I Don't Need It
• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader
• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff
• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn't stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.
• Warnings: mental breakdowns, heartbreak, rejection, major angst, arguments, flashbacks, physical injuries, fighting, underaged drinking, panic attacks, mentions of death, slight mentions of druGS?, terribly written i dont rlly like this chapt.
• Wordcount : 6.1 k
• Masterlist here!
• Chapters: XIII, XIV
Life had many pros and cons, but people always preferred to see the bright side of it. As they say one of the best feelings in the world was the feeling you get when you found your soulmate, your other half. You had heard a countless amount of stories about it in your youth. Mainly from your grandmother. But sadly, you were one of the unfortunate souls who couldn’t experience the feeling for too long.
Your sixteenth birthday was supposed to be filled with joy and excitement. But the moment you saw the ink starting to form on your wrist as soon as you blew your candles caused your heart to weigh down in your chest. At that moment, you remembered the feeling of shock and slight disappointment when you realised you had the same soulmate tattoo as Jaemin.
You remembered standing still in the middle of the room, surrounded by your friends and family who eagerly surrounded you to see your new soulmate tattoo as you entered a midlife crisis on the spot. How your mind turned messy with thoughts as your anxiety got the best of you.
‘My tattoo is the same as Jaemin’s. Jaemin is my soulmate?’
‘Oh god, but he doesn’t want to have a soulmate chosen for him. He wants to find his own love and experience the feeling of slowly falling for someone, I can’t possibly take that wish away from him, right?’
‘I’m his best friend, for pete’s sakes! He’s never going to treat me or look at me the same way again.’
‘This is really ironic. Grandma, you really got what you wanted, huh?’
The whole situation was almost laughable to you. Oh how your grandmother would probably be doing somersaults in her place if she was here to witness this miracle. But alas, that moment you just wanted to turn into stone on the spot. You wanted time to stop. You knew very well that there was a possibility that you won’t be experiencing that life changing feeling your grandmother always rambles about.
Though, you had some hope that maybe. Just maybe, Jaemin would be okay with having you as his soulmate. Maybe he would be happy to find out that his childhood best friend, the person who knows him better than his own family, was his soulmate. Maybe life would give you some mercy and decided that Jaemin would change his mind and you would end up living happily ever after.
‘Come on, he would definitely be glad to find out that someone close to him was his soulmate, right?’
‘I know him like the back of my hand, surely he would be ecstatic to see that we have the same soulmate tattoo!’
‘I’m sure of it!’
‘Grandma said that there’s nothing better than the feeling of finding your soulmate’
‘He’s your best friend, he wouldn’t be disappointed to see that you ended up as his soulmate, right?’
‘You’ll still get that feeling of happiness you’ve been longing to feel for so long, right y/n?’
Of course, you were only getting your hopes up.
When you turned to Jaemin, who was peeking over your shoulder at your wrist to see your tattoo, the look on his face was enough to push your hopes down to the floor. You honestly couldn’t decipher what he was feeling. But it definitely wasn’t anything along the lines of happiness.
‘What’s that look for, Jaem?’
‘Surprised? Definitely. Disappointment? Pretty clear. Sadness? Yep, it was there alright. Misery? Despair? Probably.’
You couldn’t show anyone your sadness though, you had to keep a bright smile until the day was over if you didn’t want to worry anyone. When Jaemin’s eyes met yours, he, too, was surprised to see your calm reaction. The sad smile you gave him was enough to silence him for the rest of the party.
It was quite painful when the rest of your friends and family decided to bombard you with questions of who you might think your soulmate could be. Not wanting to make things more awkward, you just tried your best to answer those questions without showing how upset you were with a simple shrug with Jaemin avoiding your eyes for the rest of the day.
At that moment you didn’t know how much pain you’d be in all because of your stupid soulmate mark.
One of the most hurtful things you’ve ever experienced was watching your friends and relatives find their own soulmates with the look of pure happiness stretched across their faces as you stand there with Jaemin by your side with a smile masking your faces and misery glossing over your eyes.
The one that always stuck to you was that time during Christmas.
It had been a few months since you found out you and Jaemin were soulmates and not much has changed other than your obnoxious flirting and affection towards him. Jaemin had grown less and less affectionate as time passed by. He was no longer attacking you with surprise hugs or giving you cuddles during your movie nights.
You could feel your friendship tearing apart with every step you take, it was hopeless, you didn’t know what to do. You wanted to stop before you ruin your relationship completely, you wanted to stop making things so awkward between you, you wanted everything to stop hurting. You wanted to stop feeling hurt all the time.
But at the same time, you couldn’t. You feared that once you stop, you’ll give up completely and you were scared that maybe if you stopped, you won’t have the courage to talk to Jaemin anymore. You were scared once you stopped you wouldn’t have the energy left to bare with the pain talking to him brought you. You were scared you’d give everything up.
And you were scared if it did happen, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself anymore.
They say the moments you spend with your soulmate should be one of the best moments of your life. Was the pain you felt all this time really worth it? Isn’t this kind of toxic?
Your friend, Yiren, from another town had come to visit you over the holidays to spend some quality time with you. Your parents allowed her to spend the night at yours for Christmas while her parents finished their business in some other town. At that time, you and your other friends decided to hang out at the mall, asking her to tag along so they could meet her.
Yiren was an out-going person, just like you, therefore she got along very well with most of your friends. But when Chanhee finally arrived at the garden you were supposed to meet up at, you couldn’t help but feel your heart sink when you witnessed such an endearing moment between your two friends.
“Hey guys! I’m so sorry I’m late, my brother needed help closing up the shop!” Chanhee exclaimed, waving as he ran towards you. “You loser, just be grateful you have amazing friends who were willing to buy tickets 3 hours early,” Hyunjin clicked his tongue, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder who let out a loud laugh.
“Whatever you say, Hwang Hyunjin.” Chanhee stuck his tongue out teasingly at the boy. “Oh! Chanhee! I got my friend from Busan to tag along with us, I just want her to have more friends here, you don’t mind right?” you asked, slumping down on your seat. “That’s cool, where is she? Actually, where are the other girls?” Chanhee nodded, cocking his head to the side to find the other girls.
“The others went to buy some drinks for us. Don’t worry I made sure to make them order something for you,” Jaemin responded, scrolling through his phone casually. “Why didn’t you join them?” Chanhee asked, turning to you. You let out a wide, nervous smile, letting out small awkward laughs. “She wanted to stick beside me,” Jaemin huffed, trying his best not to roll his eyes out of annoyance.
“Whipped, I see,” he chuckled, watching you cross your arms against your chest before giving him a teasing glare. “You’ll understand once you actually find your soulmate, Chan. I can’t expect you to understand,” you joked in a rather arrogant tone, putting a hand under your chin as you grinned cheekily at your friend.
“It’s not that he doesn’t understands, Y/n. It’s just the fact that you’re really questionable,” Jaemin mumbled under his breath, earning a glare from you. “You two really are a questionable couple,” Hyunjin commented with a laugh. “I swear, my life wouldn’t be this entertaining if it weren’t for the two of you pushing and pulling each other like some kind of weird magnet,” he added with a loud snicker.
You winced internally at his words.
“We’re here!” Nayeon exclaimed in an excited tone, hopping up to you all with plastic bags filled with drinks. “Sorry, the line was so fucking long,” Yiren chuckled, pulling out the drinks from the bag to hand them out. “Nah, it’s fine. We’re not the ones paying after all,” you teased, waving it off.
“Bitch,” Yiren spat at you jokingly, earning a small laugh from your friends. You gingerly grabbed your drink and a straw, stabbing it into the drink before sipping. “Oh! Yiren! Meet Chanhee, he just got here because of business or something,” you squeaked, gesturing to the boy whose head shot up from his drink at the mention of his name.
“What? Me?” Chanhee rambled, stabbing his straw through the lid of his drink.
“Oh, nice to meet you! I’m Yiren, I’m Y/n’s friend from Busan,” she smiled, outstretching her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you too, I’m Chanhee,” he nodded, shaking her hand before his eyes glanced down to her wrist. His eyes widened, letting out a loud gasp which alerted all of you.
“What? What happened?” Mina exclaimed, turning her head to the couple who were staring at each other with equally flabbergasted expressions. “It’s you! Holy crap, it’s actually you!” she exclaimed, using her free hand to cup her mouth. Chanhee slowly stood up, feeling tears gathering in his eyes.
Everyone was shocked. You let out dramatic gasps, recognizing the loving expressions the two of them had on their faces. No one dared to speak as they let the knowledge sink in, feeling the atmosphere tense up for a brief moment as you watched your two friends stare admiringly and longingly at each other.
“You’re real! What the fuck, you’re real and you’re here!” Chanhee managed to choke out, admiring the tattoo on Yiren’s left wrist that mirrored his own. “Hi soulmate,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around her soulmate who wrapped her in a tight embrace.
Your friends let out loud cheers and squeals at how dramatic their meet-up was, coming forward to congratulate them nonetheless. You couldn’t hold in your excitement for your friend but you couldn’t help but clench your fist tightly by your side, a heavy feeling in your chest piling up once again.
You couldn’t help but feel envious of how happy they looked. The tears in their eyes as they embraced each other so passionately, the bright aura surrounding them. You’ve seen your friends and families do PDA with their own partners but you had never witnessed what finding your soulmate truly looked like. That is, not until now.
Reading strangers’ experiences when meeting their soulmate online was one thing but seeing it first hand in person was a beautiful sight to see. You couldn’t help but turn to Jaemin in your seat, giving him a longing look as you ignored the loud exclaims and cheers of your friend group.
Jaemin’s expression was empty, void of emotion. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking or what he was feeling. Frankly, you didn’t want to know. They say you can see your future with your soulmate if your love was powerful enough. ‘Bull crap, all I see in his eyes is irritation towards me’ you thought with a roll of your eyes.
Jaemin’s eyes met yours, his brow raising at you as if to say ‘what?’
Your eyes widened slightly, taking aback by his sudden gaze, feeling hurt at the fact that he wasn’t fazed at all at the beautiful sight bestowed upon him. The reunion of two soulmates was always something special, it was a priceless moment that they can only share between them.
You felt your enthusiasm waver when you realised you were hoping something that wasn’t going to come. You were clinging on to Jaemin once again in hopes that he would give you the happiness you craved so much from hearing your grandmother’s stories.
When you finally focused back on Jaemin’s now concerned gaze since he noticed you had spaced out and had begun snapping his fingers in front of your face to snap you out of your deep thoughts.
You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him, ignoring the jolting pain blooming in your wrist and in your chest as you stood up from your seat to join in celebration with your friends. The thought of never experiencing the same happiness they’re going to have once they find their soulmates lingering in the back of your mind.
But fortunately for you, keeping a smile stretched across your lips is what you do best.
“Hey, I’m here,” Renjun called out, walking into your door without knocking. Your parents were away for the day and your sad hours were hitting you hard that you called Renjun to help comfort you and accompany you. Renjun knew the door was always unlocked for him to enter immediately without knocking whenever you were sad.
“Thanks for coming,” you smiled weakly, nuzzling closer to your bed sheets as Renjun sat on the bed next to you, dumping a plastic bag filled with snacks right in front of you. “You better pay me back sooner or later,” he joked, pulling out two cartons of milk and handing one to you. “When I don’t feel like shit that is,” you chuckled softly, sticking the straw in the carton as you tossed him the remote.
“What do you want to watch?” he asked, adjusting his position on your pillow as he pressed through the options on your TV screen. “The Office? That drama you’ve been wanting to watch? Or-”
“I’m good with anything, Jun. I just- I’m just glad I’m not alone, right now,” you inhaled deeply, sniffling back your tears as you shook your milk carton. Renjun paused, realising you were on the brink of crying again. He clicked his tongue, his eyes darting from the TV screen to your shaking form trying to maintain calm, debating whether to leave you be or make you talk your feelings out.
“You want to talk about it?”
Renjun obviously decided to choose the latter.
You shrugged, looking down at your milk carton so hopelessly, a hurt expression flossing over your features. “I was just having those dreams again,” you gazed up to keep your tears in. You’ve been having these dreams that you were in a completely alternate universe, that you were happy again, that you were in Jaemin’s arms.
That he was looking at you the way you’ve been looking at him for the past two years.
“Were you reading those soulmate moments again before you went to bed?” he asked with a soft chuckle. You huffed, crossing your arms before sitting up straight against the headboard. “Come on! Let me dream! I might not be able to experience the happiness soulmates share when they’re with each other because I decided to ghost mine completely, but at least I can imagine!” you whined.
“It’s the only thing I can do now that I don’t have any hopes of experiencing romance or love and what not,” you mumbled almost inaudibly, sipping on your milk once again. Renjun bit his lip, knowing full well where this was going if he said the wrong thing. “Well, I-”
“It’s not fair, Renjun.”
“Huh?”
He turned to you, watching you stare at the screen which was playing a trailer of The Umbrella Academy with an expression filled with despair. “I’m stupid for getting this worked up for a boy but he’s my soulmate, I have the right to be upset right? He’s my soulmate, I want to experience the same thing others are experiencing, too. It’s not fair,” you whimpered, crossing your arms tightly against your chest.
“Why does he get to be the selfish one? I’m here getting hurt all the time for his own happiness and he’s probably out there living his best life!” you exclaimed exasperatedly, sniffling back your tears. “It’s not fair, I want to be happy too.” You whimpered, furiously wiping away your tears,
“How did we come to this? I’m human too! I want to be selfish too for once. I want to be able to play with my soulmate’s hair, give them little smooches, have cuddles and movie sessions. I want to go on dates with my soulmate too! And take those aesthetic pictures you see on Pinterest too!”
“Y/n, I-”
“He wanted to find love and experience the feeling of falling in love with someone who wasn’t chosen for him, right? Does that mean I have to watch him fall in love with someone else in front of my own eyes? Oh God, I’m so fucking stupid!” you planted your elbows on your thighs, leaning forward to rub your eyes against your palms to avoid looking into Renjun’s sympathetic ones.
“Two years. Two damn years, that’s how long I spent parading myself around like an idiot hoping that he would like me back when all I did, really, was drive him further and further away! I just thought, maybe it wasn’t those immediate soulmate bonds, you know Jun? The ones that take time and effort. But it’s been two damn years. Once again, I’m just fooling myself with something that wasn’t there! I just want it to stop hurting!”
“Y/n stop, your wrist is glowing again-”
“I was so stupid, Renjun. So, so fucking stupid. All this time I knew that I was making the both of us uncomfortable, yet I still kept on going and I still kept on pestering him even if he told me to stop. Maybe I’m the selfish one?” you felt your bottom lip quiver as your scattered mind grew messier with every passing second.
“Why did I trick myself into thinking that maybe one day he would feel the same feelings I’m feeling? I’ve always known he won’t ever love me back. So why did I create false hope? Was that selfish of me to want someone to love and someone to love me back?”
“No, y/n, you’re not selfish.”
“Renjun. My own soulmate doesn’t love me. My own fucking soulmate doesn’t love me. I’m going to be alone forever. I hate being alone. I hate it so much. I hate this so damn much,” your whole body shook harshly with every sob you let out but Renjun couldn’t help but respond with a soft, “you won’t be alone, y/n.”
“The worst part is I told myself for so long that I’ll be okay if it happens. I’ll be fine with watching him happy without me. But the more I think about it, the more selfish I felt. I don’t want to see him fall in love with someone else and be happy with someone else, Jun. I’m so stupid, Why did I ever thought I’d be okay with it when I’m clearly not okay now!”
“Y/n, no, you’re not stupid. Don’t you dare say something like that about yourself.” Renjun pulled you away from the ball you were curling into, making you lean against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your back tightly, stroking your head and rubbing your back as he tried to calm down your soft cries.
“You’re not stupid, y/n. You’re really not,” he said in the softest tone he could muster.
“Renjun. I have a soulmate who doesn’t even fucking want me. If my own soulmate doesn’t want me then who else will? You all always see how he looks at me right? He hates me, he doesn’t even like me. Not one bit.” At this point, you were trying to focus on your breathing, wiping your nose and tears away with the fabric of your shirt.
Your grip on your bedsheets tightened when your heart ached even more. Your heart was screaming and pleading in your chest, crying out for something it can’t have. And all you can do to comfort it was to cry it all out.
Renjun sat there, rubbing your back and stroking your head as he whispered soft hushes, trying to reassure you your worth as you mumbled incoherent sobs, single syllables and broken words against his shoulder. You were hurting so much that you didn’t know if you should stop crying or let it all out to satisfy the pain in your chest.
But sure enough, Renjun held you there until you couldn’t cry anymore.
“Hey, I told you, you don’t have to give me chocolates anymore. My mom’s going to kill me if I have another sore throat,” you chuckled, pulling up the thin chocolate bar from your locker. Your friend, Nayeon, turned to you with furrowed brows, eyes filled with confusion. “Excuse you, I didn’t give you any chocolates this week,” she responded, pulling out her textbook.
You let out a small ‘huh?’ at her, trying to see if she was lying. Nayeon always gave you half of her lifetime supply of chocolates that she always receives from her soulmate because she wanted to go on a diet and she didn’t want to waste the delicious treats. “He found out I was on a diet and stopped giving me chocolates for the time being. Also, it’s my cheat day today!” she exclaimed, pulling out a chocolate bar similar to yours from her pocket.
“So no chocolates for you,” she waved the chocolate bar in your face jokingly, causing you to chuckle. “Well okay, Nayeon. But if you didn’t give me the chocolate, then who did?” you asked, furrowing your brows at the treat in your hand. “Dumbass, there’s a note behind it,” Nayeon reached over and flipped the candy over, revealing a small yellow sticky note attached to it.
‘I hope you have a great day!
- you know who’
The handwriting gave it away. It was way too obvious, you’ve seen that handwriting more than you could count. There was no doubt in your mind that this was indeed Jaemin’s handwriting. You chuckled when your mind recalled the time Jaemin kept giving you chocolate bars from his mother’s private stock whenever you were upset back when you were still kids. But how could he still remember your favorite chocolate brand? It was quite sweet but unexpected at the same time.
“’I hope you have a great day’, that’s so bland. Sounds like something moms would write on a piece of paper in their kid’s lunch boxes,” your friend commented with a small snicker, pointing at the note attached to the chocolate bar. “This sounds like some weird stalker-ish movie prompt,” she added with a teasing tone, nudging your shoulder. You forced out a small laugh to hide your discomfort.
“Do you really have to say it like that, though? I’d say this might just be someone’s weird prank?” you raised your brow, trying not to give away the fact that you know full well who this chocolate bar is from. “Come on, aren’t you suppose to be the prankster in this situation, y/n?” she giggled, waving her hand off to say she was joking.
“Nonetheless-Ooh! An admirer! Sadly, you’re too whipped for Jaemin to give this fellow a chance,” Nayeon gushed, snatching the chocolate bar out of your palms to inspect the note even further. “It even says ‘you know who’. I’m fully convinced that a Potterhead wrote this, I mean, it’s cute. But do they really have to include ‘you know who’? This isn’t Harry Potter, they ain’t Voldemort,” Nayeon rambled, causing you to giggle in response.
“Shut up,” you mumbled, suppressing the heavy feeling inside of your chest. Nayeon giggled, smacking your shoulder gently as she handed you the chocolate bar back. “I’m just kidding you! So, do you know this supposed admirer?” she asked with a small hum, oblivious to the sadness that had glossed over your pupils.
“Yeah, definitely.” You replied shortly, kissing your lips as you nodded. Her head shot up at you, eyes widening in surprise. “Oh! So are you going to do anything about it? I mean, you found your soulmate already as far as I know but are you going to do anything?” she asked, cocking her head to the side a bit in wonder. You sighed, putting the chocolate in the pocket of your backpack before shaking your head with a small smile.
“No, I’m not,” you replied, walking alongside her to your next class. “I don’t really want to think about it too much, I mean, it’s just a bar of chocolate, right?”
‘The ones I used to receive from him back when we were still in middle school that is,’ you thought with a heavy heart. You clenched your fists by your side, mustering up the energy you have in your system to put on your usual bright smile. “Anyways, what were you saying about Mr Seong earlier?”
When you said you didn’t want to think about it too much, obviously you were lying and you thought about it way too much all throughout math class till lunch. As you were doing the assignment your teacher gave you, you couldn’t help but remember the kiss you two shared at the party. Your chest fluttered at the seemingly distant memory
You paused, putting your pen down next to your notebook, propping your elbows on the table before rubbing your face in distress, the tips of your fingers coming up to rub your temples with a heavy sigh. ‘God, I need a damn vacation after all this,’ you thought, putting your arms down as you continued on with your work.
‘The tables really have turned, huh?’
You glanced at the small sticky note attached to the chocolate bar which was now hidden in your pencil case. You let out a silent chuckle, flipping your pen in between your fingers as you stare down at your paper. ‘It hurts,’ you thought, taking a small glimpse at your left wrist. The white bandage that wrapped around your wrist peeking out under the fabric of your sweater.
‘It hurt,’ you bit your lip, darting your eyes back at your paper filled with equations. As you started to continue with your work, your mind wandered to the weekend after the party.
You remembered waking up early in the comforts of your own bed sheets, still in the clothes you wore the night before. Your headache causes you to groan against your pillows when you felt like vomiting your stomach out. Apparently, Renjun had magically snuck you in your own home in the middle of the night by using the spare key you had in your pocket.
How he managed to sneak into your house and get into your room and out without waking your parents was a whole mystery to you. But you couldn’t care less when the events of the previous night overwhelmed your thoughts, resulting in you having a mini mental breakdown in your bathroom when you decided to take a shower.
You and Jaemin kissed! You and Jaemin fucking kissed!
What the actual fuck?!
At the time, you couldn’t help but touch your own lips with the tips of your fingers, giggling softly at the fond memory, feeling butterflies swarm your stomach. Collapsing on the mattress of your bed, snuggling against the pillows as you couldn’t hide the giddy feeling spilling from inside of you. But your little giggle session didn’t last long when your mind finally remembered the full events.
You had a mental breakdown- no, you had a whole panic attack in front of your own soulmate. Jaemin just did what any other male protagonist in a cliche romance movie would do, which was kiss their love interest. You are his soulmate after all. They say one of the most comforting things in the world will always be the first kiss you ever shared with your soulmate.
They say a lot of things, if you think about it.
What if Jaemin knew that and kissed you just to make you feel better? What if he did it out of pure sympathy? Jaemin was someone who would do anything to make someone’s pain go away, even if he had to share the pain to take it away. You sighed at the thought, remembering how he snapped at you at the dinner party. Or did he just kiss you because you appeared too pathetic in front of him?
‘I forgot, he’d gladly do anything for the people he loved. I’ll never be in that category. Not anymore,’ you thought to yourself bitterly as you hugged your pillow to your chest.
But then again, why did he kiss you? He was the one who initiated the kiss, right?
Right?
‘Stop trying to give yourself hope, unless you want to get hurt again you might as well go back to being a simp’
You snapped out of your thoughts with a click of your tongue, chuckling to yourself. ‘God dammit, y/n, you’re out of the soulmate game now. The universe really said ‘you’re never going to be happy with your soulmate, ever!’ in the most dramatical way possible. You have fallen out of God’s favor a long long time ago.’
You shook your head in disappointment before adverting your eyes back down to finish your paper.
‘You were dreaming too far.’
“Alright class. For those who haven’t finished their work, you can do them at home and give them to my next week,” your teacher announced as he puts his papers in between the pages of his book. The class groaned, the sounds of chairs grinding against the tile floor pierced your hearing as people started packing up their things.
You rubbed your eyes in distress, putting your paper in between the pages of your textbook, shoving it straight in your bag carelessly and walking out of the classroom with a heavy sigh. Gripping the saddle of your bag with one hand and the chocolate bar in your other as you make your way to the cafeteria.
As you entered the crowded place, you spotted a few of your friends sitting at a table nearby at the corner of your eye. Sending them a smile and a small wave you turned your head to scan the room in an attempt to find the table Jaemin was sitting at.
You quickly walked to his table, feeling your heartbeat quicken in your chest with every step you take. Jeno was the first one who caught you walking towards their table as Jaemin had his back turned to you. Raising his brow in confusion as you waved at him with a sheepish smile.
“Jaemin, is that-”
When Jaemin turned around, his eyes widened to see you standing right in front of him that he almost choked on his cookie. “Hey, uh-” you spoke, taking a breath to calm your nerves before placing the chocolate bar right beside him. “I don’t want to be rude or anything but I just want to return this,” you smiled, trying to ignore the eyes of his teammates boring holes into your figure.
“I’ll see you guys around, I guess,” you shrugged, turning around and whipping your phone out to advert your mind as you exited the cafeteria. You knew Jaemin was going to chase after you when you heard the sound of his friends calling his name which caused you to walk faster to the exit, jogging when you finally got out of the cafeteria.
“Y/n!” Jaemin called out, running after you.
You sighed, stopping in your step before turning to him with an exhausted expression. “What is it, Jaemin?” you asked, exhaustion lacing your tone. You haven’t spoken to him since that night at the party and you’ve been avoiding him like the plague since then. And frankly, you really don’t want to talk to him about it.
“This is yours,” Jaemin said, his breathing hitched as he outstretched his hand towards you to hand you back the chocolate. “No, Jaemin. I really don’t want to,” you shook your head, a frown stretched across your lips. “It’s a present, is it not? You have to accept it,” Jaemin raised his brow at you, attempting to take your hand but you quickly jerked it back to your side.
Jaemin couldn’t help but wince at the small action. “Y/n, you said it yourself once, right? ‘You can’t reject a gift from someone else, that’s rude and unappreciative’” He quoted, causing your eyes to widen slightly. “Jaemin, you know very well I only said that to make you accept my gifts,” you frowned, wincing at how hypocritical you sounded.
But still, he did not just use the same tactic you used back when you were still bugging him. Not when he whined and complained so much to his friends whenever you weren’t around afterwards.
“I still have the right to refuse your gift, Jaemin,” you frowned, slipping your hand in your pockets. He sighed exasperatedly, “fine, can we at least talk? About that night at the party? Please?” he pleaded, sending you his irresistible puppy eyes in an attempt to get you to say yes.
You bit your lip, feeling your heartbeat increase at the action, butterflies swarming your stomach as you feel yourself turn into mush under his eyes. But alas, your mind couldn’t help but have flashbacks to the party. The heavy feeling in your chest that made it hard to breathe. The burning in your wrist that made you want to chop your own arm off.
Everything that happened between you two was nothing but a mess.
In your eyes, there was nothing else to talk about. It is best if you two go your separate ways, right?
“There’s literally nothing to talk about, Jaemin,” you deadpanned, gripping the saddle of your bag tightly to keep your emotions intact when you feel a lump starting to build up in your throat. “I don’t understand why you want to talk about this so much,” you sighed, shaking your head as you ran a hand through your hair.
“If you have nothing to say, it’s fine. Then just let me talk,” Jaemin sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress. “Just hear me out, okay?” he said in an almost pleading tone, his lips forming a pout as his puppy eyes bore into yours. You took this chance to examine his features.
As creepy as it sounds, you missed seeing his face. He looks tired. So tired. Dark bags under his eyes, his pink lips forming a small pout as he waited for your response. You furrowed your brows, biting the inside of your cheek for letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding back.
“I really don’t have time for this. I just came to give you back your chocolate, “ you lied through your teeth. If you didn’t have time, then why did you decide to give him back the chocolate when you have been avoiding him? Maybe deep down, you just want to see him again? Maybe you just wanted an excuse to talk to him?
You didn’t know yourself. Why were you talking to him knowing full well it’s just going to bring you pain again?
You gave him a small, weak smile. “I need to go Jaemin. The bell’s about to ring soon and I need to get my notes from Renjun before Chemistry,” you sighed, biting your tongue to keep yourself from saying anything else that would make the atmosphere more tense than it already was.
“I’ll see you around.”
You missed him, but you also want it to stop hurting.
A/N: this was a really shitty chapter. But i felt guilty for not posting so here’s like a short ass chapter I wrote in like the four hours of free time I had in the past two days. So forgive me this is rlly bad lmfao. BUT HEY FINALLY A CHAPTER WITH Y/NS POV! yeah back to Jaemin’s pov when the next chapter comes out. My exams should be ending soon so I might or might not post somewhere next week idfk man
ANYWAYS
T A G L I S T : @candiednickles @itlittlefangirl @cherrym4rk @gotoartistprofile @d-nghyck @kingjvngins @aconeptun @chaeshii @lixseu @morks-watermelon @12am-musings @cherrystay @lowkeyviv @btm-taeyong @gothmingguk @luvlyjaemin @cowward @smileyyuta @cakelyn @uncovermenow666 @comically-sleep-deprived @wtfhaechan @xcherrybbyx @wishing–butterfly @wordsgodeep @seeing-dreams @sweetmoonlight9 @chwenchew @stuckwithhyuck @yunoelea @angelrenjunie @dae-chan @jenseoull @marklexleaf
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freedom of the press 04 | thomas jefferson
title: freedom of the press
pairing: thomas jefferson x reader
tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich --- hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!
words: 13.5k
warnings: this still doesn’t go past, like, pg-13, but careful around the end -- it isn’t quite sfw even tho its not rlly nsfw. also, neo-nazi mentions, the loml monica lewinsky mentions, bunny slippers & flaming hot cheetos (hope yall can handle it gettin SPICY 🔥)
desc: you’d just moved to d.c. full time, a promotion at your publication leading to a transfer to another district chapter, and you were more than thrilled to be there, more than ready to immerse yourself in the world of politics. what you weren’t ready for, though, was how the campaign trail you were following made your heart flutter and your stomach turn. you also hadn’t expected it to be so… gaudy? magenta? – or perhaps, though you wouldn’t hear of it, that wasn’t the campaign’s effect at all.
Y/N SPENT THE following days, the next weeks, focusing on herself. She was letting herself get distracted, and with that, distracted by precisely the person she was supposed to be focusing on. It felt ironic, really, but she wasn't amused.
She spent time tapping her sources from and around the campaign trail, trying to establish a connection with other politicians who had been identified as potential candidates for the election, trying to expand her network beyond her small corner of the policy scene. ("The policy scene" was much bigger than she'd thought.)
She reached out to think tanks, to analysts, economists -- she was getting a little off track, but basically, she talked to everyone with no link to the name "Jefferson," despite the precise nature of her assignment.
Her stab at freedom from the now-former Secretary of State was to little avail. While he was the foundation of his campaign, there was enough else going on surrounding the election that she could dance around confronting him.
Yet, not for as long as she'd have liked.
She was knee-deep into finding the perfect person to cold call at Brookings when the crucial blow came.
"Y/N!" Her boss's perpetually peppy voice rang through the hall toward her office, and our fatigued heroine looked up with a brow raised. Ashley stopped in the doorway, appearing elated. "Guess what?"
Her eyes flashed with crazed excitement, and Y/N almost didn't want to ask what. It felt very much like a trick question.
In response to Y/N's expectant stare, silent and unmoving, Ashley sighed and entered. "You should be a lot more excited when I come running down to your office with a 'guess what,' y'know."
She sighed. "Oh, no! I'm so sorry! What ever exciting news could I be missing out on at this very moment?" Her contrived enthusiasm reeked of sarcasm, but Ashley's spirits were too high to be quashed, and she only rolled her eyes in response.
"So, you've been covering the Jefferson campaign for months, right?" Apparently she was ignoring the less-than-thrilled response. Y/N nodded. "And you were out in front of it before anyone else was, right? You know more than anyone else about his platform and history."
Grudgingly, she nodded again. "I suppose so." She was equally unexcited to claim to know Thomas Jefferson's past better than anyone else.
"And, he's projected to be the Republican frontrunner."
"The debates haven't even started, everything could change in a night," Y/N pointed out. "You know that."
"You're right, the debates haven't started." Y/N was clearly missing something. Ashley seemed to be unreasonably thrilled about the lack of pre-existing clash between the candidates. She raised a brow, and Ashley appeared to be holding back a squeal with how she was grinning. "But, the debates are only a few days from now, so, I called in an old contact from NBC, and of course, they'd heard of you--" She paused for dramatic emphasis, but the anticipation wasn't exactly killing Y/N, "And... since the Washington Post is co-sponsoring the event, they want to have you as one of the moderators for the first round of debates!"
With that, Y/N was struck silent. "They...?" She could only gape for a moment, and Ashley nodded excitedly.
"Mm-hmm. It's against precedent, but since you've become the most prominent and consistent reporter covering Jefferson the past few months, they think your input would be invaluable."
"But what about my live commentary?" she asked, still dumbstruck. Everything in her was telling her this was a bad idea; she needed to protest her way out. "I won't be able to provide as good of coverage of the debates if I'm not taking notes and writing during them. It'll hurt my articles. This is too big of an event not to write for."
She knew she was rambling, but Ashley only let out a sigh, as though Y/N was being absolutely ridiculous. "Oh, come on. Your commentary's more valuable on the spot if it can be used to grill the candidates and get Jefferson to talk."
"'Get Jefferson to talk'? This is a debate, not an interrogation." She blinked, visibly put-off. "Besides, it's not like I'd be controlling the floor. I wouldn't be doing much good anyway, and it really wouldn't get me much notice." She paused a moment, trying to gauge Ashley's reaction, and swallowed. "I think I should stick to my own territory."
"Y/N." Her tone was firm now. "This is the biggest opportunity you're going to get for people to notice you as a political journalist. It wasn't easy to get you this position, and besides, you're perfectly equipped for it. You've spent hundreds of hours by now researching the issues, contacting think tanks for different perspectives on them, contrasting Jefferson with the other candidates, and..." She took a thoughtful pause. "And I can't even scratch the surface of what you've been spending all this time on. If anyone should be moderating, it should be you. This isn't the time for cold feet."
Ashley had begun monologuing, and Y/N knew right there that there was no getting out of this job. It's not about getting cold feet, though, Y/N thought, I can do it, easily. What Ashley didn't know, though, was that there was more there.
The growing pause following her boss's speech was heavy with expectation, and finally, Y/N sighed, knowing she didn't actually have a choice in the matter if she cared to keep her job.
"Fine. Should I book myself a hotel in Detroit?"
"Don't bother. It'll come out of company funds; it's the least we can do."
She sighed, turning back to her computer, closing the tab she'd just opened. "Michigan, here I come."
_______________
THAT CONVERSATION HAD taken place Monday, and, as Y/N later realized, the first round of debates were that Wednesday, so she had approximately 48 hours to pack, fly, and get situated in Detroit. That evening was a whirlwind -- Ashley texted her that the flight the WaPo had booked her left at 10:00 on Tuesday morning, she immediately began her frenzied packing. Which, in turn, brings us once again to the apartment, filled with Y/N's anguish, the hair she was tearing out with stress, and clothing strewn over the carpet's full surface area.
"What do I wear, Ang? I'm gonna be on national TV, I need to look good but so, so, so professional," she wailed, looking up at her friend who was perched on the edge of her bed. Angelica gave her a sympathetic look.
"You're overthinking it, honey," she said, "No one's worried with what you're wearing, alright? It's what you say, not what you look like."
"But I'm..." She sighed, arms going slack along with the three different dresses she'd been holding up to the light, shoulders slumping. "I dunno, it's just the first time I'm gonna be that clearly in the public eye. When I'm writing I can just hide behind the words."
"The time for hiding's over." Angelica pushed herself off the edge of the bed, joining Y/N in the garment tsunami that threatened to claim her furniture. "You got the spot with the debates because people wanna hear from you, so pick an outfit. Doesn't matter which."
"But it does." Y/N looked over at her weakly, everything in her expression reading dejected, from her furrowed brow to her little pout. Angelica gave her a pointed look, and she huffed. "I just... It's not only the public, y'know? I'm also up with all the famous newscasters and the fucking Republicans, for God's sake."
"Since when do you care what Republicans think of you?"
"I..." She hesitated, considering herself. Angelica made a good point -- since when did she care? "I don't, really. I just don't want to look bad on national TV on my first gig where I'm... visible."
She pursed her lips, praying the issue wouldn't be pushed further.
Finally, Angelica huffed, beginning to pick through the pile of Y/N's clothes, seemingly resigned to the angst that deciding one outfit had apparently proved to be. With a sigh, Y/N slumped against the footboard of her bed, her dejected stare meeting the multicolored flood piling around her ankles. She carded a hand through her now-disheveled hair as she checked her phone, unable to stifle a grin at her Twitter notifications coming from all different corners of the political compass -- not to mention, now, John Adams. Her recent article on Jefferson's voting history was blowing up.
She began to respond to a tweet, nails tapping frantically against her phone screen, and though she couldn't see it, Angelica raised an eyebrow.
She let out a soft giggle as she read another response to her post: this time, the successive Secretary of State, his voice being behind her loud and clear. The feedback on her writing was only making her progressively giddy. Her smile curled with self-content, though, as she saw James Madison's message about her post, sent directly to her. Angelica raised another eyebrow.
"Y/N?" Angelica's tone bordered on cagey as it cut through Y/N's laser focus. She looked up, eyes wide. "The concerns about your outfit wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the Jefferson campaign, right?"
"Well, of course they do." She blinked, unable to place the intent behind the skepticism heavy in Angelica's words. "It's the only reason I have this gig, anyway."
Angelica pursed her lips; apparently, that hadn't been quite what she was asking. "Would it have anything to do with a specific person from the Jefferson campaign?"
Y/N paled. All-too-vivid memories of the state dinner that was now months past fought their way to the forefront of her mind -- her attempts to curb them hadn't been in vain till Angelica popped the question. "I'm sorry?"
The pause that followed as Angelica examined Y/N's look of near-panic was anything but silent, both their trains of thought threatening to derail themselves with conjecture. Angelica took in a shuddering breath.
"I just mean..." Y/N could hardly bear to meet Angelica's wary gaze. "D'you have a thing for James Madison?"
The next beat that passed was simply stunned. Y/N could hardly conceal her laughter in a huff; she had to swallow her amusement, every nerve in her body immediately relaxing.
"What did you just ask me?" She shook her head, small grin breaking out across her lips as her shoulders slumped. Angelica didn't look so sure. "I am not lusting over James Madison, Ang. He's literally married."
"Marriage isn't forever, babes." She pinned her with a skeptical stare, to which Y/N could only laugh.
"I swear to you, Angelica. You will at no point see me trying to jump James Madison's bones."
"So why'd you react how you did when I asked you about the Jefferson campaign, hm?" Angelica folded her arms, plainly unconvinced, and Y/N's breath caught. She'd supposed she was off the hook.
"What do you mean?" Y/N wished the question hadn't come out so breathily.
"Y/N," Angelica started, exasperated, "You've been messaging Madison on Twitter. You've met him multiple times and have spent your fair share of hours detailing to me each of the times you've met. You were just giggling at something he sent you." She was fully deadpan by then. "You don't need to hide it, I just want you to talk to me 'bout it."
"I promise, it's not that I'm in love with Madison." Y/N's smile as she returned to packing was meant to have been placating, but functioned as anything but. She needed to get back to packing before Angelica could press the matter. "Blue or green dress?"
"Don't change the subject!"
"I'm not, but I'm gonna be on a plane in twelve hours!" she said, "I need to finish packing."
"So there's no ulterior motive to how you're approaching the Jefferson campaign?"
For a moment just long enough to evoke doubt, Y/N paused. She wasn't inclined to reminisce on the last time she'd actually talked to anyone from the Jefferson campaign, but her psyche had other priorities. A nearly undetectable chill ran down her spine -- she could still feel his heavy hands trailing down to her hips, hot breath brushing over her cheek; she could even feel the sculpt and contour of his body as it pressed against hers, muscles rippling under his stiff button-down. Her skin burned still where rough calluses had grazed her neck.
"There's no ulterior motive, Ang." She wanted her words to be true, fighting back a shudder as she bottled up the memory. "I swear."
Angelica didn't look convinced.
________________
ABOUT TEN HOURS, a mildly annoying trip through TSA (the Post had paid for her pre-check, otherwise she'd have been less forgiving of the experience -- and the line), and two hours on a plane later, she rolled into her hotel lobby in Michigan, small suitcase dragging behind her. She knew she wasn't exactly a sight to see, just off a plane at noon in her socks and sandals, her oversized sweater. She certainly wasn't feeling as high-end as her hotel appeared to be.
The high ceilings, crown molding, and arched entryways all reeked of wealth, not to mention that the space was crawling with men and women in sharp suits, appearing as though they were on the verge of being willing to cut anyone who held them up for a moment too long. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one Birkenstock to the other, waiting for the manager to return to the front desk so that she could check in. As she warily eyed the man marching through with a clipboard, aggression in each step, she had to wonder why the Washington Post had decided to drop here there, of all places.
She would've loved to disappear into her sweater, at that moment.
The manager returned to her position, looking just as sleek and professional as everyone else there, and Y/N's appearance seemed to give her pause. "Can I help you?"
"Hi, yes, I'm here to check into my hotel room for the next three nights." She gave the manager her warmest smile in an effort to diffuse some of her tense nature, but it was to no avail. "I'm here with the Washington Post, but I think it should be under the name L/N?"
Y/N waited a moment, trying to roll some of her post-travel soreness out of her shoulders as the manager typed away at the computer before her. She creased her brow, frowning for a moment. "Y/N?"
"That's me," she said, enthusiasm weak in her voice.
"Alright, you're up in room 569, so let me get you your key." She paused, rooting through drawers as her coworker appeared next to her, apparently taking a post at the next laptop over. She looked back up. "Alright, you should be all set," -- she slid the keys across the counter to Y/N -- "but it's still early, and I'm not sure your room's been checked out of quite yet. Excuse me for a moment to go see about that."
Before Y/N could say another word, she was gone, and Y/N let out a heavy sigh. It'd been a long 12 hours, and all she wanted was a proper bed and a nap. It seemed rest wasn't what the universe had in mind for her, though.
She began checking her Twitter while she stood in wait, paying no mind to the energetic bustle of who she'd worked out to be politicians and the like, given the snippets of conversation she'd picked up standing there; however, tuning out became significantly more difficult when a familiar voice sounded next to her.
"Yes, only the next three nights. The room is registered for the surname 'Madison'." If she couldn't guess from his voice, his words were a dead giveaway. She looked up, and sure enough, there was the man himself. Well, shit.
Not only was she painfully opposed to having to interact with him in her near-pajamas and slipper socks, feeling like the biggest mess she'd ever been, but she also knew that where he was, Jefferson wasn't far behind.
She immediately busied herself with something, anything on her phone, facing down and away from him in the hope that he wouldn't notice her. She'd just pulled up a scintillating article on diabetes in labradors, when--
"Y/N?" The man at the desk helping him had disappeared when she reluctantly turned to face him -- busying himself with something other than helping protect her from social interaction, apparently. James, however, looked all but amused.
"Hey, James." She did her best to return the positive sentiment he perpetually seemed to give off, but she knew it came out weaker than intended. "Should I assume I know what brings you here?"
"Should I assume that it'd be the same thing that brought you here?" He quirked an eyebrow, unable to resist eyeing her outfit. She sighed.
"That might be fair," she conceded, small smile resting on her lips. "Is the campaign all ready for the first round of debates?"
He laughed; not a polite chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh, as though he couldn't believe the question. "Something like that. We've prepared Thomas as many talking points as we could think he might need, but I'm worried the moderators--" He gave her a pointed look, wearing a knowing smile, "--may end up grilling him regardless."
A wry smile crept onto Y/N's face. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"Word travels fast, especially from the Washington Post's Twitter account."
"You really are always one step ahead, hm?"
"You're the one with the questions, last I checked."
"Well, I'm sure your campaign will be thrilled to hear them -- following you is why I got the gig, anyway." She only shrugged, despite the self-content etched into her grin.
"Oh, really?" Amusement was deep-set in his smile.
She nodded. "I'm forever grateful."
"Grateful enough to go easy on Thomas?"
"Not quite," she laughed, "When following his campaign makes me my first million, then we'll talk."
"Sounds like we'll have to step it up, then."
"Running on a deadline, James," she warned him in a singsong voice, folding her arms.
"We'll win you over by the end." He grinned, turning back to the woman at the desk, handing her his credit card, and shot Y/N a sly glance. "Thomas has always loved a challenge."
Her stomach turned at his words for reasons she couldn't explain, amused smile faltering for only a moment as James slid his card back into his wallet and tucked it into his coat pocket. James raised an eyebrow at her silence, her moment of hesitation.
To her delight, that was the moment the concierge returned, wearing a wide (and contrived, but that was how customer service was) smile, stepping back up to the desktop Y/N stood before.
"Alright, your room should be all set, Ms. L/N." She returned to quickly tapping at the keyboard, before pulling out a number of brochures. "These are for room service and the various hotel amenities. Our pool is on the second floor, gym is on the third along with the spa, meeting rooms are on the fourth, and the business office is on the fifth, fully equipped with desks and printers." She hesitated, glancing with disdain down at Y/N's choice of travel outfit. "Are... you here on business? Or... ?"
As she trailed off, Y/N sighed, returning the less-than-candid customer service smile. "Yes, I am, actually. Thanks so much for everything."
She nodded. "Alright! Don't hesitate to come let us know if there's anything else you need. There will always be someone here to help you."
"Perfect." She turned back to James as she folded up the brochures, shoving them into the side pocket of her purse. "Well, sounds like I'll be seeing you around, then."
"Thomas and I look forward to it."
Then, the automatic doors of the lobby slid open, and a rush of cold air, as well as a grand entourage, made their way in, catching both of their attention. "Well, speak of the devil."
At that, Y/N realized exactly why there was such a crowd, and it became immediately clear why the Washington Post had chosen that hotel to set her down in, among the countless in the area. Thomas Jefferson had just entered, along with a bustling crowd of Secret Service and reporters, all orbiting him like he was the sun. He wore a broad grin, laughing and shaking hands, and Y/N stared for decidedly a moment too long, longer yet than James had. Her breath caught as Thomas looked over at her, and she found herself frozen, rooted to the spot, his gaze locked on hers.
Thomas, too, was stunned when she caught his eye. His pause was minuscule enough to be unnoticeable, hardly a fleeting glance that even Y/N didn't think anything of, but his self-consciousness couldn't let it go in that moment. His smile faltered for a moment, softening to become small, apologetic, and certainly more sheepish than it'd ever been, all the teasing self-content drained out of it. For the first time, she returned the smile -- tense, nervous, but real.
The flash of a camera broke their gaze, and the moment ended as quickly as it came.
_______________
Y/N CRASHED ALMOST immediately into her hotel bed upon reaching her room; she'd had less sleep than she'd have liked during the past thirty-six hours, anxiety keeping her awake. She was shaken from her long-overdue nap, though, by her phone buzzing angrily next to her. She groaned as she recognized the number as belonging to Ashley, her boss, and declined almost immediately.
After that, though, despite her best efforts, her nap seemed to have ended, and much to her dismay. She made the mistake of instead opening her email, then, deciding productivity was the obvious cure for sleeplessness -- until she opened her most recent email from Ashley. (The subject line read 'IMPORTANT, IMMEDIATE, AND URGENT.' Got any synonyms for 'redundant'?)
The oversized, highlighted body text blared at her to the point where her eyes began to water, still adjusting to the light and certainly not ready to be staring directly into all the light of the sun her boss had managed to stuff into a single communication.
There's no reason to use font size 25, she thought, rather irked, and highlighting every word in bright yellow goes entirely against the point of highlighting.
She could only bring herself to skim the message, but when she did, she groaned at its contents, falling back onto her hotel bed in annoyance. Thomas Jefferson was having another campaign rally, apparently, to garner support going into the debates. And she was being prodded to attend.
It was expected to be a small ordeal; the venue was modest, and around 100 people would be in attendance, maximum. So, she went. Grudgingly, with a full 30 oz cup of coffee, and in jeans and a tank top, but she went.
She showed up just over 20 minutes before the event -- a town hall on his policy, as it turned out. She felt a bit out of place, the look she was rocking from her hiking boots to her disheveled post-nap bun not exactly screaming 'distinguished professional,' but she liked to think throwing a blazer atop the whole look saved it.
The venue was small, homey -- she'd read that it was generally used as a comedy club, but that the space could be rented out (obviously). Y/N figured the best use of her time there was to get to know Jefferson's base of voters. Who were they? What did they care about? And, most importantly, how long could they keep her occupied so she never actually had to speak with Jefferson?
The first person she met, though, wasn't exactly a supporter.
She'd tucked herself into a back corner as everyone swarmed Jefferson, who was busy giving his opening remarks, but she was content just to record them, to reserve judgment for the time being (verbally, at least). She had the audio being taped, all but absentmindedly taking notes for herself for the debates. Yet, there wasn't much substance in most of what he was saying.
"This seat taken?"
She looked up with her eyebrows raised, surprised to have been approached. What met her was the smiling face of a vaguely-familiar Democratic reporter, and eyebrow cocked in question.
"I... No! No, please sit." She smiled, motioned to the metal folding chair beside her. "We've met before, right? Ben Arnold, New York Times?"
"That's me. And it's Y/N, yeah?" He pulled out the chair, swinging a leg around it and resting his forearms on his thighs as he looked to her. "You're from the Washington Post, the one tracking Jefferson."
She sighed. "That seems to be everyone's first reaction to meeting me, hm? Jefferson's media adversary?" Her tone was joking, but there was a certain bitterness in them at her career now being irreparably tied to Secretary Jefferson. She hoped Ben didn't take it personally. "Yeah, you've got the right girl, though."
"To be fair, you've become famous for digging up info on him that no one else seems to have." He shrugged. "I've read some of your recent stuff, since we're following the same campaign; hope you know you're famous in your own right, even if it is tied to him." He nodded toward the stage with that, just as applause broke out and Jefferson began taking questions from the crowd.
She chuckled, though it was all but mirthless. "Thanks, but I'm not so sure about that. Everyone loves gossip, and they only know me because they think I'm here to dish out the dirt on Jefferson."
"Now, that's not true." She raised a brow, and he grinned. "They follow you because you knowledgeably and eloquently dish out the dirt on Jefferson."
"Oh, that's so different." She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help her laugh at his words.
"It's true!" he protested. "C'mon, there's a reason the public has latched onto your coverage and not mine."
"I dunno about that." She pursed her lips, stifling her small smile. "I've read your writing. It's really good."
"Aw, you've looked up my writing? I'm flattered." He appeared touched, though mockingly, placing a hand on his heart and plastering on an exaggerated pout, causing her to laugh.
"Well, you did give me your business card."
He sighed, nodded sagely. "Ah yes, I suppose the media circus is easily Google-able, huh?"
"What can I say, clowns recognize clowns." Her gaze drifted back toward the stage with this, turning toward Jefferson as she cast Ben a sidelong glance. The corners of her lips quirked up. "And we are all caught in this circus, too." The pointed look she gave Jefferson at that was entirely devoid of subtlety, and Ben laughed.
"Are you claiming Jefferson as part of our circus? A bold move, Y/N."
"Good point, good point." She leaned back in her chair with a grin. "So what are we, then? Consumers taking advantage of free entertainment?"
"I dunno, we're making money off this circus." He pursed his lips. "Shit, what d'you call the people who like, run the circus?"
Her eyes widened in amusement as she looked back over at him. "What, we're the ringmasters?"
"Yeah, yeah, exactly!" She couldn't keep herself from laughing at that, the idea of Jefferson as a circus freak or a traveling sideshow too comical to entertain. He cracked a grin as well, unable to take himself seriously. "C'mon, hear me out -- he's up there playing the fool, and we're making the big bucks off of it, hm?"
"Fair enough," she conceded, grin now chronic and apparently contagious. "Anyway, what're you here for? Just general info from the town hall, or looking for something specific?"
"Well, I figured this was my chance to question Jefferson before the debates, y'know?" He nudged Y/N at that. "Or can I just pass my questions off to you for tomorrow, since I've heard you're moderating now?"
She sighed. "Word really does travel fast when Jefferson's name is attached, huh?"
"Or it's because your name's attached." She gave him a skeptical look, and he held up his hands defensively. "I'm serious! People care about what you have to say now, y'know? Given, it is about his campaign, but really, it's your take on the next election that they want -- it's no longer just about him."
Y/N had to pretend her chest wasn't swelling with pride at that. Perhaps he was just feeding her ego, talking her up because he wanted to be able to use her for sources, but it was nice to hear regardless of the motive behind it. Her small smile grew. "Well, thanks, I guess. I'll certainly take it."
"You should." He looked like he was about to continue, but his following sentence was broken off by a sudden uproar of excitement. Hollers, cheers, and applause sounded loudly from the center of the room, and they both looked over to see Jefferson exiting the podium, moving down to begin talking to the voters there to see him, and Y/N sighed.
"Guess we'd better get a move on if we want anything out of this event."
"I suppose so." He huffed as he lifted himself out of his chair, and Y/N immediately followed suit, tucking her laptop into her bag. "You headed to talk to Jefferson?"
"Nah, actually." Her gaze darted through the room as she tried to find where to begin. "Just tryna find out what his supporters care about for the election. Needa know what points I need to drive home tomorrow at the debate." He nodded, and she cocked an eyebrow. "Care to join me?"
"Think I'll have to take a rain check, unfortunately. My editor wants direct quotes from Jefferson, and this is most of my window of opportunity." He glanced over at her with a small grin as they walked together toward the center of the room. "Come find me if you get sick of the Republicans, though. I'd be more than happy to abandon Jefferson for a cup of coffee at the place around the corner."
He winked before he made off toward where Jefferson stood, and Y/N was left stunned a moment. Shit, was he hitting on her? She couldn't help it as her eyes raked over his retreating form, biting her lip as she decided that she certainly wouldn't have minded if he was. After all, even the clowns need company in the media circus.
She didn't let herself dwell, though, but instead fixed her focus on the task at hand. She floated throughout the room for the next hour or two, meeting Ben's eye in passing here and there, receiving a wry grin. A few trends emerged from Jefferson's supporters, and they were fairly generic. Russia, China, healthcare, the crushing weight of existence and the feeling that they were running out of time, fear of the impending race war, healthcare -- y'know, the usual.
(Perhaps she'd spoken to one too many alt-righters. The fact that they were at the Jefferson town hall spoke volumes.)
A few hours deep, she checked her watch, concerned about how long this would go on, leafed through her notes trying to determine whether she had enough to just jump ship, to climb into her hotel bed, order room service, and take her pants off. She glanced back up at Jefferson warily.
Her gaze traveled lazily around the room as she decided talking to one or two more people wouldn't kill her, wincing internally even as she made the decision. She braced herself for just a few more minutes of crazy.
"Y/N!"
Oh, the voice that came from her left was melodic, sounded of angels singing, of her walking miracle saving her from the political shitshow, and she turned with a smile. Walking toward her brightly was Dolley Madison, and her brows shot up as she reached her.
"Hey, Dolley, what's up?"
"Not much." She pulled Y/N for an unexpected hug, grinning as she pulled back to look at her from arm's length. Her hands still rested on Y/N's shoulders. "Fancy meeting you here, though. What are the odds?"
"Oh, so low. Especially considering my job and your marriage, who knew we'd both end up at Jefferson's town hall?" Her tone was playful as Dolley rolled her eyes.
"Oh, don't gimme that. I'm just glad to see you."
Y/N laughed as Dolley finally pulled back, settling beside her. "Jesus; tell me about it. D'you know how many crazy voters I've had to pretend were completely normal in the past few hours. Even just your sanity is a breath of fresh air."
"Yeah, the American voter." Her smile was amused as she eyed the crowd. "Really gives you hope for the future of our country, hm?"
"Of course." Y/N laughed, tucking a hair behind her ears. "Comforting to know these are the people who determine our president for the next four years."
"I'm sure." Dolley glanced back up toward where Jefferson stood, James apparently now beside him making his way through the crowd. "Though, I do find a bit of comfort in the idea of Thomas being the one behind the wheel for the next four years."
"That makes one of us." Though Y/N's tone was joking, her words were dead serious, and transparently so. Dolley grinned as she caught her eye.
"Yeah?"
"I might be just a little bit biased." Y/N shrugged. "To be fair, I've spent the past four months digging up all the dirt there is on him, and reviving any and all skeletons in his many, many closets."
"Yeah, I gotcha. I keep up with your articles." Dolley winked, and Y/N could feel herself flush. The fact that Dolley Madison actively kept tabs on her writing felt like quite the honor. "Didn't think any of it was all that damning, though, to be honest."
"No, I agree with you." Y/N nodded reasonably, eyes fixed on Jefferson as he moved fluidly through the room, weaving between people and families, shaking hands, taking selfies. "And I'm glad it comes off that way, too. I try to keep the tone of my writing neutral, but as a journalist, I have to look at everything with a critical eye, y'know?"
"I've gotcha. I may be biased too, considering my husband is probably gonna be his running mate." Dolley grinned as she caught James's eye and waved to him. He was at the opposite end of the room, but he began walking toward them almost immediately.
"James may be what saves the ticket in my eyes, to be honest." Y/N returned the smile as he neared them, and turned to Dolley. "If not, though, is it too late to take you up on covering my therapy costs?"
She laughed, squeezing Y/N's forearm lightly. "I'll just have to hope James helps keep your sanity these next few months."
"What's that about Y/N's sanity?" James furrowed his brow as he reached them, a small smile resting on his lips, but his gaze full of concern.
The two women shared an entertained look before Y/N turned to James. "Just that when I lose it, the two of you had better find me a comfy asylum."
James's visible confusion deepened as Dolley's grin grew. "Don't worry about it, love. We were just discussing Y/N's writing about the campaign."
"Ah, so that's why you're losing your sanity?" He raised an eyebrow, and Y/N nodded in confirmation. "Then no worries, we'll find you the best therapist money can buy."
She let out a soft 'aw,' placing her hand over her heart. "When you do, I'll be sure to write an exposé on the generosity of the Madisons. You'd better be honored when I cross party lines for you two."
James grinned. "Abandoning partisanship for the Jefferson campaign? Never thought I'd see the day."
"You won't. It'll all be for Dolley." Y/N shot her a wink. "I'll throw all my weight behind Jefferson when Hell freezes over."
"You do so much for me," Dolley sighed dramatically, wiping away an imaginary tear as she squeezed Y/N's hand, pretending to be moved by her words. Meanwhile, James folded his arms, wearing a small smile.
"He'll see to it that that's sooner than you think."
________________
SHE ABANDONED JEFFERSON'S rally not long after, having no desire to breathe any more air that reeked so heavily of contrived charisma and shitty cologne, but having all the desire in the world to snuggle into her warm pajamas and pop open a bottle of hotel wine. After all, the debates didn't start for nearly 24 more hours.
She was about to pick up her nap from earlier right where it'd left off, but had first to piece together what she'd taken away from the rally and forward it over to Ashley. Not to mention the unfortunately necessary hours of preparation between her and the debates. She couldn't mess up her first run on TV. It was two hours and half a bottle of wine later that she sent off the culmination of her notes and recordings from the afternoon, and by the time Ashley emailed her back, it was nearly eight PM. After that, she resolved to spend no more than two hours writing and revising her questions for the following evening.
She groaned at the fourth email from Ashley -- she had too much criticism, but not nearly enough suggestion. If all my ideas are bad, Y/N thought, frustrated, why don't you have any better ones? After shooting her a response, she decided to take a well-deserved break.
At this point in the night, shame was a non-factor in her decisions, and she was far beyond caring if anyone down in the lobby was going to judge her tank top or bunny slippers. She just wanted whatever candy went best with shitty, five-dollar, red wine, and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos, and she knew the hotel's food kiosk was the most convenient place to find both.
"Wait, hold the elevator!" She only really kicked into gear when turned the corner on her floor to see the elevator's doors about to close, and she really didn't have the patience left to wait for the next one down, let alone actually take the stairs. To her delight, a hand darted out against the door at her words, and they bounced back open. She breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached them, ready to sing her mystery savior's praises -- that is, until she saw who was standing in the back of the elevator, and her eyes widened; she'd be lying if she said she didn't seriously consider braving five flights of stairs just to reach the ground floor undisturbed.
"Oh, I-- Y/N..." Jefferson's voice trailed off, surprised, as she stepped hesitantly into the elevator, keeping her distance from him even in the small space. "Hey."
"Secretary Jefferson." She only acknowledged him, not meeting his eyes as the elevator doors finally closed. He glanced over at her with an eyebrow raised at that, though, almost surprised that 'Thomas' had somehow reverted to 'Secretary Jefferson' in just the past few weeks, but he couldn't pretend he didn't know why -- that was why he didn't say a word about it, especially since they both knew, and both wanted to deny, that they couldn't help but still think about the last time they'd met. The tension was heavy in the growing silence.
She could feel his gaze over her shoulder, could see him out of the corner of her eye, but she was determined not to catch his eye, looking instead firmly down to her phone screen, responding to Angelica and Alex's texts from earlier in the day (keeping her brightness down, though, so he couldn't see those, either). She swallowed thickly as he looked back up, biting her lip as she glanced over at him. She looked back down for a moment, anxious in the deafening silence, eyes unfocused but toward her phone screen, but she figured she was safe to sneak another glance at him -- apparently, he'd made the same calculation.
She froze as their eyes met, breath catching in the back of her throat and heat rushing to her face, and he only smiled, waiting to see if she would make the next move. She was determined to ignore him, but it appeared as though she'd been caught. He held her gaze a moment as the elevator descended; it appeared she wouldn't be the first to speak.
She bit her lip, looking up at him as his eyes traveled down her form, grin widening as he caught sight of her pajama pants and slippers, and he raised a teasing brow. "Harry Potter? Really?"
She glanced self-consciously down at her Deathly Hallows pants, her face growing hotter by the second, and she looked back up at him weakly. "They're good books, okay?" she said, tone defensive as she folded her arms, fixed her gaze back on the elevator doors before them, and he chuckled.
"You won't hear me arguin' with that." He had to choke back another laugh as she rolled her eyes, letting out a nearly-inaudible huff. "Aw, c'mon, I'm just teasin'."
She scowled as she looked up at him, feeling more-than-flustered and far from entertained. "What do you want from me, Jefferson?"
He quirked up a brow at her. "Really?" He paused, seemingly in disbelief, and she shook her head blankly at him, waiting for him to continue. "We just never gonna talk about that state dinner, then?"
Her face was now burning; she couldn't meet his eye. He'd finally pointed out the elephant in the room, and for once in her career, it didn't happen to be the one that belonged to the GOP. Just the one that had decided to sit directly on her ego and crush her spirit. "I certainly wasn't planning on bringing it up."
He sighed. "C'mon, Y/N." She didn't look up. "Alright, fine, pretend it didn't happen. But I just wanted to say that--"
That was the exact moment the elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor, catching both of their attention immediately. He cut himself off as the doors began to open. As they caught sight of the numerous people standing before them in the lobby, waiting to get onto the elevator, he glanced back down at her to find her looking up at him, biting her lip but her expression unreadable.
"Some other time, Secretary Jefferson."
She exited the elevator without another word, and he did the same, although slow to follow suit. He didn't continue after her; he couldn't see the point. There was no way he'd be able to have that conversation with her in a lobby full of politicians, but his stare was still attached to her as she left. He really didn't know what to make of her -- but he intended to figure it out.
________________
THE NEXT EVENING was the first night of the debates. To be quite candid, to Y/N, nearly the entire night was a blur. She'd gotten ready with a series of emails to her boss and with Angelica on Facetime, helping her strike the perfect balance of femininity and professionalism (it'd proved to be a tough line to walk), and arrived at the venue hours early as per her official instruction. She steeled herself for the ordeal, determined to ignore any lingering tension between her and Jefferson. She had a job to do there, and she intended to do it right. After the debate, once she began to remove her microphone and slowly make her way out, she avoided him at all costs -- even if the confrontation was inevitable, with the unfortunately large overlap between their lives, it was neither the time nor the place, and she intended to put it off as long as possible.
Chatter filled the room behind her. Everyone who had shown up to watch the debates live was now slowly filing out, apart from groups here and there of stragglers or of people who wanted to approach the candidates afterward. She handed her microphone off to a tech intern with a warm smile and a 'thank you,' collecting her notes before she went backstage to retrieve her coat. (Michigan winters, she'd learned, were brutal.)
She shuffled everything back into her folder, glancing at the crowd behind her, when she caught sight of a familiar face. She furrowed her brow and squinted. She paused, considering whether to go down to greet him -- she hardly knew him, after all -- but he beat her to the punch. He waved, beckoned her over when he caught her eye, and warily, she obliged.
"Hey, it's Lafayette, right? We met at the state dinner; I'm Alex's friend, Y/N."
He grinned as she reached him, clutching her papers to her chest and extending a hand in greeting, which he took without hesitation. "Oui, I remember. It is good to see you, Y/N, although Alexander neglected to mention zat you would be moderating ze debates."
"Oh, what, didn't he tell you how important I am?" She shrugged, shaking her head with a grin as though it was obvious. "Next I'm coming for Anderson Cooper's job, just you wait."
He laughed, folding his arms as he glanced up toward the stage. "I do not doubt it for even a moment. Are you moderating again tomorrow night?"
She nodded. "Mhm. You coming tomorrow night?"
"Oui. I came all ze way to Michigan for zis; it would be a shame if I was only 'ere for one night, hm?" He raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged, nodded. He flashed her a sly grin. "Besides, since I now know zat you are going to be 'ere tomorrow, zat gives me all ze more reason to show up."
Her breath hitched a moment, before she laughed nervously, running a hand through her hair. "Ah, yes, can't miss my political commentary and passive aggression for two hours onstage. Isn't that your idea of a perfect Thursday night?"
"More or less." His smile was sharp, his gaze all but wolfish for a moment, and a chill ran down her spine before his expression softened. "Would it be against your ethics as a journalist to tell me which of ze candidates you are supporting?"
Y/N shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not a fan of any of them at the moment, but we'll see how it shakes out after the second night of debates. After all, the candidates are only human, so I've gotta find a way to look past the skeletons in their closets."
Lafayette raised a wary eyebrow, looking concerned. "Ze 'skeletons in their closets'?" he repeated, and she cracked a grin.
"Yeah, like the bad things from their past?"
He stared at her, expression deadpan. "I am from France. You will 'ave to forgive me zat we do not use murder as an idiom for all wrongdoings."
She couldn't help her laugh at that, covering her mouth with her free hand. "Cut me some slack; I've grown up with it."
He raised his eyebrows. "With murder?"
"No! With the English language!" she defended, laughing, and he couldn't stifle his grin any longer.
"My apologies, chérie. I could not 'elp myself." He held up his hands in his defense, and she rolled her eyes. "Is it safe to assume you are not voting for any of ze candidates zat 'ave murdered anyone?"
She shook her head, amused. "Yeah, that's a fair guess."
"I am glad to 'ear it." He paused a moment, grinning as he nodded to someone behind her, and she raised a brow. She glanced over her shoulder to see none other than Thomas Jefferson approaching, headed down the same stairs she'd taken to reach Lafayette several minutes before, and she groaned internally. Just her luck. Would it be rude to immediately run the moment he reached where she was standing? "Thomas! 'Ow 'ave you been?" Lafayette immediately pulled him into a hug as he reached the pair of them, greeting him like an old friend, and Jefferson pulled back with a small smile of his own.
"Gotta say, I've been worse," he said, "Especially when you weren't here. Spendin' all that time over in France, abandonin' us." He put a hand on his heart, shaking his head with a playfully mournful frown, and Lafayette rolled his eyes.
"Oui, I am sure I was sorely missed." He huffed, shaking his head, and Jefferson cracked a grin. "I left you with an open invitation to come and visit me whenever you pleased, and you never came. I did not feel particularly missed, Monsieur Jefferson."
"Ah, I'll find a way to make it up to you." He shot Lafayette a wink, and in the midst of the interaction, Y/N considered just silently slipping away. They seemed to have forgotten she was there, and if there was ever a time to escape, it was right then. She hesitated. "Though, you never came to visit me back in D.C., either," Jefferson pointed out to his friend, who scoffed, "So who's really to blame?"
"I resent ze accusation, Thomas. I was busy. I am a very important person with very important things to do, and I simply could not find ze time. I tried to visit you, but alas, ze people of France must come first." He sighed dramatically, his entire proclamation made in jest. Jefferson rolled his eyes.
"You implyin' I'm not doin' anything down in D.C.? That hurts, Laf, really."
Lafayette grinned. "Of course not."
It was then that Y/N began to back away from the pair, seemingly forgotten in their enthusiastic greeting, and she figured that she'd be able to escape without a problem. Just after she began to turn, though, Lafayette spoke.
"Ah, Thomas, you know Y/N, hm?" She froze at that. Her retreat no longer seemed as secure as it had previously. His tone was jovial as he motioned to her, and she reluctantly turned back around to face them. "Obviously, from zis," --He motioned to the stage, and Y/N met Jefferson's eyes warily-- "but ze two of you met at ze state dinner, non? With Alex?"
Jefferson seemed to be taking his cues from Y/N at that point, watching her with raised brows as she sighed, plastering on a smile as she turned to Lafayette. "Yeah. Yeah, we've met."
What followed that was a momentary silence. Lafayette had obviously detected rigidity of the interaction, but he hadn't quite figured out what to do with it, and Y/N wasn't at all inclined to force the conversation to happen. She had no interest in making small talk with Jefferson. Lafayette cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at Jefferson, who sighed.
"Yeah, a couple of times now," Jefferson added tiredly. "State dinner wasn't the first."
"Oui? When else?"
Y/N and Jefferson shared a tired glance. The whole interaction was painfully out of character for both of them, their actions and words forced, and while neither of them seemed up to carrying the conversation, it certainly seemed Lafayette was doing his best.
"Just, through work, Lafayette. Nothing all that exciting. I've been covering his campaign for a while now, so by the state dinner, we'd already met once or twice," Y/N explained, offering Lafayette a weak smile. "Y'know, exciting stuff."
"Actually, about the state dinner." Both Y/N and Lafayette were surprised when Jefferson spoke up once again, instead of just letting the conversation entirely drop. She was concerned as to where this was going. "I just," he paused, meeting her eyes, "wanted to apologize, if I ever made you uncomf--"
"Don't worry about it, Secretary Jefferson," Y/N cut him off abruptly with a sigh before plastering on an understanding (obviously forced) smile. He raised his eyebrows. "It's fine; it was a mistake. And this really isn't the time or the place. We can... talk about this later." She huffed, clutching her papers even more tightly against her chest. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't hide how flustered she was.
He paused, searching her expression, clearly not quite believing her. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She smiled stiffly.
"Alright," he sighed. He made pointed eye contact with her, squaring his shoulders. His gaze was determined if not frustrated. "We will talk about this some other time. See you around, Lafayette, Y/N." He nodded to both of them, holding Y/N's gaze for just a moment too long, his expression steely. She could feel her heartbeat in her head; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and he turned and left. Lafayette and Y/N both stayed there a moment longer, frozen to the spot and stunned for entirely different reasons.
There was a skip, before Lafayette broke the silence.
"What happened at ze state dinner?" Lafayette asked, turning to her, but she didn't even hear him. She was still fixated on Jefferson's parting words. Her heart was in her throat as she watched him retreat. Jesus, fuck.
We will talk about this.
___________________
Twitter
@gilafayette started following you.
Y/N raised an eyebrow from where she sat on her hotel bed. The debates were only a few hours away.
@Y/N_L/N: As the second night of Republican primary debates nears, keep up with the biggest issues and the who's-who of the candidates with the Washington Post's recent article about night 1 of the debates. Join us tonight on the official live stream, co-sponsored alongside NBC, and hear it all firsthand from the candidates themselves.
Quoted article: https://www.washingtonpost.com/fakelink/clowns
@BenArnold started following you.
Replying to @Y/N_L/N:
@BenArnold: or you could just read my recap, but to each their own ig
She rolled her eyes at the tweet, though smiling to herself. She considered replying to it, but then thought better of it -- his tweet was so clearly in jest, and it was too easy to misinterpret tones over the internet. She opted to like the tweet.
@JamesMdson retweeted your recent tweet.
New message from @A_Hamilton:
@A_Hamilton: wanna grill jefferson about our war debts with france tn???
@A_Hamilton: i could even write u the questions
@A_Hamilton: wait omg open it up to audience questions and claim it's from someone else if u don't wanna attribute it to urself
@A_Hamilton: Suzie from Mississippi asked: why the fuck would you decide not to engage in France's war as secretary of state, not even try to assist them when we HAD the funds and they'd just helped us in our war, and then oppose an improved centralized banking system so that we could unilaterally balance the national budget, asshole?
@Y/N_L/N: have u been drinking again
@A_Hamilton: ok ok hear me out. like he wouldn't suspect a thing!!!! he doesn't even know we're friends why would it b me
@A_Hamilton: wait shit we saw him at the state dinner
@A_Hamilton: fuck nvm just pin the question on lafayette as a bitter french diplomat
@Y/N_L/N: alex.
@Y/N_L/N: i swear to god, you are the ONLY voter THAT invested in our debt to france
@Y/N_L/N: isnt it just like a trade deficit, anyway??
@A_Hamilton: YES THATS THE PROBLEM
@A_Hamilton: he can't even deal w our relations with one of our oldest allies, he was a shitty secretary of state
@Y/N_L/N: clean up the language and ill lead the conversation there
@Y/N_L/N: it's not a completely shit idea
@A_Hamilton: ur the only reporter that matters ily
✅ Read, 5:27 PM.
@gilafayette wants to send you a message. Accept?
@gilafayette: what happened at the state dinner between you and thomas
@gilafayette: i tried to ask him but he is very evasive
@gilafayette: i am concerned about him since then
Y/N's eyes widened as she accepted the message. She'd expected it to just be dropped, for Lafayette to entirely let it go, as it truly wasn't his problem, but there she was. She raised a brow at the last message, though.
Messages to @gilafayette:
@Y/N_L/N: it was nothing important, but why are you concerned about him??
@gilafayette: he has been acting strange since we saw you
@gilafayette: he and i went for coffee and he was preoccupied for the whole time
@gilafayette: and when i tried to ask him he was being very evasive
@Y/N_L/N: it really wasn't anything monumental. hes probably preoccupied w/ the debates, don't read into it
@Y/N_L/N: have u tried just asking him what's on his mind?
@gilafayette: brb
She rolled her eyes at the message. Of course he hadn't even thought to consider the obvious solution: communication. There seemed to be a disconnect between Lafayette and the obvious, though..
Messages to @gilafayette:
@gilafayette: he says he is fine and not to worry
@gilafayette: but i worry
@Y/N_L/N: did he say what was on his mind
@gilafayette: no
@gilafayette: brb i will tell him you asked. perhaps he only does not want to talk to me.
Her pulse skipped as she read the message; her eyes widened. Shit.
@Y/N_L/N: no lafayette pls don't say that
@Y/N_L/N: i didn't ask. i just wanted to give you a better idea for what to ask.
@gilafayette: yes you told me to ask
@gilafayette: exactly
@gilafayette: what is the difference?
She let out a groan, burying her face in her hands. This whole interaction felt so middle-school to her. Y/N said to ask Lafayette to ask Thomas if he's still thinking about her!
@Y/N_L/N: please lafayette just keep me out of this
@Y/N_L/N: don't wanna get involved in ur relationship with him. if i wanted to ask him something id do it on my own time
@gilafayette: wait he has just responded
@Y/N_L/N: so you still sent the message???
@gilafayette: it was too late, i am sorry!
@Y/N_L/N: what did he say??
@gilafayette: "if she wants to know, tell her to ask me herself"
@Y/N_L/N: lafayette i stg
@Y/N_L/N: please tell him this was just a misunderstanding and it wasn't MY question!!
✅ Read, 5:49 PM.
She groaned, letting herself fall back onto her bed as she saw the read receipt. Just her luck.
@Thomas_Jefferson wants to send you a message. Accept?
Oh, fuck. She didn't want to open the message, but at the same time, she was desperate to see what he had sent. In the midst of her internal struggle, it occurred briefly to her that if she didn't just open the message, he'd find some way to confront her about it in person that night, and -- to her dismay -- her mind was made up.
Messages to @Thomas_Jefferson:
@Thomas_Jefferson: did you really just avoid every time i tried to talk to you abt that night and then ask lafayette what was on my mind???
@Thomas_Jefferson: im going to come talk to you after the debate tonight. don't leave the building.
✅ Read, 5:56 PM.
________________
WITH JEFFERSON'S WORDS still in mind, Y/N fled the second night of debates the moment she could cut loose, calling an Uber before they even gave her the go-ahead to leave, not having a second to waste.
She caught his eye on the way out, him surrounded by three campaign staffers and James Madison, and he raised an eyebrow at her. The intimation was obvious: wait up for him.
She broke the eye contact immediately, shaking her head lightly. She had a blue Toyota Camry and a driver named Mandy to find out on the snow-coated street, and she was off long before he had even a chance to try to follow her.
She'd assumed the ordeal was over. She thought it was over with, that she'd somehow managed to escape scot-free, and that she'd managed to avoid Jefferson privately confronting her once and for all.
Boy, was she wrong.
She spent her final evening in the hotel carefree, drafting the second night's article as Lizzo played in the background. She'd packed most of her things, aside from the previous night's bottle of wine and the second pack of Flaming Hot Cheetos she'd bought with her future self in mind (she was patting herself on the back for that one, of course).
She strolled over to the business office on her floor with a pen in her mouth, still humming along to her long-abandoned music, as Ashley had requested that she fax over her handwritten notes from both nights of debates -- she'd called down to the front desk to ask first if they had a fax machine. She hadn't intended to get out of bed if she didn't have to.
Balancing her notes across the keyboard of her laptop in one arm, she opened the door to the office, eyes still fixated on the screen of her computer as she pushed the door with her shoulder. When she looked up, she was met with more than just a printer and a fax machine.
His nose was no longer buried in the book he held on his lap, seemingly distracted by the sound of the door opening, and he had his sweatpant-clad legs propped up on the desk before him, his glasses discarded on the table next to him. She froze when their eyes met.
"Y/N," Jefferson said, looking as stunned as she felt. She blinked. A beat passed. She almost responded, before she remembered the pen she still held in her mouth, continuing into the room and letting the door click shut behind her so that she could put her papers down. "Shit, uh... I can leave if you need the room, or--"
"No, no, you're fine." She finally took the pen out from between her teeth, withdrawing her papers from her laptop, closing it atop the desk. "But I can, ah, come back, if--"
"No, 'course not." He gave her a soft grin, fiddling with the page of his book. "Seems like you're the only one who actually needs the room, anyway."
She returned his smile, though hesitantly, feeling awkward to be alone with him in the small space. "Thanks."
She began shuffling her papers into the fax machine one by one, and the silence grew heavy. She tried not to feel the need to fill it. Yet--
"What brought you here, anyway?" She glanced back at him over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised and found his gaze still trained on her. She shifted her weight, and he chuckled.
"Just tryin' to escape."
She furrowed her brow, not sure if she understood, and another moment passed as she fed her last paper into the fax machine. Now she just had to play the waiting game (which was unfortunately long, considering the number of papers Ashley demanded). "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." He shrugged, lifting his feet off the desk's edge as he leaned forward to rest his forearms atop his legs. "Just needed a moment to myself. I'm sharin' my room here with James, and since I started runnin' for president it hasn't been easy to find some time alone."
She nodded, glancing down at the book in his hand, and grinned. "And you're spending that time reading?"
"You got any better ideas for me?" He raised a playful eyebrow when she turned to lean against where the wraparound desk met the back of the incredibly small room. She only shrugged.
"Could spend this time cleaning up your entire political platform," she suggested, and he laughed.
"Now you're just baitin' me."
"Never!"
He rolled his eyes as he turned the office chair to face her. "Now tell me why I don't believe you."
"Beats me." She plastered on an innocent smile, ultimately pursing her lips, though, to stifle her grin.
"Mhm." He shook his head in amusement, wide grin adorning his lips as he looked down once again, thumbing the nearest page of his book. Y/N raised an eyebrow.
"Whatcha reading?"
"Nietzsche." He held up the book, showing her the name scrawled across the cover and the spine.
"Zarathustra? Really?" She eyed the book with a wary gaze, and his eyebrows shot toward his hairline, amused.
"Don't tell me you've read it?"
"It seems we have annoyingly similar taste in literature, Secretary Jefferson." She grinned. "Can I get past you to the printer real quick?"
"Hm? Oh, 'course." He glanced over his shoulder, standing and taking a step over immediately as he realized the chair was situated directly in front of where she needed to be. She thanked him softly as she moved past him to collect her newly-inked papers. There was a skip; he hesitated. "So it's back to Secretary Jefferson now, huh?"
She looked over to where he stood beside her, eyebrows raised and heat creeping up the back of her neck. The look in his eyes was expectant, but not demanding. "Is that alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course," he said, wearing a small, almost comforting smile, and she couldn't help but return it, before he added with a grin. "Thomas is better, though."
Despite the amusement in his eyes and the mischief dancing in his smile, Y/N let out a sigh as she pushed herself onto the counter beside the fax machine. "I'm sorry, I really just--"
"I know. 'M sorry. We don't have to get into it, if you don't wanna."
She paused as she met his eyes. The understanding tone he was taking now felt like a far cry from how he'd been earlier in the day, but sitting alone with him in that hotel business office after hours, both of them out of their suits and into their sleepwear, joking about his reading material, she felt like she was just then seeing him clearly. "I..." She gave him a small smile. "Thank you."
"You never responded to my message on Twitter, though," he continued, a grin once again breaking across his face, and she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "C'mon, don't pretend, I saw that you read it."
"Lafayette was out of line!" she defended, "God, he was asking for advice on what he should say to you because he was worried, and somehow I became his advisor, and I literally just told him to ask you what was wrong. I wasn't trying to pry after avoiding you the past few days."
"I kinda figured, after Laf's next couple messages. Basically told me you were chewin' him out for askin' that," he laughed, but raised an eyebrow as he met her eyes. "But you admit you were avoidin' me, though, huh?"
"I--" She paused, mouth open to respond, and eyebrows raised, but she didn't know how to respond. The question caught her entirely by surprise. "I guess so, yeah."
Her face burned as he chuckled lightly, and she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She bit her lip, folded her arms across her chest. "Don't act like it's some big confession, now; it was kinda obvious. You said all of three words to me in the elevator, shut me down when you were talkin' to Lafayette, and then today, at the debate?" He raised an eyebrow, seemingly enjoying watching her squirm. She didn't look up at him. "Now, that was the most obvious of all. You read my message, made direct eye contact with me, and then were still the first one outta the building. You aren't subtle, sweetheart."
She sighed, crossed her ankles where she sat on the counter, and ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, I guess that's fair," she sighed, finally looking up at him, and he didn't say a word, waiting for her to continue. He cocked an expectant eyebrow. "Just, after the state dinner, and what happened -- or really, what almost happened," she sighed, and the corners of his lips quirked up. "I really didn't wanna talk to you, or know how to, and I'm sorry, I just-- What would I have said? What was I supposed to say? 'So, I know I, like, almost let you kiss me three weeks ago, but now I'm gonna grill you about fiscal policy on national television! Isn't that fun?'" She plastered on an exaggerated smile, mocking the hypothetical, and he laughed.
"That would've been a good start." She rolled her eyes, bit her lips, and his smile softened. "Could've at least let me talk to you, though."
She sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I should've, but I think I just scared myself into thinking talking to you meant my immediate demise."
"Now, that offends me a little," he teased, "I'm nothin' if not approachable, and I don't like hearin' you suggest otherwise."
She pursed her lips as she met his eyes. "Oh, of course. The Republican presidential frontrunner, who's always surrounded by people much more important than me, and is never seen in public without an entourage. The easiest to talk to." He didn't comment on the thinly veiled confession of insecurity contained in her dry sarcasm, but instead raised an eyebrow.
"Aren't I?" His tone, his wide grin both seemed to suggest that he was joking, but something in how he looked at Y/N made her breath catch.
"Yeah," she said, softly, "I guess you are." She swallowed, looking down at her feet, and the only sound reverberating through the little room was the cranking of the aging fax machine that still held her notes. The hush that fell over them only stretched on.
"Can I just--"
"I wanted to--"
They both looked up at once, though, voices overlapping as they chose the same moment to break the silence, and Thomas grinned. Y/N let out a light laugh. "You can go first."
"Yeah?" he asked, hesitant. She nodded, shooting him a wink.
"The floor is yours."
"Much appreciated." They shared an anticipatory glance, the tension in the room magnified by the close proximity the little space had pushed them into. They weren't even feet apart. "Anyway, I just, at least, wanna apologize."
Y/N quirked up an eyebrow. "What for?"
"The state dinner." She sighed heavily, raking a hand through her hair, and he continued, "C'mon, don't pretend there's nothin' to talk about there. I can't let myself ignore it, so I'm sorry." She bit her lip, trying to keep herself from squirming under his gaze, afraid to break the eye contact as he searched her expression. "Seemed like I scared you that night, and I wanna make sure I didn't make you feel unsafe, or uncomfortable, or... Just felt like I put you in a bad position, or made you feel like you couldn't leave because of me, since I was still the Secretary of State and all, and..." He trailed off as he saw Y/N raise an amused eyebrow, failing to stifle a grin at his words, and hardly stifling a laugh. He huffed, but there was no real frustration behind his smile. "Gimme a break, it's happened!"
"What, you've cornered other hot reporters in your office and leveraged your title against them?" she teased, and he rolled his eyes, cracking a grin.
"I usually go for hot Congresswomen, but none were around, so I figured you'd have to do."
"You've tried to stick it on Nancy Pelosi?" she asked in mock disbelief, and he laughed, carding a hand through his hair, "Can I quote you on that?"
"May wanna keep it off the record, just this once." He winked, and she couldn't help her light huff, playful disappointment mingling with amusement. He pursed his lips. "But seriously, Y/N, hope I didn't scare you."
"No sweat, Thomas, I don't scare easy." She gave him a soft smile, and he raised a brow, surprised to hear her using his first name again, but he held his tongue. She swallowed thickly, realizing it at the same time. "I'm not about to become your Monica Lewinsky, if that's what you're worried about -- you didn't put me in any position I didn't wanna be in." Her last few words had even her taking pause, surprised at having said them aloud. It felt more like a confession than a reassurance, and with that, Thomas's brows shot toward his hairline, and a small smirk rested on his lips. Y/N could feel her heart in her throat as she waited for him to respond.
"'I didn't put you in any position you didn't wanna be in,' huh?" he repeated slowly, his smug smile growing as her eyes slowly began to widen; she didn't like watching him take pleasure in this.
"I--" She cut herself off as he took a step toward her, pushing herself further back where she sat on the edge of the desk. "Yeah," she breathed, worried that her heart would beat out of her chest if she said much more.
"So--" One of his hands landed beside her on the desk as his stare became increasingly self-contented, "What if you ended up in that position again, hm?" His other large hand came to rest on her right knee; he was now hovering just inches above her, and her pulse threatened to stop altogether as she looked up at him, wide-eyed.
"Thomas," she said softly, biting her lip, and she couldn't help but notice him track the movement, his gaze falling momentarily to her mouth. His hand lifted from her knee to her jaw, brushing a hair away from her face before running his thumb along her cheekbone, cupping her cheek. "What are you doing?" she asked, breathlessly.
"This time, is it a position you don't wanna be in?" he asked, the hand that previously sat on the desk now meeting her waist, pulling her closer to him. Something about his smile told her that he was confident in what her answer would be. He raised an eyebrow.
"What..." Her voice faltered as he pulled her into him, her legs now straddling his waist from atop the desk, and she prayed he didn't catch it when her gaze fell to his lips, if only for a moment. (The way he grinned told her he'd definitely caught it.) He stilled millimeters away from her lips, and the movement wasn't even conscious as her arms wrapped around his neck. "Thomas."
He smiled, his nose brushing against hers, and he couldn't help that his grin grew when she shivered at the contact. "Y/N," he whispered, too close even to make out her full face, but he could see every detail of her shining eyes clearly, could trace every ridge of her lips.
She was terrified. Every nerve in her body seemed to be standing on end, and she could feel everything. Even the slightest movements made her pulse jump -- the pads of his fingers digging into her waist, his breath as it fluttered across her cheek, him pulling her impossibly closer, yet still, not quite close enough. She swallowed hard, looking into his eyes. "Kiss me."
He obliged her immediately, his hand gripping her jaw as his lips moved against hers, and she reacted in the same moment. One of her hands weaved itself into his hair, while the other sank into the back of his old college t-shirt. His tongue pushed insistently past her lips, and she arched against him in an effort to pull him ever closer, pushing herself toward the edge of the desk. His hand slid down to hook itself under her thigh, and his grip tightened on her leg as she sighed against him. He nipped at her bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth, but nearly lost it when he yanked at her hair, and she let out a soft, needy whine against his mouth -- the kiss immediately became harsher, faster; in seconds it was all teeth and tongue. Y/N didn't know when his lips had begun to trail down her neck, didn't realize his hands began to tug at her shirt until she felt his fingers brush against her stomach, and she shuddered. She gasped as he scraped his teeth over the base of her neck, sucking a hickey into the skin, and she rolled her hips involuntarily up against his. He groaned against her.
"Fuck," she whispered as his hands finally breached the hem of her shirt, pressing into the bare skin of her waist, and she dragged her nails down across his back, feeling his muscles rippling in his shoulders as he pulled her harshly against himself.
"Shit, sweetheart." She yanked at his hair, began kissing along his jawline, grinding her hips persistently up against his. "Y/N," he groaned, his nails beginning to dig directly into her hips. Her movements faltered a moment. She swallowed.
It must have been then that she came to her senses. She couldn't have placed exactly when, or why she broke it off, but it must have been when she heard her name out of his mouth, against her skin, when she realized exactly where she was. She pulled back from him, gasping for air, her hands against his chest, and he raised his eyebrows.
"What...?" he breathed, equally winded, "What's wrong? Did I do somethin'?"
Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, shaking her head slowly, but her expression was despairing, the gravity of the situation just then beginning to sink in.
"I..." She trailed off, letting out a huff as she ran a hand through her hair, "No, no, it... it's not you, but..." She pulled further back, pushing him gently away as she broke out of his grasp. The look in his eyes was worried, but more so disappointed. "We can't do this, Thomas. Fuck, this was a mistake. What were we thinking? I just--"
She groaned softly, burying her face into her hands before hopping off of the desk, scrambling to collect her laptop and her papers. His eyes widened as she began to rush to leave the room.
"Hey, hey, sweetheart!" He grabbed ahold of her arm as she began to turn away, and she yanked it from his fingers. "Y/N, c'mon, wait a minute."
"This can't happen! Don't you get it?" she said. "This was so fucking stupid. I'm a political journalist, Thomas, and you're running for President, for God's sake! Can you imagine what would happen if we hooked up? If that somehow leaked?"
"Wait, be reasonable--"
"I'd become the next fucking Monica Lewinsky, and there goes your campaign, and there goes my career. Next I get accused of biased reporting, and you get accused of foul play with the media." She shook her head, shuffling her papers together as she turned to leave. "I'm sorry. I... I'm so sorry, this was such a mistake."
"Y/N." His voice was steady, but firm. "Listen to me: no one's losin' their career, no one's life is shatterin' because of this. Relax, darlin'. Leave if you want to, but relax. I'm not gonna try to make you stay."
She hesitated as he rested his hands on her biceps, as they ghosted down her arms. He smiled. "Don't get me wrong, you're more than welcome to stay, but I won't hold it against you if you don't."
"I can't do this, Thomas," she breathed, and he chuckled. Despite his small smile, and despite what genuinely were his best efforts, disappointment clouded his gaze, and he did a poor job of hiding it.
"Okay. Then go." His voice was soft, gentle. "If you ever change your mind, though, just know that I'm the only one with access to my Twitter messages. You know how to reach me if you want to." He grinned as he said that, and Y/N’s eyes widened. Did he just offer himself up as a booty call?
The thought had her breath hitching in the back of her throat. The look in his eyes told her that he was being perfectly sincere.
"I'm sorry,” she finally said, voice only just above a whisper, and he nodded.
"Don't worry about it.” There was a skip. “I'll see you soon, Y/N.”
“Bye, Thomas.” She held his gaze a moment longer, struggling to bring herself to leave, but knowing she couldn’t stay. He sent her a wink, and she finally began to move.
She was out the door without another word, her breathing shaky as she rushed back to her hotel room. She was desperate to immediately open her phone, to text Angelica or Alex, but shit, if that wouldn't ruin her life. Angelica would find some way to convince her to quit her job, or somehow weasel her way out of her assignment on the 2020 election, and Alex would be worse yet -- he'd take it straight back to Thomas and confront him.
She groaned into her hands as she walked into her bathroom. A cold, cleansing shower was what she needed at that moment. The first thing she saw as she walked into the bathroom, though, was a deep purple hickey, at the base of her neck; she'd be covering that up for weeks, she thought as she drew closer to the mirror, running a hand over it as she examined the area. Yet, it also left her with several 'what if's -- what if she hadn't stopped it? What if she were to let this happen? What if, for once in her life, she stopped worrying, let herself live, took a risk?
What if she'd decided to stay?
She met her own eyes in the mirror as she entertained the thought, and she swallowed roughly.
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