Mad Men fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
30_rock_office
Aug. 24th, 2010 11:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cmk418Title: Loss
Rating: Teen
Prompt: Tears
Pairing: Don & Pete
Spoiler Warning: Season Four, in particular "The Good News" and "The Rejected"
A/N: This will probably be considered AU in the very near future.
Don reaches for the bottle of whiskey, not bothering to retrieve the piece of paper that has slipped from his hand onto the floor. It doesn’t matter, nothing does anymore.
He takes a drink, dissolving into sweet oblivion.
It is later, much later, when he stirs at a slight sound. An indrawn breath. A whispered “Jesus”.
Campbell, he thinks, opening one eye to see Pete, standing in the shadows of his darkened office, a sheet of stationery clutched in his hand.
“Don,” says Pete quietly.
Don stares at the paper in Pete’s hand. The bastard had done it again. When will he realize that private lives are just that – private? His eyes drop to the floor, willing Pete to go away.
“Don,” Pete says again, a little more loudly this time, trying to get his attention. Pete flips on the lights.
Don blinks at the brightness, but doesn’t speak. He can’t. To speak is to acknowledge that which should be best left unaddressed. At least for a day or two. Until the funeral. If he speaks now, the tears that are prickling his eyes will spill out. He’s done that before. With Anna, who understood. With Betty, who didn’t. He can’t do that here.
Pete calls his name, quieter than before. So quiet that Don swears he could be imagining it. His name. “Dick.”
Don feels like he is falling into blackness, coming out of it only when he hears the thump of Campbell’s body hitting the wall. He looks at Campbell, so close, eyes wide, caught off guard by the sudden movement and the feeling of Don’s body crushing into his.
Even with all of this, Campbell manages to ask, “Who is she?”
“His wife.” Don doesn’t bother to clarify. With Campbell, he doesn’t have to.
He finds it funny in a way. Anna was gone and with her, her friends and family who knew his true identity. Betty ran into the arms of someone else as soon as she learned who Don really was. Cooper saw him as a brand name. There was no place for “Dick Whitman” at the firm. And yet, Pete knew about Dick’s past and what he had done and still took the risk of following him to a new firm. And now he stood in Don’s office, calling him by name, and not backing down, even when facing the potential threat of physical violence.
“You can go,” Don says, releasing Campbell.
Pete laughs. “You don’t want me to go. You haven’t wanted that for a long time.”
The part of him that’s Don Draper wants to tell Pete that he’s making assumptions about things he doesn’t know about. The part of him that’s Dick Whitman, the heartbroken, lost, and more-than-slightly-drunk part frames Pete’s face with his hands. “I’m not a good person,” he says, repeating Allison’s accusations.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I-“
“You talk too much,” Pete says, pulling Don into a gentle kiss.
The kiss is over quickly, but not quickly enough to leave any doubt in Don’s mind that this really happened.
Pete takes a step back, all business. “Are you going to be all right?” he asks.
“Yes,” says Don.
Pete hands the letter back to Don. “I am sorry about your friend.”
“Thank you.” The words come out, strong and sure. Don even smiles a bit. “Have a safe trip home,” he says.
“You too,” replies Campbell.
Don watches Campbell go down the hall toward the elevator. He moves behind his desk and picks up the phone, dialing a number he knows from memory.
On the third ring, he spies the letter in front of him. He lets the phone ring one more time before gently replacing it in its cradle.
Rating: Teen
Prompt: Tears
Pairing: Don & Pete
Spoiler Warning: Season Four, in particular "The Good News" and "The Rejected"
A/N: This will probably be considered AU in the very near future.
Don reaches for the bottle of whiskey, not bothering to retrieve the piece of paper that has slipped from his hand onto the floor. It doesn’t matter, nothing does anymore.
He takes a drink, dissolving into sweet oblivion.
It is later, much later, when he stirs at a slight sound. An indrawn breath. A whispered “Jesus”.
Campbell, he thinks, opening one eye to see Pete, standing in the shadows of his darkened office, a sheet of stationery clutched in his hand.
“Don,” says Pete quietly.
Don stares at the paper in Pete’s hand. The bastard had done it again. When will he realize that private lives are just that – private? His eyes drop to the floor, willing Pete to go away.
“Don,” Pete says again, a little more loudly this time, trying to get his attention. Pete flips on the lights.
Don blinks at the brightness, but doesn’t speak. He can’t. To speak is to acknowledge that which should be best left unaddressed. At least for a day or two. Until the funeral. If he speaks now, the tears that are prickling his eyes will spill out. He’s done that before. With Anna, who understood. With Betty, who didn’t. He can’t do that here.
Pete calls his name, quieter than before. So quiet that Don swears he could be imagining it. His name. “Dick.”
Don feels like he is falling into blackness, coming out of it only when he hears the thump of Campbell’s body hitting the wall. He looks at Campbell, so close, eyes wide, caught off guard by the sudden movement and the feeling of Don’s body crushing into his.
Even with all of this, Campbell manages to ask, “Who is she?”
“His wife.” Don doesn’t bother to clarify. With Campbell, he doesn’t have to.
He finds it funny in a way. Anna was gone and with her, her friends and family who knew his true identity. Betty ran into the arms of someone else as soon as she learned who Don really was. Cooper saw him as a brand name. There was no place for “Dick Whitman” at the firm. And yet, Pete knew about Dick’s past and what he had done and still took the risk of following him to a new firm. And now he stood in Don’s office, calling him by name, and not backing down, even when facing the potential threat of physical violence.
“You can go,” Don says, releasing Campbell.
Pete laughs. “You don’t want me to go. You haven’t wanted that for a long time.”
The part of him that’s Don Draper wants to tell Pete that he’s making assumptions about things he doesn’t know about. The part of him that’s Dick Whitman, the heartbroken, lost, and more-than-slightly-drunk part frames Pete’s face with his hands. “I’m not a good person,” he says, repeating Allison’s accusations.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I-“
“You talk too much,” Pete says, pulling Don into a gentle kiss.
The kiss is over quickly, but not quickly enough to leave any doubt in Don’s mind that this really happened.
Pete takes a step back, all business. “Are you going to be all right?” he asks.
“Yes,” says Don.
Pete hands the letter back to Don. “I am sorry about your friend.”
“Thank you.” The words come out, strong and sure. Don even smiles a bit. “Have a safe trip home,” he says.
“You too,” replies Campbell.
Don watches Campbell go down the hall toward the elevator. He moves behind his desk and picks up the phone, dialing a number he knows from memory.
On the third ring, he spies the letter in front of him. He lets the phone ring one more time before gently replacing it in its cradle.
