V

He could hear Steve in the kitchen, whistling to himself while he cooked. Even after several months of living together, Sam hadn't quite got used to the concept of real food, in his own home. It felt like forever since he'd existed on anything but coffee and microwave noodles.

Steve returned to the lounge, absently wiping his hands. "Call it twenty minutes 'til the pasta's done? I've gotta go back in and chop the salad in a minute."

"Want me to help?"

"No, that's okay. It doesn't need fingers."

Sam shot him a look - somewhat mitigated by the fact that Steve's assessment of his food preparation skills was not exactly inaccurate - and then smiled and leaned his head back against the headrest. "You're too good to me," he sighed.

"I know," Steve agreed cheerfully.

"Thanks for that."

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm such a great catch." The cushions dipped as his boyfriend sat down next to him, and Sam pulled upright in time to catch his affectionately concerned expression. "Sam, what's on your mind?" he asked gently.

Sam sighed. "I spoke with a guy today, from the Shield of Innocence children's charity. He thinks the president should talk to the public about his childhood."

Steve frowned. "Like a PSA?"

"Yeah. Child abuse - it can happen to anyone." Sam looked across at him and smiled wryly.

He shifted position on the couch. "Sounds kind of rough on the president," he observed softly.

"Yeah," he agreed heavily. "But the thing of it is..." He met Steve's eyes. "I really do believe it could do some good. I think it might help some of these kids to understand that things like this could happen to anyone, or that even though it's happened to them they can grow past it, they can go on to do anything they want to. But... but how could I ever ask the president to do that? Should I? I mean, would he be willing to put himself through that to help people, or would he feel obligated if I asked him even if I wasn't really sure how much I was asking...?"

"I think..." Steve broke off and sighed. "I think I am way not qualified to answer that question."

"Yeah." Sam shook his head and slumped forward. "Yeah, me neither." He brushed back his hair, and Steve slipped a comforting arm round his shoulders.

"Seriously, Sam, how's he doing? This has got to be hell on earth for him right now with the media dissecting everything he's ever said and done."

Sam could only shrug. "Seriously? I have no idea. He's keeping to himself, which I guess you can't exactly blame him for..." He mustered a slight smile. "I'm just glad the First Lady's home right now to be with him. He couldn't do this without her."

Steve smiled affectionately at him. "Everybody needs someone to cuddle," he agreed.

"Or to cook them dinner," Sam added.

"That too."

They grinned at each other, and then leaned together to share a gentle kiss.

Steve pulled back, and abruptly hopped to his feet. "Right. Salad." Sam smiled, and watched him go.

"Hey, Zoey."

"Hey, Charlie!" She smiled brightly at her husband as he came in, and moved to hug him.

That was still a 'whoa' moment for her at the oddest times. Her husband. The father of her child - the one that was even now growing somewhere down there in the middle of her. She might have been told that, but she wasn't sure she actually believed it, or would be able to until it was actually there, in the room with her and bawling loudly.

Her hand stole automatically to her belly, and Charlie caught the gesture and smiled at her. He captured her wrist in a loose grip, and place a light kiss on her lips. "Did you call your sisters?"

"Yeah. Annie squealed the place down - she's so excited she won't be the youngest in the family anymore. Liz started giving me all this advice until I threatened to put the phone down." She smirked, but it faded away a little. "Ellie was kinda upset - not about the baby, but, you know, stuff. I think the press are maybe giving her some trouble; she's all alone up there."

"She's got her Secret Service with her," Charlie reminded her comfortingly.

"Yeah, but they can only kick the guys out, they can't stop them from ringing the phone off the hook or shouting questions at you whenever you go out."

He regarded her worriedly. "Have they been hanging around here at all?"

"It hasn't been too bad. I haven't been out, though. There were some guys in a van parked outside for a while, but Tony and Mitch went and glared at them until they went away."

Charlie grinned and pulled her closer. "See, sometimes it pays to have an apartment full of Secret Service guys just across the hall from you."

"Yeah, we could have our own wacky sitcom," Zoey said dryly.

He just smiled, and gave her a warm but careful squeeze.

"Charlie, I'm like two and a bit months pregnant, I promise I really won't explode if you hug me too tight."

"Sorry," he smirked, and obligingly tightened his grip. She rested her head against his shoulder.

"Have you been talking to people at work?"

"It's been doing the rounds. People keep giving me baby books."

She grinned, but then grew serious. "We should talk to CJ about announcing it. I don't want this to just leak out by accident like it did with the engagement."

"Yeah," he agreed soberly.

She looked up at him. "Do you think maybe it might help take some of the focus off my dad?"

"I don't know," he admitted seriously. "Maybe. Or it might just get lost in the feeding frenzy."

"Yeah." She didn't want their good news to be obliterated like that. The announcement of their engagement had been truly botched, she and Charlie had only got it together and finalised their wedding plans after he'd nearly been killed... couldn't they have one thing go right?

"I'll talk to CJ about it," Charlie decided, and she nodded in agreement. "She'll know what's the best thing for us to do."

"Yeah." She kissed him, and he pulled away, beginning to shrug out of his suit jacket.

"I need to get out of these clothes, I've been in them all day."

"Okay. Want me to order takeout?"

He gave her a mock-stern look. "You should be watching your diet, young lady."

"I'll get Chinese," she shrugged. "It's got vegetables."

He grinned and shrugged back at her. "Well hey, that sounds good enough to me."

Andy sat on the edge of his couch, staring into space in obvious preoccupation. It still felt strange to have her here - in this place that had never been their home, only his. It was strange to have this at all, this situation that felt unnervingly like a second chance.

He poured them both fresh glasses of wine, and took hers back to her. She accepted it with a distracted nod, and he sat down beside her. "Andy?"

"Hmm?"

"Andy." She looked round at him now, and mustered a slight smile. He didn't bother to put his questions into words, just looked at her.

After a moment she sighed, and folded her hands in her lap. "CJ... told me about Zoey's baby."

"Oh." Oh. Ah.

It was stupid, of course, to not have passed the news on, for how exactly did one conceal the pregnancy of the daughter of the leader of the free world? But still, he hadn't broached the subject with Andy, wouldn't have known how to. He hoped CJ hadn't said anything unfortunate; he didn't think she knew about the miscarriages Andy had suffered. He certainly hadn't told her. She'd known he and Andy were having troubles, probably that it involved the issue of children, but those months and years of private pain were not something to be shared.

However CJ might or might not have put the news across, he was sure he could have somehow managed to be more insensitive if he'd done it himself. He might write speeches that set the world on fire, but these were the things he didn't have words for.

Andy twined her fingers, looking down at them instead of him. "It's good news," she said after a long silence. "She's... it's good. It's good news."

"It is," he agreed gently, and tilted her chin up with his hand.

She held his gaze for a moment, and then her smile crumpled. Toby pulled her into his arms, and kissed her forehead gently. He might not have the right words, but he knew how to do this.

After all, they'd been here often enough.