Prompt: Henry visits Elizabeth in the Oval Office for the first time.

Day one of the McCord presidency was a flurry of activity from the get-go. From Elizabeth's carefully chosen outfit to the lengthy decision about how to wear her hair, to her sensible but powerful shoes, to her well-documented walk from one part of the building to the other, she was feeling pretty much like a specimen under a microscope. The morning came with a stack of Executive Orders for her to sign, a signal of good faith on many of her campaign promises. And, of course, there was also the accompanying photo op.

Elizabeth was used to it- or, at the very least, she was getting used to it. She would get used to it. There were elements that were familiar- like Blake stationed outside the door, faithful as ever and graciously happy to be serving as First Receptionist. In fact, he had even managed to wrangle her a pastry that morning, something which Mike had obnoxiously reminded her could be spun very easily into a fluff piece about her relatability and Blake's personable loyalty; she deftly ignored all of that, but accepted the pastry very gratefully. There were also parts that were less familiar; it all came with a lot more scrutiny and pressure, even more so than when she'd been on the campaign trail. But this was what she'd been psyching herself up for since the beginning. Longer, maybe, than she had even consciously realized.

So when at lunchtime the Oval Office emptied out for a brief reprieve before the meeting scheduled at 1:30, and Elizabeth was alone in it for the very first time, the weight was certainly not lost on her.

Leading up to the inauguration, she had been asked to make countless, endless decisions about this space- the rug, the upholstery, the curtains, the wallpaper, the books on the shelves, the art, the photos behind the desk. She had wanted to be careful in her choices, but sometimes it had all blurred together and she started to feel like she was just closing her eyes and stabbing at a random color on a page. By the end of it all, she wasn't sure whether it would all be cohesive or even look nice together.

But now, leaning back in the desk chair and surveying it in the quiet, she had to admit that it was all breathtaking. Elegant, cream colored wallpaper and subtle warm tones on the upholstery coupled with the carefully chosen art depicting natural scenes in a style of American realism and folk art that reminded Elizabeth of growing up in Virginia and the farmhouse she and Henry still owned, and blended with the carefully and sustainably sourced antique black walnut furniture and when the sun was filtering through the perfectly off-white curtains, the whole effect was utterly stunning. Photos of her family and her heroes were effortlessly mixed and the books on the shelves were chosen to reflect exactly the kind of president Elizabeth wanted to be- someone who was decisive, but willing to learn, who was kind and tolerant and a strong leader with a heart for the people.

In that moment, she was primarily overwhelmed with the gravity and gratitude of it, but she also couldn't help thinking that there was just one thing missing, that could keep her from fully basking in what she was sure would be a fleeting and rare moment of quiet.

And then the one thing missing knocked lightly on the doorframe and smiled a familiar, warm, Henry McCord smile at her. And everything fell into place.

"Henry," she said. Honey dripped from her voice, the professionalism she'd been putting on all morning drained and replaced with her complete love for him. He grinned and took a step inside.

"Madam President," he teased, and she laughed; coming from him, in the surreal midday sun of the highest office in all the land, she just couldn't help it. His hazel eyes were every bit as proud and fond as always as he rounded the desk, then leaned over and kissed her, his hand braced firmly against the Presidential desk.

The gravity of it all was not lost on Henry and Elizabeth, not in the slightest.

"Hi," she said softly, still close enough to his face that he could feel the warmth of her lips against his own.

"Hi," he answered, and for this tiny sliver of a moment, everything felt miraculously normal.

"Have a seat, FGOTUS," Elizabeth teased him, waving her hand at the office. "Plenty of space."

"You're not kidding," Henry remarked, looking around. Something about viewing it from behind the desk made the space seem expansive. He took a full sweep of the room, turning in a circle, and then looked curiously back at Elizabeth.

"Did it get bigger?" he asked, and she laughed, gesturing vaguely in a way that she knew only Henry would get.

"I was thinking the same thing!" she exclaimed

Henry smiled, both at the vague hilarity and surrealism of it all, and at the way he and Elizabeth still managed to always seem to fall in step after all these years. It heartened him, knowing that though their lives were so vastly different, she was still just Elizabeth, as she had always been.

He sank into one of the chairs facing her desk and looked around again.

"Hard to get your head around, isn't it?" she asked knowingly. Henry nodded.

"A little," he admitted. He offered her a smile. "Mostly," he added, "I miss sharing an office with you."

"You know," Elizabeth said, leaning forward on her side of the desk, "I was thinking about that. The decorator told me we can use the- weird library room…?" she trailed off, and Henry nodded his head to indicate that he was following her. "Anyway, she said we can use it however we want to and I was thinking when we get the time-"

"So, never," Henry interjected lightly.

"- we could go for a little, home office within the home that's an office, because I gotta tell you it's really throwing me off that we have separate wings for offices."

Henry smiled, all warmth and bright familiarity.

"When do you think you're gonna have time to use this hypothetical home office, babe?" he asked. Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders lightheartedly.

"Hey, if we don't have one, then never," she said, and Henry laughed.

"Okay, point made, let's think about it," Henry conceded. "But for the time being," he added, looking around yet again as if he had not quite managed to take it all in, "not a bad thing you've got going here."

Elizabeth grinned.

"I'll bet I've finally got a nicer office than yours," she said. It had long been a running joke between them, since their first joint home office in their first house, which had been just barely big enough to fit both of their small desks back to back. Every time one of them had stood up, their chairs would crash into each other, and Henry had all but worn out the joke that his office was nicer than Elizabeth's, just because it made her laugh every time he said it. He was pretty sure her laughter was the only thing that got him through his thesis.

"I think you might have officially won that one," Henry admitted.

"But I still want to see yours," Elizabeth said. "You know, at least to compare."

"Yeah, yeah," Henry said, playfully waving her off to the delighted sound of her laughter. "That's the only reason I'm here, too."

Elizabeth smiled.

"Why are you here, really?" she asked. Henry's face grew immediately softer, and he leaned in toward her.

"I missed you," he said quietly, all the sincerity in his voice touching her somewhere deep inside her chest.

"And," he added, "I couldn't help thinking I would want to look back on this day, and remember how you looked behind that desk."

Elizabeth smiled playfully, but her eyes gave away her enormous love for him as she spread her arms out.

"And what's the verdict?" she asked.

When Henry smiled, it was all utter, natural charm and sincere pride and joy.

"Like it was made for you," he said softly, and Elizabeth couldn't help it; she got up, rounded the desk, and leaned in to kiss him, the both of them backlit against the elegant windows that opened to the picturesque rose garden just beyond.

Elizabeth thought to herself that it was exactly how she wanted to remember this day, too.