My supervisor brought up Clay and Calhoun yesterday and said do you know the story of them meeting under the oak tree when it got too hot in Congress during the summer- hello?!? I’ve never come across this and he couldn’t remember where he saw it where did he get this vision
Hot. Muggy, overbearing, damp, sweltering heat. Clay tried to fan himself as best as he could but he was just pushing around hot air. Fan, collar, jacket lapels, nothing worked. It was the middle of summer and it always got unbearable in the city. On top of that he always felt it might be even hotter in the Capitol. Ignoring all the hot air released by its inhabitants day in and day out, it still felt otherworldly. Looking around he found that most of the other senators were feeling the heat. No one was paying attention to Willie Magnum speaking and many looked like they were about to slump over in exhaustion. Making sure notes would be taken if need be, he nodded to those around him and snuck out the south exit to get some fresh air. “No need to be in that swamp all day,” Clay told himself as he fanned in cooler air from the surrounding trees.
He snuck around a corner, looking around making sure no one followed him out here. While he isn’t one to say no to attention he didn’t want anyone to know about his little getaway. This place was his own secret. Facing towards the herds of cows grazing on the swampy ground, sure that gave the place its own funk, but the shade and smell of the large oak tree outweighed that. He knows it’s silly to call a rather large tree a “secret,” it wasn’t even that far from Congress but he couldn’t help but call it that. Maybe people knew not to step on his toes.
Or he would make sure they wouldn’t the next time.
He reached for a pinch of snuff as he leaned against the trunk, slinking down to the soft grass. Crossing his legs he sighed contentedly, already feeling cooler. He pulled out a couple of notes from other sessions, apparently he had been ignoring important work according to others, and tried to read them until he felt a headache come on a moment later. Why waste today dealing with words from colleagues? Closing his eyes Clay felt a light breeze tickle his cheeks.
Grass rustled light behind him. Clay didn't bother to open his eyes; he knew the rustle of cloth, the rhythm of steps anywhere. “I was wondering when you were going to break. I won’t count you late, though, I know it would send you into a tizzy or would it be a crisis.” Clay peeked open an eye and gave his companion a toothy smile.
“How gracious of you,” Senator Calhoun huffed. Clay thought his friend’s, yes friend he saved his ass, the country, and Calhoun hasn’t given him the cold shoulder and has instead looked at him, talked with him, worked with him— but, anyway, he thought the heat actually softened Calhoun’s trademark scowl. Impressive. It takes him at least two puns, three cheeky lines, and a bubbling laugh. Clay watched as Calhoun landed in the grass beside him. Beside him, not across the hall, beside him with no prying eyes or whispers, with light pooling through the whistling leaves.
“Peppermint?”
Calhoun eyed the offering. “Is it melting? Sweating?” Clay seemed to make his eyes bigger and inched the striped treat closer to Calhoun’s face. “Mr. Clay I don’t see how doe eyes will make me blind to the fact that even candy is crying out for relief. How would that even cool me down?”
“It’s a piece of candy senator not a piece of legislation, let it breathe, sir,” Clay chided as he slid the stick back into his coat pocket along with his others. “Doe eyes almost got you though did they not?” He flashed him a wolfish grin. To hit home he started to fan himself with his papers and slightly undo his cravat.
An eye twitch. Calhoun faced forward for a few more beats. “Sir, at least try to be dignified with your work.” Few more seconds. He closed his eyes and shook his head, a grin starting to crack across his face. He ducked his head towards Clay. “Sure, Mr.Clay, those eyes almost ensnared me.”
“What’s with the formalities, sir, I could have sworn I am out of that stuffy smoked up room, and I was rendezvousing with my-”
“Henry,” Calhoun’s voice lowered. “Did you ever learn how to make a point succinct?”
Clay leaned in, paused, checked in the dark blue eyes across from him, then closed the distance and pressed their foreheads together. “John.” He invited in the warmth and cover of the other man. He wasn’t suffocating under a constant stream of tension. Clay wondered if Calhoun felt the same way he did that winter night months ago when the storm broke through the air, closing a great divide. It still felt like only a rickety wooden bridge was the only thing crossing them together but he couldn't bear to let it fall. Not right now. Feeling a deeper crease in the other man’s brow he fought to smooth it out. And comment on it.
“You stink, did you always sweat this much?”
So the crease came from wrinkling his nose. “You are actually smelling a swarm of Jacksonians who thought congregating around my desk was the best place in the entire building to talk in language that seemed better suited for, let’s say, a different house.”
That earned him a snort. He knew he shouldn’t have let himself run away with it but he felt his chest swell. “I believe I have heard you say worse before. To me alone, I will add.”
“If you’re trying to rouse me it’ll probably work.” Clay tiptoed his hand across Calhoun’s, petting the top of his hand asking for permission.
Calhoun eyed their hands and cocked a brow to the other senator. “Are you trying to rouse me?’
“Is it working?” Clay gave a playful gasp, “oh I should’ve tried a different approach with you.”
“Different approach?”
“If you don’t have your trust in this old man yet, what if I asked you how your lackeys bought your excuse that you had a special legislative meeting with me. What are we meant to be discussing? If I keep talking shop I’m sure I could get you going--”
“Oh, out yours Henry.”
“John, you must know how I burn inside and out.”
“And what do you propose will fix that? I don’t see any mint juleps out here, nor any accommodations.”
“I resolve that a small, not quite chaste, embrace, will cool off both parties until the close of the day. What say you Senator from South Carolina?” Clay moved his arm up Calhoun’s as he saw the man’s guard fall slightly. He saw a smile tug at his lips. So work talk in a husky voice did do something. He tucked that information away for later. He felt Calhoun tug on his cravat a little, loosening lit even more. A cool breeze and warm fingers met his jawline. Their noses touched and he closed the distance. Mirroring Calhoun he ducked his hand under the southerner’s stark collar to reach up and run his fingers through coarse hair to pull them together closer. Air slowly becoming a need they pulled away. Eyes lidded Clay leaned his head on Calhoun’s shoulder, looking up at him as he planted tiny kisses along his jaw, “I believe the bill has been resolved.”
“You should keep your day job instead of becoming a romantic.” Calhoun moved a strand of blond hair back behind Clay’s ear.
“Wait, I can prove it to you I can be both,” Clay laughed into the crook of Calhoun’s neck. He was about to keep going until he felt the man below him go still. He heard someone muttering a few feet away. Pulling back he sighed and pulled out his snuff box. He elbowed his partner to act more like a man than a prey animal. Separating to a more socially acceptable distance Clay again leaned back against the tree and crossed his legs looking through the branches of the oak.
Coming around the corner on Calhoun’s side John Clayton came into view. “There you are sir.” Clayton noticed Calhoun and drew his mouth into a line and inclined his head slightly, “Senator Calhoun.” Was Mr.Clayton the gossiping type? Their cravats were ravished. He’ll know by tomorrow’s Intelligencer.
“Ah, Mr. Clayton, is there anything so important going on that I am needed. Please, sir, I have just finished one crisis. I am not sure I am equipped for another on such a day.”
Clayton looked as if he wanted to say something. He had quite the embittered rhetoric in the compromise committee and it wasn’t like it stopped after the compromise. He remembered how Clayton called all nullifies ‘goddamn fools if you think you can secede without a hanging.’ Although, Clay remembered never really stopping him either, Calhoun needed to hear it. Clayton must’ve shaken the words out of his head in the end. “Other senators and I wish to discuss matters on the bank and other financial matters Jackson and Van Buren seem bent on.”
Clay shared a look with Calhoun who gave a slight roll of his eyes. Clay gave a small smile to him before he sighed as he heaved himself up to his full height. “I suppose I must be dragged away, but please sir can we discuss such matters in a place where I can get a drink.”
Clayton looked between the two men before responding to Clay over his shoulder. “You and Mr. Webster…”
Clay leaned down to whisper to Calhoun before following the man. “I also have future actions to discuss with you but alas you might have to start another crisis for us to see each other.”
When Sam proposed it would be a "vulnerable" time that he could attend the funeral and, despite the objection of JW and Lemar, try to reason with Kari alone.
JW: You gonna let him go? Are you gonna let your partner walking in a room with a super soldier alone?
Bucky:
Bucky: He's not my partner.
When Sam did arrive at the funeral, he managed to get Kari's attention and then chat with her almost openly and freely (and maybe wasted some time, because he trusted Bucky to keep JW out and ensure that there was enough time for the conversation to continue between Kari and him).
JW(who regretted the 10min he promised to Sam): Barens, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands
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