Previous Chapter 14
Black Friday never seemed to have a more appropriate name as Joe pulled on a suit he’d purposefully picked that wasn’t black. He wasn’t in mourning anymore and he certainly didn’t want any more negative omens to foreshadow this event - he had enough bad feelings toward it as it were. He couldn’t seem to shake the chill that seemed to be constantly near him like a cloud specifically given the task of raining on him. He was paying more attention to the crowd gathered and the Secret Service assembled than he was to his own brother which was saying something about the scale of his paranoia, and he forced himself to take a few deep, even breaths as the boring speeches continued.
He’d heard Nick’s speech a few times already, and by a few he really meant at least eight, so he knew he could keep up with that and let his attention to wander to other things while that was going on. Like how the sweat beading on Nick’s brow was from nerves and stress he didn’t need, how that bottom lip trembled as his lover took a steadying breath and stood up to go and step up to that podium and address the world. Because they would have been lying if they said the whole world wasn’t watching this event.
It was almost scary that Joe knew the moment Nick slipped away and back to wherever he’d been - back to the place in those videos and he grabbed the younger man’s elbow to bring him back. When those brown eyes found his and looked solid and not in some far, distant basement, Joe knew it had worked, especially with that brilliant smile that he couldn’t help but return. He pulled his hand away a bit reluctantly but Nick had to go up there in front of everyone, but when those calloused fingers extended in his direction, he was surprised but took it. He’d do anything for Nick, anyone who knew him knew that. He stood up and pulled his hand away first, staying half a step behind the President of the United States as they walked towards the podium together.
He knew Nick, which meant he knew the man was giving himself a pep talk which Joe wouldn’t interrupt unless one of their lives depended on it, and he stopped walking when he was just short of two feet from where Nick needed to stop. He didn’t want to give the wrong message, even if the wrong message that Joe was with Nick would have been the correct message, so he just stopped and let his eyes linger on the back of that strong neck before they eventually wandered away. That nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen was still there in the back of his neck, raising the hairs there as effectively as static electricity. The air felt heavy and thick enough to choke on, at least to him, and those were signs he didn’t easily dismiss.
He clenched his fists, the metal of the new ring biting into his hand in a soothing way that let him know he was awake at this ungodly hour of eight in the morning, awake and able to be here to support Nick. He recognized people in the crowd, like their family who had their own section protected by agents in black, and it was effort for Joe to suppress the chuckle as the Men in Black theme song played in his head. There were other faces, too, faces of those who were general staff in the White House like the chef, the boy from the mail room that had brought him Rudy’s file, and he dimly recalled not seeing Gregorio’s file waiting for him in his room like he’d been promised. It had been late and he hadn’t noticed the night before, but now that he did, it bothered him.
Well, he’d get his answer today, either way, he supposed, but he hated the feeling like he was underprepared. He fingered the ring on his left hand with his right forefinger and thumb, twisting the smooth, solid wedding band and wondering what Bree had said when she’d seen them. He cast a look in her direction and waved in her direction with his left hand and then winked conspiratorially. The eight year-old pressed her lips together as if to shut and seal them tight before nodding as if she understood.
Once Nick began to speak, however, Joe’s attention focused not on the words, but watching people’s reactions. That was what he was there for, partially, to see how people reacted to the words Nick had chosen. It was rare for the President to write his own speeches, but Nick had, against the counseling of everyone in any office that meant anything - and that was a lot of people. Nick went on about how Grennings had done a good job, even if Joe privately disagreed with this statement it was best to stay on everyone’s good side and acknowledge the man, and not even Joe could help but grin as Nick said ‘some things just don’t go as planned.’ Nick’s plan, for one, had not only not gone as planned, but had actually backfired in a way. While Nick was the most influential man in America, no one said he had to be the smartest. Then Nick really delved into thanking everyone and making them feel important. It was something that was personally important to Nick, and to Joe, to make sure each individual in the crowd felt special or unique in some way. They wanted the crowd’s sympathy and support, it wouldn’t be hard to get, but they needed it and knew this was going to be a pivotal speech and time for Nick when it came time for re-elections in a year.
When Nick spoke about security threats, Joe’s gaze landed on Matt as well like they had planned at the appropriate time and he followed Matt’s gaze after Nick let his own eyes scan the crowd again, thankful he’d kept his own brown hues trained on the agent. Someone in the crowd had drawn Matt’s attention in that moment. This speech was supposed to talk about how Nick was planning on really weeding out those who didn’t belong, it was meant to hopefully scare whoever was behind this into backing off for good, but something in Matt’s eyes scared Joe enough to make him think they might not be dealing with normal people. There was no one special that drew his attention in the group Matt was looking at, and the look only lasted a few seconds, Hell, Joe could even put that off as the Head of Security looking for a distraction - he’d have needed one, too. Then again, he could give the man the benefit of doubt and say he was looking for a threat, but that seemed too much to ask, really.
His eyes kept going back to the group mostly comprised of janitorial staff from the White House, a few kitchen workers, the maid and some people from the mail room and a few of the lower secretarial staff. Why that group, Matt? he asked silently, trying to figure it out. Greg was there, that was the kid’s name that had brought Rudy’s file to him, and those blue eyes met his for a few seconds in what seemed a cold and defiant way, and then they looked up for the barest of instants and Joe’s followed. Sure, Greg could have just been rolling his eyes, but his Spider Sense was telling him otherwise.
All he saw in that direction, though, was a flag and then he saw movement from his peripheral. Matt gave a nod and Greg moved, hand sliding into his jacket and Joe was suddenly just reacting on instinct as he closed the few feet between he and Nick as a loud gunshot filled the air. He knew he was hit, knew he was probably bleeding, but adrenaline kept him from feeling it as he noticed everyone reacting and he shoved Nick to the floor of the stage, shielding his lover with his own body as best he could. Matt had his gun drawn and so did every other Agent standing around them, but with everything happening it was hard to tell who was on which side until somebody got hurt.
When the loud gunfire finally ceased, leaving a ringing in his ears that was fairly annoying, that was the moment he felt the pain. It was agony, a searing, burning, painful pressure in his side even as he could feel himself losing blood. Nick tried to move but it jarred his side and he let out a pained noise, hoping it was loud enough Nick would understand, and he seemed to as he stopped moving entirely and Joe let himself relax. Then he felt hands that weren’t his, weren’t Nick’s, and he didn’t like it as they turned him onto his back. He realized in a vague sort of way that there was a doctor, someone that was going to help him, but it also sounded like more pain.
Nick was kneeling next to him and Joe focused on his brother’s eyes, felt hands pressing into his side and heard the whispered plea, saw mouths shaping words that nearly broke his heart to see because it meant Joe getting shot had hurt Nick. With a shaky jolt he realized that this might actually be more painful for his brother and he brought his own hand up to cover Nick’s, blood warm against his own fingers as well and he wondered for the first time just how badly he was hurt. The pain was a bit duller now and he thought he might be going into shock and maybe if he closed his eyes everything would just get better, but he heard, “Don’t leave me,” and he forced his eyes open once more. His beautiful, baby boy was on the verge of tears for him and he had no idea what to do. The bullet had been meant for Nick, there was no way around that, and he was obviously afraid Joe would leave him alone in the world. Well, he didn’t want to, and he certainly hadn’t meant for that to be the end result but somehow it seemed better for him to be the one to go. It didn’t really make sense, but his brother was more important than he was, it was that simple, he supposed. He’d rather die knowing his brother would live a nice, long life than think what it would have been like if he hadn’t noticed or gotten in the way on time. It would be Hell, and that was what Nick was going through at the moment.
He offered what he hoped was a brave smile, stupid, but brave and he lifted a hand to caress Nick’s cheek. So soft, Nick’s skin had always been baby soft, and freshly shaven it was no different today. He almost felt bad about marring its perfection with the streaks of blood his fingers left behind, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He’d just have to wash it off later, he supposed, if he survived. It didn’t matter why, anymore. It just suddenly no longer mattered why they’d shot at Nick, the only thing that mattered was that Nick was okay. He was about to tell Nick this, tell him how much he loved him, then something stung at his side as they poured something over the wound and he felt tears in his eyes and clenched his jaw shut and tried not to show just how much pain he was in. These people were helping him, cleaning it out before they could do anything; he had to do what he could to help as well, even if his chances weren’t very good.
He was supposed to tell Nick something important but he’d forgotten. Oh, wait, that he loved Nick. How could he have forgotten that? He would have laughed if he weren’t in so much pain, but instead he just wrapped a loose fist around Nick’s tie and tugged at it. I just want to kiss you, he tried to tell Nick silently as he tugged again and their foreheads pressed together. Please just kiss me, he added to his mental plea and tilted his neck slightly to bring their mouths a little bit closer because if he couldn’t say it with words he needed Nick to know another way. But when Nick moved away quickly it seemed to hurt more than getting shot had, it hit him deeper, a hole in his heart bigger than the literal one in his side.
He knew he was crying and he couldn’t help it, didn’t even bother wiping away the tears. Besides, whatever shot they’d just given him seemed to be dulling his basic motor functions and he said, “Even now…” It was hard to get the words out, hard to really think the words, but out of all the times for Nick to act like a total douchebag he couldn’t have given in to Joe this once? “More worried about,” he coughed and it seemed to hurt everywhere and that scared the shit out of him. “About your image,” he finished the accusation, disgust with his brother settling in. Maybe he’d been wrong about the whole soulmate thing, after all, and he fought past the choking feeling in his throat to say, “You make me sick.” How could he still love this man after all of this? “Get away from me,” he said, needing space - space from Nick. He needed to be able to think, he needed to not want to kiss Nick, because this was him giving in to his little brother again and doing what was right again, and all for Nicky’s sake! If Nick would just move Joe wouldn’t want to kiss him so badly… “Get the fuck away from me!” he screamed, silently adding, can’t you see you’re hurting your own cause, here? He knew he was pretty fucked up mentally, and physically with having gotten shot, but now he wondered if perhaps him being anything near sane was still any sort of reality.
And then people were pulling Nick away and Joe finally felt like he could breathe properly again and he just gave in to the meds, let the doctor do whatever he thought he needed to in what was probably a lost cause. He wouldn’t kiss me, he kept thinking, unable to stop the words or the tears as he bodily relaxed. He stopped thinking about it, and then eventually stopped thinking about anything as he welcomed the darkness that swept him in like a warm bed at the end of a trying day.
~*~*~
He gasped, sucking in oxygen to lungs that felt as deprived of air as a vacuum and he felt warm lips brush against his own and he opened his eyes slowly, trying to breathe properly when all he wanted to do was go back to that warm sleep. Suddenly his eyes found a matching brown pair staring straight back at them and he realized it had been Nick’s lips on his; had he kissed him after all and Joe had slept through it? No, that couldn’t be right, he realized as he felt himself lifted bodily onto what must be a stretcher. Stretcher? Why did he need one of those, he wondered, and then the events came back to him in a rush as did sound. “He’s back, his heart’s beating again, let’s get him into the ambulance. Mr. President, you really should find a different ride to the hospital,” but Joe felt Nick’s hand in his just grab on more tightly.
One of the paramedics had a broken nose, as did two Secret Service Agents, and Joe pieced it all together. When his heart had stopped, Nick had gone ballistic. The Secret Service were trained to protect the President from any attack, but what did they do when the President attacked them? They’d tried to restrain him, but the few years of Karate had apparently stayed with him, that or he was fucking desperate enough and he punched them in the face to get to Joe’s side. Why the Paramedic, then? Easy. The stranger had tried to do exactly what the agents had done but with less training, and had probably gone down faster because of it and Nick had given Joe mouth-to-mouth.
They more or less made Nick take the limo to the ambulance which Joe realized was the smarter thing to do, and his hand felt tingly and at a loss when Nick’s parted from it, but he had to be brave and do this alone. More importantly, he had to survive this for Nick, and for himself and Bree and the rest of the people who cared about him; about them.
They hooked him up to an IV and a few machines while in the Ambulance and it was a bit of a bumpy ride, but he hardly noticed as he tried to stay awake. He didn’t want to fall back to sleep, didn’t want to risk it again, but it was inevitable as the stuff in the IV made him do just that. When he woke up in the hospital, Nick was there in the room right by his side, passed out in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. He would have preferred to cuddle, but the bed was definitely too small for him by himself (his feet hung off the end a little), let alone he and Nick. But eventually he slept again, wondering when he’d be able to go home. The next time he woke up, Nick was sitting in that chair, still, reading some book Joe didn’t bother trying to read the title of. He was content just admiring the view until Nick noticed he was awake about twenty minutes later and nearly had a heart attack, eyes wide as he jumped a bit out of surprise. “I’m gonna be so out of shape when this is all over,” he groaned and Nick just rolled his eyes, and Joe added, “But I’m serious! I’m gonna get so fat not being able to work out!”
Nick just smiled secretively and picked up his book again, “That’s okay.”
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