Additional tags: Friends to lovers, slow burn, no use of y/n for reader insert, fluff, canon rewrite, eventual smut
Notes: Irls do not read pls, I'm begging
She leaned casually against the edge of his desk, arms folding loosely as she watched him press the ice to his eye.
“It’s good to have you back, Kent,” she said, the teasing edge gone from her voice.
He regarded her for a moment, unreadable as ever. Then:
“It is… statistically advantageous to have competent people in proximity.”
She rolled her eyes. “Wow. Be still, my beating heart.”
A pause.
Then, softer: “It’s good to see you too, ____.”
Basically a canon rewrite featuring the reader as one of Selina's core team, from season two onwards.
errr so this is pretty shit but I promised a post so uhhh I’m sorry I promise it’ll get better just let me het into writing veep style I’d love to take requests 🙏🏽
pls don’t cringe too hard have fun I love you dan pls kiss me dan
Word Count: 1.452k
“Oh, fuck off,” you repeat for what you feel like is the thousandth time. Working for the VEEP is obviously a dream come true- you’d worked your entire life for this, and you’re damn good at your job too.
But of course, a man has to fuck it up for you.
Some jerk has come up from some senator’s office to talk with Selina, and unfortunately for you, he’s snagged right onto you on his way there.
“You kiss the VEEP with that mouth?” he asks, depositing himself on your desk, fuck-ass grin plastered on his face. You suck on your teeth, trying not to lose your shit. You make a weak attempt at ignoring the interloper, instead waving at Ed after he smiles at you shuffles into Selina’s office. “What’s Mr. Dry Spaghetti doing in there before me?”
“Madame Vice President has her priorities,” you reply simply, starting on some paperwork.
Instead of fucking off to wait his turn, like you’d hoped he would, his ass stays firmly on top of the pretty wood of your desk. A shame, you think, the wood is being desecrated.
“More time for the two of us, then?”
“I’d prefer not to.” You don’t look up from your work.
“Oh, come on.”
“I have work to do.” You abruptly stand from your desk chair, crossing the room to pretend like you’re doing something. Mike thankfully gives you a brief respite from what’s about to turn into a living hell, asking you about the difference between matcha and green tea. “What’d Selina ask for?”
“She asked for green tea, but I can’t tell if she means like the ones in the Arizona cans or like tea that’s green, which would be matcha, wouldn’t it?”
“Well, matcha isn’t tea,” you say back, a smile finally gracing your face. “So I’m assuming she meant green tea.”
“Do I just say that? I want some green tea?”
“That’s typically how you order things from places, yes. Where’s Gary? Isn’t this his job?”
“Probably having an anxious breakdown in a bathroom,” Mike mutters.
“Sounds more like you.”
“Where’s Dan?” he asks, changing the subject. “He’s supposed to have a statement for me…” He trails off, walking away from you and the conversation.
To your disappointment, your happiness is short lived. You feel a hand ghost on the small of your back, and it seems that Senate boy hasn’t gotten the hint.
“Do you need any help? I can make quick work of whatever it is you’re doing.”
“No, I’m fine,” you say harshly.
He takes you by the hip this time, turning you to face him. “How about we go out, then? Brunch? Lunch? Anything.” Your face flushes, your lips begin to form a scowl. Before you can yell at him, cuss him out, anything, Ed shuffles his way back out of Selina’s office and beelines it to you. He awkwardly pushes himself in between you and Senate boy, swatting his hand off of you.
Ed shoos the Senate boy into Selina’s office, giving you a pat on the shoulder on his way out. You murmur your thanks and goodbyes before wandering back to your desk to work in peace.
You manage to get a bit of work done, but your focus begins to waver as you hear Selina’s voice rising. Mike rushes back in, doing that goofy run of his, and pushes one of Selina’s office doors open. He barely gets to speak before he’s interrupted.
“Ma’am, I have that green tea you wa-”
“If you don’t have the fucking draft by tomorrow, ma’am, you’re in a WHOLE new black hole of shit-”
“You really think you can talk to me like that? I’ll have you know-”
Mike backs away from the doors, letting them click shut. He places the cup on your desk. “Your problem now. Where the fuck is Dan?”
Senate boy follows Mike closely out the door, practically screaming obscenities, and the ink on one of your documents suddenly becomes the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. “And don’t think I’ll forget how the Vice President treated me as a honored guest,” he shouts, voice tripping in venom. “And for the record, I never wanted to go out with and ugly fucking bitch like you, anyway.” You blink, barely registering the words spat in your direction. “Fuck off, Eagan, so I can come for your job so shit can actually get done here.”
He shoves past Dan, who’s standing in the doorway with his jaw ticking. “Oh, eat shit,” he mutters back. “Was he talking you you?” He comes over to you, setting the statement Mike’s been running after all morning gently on your desk.
“He’s just butthurt,” you manage, face heated. While you hadn’t taken anything he’d said personally, because Senate boy looked like an ingrown toenail and had the maturity of a spring onion, he’d made a scene in front of the entire office. And your ego wasn’t small enough to not be a bit bruised. You take Selina’s forgotten green tea and quickly run it to her. Dan follows, hands stuffed In his pockets.
“That’s Dale? From Senator Warrith’s office?” he asks, watching Selina pinch the bridge of her nose, wordlessly accepting her drink and demanding you and Dan piss off from her office.
He follows you back to your desk, his eyes staying on you. “I don’t know his name,” you say exasperatedly. You tap at the documents Dan’d set on your desk moments earlier. “Mike’s been looking for these.”
He leans against your desk as you sit down. “I know. That’s why I gave them to you.” You can’t help but smile, properly filing the papers away to be put on Selina’s desk. “What, are you just going to let him talk to you like that?”
“What can I do? File a complaint?” You scoff. “There’d be more use in me sending letters to Santa.”
“I’m not going to let him talk to you like that.” He cards a hand through his hair. “You’re on the Jonad drive.”
“You’re going to bully him?” you ask, laughing.
“Of course I’m going to bully him. It always works.” He raps once on your desk with his knuckles before he straightens out. “I’m going to go visit Shrimp Dick.”
“Shrimp Dick? That’s the best you can do?”
“Shrimp Dick is the least of what’s going to happen to him. It’s factual, too.”
“Can we stop saying shrimp dick? I’m on the phone,” Sue states, expression sharp.
“Point is,” Dan continues, keeping his focus on you, “you will be avenged.”
You make a face. “What are we, twelve? This is all so juvenile, Dan.”
He shrugs. “Just making sure you know.” He adjusts his tie, taking a few steps in the direction of the exit, before turning right back to you. “You’re not ugly. Or a bitch,” he says too loudly. His face pinkens. “Just making sure you know.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Later that day, you’re running between buildings, trying to get ready for a prep release, when you hear your name murmured in conversation.
“I don’t give a shit if he’s that goose that fucking lays golden eggs, Senator Warrith. He harassed a close colleague of mine, and I can’t even begin on his attitude towards Madame Vice President.” You can recognize Dan’s voice. You’ve been hearing it for long enough. “I mean, he walked in like he owned the place, disrespected everyone, shouted at Madame VEEP, and threatened me, so by proxy, her. I really don’t see how you can tolerate anything of the sort.”
You try to make it past them unnoticed, but the two finish their conversation as soon as you’re near. Dan peels away from the senator, falling into step beside you. The two of you stay in a comfortable silence for a bit before he speaks. “I’m sorry if anything I did made you uncomfortable.”
“What, you? You didn’t do anything wrong.” You both stop before the press room, stealing moments for yourselves. “You hit your head? I’ve never heard you apologize to anyone before.”
He smiles at you before ducking his head down to inspect his dress shoes. “Dale won’t be around anymore.”
“It wasn’t that big of a deal, Dan.”
“Naw, nobody liked him, anyway.” He brushes an imaginary speck of dust off of your shoulder. “They also found evidence of fraud. Which I might’ve pointed them in the direction of. They also all call him Shrimp Dick now.”
You reach out, pulling his blazer shut and straightening his tie. “Well, thank you for caring.” You even out his collar. “In your own little neurotic way.”
notes: I was very surprised to see this request?? why did I forgot about my beloved kent??
“You’re early.”
You glance up from your desk. Kent’s standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame like he’s considering turning around. His other hand adjusts the cuff of his sleeve. He does that when he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“So are you,” you say, tapping your pen against a stack of briefs.
He exhales sharply, something close to a laugh but not quite. His mouth twitches, like he’s debating a response, but instead, he steps inside, crossing the room with that stiff, precise posture of his.
“I—” He clears his throat. “I wanted to—” A pause. His hand twitches at his side. Then, finally: “There’s coffee in the lounge.”
You blink. “Right. Yeah. There usually is.”
Kent presses his lips together, nodding once. His eyes flicker to the door, like he’s assessing his escape route.
You lean back in your chair, watching him. “Did you… want me to get coffee with you?”
His fingers flex against the fabric of his pants. He does this thing where he straightens his tie even when it doesn’t need straightening. Like now.
“No,” he says, too quickly. Then: “I mean, not— It’s not a directive.”
You bite back a smile.
There’s a beat of silence. He shifts on his feet. His eyes don’t meet yours for more than a second at a time.
You close your laptop, pushing back your chair.
“Alright,” you say, standing. He steps back to give you space. Too much space. Like he’s hyper-aware of the inches between you.
When you brush past him, his breath catches—small, barely audible, but there. You pretend not to notice.
The hallway is quiet as you walk together, his pace adjusting to yours without thinking. His hands stay clasped behind his back, but every so often, his shoulder almost brushes yours. Almost.
Kent exhales. “It’s, uh. Good coffee today.”
You glance up at him. “Yeah?”
His throat bobs. “No. Not really.”
You huff a laugh. His ear twitches, pink at the tip.
You don’t say anything else. Neither does he. But when you reach the lounge, he holds the door open for you, stepping aside just a little too far.
