Chapter Text
Roman doesn’t bother much with anything. In fact, the only thing he bothers about is whatever kerfuffle the holy trinity, the divine congregation, the- anyways, whatever he’s dragged into. Sometimes he wishes he could just sit down and relax.
What a lie that is.
He just wants to fuck around with everyone and everything.
His leg bounces impatiently against the car door. He looks up at Tom, who he knows is watching him in irritation, smirks when he looks away immediately.
Tuscany, Italy- He runs the words through his head multiple times as they drive towards the estate his mother is renting for her wedding. He says it in an off Italian accent, silently pronouncing it with his lips, stopping when Shiv starts mirroring him.
“Fuck off.”
“I’m sorry, am I the lunatic here?” She starts doing it again.
“You know I kind of feel bad for Tommy boy here having to deal with a child like you.” He retorts, a hint of mock sympathy in his voice.
Shiv sticks her tongue out at him.
“So, Rome, are you going to call Peter ‘daddy’ now?” She raises an eyebrow suggestively.
“Yeah, I’ve got a real thing for old gold diggers y’know? Really gets my blood heading south, a guy like him.”
She scoffs, “Might want to let Gerri know that. I don’t think she’s the type to share.”
He stops paying attention to her there, doesn’t take the bait. He leans back into the plush leather seat, watches the scenery whizz by. The hills in Toscana look like something from a vegan commercial, the kind of stuff they don’t allow on ATN because it looks like propaganda. The truth is it’s a pleasure to get under her skin. Every reaction he elicits sends a shiver down his spine except the shiver he just got now is from the air conditioner which they put on too low, turning him into a penguin goddammit.
He's lingering in the doorway. Figures that the cold air hitting his back and the heat from outside will make him lukewarm or something. A bunch of cars are pulling up to the house, all black and sleek, exuding mystery. He tries to guess who’s in which one, gets Ken’s right. It’s when the third one stops that he falters a bit, can’t put a name to the face of the balding man stepping out of the car. He’s familiar, maybe someone from his mother’s side that he didn’t care less about. It’s only when he sees Gerri come out the other door that it clicks violently in his head.
“That little fucker is Laurie.” Roman mutters under his breath, moving a bit further behind the doorway.
He’s Laurie and Gerri is gripping his arm awkwardly as if no man has extended one to her before. It’s kind of embarrassing so he looks away, runs a hand through his hand nervously.
When she’d first told him about Laurie he did a quick google search. No, actually he told his assistant Derek to do that and report to him with a five page document all about him. It was boring, like a depressing Wikipedia page that no one had updated in years. He hadn’t made it past the first page before dumping it in the trashcan figuring that it was nothing to worry about.
And yet, the lunch date was here. Months later, under the Tuscan sun, with the privilege of touching the interim-CEO of Waystar Royco and Roman might just claw his eyes out at the sight of it.
A staff member comes up to him, starts talking.
“Yeah, yeah. Sounds fan-fuck-tastic,” He says to them when they mention a random fact about the place. “You know it’s cute, I wonder how much it would cost to tear it down. Wrecking ball, Miley Cyrus kind of shit.”
The woman gives him a confused look.
“There’s no need to be rude,” Gerri whispers quickly as she passes him.
When he turns, they’re already by the stairs. Laurie’s hand on her lower back, guiding her up the stairs, the other balancing a suitcase probably full of her things. Roman cringes, studying him very carefully. The guy kind of reminds him of Frank, if Frank were shorter, bulkier, took up more space. Maybe she was dating him to fulfill some deep fantasy of hers.
Roman knows that he’s ex-DOJ, Gerri always says so, as if it justifies anything. A retired lawyer, one son, also a widower to a wife of around twenty years. He doesn’t have any public profiles. The only news article about him is about a big case back in the seventies when he was just starting out in public law. Laurie’s a bit older than Gerri too, now that he really thinks about it, drags out the paragraphs he did end up reading that day from the abyss in his mind.
He catches up with them fast.
“Hey hey, Ger, slow down,” he jumps four steps up at a time, “I didn’t know we got plus ones or fives-”
Gerri grimaces, “Roman, this is Laurie. I must’ve mentioned him before to you.”
Laurie moves to shake his hand, “Laurie Gerard. Heard a lot about you.”
“Uh, woah. Boundaries, don’t wanna get her cooties and stuff on me.” He shuffles back dramatically, acts all disgusted, “Imagine we shook hands already yeah, pal? She mentions you every day. Probably talks about you in her sleep too.”
She shakes her head at him,“We should get moving.”
“Leave Mommy alone Rome, give her some pucker up time.” Shiv says to him as she brushes up past him on the stairs, a malevolent smile on her face.
They’re out of his sight within seconds. There’s something off. Not the Shiv-Roy-ification of Gerri, because why would she wear those three pieces of clothing together he could never fathom, but something in the way she’s acting. Like she’s trying to not scare Laurie off.
“Uhhh, hello?” Roman yells out, a maid walking to him with a polite smile, “Can we turn down this weird air-con? I’m gonna get a cold-stroke, pass out in your arms and shit.”
***
Outside he gets increasingly more flustered, watching Gerri from the balcony. A huge hat hiding her face from him. She’s grabbing Laurie’s arm again, leaning in to tell him something and he laughs in response. He’s about to make an excuse to go and split up the two, something about GOJO, Matsson, maybe another picture just so that she gets mad at him and berates him in public. Although he’s not sure he would make it fast enough to a bathroom if she did react like that.
“Hey, uh, Roman, awesome wedding man,” Greg mutters, leaning against the balcony next to him.
“What do you want?”
“N-nothing, just complimenting the guy in the command, the big brother,” He touches Roman’s shoulder before thinking better of it.
“It’s not my wedding, it’ll be a whole lot nicer if my new papa doesn’t take our livelihoods away with the hors d'oeuvres.”
Greg laughs, his eyes scanning the bustling crowd, “Yeah, yeah. For sure man, you know you might want to keep him away from Greenpeace.”
“I'll 'green' your peace if you don't go back to bothering the princess, Greg.” Roman takes another sip of his drink.
“Are you going to the bachelor’s party later? I hear it’s going to get wild.”
“Uh-huh, nothing like a bunch of old guys getting drunk at a random restaurant,” Roman turns to Greg, continuous on with a voice dripping with sarcasm and hand gestures, “Wild folks they are, Tom Wambsgans-ing around the room.. I might just go with the damsels, hold their darling skirts as they dance so they don’t get dirty. Bet that’ll be more interesting that hearing about Frank’s bladder problems.”
"You know, I heard they have an open bar at the bachelor's party. Free drinks all night."
Roman steals another glance at Gerri and Laurie. He wonders what they’re talking about, why he’s standing so close to her, what secrets they’re sharing.
“An open bar?” Roman fakes a gasp, “Why didn’t you say! That’s the part you really want to sell on.”
“I hear the bald dude is going to come too.”
“Peter’s not bald, Gregorio.”
“No, I- I know that. The other one, Gerri’s Laurie.”
Roman takes a beat at that, squints a bit at Greg, “Well, that just makes the whole thing all the more splendid doesn’t it? A bunch of randos mixing with us, just our kind of fun. You should make a move on him Greg, you can be his sugar baby.”
“Ew, no,” Greg scrunches up his face in disgust, “I think Peter invited him because he’s kinda scared of Gerri.”
“Yeah, well, Laurie’s not hers, so there was really no need for him to do that,” Roman searches about for Peter Pan then, his eyes quickly moving across the garden, only for him to linger too long on Gerri and she meets his gaze.
Greg shrugged nonchalantly. “Everyone else seems to think so,” he replied, his gaze wandering back to the festivities.
Roman downs the last of his drink in one go, gives Greg a dismissive smirk.
“Everyone else can go to hell.”