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dcbicki · 7 years

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“You’re Gonna See it Someday; It’s Affection Always” - Chapter 2

Fandom: Veep Characters: Dan Egan, Amy Brookheimer Pairing: Dan/Amy Rating: T (use of mature language) In which Amy’s pregnant, and Dan already has a plan mapped out for them.

He’s a fucking snake with the eyes of a hawk. Of course he’s up to something. She knows him, better than anybody else probably ever has, ever could.

“And now you’re gonna eat.” He reaches down, picks up a rounded bowl. “Eating for two now, Amy.”

She’s seriously gonna stab him with a fucking spoon.

Chapter 1: x | x

In truth, her reaction was exactly what he’d been excepting, what he’d envisioned.

Of course she was gonna be all headstrong and independent. Of course she was gonna turn him down and laugh in his face. She is Amy. She wouldn’t be herself if she hadn’t.

“Uh, no, I’m fucking not?” She’d raised a brow, face all blank and shit. “Jesus, fuck, Dan!”

“What?” He’d smirked, standing tall and confident. “You could do worse.”

“I could do better.”

“Not while you’re carrying my kid.”

“True, but better doesn’t have to mean I have to have someone, you dumbass. Maybe I’ll be a single parent.” Amy had shrugged, shoulders tense, collarbones raised.

“I don’t doubt you’d make a great single mom, Amy.” Dan offered, complimented, taking one closer when she takes one back, steps towards her as she backs away from him. “I’m just saying, it might be easier if we did this together.”

“You wanna raise a kid? You?” She couldn’t help but laugh at that, all sharp teeth and true smile.

It’s definitely not that he wants to, fuck no. It’s more that he feels the desire to because there are certain perks to having a child. Especially given their… situation.

“Dan, you wouldn’t even be able to look after a fucking goldfish. You’d forget to feed it, and never clean its bowl-”

With a roll of his eyes, he’d scooped up his jacket and rounded her, heading for the door. “Think about it.”

“Marrying you?” Amy had scoffed, nose crinkled, eyes squinting, “I gotta say, you aren’t really selling it to me. I don’t know how you’ve already gone through like six fiancées.”

“You’d be surprised how devoted I can pretend to be, Ames.”

“So you’d be pretending to give a shit about the kid?”

“I didn’t say that, did I?” He’d pulled the door open, stepped one foot through but kept a hand wrapped around the frame, just as he has on the way in.

It’s not like he doesn’t already give a shit about her…

He’d leant over her then, and she’d immediately regretted ever following him to the door. He’s warm where she’s cold, and it’s so strange.

Dan is not supposed to radiate warmth. Dan usually gives off fucking radioactive energy because he’s toxic to be around. So what the fuck?

“Marry me, Brookheimer.”

Of course he’d smirked. Of course his proposal had been more grossly self-indulgent than charmingly sincere.

“Fuck off, Dan.” If he didn’t have the face of a mass murderer, if she didn’t know him all too well, the tone of his voice would have almost made it – his lame excuse of a fucking proposal – sound honest, sweet, caring. His douchebag face hadn’t gotten the memo, though.

He’d left after that, after she’d shot him down blank and damn near shoved him through the doorway.

Okay, fine. He’s not at all surprised by her reaction, but that doesn’t mean he’s accepted it. Or that he’s going to accept it any time soon.

He’s not creepily persistent, by nature. He’s as far from being like Jonah as he could get, he likes to imagine. He doesn’t force people into things, doesn’t like it when others force people into things. Physical sexual harassment? Fucking disgusting.

But, despite this, he isn’t exactly a saint. Far fucking from it. He’s used people to his own advantage (countless times now, he gloats), and he’s never really apologised for his behaviour.

He knows he’s an absolute asshole, and that there’s no fixing him. He wouldn’t even try to change if the opportunity arose. But he’s game for anything, adaptable like a motherfucking political chameleon who’s ready to blend in with anything red, white or fucking blue.

And this? Knocking up his attractive coworker, who semi-successfully served as a former president’s senior advisor? Whom he has a publicly acknowledged ‘romantic’ history with?

Knocking up America’s reluctant poster-child for pretty little blonde girls who can grow up and create change, or at least prove that change is within us all? Knocking up the snappy, shrill (he’s never really agreed with that assessment), petite all-black wearing right-hand woman of Selina Meyer?

Having a baby with Amy Brookheimer while working alongside her every damn day and night, campaigning for a post-presidency President who finally (kind of, almost) has the nation’s full support behind her?

Golden.

Hell, he can probably work the whole moving-to-Nevada-to-shack-up-with-a-governor-come-cowboy thing into this, if he has to. He can angle it so that bland talking tree branch is once again humiliated.

Fuckin’ golden.

So, the next morning, when they’d been leaving the hotel to head back to New York, he’d talked Kent into swapping cars so he could slide in next to Amy, much to Selina’s dismay.

“What the fuck, Dan?” She’s rubbing in some hand cream, the tube of which Gary is putting away in some seemingly endless pocket deep inside the Leviathan.

“He had to talk with Ben about something, so we-”

There’s a hand held up, and Selina is already signing out of this would-be conversation, eyes cast out the window, “Amy, did you get those emails I had Gary forward you?” She’s eyeing the blonde beside Dan.

“Yes, yes.” She’s rummaging through her purse (on a weird angle), hair falling in her face, and then she’s yapping on about something Dan only has half a mind to listen in on because there are eight new messages on his phone and there’s honestly a lot more interesting.

Amy can’t find whatever she’s looking for, though.

It’d be easier if you uncrossed your legs, for fuck’s sake. Dan just watches her then, all breathless sentences and small hands. It’s only half a surprise when he realises that he’s missed this – being around her all the time, working together, watching her in her element. It’s like getting a good look at a wild animal on the brink of extinction flailing around in its natural habitat. Amazing.

She’d told him her talents were being wasted all year, especially since coming back to work with Selina and co, and (truthfully) he’s glad she’s found a purpose again. Or, rather, that Selina seems to have found a purpose for her again.

He won’t lie, of course Selina’s hiring of BKD had something to do with the guys – himself included, obviously – suggesting Amy be made campaign manager. She’d been good at it last time (after his breakdown, before her breakdown), and she’d been under-utilised so far in the Meyer post-presidency, by Selina herself and that thumb-twiddling twig of a man she’d temporarily hitched her wagon to. Jesus, he couldn’t stand him.

There’s a reason they’d almost snatched her up (oh, so close!) to come work with them, and it hadn’t even been Dan’s idea to bring her in in the first place.

Ben had propositioned them (because she’s like a weird surrogate daughter to him, a child he actually would have wanted), Kent had nodded and said something along the lines of ‘She’s definitely an asset. Her numbers are far superior to any other candidate’s we’ve interviewed so far’.

And Dan had simply agreed (maybe a little bit too eagerly even, despite himself), felt a rather strange gnawing sensation eating at his insides when she’d appeared in the office that day. Sure, he’d smiled like a fucking freshly fucked dick coated in slickness in human form. Sure, he’d been having some frankly fantastic fantasies of her as of late, all hot and horny and his.

But maybe it was just because they hadn’t been together in so long, hadn’t shared more than (just) a couple of drinks in over a fucking year. Maybe he was only grinning like a goddamn teenager that day because he’d missed her, and he quite liked the idea of getting to work with her and her mind again.

She’s fucking smart (brilliant, in a way, in her own way). She’s actually competent, and good at the job given to her, which is a fucking rarity these days. She is an asset, Kent’s not wrong about that; that’s why he’d quite liked the idea of having her around a lot more.

Because he wanted to work with her again, mess her up again, rub her the wrong way (or the right way) again.

It definitely wasn’t because they’d finally given in and fucked after years of built-up tension, and he was more than willing to do it again.

It definitely wasn’t because he’d missed touching her, even just the sharpness of her elbow, even just one hand on her arm.

It definitely wasn’t because he missed having her tear him apart and then be the only one he would let build him back up again.

It wasn’t because she was the only person he actually liked.

She’s finally found her phone and she’s scrolling through her calendar, ignorant to Dan’s peering eyes. Nosy prick.

She’s got some dates marked in blue, while all others are red. And it’s only when Dan realises the spacing between all the blue dates that he works it out.

“Amy.”

Locking her phone then, she snaps her head up and furrows both brows. “I’m sure Richard could do it, ma'am. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment that day.”

What can Richard do? What are your plans, Amy?

“And your appointment is more important than my pre-campaign campaign, yeah?” Selina licks her teeth, shakes her head with disdain. Dan is gonna fucking strangle her scrawny neck one day. “Don’t fuck this up, Amy. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here.”

Yeah, because your last run at a presidency would’ve been even half as successful if she hadn’t been campaign manager, Dan thinks.

Fuck, he’d done the job himself. He knew just how well Amy had done when she was given the job. Better than him, better than fucking Kent. (But that wasn’t saying much.)

“I won’t, it’s just- It’s unmovable.”

“You know what else in unmovable? This fucking crick in my neck.” Selina’s writhing, waving a hand over at Gary as though he can miraculously cure it.

When she’s too preoccupied with Gary’s long fingers rubbing at her neck (okay, nobody needs to see that) to pay them any mind, Dan looks over down at Amy, shifts away from Richard so he’s closer to her than the Yogi Bear of a man. (When the fuck did he get in here?)

“Thought about it yet?”

“No, Dan.” She grits her teeth, avoids his gaze.

“You haven’t given it any thought or you’re still giving me a solid 'no’?”

“Both.”

He frowns at that, crosses one knee over the other so his leg brushes against hers. He slips his hand down to his knee to scratch it, but then he taps his index finger against the outside of her thigh.

“We don’t have a lot of time, Ames.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you start to show. Before people notice and words gets out.

“Just a few months.”

“What are you, the fucking Riddler? Christ.” Amy sighs, encloses her phone in one hand, palm sealed shut, and she folds her legs tighter, moving away from his wandering hand.

Dan glares down at her from out of the corner of his eye, but he keeps facing the back window, right beside Gary’s fucking balding head. (How old is he?).

Is she seriously going to play this game? Fine. He can play, too.

“I’m just saying, your sister would be better off if she married that guy.”

Amy’s body tenses then, and she purses her lips. Dan beams beside her, all confident and cocky. Oh, no. Oh, fuck no. She shakes her head, false smile instantly plastered over her face, “My sister can fend for herself. And it’s none of your fucking business.”

“I’m not saying she can’t do it alone, I just think having the dad around would be better for everyone involved-”

We are not having that conversation again already, you stupid bastard.

“It’s not your decision to make, though.”

“No, but I think she should consider all her options.” Selina is staring at them now, frowning and curious. Fuck.

“Oh,” Richard pipes up from beside Dan, all smiley and wide-eyed like a slow child yet to be diagnosed with idiocy, “I see what you’re doing.” He nods, “You guys are talking about Amy being preg-”

Dan nudges him then, a hard jab to his ribcage, and he kicks him in the shin at the same time. Turning to face Richard, his expression shoots off a very clear message.

Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you, you dopey Chewbacca looking fuck.

“Amy’s sister being pregnant?” Richard corrects, pulls on his tie as his smile lowers, “Sorry, had something caught in my throat just then.” He clears his throat as though that’ll confirm it.

“Something to tell me, Dan?”

“Hmm?” The man turns his head, “No, ma'am. We were just discussing Amy’s sister’s situation.”

“That fucking trainwreck? No offence, but your sister’s a bit of a drip, Ame. I don’t know anyone who’d fuck her well enough to get her pregnant. Up the ass, maybe, if that was an option.”

“No offence taken, ma'am.” Amy smiles, clearly enjoying the unintentional shade thrown at Dan.

Take that, you prick.

When they finally get back to New York, everything moves so fast that they barely have time to talk, much to Amy’s relief and Dan’s dismay.

She’d been unwilling to even acknowledge his existence on the plane, and he’d been seated too far from her to even bother trying to talk. Bitch. Of course she’d booked far away seats. Damn it.

He’d made his move when they all got settled in, though.

It was already the next day when he saw her again, dressed all in black, walking around Selina’s offices like she owned the place. Good. He’d stepped out of the elevator, slid his phone away, and tugged at her arm a little too lightly for anybody to notice.

“Can I talk to you?”

“No, you may not.” She shrugs him off, flicking long blonde hair over her shoulder and resting her iPad down on a desk as she talks to one of the interns. She says something about needing to get in touch with the head of some board of directors, about needing a meeting, and Dan only gives half a shit about whatever is or isn’t happening.

Then she’s springing back around, facing him indirectly because Gary has stopped between them both, “Amy, can you try this coffee?” He’s staring down at the mug in his hand like some kind of mentally challenged imbecile.

Nothing new there, Dan notes, watching the scene unfold with half a frown, half a smile playing on his face. How he hasn’t missed this - watching the complete travesty that is Selina’s bagman try to go about daily life, try to act like a normal human being. Fuckin’ imbecile.

“It’s a new brand we’re trying, but it’s decaf and I’m not sure Selina’s gonna-”

Amy sighs, eyes closing with a groan, “Just give me the fucking coffee, Gary.” She practically snatches the cup from his hands, doesn’t bother blowing it, doesn’t mind the boiling steam escaping past the rim of the mug.

Dan doesn’t know if it’s the taste that does it, or the sheer fact that she’s drinking coffee – he guesses it’s the latter – but she’s spewing the brew out before Gary can even get another word in, and there’s a light brown liquid splashing all over the wooden flooring suddenly.

“Oh my God!” Gary’s hurrying for towels, all wide-eyed and gawking. Amy’s still holding the mug, but she’s wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and clearing her throat as though to rid herself of the taste.

“What the fuck, Amy?” Yeah, sure, play along, Danny. He approaches but keeps some distance, though he grabs the cup and places it on a nearby desk. “You could’ve at least tried to reach the sink.” He nods his head over to the kitchen.

“Fuck you.” Seems that’s her new favourite greeting these days. “Why are even here?”

“You know what, I don’t know. I mean, Jesus Christ, I’m here for two seconds and you’re nearly puking fuckin’ coffee in my face.”

“Yeah, make this all about you.”

Gary returns then, kneeling down to dab paper towels over the stain, checking around to make sure the drink hasn’t reached any of the nearby rugs. Imbecile, Dan shakes his head.

“Amy, are you okay?” He trails off, gets up to check her over, hands on her shoulders, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Gary.” She shakes him off, presses a napkin to her lips, “Just don’t give that shit to Selina or she’ll ruin her carpet.”

Aversion to coffee? Check.

Telling Dan was the easy - well, easier - part; it’s letting Selina know that her campaign manager is knocked up (and staying knocked up) that’s going to be a struggle.

But she has to do it. If that incident was anything to go by, she isn’t exactly going to be able to hide it for very long. She’s an avid coffee drinker by nature, so someone is surely going to notice something wrong very fucking soon.

An Selina will either be delighted for her (and already plotting how to use an unborn baby as a campaign strategy), or the insults will come pouring out and she’ll let Amy know just how badly she screwed up this time.

Knowing Selina, it’ll probably be the latter.

Or she’ll just be surprised that Amy could even get pregnant in the first place, given she thinks the younger woman’s flirt game is so weak in the first place. Fuck, she unsuccessfully tried pimping her out to Leon the very same night she slept with Dan.

I can be very flirtatious.

Maybe it wasn’t a case of her being very good at flirting, or seducing anyone, or even attracting anyone, but more a case of: Amy, you know Dan. You’ve done this before. And, hey, you’re both miserable. Fuck each other out of convenience. Fuck the misery out of each other.

That’s the way she’s choosing to see it, at least.

“Ma'am, do you have a second?”

“Sure, Ame.” She rounds her desk, sliding manicured hands over the glass top. “Hurry it up, though. We’ve got that meeting with non-donor donors soon.” She damn near winks, flashing her teeth, but her smile drops when she sees Amy’s serious face.

“About earlier,” she starts, hand holding her phone pressed tightly against her abdomen.

“The coffee thing?” Selina points a finger, “I gotta tell you, it’s a good thing Gary’s not a barista, because fuck me.” She nods to herself, “At least he can clean.”

She’s tapping one hand on the desk, and Amy can tell she’s discreetly trying to check the time on her watch.“

“Ma'am, I-” She sighs, moves her hand to her chest when she realises where it was, “My sister isn’t pregnant.”

Selina pulls a face, shrugs one shoulder. She chuckles (in some kind of careless way), and snorts, “Great. Good for her.”

“I am.”

The older woman’s eyes darken then, and she squints, nostrils flaring, “What?” With a breath, she swallows sharply and Amy immediately regrets telling her. Fuck.

“I’m pregnant, ma'am.” Her brows knit, and she’s so tempted to fold her arms so tight around herself. Her job was finally secure, and now she’s fucked it up.

“Jesus…” She’s calm for a moment, pacing back and forth in front of the desk, heels loud, making Amy want to run for the hills, “Fuck, Amy!”

Taken back by the exclamation, the blonde sighs, moving one hand out to hold up a finger. “It’s fine, though. I’m not… going to let this get in the way of my work-” she tries to reason, finds herself cut off.

“Damn fucking right you’re not!” Selina shrieks, grits her teeth with a pissed-off look on her face. “For fuck’s sake, Ame.”

She shakes her head, approaches Amy with wide eyes, the sound of her bracelet clanking against her watch unsettling her campaign manager, “Who’s the daddy, huh? It better not be that fucking tall drink of hick piss you were screwing in Nevada.”

She wants to correct her pronunciation (again), wants to shudder at the memory of Buddy.

“I’m not having that twangy stick insect tagging along on my campaign trail, Ame.”

“It’s not Buddy, ma'am.”

“Good. Then I don’t give a shit whose it is.” She shrugs (again), and Amy almost wants to just blurt it out anyway.

“I’m perfectly healthy. My doctor says-”

“Great.” Selina’s rounded her desk again, picking up her iPad, continuously swiping left on the screen. “As long as you’re alive, and able to work, I’m happy for you? Should I be happy? Or should I be sending a car to take you to the nearest abortion clinic?”

“No.” Oh, God. “No, I’m keeping it. I want it.”

Does she, really, truly? Probably.

“Well, I don’t know why you would. I mean, you’ve seen how Catherine turned out, right?” She waves a hand over to her bookshelf where the smallest picture of Catherine sits, framed. Her eyes widen even more (if at all possible), “And you’re not exactly the best with kids, Ame.”

Thanks for the reminder.

“I know, ma'am.”

As she talks, her face is downcast to her phone and she hasn’t noticed the calculating look on her boss’ own face. “It’s not fucking Leon’s, is it?”

“No.” Amy almost feels actual puke rise to the surface at the sheer thought of that, of fucking Leon West and having his baby, “Fuck no.”

“Good. Having just one of those hairy scrotum sacks on legs is bad enough, we don’t need another one trailing after you, too.”

He does work for her now, though. He is better at his job than Mike, though Amy has really found herself missing him, as of late. He’d been with her since the start, before Dan wormed his way in, before Ben joined Team Meyer, before Kent hopped on the bandwagon for the statistics of it all. Fuck, he’d been around before Sue.

Amy ponders, fakes a smile. Doesn’t she want to know who did the deed, though?

“You can go now.”

Fine, then. Taking Selina’s direction, Amy spins back around on her heels, eyes closing momentarily as she licks her lips, breath held between tight lungs.

Fuck this. Fuck everything.

“Try to not get knocked up even more, Ame. I don’t wanna have to call your parents and tell them their little girl’s got herself into trouble.”

She can tell Selina’s teasing her, and honestly just… fuck this.

“She knows.”

“Yeah? You tell her?”

“No, she fucking sensed it via the magic of female intuition.”

Fuck him and his fucking incompetence. Maybe she should have told Selina before she told him. Maybe Selina would have had him assassinated in his sleep or some shit.

Dan nods, stabs his fork into his unfinished salad and leans back in his seat, “Does she know it’s mine?”

Amy groans at that, lets her head drop into her hands, all rough knuckles and tightly wound shoulders. “Can you not say that out loud, for fuck’s sake?” Her hair falls straight, almost falls in her lunch.

Rolling his eyes, Dan takes a sip of his water, toys with the straw as he reaches over and steals a cherry tomato from her dish, brushing her hair to the side. Why the fuck is it so long?

“Gonna have to face it one day.” He shrugs, and, looking back up, she’s annoyed to find him grinning.

They’ve got to be back at work – Selina’s office, for now – soon, guns blazing, ready to go, all prepped for their strategy meeting with Selina.

Granted, Dan is only there as a consultant but he’s him so of course he’s going to be having more of an opinion than anybody else in the room. Because he’s loud and an asshole and he likes his genius ideas to be heard. (It wasn’t genius when he suggested they forego the condom.)

Selina 4.0, anybody? She can only imagine.

“How the fuck does Richard know, by the way? What, did you have book your next checkup or so something?”

She lifts her gaze then, eyes him with a heavy breath, “I don’t fucking know. He’s weird with that kind of shit.”

“I’m surprised Kent hasn’t figured it out yet, being a fuckin’ doula and all.” Dan lifts a brow pointedly. “He’d probably start polling voters.”

“Targeting working single mothers?” She laughs, eyes a slice of carrot in his dish, picks it up with her fork, “The numbers are through the roof.” She holds up a hand, rubs two fingers together, “Staggering.”

Dan smirks, leans back over to look directly at her, brown eyes clear, “This was unforeseeable. This I did not see.”

“Astonishing, really. If my face could show emotion, this would be astonishment.” Her face is as blank, expressionless as it could possibly be, and Dan chuckles. “The voters are loving this pregnancy.”

“This foetus is working wonders for you, ma'am. Miracles, really.” He waves both hands about, watches as she crinkles her nose, “Add this to Tibet, and Montez will be out of office in no time.”

“Imagine Ben’s face.”

“He’ll drop that big fat fucking mug.”

“Spill his cocaine juice all over Selina’s carpet.”

“Probably have another heart attack.”

“Won’t die, though, much to his disappointment.” Dan adds, pulling his wallet from his pocket, picks up the bill. “Jesus, he’s gonna outlive us all.”

“Maybe I should get some of whatever the fuck he’s been drinking all these years.” She brushes hair behind her ear, looks down with a furrowed brows, “Maybe the little fucker will grow quicker and my body will be free of him.”

“Him?”

“I don’t know.” She looks up at Dan with a frown, “Doesn’t matter.”

He licks his lips, stands with both hands on his hips, waiting for her to finish the green tea she’s taking the smallest possible sips of. “Jesus, Amy.”

“Hold the fuck on.” She finishes the drink, stands with one hand on the table, pulling her coat off the back of her chair. He doesn’t help her, and she’s grateful.

Be yourself, doucheface. Don’t try all that chivalrous shit, it doesn’t suit you. Nobody would buy into that.

He does hold the door open for her, but that’s not a first. She’s always been quite proud of the fact that she’s the only person he’s done little things for over the years, seemingly without trying or forcing himself to.

When she’s left the restaurant a couple of steps before him, he’s already catching up to her, right beside her, hand on her elbow. Oh, not that.

“I guess that means my balls are in your court now, Brookheimer.”

“So you’re just a ball-less egomaniacal prick?” She frowns, somehow manages to lift one brow and curl her lip but keep a careless expression, “Lucky me.”

“Oh, don’t act so disappointed, Ames.” He (barely) nudges her side (gently), feels the sharpness of her shoulder dig into him when she pushes back (a little), “You know you love it.”

“False.” Amy corrects him, “I loved it once, when I was drunk and your mediocre dick was just competent enough to get the job done.”

“Okay, first of all, you loved it twice, at least.” He smirks, leans closer with a lowered voice, lets her back away because they’ve stopped and they’re waiting for the light to turn green.

“Secondly, I don’t think getting you to come twice, at least, is me just 'getting the job done’.” He air-quotes the last bit, winks and keeps his face near, draws back when they can finally cross the road.

“I was drunk.” She’s too busy looking at her phone to give him her full attention.

“So was I. Doesn’t mean we have to lie about enjoying it.”

“Fine. But me enjoying that doesn’t mean I’m gonna enjoy carrying your spawn around for three quarters of a year.” She mumbles, “And anything was better than having to dirty-talk Buddy.”

Dan only shrugs, ignores that last bit because fuck that guy, “You’ll do great.”

Selina’s office is right around the corner, hence why their pace increases. She’s simultaneously enjoying this conversation yet eager to finish it.

Why couldn’t someone (anyone?) have joined them for lunch? Oh, right. Because they all ate earlier, while they both otherwise preoccupied. Those fuckers.

The way up to the offices isn’t too long, and Amy’s grateful that her office is lower down than the guys’ own consultation firm.

Her heels are small, but she can already tell this pregnancy is going to – despite how badly she’s going to fight it – take its toll on her, and hiking around town and travelling is gonna be a royal bitch, so at least her own office isn’t at the top of a fucking skyscraper.

The elevator is slow, though, and Amy definitely misses Mike now. He’s her work buddy, her elevator companion. And that’s weird.

“We need to tell her.”

There he goes, getting serious again. Amy wants to straddle him, strangle him. Either? Or? Both at once? One then the other? Maybe.

She’ll straddle him, and strangle him when he’s on the brink of release because he’s a dick and his dick doesn’t take that much work to get going.

“When I’m ready.”

“I get that, okay?” He’s looking down at her, dickface in full swing, looking like his motherfucking usual self, “But it’s also my ki-”

“Don’t even fucking finish that sentence.” She warns, turning to face him, looking up at his face, “Seriously.”

“What, are you gonna fucking cut my dick off? A little late for that, Ames.” He boasts, whipping his neck back around as the doors slide open. “Besides, you’re gonna need it.”

“I’m gonna need what? Your thin fucking veiny dick?” She wants to laugh, “Oh, go on, tell me why.”

“It’s a thing, okay?” Dan huffs, steps out of the elevator, hands in his coat pockets, tilts his head to the side as his voice lowers and she steps into line beside him. “Expectant mothers develop a serious sexual fuckin’ appetite. It’s not my fault you’re gonna be begging for it, on your knees and shit.”

“On my knees?” She finds that part a little hard to believe, a little too hopeful on his end. That’s some serious wishful thinking, Danny.

“Yeah.” He’s half a mind to tell her that she’s gonna be such a horny bitch, but he refrains (much to his own ennui), “Much to my contentment.”

Amy pulls a face, “Well, technically, that would be your fault, you fucking cancer.” She grunts, undoes the first couple buttons of her coat as they near the meeting room, “Wait- did you fucking read up on this?”

His shoulders rise and lower so quickly that she almost misses it, “It’s not like I bought a fuckin’ book, that shit’s all over the internet. D'you know how many forums there are of pregnant women complaining about sore tits and stuff? Fuck!”

“Trust you to only pay attention to anything that involves sex, or anything for your own personal gain.”

“It’s for your gain, too.” He reasons, “I’m not the one who’s gonna be knocking on your door in the middle in the night because I need a good fuck.”

She rolls her eyes, pushes on the door to the office, slips her coat off and places it over the back of a chair. “You’re gonna be so good at this, you know that?”

God, she wants to strangle him. So bad.

“Yeah, well, you’re not gonna find anybody else to fuck you now, babe.”

“So you’d pity-fuck me?”

He’s copying her move, tossing his coat over a seat, and then he’s leaning over the table, watching her rearrange some folders. “Don’t call it a pity-fuck, Ames. It’d be more of a stress relief kind of thing.”

“No, us having sex in the first place was stress relief. My job was in goddamn purgatory and you got fired, and that fucking data breach got brought up again.”

He grins, gives her that look she half-dreads, half-adores (unfortunately, sadly), “You know we’d both enjoy it. Again.”

“Dan, please. You would screw anything that had two working legs and a receptive vagina, so that’s not as much of a privilege as you’re making it sound.”

“Consider it an offering then. It’s not like there’s anything in it for me to gain.” He suggests, “That is a privilege.”

“You get to have sex.”

“Yeah, but there’s no, like, job opportunity gonna come out of it because there’s nothing you could give me that I don’t already have.” He (almost) wants to retract that last part, but instead he offers, “Besides, It’s good. And you know it’s good.”

“Woah, might want to watch yourself there, Dan,” she feigns fanning herself with one hand, “or you’ll get me pregnant again.” Her monotone voice teases him, blue eyes ice cold and lips drawing into the smallest of grins, but the gag ends when the office door has swung open and Selina is stood in the doorway.

Glasses pushed up her nose, she licks her lips and clicks her tongue, staring back and forth between them. Of fucking course, Gary is at her heels, halfway through peeling an orange, beaming like an utter lunatic.

“Ma'am-” Dan tries, turning to face her once he’s registered the look of sheer surprise on Amy’s face and he’s felt her presence. His eyes widen, and he holds up both hands, more boy than man, “It’s not-”

“You get her knocked up?”

Selina quips, tone condescending, stares him up and down as though she’s scanning him with her eyes.

And then she shoots Amy a look, scrunches up her face with a tilt of her head in Dan’s direction, brown hair barely moving an inch, “Really? This shit?” She throws back.

The blonde’s body has frozen and she can only nod, “Yes,” she breathes, “Yes.”

“Well,” Selina is walking between them then, slamming her file down on the varnished table, eyes focused on Amy’s forehead.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a campaign baby, folks.”

Shit.

#veep #dan x amy #dan egan #amy brookheimer #juliaslouisdreyfus #dannyegan #veep fic #fic*#ship: dan x amy #ch: amy brookheimer #ch: dan egan #tv: veep #iaa*#[almost 6k words for your delectation... enjoy fuckers!]#[watch there still be errors because fml]

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