Work Text:
Amy races through the hospital corridor. Heels clacking obnoxiously across the hard white surface. The sound is the only thing stopping her from breaking into a full run. A timely reminder that she is still in public and this in fact is not a Nora Ephron movie.
...five injured, two in critical condition. One of which is lobbyist and media liaison to the Vice President, Dan Egan.
What kind of fucking idiot takes the highway at peak hour.
A fucking, moronic piece of shit.
So many things are running through her brain, lines and images run over each other overlapping and bubbling through to the surface. The Whiskey Neat placed in front of her by a bartender, sent from the floppy haired frat boy with bedroom eyes. Yesterday when Dan accidentally spilled coffee on himself. The drunken celebration of Selina being elected president which ended in a karaoke sesh none of them will ever retell. The hangover so bad Dan offered to cook. The drinking, so much drinking. The first time he snuck out of her apartment ten minutes after not giving her an orgasm. The time she accidentally found his notebook full of the terrible angst lyrics, and laughed her ass off. His filthy fucking mouth hot and low in her ear in the Oval Office. The time he totally fucking cried during that inflight movie of My Girl. The time they were bored and decided to race to the photocopier, bowling over Gary carrying 15 different types of croissants.
I am in love with you. I love you. I like you. I don't hate you. You're such a shit. Thank fuck you're not dead. What the fuck were you thinking? Why didn't you just stay at mine? You’re such a fucking idiot. God I hope you're alright.
She gets to his room, before she even opens the door she hears Dan swearing at some nurse for wanting him to turn off his phone.
He's okay.
He’s fucking okay.
Amy takes in a deep breath, pulls out her blackberry and replies to a few email as she walks nonchalantly through the door.
It doesn't fool him.
Years later he’ll propose and she’ll pretend it wasn't her idea.