Chapter Text
"Good evening, Special Agent McVeigh."
Kurt McVeigh looks up from his newspaper as his old friend Bob Niven walks into reception. He stands with a smile and shakes his hand.
"Good to see you, Bob."
"You ready for this?" Bob asks, indicating for Kurt to follow him as he walks briskly through the busy corridor. "We’re dropping you right into the middle of the chaos, but first things first, you gotta meet the boss."
"I thought you were my boss," Kurt smirks, and Bob laughs.
"She’s a good lady, despite her politics," Bob says, and Kurt scoffs. "But she’s fun to argue with on a long car journey."
"I bet."
"You’ve read the briefing?" Bob asks, and Kurt hums in agreement. "The FBI is still investigating the legitimacy of the threats, but considering who she is, we’re taking it seriously. You’ll be on her detail for the foreseeable future; I want you to be with her from the moment she wakes until she’s back in bed. Of course, she won’t like it, and you’ll probably never hear the end of it, but I’m putting you on her detail because I know you won’t let her weasel her way out of taking security wherever she goes."
"She does that a lot?" Kurt asks as they pass through a secretary pool and out into a courtyard.
"She likes her privacy," Bob opens a door into the residency, and Kurt passes through first. "She’s been known to "lose" her detail when it suits her. Nothing serious, five or ten minutes here and there, but she can’t do that with these threats looming over her."
"How much does she know?" Kurt follows his friend up a large staircase.
"She knows there have been threats to her life," Bob says, greeting a few security agents as they walk along a quiet corridor.
"But she hasn’t seen them?" Kurt asks.
"No," Bob gives a frustrated sigh. "Eli Gold requested we keep a lid on it until after tonight."
Kurt frowns but says nothing.
"She’s getting ready to attend a charity concert," Bob stops abruptly, just ahead of a commotion outside the master bedroom. "So, it’s a quick hello, and then you’ll be going with her."
"I read about it in the briefing," Kurt replies.
"I knew you’d be prepared," Bob smiles and pats Kurt on the shoulder. "That’s why you’re the best man for the job."
"This him?" A man asks, his eyes never leaving his phone as he scrolls.
"Special Agent Kurt McVeigh, I’d like you to meet Eli Gold; he’s-"
"She’s in a good mood, and I need her to stay that way," Eli interrupts him. "So, you know, don’t say anything that will piss her off."
Kurt glances at his friend. "I had no plans to-"
"You’re a Republican," Eli says, glancing up from his phone with a look of disdain like it explains everything. "You know, maybe you should keep that quiet for now."
"Kurt is a professional," Bob says. "He wouldn’t let his politics get in the way of his job."
"But your politics are the reason you quit your last job, right?" Eli asks.
"It was early retirement," Kurt narrows his eyes. "But yes, I did resign from my last client because of our politics."
Eli glares at Kurt and then shifts his focus onto Bob. "Seriously? This is the guy?"
"He’s the best in the business," Bob nods.
"Dad!" A young woman runs out of the bedroom, a phone to her ear. "The car is stuck in traffic!"
"Mother fucker!" Eli chases after his daughter, his own phone going to his ear as he begins shouting at someone on the other end.
"Welcome to the madhouse," Bob smirks and beckons Kurt to follow him again.
They walk into the bedroom, and at first, all Kurt can see is a sea of people. Makeup artists, dressers, assistants.
"You guys can’t be in here," the same young woman from the corridor says as she rushes back into the room.
"Marissa Gold, the body-woman," Bob says before introducing Kurt.
"Good to meet you," she smiles. "But you still can’t be in here."
"It’s only Bob; he’s seen it all before." A familiar woman’s voice comes from somewhere in the crowd, a smooth, deep tone that tingles Kurt’s neck.
"Good evening, ma’am," Bob smiles, and Kurt can see the affection in his friend's eyes. "I’d like to introduce you to a new agent. This is Special Agent Kurt McVeigh; he’ll be joining you tonight."
"Could you give us a minute?" The voice asks. Kurt can feel the uncertainty in the group.
"One minute," Marissa says, her bright eyes narrowing on the woman in the crowd.
"Noted," the woman’s voice is amused, and Kurt watches as the crowd disperses. He feels her eyes on him as she first looks at him in her mirror. His breath catches in the back of his throat as she approaches them from her chair. Her dark blue silk bathrobe is loosely tied around her narrow waist, her stocking-clad legs peeking out as she walks toward them. She offers her hand to Kurt, a teasing smile on her lips as she observes him. "Seems you pulled the short straw."
It takes Kurt a moment to take her hand, his brain slow to catch up with what was happening. "I wouldn’t say that," he says, hoping she didn’t notice his sweaty palm as he lets go.
"Oh, no?" She raises an eyebrow. "You don’t seem the type to be happy about babysitting."
Kurt glances at Bob, who is watching the whole thing with barely concealed amusement. "I er-" he lets out a relieved sigh when a nervous-looking man steps forward.
"I’m sorry, ma’am. We really need to get you dressed."
"Saved by the bell." The smile that tugs at her lips is enough to wipe any coherent thoughts from Kurt’s mind. He watches her turn to her staff, her robe is already being pulled from her body, and he catches the most wonderful glimpse of her delicate shoulders as she turns her back to them.
He feels Bob’s hand on his arm and turns to follow him to the doorway. Kurt wants to say something to his friend, berate him for not giving him some kind of warning, but as they catch each other's eye, he can’t seem to find the words.
"I know," Bob laughs. "She’s something else."
Kurt resists the urge to look back into the room. "Should be interesting…"
"Really?" Bob lowers his voice, his eyes looking around the corridor to check that no one is nearby. "I didn’t think she was your type."
"I didn’t… I don’t…" Was he really that easy to read?
"I mean, she’s over 30 and a Democrat; you did read that in the brief, right?" Bob laughs as Kurt rolls his eyes.
"Yes, thank you, Bob," Kurt gives his friend a hard stare, which only serves to make Bob laugh even more.
"That’s another thing," Bob says, suddenly serious. "People can get… grabby. Especially men when they’ve had a few drinks in them. They all seem to think they’re entitled to a piece of her because they voted for her."
Kurt shakes his head. "Alcohol always brings out the best in our sex," he says dryly.
"She’s no damsel in distress," Bob continues. "She’ll deal with anyone who steps over the line, but just keep an eye on it." Kurt nods, and before they can say anything else, she sweeps into the hallway.
"Ready to get this show on the road?" She’s wrapped in a grey fur coat, her eyes sparkling to match her diamond drop earrings. She doesn’t wait for a response and quickly heads for the staircase with her staff.
"Here’s a radio and earpiece," Bob says to Kurt as they rush to keep up with her. "The rest of her detail will be right behind you. I’ll be on-site; usual protocol is in place in case of emergencies."
"Thanks," Kurt grabs the radio and attaches it to his belt as Bob rushes off to his own duties.
Kurt follows the staffers, his long strides keeping up easily, his eyes never leaving his target.
"The car is still 10 minutes away," he hears someone say, and there’s a collective groan before everyone takes the opportunity to once again descend on the woman at the centre.
"Enough," she says softly, but Kurt can hear the edge to it. "You’ve done a wonderful job, but I need some quiet time before the car arrives."
"But-"
"Ma’am, can we-"
"That’s my cue," Marissa pops up and nudges her way through the staffers.
"We really need-"
"Look this way-"
"Okay," Marissa positions herself between her boss and the staffers. "She looks great; now off you go. Thanks, everyone!" She smiles sweetly at the staff until one takes a step too close. "Did you not hear me?" Marissa steps in his way. "I said back off."
"Marissa," a warning tone comes from the woman behind her.
"What?" Marissa turns to look at her. "You asked for space."
"Yes," she laughs, and something flutters in Kurt’s chest at the sound. "But I didn’t mean bully them into leaving."
"They would never have left you alone," Marissa shrugged. "Your car should be here soon. I’m riding ahead with dad so it will just be you and the cowboy."
The woman holds back a laugh. "Cowboy?" She glances up briefly to catch eyes with Kurt.
"He’s wearing cowboy boots. He’s a cowboy," Marissa waves her hand dismissively at him, her attention now on her phone. "He’s also a Republican, did you know that? Maybe not. I think my dad told him not to say anything, but that was bound to come out at some point. Hey, did you know..."
Kurt stares at the young woman, his jaw slack, unable to do anything but listen to her chatter. He notices their boss watching Marissa too, laughter in her eyes as she leans against the wall to listen. Kurt allows himself a moment to watch her, his eyes travelling up her long neck, over her lush red lips and further until he locks eyes with her. He feels himself grow warm under his collar at being caught, and he gives an apologetic smile. He’s relieved to see a flirtatious smile tug at the corner of her lips.
"If you’re done ogling each other, your car is here," Marissa interrupts them. Once again, Kurt feels himself blush.
"Thank you, Marissa," she says in an amused yet frustrated way and then turns her attention to Kurt. "Well, shall we?"
Kurt nods and follows her to the car. He checks in with the driver and then holds the door open for her to climb in first. He hesitates for a moment, knowing customarily that he should get in the front along with the driver, but something makes him reach for the back door. He slides in beside her before he has a chance to second-guess himself.
"What would you like today, ma’am?" The driver asks.
Kurt watches as she relaxes into her seat, her eyes drifting closed, a soft hum escaping her. "How about a little Baroque?"
"Bach?" The driver asks, and Kurt can see him fiddling with his phone.
"You know me so well, Harry," she opens her eyes and smiles at the driver through his rear-view mirror.
Kurt steels himself as the music fills the car, and they pull away from the curb. He turns his attention to the window, trying to block out the music. He’d never been much of a fan of classical music, preferring good old country music. His discomfort must have been evident because a soft laugh from the woman beside him draws his attention.
"You don’t like classical music?" She asks, still resting comfortably in her seat.
"Er, no," he smirks.
"Let me guess, you prefer Hank Williams and Patsy Cline over Bach and Handel," she laughs. Kurt looks down at his shoes, wondering if he's that much of a cliche or if she’s merely teasing him. Glancing over at her doesn’t give him much of an answer, her glittering eyes hide her motives. "It’s not a bad thing," she shrugs. "I don’t mind a bit of country, but Baroque just..." she sighs. "It just speaks to my soul."
Kurt watches her as she slips into her own world, the ghost of something in her eyes as she stares ahead. Almost like someone flips a switch, she blinks and turns to look at him, that same teasing smile back in place.
"So, Special Agent McVeigh," she practically purrs his surname, and Kurt feels it deep in his chest. "Unfortunate name. No relation, I hope?"
"Let’s hope not," he mumbles.
"I suppose you wouldn’t be here if you were," she says, her frivolous tone letting him know she was playing with him. "Then again, maybe it’s a Republican plot to knock me off my perch."
"You got us," Kurt smirks, and he listens to her laugh; he’s quickly becoming fond of it.
"Did Eli really tell you not to say you were a Republican?" She asks.
Kurt huffs, not wanting to put himself on the wrong side of Eli Gold. He’s heard enough about the man to be at least a little cautious. He gives a slight shrug, and she lets out a sigh.
"I could kill that man," she says softly. "But then I’d have to look for a new Chief of Staff, and I don’t know if I have the energy to break in someone new."
"I’m good with a gun," Kurt offers. "I could hurt him a bit. Pop a knee or a shoulder."
He watches her throw her head back as she laughs. "Tempting. I’ll keep your offer in mind."
Something in his chest jumps at the thought of being on her mind, and he shakes his head at himself. He bites back a laugh, knowing he’s acting like a kid with his first crush.
"Something funny?" She asks.
"No." His response is a bit too quick, and from her raised eyebrow, he knows she’s seen right through him. "You’re not what I thought-"
"Uh oh," she interrupts him. "I’m afraid to ask." Kurt notices with regret that some of the light in her eyes fades. He wonders how many people have said that to her, and how many times the response has disappointed her. "Which is it? Liberal ice queen? Baby killer? The woman who will-"
"No, no," he lifts his hand to stop her. "Nothing like that, I just thought... I didn’t... I didn’t think I’d find you so charming." He can tell by the look on her face that he’s thrown her, and there’s a small part of him that delights in the knowledge.
"You find me charming?" She asks, and Kurt knows she’s stalling, her mind needing a moment to catch up.
"Yep," he smirks.
"You didn’t think I was charming before?" She raises an eyebrow. "Stephen Colbert calls me charming every time I’m on his show."
"I don’t watch Stephen Colbert," he’s glad to see some of the spark return to her eyes.
"Of course," she nods knowingly. "You’re a Fox News kind of guy, right?"
"Yep."
"Yep." She’s teasing him again, and he likes it.
The driver pulls to a halt, and already there are flashes of the paparazzi cameras outside the car. He can hear the rest of the security detail through his earpiece, getting into position. He looks over at the woman beside him; her eyes are closed again as if she’s steeling herself for what awaits her.
"You ready?" He waits for her to nod and then gets out of the car. He moves quickly to her side of the car, waits for Bob’s all-clear and then opens the door. He offers her his hand, and she takes it, squeezing it tightly as she steps out, a bright smile on her face as she waves to the crowd.
The bright pops of cameras flashing momentarily blind him, and he slips his hand to her lower back, guiding her along the red carpet as the press and fans call her name.
"Look this way, Madam President!"
"We love you, Diane!"
"Over here, President Lockhart."