Work Text
"Do I really need to go to this thing?" Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Dick is still trying to knot his tie. He has to look presentable, but the color of the tie either doesn't match his suit or his hair, it just can't match both. It's infuriating, and in frustration, he takes the tie off entirely. "Unfortunately, yes. " Nix fumbles through the drawer for a pair of socks. When he looks up, he meets Dick's gaze in the reflection. "If I had a choice, I wouldn’t go either." "You can’t. You are the heir of the company." Dick turns around and puts the tie back in the drawer, looking for another one. “Exactly. And you are married to the heir, so quit complaining and let's get it over with." Nix stands up and gives himself a once-over in the mirror. Satisfied with himself, he turns around and finds Dick still without a tie. "Jeez, where is your tie?" Nix frowns. Dick sighs. "Can't find the right one." "You need a bow tie. It’s a formal dinner." Nix steps closer to the dresser and pulls open the drawer where they keep all the ties. “You should have told me earlier.” Dick feels he’s wasted all this time selecting the right tie, and now he’s frustrated with himself for being rather ignorant about formal attire. Nix shrugs and steps closer to knot the bow tie under Dick’s shirt collar. Dick’s frustration—whether due to his increasing workload since his promotion to general manager or his reluctance to attend and put on a performance at this charity dinner—leaves his body the moment Nix’s fingers brush his neck. He can count Nix’s eyelashes at this proximity. “Thanks, Lew.” "You look good." Nix finishes adjusting the tie and pats Dick’s chest pocket. He steps back and gives Dick a long look, smiling. “Now everyone will think you’re the trophy husband.” Dick scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.” Dick Winters is not a fan of parties. Since his teenage years, he has tried to avoid the inescapable drinking and partying culture of college by secluding himself on weekends. His resolve faltered when he met Nix—a confirmed party lover and drinker. Throughout their college years, Nix has tried to invite or drag him to parties. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes Dick’s stubbornness won, but from time to time, Dick showed his face. Those parties were unruly and joyous, and sometimes, swept up in the atmosphere, Dick even enjoyed himself.The parties he’s attended since marrying Nix, however, function differently. They are social gatherings with ulterior motives—fundraising, political networking. When they were still in college, Nix would disappear without warning for days. When he returned he was often in a foul mood. Nix would reveal to Dick that his family had summoned him to attend some fundraising gala in New York. “That’s what my life looks like, and always will be.” Nix warned him back then, that if Dick wanted a life with him, there are things he should expect and possibly endure. But Dick was naïve and hopelessly in love with Nix, so he said: “Not if you decide how your life should look.” “I am the master of my fate?” “Exactly.” Dick is still helplessly in love with Nix—just less naïve now. He has joined Nix’s family business and has witnessed firsthand its inextricable control over Nix and his sister. Their father, Stanhope demands loyalty and total control, and has pressured their children into keeping the business within the family, that Nix considers old-fashioned and unrealistic. Now, part of that burden falls on Dick as well, as he is, quite literally, a part of the family. Nix insists on driving them to the venue and refuses the company’s chauffeur. He hates the idea of others prying into their private lives, as if they weren’t already the subject of stale company gossip. Maybe he made a mistake in not objecting when Dick decided to accept the job after Stanhope offered him. Nix admits to himself that he was being selfish in wanting to keep Dick close. Maybe Dick would have shone brighter, been happier, if he had pursued his own path. Instead, he is stuck with Nix in this endless purgatory. And things could get even worse when Nix eventually takes over the company. Maybe Dick will get fed up and leave him—just like his mother—and the Nixon business—for good. “What are you thinking?” The music from the radio fills the car and Nix realizes he has been quiet since the engine started. “Nothing, just the speech I’m about to give.” “Are you nervous?” “Maybe, a little bit, but it’s not really about the speech.” “What is it about?” Nix sighs and turns to look at Dick quickly. “The whole thing. The pretentiousness of it. The futility. When you attend enough of these, you realize it’s all just for show.” “But it serves some purposes, right? At least some money will go to those who need and deserve it.” “Yeah. That’s the goal.” Nix nods as they pull up to the venue, an art gallery. They step out as a valet takes the keys. "Showtime," Nix says wryly, stepping next to Dick and grasping his arm. Dick smiles as they walk in together. Marrying into the Nixon family has its perks: all the privileges and accesses associated with wealth. Dick may never have to fly economy again—at least, not when traveling with Nix. (He still skips the upgrade when traveling alone.) But their life now comes with scrutiny. Nix, heir to one of the largest plaster companies in the U.S., has grown up under tabloid cameras and constant speculation. The media frenzy reached a new level when they announced their engagement and suddenly everyone wanted to know about this mysterious Dick Winters. His mother received phone calls from total strangers. People wonder where he came from, and how he came to know Mr. Lewis Nixon III? How did Lewis decide to marry him? The tabloids’ passionate readers were still talking about an old story about which Nix dated a heiress of a well-known pharmaceuticals company. The story claimed firmly that they were already engaged. Dick and Nix were together then. He knew the story was absurd, but he was, reasonably upset and confronted Nix about it. At the time, Nix didn’t see how it bothered Dick. He shrugged it off and treated it as a bad joke, and it has made things worse, until Nix realized to Dick, there was nothing humorous about it. “It’s probably just a story planted by my father. She and I are history. We broke up when we were freshmen in college. I guess dad is still pissed about it.” “Why would he do that?” “I don’t know,” Nix shrugged, “probably PR for the company.” Dick was stunned by the explanation. He would never think a parent would intentionally fabricate a story about their children for business’s sake, but what did he know then. Dick dislikes media attention even more than he dislikes parties. But now, he receives the same treatment as Nix—perhaps even more, as people scramble to uncover every detail about him, until their curiosity runs out or they find the next thing grasps their attention. Nix has been apologizing to him because of it, and each time Dick shushes him quietly with a reassurance or a kiss on the lips. If this is what it takes to have a life with Nix, he has accepted it long ago. Brilliance is all Dick can think of when he watches Nix giving that speech. He is surrounded by people and doesn’t seem to be nervous at all. He talks about arts, which Dick knows interest him. If Nix has to speak at these events, he should try to focus on things he likes—Dick told him once. “He looks he thrives on it.” Ms. Blaine, the senior company secretary, whispers to Dick while Nix speaks. Dick’s gaze fixed again on Nix’s animated gestures. He smiles and nods. Nix disappears into the crowds at the reception. Somehow Dick has a hunch where he is. “Looking for your husband?” Ms. Blaine approaches him with a glass in her hand. The content is almost gone, while Dick still holds a half finished champagne. Dick shrugs, “not really.” He knows Nix will find him when he is ready to go home. Dick wants to let him have fun, even just for a while. “I think you are doing pretty well.” “What does it suppose to mean?” Dick is amused. Among all the Nixon’s employees, he feels closer to Ms. Blaine. Ms. Blaine is rumored to be Stanhope’s former lover, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. She is no-nonsense and speaks her mind freely. “You know, I first thought you would hate all this,” she gestures to the glass and points her shoulder to the chatting crowds, “You didn’t quite fit the Nixon standards, but I think you are doing well.” “I guess I’m.” Dick is used to the fact that people find it bizarre or refreshing he mingles with the Nixon crowds. The Nixons are wealthy, his folks are middle-class. The Nixons enjoy drinking and he barely drinks except when he feels he has to, but things are not as complicated or baffling as people might think. He is just in love with Nix.
Nix finds him when his cheeks looks pink and hair ruffled, but he doesn’t need Dick to help him stand, an improvement compared to one year ago. “Ready?” Dick stands up and brushes away a stray lock from Nix’s forehead. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.” Dick drives them home. Nix falls asleep in the passenger seat. When he wakes up, he asks how long Dick has been working for his father. They have been married for 6 years now, and that equates how long Dick has been with the company. “Six, why?” “Just wondering if you are tired of it yet.” Dick becomes quiet and holds back from saying anything too hastily. He senses unspoken questions beneath Nix’s phrasing, along with the familiar insecurity Nix often reveals when inebriated. “I’m grateful for what you and your family have done for me.” “Come on, Dick, cut the crap,” Nix blurts out, “you know how much trouble we’ve caused you.” “It’s not entirely true.” Dick gives Nix a quick glance. He looks awake now, and serious. “The truth is, I took the job because it was a good offer—and because I didn’t want to disappoint your father.” Nix scoffs coldly, “You don’t need to worry about that. You will never outdo me in disappointing my father.” “And I thought I could be closer to you.” Dick admits quietly. “You really thought that?” “Yeah.” “I thought normal people wouldn’t want to work with their spouse.” “Nix, you were barely there. I barely see you.” Dick retorts quickly and realizes he sounds like a pouty child. “But if you could do anything right now, what would you do? Didn’t you say you want start your own business?” “That was college, Nix.” “Yeah, but it is not totally unrealistic, right? I remember you said you want to go into farming business.” “Because my grandfather used to have a farm. I think it is cool growing up.” “Farming?” "Yeah," Dick admits, feeling almost childish. "You eat what you grow yourselves—I always thought that was nice. Still do." Nix becomes quiet that Dick thinks he drops the topic, but then he says: “I want to go to California.” “What for?” Dick knows Nix’s mother and sister live in California, and once in a while Nix visits them and spends weeks there. Dick goes with him sometimes. “Farming. We can start a winery.” Dick winces at the idea, “does it have to be the winery?” "Or something else—whatever they grow in California. What else grows there?” “I’m not sure. Probably almonds, oranges, peaches…or asparagus?” Nix hums in thought. "Maybe one day we’ve had enough we can just move out there and grow vegetables." Dick knows he shouldn’t put too much stock in it. Nix is probably still drunk, or even if he isn’t, it is far from realistic. Still, he allows himself the thought. “Sounds ideal.”