Quiet Tiger's Retreat - Ficlet: Hail to the Chief

Title: Hail to the Chief
Author: Quiet Tiger
Pairing: John McClane/Matt Farrell
Rating: R
Word Count: 1211

Summary: John McClane '08. Matt's amused. John's not.

Note: Inspired by Yippie Kay Yay America, only as if it was in John and Matt's world.

ETA: Listen to the podfic here!

ETA 2: Listen to the podbook and see the cover here!


~*~

Matt fought his way through a crowd of reporters outside John’s house—it’d be a while before he considered it his own as well—and used his key to get in the door. He found John lying on his back on the couch with his arm over his eyes, listening to some old war movie on TV, the volume turned down low.

He dumped his jacket and laptop near the door, then sat down on the coffee table and poked John’s arm. “Is there a reason there’s a crowd of reporters outside and you have the phone, both your phones, turned off? Or is it just a celebration of one year and four months since you saved the country? You know, follow up work? They all babbled to me at the same time but I didn’t care to listen without talking to you first.”

John muttered, “They did ask if you lived here. And why you did. Some liberal rag asked if we were getting married.” Matt waited; he’d learned when John was finished talking, and this wasn’t it. “But the reason they’re here is because a crap ton of people put my name on write-in ballots for President.” He raised the hand not over his eyes to stall Matt’s questions. “Nowhere near enough to elect me, but enough to have a shitload of people trying to talk to me, get statements.”

“People want to elect you President?” Matt found that to be a lot of things. Amusing. Shocking. Endearing. Stupid. All he said was, “Really?”

“Yeah, kid. And don’t ask me why, because I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“Well... You did save the country almost single-handedly, which is more than the other candidates can say. People know you have the country’s best interests in mind. That’s what’s most important.” He trailed a finger down John’s side. “And, you know, you’re kinda sexy, especially when you get all demanding and powerful and confident.”

John kind of grunted, and Matt wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with him or not. “You’re too damn horny. And save the country, yeah, don’t know shit about political issues, other than terrorists suck, not when I’m trying to pay my mortgage, get my kids to talk to me, spend time with you, and live to see retirement. Though as far as foreign relations go, I’m a little wary of the Germans. But not as wary as I am of some of the people right here at home.”

He finally pulled his arm off his eyes and looked at Matt. “And who’d be my Vice President? Other than you. Couldn’t do it without you, then or now.” Matt felt warm inside; John wasn’t big on real compliments. “But I think you’re too young to be Vice President.”

“We’ll have to wait another few terms.”

“Then I’ll be too old.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to settle for being civilians. Or whatever we are, cop and government employee.”

“Let’s just be John and Matt. Forget the other shit. It’s a lot easier. And fewer people have a reason to shoot at me.”

Matt pushed at John and he got the hint and scrunched over as best he could to give Matt room to join him on the couch. If they’d gotten the bigger couch like Matt wanted... They’d just have to make do. John put his arm around him to hold him there, thumb stroking up underneath the back of Matt’s shirt. Matt stuck his hand in the back pocket of John’s jeans. “So. Mr. President. How long will we have to put up with the press on the front lawn and the phone being turned off?”

Matt felt John’s answer rumble through his chest. “Until they go the fuck away and leave me, us, alone.”

“Could be a while. We might have to hunker down here.”

“If you don’t go outside ever, then they’re definitely going to ask questions about you.”

Matt didn’t reply for a few minutes, just enjoyed being pressed against John, the detective’s fingers on his back. Then he said, “Wonder if as many people would have voted for you if they knew about us.”

“Hey. Don’t think about it. Don’t worry about it.” Funny, that’s what Matt had said to John a year and change ago when they’d become whatever it was they were together. More authoritatively, John continued, “If me being involved with you changes their minds about me, then it just proves they didn’t know shit about me anyway. Not enough to vote for me.”

More silence as Matt reveled in John’s words. It’d taken a while for both of them to be comfortable with what was happening between them. No doubt they’d be under the scrutiny of the press because of this new event, but it sounded like John didn’t care too much. It felt good to hear it.

Finally Matt pulled away a little to look into John’s eyes. “Can I call you ‘Mr. President’?”

John’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smirked. “Not if you want me to keep putting out.”

“Damn. Thought it’d be kinda hot.”

“Try again.”

“’Commander-in-Chief’?”

“That’s better. But I like it when you just call me Cowboy.”

“Well, it’s a thousand times better than ‘Roy.’” At least John didn’t wear the sequined shirts.

More silence, but it was still comfortable. Matt eventually broke it. “I bet sex in the Oval Office is phenomenal.”

“Well, you’re going to have to do it with someone else. Get an internship there.”

“Nah. I’m good here.”

John grunted again, his contented grunt. “Good.”

John for President. Crazy idea. Not that John couldn’t do it, Matt had faith that he could. It would just be weird, moving into the White House, being on the road all the time. Being the First Lady. First Boyfriend? He could see the headlines now, President McClane and the First Boy Toy. Ick.

But John had already saved the country. Being President would be anti-climactic after everything else. Nothing could be worse than the fire sale. And if it was... Didn’t bear thinking about.

Now if only they could get rid of the press again.

But if not, hanging in was good, too.

“John.” Another grunt, this time slightly inquisitive. “Can I be your intern?”

John groaned, but it was his happy exasperated groan. “Sure, kid. So long as you don’t sell me out to the press. Not sure what you can learn from me, though.”

“I’d never sell you out.” Matt took his hand out of John’s pocket, and used it to unzip John’s fly. “But I’ve learned a lot from you, believe it or not.”

“It’s mutual, Matt.” John pushed up Matt’s shirt, and they arranged themselves a little better.

Hopefully none of the reporters had a telephoto lens on their cameras, and if they did it wasn’t pointed through the window, unless they wanted to post pornographic pictures in their papers. John wasn’t even in office, and there’d be a scandal.

Matt could only laugh. John McClane for President. There were certainly worse things, for John and the country. But John’s hands and mouth on him, nothing better than that.

He wondered if John would get mad if he hummed “Hail to the Chief.”

Probably.

He did it anyway.