Elizabeth sat on the couch in the living room, half watching the news, half scrolling on her phone. She was having an internal argument about whether she should get up and make herself some lunch when her phone buzzed with a text from security—Henry was at the door.
Well, that was odd. Elizabeth stood up, shoving her phone into her back pocket as she wondered what would bring him here in the middle of the day. Some sort of emergency at the State Department, perhaps. Something they didn't trust Deputy Cushing to handle. But then, why wouldn't they just call her? She shook her head, moving toward the front door. In a moment, she wouldn't have to wonder.
"Hey, Henry," she greeted as she opened the door. He was standing there in his regular shirt and tie, hands in his pockets, and he looked up and smiled when he saw her. She couldn't help but smile back. It had been two weeks, after all, and the fact that a part of her had missed him was unavoidable. There was something tenuous about his expression, a sort of nervousness in his eyes that she couldn't quite place, and she swallowed down a bundle of nerves as she gestured for him to come in. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," he said, as she shut the door behind him. "How have you been?"
She knew what he was asking. The last time he'd seen her had been shortly after she'd completely broken down and made him pick up the pieces. "I'm doing much better," she said honestly. "Turns out therapy helps," she added with a self-deprecating chuckle.
His smile was warm and accepting. "I'm glad to hear it."
"And you? How has work been?"
He shrugged. "A little slow, but that's not a bad problem to have."
"Sometimes a slow day at work is better than the alternative," she agreed. She searched his face, trying to work out what he was doing here without asking outright. "Is Deputy Cushing managing well? I hope he hasn't managed to offend anyone while I'm gone." Elizabeth hadn't spent all that much time with the man, but she knew that nuance was not among his particular talents.
"Oh, no, he's doing great. I mean—don't get me wrong, he's no match for you," he was quick to clarify. "But, you know, he can hold your seat for a few weeks without the world going up in flames. We'll be glad when you get back, though."
"That's…nice," she said slowly. He was rambling, and she didn't know why, and she wanted him to get to the point. "Henry, I don't think you came to my house in the middle of the day to make small talk."
What remained of his awkward smile dropped off of his face. "No." Something heavy settled over the space between them, a sort of indefinable tension, and Elizabeth had a feeling that whatever he was about to say was going to be much bigger than an offended diplomat.
"I got an interesting job offer a few weeks ago," he started. Whatever she had expected him to say, it hadn't been that. "This…decorated general from the National War College waltzed into my office and asked me to come be a professor there."
"And you…laughed him out of the room?" Elizabeth asked, half joking, half hoping. She was getting nervous.
Henry chuckled. "Well, not quite, but I very politely refused him."
She nodded, breathing a sigh of relief, but he wasn't done. "So, I thought this weird job offer thing was over," he went on. "And then this morning, Russell Jackson shows up telling me to reconsider."
Elizabeth shook her head, bewildered. "What? Russell wants you to leave me for the War College?"
"Right? It made no sense." He hesitated, then corrected himself. "At least, at first. Apparently, there were some rumors that you were going to fire me."
She bristled at that. "Why?"
"It was a while ago," he explained. "Right after I—"
"Oh. Right."
"—tried to kiss you."
His words hung in the air. He'd never said them out loud before, never actually acknowledged the truth of that statement, not even when he'd apologized for overstepping, as he put it. Until today. Today, when he'd shown up unexpectedly at her house, talking about job offers and Russell Jackson and that one time they'd almost kissed. Her head was swirling with confusion and fear. She had no idea what was coming next.
Henry took a deep breath, watching the worry lines in Elizabeth's face as she took in what he was telling her, or trying to. It was now or never, he knew, but it was hard to maintain his resolve when she was looking at him like he was Judas Iscariot. It hadn't escaped his notice that she had accused him of leaving her, not the State Department, but her. And maybe that was exactly what he was about to do.
"The thing is," he began, "I'm thinking about taking the job."
"Oh," she said, the word falling out and dropping like a stone to the ground. "Why?"
"Well, the truth is, I've missed teaching," he began. That part was true; it wasn't the whole truth, but it was a part of it, and he had to start somewhere. "And something Russell said, about shaping the minds of future leaders…it got to me. I realized how much I've missed that, seeing that moment when the lightbulb turns on—well, you've been a professor, too. You understand."
"I don't, actually," Elizabeth admitted, and he realized his mistake.
"No, I didn't mean—" he sighed, annoyed with himself for talking around the issue instead of getting to the heart of it. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about why I took this job."
"This job?" she asked, clarifying. "At the State Department."
"Right. But the thing is, I think it had less to do with the State Department and more to do with…with you." He took in a deep breath, watching her face. Her blue eyes were searching his, and he wondered what she would find there. "I admired you before I ever met you, and I knew I wanted to work with you. It felt so different from my old job in a way that got me more excited about work than I'd been for quite some time. At first."
"And now?" she asked.
"Now…now, I realize that I enjoy working with you more than I enjoy working for the State Department. It turns out there's just as much bureaucracy at the State Department as there was in the Ethics Department."
Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand him. He didn't know if he'd ever seen her look so confused. "So, you're going to leave the State Department to go back to academia…because you don't like bureaucracy?"
He chuckled. When she put it like that, it didn't quite make sense. "There's another reason," he said. He could feel his heart pounding as he did. This was his moment; if he didn't tell her the truth now, he might never get another chance.
"And what's that?" she asked, her voice so soft he could hardly hear it.
He took a deep breath, and then spoke. "You were right, Elizabeth. I'm not supposed to kiss my boss." Boldly, he took a step forward. She was so close he could have reached out and touched her, and God, he wanted to. "And I really want to kiss you."
Seconds passed with the weight of hours as he watched and listened for her response. Her eyes widened, lips parting as she gasped the second he heard her. For a long moment all he could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears.
And then, he heard the faintest whisper. "Then kiss me."
His heart was racing. He could hardly believe his ears, but she was looking up at him with wide, certain eyes, asking him to kiss her.
He didn't need to be told twice.
Gently, he reached out and placed one hand on her cheek, and she let him, pressing into his hand. He leaned in slowly, wanting to give her every chance to change her mind, but she never did, and in the next moment his lips met hers in a soft kiss. He practically sighed into her, feeling months' worth of tension slip out of him as her lips pressed softly into his. The moment he pulled away she followed, leaning up to kiss him again. He met her halfway and they melted into one another, moving against one another in a slow dance of push and pull that was already driving him crazy. His hand moved from her cheek to slip into her hair and he finally learned what it felt like between his fingers.
"Henry," she murmured against him, breathing heavily as they finally parted.
"Elizabeth," he replied helplessly, his mind devoid of any words save her name.
"So," she breathed, pushing him back with a hand on his chest so she could look up at him, eyes sparkling. "Should I consider this your two weeks' notice?"
He laughed, a breathy, jovial sound that released some of the tension between them. "I guess so. The War College wants me to start at the end of the month.
"And then what?" she asked, her voice wavering with a slight uncertainty.
"Depends on what you say to this," he said, reaching out to take her hands in his. Her fingers slipped easily between his, and he rejoiced that she didn't pull away. "Elizabeth Adams," he said, voice grave with mock seriousness.
"Yes?" she said expectantly.
His thumb brushed absently over the back of her hand. "Will you go out with me?"
Her face broke into a wide grin. He didn't think he'd seen her smile that big since before Iran, and he thought his heart would burst knowing that he had caused it. "Yes, Henry McCord, I will," she said, and kissed him again.