Chapter Text
It was interesting. He was interesting, once her initial concern had been assuaged. Sue didn't blame herself for her concern. He was older, but not old, and he was more senior. Not more important. She was very clear of her own value. The world was full of older, powerful men who thought the women they worked with were a free bar. In D.C. it was such a cliché that it was a joke. Although she certainly wouldn't ever expect that from Kent or expect it to be aimed at her. She had been surprised by his interest. That was all, surprise and concern. Both completely normal.
The compliments were a little strange. A little stilted. When was the last time he flirted? But then, wasn't most of his speech a little off? Mike called him a robot and Selina was even less complimentary. So, in that context, the compliments were fine: nice hair, nice outfit, more or less. Almost normal. Almost boring. Nice work… well that had still been phrased really weirdly but that was less stilted. More genuine. Much more interesting. Compliments about her look were rote, meaningless. Genuine appreciation of her skill, now that got her attention.
She was trying not to be concerned. Obviously a relationship with a co-worker was out of the question, even if she were single. Which she wasn't. She was happy with her relationship, mostly happy with her job, and in no mind to nuke them both.
But it was flattering. Who didn't enjoy being flattered? Kent was successful, intelligent, well-dressed, and professional. He hated Dan, which spoke to good judgement of character. Overall, nothing to be ashamed of and far and away better than the crazies that wrote to Selina.
He laughs at her jokes. That was just odd. Nobody ever laughs at her jokes. Nobody ever gets her jokes. Her boyfriend, like most men she’s dated, thinks a woman with a good sense of humour is one who laughs at his jokes.
When they came back from Silicon Valley she found a little sculpture on her desk: an African American Lego woman, her hair up in a bun, and a little desk, with a little computer. That had to be him. At least it wasn’t a Lego sculpture of a rose or something, that would have been concerning. It was weird. Thoughtful, but weird. And that was fine.
She never caught him looking at her. What was up with that? Men were usually terrible at not making it obvious when they were checking you out. Dan was appalling. Mike was worse. Gary only had eyes for Selina, which must have thrilled that girlfriend of his. But Kent? Nothing. Never saw him checking her out. Never saw him checking out anyone else. She’d seen Selina checking him out, more than once. That probably shouldn't have been surprising given Selina’s taste for hate sex with Andrew. Plus she had a disturbing tendency to wonder about his ‘cum face’ and talk about his ‘shiny brass erection’. Sue wasn’t quite sure why Dan and Mike seemed compelled to repeat those around the office, but it certainly illuminated Selina staring at his ass. To be fair though it was a nice ass.
Sue hated those offices where people celebrated things. Not going for a drink after work, that was fine. Not her idea of fun, but acceptable. No, she hated those offices with banners or balloons, and she absolutely could not stand people being dragged into a semi-circle to half-heartedly sing happy birthday to some bored-looking co-worker or boss. However, it gave her pause when she overheard him mention his birthday on the phone to his mother. (And wasn’t that something weird and interesting? How many men of any age would schedule an hour long phone conversation with their mother every week? Let alone be so completely matter of fact about it.) She wondered if a birthday card would be inappropriate. They were co-workers. They had a professional working relationship built primarily on a mutual respect for each other’s competence. He hadn't allowed his crush, there she said it, to interfere with their working relationship. She shouldn't either.
So she bought him a card. Nothing fancy and absolutely nothing with ‘Happy Birthday!’ screaming off the cover. Just a plain card with a picture of a sail boat on the front. She kept the message blandly professional and left the envelope on his desk. He didn't say anything. But the next time she went into his office she saw he’d put it in a little frame up next to his other pictures. That was weird, but good.
She came in early one morning, the internet at home was out and she had a ton of online banking to do, and saw his office light on. He was asleep at his desk, surrounded by paperwork. Sue made him a coffee, put it carefully on his desk, and shut the door extra hard. She heard him splutter awake, and allowed herself a small smile.
‘Good morning, Sue.’
She looked up from her computer. He’d changed his clothes: suit, shirt, and even the tie. She couldn't tell if he’d trimmed his beard but she’d bet that he’d brushed his teeth. How often did he sleep in the office?
‘Good morning, Mr. Davison,’ she said, and waited. He didn't seem embarrassed. Did he ever?
‘Thank you for the coffee.’ He leant against the door frame. She noticed how long his legs were.
‘No problem, Sir.’
She waited. He waited. Nobody said anything. Then he straightened up.
‘Well, I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.’
‘Right.’
Sue watched him walk away. Definitely a nice ass.
‘So, has he made his move yet?’ Amy asked. She sat down on the edge of Sue’s desk, until she registered Sue’s expression and stood up.
‘Has who what?’ Sue asked, concentrating on her computer. She hated these passing moments when Amy or Dan were bored and poking around for something, anything to do
Amy produced a bag of pretzels from her pocket and fought to open it. ‘Kent, has he asked you to go for a malted milk or whatever the fuck people did in the nineteen-fucking-sixties.’
‘In nineteen-sixty he was four years old,’ Sue said blandly, not looking up from her monitor.
‘Fuck, seriously?’ Amy stared into the middle distance. ‘I literally cannot deal with the idea of Kent as a four year old.’
Sue was having difficulty with the concept as well. ‘It does seem counter-intuitive.’
‘I bet he was one of those creepily polite kids that only exist in movies. The ones that wear suits with little bow-ties,’ Amy continued. She finally opened the bag of pretzels. ‘Like The Omen.’
Sue raised an eyebrow. ‘Isn't Dan the anti-Christ?’
‘Oh God,’ Amy said covering her mouth. ‘Do not make me think about Dan as a child. A girl can only take so much.’
‘Are you going to eat your pretzels?’
Amy gave her a look and shoved a handful of them into her mouth. ‘Selina is seriously pissed that Kent is walking around singing your praises. Rah, rah, Sue is awesome. Fuck di-doo.’
‘Rah, rah, Sue is awesome?’
‘He thinks the sun shines out of your ass.’
‘About time someone realised,’ Sue said.
‘Where’s Kent?’ Selina demanded as she marched into the main office.
‘Mr. Davison has been called in to see POTUS.’
It wasn’t often Sue found herself on the receiving end of one of Selina’s death glares but she’d seen this one coming.
‘Excuse me, what did you say? Where is he?’ she demanded, planting her hands on Sue’s desk.
‘POTUS called for Mr. Davison,’ Sue said. ‘I put him through. Then Mr. Davison went to see him.’ She checked her watch. ‘About ten minutes ago.’
The rage was epic and, in its own way, strangely poetic. It often seemed to Sue that if Selina put the amount of creativity and imagination into her policies that she put into her insults then she’d spend a lot less time having to insult her staff.
Sue half listened. Selina had two types of insults: slurs against intelligence, mostly aimed at Mike or Gary, and implied sexual threats, generally aimed at Dan or Kent.
‘I cannot believe how hard that asshole is fucking me over! He has me bent over a fucking desk and he’s fucking me in the ass while he sucks POTUS’s dick!’
Sue almost smiled at the mix of confusion and disgust on Gary’s face.
‘So is POTUS stood on the desk?’ she heard Dan murmur to Amy. ‘I don’t get how this works.’
Sue wondered if Selina was aware how much time she seemed to devote to fantasies about a man she hated, and if Kent had any idea he was inspiring it.
After Selina stomped off into her office, Dan shook his head. ‘I wish they’d just fuck.’
‘That is completely disgusting.’
‘Oh real mature, Mike,’ Dan retorted.
‘They’d kill each other,’ Amy said. She waved her pen in vague but worryingly suggestive shapes. ‘He’d probably eat her afterwards, like a snake.’
‘You are thinking of spiders,’ Sue said. ‘And the females eat the males.’
She thought carefully about the text before she sent it. About whether she should send anything. About what, precisely, she should send. It wouldn't do to be caught sending anything as gauche as a warning. After all, he was a grown man and could doubtless look after himself. So she sent him a text message with two pictures: one of two men shaking hands, and one of Munch’s ‘The Scream’.
A few minutes later she received a text back: a stock ‘thumbs up’ image. Sue smiled, and returned to her work. And later, while Selina was yelling about ‘betrayal’ and ‘treachery’ inside her closed office, Sue took a brief break. She put on her jacket and went a few blocks down the street to the expensive but tasteful boutique bakery where she bought a dozen rich, chocolate chip cookies.
When she returned, barely three minutes before Selina was due to leave for a happy-clappy meet and greet, Selina’s voice had dropped to a growl but it was still clearly audible through the door.
‘Tell me she’s not in here on her own,’ Sue said.
‘Kent’s still in there,’ Mike said, while Dan made a ‘hanged man’ gesture.
Sue kept walking, through to Kent’s office where she placed the freshly baked cookies along with a cup of coffee.
‘Oh fuck me backwards with a chainsaw!’ Selina snapped when Sue came in to remind her about the meet and greet.
Sue glanced at Kent. He looked… mildly annoyed. Nothing else. As Selina marched away, Sue and Kent followed her and returned to their desks.
Five minutes later, when she received his text inviting her to coffee and cookies, she wondered if she had done something unwise. But she went.
‘Oh!’ he said, clearly surprised to see her, and for a moment she was almost concerned. But he rallied, scrambling up to his feet to pull out a chair for her. That was also concerning, but in an entirely different way.
They didn't do small talk, so she asked him about his meeting with POTUS.
‘I hope you’re not going to be leaving us, Mr. Davison.’
‘No… I… Uh… No. I… I have a… He has a birthday…’
She watched his hands shaking and listened as he tried to control his stammering and his rambling. That was when she realised how very nervous she was making him. And that was interesting.
There was an odd inevitability to arriving home early and hearing someone else fucking her boyfriend. That was what truly stung; the utter banality of it.
‘I can explain!’ he promised, hopping down the corridor after her as he pulled up his trousers.
‘I can forgive the cheating,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘But not the cliché.’
‘What you need is to fuck someone else,’ Dan said. ‘Soon as you can. Fuck that guy out of your hair.’
Amy rolled her eyes. ‘Jesus, Dan, that’s your answer for everything. What we need is a girl’s night out. A lot of sugary or fatty food and then we’ll go to a bar and get trashed.’
‘Who’s going to a bar?’ Ben asked, looking up from his phone.
‘Not me,’ Sue said.
‘Getting trashed with your girlfriends after your boyfriend screws someone else is traditional,’ Amy argued.
‘So I’m not invited?’ Ben asked.
‘Go with my blessing,’ Sue said, holding up her hands.
‘Do I need to wear a pin or something now I'm an honorary woman?’
‘What in the everloving fuck are you talking about?’ Selina asked, walking into the room with Gary, Mike, and Kent behind her.
‘We've decided I'm an honorary woman, so now I can go drinking on the girl’s night out.’
Selina looked at him critically. ‘You don’t have the legs, Ben.’
‘Are you sexually harassing me, Ma’am?’ he asked hopefully.
‘In your dreams,’ she replied as she headed into her office.
‘Are we celebrating something?’ Mike asked.
‘Another one of Sue’s boyfriend’s bit the dust,’ Dan said. ‘She claims he was fucking around but I think she just got bored and ate him.’
‘I'm sure nobody wants to hear your warped fantasies, Mr. Egan,’ Kent said sharply.
She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed that Kent hadn't made some sort of approach, but she was a little surprised. Not that she expected him to serenade her at the office, but she imagined that he’d either step it up or back off. Instead nothing changed. He was polite, respectful, gave strangely stilted compliments, and was nervous as hell if they were alone and anything other than pure business.
Not that Sue was a woman who expects a man to chase while she passively waits. Not in the least. But they worked together. That made things awkward and potentially risky, particularly when he hadn't been clear on what his endgame is. Did he even have an endgame?
It was late. Selina was sat on Sue’s desk, oblivious to Sue’s annoyance, and jonesing for a cigarette. Sue wondered how she ended up stuck with her while everyone else had escaped.
‘That fucker hates me,’ Selina announced.
‘Yes ma’am,’ Sue said, with no idea who she was even talking about.
‘I have to have his back! That fucker keeps lobbing turd grenades and I have to throw myself on ‘em over and over.’ Her finger stabbed down into the desk. ‘I've had it up to here with POTUS shitting all over me.’
‘We have an early start tomorrow,’ Sue offered.
‘I know! And a late fucking finish because the turd flinger general suddenly decided to inform me that he expects me to turn up and watch while he and the other monkeys throw shit at each other.’ Selina rolled her eyes at Sue’s expression. ‘His birthday party. The most miserable asshole in the history of history is having a birthday party to which I have to go and eat cake while listening to some geriatric death metal band playing typical misogynistic BS.’
‘Glam rock.’
‘What?’
Sue sighed inwardly. ‘Rock Toxin are a glam rock band, ma’am, not death metal.’
Selina pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘How the fuck do you know that?’
Sue folded her hands together on the desk. ‘Mr. Davison told me.’
Selina smacked the heel of her hand into her forehead. ‘Did I bang my head? I feel like I have severe concussion. What the ever living fuck does some crappy KISS knock-off have to do with Kent?’
Sue supposed it wasn’t surprising that during Selina’s tirade at Kent she hadn't even asked what his meeting with POTUS was about. Or at least she hadn't listened to the answer.
‘Mr. Davison is related to the lead singer,’ she said. ‘He met with POTUS because POTUS wanted him to arrange for the band to play.’
‘No way.’ Selina started sniggering. ‘No fucking way.’
‘That’s what Mr. Davison said.’
Selina stood up and took a step back. ‘Kent Davison? Mr. Roboto knows someone in a band? He knows someone who leaps around in fucking tights and a giant fucking wig while wearing glitter and make-up? Tell me it’s true.’ She put her hands together. ‘Tell me there are photographs of them together.’
Sue shrugged. ‘I don’t know about that. I believe that the lead singer is one of his nephews.’
‘One of his nephews? How many does he have?’
‘Quite a number. The family is Catholic I believe,’ Sue said.
‘Really? I didn't think the pope was in favour of lizard people.’
In the morning, Selina was exhausted but oddly triumphant.
‘Everyone just thrilled about POTUS’s birthday party?’
‘Oh God, we don’t have to go do we?’ Mike asked, as everyone else mumbled.
‘If I have to go, and I do, then you have to go.’ Selina turned and gave Kent a sickly sweet smile. ‘I bet you’re excited, aren't ya?’
‘Ma’am,’ he said evenly.
‘After all, you arranged the entertainment! A bunch of geriatric KISS knockoffs who sing about under-age girls.’
Kent didn't even blink. ‘They haven’t sung that in twenty years.’
‘Is this your nephew’s band?’ Ben asked. ‘How the fuck do they run around in those platform heels without falling over?’
‘Practice,’ Kent said. ‘Jerry can even do jumping jacks in them.’
Selina pinched her nose as she turned to Ben. ‘You knew about this? Was I the only one who didn't know?’
‘I didn't know!’ Gary said, holding up his hand.
‘No Ma’am, you’re just the only person bothered that you didn't know,’ Kent said.
‘You got any other potentially embarrassing relatives?’ she snapped.
Kent folded his arms. ‘A fully paid up member of the tea party, but he’s "charming" and "charismatic", so he gets away with it. A lot of police officers. A lot of soldiers. Some doctors. A sports commentator and a radio host.’
‘How is Jack?’ Ben asked.
‘He’s good. Getting syndicated.’
‘Oh, sweet Jesus,’ Selina moaned. ‘I give up.’ She threw up her hands and stalked into her office.
‘What was that about?’ Mike asked.
‘I think she was trying to embarrass Kent,’ Ben said. ‘As if that would work.’
‘Yes,’ Kent said, ‘because my nephew putting his kids through college by being paid a fortune for prancing around on stage a couple of hours a night is the height of embarrassment.’
Actually, the party was dull, except for the band: who were quite fun in a loud, jump-around-a-lot sort of way. The bass player was just a teenager and it was rather sweet seeing him try to cope with the platform boots. It reminded Sue of her own awkward teenage struggles with heels. The loudness of the music was a convenient excuse to lean close to Kent, who seemed bored, and ask, ‘Who’s the boy?’
Kent turned to her, and for a moment they were millimetres apart. She noticed his pupils flare, and that his skin smelled of citrus.
‘Liam... Uh... he’s uh... he’s Jerry’s son. They, uh, they needed a replacement in a hurry.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yeah.’ Kent fidgeted for a minute. ‘I’d, uh, I’d offer to introduce you afterwards, but, uh, that was a cliché even when I was a boy.’
Sue shrugged, ‘That might be interesting.’