Work Text:
The edge of the kitchen counter is going to leave a bruise on the small of Andy’s back. Helen Santos is well worth the sacrifice.
Helen’s mouth is on hers — her tongue inside her, her breath hot on Andy’s lips one second, her chin the next, then back on her mouth. Her hair’s still dripping wet from a shower that didn’t wake anybody else and Andy gladly takes the soaking of her shoulders and the blonde hair sticking to her fingers if it means having Helen first thing in the morning.
Andy’s legs still ache from the late flight in, her stomach hurts the way it always does before she’s found a chance to eat something to take her painkillers with. Her lungs burn dangerously with every breath she forgets to take for Helen’s sake.
Helen has her knee between Andy’s thighs; it’s deceptively easy to forget the rest of her body.
Sitting down would be the wise thing to do. Asking Helen for dry toast and morphine would be another. Taking this into a bedroom at the very fucking least wouldn’t be stupid, either.
Hooking her hands into Helen’s waistband and asking her if today’s underwear would be as scandalous to America as yesterday’s had been isn’t wise. It’s not even funny.
But it draws a laugh from Helen, and then it makes Helen kiss her harder than before, hungry lips on Andy’s own, a hand on her hip helping her grind on Helen’s knee. They’re just friends who fuck sometimes, they both insist on it, but Helen knows just how to make fucking her easier on Andy’s body. She’d barely have to move if she couldn’t manage or didn’t want to.
Helen hisses when Andy grabs her face gently with hands that are cold to the touch. She pulls Helen closer, bruising her lips, losing her breath entirely and chasing the high of being lightheaded and turned on in the kitchen of a Presidential candidate.
She moves her legs further apart when Helen slips her hand into Andy’s pants — the ends of Helen’s hair drip on the kitchen tile between them, freezing Andy’s feet where they touch.
Neither of them hear anything leading up to a much-too-loud “holy shit.”
A bustling of feet and papers can be heard from the doorway when Helen and Andy stand frozen in place — telling her that more than a few people are watching them right now before she manages to get her head moving and look up at the small but decidedly present crowd of campaign staff gathered right outside the kitchen.
A young man — a boy really, barely older than Huck if she’s honest — brings out “mrs. Santos…” at the same time Donnatella Moss says “Congresswoman?”
“What the hell is going on?” Josh asks, mouth wide open, eyes flicking nervously from Andy to Helen and back, not sure who to put the most blame on yet.
“Well—“ Andy starts, sounds congested and clears her throat, trying not to flinch too visibly at the now steadily increasing pain in her chest. She’s not sure what to say yet. Helen’s hand is shaking on her hip.
Ronna asks when Andy got here and Bram shoves his elbow into her side and says that’s the least important thing right now.
Lou shrugs. “When we talked about incentives to get you to here instead of on your own campaign trail… wouldn’t have promised the Congressman’s appearance in your district if we could’ve thrown his wife into the package.”
Andy tries very hard not to laugh. She fails only slightly and tastes metal in her mouth. Lou grins.
“Only one of those things is going to have me holding onto my seat come fall,” Andy tells her. Lou is the only one in the room who laughs.
The young boy Ronna hissed Otto at before asks “does.. does the Congressman know?” then retracts his question, deciding he’d rather not know himself, then asks again. Andy and Helen are spared from trying to come up with an answer on the spot when the Congressman in question enters the room at last.
“Does the Congressman know what, Otto?”
The various stages of surprise that Matt cycles through when he sees the position Andy and his wife still occupy in front of the campaign staff are enough to make Andy burst out laughing at last. She coughs — it burns up her lungs these days when she exerts herself — and Helen grabs her more tightly at the tiny specks of blood in her hand.
“Congresswoman. The honorable,” Matt teases, though when Andy looks up, she can see he’s concerned. “I’d tell you to make yourself at home, but…”
Andy laughs more. She tries not to cough another time, but swallows painfully. Matt shakes his head. “You found your room alright last night?”
“I did,” she confirms. “And the extra blanket in the hallway closet.”
“Well, what’s mine is yours.” Matt gestures at the swollen lips she and Helen share. He looks at the staff still staring wide-eyed and scared, then winks at Andy. “Clearly.”
Andy extracts herself from Helen’s arm and washes her hands in the sink. “It’s nice to share, Matt,” she tells him, as Matt crosses the room and kisses his wife gently, wishing her good morning. Her hands freeze in the towel she’s drying them with, not sure what he’s going to do with her with the whole staff there to watch.
“Your lungs?” He asks softly. She nods.
“I’m talking about another excision, but— campaigns, you know.”
Matt nods, then kisses her lips gently. The glass Otto had barely held onto before drops to the floor now. She and Matt turn to it at the same time.
Donna’s staring at her, wide-eyed and confused. Josh has his mouth gaped open, his mug thankfully empty with the way he’s dangling it. Bram and Otto are shoving each other trying to appear somewhat composed, and Ronna, dear thing, should work harder to hide how intrigued she really is. Lou winks at her.
“Alright,” Matt says decidedly. “I guess we have something to talk about. Let’s— let’s just have breakfast, and sit and talk. Alright. You—“ he turns to Andy again. She’s gone back to leaning against the kitchen counter trying to give her legs a subtle break. He’s quieter when he adds “want to take the excuse to sit this one out? You coughed up blood in front of my staff, I think you have a case.”
She doesn’t have to think twice about it. Not even taking Helen with her sounds better than falling right into bed right now. She tells him as such, soft enough that only he and Helen hear. He laughs and pecks her lips again.
“You sure know how to make an entrance, Andrea.”