He just used his political influence.
Political influence he no longer has.
"And now you're out. Resigned from Congress. You should hear what Tucker Carlson is saying about you."
"That isn't something I need to know. Besides, if I need cutting insults regarding my lack of moral character or dubiously impressive physical attributes, I can just ask you,” he says and casts a brittle smile in the young man’s direction.
Sebastian's gaze narrows. "That's a lot of words to say I called you an asshole with good tits."
Peter shrugs. It's been an incredibly long day, and he has nothing to say.
Sebastian waits.
"Anyway." Peter tries and manages a smile. "Happy to be of service."
Sebastian laughs. "Don't be a dick."
Peter glances at him and frowns, not understanding why he's said that.
"Okay, maybe you are happy to beof service," he says, shrugging.
Peter blushes, goes past Sebastian, and unlocks the door. Peter’s met a lot of powerful, intimidating people and the most unsettling person he’s ever met is practically half his age.
"Do you want to come in for a minute or… or is that it? Are we done now?" Peter asks. He can't even turn around and look at him.
Everything is just off and wrong.
Peter's life is a fucking disaster, and he's now just a washed-up congressman everyone hates. And here is Sebastian, almost being nice to him, surely here to kick him while he's at his lowest, and Peter has no idea what to say or do.
Plus he knows he's being weird, and he has this horrible suspicion his inappropriate lust and confusion are obvious.
"I'm thinking I want to come inside," Sebastian says quietly.
The hair on the back of Peter's neck rises. Why did that sound so suggestive?
Peter knows he's being watched, the young man’s gaze heavy and incisive.
“What happened?” Sebastian asks.
“With what?”
“You quit Congress. Went on TV and called the president an asshole and said the Republicans had betrayed the ‘young men willing to sacrifice their lives for America.’" He gets a twang inhis tone at the end, that condescension so many in the US have for people who are willing to die for their country. He glares at Sebastian and Sebastian blinks at him, holding up his hands.
“Okay, that might not have been the right thing to say. Uh… thank you for your service?” Sebastian says and winces.
“There are a lot of men and women who serve their country and they are never the same again,” Peter says, trying to keep hold of his anger. “Some of them don’t come home. We do not take care of our veterans. That hasmeaningto me. I wanted—” His head throbs with emotion and he imagines himself throwing something, just totally losing his shit in a fit of rage. It would probably feel good. But that isn’t the sort of man he is. He’d be ashamed of such an outburst.
“I was a fucking idiot.”
Sebastian is quiet for a long moment. Which makes sense because what the hell is there to say?
“Your father was a congressman, right? So you probably had good reason to think you could help people…” It’s an attempt and Peter appreciates it more than he should.
But he’s wrong. “Or it means the man I revered for all of my life was actually just a corrupt good old boy all along.” He goes to the kitchen, stomach flipping with nerves. "I have… um, orange juice, or water, or beer. You're old enough to drink, right?" he asks, and maybe it's supposed to be a joke or to help him try to get his footing in this encounter, some reminder that Peter is actually older, wiser, and has nothing to be afraid of.
"You wanna card me, sir?" he asks, and his voice is closer than Peter expected. "I'll have a beer."
Peter flushes and hopes a moment turned away will let the worst of it disappear before Sebastian can see. He gets two beers out of the fridge, opens both, and hands one to Sebastian, who takes it absently.
