himbo rights!

“We’re not fooling them, we’re giving them hope. Telling them what they need to hear so everything can go back to business as usual while the professionals figure out what the hell happened,” Caroline reminded him, tilting her head. She could tell that this–or something–was weighing on Aaron, but didn’t push it. “You’ll know, Aaron,” she spoke softly, nodding her head and smiling. “You’re welcome,” she smirked. “What, now you’re gonna just sit here and bother me?” she teased.

“That’s beautiful.” He smiled, cynic. “A load of bullshit, but beautiful.” Sadly, he knew that this was what they needed to say. Messed up lies and meaningless phrases, this was the rock that DC was built on. “I might,” he considered, preferring her quiet office instead of his, where chaos would certainly be reigning. “Until Lorena comes in or the president decide to speak up, I don’t have anything better to do.” He crossed his arms, and got slightly more comfortable in his chair. “I can either annoy you or Bradbury, but I think you’re less menacing.”

With the faintest of shrugs, Lorena decided to accept the cup. Making Aaron’s life miserable was a beloved pastime, but the demand for caffeine had won. For now. “Ain’t something always?” she retorted, taking a sip. Better. “Remember when the hurricane hit Georgia, and that preacher son of a gun started a petition to name it after me? Because the Looord had sent it as a punishment for my sins?”

The main hallway reminded a tad of a natural disaster too: hushed whispers, poached-egg eyes, five phones in every grasp. Yet they all stopped to greet her.

Which, admittedly, was kind of nice. So she greeted back, shooting the occasional who-in-the-name-of-sweet-fuck-was-that look Aaron’s way.

But as they turned left toward the office, her focus shifted entirely to him. “You know, all this puts me in a horn-tossin’ mood.” Edward Johnson would’ve had a plan by now. Lorena already had four. “If I was a male VP, I’d be right there in the Oval making the decision with her.” She balanced the coffee in her hand, musing. “The statements would be out by noon, and then we’d crack a cold one, and… I don’t know, play golf, go to a strip club, whatever. But no. She’s doing this on purpose.”

“It’s that blonde devil who came to destroy the good american life and take your daughters to sin!,” he quote, word for word. Not only he had a good memory, he also enjoyed that meme more than anyone else. His 4chan account really blew up around that time. “You did look lovely in the meme, ma’am” Was he responsible for its popularization? Arguably. He did make sure to use a nice pic, though.

He walked behind her on the main hallway, invisible under her major presence. The funniest part is that Lorena didn’t know half of those people, yet she smiled at them. Probably begging for none of them to strike up a conversation, while Aaron almost wanted it to happen. There is never enough catastrophe in a day in DC.

“Of course, ma’am” he nodded, agreeing, just because this was hardly the time to start an argument with Lorena, although he doubted a male VP would have any better luck at this. But she liked to play the female card, and who was he to say that she couldn’t? “I talked to her staff and they swear that there is no clear answer.” He didn’t completely trust them to tell the truth, but they didn’t trust Aaron either. Stil, in all seriousness he pulled up his daily schedule. “Would you like me to set up a strip club appointment later today, ma’am?” He could almost be taken seriously.

to: ‘white house - hot’

[ text ] It’s a healthy combo of the two [ text ] Wow [text ] Suddenly I’m busy tonight

to: ‘meg (tx-30/fwb)’

to: ‘white house - hot’

[ text ] Being hated by half the country is why my skin is so clear [ text ] That’s fine, you can keep your shirt on then

to: ‘meg (tx-30/fwb)’

to: ‘white house - hot’

[ text ] But orange isn’t my color :( [ text ] Hey, it’s not my fault you chose to ride bitch. You run for office and I’ll be the first one to give you an endorsement [ text ] Aaron I’m literally begging you to develop a palate

to: ‘meg (tx-30/fwb)’

“But we don’t want the American people thinking we’re running around like chicken with our heads cut off–which we kind of are,” she pointed out, shrugging as she took a slip of her coffee. She shrugged once again, swallowing. “The police and secret service are still going through evidence, you’ll know when I know.”

“Right.” He nodded, slightly cynical. “We are, instead, fooling them.” Aaron had no problem in lying to the people — fuck, he had only made this far because he kept lying that he was a well adjusted person. “Well, that’s not good enough.” He sighed, anxious. He didn’t know where to move next and it was stressing him, more than the situation itself. “I need to know when they know.” Did he even know someone in the FBI? Surely. He realized that Caroline was in the dark as much as he was. If he wanted more information, he would have to climb higher. But he had to be thankful to her, at some measure. “Thank you for your time, though.” He smiled, charming, even though he made no move to leave her.

Lorena hissed: the coffee was hotter than six shades of hell.

“Jesus Christ, Aaron, you could fry an egg on this thing!” Her hand fell back to the side, leaving the fuming cup in his. “Make it normal.”

But there would be no time for a peaceful breakfast that morning. Nope, they were gonna be busy as a one-legged cat in a sandbox. And thank fuck for that.

Flash. The Vice President braced herself for the vultures, masking the glee with her ever-perfect posture and a tight-lipped smile. Except she probably shouldn’t have been smiling. As hilarious as the fact someone had managed to sneak past the security and leave a whole dead human on their doorstep was. She couldn’t risk being called the Wicked Witch of the West Wing. Again.

Flash. Flash. As they approached the stairs, the bodyguards stepped forward to shield them from the crowd.

Lorena glanced sideways at her Chief of Staff. “Do I talk to them? Or do we wait for Little Bo-Peep to show herself first?”

He stood there like a dumbass, with a cup of too hot coffee in his hand, while she walked, almost too fast for him to keep up. "It’s to warm your cold dead heart, ma’am.” He said, struggling to keep the cup with the lid open, letting the coffee cool down for a bit.

He followed her, coming up the staircase, struggling to walk among the wave of bodyguards. “We don’t.” Even though the press was begging and shouting her name, desperate for a single quote to go in their headline. “Not until we have something substancial anyway.” Even though the staff was already working on a speech, and internally they had even booked the Press room for a speech from the Vice-President. But it was hard to write something when you don’t know what it should say.

“Lovely smile, ma’am.” He mocked, in a hushed tone, almost once they were inside, protected from the prying eyes of company. “Somewhere deep in Missouri someone in their mother’s basement is starting a theory that, somehow, this is your fault.” He offered the coffee again, without the lid, marginally less scalding. He raised and eyebrow, as if to say this is the best I can offer you right now. 

to: ‘white house - hot’

[ text ] You’re going to get arrested one day and I’m going to pretend I don’t know you [ text ] Me at your trial ( see attached gif ) [ text ] But until then [ text ] Dinner tonight to work out the details of said bill?

to: ‘meg (tx-30/fwb)’

to: ‘white house - hot’

[ text ] Best sex of my life, great abs, goodbye cruel world. Got it. Anything else you want to add? [ text ] We really are [ text ] Can I count on the veep’s support on my veterans bill? [ text ] I haven’t written it yet but imagine it’s exactly what you’re looking for and say yes

to: ‘meg (tx-30/fwb)’

“I have plenty of responsibilities,” Caroline pointed out, leaning forward at her desk and smirking. She and Aaron had a different relationship, which mostly came from the fact that they were two of the youngest people working at the White House in high positions. They stuck together, supported each other, because they knew what it was like to be so young here. “Detailed yet vague–that’s what works,” she shrugged. “Enough detail to show we care and are working hard, but vague enough so we don’t give away too much.”

She’s right. As much as he hates it, the speech has to be this vague pointless thing that he held. Compromising would be the worst position at this moment. “Give away too much...” he repeats, almost in a mocking tone. “This would imply that we know anything, which we don’t.” He sighs, sitting back on his chair from before. “When should we know more?” A gentle way to ask when he should go back, when she’ll have actual information for him.

“ i do not wish to aggrieve you, ” he offers— one noted as it were ( much like that of his tone throughout the exchange ), knowing fully well that access to the office holder stopped at the COS’. it was the same for his own. “ and am wholly sympathetic of your present situation. nevertheless, i hope there is room for me to take your words as definitive. ” there’s a certain finality to his delivery, aware that drawing out the conversation would only waste his time as well as aaron’s. answers were not going to come from hanging on the phone all day. 

Aaron sighs, relieved. “Thank you, Mr. Senator.” Finally someone was listening to him, instead of just mentally deleting all of his words. Sure, they were all pulling this thing together, and the Senate Leader needed more context. And he had been the first to actually treat him decently. Aaron thought he should make this concession. “I’m on my way to the Press Secretary now,” he says, already apologizing for ending the phone call, but he hangs on the moment a minute too long, offering the silence as an invitiation: “Maybe we should meet for lunch, after all of this.”

to: ‘white house - hot’

[ text ] I’ll be sure to mention you by name in my suicide note [ text ] Ha. That’s not surprising [ text ] Officially of course I’m devastated and am doing everything in my power to secure those veteran benefits, as I’m sure you are too

to: ‘meg (tx-30/fwb)’

“It’s all yours–just don’t smudge it,” Caroline smirked as she moved to sit down at her desk, leaning back a bit. Her back cracked and she sighed–having been hunched over the computer for a few hours, she needed to give her back a break. “What over? This?” she smirked. “That’s just because you’re not as good as I am.”

to: ‘big mike’

“Yup,” Caroline smirked at him, saving her final touches on the speech she was writing and pressing print. She looked over at Aaron, shrugging. “I don’t know why you think you’ll get anything from me–I just write the speeches,” she smirked, walking over to the printer and grabbing the papers. “But… yah it’s bad.”

This was the closest thing he got from the truth, and today, that was the fucking podium on the Olympics. “Can I at least see the speech?” He asked, trying not to look too desperate. It didn’t seem nice on him. “Lorena is driving me crazy.” A slight lie, but he would hope his boss wouldn’t mind him using her name.