With Friends Like These...
...who needs enemies? Oh, how true that is sometimes. Allow the Nixons and the Dikes to demonstrate that.
Title: Tee for Two
Author: m_buggie
Fandom: “Band of Brothers”
Pairings: mentions of past Nixon/Cathy, Nixon/Winters
Word Count: 1,621
Rating: PG-13
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This takes place in the world of the bigdamnauofdoom…I think that says it all. Inspired by a comment by skew_whiff and a scene from Bless This Mess - April.
~x~x~
It sounded like the set-up for a bad joke: a New York State Supreme Court Judge, a New Jersey Senator, and a Rhode Island Ivy League University Dean arrived at a Connecticut country club. But it wasn’t a joke, it was the first Friday of the month.
“Morning, Stan,” the Judge said. “Morning, Henry.”
“Hello, Gus,” the Senator replied. “Hello, Henry.”
“Good morning, Stan,” the Dean remarked. “Good morning, Gus.” He cast a glance up towards the sky, fedora in hand. “Well gentlemen, it looks like it’s going to be another fine day.”
The other two men voiced their agreements and then all three bellied up to the bar for a round of Bloody Marys before their round on the course. It was a tradition of theirs and, typically speaking, they assembled at the New Haven Country Club as a quartet instead of a trio. Justice Augustus Dike, Senator Stanhope Nixon, Professor Henry Jones III, and Mr. Phillip Quentin Webster had been meeting up regularly for golf and cocktails since their days as Princeton men.
“Where’s Phil?” Dr. Jones inquired, noting the time with a frown. “It’d not like him to tardy for these occasions.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Senator Nixon said, snapping his fingers. “Damn, nearly slipped my mind. Sorry, I almost forgot to tell you both: Phil called me last night and said we should just go on without him because he’s not going to be able to make it today.”
Dr. Jones raised his eyebrows. “Really? Is everything all right with him?”
Senator Nixon waved the concern away with a chuckle. “Oh, he’s doing just fine. It’s his son Kenyon that’s having ‘problems’ again.”
“Kenyon.” Justice Dike snorted with equal parts amusement and derision. “I swear, that boy’s always got some kind of drama in his life. I bet he couldn’t go a week without going into an apoplexy about something if his very existence depended on it.”
“Well, what else do you expect from a flouncing Nancy-boy like him?” Senator Nixon sneered.
Dr. Jones shook his head while his companions chortled to themselves.
“Of course you probably shouldn’t give Phil such grief over Kenyon,” Justice Dike commented under his breath. “You know, seeing as how it’d be a case of the pot calling the kettle black in regards to your Lewis.”
Senator Nixon frowned, Bloody Mary halfway to his lips. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
At which point Dr. Jones’ cell phone rang and he excused himself.
Justice Dike tossed a few almonds into his mouth and smirked around them as he chewed. “Why am I not surprised?”
“At what, Gus?”
“Oh, nothing…just something a little bird told me.” The judge laughed then, somewhat abruptly, and changed the subject. “So how’s Doris?”
With a roll of his eyes Senator Nixon polished off his first Bloody Mary and nodded to the bartender for a second one. “Oh, she’s back in California right now, doing something undoubtedly important for some cancer research society or what-have-you.” To say that relations between Mr. and Mrs. Nixon were turbulent would be an understatement. Husband and wife tended not to spend more than a couple months’ time under the same roof for most of the year.
“Sounds very admirable of her,” Justice Dike remarked.
“Ha,” was all that the senator said as he started on his next drink.
“Right, well, I hate to cut this outing short, gentlemen,” Dr. Jones announced as he returned to his spot at the bar, “but it appears that I’m being summoned elsewhere.”
“Henry,” Senator Nixon sighed, “what could possibly be more important than golf?”
“Pseudoarchaeologists,” Dr. Jones declared with the utmost seriousness, as if the word by itself was enough of an explanation for his distress. He gave a huff and swallowed down the last of his Bloody Mary in two gulps, then firmly placed the fedora atop his head. “Well my good men, I’ll see you next month.”
“So long, Henry,” Justice Dike called to the professor’s departing back. “You show those upstarts at Brown not to mess with a man who’s tenured.”
“Give them hell, Henry,” Senator Nixon added. “Those punk associate professors will never know what hit them.”
Professor Henry Jones III, Dean of the Department of Archaeology and the Ancient World at Brown University, waved to his friends and then exited.
“It’s a wonder to think of how Terry puts up with him,” Senator Stanhope Nixon mused.
“I somehow doubt that’s much of an issue, considering the fact that Terry’s just as bad as he is,” Justice Augustus Dike said, grinning with amusement.
“Good point, they are a regular pair of scatterbrained over-intellectual lovebirds, aren’t they?”
“That they are.”
“Lucky bastards.” Senator Nixon swirled his drink around and shot a sideways glance at his friend. “So what was that you were saying earlier about my son?”
“Oh?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Gus. When you compared Lewis to Kenyon, what did you mean by that?”
Justice Dike smiled in an almost sadistic manner, like a cat that just stumbled across a wounded mouse. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would, actually, so why don’t you tell me?”
“Well, Stan, I suppose I could…but where would be the fun in that?”
And just like that there came a change in dynamics and the jovial atmosphere between the two old college friends shifted into something darker but just as long-standing. A competitive edge appeared in their tones and postures as the facetious repartee gave way to genuine rivalry. But whatever confrontation they were headed towards found itself temporarily side-tracked with the realization that they were only minutes away from tee-off. The conversation would wait. After all, it was a short list of things that were more important than golf.
It was halfway through the fourth hole when Senator Nixon brought the subject up again with the comment, “Lewis might throw a bit of a fit over this and that from time to time but he’s nowhere near as much of a drama queen as Kenyon.”
“I don’t think Rick Hilton’s brat is as much of a drama queen as David Kenyon Webster.”
“Harsh words, Gus, harsh words. I’d say the two are on equal footing.”
They shared a laugh at the expense of their absent compatriot Phillip’s son before Justice Dike proclaimed, off-the-cuff, “You know Norman just moved to New York City.”
“Really?” The senator looked mock-impressed. “All by himself?”
The judge sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, every now and then he manages to get something right.”
“I hear he can even tie his own shoelaces now. You must be so proud.”
“Well, Stan, from what I hear your Lewis has found someone new to tie his shoelaces for him.”
“And where did you hear that? A little bird?”
“I’ll thank you not to refer to my Norman as either an avian or a British female.”
“Oh you’re just jealous that my Lewis has gone through one wife and is already moving on to another while your Norman hasn’t even managed to hold down a steady girlfriend for more than six consecutive months at a time.”
“Who says Lewis isn’t the one playing wife?”
“All right now, Gus, just what the hell are you insinuating? Out with it already.”
“Your son is gay, Stan.”
Senator Stanhope Nixon missed his approach and didn’t even hit the ball. “What?”
“Lewis is gay,” Justice Augustus Dike repeated.
“What? No, no, that’s absurd.”
“He’s a pillow-biter, a fairy, a flouncing Nancy-boy just like Kenyon.”
“No, don’t even joke about something like that, Gus.”
“Stan, he’s a homosexual.”
“That’s slander,” Senator Nixon hissed.
“That’s the truth, whether you like it or not,” Justice Dike countered. “Norman was down in Brooklyn, moving into his new apartment, when he came across Lewis - who walked up and kissed another man right in front of him.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well that’s what happened. I can call Norman up right now and he can tell you the exact same thing that I did if you’d like. He was there, he saw it with his own two eyes.”
“How do you know he’s not just making it all up?”
“Oh please, Stan, you know my son. Norman’s got plenty of book-smarts but aside from that he’s dumber than a sack of shit. I love the boy but he’s a social retard and he wouldn’t have the creativity to come up with that kind of a falsification even if he tried.”
Senator Nixon almost threw his 9 iron to the ground…almost. “Goddamn it!”
“Sorry, Stan,” Justice Dike said, half-meaning it.
“That son of a bitch…”
The New York Supreme Court Judge was about to make a rude joke about how Stanhope always used to complain that Lewis was too much like his mother but thought better of it at the last moment. That would’ve been in too poor taste to be an acceptable dig at that point in time.
“He’s going to ruin me,” Senator Nixon howled. “That cocksucking little bastard is going to ruin me. Doesn’t he realize what this is going to do to my political career? Goddamn him! He’s doing this on purpose. That spiteful piece of shit…”
“Well, look at it this way,” Justice Dike said, “at least one good thing came from this.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that? Other than you, Henry, and Phil finally having something you can lord over my head from now until we die.”
“At least you heard about Lewis’ new choice of bedfellows from me and not the society pages.”
The New Jersey Senator regarded his old friend and sometime rival with a flat expression. “Oh, shut up, Gus.”
It went without saying that Nixon’s golf game went downhill from that point on.
Title: Tee for Two
Author: m_buggie
Fandom: “Band of Brothers”
Pairings: mentions of past Nixon/Cathy, Nixon/Winters
Word Count: 1,621
Rating: PG-13
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This takes place in the world of the bigdamnauofdoom…I think that says it all. Inspired by a comment by skew_whiff and a scene from Bless This Mess - April.
~x~x~
It sounded like the set-up for a bad joke: a New York State Supreme Court Judge, a New Jersey Senator, and a Rhode Island Ivy League University Dean arrived at a Connecticut country club. But it wasn’t a joke, it was the first Friday of the month.
“Morning, Stan,” the Judge said. “Morning, Henry.”
“Hello, Gus,” the Senator replied. “Hello, Henry.”
“Good morning, Stan,” the Dean remarked. “Good morning, Gus.” He cast a glance up towards the sky, fedora in hand. “Well gentlemen, it looks like it’s going to be another fine day.”
The other two men voiced their agreements and then all three bellied up to the bar for a round of Bloody Marys before their round on the course. It was a tradition of theirs and, typically speaking, they assembled at the New Haven Country Club as a quartet instead of a trio. Justice Augustus Dike, Senator Stanhope Nixon, Professor Henry Jones III, and Mr. Phillip Quentin Webster had been meeting up regularly for golf and cocktails since their days as Princeton men.
“Where’s Phil?” Dr. Jones inquired, noting the time with a frown. “It’d not like him to tardy for these occasions.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Senator Nixon said, snapping his fingers. “Damn, nearly slipped my mind. Sorry, I almost forgot to tell you both: Phil called me last night and said we should just go on without him because he’s not going to be able to make it today.”
Dr. Jones raised his eyebrows. “Really? Is everything all right with him?”
Senator Nixon waved the concern away with a chuckle. “Oh, he’s doing just fine. It’s his son Kenyon that’s having ‘problems’ again.”
“Kenyon.” Justice Dike snorted with equal parts amusement and derision. “I swear, that boy’s always got some kind of drama in his life. I bet he couldn’t go a week without going into an apoplexy about something if his very existence depended on it.”
“Well, what else do you expect from a flouncing Nancy-boy like him?” Senator Nixon sneered.
Dr. Jones shook his head while his companions chortled to themselves.
“Of course you probably shouldn’t give Phil such grief over Kenyon,” Justice Dike commented under his breath. “You know, seeing as how it’d be a case of the pot calling the kettle black in regards to your Lewis.”
Senator Nixon frowned, Bloody Mary halfway to his lips. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
At which point Dr. Jones’ cell phone rang and he excused himself.
Justice Dike tossed a few almonds into his mouth and smirked around them as he chewed. “Why am I not surprised?”
“At what, Gus?”
“Oh, nothing…just something a little bird told me.” The judge laughed then, somewhat abruptly, and changed the subject. “So how’s Doris?”
With a roll of his eyes Senator Nixon polished off his first Bloody Mary and nodded to the bartender for a second one. “Oh, she’s back in California right now, doing something undoubtedly important for some cancer research society or what-have-you.” To say that relations between Mr. and Mrs. Nixon were turbulent would be an understatement. Husband and wife tended not to spend more than a couple months’ time under the same roof for most of the year.
“Sounds very admirable of her,” Justice Dike remarked.
“Ha,” was all that the senator said as he started on his next drink.
“Right, well, I hate to cut this outing short, gentlemen,” Dr. Jones announced as he returned to his spot at the bar, “but it appears that I’m being summoned elsewhere.”
“Henry,” Senator Nixon sighed, “what could possibly be more important than golf?”
“Pseudoarchaeologists,” Dr. Jones declared with the utmost seriousness, as if the word by itself was enough of an explanation for his distress. He gave a huff and swallowed down the last of his Bloody Mary in two gulps, then firmly placed the fedora atop his head. “Well my good men, I’ll see you next month.”
“So long, Henry,” Justice Dike called to the professor’s departing back. “You show those upstarts at Brown not to mess with a man who’s tenured.”
“Give them hell, Henry,” Senator Nixon added. “Those punk associate professors will never know what hit them.”
Professor Henry Jones III, Dean of the Department of Archaeology and the Ancient World at Brown University, waved to his friends and then exited.
“It’s a wonder to think of how Terry puts up with him,” Senator Stanhope Nixon mused.
“I somehow doubt that’s much of an issue, considering the fact that Terry’s just as bad as he is,” Justice Augustus Dike said, grinning with amusement.
“Good point, they are a regular pair of scatterbrained over-intellectual lovebirds, aren’t they?”
“That they are.”
“Lucky bastards.” Senator Nixon swirled his drink around and shot a sideways glance at his friend. “So what was that you were saying earlier about my son?”
“Oh?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Gus. When you compared Lewis to Kenyon, what did you mean by that?”
Justice Dike smiled in an almost sadistic manner, like a cat that just stumbled across a wounded mouse. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would, actually, so why don’t you tell me?”
“Well, Stan, I suppose I could…but where would be the fun in that?”
And just like that there came a change in dynamics and the jovial atmosphere between the two old college friends shifted into something darker but just as long-standing. A competitive edge appeared in their tones and postures as the facetious repartee gave way to genuine rivalry. But whatever confrontation they were headed towards found itself temporarily side-tracked with the realization that they were only minutes away from tee-off. The conversation would wait. After all, it was a short list of things that were more important than golf.
It was halfway through the fourth hole when Senator Nixon brought the subject up again with the comment, “Lewis might throw a bit of a fit over this and that from time to time but he’s nowhere near as much of a drama queen as Kenyon.”
“I don’t think Rick Hilton’s brat is as much of a drama queen as David Kenyon Webster.”
“Harsh words, Gus, harsh words. I’d say the two are on equal footing.”
They shared a laugh at the expense of their absent compatriot Phillip’s son before Justice Dike proclaimed, off-the-cuff, “You know Norman just moved to New York City.”
“Really?” The senator looked mock-impressed. “All by himself?”
The judge sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, every now and then he manages to get something right.”
“I hear he can even tie his own shoelaces now. You must be so proud.”
“Well, Stan, from what I hear your Lewis has found someone new to tie his shoelaces for him.”
“And where did you hear that? A little bird?”
“I’ll thank you not to refer to my Norman as either an avian or a British female.”
“Oh you’re just jealous that my Lewis has gone through one wife and is already moving on to another while your Norman hasn’t even managed to hold down a steady girlfriend for more than six consecutive months at a time.”
“Who says Lewis isn’t the one playing wife?”
“All right now, Gus, just what the hell are you insinuating? Out with it already.”
“Your son is gay, Stan.”
Senator Stanhope Nixon missed his approach and didn’t even hit the ball. “What?”
“Lewis is gay,” Justice Augustus Dike repeated.
“What? No, no, that’s absurd.”
“He’s a pillow-biter, a fairy, a flouncing Nancy-boy just like Kenyon.”
“No, don’t even joke about something like that, Gus.”
“Stan, he’s a homosexual.”
“That’s slander,” Senator Nixon hissed.
“That’s the truth, whether you like it or not,” Justice Dike countered. “Norman was down in Brooklyn, moving into his new apartment, when he came across Lewis - who walked up and kissed another man right in front of him.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well that’s what happened. I can call Norman up right now and he can tell you the exact same thing that I did if you’d like. He was there, he saw it with his own two eyes.”
“How do you know he’s not just making it all up?”
“Oh please, Stan, you know my son. Norman’s got plenty of book-smarts but aside from that he’s dumber than a sack of shit. I love the boy but he’s a social retard and he wouldn’t have the creativity to come up with that kind of a falsification even if he tried.”
Senator Nixon almost threw his 9 iron to the ground…almost. “Goddamn it!”
“Sorry, Stan,” Justice Dike said, half-meaning it.
“That son of a bitch…”
The New York Supreme Court Judge was about to make a rude joke about how Stanhope always used to complain that Lewis was too much like his mother but thought better of it at the last moment. That would’ve been in too poor taste to be an acceptable dig at that point in time.
“He’s going to ruin me,” Senator Nixon howled. “That cocksucking little bastard is going to ruin me. Doesn’t he realize what this is going to do to my political career? Goddamn him! He’s doing this on purpose. That spiteful piece of shit…”
“Well, look at it this way,” Justice Dike said, “at least one good thing came from this.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that? Other than you, Henry, and Phil finally having something you can lord over my head from now until we die.”
“At least you heard about Lewis’ new choice of bedfellows from me and not the society pages.”
The New Jersey Senator regarded his old friend and sometime rival with a flat expression. “Oh, shut up, Gus.”
It went without saying that Nixon’s golf game went downhill from that point on.