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When you're trying to run an entire country, and you have very little time together, sex tends to become rushed and a little frantic. It's about reaching the climax quickly and efficiently, often with the least amount of clothes removed as possible.
But tonight's their one-year anniversary as a couple, Jack's had the evening cleared in his diary for weeks, with his fingers crossed just as long that no countries decide to declare war all of a sudden.
He planned the evening perfectly. Chinese food, beers, and a direct order that no one is to enter his room unless the world is ending.
For once, fate is on his side.
They eat on the floor, the takeout cartons scattered on the coffee table, an ice hockey game on the TV in the background. Once all the food is washed down, Jack drags Robby to the en-suite, the two of them just about managing to fit into the shower.
As much as Jack would like to have sex with Robby in the shower, there is neither the room nor the youthfulness required, so Jack coaxes Robby back into the bedroom, damp and pink-skinned.
The sex is slow, considerate, and purposeful. He takes his time, kisses Robby for what feels like hours, runs his hands over every inch of naked skin available to him. He draws out soft moans from Robby like he was born to do it, and they hold each other tightly as they reach the climax.
They stay linked together for a while afterwards, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, luxuriating in the moment.
It's Robby who pulls himself reluctantly out of bed to retrieve a cloth to wipe them both down, then slips back under the cotton sheets to press himself up against Jack's side. Jack's body is hot and clammy, and Robby's skin sticks to him uncomfortably, but Jack pulls him even closer.
They lie there for a while without speaking, letting their pulses return to normal.
"Happy anniversary," Robby finally says, pressing his dry lips to Jack's collarbone. He's never admitted they're his favourite feature, but Robby's attention to his collarbones hasn't gone unnoticed.
"I love you."
It's not the first time Jack has said those words, but it always feels a little novel. It always comes with a flutter in his chest like time has rewound and he is saying it for the first time.
"I know," Robby Han Solo's him smoothly.
Jack shoots him an offended look. When Robby doesn't say anything else, his look quickly turns impatient, "Well?"
"Well, what?"
Robby lets out a pornographic moan and stretches under the sheets like a cat after a deep sleep. He knows exactly what he's doing. Absolutely no one in the world realises what a rage baiter the President's Chief of Staff becomes after a good orgasm.
Jack just stares.
Robby rolls his eyes. "Oh hush, I've been in love with you far longer than-" He stops, realising mid-sentence what he just admitted to.
"Robby."
"Jack."
"How long have you loved me?" Jack asks.
"Hmm?"
"When did you know how you felt about me?" He surprises himself with the question, though mostly he's surprised it's taken him this long to ask.
Robby hums, doesn't answer straight away. He reaches out and slides his hand across Jack's belly, then comes to a rest across his pelvis. The gesture sends a shiver down Jack's spine. If he were a few years younger, it would have been enough to have him going again.
"A long time," Robby finally answers.
"That's vague."
Robby chuckles, "You really want to know?"
"Tell me," Jack pushes.
THEN
When Robby steps into Jack's office, there are still twenty-one months before the election, and Robby hasn't told him he's coming.
"Mr Robinavitch, we don't have you in the Senator's schedule."
Robby winces. Maybe he should have made an appointment.
"I'm hoping he'll make an exception for a friend. Would you be able to tell him I'm here?"
Jack's staffer looks up at Robby dubiously, then slowly slides away from her desk and steps into Jack's office. A minute later, she's stepping back out with Jack just a step behind.
"Robby?"
He's as surprised as Robby hoped he would be. Robby's heart picks up when Jack's eyes lock onto his, and his friend strides over to him. Jack greets Robby with a back-slapping hug, then grips his biceps, holding him in place.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I wanted to talk to you about something. You got some time for me?"
Jack glances at his staffer with a questioning look.
She sighs, "I can move your eleven o'clock."
"Perfect, come on in."
Robby's been to Jack's office a few times since he was elected. One of the youngest Senators ever to serve Pennsylvania. Jack was always meant for public office. Robby had known it the minute they'd met as lowly staffers for Congressman Adamson.
Meanwhile, Robby was always meant to be doing what needed to be done behind the scenes to make everything happen. He's never wanted to be the one in charge. He's always wanted to be the one in charge counts on.
That's why he's standing in Jack's office.
"How can I help?"
That's why Jack is the perfect person for the job. All Jack has ever wanted to do is help. There's no limit to his help, no task too small. He just rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, no nonsense, no strings attached. This is what the American public needs. They will soon see what Robby sees.
"You're happy here, right?"
Jack blinks at the question. "Sure?"
"You been thinking about what's next at all?"
"Next?" Jack frowns. "What's this all about?"
"Sorry, I'm doing a terrible job of this."
"At what?"
"I'm trying to pitch an idea to you."
Jack's eyes narrow suspiciously, "Go on."
Robby tries a different route in. "Do you remember when you first told me you wanted to run for senator? We were sitting on the roof, and you were a little drunk," Jack huffs at the memory "And you came out with some bullshit about us being the worker bees built to protect the hive, and you realised to truly do that, to protect the people, you needed to be in office?"
"Sounds vaguely familiar."
"You're a great senator, Jack. They love you in Pennsylvania, you're actually making a difference, I see it every day."
"Robby, where the fuck are you going with this?"
"I'm trying to say…you were born for bigger things, I've known from the moment I met you…and now I think you need a bigger hive to protect."
"Are you-"
Here he goes.
"Suggesting you should run for president? Yes, I am."
Robby knew the campaign wouldn't be easy. Some days it feels like he's bitten off more than he can chew. He's been involved in various campaigns over the years, run a few congressional and senate races, but this is a whole different ball game.
He's seen op-ed pieces debating whether he has the experience to take Jack all the way, and he does his best not to listen to them, but some days are easier than others.
They've still got a long way to go. They're still working out of old shops and abandoned office buildings. They can't afford a huge team yet, and so most of the staff are young students, volunteers, and those who believe in Jack as much as he does.
They're not the team he would pick if they had more money, but most of the country hasn't heard of Jack Abbot yet. It's his job to introduce him to them.
Little by little, it's working.
The team in New Hampshire is small, but enthusiastic. They're young enough to make Robby feel old. Ron comes with the most experience, working on some state-level campaigns, while Jenny and Kendra learn on the job.
He's only at the New Hampshire office for a few hours in between events with Jack. He just wanted to check in with the team and go through some polling at a desk and not in the back of a car for once. While the team works near the back of the store, some old storage shelves arranged to create a makeshift meeting room, Robby prefers to sit up front near the windows for the natural light.
He's focused enough that he doesn't pay much attention to their conversation, not until he's finished looking through his report. As he closes the folder, their voices grow louder. It takes him a moment to figure out what they're talking about.
"And hey, people are going to eat it up, you know, the whole dead wife thing."
Robby freezes.
Ron continues, oblivious. "We barely need to do anything to get the sympathy vote, the fact that he still wears his wedding ring? Cherry on the top."
Robby slams his folder down onto the nearest surface. Ron, Jenny and Kendra startle, their heads turning sharply in his direction simultaneously
"Pack your things and go."
Ron scoffs, "What?"
"You heard me, you're done with this campaign, pack your things and leave."
"I was just saying-" Ron tries to defend himself, but Robby doesn't want to hear it.
"I know what you were saying. For some reason, you think it's perfectly okay to use Jack's deceased wife to win votes. You might not have a soul, but I do, that's why I'm telling you to go, now."
For a moment, Ron looks at him like he's expecting this to all be one big joke. Robby stares him down, and Ron's expression changes to one of defeat. He quietly grabs his belongings and leaves.
He turns to look at the others, standing there with wide eyes.
"If I hear anything similar come out of your mouths between now and election day, you'll be gone faster than you can say electoral college."
They nod furiously.
"We're running a clean campaign here. No underhanded tactics, no messy attack ads, no emotional manipulation, just the clear-cut truth. If you can't handle that, then you can go."
They return to their desks, and Robby finds his gaze drawn to the back room. The door is closed, but there's a chance Jack heard all that.
Fuck.
When Jack is announced as the party's nominee, things crank up a gear. There's a whole office working under him and a plane with Jack's face on the side of it. There's an established team now, with proper talent. McKay helping with the comms, Langdon acting as his deputy, Mohan and King working policy.
The hours get longer too, with Robby sometimes working through the night, living off day-old stale sandwiches, protein bars, and bottles of lukewarm water.
It's a small price to pay to get Jack to the White House.
Robby's not always working by Jack's side; sometimes he's at head office while Jack is on the road, and they talk for hours late at night: about the campaign, about their childhoods, about all the things they could do if this works.
If.
When Robby is on the road alongside Jack, it's a whirlwind of events, rallies, and press conferences that leave him no time to breathe, let alone take any of it in. There are times when Jack's eyes catch his when he's standing at a podium, and it makes his whole body shudder.
He often finds himself being pulled into Jack's hotel suite at the end of a long day of shaking hands and holding babies to down a cold beer together, decompressing on opposite ends of the couch. There's no need for words between them, and he thinks Jack's relieved not to have to speak for a little while. He groans as he slips off his prosthesis and presses himself deep into the couch cushions.
Jack looks tired, Robby can't deny that, but the campaign seems to energise him too. He's exactly where he's meant to be, Robby knows it without a shadow of a doubt.
Robby should be looking at the schedule for tomorrow. McKay had a question about one of the afternoon visits, but instead, his eyes can't peel away from Jack, his eyes closed, his beer bottle resting against his chest.
Robby has made a huge mistake.
All these long hours working alongside Jack, the late nights, hotels, phone calls, and long car journeys, it's all torture. Stuck side by side with the man he wants and needs and can't have.
He's known for a while that his feelings for Jack were more than desire, but it's in this simple moment that everything unravels for him. If he could bottle this moment up, he would, because this is all he wants.
The campaign only gets harder after his moment of clarity. Once he's put a name to what he feels and realises they're never going to go away.
It would be easier if he could just fly back to their head office and hide out there until November 5th, but he can't. Jack turns to him most often. Robby understands that. They've known each other a long time, Jack trusts him. But that means hearing, "I need you" from Jack far too often, and it's never said the way Robby wants it to mean.
He gets good at putting on a smile that fools Jack. He thanks the distraction of a Presidential campaign to stop his best friend from looking too deeply; otherwise, he might see the heartache in his eyes.
Robby paces back and forth in front of the TV screen, shoulders tight, feet aching. Every now and again, someone comes up to him and suggests he take a break, get some fresh air, but the thought of missing a single moment paralyses him. They're so close now that he can almost taste the-
"And I think we're almost ready to call Michigan."
Robby stops and turns to face the screen. He grips the blue whiteboard backer in his hand so tightly his fingers go pale.
Everything goes quiet.
"Yes…it's been confirmed, Michigan and its fifteen votes go to Senator Abbot, he's done it, Senator Abbot from Pennsylvania is the next President of the United States."
The room erupts around him, but Robby only has one thing on his mind. He drops the marker and darts out of the room. His feet carry him towards Jack's room at speed, and suddenly he's bursting through the door. Jack jumps up from the couch when Robby appears, and he barely gives Jack a moment to blink before Robby is pulling him into a tight embrace.
He struggles with what to say at first; the words just a jumble in his mind, his tongue thick in his mouth.
"Michigan," Is all he manages.
Jack understands instantly.
Robby feels him hug back tighter, almost desperately. Only a select few know what it's like to get the news that they've been elected President of the United States. Robby's only a bystander to what it must feel like.
Jack lets out a shaky exhale, the breath warm on Robby's neck.
He finds the words.
"Congratulations, President-Elect." Robby is grinning as he speaks. His heart thuds heavily in his chest.
He doesn't know how long they hug for. There's a party happening around them, but Robby would stand here forever in Jack's arms if he could. His feelings for Jack haven't gone away like he'd hoped; they've only gotten stronger, deeper, growing permanent roots.
He can't have Jack.
If this is all he'll ever get, he wants to make the most out of it.
NOW
"It wasn't always love, or at least that's what I convinced myself, but it's been a while, probably since the day we met. It wasn't until the campaign that I accepted those feelings….and then pushed them deep down."
"All that time?" Jack is stunned.
"Yeah," Robby sighs. "All that time."
"Why did you never say anything?"
"When?" Robby huffs, "When you were married? When you were grieving Sarah? When you were in the middle of running for President? It never felt like the right time," Robby shrugs.
Jack shifts under the sheets until he's facing Robby, "I don't think there was ever going to be a right time."
"That's why you picked a random Thursday evening?" Robby smiles, like the memory of that night is fresh in his mind.
"I was done waiting," Jack argues.
"I'm glad your impatience got the better of you," Robby says, reaching out to link their fingers. "I'm not sure I would have ever found the courage."
Jack uses the opportunity to bring their joined hands up to his mouth to kiss Robby's knuckles. He has so few opportunities to be affectionate with Robby that he takes what he can get.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"When did you realise you loved me?"
THEN
"I'm trying to say…you were born for bigger things, I've known from the moment I met you…and now I think you need a bigger hive to protect."
To say that Jack is blindsided when Robby comes to his office and suggests he run for president is an understatement.
"Just so we're clear-"
"Yes?"
"When you say run for president-"
"Go on."
"You mean-"
"Of the United States, yeah."
"You're crazy," Jack responds almost hysterically.
"Am I?" Robby doesn't back down. "This isn't a hairbrained idea; I've thought this through. I've been thinking this through since the moment you were elected to the Senate. I have a strategy."
Out of nowhere, Robby pulls out a folder and places it down on his desk.
"You know what this country needs, Jack."
"I'm young, I've only been in the Senate four years," Jack argues. "My chance of getting the nomination, let alone the Presidency, is slim."
"I don't believe that…you, this strategy, me running the campaign, it's a winning combination."
"Robby."
"Think about it, please? Read the strategy at least."
If Jack were going to run, he would need to announce in the next month or two. Robby hadn't left him much time to decide, which was probably on purpose to back him into a corner.
"You say you're happy in the Senate, but you could be doing so much more. You've done so much for one state in four years; imagine what you could do for the entire country."
It's quite the pitch, one that leaves Jack's mind whirring. There are pros and cons to making the leap, pros and cons to staying where he is. He reads Robby's strategy, and it's frustratingly good. He floats the idea to a few trusted people in his life, and he's surprised when they all tell him he should do it.
Why is he the only one who doubts he can do this?
They say those who chase power aren't best suited for it. Maybe because he's not interested in the power is the exact reason why he should be the one to wield it.
"You promise you'll be by my side from beginning to end?" He says the minute Robby picks up his phone, a week later.
"I promise," Robby says firmly.
"Okay, let's do this."
Jack thought he knew what the campaign was going to be like. He'd campaigned for his job in the Senate after all, but the Presidential campaign is a whole other beast.
It's grassroots, nothing but him and Robby on the road for the first few weeks. Robby assures him there's a campaign office and staff, but he doesn't meet them until they finally make a stop at their office in New Hampshire. They're working out of an old shop, shelves of old stock still lining the walls. Someone has stuck up some of his campaign posters in the windows, and so as they walk up, he's confronted with his face and 'A Future To Believe In' in big bold letters underneath.
Robby introduces him to his staff, all young and eager to work for him. He doesn't particularly remember their names, feeling bad about it for a second before Robby reminds him that he probably won't see them again after they leave.
There's probably another office somewhere else with more staff.
There's not much for him to do at the office. They're mostly there for Robby to catch up on some polling numbers and coordinate with the team, so Jack stays out of his way, finding his way to the back room to go over some prep for a key meeting he has later that day. He's not even paying much attention to what's happening next door, not until the conversation changes.
"And hey, people are going to eat it up, you know, the whole dead wife thing."
It feels like the floor disappears out from under him.
He's not naive; he's worked in politics long enough, but still, the callous words shock him. There's a ringing in his ears, and it's only Robby's firm voice that cuts through it.
"Pack your things and go."
He doesn't listen to the rest, but he does hear the front door open and slam shut a minute or two later.
Afterwards, on their way back to the hotel, he brings it up. The words slip out of his mouth before he stops himself.
"You didn't have to do that, you know."
"Hmm?" Robby tries for clueless, but Jack knows him better than that.
"Firing that guy…Ron?"
Robby's eyes darken at the man's name. "Yes, I did."
"Robby-"
"I'm not having any of that bullshit on this campaign" Robby huffs, "We're not doing it that way, I've got zero tolerance for-" he sighs, his shoulders sagging, "Sarah-" His voice breaks and sometimes Jack forgets how much Robby cared for her too, "Sarah is not a political pawn to play, I'm not getting you to the White House at her expense, end of."
Jack swallows the lump in his throat. Luckily, it's late, the car is dark, and Robby can't see how his words have affected him.
"You're a good man, Michael Robinavitch."
Robby's the pacer out of the two of them. Jack's more of the type to brood by a window. But they're fifteen minutes away from his last debate, and everything rides on this. If it goes badly, he's done.
The week of debate prep hadn't gone great. He'd started to waffle on questions he'd been fine with at the beginning of the week, and he became far too aware of what his hands were doing. He's sat in meetings about what colour tie he should wear and been forced to watch back tape after tape of his performance, whilst his team picked out every time he mumbled or tripped over a word or his eyebrows did something strange.
He's not sure he's ready.
And he thinks others have picked up on it, too.
The door to his dressing room is thinner than it looks; he hears the entire conversation as it happens.
"We shouldn't have done that last session; we overprepared him."
It's McKay's voice.
"He's fine."
That's Robby's.
"He's second-guessing himself."
"He's fine," Robby repeats.
"Okay," McKay doesn't sound convinced. "And if he messes up on stage in front of an audience of millions?"
Jack silently thanks McKay for that reminder.
"He won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know him…a lot better than you do."
Sometimes Robby's belief in him is a little staggering. It feels unwarranted at times, unearned.
"And if it goes well?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Is he ready, Robby? I'm not talking about the debate, I'm talking about what comes November fifth, or to be more accurate, the sixth."
Oh. Jack hadn't realised his doubt in his own abilities had been so obvious. He hadn't said a word to anyone about how he was feeling, not even Robby.
"Of course he is." Robby's reply is far too confident.
McKay doesn't respond, but she must be looking back at Robby with that dubious expression of hers because Robby stays firm.
"Jack thrives with a little chaos around him; he needs the pressure, okay? That man has never met a crisis he hasn't conquered. He hasn't let anything overwhelm him, not losing his leg, not losing his wife, not the months of sleepless nights ricocheting across the country as people picked apart his character and his beliefs. There's a good reason why I went to him and suggested he run, because I knew what the American public now knows. He's a good man who can do a hell of a lot of good in the Oval Office."
Jack finds himself standing a little straighter. He might not have as much faith in himself just yet as Robby does, but if he's half the man Robby thinks he is, maybe he can do this.
Robby knocks on the door politely before pushing it open. Their eyes meet, and somehow Robby knows his words were overheard.
"You ready?"
He takes a deep breath.
"As I'll ever be."
There's nothing left to do on the night before the election. They've done everything they possibly could do. He's logged more miles across the country than an airline pilot. He's shaken thousands of hands, smiled until his jaw hurt, and listened to crowds cheer loudly until his ears started to ring.
He's done it all. All the debates and the press conferences and the television appearances.
And now all he can do is wait for the polls to open and hope the American public likes him enough to vote for him.
Everyone gets a bit giddy on election eve. There's a fancy bottle of whisky on the coffee table, bought with Robby's credit card, and his team has squeezed onto the couch in his suite to entertain each other with antics from the campaign trail. Jack's happy to sit there quietly and listen. For once, no one is asking him to talk. Robby sits opposite, nursing his glass of whisky, laughing at all the right moments whilst keeping a close eye on Jack.
Jack's cheeks feel warm every time Robby glances over at him.
One AM hits, and bit by bit his team departs, pairing off with a knowing smile. Jack watches them go. Some of the couples he's well aware of, some are complete surprises.
"Collins and Underhill?" He watches them slip out of the room together, his hand on the small of her back.
"Apparently," Robby confirms, taking a slow sip of his whisky.
Suddenly, they're alone in the room.
Alone, apart from the single secret service agent, stood by the door. Jack's only just gotten used to figures in black suits following him everywhere. Who knows if his protection will still be shadowing him this time tomorrow.
"You never had one?" Jack asks lightly, not completely sure if he wants to know the answer.
"Had what?"
"A campaign fling."
Robby's eyes meet his across the coffee table. The room feels hot all of a sudden, enough to make him want to remove his tie and undo his suddenly tight collar. He forces himself to keep still, his hand gripping his glass tightly.
"No…not for me."
Jack doesn't know why he's so relieved to hear it.
"Polls open in just a few hours…you should get some sleep, you've got a long day ahead of you."
"So do you," Jack reminds him.
"Jack…whatever happens, you should be proud of everything you've done here."
"Me? Robby, this is all you, all of it."
Robby looks like he wants to argue, but somehow he stops himself. "We make a good team."
"We always have," Jack agrees.
Very few people know what it feels like to sit in a hotel room with two hundred and fifty-six electoral votes under their belt, waiting for confirmation that they've become the next President of the United States.
There are still three states yet to declare. He doesn't want to count his chickens, but he can almost taste the nuclear launch codes.
He wants a drink badly, but he can't, not yet. Somewhere in this godforsaken hotel is some ice-cold champagne ready to be popped.
Somewhere in the country is his opponent, a man a decade older with a loving wife and two children. The perfect family.
Why exactly would the American public vote for a widower with one leg who's only been in the Senate for four years?
He can't believe he's come this far, beating much more experienced candidates to become the nominee.
What if he can't do this?
What if Ron was right and it's all just sympathy votes? What happens if he wins, and he can't actually do the job? He's just going to watch his approval rating tank in real time.
Fuck.
Through the quagmire of doubt, another voice cuts through. A voice he knows well.
"You know what this country needs."
"You were born to lead."
"This is where I know you can do the most good."
It's Robby's voice, his trust, his confidence that steadies him. It always has been.
"I can do this," he murmurs to himself, moments before he hears a cheer in the hallway.
The doors burst open, and there's Robby. The rest of the team piles in behind him, but it's Robby who reaches him first, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"Michigan," is all Robby says.
Holy fuck, that's fifteen votes.
He's done it.
He's actually done it.
He pulls Robby tighter against him. He hears corks pop around him, music starts playing, people are cheering, crying and laughing around them.
"Congratulations, President-Elect," Robby says into his ear.
The words sink in deep.
Oh
A realisation hits him hard, hard enough to temporarily steal the air from his lungs.
He's in love with Robby.
The sudden epiphany couldn't have come at a worse fucking time. He can't have Robby, not if he's the President. It couldn't possibly work.
If only he'd realised sooner.
Except, no. This is what he was meant to do. If he'd known how he felt about Robby back when he first came into his office and suggested he run for President, he would have made the exact same decision.
The country comes first. His happiness will have to come second.
"Thank you," is all he can croak back. "Thank you."
The next seventy-six days fly by. One minute, he's rushing down to the ballroom to give his acceptance speech, and the next, he's on his way to the Capitol for his inauguration.
Throughout it all, Robby is there beside him.
A lot of decisions come his way during the transition, and he knows he'll be confronted with a lot more difficult decisions once power has been transferred, but asking Robby to be his Chief of Staff is the easiest decision in the world.
Robby seems blindsided by the question, like there was a possibility Jack wouldn't pick him. Who else could possibly compare?
Of course, Robby humbly accepts.
On the day of his inauguration, he arrives to find Robby waiting for him inside. The Capitol windows don't hold back the sound of the crowds outside. He's never been intimidated by much. He fought in a war, and he learned how to walk again. But this, the thousands of people outside, even more watching from home, the knowledge of what is about to happen makes his hands tremble. He hides them in his pockets.
Robby doesn't look scared at all. He looks calm, confident. He stands in front of Jack in a smart suit, a thick wool coat, and a proud expression on his face. The way Robby looks at him sends a tingling sensation across his shoulders and down his spine. It would be easy to blame the cold January weather for the shiver, but it's all Robby.
"You ready for this?"
"Is anyone ever ready for this?"
An attendant appears out of nowhere.
"Mr President-Elect, they're ready for you."
"Go," Robby encourages, "I should get to my seat."
Jack nods and starts to follow the attendant.
"Jack?" Robby calls out.
Jack is startled. From the minute Jack was elected, Robby has only called him sir or "Mr President-Elect," Something he's still getting used to. He likes the sound of Robby saying his name.
He looks back.
"You've got this…we're the bees, remember?"
His hands stop trembling.
Robby looks at him softly, like he's trying to remember this moment.
Jack wants to remember it too, all of it. By the end of the day, it will all be a blur.
No.
The decision is sudden and crystal clear in his head. He's not going to let Robby slip from his grasp. He refuses to let the chance of being with Robby, of being happy, go. After Sarah, he didn't think he'd ever find love again, and he was going to give it all up because of his job?
He can have both.
Yes, it might be complicated, but Robby is worth it. He always has been.
He smiles back at Robby and nods.
Now's not the time; he knows that. They need to focus on the first hundred days in office. But soon, when the time is right, he'll make his move.
NOW
"I realised I was in love with you the night of the election; it was like the moment I won, it came with this sudden bolt of clarity. There wasn't a doubt in my mind how I felt about you."
"But you didn't say anything."
"I thought I was making a choice. The Presidency or you. As much as I loved you-"
"The country comes first."
"I knew you'd understand," Jack sighs. "And then…it was at my inauguration when I realised I didn't have to choose, there was a path that allowed me to have both."
"Huh, wow."
"What?" Jack lifts his head from the pillow, leans into Robby's space.
"Nothing, I just…."
When Robby smiles at him, his eyes crinkle. It makes Jack's heart flip. The sensations Robby elicits from him, almost always unintentionally, haven't dulled in the twelve months since they've been doing this. He keeps waiting for it to happen, for him to be so used to the numerous ways Robby shows his love for him that it feels standard, typical.
He's starting to think the novelty won't ever wear off.
"Just?" Jack prompts.
"One day, when they write the book about you-"
"-About us," Jack corrects quickly, making Robby roll his eyes and blush at the same time.
"I'm not sure anyone's going to believe our story."
With a long exhale, Jack relaxes back against the pillow, pulling Robby tighter against him as he goes. Robby's beard tickles his skin.
It's funny, he thinks, how little doubt he had himself during the campaign and every time he was sure he wasn't the right man for the job, there Robby was to remind him he was. Robby was the one so unwaveringly certain.
He was the certain one now. It was like a solid oak tree in his chest, able to weather any storm, any doubt.
"They will," He finally responds. "Because when we do tell the world, they'll see it in my eyes."
He feels Robby's lips form into a smile against his shoulder. "You're such a sap sometimes."
Jack grins, "Only when the tie is off, of course."