Title: Sexual Relations

Rating: PG-13 (A small Derby/Bif scene, cursing)

Summary: Harrington took his stand at the podium to the chorus of shutters snapping. (Future fic, Bif/Derby)

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Derby ran a fine toothcomb through his hair, slicking it back. At twenty-six, he had made quite a man out of himself. Other than being fabulously wealthy, he was married to Pinky Gaulthier - who was expecting a child - and he had recently joined Congress as one of the youngest in nearly three decades.

He smirked snidely at the mirror, striking a pose. He was lean, tall, and handsome. His hair was the same color as in high school, though it now came straight from a bottle. Derby had also decided to grow some facial hair, but it was sparse at best right now.

He scratched at his chin, looking himself over. "Why, you look fine today, Mr. Harrington. Care to tell me how absolutely wonderful you are?" Derby asked himself in the mirror, running the comb through his hair again. He had lost the accent, but his voice still held a certain old English charm to it. "How about how filthy rich and dashing you are, Mr. Harrington? Oh, do tell." Derby let out a short, barking laugh. Yes, he was practically on top of the world.

The door to his room suddenly swung open, and he frowned. Nearly on top of the world.

"Are you almost ready?" Bif asked, closing the door behind him.

Derby sighed, not bothering to turn around. "Would it bother you that much just to knock once in a while?"

"I like to keep you on your toes, Derby," Bif said pleasantly, ignoring his obvious annoyance. Derby made a low noise in the back of his throat, a scoff. Bif smiled boyishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "… Sorry. I'll be sure to knock next time."

"Of course you will…" Derby mumbled, adjusting his tie, and turning around. Bif Tremblay. Ah, he had changed a bit from high school. He was still tall and built, though not as much as he used to. His free time was very little ever since becoming Derby's public relations manager, so boxing was more of a luxury than an every day thing. His red hair had darkened to a light brown, and he still had that young looking face.

"You know, this is a right pain in the ass," Derby snapped moodily, gazing back at himself in the full-length mirror. Bif sighed, leaning forward, and plucking a piece of lint off of Derby's ridiculously expensive suit.

"I can't say I pity you," Bif said briskly, ignoring the narrowing of Derby's eyes. "You've brought this upon yourself."

He sniffed haughtily, tipping his chin up, and rubbing the scratchy dirty-blonde fuzz there. "Is it my fault that… Lilia," The name rolled off his tongue, and a smirk crossed his face. Bif rolled his eyes. Him and his disgusting escapades with common dirt, like Vendome back in their schoolyard days. "Decided to go to the public about our little affair? No, it is not."

"I'm surprised Pinky didn't have a fit," Bif remarked, earning another venomous look from Derby.

"I wouldn't allow it," he grumbled, regarding himself in the mirror. He titled his face one way, then another, striking an overly fake smile. "If I allow her to do whatever she fancies with Spencer, then I'm certainly allowed to fuck whoever I damn well please." The last part was a snarl, and when he flashed another one of his fake smiles - it was more like he was baring teeth. Tad Spencer had grown up along with them all; sadly, he hadn't simply vanished from existence or perhaps dropped dead. No, Tad Spencer took upon his father's company after he was mysteriously murdered. Spencer Industries was now a multi-billion dollar worldwide business. They were so big they had made a public announcement over their want to buy out Microsoft.

"Fucking Spencer," he snarled again to the mirror, changing his whole pose and flashing a closed-lip smile. He'd see who had the last laugh when he ran for president in a few years. Hope he liked the IRS on his ass. Bif smirked, placing his hands on his shoulders, and straightening them slightly.

"That looks much better. If you slack too much, you'll look like a brute." He leaned over Derby's shoulder, grabbing his chin roughly, and pulling his head back. Derby let out an annoyed growl, swatting at Bif's hand as his lips pressed against the other side of his neck. "The stubble doesn't help your look much, either," he murmured, pressing his lips against his cheek, feeling the scratchy texture.

Derby's eyes closed as Bif's lips continued their assault. "I've checked the polls, of course, and the young commons say they like the look." The hand on his cheek moved slightly, his finger tracing Derby's lips. Derby purred, opening his mouth, and nipping on the wayward digit.

Bif chuckled, "Who? The Green Party?" He purred into his ear, thrusting two fingers into Derby's mouth. Derby let out a small moan, sucking on the fingers diligently as Bif kissed up his neck. Derby had a wonderful tongue, and he glanced over at Bif as he continued to suck, his tongue wrapping around the manicured digits as a promise to come. Bif shivered. He pressed against Derby, and Derby pressed back. "Mmm, how much time do we have, Congressman Harrington?" he asked, removing the fingers from his warm mouth.

"Nnn…" Derby reached behind him, grabbing Bif's ass, and pulling him close, groping him through his pants. "Enough time, if we're quick," he purred. "Conferences are no fun, besides-"

The raps on the door made both of them suddenly stiffen, and they almost immediately separated from each other, smoothing out their hair and adjusting their ties. "Mr. Harrington?"

Derby let out an irritated sigh, adjusting his collar slightly. "Yes? Come in, Ms. Smith."

The door clicked open, and in stepped his secretary, all long legs and short pencil skirt. She strode up next to him, her tall heels clicking against the ground. "Mr. Harrington?" She adjusted her small glasses, tapping her clipboard with a manicured nail. "The conference is about to start. Are you ready to begin?" She eyed the slight trail of spit coming from the corner of Derby's lip. He scoffed, wiping it off with the back of his hand.

Derby looked sour, and he let out a soft sigh. "Of course, of course." He smoothed down his jacket. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

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Harrington took his stand at the podium to the chorus of shutters snapping. He smiled his trademark smile, the one that made those fresh out of high school voters swoon, and old grannies at the polls think he was sweet and innocent. Every angle was his good angle.

Bif stood quietly behind him, looking quietly over through the crowd. All of the big name reporters were there.

Derby gave them an opening line, something about some decision he had voted for on the Congress floor. After that - almost immediately - people started to ask questions. Most pertained to the common subjects that always get asked, the ones that Derby managed to worm his way out of so skillfully that nobody knew for sure if he was either for or against the subject.

Then, the big question came.

"Is it true, Mr. Harrington," the bright-eyed reporter asked quickly, his pen pressed against the pad of paper anxiously. "That you had sexual relations with a woman named Lilia Bloom?"

Derby gave slightly-frustrated-but-still-happy generic smile number two. "Me? Goodness gracious, no, I did not have sexual relations with that man."

The reporters face fell, slightly confused. The other reporters in the room murmured, but were otherwise quiet. "Excuse me, could you repeat that?"

Derby's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and he stood straight at the podium. "I said," he spoke clearly into the microphone, "I never had sexual relations with that man." Too bad for Derby, Bif was behind him. He couldn't see Bif as he looked toward the sky with a helpless look, before pressing the palm of his hand against his face. If he had seen Bif, he would have realized his mistake before the reporter asked his follow-up question.

"Well, I would like to know, who's this other man you're having a relationship with on the side? Does Lilia Bloom know about it?"

Derby's face fell, and he blinked a few times. "I… what?" His words stumbled ungracefully, and the bulbs were suddenly flashing like mad as they caught Derby's shocked face.

Bif shook his head, rubbing his temples. "Shit…" he mumbled.

"I do not have sexual affairs with anyone of any gender, save my wife, and I would like to call this conference to a conclusion," Derby said quickly, smiling widely. The whole room burst into loud questions: who's, what's, when's, where's, and why's bouncing off the walls and making the whole place ricochet. Derby stepped gracefully down from his podium, walking towards the doors, and ignoring the reporters that tried to swarm him. Bif followed closely, enjoying the quiet as the double doors swung shut behind them.

"Wonderful conference, Governor of New Jersey," Bif remarked casually, pushing up his sleeve and checking his watch. He would have about ten minutes to write up a report that would simultaneously rebuff the accusations of him sleeping with the woman, and any reports of homosexuality.

"I hate you sometimes, really, I do."