The rating for this story is still T, but this chapter edges a little closer to the M side of things.

He hated these things. It was beyond unfair that he had to attend a state banquet.

Sam was no presidential historian, but he knew that during most, probably all, previous administrations, presidents had done all they could to keep their kids out of the spotlight. Not so with the Evans Administration, at least in the case of the oldest Evans child.

"Stevie and Stacy don't have to go."

"Your brother and sister are children," the President of the United States of America said. "You're an adult, so you can support your family by showing up, smiling, and making pleasant conversation." Dwight Evans stared into a gilt mirror and straightened his bowtie. "Adulthood means being responsible and doing things that you don't want to do. It's not just about sleeping with interns."

It was a repeat adapted from one of his more recent speeches about accountability in government. Sam had picked up long ago that most of what he heard from his dad had already been tested on focus groups and politicians. Admittedly, the president hadn't included the bit about interns when he'd delivered his address to Congress.

Sam was spared from having to come up with an appropriate response when his mother walked into the room.

The First Lady of the United States was a beautiful woman. When magazines published their profiles on her, they generally noted that she was a rare combination of elegance and comfort, a beauty that awed, but didn't intimidate. She was soft and welcoming, but strong and firm, as well. Dwight Evans was the rare popular president, but his wife always polled higher.

"You don't have to constantly bring that up, Dwight," Mary Evans said.

"Scandal brings down politicians. If we don't handle this exactly right, it could derail my reelection chances."

His wife rolled her eyes. "If the voters care that much about what the president's son does after hours, then the country can't be saved, and you might as well resign now." She ignored her husband's glare and turned to the aforementioned son.

"You look very handsome, Samuel," though this didn't stop her from smoothing the lapels on his tux and straightening his hair. "I'm excited to finally meet Quinn tonight."

Call him crazy, but Sam hadn't wanted a state banquet in honor of the governor-general of Canada to be the venue where his parents met his pregnant kinda girlfriend. Not kinda pregnant; she was definitely pregnant, the doctor had confirmed that. But kinda his girlfriend. He still didn't know where they stood, exactly.

"It'd be nice if she could meet you in a semi-normal way, like for dinner or something."

"This is dinner," the president piped up from across the room. "It's a very nice, very fancy dinner."

"It would be better your way," the first lady admitted, ignoring her husband. "But Joe says this is a great opportunity to get you and Quinn in the public eye." It was no secret that Mary Evans loathed her husband's chief of staff, but the fact that she was going along with his plans proved that she respected his judgment, at least in this area. "So, tell me more about Quinn," she smiled.

That was kind of a sticky subject, because he didn't have all that much to tell. He knew she was beautiful, but anyone who saw her knew that. He knew she was driven and ambitious. He knew she liked politics, which was kinda worrying, but whatever. He knew he liked her, but that was really the extent of his knowledge.

Well, scratch that. Sam did know for a fact that she's nice, because she'd been helping him study for his exams. She'd brushed it off by saying that she didn't have anything else to do, "Now that I've joined the ranks of the unemployed." He really enjoyed their time together, even if studying was his least favorite thing in the world, aside from the White House Press Corps.

"She's really cool, mom. I know you're going to like her."

XxXxX

"Wow."

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but seeing her, it just flowed out.

Quinn blushed, the edge of her mouth pulled up in an embarrassed grin.

"You are," he can't really think of anything to say. She's the kind of pretty that steals the words from your lips, that leaves you floundering like a fish trapped on the shore. "You're gorgeous."

And she was. He didn't mind admitting that the cut of the gown drew his eyes to her chest; it was a beautiful chest. Her dress wasn't too revealing, this was the White House, after all, but Sam couldn't help thinking that the fashion designer responsible had meant to tease him. The best description he could come up with was "mega hot angel."

"Your mouth's hanging open," she admonished, though Sam noted that her eyes still looked pretty pleased. "People are starting to stare."

"Yeah, they're staring at you."

"Stop it."

"It's true." He kissed her cheek, careful not to smudge her makeup. They've probably got the weirdest relationship on the planet, brought together by an unplanned pregnancy and a presidential decree, but Sam found that he had absolutely no problems with kissing her. She hadn't complained, either. He offered her his arm. They passed a floor length mirror and he knew they were definitely the hottest pair in the White House since the Kennedys.

"You excited about tonight?" Sam asked, leading her towards the stairs. He's not particularly excited, but knew she's a huge political nerd, so maybe at least one of them will have a good time.

"It'd be better if I wasn't so nervous about meeting your parents."

"Don't be. They're normal people." He guided her through the halls to the residence, where the White House stopped being an office for the leader of the free world and became his family's home.

"They're the president and first lady."

"Eh," Sam shrugged, "believe it or not I don't think of them in that way. Dad wasn't very presidential when he was trying to explain puberty to me, though I guess he was just a governor then."

Quinn turned her head to look at him, eyebrow arched. "How does a governor explain puberty?"

"Awkwardly. He said something about pubes and using deodorant, and I think my subconscious has blocked the rest of it out." They made it to the last door that separated the residence from the rest of the building. "Seriously, we've only got like four minutes alone with them before they come to shuffle us out to dinner. You can survive four minutes, right?"

"Just don't leave me alone with them."

"I wouldn't do that to you."

XxXxX

An outside observer would have thought that Dwight Evans depended on Quinn's single vote to win the upcoming election, such was the strength of his charm offensive. Seeing him smile and squeeze her hand and gush about how happy he was to meet her, one would never guess that he'd nearly exploded when he'd learned she was joining the family. And that explained why he'd never lost a single election, from running for school board when he was nineteen, to ousting an incumbent to steal the White House. The man had charisma.

"You are just lovely, sweetheart," Sam's mother said, clasping Quinn's hands in hers.

"Thank you so much, ma'am. It's really such an honor to meet you both."

"Please, Quinn, we're all going to be family soon. You can call us by our names."

Ugh. Sam had been surprised when his mom, usually the more down to earth parent, hadn't criticized the plan for Sam to get married for the sole purpose of political expediency. To be clear, if he was going to get married at all, he had no particular objections to marrying Quinn. But this, this secret engagement and White House wedding to play for votes? As he'd said to Quinn, it was batshit crazy.

"Uh, mom, Quinn and I still haven't really talked about that, so -"

They weren't going to discuss it then, either. The White House butler arrived to usher everyone down to the State Dining Room to meet the guests for photos.

Sam snagged Quinn's hand as they followed his parents. "Just to warn you, this is going to be super boring. Lots of speeches and then we'll probably have to watch someone play the violin." For four years he'd been asking his dad to invite Aerosmith to the White House, but so far he had jack shit to show for all his begging. "My choice would have been to take you to a Toby Keith concert."

XxXxX

"I should have kicked that guy's ass." Sam slumped down next to Quinn on his couch. They were finally alone in his apartment, away from the cameras and the assistants, the bureaucrats and flunkies.

Quinn pushed her shoes off. "He's Canada's governor-general; he represents America's largest trading partner." She wiggled her toes; he could only imagine how much it hurt to wear those tiny shoes. "You can't kick his ass."

"When someone tries to feel up my girlfriend, I should be able to kick their ass, no matter what they do for a living." His shoes joined hers; Sam hoped his feet didn't smell. In spite of the fact that she was carrying his child and that they might be secretly engaged, he still didn't want her smelling his feet; you couldn't exactly say they had a long term relationship just yet.

He looked over to see Quinn with her eyes closed, her head resting on the back of the couch.

He'd figured a little late that she might not want to talk about how a world leader had tried to touch her ass, and had then passed it off as an accident. "I could heat up some lasagna," Sam offered, changing the subject. "That fancy crap they serve at those things never fills me up."

When Quinn did open her eyes and speak, she didn't accept the offer of reheated lasagna. "Can I use your tub?"

That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Uh, sure."

"My back hurts from wearing these heels all night, and a bath will help," she said, standing up to a popping sound from her joints.

Sam led the way to his bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was much bigger and nicer than the average college dorm room; actually, it wasn't even in the same category. He pulled a towel and washcloth from the bathroom cabinet and set it on the edge of the tub before turning to the faucet. "I've never used this thing, so you can break it in." Looking for something to say, Sam said, "Hey, a congressman from Indiana gave me some fancy soaps after dad signed off on some funding to build a soap factory in his district. I'll be right back."

Sam found the smelly box in the guest room where he always tossed all the crap given to him by people trying to impress his father. When he got back to the bathroom, the tub was filling up.

"Unzip me?" Quinn asked.

He immediately forgot about the dumb soap. Sam knew he had to play this cool; they were having a baby together, it shouldn't be that big of a deal. It got kind of hard to think at all when his fingers touched her back, when he fumbled with the zipper at the back of her dress. He pulled it down, revealed more skin. Sam swallowed hard when she turned to face him, when she grabbed his shoulder to brace herself as she stood on one foot to step out of the dress.

So, was he supposed to look? He didn't know. She's standing right in front of him, taking off her clothes. But what if he looks and she gets pissed off? Girls do that kind of thing. But he wants to look. He throws caution to the wind.

"Hey?"

"Hmm?" She wasn't paying much attention to him.

"Umm, I know I should probably be really chill or whatever, but, uh, am I supposed to look? Because I wanna look, but I'll only look if you want me to look." He continued to pointedly stare over her shoulder. He hoped she appreciated the sacrifice.

The slightest of grins touched her lips. "I really didn't think it was a big deal."

"Lady, I don't know what world you're living in, but in my world, a naked girl is a big deal."

She giggled. "You're sweet."

Sam was about to say something else, he couldn't remember what, but then she unfastened her bra. He definitely looked, and didn't notice her smirk. He didn't notice anything else.

But his parents had raised a gentleman, so he figured the polite thing to do would be to give her some privacy. When he made a pained, reluctant move to leave the room, Quinn said, "Hey, would you mind giving me a shoulder rub?"

He turned back around and tried to keep his eyes on hers, no mean feat, considering. "Like, right now?" She pushed her underwear down and turned to get in the bathtub. She didn't look pregnant, not from any angle.

"Well, let me sit down first." A quiet sigh, maybe even a moan, escaped from her lips as she lowered herself into the steaming water.

Sam held the folded towel over his groin.

This shouldn't be a big deal. Obviously he'd seen her naked before. But he'd been drunk, and the memory was hazy. Right now, here in front of him, was clear as day. And so what? Quinn obviously didn't think it was a big deal. So what?

So, he's hard as a rock and it felt like his underwear was cutting off the circulation to his dick.

He woke up when she cleared her throat. "Sure," he said, answering a question he didn't remember. Sam got down on his knees behind the bathtub and pushed his fingers through her hair to get to her shoulders. Another contented sigh from her. His briefs kept getting tighter.

Sam listened to her talk about a speech the Secretary of Energy had made that week. In the rush of blood down to his groin, he'd almost forgotten what a political junky she was. This was a girl who'd worked her way to a job in the White House. Ugh, he felt another pang of guilt over how that ended. But then she told him that whatever he was doing with his hands felt nice, and all other thoughts dissolved, much like how the bubbles in the bath were dissolving, giving him a pretty nice view.

She finished, and Sam tried not to ogle as she stood, water dripping between her breasts, pink from the heat of the bath. He gave her his bathrobe. Sam didn't wear bathrobes because he was a straight, twenty-two year old guy, but this one had his name on it under the presidential seal. All the perks came with monogramming.

"Do you mind if I stay here tonight? Even with your guys driving, it takes forever to get to my apartment from this side of town."

"Uh, no, of course." God, before the night was over his head was going to explode. "Mi casa es tu casa." No one in history had ever sounded more lame, he decided right then. Sam really wanted to punch himself.

But Quinn giggled. "You're getting better at Spanish."

He shrugged, but liked the compliment. "Thanks to you." She'd been helping him with some of his coursework; he'd actually gotten a B on his last political science exam.

State banquets go on for forever, or at least Sam thought so, so it was sort of late. But he was kind of pent up, for obvious reasons, and besides, if they went to bed now, he'd have to figure out if she meant to sleep with him, or if he was supposed to sleep on the couch. Part of him thought that watching her take a bath meant that the night was headed in one particular direction, but the other part acknowledged that he had a very limited understanding of the female brain, so he didn't want to make any assumptions.

"Do you wanna watch a movie or something?"

She felt really good tucked into his side on the couch. It didn't hurt that she was just wearing a bathrobe. Sam had his arm looped around her waist, hand on her hip, as they watched NCIS, because it was two in the morning and they couldn't find anything else.

"I think I'd like to see an aircraft carrier," Quinn said as they watched the agents investigate the murder of a petty officer on the high seas.

"We could probably work that out," he mumbled, not paying much attention to the TV. "I know some people." He, subtly, he hoped, pulled her a little closer.

Quinn turned to him, their faces close now. "I don't think you're very interested in finding out who killed the petty officer."

"No." He kissed her. When they broke apart her face was flushed. His face was always flushed, so they matched. "We could go to my room," Sam offered.

She didn't have to do more than nod.

XxXxX

Sam rolled off, spent and red from his cheeks to his chest.

"You came, right?"

She was still breathing hard, too, her chest heaving. Quinn turned her head to look at him. "Do you always ask women that?"

He did his best shrug, but he was tired, so it was kinda shallow. "I read in Cosmo that chicks fake it sometimes."

"Why were you reading Cosmo?"

"Research."

He didn't care that she rolled her eyes; she's even beautiful when she looks exasperated. "This isn't your fault, because men are always stupid after they orgasm." She ran her hand over his bicep; Sam made a point to flex so she got the full effect. "No, I didn't fake it. If it hadn't happened, I would've let you know, so you could do something about it."

He doesn't think he's stupid after he cums. It's just that the world always seems a whole lot better, like, everything is bright and warm and pleasant. He felt like he could do anything and there were no bad ideas. But whatever. "I'll do something about it any time you want." Alright, admittedly that did sound stupid.

"Thank you for making my point." She smiled and kissed his lips.

Quinn gave him a questioning look when he pulled away.

"Be right back."

He liked the way her eyes so obviously took everything in as he walked back from the bathroom with a warm washcloth. He'd read, also in Cosmo, that women liked it if you helped with the clean up, since it kinda was your mess.

"Take a picture," Sam smirked as she made no move to look away from his crotch. "It'll last longer."

"I was just confirming my suspicions."

"What, that I'm hung like a horse?" He positioned himself on his knees and gently pushed the washcloth between her legs, definitely noticing the way her eyes widened when he touched her. As a little extra touch he did a body roll to make his dick flop, because yeah, he is an idiot after he cums.

"A pony maybe," she giggled. "No, I'd always thought there was no way you were a natural blonde. Seeing you naked, I know I was right."

Sam stuck his tongue out at her and climbed to the head of the bed, pulling her into his arms. "You're lucky I still like you after that pony remark." He pushed his knee between her legs, kissed into the crook of her neck. She smelled like heat and exertion. "I like you a lot, actually."

She fell asleep first, and for a while, he stayed awake, thinking tired, hazy, thoughts. She was probably right, he probably was stupid after sex. But part of him wondered if this whole situation wasn't so bad.

Being with her didn't feel stupid at all.

XxXxX

He wanted to do something super thoughtful for her, something that would be really meaningful to her, specifically.

Sam was lying back in his bed, hands linked behind his head, feeling pretty good about himself. He'd woken up next to a beautiful woman and made sure that the very first thing he did for the day was kiss her. She'd said that she "loved" his lips, which for some reason had compelled him to tell her what jerks in high school had called him.

"Trouty Mouth?"

He nodded. "But you know what? it doesn't bother me anymore. I own the Trouty Mouth."

To prove it, he'd kissed her again, and then kissed her throat, and then kissed her chest, and then further, and then further, and finally her fingers were clenching in his hair as she moaned his name. He'd looked up from between her legs, his smile slick and wet from what he'd done for her.

When she finally caught her breath, and it took a while he'd been pleased to note, Quinn said, "It's not a bad nickname."

So, he wanted to keep the ball rolling, and make today great for her, too. He could hear the shower running and thought about seeing if he could help out in there, assist with those hard to reach places. But when she'd left his bed, Quinn had said if they showered together, they'd never get out of the house. That didn't sound horrible to Sam, but whatever.

He wondered if she'd like to see the Declaration of Independence. She was the biggest nerd he'd ever met, so she'd probably really enjoy that. He knew he could make some calls and get them backstage access. The other day she'd crushed his dreams and told him that National Treasure was a lie, and there was no map, but he'd still like to check for himself.

Or maybe she'd like to go to the very top of the Washington Monument. He knew that visiting a building that looked exactly like a gigantic penis could only rekindle feelings from their night together, so that seemed like it could be a good idea. He'd think on it some more and come up with an awesome plan.

But it was hard to think when he could hear the shower running, and he knew she was just in there, all alone. It didn't take much to convince himself that she was probably lonely. Sam Evans had never been great at self-denial, which was how he found himself pulling back the shower curtain and stepping under the hot spray.

"Sam." She looked kind of annoyed, but she was also naked, so he'd willingly weather the storm.

"Sorry, but I had no choice." He grabbed her hips and pulled her close. Looking down into her eyes, he said in his most serious voice, "This is a national security issue."

"National security?" He knew she wasn't terribly irritated by his interruption when she linked her arms behind his neck and pressed her chest to his. "Isn't that what government guys say so they can do whatever they want and get away with it?"

"Exactly."

XxXxX

Sam was about to go outside to tell the Secret Service where he wanted to go that day, he'd decided on the Declaration of Independence as a surprise, when they came in on their own accord.

"Sir, the president's chief of staff needs to see you and Ms. Fabray right away."

Yeah, as if he'd ruin this perfect day by going to see that assclown. "I don't work for him. Tell him we're busy today." Quinn was still in his bedroom getting dressed, but as soon as she was ready, Sam planned on spending the whole day together, and he wasn't going to let Joe Stebbins, Washington's premier asshole, intrude on that.

The agent looked nervous, which was a hard look to pull off for a guy who stood over six feet tall and carried multiple weapons. "Sir, he sent this." He handed Sam an iPad.

The screen displayed an article from the Star. The Star wasn't exactly a tabloid, but it printed "news" that was beneath the, admittedly limited, dignity of the more prestigious papers like the Times or the Post. The Star had been kind enough to share his stolen transcripts with the world.

He'd suffered from dyslexia most of his life. Most of the time, he had a fairly good handle on it, especially if he was calm, and the surrounding environment was quiet. But after he read the title, the words on the screen in front of him started swirling around, reversing order, refusing to cooperate. Sam forced himself to sit on the couch and focus.

White House Girlfriend A Teen Mom Who Gave Up Her Baby

It didn't make sense. He hadn't known her for very long, but what he saw on the screen seemed so far removed for the girl he knew, the girl he'd been with last night. Sam immediately started to hurt for her.

Being the son of a famous father, Sam knew what it was like to have your personal business exposed to the light of day. Now the whole world knew something she hadn't even told him. And this, if what the article said was true - he couldn't imagine having something so heart wrenchingly personal displayed in bold print for everyone to see.

Obviously, the article was supposed to shame her. That's all the press was about, at least in Sam's opinion. They knew she was now associated with a famous family, so they'd set about digging for anything they possibly could find that would elicit public interest. It didn't matter how much it hurt, it didn't matter that the story was about a fifteen year old having to make an impossible choice.

He heard her coming out of his room, dressed and ready for the amazing day he'd promised her. Sam closed the webpage. He knew he couldn't let her find out about this from Stebbins.

"Hey," she said, obviously a little confused when he pulled her into a hug. "I know I took a while to get dressed, but still."

Sam squeezed her hand and put on what he hoped was a comforting smile. "Yeah, well, I missed you."

He kissed her forehead. His mom had always done that when he was little and feeling sad. It'd always helped. "Let's sit down. I've got something I have to tell you."

To Be Continued

If I had my druthers, they would always be happy together and nothing would ever go wrong or get in the way. But I suppose that stories demand drama to keep them moving. Anyway, thank you to Written-in-hearts who always leaves such nice reviews, and also thank you to "Guest," who was very kind in reviewing chapter two! You write faster when you know people are reading.

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter!