January 20, 2021
"I'm going to go ahead and make an executive decision right now," Elena declared, fingering the strand of pearls. "I will never be caught dead wearing these."
"What's wrong with the necklace?" Rebekah didn't bother looking up from the rack of clothes.
"Seriously?" She spoke up over the racket of hangers. "Have you seen this thing? It looks like something Mrs. Lockwood would wear with one of her Peter Pan collar shirts."
"She's got a point, Bekah," Caroline picked up the box. "Who sent this stuff over?"
"Someone who wants me to look like a stuffy politician's wife?" Elena groaned, dropping her head onto her arms and knocking a curler loose.
"You are a stuffy politician's wife," Rebekah sneered, tossing a high collared black dress aside.
"I am not stuffy," her voice was muffled by her silk robe. She was thirty-three years old, not some sixty-something grandmotherly type who liked to stare down her nose at people and clutch her pearls when someone did something particularly scandalous.
"I think she was calling Kol stuffy," Caroline snickered.
"Kol's not stuffy either."
"Judging by how annoyed he got whenever someone dared interrupt your honeymoon he likes stuffing," Caroline waggled her eyebrows.
"Caroline," Elena groaned, a crimson flush crept up the back of her neck.
"Eww," Rebekah shoved away from the rack, "that's my brother."
"And if Elena had married anyone else you'd be the first one to make a dirty joke."
"Be that as it may," Rebekah rolled her eyes, "Elena married my brother so I now want to know nothing about her sex life. I'm also going to throw all of these options out and recommend firing whoever thought they were a good idea."
"Current secretary," Elena mumbled, pushing up off the vanity.
"He's fired," Rebekah declared. "Where are your clothes?"
"Packed away, ready for the move," she reached up and started unfurling curls, dropping the curlers into an open bag. "The only clothes I have left are leggings, sweaters and this very silky robe."
Caroline pinned the up-do in place with deft fingers.
"I like that robe," Kol called from the living room.
"You like when I wear nothing under it," she shouted back. The sleeve slipped, revealing her bare shoulder and the edge of her strapless bra.
"Actually, I love that," Kol poked his head in the bedroom.
"You would," she met his eyes in the mirror.
"Clothes?" Rebekah prompted, rolling her eyes.
"I don't think she needs any," he winked, crossing the room in three long strides to stoop and wrap his arms around her waist. "Just like this is perfect."
"I'm not going to the White House in my robe," she shook her head. "The boxes are near the elevator, Bex. And if I can get my husband's paws off me I'll come help you look."
"Do you want me to beat him off with a stick?" Caroline grinned, shifting on her feet.
"I think I can handle him, Care."
"Alright, fine," she held out her hands, "but Kol, I swear, if you mess up that hair you will have the shortest presidency in history." With that said she grabbed Rebekah's arm and left the penthouse's bedroom.
"I thought they'd never leave," he punctuated the statement with a kiss to her bared shoulder. His fingers drew the ties around her waist. "Up for a quickie?"
"Kol," she scolded in a whisper.
"I swear I'll not lay a finger on your hair," he breathed, sinking his teeth into her soft skin.
"Or my makeup," she warned, letting the robe pool around her hips.
"You have my word, darling," he pinched her nipples through her bra, twisting gently.
She caught her breath and rubbed her thighs together.
"Hmm?" Kol's eyes sparkled in the mirror. "Do you think you can be quiet?"
"Shut the door." She glanced over his shoulder.
She rose when he walked backwards and turned, sliding her underwear off. She slipped her feet free and unsnapped her bra; it hit the floor by her panties. Raising one foot to the vanity stool she spread her thighs and dipped a finger between her lips.
She was unsurprised to find herself wet to the touch. It was hardly a wonder after the morning he spent whispering naughty things in her ear whenever he was close enough about the dozens of new places they would find to be intimate.
Then there was the fact that her two best friends were poking around the foyer and could catch them at any moment.
He closed the door gently, twisting the knob to keep it from clicking.
Rather than approach her he tilted his head and smiled, letting his eyes roam over her lithe body.
"You should only ever wear this."
"Polite society might frown on that," she hummed, skimming the tip of her nail over her clit. "Now stop staring and take off your pants. We've got about five minutes before they come back."
"More like ten," he unfastened his belt, the zipper took a little work, "it'll take five just to find the right box."
Stepping out of his trousers he approached her and lifted her hand, popping her finger into his mouth.
"Are you feeling flexible today, my love?" He hooked his thumbs into the side of his boxers and pushed down, freeing his erection.
"I'm always flexible," she rolled her eyes, "and I'd be more flexible if you ever let me finish my yoga."
"Terribly sorry," he lifted the leg she had braced on the stool, "but if you don't want my attentions then perhaps you shouldn't smirk at me and contort yourself into impossible positions without clothing."
"Never once did I say I didn't want them," she braced her hands around his neck while he hooked her leg over his shoulder. "Who does naked yoga in front of their husband without wanting hot, sweaty sex?"
"Sneaky," he guided his cock to her entrance and pushed forwards.
She arched her back, moaning in her throat as he filled her.
"Quiet, darling," he chuckled, running kisses over her neck.
"We both know what they're doing in there, right?" Caroline popped open a box labeled closet and started sifting through neatly folded clothes, flushing crimson when her fingers displaced a smaller boxes cover. She quickly replaced the lid, covering the toys before Rebekah thought to help with the clothes.
"If you're referring to the fact that she did not get her husband's paws off her then yes, and I'm trying not to think about it." She pulled a silk scarf from her own box and held it up to the blue coat by the door. "But they've got another five minutes before I become the cock block baby sister. Is the dress Elena bought on the honeymoon in there?"
"White, long sleeve, black collar and black bow at the waist?" Caroline lifted it free. "Don't you think it's a little young and semi-bridal for the First Lady?"
"Yes," Rebekah dropped the scarf into the box, "that's why it's perfect, because as much as I like to tease she's not stuffy. And there will be no way anyone could accuse them of having a shotgun wedding before your press release gets out because that dress hugs her waist."
"Plus it goes great with her blue jacket," Caroline held it out to the wool, "and it's that material that doesn't wrinkle so it's impossible to tell it was just in a box."
She passed the dress to Rebekah, folded the top of the box and reached for another labeled shoes. A shriek started and cut off as abruptly.
"Blue shoes?" Caroline held up the heels with criss cross straps.
Growing up, shoving each other in mud puddles and tossing paint filled balloons at each other, she never would have placed them at the inaugural grounds in the Capitol; not even on the day that he stood up and declared in his squeaky eight year old voice that he was going to be President one day.
And yet they stood in the Capitol. They stood in the Capitol and she couldn't hold in her pride. It shone from her eyes as she watched him place his hand on the Lincoln Bible and raise his other in the air.
She didn't care that hundreds of people were probably staring at their television screens and wondering who the hell she was, standing in the spot so many presidential wives had stood before. She didn't care that at least one camera was probably zooming in on her left hand and trying to find a curve that didn't exist beneath her coat.
She didn't care about that.
She had no room for the embarrassment she thought would be at the back of her head when he declared he wanted her at his side. She had no thoughts to spare for her first public appearance before anybody actually knew they were married.
She couldn't think about it because her husband had his hand on the Lincoln Bible and was swearing the oath of office.
"I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."
"So help you God?" The Chief Justice asked.
"So help me God," Kol smiled.
So much freaking pride. She thought she might explode from keeping it in. The moment they were finally alone he had better watch out because she was going to unleash all of her pent up energy and show him just how proud of him she was.
"Congratulations Mr. President," he shook his hand. Then he surprised Elena by reaching for hers. "Mrs. Mikaelson."
Kol's fingers curled around her hand, taking her with him the few paces to wave towards the gathered public. After his official introduction she expected him to let go of her hand, but really she should have known better because even where they stood she could make out a couple of the shouts demanding her identity.
She didn't care, but she knew he did and that he wouldn't let anybody whisper about her.
Approaching the podium, he flashed her a reassuring smile but held tight to her hand. His other hand rose to acknowledge the applause and cheers.
"Thank you, thank you," he took a deep breath. "I swear I have an official speech, and I'll get to it, but I'd rather not subject anyone to vicious gossip when a few words will clear a matter." He slid his hand from her palm to her hip. "This lovely woman is my new bride, whose love and support was vital during this past year."
Her heart hammered in her throat and her eyes fluttered shut when he pressed a quick kiss to her mouth and cheek.
"Kol Mikaelson," she hissed through her small smile.
"I love you," he whispered.
"Shortest presidency in history," she pressed her lips together. The loud applause drowned out her words.
The twenty-first century really was a marvel. She could watch the entire inauguration ceremony without ever leaving her home. That was nice because while she had been assigned the coverage after Elena up and quit she had no desire to be squished in with thousands of people to listen live. She had a much better view from her computer screen.
And that was what Reese wanted: he wanted the dirt. He wanted the human emotion behind the speech.
It was a lot easier to see his facial features behind the safety of her screen. Plus, after things went down on the trail she never would have scored an actual interview anyway.
Now if only the camera would stop focusing on the woman with him. What was so special about that damn coat?
"Look away from the screen twenty seconds," she muttered.
Her pencil sat poised above her notebook, ready to summarize the speech.
She frowned when the camera zoomed back out, showing a wider shot of the balcony.
Who was the woman?
Was it his sister?
She had been certain Rebekah Mikaelson had blonde hair, and the woman in blue had perfectly coiffed brown curls.
Was he the first president in history to flaunt a mistress in front of the masses?
That was what the woman had to be. It wasn't like he did anything serious, or longer lasting than a fling.
Who was the newest fling?
Reese was gonna flip.
Her pencil pushed down when the new president opened his mouth, maybe a little too hard as she remembered how wicked his smooth tongue could be. She really should have hidden her research better, gotten a little more pleasure out of it, as it was she had only felt his tongue and fingers.
Why the hell hadn't she gone for the prize?
There was no way he would have answered the knock on the door if she hadn't enthusiastically sucked him off. He would have been too caught up in her tight body to walk away and answer his stupid advisors.
Instead he left her on her knees in that restroom with a promise to come back for more that he never fulfilled. She had barely started unbuttoning her top when the door opened and she was caught covered in saliva and other fluids with her chest on display for the psychiatrist of all people who told her to clean herself up.
"Should have fucked him," she sighed. That would have given Reese his dirt, especially if she managed to not use protection.
There would have been a very telling story. Of course, then she'd have to deal with that telling story day after day.
"I swear I have an official speech, and I'll get to it, but I'd rather not subject anyone to vicious gossip when a few words will clear a matter. This lovely woman is my new bride, whose love and support was vital during this past year."
Her grip tightened on the pencil as her mouth popped open.
Wife?
The camera finally gave a clear picture of the woman's face and she gasped, breaking the lead in her pencil.
"I'm gonna kill him," Caroline hissed, storming through the newsroom floor. She squeezed between shouting individuals and dodged balls of paper, ignoring calls of her name.
"Forbes?" Reese looked up when she walked into his office. "Have you seen this? Gilbert's the fucking first lady."
"I saw," she slapped an envelope down on the table.
"What's this?" He picked it up. "She give you the scoop or something?"
"That's my letter of resignation," she spun on her heel, "effective immediately."
"You're quitting?" His brows rose.
"I got a new job offer I couldn't turn down this morning," she spoke over her shoulder, "that doesn't involve opening the doors on people's personal lives." She hesitated before leaving and swallowed. "If you want the story you should check out the post in the morning."
'Twenty-eight years ago Rebekah Mikaelson brought home her new best friend. On Christmas Eve she welcomed that friend into her home as her new sister, but this was far from her first wedding. The first wedding came shortly after the girls met.
Kol Mikaelson and Elena Gilbert were wed by an enthusiastic Rebekah in her backyard at the tender ages of seven and five. They sealed the marriage with a good old fashioned shove into a mud puddle.
This reporter found the second wedding more dignified…'
"Wha'cha reading?" Aiden wiped a rag over the display case and tilted his head, attempting to get a good look at the newspaper. "You know you're supposed to help me clean, right?"
"In a minute," Monique rested her chin in her hand.
"What's so interesting?"
"You remember the 1920s opal engagement ring?" She turned the page around and pointed to a picture. "I sold it to our new president, and he gave it to his new wife."
June 4, 2021
"I swear," Elena straightened his tie and smoothed back his hair while he read through his notes. "You'd lose your head if it weren't for me."
"I'd certainly look less presidential," he flipped through his notes, reviewing quickly for the press conference he was already five minutes late for.
"Aren't you late enough already?" Caroline adjusted her clipboard. The press secretary badge caught on the metal and she spent a few seconds working it free.
"Maybe I like putting it off so I can avoid being called the White House Baby by smart ass reporters," he muttered.
Elena pressed her lips together and smoothed down his lapels.
"They'd better come up with a new nickname for you soon," she cleared her throat, "I don't think I can handle two babies in the White House."
"New nickname sounds good," he nodded, placing an absentminded kiss on her cheek.
Elena's looked to Caroline when he strode into the press room and found the blonde's eyes threatening to pop out of her head.
"You got where I was going with that right?" She pointed to her friend.
"Oh yeah," she nodded. Her shock gave way to full blown excitement as she grasped at her friend's hand. "Our babies will be the same age."
Voices drifted out from the crowded room. They were various questions that overlapped, but the room went quiet when she heard the nickname she had just tried to use to break the news.
"Mr. President?" The call grew more insistent, coming from no fewer than six people as Caroline released her hand.
"Incoming," she whispered.
The door swung open and she gasped as she was swept up into his strong arms. Her catch of breath turned to bright laughter while they twirled in the hallway.
And if she didn't notice the sudden flash of a dozen cameras, well, she had an excuse because she was lost in his happy kisses.
How could she be expected to focus on anything else?
The Post
June 5, 2021
Is There a New Baby in the White House?