VETERAN

Logan St. James remained with a singular purpose since moving to D.C. three years ago—his job was onto the government. The protection of the President was a job he held highly, one that kept him from things considered normal, like friendship and maybe a girlfriend. Not that Logan was considering complaining. Most of these thoughts were kept to himself. Loosened tie, as he stepped off duty for the evening, dismissed once the President’s detail was switched out, and he knew he’d be back there with a few hours. To him, sleep was momentary. As he approached the door, another did the same, and Logan silently offered a slight smile, holding the door open. “Sorry about that,” He offered, his drawl breaking through. “I wasn’t payin’ attention to where I’m goin’. Didn’t mean t’nearly knock you on your ass.” He stepped aside, waiting for the person to pass.

Switching out the security detail in the White House was a welcomed relief for Andie -- she’d been on duty for the past twenty four hours, and even caffeine wasn’t enough to stop fatigue from seeping into her bones, though her mind needed to stay as sharp as ever, even as she entered the last few minutes before she would be relieved. As another agent came to take her place, Andie had given them a grateful smile, before starting back out of the White House and to her car. She hadn’t been paying much attention, either, when she almost ran into another agent, letting out a light chuckle as he held open the door for her. “Don’t worry about it, neither was I,” She admitted, stepping through the door, “It’s like as soon as I’m off duty, I lose all awareness of my surroundings.”

“Of course. I know the Secret Service wouldn’t hire you if you didn’t tick every box twice.” And I wouldn’t approve you to guard my wife, Julian’s also thinking, if I wasn’t sure that you did. “That’s a long time. Was it — is it — a passion?”

“Their checks certainly are rigorous.” Andie chuckled, recalling the training and background checks she’d had to go through before being admitted into the Secret Service, let alone before being assigned to security detail for the First Lady. “It was. A bit of a family affair, really.” She replied, “My father and brother were both military. I grew up on bases, it was pretty much locked in as soon as I was born.”

“Please.” A hand brushed lightly against Captain Andrea O’Donnell’s upper arm. “Allow me.”

Not waiting for an answer, she strutted past her and up to the counter. The person with the supposedly forgotten wallet was Latina, curly-haired, stocky, nearabout her Mama’s age. One of the cleaning ladies, Sarah Jane reckoned. She pulled a fifty-dollar bill out of her handbag.

“Keep the change.” A nod for the girl behind the register. Lord knows you deserve it.

In English so butchered it made her want to pop her eardrums with a screwdriver, the Latina began, “Thank you, Madam, I am so sham—“

“Don’t worry.” Sarah Jane offered a warm smile, head tilting to the side. “It happens. I mean, I brought the wrong passport to the airport once. My sister’s instead of my son’s. And note they were sporting the same haircut at the time.”

Off script, yet they chuckled. I’m getting good at this.

She took a step backwards, beam unrelenting. “Sorry, Captain. You were next.” 

“Oh -- thank you ma’am.” Andie nodded, stepping aside to let the woman pay, offering the lady who’d forgotten her wallet a kind smile while she waited for Sarah Jane to pay for the coffee. She waited for Sarah Jane to step back before stepping forward to order own drink, thanking the young woman behind the counter before turning her attention to Sarah Jane.

“That was real kind of you.” She nodded, “Thank you for stepping in there.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, thank you.” The current state of his bank account is abysmal, and truthfully he felt guilty buying coffee when he could’ve gotten it for free at work. A few dollars, maybe, but a few dollars can go a long way in D.C. “David Schwartz,” he takes her hand and gives it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.” He steps to the side to allow the next customer to make their order. “And sorry for holding up the queue. I would’ve just stepped aside but I doubt I would’ve made it back to the office without any caffeine in me.”

“Oh, please, don’t even worry about it.” Andie chuckled, waving a hand to dismiss his apology. “I completely understand, I’m about to go into a twenty four hour shift, so this is probably going to be coffee one of about fifteen.” She laughed, “But it is a pleasure to meet you, David.” Andie nodded, grabbing their coffees as the server called out her number.

“You’re right,” agreed Leon, “just coffee’s kinda unrealistic. Coffee and earplugs for when the Berkeleys get at it.”

The line seemed to be stuck at the next person, so he contemplated just giving up and buying drain cleaner elsewhere. On the other hand, there was just one more person in front… “Good to run into you like this, though, Agent O’Donnell. Not gonna lie, it’s surreal to see the black suits having a life outside wearing the uniform. It’s been what, years, and I’m still not sure your first name isn’t ‘Agent’.”

Andie pressed her lips into a thin line as she made an attempt not to laugh -- though she was off duty, she still liked to maintain a certain level of professionalism. “We do, as hard as it may be to believe.” She chuckled, “Maybe my name really is Agent, it’s very similar to Andie, could all just be one big alias.”

Adjusting to D.C. was something she was… working on. Evangeline wasn’t suggesting in any way she was an expert at it, couldn’t get the knack of the air—there had to be something about the air right, she wasn’t imaging it? Maybe she was. Nevertheless, after a couple weeks of searching for a coffee shop that was nearest the White House while serving up coffee beans that were worthy of the name, it was just like her luck she possibly packed her wallet first. In a packed to the brim zipper, it almost made her want to cringe, before catching the sounds of the woman behind her. “What—Oh.” She murmured, half-smile as she stepped aside. “Thanks—really—I think it’s sitting at the end of this stupid bag—“ She offered as a piss poor explanation for her lack of organization that morning. “This is really nice of you, you know.” She offered, once asking for a small black coffee. “I appreciate it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Andie waved the girl off, stepping around her to order her own coffee and pay for the woman’s. She wasn’t looking for praise, far from it, just trying to save the girl from embarrassment and keep the line moving. She thanked the server and stepped aside to wait for her number to be called, turning her attention back to the woman whose coffee she’d just paid for. “I would like to know the name for who it is I’m paying for, though.” She grinned, extending a hand, “Name’s Andie.”

At that, Julian laughs. “I can see why she likes you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk,” he says then, as an after-thought. Then again, he rarely spent quality time with the security detail — and even his own personal bodyguard gave him the silence treatment most of the time. Boring at times like these, but key to the long-term. He hardly wanted a bullet between the eyes because he and the person supposed to stopping it got to gossiping. Now Julian possessed no security skills, but he might just be right in assuming this glorified state orgy had other priorities for the night. “Which, I suppose, is good professionalism. Were you military?”

“Well, I take my job very seriously, sir. Not a lot of time for chit-chat, usually.” Andie shrugged, now being one of the very rare times that she felt she could safely have a conversation while on duty -- though she still scanned the room every few seconds, just to be safe. It hadn’t really occurred to her until then that she’d never really spoken to the Vice President, which seemed odd considering the close proximity she had to his wife, but he typically had his own security detail, there wasn’t really much reason for them to have a conversation. “Air Force.” She clarified, “Served for nine and a half years, only left after I got married.”

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.

Andie pouted as Amaya drew her legs backwards, continuing to press hers forward until her wife gave up and took her feet into her lap, grinning victoriously as Amaya started to gently rub her calf over the blanket. She moved into the touch, immediately melting as her wife’s fingers gently massaged the muscles she hadn’t even realised were aching.

Andie’s eyes lingered on Amaya’s cleavage for perhaps a few second too long before she finally managed to draw her eyes back up resolutely. “All I’m saying is that nobody’s perfect,” Andie shrugged, chewing on her lip, “Wouldn’t want you getting too cocky on me, it’s important to stay humble, dear.”

Pulling herself further upright, Andie edged herself closer to her wife, while still keeping her leg resting in the other’s lap. “Though I think you and I both know exactly what you’ve got to offer, and I’m sure it’d make any of Lewinsky’s beaus jealous beyond belief.”

“Not early enough clearly,” said Leon, gesturing at the coffee line. “Any chance you’re offering to pay for everyone in this place so I can get to my order any sooner?”

The comment made the customer in front of him turn around and give him the stink-eye. Leon winked back, more interested in talking to Andie than the peanut gallery. “So the answer is coffee, I see. That’s how you keep up with the Second Lady.”

“Ah, would that I could, unfortunately that was the last of my change.” Andie chuckled, holding her hands up apologetically when the customer in front of them turned to glare. “You’ve discovered my secret.” She chuckled, taking a sip of the coffee, humming delightedly to herself as the liquid warmed her throat. “Don’t tell anyone, though. They all still seem to think the secret is years of training and strict protocols.”

While Julian had no complaints when it came to Andie’s service to his wife, it still made him uneasy when she had to fill in for his usual bodyguard, Mortensen. He thought of Elise, how she probably would appreciate a woman by her side if she’d decided on an impromptu outing— and not the brute men that hanged around Number One. He also felt bad for Andie, who had to witness— well, this.

“Andie,” he laughs. “If you don’t talk back to me I will grab your gun and shoot myself in the face. Right now, you’re the only person in the room I could actually stand talking to. I don’t think I need to tell you why.”

“I’ll do it out of mercy, sir, and because cleaning your blood off of the walls would take quite some time.” Andie replied, lips pulling up at the edges as she leaned back against the wall. She had to agree, there were very few people left in the room who were sober enough to have a proper conversation with, and she understood the frustrations of being the most sober person in the room, so she had to sympathise with Julian. “And I assume the reason is because my conversational skills are renowned throughout the country.”

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.” 

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. 

The dinner (and unofficial-official meeting) had gone well by their standards. It would be commendable, if those weren’t so low. The alcohol had been there since the start, and slowly otherwise eloquent men became considerably less so, their words scrambling alongside their thoughts. At one point, important conversations were dropped completely; not because anyone wanted to– but simply because none of them could keep up the business man act any longer. Julian knew it was hopeless when Chief of Staff Richardson picked up the phone to call his boss— and called escorts instead. “I think we’ve found something worse than drunk teenagers.” He’d gotten himself away from the action and settled himself on one of the sofas. “Drunk politicians.” 

Andie was far too sober for this. Completely sober, to be precise. She was on duty, and drinking would not only impair her ability to do her job, but it would be a very bad look on her part. An event like this, she was on call to provide security to the Berkeleys, and scanned the room periodically, though she was fairly certain any threat that may arise would have presented itself by now. Then again, it was that kind of thinking that got people killed.

“Maybe, sir.” Andie replied, lips curling into half a smile. It was entertaining, to say the least, watching usually composed individuals trip over themselves with intoxication. “Don’t know if it’s my place to comment on that.”

Initially, David merely looks over his shoulder to identify the person before formulating any sort of response – a disgruntled politician, a sarcastic colleague, or both – for greed may breed corruption, but caffeine breeds impatience and everyone in the queue had that in common. He’s surprised to discover it’s neither, and even more so at what seems to be a genuine offer. Kindness in D.C. is hard to come by, especially one where nothing is expected in return. 

David turns fully, stepping aside to let the stranger reach the till. “Are you sure?” He asks, still a little paranoid. “If you have a business card or something, I can pay you back somehow. At some point.” 

“I’m sure.” Andie reiterated, stepping around the man to order her own drink and pay for his. She didn’t immediately recognise him, which meant he probably wasn’t a politician, and likely someone she wouldn’t come across again. She let out a laugh as he asked for a business card, “It’s only a few dollars, sir, don’t worry too much about it.” She shrugged, shoving her wallet back into her backpack, “I’m afraid I don’t carry business cards on me,” Nor did she have business cards, “But I’d at least like to know who it is I’m buying for, Andie O’Donnell.” She introduced herself, extending a hand. 

@andieodonnell

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?”

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.”

Thank god, Leon nearly muttered aloud, as someone cut ahead of him in the coffee line. His head might have exploded if he had to suffer through another customer fumbling through their wallet for change. As the good Samaritan paid for a stranger’s coffee and the line moved ahead as usual, he barely checked his own sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” he said under his breath, “I was dying for a— Agent O’Donnell. Ain’t this a nice surprise.”

Andie ordered her own coffee before paying for both of them, smiling as the stranger offered their thanks before shuffling out of the cafe, a pink flush on their cheeks. Andie was about to do the same when somebody else thanked her, and she turned around in confusion, mouth softening into a smile when she recognised Leon. “Senator.” She greeted with a nod, taking a sip of her drink. “I’d say so,” She agreed, “You’re here early, huh?”

She’d overslept, at least by her standards - Gabrielle was typically an early riser, but it was an off day. That certainly explained the missing wallet from the bottom of her back, something which was proving to be a problem with her much-needed caffeine fix. She was really about to just say ‘forget the whole thing’ when the woman behind her spoke up to offer to pay. Gabrielle blinked in surprise - on top of the surprising offer, she just looked familiar somehow - and then nodded between her and the cashier. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do that. I can probably grab a coffee at the office and save us both the trouble.”

“No, of course, I insist.” Andie chuckled, turning to the cashier and ordering her own coffee before handing over the change. It was only a few dollars, after all, hardly enough to get worked up about. She’d been in the same situation before -- probably more times than was considered normal, honestly -- and it was the little things that could sometimes help on a particularly stressful morning. Andie rocked back and forth on her heels as the barista readied the beverages, taking them from him with a quick, “Thanks,” and holding one out to the woman, “Here you go.”