Chapter Text
The first time they had sex after reaching an understanding in Ben’s study, everything was different. Apparently, Ben’s definition of “starting slow” didn’t mean starting from zero. They picked things up where they’d left them off, but it was all so new that they might as well have been at the beginning. Somehow, Mike didn’t mind that. It was like a second chance. A do over, albeit a fucking complicated do over that could (and probably would) blow up in their faces, but what the hell? Mike had never played it safe and Asher, in his own way, was proving that he was as much of a daredevil.
Still, what Mike remembered most about that first time, aside from the stunning comfort of Ben’s bed (they actually had sex in Ben’s bed), was the tenderness of it all. The encounter was as far removed as possible from the quick suck and fuck of their early days. While that didn’t mean that every time was rough, now there was permission to linger and to explore. Not that Mike needed to explore. He knew every inch of Ben’s body, every secret scar, every sensitive spot. But if Mike were the type to feel embarrassment, he might’ve flushed at how attentive Ben had been that night, how he was almost worshipful. Mike had always thought of Ben as a considerate lover (he hoped that he was too), but even this was on a whole other level.
It wasn’t just the sex this time. There was also the afterglow of post-coital bliss. They lounged around in bed, instead of dressing quickly and heading off to wherever they usually needed to go. Still, Mike kept them to a regimented schedule, both to Ben’s immense amusement and chagrin. That night’s reason for Mike’s unexpected visit had been particularly convincing since there was a stack of important paperwork that Asher had conveniently forgot to give to him at the end of the day. So Mike had turned up at the residence a little after dinner and the agent on duty had teased him about working overtime. “When the President calls,” Mike had replied with a wave of his hand as he’d driven inside. They had a drink in the study before discreetly sneaking into the bedroom. By the time Mike left, it was still so early that Connor had managed to corral him in the hallway on his way out, eventually dragging Mike into his room to show him something from school.
But before Mike had left, he’d sat at the side of the President’s bed as he’d dressed. “Calling it a night?” he’d asked, as he buttoned his shirt.
“Still have stuff to do,” Ben had answered, but didn’t at all look like he was going to do anything about that. “Hey,” he’d said as Mike was putting on his socks. “Thanks for coming over.”
Mike had grinned to himself. “When the President asks for a booty call, how am I supposed to refuse?” Mike had expected to hear Ben’s amused chuckle but when his joke was met with silence, he’d glanced behind him. Asher was sitting up, a slight look of concern across his face.
“This was more than just sex,” he’d said, as though Mike needed reminding.
“Yes,” Mike had confirmed, slinging his left arm about Ben’s body so that he’d effectively trapped the other man. “This was more than just sex, you big sap.”
Ben had exhaled lightly and then the smile that spread across his face was warm. He’d reached over and fixed Mike’s collar before running his hands down Mike’s shirt. “Don’t suppose there’s any way I could convince you to stay the night?” he’d cajoled.
“There’d be no way to explain that, Mr. President,” Mike had replied. “Whereas a fifty-five minute visit is within reason.”
“Fifty-five minutes?” Ben had teased, as Mike got back to dressing.
“Fifty-five minutes,” Mike had repeated, not taking the bait.
Ben had sighed dramatically when Mike stood up and put his jacket back on. “Guess there’s more to look forward to when I step down from office,” he’d commented.
Mike had glanced back at him, this time deciding to take the bait. “Such as?” he’d inquired.
“Waking up next to you in the morning.”
Mike had resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead shaking his head in bemusement. “Should’ve guessed you were a closet romantic,” he’d replied.
Ben had the good grace not to deny it. “Good night, Mike,” he’d said.
“Good night, sir.”
After that first night, they slipped into a familiar routine. As before, nothing was outwardly different and their professional veneer remained intact. But as the first month went by, it was difficult not to notice the President’s exceedingly good humor and the murmurings of his staff had begun. Ever attuned to his surroundings, Mike decided that a word with Asher was in order. During particularly tedious meetings, it had become standard for Ben to casually wander to where Mike was stationed if he needed a bit of a breather. It was at one of these moments, in a non-common area so that there was no audio surveillance, that Asher stood overlooking a window with Mike positioned on his right, facing the entrance. They were alone when Mike quietly said, “You’ve been too happy.”
Asher gave him a sideways glance. “The President of the United States can’t be happy?” he asked in return.
“It’s not that,” Mike replied. “It’s the particular type of happiness.”
“What type would that be?”
“The type that gets people’s tongues wagging.”
Ben’s look told him to elaborate and so Mike did.
“It’s the dopey kind of happy,” Mike explained. “The hearts and chocolates kind of happy that makes people think you’re in love.”
“That’s because I am.”
The dagger glare that Mike shot the President at that moment was priceless. Coming from any other agent, it was the sort of reaction that guaranteed said agent would have to look for new employment. But in Mike’s case, all he did was mutter the word ‘asshole’ as the grin on Ben’s face grew wider.
Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Agent Mitchell. “Sir, the Trade Minister is ready to proceed,” he informed Asher.
“Thank you, Stephen,” Asher replied, giving Mitchell a nod to dismiss him. “I’ll be right in.”
Mike fell into step beside the President as they walked to the door.
“Dinner later?” Ben asked so softly that anyone near them would have strained to hear his words.
“7:00pm, sir,” Mike replied. Just as they reached the doorway, he purposefully fell a step behind Asher to act as his escort. “And get that grin off your face,” he added, before they stepped outside.
It was Ben’s idea to have dinner at least once a week and turn it into a sort of stay-in date night. (Mike made sure that said dinner was almost never on the same day, and not on the agents’ poker night.) Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that these stay-in date nights were a bust because Connor was always thrilled to have Mike around and their private dinners were transformed into pseudo-family dinners. At first, Mike wasn’t sure how to feel about this since his presence seemed to be a direct intrusion into what he considered to be Ben’s personal time with Connor, and Ben had so little of that to begin with. But Ben was clearly pleased with the situation. He even seemed to be cultivating it, trying to get Mike and Connor to spend more time together when possible. Connor had always been close to Mike, had always been very open with him. In many ways Mike was Connor’s confidant, especially with things he didn’t feel like he could talk about with his parents, even when Margaret Asher had been alive. Sometimes there were just some things he preferred to talk about with Mike. Like girls, a topic that came up one evening at the dinner table.
“You’re asking Mike about girls?” Ben had interrupted.
Connor had a “Well, duh” look on his face.
“What about me? You don’t think I’ve got game?”
Connor looked between his dad and Mike and finally said, “Sure you’ve got game, Dad.”
“But you’re saying that Mike’s got more game?”
“Obviously.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because he’s Mike.”
Mike could only laugh in response.
When Connor eventually left the table to go cram for his exams, Mike commented, “I’m surprised you’re not more concerned that he’s asking about girls, instead of . . . y’know . . . where the advice comes from.”
“He’s at that age,” Ben said with a slight what-can-you-do shrug. “You’re not going to lead him astray, right?” he asked, semi-seriously.
“I’m not exactly the fountain of knowledge when it comes to women,” Mike said.
Ben laughed. “Connor will eventually figure that out,” he agreed. He looked at Mike thoughtfully. “Connor really looks up to you. He trusts you.”
“It’s hero worship,” Mike replied. “That fades with time. And age,” he added.
“It’s more than that,” Ben said, a slight note of reprimand in his voice, as he refilled Mike’s wine glass.
Mike’s gaze flicked to the other man but he didn’t comment, choosing instead to drink his wine.
“I want to tell him,” Ben stated in the silence that followed.
Ben didn’t even have to specify to what he was referring because Mike was already choking on his wine. He remembered Ben’s abrupt statement about Kamran Barkawi in Ben’s study and wondered if the other man was making a habit of ambushing him while he was drinking. The bastard.
“I thought you said we were going slow,” Mike reminded him when he could speak again.
“Does Connor count?”
“Probably more than anybody else.” Mike leaned forward. “There’s a big leap between having dinner with your dad’s best buddy and your dad’s boyfriend.”
Ben absently swirled the wine in his glass. “Did you see that study about children raised by same-sex parents?” he asked after a while. He didn’t give Mike time to answer but kept right on going. “Its findings showed that children didn’t see anything different or wrong about having parents of the same sex as long as they were loved and cared for. It’s society at large that conditions children to think differently, to assign positive or negative values.”
“Connor’s a smart kid,” Mike agreed. “And I’m not saying that he’ll see us as ‘wrong’ or even ‘different.’” He sighed. “I’m just saying that with everything that’s happened it’s a lot to wrap his head around.”
“And I’m saying that Connor is a highly adaptable kid who loves you and already sees you as part of the family.”
Mike had nothing to say to that. He wasn’t about to disagree with Ben or admit that he felt the same way about Connor.
The silence that fell between them was contemplative, each of them wondering how best to handle the Connor situation. They didn’t reach an agreement that night but neither of them saw that as a drawback. It was a little later when Ben pushed Mike down on to the bed that he said, “There was one thing Connor got wrong.”
“What’s that?” Mike asked, reaching for Ben’s belt buckle and undoing it.
“I do have more game than you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Ben’s grin was smug as he leaned down to kiss the other man. “I bagged you, didn’t I?”
The Connor dilemma (To Tell or Not To Tell?) resolved itself in the most unlikely of circumstances. Mike had had a clusterfuck of a day. He’d been against the charity golf tournament from the start, but Ben had set his mind on it. The golf course was apparently legendary or some shit.
“You’re the President,” Mike had told him. “You could get a private round of golf if you just asked.”
“That’s not the point,” Ben had replied. “It’s for charity.”
Stubborn bastard. What kind of sport was golf anyway?
The security was a headache, but Mike had managed because he always did. What he hadn’t counted on – what no one had counted on while contingency plans had been drawn up – was the possibility that the President would get beaned on the head by an errant golf ball from an adjacent fairway. What the fuck? The only person who was having a worse day than Mike was Jason Zillo, the White House Press Secretary. Mike did not envy Jason’s position. The media was going to have a field day with this – everyone from CNN to TMZ.
Mike was waiting for Connor at the hospital where Ben was being kept overnight for observation. Asher’s tests had come back negative and he’d put up a fight about being released and allowed to recuperate at home until Mike had entered the room. One glare from his Agent-in-Charge and Ben had relented. He’d already caused Mike enough grief for one day.
“Mike!”
Mike turned around just in time to see Connor walking towards him. He signaled to the two agents that had accompanied Connor that he’d take over from them. He was standing by the water cooler outside the President’s room as Connor approached. Mike quickly drank the paper cup of water that he was holding before Connor reached him.
“Crazy day, huh?” Connor said with a grin.
“Crazier than most,” Mike agreed. “Your dad’s fine. The docs just want to observe him overnight.”
“Yeah, that’s what all the news outlets are saying.”
“News outlets?” Mike repeated, slinging an arm about Connor’s shoulders as they headed towards Ben’s room. “You mean Entertainment Tonight?”
Connor’s grin grew wider in reply. “We’re never gonna let him forget this, are we?”
“No way.”
Ben visibly brightened when the two of them entered his room.
“Hey, Dad,” Connor said, stopping by his dad’s bed. “Always knew you had a hard head. Now we have medical proof.”
“Ha, ha,” Ben replied dryly, but his smile was warm. “I guess you’re on Mike’s side on this one.”
“Golf’s a stupid game.”
“Heathens, both of you.”
“Are you getting out tomorrow?”
“First thing.”
“Can I stay with Mike tonight?”
“He’s the boss.”
“Mike?”
“We’ll stay at the hotel tonight and then meet up with your dad in the morning.”
“How about dinner?”
“Ordered your favorite chicken burrito.”
“Oh, great,” Ben said. “So you two get chicken burritos while I have to eat hospital food?”
“That’s what happens when you get beaned in the head with a golf ball,” Mike replied.
Mike made one more sweep of the Presidential Suite of the hotel before he knocked on Connor’s door.
“It’s open!” came the yell from inside.
“All good?” Mike inquired from the doorway.
Connor was already in bed, a video game console in his hand. He looked up. “All good,” he confirmed.
“I’ll be two doors down,” Mike told him, about to bid Connor good night.
“Mike?”
When Mike glanced back, Connor had put the video game down and was sitting up a bit straighter in bed.
“You got a moment?”
“Sure.” Mike shut the door behind him as he stepped into the room. He pulled over one of the chairs in the room and placed it beside Connor’s bed. “What’s on your mind?”
“Dad.”
“He’s gonna be totally fine. Hopefully, I won’t be accompanying him to any golf courses for a while.”
“How about accompanying us to a ballgame on the 4th?”
“Is that what you want to do?” Mike hadn’t forgotten that the 4th of July weekend was coming up in two weeks. Of course, Ben would have official duties to attend to, but a ballgame was workable. Difficult, but not impossible. Even patriotic. “It’ll take some juggling but I can make that work.”
“So, you’ll come with us to the game?”
“Of course, I’m always there.”
Connor shook his head. “No, I mean you’ll take the day off and come with us to the game?”
Huh.
Mike was surprised by the question and he knew that it showed on his face. He sat back in his seat, shaking his head. Ambushed again. Like father, like son.
“Did your dad say something to you?” Mike asked, after what felt like a long while.
Connor shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “But I can tell.”
“Really?”
“He’s different.”
“Is it the dopey happiness? ‘Cos I’ve warned him about that.”
“No,” Connor said with a laugh. “He isn’t really dopey at home. It’s more . . .” Connor paused. “It's like when you’re around, it’s like it was before. When we were a family.”
Mike actually felt his heart constrict as Connor’s words sunk in. Fuck, he was in over his head with the First Family. But there was no point in denying it. Connor was smart and perceptive.
“And you’re okay with that?”
Connor was looking at him like he was incredibly slow. That look was not unjustified.
“That’s why we’re having this talk,” Connor explained. “Didn’t know how else to tell you guys that it’s okay. And I thought it would be easier to tell you than to tell Dad.”
Mike wasn’t so sure about that last detail since Ben had wanted to tell Connor all along, but he didn’t mention it. Idly, he wondered how that conversation would have gone.
“So, Connor. I have something I want to tell you about Mike.”
“I know, Dad.”
“How about that ballgame?” Connor was saying now, snapping Mike out of his thoughts.
“We’ll see,” Mike answered. At Connor’s disappointed look, he added, “Your family’s always under a lot of scrutiny. Public and private. It would be a big deal if I joined you in that way and we’re not ready for that kind of publicity.”
Connor nodded. He understood, but it didn’t make the disappointment sting any less.
“Hey,” Mike said. “I can join you for a couple of innings. Have a hotdog. Okay?”
“Okay,” Connor agreed, the grin coming back. He leaned forward a little conspiratorially. “Y’know, Dad’s become obsessed with kale chips.”
Mike arched an eyebrow. “Have you actually tried kale chips? They’re not bad.”
“Mike,” Connor whined.
“Fine,” Mike relented. “No kale chips at the ballpark.”