Kiss Me Through the Phone
Summary: The Republican jerk who follows you on Twitter turns out to actually be kind of nice. Youāre more than content with him just being an internet acquaintance, but plans change when it turns out that heās going to be attending the same event tonight as you.
Word Count: 2891
A/N: Just a cute Duncan story that @trelaney gave me the idea for. I donāt really know how I feel about it though, so feedback (positive, negative, apathy) would be greatly appreciated!
The light emanating from the phone on the counter is what draws your attention away from your laptop. Knowing how easily distracted you get, you had to put yourself on a temporary social media break in order to finish your assignment. Youāre close to being finished, working on proofreading and fine-tuning, so you decide to give yourself a little break and check your notifications. Theyāre nothing too important; the group chat went off in your absence, a text from your grandma, news bulletins, some Instagram notifications, the usual items. When you reach the end of your scrolling, you canāt help the rolling of your eyes at the all-too-familiar Twitter notification. @DuncanShepherd replied to your tweet.
Youāre not even sure how it got to this point. Youāre not famous by any means, and the only people with check-marks that follow you are the Soundcloud rappers who follow everybody and anybody in an attempt to gain more listeners. Twitter, for you, was just a fun social media platform that involved memes and lots of discourse. You had just never thought you would be a part of the discourse.
Duncan Shepherd had stumbled across your humble little profile when you made fun of his familyās Foundation and the app that was currently being investigated for claims that they were stealing usersā personal data. It wasnāt anything that you considered too funny, but it went semi-viral before Duncan had managed to find it. Not being pleased with his illegal dealings being broadcasted even more than they already were, he sent you a DM āpolitelyā asking you to take the post down or risk having to deal with his lawyers. You refused, and a battle commenced.
Almost every single thing you posted, Duncan would try to be there with a comeback. You decided that two could play at that game, and proceeded to clap back to his posts as well. It was a classic conservative vs. liberal battle, and people of all political ideologies were eating it up. You had gained double the followers you previously had, and all because this Duncan Shepherd was apparently a very big deal in Washington D.C. Still being pretty new to the area, and not being involved in the political hierarchy of the city, you had no clue who he was at first. The one follower you had gained that was a little confusing to you was Duncan himself. You, at first, refused to follow him, instead just bookmarking his profile so you could be quick to find his most recent dumbass tweet.
Sometimes, though, he was pretty nice to you. You thought it might be some tactic to catch you off guard; act nice, then go in for the kill when he learns a secret about you and force you to delete your account. That hadnāt happened yet, and although Duncan could still be pretty mean to you when the public could see it, it turned out that he did have a heart. After a rough day led you to make a ājokingā post about the wonders crying for two hours does for your skin, Duncan had reached out through direct message.
āSaw your recent tweet; you okay?ā The message read. You had been awoken by the sound of your phone chiming, and your eyes burned from opening them after a long cry session followed by a nap. You were confused; why would Duncan Shepherd care about how you were feeling? Not wanting to be rude, you type out a response.
āIām fine, just a rough day. Thanks for checking on me, you really didnāt have to :)ā You answer. Stumbling out of bed to grab a glass of water, youāre disoriented at how much time has passed since you got home this afternoon. The skyās streaked with the last rays of sunlight, and your bag remains on the floor where you threw it. You hadnāt meant to let the dayās events get to you, and by themselves it wouldnāt be that big of a deal. But after failing a test, your study group meeting to work on a test without you, getting yelled at by your manager, and then getting cut off in traffic and almost getting in a wreck, your eyes were brimming with tears. You were barely able to make it through the door before a sob broke through and all of your emotions came bubbling up. Your phone chimes again, and you look at the screen.
āDo you want to talk about it? You didnāt seem okay.ā
āNo offense, but why do you care? Thought I was your internet enemy.ā Your thumbs fly across the screen.
āJust because we have a difference of opinion on a lot of things doesnāt mean I donāt care about your wellbeing, (Y/N).ā You laugh lightly, thinking of a way to respond.
āReally? You mean you donāt hate me?ā
āNo, I donāt hate you. In fact, it kind of makes my day whenever I get to see one of your witty responses. So?ā
From there, you had told him everything; that your friends always ditched you, and how you were worried that coming to D.C. was fruitless and that you wouldnāt make anything of yourself. In return, he shared things with you. Things about his family, and how he always felt like he was disappointing them by not living up to their standards. How he didnāt have any actual friends because they were always trying to use him for some sort of political gain. You both started talking more frequently, and eventually you even followed him back. You still enjoyed the banter you could share through replies, but you also saw the man behind the profile.
You unlock your phone, confused as to why he would be replying to anything you posted today. Nothing too political happened, and you only tweeted a couple of things about having to find a dress for some gala your boss wanted you to go to tonight. Yes, you had finally gotten a job in your desired field, and it was a breath of fresh air after the retail job you were originally working. Clicking on Twitter, you wait patiently for the app to load. The bright blue screen gives way to your timeline, which you really have no interest in right now. You tap on your notifications, waiting until they give way to what Duncanās replied to. The tweet in question is one youāre quite proud of; you asked how good your chances were of sneaking food in your purse at the upcoming gala youād be attending.
āThis wouldnāt happen to be the Harper-Avery Benefit Gala, would it?ā Your smile, which you werenāt even aware of, slowly falls. Thereās no way he could be there, right? This gala didnāt even have anything to do with politics, itās just a fancy evening meant to benefit people who are sick with something-or-other. Honestly, you hadnāt expected to ever meet him in person; your online friendship with this man was something you always thought would remain online. The mere prospect of actually seeing him is mildly terrifying to you. If you had to admit it, he was kinda cute when you looked past how annoying he could be.
āYeah, it is that one. Why?ā You choose to DM him, not wanting to clog up your phone with a conversation through replies. The reply is near-instantaneous, the telltale three bubbles popping up right after you hit āsend.ā
āIāll be there, actually.ā
āYouāll be there? What does a Republican lobbyist have to do at a benefit for sick people?ā
āHaha, very funny. My familyās actually been donating to this Foundation for a long time, we attend every year.ā
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. You click your phone off quickly and slide it across the table, not sure what to do next. Youāve become much too comfortable texting about everything with a man youāve never even met before. The two of you have shared a lot with each other, things youāve never even said to your friends. Itās just easier talking to a person when itās not face-to-face, when thereās time to craft the perfect response. Before you can even think of responding, your phone goes off again. You hesitate before grabbing your phone again, breathing a sigh of relief you didnāt know you were waiting for.
āWhy are you attending?ā Okay, this is fine. A nice, normal question.
āItās for work. Remember that new job I told you about? They sponsor a lot of events the Harper-Avery Foundation puts on, so they want to send a few āreps.āā Your instincts are telling you to delete your account, quit your job, and go into the Witness Protection Program, but you push that irrational side of you to the side.
āSo Iāll see you there, then?ā If you read into the text, which you would never do, you would think that it was bordering on flirtatious.
āI guess you will. Iāll be the one who looks painfully out of place at an event like that.ā
āSee you tonight. Iāll be sure to save a drink for my favorite liberal snowflake ;)ā āSnowflakeā was his favorite nickname to call you, and while it used to get on your nerves, now itās become almost endearing. Your heart pounds in your chest and you groan, head falling to rest on the table.
āStop, heās just some random guy you talk to sporadically. Itāll be fine.ā You try to reassure yourself. It doesnāt work at all, and you reluctantly stand when you realize thereās only a couple of hours until you have to be at the lavish downtown ballroom.
The gala is just as awkward as you thought it would be, even before you were faced with the fact that youāre in the same room as Duncan. You havenāt seen him yet, and youāve already consumed more champagne than you normally would have in an effort to quell your nerves. Youāre not drunk, not by any means, but it is helping you to feel a little more at ease. An hour into the event and youāre ready to go home. Youāve already talked to all of the influential people your boss wanted you to speak with, and if it wasnāt for the fact that you were required to be there until 10, youād already be in an Uber.
Youāre standing against the wall, fiddling with your phone in an attempt to look like youāre busy, when someone settles next to you. You donāt look up, thinking itās your coworker who had motioned that theyād hang with you as soon as they were done talking to whoever they were talking to. When the person clears their throat, you finally look up.
āI was wondering when Iād run into you, (Y/N).ā You flush in embarrassment. The first thing you notice about Duncan Shepherd is how stunning his blue eyes actually are. The second thing you notice is how tall he is, followed by his warm smile.
āSorry about that, Iām really not good at these events.ā You smile awkwardly at him. How are you supposed to greet a person youāve shared so many thoughts with when youāre meeting them for the first time?
āYouāre in luck, then, because Iāve been going to these things since I was a kid.ā He holds his arm out for you to take, and youāre momentarily flustered at how strong his arm feels. āCan I buy you a drink?ā
āWait, thereās drinks here that arenāt champagne?ā Youāre not the biggest fan of champagne, finding it too bubbly, but you were under the impression that it was the only alcoholic beverage available.
āSnowflake, itās a gala by rich people, for rich people. Of course thereās a full bar.ā Duncan chuckles lightly before leading you to a very stocked bar. He barely has to lift a finger before the bartender comes over and greets him by name. He allows you to order first, and you canāt help but to cringe when he pulls out a black AmEx card to pay for the drinks. Your drinks come quickly, and you both look at each other for a long moment while trying to think up something to say.
āAre you-ā
āIs this-ā You laugh at choosing to speak at the same time he does.
āWhat were you going to say?ā Duncan asks.
āI was going to ask if this is as awkward for you as it is for me?ā Duncan grins and nods, sighing.
āThank God, I thought it was just me. Itās a lot easier for me to talk to you when youāre not staring at me, youāre moreā¦ā
āAwkward?ā You fill in jokingly, lifting your glass to your lips.
āI was going to say that youāre more beautiful in person than you are online, but awkward works too.ā He smirks when you choke slightly on your drink, his statement gaining the desired effect from you.
āAnd youāre more cocky in person!ā You fire back, hiding the smile on your face with another sip of your drink. He still manages to see it, eyes flashing triumphantly. āYou know, I never thought we would actually meet. I always thought youād just be my Twitter friend that I fight with sometimes.ā You admit.
āIāll admit that I was a little surprised to learn that youād be here as well.ā
āGood surprised or bad surprised?ā
āGood, definitely a good surprised.ā Duncan notices that youāve finished your drink and takes the glass from your hand, placing both empty glasses on the bar behind him. āI believe you owe me a dance.ā
āDo I now?ā You raise your eyebrow, watching Duncan nod.
āI bought you a drink, itās the least you can do.ā
āI would, but I donāt know how to dance.ā Itās true; the only dancing youāve ever done was at high school dances, which usually involved jumping and stilted slow dancing.
āDonāt worry, Iām willing to teach you.ā
āThat desperate to get a dance with me?ā You tease. Duncan simply smiles and shrugs.
āAre you going to let me?ā
āJust donāt laugh at me for how bad itāll be.ā You concede. A chill goes up your spine when he grabs your hand, blushing almost immediately.
āI could never laugh at you.ā Thereās not much of a ādance floor,ā but people are managing to waltz around the room anyways. āFollow my lead, okay? You should be fine.ā
āShould?ā You question. Duncan deliberately ignores you, intertwining your hand in his and placing his other hand on your waist. Your free hand rests on his shoulder, and you glance down to try and follow his feet. It takes a little bit, but you eventually get the hang of it. When youāre finally able to dance without staring at the floor, you see Duncan smiling at you.
āWhat, is it that bad?ā
āNo, youāre a natural at this.ā You end up dancing for much longer than you thought you would, the conversation with Duncan ranging from art to music to movies to pop culture. Youāre so engrossed with learning more about each other that neither of you even thinks about bringing up politics. You have a lot more in common with the man in front of you than you had originally thought. Youāve also learned just how funny he is, able to keep you in stitches when he gets on a roll. The only reason you both eventually decide to call it a night is when Duncan gets a frantic phone call from his mother, something about a possible deal President Hale might be making.
āYou know, for a Republican youāre really not that bad.ā You tease as Duncan helps you into your coat. The cool night air hits you in the face, and you glance up at the near-full moon in awe. Duncanās driver is taking a while to get the car, and your hand remains clasped with his while he waits with you for your ride.
āAs far as liberals go, youāre okay when it doesnāt come to politics.ā He retorts. āWould it be alright if we saw each other again?ā He asks, breaking the brief, comfortable silence you both had been standing in.
āI donāt know, Iām actually talking to this one guy.ā He looks mildly disappointed, but quickly hides it.
āOh?ā
āYeah, he follows me on Twitter and we DM quite a bit. A real asshole sometimes, but also very sweet. I was thinking of asking him on a date, but weāll see.ā You smirk when he rolls his eyes, playfully bumping his shoulder against yours.
āIf you give me your number, Iāll make sure he gets it.ā He moves closer to you, eyes wavering between your lips and your gaze.
āAnd, theoretically, if I did say yes to seeing you again?ā You mutter, leaning in slightly.
āThen I would treat you the way you deserve. Theoretically, of course.ā
āOf course.ā You agree. Right before he goes to kiss you, you see your respective rides pull up. āOur rides are here.ā You giggle when he groans, throwing his head back dramatically.
āVery smooth, snowflake.ā He opens the door to your Uber and lets you get in, stopping right before he closes the door. āYou didnāt give me your number!ā
āDM me.ā You wink before closing the door on him, blowing him a cheeky kiss before the car pulls away.
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