I know I'm leaping quickly through the nomination period. There are only going to be five chapters, as a taster, before a break in which I'm going to finish my other fics, so I can concentrate solely on this and my exams.
Simon Fuller and George Beaton walked side by side towards the President's office. The two candidates were tied following the last Democrat debate and there was an uncomfortable silence between them until they reached Ronna. She nodded them in.
President Santos stepped forward and shook both men's hands, before muttering in Fuller's ear.
"Is Josh behaving himself?"
"Bed at nine every night, Mr President."
Santos laughed. "But where's his bed?"
"Exactly."
Santos motioned the two men to sit down. A series of photographers came in, all three men smiled. About thirty seconds later they were ushered out again and Santos turned to face them crossing his fingers.
"Gentlemen, eight years ago I was called in here by Jed Bartlet and I'm going to repeat what he told me, because he was right. And I can see you two heading where I was headed.
"I understand this is a tough situation, but we don't want to feed the press. I can see you two barely inches from ripping throats out. And I know some people will tell you that's what you should do. But we cannot allow that to happen. No attacks on each other, if you do that, we might as well hand the presidency to Sullivan on a platter. I want a nominee, no bloodshed. And if either of you oversteps the mark, I'll grab the closest megaphone and say so. And while I'm at it, don't be surprised if I happen to endorse the other candidate."
Both men nodded and were dismissed. Beaton leant over to Santos jokingly and said, "Fuller, best behaviour. We all know what can happen if the headmaster says leave. "
Fuller found the comment strange but nodded. The man hadn't been at ease all day.
Fuller had sharp ears, and he heard Beaton mutter, as he walked away, of; "Have a good day... Faggot."
Fuller grabbed his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"Nothin'." Beaton shrugged it off.
"What else would you like to call me? Faggot, queer, toe-toucher, arse bandit, clay digger." Fuller pushed Beaton back. "Homo, dyke, shirtlifter. I know them all."
"Calm down, Senator." Beaton looked slightly worried as the man who was a good twenty-five years younger than him, stood before him, shaking in anger.
"You're a Democrat and a politician and you just thought that... that would be an excellent political move. Insult the opposition, straight after we've just been told not to create a bloodbath. Smart move. How long have you been playing this game? Forty years?"
That at least explained why Beaton had been avoiding him all day. He was homo-bloody-phobic.
"It was au-"
Fuller cut him off. "Don't, never try and tell me that it's automatic. Never. That is not a, an acceptable excuse. I don't care if you were saying that when there were still institutes advertising shit about driving homosexuality out of people. You do not say that now. And you never say that to me."
Fuller walked away, meeting Josh and Annabeth at the door.
"How did it go?"
"I'm going home."
"Home or Home-home?"
Fuller flipped out his Blackberry, "Home-home. I need to pay my brother a visit."
Josh and Annabeth slipped behind him, as he picked up his pace.
"He has a brother?"