PLEASE READ In Sickness And In Health BEFORE READING THIS OR NONE OF IT WILL MAKE SENSE! Crazy-ass full-caps over, please enjoy this guys, and let me know what you think. Warnings: mpreg, strong language, icky stuff (but no smut. Never smut.).

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Jefferson's p.o.v

So, we got married.

It was a small affair, just us, a few friends, and our families. Okay, so it ended up being a lot of people because I have 9 siblings, 5 of which are married and 3 of which have kids, 4 in all. Stanley, Rufus, Rupert and Craig. I don't know what Randolph was thinking when he named his kid Craig. Rupert is Martha's pride and joy at 5 years old, which leaves 4-year-old Rufus and 8-year-old Stanely to Lucy, my only older sibling. She's 30 now. Martha's 25, Randolph 24, then there's my younger siblings... God, I really am ranting, aren't I? The point is, you disrespect any of them, I kick your face in. Understand?

Anyway, back to the wedding. There was aunts and uncles and cousins... it ended up being around 60, maybe 70 people in all. It was really rather nice, though. James wore a beautiful black-and-white tux, with a singular red rose in the pocket. Me?

One word: purple.

I still look at the ring every day. It's a simple gold ring, nothing too fancy, but it has James' initials engraved on the inside. We kept our last names. It was too confusing to be Mr and Mr Jefferson, Mr and Mr Madison, Mr and Mr Jefferson-Madison-- well, you get the idea.

We had our honeymoon in Paris, the city of love, at my insistence that it was the best place on earth... well, any place with you in is the best place in the world, I had said. James had blushed and said we could go to Paris. Laf hooked us up with a 5-star hotel, one of the best in the city. Honeymoon suite. Let's just say things got a little heated in the bedroom...

Well, it all started about 6 weeks after we got back. I woke up one morning to a churning stomach and a painful cramping in my abdomen. Wincing, I sat up, shaking James gently. He blinked blearily up at me, grinning as soon as he saw me.

"Hey, babe," he whispered, sitting up as well. Suddenly, he looked concerned. "You okay? You don't usually wake me."

"No, I feel a bit rough, actually," I replied, placing a hand on my stomach. "I think-"

Bile rose in my throat, and I snapped my mouth shut, just managing to swallow it down.

"Are you gonna be sick?" he asked sympathetically, tilting his head to the side a little. I nodded, resting the back of my hand on my mouth. "Come on, let's go to the bathroom. It'll be okay."

Helping me up, James slung my arm over his shoulder and we slowly made our way down the corridor. About halfway there, I began to gag, and I broke away from James, hopping down the corridor on my good leg. I barely made it to the toilet before I started to throw up. James was right behind me, holding back my bushy hair, rubbing circles into my back. The problem is, I was so out of it when I finished vomiting, James had to literally hold me up by the scruff of my neck to stop me from falling into the toilet.

"I think you've got the bug that's been going round," James said gently, pulling me into his lap. I leant my head on his shoulder.

"I bet Hamilton gave it to me," I grumbled.

"You should stay home today."

"Noooooo!" I groaned, trying to get up. James pulled me back down. "I've got a really important meeting with the President and a cabinet meeting and a huge-ass pile of paperwork. I have to go in!"

"You can't go in throwing up left, right and centre," he said, rubbing circles into my cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I'll bring you some paperwork and you can do it if you're feeling up to it."

I nodded my assent, and I limped back to the bedroom, flopping on the bed. True, my stomach was still cramping, but I wasn't feeling sick anymore: I was actually hungry. James came in a few minutes later carrying a bucket. He passed it to me.

"I don't feel sick anymore," I complained, putting the bucket at the side of the bed. "I'm starving."

"You just threw up," he replied skeptically, sitting on the edge of the bed: the mattress sagged a little under his weight. "Are you sure you should be eating?"

I gave him my puppy-dog eyes, and he quickly relented, looking up from where he was typing on his phone.

"Plain toast, and that's it," he warned, trudging to the kitchen. I heard the toaster pop down, and James was back in a flash, typing on his phone. I leant over his shoulder and glimpsed Washington's name. "I'm just telling him you're not coming in today," he told me, kissing my cheek.

The toaster pinged.

I nearly beat him to getting up, but he placed his hands on my shoulders, keeping me down as he placed a finger to his lips and backed out. He returned quickly with a plate of toast, handing it to me. I began to eat ravenously, causing James to physically take the food away from me. I made an indignant noise. He gave me a look as I swallowed with difficulty.

"Slow down," he said. "You'll make yourself sick again."

I grumbled a little, wiping the crumbs off of my chin. Sighing, he glanced towards the alarm clock and its glowing red numbers. I followed suite: they read 6:47 a.m.

"Sorry for waking you," I mumbled, lying back in the bed. James' face softened and he gave me quick hug, passing me the toast.

"Don't worry about it, you were ill," he said dismissively. "Now slow down."

And he left to clean his teeth.

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"I'm going to work," James told me in a hushed voice. He was sat on the bed again. It was 8 now, and along with the cramps, I now had a banging headache. The curtains were drawn, and the room was shrouded in darkness. Even so, I'd placed a pillow over my face for extra protection. "I'll come back as soon as I can to check on you. Call me if you need anything, yeah?"

I nodded and murmured something, I'm not quite sure what it was. James rested his hand on my arm for a moment before exhaling heavily and leaving. I heard the front door click shut.

His touch lingered on my skin.

Then I fell asleep.

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Madison's p.o.v

Walking to work, I was jittery and worried. Thomas is never ill. He just isn't. Obviously, he gets the occasional cold and he has his leg, but he isn't properly ill like that. Approaching the government building, I strolled in with as much confidence as I could muster.

"You're early," Hamilton called from his desk. Of course he was here. I swear he comes in at like 6 in the morning. Then he paused, as if mulling something over. I stared at him as I sat down and mine and Thomas' shared desk. It felt empty without him. "Where's Thomas?"

"He's ill," I replied, smiling grimly. "Stomach bug, I think."

Alexander sucked in air through his clenched teeth, his face wearing an expression of sympathy. It seemed sincere.

"It's horrible, that bug," he remarked. "I couldn't get out of bed for 3 days straight. Be careful, Madison. We don't need you ill as well. You're Jefferson's self-control."

I laughed, turning my computer. A blank screen stared back at me. Leaning over the back to make sure it was plugged in properly (which it was), I thrashed the mouse around a few times in frustration.

"Oh, come on," I muttered, giving the monitor a good hard shake.

I called IT, and waited for my first break so I could see Thomas.

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It was 11 o'clock before I managed to get back home again.

I opened the door silently, thinking he would still be asleep. I was surprised to hear The Jungle Book playing in the other room, and Tommy singing along in a high, sweet voice. He sings well: he should do it more often.

"Tom?" I called, creeping into the bedroom. He grinned at me, bouncing over to me and tackling me in a hug.

"Heyyyyy, Jemmy!" he squealed. I was scared. Was he delirious? I thought he had a fever, but a quick feel of his forehead revealed it to be a perfectly normal temperature.

"You seem better," I remarked, reaching for the remote and turning the volume down considerably on the TV. King Louis continued to sing in a much quieter voice.

"I am better!" he replied, pulling me into a dance. "I feel fine, my headache's gone, my stomach isn't hurting anymore... I think I can come in this afternoon."

Skeptical, I made an uncommitted noise.

"You might just be..." I began, but his sunny disposition soon wore me down. "Okay, you can come in, but you are not to over-exert yourself, do you understand?"

He nodded feverntly, hugging me and running to change out of his pyjamas.

I chuckled and shook my head.

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Jefferson's p.o.v

I was virtually floating as we walked into the governent centre. I sat excitedly at mine and Mads' desk, my feet propped up on the wood. At that moment, Washington walked through. He spotted me and came swiftly over.

"Jefferson, you feeling better already?" he asked, shaking my hand. "Madison said you wouldn't be in."

"I feel fine, sir," I replied. He didn't seem satisfied as he walked off.

I settled down, turned on my computer and got to work.

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There we are, chapter 1 done! Hope you enjoyed, and you all know what's coming... *wink wink*