The Open Secret

12

Note: I realized I said this on Ao3 but forgot to say it here: this fic will be 16 chapters total (I added like 3 over the original number). FYI. More to love.

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He's out of sorts the following morning.

Rob chalks it up to too little sleep and too much caffeine, spinning the story to fit his narrative like any good politician, and goes about his day as normally as possible. He avoids Jesse during the coalition meeting at nine, dodging him at the coffee pot and sitting as far away from him as he can at the table. It's a strategy Jesse once employed with him, so he justifies it by deciding that it only serves him right. Still, he looks like a sad puppy when he notices, and it makes him feel horrible.

He can't stop hearing his words. I love you. I love you. They reverberate around his skull, drowning everything out, so much so that he has to ask a reporter interviewing him later that day to repeat her questions half a dozen times. He feels uneasy throughout his committee hearings and stays quiet during debate, even though Baudet's constant stream of racist and anti-Semitic nonsense makes it difficult. He retreats to his office afterward and asks his aide to clear his schedule for the rest of the day because he's aware that he's useless and doesn't need to make a fool out of himself anymore if it can be avoided.

For a while, he just sits at his desk and makes a half-hearted attempt to read his mail. When the clock strikes six and the end of the day finally arrives, Jesse arrives with it. Rob knows it's him by the knock on his office door, a familiar pattern of three taps with a pause after the first two. He considers pretending not to be there, then decides Jesse will see right through that charade; they both know he's always here.

"Come in," he calls out.

He steps in and closes the door behind him, all cavalier and half-dressed in his shirtsleeves like he always is after hours. He's too comfortable in this place, Rob thinks to himself, then pauses and wonders if maybe he just isn't comfortable enough.

"Hello," Jesse greets as he pulls up a chair to the side of his desk and takes a seat.

"Hi." Rob looks up briefly, then refocuses his attention on the letter in front of him and tries to swallow the lump gathering in his throat. "Do you need something? I'm not free tonight."

"I happen to know that's a lie. I ran into your aide in the hallway on her way out. She told me you had her clear your schedule."

Dammit. He'll have to have a talk with her about Jesse-proofing the details of his calendar from now on.

He purses his lips and finally sets down the papers before him, sliding them off to the side just as Jesse leans back and kicks his feet up onto the desk. He gives him that same disarming look that always achieves its intended effect, inclining his head slightly and peering over at him with raised eyebrows.

Rob tries to bite back a grin and fails. "Is that necessary?"

"Yes, quite necessary." A moment passes, and Jesse takes them down, sitting up straight. "You've been avoiding me. I thought we were past that."

A wave of exhaustion passes through him. Rob sighs. "We are, but can we do this another time? I'm not in the mood."

"Fine. That's not why I came by anyway," Jesse tells him, rising to stand all at once and reaching into the pocket of his grey slacks. "I wanted to bring you a peace offering."

He withdraws the object and sets it on the desk in front of him without an explanation. It takes Rob a moment to recognize what it is. At first, he thinks it's a cigarette, but it's too long and conical, wider at the top and tapering down toward the bottom.