guys i wrote a snippet from the carrikerverse because this scene's been living in my head and it means so much to me. timeline is 2025, it's the night of carriker's second inaugural ball. idk i just felt like i really needed to write them being in love because they mean so much to me.
Two quick taps on the door to the White House’s master bedroom was all it took to get the thing opened; at least, that was all it took when Jason Carriker was on the other side.
It certainly wasn’t an early night; Chris watched as the hour hand on his Rolex inched its way over to the three. He was eager to get to bed, but there were still matters to be taken care of, and one of them happened to be the man about to open the door and let him in.
Jason was still in his full tuxedo, though his bowtie was a little looser than it had been when the night began. Chris had always liked Jason best when he was dressed up, and this was no exception; he remembered helping adjust his bowtie before they left, taking a step back to check it was all perfect but also looking much longer than he needed to. His gaze had lingered on Jason’s hand, fingers drumming on his thigh. If Jason were a stranger, Chris would have thought him to be impatient. But he knew Jason well, so instead he had taken his hand and stolen a quick kiss before leaving the privacy of the room.
Now, with Jason standing right in front of him, he was even harder to ignore. He had that smile on his face, the one he gave Chris earlier in the night along with the invite to come up to the master bedroom after the ball was over. It wasn’t a needed invitation; if Chris was asleep, chances are it was in the very bed before him at the moment. But it reminded him of all those times over the past decade, checking his phone to find a text from Jason begging him to come knocking at the door. Four years ago at the same ball he had gotten another one, and he looked up from his phone to see Jason staring at him from across the room. And all of it with that smile, the one that told him exactly what Jason’s intentions were that night.
Chris sat on the edge of the bed as Jason shut the door, the click of the lock filling the silence as Jason leaned against the dresser. There was a weight off both of their shoulders; they had privacy, at least for the night. It was a rare thing to get, with their line of work, but Chris appreciated the time they had.
“I wish I could’ve had the first dance at the ball with you,” Jason admitted. “Was all I could think about when I wasn’t busy trying not to fall out of step.”
“Well, you can’t have everything.”
Jason smiled at that. “I guess it’s a small price to pay to be the leader of the free world, isn’t it?”
“Speaking of the dance, what was the song you chose? I didn’t expect classical from you.”
“The Swan. Saint-Saëns. A little melancholy, but also not. Part of me didn’t want too happy a song because it’s not the real dance I wanted to have.”
“We could have our dance, if you wanted.”
The suggestion seemed to take Jason off guard for a second, but ultimately Chris could tell he was intrigued. “How so?”
“You have a phone, don’t you? Play the music, we’ll dance right here.”
Chris got up, crossing the room to Jason who had pulled out his phone, searching for a recording. He turned up the volume before setting it down on the dresser, a soft piano playing with the slightly tinny sound that came with a phone speaker. But that didn’t matter to Chris right now; the thousands he spent on looking good wasn’t for Jason, who was all over him even when all he had on was an old t-shirt and sweatpants barely holding themselves together. This didn’t need to be impressive. After all, it wasn’t like anybody was watching.
Jason placed his hand on Chris’ shoulder, grabbing his other, slowly stepping to the left, right across the carpet. They had never danced together, before this; there was never the opportunity, not when the rest of the couples on the floor were in a dress and a suit. Jason was strong; grounding. For all he joked about not being able to dance, it seemed the years of galas and balls had finally taught him something. Chris’ mind wandered for a moment, as they wandered back and forth across the center of the bedroom; what would the people think, if they saw their president dancing with another man? They would riot if they saw the way Jason looked into his eyes when they were just inches apart, or the passion with which he shoved Chris down onto the bed. Someone would put a gun to both their heads if they knew that their president started his day in the arms of someone who wasn’t his wife, if they were aware of the longing looks from across the room any time they weren’t right next to each other. Their lives would be over if the world outside of that room knew that Jason Carriker was in love with a man.
They would never call it love. They couldn’t. But that was what it was, because what other explanation could there be for dancing together in a bedroom at three in the morning while the world outside of it slept soundly?
