Rating: implied sex, implied violence, some disturbing imagery.
Disclaimer: Robert McNamara and John F. Kennedy are not only not mine, but to the best of my knowledge, they never even boinked. This is a fictional representation.
{2004}
When the documentary maker approached Robert about his movie, Robert jumped at the change to tell his side of things. He couldn't, of course, tell everything, but to explain, maybe just a little bit, about what it had been like, was too good an opportunity to let go. So he talked, and talked, and talked. He admitted his own failings, some of them, but skirted around Jack's faults.
And he never mentioned Jack's smile, or his smell, or the feel of Jack's legs wrapped together with Robert's. He never told the most important truth; he couldn't remember it himself, sometimes.
{1960}
Robert didn't like Jack when he first met him. Jack was too smooth, too smart, too handsome. He made Robert feel large, unwieldy, awkward. Jack spoke like a Roman orator, moved like a Olympic champion, looked like a Greek God. Robert watched him obsessively, trying to find chinks in his armour, faults in his personality. By the time Robert realized they were there, it was too late. He didn't care about the mistakes Jack made, the problems he created. All Robert cared about was those moments when Jack turned his brilliant smile on Robert, and Jack's eyes twinkled in invitation.
{1974}
Less than a dozen years since they had a genuine prince, and now they had this sorry excuse for a man. Robert couldn't repress his futile anger at the universe, at Jack's God, for letting this happen. Robert no longer had an official place in the White House, but he was still respected and heard in Washington. It didn't change anything.
Robert hadn't loved anyone since Jack, unless you counted Margaret, and Robert didn't, not really. Jack's death didn't hurt any less now, although entire days went by when Robert didn't see Jack in any men passing on the street.
{1961}
The first time they kissed was during an official function, in the men's room. Jack zipped up, pretended not to notice Robert checking him out, turned and reached out to fix Robert's collar. Robert stood still, unable to move, and Jack leaned forward and let his dry lips meet Robert's. Robert listened to the sounds of the party, music, glasses clinking, people talking, and Jack's tongue found Robert's, probing and teasing. Robert kissed Jack back, and grabbed Jack's upper arms, pulling Jack closer to him. Robert felt Jack's erection brush his own, lightly, and then the door opened. Jack smiled.
{1963}
It was the last thing he had of Jack. Their names would be forever tied together because of this, but at the moment, it was the only thing he had to remind him, and he wasn't going to let it go without a fight. He knew it was wrong to send so many boys to their death, but this was something that had once belonged to Jack, and that made it special.
Jackie had the children, and the sympathy of a nation. Lyndon had the presidency. Robert had a war, and bitter memories of Jack's voice, his arms, his taste.