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Gotta briefly break my inactivity to post this little drabble I wrote for Netflix’s The Politician because River and Payton have stolen my heart!

Set before the THING happens that I refuse to accept..

Payton’s walked the length of his bedroom floor for…. he comes to a halt, heels scuffing lightly on the floor as he frowns at his wall clock. Two hours—he’s been physically moving with his racing mind for two hours, and now River’s due any minute for Mandarin tutoring, and…

His heart stutters in his chest, and he rests his shaking palm over his black polo, right where he can feel his heart fluttering like a butterfly’s wings or a person’s eyelids as they blink rapidly in a poor attempt to stop welling tears, similar to his.

“Shit!” His voice is a cracking growl, and his eyes dart across his room, panicked, searching, until he moves with his gaze and wedges himself onto the floor in between the wall and his bed. It’s tight, but he hugs his knees to his chest and drops his head atop one knee.

He’s crying—because that’s a thing that’s been happening at the mere thought of River ever since tutoring started. It’s just another factor that he’s forced to slot into his lifelong plan to the White House. It’s a small factor—it has absolutely nothing to do with his goals, yet it’s a hindrance because River makes him vulnerable. River cracks his walls, busts down his doors, makes him feel human, which is silly because he doesn’t have time for feelings, emotions—he must stay focused. America isn’t going to want to love-struck sap—America is going to want a fearless, educated leader.

“So, I was thinking we could start… Payton?”

Payton’s hammering heart sounds like roaring waves in his ears. He didn’t hear River coming down the hall, but he checks in at River’s deep, smooth voice that draws him back to reality as fast as a wave comes crashing back down.

“Over here,” he whispers, trying hard not to focus on how River’s footsteps grow louder, quicker, no doubt reflecting the concern that’s bound to be painted across his strong features.

“Payton,” River matches Payton’s quiet tone, and he crouches down in front of Payton, resting one hand gently on Payton’s cheek, prompting Payton to lift his head.

Payton moves with River’s hand until his eyes find focused, worried ones. “Hi.” He swallows back a breath of a sob and leans into River’s palm.

River smooths his hand down Payton’s face to his neck, two fingers resting above Payton’s collar bone to feel a too rapid pulse. “Hi,” he says back.

River doesn’t have to speak—Payton can tell by the slow, deep rise and fall of River’s chest that River’s silently encouraging him to match his breathing. He struggles to do so, but he’s eventually able to breathe through the shaking until only a few, lingering tears are slipping down his cheeks.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?”

River raises his hand back to Payton’s cheek and brushes a tear away with the softest touch Payton’s ever felt.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” River asks, tilting his head just a fraction, a silent invitation for Payton to direct this conversation in whatever way he finds most comfortable.

Payton huffs out a heartless laugh that brings with it more tears. “No,” he mutters, breath catching in his throat when River smooths one finger across his bottom lip.

“That’s okay.” River’s eyes are colored in soft sympathy, understanding, and Payton drinks him in with a welling gaze.

“What would you like?” River asks. “What can I do to help?”

Payton chases the silence that follows with a rough, but correctly spoken question in Mandarin: “Kiss me?”

River’s lips are pressed to his the second the words leave his mouth, and Payton can feel River smile against his lips. River cups a hand to Payton’s neck, and Payton has to bite back the urge to uncurl himself and lunge at River, choosing instead to exhibit restraint and seek comfort against River’s warmth. He pulls away from the kiss and untangles himself until he’s sitting on his knees and pressing himself to River’s chest.

River wraps his arms around Payton, and he waits until he can feel every ounce of tension flow away from Payton’s shoulders. “Better?” he whispers into Payton’s hair, and Payton nods and slowly moves away.

He accepts River’s hand and is pulled to his feet and guided to a chair.

River sits across from him. “Shall we start?” he asks in Mandarin, and Payton nods quickly, swiping at his eyes with a light sniff.

“Yes,” he answers back in Mandarin. “Yes, what would you like to work on today?”