An epilogue of sorts, prompted by a Tumblr Anon ask, a ridiculously funny conversation, and a challenge. Based on the throwaway line about the corgi (no, I have no idea why Elizabeth hates the corgi). I feel like I should apologize for the awkwardness of the present tense, my ridiculous muse, and, well…it's just bad. Set sometime in The McCord White House, circa season 6. I'm creating a new MSec FF genre: OUT THERE AF.

The low throb of arousal pulls Henry from the oblivion of sleep. His wife's warm body is pressed against his back, her palm rubbing circles on his bare stomach underneath his tee-shirt. Her lips tickle his shoulder as she mumbles softly in the dark. He lays there, listening, enjoying the feel of her skin on his.

Usually, Elizabeth's middle-of-the-night conversations with whoever appears in her subconscious are relatively coherent, but after a minute or two, Henry can only pick out "soft" and maybe..was that "kicking" or "picking"...from the garbled words.

Henry squints at the red numbers on the clock next to the bed: 3:05am. He knows Elizabeth didn't come to bed until well after midnight, and probably had eaten late as well. Neither combination worked well with her system, despite years of the same habits- and her adamant insistence otherwise- especially with the strenuous demands piled on her as President. Henry isn't sure of Elizabeth's intentions and knows she needs her rest, but he can't deny his reaction to her touch.

He rolls to his back, and Elizabeth grumbles but shifts with him, her hand chasing his body. After a moment, she begins stroking him again, her fingers tapping gently in random patterns. His erection is nearly painful, and Henry needs Elizabeth to either stop- or wake up.

"Babe."

He grabs Elizabeth's hand and she immediately tries to yank it away, a frown furrowing between her eyebrows.

"Babe." He raises his voice from a whisper as Elizabeth succeeds in freeing her hand, reaching out for him again. "Elizabeth."

Henry shifts sideways to face his wife and grasps her shoulder, shaking her slightly. Elizabeth jolts upright, eyes suddenly wide and wild, twisting to free herself from the tangle of sheets.

"Henry!"

"Hey, hey." Henry gently slides his hand down her arm to calm her, his voice low. "It's okay. You were dreaming again."

Elizabeth stares at his stomach, the blue of her eyes hazy from sleep, her forehead pinched in thought.

"Babe?"

Elizabeth tears her gaze away from Henry's torso and meets his eyes, obviously still lost in her dream.

"Whatever it was, it's only a dream," Henry repeats soothingly.

"God." Elizabeth scrubs her hands over her face, her voice muffled. "That was weird."

"Your dreams usually are."

"This one was-." Elizabeth peers through her spread fingers at him.

"You've gotta stop eating so late at night," Henry admonishes, not for the first time in their marriage, and he knows she won't listen.

"I needed the emergency chocolate." Her face settles into a pout.

Henry drops his chin and narrows his eyes, giving her his best 'parent' expression.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Elizabeth scoffs. "I needed it. And you were already asleep."

"How is it my fault you're having crazy dreams? I think you need to back off the chocolate." Henry props himself up on a bent elbow with a grunt, shuffling his legs to find a more comfortable position.

"Oh, no." Elizabeth gasps in horror. "No no. She waves her hand, fingers splayed wide, to stop him from continuing. "Don't even go there. Besides, chocolate has never done that to me before. It wasn't even a sexy dream."

"It wasn't? You weren't…." Henry trails off, wisely deciding to not mention his erection tenting their sheets since Elizabeth seems oblivious to his predicament. He closes his eyes, willing the ache to subside.

"Henry. You were pregnant. And had fur."

Henry's eyes snap open. "I had fur?"

"That's the part you're focusing on?" Elizabeth's tone jumps a register. "Not the pregnancy?"

"I don't really know what to focus on here." Henry rubs the back of his neck. "But fur?"

"You were like this alpaca we had for a while on the farm growing up. She had this really soft curly pelt and big dark eyes," Elizabeth explains rather matter of factly, despite the absurdity of her story.

Henry is trying - and failing- to follow Elizabeth's train of thought. Then it hits him. "You were petting me?!"

"Of course." Her eyes went soft and dreamy, mouth curling in a sweet smile. "Your belly was so soft and round, and the baby was kicking."

Henry is struck speechless, a million thoughts whirling in chaos until he finally snatches onto a single one. "You had an alpaca?" He rakes his hand through his hair, completely baffled. Elizabeth's dreams were always difficult enough to process on a full night's sleep, but this is a bit over the top, even for her. "How did I not know this?" He turns to reach behind him and snicks on the lamp to the dimmest setting.

Elizabeth blinks blearily in the light, then shrugs. "It never came up. We didn't have her for long. She got along pretty well with the horses and dogs, at least until that damn corgi showed up." Her lips flatten in derision.

"Now that you've mentioned before." He points with the glasses he'd grabbed from his nightstand before sliding them on.

"What? The corgi?" Elizabeth asks, confused.

"Yes, the corgi. Keep up, babe. This is your story."

"I don't know why I'm thinking about the alpaca now," Elizabeth muses, wrapping her arms around her bent legs, tucking them into her chest. "She was like a big dog. A really big dog. She followed me around everywhere." She drifts off on old memories for a moment.

"Must be all of these dogs Mike B and Russell are parading around all day." Elizabeth pulls a face and rolls her eyes, then sets her chin on her knees. "At least they haven't brought up the idea of a corgi. Probably got bad polling numbers. As it should," she snaps.

"I still don't understand what you have against corgis."

"I still don't understand why you aren't more freaked out that you were pregnant," Elizabeth retorts.

"Maybe because you're freaked out enough for both of us?" Henry says. "I think we can both agree none of this makes any sense."

Suddenly, Elizabeth startles, more alert now. "Henry, are we having a baby?" Her gaze fixates on his stomach again.

"What? Me?" Henry sits up, crossing his legs, his hard-on long forgotten. Both hands cover the spot where Elizabeth is staring, but he regrets his actions immediately when her eyes light up with a kind of crazed glee.

"Yes."

Henry's jaw drops, incredulous.

"No." Elizabeth shakes her head so vigorously, strands of hair tangle over her eyes and mouth, and she flails her hands to brush it away.

Henry jerks back. "Do I look like I've gained weight?" he asks, trying to not be offended.

Elizabeth opens her mouth, then closes it again and purses her lips, considering.

"Okay, now I'm not sure whether to be weirded out or insulted."

"I just mean, all of my dreams lately have meant something," she explains. "Mr. Met." Elizabeth holds up her index finger. "Peter." Another finger. "They all were premonitions. What if this one is, too?"

"Umm," Henry sputters. "I'm pretty sure we determined you were done having babies." He pauses, then- more to bring his wife back to reality than to clarify- asks, "right?"

Elizabeth looks pointedly at his torso.

"You know that's not biologically possible?"

"Right. Right." She nods decisively, but her tone indicates she's not convinced.

Completely lost by the entire conversation, and exhausted by the mental gymnastics involved in chasing Elizabeth's current tangent, Henry's brain races frantically for a distraction. If she makes the connection to grandbabies, they'd never get back to sleep.

"Babe, what happened to the corgi?" He's asked his question multiple times over the span of their marriage and never gotten an answer.

"What corgi?"

Henry's eyebrow shoots up, even though he expected her reaction.

"I've blocked the corgi out of my brain." She rubs her temples with her fingers in slow circles, eyes closed. "See? No corgi." Her eyes pop open, fingers fling wide, in her own version of a disappearing magic trick.

"Babe." Henry leans into her with his best impression of doe eyes, nuzzling her arm with his cheek. "What happened to the corgi?" He knows she can't resist that sexy tone, no matter what he's saying. She's said as much.

"Nothing. It never existed." Slowly, Elizabeth's lips spread in a wicked grin, her eyes gleaming. "You know, maybe we need to focus on the sexy side effects of too much chocolate, instead." She slides down onto the mattress, hooking Henry's elbow to pull him down on top of her.

Henry catches himself and pushes away from her. Elizabeth squeaks in frustration.

"Nope. No sex until you tell me about the corgi," Henry states firmly.

She scowls at him.

"It's been over 30 years, babe. You need to tell me."

Another long minute passes in silence as their eyes lock until Elizabeth finally breaks.

"Fine," she huffs.

Henry crosses his arms over the Thomas Aquinas on his chest, settling back against the headboard as if he's ready for storytime.

His face falls slack in surprise as Elizabeth throws back the covers and sets her feet on the floor, snatching her robe from the end of the bed.

Elizabeth spares her husband one final glare as she stalks out of the room. "I'll just go get more chocolate instead."