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WHO: Georgia & Shaun (closed)
WHERE: Lake Tahoe Resort
WHEN: After the swear-in and monster hunt
WHAT: Shaun gets to hear about George's adventures in shared dreaming
WARNINGS: The usual: potential discussion of adopted sibling incest, parental emotional neglect and abuse

The concierge hadn't even blinked when he'd handed them the keys, with a pleasant 'have a lovely stay, Mr. and Mrs. Mason!' The poor guy might've blinked a time or two after George's reaction, but even so they've still made it up to their room without too much trouble. This is nothing short of a miracle, considering the level of trouble that the day had already brought with it, with the appearance of the undead from the lake. They've spent too much time and far too much ammunition (something that Shaun is itching to replace as soon as humanly possible) but at least it seems that this undeath is less contagious than the Kellis-Amberlee driven version that they're used to. And close to under control at this point.

Small favors, Shaun supposes.

It's still a relief to bar the door, sweep through the room and make sure curtains are drawn tight and the lights are either off or switched as low as possible. It's a familiar and comforting routine in its own way after all the time on the road with the campaign, but that doesn't mean Shaun doesn't fling himself back onto the bed with a huff and a bounce in overstated exhaustion. "Am I a zombie magnet, George? Is it me? Is that what's going on here? Why couldn't I be a better sort of magnet? Like a money magnet... or a chick magnet?"

His lot in life he supposes. It's a nonsense question, but it's a lead in. He has actual questions he wants to ask.

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That gets an actual laugh. "We both know you'd prefer zombies coming at you to chicks any day." Mostly because he is a chick magnet. He just is too dense to notice and George answers his fan mail.

She sits next to him on the bed, glancing over at him. They have things to talk about, she knows. She's just not sure where to start. It's still all so goddamn weird.

Shaun doesn't bother hiding the grin that breaks across his face. "Good point." She has him there. He glances over as George takes a seat beside him, moving to sit up and scooting himself in closer, expectant.

Well.

Shaun's never been one to do anything but jump straight in, so he'll start, with an admittedly terrible segue, "Speaking of chicks. What's up with you and that Allison woman? Did something happen?" She'd seemed nice when they'd spoken on the network, but if something had happened between her and George, Shaun is already solidly on his sister's side.

Yep, she figured this was coming. She shakes her head and bumps her shoulder against his.

"Not with her. Her brother, Luther. Right before you came when all that bullshit with the dreams was going on? Ours got... mixed, I guess."

He leans right back into her, an unspoken reassurance in its own way. They spent so long limited to incidental, casual touches that it's second nature, something that happens without needing anything quite so complex as thought.

"Mixed? Like... you got part of his dream? Or he got part of yours?" And what kind of dream, exactly. God knows that George has enough traumatic experiences to fill a lifetime subscription, if they're talking nightmares.

"Both, maybe." She laces her fingers though his, shifting so that she's curled into him. "He seemed to think it could have come from him, but it also could have come from me."

She didn't stick around long enough to find out. If he wanted to take credit for it, she wasn't about to argue. It's better all around if she doesn't have to try and explain things.

"He was sort of you and I was sort of Allison. But also we were ourselves. And there was..." she pauses and grimaces. "Kissing."

Shaun shifts without thinking, making it easier for George to settle in, one arm slipping around her back, resting against her waist. If there's one thing he loves about this place -- aside from the fact that Georgia is alive -- it's the fact that once they close the door on the world, there's no worry about anyone walking in on them, that there isn't anything stopping moments like this.

He listens as she goes on, his brain already doing the math to figure out what a dream that could have come from either of them might be, and the first thought is some version or another of the undead. But he is, clearly, mistaken.

Initially, Shaun stiffens, that first reflexive reaction at the prospect of being discovered. But that quickly gives way to a quiet, "Huh." So if Luther thought it was his dream, then. At the very least, they probably don't have to worry about him saying anything, even if he does have an inkling of just how shared the dream was. Okay.

His arm tightens around Georgia, and he leans his head to press a kiss through her hair. "The guy is like six times my size. Did you dream-make-out with a giant, George? How did you even reach? Was there a stepladder?"

She rolls her eyes under her sunglasses and tilts her head to glare up at him.

"You're a brave man to be this much of an asshole when my elbow is this close to your ribs."

All things considered, he's taking this rather well. It's not like either of them have ever been especially jealous, but neither of them has ever kissed anyone else before either. This might not have been real, but it was close. Even if she would never have done it in her right mind. Even if the man she dream-kissed was still at least partially Shaun. It's weird and not right.

"You know me, I live for danger," he murmurs, teasingly, as he looks down at her, meeting that gaze as best he can through her sunglasses -- once she's done rolling her eyes at him anyway.

He's never been particularly jealous, but oh he's fully capable of it. It's never really come up, largely because there hasn't been much reason for it. They've been wrapped up in each other so securely for so long, there's never been any room for it. It'd be a complete lie to say that he's exactly thrilled about it, and he is decidedly not a fan of the image of Georgia kissing anyone who isn't him.

But it was a dream, and the he was sort of you helps soothe. Shaun leans back slightly, not breaking contact, hand resting at her cheek, thumb tracing along her cheekbone just where her sunglasses stop. He bridges the minimal distance between them to kiss her, murmuring directly to her lips, "But I call full dibs on all future dream kissing, okay?" No stepladders required.

She kisses him back readily, smiling against his lips. She breaks it off after a moment, leaning her forehead against his. "That's how I realized it was a dream. It felt... weird and wrong. Kissing you never feels like that." She steals another kiss, letting her mouth linger for just another moment. "Kissing you always feels right."

Those are exactly the right words to settle any lingering flickers of jealousy, really. "Yeah? Good. I think so too." It's always felt right, being with George. She's the other half of his soul, and he knows that now better than ever.

There's a smile lingering on his lips even as he kisses her once more, soft and brief before considering.

"I met the guy you know, earlier. I guess that explains why he looked so freaked out. Explains a lot because I was pretty sure I wasn't nearly that intimidating." Actually in retrospect, as he replays some of the conversation, it's morbidly amusing.

"Considering he's like three times your size? Probably. He was probably worried I'd do something crazy like tell you everything."

Of course, that's what she's doing right now. She doesn't keep secrets when she can help it. Especially not from Shaun.

"I don't know if his feelings are requited, or if they've acted on them." She brushes her thumb across his knuckles. "For obvious reasons, I didn't pry, but I couldn't help picking up what I picked up."

"Yeah. Pretty crazy thought," Shaun answers with an obvious hint of amusement because yeah, here's George telling him everything, because secrets are things for other people.

He smiles at the touch though, he's already turning this over in his head. Requited or not, that's not exactly the thing this guy probably wants widely known. And the guy has to know that Georgia knows.

The real question then is, "Think he picked something up back?" This secret that they've kept between only them for so long now.

"I'm not sure." She frowns, leaning her head against his shoulder. "It felt obvious, but he's not me. And he may have been too busy being defensive to think about it."

They've always relied on the blindness of other people, the way people won't notice what they don't expect to see. Under normal circumstances, she'd feel confident he didn't know. This is far from normal circumstance.

"I don't think he'll say anything if he does know. He'll be too afraid I'll spill his secret."

It makes sense, Shaun thinks, if this Luther had been too on the defensive to make any immediate connection. Or maybe panic at discovery did exactly the opposite and made everything all too clear. There's really no saying for sure without asking the guy point blank -- which seems inadvisable.

"You're probably right. Sort of a zero sum game."

He leans his head against Georgia's lightly. "Honestly though? I wouldn't care if he did." Georgia dying had put a lot into perspective for Shaun. And besides that, "Our parents" it's a talent to speak a single word like it's too bitter to keep in his mouth for more than a moment, but Shaun manages it with great skill honed from years of practice "aren't here, so it's not like we'd have to worry about their coming after us for tarnishing the family name." And no one in this world knows them as the kids who grew up as siblings in the public eye. And Shaun is perilously low on fucks to give. All these factors.

That makes Georgia pull back, though not fully away. Just far enough that she can turn and look at him.

She knows things are different for him now. She knows losing him broke him in some fundamental way she's not sure even she can fix. But it's still startling to hear him casually say he doesn't care if their biggest, really their only secret gets out.

"It would fuck up our careers. Who cares about the family name?"

Shaun half expects that reaction. He's aware, enough, that his perspective on this has shifted wildly after he lost George. Georgia was gone, and people knew he was broken, knew he'd lost his sister and his best friend and his partner. All that's true. But he'd lost the love of his life too, and those are the words he can't talk about. Won't talk about, because that was their secret, and it's not just his to tell.

He offers a smile, not quite apologetic so much as well, acknowledging. He knows he's broken. He's better, yeah, but not fixed. Part of Shaun isn't sure he'll ever be, but he's better. "I know. And I know it matters to you. And you matter to me, more than anything. So it matters to me too. I'm not gonna blow it, George. Promise."

But fuck his career. Well. He sort of did that already, really.

"I didn't think you would, I just..." she shakes her head. She doesn't know how to articulate how she's feeling. She knows she'd cease to care about anything else too if she lost Shaun, and she can't really blame him for feeling the same way. Still, it's a shock.

"I don't much like the secrecy either." She never does. Too close to lying. But she can't lose him and she won't allow herself to bend so she writes it off as 'privacy' and if she never actually tells anyone the truth, well, she also isn't lying. Except by omission, but that's not as bad. "But yeah. It matters. I don't know what else I could even do."

She doesn't know what she'd do if she had to choose between Shaun and the truth. The fact that he'd never ask her to is one of the many reasons she loves him.

Shaun reaches up to brush George's bangs back from her forehead lightly, nodding his agreement with the start of a grin that he can't quite hold back. "I don't know either. It's who you are. Stubborn and relentless and sometimes a little obsessed." It's also what got her killed, but it's impossible not to admire it even now. And it's impossible to think of a George who isn't so hell-bent on the truth, on being the one to tell it.

"Those are compliments, by the way." He means that, really. George holds the world to a high standard for honesty and truth, but she holds herself to an even higher one. Shaun knows that. It's part of why he loves her, and he'd never dream of asking George to be anything other than what she is. How could he? "Stubborn obsession is sexy." ...that he also means, shockingly.

"Besides, at least here once we're behind closed doors we don't have to worry about prying eyes." No parents. No random campaign staff. Just him and George.

She knows he means it, and she presses a gentle kiss to his mouth. He loves her as she is and he'd never ask her to change. Even if he's changed.

But he has changed. Georgia loves him no less for it, maybe even more for what he was willing to do for her, what he did. But it's hard, not knowing his mind as well as her own. There's a gap, a space where he kept growing and she stopped, and she doesn't like it.

He doesn't like it either, she knows, if not for exactly the same reasons. It's not like she could have come from the same time period as he did. Corpses don't make good superheroes.

She shuts her eyes and tugs her sunglasses off, pressing her face into the comforting warmth of his side. "I do like the lack of prying eyes. That much is a nice change."

"It really is," Shaun agrees, wrapping his arms around for for a moment. The lack of prying eyes and just the fact that this is possible, that the Georgia in his arms is living and breathing. It's still not something he can take for granted. It never will be. He still wakes up most nights, from one half-formed dream or another, in the short and inconsistent periods of sleep he manages to get, and listens to her breathing beside him.

After a quiet moment, he adds, "I gave up the field back home, you know. For a while anyway." Maybe forever. He's not sure; honestly part of him doesn't expect to be alive all that much longer. He has things to avenge, and that will keep him going for a while, but after that. Who knows. "Becks is heading the Irwins. She's doing a good job. Mahir and Maggie too." All the various successors who picked up where he and George and Buffy had left off.

It's surprising, though perhaps not for the reasons he'd expect. She never expected him to give up fieldwork. She never expected to go first at all, but if she'd thought about it, she would have expected him to throw himself into it twice as hard. She'd planned to bleed out in the bathroom, but that wouldn't be his style. He'd have to go out loud and grinning and pretending he wasn't already dead inside.

Or he'd give it all up and stay safe behind a desk. She's not sure how he's managed to live with his pain, but right now, she's so glad he has. She finds his hand and squeezes it. "I'm not surprised. We have good people. I still haven't forgiven you for stealing Becks from me."

"Well, that's probably okay since I haven't apologized for it," he counters with a thoroughly unapologetic grin. Talking about home is strange, because it's talking about a world without George in it, a hollow empty place that he knows is waiting for him with all the pain his sister's presence has chased away. For all its comic book weirdness, this place feels like home, and he never wants to leave so long as Georgia is here.

He tightens his fingers around hers in turn and adds, voice light enough still. "We do though. The best. I mean, Rick is probably going to be the vice president which is weird as fuck for the record, but yeah. Good people. All of them."

"That is weird as fuck. Bet he didn't see that coming when we hired him." She certainly didn't. They're bloggers, not politicians. She doubts she'd have accepted if Ryman had asked her, but that's her. Anyone who's talked to her for five minutes knows she'd never accept anything that wasn't news. Rick, apparently, was more willing to be flexible.

She doesn't know how she feels about that. Better him than Tate, she supposes, but it still feels like a loss. Maybe he can help Ryman make things better, at least. Make her sacrifice count for something.

Not that it'll make Shaun feel any better.

"Right? But... I mean I'm pretty okay with the idea of a boring truth-obsessed newsie being able to poke their nose into the highest levels of political power whenever they want."

It gives him the the tiniest sliver of hope for the country, in a weird way. Rick may not be Georgia, but he's a good guy who has proven himself to a proponent of the truth. And of doing the right thing. Actually having someone like that jammed into a role of politician with some actual political power? Yeah, that's okay with Shaun, even if none of it will matter for him personally. It won't bring George back, but even if he doesn't expect to be around in that world all that much longer, at least the idea of things looking up for everyone else is a nice one.

"So long as he stays truth obsessed." Rick's a good guy, but she's seen what politics can do to people. She can't rule out the possibility he'll lose sight of what matters. Hell, she can't rule out the possibility that she would. Power corrupts. It's a fact of life. She's sure Rick will try his damndest, but that doesn't mean he'll succeed.

"Good point." Politics do seem to have an effect on people. "At least he's got a good starting place." Further to fall maybe, but maybe that'll at least make that fall take longer.

And for all that happened, Shaun still thinks Ryman's heart is in the right place. Maybe that'll count for something too. Shaun's optimism has taken a serious hit recently, obviously.

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cw suicidal ideation

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