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hutchingsb · 5 years ago

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fake political trophy husband AU for diego & hutch 👌😉

Diego Rodríguez García is a young upstart and the name on everyone’s lips. He’s got connections, he’s got wit, and he has the ability to put a crowd at ease. He came out as bisexual two weeks ago to further his campaign, to the shock and awe of the public. But more than anything else, he’s got the polls on his side. He’s going to win.It’s all Momma needs, a martini clutched in her hand, to latch onto an idea.

She stirs her martini slowly as if it’s necessary and not that she’s buying her time to make this whole thing stick. Hutch doesn’t mention that it’s not strictly necessary to convince him, he knows he doesn’t really have a say in the matter. The Booth-Bakers’ image has been falling. Small scandals build up, and the gossip never really goes away. Momma needs something to change, her ambitions not yet sated. Her campaign is going well, but she needs that push. These are hard times, and no one is completely sold on Mrs. Booth-Baker’s reelection as governor, not now that she’s newly without her husband.

“Don’t you think Mr. García could use some additional funding?”

Momma takes a sip of her drink through her smirk. Hutch sighs. He owes her, he knows. After the stunt he pulled when his father first left, he owes her something good; something she can use.

“When do I meet him?”

Later that night, while he lies in bed, he will think, ‘it doesn’t have to be real.’

Momma moves quickly because there is no time to waste when you’re down in the polls. She reaches out to the García campaign, offers them a fundraiser – hosted, of course, by the Booth-Bakers, for the charity of Mr. García’s choice. They would be fools to turn it down, and Hutch does not take the up-and-coming congress hopeful for a fool.

The campaign’s formal reply is an immediate yes, and Momma makes the arrangements. The woman’s connections know no bounds.

Two days later, Hutch gets a text that Diego (and when the fuck did it become Diego, and not Mr. García) is interested in talking about a mutually beneficial “business” deal, and Hutch tries not to throw his phone across the room and go back to sleep. But there’s a knock on his front door a couple minutes later, and he knows it’s some immaculate suit that his mother has picked out because it will match the color of Diego’s eyes, or some shit. He begrudgingly opens the door. At least he can pretend to entertain himself with work before this hellish night begins.

The suit is perfect. For all her downfalls, his mother knows style, and Hutch feels like he belongs at this party. Like he, too, is a political player, and not just some research analyst for his mother. He holds his own for a while, drifting between senators, the senators’ wives, and journalists. They’re all waiting for something big and newsworthy. And Hutch sighs, because it’s not a something, it’s a someone. And when the door opens and Diego Rodríguez García finally steps through the door, the whole party halts, waiting.

Except for Momma. She waits for nothing.

She is by Diego’s elbow in seconds, handing him a glass of something and talking to him quickly, quietly smiling as she gracefully manhandles him around the crowd. The whispers begin and Hutch suddenly feels like downing the glass of whiskey that he’s had for hours now.

It takes her some time, before his Momma makes her way towards him. But the buzz in the room starts to intensify, and Hutch does his best not to fidget.

“Mr. García, have you met my son?” Momma coos loud enough for those around to hear. She knows full well that Mr. García has not.“I can’t say I have had the pleasure.” Diego’s tone is pleasant, but his smile is genuine when he turns to Hutch with an outstretched hand. Hutch grabs the man’s hand and mimics his smile. Diego’s hand is warm and strong, and not even the least bit sweaty. His smile is perfect, white teeth and smile lines. His eyes are a dark brown and Hutch realizes that, once again, he was right. His dark navy blue suit compliments the future congressman’s eyes to a T.He truly hates his mother.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Hutch lets his voice be just loud enough to be heard. He may not be a player, but he knows how to play the game. Diego’s smile becomes guarded again as Momma lays a hand on the other man’s upper arm.

Hutch spends the evening by Diego’s side, at his mother’s demands. But he finds he quite likes it. He’s a quick study. Starts to pick up on when Diego’s tone gets a little too tense, or when his laugh almost sounds genuine. At the end of the evening, Diego slips Hutch his number and leaves him with a gentle squeeze of the arm.And Hutch cannot help but think oh God, I’m so fucked.

Diego texts him two days later, suggesting a lunch. Something public, in the middle of the daytime. Hutch likes the little bistro he’s recommended but doesn’t add that in his text back. Sends a simple sure, instead. Diego comes back with a time, and just like that, it’s a date.

The lunch itself sneaks up on him. He lets Clover parade him in different outfits through their shared apartment. She keeps snapping pics of him and texting them to Mar; loudly explaining that he has to look good if he’s going to be on the cover of whatever gossip rag his Momma sells this story to. He hates her because he knows she’s right. He says as much, and she smirks at him. When the outfit is sufficient, she snaps one last picture and shoos him out the door.

“Good luck! Remember you shouldn’t put out on the first date.”

He flips her the bird.

The conversation is easy, the food divine. Hutch, for all his nerves and fears, finds Diego incredibly easy to talk to. They talk about Diego’s career, his family, his childhood best friend. Hutch laughs at a story of Diego almost getting set on fire.Diego asks him about his work; how it is, living with Clover; what’s the last book he read.

For a brief second, Hutch can convince himself that this is a date. That Diego is genuinely interested in what he has to say. Time passes quickly, easily, and Hutch begins to savor the moments he makes Diego laugh – but it isn’t long until it all comes to a screeching halt. They pay the bill – or rather, Diego pays the bill – and, as they exit the bistro, he slips his hand into Hutch’s. And it’s then that Hutch sees her. The photographer is well disguised, likely to not cause so much disturbance as to be kicked out. His heart sinks a little as he remembers why this whole charade started in the first place.

Diego turns to him, lifts their joined hands to his mouth and plants one quick kiss on the back of Hutch’s hand. His heart lurches as he realizes with surprise just how dangerous of a player Diego is in this game, why Momma’s so fond of him in the first place.“I had a very nice time with you.” Hutch tries to force down his stupid smile at Diego’s words. (Later, he’ll tell Clover it was for the camera when she flashes him a shot of him looking particularly starstruck.)“Yeah, me too.”

As he walks away, hand stuffed in his pocket as if trying to physically distance himself from the offending member, he realizes that this is going to suck.He’s going to fall in love with this man.Diego will break his heart.

Momma greets him with a hug and a smile, which means good news.She doesn’t have a drink in her hand this time, which means great news.

She ushers her son in, herds him into the living room and then further still into her office. It’s more full than it usually is, papers and monitors cluttering the way from the door to her desk. Raine throws up a hand in greeting before he’s pulled back into work by Eric. Eric doesn’t acknowledge Hutch’s presence, but that’s not anything completely new. He bites back a sigh as his mother, with all her grace, flutters back over to him, a tablet in her hands. Eva must have handed it to her from over the desk.

“Look at these numbers,” she coos at him, and Hutch just nods approvingly. He knows he doesn’t need to speak. Not really.

“And for Mr. García as well.” Eric is by his side in a second, brandishing a different tablet.

“Hello to you too,” he mumbles quietly, and Eric flashes him a smile that’s got too many teeth in it.

He is shown numbers until it all bleeds together: projected wins, voter statistics, who might prompt Mrs. Booth-Baker’s reelection. It’s enough for Hutch to get the memo – he’s doing a good job, and more importantly, he should continue to fulfill it.

He pulls out his phone when he thinks no one is looking and whips out a quick text.

>> Have I ever mentioned I hate my mother’s choice in data analysts??

He shoves his phone in his back pocket quickly, as Eva approaches with a smile and yet more data. His phone buzzes almost immediately and he smiles.

>> Yes.>> On multiple occasions.>> But please do let me know what the grievance is today, I’m on the edge of my seat.

Texting Diego makes the evening go by faster, somehow. Hutch pretends he doesn’t realize that he’s never texted the man for anything other than planning outings before. It feels too new. Eva, the saint that she is, doesn’t comment on his goofy grin every time his phone buzzes, but her eyes sport a knowing look.

They are in the back-stretch of the campaign, and the tension that follows is palpable. Hutch can see how stress lives in Diego’s shoulders, how he fights more to keep his face happy and charming. When they’re alone, Diego slumps more. Lets his eyes close as he breathes.Hutch hurts for him. For all the stress Diego’s under, Hutch can do so little to help.

“There’s a party,” Diego starts, shooting an already sympathetic look towards Hutch. They are alone in his office – Lola is the only one still in the building, and she’s more than busy managing what could be the next big PR scandal (but won’t be). Hutch just nods. He knows his part by now. He is Diego’s date, the little bit of joy that his followers can latch onto and root for. Because really, who finds love in the middle of a campaign? “We don’t have to stay long…” Diego says, and Hutch realizes he’s tuned out most of what Diego’s been saying. He smiles, pats Diego’s hand where it rests on his arm. “It’s fine.” It feels like that’s all he can say at this point. All he’s been saying, because it is fine. It’s fine because Diego needs him and he’s asked. “Maybe it’ll even be fun.” They both laugh, and Hutch’s heart clings to the sound.

For the most part, the party is in fact fine. Mostly, Hutch entertains himself by shooting pictures of incredibly drunk senators to Mar and Clover. He’s lost Diego thirty minutes ago after he ducked out to grab them another round of drinks, and the alcohol has already provided him with a warm buzz. He stands to the side snickering at Mar’s latest reply, without Diego next to him, and he is a nobody. No one gives him a second glance.

He looks up only to spot Diego, all fine-tailored edges and welcoming smiles. Hutch offers him his drink, places a quick peck on the other man’s cheek. Under the mask of professionalism, Hutch can see something is off. He presses in closer to him, wraps his arm through Diego’s.

“You must have some sort of plan, right, Mr. García?” Hutch drags himself away from studying Diego to listen to the conversation at hand. “The girl was from your district, was she not?” And suddenly it clicks.

“We are working hard to help the police in their search for miss Tarry.” It’s a canned reply, something Hutch has helped Diego practice. Hutch hears the strain in the other man’s tone. His heart lurches. The stranger opens his mouth to speak again, something more insistent, and Hutch acts before he can stop himself.“I’m terribly sorry, but I think I need some air.” The reporter’s mouth snaps shut, shifting to form a thin smile, but Hutch doesn’t let the sincere apology drop from his features. He turns and tugs Diego along with him. “Babe– if you don’t mind.” And before Diego even has time to react, Hutch is pushing him out of the ballroom and into the hallway.

“Are you okay?” It’s just the two of them, and all pretences can be dropped. Diego’s shoulder slumps forward, and Hutch pulls the other man to him as the tension finally rushes out of Diego in a wave.Hutch pulls him towards another door, opening it with the hand that isn’t clutching Diego, and pulls the pair of them into a coat closet. He feels Diego breathing against his throat as the other man struggles to retain composure, and Hutch wants to scream that he doesn’t have to. He cannot do much for all the stress and pain he knows Diego feels, but he can do this. Let me do this.

It is quiet for a long time, in the dark of the closet, Diego resting against Hutch’s chest until finally, he pulls away. There is a pain in his eyes when he looks up to meet Hutch’s gaze. A broken sob catches in Diego’s throat as he speaks.“I didn’t do enough to save her.”

Hutch doesn’t know more of the story than what he’s heard on the news. Doesn’t know the part Diego’s played in the case of the missing girl. He didn’t want to push. Didn’t feel like it was his place to do so. He doesn’t fully recognize this version of Diego, this broken version with too many self-sabotaging things on the edge of his tongue.

Diego opens his mouth to speak again, and Hutch pushes in. Closes the distance between them to let their lips crash. He feels Diego freeze underneath his touch, but as Hutch brings his hands to fist into Diego’s hair, he softens. His mouth goes pliant and willing, and Hutch takes.

He cannot do much for this version of Diego, but he can do this. He’s always been able to do this.

Hutch cannot stop the little moan that follows when Diego licks into his mouth. He pushes at the shoulders of Diego’s suit jacket until the other man gets the message and lets it slip to the floor. Hutch closes the gap again, slipping between Diego’s legs to press as much of his body against the other. He lets his teeth sink ever so gently into Diego’s bottom lip and sucks, and the gasp that follows is worth it. He can feel it in his gut, a new warmth that spreads through. He can do this. “Let me do this,” he whispers, biting down at the spot where Diego’s jaw meets his throat, earning him another gasp.

Hutch drops to his knees and smirks at the groan that accompanies it. A hand comes to lay on his head and scratches down, and Hutch pretends the mewl that comes out of him isn’t at all embarrassing. He hears him swallowing thickly, as he lets his own hands dance over the waistband of Diego’s slacks. He cannot help the wolfish grin that finds its way to his face. He glances up, seeking Diego’s approval, and he gets it with a small nod and a sigh, and Hutch thumbs open the button on Diego’s pants and slides them down.

He mouths at Diego’s hip bone, nips his teeth against the skin; runs his hands along the newly discovered territory of Diego’s thighs. He lets his lips ghost over the fabric separating him from Diego’s half hard-cock. Diego’s hips stutter forward, chasing the feeling, and Hutch lets his forearm stop the motion. When he looks up, Diego has his head thrown back against the wall, and he cannot stop himself from relishing the sight.

In one, slow pull, he pushes down the boxers, emboldened by a rare-found confidence. He lets his tongue drag over his own lips, before he lets them catch around the tip of Diego’s dick. There is a stunted sound that happens above, and a sharp scrape of dull fingernails over his scalp again– and Hutch can’t stop himself, he sinks down in one quick movement taking all of Diego into his mouth. It doesn’t take long after that. He clutches at Diego’s hips to steady himself as he begins to bob his head, the rhythm growing faster, the sounds dirtier. Diego has his hand in his mouth, biting down hard to stop from making too much noise. And his breathing is ragged, broken; a beautiful contrast to the earlier heartbreak.

Diego’s hands slip to Hutch’s neck as he swallows, a calculated move that earns him the moan he was looking for. Diego’s hands move to Hutch’s head, pushing him slightly. It’s a warning, Hutch knows, but he ignores it. Takes him deeper still, lets his throat tighten and flex around the intrusion. Diego comes with a broken sob.The sound is even better, this time.

The drive home is quiet, but not painfully so. Hutch cannot bring himself to look at Diego, only manages to shoot sideways glances from under his eyelashes. Diego does not look at him, either. The car stills in front of Hutch’s house, and he moves to undo his seatbelt. A hand stops him, Diego’s thumb and finger forming a loose circle around his wrist. “Thank you,” is all he says, letting his thumb shift to the pulse point on Hutch’s wrist. His heart jumps and he wonders if Diego can feel it. Hutch nods, no words able to form when he cannot take his eyes off of the point of contact between them. Diego squeezes once before he pulls his hand away, and the skin on Hutch’s wrist burns. He excuses himself from the car.

It still burns as he stands on the sidewalk, his hand holding his wrist, as the car speeds away into the night.

The room is buzzing with it: they’ve won. Hutch isn’t sure when he started thinking of himself as so involved.

The only one still working is Evan, frantically putting the finishing touches on Diego’s victory speech, while the rest open a bottle of champagne. Lola shoots them all a look, a warning that speaks to the fact that they still have an event after this and that no one is to get too drunk. Hutch is silently amazed how much she can portray with just one glance. The twins have four glasses between them already, and Hutch tries not to wince when he sees champagne pooling on the floor. Even Grey has come out from behind their computer with a drink in their hand. They deserve it; they’ve worked hard for this.

He’s caught up in the thrill of it all, sipping on his second glass, already feeling lightheaded, when Diego grabs his hand and pulls him along. Hutch laughs freely and follows, the alcohol already making him feel light and loose. He lets himself be guided, their fingers entwined, and Diego smiles, bright and happy. He doesn’t stop pulling until they’re both in Diego’s office and he’s so goddamn happy it hurts.

“We did it–” The way Diego’s voice hitches like it’s only just now settling in makes Hutch’s heart stop and start.“You did it,” he agrees, nodding as he smiles. And he cannot stop smiling. He meets the other man’s eye, and it’s like a tipping point. Diego pulls him closer, wraps his arms around him and sighs into the crook of his neck. He freezes for a moment, before he lets himself fall, soften; clenches his hands at the back of Diego’s finely pressed dress shirt, the fabric clutched in his fists.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” Diego whispers like it’s something for just the two of them. A confession. And for a second, Hutch believes him. Believes that Diego needed him, not just Momma’s money. “Thank you.” Diego pulls back, cups Hutch’s face with his hand. “Thank you,” he repeats, letting his thumb trail slowly over his cheek. Hutch tries not to gasp.

And then someone calls on Diego from outside, and he pulls away; out of the door and into the fanfare, and all Hutch can do is watch.

His traitorous brain supplies the rest for him. This is it, it sneers, this is the end of you being needed.

He’s still pining when Lola all but forces the group out of the door and into six matching Ubers. One day he’ll ask how she manages all this so effortlessly, but he knows he won’t get a true answer from her anyway. She’ll fix him with a look and a smile, maybe pat his arm.

He ends up sandwiched between Diego and Evan. They’re talking over him, pointing at the recently finished speech, and Evan has a pen in his hands. Diego keeps looking to Hutch for his consensus on something or the other, and all Hutch can do is nod and try not to focus on how Diego’s leg hasn’t stopped moving since they entered the car.

The speech ends to a deafening roar of applause, and Hutch has been smiling so damn much. But then Diego turns to look behind himself, searching the few members of his staff for something – someone. His eyes lock onto Hutch’s and he reaches out his hand, and Hutch is a fool because he takes it. Diego pulls him to his side and flashes those pearl-white teeth – and then he’s leaning in towards him, Diego’s lips finding Hutch’s own, and he parts his mouth and sighs into it, lets his eyes flutted closed; lets himself have this.

The hoots and hollers from the crowd amp up tenfold: he is the voice of the young LGTBQ+, now, and they came here in droves.

“And,” Diego turns to the mic, his face plastered with his Professional Smile, so different from the one he shared with Hutch in his office hours ago. “–I couldn’t have done it without this man.”

It’s the same sentiment from Diego’s officer earlier, but out here? For the consumption of these strangers? It feels wrong. It feels too much like an act. Hutch smiles, holding on to Diego for dear life, but his gut twists into something ugly and sad.

His parents played this game: Mr. Booth-Baker, the rock that stood behind Mrs. Booth-Baker; the two of them shining in their leading roles as a loving couple. But the world did not see them at home, his father, gone all hours, and his mother, drunk and crying when she thought Hutch had gone to bed.He told himself he would not become another pawn in this game. He would never let his mother use him as such. But it took mere seconds for Diego to unravel his resolve, and Hutch feels used. Raw. Broken.

And– fuck– in love.

The rest of the night goes on without much incident. But Hutch feels like he’s traveling through a fog. He feigns a migraine when Connor comments on his distance, and it’s easy enough – the champagne is already making his temples throb. He tries not to meet Diego’s eyes whenever the other man shoots him a quizzical look.

He excuses himself early, and doesn’t respond to Diego’s text.And if he curls into bed and tries not to cry, so be it.

Mar all but drags him out of bed. Clover must have called in reinforcements. Which is only fair, he muses. It’s been three months since Diego won his seat and Hutch has been useless ever since.Mar sits at the end of his bed scowling as he shuffles through his clothes, delaying the inevitable. “We’re going to The Last Drop, not your funeral,” she admonishes. She’s perfectly put together, but it looks effortless, as if she’s just rolled out of bed. Hutch has always been envious of her easy style.“I’m moving as fast as I can,” he whines, but it’s not believable.And, as if right on cue, Clover is at the door, “–No, you’re not.” She has her phone out in her hand. “I told Raine we would be there ten minutes ago, and if you make them wait I’m never forgiving you.” Hutch sighs and throws on a shirt Mar has tossed his way.

“So, you’re still pining right?” It’s Raine that breaks through his fog-addled thoughts, and Clover is outright laughing at him. He grimaces at her before turning back to Raine. “I’m not pining.” He grits his teeth as Clover laughs harder. Raine’s face twists in confusion.“I thought you guys were in love or something,” they manage, and if Clover wasn’t already doubled over, she would be by now.“Oh, they are,” Mar responds. She doesn’t even look up from her phone. She’s texting her new boyfriend, Sam, who was meant to meet them here later. She doesn’t even dignify Hutch’s scoff of disagreement. “But our friend Hutch here is a big fuckin’ idiot.”Raine nods knowingly, an oh falling from their lips. He’s known the Booth-Bakers for a while, working for Hutch’s mother. They know that to be true.“I did not come out to be belittled.” Hutch huffs, slinking down into his seat more.“Then maybe you should tell your fucking boyfriend how you feel.” Clover has stopped laughing to look at him pointedly.

Hutch sighs and takes a drink. Pointedly doesn’t say anything about Diego not being his boyfriend, not really anyway.

By the end of the night, he’s almost having fun. Almost.

It’s the last event on the calendar. Hutch has been dreading the day as it approached, faster and faster. It’s a simple wrap-up interview, something to solidify Diego’s success story. To make it consumable for the masses. It will have no mention of the Booth-Baker money that helped finance his campaign, but it will have many a mention of Diego’s heartstopping romance that made the man seem so goddamn human during the whole campaign. Hutch has to come as a show of support: the gossip rags have more than noticed his recent lack of presence in Diego’s life.

The magazine is not a gossipy thing, but a legitimate paper and the journalist is good – DeSouza, Hutch thinks his name is. Momma vetted them all and picked this one, so he has that going for him. And he starts the interview off easy, makes a few passing jokes at Diego, asks him to call him Romeo. Hutch tries to stomach the jealousy he feels at the easy conversation that he so dearly misses. He’s been responding to Diego’s texts more, guilt after his night of drinking with Mar and Clover, but it isn’t the same.

“And what about your man?” Romeo laughs at the foolish wording at it, and Diego joins him. Hutch’s heart lurches forward in his chest.

“There is so much to say.” Diego is still laughing, and Hutch cannot help but feel like he’s being cut open. This is fate’s sick joke for agreeing with his mother’s meddling; he’s sure of it. “He stood by me through everything.” Diego searches behind the lights for Hutch’s eyes, finding them and smiling, big and true. “He’s the reason I’m here.” Hutch closes his eyes, and breathes. Tries to stop the flood of emotion, but he can’t. Not here, not now.He runs.

Diego catches his hand before he can truly escape. He’s only made it so far as the hallway anyway. Diego looks hurt and confused and apologetic all at once like he’s not quite sure what Hutch needs from him – and all Hutch can feel is his manic need to getaway. “What’s wrong?” Diego is still too calm, even as his voice hints at the distress under the surface.It stops Hutch dead in his tracks.

“How can you lie like that?”

He wants desperately to be angry, to throw it into Diego’s face, but he can’t. He’s tired and heartsick and all he can manage is something that sounds so desperate he wants to hide.Diego looks at him with confusion, and then deep, heartbreaking understanding. His face softens into a gentle smile, the kind Hutch has only ever seen when they’re alone. “I’m not lying.” He tugs on Hutch’s hand, and Hutch gives in. Because he’s a fool, but… maybe he’s not a fool about this.“You weren’t lying?” he parrots back, and Diego chuckles softly, bringing a hand up to cup Hutch’s face.“No.”

It’s all he needs to hear, he pushes forward catching Diego’s next laugh with his mouth. And he sighs.

He’s a goddamn fool.

#herwildwhisper #( ask meme )#( meme.au )#this only exists bcuz of malin y'all #there is also a surprise smut in the middle so not to catch anyone unaware #anyway sorry if i missed characters i literally wrote this all day and now no longer know what's happening

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