Negotiation Tactics: Part 4: Confidential Informants
Title: Negotiation Tactics
Pairing: Nathan Landry x reader (another lawyer) (implied female)
Rating: R with some mature flags this time
Warnings: Language.
Word Count: 2600
A/N: Been a tick! This is NOT the end, this is either 1 or 2 from the end.
Author Masterlist --- Nathan Masterlist
The hours were long.
It made the ruse that you two weren’t a couple easy to maintain most days.
Peter Bridges would text you sometimes and you would find time to respond. You didn’t combine apartments yet, but the pattern developing for time and sleep was downright aggressive.
You got home at 11:29pm, you showered, you collapsed. You slept until twenty five minutes before your train. You did this every night until Wednesday, when you were having dinner (take out) at Nathan’s while he was doing a Zoom with a client and another phone conference with a political advisor who he was talking to about his next run for DA. You sat, in comfortable loungewear, eating noodles, listening to his conversation and eye-fucking him, until you two got ten minutes to really fuck and then headed to bed.
But that? That had been almost two weeks ago.
It just felt like going to your apartment, wanting to go to his, was becoming a huge part of the problem.
You two had been dating for years now and some of your closer friends? The ones who knew? They weren’t fans.
Why do you put up with it?
“I love him.”
It was the only answer– but you were suddenly, recently, more and more worried.
You loved him. But would it be enough?
So you called him.
“Hello?” He sounded like he was concerned that you were a telemarketer.
You giggled, “What?”
“Nothing just who calls…did someone die? Did you get a lead for me on one of the Big Cases?” He was moving, you could hear it, probably walking outside.
“No, I just wanted to hear your voice.” You admitted.
“Yeah?” He sounded like he enjoyed that.
“Yeah.” You confirmed, “Can we get together soon?”
He exhaled, “Yeah it’s been a while, hasn’t it? You know I wanted to call you about that anyway, so its good you had the same idea. Wanna come over? My place?”
“Sure.” You agreed.
You agreed on a time– that night at five. You got there at 4:45 and the doorman let you in, but once inside you waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The maid came, surprised you were here, “Oh! Mr. Landry did not say we were moving the session?”
“Just go ahead, do your thing.” You confirmed.
It was 5:31 when Nathan called, “Shit I am so sorry but we just had a—”
“I can imagine.” You laughed but it was dry. Worried.
“Can you wait for me?” He sounded hopeful, “I really wanted to see you.”
“Yeah…yeah.”
“I’ll get dinner Door Dashed– what do you feel like?”
“It’s ok–”
“No, it’s my mistake, what do you feel like?”
Dinner came at 6:42.
Nathan walked in the door at 7:11.
“I’m sorry–” He kissed you, quick. Dove into dinner. He seemed nervous, unsettled.
“You ok?”
“Yeah there’s something I wanna talk about.” Nathan said through a furious mouthful of food, “But this thing happened at work– you wouldn’t believe.”
He was excited for the break– a confidential informant, good ties, great info, which really helped a developing RICO case.
“-- anyway the bosses are really tied in and like this is what we've been after and I'm rambling.” He put down his food and took a breath to center himself but his hands were shaky, “Listen, I wanna say something to you and it's important and it's gonna mean some changes but I really think it's for the best.”
This is it. You felt the twist in your stomach. You wanted to think of yourself as the sort who would take this cool, calm, and collected but the truth was you burst out in tears.
He was startled, “Baby?”
“I just….” You nodded, “I get it. I mean when you were trying to butter me up I figured it was gonna be this.”
He looked over his shoulder and back at you then at the dinner, “Butter up…? Just what do you think I was about to say?”
You gestured to the room, “I mean isn't this a break up?”
“What?” Nathan looked surprised and waved his hands, “Why? Do you wanna break up?”
“No! I thought you did!”
“Why, though? I have never remotely said that!”
“I dunno I never…see you anymore and I just…” You sighed, turning your back on him because you couldn't stand to see an ending written on his face right now, “I need to understand what you’re thinking because when you've dodged me for weeks and treat me to dinner it feels like a set up for a let down. And please this isn't about work– I'm proud of your work and how well it's going– but sometimes you gotta make closing arguments for me too, you know? So I know what you want me to think and feel. So I can see if I do feel that way. Review the evidence, Nate, convince me that this is all just a busy bubble and it’s going to burst and when it does there’s something on the other side.”
“Uh…honey? Maybe you should….uh. Turn around?”
“What?”
So you turned around.
He had a ring and a sheepish expression. You honestly were floored, this was absolutely not on your Bingo card.
"So you want to get married but nobody knows we are dating?"
“I promise you can plan a public wedding…eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“Hey you know you haven’t answered.”
“Hey you know you haven’t asked.”
He smirked, “Well….would you?”
“Would I…?”
“Marry me, for God’s sake.”
“There a question in there counselor?”
He pulled you close like he was about to kiss you and stopped a centimeter from your mouth, “You know you threw me off my game and I botched it on recovery now answer me you’re driving me insane.”
You kissed him so hard you both fell to the floor and sat there amid the takeout boxes admiring how well your ring fit on your hand.
#
He said you could plan a wedding but was asking for a little time to gauge work and the next election cycle. Honestly being able to tell other women that you were engaged was a relief.
“So you've been hiding a serious man not some boytoy!”
“Yes, well he is particular about when he's center stage.” You tried to brush it off.
It was honestly such a relief. Peter Bridges was nearly gone– not yet a Nathan but his name was now Fiancé and ring emojis.
You were able to get rid of your apartment and move into his, despite the commute change. It meant more time together.
One night he came home, slammed the door, and you were worried but he rushed up to you and kissed you like he was on an entire bucket of uppers.
“What's happening?”
“We got Laureida.” He could hardly contain himself, “We got him, we got him–I can nail him.”
He was riding a high right now and he grabbed a handful of your ass and said, “Play your cards right you can call me District Attorney tonight–”
“You know how it gets me all hot and bothered.” You laughed as you kissed him.
“Honey I'm serious, I nail Laureida and that seat is mine and you know what the public love? Married family men in the DA seat.”
“You’re serious?!”
“As a fucking heart attack.”
“Does this mean...does it mean we can talk about wedding planning?”
The smile was cutting his whole face in two and he rolled onto his hip to look at you, “Hell yes. We get this fucker, easily forty years, and then…DA position is up for grabs in two. I am serious, babe, that could be us. Think you can plan it for like…a few months before the election? Because, I’m just saying, we could be riding a positive publicity wave–”
You slapped his chest, “It’s a marriage, not a campaign.”
“It’s a marriage to me, sugar,” He shrugged, “You knew what it looked like when you got into it.”
#
You spent the morning at work reviewing the files your para had pulled. The girl did good work and you didn’t have to worry about presenting to the higher ups for two days so you…opened a new tab. A tab that, to be fair, you’d had an account with for a while. The Knot. Wedding Central. There were options to choose from like just browsing, inspiration, and then you could officially set a date.
You’d been using lunch to decompress and add things.
You had a few spots bookmarked.
Just see.
You wanted the Rockwell bad.
You liked the Stan but knew you’d have to put up with endless Cinderella jokes from Nathan and it didn’t seem worth the trade.
Columbus Park also had perks.
Then…
God. The Field Museum.
It would amuse the hell out of Nathan, you could tell.
Ok.
So. He’d want to be done and back from a honeymoon before the real campaigning for DA started in late September, early October.
Pictures would have to be returned.
You chewed on a lip.
Just saying…
IF there was a general time…you’d be most effective late August to early September.
And his lucky number was 39.
So…Would…
September 3rd was a Saturday.
You tried to contain your excitement.
Just…
You eyed the little window on the screen.
Anticipated date?
Just…what if it was September 3rd?
__________________________________________________________
The DA was smirking and Nathan was rubbing his hands together but tucked them into his pockets.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
The DA reclined on his desk, “Drink?”
“Sure, thank you.”
The DA pointed to the little chair, “Take a seat.”
Nathan’s jaw ticked. Well fuck, this can’t be good.
___________________________________________________________________
So the Rockwell and the Field Museum were available, it would be a capacity question.
You didn’t have a planner but if you had to guess at the guest list…
You opened an Excel sheet.
You liked lists.
And he said go ahead.
After years of always feeling like you had to tap the brake for Nathan suddenly you were allowed to get excited about this next step. You were…God, smiling from ear to ear.
____________________________________________________________________
“Listen…I know this is your white whale. I know that you worked on it. I know.” He sipped his scotch, “But we need to have a serious conversation.”
Nathan forced himself to soberly listen, “Yes, sir?”
“Gonzalez is out.”
Nathan froze, processed this, kept his face flat, “How?”
“Witness wound up dead.” DA breathed evenly but his eyes looked tired, “And the Judge received several threats and had to hand it off, leaving a new judge who said without the witness there was insufficient evidence.”
Nathan’s grip on his glass tightened.
The DA noticed and continued, “Gonzalez is Laureida’s top lieutenant. He’s going to be putting in the overtime to get his boss out…thing about them, they work vastly different hours than we do. His overtime? We couldn’t cover it with triple time. This is our work…but it’s their lives. Makes for a different level of motivation.”
Nathan nodded, “We can be careful. My two main witnesses are in WP already, I can move my secondaries or get police escort–”
“I would be wary of certain police.” The DA was blunt, “The reach on this gang is wide and their pockets are deep.”
Nathan chewed on his lip, “We can be careful.”
The repetition made him feel weaker than he wanted to admit.
“Do you have a family Landry?”
Nathan was poised, sipped his scotch, then measured his response, “Why?”
“The target on your back could be seen from space.” The DA shrugged, “And my term is up in two years. You nail this prick and don’t get killed…I can see you sweeping the election. But that’s a big if and you aren’t a kid anymore…I’m asking you, professionally, if you have any liabilities. You need to think seriously about it.”
Nathan was.
And he remembered that he’d been here through four DAs. And he remembered how this one had backstabbed the last.
He knew that the only DA he could trust completely was … himself.
This guy?
This guy had cut his overtime. Made a note on how little progress was made on Laureida every month that there was a budget deficit.
Nathan didn’t want to say it.
So he finished his scotch, “I’ll take that advice, sir. Get my affairs all squared away.”
He avoided lying but he had been so careful…he just didn’t want to gamble that now.
__________________________________________________________________________
You were at your desk at home.
There were several Jenny Yoo dresses that you’d printed out and laid out before you.
On your laptop two screens were up: the guest list (the current guest list, you didn’t pretend to know every cousin Nathan had or how many people from his office he would feel he had to include) and the room photographs of both venues.
Field Museum. You were really leaning towards it. There was something about the scale that would appeal to Nathan’s inflated sense of himself. He could eat dinner under a stuffed giraffe.
You expected him…but were not surprised when he ran a little late. If he had bagged Laureida it would be longer nights. You grabbed wine and sat on the couch, playing the game of how long you could wait before you had to order dinner.
You did wait up to see him come in.
He came home with flowers which was the first sign.
Flowers.
You saw big bags of take out with an insane spread from your favorite sushi place.
You gripped your glass.
“Something wrong babe?” You asked worriedly looking from one thing to the next and then up at his face.
“Do I not do enough things like this for you when I don’t fuck up?” He ran a hand through his hair, “Well…that’s on me.”
You were deeply concerned because every red flag you had for Nathan was up, “What did you do?”
“I want you to take a long vacation.”
You blinked, “I work…”
“No, like a long vacation. Put in for sabbatical or somethin-”
“Sabbatical? That’s not how it works and you kno–”
He kissed you to shut you up, he was firm, worried, he was touching you like he didn’t want to forget you. You shivered as you paused for air, “You’re scaring me.”
“Gonzalez got out.” His face was tortured and he held up your hand with your engagement ring, “Listen it’s–”
You felt slapped, “Gonzalez– how–?”
“They killed the witness.” Nathan offered flatly, “Killed the witness, threatened the judge until they pulled out…got what they wanted. Honey they–”
You waved your hand aggressively in his face, “Don’t you honey me right now Nate–”
Your heart was racing but more importantly it was breaking.
You looked at the wall because just on the other side of it was your office with your little laptop and your little pictures and the bubble of excitement that had been steadily increasing all day burst and you were crying before you even realized it.
"I should have fucking known…."
This confused him, “Baby I just–”
“Oh you just you just you just. It's always what you want! I should've seen this coming, I should've guessed,” You stormed into the bedroom and hauled your overnight bag from the closet and threw underwear in and socks and bras and whatever your hand touched, you grabbed your work go-bag because it had toiletries stocked, and he was getting fucking scared.
“Baby?”
“You're never going to let me have it! Never! There's always going to be something and it's never ever going to be me! I can't even….we are done!”
In case that confused him you took off the ring and chucked it at him, “It would've been a beautiful wedding.”
“Honey?”
But you were gone.
_______________________________________
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