fic: careful fear and dead devotion (veep; amy/dan)
title: careful fear and dead devotion
characters: amy/dan, ensemble
rating: r
summary: they get married in Nevada.
author's note: written for the prompt "secretly married" and for ishichan's birthday.
"I have faith but don't believe you
This love ain't enough to leave you"
They start fucking again somewhere in the bread basket states. Those ones that no one really knows the names of in Washington, unless you're the poor dick that calls that your home constituent state, and only really matter when things like the Farm BIll come up for renewal.
Selina stands in front of the cameras with a shit-eating grin she doesn't even bother to hide. Waves and smiles with too wide teeth, she'll get called Scary Selina later for that, and announces her campaign.
Amy's not entirely sure why they start fucking again except Dan's leg presses against hers in the hot tour bus. She can count the freckles on his forearm where he's rolled his shirt up. He catches her staring at her and she doesn't look away.
He remembers that spot over her collarbone, scraping his teeth over her salt-sweat skin, fingers tangled in her skirt.
They start fucking again somewhere in the bread basket states.
They get married in Nevada.
No, it's not in Las Vegas.
(Mike in a rare moment of actual work and doing his job, declares that it would be a fuck up waiting to happen if they stopped in Las Vegas.
Jonah lets out a somewhat wail behind them all. Why he's there, they're still not certain, but no one has enough heart yet to kick him out; aka he's not done anything that stupid yet.
"No," Mike repeats.)
But it is in Nevada, and it is recorded on a piece of paper that Amy wakes up with stuck to her forehead.
"Your dick is evil."
Amy says this and gives Dan a good kick in the side. He grunts and doesn't catch himself before he goes sliding off the bed, bare ass and he's got freckles there too.
"What the fuck?" he squawks at her on the hotel's floor, glaring up at her with his too damned long eyelashes. The freckles and the eyelashes both are unfair.
"Your dick is evil," she repeats and tosses the paper down at him.
He catches it, snatching it with a sharp crinkle sound, flipping it over and turning his glare to the offending registry announcement with both their looped signatures at the bottom. The sight of his narrow pale face shrinking in on itself makes her headache recede for the moment. He looks like he's sucked a lemon or maybe a whole bowl. Finally, he peers at her over the top, "I think it's your cunt that's-"
"You finish that and I will cut off your dick, husband of mine."
His mouth closes with a click.
"Okay, so we can't tell anyone about this."
They're clothed and sitting on the floor across from one another, legs stretched out, toes almost touching but not.
'Ashamed of me?" Dan asks, scrolling through his BlackBerry.
Amy kicks his black shoes. "No, dipshit, think of what the campaign will do?"
Dan stops scrolling and tilts his head. "Point."
She nods, lips pursed as she thinks. She really needs some ibuprofen and one of those huge fountain sodas from the gas station across the street. She'd eat the fuck out of some waffles right now too. "We're going to have to just deal with this for now and then get rid of it later."
He blinks and his face stills, his mouth twisting downwards in a semi-frown. He looks upset.
Amy sneers. "What you can't manage to put up with me for a few more months?"
The frown is gone, the glare back, and she wonders for a moment if she misjudged. "Hasn't stopped us from fucking in these bumfuck states so far."
She doesn't say that when they have sex it's not fucking, it's too much more than that and sometimes he's too gentle with the way he touches her, and sometimes she likes to put her head on his shoulder. She doesn't say that at all.
"Hey," he says, a grin creeping over his smarmy face. "We didn't consummate the marriage if I remember."
Amy rolls her eyes and stands, looking down at him with a smirk. "You couldn't get it up and I don't think so."
Surprisingly they both do well with keeping this whole thing quiet.
("Did anyone see us last night?"
"You mean when you decided to sing in the middle of the street, outside the magistrate?"
"You were singing too."
"Point. Nothing's popped up so far. We might have gotten lucky."
"Since when has that ever happened to us?"
"Point.")
There's one vague blindside that nearly gets traction but Dan takes care of it and his serial killer grin afterwards leaves her not wanting to even bother with asking. She doesn't want to know. She will not be hitched to a killer and she will not be testifying for him or bailing him out; she remembers she has spousal privilege now and okay maybe that's a plus.
In Washington it rains and someone from the press corp tries to flirt with her at the hotel bar they're staying at. The guy tries to buy her a drink, and he's sort of cute, but she knows what he's after. It's not the first time someone from the press tried to schmooze her for an inside to Selina. She's not going to comment on the speech from today where the VP might have said something offensive about foreign relations with China.
Dan sidles up and squeezes in between the two barstools, turning his fake smile, that's really a shark sneer, to the poor press guy. "Hey, buddy, don't you have some deadline to choke up on?"
The other guy's adam's apple wavers in his throat, and Amy does nothing from behind Dan's shoulder. He slinks away after another second. Dan takes his bar stool and the drink that had been for her.
"What the fuck was that?" Amy asks, confusion pulling her eyebrows down and towards her nose.
"Hmm," Dan makes a noise around a mouthful of what smells like cheap whiskey. He tosses his chin towards where the press guy is disappearing outside the hotel. "Can't have him hitting on my wife now, can I."
It's not a question, and Amy almost wants to respond with reminding him that they're not actually legit married, that it was a drunken mistake.
He flashes her a grin though and drains the glass.
She doesn't say anything though.
The China comment is the beginning of their bad luck.
Selina's throwing things in the back of the bus, and they are very much are keeping their eyes forward. To his credit, Gary is trying to calm her down. Amy knows better and she'll go back there in an hour or so when her boss has had time to cool down.
"These fucking pissants of people -"
Selina's losing steam with her insults.
"Mother fucking backwards shit eating farmers."
Or not.
The agricultural states might not be their best winners. Surprisingly, they're not that bad in the South.
Dan's pant leg presses against her as he slides into the booth's seat, setting a styrofoam box down in front of her. "Here."
Amy opens it. Two waffles that are slightly cold, packet of butter, and lacking her syrup she likes. She cuts a glance to her right.
Dan shrugs. "You didn't eat earlier."
She eats the waffles listening to her boss yell with her sort of husband sitting next to her.
They get shitfaced drunk in Kansas.
Somehow Kent manages to turn the numbers around a bit for them; or had managed to get Selina to smile again, but Amy's just happy it's not Andrew anymore. Plus, she's got a secret of her own, and even accidentally walking onto her boss making out with her analyst is not something she wants to think on at the moment.
The whiskey is still cheap, but she's licking it from Dan's lips this time.
"Amy," he says quietly into the room with the a/c blasting and the music from Jonah next door blaring. He touches her empty ring finger as he thrusts his dick into her, his hips pressing her into the mattress.
His eyelashes are really unfair, Amy thinks as she looks up at him in the dark room.
(She remembers how he'd touched her ring finger the night they'd stood before the magistrate. And again after when they'd fallen into the bed. She remembers more of that night because she'd not been all that drunk compared to Dan. She recalls the dopey smile on his face and how he'd touched her bare ring finger and said "wife" and for some reason the corners of her mouth had turned up and her throat had felt just fine.)
He drags her to the edge of the bed afterwards and busies himself with eating her out.
Amy pulls on his hair and stares at the ceiling.
In the morning as she rummages through her bag for the binder she needs to talk with Selina, she finds a plastic ball. It's one of those clear things you get from a grocery store in their gum ball or candy machines. Inside is a tacky ring that may or may not have a fake ass "gemstone" that matches her eyes.
Selina yells her name and she clenches the ball in her hand.
The bus breaks down and Amy glares as Dan, Jonah, Mike and Gary all argue on how to fix it. She's already called someone to come out and get them. They're flying to Ohio anyway.
On her finger is a twenty-five cent ring and her sort-of husband is being a dickface and her boss is fighting an uphill battle to win the Presidency.
She can taste the cheap whiskey and orgasms she'll be having tonight.
Amy figures she's deserved them both.
characters: amy/dan, ensemble
rating: r
summary: they get married in Nevada.
author's note: written for the prompt "secretly married" and for ishichan's birthday.
"I have faith but don't believe you
This love ain't enough to leave you"
They start fucking again somewhere in the bread basket states. Those ones that no one really knows the names of in Washington, unless you're the poor dick that calls that your home constituent state, and only really matter when things like the Farm BIll come up for renewal.
Selina stands in front of the cameras with a shit-eating grin she doesn't even bother to hide. Waves and smiles with too wide teeth, she'll get called Scary Selina later for that, and announces her campaign.
Amy's not entirely sure why they start fucking again except Dan's leg presses against hers in the hot tour bus. She can count the freckles on his forearm where he's rolled his shirt up. He catches her staring at her and she doesn't look away.
He remembers that spot over her collarbone, scraping his teeth over her salt-sweat skin, fingers tangled in her skirt.
They start fucking again somewhere in the bread basket states.
They get married in Nevada.
No, it's not in Las Vegas.
(Mike in a rare moment of actual work and doing his job, declares that it would be a fuck up waiting to happen if they stopped in Las Vegas.
Jonah lets out a somewhat wail behind them all. Why he's there, they're still not certain, but no one has enough heart yet to kick him out; aka he's not done anything that stupid yet.
"No," Mike repeats.)
But it is in Nevada, and it is recorded on a piece of paper that Amy wakes up with stuck to her forehead.
"Your dick is evil."
Amy says this and gives Dan a good kick in the side. He grunts and doesn't catch himself before he goes sliding off the bed, bare ass and he's got freckles there too.
"What the fuck?" he squawks at her on the hotel's floor, glaring up at her with his too damned long eyelashes. The freckles and the eyelashes both are unfair.
"Your dick is evil," she repeats and tosses the paper down at him.
He catches it, snatching it with a sharp crinkle sound, flipping it over and turning his glare to the offending registry announcement with both their looped signatures at the bottom. The sight of his narrow pale face shrinking in on itself makes her headache recede for the moment. He looks like he's sucked a lemon or maybe a whole bowl. Finally, he peers at her over the top, "I think it's your cunt that's-"
"You finish that and I will cut off your dick, husband of mine."
His mouth closes with a click.
"Okay, so we can't tell anyone about this."
They're clothed and sitting on the floor across from one another, legs stretched out, toes almost touching but not.
'Ashamed of me?" Dan asks, scrolling through his BlackBerry.
Amy kicks his black shoes. "No, dipshit, think of what the campaign will do?"
Dan stops scrolling and tilts his head. "Point."
She nods, lips pursed as she thinks. She really needs some ibuprofen and one of those huge fountain sodas from the gas station across the street. She'd eat the fuck out of some waffles right now too. "We're going to have to just deal with this for now and then get rid of it later."
He blinks and his face stills, his mouth twisting downwards in a semi-frown. He looks upset.
Amy sneers. "What you can't manage to put up with me for a few more months?"
The frown is gone, the glare back, and she wonders for a moment if she misjudged. "Hasn't stopped us from fucking in these bumfuck states so far."
She doesn't say that when they have sex it's not fucking, it's too much more than that and sometimes he's too gentle with the way he touches her, and sometimes she likes to put her head on his shoulder. She doesn't say that at all.
"Hey," he says, a grin creeping over his smarmy face. "We didn't consummate the marriage if I remember."
Amy rolls her eyes and stands, looking down at him with a smirk. "You couldn't get it up and I don't think so."
Surprisingly they both do well with keeping this whole thing quiet.
("Did anyone see us last night?"
"You mean when you decided to sing in the middle of the street, outside the magistrate?"
"You were singing too."
"Point. Nothing's popped up so far. We might have gotten lucky."
"Since when has that ever happened to us?"
"Point.")
There's one vague blindside that nearly gets traction but Dan takes care of it and his serial killer grin afterwards leaves her not wanting to even bother with asking. She doesn't want to know. She will not be hitched to a killer and she will not be testifying for him or bailing him out; she remembers she has spousal privilege now and okay maybe that's a plus.
In Washington it rains and someone from the press corp tries to flirt with her at the hotel bar they're staying at. The guy tries to buy her a drink, and he's sort of cute, but she knows what he's after. It's not the first time someone from the press tried to schmooze her for an inside to Selina. She's not going to comment on the speech from today where the VP might have said something offensive about foreign relations with China.
Dan sidles up and squeezes in between the two barstools, turning his fake smile, that's really a shark sneer, to the poor press guy. "Hey, buddy, don't you have some deadline to choke up on?"
The other guy's adam's apple wavers in his throat, and Amy does nothing from behind Dan's shoulder. He slinks away after another second. Dan takes his bar stool and the drink that had been for her.
"What the fuck was that?" Amy asks, confusion pulling her eyebrows down and towards her nose.
"Hmm," Dan makes a noise around a mouthful of what smells like cheap whiskey. He tosses his chin towards where the press guy is disappearing outside the hotel. "Can't have him hitting on my wife now, can I."
It's not a question, and Amy almost wants to respond with reminding him that they're not actually legit married, that it was a drunken mistake.
He flashes her a grin though and drains the glass.
She doesn't say anything though.
The China comment is the beginning of their bad luck.
Selina's throwing things in the back of the bus, and they are very much are keeping their eyes forward. To his credit, Gary is trying to calm her down. Amy knows better and she'll go back there in an hour or so when her boss has had time to cool down.
"These fucking pissants of people -"
Selina's losing steam with her insults.
"Mother fucking backwards shit eating farmers."
Or not.
The agricultural states might not be their best winners. Surprisingly, they're not that bad in the South.
Dan's pant leg presses against her as he slides into the booth's seat, setting a styrofoam box down in front of her. "Here."
Amy opens it. Two waffles that are slightly cold, packet of butter, and lacking her syrup she likes. She cuts a glance to her right.
Dan shrugs. "You didn't eat earlier."
She eats the waffles listening to her boss yell with her sort of husband sitting next to her.
They get shitfaced drunk in Kansas.
Somehow Kent manages to turn the numbers around a bit for them; or had managed to get Selina to smile again, but Amy's just happy it's not Andrew anymore. Plus, she's got a secret of her own, and even accidentally walking onto her boss making out with her analyst is not something she wants to think on at the moment.
The whiskey is still cheap, but she's licking it from Dan's lips this time.
"Amy," he says quietly into the room with the a/c blasting and the music from Jonah next door blaring. He touches her empty ring finger as he thrusts his dick into her, his hips pressing her into the mattress.
His eyelashes are really unfair, Amy thinks as she looks up at him in the dark room.
(She remembers how he'd touched her ring finger the night they'd stood before the magistrate. And again after when they'd fallen into the bed. She remembers more of that night because she'd not been all that drunk compared to Dan. She recalls the dopey smile on his face and how he'd touched her bare ring finger and said "wife" and for some reason the corners of her mouth had turned up and her throat had felt just fine.)
He drags her to the edge of the bed afterwards and busies himself with eating her out.
Amy pulls on his hair and stares at the ceiling.
In the morning as she rummages through her bag for the binder she needs to talk with Selina, she finds a plastic ball. It's one of those clear things you get from a grocery store in their gum ball or candy machines. Inside is a tacky ring that may or may not have a fake ass "gemstone" that matches her eyes.
Selina yells her name and she clenches the ball in her hand.
The bus breaks down and Amy glares as Dan, Jonah, Mike and Gary all argue on how to fix it. She's already called someone to come out and get them. They're flying to Ohio anyway.
On her finger is a twenty-five cent ring and her sort-of husband is being a dickface and her boss is fighting an uphill battle to win the Presidency.
She can taste the cheap whiskey and orgasms she'll be having tonight.
Amy figures she's deserved them both.