hang out with you because Carlos and I are going to go watch a movie, or hey is it okay if I bring Carlos to dinner?”
“I thought you were okay with Carlos?”
“He’s boring. And he has like, a total of two shirts.”
“Is he still in your math class?”
“Yeah he sits behind me and makes me pass notes to Jillian. It’s stupid because they could just hide their phones under their desk and just text like everyone else.”
“Has Mrs. Wallick gotten any better?”
“No, I still hate math.”
Patricia appears at the door, ice cream in hand, “I hope you guys haven’t started eating already.”
“Waiting for you, darling,” Greg says as Eddie hands him a piece of warm apple pie.
Patricia gives Addy a huge scoop of ice cream and skips her husband. Greg makes an insulted noise but Patricia just smiles at Andrew and Eddie, “We’re watching our cholesterol in this house.”
“I just want ice cream,” Greg mutters.
“The doctor said your triglycerides were through the roof,” Patricia counters and gives Eddie a sizeable serving.
“I’d listen to her, dad,” Andrew says, “What about that close call last summer?”
Greg scowls at him but picks up his fork. Addy’s typing away on her phone again. Andrew reaches under the table and settles his hand on Eddie’s leg.
Eddie gives him a tiny smile.
Eddie holds the toothbrush in between his teeth as he flips the page of the report, squinting down at the line graph predicting a tenfold output of nuclear energy if the federal government doubled the amount of current funds directed towards materials research. It’s not horribly off—Eddie thinks—based on how enthusiastic some of the kids he drank with at MIT were back in the day, and it’s certainly better to invest now rather than wait until it becomes too late. He just doesn’t know how he’d propose to move the funds around without causing a major squabble every step along the way.
Andrew steps out from the shower of the tiny bathroom and is careful not to drip water onto the binder balanced at the edge of the sink as he runs a towel over his head. Eddie lets his eyes wander to the skin of Andrew’s inner thigh for only a moment before he’s spitting into the basin.
“I’m getting soft,” Andrew says as he wraps the towel around his waist, “Haven’t been able to run much this week.” Eddie rinses his mouth and spits.
“I’ll install a pull up bar in your office,” Eddie says, “The historical building preservation society won’t be able to decide whether they want to cry or come at me with pitchforks.”
Andrew laughs, comes up behind Eddie and presses a kiss to the side of his head. Eddie wipes his wet hands on Andrew’s towel and closes the binder. His voice is quiet when he speaks, “This isn’t like last time, Andy.”
“I know.”
“This time there’s a higher chance of a leak—hell there’s three years worth of incredibly suspicious history.“
“I know.”
“I should have made you attend more charity benefits. I could have gotten Virginia to come with you.”
“I’m not going to ask your sister to be my beard, Eddie.”
Eddie sighs and picks up the binder, slipping past Andrew to get back to the guest bedroom. He’s organizing the files on his laptop by the time Andrew finishes brushing his teeth and takes a seat on the opposite side of the bed, back to Eddie. Eddie looks over at him, contemplating the line of his shoulders before shutting the lid of the laptop and setting it on the nightstand. The bed’s smaller than they’re used to sharing so Eddie only has to reach out before he’s tracing the line of Andrew’s spine with his fingertips, calluses against Andrew’s skin.
“We’ve talked about this before,” Eddie murmurs, settling a hand across the curve of Andrew’s ribcage, “We can’t jeopardize anything. Whatever your successor does with what you’ve put into play during your term is probably going to determine the future of all our projects. We can’t have any our policies doubted even for a second because we’re—“
Eddie doesn’t know how to finish the sentence without choking on his own bitterness so instead he presses his forehead against Andrew’s shoulder and listens to his breathing. After a few moments, Andrew shifts back and Eddie moves away. Andrew gets under the covers and catches Eddie by the back of the neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
“I know,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips and it’s the most heartbreaking thing that Eddie has ever heard. But this—this is something that they willingly chose, a sacrifice they knowingly made even before Andrew was sworn in. Eddie pushes a hand into the hair at the back of Andrew’s head and presses closer, fitting his body into the spaces next to Andrew’s, pressing skin against skin.
“I would though,” Andrew says against Eddie’s ear, hand sliding over Eddie’s stomach and pushing past the band of his boxers, “If it were up to me, I would.”
And then Andrew’s hand closes around Eddie’s cock, strokes him slow and Eddie’s breath shudders. He doesn’t know how Andrew manages to do this to him every time, after all these years. It takes longer than it used to but Andrew presses his lips to Eddie’s temple, breath ghosting against his hair as he works Eddie’s cock, pulls the low groans from Eddie’s lips, applying more pressure and quickening the speed of his strokes just the way that Eddie likes it—
Eddie stiffens against him, presses his face into Andrew’s neck and comes into Andrew’s hand. Andrew works him through the comedown, leaning in for a kiss. Eddie has his eyes closed but he feels Andrew roll over and the sound of a tissue being pulled from the box. A moment later, the warmth of Andrew’s body returns and Eddie opens his eyes again and touches Andrew’s stomach, thinking about the soft crease between leg and hip.
Andrew’s hand settles on his wrist—and it’s their unspoken code: Andrew’s too tired. Eddie shifts his hand and moves closer so that he’s curling an arm over Andrew’s side. Andrew leans back to turn off the light and set an alarm on his phone—and then he’s pressing himself closer to Eddie, sliding a leg between Eddie’s.
It’s earlier than they usually get to sleep but Eddie’s always so tired and next thing he knows, he’s out.
Apr 22, 2011 10:12:49 PM
Could you please have plane ready to DC by 4AM?
Apr 22, 2011 10:15:25 PM
Callback Number: Laura Abels (Mobile)
Logan International?
Apr 22, 2011 10:15:59 PM
Yes please. Thank you
Apr 22, 2011 10:15:25 PM
Callback Number: Laura Abels (Mobile)
Verified.
Apr 23, 2011 3:42:03 AM
Checking on status of plane?
Apr 23, 2011 3:50:16 AM
Callback Number: Laura Abels (Mobile)
Ready, sir. Your ETA?
Apr 23, 2011 3:51:02 AM
15 minutes, thanks Laura_____________
Apr 23, 2011 6:14:19 AM
Callback Number: Edward Jones (Mobile)
Your sister is going to kill you.
Apr 23, 2011 7:01:03 AM
There’s a cancer research dinner next week. Can we make room?
Apr 23, 2011 7:01:54 AM
Callback Number: Edward Jones (Mobile)
I’ll talk to Virginia.
“Where’s dad?” Addy asks as she takes a seat next to Eddie at the dining room table. Eddie has social security statistics spread out over the table but he’s doing a shitty job of trying to convince himself that he’s getting any work done with the way that he keeps on having to scroll back up the excel sheet. He’s got a pretty firm grasp on actuarial mathematics but the numbers aren’t sticking today.
“He’s back in DC,” Eddie says.
“Uh,” Addy digs her spoon into her bowl of cereal, “Is he not coming to the wedding?”
“No, I think he’s planning to make it back in time.”
“Okay,” Addy says and crunches on whatever Fiber One cereal Patricia deemed appropriate for cholesterol management. She flips through the two pages closest to her, “What are you doing?”
“Failing at trying to fix social security.”
“Oh. I thought that was one of those things that couldn’t ever be fixed.”
“Certainly seems that way,” Eddie says and gives up for the time being. He closes his laptop and nods at Addy’s bowl of cereal, “Is that any good?”
Addy takes another spoonful and chews before shrugging, “No. It’s pretty gross.”
“Maybe I’ll just stick to coffee,” Eddie says. Addy shrugs again.
“Hey Eddie,” Addy says after a few moments, “Are we um, are we not allowed to talk about you and dad?”
“With me?” Eddie asks, “Or with anyone?”
“With you,” Addy says, then she sounds a little cross, “Obviously I know not to talk about it with anyone else.”
“Of course you’re allowed to talk about it with me,” Eddie says, “What’s on your mind?”
“I don’t think it’s fair,” Addy says, “Jillian’s mom has been married like, eight times, and you guys can’t even like, kiss each other in public. Not that I’d want you guys to kiss in public—that’s kind of gross. But like, you can’t even hold hands or anything.”
Eddie wants to reach over and hug Addy but he settles for a smile instead, “Your dad and I knew what we were getting ourselves into. Give us another decade and we’ll be back in Massachusetts.”
Addy looks back down at her cereal, drawing circles with her spoon in the milk, “Are you guys going to get married?”
“Maybe,” Eddie says, “Would you be okay with that?”
“Yeah,” Addy says immediately, and then adds in her usual bored tone, “Could I call you mom?”
“You could try,” Eddie says, smirking.
For a second it almost seems as if Eddie’s managed to coax a smile out of Addy but she ducks her head and looks at her bowl, bangs covering her face. Eddie takes a sip of his coffee.
“Eddie,” she says, “Can I tell you something?”
Eddie looks at her as she pushes he hair back behind her ears, arms crossing over the table before her. Her hair was getting long, Eddie notes, and he was sure she hadn’t worn this much eyeliner the last time he saw her.
“You can tell me anything.”
“Um,” she looks at the table, “Sometimes when I try to remember what mom was like, I have to think for a really long time before I can remember her face.” She looks up at Eddie, “Is that terrible?”
“No,” Eddie says, reaching over to squeeze one of her hands, “You’re just getting older.”
“I am going to kill that asshole,” Elizabeth yells.
“Let me finish your hair first,” Virginia instructs.
“I got into a dress for him at his wedding. I was a goddamn bridesmaid at his wedding and he can’t even grant me the privilege of being in the same state so I can shout at him?”
“Don’t worry Liz,” Eddie says reassuringly, “He’ll be back before the ceremony.”
“The ceremony’s in two hours,” Elizabeth hisses, then clutches at her dress, “Oh my god, the ceremony’s in two hours.”
Viginia tries to pry Elizabeth’s fists from her dress, “Honey, you’re going to ruin the fabric.”
“I’m getting married,” Elizabeth says fearfully and sits down.
“Stay,” Virginia orders and picks up the curling iron. Elizabeth buries her face in her hands and Virginia glares at Eddie, as if it’s his fault that Andrew decided on an impromptu trip to DC.
“Maybe you should go check on Addy,” Virginia suggests and Eddie’s glad for the excuse to leave.
From: jbas@defense.gov
To: aah@whitehouse.gov, eaj@whitehouse.gov
Subject: Renewed Budget
Date: Sat, 23 Apr 2011 1:15:30 PM
What’s this I hear about reducing military R&D funding? You do realize that the DOD funds a substantial number of hard science laboratories nationwide.
JB___
From: kmccloud2@cancer.gov
To: eaj@whitehouse.gov
Subject: Cancer Dinner for April 29
Date: Sat, 23 Apr 2011 1:23:58 PM
Hello Mr. Jones,
President Haldane told me to contact you regarding plans to attend the Research Support Dinner on Friday, April 29th. Plates are $5,000 each and we do have a few spots left. We would, of course, rearrange the seating to accommodate President Haldane and any security detail necessary. Please let me know how many spots I should reserve and who I should talk to regarding security. Thank you!
Sincerely,
Kaitlin McCloud
Event Coordinator
National Cancer Institute___
From: conley@un.org
To: eaj@whitehouse.gov
Subject: Euro Summit
Date: Sat, 23 Apr 2011 1:24:02 PM
Eddie,
Attached are the highlights from the European summit. Security council discussed potential solutions for Greece but nothing substantial yet (surprise).
Wilbur___
From: aah@whitehouse.gov
To: jbas@defense.gov, eaj@whitehouse.gov
Subject: Re: Renewed Budget
Date: Sat, 23 Apr 2011 1:32:10 PM
No R&D cuts but enforced cap on equipment spending. You know I’m all for funding our troops John, but at a certain point you gotta ask how many F22’s are sitting at home and how many of them we really need to commission.
AH___
From: derrickjones82@gmail.com
To: acousticman@gmail.com
Subject: damn dude
Date: Sat, 23 Apr 2011 1:35:10 PM
Eddie!
I’ve been watching all the stuff on the news and I gotta say, I’m so sorry bro. In bad news, Glenn Beck’s already predicted that you guys will somehow drive all of America into a state of fascist sodomy and compared you to the next Goebbels. I don’t think Andy would look good with a Hitlerstache but you should tell him to grow one anyway. I’m sure the public would approve wholeheartedly. On the bright side the girl I’m dating says that she’d think you two would make an adorable couple. I have a very good poker face, Eddie, I learned from the best (and this doesn’t include the time you drugged me with acid, you motherfucker).
Stay strong, the both of you. Tell Lizzie sorry I couldn’t make it to her wedding and punch Virginia for me.
Love,
Derrick
Elizabeth is radiant as she walks down the aisle between the white chairs, her eyes trained on Rick who stands before the priest with his hands folded. There are five bridesmaids and three groomsmen and only one secret service agent sitting next to Eddie in the audience. The wait for the ceremony lasted three times as long as the ceremony itself.
Andy hurries in after the photographer has already taken the wedding party into the surrounding forest to take pictures. When Eddie sees him, he’s struggling to tie his bowtie.
“Where’s Liz?” Andrew asks as they duck around the back of the reception hall, “I really need to apologize.”
“The photographer took them somewhere,” Eddie replies, batting Andrew’s hands away, “I hope you have a great excuse. What’s the deal in DC?”
“I talked to everyone,” Andrew says, “One on one. It’s why it took so long.”
“Let’s hope it sticks,” Eddie mumurs, tying the bowtie neatly.
“I trust them,” Andrew says, catching Eddie’s wrist. Eddie looks up at him for a moment and manages a smile before pulling away and putting a respectable distance between them.
“I missed Addy as a flower girl,” Andrew says, “Out of everything, I think that’s what I regret the most.”
“She said she’d be okay if—you and me—“ Eddie clears his throat, “Maybe there’s another chance for you to see her as a flower girl, that’s all I’m saying.”
Andrew looks at him, his smile broadening, “You think?”
“Unless,” Eddie starts, “Unless for some reason you objected—“
Andrew elbows him with a grin on his face, “Shut up.”
Eddie grins back.
April 27, 2011
President Haldane and Mr. Jones,
Please accept my sincerest apologies for all of the trouble my article has caused you. I can’t imagine how much stress both of you endure daily and I genuinely did not mean to add to it. I realize now that my article was completely out of line and hope that you recognize the fault lies entirely with me, not with my institution or with the LGBTQ community at large. I do not expect to be forgiven but I honestly hope that the media frenzy will taper off soon so that you can continue pushing your admirable policies through in peace.
Sincerely,
Clinton Rizo
President Haldane’s Rebound Girl -- Just in Time?
4/30/2011 10:30 AM PDT by TMZ Staff
We don’t usually blog about political figures but we’ll make an exception if your sexuality has been dissected ad nauseum on every major news network for the last eight days. President Haldane pictured here leaving a benefit dinner last night with a dark-haired woman believed to be Edward Jones’s sister, Virginia Jones.
Suspicious timing, Mr. President. How does your best friend slash gay lover feel about you dating his sister? We’re calling beard on this one!!
From: derrickjones82@gmail.com
To: andrew@haldanetextile.com
Subject: !!!
Date: Sun, 31 Apr 2011 4:12:06 PM
YOU BETTER BE TREATING MY SISTER RIGHT!!!!
Derrick
“I wish dad didn’t start pretend dating Aunt Virginia,” Addy says to Eddie over the phone, “I swear, it’s all anyone ever talks to me about at school. Who cares about how much money she makes or how she met my dad?”
“I’m sorry babe,” Eddie says as he scribbles equations on the back of an old Federal Reserve report, “Even Jillian?”
“Jillian is the worst!” Addy proclaims and Eddie hears a whump of sheets and imagines Addy flinging herself onto her bed dramatically, “She keeps on making stuff up about Aunt Virginia and saying that she heard it from me. I think she just likes being the center of attention.”
“I’m sure she’ll realize soon enough that what she’s doing is stupid.”
“She’s my aunt,” Addy sulks, “And I can’t say anything because I suck at lying.”
“Hey,” Eddie says, “What you’re doing is really important for us, you know that right, Addy?”
“I know.”
“Love you Adds.”
There’s a pause and then, “And subtracts.”
Eddie stops writing and grins into the phone, “You haven’t said that in a long time.”
Addy doesn’t respond for a while and when she does speak, the words come out rapidly, “You’re my favorite calculator, Eddie.”
Eddie sets his pen down because Addy hasn’t said I love you voluntarily since she was nine. Eddie realizes that she’s more scared than she lets on.
“Addy,” he says quietly, “You know I’m not going to leave.”
“Well duh,” Addy replies, but it comes out a little too fast.
“I love you and I’d never leave you,” Eddie promises.
“Gross,” Addy says, “You can feel free to leave me when you get old and wrinkly. You guys can go be old and wrinkly together.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, “I have to go finish some work. I love you.”
“You already said that,” but Addy sounds pleased before she drops back into her normal bored tone, “Okay, love you too, bye.”
“You were so fucking lucky that I was between boyfriends, Edward,” Virginia snaps as Eddie opens the door to his mostly-unused apartment. She pushes past him and dumps her bag and sunglasses onto his dining room table, “The next time paparazzi gets into my face, I’m going to punch them.”
“Didn’t realize you were the next Sean Penn?” Eddie says, “Please feel free to come in Virginia. Make yourself at home.” He closes the door and she glares up at him from her position stretched out along his couch.
Eddie moves into the kitchen, “Should I even bother pouring the whiskey into a glass or would you prefer I just brought out the entire bottle?”
“What a great headline that would make,” Virginia says, “President’s girlfriend found wasted in her brother’s apartment: possible threesome?”
“I’ll just bring you the entire bottle,” Eddie concludes and sets it in front of her, handing over a glass.
“Fine. I will admit that you are my favorite older brother,” Virginia says.
“I’m your only older brother. Any reason you’re here? Or are we just catching up?”
Virginia eyes the laptop he’s already pulled back onto his lap but doesn’t let it deter her, “Oh, just wanted to flaunt the life of being the President’s significant other. There’s a load of scrutiny involved, Eddie—did you know that people still remember the incident when I charged the stage at Miss West Virginia?”
“Welcome to Washington.”
“I didn’t even remember it until someone brought it up.”
“It’ll get better once the next new shiny thing hits and the media loses interest.”
“I hope it’s soon,” Virginia mumbles and takes another drink, closing her eyes. Eddie taps away at his keyboard and they fall into a comfortable silence.
“What would you do if I just fell asleep here?” Virginia asks suddenly.
“I’d probably bring you a blanket. Probably end up sitting here all night with you, but completely involuntarily on my behalf,” Eddie lifts the laptop, “Writing up recommendations to Congress.”
“Where’s Andy?”
“Brazil?” Eddie glances down at his watch, “Yeah, Rio de Janeiro.”
“Oh,” Virginia says and then she closes her eyes again, “You know, every time I think about telling you to go fuck yourself with your stupid plans, I always realize something.”
“What’s that?”
She sits up and actually looks at Eddie. “I believe in you. I believe in everything that you’re doing and I think Andy is a great president.”
Eddie isn’t sure what to say.
“And I want you to be happy,” Virginia says, “We fight a lot and I spent a lot of my childhood alternating between hating you and wanting to be you but in the end, I want you to be happy. And Andy really makes you happy. So I’m okay with this.”
“Oh,” Eddie says.
Virginia smiles at him and it’s a little lopsided.
“Virginia,” Eddie swallows and he’s never wanted to hug his sister more than he did in that moment, “Thank you.”
Andrew has circles under his eyes and his shoulders are slumped as he hunches over his coffee. He straightens when he sees Eddie though, and spares a smile.
“Hey,” Eddie murmurs as he takes a seat next to Andrew, “You should still be sleeping.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Andrew says and doesn’t stop Eddie from stealing his mug.
“No,” Eddie says but they both know he’s lying.
“I left you a note,” Andrew says, “The morning of Liz’s wedding.”
“I read it. I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it.”
“I keep having the same dream. Sometimes I start earlier and sometimes I get farther into the campaign.”
Eddie picks up Andrew’s hand and intertwines their fingers, “It’s not real, Andy.”
“It feels real. It feels like I’m there, and I keep losing you every time. I keep being afraid that it’s messing me up, that I’m going to do something stupid and fuck something up.”
“I’m right here. I’m always going to be here.”
Andrew bites his lip and looks at the table.
“Oh hell,” Eddie murmurs, grazing a kiss across Andrew’s knuckles, “I’m scheduling you time off.”
Eddie knows that there will be bruises and bite marks scattered along his torso come tomorrow morning. Eddie had been careful not to let Andrew leave anything visible—even if he could barely think with the other man panting into his ear, fingers digging finger-shaped bruises into Eddie’s hips. But it wasn’t like Eddie couldn’t give as good as he got—in the dim light, he can see red marks from where he had raked his short nails across the length of Andrew’s shoulderblades.
He probably won’t be able to sit comfortably tomorrow—but for tonight, he presses his lips to the angry marks on Andrew’s back. He doesn’t complain when Andrew rolls over and settles his hand on Eddie’s neck, thumb against Eddie’s pulse.
“Hey,” Andrew murmurs into the space between them. Eddie opens his eyes and looks at Andrew.
“If I ran for reelection,” Andrew asks, “Would you be my vice president?”
Eddie laughs and the vibration of it spreads along Andrew’s palm.
