Don't ask, don't tell
Title: Don't ask, don't tell
Author: lareinenoire
Play/Poem: Julius Caesar
Recipient: dontcrosscross
Rating: R (mostly for language)
Summary: If there's one thing the American public relishes above all others, it's the sheer, delectable, almost visceral pleasure of watching an idol go down in flames.
Warnings: Politics, politicians, references to alleged sexual misconduct, profanity, bad life choices
Author's Note: One AU crackfic, made to order! ;) Names are slightly tweaked where they need to sound more modern.
If there's one thing the American public relishes above all others, it's the sheer, delectable, almost visceral pleasure of watching an idol go down in flames. It doesn't matter what they thought of him or her before. Schadenfreude can turn even the mildest middle-manager into a hyena on the savannah.
Octavian paused, his finger hovering above the backspace key. Something was missing. Something important---
His BlackBerry buzzed from the other side of the room. Antony. He'd bet his trust fund on it.
"Yeah?"
"It was Brutus. Fucking bastard, I can't believe it."
"I can." Octavian leaned back as far as the creaky desk chair would go. "He's had his panties in a twist ever since Uncle Julian let me handle that memo for the Middle East Subcommittee on Foreign Affairs. You and I both know it wasn't nepotism, but I can see how it would look that way."
"I don't care if he sold you the fucking moon. You don't do that. You just don't--god, damn it."
"Focus, Antony, focus. Rage isn't the answer here."
"What are you, fucking Confucius?" He could hear Antony stomping around, probably knocking things over. It was how Antony dealt with problems. Hit them until they stopped. Not an elegant solution, but it did sometimes work. "Okay, fine. Rage isn't the answer. What is?"
"La vengeance est un plat--"
"English, you tool."
"Revenge is a dish best served cold." Octavian smiled. "Let's just say I think I've got the makings of a damn good chest freezer."
***
There would have to be a hearing. Congressional policy dictated it and the public demanded it. They wanted their sacrifice on the altar of the 24-hour news cycle.
His uncle looked as though he hadn't slept for weeks. Most likely he hadn't, not if Aunt Callie had anything to say about it. A glance at Brutus determined that he wasn't doing much better; beside him was his girlfriend Portia, who was pointedly not looking at Aunt Callie. It was a small world they lived in, when your favorite professor's husband was being screwed over by your boyfriend. Octavian wondered if Brutus knew exactly how many lives he'd just ruined, most likely including his own if he ever wanted to get laid again.
Antony was keeping up a low level of profanity-laden muttering in the seat beside him. Octavian jabbed him with on elbow. "Remember. Rage isn't the answer."
"I could break his fucking neck right here--"
"Sure, you could. The Secret Service guys would totally let you do that. Trust me, Antony. They'll get what's coming to them."
Brutus wasn't going to testify today; not a chance in Hell. He was the star witness for the prosecution, a fresh-faced Congressional aide newly minted from Georgetown. He's got an honest face, Uncle Julian had said once, when Octavian asked why he'd hired Brutus when the guy was clearly on the fence about most if not all the policies the Kingston administration supported. That's about as rare in Washington as the dodo.
An honest face. That was what they needed. Which meant Octavian was not going to cut it--not that he had any interest whatsoever. He'd never been a public speaker; his entire Model UN career in high school and so far in college had consisted of backroom deals with various rogue nations and he was notorious for being the first guy to hold the entire world hostage from Madagascar.
No, Octavian would never beat Brutus in a popularity contest, and that was half the point of a hearing. What they needed was a star. What they needed was...
Antony had leant back in his chair, eyes closed, breathing deep. Octavian vaguely remembered hearing complaints that Antony's soon-to-be ex-girlfriend Fulvia had been dragging him to some crazy yogi in the Poconos about his stress levels. Whatever helped, he supposed.
Really, they shouldn't even be here. They weren't even official aides, just two summer interns who had spent the previous year slaving in the galleys of Kingston's reelection campaign. But Uncle Julian had asked Octavian for family support and Octavian, for lack of better company, had brought Antony so he wouldn't be bored to death.
"Do you think he did it?"
Octavian blinked, jolted out of his train of thought. "Who, my uncle?" He shook his head. "He's not interested in anything like that." But that wasn't the point, was it? The point was that, during his reelection campaign, his uncle had started pandering to the crazies. Everyone, Octavian included, had tried to talk him out of it but Uncle Julian was nothing if not a stubborn old bastard. And who were they to tell an eight-term Congressman what to do, anyway? Really, it wouldn't surprise him one bit if this were a party-wide conspiracy to get rid of a toxic asset.
Which, if it was, there had to be proof. The GOP were known for many things, but even Octavian acknowledged that they were shit at covering their tracks.
"Is that Cassius over there?"
Yes. Yes, it was. Cassius Jones, former chief of staff, who'd publicly sparred with Uncle Julian over his hard turn to the right and been fired for it. And here he was, complete with the prematurely receding hairline and slightly protruding eyes that had led the liberal media to nickname him Kingston's Vulture.
Not Kingston's anymore, at any rate. Not with him sitting right behind Brutus, one clawlike hand gripping the younger man's shoulder.
Uncle Julian's career was over. That much was certain. His newly minted base wouldn't look kindly on a guy accused of having slept with his young, male staffers, regardless of whether or not those allegations were true. Mark Foley and Larry Craig could speak to that.
No, what they needed was to bring Brutus and Cassius down. Discredit them so, even if Uncle Julian would never work in Washington again, the bastards who shot down his career wouldn't either. And for that, they needed--Antony.
Why hadn't he thought of that before? Antony's brain was nothing to speak of, but the man had all the charisma that Octavian himself lacked. Women threw themselves at him, men begged to be even his casual acquaintances, and the best part was that Antony himself only barely seemed to notice. Seemed, being the operative word.
"Antony," he murmured, leaning close, "how would you feel about testifying for the defense?"
"Wait...what? But I wasn't even--"
"Not the point. You get up on that stand, all baseball and apple pie, talking about what a great, upstanding man my uncle is, how much he loves his family, how you can't possibly understand why anyone would be out to get him..."
Antony smiled, and it was as though a hundred-watt bulb had just turned on. "I'll do you one better. Brutus is a great guy. So nice, so dedicated, so principled. Of course he'd feel the need to defend his principles, even at the expense of his career and that of an innocent man--"
"To the point of committing perjury in a court of law." Octavian felt himself grinning. Maybe he ought to revise his opinion of Antony's brain from one lonely cell to at least three.
"Exactly." Antony's eyes found Brutus and Cassius on the far side of the chamber. "For Brutus is an honorable man."
***
The disciplinary charges against Congressman Julian Kingston were dropped in a stunning reversal today, when the two primary witnesses against the congressman were found to have perjured themselves. This revelation emerged from the surprise testimony of one of Kingston’s junior aides...
And there was Antony, larger than life on the television. He even had tears sparkling at the corners of his eyes. They might even have been real. It wouldn't have surprised him either way.
Uncle Julian had still drafted his resignation speech, but there had been genuine pride in his face as he paused beside Octavian on his way out of the chamber. "I expect an invitation to the Oval Office, young man. Don't you forget it."
Octavian had no intention of doing so.
Author: lareinenoire
Play/Poem: Julius Caesar
Recipient: dontcrosscross
Rating: R (mostly for language)
Summary: If there's one thing the American public relishes above all others, it's the sheer, delectable, almost visceral pleasure of watching an idol go down in flames.
Warnings: Politics, politicians, references to alleged sexual misconduct, profanity, bad life choices
Author's Note: One AU crackfic, made to order! ;) Names are slightly tweaked where they need to sound more modern.
If there's one thing the American public relishes above all others, it's the sheer, delectable, almost visceral pleasure of watching an idol go down in flames. It doesn't matter what they thought of him or her before. Schadenfreude can turn even the mildest middle-manager into a hyena on the savannah.
Octavian paused, his finger hovering above the backspace key. Something was missing. Something important---
His BlackBerry buzzed from the other side of the room. Antony. He'd bet his trust fund on it.
"Yeah?"
"It was Brutus. Fucking bastard, I can't believe it."
"I can." Octavian leaned back as far as the creaky desk chair would go. "He's had his panties in a twist ever since Uncle Julian let me handle that memo for the Middle East Subcommittee on Foreign Affairs. You and I both know it wasn't nepotism, but I can see how it would look that way."
"I don't care if he sold you the fucking moon. You don't do that. You just don't--god, damn it."
"Focus, Antony, focus. Rage isn't the answer here."
"What are you, fucking Confucius?" He could hear Antony stomping around, probably knocking things over. It was how Antony dealt with problems. Hit them until they stopped. Not an elegant solution, but it did sometimes work. "Okay, fine. Rage isn't the answer. What is?"
"La vengeance est un plat--"
"English, you tool."
"Revenge is a dish best served cold." Octavian smiled. "Let's just say I think I've got the makings of a damn good chest freezer."
***
There would have to be a hearing. Congressional policy dictated it and the public demanded it. They wanted their sacrifice on the altar of the 24-hour news cycle.
His uncle looked as though he hadn't slept for weeks. Most likely he hadn't, not if Aunt Callie had anything to say about it. A glance at Brutus determined that he wasn't doing much better; beside him was his girlfriend Portia, who was pointedly not looking at Aunt Callie. It was a small world they lived in, when your favorite professor's husband was being screwed over by your boyfriend. Octavian wondered if Brutus knew exactly how many lives he'd just ruined, most likely including his own if he ever wanted to get laid again.
Antony was keeping up a low level of profanity-laden muttering in the seat beside him. Octavian jabbed him with on elbow. "Remember. Rage isn't the answer."
"I could break his fucking neck right here--"
"Sure, you could. The Secret Service guys would totally let you do that. Trust me, Antony. They'll get what's coming to them."
Brutus wasn't going to testify today; not a chance in Hell. He was the star witness for the prosecution, a fresh-faced Congressional aide newly minted from Georgetown. He's got an honest face, Uncle Julian had said once, when Octavian asked why he'd hired Brutus when the guy was clearly on the fence about most if not all the policies the Kingston administration supported. That's about as rare in Washington as the dodo.
An honest face. That was what they needed. Which meant Octavian was not going to cut it--not that he had any interest whatsoever. He'd never been a public speaker; his entire Model UN career in high school and so far in college had consisted of backroom deals with various rogue nations and he was notorious for being the first guy to hold the entire world hostage from Madagascar.
No, Octavian would never beat Brutus in a popularity contest, and that was half the point of a hearing. What they needed was a star. What they needed was...
Antony had leant back in his chair, eyes closed, breathing deep. Octavian vaguely remembered hearing complaints that Antony's soon-to-be ex-girlfriend Fulvia had been dragging him to some crazy yogi in the Poconos about his stress levels. Whatever helped, he supposed.
Really, they shouldn't even be here. They weren't even official aides, just two summer interns who had spent the previous year slaving in the galleys of Kingston's reelection campaign. But Uncle Julian had asked Octavian for family support and Octavian, for lack of better company, had brought Antony so he wouldn't be bored to death.
"Do you think he did it?"
Octavian blinked, jolted out of his train of thought. "Who, my uncle?" He shook his head. "He's not interested in anything like that." But that wasn't the point, was it? The point was that, during his reelection campaign, his uncle had started pandering to the crazies. Everyone, Octavian included, had tried to talk him out of it but Uncle Julian was nothing if not a stubborn old bastard. And who were they to tell an eight-term Congressman what to do, anyway? Really, it wouldn't surprise him one bit if this were a party-wide conspiracy to get rid of a toxic asset.
Which, if it was, there had to be proof. The GOP were known for many things, but even Octavian acknowledged that they were shit at covering their tracks.
"Is that Cassius over there?"
Yes. Yes, it was. Cassius Jones, former chief of staff, who'd publicly sparred with Uncle Julian over his hard turn to the right and been fired for it. And here he was, complete with the prematurely receding hairline and slightly protruding eyes that had led the liberal media to nickname him Kingston's Vulture.
Not Kingston's anymore, at any rate. Not with him sitting right behind Brutus, one clawlike hand gripping the younger man's shoulder.
Uncle Julian's career was over. That much was certain. His newly minted base wouldn't look kindly on a guy accused of having slept with his young, male staffers, regardless of whether or not those allegations were true. Mark Foley and Larry Craig could speak to that.
No, what they needed was to bring Brutus and Cassius down. Discredit them so, even if Uncle Julian would never work in Washington again, the bastards who shot down his career wouldn't either. And for that, they needed--Antony.
Why hadn't he thought of that before? Antony's brain was nothing to speak of, but the man had all the charisma that Octavian himself lacked. Women threw themselves at him, men begged to be even his casual acquaintances, and the best part was that Antony himself only barely seemed to notice. Seemed, being the operative word.
"Antony," he murmured, leaning close, "how would you feel about testifying for the defense?"
"Wait...what? But I wasn't even--"
"Not the point. You get up on that stand, all baseball and apple pie, talking about what a great, upstanding man my uncle is, how much he loves his family, how you can't possibly understand why anyone would be out to get him..."
Antony smiled, and it was as though a hundred-watt bulb had just turned on. "I'll do you one better. Brutus is a great guy. So nice, so dedicated, so principled. Of course he'd feel the need to defend his principles, even at the expense of his career and that of an innocent man--"
"To the point of committing perjury in a court of law." Octavian felt himself grinning. Maybe he ought to revise his opinion of Antony's brain from one lonely cell to at least three.
"Exactly." Antony's eyes found Brutus and Cassius on the far side of the chamber. "For Brutus is an honorable man."
***
The disciplinary charges against Congressman Julian Kingston were dropped in a stunning reversal today, when the two primary witnesses against the congressman were found to have perjured themselves. This revelation emerged from the surprise testimony of one of Kingston’s junior aides...
And there was Antony, larger than life on the television. He even had tears sparkling at the corners of his eyes. They might even have been real. It wouldn't have surprised him either way.
Uncle Julian had still drafted his resignation speech, but there had been genuine pride in his face as he paused beside Octavian on his way out of the chamber. "I expect an invitation to the Oval Office, young man. Don't you forget it."
Octavian had no intention of doing so.