SEDATED.

“You can help yourself by reading something a little less cliche,” he replied with a grin, gesturing to the book in her hands. “I mean, ‘god is dead’ is practically the millennial catchphrase at this point. We get it, you’re young and cooler than us.” His tone was lined with sarcasm, a kind of reference to the jabs that the media loved to throw at him and Amaya as a result of their age. “Though if I’m being honest, I’m surprised you don’t hate Nietzsche. Didn’t he think women were all liars and cheaters incapable of friendship? And isn’t his skewed perspective of morality all the rage in the modern alt-right movement?”

“I could. Any recommendations that aren’t written by Orwell or Marx?” she retorted without hesitation, a shit-eating grin of her own taking hold. “Don’t get me started. They’ve ruined Biggie and Tupac for me too.” Her nose scrunched in distaste at the very word ‘millennial’, nevermind the point that all of these young little assholes were essentially shitting on everything she loved. “Yes and no. His views on women are contradictory at best, much like the rest of his writings. He raises them one moment and is ambivalent about them the next. Some believe that he was somewhat influenced by Aristotle, but that’s an incredibly wide reach, considering that Nietzsche spoke of women conflictedly but still giving them respect. Aristotle, on the other hand, saw women as subject to men, but as higher than slaves, and lacking authority. He believed the husband should exert political rule over the wife, that women had no place being educated at all, and that the courage of a woman lies in obeying. Yet Aristotle is considered to be one of the greatest philosophical minds of all time. Whereas Nietzsche, while arguably more liberal, is considered controversial because of his Nazi-sympathizing sister, who inherited all of his works upon his death and heavily re-edited them to fit her own Anti-Semitic agenda. Which is the main reason why the modern alt-right considers him the greatest thing since sliced bread, despite the fact that he would’ve rather seen them all shot because of his hostility towards antisemitism and nationalism and everything else they value.”

Juliette was glad that she had friends in D.C.  She knew far too well how shark infested these waters could be and finding people who you could consider a really good friend was not exactly easy.  Juliette struggled with it a lot at first, but now she had a good group.  They all could help her out of things in different ways, but Amaya seemed to be the one that really could serve as a voice of reason when she needed it.  After all, everything Amaya had in her life was something Juliette wanted.

Her friend gave her permission and with that, Juliette took a deep breath.  It was all the prompting she needed.  “Alright so, you know how I’ve been kinda a mess since Jermaine, right?  I just…don’t know if I did the right thing or if I should try and get back with him.  I feel like my whole life was so close to perfect then it all exploded in my face.  I just want to get married and have a couple of cute kids.  What’s so wrong about that?” Juliette whined.  She did feel guilty for dumping all of this on Amaya when she undoubtedly had other things she needed to worry about that didn’t involve her desire to get married, become a mother, or her concerns over her sexuality.

“But, I, uh, I’ve got some other stuff going on too and it’s really confusing and has been messing with my whole….view of my life?  I don’t know, Amaya…I’m just really overwhelmed and confused.  Don’t you wish sometimes you could just…hide out somewhere and stay there until things are back to normal?  Or at least feel less…stuck thinking you will never achieve your goals?

Having more or less experienced a number of brief, drunken late night text messages from Juliette on the very same subject, Amaya felt somewhat prepared for what was to come. She knew that her friend was going through a rough time as of late, and as such, she tried her best to be supportive while also giving her the occasional piece of advice upon request.  Perhaps it was due to already being partially preconditioned for Juliette’s midlife crisis, or it had something to do with mothering four children between the ages of fifteen and two, but Amaya possessed the patience of a saint as she listened to the redhead expel all of her personal worries off of her chest. She nodded her head, a concerned frown tugging at the corners of her lips as she took everything in and attempted to process it. 

When she finally did speak, it was with the very same reassurance and command of language she’d learned during her earlier days on the campaign trail; the voice of someone who was listening. “First of all, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you wanting a family. You’re at the top of your career right now; it only makes sense that you want to start settling down. That being said, I don’t think you should be blaming yourself for what happened with your relationship. He asked you to give up everything for him without so much as considering doing the same for you; that’s hardly fair, let alone the thought process of someone you should start a family with.” She reached both hands out, grasping onto Juliette’s and giving them a firm, comforting squeeze. “Trust me. You will find the perfect guy, who’s going to sweep you off your feet and offer you the world. You shouldn’t have to settle for any less.”

“Of course I do. Every single time a bill doesn’t go the way I want it to, I wish I could crawl under a rock and never come out. That last tax reform? I received so many horrible phone calls that I went home, ate my weight in ice cream, and cried myself to sleep. Do I regret things not going my way? Of course. Do I dust myself off and keep going anyway? Within the blink of an eye. You’re a modern-day political powerhouse, Jules. With some time and patience, you can do anything.” 

Leon raised an eyebrow at the mention of busty twenty-one year olds—Oh, so that’s where your fantasies go—because it was a picturesque mental image. Would he bet his stepfather’s farm on it never coming to pass? Sure. But that wasn’t what banter was for. Two national heroes walk into a bar… This was already the stuff jokes were made of.

”The depressing thing is I don’t think you’re even talking about interns,” said he told Amaya, taking a sip of his Coke. Warm. He signalled for ice cubes. “Even the worst intern is hyped about getting the job. It’s the staffers. The ones who get a foot in the door and think they made it to the gates of heaven. Or worse, legislators who think they’re kings of the Hill.”

Well, one prominent exception came to mind, so he added, “Scratch that. Worst is the legislator who thinks too much about what he owes his constituents, like that matters more than the bigger picture.”

Amaya, for the most part, conveyed nothing short of imperturbability; deadpan facial expression and slack body language, languidly swirling the contents of her drink in hand as if she’d just casually mentioned something about the current status of the weather rather than a motorcycle and a threesome. 

“Mmm...” She hummed thoughtfully, taking his words into consideration. “I suppose everyone who steps foot through the Capitol Building feels as if they’re entitled to a slap on the back and a handshake for their troubles. I don’t know if it’s the high educational degrees or the wealthy backgrounds, but the moment anyone around here gets a taste of promotion, they act as if they’re the single most important organism in the entire city. Like they’ve paid all of their dues and we owe it to them to say ‘good job’ every time they wipe their ass correctly. Meanwhile, the reality of it is that they’re self-entitled pricks who spend most of the day insulting each other rather than getting anything meaningful done. It’s disgusting.”

Andie let out an amused laugh at her wife’s scandalised reaction – her words having the exact effect she knew they would on Amaya. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes as Amaya positioned herself as far away from Andie as she possibly could. She stretched out her legs just far enough that she was intruding into her wife’s personal space, the blanket still spread out over her.

“I never said that,” Andie countered, though she knew full well that it had been implied. “But there’s always room to improve.” She added with a wink, lips still spread into a teasing grin. 

“One hundred percent satisfaction rate, huh? That’s impressive. There’s absolutely no way Lewinsky had one hundred percent satisfaction, she doesn’t exactly look like she’d be able to offer anything special in the oral talent department.” Andie stretched out her legs the rest of the way, so her feet were just resting against Amaya’s thigh. 

For the sake of maintaining her own subtle vindictiveness, Amaya gradually pulled her legs backward when she noticed her wife’s feet inching toward her lap, forcing Andie to stretch a little further than initially necessary, even though she more or less got her way in the end. Nonchalantly tugging Andie’s feet up into her lap, Amaya rested a hand on her wife’s blanket-covered calf, gently massaging the toned muscle hidden beneath the velvety soft fleece. Neither of them were particularly tall women, but Andie still had a few inches on Amaya and truthfully, a pair of legs that went on for miles.

“Improvement, huh?” Amaya asked, dark eyes still glinting deviously. The tip of her tongue poked out between her teeth, slowly tracing along the shape of her incisors, mouth still pulled into a smirk. She pitched forward, feigning interest (and on sheer coincidence, allowing some cleavage to peek out from beneath her shirt). “Perhaps you should elaborate. Ensure we’re on the same page.”

Gently massaging at her wife’s calf muscle, Amaya’s smirk pulled into a full-fledged grin. “And I look like I can offer something special in the oral talent department?” She asked, going so far as to scrape her teeth along her own bottom lip, almost as if to convey that her intentions were entirely innocent and she was merely curious at heart. Which, after so many years of marriage, they both knew was the furthest from the truth.

It had been a few hours since the kids had – finally – gone to bed, leaving the house strangely quiet as Amaya worked and Andie set herself up in the living room, curled under a thick blanket with a book in her lap. Finding time to relax was something exceedingly rare in Andie’s line of work, but after a twenty-four hour shift, she felt she’d deserved this.

She was pulled from her book when she heard Amaya moving around in the next room, followed by footsteps drawing closer to their living room. She slid a bookmark onto the page she was on, placing the book down on the table in front of her. She looked up in time to see her wife leaning against the doorframe. 

“If you think that’s something you’re good at, go for it.” Andie teased, wry grin tugging at her lips, before letting out a laugh a few moments later, patting the couch beside her – Amaya had done enough work for tonight, she decided – “With you talent, I think you’d go a lot further than Lewinsky ever did.”

Almost immediately, Andie’s comeback triggered a wide-eyed expression of no holds barred betrayal from Amaya. Her jaw went completely slack, palm flattening against her breastbone as if the very words had somehow pierced the delicate chambers of her heart. Sarcastic as her reaction was in nature, scandalized was still an understatement. “You don’t think that’s something I’m good at?”

Even so, she resigned herself to follow her wife’s silent command, padding over to the couch and settling down onto the cushion furthest from Andie, out of sheer (albeit joking) spite. Tucking her legs beneath her, Amaya rested her elbow up on the back of the couch and propped her chin up in the palm of her hand, giving Andie her undivided attention. Her brow rose, staring pointedly, eyes still glinting with mischief despite her otherwise ruthless expression. “You’re damn right I’d get further than Lewinsky. First of all, I would be smart enough to cater to the more intelligent gender in the first place. Secondly, between the two whole women who have experienced said talent, I have never experienced a single complaint. So, therefore, you could say that 100% of the recipients of my oral skill have always been completely satisfied.” 

“Oh, I don’t mean men,” Gwendolyn gives it a short, shy laugh, and sits down next to Amaya on the bench, placing her handbag on her lap.“I mean politicians. 

"I’ve also seen men who are scared,” — and in such a breezy conversation, the word didn’t seem to compare to the things she had seen — “ but this is different. Like blowfish. Yes, blowfish. You know, how they puff when they feel threatened? Same principle. Men in DC, as I’ve come to find out, do that— enlarge whatever they think is good about them so deflect from the sheer horror that is a woman potentially having a voice." 

As a woman in a male-dominated field, Gwendolyn had seen and experienced her fair share of it. If things were bad now, in the 70s they were discouraging in their best cases, career-ending in their worst. 

"I guess where I’m getting at is,” she continues, “male politicians are a lot of things, but I don’t think they’re human. Crack open their skulls and you’ll sooner find a sunflower seed than a brain." 

Listening to Gwendolyn Steele speak is something akin to a religious experience. She exudes the very same eloquence found within the potently phrased paragraphs of her articles on the Arab-Israeli conflict and the War on Terror. Amaya can’t help but soak in every given word and accurate analogy, even if it means that, from this moment forward, she will imagine every male politician puffing up like blowfish at the slightest inconvenience.

Not that Amaya hadn’t experienced her own fair share of the very same men in other aspects of her life as well; the engineer majors at MIT who scoffed at her major and asked who she slept with to get through admissions; the soldiers who thought the peach-fuzz on their face constituted them to treat her as little more than a nice ass to stare at rather than an equal.

Leon barely smothered his grin at Amaya’s accusation. He liked chaos. Chaos looked good on him.

Batting away her quotes with a scowl, he flicked his lemon wedge into his Coke. “Don’t you sound forty yourself. But you’re not exactly wrong. Every time I hear someone tell me I’m not being politically correct, fuck that. It’s not politically incorrect to say you’d be better at your job if you didn’t have one hand in your pants, constantly reaching for your phone. We pay for mediocrity, and it’s like we’re supposed to thank them for it.”

NAME: Heart Emoji, Peach Emoji, Sweat Emoji

RINGTONE: Let’s Talk About Sex by Salt-N-Peppa (because she’s an asshole and likes to traumatize the kids apparently)

PICTURE:

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: Bacon burgers for dinner tonight??

After hours of pouring over paperwork in the comforting silence of her home office (primarily financial disclosure reports and congressional budget office cost estimates), Amaya slips her glasses off and pinches the bridge of her nose, attempting to massage the beginnings of a stress headache away before they can properly evolve. She's been at it since the kids went to bed, reading through every scrap of paper she can get her hands on in preparation of an upcoming meeting with the Colorado Economic Development Commission. 

It should be an easy feat, discussing her home state's (admittedly healthy) economy. But if there's one thing Amaya has learned from being in Congress, it's that people are inherently selfish, especially if they're politicians. If something doesn't directly benefit a politician's specific interest, they're hard pressed to agree on anything. 

With a weary sigh, she leans against the door frame that connects her office to the living room, crossing her arms over her chest as she addresses her wife, "Y'know, sometimes I think Lewinsky was a genius. Suck a few dicks, get exactly what you want, and call it a day." She tilts her head to the side, an impish glint in her eyes and a coy smirk toying at the corners of her mouth. "Think it would help if I add 'oral talent' to my skill set?"

Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text.

[ SMS to HEART EMOJI PEACH EMOJI SWEAT EMOJI | 12:48 PM ] Holy shit, the new Aladdin movie is coming out next month !!!!!

[ SMS to HEART EMOJI PEACH EMOJI SWEAT EMOJI | 12:48 PM ] Do you think the kids would wanna see it???!!

Send “&” for a LOVING text.

[ SMS to HEART EMOJI PEACH EMOJI SWEAT EMOJI | 3:01 PM ] Hey babe, just fyi for when you get home - there’s a water gun by the front door. It’s specifically for you.

[ SMS to HEART EMOJI PEACH EMOJI SWEAT EMOJI | 03:01 PM ] I already have mine locked and loaded, so get your sweet little ass ready.

Send “#” for a RANDOM text.

[ SMS to NOT NEIL ARMSTRONG | 02:37 PM ] Hey, I just watched a documentary that said astronauts have to wear diapers because anti-gravity fucks with the gases and such in their bodies. 

[ SMS to NOT NEIL ARMSTRONG | 02:38 PM ] Is that why you’re so full of shit all the time, Solis???

Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text.

[ SMS to NOT NEIL ARMSTRONG | 11:43 PM ] THEY’VE FOUND EXOPLANETS OUTSIDE OF OUR GALAXY????!!!!!

Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.

[ SMS to NOT NEIL ARMSTRONG | 1:09 AM ] Did you know that McDonalddf's closes?! What the fuck kinda bullllshit is this??? 

[ SMS to NOT NEIL ARMSTRONG | 1:10 AM ] They just HAMBURGLARDED ME OUTTA MY FCKIN DINNEAR 

[ SMS to NOT NEIL ARMSTRONG | 1:12 AM ] Srry I might be a littlee drink

“Just Gavin, please,” he remarked with a small wave of his hand, the sole mention of his last name sounding a little too much like he was being reprimanded by his parents. He wouldn’t expect the congresswoman to extend the same courtesy to him, as their working relationship hadn’t exactly crossed the boundaries of acquaintanceship just yet. Now seemed as good a time as any, however, to invite Amaya Shapiro to what he hoped would be a mutually beneficial friendship. Sure, their politics were different as much as they were similar, but what was Washington if not compromise on all ends? “Not if his writings put me to sleep first,” he replied by way of rebuttal, though his smile was wide. “More than a hundred years and still translators have yet to make academic texts less tedious to read. I’m waiting for the day the philosophy of Nietzsche is translated solely to emoji.” 

“Fair enough. Gavin.” She nodded, feeling the informality out on her tongue. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a similar preference to the use of her first name as well. It just felt a bit odd after the last few years of being referred to alternatively as “Congresswoman Rosales”, “Congresswoman Shapiro”, “Congresswoman Rosales-Shapiro”, and during one rather interesting press conference with Fox News in her first term, “Congresswoman Rosa Shapiro”, which had led to laughable amounts of confusion for her surrounding staff. Pursing her lips, she considered for a moment and then relented, “Amaya.” Granted, they weren’t the closest of comrades in Washington, but a mutually intelligent and friendly conversation was difficult to find around these parts. Not to mention, she wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to have a proper discussion on a politically neutral topic in the middle of such a sunny day. “Again, you make a fair point,” she replied, her own smile more subtle but just as present. “I think the fact that he was a very misunderstood human being accounts for some of the confusion, though. Like... Okay, I’ll give you an example. Thus Spoke Zarathustra was among one of the many pieces that were heavily re-edited by his sister, Elisabeth, who was a Nazi sympathizer and added a bunch of anti-Semitic subtexts. As a result, she, Hitler, and decades of disapproving philosophy students have interpreted the whole ‘blond beast’ confusion as an allusion to the Aryan race. When in reality, Nietzsche was just describing lions.”

“That’s alright,” Gwendlyn brushes off the misunderstanding. It was too nice a day to hold onto someone’s — issue? critique? sheer bewilderment? — over her grey hair. Now older, her perspective had shifted, but she could understand how Amaya’s opinions came to be. 

“Well, much like insects, I can assure you they’re much more scared of you than you are of them.”

NAME: Sir Michael Caine

RINGTONE: God Save the Queen

PICTURE:

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: hey, remember that race where you got three whole votes? that was a good time :)

NAME: Boy Wonder

RINGTONE: Hypnotize by Biggie Smalls

PICTURE:

LAST TEXT RECEIVED: How are our kids doing???