If The Sun Comes Up Tomorrow
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
Thirteen Days
RFK (played by Steven Culp)/Kenny O'Donnell (played by Kevin Costner)
Rating: adult
Bobby and Kenny take a break from the missile crisis.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Beacon Productions, not me. I'm using them without permission and making no money off this at all, more's the pity.
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.
Spoilers: Probably, since this gives away what the movie's about, but then the ads for the movie do that.
I want to make it very clear that I'm slashing these characters as they're portrayed in the movie 'Thirteen Days' by the wonderful and talented Steven Culp and Kevin Costner, not as real people.
The title is from a line in the movie, which I think I have right: "If the sun comes up tomorrow, it is only because of the will of good men." It's spoken by Kenny O'Donnell to his wife.
This is for Alex, who raved about this movie and got me to go see it a lot earlier than I otherwise would have, for which I thank her. Thank you to Tinnean and Illya, both of whom read this and were generous with their praise.
*****
I let my mind drift, just a little, as I pour myself some coffee. I wonder how much longer it'll keep working. I'll have to get some sleep sometime, or I won't be any good to the President. It helps to think of him that way. He's my brother, but right now he's the President of the United States dealing with the problem of Soviet missiles in Cuba, and I'm his Attorney General, and Kenny's his special assistant.
I'm just standing at the counter when Kenny comes in. He's tired, too. He should go home.
But of course he won't. Stubborn son-of-a-bitch. Nothing's really changed. You can't tell Kenny anything he doesn't want to hear. I wonder sometimes how he and Jack manage. Maybe Jack knows how to deal with him better than I ever did.
"Bobby," Kenny says, and I blink. "You're the one who needs to sleep."
"Good idea." Maybe I can set him a good example. "I'll go lie down in my office."
I set down my cup and leave the room, but he's right behind me. "Don't you have anything better to do?" I snap and regret it. I don't want to piss him off. Life's hard enough right now without making him mad.
"Nothing now," he returns and keeps following.
I shouldn't be surprised. Stubborn. He's decided that I'm going to rest, so he's going to make sure I do.
We get to my office and not for the first time, I'm glad of the couch. I kick off my shoes while Kenny leans against the wall and watches, then I lie down.
He comes over then. "Sleep well," he says quietly.
I surprise myself with what I say next. "Stay." But I don't take it back. I have to be strong for Jack, but I don't have to be strong for Kenny. Kenny knows me. And I'm so damned tired of being strong.
He doesn't hesitate. "Sure."
He shuts the door, turns off the light on the desk and sits down on the floor, his back against the couch. Maybe he needs comfort too; maybe that's why he came with me. I don't care. It feels good to have him here.
I fall asleep to the sound of his breathing. It's the best thing that's happened all day.
*****
"Bobby." The voice is so damned familiar that I smile. Wonder what class I'm going to be late for if I don't get up *now*. And then I open my eyes and realize that it's not class that I have to worry about. It's the future of the world.
Kenny's staring at me. "You were having a dream." His voice is awkward.
I sit up. "Probably time to get back to work." I don't want to know what I was dreaming about, not really. I don't think it was a nightmare.
"You were calling for me. I wanted you to know that I'm here."
I look at him. There's concern in his face. Of course. This is Kenny. He knows how I get when I get tired. "Thank you."
"Don't get up. You've barely slept at all." His hand moves to my face and lingers there. "Don't get up," he repeats, and damn it, I shouldn't do this, and I can't help it. I want him. Want him in the most basic way, my hands on him, my mouth, my skin on his skin. I want all of him. The Church says it's a sin, but I wonder. How can this feeling be wrong? It's so strong, and it feels so right. I love my wife and my children, but this has nothing to do with them.
I turn my head and let my lips touch his hand with its hair and rough skin, of course. Kenny used to play football, still does. Working in the White House hasn't stopped him from being who he is. Sometimes I think it's stopped me.
I let my lips stay there. Nothing seems real right now, and maybe there won't even be a tomorrow. Maybe this is the end of the world. Those missiles aren't supposed to be operational yet, but we don't know. So many things we don't know, can't know, can't control.
"Bobby," I hear him say in a strained voice. I still don't move. "What the hell are you doing?"
"We could be dead in a few hours," I say, and my voice is amazingly calm. "I don't want to be alone. I want you. I've wanted you since college. I thought you should know."
He's taken his hand away, but he's still here, and he's still listening to me. I didn't think Kenny would hit me, but there was always that chance. He never quite stopped being a tough kid from Boston. So goddamned tough, but so goddamned good. One of the best men I've ever known. Him and Jack. But I don't want to think about Jack now. Don't want to think about anything but Kenny and being in this room with him.
"You want me," he repeats.
"Want me to show you?" No, this isn't reality. Not even close. Can't be. I'd never do this in any reality I know.
"Show me?"
Poor Kenny. He must think I've gone crazy. Well, if I'm crazy, then I can get away with this. And I lean forward and take his mouth with mine. Just a kiss, nothing major, although a kiss *is* pretty major when it's kissing your best friend, who's also a guy. But Kenny doesn't push me away, just lets me press my lips to his. I'm the one who pulls away.
"That's what I mean."
"Bobby..." he says, and that awkwardness is back. "Bobby, come on. You're tired; you need to rest."
I don't want to give up on this yet. "Why? Does anything matter now? Will there be a tomorrow?" Then I see his face, and I realize what a damned idiot I'm being. I'm thinking about me, and Kenny's there with a wife and children at home. He has to be worried. I'd be worried about my family, but somehow I'm not worried about anything but him and me in this room. "Sorry." I take a breath. "Just forget about it. I'm going to go get some coffee. Want some?" Maybe if I act like nothing happened, he'll go along with it. This is Kenny. He's my friend.
"Bobby," he says, and this time I hear something in it that I don't recognize, and when I look at him this time, he's up on the couch next to me. "I never thought I'd have to teach you how to kiss." And his lips are on mine, and his tongue is pushing gently but insistently into my mouth, and maybe it doesn't matter if the sun comes up or not, because maybe I'm finally going to get what I want.
His arms come around me, and I get mine around him. He's hard and strong and solid, and I need that. There's got to be someone who can be strong, and Kenny's always been good at that.
"You want this?" I have to be sure.
He nods. "I don't know what *this* is, but I do." His eyes meet mine, and I can see that he's telling the truth. We both need comfort, both need safety. Need each other.
I get one hand down and for the first time touch another man's crotch. I keep my eyes on his face, so I see the way it tightens when my fingers stroke the fabric.
"If you don't want it, tell me," I say softly.
He smiles faintly. "If I knew what we were doing, maybe I could do that."
"We got through Harvard," I remind him. "We'll get through this."
That makes us both laugh, and that's good. Kenny makes the next move, leaning over and kissing me. That feels good, too, and it makes it easier for me to keep touching him. I've wanted to do this for so long, and now I'm doing it, and it feels right. As long as it's just us in this room, everything will be all right. Morning won't come; Jack won't need us to find a way to get him his answers; the damned generals won't come back with their traps; no missiles will be fired. The only missiles I need to worry about here are the ones that Kenny and I are sporting.
Now he's got his hand down on my crotch, and I moan into his mouth as he massages it. God, I'm hard. He undoes my zipper and takes it out. I pull back from him at that and see his smile.
"Thought you were the brilliant, ruthless one," he teases me.
I feel my smile fade. I hate being the ruthless one, and I know damned well I'm not brilliant. I'm good; I know that much, but brilliant? Jack's brilliant.
"Stop it, Bobby." His voice is as stern as when I was trying to get away with something in practice, then he's got me firmly in his grip and I'm too busy feeling what he's doing to me to care about anything else. It takes me a moment, but I get myself to undo his pants and take him out, and get the reward of his gasp when my fingers close around him.
It's so good, getting to do this, but then Kenny stops. "Bobby," he says, and his voice is strained, but this time it's a good strained. "I'm close."
I smile and start stroking again. "Good."
He moans, and I feel him trembling. I never thought I'd get to do this, give Kenny this kind of pleasure. He's stopped stroking me, but I don't care. I want all my concentration for this. I want to see the flush and the need on his face, hear his harsh breathing, feel how the skin is so velvety over the hardness, smell how his scent changes from sweat and coffee and a touch of alcohol to musk, taste him. And on that thought, I get my head down and take the head of his cock into my mouth. Just for a moment, but it ends up being more than that. As soon as he feels my mouth, he thrusts up into it, and then I am tasting him. Bitter, strong, strange, but it's Kenny, and I don't care. I swallow, then feel his hands on my head, lifting me off.
"Bobby," he breathes and fumbles in his pocket. He comes up with a handkerchief and wipes off my mouth and chin. I couldn't swallow it all. Then he wipes himself.
I don't know what to say. If this is all I get, all right.
But it's not. Kenny's hand is back on my cock, and he's so good at it. I let myself relax back against the couch as he works me. So close, so goddamned close...and then I'm there, the warmth of his fingers keeping me safe as I come. Kenny made me come. Never thought that would happen.
I feel him clean me off with his handkerchief, then get my eyes open. He's got his finger up to his lips and is tasting me. "Just couldn't," he mumbles.
I watch him swallow and finally manage to talk. "It's fine." I wet my lips and check my watch. Four-thirty.
"You need more sleep." Kenny's smiling at me. "So do I. Lie down, Bobby." His hands are on me, pushing me back on the couch, and I let him. "I'll stay." He gets off the couch and settles back down on the floor. "I'll be here in the morning."
"If the morning ever comes," I return. His hand touches mine.
"It will."
And somehow that's enough for me.
The End
Posted 1/23/01
