How To Win A Campaign (Jon Ossoff x Reader)

eleven

As our final days drew nearer and nearer, I began to feel excitement, anxiety, and sorrow in my soul. Excitement for the possible election of Jon, anxiety for the fear of him losing, and sorrow that these were our final days. We both would move on to knew things and have to part ways, just after I pushed my boundaries back enough for us to become friends. I began to allow myself to enjoy Jon outside of work and have more joyous moments with him, all right before we were to say our goodbyes. Suddenly, it felt so ridiculous to have denied myself this pleasure of being his friend for so long that I felt I needed to make it up.

The week of the election, we hosted a few rallies to encourage voters, taking a quick day trip down to Savannah and the surrounding areas of Atlanta. Our advertisement team created posters, shirts, signs, and other merchandise with our new slogan "Vote Your Ossoff" on it, but the first O was replaced with a peach, the key emblem of Georgia and of asses. It was quite clever, an intern had come up with it and Jon laughed his Ossoff about it. He declared that it had to be used, so we mass produced the merchandise, and posted the new posters in the window of the bus. The podiums at rallies occasionally had the slogan across it, or, at the very least, a few signs lining the area around the rally.

The office was rather busy the last week, phone1banking and recruiting people to go door-knocking. Jon wanted to do some door-knocking himself, so on the Saturday before, I opted to go with him to help. Driving around in my sedan, which, for some reason, had become the vehicle we chose to take everywhere, we went to residential areas. We started in some poorer neighborhoods, hoping to influence some of them to go out a vote against Perdue.

When residents opened their doors, almost all of them knew who Jon was. Their faces brightened immediately and gasped in disbelief. They all told us about how they were planning on voting on Tuesday and we made sure they knew where their polling location was. Once they were assured, we would move on to the next house. Most of the people who didn't know Jon didn't even realize there was a senate election going on, which was where Jon spent roughly 10 minutes going over his campaign and why Perdue is awful.

Sunday was still bustling, not as bad, but Monday was treacherous. There were tons of people on the office phone-banking and stacks of flyers with Jon's campaign logo on them everywhere. I hated the crowded atmosphere and quickly fled to my office, where I was met with Jon sitting in front of my desk while he stared at his phone.

Being met with an odd intrusion, I knitted my brows together. "Good morning, Jon," I greeted unsurely as I grabbed my coffee off my desk.

"I'm hiding," he sighed as he put his phone away.

"Hiding?" I smirked a little because this was very uncharacteristic of Jon. Typically, he was self-assured and confident in the face of any situation.

"The phone-bankers are teenagers," he paused while he looked up at me, an agitated smile crawling out, "and half of them just want to take pictures with me. Normally, I wouldn't mind, but there's at least twenty of them out there."

"Ah," I hummed as I sat behind my desk, "perhaps I should've prepared you for teenagers with daddy issues instead of old, gay men."

Even in the face of this dilemma, he managed out a chuckle at my remark and shook his head, "honestly," he sipped his coffee, "it would've been a lot more useful."

I sighed, leaning back and looking straight ahead at Jon, pondering an idea I had been thinking about for weeks. It wasn't even an incredibly outlandish idea, I just couldn't imagine what Jon would do, and that was what held me back. I figured, however, this was my last day to ask so I went ahead.

"Jon, would you like to get dinner tonight? As a celebration of the campaign?" I asked him, cupping my hands in front of me while I waited for his answer.