A/N: Hello everyone! This chapter toys with some suggestive things, but again, I'm not quite sure I would call it a mature rating just yet. Just read with caution ;-)
Bringing some flashbacks back into the scenes for this chapter, too, and I'm pretty darn happy about it. I hope you are, too.
Don't forget if you want a little change from this story or want something else to read, I've published a new story called "In the Kitchen" that showcases different McCord kitchen moments. The first one is set in their home in 1995, the second is set on their twelfth anniversary trip to Gatlinburg, and the third is set in 2015 after the coup in Iran.
I hope you enjoy this story, and if you ever have any prompts or suggestions for this story or others, please feel free to leave them in the reviews. I enjoy new ideas!
December 16, 2022 | Elizabeth
With her cheek still resting on the pillow, she opens her eyes to see that Henry was not in bed. A good amount of daylight surrounds her, so she thinks he must have woken up when Willow woke up and took her out to the living room. Or he might even be in the nursery with her. The farm house was so quiet compared to the White House.
She stretches and rolls over to her back, still in the habit of placing her hands on her flattened, soft stomach after she stretches. She sighs when she remembers that, obviously, there's nothing there to feel anymore. Their little girl is safe and sound somewhere in Henry's arms, most likely.
After laying there for a few moments and releasing all the fog of sleep, she gets up to start her day, gawking at the time on the alarm clock when she sees it—8:46 A.M.
"How did I manage to sleep so late?" She asks when she walks into the kitchen, finally finding Henry and Willow. He was wearing her in the sling, which prompted her to stop right before she got to the kitchen and smile. He used to wear all the kids in her sling whenever he could, and this was the first time she'd seen him do it with Willow. They'd both been pretty scared of putting her in it since she was so tiny.
He flips a pancake up in the air and shrugs his shoulders, doing that little bounce thing that becomes a part of you whenever you have a newborn strapped to your body or in your arms. "You seemed pretty zonked out, so I just let you sleep. We were waiting on you for breakfast but one of us got pretty hungry, and the other one had her bottle about an hour ago."
She smiles as she sits down at the countertop, watching him make their pancakes. "Today's December 16th." She reminds him, and he looks up with a confused expression before finally frowning. "Willow's due date."
"Oh!" He exclaims, then laughs a little, "She's been with us so long already I feel like—I totally forgot today was it, honestly."
"I mean, it was the intended due date, but of course we always knew she'd come early after the first few doctor's appointments." She says, looking at the sling to see if she could get a good look at her. She couldn't really see her, but she knew she was probably nice and cozy in there against her daddy's warm body. "Does she seem to like that sling alright?" She asks, picking up a pancake from the plate and taking a bite out of it.
He gives her a warning look and playfully taps her hand with the spatula as she smirks, "She's been snoozing away the whole time I've been flipping pancakes." He says, adjusting her to make sure that she's not too low and in danger of touching the stove. She was up far on his chest anyway. "So I'd say yes."
She smiles, "Good. I want to start getting back to walks and all that."
"Already?"
"Already?" She chimes, "It's been a month—over a month. I can't fit into any of my pants still and I refuse to wear maternity clothes to go back to work in next month."
He scoffs, "Stretchy pants are where it's at." He says, stretching his own pants outwards. "I've thought about getting rid of all my dress pants and replacing them with only stretchy waistband pants."
She almost spits her pancake out when he says that, having to throw her hand up in front of her mouth just in case, "Henry," she breathes, carefully chewing and swallowing, "You are not. We are no longer allowed to get old at this age. We have a newborn; we can't be old until our eighties now."
"No suspenders either?"
"No."
He looks down into the sling and pokes his finger in there, and she sees him moving his hand in what looks like him gently rubbing that blonde hair. "Mommy said no suspenders. She's so mean."
"Mommy is the leader of the free world and is consequently the most powerful person in the nation." She quips, "And Mommy definitely says no to suspenders for Daddy." She gets up and raises her brows at Henry, walking over to him and kissing his cheek, "Unless you want to never sleep with me again." She whispers.
He looks back at her as she gets the milk out of the refrigerator, "You mean…sleep with you or sleep with you?"
"I think you know good and well what I mean, Dr. McCord," she replies coyly, pouring a glass of milk and then grabbing another glass to get him some, too, "And this time, Mommy is taking birth control until she dies, basically, to make sure there is no chance at a second miracle." The last part she mumbles to herself mostly, but she snorts at her own comment anyway.
She feels a hand on her back before a little stubble rubs her face. He's been growing his beard out since they've been at the farmhouse, but she knows he'll shave it back off when he goes back to work after Christmas is over. He'd taken this week off against the advice of his chief of staff, but they both really needed the time away. "Boobgate will be the last time you see these if you get suspenders," she gestures to her breasts with her hands, "Mark my words, FGOTUS." She coos playfully, her neck craned back to look at him in the face before kissing his jaw.
"How is hashtag Boobgate, by the way?" He asks, grabbing some plates for them and putting pancakes on them, taking them over to the table.
She brings the two glasses of milk over after setting the carton back in the fridge, "Hashtag Boobgate seems to mostly be dying down." She says, sitting down in the chair, "But they haven't made any real progress in finding out who did it. The hospital has handed over all the security footage, but quite a few people were out in the hallway with their phones it seems. They've narrowed it down to a few people, but there's no real proof of any of them doing it so far."
"They'll find them, I'm sure of it."
She shrugs and stabs her pancake with the fork, "I'm not holding my breath."
June 5, 1999 | Elizabeth
"Of course you can, Stevie," Lydia Dalton had said on the phone when she called and asked if she could go over and play with Harrison. Elizabeth was happy to have one kid out of the house for the day, honestly—she felt pretty exhausted lately. Alison was nine weeks old today and had finally found a decent sleep schedule, but Elizabeth still hadn't caught up on sleep.
She was laying Ali in her crib for her nap at around two, and Henry was in his office working on his book. Elizabeth actually hadn't brought any work home with her this weekend because she recognized how exhausted she really was, so she made herself put the case of files down that she was about to take with her Friday. It's now Sunday, and although she's thought about work here and there, it was nice to have a break from it for the weekend.
When she walked in to Henry's office, she stood there quietly and watched him work for a few moments. He wasn't in the writing phase for this chapter yet, still planning and researching, mostly. She loved when he was in this phase because she could almost see the wheels turning in his head, agonizing over all those long-dead men that he was studying.
The way his brow was always knitted whenever he was reading something particularly difficult or moving always made her feel breathless. She remembered the first time she saw that look, and he certainly wasn't studying religion when she first saw that happen. He was far, far away from religion at that moment.
She looked over to the couch that was against the far wall in the office, and she silently laughed to herself when she remembered that they're pretty sure that's where Alison was conceived. Stevie was having a sleepover with her cousin at Henry's brother's house that night, and Elizabeth had come in to check on how his final draft of his most recent book was coming along. She'd seen his brow furrowed while working, and once more while he was laying on top of her on that couch.
The more she thought of that memory, the more her legs felt like they were turning into water. She'd never get rid of that couch—no matter what, it would always be with them. That's a good couch.
She moved a little to make sure her legs weren't actually turning to water, but the floor squeaked and gave her away.
He looked up from his books and smiled, "I didn't know you were there, you startled me."
She walked in and sat down on the couch, "I was just watching you work." She said. "Ali is down for her nap."
He put a piece of paper in his book that he was reading and closed it up, leaning his upper body on the desk to feel closer to her, "I'm almost finished with this planning stage." He said.
She was listening, but she was also trying to not squirm. She hadn't felt like this in a while, and that one little memory from eleven months ago made her feel like she was struggling to think. "That's good," she said a bit distantly.
A silence rang through her ears and she realized he's watching her too closely. She's busted, she's sure of it.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"What do you mean?" She asked, repositioning herself on the couch.
He laughed, "You look like you're about to jump out of your skin, babe."
She shrugged and replied, "I'm alright," before finally just standing up and walking to the door again. "I just wanted to come in and check on you." She said, kissing his cheek when she passed by him. "I'll be up in the bed if you need me."
"Are you feeling okay?" He asked, and she knew she sounded suspicious—she never went to the bed to nap if she was going to take a nap. She always chose the recliner or even the rocker in Alison's nursery.
"Henry, I'm dying…" she finally breathed, giving in to the no-bone feeling in her legs and letting them buckle a little. He's just looking at her wildly, seemingly confused while she is holding herself up with the desk under one hand and the back of his chair in the other. "Henry!"
"What? What's going on? I'm so confused right now." He admitted, his eyes wide.
She groaned and finally spins his chair to face her straight-on, and she straddles his lap. "I'm dying." She repeats, less breathy and more straightforward. "All I was thinking about was the last time we were both on that couch before Alison ever existed in any way, shape, or form, and I—it's been a while."
"Oh," he said, finally catching on. He didn't really make a move, though, and she frowned.
She suddenly felt really uncomfortable and self-conscious, standing up from his lap and fixing her sweatpants so that they would straighten up. "I'll—I'll be upstairs." She said, "You know where to find me if you need me."
He took her hand gently as she was starting to walk away, "Babe," he said.
She shook her head, "No, I get it." She replied, thinking he just didn't want to see her like she was with the extra weight on her still. She had started running again, pushing the stroller with Alison inside of it since it had warmed up, but she obviously wasn't back in her usual shape yet. He hadn't seen her this long after Stevie was born since he was already back overseas, so this was all new to him. He probably didn't know why she hadn't lost the weight yet.
"Get what?" He asked, standing up and turning her to face him somewhat forcefully. "It's not been long enough."
She looked up and frowned at him, "What do you mean it's not been long enough, Henry? It's been nine weeks." She said, "I understand, though, I'm sure you don't want to see me like this." She stated, trying to instinctually cover her midsection and chest up. She thought of this morning when she saw herself in the mirror after showering, thinking her breasts had gotten saggier since before she had Alison, somehow.
"The doctor said eighteen months." Henry said, the confusion purely dripping through his voice.
"Eighteen mont—no, Henry." She breathed and tilted her head, "Eighteen months is the suggested time to wait to get pregnant again." She explained, "Six weeks, otherwise."
"Oh," he said, raising both eyebrows and widening his eyes, his face seemed to be stuck in that "oh" position as she could see the thoughts churning in his head. He took way too long to make a move, though, so she finally just turned away from him.
"It's fine," she said, "I'm not really in the mood anymore anyway." She admitted, releasing herself from his grip and heading up the stairs. When she didn't hear him following her, she felt like her chest was caving in on itself and her cheeks felt hot.
December 24, 2022 | Henry
Jay had called Henry and suggested that he and Elizabeth maybe do a nice little Christmas video together to post on all the social media for Christmas Eve, wishing everyone who celebrated a Merry Christmas. Henry ran the idea by Elizabeth a few days ago, and she surprised him with her suggestion: bring live cameras to the White House.
The kids hadn't arrived yet, so it was just him, Elizabeth, and Willow. Unless this round of snow happened to melt off by tomorrow, which was unlikely in this winter storm, it would definitely be a white Christmas. The meteorologists had been calling for another layer of fresh snow before dawn tomorrow, too.
Being their second Christmas at the White House, Henry felt like he knew a little better what he was doing when it came to making all the calls for decorations. He knew last year that First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy had started the themes, beginning with a nutcracker theme, back when JFK was president, but he had no idea where to start with a theme last year and eventually just relied on other people to make the decisions for him. This year, though, he knew exactly what theme to choose after they had found out that they were expecting another kid: "Christmas Miracles." It focused a lot on a Scrooge-type of story, but deep down it was also about unexpected miracles—like Willow herself.
His team worked with members of Congress to select people in their districts to make ornaments that depicted some sort of miraculous event in their lives, and they received hundreds of ornaments to complete the tree in the Blue Room. Even Elizabeth and Henry got in on the action and made one themselves. Alison actually painted it, but they had thought of the idea to just simply paint out "Willow" on a traditional, red glass ball. They hung it up together late one night when no one was really around after the workers had placed all the others on the tree.
Elizabeth was standing over on the other side of the Christmas tree while her team worked to do her makeup and fix her clothing, as though she didn't already look beautiful enough. Willow was completely oblivious to it all while laying in Elizabeth's arms, not even waking up to see all the hustle and bustle around her. She had just been fed right before they came down to the Blue Room, though, in hopes that she would sleep through it all—no one really wants to watch a fussy baby on national television.
He walks over to her when her makeup team finally leaves her alone and rubs her shoulder, looking over the other one to see Willow sound asleep still. "You good?" He asks.
She nods and clears her throat, "Feeling a little nervous, oddly enough." She states.
"This was your idea." Henry reminds playfully.
She scoffs, "Thanks for that." She replies, "I'm doing this in hopes that Boobgate will go away." She whispers.
They'd talked about that, too, and about the fact that she did need to address the nation in some way and not let them think she'd just gone completely silent. She did still have a duty to her country, after all, even though her family was coming first right now.
"We're going live in two minutes." Someone yelled from somewhere in the room, and Henry looks down nervously at Willow and hopes that she's not about to wake up. They came up with a sort-of game plan for if she started crying, but it wasn't very well thought through. He hoped Jay would swoop in and take her if she needed to take a moment to stop crying.
The two minutes seemed to pass by fast, but that was because they had people posing them in front of the Christmas tree to fit perfectly in the frame of the cameras. Their microphones were pinned to their clothes and they were all set. He takes one last look at Elizabeth when they yell thirty seconds, thinking she looks extra beautiful right now. She had chosen to wear a loose-fitting, red dress, sheer on the shoulders and chiffon the rest of the way down, paired with a pair of black heels. He was in a black suit and red tie. Baby Willow was sporting a red and green, plaid dress with black pants underneath, and black socks to match. She looked the most comfortable of all of them.
"Going live in five…four…three…" the guy stopped counting out loud and was only using his hand to tell them when it was starting, and Elizabeth was already preparing herself. He could tell she was switching on from Elizabeth McCord to President McCord, and something inside him was happy to see that. He always loved her as his wife first, his children's mother second, but it had been too long since he watched President McCord do her thing.
"Good evening, everyone." She begins calmly, giving a warm smile to the camera and holding her chin up high, "As we near the end of the year and plunge into the next few days that will most likely be filled with family for many Americans, including ourselves, Henry and I would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas." She says, "And, of course, the newest McCord would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, too, but she's not quite old enough to say it yet."
Henry smiles and looks down at Willow who was still sound asleep—she was already such a pro at this. He looks back at the camera and begins reading from the teleprompter, "This Christmas we would like to ask everyone to reflect on the year, as well as remember those who are not at home with their families tomorrow and are fighting for our country overseas." He reminds, taking a few beats to let those words sink in. He feels Elizabeth looking at him, and he knows he can't look over at her or he'll forget what he's doing. "The tree you see behind us is the Blue Room Christmas Tree, the official tree of the White House." He explains, and they both turn inward to look toward the tree for a moment and then back to the camera. Elizabeth is tending to Willow because she's beginning to squirm and stretch a little more, and he's hoping she just stays asleep.
He continues on, "This year, my team and I asked for people to create ornaments that depicted a miracle that they experienced to go along with the Christmas Miracles theme throughout the White House. Many of you sent in ornaments, some had paintings of military reunions, some were representative of illnesses being cured, and the ornament that Elizabeth and I added had a simple name on it." He stops and looks over at Willow with a smile, and thankfully sees that she's calmed down already, "As many of you already know, this addition to our family was quite the miracle, and has continued to be a miracle in our lives."
Elizabeth steps back in to speaking, "Aside from this little miracle, we experienced another miracle on September 4th of this year while in Kyiv, Ukraine, where a member of the Secret Service willingly put his life on the line to save my own, as well as this little one's life, too." She says, nodding toward the baby in her arms. "This year is all about miracles, and we urge everyone to reflect on the year along with us and thank the humans around us who kept us going when we needed some help along the way."
Henry nods, standing up a little straighter. He was worried suddenly that he'd been slouching this whole time. "And remember to thank those who cannot be here physically to keep us going, but who are working diligently and selflessly thousands of miles away from their loved ones on this Christmas Eve. To see how you can thank those who keep their lives on the line for us, you can find more information on the White House website."
Elizabeth smiles at Henry, and he's just glad that his speaking part is over. Now all he must do is stand here and listen to her—by far the easiest part of his job. "On behalf of Stevie and Alexander," Henry looks over at her, still not always thinking about the fact that he's Alexander in public and not Dmitri, "Alison, Jason, Willow, Hope, Henry, and myself," she pauses and gives a natural smile to Henry, and he can tell she's trying to not laugh at how long that list just was, "We want to wish you a Merry Christmas. God bless our troops and their families, as well as you and yours, and may you be blessed with peace, joy, and small miracles in the year ahead."
The lights fade into a dimly lit room and people start talking again, "Way to go, POTUS." Henry says, kissing Elizabeth's cheek when they get the "all good."
She smirks at him, "You did pretty good yourself, FGOTUS." She teases.
June 5, 1999 | Henry
He stood there in his office, watching her go in to the stairs and listening as her feet walked up the steps, then listening to the floor creak where the bedroom was. He thought he might be in shock, and when he was too stiff to move, he realized he definitely was in shock.
When Stevie was born, he wasn't around for long until he had to deploy again. He didn't know the technicalities of being this far postpartum—he didn't know the hormones, the emotions, the rules about when to sleep with your wife and when not to. This was new territory, but he's pretty sure he did it wrong when he heard the hurt in her voice, telling him that she just wasn't in the mood anymore.
After he stood there for a while, he finally willed his body to move. He was able to get it to go up the stairs and find their bedroom, even though he felt like he was in such a daze that he could've gotten lost in their modest home. "Babe?" He called out, rounding the doorway and looking in to see her on the bed, lying face down with her head on the pillow.
She grumbled in reply, but her mouth was down in the pillow so he couldn't hear her.
"I didn't know." He said, walking over to her and laying on the bed beside her. He wrapped his arm around her lower back and scooted her body closer to his, "I had no idea."
She turned her head to look at him, and he can tell she'd been crying. Her face was red and looked a little damp still, plus her hair was stuck to her cheek—a sure sign it had been wet not that long ago, "Do you not find me attractive anymore?"
He scoffed before shaking his head, "You're stunning, Elizabeth. The day I don't find you attractive is the day I am no longer breathing." He admitted, "Because even if I go blind, I would know your voice is attractive, and even if I go deaf, too, I know the way you feel is attractive. You will always be the most beautiful thing in the world to me."
She sniffled and wiped her hair from her face, getting it to unstick from her skin, "Then why did you act like that in there?"
"Like what?" He asked stupidly, then shook his head before she could even reply. "Don't answer that." He said, "I know how I acted. I thought you couldn't have sex until eighteen months, Elizabeth, I really had no idea." He admitted. "I didn't know it was only six weeks until you could again, and babe, when you sat on my lap, it took everything in me to not set you on my desk."
Her face reddened again and he knew this time it wasn't from sadness—thankfully, "It's six weeks." She confirms, "And it's been nine weeks."
He sighed, "It's been twelve since we last—"
"I was miserable those last few weeks with Ali," She admitted, "I didn't want you to even look at me naked, let alone touch me."
He smiled sadly and kissed her temple, "What about now?"
She let out a long breath and picks her head up, bending her arm and letting her head rest in her palm, "It hurt my feelings," She stated again, "And I gotta say, that really just ruined the mood."
He rubs her back softly with an open palm, scooting their bodies closer again so that there was no room between them. "What got you going in the first place? You really shocked me." He said.
She laughed quietly and shook her head, "The way you knit your brow whenever you're concentrating or—" She stopped herself and bit her lip, and he knew exactly what she was talking about. He just laughed about it, and she did too. "And then I looked at that couch—the place that I found out I was more flexible than I'd ever thought."
He smirked and bit his lip, too, clearing his throat. "All that flexibility got us a kid."
"It did," She replied, chuckling quietly, "You're the responsible party, though. I took my pills just like I was supposed to. It's you, I know it is, that manages to make me the 1% of people who get pregnant on birth control."
He squeezed her a little tighter and leaned in to kiss her lips, "I'll be careful next time."
December 24, 2022 | Elizabeth
Everyone was there except Jason and Marissa, who were at her parents' house for the evening, when they got back to the executive residence. Chef Cindy served them a large Christmas Eve dinner and everyone went to bed about thirty minutes ago, completely stuffed and exhausted. On her way in to the bedroom, Elizabeth checks in on Willow and makes sure she's sleeping soundly in her crib. When she sees her little chest rising and falling, Elizabeth feels herself breathe again and shuts the door quietly, padding down the hall to their bedroom.
She hadn't even gotten the chance to take her red dress off, and Henry had also been wearing his suit all evening. He at least got to loosen his tie after dinner, but she didn't want to miss any moments with her kids to go take off the dress and the ridiculously tight layers of spandex that was keeping everything in its place. She needed a little extra help these days, thanks to the baby weight.
When she gets to the bedroom, she sees Henry already in his pajamas and she groans, "Can you please help me get this spandex off before I just rip it?"
"Isn't spandex basically impossible to rip?" Henry asks as he walks toward her while she's taking her dress off over her head.
"It might be, but it obviously hasn't met Elizabeth McCord." She replies, rolling the first layer of spandex down her midsection and stepping out of the shorts. Henry is working on the latches at her back, trying to undo the corset-type contraption. He finally gets all of them unhooked and the material releases Elizabeth's body. "Oh," she groans, "That feels so much better already." She says and takes a deep breath, feeling like she could move her diaphragm again.
He's now working on the latches for the bra, and when that comes off, she feels chills go up her thighs and her arms. She shimmies out of the straps and lets it fall to the floor with the rest of the undergarments, and she brings her hand up to brush over her other arm, trailing it all the way up to her shoulder. She's suddenly aware of the absence of her husband, but when she turns her neck enough to peek around at him, he's staring at her wildly. She bats her eyes a few times and takes a deep breath, and he gets the hint. He reaches out and touches her stomach in the curve between her ribs and her hip, and she leans into his hand just slightly. His touch felt like an electric shock and a warm, sunny day all at one time.
She turns around to face him slowly, resting her hands on his chest and kissing him. "Thank you," she whispers, technically thanking him for helping her with the spandex issue, but also thanking him for what he doesn't know: the electric shock that she feels coursing through her body.
He doesn't say anything, opting instead to kiss her lips. When he pulls away, he takes her bottom lip with him gently between his teeth, and they both crack a smile. "Is this my Christmas gift?"
She smirks and shrugs innocently, "It can be an early gift, sure." She whispers, letting her hands wander up to his neck and through the base of his hair, "Only if you open it slowly, with that gentle hand and curiosity."