How To Win A Campaign (Jon Ossoff x Reader)

nineteen

(very long chapter ahead, get comfy 😀)

I accepted that job offer from Warnock, no matter how badly I didn't want to. I didn't want to not because of some internal issue I had with Warnock, it just seemed weird for me to be an advisor for a friend. I didn't usually allow friendship, but Reverend Warnock had been particularly kind and supportive of me during the campaign, so I had to. Jon was also pushing for me to have that job, mostly because he probably wanted me down the hall from him at all times. I had to remind him that I'd be working, not available at his expense, to which he would reply I know.

For a few days, we settled into our apartment, seeing as DC was on lockdown, and got to know the neighbors. Jon, on our final mornings of relaxation, got to know the lay of the land to plan his running routes, but he would be back promptly to see me sprawled across the couch waiting for him as I stared at MSNBC on the television.

One morning, Jon came back with speckles of ice across his skin, frozen sweat. His eyebrows had been hardened with perspiration and I was sure his hair had been crystallized, as well. Cheeks bright red and lips matching, I couldn't help but feel both concerned and the urge to laugh at his dilemma. I realized he put himself there, so I figured mockery was fitting.

"Is it cold?" I asked, smirking as I sat up a little on the couch.

He kicked his shoes off, looking over at me but with very restrained movements like he was afraid his frozen skin would start cracking if he moved too suddenly. "A little," he replied quietly.

I pulled out my phone and checked the temperature outside. "12 degrees, Jon. You couldn't have waited until the sun came out and thawed everything?"

"I'm fine," he walked away from the door rigidly, dismissive of his miserable state, "I gotta figure out where everything is."

I got up and followed him to the kitchen sink where he got himself a glass of water. I watched him slowly bring the glass to his lips, noticeably uncomfortable of the feeling of cool glass against his chapped lips, but too proud to admit it. I reached up and brushed the ice off his forehead and from his ears. "You won't even let the weather beat you, will you?" I inquired as I continued to clean of his face of frozen sweat.

"No," he smiled a little, watching my expression while I brushed his fingers across his cheeks.

"One day you're going to freeze in place out there."

"I know."

—

Both of us were up early the morning of the inauguration. I could see the excitement pulsating off Jon's body as he pulled out his suit for the day. He had just gotten it tailored and we had gone tie shopping specifically for this day. I managed to make him settle on a plain blue one that nearly matched his blue (almost black) blazer, and a nice, white dress-shirt beneath it to avoid too much blue. Blue was a statement for the new Democratic majority, but too much blue was douchebag-y and made too much of a statement. Jon had fun picking out that outfit and getting everything fit for him. While we were at it, he figured he needed something nice to wear overtop of his suit, so, we decided fuck it, and fitted him for a matching coat as well.

I decided on a (black suit with a blue and white pin-striped dress shirt and a navy tie/black pantsuit with a light grey dress shirt), and, because of how cold that morning was supposed to be, I accompanied it with my black overcoat. My outfit had already been in my closet forever since I rarely did any shopping, but I didn't need to. This was Jon's day, so he was the one getting pampered.

After he finished showering, I made sure to paint his nail, which he insisted be his ring finger on his left hand, as a symbol of our engagement. His smile was so big while I brushed the paint across, like this was the official moment in which we were married. I pulled back, twisting the cap back on and smiling back up at him.