A/N: First, I would just like to thank you again for welcoming me into this fandom so sweetly. It's refreshing to be part of a Fanfic community again, but really refreshing to see that it's so supportive of its members. I've really enjoyed writing this story so far, and I hope you all have as well. Thank you for your support.
December 24, 2000 | Henry
He slid her Santa Claus hat off her head, exposing her head full of strawberry blonde hair. Bending down to his knees, he leaned over and kissed her little forehead, "Goodnight," He whispered, tucking the blanket up around her neck.
She had fallen asleep not long after Allison was taken upstairs to her bedroom, laying there on the floor so peacefully while "Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer" flickered across the TV screen in front of her. Henry and Elizabeth watched from the couch, and when they noticed Stevie had fallen asleep a little after eleven, they decided to carry her up to bed without waking her.
As he was about to leave, he heard a little, sleepy voice, "Daddy?"
He turned around with his hand still on the doorknob, hoping that she would just be talking in her sleep. With Santa coming, the two parents always had a hard time getting her to sleep on Christmas Eve. When he met her eyes, he knew she was awake once again. "Yes Stevie?"
She pulled the blanket away from her face a little, freeing her arms from the cocoon he had made for her, "Merry Christmas," She whispered, letting her eyes shut voluntarily once more before he could ever reply.
As he watched his precious baby girl, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with the immense burning in his chest. "Merry Christmas," He breathed in reply to the sleeping little girl.
He quietly padded his way from her room and down the hallway, turning off each of the lights before getting to Allison's room and checking on her, then making his way down the stairs and back to his wife.
"She woke up and then went right back to sleep. I thought I was going to have to tell her Santa Claus wouldn't come if she was awake like we had to last year." He said, grabbing a cookie from the plate that was set in the perfect spot on the hearth by Stevie earlier.
He handed one to Elizabeth and she shook her head, "I'm good," She said, standing up and making her way over to the hall closet where they hid all the girls' presents. "Ready to wrap?" She asked.
"Last one." She breathed, putting the bow on the top corner after Henry had finished signing the tag "From: Santa / To: Stevie" in his best script handwriting.
After she handed it back to him, he leaned backwards and placed it underneath the tree with all the other gifts. "Do you think we spoil them?" He asked. When he was answered with nothing but silence, he looked back at Elizabeth and laughed, "Earth to Elizabeth." She had been messing with another gift that he hadn't yet seen, "I thought you said that was the last one." He stated.
She nodded, pulling on the ribbon one last time before handing him the small box. "This one's not from Santa." She said and smirked, giving him that look that makes him wonder what she's up to.
He laughed, half expecting it to be some kind of gag gift. "It's not even Christmas yet." He said, giving it a little shake. "Am I supposed to open it now?"
"No, I gave it to you to sleep with all night." She quipped, leaning back on her arms and stretching her legs out in front of her from that uncomfortable-looking criss-cross position. She rolled her foot over to bump his leg playfully, "Yes, open it now."
He eyed the box and shook it one more time, squinting to try to focus harder. "I didn't get you anything to open tonight. We always made it tradition to open our own presents Christmas morning," He said and added, "…with the kids."
She shrugged and still wore that almost-infuriating smirk on her face, looking so harmless. That look did a lot of things for him, and sometimes to him, but right now it made him laugh at her false display of innocence since she was clearly up to something. "I mean, I guess you can wait and open it tomorr—"
He began ripping into it, the teasing becoming too much for him to handle. She knew if she played on his curiosity that she could eventually talk him into it, and he was thinking about how she had played him as he unwrapped the last piece of paper on the box. Underneath all that paper, he revealed a jewelry box. "You got me a tennis bracelet?" He asked jokingly, "I got you the same thing last year."
She bumped his leg a little harder this time with her foot, almost a kick, "Look inside, dummy."
He opened the lid to see that thing so familiar to him now that his eyes knew exactly where to dart to, finding the two pink lines immediately. "For real?" He asked, looking up at her and beaming. He could feel how big of a grin he was showing, and he knew it had to look childish, but he felt like a little kid on Christmas morning again.
With a simple nod, she replied, "Yep. Baby number three." She said, "Merry Christmas, babe."
December 24, 2000 | Elizabeth
Extending her legs out from that horrible criss-cross position and leaning back on her arms, Elizabeth pulled her shoulders up to her ears and smirked before tapping his leg with her own foot. He looked genuinely confused about the present and about her sarcastic remark, so she had to reply and clarify her original response, "Yes, open it now."
He did that cute, squinty thing with his eyes since he refused to wear reading glasses—and any glasses for that matter. She knew she wasn't far behind him at thirty, and would soon be squinting, too, so she tried to not make fun of him too much. Instead, she just quietly enjoyed watching the process of him trying to see things. "I didn't get you anything to open tonight. We always made it tradition to open our own presents Christmas morning," He said before adding, "…with the kids."
"I mean, I guess you can wait and open it tomorr—" Before she could finish the rest of her sentence, he had already begun to rip the paper off, tossing the bow and red pieces with Santa faces behind him. Internally, she laughed at the moment because he looked, truly, like a child—and that was a rare moment for Henry McCord. With just finishing his doctorate and having gained prestigious traction with his first book, she sometimes missed the goofy, childlike side that she got to see in him so frequently. Somewhere between marriage and the doctorate, he began to reserve all that goofiness for her and for the kids on special occasions. Selfishly, she enjoyed that she got to see more of that than anyone else. It was hers, and partially the girls' special secret about the theologian, Dr. McCord.
"You got me a tennis bracelet?"
She wanted to sit up and smack him on the arm, but she knew the sudden movement would drain too much of the energy she was already running low on, so she just kicked him a little harder than last time in the leg. "Look inside, dummy."
Her stomach bubbled and did flips as she waited for him to flip the lid open and see the test. It took him very little time to see the two lines—after all, this was the third time he's seen one of those change their lives—and the childlike husband sitting on the floor in front of her suddenly beamed. "For real?" He had said.
She confirmed with a nod and replied, "Yep. Baby number three." She said, "Merry Christmas, babe." Before she could completely finish her last word, he was already crawling over to kiss her.
Her arms wanted to buckle underneath her from where she was leaned back on them, so she sat up and kissed him back. "The only one who wasn't a shock. Maybe that's a good sign?"
June 15, 2022 | Elizabeth
The sunrise conversation from this morning put both of them in an uneasy mood. They had spent two hours just as they were when they began their conversation about changing bodies—Elizabeth in Henry's lap, her feet in her now empty chair, and her arms wrapped around his neck so that her head could rest against his chest. The mixture of his heartbeat—a slightly unsteady, marginally faster-than-usual heartbeat—and the waves whooshing against the sand, as well as the birds singing their morning songs had all made her be able to keep a miniscule amount of calmness. They didn't speak, both of them just needed the silence. She never dozed off, but for much of the time after the sun had made its debut for the day, she had her eyes closed, thinking of all the precious memories of her kids when they were just kids. Not when they were the President's kids who were all grown, all out of college, and one that was married with her own life.
She couldn't help but think back to when she had told Henry she was pregnant with Jason. The one baby they had actually planned was supposed to be their last. Henry was so happy to find out about all three pregnancies, but the element of achieving something they had planned for was there with their third.
Elizabeth had gone back on birth control sometime after Jason was born, and they hadn't had any mishaps since Allison was conceived. Now, at this age, she never expected that they would ever have any mishaps, so she started backing off the pills. It didn't help that her life had gotten incredibly busy—no, her life had always been busy, and now it was hectic and sometimes terribly complicated and difficult and demanding and...hard. At fifty-two, birth control just isn't something she thought she needed to worry about that much, and it slipped from the top of her priorities to somewhere way lower underneath the "don't get impeached" priority.
After almost two hours of listening to that soothing soundtrack of nature and Henry's heartbeat, she finally picks her head up and looks at him. His eyelids slowly open and she soon sees his chocolatey brown eyes looking into her own. "Were you asleep?" She breathes, letting her hand run through the hair at his nape.
"No," He answers tiredly, "Just thinking."
"Me too." She says, letting her head lay back down on his chest. "What were you thinking about?"
After what felt like a long moment of silence and a borderline-dramatic sigh, he lets out a soft laugh, and it reminds her of the laugh he gives whenever he's about to say something that will probably upset them. She first started catching onto this whenever he announced he was being deployed again. It was a sign of nervousness for him, and she knew it well. "How crazy life is about to get if this is real." He admits.
She nods, still playing with his short hair, "Me too." She agrees, "And I was thinking about all three times I found out and how it all happened and…" Her voice trails off as she feels tightness in her throat again.
Crying wasn't something she inherently "did," not in the space of other people, at least. Henry, of course, has seen her cry plenty of times, but she tries to not make it a habit to let her emotions get the best of her. Too many men for too many years have said that women cannot control their emotions, and she was not about to let them think they were right all along. Maybe she learned it from having to be strong and be the parent figure so early on in her life, but crying was a last resort. So now, when she feels that ball of nerves bubble up and want to spill out of her eyes, she lets it. This feels like a last resort moment.
Henry quickly notices and reaches up to wipe the tear away. His thumb met the droplet before it could drip from her chin, and she let out a pitiful sniffle. "What are they going to say about me?" She asks, "There's so many out there who already think I can't do the job because I'm a woman. Now," She laughs and shakes her head at the irony, "Now, the first woman POTUS has found herself in a very female-centered problem."
He stayed silent for a moment and, naturally, it made her feel even more of an anxious mess. He finally lets out a more organic, relaxed laugh and looks down at her again, "Weird presidential trivia knowledge coming in handy, here, but Esther Cleveland will no longer be the only child born in the White House, I suppose."
"What do you think I'm going to do, birth the kid in the Oval Office?" She quips, bringing out a laugh from both of them. "I'll be at Walter Reed, just like I would for any other medical procedure."
The image got both of them to laugh and take a moment to relax again, suddenly feeling a step closer to their normal selves. "I'll be the first, first gentleman to have a baby while in office." He adds, continuing the ironic situation they've found themselves in.
After the chuckling settled down and they start to gather themselves to head inside for some breakfast, Elizabeth turns to Henry and shakes her head, "We could be worrying over nothing," She reminds him, "It could honestly be the flu and menopause wrapped in a pretty little package together."
"Yeah, it could be," He says, "But it also might not be."
She opens the door to go inside from the balcony, "You need to go buy a pregnancy test." She instructs.
"What?" He asks, following her inside and to the kitchen, "Why me?"
"Why you?" She asks immediately, laughing once more. She noticed some time when they were laughing on the balcony about this whole situation that she sounded drunk. She even felt a little drunk. "It can't be Madam President walking down the CVS aisle to buy a Clearblue, Henry." She states, getting the clean skillet from the sink, setting it on the stove, and getting the ingredients out for Henry to make pancakes.
He starts working on the mix as she sits down at the kitchen island. "You have a great point there, but should FGOTUS be seen doing that, either? I mean, either the press has a field day about the first gentleman being sent out by POTUS to get her a Clearblue, which opens a big can of worms, or they spin some kind of story about me buying a pregnancy test for my mistress." He replies, whisking the pancake mix, eggs, and milk together, "Which I don't have one, by the way." He adds in, surely seeing the emotion-spurred speculation that suddenly floated onto her face.
"You have great points." She admits. "So, Secret Service?"
"Secret Service."
"What do we tell them?"
He thinks a moment as he's pouring a pancake into the pan, "You tell them you want to pull a prank on me."
"I'd never be so cruel," She says.
He nods, "I know, but—"
"I'm not doing that one." She declares. "Next idea."
A scoop of the spatula and a quick little flip, he shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head, "Only other thing I can think of is doing our best to disguise ourselves and telling our detail that we want to go to the drug store to relive old times, and that we'll be insanely careful and they even get to approve our disguises."
She lets the idea whirl around in her head for a few moments, and then finally agrees to it, "Glad I packed that wig just in case we decided to do that naughty roleplay scene." She says, smiling as she stands up to grab the pack of bacon from the refrigerator. "This trip turned out a little differently than I'd thought about while packing."
June 15, 2022 | Henry
After he had fed her breakfast and held her hair back when she heaved it all back up, they got dressed in their detail-approved outfits. He soothed her as she threw up, trying to calm her down and trying to just make her feel better, but it was obvious that she was miserable. Not only because she was sick, but because this added a dangerous amount of stress to her life. She was right, people would rip into her because she was the first woman POTUS and now is proving all the haters to be right.
Somewhere between heaving sessions, he asked her if she had been this sick for a while, and she explained that it was on and off. The stomach bug she had gotten a few weeks back had thrown her for a while, and then this round started a few days prior to the vacation. She told him that she had mostly been throwing up after she ate, so she didn't think much about it, and that he wasn't ever really around for it because of their crazy schedules. "I was always in the office pretty much whenever it happened," She clarified.
After the ride to the store in only one black SUV that they had talked her head-security using—somehow—they went back up their bedroom and took their disguises off first. Henry suspected that Bill, the head honcho, was skeptical of their story, and that's why he let them totally break protocol on multiple levels. But also, their disguises were really good thanks to one of the other security officers experience as a hobby makeup artist. He miraculously had his kit with him and gave the couple some different structure to their faces that they would then cover in sunglasses and hats and wigs. When they looked at themselves in the mirror, it was very convincing. Nobody recognized them, and they made it home in one piece—and that's all that really mattered.
He knows they're stalling. She's extra slow while taking off the wig she'd brought and the prosthetic makeup. He's folded and unfolded his hat once already just to fold it and unfold it again before laying it down in his suitcase.
"This is crazy." He finally says, almost shouting on accident.
She meets his eyes and runs her hands frantically through her hair, "Yeah, this is crazy." She admits, "We're grown adults. I was less scared taking a pregnancy test in high school than I am now."
He walks over to the bathroom counter where she stands and opens the bag up, taking the box and ripping the end off. He grabs the test out of the inside and takes the cap off, reaching for her hands and transferring both items to both of her palms, "We can do this." He whispers, kissing her forehead. "You can do this. You're stronger than any woman I've ever known, and a better president than most so far," He reminds her, letting his ethical side keep him unbiased, "If you're actually pregnant, then you'll show the world just exactly what women can do, and how badass they are while doing it."
June 15, 2022 | Elizabeth
"If you're actually pregnant, then you'll show the world just exactly what women can do, and how badass they are while doing it."
He's telling her this, but she's about to throw up all over again in his face. It's not because she started feeling sick randomly again, but because of the amount of nerves jutting through her body. "Okay," She sighs, taking the tests and walking to the toilet.
After the first few times peeing on a stick, the later ones come a lot easier. She'd taken one pregnancy test in high school after a jaunt with her then-boyfriend, a few here and there in college, and then a few in between babies when her cycle had been a few days late. This was the easiest part now, but in high school, she remembered it being one of the more difficult parts of the process.
Clicking the cap back on and setting it on the countertop, she washes her hands and starts brushing her teeth. Henry isn't in the room anymore, and she can't help but wonder what he's thinking. Not the thoughts he's told her already, but the unfiltered version that neither have really shared with each other yet.
Is he blaming her? She always took care of the pills.
Is he breaking himself trying to do math in his head and construct a timeline? Because she, too, is struggling with math, and that's unusual. She can't figure out when it might have happened because the symptoms are so hit and miss, and they haven't had sex that many times these last few months, so there's not many events to choose from.
Is he considering that she step down from office? This thought only briefly crosses her mind, though, because he's already told her she'll be the badass who will show the world you can be a P-POTUS—Pregnant President of the United States. She decides then that the acronym will have to be changed—P-POTUS just sounds too weird. Even FGOTUS flows nicer.
He comes back with a bright pink hibiscus flower in his hand, and she immediately melts and attempts to bring those worrying thoughts to a halt. Stepping into the bathroom, he tucks the flower into her hair and behind her ear, "I know you don't feel it right now, but you're always beautiful to me, babe." He whispers, kissing her on the forehead.
A few minutes of nervous, quiet waiting went by. Henry had helped her onto the bathroom countertop where they sat and waited, just like they had the second time she was pregnant. She turns her head to check the clock on the wall, seeing if enough time had passed. "Ready for the moment of truth?" She asks, squeezing Henry's hand.
He picks his glasses up and slides them on his face, "Ready." He says, his voice never cracking.
His hand wrapped around hers, his voice never wavering, and the confident sparkle that seemed to magically appear in his eye made her nerve-induced nausea subside for a quick moment. "That's my husband…" she thinks to herself. "…my FGOTUS…my baby daddy…" She laughs inside her mind at the combination of words she just strung together, finally grabbing the test and thinking, "He's got that sparkle. He's okay with this."
"Let's look on the count of three." Henry says, "Just like old times."
She winces and shuts her eyes, laughing at the irony of that statement, "Old times…you say that like this is something we've done ages ago and haven't done since. Like…going to a keg party or something."
He lets his head fall back quickly while he laughs, and she thinks again that this incredible, beautiful, funny man is all hers—changing bodies and all. "I gotta say, the keg parties at UVA were—"
"Henry," She reminds, lifting the test up in their view, "Important matters."
"Right." He says, taking her free hand with one hand and taking the opposite end of the test in the other. "On three."
"One…" They begin together, "Two…"
Elizabeth can't fathom the word three because she peeked early. She only hears Henry's voice say that number, and she follows up with one simple word: "Pregnant."