More-than-words, this is for you. I hope you enjoy, this was so much fun to write, and honestly, if it's half as fun to read I'll be happy. Any mistakes on protocol or general Catholicism are mine, sorry. Let me know what you think, and without further ado I present Jay and the mayhem that was the Vatican State Dinner.
"Three words."
"No, please don't."
"Vatican State Dinner."
When Jay entered the seventh floor conference room the next morning with a cup of coffee and a bottle of Pedialyte (at Matt's recommendation), he shielded his eyes and headed straight for his seat. He was still mortified beyond belief, not to mention hungover, and the events of the previous night were a foggy mess in his brain.
He pulled back his chair and plopped down with a groan. His head was throbbing and all he knew was that he had to make what would surely be the single most embarrassing phone call of his entire adult life that day, and to the Vatican no less. He was certain his staunchly Catholic grandmother would be rolling in her grave if she knew.
About last night — Jay had been wracking his brain for the better part of his morning commute trying to piece together what exactly had happened. At some point, and this he remembered clear as day, he had been swept away from a table where he'd been talking with some sort of Cardinal. Nadine and Blake had eyed him with equally horrified expressions and pulled him into a hallway before he'd received a talking-to from the chief of staff that had his ears ringing for days.
The problem was, he had no idea what he'd done in the first place and he ran his hand over his face, sighing again. He was still alone in the conference room, and used the quiet time to try to remember something, anything. He did not need Matt or Blake lording this over him; it was embarrassing enough on its own. The last thing he wanted right now was for someone else to have to tell him what he'd managed to do in a drunken haze.
He took a generous swig of the Pedialyte and had to begrudgingly admit he did feel better afterwards. Damn it. Matt would never, ever let this go. At least with Blake he had some leverage — Brussels, pay toilets, and what was that? Public urination? Oh yeah, Blake had his own version of Vatican-gate to deal with but Matt had somehow never gotten quite as hammered talking to foreign officials.
Jay then had to remember that this wasn't even his first diplomatic faux-pas, and the last one he'd committed stone-cold sober. He groaned again. Why oh why had he called the French foreign minister an empty crêpe? Had that been strictly necessary? Of course not, but hindsight was 20/20 and he could only be glad the Secretary hadn't fired him on the spot. Speaking of the Secretary, he'd surely have to face her as well, and he dreaded it more than any jokes by the rest of the staff, or even a lecture from Nadine (naturally accompanied by a freakishly effective death-glare). No, letting down his boss was definitely the worst feeling of them all.
He rubbed his temples to try to soothe his pounding headache and kneaded the back of his neck, hoping to get out the knots that always came with a night spent passed-out on the sofa because he hadn't made it quite as far as his bed. He was still aimlessly replaying the fleeting moments he remembered from the night previous, and maybe, he thought with a cringe, his brain was blocking out the rest because it was just too embarrassing to remember. But he had to find out something; he couldn't face the Secretary or the rest of the staff empty handed. He laid his head down on the table and let out a defeated groan. This morning sucked.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth had walked up to the conference room, unbeknownst to Jay. She had come in early to talk to him — alone — he didn't need five people scolding him all at once, from the looks of it he was doing a pretty good job of that all on his own.
She couldn't help but chuckle a little when she thought back to the previous night's events. What Jay had done was embarrassing, sure, and it'd haunt him for all eternity, but truthfully, on a scale from one to the brink of nuclear disaster, things were still looking pretty calm. Not that he'd have to know that just yet, he could dangle for a little while longer, she thought with a smirk.
She walked into the room and sat down next to him quietly, making sure he didn't notice. CIA stealth did come in handy sometimes. She carefully placed a hand on Jay's shoulder and he shot up at the contact. "Ma'am?" he said, startled.
"Hey there slugger, how ya feeling?"
"Uh, the alcohol was a little much, and well…" he gestured to the coffee and Pedialyte and shrugged.
"Yeah, that seems about right. Listen, we've already been talking to DoD, it's not looking too bad at the moment, but a few helos and some ground troops might be needed…" she trailed off at Jay's completely dumbstruck expression. She had a mind to continue but in a mix of pity and an inability to keep from giggling, she decided to let her policy guy off the hook.
She burst out laughing and left him with even more confusion. "I'm kidding," she managed, and she could've sworn she'd never heard such a loud sigh of relief in her life.
"Thanks?" Jay said, unsure of where this conversation was headed.
"It's not that bad, don't worry. Yes, because this is the State Department and you were speaking to a Cardinal, I have to tell you that was not good, for foreign relations and Catholicism to boot, and don't under any circumstances pull a stunt like that again. But, the world is not collapsing, and I think that hangover and the phone call awaiting you are punishment enough. Got it, Whitman?"
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Good — now, if Nadine asks, you have received a stern talking-to and deeply regret all parts of last night. We don't need to amplify your pain and honestly, that woman's death glare could freeze the sun."
"Thank you, again. And, ma'am, if you don't mind me asking, and I'm a little scared, what do you mean when you say all parts?"
"God, Jay, what do you remember from last night?"
"To be honest, Madam Secretary, not much."
She laughed again and shook her head. "Well, this is gonna be fun."
…
The Vatican State Dinner was, well, as fun as a dinner with a bunch of celibate Bishops and Cardinals — not to mention the Pope — could possibly be. Elizabeth had made the rounds at the beginning of the night, making the obligatory small-talk with all the attending diplomats and their various attachés. It would have been easier under normal circumstances, she thought to herself — priests didn't make the best conversation partners when it came to foreign affairs.
Henry, on the other hand, was in his element. Half of the Vatican in the same room as a religious scholar? It almost couldn't get more exciting than that. Elizabeth had laughed at his puppy-dog eyes and let him loose fairly quickly; she knew how excited he was to sit down and talk about religion and the world with all these men.
In truth, she loved that he was so happy, and that his cradle-Catholic side could get some attention. She knew how tedious these dinners usually were for him, and was glad that she bore the burden of boredom this time. Her job and their change of lifestyle had become their new normal, but she knew deep down that Henry missed being able to focus so intently on theology every once in a while.
So she let him go, and smiled to herself as her husband immediately gravitated toward some Cardinal, without a doubt fully intent on wrapping him up in a lengthy discussion about some far-fetched aspect of Catholicism that no two other people on this earth would enjoy talking about. Yeah, he was pretty adorable that way.
Elizabeth walked up to Russell and Conrad instead, hoping to talk to them for a little while before someone on her staff (probably Daisy) whisked her away for another photo op. Russell Jackson was not normally her conversation partner of choice, but hey, she was making the most of the evening, so he'd just have to do.
"Bess," Conrad said as she sidled up to them, a flute of champagne in her hand.
"Mr. President, Russell." She gave them both a nod and nipped on her drink.
"I see you've let Henry loose on the mob," Conrad said, smiling.
Elizabeth laughed. "Yes, he seems to be enjoying himself."
"Good for him — that makes at least one of us."
"Now Mr. President," she said with a deliberately serious expression, "this is the Vatican! Shouldn't we feel honoured to be in the presence of his Holiness?"
"His Holiness makes me feel like I've been a bad kid at Sunday school every time I catch a glimpse," Russell muttered under his breath, and Elizabeth and Conrad both chuckled.
"Amen to that," Conrad agreed, lifting his glass.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth could see her staff at their table, laughing and drinking, and having a visibly better time than she was. Sometimes she envied them, because their table-mates were White House staffers, not priests, and they could speak freely and enjoy the evening.
Not that they'd get out of hand, she thought, no, they were sure to reign it in, they were working after all. But they deserved some fun every once in a while, because State Department hours were gruelling, and most of them were still so young, and fiercely optimistic, and world politics tended to let you down.
"Go, Bess." She turned her head to look at Conrad, who smiled knowingly. She just shook hers and wondered if it really had been that obvious that she'd been staring over at her staff. Apparently it had, or maybe Conrad had more of his CIA days left in him than he cared to admit.
"Thank you, Mr. President."
She walked over to her staff and greeted them all, gratefully accepting the empty chair they offered her. She immediately had them fill her in on the gossip of the night, there had to be something juicy to come out of this dinner — there always was.
As they told her stories she leant back in her chair with a smile on her face, glad to be in good company. She really did consider her staff family, and she hoped they did as well. She was still the boss, but she hoped to be an approachable, down to earth one her staff could confide in and didn't need to hide things from. As Elizabeth surveyed the table — Nadine, Matt, Daisy and Blake — she saw the smiles on their faces and their enthusiasm and she couldn't help but be filled with a little bit of motherly pride. She'd done well.
One staff member was missing however, and she turned her head to try to see where he'd gone off to. "Where is Jay?" she asked Nadine.
"I don't know, ma'am, but I can look for him if—"
"That's okay," she said. "I'm sure he's just wrapped up in conversation."
Close, but no cigar. Jay Whitman, policy advisor to the Secretary of State and political operative, was sauntering toward his colleagues with what he currently thought to be the most badass swagger (when in reality it was more of a stumble), crooning a very heartfelt rendition of You'll Be Back from the hit musical Hamilton.
No joke.
"You say our love is draining and you can't go on
You'll be the one complaining when I am gone...
And no, don't change the subject
Cuz you're my favourite subject
My sweet, submissive—"
"Jay!"
That was Nadine, who looked positively mortified. She had shot up from her chair at the sight of him, and now held up her hand, trying desperately to get him to shut the hell up. She practically pushed him down on the chair and immediately turned to Elizabeth to apologize for something she hadn't even done.
Elizabeth just brushed it off, chuckling. "I think someone might have gotten a little too much of the bubbly."
Nadine groaned and handed Jay a glass of water with a stern look and a fierce "drink that, now."
He actually did what he was told and took the water, his grin from earlier dissipating and giving way for complete and utter embarrassment. It was at that moment he happened to notice his boss, and he flushed a deep crimson. "Ma'am, I—" he managed but Elizabeth was quicker.
"Just drink the water and keep quiet, Jay. I don't think anyone of importance noticed that little display, so why don't we keep it that way?"
Jay nodded mutely and Elizabeth shot Nadine a knowing look before departing the table. "Make sure he's watched," she whispered to her chief of staff. "I'm gonna move before people start coming over here."
Elizabeth decided to find Henry and take whatever priest he was holding hostage out of his misery. Sure enough her husband was talking animatedly to an older gentleman and Elizabeth couldn't help but chuckle to herself. She tapped Henry on the shoulder and he immediately introduced her to the Bishop, his eyes sparkling as he told his wife what the other man had accomplished. Elizabeth listened attentively, and after some small-talk managed to pry Henry away and into a corner.
"Babe, I'm sorry to take you away from him," she said, "but I need a two-minute breather, somebody who's not gonna talk to me about religion or belt Hamilton — don't ask, okay?" she added at Henry's confused look.
He smiled and chuckled. "Of course, anything for you. Two minutes without any mention of Catholicism coming right up." He took his wife's hand and pulled her outside to a secluded hallway, a wicked grin on his face.
"Have I told you that you look stunning?" he asked before pushing Elizabeth up against a wall and pressing a kiss to her lips. Oh, so this was Henry's idea of a break. She could get on board with that.
"Well…" she said coyly, batting her eyelashes innocently. Henry saw right through her and cocked his eyebrow. He cupped her cheeks, pulling her close and kissing her again. She leant into the kiss, snaking her arms around his neck. They kissed until they both needed air, and they reluctantly pulled apart. "Your definition of breather needs some work, mister," she teased and Henry grinned, pleased he could still take her breath away.
"Ma'am?" That was Blake, and Henry and Elizabeth were startled out of their reverie. They broke apart and turned to Blake, whose expression did not bear good news.
"Yes?" Elizabeth asked, mentally running through a list of all that could've gone wrong in the few minutes she'd stepped aside.
"I, uh, there's no good way to put this, but Jay has somehow managed to strike up conversation with a Cardinal that veered into topics reserved for, how shall I say this, bedrooms? And now, said Cardinal is extremely offended and has demanded he speak to you and well—" Blake trailed off, visibly uncomfortable.
Yeah, that one was not on her list.
"Jay had a guy-to-guy sex talk with a Cardinal?" Henry looked like he was about to burst out laughing and Elizabeth had to pre-emptively elbow him, shooting him a pointed look in the process.
"Basically." Blake was treading on thin ice here, and he was having a hard time gauging his boss's reaction.
"Who's with Jay?"
"Nadine, ma'am."
"And the Cardinal?"
"Daisy, but I'm not sure how long she's going to be able to keep him calm for."
"Good. All right, Henry and I will smooth things over with the Cardinal, god knows I'm gonna need some religious pointers in there. You go with Nadine, put Jay in a cab and send him home, and make sure he's in early tomorrow so we can deal with any repercussions. Tell him to take Advil and sleep it off."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Okay. Henry, let's go placate a priest."
…
"Oh my god," Jay managed when Elizabeth was done catching him up on the State Dinner. "I sang Hamilton and gave a Cardinal sex tips?"
"Something like that."
"Oh my god."
"Jay, he won't tell anyone and the press has no idea. This could have been much, much worse. Henry calmed him down yesterday and after an apology call and some reassurance that this will never occur again, we should be fine."
"I'm so sorry, ma'am, I truly didn't mean to—"
"I know. Don't apologize to me, do it to the Cardinal. Come on, I'm sure Blake and Nadine are waiting with the phone."
Sure enough, Jay soon found himself in his boss's office on the line with the Cardinal in question. The phone was ringing and he had three separate pairs of eyes on him. No pressure. The line clicked and he took a deep breath. "Good morning, your eminence…"
The next thing he heard was Elizabeth McCord trying but pretty much failing to keep in her laughter.
"They accepted my apology."
"Yeah, but God won't."
Fin.