Chapter 3
Amonth later, Peter comes back to his house and finds Sebastian on the doorstep.
He's smoking. Peter smoked when he was deployed. They all did. Chewing tobacco was the vice of choice. But that's nasty, and his father would have disowned him. He gave up the habit when he came home, but he's not disgusted by Sebastian's smoking like he should be.
Far from it.
He looks like a young James Dean or something. The way he holds the cigarette lightly between two fingers is annoyingly sexy. He stands up, all lanky grace and ease, when he sees Peter coming up the walk. Flicking the cigarette to the side, he exhales as he watches Peter.
Peter has nothing to say. He probably should, since he's the grown-up.
"I thought about breaking in. Figured I'd best not, though. It's not a good look to say, 'I guess you're not a total asshole after all,' and then assault you. Besides, you might shoot me. I assume you have guns."
Peter nods. "I host the NRA on Sunday mornings. I make muffins for Liz Cheney,” he says and takes the opportunity to look away from the young man and get out his keys so he can unlock the door.
“That’s a joke, right?”
“It is. Liz hates muffins.”
“A brat. Be still my heart.”
Peter jolts. What the hell does he mean by that?
"My sister woke up last week. An expert from out of town, some sort of experimental treatment, and it fucking worked."
"That's good. I'm glad." Peter is glad. And he knows already. There are a lot of perks to being in Congress. Being able to help someone, literally pick up a phone, make a call, and save a life is an awesome gift that no one should have. Or everyone.
But that isn’t how life or society works.
"Look, I need to know just how worshipful I need to be here. Did you have anything to do with that doctor or what?"
"I'm not Obama," he says, seeing no point in answering the question.
Did he call in a favor or three when the AMA was having a conference in his state last month?
Yes. Would the specialists have come to their Podunk hospital without his involvement?
No, probably not. But it's not like he personally saved the girl's life with his own medical skill.
He just used his political influence.
Political influence he no longer has.
"And now you're out. Resigned from Congress. You should hear what Tucker Carlson is saying about you."
"That isn't something I need to know. Besides, if I need cutting insults regarding my lack of moral character or dubiously impressive physical attributes, I can just ask you,” he says and casts a brittle smile in the young man’s direction.
Sebastian's gaze narrows. "That's a lot of words to say I called you an asshole with good tits."
Peter shrugs. It's been an incredibly long day, and he has nothing to say.
Sebastian waits.
"Anyway." Peter tries and manages a smile. "Happy to be of service."
Sebastian laughs. "Don't be a dick."
Peter glances at him and frowns, not understanding why he's said that.
"Okay, maybe you are happy to be of service," he says, shrugging.
Peter blushes, goes past Sebastian, and unlocks the door. Peter’s met a lot of powerful, intimidating people and the most unsettling person he’s ever met is practically half his age.
"Do you want to come in for a minute or… or is that it? Are we done now?" Peter asks. He can't even turn around and look at him.
Everything is just off and wrong.
Peter's life is a fucking disaster, and he's now just a washed-up congressman everyone hates. And here is Sebastian, almost being nice to him, surely here to kick him while he's at his lowest, and Peter has no idea what to say or do.
Plus he knows he's being weird, and he has this horrible suspicion his inappropriate lust and confusion are obvious.
"I'm thinking I want to come inside," Sebastian says quietly.
The hair on the back of Peter's neck rises. Why did that sound so suggestive?
Peter knows he's being watched, the young man’s gaze heavy and incisive.
“What happened?” Sebastian asks.
“With what?”
“You quit Congress. Went on TV and called the president an asshole and said the Republicans had betrayed the ‘young men willing to sacrifice their lives for America.’" He gets a twang in his tone at the end, that condescension so many in the US have for people who are willing to die for their country.
He glares at Sebastian and Sebastian blinks at him, holding up his hands.
“Okay, that might not have been the right thing to say. Uh… thank you for your service?” Sebastian says and winces.
“There are a lot of men and women who serve their country and they are never the same again,” Peter says, trying to keep hold of his anger.
“Some of them don’t come home. We do not take care of our veterans.
That has meaning to me. I wanted—” His head throbs with emotion and he imagines himself throwing something, just totally losing his shit in a fit of rage.
It would probably feel good. But that isn’t the sort of man he is. He’d be ashamed of such an outburst.
“I was a fucking idiot.”
Sebastian is quiet for a long moment. Which makes sense because what the hell is there to say?
“Your father was a congressman, right? So you probably had good reason to think you could help people…” It’s an attempt and Peter appreciates it more than he should.
But he’s wrong. “Or it means the man I revered for all of my life was actually just a corrupt good old boy all along.” He goes to the kitchen, stomach flipping with nerves.
"I have… um, orange juice, or water, or beer.
You're old enough to drink, right?" he asks, and maybe it's supposed to be a joke or to help him try to get his footing in this encounter, some reminder that Peter is actually older, wiser, and has nothing to be afraid of.
"You wanna card me, sir?" he asks, and his voice is closer than Peter expected. "I'll have a beer."
Peter flushes and hopes a moment turned away will let the worst of it disappear before Sebastian can see. He gets two beers out of the fridge, opens both, and hands one to Sebastian, who takes it absently.
"I guess we drink to you. The hero."
It takes a moment for him to realize Sebastian isn’t being sarcastic.
He’s referring to Peter helping his sister.
“Don't. I literally made a phone call and zoomed into a conference for ten minutes to say how great a large pharmaceutical company was.
Is she going to be okay?" Peter asks, surprised his voice comes out even.
"I mean, yes? She's alive. She's going to live.
But everyone is different now. My sister actually wanted the baby.
My parents were looking forward to being grandparents.
Her dickbag fiancé got together with one of her bridesmaids while she was in a coma, and she can't decide if she wants to call the wedding off or not. "
"She should call it off," Peter says.
"Exactly." Sebastian offers his bottle to toast. They clink bottles and take a sip.
Sebastian licks his obscene lips, and Peter starts to twist the bottle cap over his fingers as a distraction.
"I'm, uh, actually the baby of the family.
And Freddie—that's my sister. She was named after my grandma—she's always been the glue.
The focus of everyone's attention, you know?
She kept everyone together. Let my ma dote on her, kept my dad from getting too drunk…
And then one day she was gone, but now she's back, and that's an incredible gift, Peter.
That's because of you. And I was such a fucking asshole to you.
I'm sorry for how I behaved. It wasn't your fault.
And now you've left the Republican party, and you're all righteous, and sexy, but sad… "
Peter takes a small sip of his beer. It's hard to get the drink down. He stares at Sebastian's neck because it's hard to meet his gaze. He's just too attractive, too wise and knowing. Which doesn't make any sense, considering how young he is.
"It must have been hard to quit like that. And publicly."
"Truthfully? I was only elected because my dad was in Congress for twenty years.
He died on top of his mistress in DC, and because I'd just come home from the Marines, they asked me to run for his seat.
They basically gave it to me. So long as I was a Republican.
And I guess I was. That's how I grew up.
And I had some reforms I hoped I could move along, things that would help the military guys stationed overseas, and that's what the Republicans usually stand for.
But the truth is that nothing good is ever going to fucking happen in the military.
Or the government. I've put up with a lot of other shit I disagree with because I was focused on the military reforms. And they're dead in the water.
Five years from now, we're gonna be in even more fucking wars, in places we have no goddamn business going to, and it's all for fucking nothing. So, fuck it. I'm out."
"That's the most inspiring and hottest speech I've ever seen in my life. And it happened in your kitchen," he says, leering at Peter. "You'd get my vote now. A hard yes," he says.
Peter has no idea what to say to that. Is that a reference to how hard Peter was that night? Under him? Peter blushes again. His face is hot with it. Sebastian is waiting for him to say something.
"I don't know what you want from me. Why you're here?" he corrects.
Sebastian chews on his plump bottom lip for a long moment. "Can you imagine how enraging it was to be saying really cruel things to you, to be trying to hurt you, and to know you were getting off on it?"
"Oh god," Peter says, horrified. "I didn't want to be, I swear. I'm so sorry."