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Athena Grant-Nash’s presidency was one for the history books. Not only was she the US’s first female president, but the first African American female president and, perhaps more exciting to the tabloids, she was the first US president whose child had been caught having sex on the White House front lawn.
“Buck.” Athena’s thumb and forefinger had become indented within her forehead. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Though he should have been scared, maybe, Buck couldn’t help but laugh at his mother’s free use of such obscenity. If only the paparazzi could see her now. The great and mighty President Grant-Nash, dropping an F bomb so casually. As it was, it was just she and him inside the infamous Oval Office – a daunting place to most, but somewhere that had become quite mundane for Buck in the year since his mother had taken office. Athena slammed her hand down on the desk to capture his attention. “Buck. Answer me.”
But what was an answer Buck could use that was appropriate to say in front of his mother? He certainly didn’t want to tell her that he found Taylor Kelly beyond hot, and it hadn’t taken much for him to agree to sleep with her, even after she’d admitted that it would make for a “great story” to launch her career. And it had skyrocketed her to the tabloid hall of fame, doing more for her future career as a reporter than the semesters she’d spent studying for it.
“Um,” was all Buck could really come up with. It wasn’t enough, clearly. He watched his mother massage the beginning of her headache, one that had blossomed the day she’d been sworn in and never quite been shaken since.
“What am I going to do with you?” Athena sighed, eventually. Buck shrugged.
“Give me a slap on the wrist and let me out of here, so I can head back to college?” Buck tried his best to recreate the doe-eyed look of his youth that had made him immune from being denied. From his mother’s deadpanned stare, he’d failed.
“I would, if you actually went to college Buck. What have you done in your year off, hm? You said it was so that you could adjust and, well, if this.” Athena smacked a hand upon the tabloid, whose front cover hid his and Taylor’s intimate areas with some creative graphic design. “Is how you adjust, I hate to see what you plan to do once fully adjusted. Have sex on my desk?” Athena gestured to the desk between them. Buck rolled his lips inwards to keep from smiling at a not-so-distant memory. Athena’s groan must have shaken the historic building’s walls. “Enough of this – you’re returning to college when classes open up again, and you’re not leaving this house until I say so.” Buck shrugged. It was the White House, it was bigger than most apartment blocks. There were plenty places to amuse himself… clearly. Buck smirked down at the desk before him. “And you’re coming to the party tonight to try and help me try and save some face from your little stunt.”
Now that, no, that was not in Buck’s plan. Being the president’s son had many perks: endless invites to parties, no shortages of dates to take to them, or take home – well, not home, but to a hotel paid for on your mother’s card – and free reign to do anything you wished. Except those reigns did not feel quite so free now and in fact, as Buck fiddled with the tie around his neck, they actually felt quite tight.
“Knock, knock,” came his father, Bobby’s, voice, before he entered without waiting for an answer. “Looking smart.” He smiled in approval. Buck rolled his eyes and tore the tie from his neck. He threw it to the ground and his father was quick to pick it up, forever aghast at a speck out of place. Though a renowned chef in his own right, Buck’s dad was very much the henpecked housewife the media pegged him out to be. He cared for the house, their meals, for Buck, except for when Buck’s transgressions were a nation-wide dispute. Though Buck kept his mouth clamped shut while his dad explained how tonight was going to be good for him, stressing that Buck ought to behave, all the while fixing his tie on his behalf. Buck was glad that his dad had even come to see him at all. He’d hardly been able to look at Buck all day, and Buck was sure he’d need to book an appointment to see the dentist soon for the hours he’d spent grinding his jaw in distaste.
“Do I have to go?” Buck asked just as his dad smoothed down his tie. Bobby arched his brow.
“Are you asking whether you have to grovel at some rich, stuffy white men’s feet in order to ensure your mother’s entire career is not tarnished?” Bobby asked like he was stupid. Buck let his head fall back against his dumb tie with yet another groan. Bobby’s hands found the back of Buck’s head and he pushed until Buck lifted it into a more dignified position. “You’re lucky she didn’t take my suggestion of shipping you off abroad to one of the stricter, less tolerant colleges.” Buck swallowed. Maybe not so henpecked.
“You wouldn’t have really shipped me off,” Buck mumbled, but the stoney face of his father confirmed that yes, yes, he would. Buck made a mental note to thank his mother for being so lenient. He would do that later, though. For now, he was determined to make his displeasure clear as his father walked him out of his room and toward the party that was going to make a funeral seem fun.
By the fifth rich, old, white man, Buck started to wish he had been shipped away. His cheeks ached from the pressure of his fake smile and his parents must have said something to the servers, for he was sure that they were dodging him on purpose. He’d been allowed the one champagne to toast his mother’s welcoming speech, which had glossed over his transgression in a roundabout way to a polite chorus of laughs, but since then, his night had been far too dry. The bartenders were always busy when he rocked up in search of a drink, even if there was literally no one else waiting. But Buck hoped that his luck was about to change when he spied a face he hadn’t seen before – one he’d definitely have noticed because, damn. Buck swallowed around his dry, useless tongue as he watched the new bartender mix a cocktail for a woman twice Buck’s age, who seemed unable to keep her hands to herself. He loosened the tie his father had worked so hard to get perfect and stalked toward his prey.
The older woman side-eyed him as Buck leaned heavily across the bar. He licked his lips at the ripple of the bartender’s muscles as he – Eddie, if his nametag was correct – shook the shaker.
“Hi,” Buck greeted. Eddie arched a brow in his direction but otherwise ignored him, his tongue peeking through lips that begged Buck to kiss them while he poured the woman out her drinks. Buck squinted at her through his peripheral. She was a socialite, he was sure of it, and was bound to be married to one of the balding elite he’d had to suck up to all night. He wondered what her husband would say about her drooling over a young man, but Buck hardly had a foot to stand on, for, despite his very parched mouth, even he’d manage a bit of dribble at Eddie’s fine display. When the woman left with her delicious-looking cocktail, her fingers brushing Eddie’s more than was just friendly, Buck grinned at him. “Hi,” he tried again now that they were alone. Again, Eddie remained mute though he did, at least, nod. “I’ll have what she’s having,” Buck joked. He wasn’t usually a fan of fruity cocktails but at this point, he’d have drunk straight vodka.
Eddie pursed his lips and Buck noticed how his gaze flickered from Buck, down to something upon the bar that Buck couldn’t see from his angle, and back to Buck’s face, where they homed in on his birthmark and seemed to become harder. Buck leaned forward some more to catch a peep of his own face – some professional shot from a press conference past – with a big red cross through it. Below, his eyes quickly skimmed the list of drinks he’d been allowed. Every single one was non-alcoholic. Buck reeled back and fell dramatically upon the bar, uncaring for whoever was watching.
“Really?” He whined into the wood. Hadn’t he been punished enough? He glared meanly at one of his mother’s guests who eyed him with a hint of repulsion. Hope flourished in him when a glass appeared in front of his vision – clear, like the vodka he’d wished for, but tasteless like the water that it was. Buck ungratefully spat it across the bar and Eddie’s folded arms.
“Great,” Eddie deadpanned. Buck’s head shot up at the sound of his voice. “Thanks.” Eddie gestured down at his soaked shirt. Buck bit his lip just as mischief sparked behind his eyes.
“I’ve got one you could change into… upstairs,” he flirted. Eddie’s brows furrowed when Buck stuck his finger into the ice-cold water and twirled it in a manner he had hoped would be enticing, but just seemed stupid now that Eddie looked at him so strangely. Buck pulled his finger from the glass and flicked more water on the bartender he was slowly losing from his side. Not that Eddie had ever been on his side, clearly, if the water was any indication. “Alright, fine. Keep your wet shirt. Just give me something to make this party more bearable. Please.” Buck surprised Eddie with an agonising sigh and the dramatic flick of his hand over his forehead.
“Oh, woe is me – I cannot drink at a party that’s only being held because I couldn’t keep it in my pants,” Eddie’s gruff voice had been pitched up to really sell his impression. “Everyone else would get thrown in jail, but not me, thanks to mommy’s money, and power, I’ve been dealt worse – I get a press statement I definitely didn’t write and have to sit through a party sober. Please, just put me in the electric chair.”
Buck blinked once. Twice. Then he burst into laughter. Eddie seemed determined not to laugh with him, despite the slight twitch of his lips.
“You don’t understand. Look at them.” Buck swivelled around to gesture at the room. He avoided his mother’s narrowed gaze and the beckoning wave of his father in favour of pointing out how ridiculously stuffy everyone looked in their overpriced suits, drinking their overpriced champagne and talking about boring politics. He turned to Eddie in commiseration, but Eddie looked him up and down, unimpressed. Buck glanced down at himself and, well, yeah, okay, he was in an overpriced suit, but he wasn’t talking politics and, most importantly: “I don’t have a drink.” Eddie glanced toward the water he’d lovingly fixed and Buck had shunned. With a sigh, Buck took one long swig of it. “Cheers.” He held it aloft in a mock toast. Eddie snorted. He looked past Buck and toward what Buck could only assume the source of the hole he could feel burning into the back of his head. A sneaky glance over his shoulder confirmed such ire to belong to his mother, the most powerful woman in the room. “Duty calls,” Buck grumbled.
“I’ll keep this cold for ya,” Eddie said, just as he chucked the rest of Buck’s water out.
If Buck weren’t 21 years old and on social trial for a pretty big misdemeanour, he’d have yelled child abuse from the second his mother’s fingers dug into his arm under the guise of guiding him around the room. Buck leaned away from her as she stuck her nose into his face and sniffed at his breath.
“It was water, mom,” Buck muttered. “Don’t worry, he stuck to your stupid rules.”
“At least someone is. You know how important tonight is for me, for us. You’ve got to at least try to look contrite,” Athena murmured while she smiled sweetly at people Buck knew she bitched about to his father over a glass of wine (well, water for his dad) the second the doors shut them out. “Please, just do this for me.” Buck set his jaw and tried to avoid the sweet eyes she fixed upon him, made easier by his height, but impossible regardless, because this was the look he’d used time and time again to get his own way, only it was the original. His mother hadn’t acquired her position through luck, that was for sure.
“Fine, but if you ask me to attend another of these parties in the near future, tell dad to start calling the European schools.” His mother’s snort was the only reassurance that she wasn’t truly still mad at him before she left him to return to his endless apology tour.
The good thing about rich, boring white men was that they were so boring that by 10pm, most of them had cleared out. Those that were left were more preoccupied with trying to convince his mother to endorse their out-of-touch plans for their businesses that would make America ‘oh-so-great-again’. Buck wasn’t sure he trusted the opinion of a man the same shade as a Cheeto, but, he guessed the guy had done well enough to earn himself a space in the room tonight. Buck still didn’t have to like him, especially as he’d been one of the very few people to have congratulated him for his little stunt with Taylor. Buck shuddered at the memory and returned to his spot at the very empty bar, the sole bartender thankfully the only one Buck cared to talk to.
“Has the chill from being iced out finally caught up to you?” Eddie mocked and it should have annoyed Buck, and probably would have, if Eddie weren’t so damn pretty. He shrugged. “I’ll make you a hot chocolate,” Eddie decided for him. Buck’s nose wrinkled.
“I know something else that could warm me up.” He wriggled his eyebrows and glanced past Eddie to the ample rows of spirits, any of which would do. Eddie’s grimace told him none were on the menu.
“Ew, no thanks, not after Taylor has had her claws in you.” Eddie’s lip curled just as Buck’s brain malfunctioned because, wait, what? He hadn’t meant that, although he wasn’t against that, though maybe not on the White House lawn again… but huh? What was wrong with Taylor?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Buck found himself straightening his shoulders, his metaphorical hackles raised, ready to defend a stunt he’d spent all night apologising for.
“Taylor’s a bitch,” Eddie said over his shoulder. Buck had hardly noticed he’d started the hot chocolate he had not agreed to. He bit his tongue to avoid saying aloud so are you.
Instead, Buck assumed Eddie thought that because of the whole tabloid scandal and said as much. Eddie snorted.
“Nah, it’s not that – though that’s so Taylor. She’s just always been a sleaze. Can’t believe you’d sleep with that.” Eddie squirted whipped cream atop the hot chocolate he’d made and slid it across the bar to Buck like it was hardened liquor. Buck licked his lips without thinking.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He toyed with the spoon Eddie had placed beside his mug. “She’s hot.” He scooped up some of the whipped cream, despite his determination to hold out until Eddie served him something with a bit of a kick and told himself it was just to try it when he placed the spoon in his mouth and sucked, savouring the taste. Eddie’s eyes glazed over, just a little, and widened at the way Buck hollowed his cheeks.
“S-sure, if you’re into that kind of thing.” His eyes never strayed from Buck’s mouth. Oh. Oh.
“I got varied tastes,” Buck confessed.
He leaned toward Eddie and that seemed to shake the bartender from his stupor.
“Yeah, I’ve read that,” Eddie said as he busied himself with a glass that definitely did not need polishing. Buck could have lost himself to the way Eddie’s hand slid easily up and down it, his wrist flicking in a manner eerily similar to something else, if it weren’t for his slight narcissism.
“So, you read about me?” He pushed. He took another spoonful of the cream and kittenishly licked at it. Eddie looked up but past Buck, his eyes boring into a painting that had likely been hung on the wall since the number of presidents were in the single digits.
“Hard not to when your ass is everywhere,” Eddie retorted, and it took Buck a second to realise he meant it in a literal sense.
“Like what you saw?” Buck ducked his head to force himself into the other’s eyeline. Eddie raised one brow and scoffed. He flicked Buck with his dish rag.
“You trying to get me involved in your next scandal?”
“Maybe,” Buck leaned so far forward he was close to toppling over the bar entirely. “Do you want to be?”
Buck didn’t look when he dipped his spoon back into the mug, nor did he pay attention to it as he brought it back to his mouth. He certainly noticed it when it pressed, scalding hot, against his tongue. Buck threw the spoon at the wall of bottles behind Eddie’s head, and it was by some miracle none of them smashed, but they certainly made a musical chime that caught the stragglers, and Buck’s parents’, attention. He dragged his palm down his face, paying special attention to his poor tongue, and hid from their scrutinising looks. Eddie didn’t help at all as he laughed openly into the crook of his elbow.
“I’ll have you put away for harming the president’s son,” Buck threatened, though there was no heat. His tongue burned enough for him anyway. Eddie wiped a stray tear.
“Pretty sure I’d be praised for putting the sex pest in his place.”
“’M not a sex pest,” Buck huffed. It was one mistake. He was young, he was rich, he was free… for now. He could see how the remaining guests had begun to whisper.
“No,” Eddie agreed with a hum. “Just an idiot. Clearly.”
When Eddie tried to take Buck’s hot chocolate from him, Buck wrapped his hands around his to keep it from going far. Though it had hurt, the hot chocolate had been good, and it had warmed him up – and then some – so he’d loathe to see it get wasted. But Eddie was a bit more determined, for he won their game of tug and war with ease. Buck slumped against the bar and waited for his hot chocolate to follow in the way of his water which, annoyingly, he missed now, but instead, Eddie brought it to his own lips and blew. Buck’s cheeks flushed at the sweetness of it. Eddie blew again and they flushed for an entirely different reason as he pictured a different use for those lips. Like he could read his thoughts, Eddie’s face crumpled, and he handed Buck the mug back. When Buck took a sip this time, it was just the right temperature, although Eddie still laughed at him.
“What?” Buck glanced over his shoulder to find that the party was pretty much done, and his mother and father were making their way toward the bar for their favourite tradition: the drunken debrief.
Instead of verbally answering, Eddie swiped the whipped cream that had made its home upon Buck’s face away with his finger. Buck felt it particularly mean that Eddie sucked it off just as Buck’s parents settled at the bar on either side of him. Eddie’s finger was out of his mouth and wiped clean on the side of his pants before they noticed, and he was out of earshot just as quickly to fulfil their order of water and wine.
“So, what’s the verdict? Have I cast a shadow over your presidency forever?” Buck turned toward his mother, expecting the worst. He did not expect her to bop his nose.
“You’re not that big of a deal, Buckaroo. A couple endorsements and good champagne and anyone can forget anything,” Athena explained. Buck frowned.
“Wait, so did I even need to be here?” He could have been anywhere – like his bedroom, or a better, more lively party.
“’Course you did, son. You were here to support your mother,” Bobby grinned and wrapped an arm around Buck’s shoulders.
Eddie returned with Athena’s wine and suddenly, Buck’s hot chocolate did not seem so sweet. Athena caught the way his face wrinkled at it and rolled her eyes. Eddie jumped back when she reached into the bar and ripped the no service sign from where she’d had it taped. Buck clapped his hands together and immediately requested several different alcoholic drinks all at once. Eddie listened somewhat patiently, but the second Buck had stopped talking he cut in.
“How about we start with a water and go from there?”
“Unless you’re Jesus Christ and are about to turn it into wine, no thanks. Whiskey. On the rocks,” Buck insisted, much to everyone else’s amusement. “What? I’ve been humiliated all night. I need to drink away my pain.” He pointed to his tongue that had started to go an odd colour from its burn. Eddie took everyone by surprise when he pinched it for a better look. Athena dismissed the secret service agents, who had been largely unnoticeable all night, as they stood to attention. Eddie let Buck’s tongue go as he remembered himself but, when he wasn’t shot on sight, he decided to roll with it.
“Yeah, I don’t think alcohol is the right call. Better stick with the water, play it safe.”
Bobby chortled while his son whined.
“You,” he said as Buck made a swipe for Athena’s glass, though she was faster, and he watched enviously while she took a big sip. “I like you.”
“Thanks, sir,” Eddie grinned back. Buck scowled at all three of them.
“Please, Eddie – just a little bit. Like the teeniest, tiniest drop.” Buck tried not to feel too offended that Eddie looked to his parents for permission, but it was worth it when they gave the okay. Buck waited as patiently as one could while his parents engaged Eddie in conversation. He was studying at the college Buck had taken an indefinite break from, was working as a bartender to support his son, who even Buck cooed over when Eddie showed a picture at Athena’s prompting and wasn’t too sure what to do with his life as long as it gave his son a better one.
“Don’t you need to get back to him?” Athena asked, suddenly aware they’d monopolised Eddie well past his contracted hours. She would be sure to leave him a generous tip. Especially as he’d followed Buck’s instructions to a T – down to the teeniest, tiniest drop of vodka. Buck glowered at him until Eddie fixed it so that he had a proper drink.
“Nah, my Abuela has him for the night,” he explained while he poured. “I kind of planned to get some studying done, brought some books in my bag, considering Chris has pretty much screwed up my sleep schedule anyway,” Eddie smiled through the half-hearted complaint. Buck sat up straighter and ignored the knowing looks from his own parents.
“I could help,” Buck offered, even if he had no idea what Eddie was studying. He threw his hands up when everyone laughed at him. “I’m serious. Isn’t it better to study with people?” Not that he’d know. Even when he did go to college, Buck didn’t really study.
“No idea – I usually study solo,” Eddie said, but all Buck heard was that it wasn’t a no.
“C’mon,” Buck offered his hand across the bar. “We can study in the Oval Office.” Athena swatted him on the arm.
“No, no you cannot. If you want to help Eddie study then by all means, do it in your room,” Athena rolled her eyes at Buck’s snort. “Maybe Eddie will be able to convince you of the wonders of schooling.”
Eddie saluted the idea, earning himself yet another notch of Buck’s parents’ approval. Athena downed the last of her wine and thanked Eddie for his service, refusing to leave until he’d given her his bank details so that she could be assured her tip went straight to him, and him alone.
“Be good,” Athena warned Buck as she sank into the familiar embrace of her husband, a little unsteady on her feet from both the wine and the fact she’d been walking in heels all evening. Bobby led her toward the room’s exit with some of their security agents in tow, though Buck’s own remained. Bobby paused in the large doorway at the last second and pointed to his son.
“If for whatever reason you do something other than studying,” Bobby looked between the pair of them who had in his and his wife’s absence migrated into each other’s space. “Please, for the sake of my sanity, stay inside.”
Buck’s head fell back against his shoulders that shook with laughter as they retreated, when he pulled it back he noticed how rosy Eddie’s cheeks had gotten. Buck grinned wickedly.
“So, Oval Office?” Buck suggested with the inward roll of his lips. Eddie frowned.
“But your mo- the president, said-”
“We couldn’t study in there,” Buck pointed out. Eddie’s lips parted in realisation and the flush of his cheeks only grew that much sweeter with his shock at the scandal of it all. Buck dared to trail a finger up the other’s arm. “Unless you’d rather use the lawn.” Buck squeaked when Eddie’s hand clamped around his wrist, sure to wave away the security guards that had taken several steps toward them both. Eddie’s hold relaxed, just a little.
“Show me the way,” Eddie used his free hand to gesture toward the room’s exit. Buck wriggled his hand until it was in Eddie’s and guided him down the bar until they were side by side.
He relished in the fact he was slightly taller, though it didn’t matter much when Eddie leaned in and kissed him. Buck kissed back with fervour, absolutely confident in the fact that he and Eddie were not going to study. Except this time, Buck was going to keep Eddie all to himself… the only story he was going to let the tabloids write about them would hopefully be of the more wholesome look-who-just-got-engaged variety. Buck laughed into Eddie’s mouth and the other pulled away, searching Buck’s eyes for the punchline. Buck answered it with another kiss and a more insistent pull of Eddie’s hand toward the doors.
“C’mon, we better hurry up and study before my mom needs her office,” Buck insisted, laughing at the admonishing yet gentle slap Eddie landed on his shoulder for daring to bring up his mother. Still, he went willingly when Buck guided him forward.
The next morning, safely wrapped up in the bed that they also studied in, Eddie’s actual textbooks having never left his rucksack, the twist of Buck’s lip into a smile tickled at Eddie’s chest.
“Whu?” Eddie asked through half-cracked open eyes. He closed one entirely and opened the other when Buck held his phone for him to see. I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t the front lawn, the first text from his mother said, followed by a picture of Buck’s wretched tie and one of Eddie’s socks on the floor. Tell Eddie we’re having pancakes for breakfast, and to check his tip went through alright. Buck stretched across Eddie to reach for the other’s phone, and he waited patiently for Eddie to flick through texts from his Abuela, beaming when Eddie showed him a picture of Chris, again, but this time from that morning, as he, too, ate pancakes, like it was fate. Though fate almost gave Buck a concussion when Eddie checked his account, the amount deposited within at least a couple of zeroes above what it had been.
“Fuck,” Eddie whispered. Buck let his head fall back onto the other’s chest. Eddie says thank you, he texted back. And I want chocolate chips.
Buck was content to fall back asleep to the sound of Eddie’s heart, now beating a little more wildly than it had been, humming with contentment when Eddie’s hand found his hair and played almost anxiously with the strands, but a small laugh in the form of an exhale from Eddie piqued his interest.
“What’s funny?” Buck murmured into Eddie’s skin, where he found it more pressing to place kisses against instead of falling back to sleep.
“I bet Taylor Kelly didn’t get this good of a deal,” Eddie responded, the last word nothing more than a gargle when Buck slapped him on the chest. “I’m just sayin’.”
“Say less,” Buck huffed. He didn’t want to think of Taylor, not when he had Eddie. His head lifted easily under the guidance of Eddie’s hand and despite himself, Buck smiled when Eddie did.
“Gladly,” Eddie said before he leaned in and kissed Buck once more.