InsaneJournal

who Greg & Avery
what Sleepy kids
where Home
when Sunday night


Gregory had been dragging all day. Oh, who was he kidding? He had been dragging all week and staying out until 4 am certainly didn’t help things. He probably could have gotten away with sleeping, but God forbid he break routine. Instead, he was up at 8 like he was every Sunday, busy getting everyone around so they could make mass on time. And instead of just coming home after? Well, there had to be brunch, hadn’t there? And while he could have maybe snoozed in the chair in the living room while Maddie settled down to half-heartedly watch a movie, he had instead been on his laptop, drawing up a new proposal and hammering out the details of an old one. There had been every chance for a nap, and really, he only had himself to blame. Still, when he had stood from his desk in the Library and went in to check on Maddie, he hadn’t been expecting this. For five minutes, he had sat in the dark, leaning forward in her desk chair, his fingers steeple’d together and resting against his lips. She was getting so damn big and looking more and more like her mother every day, which was both comforting and worrisome. Was he damned to forever be reminded of Nic, to never be able to move on? He had sat there, half lost in memories of changing the girl sprawled out on the bed in front of him, of going in when she was an infant and just standing there for an hour, his hand on her back to assure himself she wasn’t going to stop breathing.
Of everything he had done, it was fatherhood that had terrified him the most. It wasn’t that he was afraid of commitment; it was that he was afraid of fucking up. And then her mother had died, and things had gotten worse. How the hell could he raise a child? Nicole had always seemed such an instinctively good parent. She had known what to do, always. And him? He had always been like a chicken with its head cut off, a ball of nerves and awkwardness. Somewhere in the middle of those memories, he had drifted off into sleep. It wasn’t much of a change, really. The same things ran across his mind, only now his eyes slipped shut and his body slouched more. The door was open, the light from the hallway gently pouring in but he was oblivious to it all.


Avery had returned on Saturday night at a reasonable time, in by midnight, her feet only slightly aching from the dancing, her cheeks pink from the cold and the alcohol (she had allowed a young man named Dennis to purchase her two Mai Tais and a Cosmo). She had relieved Marisa, the babysitter, and checked on Maddie herself before locking all the doors and retreating to her bedroom. She was slightly loathe to actually fall asleep before Gregory came home but her eyes were drooping as it was. She caught up on her lost sleep during mass the next morning, her employer ready as ever to usher the two girls into their Sunday best and off to church. The rest of Sunday should've been lazy, but she followed Senator Miers dutifully to brunch, keeping Maddie amused until home beckoned once more. Avery had abandoned the father and daughter in front of the television while she made note of what was missing from the fridge after Marisa's presence and proceeded to her own room, to sit and muse and organize for the coming week. She had listened as the movie ended, as Greg had put Maddie to bed, as he retreated to the library. She was focused, of course, on the task at hand, but she listened always for signs of disturbance; if Greg was going to be angry on the phone, she would make sure doors were shut between him and her door. If Maddie woke up for whatever reason, she would attempt to be first to her side and avoid bothering the Senator, unless, of course, Maddie asked explicitly for him. She had heard when he went into Maddie's room but had not heard him return, and she stuck a bookmark in her planner before cautiously approaching Maddie's room. She found the Senator in his daughter's chair, eyes closed. Avery leaned against the doorframe, watching the pair for a minute, father and daughter both lost in sleep, so much of Greg apparent on Maddie's sweet face. Avery had not known Nicole, she had started working for Miers in 2006, a year after Nicole died, so she was neither intimate with the aftermath of her death. She could imagine, however, and she thought this moment was sweet. She did not want to want to ruin it, really, but Greg needed sleep for the coming week, and he would not find it resting enough in his daughter's chair. She crept silently past Maddie to the Senator, manicured hands alighting softly on his shoulders. "Gregory," she whispered. "Wake up, sweetie,"

The hangover that Gregory had been so masterfully hiding all day hit him with enough force to cause him to reel when he woke. Oh, there was nothing big in the moment. He didn’t jump when she woke him, nor moan when the feeling hit him, but for the first time that day, he let a slight look of sickness cross his face. He felt nauseous and ten years earlier, he probably would have just leaned over and got sick over the floor. Things changed when you had kids. You learned to either not go out or deal with the consequences without letting them show. Yes, he had downed more alcohol than should have been humanly possible, but at least Maddie never knew. He had been there to tuck her in, there to wake her up. With any luck, she wouldn’t have a clue as to what her father was up to. All of that, of course, didn’t matter at the moment. At the moment, he had a nanny looking at him like…Well, like he was tired and sick and she was about to nanny him instead of his daughter. All it took was a few blinks, and he was fully alert. “Yes, thank you Avery.” Greg stood, and, with nothing else to do with his hands, adjusted the collar of his shirt. It was only once he was certain he had gotten himself back to a presentable status that he gestured towards the door and followed her out. The door was shut softly behind him, and for a few steps down the hallway, Greg stayed silent. Mind you, in typical fashion, the silence didn’t last long. “Do you have my schedule printed out for tomorrow?”

Avery followed his direction out of Maddie's room, turning around to face him as soon as they were in the hall, wary of his condition after that wave of sickness. Avery didn't often get drunk, and she didn't often get drunk enough to feel really sick the next day, so she couldn't exactly sympathize, but she felt sorry for him nonetheless, and had prepared herself for the possible clean up in her future. She folded her arms as she looked at him. "I had to reprint it, Sally from John's office called and canceled something," she spoke quickly and quietly, and when she was done, she closed her eyes and took a breath. "Not that it would've affected you either way, I was going to reschedule some things regardless but now that it's official I had to change the transcript. Sorry." Avery said, opening her eyes again. "D'you want some water? You look exceedingly poorly." She looked him up and down. "And please change out of this, I'd like to take a bulk load to the dry cleaners tomorrow," her hand lifted to flick at his collar. Part of her desperately wanted to force him into a pair of sweatpants; never mind the fact that she was still wearing her Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress and tights, the only thing distinguishing her from her church fare was the lack of heels and jewelry.

God, she was good. Maybe that was the reason he hadn’t kept an assistant around for long. Why bother with an incompetent one when you could just use your nanny? Nevermind that it wasn’t exactly her job, she certainly did better than the string of aides that came and went at the office. When she spoke about the changes to his schedule, he just nodded until she got to the end. “I’d like that to me within the hour, if you could.” And then she had to actually mention the hangover, a fact that didn’t help. It was easy to fake it when you were the only one that knew, but once it had become public knowledge, it was harder to deny and therefore harder to ignore. “And ehm. Yah. Just tap, no ice. I don’t think I can deal with cold right now.” One hand came up to his forehead, and for a moment, he paused, rubbing at his temples and taking a deep breath before he pushed everything aside. It wasn’t just the fact that he wanted to spew the contents of his stomach across the room; it was also stress that plagued him. Monday meant the Senate wasn’t in session, which should have been a relief. Instead, it meant a day full of meetings, of things going on behind closed doors. It meant working even harder than usual and he was already dreading it. Still staying in place, Gregory went to work at stripping off the sweater he wore before his fingers manipulated the buttons of his oxford. Without a second of hesitation, he handed both over. Of course he still had a teeshirt under it, but that was stripped off as well as he continued down the hall towards his room. “I’ll be in my room.” You know, in case she couldn’t tell.

She nodded when he mentioned the schedule and nodded again when he requested water, holding out her hand for his sweater and shirt, watching him as he took them both off. Her eyes followed him as he went down the hall, stripping as he went. There was a reason she had applied for the nanny position instead of the assistant job; probably mostly because she had trained professionally for the nanny job, the thought of a political career coming up second. Besides, this way she could become incredibly intimate with her employer, she knew by now essentially every aspect of his life, and she understood things that an office assistant could not possibly glean. The manipulative side of her wanted to cite the emotional side as well; assistants could come and go, but nannies...The children always had a say when nannies were involved. She liked Maddie, if she had been a sentimental person she would've even said she loved the little girl, and she felt a great amount of affection and respect for Maddie's busy father. Avery stashed Greg's shirt and sweater into the basket marked 'dry cleaning' in the hallway closet before slipping into her room to reprint his schedule. She gave it a once over on her computer before hitting the print button, leaving once again to retrieve his water from the kitchen. She let the tap run for a minute or two, holding her wrist under the stream, finding the right temperature between cold and unappealingly warm. Another thing; the assistants didn't get to take advantage of his gorgeous living quarters. She forewent the ice like he had requested and made her way back to her room, plucking the freshly printed schedule from the printer before stopping in front of his room, knocking on his door gently, printed schedule held behind her back as to not allow drips from the glass mar the ink.

Just because he had gone into his bedroom didn’t mean he was asleep by any means. He didn’t allow his laptop into the room (okay, he rarely did. Occasionally, when he found himself unable to fall asleep and bored, he tended to lug it out but still.) but CNN was playing softly on the flatscreen and the man himself was hunched over his desk. Shirtless still, he at least had the good sense to change into pajama bottoms. What’s more, he was actually wearing his glasses. He had needed them for years if the truth was told, but was far too vain to wear them outside of his own room.When she knocked, he straightened just slightly, cracking his back with a twist of his spine. “Come in.” It was loud enough to be heard but soft enough that it wouldn’t echo around and before she’d even have a chance to get into the room, his hands swiped away the glasses and tossed them onto the desk in front of him. First finger and thumb worked away at the bridge of his nose. While the regular person probably grew accustomed to the feeling of glasses after a while, he didn’t wear them for long enough periods at a time to ever get used to the feeling. A moment was taken, a long yawn as both of his hands rubbed at his face, and then he was up and standing and making his way over to her. Glasses were grabbed at the last minute. He felt like shit enough that he knew he didn’t stand a chance at squinting at the paper. Better to do this and avoid the headache. “That the schedule?” He was already reaching out for the paper in her hand. Sure, he wanted the water. He needed the water more, even. But business was business, and somehow it always ended up coming first. The glasses were slipped on the second he had the paper within seeing range, already working through the details of the day in his head.

Avery handed him the paper, closing the door behind her if only to provide further insulation against the sound for Maddie. Here was another reason she so enjoyed being his nanny; what assistant got to go over the next day's itinerary with her boss while he was essentially in his undies? She liked to think there was a far greater amount of trust between them than other Senators and their assistants, he did, for instance, leave his daughter with her most of the time. "I pushed some things back for tomorrow," she said softly. "Since Senate's not in session, I pushed your first meeting to 9:30. Thought maybe you could sleep in a bit. I could take Maddie if you wanted," she didn't exactly approve of his partying, but he worked hard, and was a good father, and deserved, on some level, being able to let go like he did. She didn't often push things like that, but if Gregory looked particularly tired or poorly, she did her best to give him time to recover. "Maybe you could skip that work out for once," she said with a small smile, holding out his water glass. She liked his glasses. She thought they made him look a little more studious, a little less overgrown frat boy. Not that it was a bad look to have. She folded her hands behind her and leaned on the bedroom door, slouching just a little, waiting for a response, waiting for dismissal. If it was during the day and she had other things to do, she would've thrust the water on him and retreated to attend to household things, but as it was night, and there was nothing that needed her attention, she liked to let him know she was there, for whatever he needed, and that it wasn't a bother at all.

When Avery talked about pushing things back, he practically ignored her. He was already up to 4:30 in his afternoon, and…Had she just said he should skip his workout and that she’d take Maddie? “I didn’t get in the pool today. It’ll throw off my whole week and Madison will never forgive me if I don’t take her.” It was almost a scold, but a soft one. Really, in terms of him giving a scolding, it wasn’t one at all. There was no cursing, no yelling. Hell, it was pretty close to praise if you really took into context how he barked at people most of the time. Still, his head remained down and he continued to browse over the events of the next day. He had the Senate hearing sometime that evening, but God only knew when that would actually take place. They tended to give you a time for that sort of thing and then not start it for an hour and a half later. Somewhere during reading, he had blindly reached out for his water and just as blindly took a sip, all without spilling a drop. It was a learned skill, one he had acquired from all the time he spent reading, drinking coffee and holding a conversation at once. And they said men couldn’t multitask. It was only once he had finished reading the whole document that deceptively brown eyes glanced up towards her. Hell, in the dim of desk and fire and TV light, they looked greener than anything. They looked more tired than anything. The way she was standing, he was half tempted to try and tip her or something. It was the same way the bellhops stood when they were waiting for one, after all. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” He was honestly asking the question as he slipped off his glasses. She was lingering, after all, and while he could have as easily dismissed her, he figured it was better to be safe and make sure that nothing was wrong before he sent her on her way.

She pursed her lips. "I was about to ask the same of you," she retorted, standing up straight. Avery still didn't exactly know what to do with Gregory. She figured they were a little too similar; she wasn't one for overt praise and she didn't actively seek it, she disliked talking about her feelings and she rarely had a desire to know anyone else's. Part of her wanted to take up that coveted confidante role that so many Senators had, as Gregory had to whisper his secrets to his pillow as he slept alone. Part of her expected that would never happen. Not unless she pushed him. And she didn't want to push him; he'd push right back. She sighed and put a hand on the doorknob. "Just tell us what you want for breakfast and I'll get out of your hair," her other hand was on her hip; she was barely five foot four but she had a steely sort of glare that was better suited to great aunts than young nannies which made her more imposing. "We could do waffles, if you like. Maddie demanded we buy whipped cream so I've some of that." She looked at her feet, unconsciously drawing out the conversation. "Strawberries aren't in season yet but I'm sure we've something frozen." Maybe if she waited, he'd say something more. Mind you, she'd been waiting for three years and it hadn't happened yet, but she felt that there was a first time for everything, and she might as well put the opportunity out there. "Unless there's anything else,"

He turned his back to her for a moment, leaning over his desk and finishing off the last few sentence on the speech he was working with before he tossed both pen and glasses back onto the desk. As she rambled on about waffles, he stood where he was, both hands clutching the desk. Another wave of nausea and stomach pain had hit him, and while his water was right there, he didn’t feel well enough to move. No, it was mind over matter. He just had to tell himself he wasn’t going to be sick or double over and he wouldn’t. He had to be stronger than his own body, which was silly if you thought about it logically, but after a moment, he swallowed and straightened and seemed to have won the battle. As he took a long sip of his water, he silently wondered if it might be more than just a regular hangover. Oh, sure, some of it was a familiar sensation, but the stomach pain that felt like an odd mixture of heartburn and getting punched wasn’t. An ulcer, maybe? He wouldn’t have been surprised. Really, he had just been waiting for one. Amazing he hadn’t gotten one before now, if you really thought about it. Purely out of habit, Greg’s tongue snaked over his lips and wet what was already wet. “I’ve got breakfast, don’t worry.” He had breakfast just like he did every morning or almost every morning. It was habit if nothing else, and though he was sure Maddie would take pleasure in someone else’s cooking, and something new and different, he couldn’t pull himself away from tradition. It had always been their thing, just like walking together to school was always their thing. “Do you think she’ll want the pancakes, though? And…What about apples? Are apples in season this time of year?” For a moment, his face formed a frown of intense concentration. Even if they were, would Maddie want them? Funny, really, that he often ended up spending more time worrying about what his daughter did or did not want then what his own constituents did or did not want.

Avery watched him stand still. Concern did not immediately cross her mind, he was a big boy and unless he was on the ground gasping for an ambulance, she wasn't going to get worried. Her mother hadn't been one to fawn over little things like paper cuts and burned fingers, and though Avery herself did tend to fawn over Maddie, she wouldn't coddle Gregory, which was something he no doubt appreciated. When he spoke, she shook her head and smiled. "She'll want the pancakes," she said. "And apples are always in season. They travel better than soft fruits so that's not an issue. We've got red, yellow, and green in the kitchen as usual." She was partial to the granny smith's, but variety was nice, she thought. Sometimes the bitter skin of a red delicious was just the tannic taste she needed. Besides the silliness of the apple question, she was smiling at his expression; how eagerly he tended to his daughter's wishes. She had half a mind to deny the little girl thing just to counter Gregory's overachieving but had never put theory to practice. Someone else might've grumbled at the kid vs. politics argument but she didn't think he had his priorities twisted. He took the girl to school every morning, didn't he, and while he wasn't always on time for dinner, he was working as hard as he could. He got both jobs done, and done well, so why did it matter? "Should we put a basket by your bed? I'd hate to see sick all over the floor, you know vomit is not exactly my favorite thing in the world," her tone was only slightly scathing, though it was evident she thought it was his fault for drinking so much in the first place, she was still sympathetic enough to rub his back if he so wished and to fetch more water and some advil for him. It was an odd profession, she felt halfway between assistant and mother when it came to Gregory.

As much as she hated cleaning up vomit, he hated vomiting even more. It was a fact that often left him feeling more miserable than need be on many occasions: Instead of just getting it over with and moving on, he’d fight the sensation for hours just to lose the battle in the end. Still, none of it really mattered since he would never let her clean up such a thing. Oh, sure, let her hold back Maddie’s hair when she got sick and clean up a bit then, but she was just a girl. She couldn’t really be expected to deal with such things on her own and besides, it was never her fault. Most of the time it was his own doing when he got sick. Therefore, he made it a point to keep such things private. “Ha ha, aren’t you just a doll.” Despite himself, he rolled his eyes at her and went over to turn off the T.V. It wouldn’t stay off, but it was nice to think maybe he could walk away from it. Even now, with fatigue pulling at his shoulders and head and eyes, there was a certain restless energy in his step. On his good days, he had trouble sitting through meetings. On his bad, it was all he could do not to pace. Even now, he brought his hands together and cracked his knuckles one by one. “No, I’ll be fine, but thank you for offering.” There was a pause, another swipe of his tongue over his lips, and then when it seemed he was going to turn to head for bed, he spoke again. “You don’t have to take care of me, you know. I’m sure I don’t pay you enough for it.” Honestly, he paid her extremely well. She cooked, cleaned, took care of his daughter, did his assistant work. He knew lawyers that weren’t getting paid as much as she was a year and she was getting free room and board. The point, though, really had very little to do with the pay.

It was true that money was the last thing she thought about on a day-to-day basis, she had paid her way through school already, she had no use for a car in a city like DC, and she ate their food and used their water and electricity. It seemed like the perfect job from a career nanny standpoint. But Maddie wouldn't always be eight, and Greg wouldn't always need Avery around like this. One day he might even get remarried, and have a wife to take care of the home proper. Which was why Avery's sights were set on bigger things. She wasn't doing it for the money. She was doing it for the experience. For the know-how, for the political intrigue, and because she liked Maddie and Gregory. Of course, it didn't hurt to be able to do yoga in Doo.Ri jersey, or browse the National Gallery wearing Dior heels. Her excuse, past girlish vanity, was that she had to keep up Miers' reputation. She couldn't go frumping around in sweater vests and thrift store flats. She wanted people to say 'Oh, that's the Miers nanny.' Gregory Miers was the sort of Senator who was on the cover of GQ and Vogue Living, who was interviewed for Vogue Hommes and Vanity Fair. She had to make him look good. She had to make him look successful. And if wearing Marc Jacobs while chaperoning Maddie's school trips to the National Zoo made Gregory look successful, then Avery was willing to carry that burden. "Right." She smiled again. "Just cry pitifully if you need me, I'll come running," she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "Good night, Gregory,"