A/N: Once again, timeline is so off but I've stopped caring for a little while. Takes place in some nebulous timeframe when April gets back from Washington and it's also Christmas Eve?

Why not.

There are some things you just miss when your wife is away for a few months. Sure, sex is awesome. Sex with April is really awesome, but sitting in the house on Christmas Eve, sharing a quickly emptying forty and staring at their plastic tree is great too. Andy misses all of this, everything from just kinda seeing her every day to talking to her and now getting drunk with her.

"I know you can, like, do whatever you want," Andy starts after another unfortunate alcohol decision with his beer chaser, "but I'm super happy you do it with me."

"What?" April inquires, finishing the rest of the glass bottle and tossing it on the carpet.

Andy really doesn't know what got that line of thinking started. There were always times he had that though - times when he wondered why April was still with him, how she had come to the conclusion that he was still okay to spend time with, and remembering what he was always thankful for.

"I mean, y'know?" Andy's head is kind of blank but he wants to let her know what he's trying to think. "You could be anywhere, do anything you're so smart, be with anyone..."

"Andy, what're you doing?" April slouched under his arm, slinking out and turning to him. "Stop thinking, just drink."

"Well, I mean you could divorce me f'real if you wanted to," Andy slurs, smiling despite how depressing that thought is to him. "You can-"

"Why the fuck is everyone telling me that?" April shouts suddenly, her face a blur of anger instantly.

"Telling you what?" Andy crawls back because April when she's legitimately angry is a terrifying prospect.

"That - 'oh, you can just marry whoever, hurr,'" she affects a low, silly voice but Andy doesn't want to laugh. "Am I, like, not part of this fucking conversation or something?"

"That's not what I meant-"

"Like, why does some idiot who works for the President," April waves her hands like that's not a totally awesome thing you can say about yourself, "talk like he's better than you. Like he fucking deserves me or something."

Andy's head does a turn and he flips that sentence over and over in his head for a while before it dawns on him what she's saying. It takes him a little longer to speak up only because April's still frothing at something unseen and he just wanted to say how much he was happy for them to be together. Sure, a little drunkenly and wayward, but he thought the idea had gotten across. Then again, it had started April on this train into frustration.

"What are you talking about?" Andy voices his confusion, putting his beer down on the carpet and ignoring how easy it would be to just spill it from there.

"Nothing," April says, her eyes refusing to catch his.

"Well that's not true, you said something," he smiles at her but April just looks away from him.

"No, it's not anything," April does eventually look back at him, moving closer and cupping his face in her hands. "Don't ever think like that Andy."

"Like what?" he asks, oblivious and caught up in the endless depth he's always seen in April's eyes that's now so close to him.

"I get to make my own decisions, and my decision is that you are the best person in the whole world," she rubbed his jaw with her thumb, comforting and her face breaking that anger into something stranger. "Like, ten times over. You're the best, and no one's gonna change that. No one, nothing, ever."

"I was just saying that too, and you don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to do anything," April explains, her lips curling into a smile. "But I want you, and not some stupid speech writer."

"I seriously don't deserve you, April," Andy says solemnly, picking his beer back up and taking a sip.

"That's the point," she says with another small smirk.

Neither of them say anything else after that, and Andy doesn't just because he doesn't get it. Maybe at some point in his life he'll understand why April doesn't care who he is as long he's Andy, or why he'll always adore April regardless of anything, but for now he's going to stay on the couch and appreciate it. He's going to cherish that Christmas Eve until they make their way to bed, stumbling with laughter and drunken stupor as the past conversation is long forgotten.

He's going to pray for a blizzard so that he can revel in everything just a few days more.