If you're taking asks, can I get "did you really have to give me so many hickeys" with Laurens? Thank you! I've re-read Freedom of the Press too many times to count, I love it so much
aww thank you!! i've had major writer's block with fotp 05, so i hope these drabbles hold y'all over until I can get it out. side note -- i've been doing sm writing for john lately and?? he's absolutely adorable???
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You'd been avoiding John's workplace for about as long as you'd known him. You'd met him through a mutual friend, incidentally one of his colleagues, and hearing them discuss their job, their coworkers and clients, turned you off to the corporate world the moment you began to learn about it. Since you and he had been together, of course, he'd told you more and more, and since you'd moved in with him, you'd begun to feel like you could reconstruct his entire office from the ground up. As much as you hated the topic, it was his life, and if you wanted him, it came with the role. It was a trade-off you were more than eager to make.
However, actually breaking the boundary between your and his worlds was a line you hadn't yet crossed. So when he asked you to go his annual office party, a celebration of the corporation's progress and profits, your resistance was all but endless. He saw the party as the next step in your relationship; you saw it as pushing you further out of it.
When the time came, you couldn't say no -- it was clear how much this meant to him, and one night out of the rest of your life felt like a small sacrifice to make.
So that was exactly how you found yourself in the over-glamorous sixtieth floor of a corporate skyscraper. (John had been quick to catch onto the fact that "corporate" was a turn-off. At least you wouldn't be trying to rub one out in his place of work.) It wasn't quite what you'd expected, admittedly. Marble floors, glass doors and walls, gilded chandeliers, floor-to-ceiling windows -- you could go on.
It was a black-tie event. You'd arrived at the floor of the office huddled close to John, his arm around your waist, you pleading with him until the very last minute to go home as he only chuckled, kissed your cheek and all but pulled you out of the elevator.
"But what if we went home," you whined in his ear, clinging to his arm, and he only rolled his eyes, now scanning the room for who-knows-what. A sly smile crept onto your face as you leaned in, pulling him closer. "Promise I'd make it worth your time."
He could hear the mischief in your tone, and while he appeared moderately amused at your attempts, he gave you a pointed look. "Not the time, baby. Can you be good, just for one night?"
Your lips fell into a hard line, considering his demeanor as he raised an eyebrow, and you sighed. With your arms around his neck, you pulled him down to your level so you could kiss him on the nose. "Only for you," you whispered, and his smile was undeniable as he briefly leaned down to kiss you properly.
"Then c'mon."
You swallowed your exhausted groan as he tugged you toward a group of his colleagues -- these appeared to be the ones you'd heard about most often, his closest friends, and as he introduced them, you couldn't help but play back the stories he'd told you in your head. You'd obviously met Hercules -- he was the one who introduced you to John in the first place -- and Alex had dropped by your apartment a number of times, so you'd slowly familiarized yourself with him. However, everyone else's names immediately triggered a word association. Eliza: catching the communal microwave on fire -- three times. Lafayette: getting half the staff drunk while working overtime. Maria: serving as the divorce lawyer for one of her co-workers' spouses. The list sure did go on.
They all seemed incredibly friendly, however, so you decided to make nice and not let your aversion to gilded capitalism ruin everyone's night. The things you did for your boyfriend.
And so, you humored John. You met his boss. You stood by while they discussed corporate law, made esoteric jokes that you knew you couldn't begin to understand, and laughed when the group had obviously deemed it appropriate. You hardly left John's side; you didn't think you'd have made it through the night if he'd expected you to socialize independently. There were two things you thought you could honestly say in the night's favor -- John was absolutely beaming as he finally had the opportunity to show you off to his colleagues and friends, which wholly validated your reason for acquiescing to his invitation with little resistance, and the company had splurged on the wine and cheese for which you'd never have been willing to fork over such unholy amounts of cash.
You were careful not to drink too much, wanted to stay as far from the verge of tipsy as you could manage so as not to make a fool of yourself in front of the entire office, but you allowed yourself two glasses of the $600 merlot from the end of the refreshments table. Moreover, you shamelessly loaded up on cheese.
That was the only reason you ever had to steal away from John for a moment. It seemed that few of the employees were going to pillage the snacks, which made it feel all the more like your well-deserved karma for deciding to come, so John only laughed every time you told him you were going back to the cheese cart.
By the fourth time, you were on your second glass of wine, and you squinted at the various variations on smoked brie before deciding exactly how to pick your poison that time around.
"You new here?" A voice came from your right, startling you out of your dairy-induced haze. You turned with wide eyes to see a man standing beside you with a moderately amused smirk. "Because unless you're our transfer from Atlanta, I can't say I've heard about you -- and unlike Beatrice, you don't quite look 57."
You couldn't help your laugh at his playful tone. You gave him a once-over; he didn't fit the description of anyone John had told you about. "I can assure you, I'm not here to steal poor Beatrice's identity," you replied mildly. "I'm actually here as a guest, Mr..."
You trailed off an eyebrow raised. "Jefferson," he supplied, offering you his hand to shake, "Thomas Jefferson."
"Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you." You shook his hand, and something akin to recognition flashed across his face. Perhaps he'd heard about you from John? His crooked grin only grew with that as he drew closer to you.
"So you're here as a guest, hm?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. You nodded hesitantly. "Must not have had a very good host to bring you then, huh? Can't imagine leaving a pretty little thing like you unattended around here."
You raised your eyebrows at that. His sudden confidence was off-putting, and you shifted your weight from one foot to another as you gave him a slightly strained smile. The shift in his demeanor was beginning to make you mildly uncomfortable. "I assure you, I can take care of myself, Mr. Jefferson."
"I don't doubt that, sweetheart." His reply was mildly absentminded as his eyes trailed down your figure, and you took an unconscious step back. When you did, his eyes jumped back to yours as he flashed you a winning smile. "But please, it's Thomas, to you."
"Well, Thomas, it's been nice meeting you, but I think I need to get back to my date." You silently mourned your not having collected any new cheeses, but you were eager to end that interaction. He raised an eyebrow, grin groundlessly smug.
"You sure you wanna do that? I mean, if your date cared little enough to leave you out here all alone in this big office, I think you're justified in findin' other company." He moved imperceptibly closer, but it made all the difference to you. You swallowed. "Besides--"
"Y/N!" You whipped around, on cloud nine when you made eye contact with the source of the voice. You must have looked endlessly relieved, grateful for your savior, your white knight, your Messiah -- not to be dramatic -- but John just looked tense as he approached where you were standing. His smile was clearly forced, and Thomas raised an eyebrow. When he reached you, he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you further away from his coworker immediately. "Jefferson, I see you've met my girlfriend."
Thomas didn't miss the emphasis on the word 'girlfriend.' His eyebrows jumped toward his hairline, and he huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "Your girlfriend, huh?" He looked between the two of you, and the tension as he met John's gaze was palpable. He broke it after hardly a second, turning his focus back to you with an irritatingly pitying smile. "Oh, sweetheart, how much is he paying you? Surely, it can't be that much, considerin' how much less John makes--"
"I'm not in this for money, Mr. Jefferson," you said, careful to keep your tone level. Beside you, John's jaw ticked, the pads of his fingers pressing possessively into the side of your waist.
Doubt still drenched his stare, and John cut in. "Not everything can be bought, Mr. Jefferson--" The utterance of his title was mocking, the words closer to a sneer, "and if you know what's good for you, you'll stop calling my girlfriend an escort. Watch it."
"Mmh, your loss, gettin' with him. You could be making some good money off of that." He let his gaze wander, never going above your neckline. It was painfully obvious that he was just playing it up to get a rise out of John, but nonetheless, it was working. You heard your boyfriend inhale harshly; his grip on you was getting closer to a vice. Thomas shot you a wink. "Gimme a call if you're ever interested in actually gettin' something out of a relationship, for once."
John scowled; you had to cling to his side to restrain him from tackling Thomas right there and then. His teeth were clenched, his gaze full of unbridled fury. "I swear to God--"
"Baby, c'mon, it's not worth it." Your quiet plea cut him off as you rested a hand on his chest. You could feel some of the tension leave his body. "You're fine. I'm fine. Let's just go, yeah?" He met your wide eyes, and your worried gaze had him forcing himself to cool off.
He shot Thomas one last burning glare before turning on his heel, promptly pulling you as far from his coworker as he could get you. You went with him readily.
He was quiet for the rest of the night. Despite your constant questioning stare and occasional attempts to check on him, voice hardly above a whisper, he just ignored it, waved you away. You didn't stay much longer after that, and the car ride back to your apartment was dead silent. John's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.
After you made it home, though, you tried one more time. He threw the keys into the bowl by the door after locking it, and immediately began to loosen his tie, eager to relax and forget about the night.
"John, are you okay?" Though the question was hesitant, your tone was firm, demanding. He reluctantly met your eyes, vexation still brewing near the surface of his gaze. "Talk to me, baby. What's up?"
"What the fuck was that stunt with Jefferson?" The question had your eyes widening.
"'Stunt'?" you repeated, hoping you'd misheard him. "Seriously? He approached me; I just wanted more cheese!"
"You didn't exactly seem to be pulling away," he accused, and you gave a short, mirthless laugh.
"You've gotta be kidding me, John." His expectant expression told you that he absolutely was not, and you scowled. "I didn't wanna cause a scene. I was trying to get away politely. I just... didn't want anything to escalate."
"Some excuse."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, come on, Y/N." His voice was louder that time, and it was tinged with genuine anger. He took a step toward you, looming over you as he began to close the space. "You've never cared about being impolite before; don't expect me to believe you're suddenly miss proper. You were just enjoying the attention."
"This was my first time around your colleagues! At your office!" you protested, standing your ground.
"You don't give two shits what corporate employees think about you!"
"But you do." The truth behind your words was what made him bite his tongue, not the urgency in your tone. Tentatively, you closed the small gap between you, reaching up to rest your hands on his shoulders. "John, I didn't wanna make a scene because I didn't wanna embarrass you. You were so excited to bring me there and have everyone come see me, and I knew how much tonight meant to you." He looked down at you with his eyebrows raised. Much of the tension in his shoulders had melted away at your touch; his eyes held no hostility as they met yours, and his hands ghosted across your hips. "I just wanted you to be happy, baby."
He wrapped an arm snugly around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and he brought his other hand up to smooth your hair back, away from your face. His frustration had been replaced by a tiny, playful smile. Slowly, he moved forward, and your eyes widened as you stumbled in his grasp; it only took him a moment to back you into the kitchen counter. "Fucking Jefferson has no idea what he's missing out on."
You smiled, pulling yourself up to him to rest your forehead against him, to look him in the eye. "And he never will."
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You both woke up late the next morning, exhausted and disinterested in leaving your bed. You weren't surprised; you'd ended up having a late night. You groaned at the sunlight streaming through your window as your eyes fluttered open, trying to bury yourself in John's embrace. He breathed deeply as he held a hand to the small of your back, dipping down to kiss you as he stretched, stifling a yawn.
"Morning, baby," he hummed, fatigue sitting heavy in his voice. "How're you feeling?"
"Sore," you groaned, and he chuckled. You glared playfully up at him.
"You complaining?" he retorted, raising a teasing brow, and you didn't bother to hide your grin.
"Never." You kissed the tip of his nose. "But John?"
"Mmhmm?" His forehead creased, and your smile only grew at how unnecessarily concerned he looked.
"As hot as it is seeing you jealous -- and it is, ridiculously hot, actually -- did you really have to give me so many hickeys?" The words came out as a whine, and he laughed as he eyed your pout.
"I dunno, babygirl," he began, rolling over so you were on your back and he was propped up on his arms above you. The wistful regret in his voice was dramatically phony. "If last night told me anything, it's that you can't seem to keep the men away, no matter where we go." He paused, shrugging. "Not that I blame them. Look at you."
He dipped down to kiss your neck with that, and you huffed. "John. Promise you've given me enough hickies. You can stop."
"I like seeing 'em," he said, smile growing as he looked proudly down at you. "Besides, if the world needs a reminder that you're mine, you had better bet that I'm not gonna hesitate to give it to them."
