Please review! I had this idea for a long time (like all the chapters so far for this one-shot series), but I had a moment of complete clarity and had to write this tonight. Hopefully, this makes up for the hiatus.

"Class of 1984, man! Woo!" A drunken frat boy shouted before tumbling down the front stairs of the current party house in full swing. His beer sloshed around but remained clutched in his hand even as he landed on the ground unceremoniously.

Claire chuckled as she pushed further into Francis's side, walking passed the number of intoxicated college students. She caught Francis roll his eyes despite the amused smile that broke across his face. "C'mon, Francis. Aren't you going to join in the celebration?"

Francis tugged her with him up the stairs towards the front door. "I'll join in three months when we actually graduate." He kissed her temple as they managed to squeeze into the overcrowded house, immediately surrounding by the pounding bass of the stereo. His lips grazed her ear though as he spoke again. "I thought you said this was supposed to be small."

"That's what I was told." Claire called back to him, trying to make herself heard over the music. She glanced around quickly though before holding up a finger to him.

Francis frowned. "Claire, what are you-," but she had disappeared into the throng of their peers before he could finish his inquiry. He waved to a couple of his friends while he waited, flashing his signature grin he had learned to use early on in his campaign trail.

When Claire returned with a bottle of tequila and shot glasses, she caught him using it and smirked. "I can't leave you alone for two minutes without turning into a candidate." Her pride swelled when she got him to blush. "C'mon, we're already here. We can still have a good time." She flipped the shot glasses upside down and rested them on the neck of the tequila bottle before taking his hand back into hers, leading him upstairs.

"Now, how could I possibly have a bad time with you?" Francis asked from behind her, following her down the hallway and to what appeared to be a home office. It was rather small, just large enough to house a plain desk, office chair, and bookcase. Even the window appeared depressed, but he only paid them a second of attention as Claire closed and locked the door behind them. "It's been a while since we got drunk together."

"You mean before we started seeing each other." Claire flashed him a smile before perching herself on the edge of the desk. "At least, on a regular basis."

Francis grabbed the glasses and held them up as she began pouring. "Between finals and winter break and going down to Gaffney, I did try to see you as much as possible. Nearly caught frostbite waiting outside your classes after the New Year."

Claire giggled before setting aside the bottle and taking her glass from him. "You were sweet. I'm glad we became friends first." She raised her glass slightly. "To more than friends?"

"Absolutely." Francis clinked his glass against hers before they both downed their shots, each coughing as the liquid burned their throats. He grabbed the bottle this time, filling up their glasses. "Probably a good thing we came up here. If anyone wanted to ruin my campaign, they could collect evidence tonight of me serving someone underage."

Claire rolled her eyes. "I'll bury anyone who tries to control when I drink." She downed the second shot and set her glass aside, earning an eyebrow raise from Francis. "Like you wouldn't do the same to anyone who tried to ruin something for you."

Francis grinned and downed his shot, setting his glass down beside hers. "I have plenty of time before I start filling my closet with skeletons." He sat down in the office chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. "I've already got enough secrets from my parents to hide."

"Parents ruin everything. Well, my mother ruins everything." Claire corrected herself, leaning back against the wall behind the desk. "I'm pretty close with my father. He's a proud man, but he falters under my mother every time. It's like she controls him, even when he's trying to defend me."

"My father faltered under everything. My parents were dirt poor. Couldn't rub two nickels together." Francis sighed, reaching out his hand towards her. She took it, intertwining their fingers. "Whatever passions they once had in life had been rolled over. They just let circumstances dictate them. They never took action."

Claire squeezed his hand gently. "Makes sense why you work so hard. You're doing everything you can to distance yourself from them." She bit her lip, glancing down at her lap. "I worry I'll become my mother. One of the reasons why I'm petrified of becoming a mother. It scares me that I could possibly make a child feel so unloved."

Francis nodded once. "I don't want to be a father. I didn't have a good childhood, not one that I can draw off of. And, I won't subject a child to having me as a father. I don't think I'd be good at it, and, frankly, I find children undoubtedly annoying."

"Good to know." Claire smiled, peering at him from beneath her lashes. She ran her free hand through her hair, pushing it back. "I don't really see you following the norms of society anyway. A politician with a wife, couple kids, a dog. That's a little overdone."

"Yet, another lifestyle is like admitting you practice voodoo in D.C." Francis mused with a shake of his head. "I'll have to focus on the importance of family to the public, even if I don't necessarily agree with the notion for myself. I just want a partner. One who wants something with as much passion as I put into my career." He glanced up at her. "A married women without children is like marking her with a scarlet letter. The world still believes the only solitude thing women should do is create offspring. If she doesn't, they either assume something is wrong with her or she hates children. There's no in between."

Claire let her hand slip from his to fill up the glasses again. "But, we thrive in the in between."

Francis grinned, a laugh slipping through. "That we do." He lowered his legs and dropped his forearms to the desk, his elbow touching her knee as he grabbed his refilled glass. He lifted it slightly towards her. "To the in between. The areas of gray."

She clinked her glass with his before they both tipped their heads back, this time only grimacing at the familiar burn. She shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it on the other half of the desk before peering back at Francis. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything. I'll never judge." Francis promised, holding up his hands at his sides before letting his arms drop back to the desk.

Claire ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the way he seemed to physically relax with her touch. "We decided to try this, us, nearly a month ago. I've seen you possibly every day, and you haven't even attempted to sleep with me. Why?"

Francis shrugged. "I'm not blind to the to the eyes that linger on you. I'm sure more guys than I can imagine have tried to make their way into your bed. As much as I want that, I also want more with you. More than nights between sheets or quick meetings between classes. I like talking to you. There's an understanding that, I don't know about you, but I don't experience that often. Actually, I don't think I've experienced that with anyone else."

"You see me for me. I get that." Claire agreed, knowing the feeling all too well. "I've had guys go way too far, guys who have proposed without even truly knowing me. Believe me. I feel the same way about you." She bit her lip, brushing her shoe against his leg. "No one has ever waited for me before."

Francis smiled up at her. "I'm just lucky to spend time with you, Claire. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop and you to realize that you're far too good for me." He reached down and squeezed her calf over her jeans. "I don't wait for everyone."

Claire blushed, brushing her lips against. "I know. Your patience is record-breakingly low." She chuckled as she kissed him again, feeling his own smile against her lips. "But, I don't want you to wait for me. I want to run with you." She pulled back, catching the twinkle in his eyes. "Partners, right?"

Francis leaned up and captured her lips, hands grabbing onto her as he stood from the chair. She grinned against his hungry kisses, gasping softly when he tugged her to the edge of the desk with her legs on either side of him. She started unbuttoning his shirt when she felt him through their jeans, happy to feel the heat radiating from his torso. Instead of pushing the shirt from his shoulders, she felt for his jeans and opened them before his hands were doing the same to hers.

She leaned back when his fingers slipped under the material of her jeans and panties at each hip, raising her body enough for him to pull off both items along with her shoes. His eyes didn't leave hers though as he tossed the clothes aside and moved back between her legs. Her hands moved back to his jeans, pushing down his pants and boxers enough to free his erection.

Neither broke eye contact though, and it was showing to be the most erotic foreplay she'd been through.

When she felt his hand glide up her thigh and start traveling towards her core, she found her voice. "No, I want you." Claire breathed, pushing his hand away from her inner thigh. She was surprised over her own breathlessness, proud that he seemed to be in the same state, and swallowed thickly at the realization of how connected they were.

Francis frowned slightly. "Since when is my hand not me."

Claire grinned, pressing her forehead to his as she held onto the sides of his open shirt. "You know what I mean." His nose rubbed against hers. "Francis." She nearly sang in a whisper, making him smile. "I'm ready."

His lips caught hers again, and her eyes slipped shut. He tilted her back slightly when his hand cupped underneath her thigh and raised it. One of her hands flew back to the desk, keeping her upright. The other wrapped over his shoulder, nails digging into his back when he finally entered her. Her back arched as she moaned, and Francis dropped his head to her neck, groaning out softly. "Fuck."

Claire smiled, raising her legs around his waist. His hand still held her thigh firmly, and, for once, she wasn't annoyed by the idea of possibly having a having a bruise there in the morning. Her toes curled when he gently rocked his hips against hers. "Jesus, Francis."

"Hold on." Francis's voice made her entire body tremble before his head lifted from her neck and he began thrusting into her with wild precision. Her hand gripped the back of his neck, pressing her forehead back to his, as she met his thrusts. This wasn't what women usually envisioned when they thought about their first time with a man they could really see spending their life with. This was primal, possessive yet soul connecting. It felt like they'd been doing this for years, not just waiting for tonight.

So when her body started to teeter on the edge of ecstasy and Francis's hand moved from the desk to cupping her face, she met his fierce gaze with her own.

Please review!