A/N: to those of you who have been following along and reviewing all these years as well as those brand new to the story who have taken the time to review after many chapters as you read though, thank you. You don't know what you mean to me and you help me keep going.

Roughly 5 chapters left. Crazy, right? This chapter and the next will be the last of the slow burns. I'm bringing fireworks for Christmas!

Chapter Thirty-Seven

What was understood as the heavy-holiday months had gone by so quickly that they had seemed more like a blur. So many traditions were expected of the first couple and all of them had somehow been met. Of course, Underwood despised traditions when it came to what was expected of him. He had wanted to become president, not for the costume contests, Turkey pardon-ings, and social events. All of these events were so centered around family and delicate homey caretaking which were subjects that Underwood had little experience or interest in. Holidays and all events thereof were wasted on him and yet, there he was, with a beautiful spectacle of a woman on his arm, riding through all of them and a planted half-smile over his half-face.

The first major public event had been the Capital Costume Contest. It was understood that the First Couple dressed just as everyone else was expected to dress. It was Halloween after all. For a few weeks, Erik made it clear that he would be going as the Red Death and that if kids were scared of him then they shouldn't even be participating in All Hallows Eve in the first place. While he found the idea comical, no one else seemed to take the joke. Who other than Christine could have an even better idea?

"Meg she was going to go as…um, Hermes? But as a woman?"

Erik did not look up from the Washington Post, "The Greek god?"

"Yes," Christine commented as she sipped her coffee. It was Sunday. They had started to share a late breakfast on Sundays. "She says he's the god of journalism?"

"Among other things…" Erik trailed off.

"So you're familiar?"

"Yes," Erik put the Post down and gave her his full attention, "Why are you bringing this up, Christine?"

The young woman's eyes dropped from his to her coffee, "Well…I just thought that was maybe a good idea."

His eyebrow rose, "What was?"

She smiled awkwardly in a clear attempt to sway him, "Greek gods?"

"You're attempting to have me change my costume," he stated dryly.

"Well.." she seemed to be thinking about her tactic and strategy to convince him. The effect was her face getting wrinkled with her lip tucked into her teeth. Erik found the result quite entertaining. She continued when she was ready, "I invited the kids we met from the Southeast and I don't want them having nightmares. C'mon, they've lived through enough, don't you think?"

He indulged her further, "What are you suggesting, then?"

She finally looked him in the eye and smiled nervously, "Hades?"

Underwood's first reaction was to scoff, but he stopped himself and chose to think on the prospects as well. He looked at her long and hard at all the implications that stood behind the God of the Dead. What a terror of a figure. Erik liked that idea. He then let his eyes really focus on Christine again and asked skeptically, "I suppose that would make you Persephone, then? What a martyr…"

She was quick to defend her point, "Well, you know, some new texts and translations paint a less sinister relationship between the two of them. Meg says that their relationship was more consensual than what many people may realize. It may have been changed as people didn't want to believe that such a terrifying figure could be kind to someone he loved."

The point Christine had just made nearly shook him out of his skin. Rather than continue to think of all the parallels between him and Hades at that very moment, he covered his feelings with a dry question, "So this is Barnes' idea?"

Christine maintained the nervous smile, "She is sort of like our Hermes isn't she?"

Erik stared at her through thin eyes before finally saying, "I will not be wearing a toga."

"Something more modern, then?" she suggested hopefully.

"A suit, a navy one. With a long cape to match. And a black crown. That is all."

Christine looked shocked but thrilled, "That would work!"

"I'll have Barnes pick out a suitable matching outfit for you."

"What?" Christine said pitifully, "I can pick -"

"Despite my personal afflictions towards that woman I will admit she has a good deal of talent for appropriately dressing you."

"Well, yeah, but I can still…"

Erik slyly smiled at the woman before him, "When I said 'appropriate' what I insinuated was 'expensive.'"

"It doesn't have to be expensive…" she all but pouted.

"It does. No queen of mine is going to appear second-rate."

Once Halloween had finally come, the President and First-Lady-to-be really were a pair to behold. The two stood in front of the festively decorated South Portico overlooking the south lawn that was filled with a long line of children and their perspective guardians dressed in their best costumes. Underwood stood in a very well-fitted dark blue suit with a long matching cape that draped from silver attachments that kept the garment attached to his broad shoulders. His mask was a matching navy color but was hardly noticeable under the thin black silver crown that fit snugly over his head. His presence made a statement. It made him appear even more intimidating whenever he was caught by himself. Fortunately, for all involved, the image beside him who stood behind a lovely young woman holding a large woven wood basket that was covered in strings of little white flowers, allowed all of the children to approach without any fear.

Christine stood in a matching navy gown that hugged her figure rather nicely. Her shoulders were exposed but otherwise, the rest of her was covered by the warm material of the designer dress. There was a cut that ran up the front side of her right leg that allowed for some movement, but she had requested it be tailored a little lower than originally designed to not give the wrong idea. Covering the gown were matching thin beads that created a light pin-stripe look as they ran down her figure vertically. She too wore a crown over her lightly curled hair, but it was adorned with vines that sprouted little white flowers that matched her basket. The vines followed her hair and ran down her back which helped to cover the rather large expanse of skin shown back there.

Meg had captured Erik's reaction to seeing Christine for the first time in her costume. When he realized what the reporter had done, he had secret service remove the photo from her phone later. It wasn't often that Underwood found himself completely lost in thought and grappling at the appropriate language to express his opinion on a matter. He certainly did not want that image anywhere. Christine had blushed. She too had trouble finding words. The two of them kept stealing glances at each other throughout the evening. Once Meg received her phone back from the feds, she continued to document the secret smiles and hidden blushes that kept cropping up.

The line of children sporting their unique costumes was hours long. Throughout it all, Christine continued to smile and act surprised and delighted at every new face that crossed her path. She even would turn to the President, place her hand in the crook of his arm, and introduce the children to him as if the costumes made them the real characters they represented. Underwood even managed to crack a smile every so often as he acknowledged the characters walking by. He even took turns with his fiancé to hand out candy to the outstretched arms of the children.

In time, some recognizable faces came down the line.

"Ms Christine!" LaRashia, who was dressed as a version of the animated Spider-Man that had recently come out, bounded forward with Jazzi in tow, "Ms Lady! I brought my mama!"

"So good to see you!" Christine beamed, "How are things at your home?"

"I got my room repainted and they took the carpet out so it don't smell no more!" LaRashia smiled proudly.

"My grandma can go outside with me again because they fixed the elevator," Jazzi added.

"That's wonderful," Christine knelt so that she was more at level with the two of them. If she were being honest with herself, despite the efforts she had been making to be more in-shape, all of the up-and-down movements were going to make her legs scream the next day.

"You see who I am, Ms Christine?" LaRashia asked, "I'm Spider-Man! Mikey said I couldn't be him because he was a man and I told him to-" Her mother nudged her and she took a second to change what she was going to say, "Well I told him I could be whoever I wanted and still be a girl if I wanted."

"I completely agree," Christine nodded.

"Do you know who I am, Ms Christine?" Jazzi asked quietly.

Christine surveyed her costume. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with her braided hair pulled back into a pony-tail. "I'm sorry, but I'm unsure. Can you give me a hint?"

"Do you not see, dearest?" Erik said nonchalantly and the effect of the word said before others caused Christine's cheeks to warm, "This young lady is someone very important to me."

Christine looked away for a moment before looking back at Jazzi. "Is this what I was wearing the day we met?"

The little girl smiled then looked down bashfully, "Yes, ma'am. Grandma helped me pick out the clothes at the thrift store. She's doing better now."

"Well, you look wonderful. I'm honored," Christine said honestly and to both girls, "Thank you so much for coming to see us. I hope we stay friends."

Both girls smiled wide. LaRashia's mother then said, "C'mon, can't be taking up all her time. She's an important lady."

Christine straightened up to her, "Thank you for bringing them."

"Thank you for being real." The mother replied, "No one I've ever known from your side has ever cared for us out there. We won't forget what you did."

"It's what should be done," was all Christine said before waving goodbye.

Erik spoke softly behind her ear making her flinch a bit at the feel of his breath lightly touching the hairs on the back of her neck. "I take it that the rebuilding efforts are going as planned?"

Christine continued to feel a heat on her cheeks and found it awful that the feeling didn't seem to want to go away any time soon. She tilted her head a little to speak to him, "They're ahead of schedule. I'm doing weekly check-ins just to be sure things are actually going through as I was told they would."

"You have an eye for cutting out corruption." He continued to speak softly, almost as if he wished to cause her knees to buckle beneath her, "As irresistible as I find that trait, I wonder when that keen eye is going to turn back at me."

Processing the words made Christine turn to face him with a look of confusion.

"I am merely a politician after all," he said with a smirk. Something about his eyes captured her own and she looked back at him uncertainly. He released her from his gaze and turned back to the line, "Ah, this must be my Vice President walking up. Our former Speaker of the House, hmm?"

Christine looked back to find a confused little boy with a painted green face in a home-made frog suit hopping up.

"Erik!" Christine said through clenched teeth, "Why would you say that about a cute little frog?"

"My apologies," Underwood corrected, "This frog is too handsome to be the one bothering me all the time."

To her relief, the boy's parents and agreed they didn't like the Vice President either. Christine had lost count of the number of times Erik had discharged the man from meetings for bringing up alternate points that held the progress behind. Such a situation was an uncommon one as the Speaker would only rise to the position if the initial President were removed from office. As that had happened, a republican was now playing Vice President to a democratic President. Such was the system.

It was later in the evening when some of the white, black and orange decorative balloons had started to droop. Streamers were being picked up around the lawn from the games that the children had played together. The food was being packed up so that it could be donated to a nearby safe-house and shelter. Even Barnes appeared tired after having moved around to meet new people and take sneaky photos of the First Couple. Erik and Christine sat together on a bench that overlooked the South Lawn. The streetlights had been on a while and looking out on them turned out to be a simple way to breathe following all of the events that had passed. Erik's cape had since been removed and draped over Christine's shoulders.

"You're good with them," Underwood noted as he continued to watch as the staff cleaned up what was left of the party.

"Who?" Christine asked tiredly without straightening to look back at him as he lazed behind her.

"Children. You're a marvel, you know? I wanted to cancel this event. I'm not one for tradition and I'm certainly not one for entertaining small humans. You won the night."

Christine laughed lightly, "I didn't realize this was a battle."

"Everything in Washington is," he grumbled. A moment later he asked quietly, "Do you like children?"

The young woman thought for a few moments before answering, "I guess they're okay. But I'm not the one taking care of them so I wouldn't really know."

"Is that what you would desire?"

Christine looked back at Erik with surprised confusion.

"You're…asking me if I want my own children?"

Underwood held her gaze for a few moments before looking away. Everything about his manner of relaxed posture and casual tone said this was merely a topic of conversation like any other. However, those few moments of connection betrayed him and he knew it. Rather than lean into his misstep, he continued with the skill and ease of the seasoned politician he was. "I am inquiring as to whether or not you had ever entertained the idea before you agreed to all of this." His hand swept before them before dropping back to his side.

The young woman thought for a few moments more before looking out at the lawn again to answer, "I think at one point - when I was younger and didn't know much about responsibility - I thought it was what I was supposed to do. But when I got older and there was so much I didn't understand…well I'm not sure if I ever really thought I could have children because I was afraid I couldn't support them."

"And now?" he asked hardly above a whisper.

"I think if I had the means to support them I wouldn't mind it. But I see so many kids who need homes too. It feels kind of wrong to put more people into the world and go through all of that when it would probably just be better for me to adopt."

"How very noble of you," he said waywardly.

"It's not," she replied quietly, "It's just what I feel is right. I don't know what I would have done without my foster mom. She couldn't officially adopt me, but she's been good to me. I can't forget that. And if I'm in a good place, I think it's only right to do that for someone else. That and…well, pregnancy doesn't really sound fun. "

Despite himself, he laughed a little in his agreement that pregnancy, in fact, did not sound 'fun.' His next words came uncharacteristically dry, "What does 'a good place' entail?"

Christine looked back to him and straightened up from how she had been sitting with elbows resting on her legs.

"I don't know," she admitted honestly before she smiled, "I'll tell you when I figure it out."

He returned her smile but only half-way.

"What about you?" she asked innocently once she turned away from him again, "Have you ever-?"

"No," he clipped and looked back out at the lawn, "But I suppose that like you, I have never been in a situation that would allow any sort of offspring to enter my life."

"Right," she sighed, not from sadness but more from the reminder that they were different people in different places in their lives, "I figured as much."

Erik looked back at her as he sat up from his relaxed position on the bench. She looked back when she felt him move. The two were at eye-level and hardly any space apart. He stared at her as if searching for something in her eyes. She too appeared to be searching for something. Finally, he smirked again and spoke, "You are quite a unique situation."

"What do you…?" she started before losing her words to a new strange feeling that seemed to be moving all around them. It was like a strange buzzing in her ears, a warmth on her neck and cheeks, and a fluttering in her stomach. She had stopped breathing without realizing it.

He looked away to shield his face and emotions from her, but his words revealed his truth, "You were exquisitely enchanting tonight, dearest. Like a poison to the mind."

Her jaw hung open a little before she answered slowly, "Are you implying I made you sick?"

Underwood hung his head back and laughed so suddenly that some of the staff froze from fright at the sound that echoed around the portico.

"Yes, yes," he said, "You must have."

Christine stood, "Well, I thought I did pretty good! And-and I thought I looked pretty good too!"

Underwood stood as well and slyly whispered, "Too good. You outshined the children."

"Then maybe you should let me pick out my own fancy dress for once!" she snapped back in an attempt to be serious but she seemed to be fighting a smile.

"So you're admitting that Barnes is more advanced at dressing you than you are yourself?" he asked victoriously.

Christine bit the inside of her lip in defiance and sneered at her fiancé.

"I'll gather that as an affirmative," he smiled back.

"I think I've had just about enough of you and your tricks today, Mr President," she said and crossed her arms making the cape slip from her shoulders. Underwood caught the material and replaced it over her shoulders. His fingers unintentionally brushed her bare shoulders as he did so and they both seemed to restrain a gasp as their eyes met.

As usual, Erik was the first to recover himself and cleared his throat, "Can't have my instrument getting sick."

"What? I'm just an instrument now?" Christine asked hugging the cape to her to keep it on.

Erik looked away with a shrug, "I wouldn't say just an instrument… you're a particularly unique one. And expensive."

Christine gasped in shock before she recovered herself enough to say, "Seriously?! I never - I told you -" She stomped her foot, "YOU make me wear this expensive stuff!"

"Out of necessity, of course," he began to walk back towards the doors, "Come along, songbird. You're late for your lesson."

Christine followed behind him, "You know my voice is fried after all the talking tonight."

"Indeed. So I will play for you. Can't have my instrument going dull after fulfilling a less-important business requirement. You will listen and learn a few things."

With a scowl, Christine continued to follow him back to the upper floor. He did not wear her out as it was clear just how tired she was. Instead, he had them both change into more comfortable clothes so that he could play her something soft that allowed her to eventually doze on the couch. Feeling she would be too exhausted to wake, he gently picked her up and carried her to her room. He had done this only a handful of times, mostly out of necessity as he did not want her waking up sore from sleeping on the couch. She had never brought it up to him and he had never mentioned it. Sometimes, she even seemed happier the following morning but she often hid her smiles as if they were her secret alone.

This time, as he picked her up to cradle her against his shoulder, he noticed a shift in her breath. Her eyelids flickered and he panicked at the thought of being caught and rejected. He thought he saw a flash of blue looking at his shirt. Her eyes appeared somewhat confused at first, but then she sighed, smiled only a fraction, and closed her eyes again. Erik continued to carry her to her room as quietly and delicately as he could muster as to not have her fully wake. As always, once in her room, he was quick and efficient in settling her under her sheets and that blasted quilt that she continued to use. He did not want to overstay his borrowed time in her private quarters and turned to leave.

A light voice carried through the air and whispered, "Goodnight, Erik."

Choosing not to look back at her, he only paused long enough to return her words before quietly shutting the door.

"Goodnight, dearest."

Throughout November, Christine began to work with a small task-force from a state-based lobbying group to draw up legislation that would help to fund adoption agencies and allow for social workers to have a higher salary. The legislation also included proposals to update the very outdated laws on how the adoptions organizations worked and included further mental health services for all involved. It was a long and tedious process but it was clear that the work gave Christine a sense of passion and fulfilment. Christine also continued to follow the progress of the rebuilding of damaged places following the hurricane. She hosted fundraisers and spoke often of various ways citizens could assist the families of those affected during her weekly press conferences.

On top of all of this, she even began to take self-defense lessons from Clara. It was Erik's idea that she do this and she wasn't exactly sure as to why, but both she and Meg got very involved and began to enjoy their time learning from Clara even more. Clara turned out to be an excellent teacher and the women progressed very fast. Once Meg and Christine were sparing in the Yellow Oval Room when Meg managed to flip Christine over her shoulder and into a side table. Christine walked away with a bruise, the table had to be carried off for repair as one of the legs had been snapped off. The two women later laughed about it but only once the table was fixed and replaced. Erik had noticed but had not said anything. Christine had found something looming in the back of his eyes whenever he brought up her self-defense training. His tone was always practical and even, but there was something he was thinking about that he seemed to not be telling her. He had a reason for everything he had ever done when it came to her and she had a feeling that his answer of "it's a practical skill" was only a fraction of why she was learning more and more on how to defend herself.

The bugs that had been planted to crackdown domestic terrorist groups that met and grew through social media had begun to sprout as well. Civilians began to create petitions against the companies allowing these groups to continue their uncensored rhetoric that encouraged irrational and terrorist behaviors. Some lobbyist groups had even been given more funding to push for government regulation to ensure that if the groups were to continue that they had to be more up-front as to what they stood for and what their goals would be. The seed had been planted and the roots appeared strong. Underwood continued to press for a bill to be passed through congress in the coming year that in the very least addressed that there was an unchecked issue at play. He had broken up and bankrupted one monopoly in his time as President already. If the tech-giants didn't comply with what was morally acceptable he would fearlessly break them up as well. He would not continue to allow these extremists to go unchecked especially as they had begun to target Christine as "his weakness."

Underwood's ratings had been going up - all things considered - however, that image took a hit when the FBI found and raided a house where two of the conspirators behind Walker's assassination were known to be living with their family. It was two brother's who had been found with damning information against them when it came to the planning of the assassination. The two men were at the house together and their wives were not supposed to be there. However, they were. And when the FBI raided, the men opened fire. Unfortunately, none of the residents were alive by the time the fire cleared. All of this seemed to happen on the very day Erik was scheduled to pardon a turkey for Thanksgiving.

After a long morning in the Situation Room, followed by a tedious meeting with his press secretary among others who had a paid holiday stripped from them and would have otherwise been at home, Erik dredged up to the second floor of the residency to change into fresh clothing. Christine was there waiting for him. He could hear the National Public Radio playing in the background. She turned it off when he walked in.

"Can I do something?" she immediately asked.

Erik sighed, shook his head, and continued to his room. Christine followed a few feet behind him.

"Is the pardoning still happening?"

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't," he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. A few moments later and he had left her and retreated to his quarters to breathe before the oncoming storm of media attacks.

Half an hour later and Erik stood on the inside of the front door of the White House that led out to the North Portico and front lawn. The majority of people waiting behind a basic barrier would-be journalists with the exception of a few chosen families. As a further precaution, Pennsylvania Avenue on the other side of the lawn had been cleared and closed. Other presidents could afford to have it open with added guards on standby amongst the crowds. Not today. Not with Erik. Not with Christine.

Before walking out, Christine took Erik's arm and looked up to him with a weary smile, "I'm here."

Erik looked down at her and covered the hand that held to the crook of his arm with his opposite hand. He sighed and cleared his throat before saying a quiet and honest, "Thank you."

He didn't want to imagine any applause for himself for anything even as other President's past had had such useless luxuries. However, it did strike him that those not taking photos did appear to be clapping. Christine smiled out of duty but did not wave as she usually did. She continued to hold onto Erik until he nodded towards her in an indication that she could step behind him so that he could take his place at the podium. He took a long inhale and exhale before he began.

"Compassion," he began slowly but earnestly, "Such an act is not often seen from our country. We have continuously been recognized for our bravery and strength. As a national force, we are expected to be beyond weakness and strive to be beyond question or retort. A nation can attempt to be seen as it wishes, but humans must reckon with the reality that they are imperfect. And so, we offer compassion as a source to connect us with the hope that in doing so, we might also be offered the same respect when the time comes.

"What we are about to do upholds a tradition, while comedic, equally demonstrates that great power can also show great compassion even to those smallest in our land. Compassion was attempted this morning in Kentucky. The FBI had gathered a lead that intended to bring two people to justice for the crimes they had been accused of. Their crimes, if found guilty, had resulted in the death of President Richard Walker. It is my understanding that while the FBI did announce themselves and instructed the two men to exit their dwelling peacefully, the two men chose instead to fire weapons at those there to take them to jail until they could be tried in our court system. After gunshots from both sides, both the men and their wives would lose their lives and two of the FBI would be injured.

"Compassion was attempted this morning. A trial for these men to defend themselves was what we strive for. We want those here to feel that they will receive the justice they deserve without such dangerous measures being taken. It is with great sorrow that I confirm that two understood-to-be innocent women were caught in the fire and have since passed on. Further investigation is underway and details will be released once the family of those now-deceased are contacted. For now, this is all that I am able to confirm for you all publicly.

"I am here to offer what compassion I can on my part this morning by pardoning a turkey. This turkey was hatched and raised by Girl Scout Troop 252 out of Denver, Colorado. They have worked hard to give us this fine bird and I am certain that this turkey is grateful for their efforts. Following this traditional pardon, this bird will live out the rest of his days on a sanctuary where it will entertain many more children to come. I should also not fail to mention that the name of this turkey is Chris. These girls were so inspired by the efforts of my wife-to-be that they wanted to honor her…with a turkey.

"Christine, won't you come to meet our new friend?"

Erik extended his arm to his fiancé and through the sound of applause, they walked over to a decorative stand where a large white turkey stood with a well-dressed handler nearby. Christine looked at the turkey then looked back at Erik. Both seemed reluctant to get any closer. Suddenly, the turkey started to gobble and the act caused Christine to scream and duck into Erik's shoulder. She blushed and covered her face with her hands as the crowd began to laugh. A few moments later, Christine also began to laugh at herself as she pulled herself from Erik's arm that had fallen over her shoulders. She let her hand slip to his and ventured forward with her opposite hand outstretched towards the bird. The turkey seemed unfazed by her approach so she looked from the handler to Erik for permission. Both people nodded in encouragement and Christine reached out to lightly stroke the turkey's wing. In response, the bird gobbled good and loud causing the woman to laugh delightedly.

Christine turned back to Erik and said, "I think we like each other. Maybe we could pardon him together?"

"As you wish," Erik rolled his eyes but he was smiling. Holding up the hand that held hers, he said, "Chris the Turkey, I grant you pardon from this Thanksgiving dinner and all Thanksgivings dinners thereof."

With her free hand, Christine reached back to lightly stroke Chris's wing. He gobbled. She laughed. And then they were inside again. Erik and Christine briskly walked through the entrance hall and towards the stairs, but before ascending, Erik turned abruptly and enclosed Christine to him in an embrace that surprised them both. It was not the first time that his arms had found their way around her shoulders and back, but it did seem like the first time he initiated the contact entirely from his own need to feel her near him. While she felt shocked at first, a few moments later, Christine relaxed into him. She returned his actions by timidly slipping her arms around his back and letting her head rest under his chin. And for a few simple minutes, they merely existed and it was enough.

These sorts of traditions were thrown out these last four years. While silly, it was so much fun to look back at how the president's past upheld such traditions. Times are tough. Sometimes it's nice to sit back and watch a turkey-pardon.

Next chapter is the Capitol Crusade. Can you believe they've only known each other a year? Is it me or does it feel longer than that? Anything you'd like me to include? There will be singing. There will be sexual tension. There will be drama. All fun things to write about. All leading up to Christmas fireworks!