A/N: Okay… so maybe our girls just need a little more time…
"Ughhh!"
Kyla glanced up from her Sunday edition of the Washington Post to see that Ashley was standing with her arms crossed, glaring out the window. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the article she was reading, which highlighted some potentially unanticipated effects of the national debt on American conservation efforts.
"I can't believe them," Ashley monologued from across the room. Kyla knew her well enough to know that Ashley wouldn't stop interrupting her concentration until she got what she actually wanted, which was for Kyla to ask her what was wrong. Why she couldn't just come out and say whatever was on her mind in the first place, Kyla had yet to figure out in twenty-one years of siblingship.
Sisters.
Kyla sighed before folding up the paper and giving in. "Can't believe what?"
"Come see for yourself," Ashley replied tightly. Of course. She couldn't get any points for being an attentive sister if she didn't put down her coffee mug, unwrap herself from her blanket, get up from her spot on the couch, and walk all the way over the window just to humor Ashley.
"And what am I supposed to be looking at?" she asked, resting her chin on Ashley's shoulder and glancing out into the sunny Sunday morning.
Ashley pointed out a pair of people making their way along the paths at the periphery of the White House lawn.
"They jog."
'They,' as it turned out, were Sergeant Carlin and Corporal Lewis, dressed in matching Marine Corps tee-shirts and running shorts. The pair seemed to be spending their first morning off enjoying the unseasonably warm early October weather. Kyla didn't understand whatever it was that Ashley was getting at, but she knew that her sister would get around to a point eventually.
"It would seem that are in fact jogging," Kyla assented.
Ashley shrugged Kyla's head off her shoulder and stepped forward to tap her index finger against the glass. "Well it's weird," she declared. "Who the hell jogs on Sunday morning, like it's a thing that people our age do? Hell, even God takes today off!"
Kyla laughed and patted Ashley's back consolingly. "Ash, plenty of people our age jog. Just because you can't run more than 20 feet at a time doesn't mean that it's weird."
"Okay, but who runs in unison? Look at them: right, left, right, left – they are perfectly in sync." She watched the pair of Marines run a few more yards before she reached both hands out to the side and dramatically swept the curtains closed, bathing their living room in darkness. She turned to back to her sister, "And excuse me, but just because I hate to run does not mean I'm out of shape. I just get my cardiovascular exercise other ways." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively to make sure Kyla got her point.
"Ughh, Ash!" It was Kyla's turn to scoff. "Save your awkward sexual innuendos for Sergeant Carlin. I'm your sister and I do not want to think about that. Ever." She made her way over to their small kitchen to pour herself a glass of orange juice. Ashley followed, lifting herself up to sit on the counter.
"Speaking of Carlin," Kyla ventured, trying to casually bring up a topic she had been meaning to talk to her sister about, "Don't you think it's maybe time to tone it down a little?" It had been almost a week since the two Marines had become their bodyguards, and the two women showed no signs of giving up yet.
It hadn't been for a lack of trying on Kyla's and especially Ashley's parts. Kyla was days behind in her political science reading because Ashley had dragged her out to clubs every night this week. On Friday, she had even fallen asleep in the front row of her favorite professor's lecture, much to her horror. No amount of verbal jabs, public embarrassment or, in Ashley's case, near sexual harassment, seemed to make their bodyguards show any signs of weakness or indications that they might request a transfer.
On top of it all, no matter what the Davies sisters did to try to shake their near-silent human shadows, the Marines were somehow always one step behind them, just as their mother had promised. Maybe the president had finally found a way to keep her daughters in line…
It only took her four years.
Ashley looked scandalized. "Tone it down? Tone it down!? It's only been a few days, I'm just getting warmed up!"
"Uh huh," Kyla hummed, "and I am more than sure that you could find plenty of more ways to make their lives miserable, but let's take a step back here and consider the facts." She took a quick gulp of orange juice before trying to achieve the impossible – getting Ashley to change her mind.
She ticked off her points on her fingers as she made them. "One: We have to have some sort of bodyguards. National security protocol mandates that a president and his or her family are guarded against threats that would undermine the safety of the nation."
"Two: After what happened a last week with Nadia your Saudi friend, mother is never going to trust us to uphold her image again, especially during an election year. Believe it or not, our behavior actually does reflect on her, in the eyes of the American people. She sees our Marine escorts as the only way she can protect her name, and I think we both know that her reputation is more important to her than what we want."
"Three: Corporal Lewis and Sergeant Carlin aren't really all that bad, when you stop and…"
"Excuse me?!" Ashley interrupted, leaping back down off the counter in shock. "Not that bad?!"
"Ash, jeeze, calm down for two seconds and listen to me!" Kyla shouted back, matching her sister's tone. Kyla didn't have any idea how Ashley managed to be so dramatic all the time. It was exhausting.
"Fine, go on and explain your insanity to me," Ashley challenged back.
"Okay, let's take last night: what we did with those biker guys in Arlington? That was technically illegal and probably really stupid. And yet somehow, twelve hours later, Mom hasn't yelled at us about it yet? They didn't rat us out to her! That's something, isn't it? And I've been getting to know Chelsea better and once you get her loosened up, really, she's a sweetheart."
Ashley just looked confused. "Who the hell is Chelsea?"
Kyla laughed. "Chelsea is Corporal Lewis. That's her name." She paused for a beat. "Do you even know Sergeant Carlin's first name?"
"Psshh," Ashley flipped her wrist. "What does it matter?"
Kyla looked at her sister in disbelief. "Ashley, you've spent almost every waking hour of the past week with this woman, and you haven't even taken the time to get to know her name? I mean come on Ash, have some decency – her job is to literally take a bullet for you! Even if you don't like her being there, and even if you're actively trying to get her to quit, you could at least learn her name."
Ashley almost looked guilty (almost), before she crossed her arms across her chest defensively and stood her ground.
"I'm not asking her to do that. And I don't even want her to be there! I thought you and I were on the same page about this!" She tried to put the blame back on her sister.
"I was, and I am," Kyla tried to convince her, "But I think the best thing I can do to be in your corner right now is to try and convince you that maybe we can work with this – work with them. I think that these girls could be different, if you'd just give them a chance."
Ashley didn't reply. She stormed out of the kitchen and into her room, slamming the door behind her. She didn't come out until later that evening when they had their mandatory Sunday dinner with their mother.
Spencer was somewhat surprised that first time she finally saw the president was nearly a week after she had taken up her new post as bodyguard to one of the First Daughters. She was around Ashley almost all day long and this was also the first time she saw either of the Davies sisters interact with their mother.
Spencer had Skyped with her own parents at least three times she had arrived in Washington. It did not take her long to figure out that the Davies girls had a very different sort of relationship with their mother than Spencer and her brothers had with the elder Carlins. It was part of the reason she and Chelsea had chosen not to tell the president about Kyla and Ashley's antics thus far. The two Marines had agreed that the good will that they would show by avoiding getting the sisters into trouble might just help them do their job better. Obviously, reporting every last detail to the president had not worked out well for their predecessors, as Spencer and Chelsea had learned from their Secret Service colleagues.
She and Chelsea had been advised to escort their charges to a small Mediterranean restaurant on Massachusetts Ave where they found the president and her personal Secret Service team, including Agent Dennison, waiting.
The entire restaurant had been cleared in expectation of the First Family's arrival. Apparently, once per week Christine and her daughters patronized a different local restaurant. Christine's chief of staff was always sure to alert the press so that they could capture a few images of the president interacting with local DC business owners before she sat down to eat privately with her children. Since the restaurant trips were planned well in advance, security was extra tight and there were several auxiliary Secret Service teams scattered around the block.
Spencer found herself stationed at the east end of the dining room. Agent Dennison was just to her left and Chelsea was standing at attention on the other side of the room.
At first, the silence of the meal was making Spencer a little uncomfortable. For the first ten minutes, the only sound that any of the Davies made was the rustling of a menu page. Once they finally ordered, Christine initiated some small talk.
"So," she looked between her two daughter who were sitting across from her on the other side of the small table. "How are your studies?"
Kyla jumped right in, looking almost excited to talk about what Spencer had come to learn was one of her favorite subjects. "Oh, quite well! I just had a debate in Modern American Politics on Thursday about energy policy. It was funny, actually, your name came up a lot in my class and…"
"That's good dear." Christine interrupted after swallowing a rather large gulp of red wine. "Ashley, have you been staying out of trouble?"
If Kyla was hurt by her mother's brush-off, she didn't say anything, though she was no longer sitting up as straight in her chair as she had been before. In fact, Ashley looked more upset about her mother's lack of interest than her sister did.
"Yes." Ashley shot back, clearly trying to match her mother's bored tone. "But I can't say that trouble's been staying out of me."
President Davies nearly spat out her next sip of wine when she finally understood the implication of what Ashley had just said. She darted her eyes around the dining room as if checking to be sure that all the media's cameras were truly gone before she focused her rage on her eldest daughter.
"Ashley you will not speak of your… your activities in public!" She slammed her palm down on the table-cloth next to her to emphasize her point.
Ashley rolled her eyes, "Well Kyla was going to tell you about her debate, but you were the one who brought up the subject of my 'exploits', so I just figured I would roll with it." Kyla looked nervously back and forth between her mother and sister before she busied herself with the humus and pita that their waiter had left.
Chelsea caught Spencer's eye from across the room. Her friend looked about as uncomfortable as Spencer felt being a fly on the wall of this hostile family interaction.
"Forgive me for being concerned about a pertinent issue that could ruin our family name," Christine hissed. She was gripping the stem of her wine glass so tightly that Spencer worried that it might crack.
"Pertinent?" Ashley scoffed as she shook her silverware out of her napkin, setting into the meal as she was settling into the defense of her sister. "When am I not ever doing something that makes you fear for the family name? Can't you just take two seconds and be a proud mother for the daughter who might actually give our family a decent reputation in politics one day?"
The argument went on through the first course, with Ashley and Christine butting heads at every turn in the conversation. The dinner ended quickly enough when Christine stormed out of the restaurant just before desert was served, leaving her youngest in tears and her oldest fuming.
Spencer couldn't help but feel bad that the Davies girls didn't get to experience the same sort of affection that Spencer's mother and father showered upon their children. It must have been hard to grow up with a mother like that. She wondered what Raife had been like, and if their childhoods had been any different with him around – if he was even around at all, being the rock star that he was.
"Is it always like that?" Spencer asked Agent Dennison when they met later that night for a debrief. The evening had given the Marine some insight into the two sisters she had come to know only as trouble. Seeing them with their demanding and unaffectionate mother explained some of their hostility against anything Christine forced upon them, including their two new Marine body guards.
Aiden laughed, "No, not usually. The president didn't throw anything this time, so I think all in all it was a pretty subdued Davies Family dinner."
The next morning, Spencer and Chelsea went back to their usual schedule and picked the Davies girls up for their Monday morning classes.
The week seemed to be off to a noticeably different start than the last. Kyla had actually smiled and greeted Chelsea by name, and while Ashley hadn't actively acknowledged Spencer's presence, she hadn't yet insulted her either.
Spencer had to admit that Ashley was looking pretty nice – especially without her verbal abuse to sour her face. She was wearing her curly hair tied back in a messy pony tail and was sporting a retro leather vest over a plain white V-neck. The look was completed with a pair of torn up skinny jeans, silver hoop earrings and brightly colored flats. Spencer noticed that she was also wearing what looked like a guitar case as a backpack, as well as her usual tote.
In fact, Spencer was feeling optimistic enough about the whole morning to admit to herself that Ashley kind of looked hot.
After all, Spencer wasn't blind – she just had standards. Rude, ungrateful rich girls weren't really her type.
After her last class of the afternoon, instead of heading back to the presidential SUV with Kyla, Ashley had led Spencer into the basement of the music building. She listened quietly outside of several closed doors before opening one to reveal a small, sound-proofed practice room. Spencer followed her inside, checked the room and then took her usual post by the door.
Ashley slid the guitar case off her shoulders and set it down lightly next to her seat, taking a moment to stretch her shoulders and arms before she took out her instrument.
The girl made stretching look sexy without even trying.
What the heck was that!? Spencer asked herself with some sense of alarm.
She shook a little to cut off the train of thought. Best never to let that train leave the station, she chided herself. She took a second to remember all of the uncomfortable moments Ashley had forced her to suffer through over the last week to put her back into her proper state of mind. There were a lot of options to choose from: being forced to listen to Ashley fuck that redhead from Grey in the bathroom; being accused multiple times of being homophobic; having to walk around in a vomit covered uniform for most of Thursday night; running up twenty-three flights of stairs after Ashley and Kyla tried to ditch them via elevators… the list went on and on.
Much to Spencer's surprise, the instrument Ashley had carried around all day was not a guitar at all – it was a cello. It didn't quite fit with the image she seemed so hard put to portray.
"You play that?" Spencer asked before she realized she posed her question out loud.
"No Sandy," Ashley replied sarcastically, "I use it to comb my hair."
Spencer winced at the bite. "That's not what I meant, it's just you set yourself up to be this badass rocker chick and you spend your free time playing the cello?"
Ashley smiled a little at her outburst. Spencer realized it was probably the most Ashley had ever heard her speak. "It case you were worried, Summer, I play guitar too. I am Raife Davies' daughter after all. And while I'm not opposed to you referring to me as a 'badass rocker chick' or any other sexy little nicknames you come up with," she gave Spencer an obvious once over, licking her lips, "I'm not really into labels."
Spencer glared at her, but gave no other response to Ashley's efforts to fluster her. This girl was really starting to push her buttons. After she had realized that Spencer would never admit to being a bigot, Ashley had decided that shamelessly hitting on her might be a way to finally get Spencer to crack.
Spencer had dealt with more unwanted sexual advances from Ashley in a week than she had faced in four years of living in the desert with a pack of testosterone feuled men. Go figure.
She muttered a quick all-clear into her earpiece, while Ashley settled the cello between her thighs and ran the bow experimentally over the instrument's strings. Spencer had to admit that she was a least a little impressed as she watched Ashley tune the instrument by ear, taking the time to adjust the pitch until it was just right.
She didn't know much about music, but from the few brief weeks her brother Clay had attempted to play the saxophone, the Marine assumed that most practice sessions were filled with squeaks and honks and plenty of scales. She was ready for an hour of ear-splitting noise, but instead all she heard was music – beautiful music.
Spencer avoided watching Ashley at first – lest she be accused of staring again – but she needn't have worried. Ashley played almost entirely with her eyes closed. Though she had several sheets of music in front of her, Spencer did not see her look at them once as she played.
It was almost as if the instrument was a part of her body – her fingers moved unhesitantly over the strings and her bow was a blur of motion as she drew sounds out from the instrument that Spencer could feel resonating through her. She almost felt like Ashley was leading her on a journey through the music.
Spencer realized that she was seeing a side of Ashley that she had never seen before. In some ways, watching Ashley play was like seeing her naked. Gone was the sarcastic, bad girl attitude. Without it, Ashley seemed almost… vulnerable. Maybe there was more to Ashley than Spencer had first given her credit for.
She was almost sorry when the music came to an end what felt like hours later.
"Bach's Cello Suite, Number 1." Ashley said as she opened her eyes, breaking the silence. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She was wearing the most genuine smile Spencer had ever seen on her face.
"Yeah," Spencer agreed, meeting her eyes and smiling back. "It really is."
After cello practice, Ashley had declared that she needed to stop to and grab something to eat before returning home. She insisted that the head chef at the White House didn't know how to make a proper burger and claimed that she was going through withdrawal.
Spencer had to put her long legs to work to keep up with her charge. Ashley was a girl on a mission as she motored along the store fronts of Georgetown. Spencer nearly ran into her when she stopped short on the sidewalk.
"This," she announced with an overdramatic flourish, "Is Ollie's."
It appeared to be a small diner on the corner of the street, with bizarre circus-themed antiques in its large glass windows. Inside Spencer could see more traditional red plastic diner booths and a pretty large crowd for midafternoon.
"Okay Shamus, enough ogling," Ashley beckoned from the doorway, "Let's go, I'm getting hungry." Ashley had run out of girls names that afternoon and for lack of any better ideas, she had moved on to guys names. Spencer was sure that she had a list of baby names in her back pocket. She had seen her sneakily reference the document throughout the day.
The diner smelled like grease and meat and cheese and heaven. Spencer's stomach growled to attention, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. She tried to ignore it and instead focused on surveying the crowd in the diner.
There was no line at the counter, so Ashley strolled right up like she owned the place and ordered a cheeseburger, french-fries and a chocolate milk shake.
"You've got it Miss Davies," the teenage cashier replied as he punched the order into the register.
"Huh, he knows my name. Almost like I'm famous or something…" She gave Spencer one of her cheeky grins before noticing that the Marine was having trouble keeping her eyes off the patties on the grill just behind the diner counter.
"Oh my god," Ashley exclaimed, "Are you drooling?" She wasn't, but Spencer's hand jumped up to her lower lip to check anyway.
"No," she snapped, "I'm not."
She knew she shouldn't explain further, but she couldn't help it. The powerful scent of cheeseburgers and fries was doing something to her head. "I haven't had a cheeseburger in nine months," she admitted a little wistfully.
"Where have you been, the moon?" Ashley asked in disbelief as she dug through her purse to pull out her wallet to pay the cashier.
"Afghanistan," Spencer corrected shortly.
"Oh." Apparently Ashley didn't have any commentary to provide on that. She actually looked a little sheepish. She turned back to the cashier and handed him her debit card. "Double the order kid."
Spencer felt her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. Had Ashley Davies just done something nice?
"You didn't have to do that," Spencer told her.
Ashley merely shrugged. "Whatever, not like it's a big deal or anything." She led them over to a booth near the center of the small restaurant and plopped herself down. Spencer wasn't sure what the proper procedure was for this situation and so she hovered awkwardly at the end of the booth.
"Don't make this weirder than this already is by eating your burger standing up," Ashley muttered as she pointed to the empty bench across from her.
Hesitantly, Spencer sat.
Moments later a waitress slapped their burgers, fries and shakes onto the table between them. Ashley wasted no time digging in and Spencer followed her lead.
She couldn't resist the urge to moan when she took her first bite. It was everything she had dreamed and more. The way the cheese and beef and onion blended together into savory goodness was like a symphony in her mouth. It had to have been the best thing she had ever tasted.
"Let's not turn this into a When Harry Met Sally Moment here Snooki," Ashley ordered from behind her own burger.
Spencer felt her cheeks flush when she realized she had been caught. "It's good enough that I don't have to fake it," she retored.
Spencer froze. Had she really just said that out loud?
With the combination of the burger, movie reference, and comfortable seat, Spencer had forgotten for a second that she was not among friends.
"Lighten up Simon, you cracked a joke, don't look so mortified about it." And now Ashley was making fun of her. Again.
Spencer turned her attention back to her food but this time took better care to mask her gusto.
"So…" Ashley drew out, as she swirled her straw through her milkshake. "What's your deal?"
Spencer finished the last bite of her burger and moved on to the fries. "My deal?" She asked. She was never able to follow how Ashley's brain worked.
Ashley rolled her eyes as if her question was obvious. "Your deal with the uniform and the salutes and the stick up your ass."
Spencer felt the little vein by her temple start to throb but otherwise contained her annoyance. "Why did I join the Marine Corps?" She asked, looking for clarification.
"Okay, we can start with that," Ashley gestured for her to continue.
Spencer shrugged as she dipped another fry into some ketchup. Wasn't it obvious? "It's an honor to serve my country," she said.
"Well you could also serve your country by cleaning toilets at the Capital, and that at least would have regular hours," Ashley told her, as if that was the same thing. "Why the military?"
Spencer put down her fries and folded her hands in front of her on the table, turning her full attention on Ashley. She hesitated, unsure of if she really wanted to get into this debate with Ashley Davies, of all people, but she decided to go for it anyway: "My family has served in the United States Armed Forces going back four generations. I was raised from birth to help those who are not in a position to help themselves and to stand up for what I believe in. What I believe in is this country."
Ashley's brown eyes searched her own, as if she was actually trying to understand where Spencer was coming from.
"And you feel like the best way to help people is by running around with machine guns and shooting things?" she asked.
Spencer rolled her eyes. "Of course not. There are a lot of people in this world, and the vast majority of them are good, honest people, just trying to live their lives. But there are bad people too, people who want things they don't deserve and who take things they haven't earned. They have no qualms about who they hurt to get power. Most people don't have the training or the resources to stand up against the tyranny they face, but the Corps does."
"As for guns: The bad guys have weapons, so sometimes I need them too. Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire."
"Wow," Ashley said after a beat, "That was almost kind of deep, for a jug head that is."
Spencer sighed. She knew sheshould probably just save her breath but...
"It's 'Jar head'." Didn't Ashley know anything about the Marines?
Ashley flapped a hand at her. "And that's better? Whatever. Anyway, this country elected my mother as its leader and you still believe in it?"
Everybody makes mistakes… Spencer thought to herself, suppressing a smile. Instead she went with, "Democracy in all her glory." Ashley could interpret that however she wanted. Spencer might detest Christine Davies as a person and as a politician, but she would never bad-mouth the Commander-In-Chief in public.
"Whatever you say Spencer."
Spencer nearly choked on her milkshake in surprise.
"What the hell is wrong with…WAIT," Ashley exclaimed. "Wait! That's right, isn't it? Your name is Spencer!?"
Spencer was still coughing, trying to dislodge the chocolate from her trachea. She managed to nod.
"Spencer," Ashley said again, this time drawing the name out and appreciating how it rolled off her tongue, "Spencer Carlin."
Spencer managed to crack a smile in spite of herself. Ashley looked so proud of her victory. "Present and accounted for."
Ashley rolled her eyes but smiled back. "I like it." She declared.
"That's good, I was so desperate for your approval." Spencer replied with mock sincerity.
Ashley threw a French fry at her, but Spencer caught it with a rather impressive show of reflexes and tossed it back into Ashley's basket.
"Whatever Sarge," Ashley flapped her hand in a dismissive gesture. "It suits you."
Spencer couldn't help but notice that for all of her mockery over the last week, Ashley had nothing snide or sarcastic to say about her real name, which was a little surprising considering how much flack her friends at home had always given her about her unusual masculine name.
She tried not to let herself read too much into the soft sparkle in Ashley's eyes.
Instead she settled with a quiet, "Thank you."
Ashley seemed to accept that too.