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Chapter Text

“Madame Vice President,” I called, hurrying across the crowded room. Her eyes flicked up to me immediately, forcefully, already expecting the worst. 

“Valerie,” she said as way of greeting. Short and sharp. “You have news?”

“Yes, and it’s not good.” 

The Vice President looked around at the room, filled with her advisors, campaign staff, and several secret service officers posted at the exits. 

“Everyone,” she called out in a commanding tone that struck the murmuring babble down at once. “I need the room. Go home to your families, we’ll reconvene in the morning.” 

But not me. Not like I had any family to go home to anyway. No parents– dead already– no partner– when would I even have the time?– and not even a cat to miss me. Sometimes I wondered if I had been chosen out of what must have been hundreds of possible candidates to fill the role of her chief of staff for that exact reason. I would always be ready to carry out her every whim. 

As the room emptied, I stood stalk still, waiting. Vice President Harris stood at the table in the center, both hands splayed atop its smooth, wooden surface, head bowed, shoulders more tense than I’d ever seen them. Even though I’d only been brought in recently, I had seen enough of the woman before me to know that it took a lot to hunch her shoulders like that. 

“You too,” she said to the two remaining men, both secret service agents, hesitating by the door. 

“Ma’am, I don’t think–” 

“Now, please,” she said, kind, but stern. They both nodded and left, shutting the door behind them. “Valerie.” I stepped forward to stand beside her. “What happened?” 

I steeled myself to share the news I’d brought with me. I hated bringing her bad news. When you work in politics, you learn to separate the human part of yourself from the job, makes it easier. But Kamala Harris, the woman, and Vice President Harris, the politician, were the same woman. So different from any other senator or congressperson I’d ever worked for. 

“They have detained the family, ma’am. There are plans to deport them immediately. I had Miller stationed outside the ICE facility, he saw them being brought in.” 

Silence. Then–

“Those mother fuckers ,” the VP spat, pushing away from the table. “How dare they. I need a phone. Get me–” 

“Ma’am, I don’t think that’s the best idea. You are days away from the last debate, we can’t afford–”

“Can’t afford what, Valerie? A little human dignity?” I flinched, I couldn’t help it. The vitriol in her words stung worse than a slap across the face. She seemed to realize, and her anger softened. “I’m sorry. But I can’t just sit here, planning campaign events, while that family's lives are about to be upended.”

I had to concede– her moral streak was extremely refreshing, even if it wasn’t exactly convenient to running a successful campaign. But maybe… Maybe this is what the country needed. No, I knew this is what the country needed, I just had no experience with politicians who didn’t care about their power first, and human lives second. Or third. Or even fourth, perhaps. 

“What will you do?” I asked, curious, and wanting to run scenarios in my head before she did whatever it was that was brewing behind her intense brown eyes. 

“I’m the Vice President, I’ll do whatever I have to do. Whatever is in my power. We have to stop this.” 

She stared into my eyes then, searching me, appraising my humanity. And when she found the shred of it left behind after my fifteen odd years of political experience, she smiled. It was so warm, so disarming, that I forgot, for just a moment, that she was the second most powerful woman in the country. 

I brought her the phone.

When the news of the Vice President’s interference hit mainstream media, our campaign center was flooded with more calls than we could ever possibly take. I pitied the poor staffer who would end up having to take, record, and process them all. I did my best to direct the staff, to take the brunt of the weight from the Vice President’s shoulders so that she could continue her campaign, and it often meant being the last person to leave the office. 

“Miller, I need you to stay there. Yes, in Arizona. We’re not budging, which means you can’t either. And do me a favor,” I leaned forward at my desk. “Give the family a message if you can. The Vice President is fighting for them.” VP Harris hadn’t asked for this, but I thought it might help them… knowing they had her in their corner. “Thank you, Miller.” 

I hung up and lowered my head to the cool desk. Just ten minutes. Close my eyes, rest, get back to it. My mind, as though waiting for this brief moment of reprieve, played back a moment from the VP’s rally that had been on my mind since it happened earlier that day. A child, detaching from his parents, had run up to the future president of the United States, and wrapped his little arms around her legs. She’d smiled down at him, beamed, really, and ruffled his curly hair. As the VP’s chief of staff, I was thrilled by the optics. As a woman, I was… well, my heart felt too small to contain the feeling it was tasked with holding. What a signal of hope, what a beacon of youth and vibrancy and–

“Valerie? Why are you still here?” 

I jolted awake, and immediately got to my feet. When my eyes, blurry with sleep, finally focused on the person in front of me, I had to stifle a gasp. The Vice President herself stood before me with tired eyes and a backpack slung over one shoulder. She’d changed into more civilian clothes: a loose-fitting blue t-shirt and jeans. Heading home, I was sure. 

“Vice President, ma’am, I’m sorry– I–”

“Enough with the titles, Valerie. My name is Kamala,” she said with a coy smile, holding out her hand to me. I stared at it, bemused, and felt a smile stretch across my own face. I’d been her chief of staff for a few months, we were basically sisters in arms at this point. Or we would have been, if I hadn’t been the one to erect a solid barrier between us. I took her hand in mine.

“Kamala.” She grinned, her eyes crinkling. I looked away, feeling a blush creep up my neck. What was wrong with me? I dropped her hand and moved to organize my desk. I felt her eyes on me, and wondered what she saw. 

“Would you like to grab a drink with me?” 

I dropped the stack of papers I’d been holding, though luckily the only casualty was a single sheet that floated to my feet. Vice Pres– Kamala stooped to grab it, and we bumped hands. 

“So sorry,” I muttered, feeling more embarrassed than I’d been since somewhere around my mid-twenties. What did the intern put in my coffee? Kamala handed me the sheet, but not before glancing across it. 

“Are those the poll numbers? No– forget I asked, I’m off the clock, and so are you.” She grabbed the stack of papers from my hands and set them down on my desk. “Let me buy you a drink.” 

How could I possibly refuse? 

When the Vice President of the United States said “drink,” I didn’t think she meant at a bar. Certainly not a bar like this– filled with blue collar workers, fresh off whatever late shift they’d been working, tired-eyed but smiling wide, trading stories and commiserating over whatever was on tap. 

“Do you come here often?” I asked after we’d retrieved our second round of drinks. I registered how that sounded immediately, but I couldn’t correct myself before she laughed and shook her head. 

“No, but I ask around. The interns say this is the best bar if you want a laid back–”

“The interns?” I asked, laughing. She joined in, and my spirits rose as she threw back her head. 

“Our most valuable resource! Some of them are from around here. See how I can just sit over here with my extremely capable chief of staff, and not be bothered? They were dead on.” 

“You can call me Val,” I said, smirking at her. Two could play the name game. 

“Val,” she repeated. I found I quite liked the way it rolled off her tongue. She always called me Valerie, and, I realized, I’d always liked the way her mouth formed the vowels. 

Conversation ranged from the campaign to professional past, very standard topics of conversation when you were in the kind of career we were. She hadn’t shared much that I didn’t already know, and I found myself wanting… more. We had two more rounds, and by the time we’d finished the fourth, the bartender announced the last call. 

“That should be our cue,” Kamala sighed, leaning back in the booth we’d been sequestered in. Disappointment spread across my limbs slowly– I didn’t want the night to end. It had been the most fun I’d had in… years. 

“ Should be?” I called out her phrasing. 

“Well, maybe… no, another time. We both should get some sleep.” She looked as disappointed as I felt. 

“Of course.” 

Kamala looked at me then, and something in her gaze made the noise of the disgruntled bar patrons go quiet. Whether it was the fact that I’d only had four hours of sleep in the last few days, or the alcohol, but I could swear I saw– hunger. The kind that turned limbs to jelly and thoughts to wind. 

But it disappeared as she rose. I took another moment to gather myself, and joined her at the bar. When I took my card from my wallet, she pushed my hand away. 

“Allow me, Val,” she grinned at me, and winked as she handed the bartender a crisp bill that would cover our drinks and then some. My hand burned where she’d touched it. “I’ll drop you at your hotel.” 

The car ride was quiet. I could tell she was lost in thought, the way she stared out of the window of the black SUV. The most I could see of her face were her high cheekbones, straight nose, and a mouth that begged some sort of question. She twisted a ring around her pinky finger, and I wondered why she wore it. Looks? Did it have some kind of meaning to her? Was it given to her by a friend? Parent? Lover? I wasn’t far gone enough to ask. 

When I looked away from her hands, I saw that she was staring right back at me. When she caught my eye, she smiled again, so warmly that I felt the heat in my chest. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, repositioning so that her body was angled towards mine. The distance between us seemed shorter than it probably was. 

“I was looking at that ring,” I nodded down at her hand. “Why do you wear it?”

“A friend of mine gave it to me,” she said easily, twisting it around again. “Was I playing with it again?” 

“You were. Nervous habit?” 

“Habit. I don’t know about nervous,” she bit her lip as she stared at the ring. “When you’ve been a district attorney, a senator, and now a vice president, nervous doesn’t really factor into the equation. Most of my life has been lived in full view of the public. I don’t know,” she added, laughing quietly and shaking her head. “Maybe it is a nervous habit, maybe I’m just nervous all the time now.” 

“You don’t seem nervous all the time,” I noted. I shifted my own weight, positioning my arm across the back of the seat. “You are–” I only realized where my tongue was taking me in the split second before I uttered the words– “Amazing. I’ve never worked for someone like you.” 

Kamala’s lips turned up at the corners as she looked at me. A smile that hid more. That begged more.  

“That’s quite the compliment from Valerie Wright. Your reputation precedes you, you know. My advisors were reluctant about hiring you.” I swallowed, and waited for her to go on, paying rapt attention. “They were worried that you would snuff our campaign, but I wasn’t. And so far, I’ve been right. Will I continue to be right, Val?”

Kamala positioned her own arm so that it was laying across the back of the seats as well, her fingertips inches from my own. Her legs were crossed, the foot on top tapping out some kind of rhythm as she waited for my answer. Patiently. With a knowing smirk. 

“Yes, ma’am.” My voice was strong, despite the layer of fog obscuring my higher functions. 

“Good!” She was genuine. It baffled me. Intrigued me. 

We were nearing my hotel now. The familiar landscape beyond Kamala’s window signaled an end to this most interesting car ride. The SUV jostled dramatically over the rough road I recognized all too well, and I found myself gripping the Vice President’s hand on the back of the seats. 

“Damn! Maybe I should divert a few thousand to Wilmington’s infrastructure,” she joked, tightening her fingers around mine. Our eyes met again, and there was a moment– just a millisecond– when I saw that hunger again. 

And then she was pulling away. Talking with the driver. 

We pulled into the hotel’s parking lot, and I slid from the seat into the chilly fall air. 

“Wait,” Kamala called. She slid to my vacated seat, and leaned out of the SUV. “The Ortegas. Have you heard anything new?” Concern, real and true, settled on Kamala’s brow. I found myself wishing I could smooth it away, and hated that all my information would do was maintain its position.

“I have Miller on it. We will get them out,” I vowed. Kamala’s brow did not smooth, but her lips formed a smile, and that was enough– for now. 

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Val. Thank you for having a drink with me.” 

“Any time, Kamala.”

Chapter Text

“Valerie!” I stood from my desk and faced Kamala, my coat already halfway on, phone in hand. Her frantic call from across the room didn’t prepare me for the blazing expression on her face. 

“I know, the car is ready. The jet will be ready when we make it to the hangar.” 

We rushed out of headquarters and into the SUV. After a tense few minutes of Kamala grilling me for details that I didn’t have many of, the rest of the ride was silent, but for the sound of the road. I watched her from my periphery. Her jaw flexed, anger apparent in every twitch, every line of her face. I almost pitied the ICE agents that would stand before her wrath. 

There was a moment when she sighed, attempting to dispel the tension in her body, and her eyes found mine as her head lolled to one side. She didn’t seem surprised that I was watching her, and though I knew I should look away, I was caught in the righteous anger of her gaze. That faded, leaving behind something that had me wanting to reach out to her. An expression so human, so in need of comfort, that I almost reached out to grip the Vice President’s hand in my own. My fingers twitched where they were laying on the seat between us. 

So did hers. 

I finally looked away, my heart racing. Luckily, the hangar was in sight, so I distracted from the moment by informing her and calling to make sure the jet was ready to leave as soon as we boarded. 

“You were Senator Miren’s chief of staff before you were mine, correct?” Kamala asked. We’d been in the air for almost an hour, the silence so loud that I would have almost preferred a crowded flight in economy with screaming children. 

“Yes, Vice President,” I nodded, and when Kamala furrowed her brow, I realized my mistake. “Sorry, force of habit.”

“Did she expect such perfect decorum from you?” A smirk rode on her lips as she finished her question. 

“Most of the men and women I’ve worked for did.”

“Don’t you find those kinds of interactions so cold, so…” she searched for the right word, staring up at the ceiling of the jet while she fingered the air. “Lacking?”

“Well, I think there’s a time and place for it, like at work,” I replied with a smirk of my own. Kamala laughed, and I had to bite back a grin. 

“So essentially, in order to get a glimpse beneath your thick professional exterior, I have to take you to another bar?” My cheeks burned, and Kamala seemed to enjoy that, laughing again. “I’m just messing with you, Val. But seriously, let loose a little. We’re already stressed enough as it is, we deserve to take a moment to just be women.” She stood from her seat and walked to the small bar. “I’m going to fix myself a drink, would you like one?”

“Yes, please.”

“ That’s my girl,” she said, looking at me from over her shoulder. I clenched the armrest of my chair as a flutter made its way through my stomach, settling somewhere between my legs. Something more than professional admiration had infiltrated my thoughts, and I watched Kamala prepare our drinks with rapt attention. She shrugged out of her blazer, tossed it to her seat, and rolled up the sleeves of her dark blue shirt. When she raised her arms to grab the alcohol, I followed them. When she bent down to retrieve two glasses from the cupboard, I bit my lip, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t looking at her ass specifically, wasn’t noticing the way the fabric of her suit hugged her in all the right ways, I was just–

“Here you are,” she said, turning and holding out a drink to me. The top two buttons of her shirt were undone– were they buttoned before?– and when she leaned towards me over the chair beside mine, my eyes were drawn to the hint of her cleavage. 

I tore my eyes away, took the glass from her, and tried to force my thoughts back into their professional shape. Did she notice? She was still smirking as she rounded the seats to sit back down in her own. I took a long drink. 

“Oh wow,” I exhaled, trying not to cough. “That’s strong!” 

“I have to look out for my staff in these stressful times.” Kamala sighed and licked her lips after taking a drink of her own. We sat in companionable silence, and again, I watched her. She stared out the nearest window, swirling her drink around in its glass. In only minutes, I was feeling the effects of the alcohol. 

“Do you make all your staff drinks that would get them a DUI?” I chuckled, draining the last of my drink.

“No. Only the ones coming with me on a political suicide mission.”

There was humor in her eyes, but anger as well. She threw back the last of her own drink and wiped away a small drop that slid down her chin.

“I don’t think its political suicide.”

“But you don’t agree with my choice to go there in person and demand justice? I’m not trying to start an argument, I truly want to hear your thoughts. I value your expertise.” When I didn’t answer right away, Kamala sighed, and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “How can I ask the American people to trust that I want to do the right thing if I ignore this family in their time of need?” 

“You assume a large portion of the American people wouldn’t be happy to see another illegal immigrant family sent back home.” My voice was harsh, and I leaned forward, too. “Kamala, the opposition–”

“Is not who I am catering to. If they want to attack me for doing what’s right, let them! I have an entire amazing team behind me that will find us a way through this election despite any bad optics. I’m doing this,” she stated, leaving no room to question. “So, given that there is no changing my mind, how would you handle it?” 

“I don’t think you need my help, there,” I said honestly. I fought the fresh wave of attraction flowing over me as she narrowed her eyes– I knew what that was about. She did truly value her staff’s input, and I wasn’t giving her any. But if she doubted that I believed in her, I had to kill that doubt. “I didn’t want to work for you because it was a rung up the ladder. I believe in you, Kamala. That’s why I fight you sometimes. But I’ve always believed that you’ll do the right thing. And I will handle whatever comes as a result.”

Kamala bit her lower lip, then smiled broadly at me. She reached through the cabin’s overly pressurized air and placed her hand on my forearm. Heat spread from the place her fingers touched my skin, and I fought the rising blush, a futile effort. 

“Thank you, Valerie. That means a lot to me.”

Her fingers– my boss's fingers, the Vice President of the United States’ fingers– grazed across my wrist, causing me to shudder. But she didn’t look away. Neither did I. We seemed to be at a stalemate– neither woman wanting to surrender to the tension first, neither wanting to break it, either. 

Luckily for me, the pilot made the decision for us. His voice came through the speakers and we came apart, the space between us expanding, a release of pressure. I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my face. Was it the alcohol? I was nowhere near a lightweight. 

“Ladies, we’re about to hit a bit of turbulence. I suggest you strap in until it's over.”

“I don’t know about you, but I like living on the wild side every now and then,” Kamala said, making a show of not buckling her seatbelt. I laughed at her, still feeling quite flustered, and buckled my own. She could do whatever she wanted to, but if this plane went down, I would not be getting tossed around. 

As we endured the mild turbulence, I tried to ignore the way my arm still tingled. The imprint of Kamala’s fingers felt burned into my skin, though of course there was no mark. I was only changed on the inside. Kamala was an attractive woman– you’d have to be an idiot to not see that– but I didn’t think that I could be affected by her charm, her smile, her warm, brown eyes. More than that, her fervent desire for justice spoke to the part of me I thought I’d buried deep enough to allow no chance of interference with my judgment. I believed in her , yes, but I had set out to do my job the way I knew it must be done in order to get her into the Oval Office. And I would get her there .

Chapter Text

Force of nature did not quite fully encompass everything that I witnessed as Kamala Harris single-handedly succeeded in freeing a detained family of immigrants. Her righteous anger swept through the halls of the Arizona ICE facility, bulldozing her way through agent after agent until we made it to the person who could give her the answer she wanted. The answer she knew she would get. 

“Fine, Madame Vice President,” the agent said, barely able to contain his own anger. “I’ll let you explain to the Department of Homeland Security–”

“Oh, I absolutely will. You and your team will release the family immediately, no holding period, and no press. I’ll have one of our cars take them home. And Mr. Fritz,” she took one step closer to the man, who swallowed apprehensively. “If I hear that anyone tries to bother the Ortegas again, I will personally have you investigated for harassment and abuse of power.” 

If I weren’t a professional, I would have been squealing in delight. Here was a woman bearing down on a man with no fear in her voice, straight-backed and chin high. I honestly wished that we could’ve had at least one camera in this room. If watching Kamala tear through racist bureaucracy couldn’t win over those still not sure who they would vote for, I didn’t know what would. 

As Kamala turned to leave, her eyes met mine, and where I would have expected a gloating look, there was only triumph. A burning look of passionate justice that I would never forget. It was as though her aura reached out and grazed me as she passed, and I had to stifle the urge to touch my face where the heat burned hottest.

We didn’t get a chance to speak. Press had gotten inside the facility, and it was all I could do to follow behind her and try to keep them away, with the help of a contingency of Secret Service agents. 

“Vice President! How do you think this will affect–”

“VP Harris, what is your plan regarding the hundreds of other families being–”

“How does the President feel about you going rogue while on your campaign–”

The agents surrounded Kamala protectively, while Miller and I followed along behind them. I instructed Miller to stay behind and distract the press, give them the answer we’d been giving for days now. He nodded at me in grim determination, and I knew we were of similar mind regarding the political efficacy of this move. But I still couldn't shake the feeling Kamala’s victory had given me, and I didn’t regret a single moment. 

The car didn’t offer an opportunity for speech either, though we did lock eyes several times. There was something in hers that made me yearn for the privacy of our flight to Arizona. I hoped we would be leaving the secret service agents behind. 

But it was not to be. Instead of the hangar, we pulled up to a hotel parking lot. Kamala was ushered into the back entrance before I could say a word. I swallowed a lump back, baffled as to why it mattered that we didn’t speak– I should be relieved. Secret Service must have thought this was a better plan than flying home tonight, but I wish they’d involved me in that decision. Was I not her chief of staff? I grumbled my way into the hotel, hoping I wouldn’t have to fight for a room.

A knock came at my door. I checked the glowing hotel clock beside my bed– it was nearly two in the morning. Who the hell…? I rose unsteadily, too quickly, worried I’d missed a call or text, and hurried to open the door. 

“Sorry for disturbing you so late, ma’am, but your presence is being requested by the Vice President.” 

Anxiety carried me down the hall, following closely behind the agent as she led me to Kamala’s room. Did something happen? Were the Ortegas okay? Was she okay? The agent didn’t need to knock, Kamala was already opening the door as we rounded the corner. 

“Thank you, Agent Han. Valerie, I’m sorry for calling on you so late,” she led me inside and let the door shut on the agent. The woman before me looked tired, and more defeated than I would have expected her to be after getting exactly what she’d wanted. Her voice was soft. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, ma’am. I was working.”

“That’s what I figured,” she said, a smile brightening her drawn expression. She sat on the couch and gestured for me to do the same. It wasn’t a big couch, despite the luxurious feel of its plush leather seats, so there was only a foot of space between us. 

“Madame V– Kamala,” I corrected myself. “Is everything okay? Are the Ortegas–”

“They’re home. I just spoke with Miller, he escorted them himself.” Her expression didn’t reflect what I thought it should have, given her words. I cocked my head, and stared into her deep brown eyes, searching them for answers that she was, despite having called me in so late, reluctant to give. “I’m impressed by him. You run a tight ship. Thank you.” She seemed to be thanking me for more than just the competency of my team, because her eyes swam before me. 

“Of course. I’m here to make your life easier. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know,” I urged her. She sucked in a breath and broke our eye contact. There was silence for a few minutes, and I waited, knowing she must have had some other reason to call me here. 

I looked around her room. Her laptop sat open on the coffee table, the screen split between headlines and emails. A cup of shitty hotel coffee sat untouched, but still steaming. The clothes she’d worn that day were folded over the desk chair, and she was currently dressed in nothing more than a sweatshirt and pajama pants. Her feet were bare. For a reason I couldn’t articulate, it was that detail that made me feel like I was witnessing something intimate. 

“I’m not quite sure how to phrase my thoughts, and I wonder if you’ll understand…” she trailed off, looking ahead at the TV which was tuned to CNN, but muted. I wanted to put my arm around her. Keep it together, Val. “I’m glad the Ortegas are home and safe. But something one of those reporters said, I’ll admit, is keeping me from sleep.” 

I thought I knew which question had done it. Because it had been on my mind as well. Right now, a tab on my own laptop was showing the current numbers of detainees with no criminal record. 

“You did the impossible,” I assured her. “With the right legislation, maybe we can do more.” She looked at me again, her lips puckered, disbelieving. “There’s only so much one woman can do, even one as powerful as you.” 

“Well now you’re just flattering me,” she joked, disrupting the tension.

“That isn’t really in my nature, ma’am.” Kamala’s smile deepened, then– was that… blush?  

“Would you stay with me? Just for a little while? I have wine,” she coaxed, getting to her feet and digging through her suitcase. She extracted two bottles and turned to face me with the most irresistible smile that I knew I couldn’t say no to. 

“ Two? ” I laughed, getting up to help her find cups. “You planned for this, didn’t you,” I accused her jovially, and she said nothing while her smirk said everything. 

“Come on, Val, I know nothing about you. Tell me something.”

“Is that an order, ma’am?”

“ Ma’am, ” she scoffed. She took a sip from her third glass of wine. “Here’s an order: you are no longer allowed to call me anything other than Kamala.”

We laughed, but I was preoccupied by her initial order.  

“Honestly, there’s not much to tell. My life has been about work since I got my masters. I’m boring,” I sighed theatrically. The wine was getting to me. 

“You are anything but boring. I’ve never had a subordinate question me so often. No, I like it,” she interrupted my apologies. “You were one of my best decisions, Val.”

I was the one blushing this time.

“That means a lot to me.” Kamala was biting her lower lip and looking at me from behind her glass expectantly. “Fine,” I said in exaggerated exasperation. I wracked my brain for a fact to give her, something that would satisfy her curiosity, but not give away too much. The wine was not helping. “My mother was the one who got me into politics. She was always watching C-SPAN, followed every bill she could,” I said, chuckling. Kamala smiled at me while leaning into her palm. “I watched that woman work and work , ‘til her hands were literally raw. She was a nurse, constantly washing her hands, you know. But she still did her best for me. And the last thing she ever said to me–” my voice wavered– the goddamn wine– I hadn’t meant to get into this. Kamala put her hand on my arm as I took a deep breath. “Was that I’d better do something meaningful with my life.” 

A tear fell before I even registered that they had been gathering. 

“She sounds like an amazing woman. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her fingers, once again, caressed the skin of my arm. Acting on the influence of the wine, I placed my hand over hers, and looked up at her.

Kamala’s face was much closer than I expected. She’d removed her makeup, and I was shocked to discover that her flawless skin was actually that flawless, other than a few smile lines that made her all the more attractive. Her full lips were slightly parted, and her eyes– god. Time had only deepened her beauty. Those brown eyes held so much life– pain, pleasure, good times and bad. What did she see in mine? 

“Tell me more about her. If you want to, of course,” she added. I removed my hand, not sure I could focus with the feel of her touch so vividly present, but she didn’t remove hers. In fact, Kamala tucked her feet up under her and nestled further into the couch, her knees touching my thigh. 

“She was fiercely independent–”

“So that’s where you get it from,” she interrupted with such warmth that it was a moment before I could speak. “Sorry, please go on, Val.”

“She was a horrible cook, an amazing dancer, and the only hobby I still pursue was one of hers. Crochet,” I clarified at a questioning brow from Kamala. “I miss her often, but I try to live my life the way she wanted.” 

“I think she’d be proud. Immensely. How many people can say they’ve watched a Vice President tear ICE a new one, huh?” 

“Not many, I would guess?”

“Not many, no,” she agreed. She sipped her wine again and I watched her swallow, the action igniting that heat between my legs. “So, do you have any other family? Siblings? Friends? Partners?”

“My dad was never in the picture, and I was an only child. Friends are hard to keep when all you do is work,” I shrugged. I was a natural born loner, so it didn’t bother me. Most of the time. “And partners, well, that’s even harder to find. Or maintain.” I was blushing so furiously that Kamala couldn’t ignore it. 

“I think you’re holding out on me, Val. Come on, a woman as gorgeous and brilliant as you? There must be a line around D.C. of people wanting to be with you.”

“I could say the same for you, Kamala,” I shot back with a smirk. “How does a Vice President go about dating anyway?” I asked, mostly rhetorically, but suddenly and ravenously curious. 

“Not many Vice Presidents have been single, certainly none of my more recent predecessors. It is pretty lonely. I do wonder, sometimes,” she murmured, sadness touching the inner corners of her brows. “Have I missed my window?”

“No, you’re– you are–” I stuttered, rushing to defend the incredible woman who sat before me, as breathtaking as any woman ever had been in a well-worn Howard University sweater and flannel bottoms. A blush crept up my neck as my hand came to rest on the thick, warm fabric of those bottoms. I’m comforting her, just as she did for me. “Power intimidates men,” I scoffed, trying to look anywhere but at Kamala, who, I could see from the corner of my eye, was biting her lip again. 

“Do you think it intimidates women as well?” she asked, sliding her hand down my arm until it was my hand she held. Wine. Never. Again.  

“Some women, sure,” I conceded, staring into my wine, willing it to spill itself all over me so I’d have an excuse not to remain here, my hand in hers, resting on top of the Vice President’s thigh. The ache between my legs flared into an inferno then, and I looked up, as if her eyes had drawn mine like a magnet. 

There it was again. That hunger.  

“Does it intimidate you, Valerie?” she asked. My breath came in short gasps. Her lips called my name louder than her voice did. 

“No. It doesn’t.” I was surprised to find strength in her gaze, rather than the fear I should have been feeling. She exuded strength from her every action, every word, and I had always been drawn to it, to her . No use in denying it now. Not when her lips were mere inches from mine, begging–

A knock came at her door, much the same as it had on mine, and the moment evaporated into the air. She was on her feet and setting her glass down before I could even blink the lust from my eyes. I set my own down and got up as well. 

“Sorry, ma’am,” Agent Han was saying as I neared the door. “The President says it's urgent. It’s the Kremlin.”

“Oh boy,” Kamala said, eying me with a humorous gleam in her eye. “Perhaps we can pick this up once we’re back home, Val? I’m afraid duty calls.”

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

With our brief tangent away from the main campaign complete, Kamala and I rarely had a moment alone together after that night. She spoke with President Biden about the Kremlin situation the whole plane ride back to campaign headquarters, though there was something about the way she would catch my eye that made me think she hadn’t been too affected by the wine to forget the electricity between us, nor the implication of her question. 

Does it intimidate you , Valerie?

My skin sizzled whenever those brown eyes sought me out in a crowded room, during a rally, and even once during her debate with the former president. That was a beautiful night. Watching her deliver those commanding words with grace and a touch of that righteous anger I witnessed in full force, all while pressing each and every button that would turn the man she debated into a rabid fool– I was overjoyed with her performance, though I was hardly alone. 

“Well done, Kamala,” said President Biden at the small afterparty we threw her back in Washington. “I knew I made the right call, stepping down. You handled him like a pro!”

“It was too easy, Joe,” she waved his compliment away. “It would have been harder to debate a fifth grader. And less demeaning.”

“That’s an idea,” I said quietly, more to myself than to join in the conversation, and the two most powerful people in the country looked at me, as well as a handful of staffers and a few senators. Kamala nodded at me to continue, mischief twinkling in her eye. “A special episode of Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader where the Vice President is up against beings of higher intelligence. It would be entertaining, and I think the audience might actually learn something about our incredible presidential candidate.” I raised my glass to Kamala, whose gaze speared through me.

“See, Joe, what did I tell you? She’s amazing,” Kamala beamed at me, and raised her glass as well. My cheeks burned as murmurs of agreement passed through our group, but I didn’t look away from the woman of the hour. And she didn’t look away from me. 

I felt her eyes on me still as I detached from the group to find water, suddenly parched. All I needed was a moment alone where I could watch the party unfold before me, the way I preferred to. I found such a spot in the crowded room, a small nook beside a wall that I knew opened up into a service corridor, used only by the White House custodial staff and cooks. Perhaps I could slip out of the room without anyone noticing, and make my way home before the night wore on long enough that it would make more sense to just sleep in my office.

Despite the electricity of the room, a melancholy hung over me, tainting the festivities. Kamala’s defeat of the buffoon was an immense relief, and the specific consequences I’d feared from our activities in Arizona never truly materialized. In fact, her poll numbers were better than ever before. However, there were other consequences…

No longer could I be in the same room as Kamala Harris and not feel her in the air around me, pulling at me like gravity, pulling at the threads she found that night in her hotel room. Every glance held more than either of us could say, and I’d done my best to make sure we didn’t get the chance to expound upon those glances. She was my boss, and, as long as I did my job, she would be the president of the United States in just a few short months. What I wanted didn’t matter.

I succumbed to the weight of my forbidden feelings, and pushed into the hidden door, relieved that it gave easily under my touch. After a quick glance over my shoulder, I slid into the dim hallway, sighing when the noise of the party vanished entirely. I made it halfway to the exit before the sound bubbled back to life, then away again. 

“Val?” Shit. I spun, and there was a brunette beauty. Her black sequin dress shimmered as she followed after me. “Where are you going?”

“Kamala! I, uh,” I scrambled for an excuse. I wasn’t technically supposed to use these corridors, so I might even be in trouble. “I wasn’t feeling very well, wanted to just, you know–”

“Are you okay?” 

She’d closed the distance between us in a few strides, and studied me, searching my face with concern so earnest that I smiled.
“I’m fine, just tired.”

“So, you were just going to slip away from the party that you organized for me?” she asked, crossing her arms. The musty stench of the corridor became a distant backdrop to the mouthwatering perfume wafting off of her. She was so close that even in the dim light, I could make out the subtle luminescent eyeshadow her assistants had applied. It accentuated her striking eyes, transforming their usual brown to something more like a tiger’s eye gemstone. My breath caught in my throat. 

“We all pitched in, ma’am–”

“What did I say about calling me ma’am?” she chastised me, her lips curling with wicked humor. 

“Not to.” 

“That’s right.” I found myself wanting to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness. Thank god I had refrained from drinking. She hadn’t though– there was a hint of tequila and something fruity on her breath. “Well, if you really must go, I won’t stop you. I’ll have one of my agents drop you–”

“That’s not necessary–”

“I insist, Val. I want to be sure you get home safe.”

“Alright,” I gave in, stifling a sigh. “Enjoy your party, Kamala.”

“I will enjoy it a little less without you,” she murmured, her smile turning sad. “Go on,” she lightly pressed against my arm, nudging me to continue down the hallway, and I turned robotically away. Go back, my heart screamed at me. But I didn’t. Her eyes followed me until I reached the end, and when I glanced back one last time, she was still there, leaning her back against the wall, face turned towards me. 

The stress was getting to everyone as we neared election day. As sitting Vice President, Kamala still had a job to do, but on top of that were almost daily rallies, luncheons, town halls, and speeches. Run so ragged, I hardly had time to dwell on the feelings that only grew with each look, each victory, every accidental touch and every miniscule moment alone. Though I was with her for hours throughout the day, we were almost always joined by other staffers, interns, teamsters, and advisors. The closer we drew to the election, the more often her lips were pursed, and I ached for the day when I’d see them curled into a carefree smile again. 

On a rare day when Kamala had a moment of reprieve to work at her desk, only a week before the country would cast its vote, Miller exited the Vice President’s office with a look on his face that told me I was needed. I had just returned from instructing the interns on Kamala’s lunch– I wanted it to be perfect.

“Miller, what’s going on?” I asked him, stopping him as he sped through the hallway. He looked awkward, nervous even. 

“I… I’ve never seen her like that. You know how she is– always so optimistic. But–” he shook his head, not meeting my eyes. “She’s worried. She actually snapped at me, Valerie.”

Oh boy.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Better you than me,” he said, making a face. I looked at him quizzically. “Never mind. Just go in there and remind her who she is.”

I knocked lightly on her door, and instead of the usual ‘ Come in!’ I heard, “Yes– what?”

“Can I come in?” I asked, peeking through a gap in the door. Tension sat deep on her brow, and her desk– cluttered with documents, an array of devices, and old food containers– echoed her demeanor. But she softened when she saw me. 

“Of course, Val. Please,” she waved me in. 

I took a seat in the leather chair across from her and watched as she continued to type. Her mouth twisted this way and that as she wrote something, deleted it, and tried again. I waited for her to finish whatever she was doing, content, for the moment, to just look at her. When she finally seemed satisfied, she slammed the enter button, and leaned back in her chair. 

“Joe tells me that this part ends after the election, but I think I’d rather you call the White House physician in here to see what we can do about putting me in a coma until November fifth.”

I snorted at her feeble joke, and she finally looked at me. Exhaustion and worry were plain on her face, but there was something more. A sadness that I had no easy explanation for. 

“I realize this is a stupid question, but are you okay?” 

“You’ve always seen right through me, Val,” she said in a low voice, leaning towards me across her desk. “How do you do that? I’ve spent my life in the public eye, so I know my own poker face– where the holes are and which side I should show. So how do you see through it every time?”

“I see a woman sitting across from me.” I leaned forward in my seat as well. Kamala needed to be at the top of her game, and I had to get her back to it. “An amazing woman– strong and brave and fierce– but a woman nonetheless. You’re only human, Kamala.”

“That’s the problem, Val,” she whispered, and I saw a dam about to break behind her eyes. They didn’t train you for this: watching the Vice President break down in front of you when it was your job to make sure she succeeded at her every endeavor. My fingers twitched, betraying the depth of my need to comfort her the way I so badly wanted to. With engulfing arms and caressing touches. “I’m a woman, and if I don’t win this, if he– ” she spat, her voice quavering. “I have to win, I have to.”  

“You will, ” I stood, bringing my hands down firmly on the desk and letting some of the passion I had for the woman before me to leak into my voice. It didn’t reach her. Kamala seemed to be lost in spiraling thoughts. How do I– what can I say– what can I do? But I knew what I had to do. 

I came around her desk, spun her chair so that she faced me, and got to my knees in front of her.

“Madame Vice President,” I began, my tone steely, daring her to correct me. “It has been the honor of my life to serve you, and I know that come January twentieth, it will be you getting sworn in. I’ve never believed in anyone or anything the way I believe in you.”

A crushing silence settled upon us. I stopped breathing– watching and waiting for her reaction. And then, miraculously, some of the tension began to smooth from her face, and her eyes, though still wet, came into focus as she looked down at me. 

“Always above and beyond the call of duty,” Kamala whispered. She reached out a trembling hand, and I was sure she would cup my cheek. I nearly met her halfway, but I was frozen, captured in the way I imagined people might be if they had the chance to kneel at the feet of a goddess. To have her look at them at all, but especially with the kind of reverence that was in Kamala’s eyes. 

Her fingertips found my skin like spark to tinder, like a split atom, like a goddess’s blessing. I sucked in a ragged breath, and while my vision had gone somewhat fuzzy, I saw that a different kind of spiral took place in her tawny eyes. Flame spread across my cheek, and I embraced the inferno, leaning into her hand, giving into the desperate way that I wanted her. 

No, I can’t do this! The election was so close, she needed to be focused. 

I drew away from her and got to my feet. Pain flashed across her face, and the way it tightened her eyes and twisted her mouth almost had me on my knees again. Maybe… After the election… But I couldn’t hope for that. I couldn’t plan for that . She would be the president-elect, the most powerful woman in the country, she couldn’t– we couldn’t do this. This couldn’t happen. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am, that was unprofessional. I’m going to have your lunch sent in–”

“Valerie,” she called out as I hurried to the door. I spun slowly back around to face her. I tried not to see her expression. “Stay. Please. ” 

I swallowed roughly and stood tall as I replied. 

“I’m sorry, I have a meeting with congressional leadership. I’ll make sure one of our interns is available to you. One more thing,” I said, with my hand on the doorknob. “I know you’re very stressed, but Miller is a good staffer. I would appreciate it if you didn’t snap at him.”

Chapter Text

“What did you say to her?” Miller hissed at me as I left my office a few hours after the sky had gone dark. I was still raw from the scene with Kamala, so I wasn’t in a particular mood to explain myself. 

“That’s between myself and the Vice–”

“You broke her fucking heart, didn’t you?” he whispered, keeping pace with me as I strode towards fresh air and– 

His words sunk in. I froze, hoping I’d misheard him, but the look on his face said otherwise. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go home, you clearly need sleep.”

“What I need is to have a job in seven days.” I scoffed at his theatrical statement and resumed my swift exit. “Valerie, listen, she’s even worse, she canceled tomorrow’s rally and won’t tell anyone what–”

I grabbed Miller and swung him towards an empty room just off the exit that I only knew about because it was a very convenient place when you just wanted some peace on a crowded day. He yelped, but didn’t fight me as I thrust him inside and shut the door behind me. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“You think I’m blind? I know how close you two have gotten. I see the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you. Hey,” he held up his hands in reaction to my fiery glare. “You pay me to notice things. And I think it’s sweet. But right now that’s besides the point. You need to go back into her office, and make it right.”

He was insane. He wanted to not only get me fired, but to ignite what would surely be the country’s most salacious political scandal since Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. I stared at him, at a complete loss for words. 

Miller’s earlier words sunk in painfully. She’s even worse. Her expression when I’d left her office had mostly been shock, but there had been enough pain to flay me from the inside out for the last several hours. If she were worse… No. It was for the best. She’d recover. She was strong.

“If you noticed, what the hell makes you think the rest of the country wouldn’t? You think I’d risk my job, my reputation, everything , just to become a White House mistress?” 

“There’s a way through, and I’ll fucking help you find it, but we are on a time crunch here, Valerie! Put aside your pride for a week–”

I left the room. I wasn’t having this conversation. Not with Miller, not with Kamala, not with anyone. I was doing this for her. For the country. 

When I got home, I slammed my bag down on the kitchen table and pulled out my laptop to catch up on the mess I’d missed somehow. Did she intentionally leave me out of it? Had I already endangered my job? 

There was one email, sent while I’d been driving, that caught my eye. It was from President Biden’s Chief of Staff, requesting any information I had regarding the Vice President’s plans for tomorrow, as they were having trouble getting in touch with her. 

I could, at least, swallow my pride for this. I dialed the number I knew by heart, and waited as it rang once, twice–

“ Hello Valerie ,” said the voice on the other line. I could have cried with relief. “ I’m rather busy, what is it?”

“Miller told me that you canceled tomorrow’s rally. Is that true?”

“ Yes. I’m not feeling well, and I think the American people can understand that even a presidential candidate needs a break. Don’t you worry, I’ll be back on the trail on Thursday.”

Click.  

I stared at my phone. Thoughts and feelings buzzed around me like gnats, none staying still long enough to be caught. Numb hands typed out a response to Biden’s man and hit send. Numb feet shuffled to the fridge, then back to the table. By the time I’d chugged half the cold beer, feelings were starting to register again. 

Pain. I knew her voice so well, and that was not a tone I had much experience with. Clipped and overly formal (for her), it so far had been reserved for extremely rare conversations with or about her father. She was in pain, and keeping me at arms length. 

But Miller was being dramatic. She was a grown woman with decades of experience dealing with, I’m sure, many unpleasant things, and she was mere inches away from the presidency. She would survive. 

Would I? 

I laid awake most of that night, tossing and turning, cursing the incessant ache in the shape of Kamala. The ghost of her touch still haunted my cheek, as well as my wrist and hands, though those were older, fading. I tried to convince myself that everything would look better in the morning, that the raw edges of my heart will have stopped bleeding, and that Kamala will have gotten over whatever little crush she had on me and remember that she had a country to run. My thoughts were close to anger, but then I remembered a moment in her hotel room…

She worried about missing some proverbial window for human connection. Maybe that pain ran deeper than I thought. It is pretty lonely . I grit my teeth and punched my pillow into a better shape to bury my face into as tears burned their way out of my eyes and onto the fabric. 

I knew that loneliness. I felt it nearly all my life. I’d forgone romantic relationships for unsatisfying one night stands so that I could focus on my degree, then my career. But I still wanted. I yearned to feel a woman beside me in bed, to know her name, to whisper it into her shoulder as we fell asleep after making love. I pictured Kamala’s shoulders– broad and smooth– and imagined what her skin would feel like against my lips.

I didn’t set out to fall for a woman I could never pursue. Why now? Why her?  

On Thursday morning, I presented myself at Kamala’s office five minutes before I was supposed to be there, hoping– for some asinine reason– that I could catch her before everyone else arrived to claim her attention. What the hell was I even going to say? I’m sorry for yanking you around, can we still be friends? We were professionals. And the professional thing to do would be to not speak of it. 

So I should have been relieved that the room was already full. The center of my gravitational pull sat at her desk, going over the upcoming speech with her advisors. Despite the noise and flurry of activity, and the fact that I’d made the coward’s move of scurrying in behind a group of interns, Kamala’s eyes found me. I felt them, just like always. Except this time, when I met her gaze, she looked away. 

It shouldn’t have hurt. But it did. 

“This Tuesday, get out there and vote!” Kamala’s voice was magnified across the public square. The crowd must have screamed themselves hoarse by now, but on they went. She had a hard time finding an opening to deliver her next words. “The opposition will be voting for their idealized vision of the past, based on hate and prejudice. We must vote for the future. For dignity and fairness and compassion. And for love. I will always fight for love.”

I swallowed back the emotion threatening to overwhelm me as I watched her face on the screen backstage. She was beautiful and unshakable, just as poised as ever, as if our pain weren’t there. 

And yet, she’d added those last few words. I knew her speech by heart, and she’d made very few alterations or digressions. Did she add them… for me ? It was a moment before she spoke again, and I waited with baited breath. 

“Fellow Americans, please,” she leaned into the mic with bright, contagious urgency. “Join me in fighting for a future we can all take pride in—a future that will serve as a testament to our courage and unwavering commitment to doing what is right. Thank you. God bless you all, and may God bless the United States of America.”

She waved, clad in a suit of brightest blue, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was looking at the next president of the United States. And I was in love with her.

Kamala was rushed off stage and into her limousine, and I was glad that Secret Service was being cautious, even if it left little opportunity for getting her alone. I followed closely behind, and slid into the sleek car alongside her, like I always did after an event. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the words that begged to be said, even as our thighs pressed together, the sleeve of her blazer catching on mine every time she shifted. Every seat was occupied and the enclosed cab filled with congratulations and celebration for the duration of the short trip back to the White House. 

When we disembarked, I tried to keep up with Kamala, but she was swept away. I almost called out to her, my pain so acute that I would have exposed us both if not for the vivid memory of her outstretched hand and heartbroken eyes. Would she even want to see me? God, what the hell was I doing? 

“I’m sorry Ms. Wright, but she’s not taking appointments or visits right now,” Agent Han said as she held up a hand to indicate that I could go no further. 

“I’m her Chief of Staff and we are just days away from the election. Make an exception,” I demanded, glaring at the woman. She narrowed her eyes at me, then spoke quietly into her earpiece. I waited with crossed arms and tapped out a rhythm against the marble floor. “Alright.” Agent Han stepped aside and let me enter Kamala’s office. 

It was a massive set of rooms that forked off from her main office area, where she was not. This is a horrible idea, I should just turn around. But I didn’t. I cautiously ventured deeper in, allowing my footsteps to make as much noise as possible; I didn’t want to scare her. She wasn’t in the study, nor the meeting room. That left a small sitting room at the back, and there, posed on the large, cushioned bay window, was the Vice President. She was staring out at the dark grounds, and with the lights in the room off, it was easy to see beyond to the glow of DC. 

She was so beautiful. The ambient light gave her an otherworldly glow, and I yearned to sit beside her and see what she saw. Pushed up sleeves revealed bare arms that caught the light better than cloth. Her skin seemed to call to me, and I hid my twitching fingers behind my back as I approached. Why is she here? She should have been home, getting whatever sleep she could manage to find. I cleared my throat. 

“Oh!” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest. So much for not scaring her. “Valerie.” Though it was dark, there was just enough light from outside to read her shocked expression. Her jaw flexed, and I braced myself for a wrath. Almost welcomed it. 

“Madame Vice President,” I said, bowing my head in greeting. She chuckled humorlessly.

“So, we’re back to that, hm?” Her lips formed a sarcastic smirk, and she looked back out through the window. “Well then, Ms. Wright, as I’m sure the agent told you, I’m not taking–”

“Kamala,” I interrupted her, and stepped forward until I was bathed in the window’s light alongside her. “I wanted to apologize.”

She shifted in her seat, and I saw that her feet were bare again, tucked beside her. There was a stubborn rigidity in her shoulders, and she still looked away from me.

“For what?” Her tone was forced nonchalance. Was she playing dumb? I swallowed. Something about the way she was forcing me to declare for myself what happened between us was… hot. For the love of god, Val…

“For allowing the lines between us to blur. I’m your Chief of Staff, and I wear that title proudly. I didn’t mean for my actions to be taken the wrong way, and it won’t happen again.”

Kamala rose from the window and sauntered towards me until she was only a foot away. Due to my height, she had to look up at me, but I felt no less affected by her aura of power.

“Tell me something, Valerie,” she began, her voice low but strong. “And I want the truth.” 

Kamala’s eyes burned into mine with that intensity that must have struck fear into the hearts of lawyers, criminals, and spineless republicans over her long career. The truth. My stomach flipped as she leaned in closer.

“I’ve always done my best to be truthful with you, ma’am,” I breathed, the suppressed emotion making it difficult to match her nonchalance. Kamala’s eyes tightened, their swirling depths more inviting than they should have been in that moment. Again, my fingers twitched from the restraint it took not to take Kamala’s face into my hands.

“Then why are you refusing to acknowledge what’s been growing between us?” 

All the air left my lungs in one, short gust.

Chapter Text

Time stood still and I saw everything that I wanted reflected within Kamala’s eyes. Glinting off her skin in the ghostly light from the window. Flowing over her perfect lips. Months of secret smiles and glances that held everything I didn’t think we could ever say aloud seemed to be held in the simple words of her question. 

Then why are you refusing to acknowledge what’s been growing between us?

As if it were that easy. 

“You are about to become the President of the United States,” I said, clenching my hands into fists before I did something crazy with them— like grab her waist. “There’s no world in which we could ever—“

“You think I’m not aware of the world we live in? I see it every day , Valerie! The very best and worst of it.” Tears were filling her eyes, and though her voice was still low, it was no longer as controlled. Her words rolled over me like thunder. “But I don’t give a damn what the world thinks. I will make the country see that they can still stand behind a woman who chooses to love another woman.”

“Your entire presidency will be spent answering to the bigots instead of focusing on the issues you ran on! I’m not worth that.” My breath was coming in heaving gasps, but all of the words I’d been holding back for months were spilling out of me. “What I feel for you— the truth— it doesn't matter!”

“The truth is the only thing that matters!” Kamala took my face into her hands, so I couldn’t look away from her desperate plea. “The truth, Val,” she whispered to me. “Is that I’ve wanted you since the day you walked into my office and shook my hand for the first time. I thought, ‘here’s a woman who fears nothing, not even me.’ Prove me right. Please.” 

A strangled sound left my throat as the flame of her touch spread across my body. On carnal instinct, my hands enveloped her waist, and the wildfire within raged hotter than ever. Surrender and need were blazing in Kamala’s eyes— or was that my reflection? 

Like a tree collapsing into the inferno around it, I drew her into me and pressed my burning lips to hers. Kamala dug her fingers into my hair and sent more shooting sparks down my spine. God. She was as soft against me as I’d always imagined. All her walls gone, all her titles meaningless here, in this moment, she really was just a woman. But not really just. Not even close.

I moaned as Kamala pushed me against the wall of windows. Her hands left my hair to find purchase on my blazer, and when I realized what her goal was, I tried to help her.

“No,” she growled, and pinned my hand to the wall. I opened dazed eyes to find Kamala smiling at me with open lust, flushed and wild-eyed, licking her lipstick-smeared lips. “Let me,” she purred, leaning in slowly to kiss me again. 

She slid the offending item of clothing down my arms until it came free, and then she tossed it onto the window seat. Our lips made a lewd sound as she pulled away again, appraising what else lay between herself and my bare skin. But I stopped her this time as she reached up to start undoing the buttons of my shirt. 

“Kamala,” I breathed, cupping her cheeks. “I just wanted to– to say–” I fumbled for words as she bit her lip at me. “I– I’m really–” 

“You’re not usually this easy to fluster. I had to work so hard before.” Her soft laughter seemed to calm my racing thoughts. “Breathe, Val.” I did. I brushed a strand of hair from her face, and her eyelids fluttered at my butterfly-light touch.

“I’m so sorry that I’ve been such an idiot about this. I mean, you are my boss, after all.” We laughed together this time, and the only tension that seemed to be left in the room was… sexual, in nature. “I’m falling for you. More and more every day. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up, no matter where that happens to be, and the last thing that remains on my mind when I finally pass out.” Tears, of happiness this time, gathered in her liquid chocolate eyes. “That’s my truth.” 

“Oh, Valerie,” she cried. Kamala fell against me and finally succumbed to her emotions, sobbing into my shirt. I held her so tightly to me that I worried I’d suffocate her, but she didn't protest. The weight of the world rested upon her shoulders– couldn’t I help her bear it? How different was that from what I’d been hired to do? 

“I’m here, baby,” I crooned into her hair, kissing wherever I could reach. She shuddered in my arms, and I felt her lips on my throat, brushing, exploring, tasting. When she looked up at me again, her eyes were smudged with mascara and eyeliner.

“I must look a mess,” she sniffed. I caressed her cheek, very near tears myself, and shook my head. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Wonder replaced insecurity, and Kamala pulled me to sit with her at the window. I lifted her legs into my lap and wrapped my arms around her waist.

“I’m torn between wanting to rip all of your clothes off, and asking you to just hold me until I fall asleep,” Kamala murmured as she nestled into me. “I’m so tired.”

I laughed, as I was torn between the exact same desires. It was incredible how natural this felt– holding her, kissing her, letting down all of my defenses for her– and I never wanted it to end.

“When’s the last time you had a full night’s rest?” I asked, while I mentally calculated my own sleep statistics. I didn’t need to finish to know that it was an abysmal number. 

“A long time, Val. I actually slept pretty well that night you came over and we got through all that wine,” she sighed. “But, as usual, Russia interfered.” I snorted. 

“Let’s get you home, then. You’re not going to change anybody's vote by depriving yourself of a soft bed.” 

She looked at me with a hint of mischief in her eyes. 

“I’m not going to lose anybody’s vote if I invite a soft woman to share that bed, either. Would you come home with me?” The evident uncertainty about the way she held her features in careful stillness broke me. Not that I would have said no, not now. Kamala was so ecstatic when I nodded that she pulled my face to hers and kissed me again. 

I burned for her. Gasping, pressing, pulling– I was undone beneath her touch. My shirt lay open and Kamala’s nimble fingers tugged the fabric from where it was tucked into my pants before I finally came back to myself. 

“I thought,” I gasped as she kissed her way down my neck and brushed her lips across my collarbone. “Thought you wanted to go home.” 

“I want you,” Kamala purred. “Home can wait. You’re here, and we’re alone, how often does that happen? I could get a call at any moment… Please?” she looked up at me from where she hovered above my bra. “Let me have you.”

Searing lust shot through me and I climbed on top of her. I straddled her thighs, and she looked up at me with a wicked grin. My fingers made quick work of her shirt, and my breath came faster as I revealed more and more of her delicious skin. Of the lacy black bra that held her full, glorious breasts. I leaned down and kissed the supple skin that overflowed the cup of her bra, moaning with every electric brush of my lips. 

Our shirts finally discarded, we devoured as much of the other as we could. When I dug my fingers into Kamala’s back as she sucked at my pulse, she whimpered with pleasure– the sound was ambrosia, and I dragged my nails across her back to elicit more. 

“Fuck, babygirl,” she moaned. I melted on top of her. 

There could be no end to the heights of pleasure– each time I thought it had peaked, she found a new place to kiss, or she made a sound that deepened the already aching arousal I felt between my legs. 

“ God, Kamala,” I gasped as she undid my bra and sucked my nipple into her hot, wet mouth. I would have been embarrassed by the sounds that escaped me if I hadn’t been so lost in the feel of her gripping me, of her tongue. Need caused me to grind my aching center onto her thigh. 

“I love the sound of my name on your lips.” She had to release my nipple to speak, and I whined from the loss of contact. She noticed my desperation. “Tell me what you want, baby,” she said, dragging her fingertip across my hard nipple. 

“I want you. I want you here,” I said, taking her hand and placing it where I burned hottest. She hummed in pleasure when the pressure of her hand caused me to buck into her. 

Kamala stood, helping me slide off of her and steadying me against her slender frame when I stumbled, stricken with desire. I could hardly stand it– waiting for her to have me, to take me. Deft hands undid my belt, then my buttons and zipper, and then in one swift movement, Kamala pushed me back up against the window and slipped her hand beneath my soaking wet underwear. 

“I was going to tease you,” Kamala whispered against my lips while I moaned loudly, wildly. “But I’ve been imagining how you would feel for so long. Val, baby,” she made sure I was looking directly into her eyes. “You were worth the wait.”

The Vice President of the United States expertly twirled and rubbed my clit until I was panting against the window glass, overcome with pleasure. She held onto me with her free arm so that I didn’t fall, and I marveled at her unexpected strength, just one more thing to push me ever closer to the edge of my orgasm. 

“Kamala,” I whimpered. Her eyes found mine while she was busy flicking my nipple with her tongue. “ I’m so close .” She straightened up and pressed her body into mine, and though the feeling was divine, I was struck with the intense need to feel her breasts against mine. I tore her bra off, and heard the latch break. “Fuck, sorry–”

“Don’t apologize, just come for me.” 

Kamala kissed me then, and it was that which caused the scorching blaze to consume me entirely. Stars burst before my eyes and I went limp against her. Flame licked up my spine and spread to the tips of my fingers and toes, but it didn’t leave me burnt, only blissfully warm. 

“That’s my girl,” she murmured into my ear, still holding me up. Her fingers lazily traced around my swollen and finally satisfied clit, sending out wave after wave of pleasure until it was nearly painful. Merciful as ever though, she removed her hand after swiping it once through the wettest part of me. Kamala caught my eye again as she slid her fingers into her mouth and sucked my essence from them. 

“Holy shit,” I panted. I collapsed onto the cushion and she straddled me, wearing the single most smug smile I had ever seen. 

“You taste even better than I’d imagined.” 

“That is very inappropriate, Madame Vice President,” I joked. My hands fit perfectly around her hips, and she leaned into me with a shudder as I gripped them tight, still feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm. 

“I knew you had some kind of thing for titles.” Kamala smirked down at me and caressed my cheek.

“I do not,” I argued, a light blush growing beneath her fingertips. “Okay, maybe for you, but don’t get jealous when I talk to Hilda and call her ‘Madam Secretary.’”

Kamala’s laugh was so carefree that I could have cried. She looked so cute when she laughed– her eyes got crinkly and the sound came from so deep in her belly that she shook. She’d once told me she had her mother’s laugh, and though I knew I would never meet the amazing woman who raised Kamala, I wished so badly that I could. Just to thank her for doing such an amazing job. 

“I can’t believe you ripped my bra apart,” she said, picking up the black fabric and examining the latch. “You depraved beast. Good thing I have ten more just like it.” 

“I’ll buy you an even better bra, as many as you want. Whatever you want.” I vowed, totally serious. Kamala sensed my shift in mood, and her look turned speculative. 

“Val, you are under no obligation to be with me. I was hurt, I reacted, but that doesn't mean you have to… I just mean that I would understand if–”

I put my finger to her lips, not wanting to hear the rest. 

“I’m yours, Kamala Harris. We’ll figure this out.” 

It was almost as though the sun decided to rise early, the way light and warmth emanated from her brilliant smile. 

“We will. Now,” she said, reluctantly pulling from my grasp and getting to her feet. She held out her hand, and I took it. “Take me home, Valerie. I’m exhausted.”

Chapter Text

“Does it ever get old being followed around by a team of Secret Service agents all the time?” I muttered to Kamala under my breath as we made our way to my car. 

“Only every day of my life these last four years,” she laughed, not troubling to keep her voice low. I guess she was used to the idea of constantly being overheard, but I wondered how she could be so nonchalant about it. Especially with the taste of me on her breath and her nipples showing through her shirt. Fuck . Eyes forward, Val. 

We’d gotten dressed after Kamala made me come, hardly able to keep our hands off each other. After Kamala fixed her makeup, she’d informed Agent Han that I was going to drive her to her residence.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure that’s advisable,” she’d said, stiff and emotionless, but I thought I’d seen a hint of something like disapproval. Agent Han, who I was beginning to suspect did not like me, had regarded me coldly as Kamala spoke. 

“Emily, it’s fine, I trust her. The usual detail can follow behind. I just want a few moments of normalcy before all of our lives change in a few days.”

The agent nodded and spoke into her earpiece like she had before she let me into Kamala’s office, and after a few minutes, we left, tailed by Han and several others. I hesitated when we got to my car, my natural instinct being to open the door for Kamala, but– would that be noticed by anyone? Remarked on? Surely, I could treat my Vice President with respect without anyone thinking it was odd… right? Paranoia be damned– I decided to go with my gut. Kamala winked at me as I held the passenger door open for her. 

“Wow,” she sighed as I drove away from the secure parking structure. “I haven’t been in the front seat of a car in so long.”

The Naval Observatory wasn’t far, and I almost wished it were a longer drive. I glanced over at Kamala as often as I could (every red light, every stop sign, every traffic slowdown) and felt lighter every time I saw that she was smiling, staring out the window, or at me. I was hyper aware of the life entrusted to me, otherwise I probably would have held her hand. There would be plenty of time for that when we got to her residence. 

“Aren’t you worried that they’ll suspect something?” I asked her finally, no longer able to restrain my paranoia. She sighed. 

“Val, I’m sure they already know. Or at least, they know some of it. Emily certainly does. She wasn’t happy when…” Kamala trailed off, and I glanced quickly at her. Blush colored her cheeks. “Anyway, she’s assured me that she won’t tell anyone until I’m ready to.”

“Agent Han? She knows? ” My heart raced. No wonder.

“Yes.”

“Oh my god,” I whimpered. 

“If I thought that beginning a romantic relationship with you would put you in danger, I wouldn’t have even considered it,” Kamala stated firmly. She squeezed my thigh, and heat replaced icy fear. Mostly. 

“I’m not really that worried about me,” I reiterated. “Worst case, I find another job in some podunk state senate. I’m worried about you . About your chance at becoming President. Maybe we should have, I don’t know, waited. At least until after the election. I guess even then, it would be... inadvisable.”

I pulled into the drive of the Naval Observatory, and parked in the spot reserved for personal guests of the Vice President. We sat in silence for a moment, but then Kamala put her finger under my chin and gently pulled me to face her. She wore the same determined look that I’d seen on her face many times, before a debate or senate meeting, but now there was a softness to it. Meant only for me. 

“You are not some weakness I want to hide, Valerie.” My heart stopped, then resumed by pumping the most lovely warmth through my veins. I really wanted to believe what she was saying, but… how could she possibly mean that? I bit my lip as she leaned closer. “I need you. Do I strike you as a woman who does anything without some kind of plan?”

“You have a plan?” I blurted. “Why didn’t you lead with that months ago?” 

“I’m only human. I wasn’t sure if you were… interested.” 

I reached across the car and caressed her cheek. It was unimaginable to me that anyone wouldn’t be interested if Kamala came onto them, even bluntly. But I was biased. Color rose to meet my fingers, and the enclosed space of my car grew warm. 

“I’m interested, clearly. So what’s your–” 

Kamala’s lips met mine before I could finish my question, but it was forgotten in the feel of her all around me. I was extremely thankful I’d splurged on heavily tinted windows.

We managed to make it inside without clueing in half of the Secret Service to our blossoming romance, but only just. As soon as the door was shut and locked, Kamala pressed me up against it. Purses were dropped, clothes were shed and flung about, and lush kiss after kiss led us to the first stable surface we could stumble to– her massive sectional couch. I had no chance to admire the thing because the only single point in the universe I could perceive was pressing her knee into my pulsating wetness. 

She climbed on top of me and I took that as an opportunity to kiss and fondle her breasts. They were heaven, and when I sucked her taut nipple into my mouth, I moaned, greedy, hungry. I tried to reach between us and touch Kamala, but she stopped me and pinned my hands above my head. 

“You’re such a top,” I whined as I tried to orient myself. In the hazy and shameful moments when I’d fantasized about having sex with Kamala, I’d imagined touching her, making her come, fucking her. But so far, I've been at her mercy. 

“Generally,” she admitted as she nibbled at my earlobe. “Comes with the territory. But actually, I have something for you.” Kamala rose with the grace of a lioness and stood almost entirely naked before me, save for her transparent stockings and black lace panties that would have matched her ruined bra. I stared, enraptured, trying to recover any sense other than pleasure. She offered me her beautifully manicured hand and pulled me up. “It’s in my bedroom.” 

Fuck.

I allowed myself to be led through the stunning house and up a flight of stairs. Her panties teased me with every step she took, and it was all I could do to keep from burying my face into the evidence of her arousal. 

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing at a massive four-poster bed that was immaculately made. I did as she said, so nervous and excited that I had to work to steady my breathing. Kamala strut past me with a wink, dug around in her nightstand for a few seconds, then pulled out– “Think you can handle this, Ms. Wright?” 

She tossed a flesh-colored strap-on into my lap. My mouth went dry. 

“Wearing it or taking it?” I asked, sure that I was so wet I would leave a stain on her pretty comforter. 

“Well, seeing as you could never manage to keep your eyes to yourself at work, I figured you must have been imagining me in compromising positions,” she drawled, hands on her hips. She hadn’t kicked off her heels yet, and stood before me like a fucking dominatrix. The sight had me actually salivating. “Was I correct, Ms. Wright?” 

“Um,” I swallowed, barely able to form coherent thoughts. But then, pieces clicked into place, and I realized what she was implying. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“That’s what I thought. Well?” she shifted her weight back, and the swell of her breasts caught the dim light of the bedside lamp. “Come show me.” 

I stood, maintaining eye contact as I slipped the straps around my legs and waist, and walked towards her. The weight of the toy seemed to pull at my pussy, becoming an extension of it. God is this happening? Kamala bit her lip, arousal so plain on her face that she could no longer maintain the smirk she’d been flaunting.

With a suppressed groan, I pulled her roughly into me. I needed her. Her skin, her lips, her moans, so breathy and desperate in my mouth as I explored hers with my tongue. Kamala melted into my arms, but a sharp gasp left her as the dildo made contact with her panties. Spurred on by the way she thrust against me, needy, I dragged her to the bed and pushed her onto it. There was a blazing fire in her eyes as she propped herself on her elbows and reached for me, but I only caught her hand and kissed it.

Confusion mingled with need in her expression until I gripped the top of her stockings and began peeling them off of her. Inch by agonizing inch, her lovely light umber skin was revealed to me. I followed the thin transparent fabric with my lips, loving the way Kamala squirmed beneath me. 

“You’re a tease, Val,” she panted, gripping the sheets with her sexy hands. I laughed under my breath, but didn’t stop. 

“When the Vice President offers herself to you, you can’t just fuck her and be done with it,” I said, staring into her eyes as I kissed my way back up. I stopped just short of the black lace, and Kamala trembled with anticipation. “Besides, I want a taste first.” 

I peeled back her panties faster than the stockings, getting impatient myself, and the most delicious, most divine pussy lips revealed themselves to me. She kept a short landing strip that I ran my finger across in lustful appreciation– her hips bucked, and a strangled little whimper left her mouth. Losing control, I yanked the panties all the way off, spread her legs, and kneeled before her. 

Her taste. Pleasure rocked through me as I plunged into her pretty folds tongue first. There was nothing like it, no other woman I’d been with could possibly compare. Kamala abandoned the sheets and dug her fingers into my hair instead, her moans filling the room. Her legs wrapped around my neck and shoulders, pinning me to her, but it was unnecessary, there was absolutely nowhere I’d rather be. 

I reached beneath the strap and pleasured myself, unable to help it, but I focused all of my real efforts on her. I licked up every drop of her arousal, teased her entrance, and finally wrapped my lips around her clit. That seemed to make her go crazy, so I sucked and flicked it with my tongue until she was practically screaming. 

“Val,” she called out. I looked up at her. She was on her elbows again, looking down at me with unfocused eyes. “I need you to– ah,” she moaned. Her eyes rolled back in her head as I filled her pussy with two of my fingers. “ Yes! More!”  

I added a third finger and she collapsed back onto the bed. God, she took it so well. I finally released her clit from my mouth so that I could finger her better, my pace increasing with the rise of her moans. She felt ready, but I wanted to hear it from her.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” I stood and pressed the tip of the thick dildo to her clit, marveling at the size she’d chosen for herself. I shuddered with pleasure to imagine that this wouldn’t be the first time it would be inside her. I wondered if she’d used it on herself while thinking about me.

“Yes, I want you so bad!” Kamala reached out to grip my waist as I positioned myself at her entrance. “Fuck me, Val, please.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

I pushed into her, watching the way her pussy lips parted around me as I did, ready to pass out from the sounds she was making. She took all of me, all the way, and I leaned forward, putting my hands on either side of her head. Kamala met my eyes, and God it felt like we were the only two people in the universe just then. 

My rhythm was slow at first, every movement careful and soft. Amongst the burning desire, there was another feeling that grew in my chest, one that was almost… timid. It was as unfamiliar to me as a good night’s sleep or a life outside of work. But staring into Kamala’s eyes, watching the pleasure roll across her with every thrust, I knew– I didn’t want to do this with anyone else ever again. 

An animal desire came over me, and I fucked Kamala faster, harder, savoring both her mewling cries as well as the wet sound of her pussy and our skin meeting again and again. We both uttered curses and oaths, and I felt each of hers as though the toy were actually part of me. She moved to rub her clit but I knocked her hand out of the way. 

“That’s my job,” I growled, and Kamala almost laughed, but she was too busy whimpering my name over and over again. 

“ Valerie, oh god, please don’t stop! Val–!” 

I didn’t, I couldn’t . I twirled her clit and relentlessly pumped in and out of her until I felt the moment she came. There was a tug on the strap and suddenly some resistance, but I pushed through it, causing Kamala’s wild cries of pleasure to reach higher than ever. I wished I could feel the way she must be clenching around the toy.

I slowed as her body went limp on the bed, and finally– reluctantly– pulled out of her. She whimpered at the loss, but I silenced her with a searing kiss and crawled onto the bed with her, pulling her back so her legs no longer dangled off the edge. I massaged her thighs and hips, helping her come back down to earth, and when she moved again, it was to put her arms around me. 

“That was,” she panted, still breathless. “The best fuck of my life. Where have you been, Valerie Wright? My goodness.” I laughed and pulled her into me, cradling her against my chest. “When you get to be my age, you’ll appreciate that you can still feel that good.”

“Hush, Kam,” the nickname came out of my mouth before I even thought about it, but it felt natural. “You’re not even that old.”

“Oh, so I’m a little old then?” she smirked up at me. 

“No! I mean– yes, but it’s hot,” I stammered. Then I blushed. She raised an eyebrow. “I, uh… I always had a thing for older women.” She stared at me, a smile stretching slowly across her lips.

“Lucky me,” she finally said, and with a contented sigh, she laid her head back down on my chest. There was silence for a spell, only interrupted by wind outside, but I sensed that Kamala had something on her mind. 

“I can hear you thinking,” I murmured. She denied it with a scoff. “I’ve spent more time with you in the last six months than I’ve ever spent with any one person. I know when you’re thinking.”

Kamala sighed and twisted her ring around her pinky. Habit.

“You… you really don’t mind, then? That I’m twenty odd years older than you? I know it's so early to be talking about the future, but…” she trailed off. I put my finger under her chin and tilted her head back so she could see my face. 

“There is literally nothing that’s going to stop me from being with you now. You wanted me, now you’re stuck with me.” I grinned and winked at her. But her face didn’t smooth entirely. “Really, Kamala. I want to be with you. It’s more than how sexy and powerful you are. You’re also silly and kind and you have this rebellious streak that is so attractive,” I was rambling. All of the feelings I’d kept locked away just wanted to pour forth. Watching the uncertainty melt away from her features made it worth it to reveal them. 

“I’m so glad you came to see me tonight. And just so you know,” she got on her elbows to meet my eyes properly, and I reached out to cup her cheek. The way she leaned into it, somehow, after all that we just did together, sent wave after wave of caressing heat across my body. “I don’t plan on hiding you, Valerie. We’ll need some time to come up with the best way to ‘come out,’ so to speak, but I want you to be by my side. I want everyone to know that I’m the lucky woman who snagged D.C.’s most eligible bachelorette.” 

I pulled Kamala in for a long and tender kiss. We talked and giggled and kissed some more, but exhaustion and the bliss of orgasm lured Kamala to sleep first. I pulled the covers over us, kissed her forehead, and finally fell asleep to the sound of her deep and even breathing and the smell of her shampoo.

Chapter Text

The next morning, I woke up to the most amazing smell in the world: bacon, eggs, and homemade pancakes. I blinked furiously as I came to, and it was a few seconds before I remembered where I was: Kamala Harris’ bed. The Vice President herself was nowhere to be found, but before I could feel a little sad that she wasn’t here, in she walked. She carried two heaping plates of food and a jug of orange juice tucked under her arm. 

“Good morning, you gorgeous thing,” she sang with a dazzling grin that lit up the whole room. I was speechless. Even with messy hair, baggy shirt and sweats, and smudged makeup, Kamala was still the single most beautiful woman in the world. 

I hopped out of bed and hurried to help her.

“Get back in bed!” she waved me away, laughing. But I didn’t listen. I took everything from her, set it down on the nightstand, and swept her up in my arms. Kamala was a storm of giggles as I swung her around, and I giggled right along with her. When I set her back down, she kissed me, and whether it was that or the spinning, I was dizzy. 

“Sorry,” I murmured against her lips. “I just... Last night could have been a dream, and I’m really glad it wasn’t.”

“Me too.” She pulled away to look at me, but left her arms where they were around my neck. “Valerie,” she sighed. “I love you.” 

Oh! I stopped breathing and stared into her warm, melted chocolate eyes. That timid feeling I had last night burned much hotter in my chest, much more forcefully. Ah. 

“I love you, too.” 

The sunlight streaming into her bedroom seemed to dance across her flushed cheeks and sparkle in her eyes, and I was left speechless once again. But no words were necessary. We let our bodies do the talking. And once they were satisfied– not completely , I would never have enough of her– we finally ate breakfast in bed. 

“Someone is in a good mood,” Miller whispered to me as we stood backstage at Kamala’s last rally before the election. I wanted to tell him to shut up and mind his business, but I also felt oddly indebted to him. 

“Maybe,” I admitted, forcing my face into neutrality. 

“So is the VP,” he added. “Wonder what that’s about.” I elbowed him lightly while fighting back a wide grin. It was all so fresh that I felt like a teenager. “Alright, alright. I’m just glad she’s got her sparkle back. It was honestly terrifying to see her so…” 

I winced, but I didn’t let the guilt linger. It was settled now, we just had to get through the election. And then… 

Kamala had explained her plan to me, but I was extremely reluctant. My priority had always been to get her to the white house, but my secondary priority was that she remain in the White House. In good standing. As much as I would love being with her publicly, to have her be proud to be with me, I would always want what was best for her. 

The first part of the plan was to drop hints, and she did so expertly. 

“I said it before– I will always fight for love . I do it already, and… maybe a little more recently.” Kamala paused for cheers, and winked with her signature smile. “You all remember how it felt that first time you fell in love?” Another pause for cheers. “Well, America, I’ll fight for you with that kind of love. Unabashed, Unrestrained, maybe a little undignified sometimes.” She worked crowds masterfully. Half of America must be in love with her by now. I knew I was. 

Each news channel remarked on her words, but few were outright negative.

“I don’t know, John, it seems like the Vice President has someone new in her life. All this talk of ‘first love’ and ‘fighting for love.’ It’s something to wonder about, that’s for sure.” 

“It is rather odd, we finally come this close to electing a female president, and she’s single and childless. But maybe not for long? I mean, if she’s been ‘fighting for love’ recently…” 

“Did you notice that she kept it real vague, Cathy? If there’s a partner in her life, America will be wondering– I mean, look at her support of the LGBTQ+ community– it would be a real win for them.”

The next part of the plan was something that I preferred not to think about. I hadn’t agreed to it yet, and Kamala would only go through with it if I did. 

“Ms. Wright, it will be enough that you’re a woman. If you remain on her payroll, that’ll look even worse,” said the stringbean of a man named Charles, who’d been Kamala’s advisor for many years. He was one of the few people who Kamala had informed about our relationship, and if she trusted him, then I probably should, too. 

“So what am I supposed to do, just drop my career and become a typical First Lady?” I asked, overwhelmed and exhausted. The election was in two days. Sometimes, waking felt more like a dream than my actual dreams. 

“Essentially, yes.”  

Kamala put her hand on mine and reassured me, for the nth time, that we didn’t have to go through with it if I didn’t want to. But I wanted to. I just needed some time to cope with the reality that a relationship with the soon-to-be-President meant giving up much of what I had created my life around, at least for the duration of her time in office.

On the day of the election, I woke Kamala up with a breakfast sandwich I’d made in her enormous kitchen, and a kiss. 

“Today’s the day. Nervous?” I asked, climbing into bed next to her. The sky was still dark. We needed to be at campaign headquarters in just a few hours, and I’d been up since three, packing, prepping, and hyperventilating. 

But Kamala honestly looked… totally at peace. 

“I have a hard time believing that anyone could vote for that– that m–” she broke off, shaking her head. 

“Say it! You know I love hearing it.”

“That mothafucka!” 

We both dissolved into giggles. 

Campaign headquarters was a frantic crush of bodies, and it was difficult to maintain any kind of peace. There was a scramble for last minute social media blasts, calls, emails, anything and everything we could all do to ensure that Kamala had the best chance at victory. The only solace was that Kamala was a natural at filming short and adorable videos of herself for tiktok, so I got to watch and bask in her infectious aura along with everyone else. 

Until it came to another part of her plan– a very subtle moment where Kamala introduced some of her campaign staff, including me. 

“And finally, this is Valerie Wright, my incredible chief of staff. I have her to thank for most of my campaign's success.” Kamala grinned at me as she held the phone so that we were both in frame, and I grinned back. I wasn’t acting, and neither was she. I wondered what it would look like to everyone, both in the room and online. “I also owe most of my sanity to her. I couldn’t have made it through this campaign without you, Val. Thank you. ”

I blushed, and those around us made noises of affection and excitement. Then it was over. Or… almost over. Kamala stopped recording, then reached out to brush her fingers along my cheek and jaw. I couldn’t breathe. The moment ended when Kamala was called away and left me with a wink.

That hadn’t been part of the plan. But I saw the brilliance of it as I caught surprised and curious glances from my staffers. Miller stood a few feet away, his mouth slightly open, arms crossed, looking like he’d just gotten the best tea of his life. The tiktok had its own subtleties, and now anyone in this room who was watching got even more. Pieces of a rumor would start to gather together until Kamala would stand in front of the country and arrange them in a way that made sense.

I watched social media carefully, waiting, hoping all of these little hints might land and also dreading that they would. 

Did anyone else see the way Kamala looked at her chief of staff?? I would FAINT if she looked at me like that *heart eyes*

There was SO MUCH in the way Mother Coconut said her name, am I wrong???

Kamala’s chief of staff has the hots for her boss and so do I! LET’S GO LESBIANS!!

Oh, the hints were landing . Leave it to the queer community to read into the tiniest of interactions in the hope of finding representation. Well, this time, they were right. I couldn’t help feeling a little smug that, while all of these fellow sapphics openly lusted after the Vice President, I was the one who had the privilege of sharing her bed.

And then it was time to start watching the tally. I stood beside Kamala, doing my best not to look as though I felt anything more for her than I should as her chief of staff, but she didn’t seem to care. She hooked her arm around mine and leaned in to whisper to me.

“ I love you.” I shuddered and bit my lip. “I’m sorry for not warning you, it just struck me in the moment. Was that okay?”

“Yes. You’re a genius,” I whispered back. “The staffers are going to be watching us like hawks from now on. Miller already knows, by the way. He guessed.”

“Oh I know,” she said with a laugh. “He kept making innuendos yesterday as we went over my acceptance speech with Charles. I like him. He’s got spunk .”

“Spunk is definitely one word for it,” I agreed darkly, deeply disapproving of his audacity to make innuendos at our boss, the Vice President of the United States. But I found Miller again in the crowd and he winked at me. He was definitely growing on me.  

I was glad to be linked arm in arm with Kamala as we waited. The numbers trickled in, then came in enormous waves. Not as calm as she seemed, Kamala dug her nails into my arm, so I soothed her by caressing the back of her hand. I was so on edge that I didn’t care who might see. As we neared the end of the night, I knew cameras would soon be trained on Kamala if they weren’t already. The numbers were close, but we still had the majority. However, as we all acutely remembered, majority isn’t always a deciding factor. 

“Val!” she called, clutching me so tight it was painful. Broadcasters on every screen were calling it, the electoral college was– “Val, we did it!”  

The room exploded into cheers and we were all showered with confetti as all poise and decorum vanished entirely. I pulled Kamala into a hug and we danced around, yelling incoherently and being extremely undignified. Hands found us, or rather, they found Kamala , and she was hugged, congratulated, and spun around more by her sister and nieces, and soon the room was chanting her name. It was a gloriously happy moment that I knew I would remember for the rest of my life. 

“This is Valerie Wright,” Kamala gestured at me, and I stepped forward, waving at her family. We were in Kamala’s hotel room, still recovering from the excitement of the win days later.

“Auntie, we’ve already met her!” said one of her little nieces. Kamala’s sister was smirking, and when she caught my eye, she winked. She must already know.

“I know, sweetheart,” Kamala said with the kind of smile she reserved for her nieces. My heart fluttered when she took my hand. “But you met her as my chief of staff. I want to introduce her again as someone very special to me.”

“I knew it!” her other niece cried, grinning at us. “I heard at school– some of the older kids–”

“Were you gossiping about your auntie?” their mother chastised them, but Kamala laughed. 

“That was our grand plan, and it looks like it worked!” Kamala knelt in front of her young nieces, but didn’t let go of my hand. I ran my fingers through her hair absentmindedly. “I love Valerie, and she loves me. But we have to be careful about how we announce that we’re dating, because there are some people who would try to use it against us. I plan on doing that really soon, would you like to help?” 

“Yes!” they both said, jumping up and down in excitement. I couldn’t help but grin at them. Kamala’s older niece, their mother, smiled at me with genuine warmth.  

“I hear we’re all going to help,” she said. 

“That’s the plan,” I confirmed, speaking for the first time. There was a hush as the Harris family all looked at me. I’d met them all before, but this was much different. “Kamala wants to–” she shot me a glare and I hurried to correct myself– “ We want to announce our relationship at the White House New Year’s party. And we’d like you all to be there. You’re the most important people to Kamala, and I know it would mean a lot to her, and to me, to have you there.”

They all beamed and nodded, and for the first time, I felt hopeful about Kamala’s insistence on coming out about us. After all, who could resist the incredible Harris family charm?

Chapter Text

Somehow, even after nearly two months of speculation, Kamala and I still hadn’t been found out. After the election, the gossip about a possible romantic relationship continued but eventually got drowned out by transition updates, world events, and the ever-reliable and ever-shrinking attention span of the public. We both wished that we could just do it , but Charles had assured us that the plan was paramount for how our relationship would be perceived. I sometimes thought the man was full of it, but the decision was Kamala’s in the end, and she wanted to do it right. She really wanted to make our relationship public at an official event so there would be no question as to how important it was to her, and she didn’t want it to come from anyone but her. Us.

Us. I couldn’t say that the months after her landslide victory had been easy or peaceful, but they were still some of the best of my life. We toured the country together (though we kept a professional distance when we weren’t fucking like bunnies in her hotel rooms), saw a few sights, and got to meet so many amazing people. There was so much hope in the country now that it left me feeling like we could do this . And with only a week before the New Year’s party, I needed to tell her.

“Kam?” I murmured as we lay together in bed. She was reading a book and I had been answering emails, but I’d just shut my laptop and tossed it aside. 

“Yeah baby girl?” It still gave me flutters. 

“I was thinking about… being First Lady,” I began. Kamala shut her book with a soft snap and set it aside. I had her full attention, which was a heady thing. “I want to do it.” 

“Really?” she breathed, a smile forming on surprised, plump lips. “Because you want to, right? Not because it's what you think I want?” 

“Yes,” I assured her. “Being with you…” I sighed, not sure how to articulate how she made me feel. How she’d changed me. “I was always interested in politics, but not necessarily in being a politician. I wanted to help behind the scenes. But watching you fight and empower and be this fucking beacon of hope,” I was getting a little choked up, but I swallowed and went on. “I want to do something with everything I’ve learned from you. I want to be someone you can be proud to be with.”

“Valerie Wright,” she started, her smile turning stern at my last few words. “I am proud to be with you!” Kamala took my face into her hands when she saw that I was about to argue. “No– you listen to me : I would not have been able to win the election without you. There’s a reason we were hiring your position, and there’s a reason you were chosen to fill it. I didn’t know that I’d end up falling for you,” she caressed my cheeks and paused to kiss me. “But I don’t regret a moment of it. I’m about to change this country because of you and the staff you whipped into shape.”

“There you go proving my point,” I sighed, feeling buoyed by her passionate little speech. “You just spread this energy wherever you go, it’s so hot.”

“Mmmm… speaking of hot,” she purred, trailing her hand down my body. “Is your period over? I miss you .” Kamala emphasized the need in her voice by leaning in and nibbling my lower lip. Blistering heat gathered between my legs, where there was, unfortunately, still a tampon.

“Not quite,” I said with a heaving sigh. Uteruses were extremely inconvenient most of the time. “But I am still perfectly capable of fucking you into oblivion, ma’am.” 

“Oh I know you are.” 

Kamala hitched her leg over me and straddled my waist. I tugged her nightshirt over her head and wasted no time in eliciting every kind of sound I could from her until she was grinding her dampening panties into me. I toyed with her clit, relishing how her face revealed every nuance of pleasure, the way her hands looked as they closed around the bed frame, veins showing, the mind-numbing glory in the swell of her full breasts. 

“Hang on there, tiger,” she ordered, catching my hand as it made its way to her dripping wet entrance. She pinned it above my head, and stared down at me, perfectly aware that this would drive me crazy. “I got a bit carried away, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not.” 

She gave me that half scolding, half pleased look that I was so fond of seeing her wear– and she wore it a lot with me. 

“You were talking about being First Lady?” she prompted, returning to her original position in the bed. Right.

“Yeah, I…” I felt almost embarrassed to tell her what I wanted. “I want to do something that matters. I don’t know what yet… I feel like I don’t really know who I am outside of my job.”

“You’ll figure it out, honey,” she crooned. “You’ll have more free time, at least! Mostly. There are, of course, several ceremonial duties–” 

“ Eugh –” I groaned, turning over to stuff my face into the pillow. “As long as I don’t have to wear a dress.” My voice was muffled, but she heard me. 

“But you would look so hot in a dress!” Kamala spanked me, just hard enough to send shockwaves of pleasure straight to my clit. Before I could move to retaliate, she’d pinned my arms above my head again. “Mmm… My First Lady,” she whispered into my ear and pressed her body onto mine. “You will be the arbiter of fashion, you can wear whatever you like. Look at Jackie Kennedy, or Lady Bird Johnson– they were trendsetters. If you say dresses are out–” Kamala rolled me back over and mounted me once again. “–then they’ll be out .” 

I gripped her waist as she rolled her hips into me, that familiar wild spark in her eyes. It was still hard to believe that this woman, this classy professional with her power suits and her death glares in the capital, could become such a wild, sexual being. 

“Anything for you, Madam President,” I vowed. 

“I love hearing that.” Kamala leaned down to kiss my neck. “Say it again, Val,” she commanded into my ear.

“I would do anything for you, Madam President.”

With a growl, Kamala seized my hand and pressed it into her. I took over, rubbing over her wet lace panties, ravenous. The good thing about being with an older woman was that Kamala no longer suffered the monthly affliction that I still did, and was ready to be devoured whenever I wanted– in her limo, in her office, and even once, just before she spoke at the White House press briefing. Being her chief of staff had its benefits: nobody questioned us being alone together. But that would soon come to an end. 

“Ms. Wright,” Kamala grabbed my chin, forcing my gaze back up at her and away from her deliciously dangling breasts. “Show me how a First Lady takes care of her President.” 

I grinned as I maneuvered us, feeling devilish, feeling smug. The president, the most powerful person in the country, was at my mercy. Where best to show her exactly how honored I was? And then, the most devilish idea of all occurred to me. 

“Your security detail– they don’t monitor the pool area, do they?”

“No– not after–” My words seemed to take a moment to sink past the lust, but then realization struck her. A surprised, needy gaze met mine, her tongue landing at the edges of her top teeth. “I’m not great at keeping my voice down, especially while you ravage me.”

“Would it be so bad if the American people knew their president was so thoroughly satisfied? I’d actually be relieved. They say people who have regular sex are much happier, much less likely to make rash, harmful decisions.” 

“Well, when you put it like that,” she murmured, logical thought somewhat escaping her as I continued to rub her plump bud. I slipped on my strap, swept Kamala into my arms bridal style, and carried her, both of us giggling with excitement and nerves, out to the pool. 

The jacuzzi seemed best, as cold as it was outside, and when I finally sank into its heat with Kamala, we both sighed in relief. That relief quickly burned away with hurried, sloppy kisses and wandering hands, and it wasn’t long before Kamala was once again straddling me, taking her power bottom duties very seriously. 

“Ma’am,” I said, capturing her attention before she could sit herself on the dildo. I gripped her ass, stopping her, leaving her to groan with need. I couldn’t keep from chuckling darkly. “I thought you wanted me to take care of you.” 

“Val, I don’t care how– I need you, baby girl. Please,” she begged, writhing in my grip. I flipped her around and pressed her against the side of the jacuzzi. Hot water sloshed over the side in my haste to satisfy her, splashing loudly against the wood of the deck. The sound of it seemed to signal pleasure. 

I wrapped Kamala’s silky brown hair around my fist and kissed her back as I positioned myself at her entrance. God. This would never get old. Never. I eased into her, sliding inch by inch into her pussy until her ass was pressed flush against my hips, and her whimpering cries joined the soft bubbling of the jacuzzi. 

Every thrust sent fresh waves of the steaming water spilling over the sides, but I had long since stopped caring. The sight of Kamala bent over the edge of the jacuzzi, the sound of her moans, the feel of her against me– it was heaven on earth. I latched onto the side of her throat with my mouth as I plunged deep inside her, sucking, fucking, fulfilling her every desire as though I could read her mind. When I felt her getting close– she grew rigid against me, and began pleasuring herself– I released the pent up animal within me, the one who I suppressed at work, in meetings, in the White House hallways, even in the Oval Office. To watch Kamala in her element– fuck , there was nothing sexier. I knew I would miss it when I was no longer working so closely with her. 

“Oh, fuck, you fuck me so– so good! Oh–!” Kamala wasn’t troubling to keep her voice low, as she’d warned, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the way her ass gave again and again as I plowed into her. The water splashing onto the deck may as well have been the state of my own pussy. “Val, oh god–!”  

She came with a wild groan, one I could feel start deep in her chest as I gripped her to me, humping relentlessly, taking over on her clit when she went slack against my body. Mewling screams of ecstasy rent the air, and I felt bursting full of love– of pleasure– of–

“Madam Vice President! Madam– are you–!?” 

“ Shit!” I gasped and released Kamala as I saw the ginger head of Agent Han come around the far corner of the large yard, some distance from us, but there’d be no doubt as to who we were and what we were doing. Kamala, still caught in the daze of pleasure, was slow to realize our predicament, but she pressed herself against me as though seeking cover. I wrapped my arms around her– even if I couldn’t teleport us away from this mortifying ordeal, I would at least protect her privacy as much as I could. As Agent Han neared us, I pulled Kamala with me as I sank into the bubbles until everything but our heads was obscured. 

“Madam Vice– Oh.” She was now close enough to see the extent of what she’d interrupted, and she stumbled to a halt as she took in the sight. The Vice President and President-elect, disrobed in a jacuzzi with her own chief of staff. Even if she already knew, I was well aware that it was a sight you couldn’t really be prepared for. But she was a professional, and only a light blush colored her cheeks. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I heard– well–” 

“That’s alright, Emily,” Kamala said, having gathered herself together. “I’m fine.” Clearly, I added to her words in my head. There was a proprietary gleam in Agent Han’s eyes, and whether it was due to being assigned as her personal detail, or something else, I didn’t like it. She was going to have to get used to the idea of us at some point. The agent cleared her throat before speaking. 

“Alright, ma’am. My apologies. In the future, maybe– a warning? The sounds were, uh, concerning, especially so late.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kamala said, her voice rather tighter than it usually was when speaking to Agent Han. The agent nodded, and turned to leave, but Kamala stopped her. “Not a word to your captain, please, Emily?”

“Of-of course ma’am.” Agent Han’s eyes flicked to mine for the first time, and– oh, wow. She was jealous. We both watched in silence as the retreating feminine form jogged away and back around to where the secret service stood guard. 

“Oh my god,” Kamala sighed, finally relaxing into me. “I can’t believe that just happened.” 

“Hey, I’m sure agents have seen much worse than two consenting adults having a little fun,” I whispered into her ear. She hummed into me, and the sound was tinged with anxiety. “Breathe, baby.” I caressed her back, coaxing her into her usual post-orgasm bliss, and she acquiesced. 

“You’re right. You’re always right, Val. I feel extremely well-taken care of.”

We relaxed against one another for a little while, brushing lazy kisses on the other’s shoulder or cheek, until finally, Kamala rose. Droplets of water ran down her chest and off the peak of her nipples, and the sight speared me through with desire. 

“Shall we, honey?” 

I took her offered hand and let her lead us back inside. We rinsed off, and she nearly made me come standing against the wall of her immense shower. 

“When we’re back in bed,” she promised as I whined, so wound up, so needy. 

Finally dry, finally wrapped in the warm sheets we’d abandoned in our horny haze, she touched me again. Her fingers, delicate but strong, found my aching, pulsating clit, and I almost shattered around her. 

“Someone sounds a little frustrated,” she purred, and she pulled her hand away. 

“Kam–” I begged. The desire was almost painful as she loomed above me, watching me, biting her lip at me. “ Please–”

“I don’t know, I think you enjoyed all of that–” she waved behind her– “A little too much. Was that your plan all along? To get us caught?”

“No,” I answered, my hips bucking towards where Kamala knelt between my legs. “Why do you think I asked if– if they monitor–”

“Hm, I don’t know if I believe that,” she smirked, her prosecutor’s glare shining through in a way that sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. “It’s really too bad… I love hearing you come.” 

“Madam President, I had– I had no intention of–” I let out a sharp gasp as she pressed her knee against my center. “Of putting you in an uncomfortable situation–”

“Uncomfortable!” Kamala laughed deviously, and it sent shudders up and down my spine. “That was mortifying– the look on Emily’s face…” There was some truth to this act of hers, but in my state I couldn’t think, couldn’t comfort, couldn’t truly appreciate that there was some small part of Kamala that had enjoyed getting caught. “Oh well, that’s not the first time she’s caught me in a compromising position.”

“ What?” I gasped, my own need eclipsed by this information. Kamala pushed me back down– I’d started to sit up to assess her seriousness– and pinned me there while she settled herself between my legs. “Sh–she caught— ”

Kamala silenced my sputtering with a kiss and my focus broke. Her knee was pressed into me, right where she wanted it: just slightly above where I wanted it to be. She was so mean. 

“One evening, not long after you were hired,” she began, weaving the story in a husky whisper. “You left my office with this smile– god, Val, I was so attracted to you. Every time you fought against me or called me ‘ma’am’ with that little nod— mmm…” she got lost in the memory. But when she came back, she found me staring up at her in awe, with a hunger for her to continue. “Remember how you would never leave the building until I did? I used to get so frustrated… I just wanted to be alone in my office, to know that you wouldn’t come in so that I could touch myself to the idea that you might. One night, you did leave before me, and I took my chance.” Kamala’s nails dug into my waist, and the pressure at my center increased. Just a little lower, please. But she didn’t give me what I wanted. 

“So Agent Han, she walked in?” I asked, eager for her to go on. She bit her lip and nodded. “I’m surprised she didn’t offer to help.” That took her by surprise, and I giggled, too needy to mask it. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” But Kamala just looked at me with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk. “She’s got it bad for you.” The words burned my mouth on their way out, and it must have shown. 

“That bothers you, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes,” I admitted. 

And finally, Kamala returned her fingers to my desperately aching clit. Stars burst in my eyes and the sounds that came out of me were so embarrassing that even lost in delirious pleasure, I noticed the way they caused Kamala to grin openly, hungrily. Every movement of her hand rocked through me like a ship on stormy seas. 

“ Only you get to have me, Val. No one else,” Kamala vowed, taking my face into her free hand as I reached the peak of pleasure and came so hard that even the weight of her couldn’t hold me down. I writhed into her hand, so overcome that it felt like I might cry, until finally, the waves ebbed. She kissed my face and whispered sweet things into my ear while my body settled back into reality, and I wrapped my arms around her. 

“You can be really kinky, Kam,” I said, biting back a laugh. 

“Oh baby girl,” she cooed, a smirk still twisting her lips. “You have no idea.”

I rolled my eyes despite the fresh arousal, and left to clean up. 

The lights were out and the house was quiet but for that settling creak that plagues older homes. Kamala was nestled beside me, running her fingers through my hair, breathing evenly and seeming totally at peace. So her words shocked me. 

“I’m going to have to fire Agent Han,” she said, in such a matter-of-fact tone that it was a few seconds before the words registered. I turned to face her, and found her eyes in the dark, just the slightest sparkle in them from whatever ambient light managed to get past her blackout curtains. 

“Because she caught us having sex?” I asked.

“Not exactly… You said she has feelings for me.”

“I could be wrong,” I offered. But I didn’t think I was. Over the past two months, I’d caught quite a few cold looks from the agent, and that gleam in her eyes tonight, well… “But why fire her? She’s your best agent: never late, never rude, never–”

“Because if she’s harboring feelings for me that I can never reciprocate, wouldn’t it be kinder to let her go?” Kamala’s voice was low, almost as though she were hiding pain. I caressed her cheek, and wished I had just a little more light to see her by. 

“What’s really bothering you, baby?” There was something in the way she bit her lip… “I’m sorry I said anything– I’m probably seeing things– Or–”

“Shh. That night she caught me the first time… I should have seen it. Her eyes lingered, she lingered. She left pretty quickly after she made sure I was okay, but... She’s never done anything to make me question her professionalism, except for that one night. I was so distracted by you that I didn’t really notice. No wonder she hasn’t been as friendly with me since I told her about us.” 

“What did you tell her?” I asked, curious not for the first time, but I’d never asked before. 

“I–” she broke off, and let out a huff. “It was the same day that you momentarily broke my heart.” 

“ Oh. Kamala, I’m so–”

“ Shhh , Val, ” she hushed me again, more forcefully, and with her fingers at my lips. “Forgiven a thousand times over. Anyway, she found me crying in my office that evening, and I suppose… I just needed someone to tell. She was very nice, but she had this angry set to her mouth, and she did her best to keep me from you whenever she could, not that I’d asked. And you didn’t let her do it for very long,” she added, curling her arms around my neck. Then she sighed deeply. “Maybe I’ll speak with her… I’d rather it all be out on the table than fire her without cause. Perhaps we’re both wrong.”

“I hope so. You don’t need any more stress,” I muttered, smoothing a line between her brows. 

“That’s what I have you for, baby girl.”

We fell silent again, and after a while, her breathing grew deeper, and her arms slack. I continued to hold her and press my face into her freshly washed hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, and thanking every cosmic being that might or might not exist that she chose me.

Chapter Text

“Is my makeup okay?” I asked Miller, feeling frantic, feeling– 

God. We were about to come out. On national television. My suit was a shimmery dark silver thing that Kamala’s wardrobe specialist chose to go with her dress, possibly the most stunning one she’d ever worn that sparkled with every satiny twist and fell to her shins. She was the main focus, and I was her blushing new partner. I had the blushing down. Now I just needed my legs to work. 

“Your makeup is gorg , now come on, she’s waiting!” Miller sounded more excited than I was. He didn’t have to stand beside the President-elect and become the nation’s most interesting subject of conversation. He didn’t just sit through a few days’ worth of reviewing every second of my life since birth: school records from kinder to grad school, exhaustive lists of friends and family, and any and all romantic history, including flings. At least being a workaholic had left very little time for a personal life that could be used against me. Or really, against Kamala . 

There wasn’t a moment when I regretted giving in to her, but sometimes I wondered… Did I really understand what I was getting myself into? 

But as we rounded the hall just outside the chamber being used for this party, I saw her, and every thought but an incoherent awe was wiped from my mind. 

“Val,” she reached out and took my hand, lacing her fingers with mine as though this wasn’t insane. But she was strength and dignity personified. 

Her family stood around her, all smiles and flashes of silver, all looking much more ready to walk out there than I was. Kamala seemed to notice my panic, because she pulled me aside and cupped my face in her soft palms. 

“You don’t have to do this,” she said in a gentle but firm tone. “Say the word, and I walk out there by myself.” 

Kamala was serious. If I backed out, I knew she would do exactly what she said, and wouldn’t show the pain beneath her charming grin. No. I was done hiding, locking away the most important parts of myself so as to appear unconnected, untethered to the freedoms and joys of life.

“I love you,” I stated, gripping her arms as she continued to caress my cheeks. “Let’s do this.”

Kamala grinned and leaned in to give me a quick but searing kiss. Miller let out a little whistle and I glared at him once Kamala had released me. 

“Miller,” Kamala said, sauntering towards him, hooking her arm around mine. “If you can promise me that all your comments and innuendos will be kept behind closed doors, I am prepared to offer you quite the promotion.”

That wiped the smug look off his face, replacing it with a grateful– if embarrassed– smile. 

“Yes, ma’am. I promise.” He nodded once, and when Kamala redirected her attention to the opening doors, the smug jerk winked at me. I could offer nothing in return but a grimace as Kamala led me forward. 

Lights flashed and cameras clicked as our glittering troop walked through the doors, and a wave of noise crashed over me. I focused on the firm grip Kamala had on my arm, both anchoring and guiding me forward to the small stage erected at the center-back of the room. They’d allowed a small group of press to attend, and none of them could help but shout questions at us. I couldn’t distinguish a single one. 

Kamala and I stepped up to the waiting microphone stand as her family arranged themselves around us. Her oldest niece put a hand on my shoulder. Warm, confident fingers once again twined themselves in mine as Kamala took the mic and began speaking to the assembled crowd, most of whom were still muttering and making awed little noises. 

“Happy New Year’s!” she began, and the captivated crowd cheered, though probably not as much as they would have done before Kamala walked out hand-in-hand with a woman, too eager for her to explain that . She looked over at me and smiled before continuing. “I bet you’re all wondering who this beautiful woman next to me is–” Louder cheering interrupted her and she laughed, waving at them to get it out of their system. “Well, I have the absolute privilege of introducing Valerie Wright, the woman who will become our next First Lady once I’m sworn in.” 

Questions, cameras, jostling bodies below, Secret Service muttering into their earpieces all around the stage. None of it could touch me though, not with Kamala’s steady grip on my hand. She once again had to allow the audience to calm themselves before continuing, but it was a longer period this time. Senators, congresspeople, their partners and families, anyone who was anyone in D.C. was in the room. I wondered how it looked being broadcast to whoever cared to tune in. A group of the more liberal democrats in congress stood to our right, whooping and grinning, and it gave me an ounce more strength. 

“Alright, alright,” Kamala captured the audience again, and they quieted down. “I’m sure I know the question on everyone’s mind: ‘isn’t this the Vice President’s chief of staff?’ And you’d be right,” Kamala nodded, the perfect mixture of abashed and stubborn, as though daring anyone to comment on it. Her words elicited a surprised laugh from the room. “But this woman right here- she is half the reason I stand before you, about to be sworn in at all, and not just because she was indeed an amazing chief of staff. I fell in love with her.”

I practically swooned. Ooh’s and aww’s echoed around the room, drowning out whatever muttering there still was, and Kamala and I shared a brief moment in our bubble together. The lights made her eyes sparkle like clouds of cosmic dust, and I was lost within them as she went on. 

“Valerie carried me through one of the hardest campaigns of my life, from start to finish, and directed herself with the utmost respect for the office. But sometimes,” Kamala reached up with the hand still holding mine and brushed my cheek with the back of her knuckles. “Love strikes in the most unexpected of places and the most inopportune of times. Though I think you’ll all agree,” she waved at the crowd. “I take the cake for most unexpected, huh?”

As always, she was an amazing public speaker. So honest, so personable that I bet even the staunchest of republicans felt a heartstring or two get plucked, even if they vehemently denied it. If I hadn’t been held up by her niece’s hand and Kamala’s sure grip on mine, I would have certainly been a puddle. 

Kamala went on to announce that I was stepping down from my role. I gave a small bow, and then stepped back so that she could reintroduce her family members, and the adorable little ones stole the whole show with a repeat performance of Kamala’s name pronunciation guide. She was so beautiful with them– it made my heart swell with something , a feeling so intense I chalked it up to love. A wide and true smile transformed her face into pure joy, and as she held out the microphone to the girls, I put my arm around her waist. Natural as breathing. More camera clicks went off, but I didn’t care. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

Alcohol smoothed out any of the remaining rough edges on my nerves as the night fell into celebration. Music filled the large room and little crowds, now emboldened by liquid courage, filed onto the dance floor. I watched from my usual spot on the wall, Kamala having gone off to receive congratulations, handshakes, and well-wishes. Right now, she was shaking Barack Obama’s hand, and they laughed at some shared joke, bumping shoulders. The revolving disco ball threw light around the room, and it danced off Kamala’s dress, making her the true center of attention, and I could tell I wasn’t the only one watching her. 

A huddle of old republican house members, who participated most strongly in the constant attacks all throughout Kamala’s campaign while bolstering their blustering fool of a candidate, stood not far from me, throwing furtive looks at Kamala, and at me. I could just catch a bit of their conversation.

“... and of course she would bang the secretary, she’s always thought herself part of the ol’ boys club,” one man, representing one of South Carolina’s districts, spat at his fellows. 

“I’m not complaining, Frank, let her wet-blanket her own presidency with this nonsense. She’ll never get a single, signable bill across her desk while she flouts this woman–” he gestured towards me, then saw that I was staring at them, openly, with a smile on my face. I took another drink of my cocktail as I passed by other attendees who all fell conspicuously silent as I approached the men. They’d quit their muttering, and a few even tried for placating smiles. Another man, from Virginia, spoke up.

“Ms. Wright! Woman of the hour. You must admit, I’m sure–” he said, with an admirable attempt at amiability as I stood before them, waiting with polite bemusement for him to continue shoving his foot down his throat. “This is very sudden, and unusual. It could almost come across as a way to jumpstart your own career when, in a few years, the President-elect will have to step down.” 

“I can assure you, Congressman Walsh, that the only possible motivating factor for putting myself in the hotseat of the country is love for our new President-elect. Also, Congressman Underwood,” I addressed the man who’d made the first comment I heard.  “I wasn’t her secretary, perhaps you’re confusing me with one of your secretaries?” His face went from red to pale white at my words. I stepped closer, making sure that the only people who could hear my next words were the man and his few fellows that stood like statues around us. I made my voice low and biting. “Or projecting, perhaps? I’m sure your wife would be extremely pleased to know how well you treat Ms. Carter, wouldn’t you agree?”

The balding schmuck sucked in an angry breath, but was held back from responding with a restraining hand from the man on his left. I grinned, but before I could take my leave, Kamala joined me, threading her arm through mine and all my traces of harsh feelings melted away. 

“Gentlemen! I hope you’re being nice to my First Lady.” 

“Of course, Madam President-elect,” they grumbled. But one man stood his ground. Kamala looked at him, appraising him with that menacing glint of steel in her eye that I knew so well. 

“And you, Congressman Keller?”

“Well, Vice President—“

“It’s President-elect now, actually. But go on, I’m sure this will be good.” Kamala wore a dangerous smirk, and I wanted to kiss her, right there and then. 

“Madam President-elect,” he said through gritted teeth. “I was just telling these fine gentlemen— how am I to explain to my constituents that their president had an affair with one of her staff? Her chief of staff, in fact.”

“Well, congressman, that’s easy– I’m an unmarried woman and no conflict of interest exists between Ms. Wright and myself. She has resigned her post, and is also unmarried. ” Kamala leaned forward in an imitation of comradery, but like me, she was attempting discretion, little though he deserved it. “Can you say the same about yourself and the CFO of Paxos?” Keller’s face turned bright red, and he sputtered uselessly. Kamala smiled and said, “I thought so. Happy new year, gentleman.”

And with that, she swept us away, leaving behind several shocked faces and some muffled laughter. I glanced behind me and saw that one by one, the men floated off, seeking better places to be sorry excuses for democratic representatives. 

“That was incredible,” Kamala whispered into my ear as she led us to the dance floor. “I’ve wanted to say that to Keller for as long as I’ve worked on Capitol Hill!”

“You and me both, baby. I waved Underwood’s secretary in his face, too. Fucking hypocrites,” I muttered. But the bitter anger didn’t last long as Kamala’s laugh, so deep and carefree, burst forth. 

“What a pair we make. Shall we dance?” 

Once I’d nodded (somewhat reluctantly, but only because I had no rhythm), Kamala spun me onto the multicolored squares that alternated to the beat of the music. She took my empty drink, left it on a passing tray, and joined me, wrapping one arm around my waist and taking my hand in hers. 

“Oh, this is my song ,” she hummed in pleasure, shutting her eyes and moving to the beat, taking me with her.

“I know.” Her eyes sprang back open and a smile dawned anew, brighter than the lights above or the floor below. “I threatened the DJ with charges of treason if he didn’t– oh!”

Kamala dipped me, and I heard a swell of clapping and whistles off to one side of the dance floor. She didn’t kiss me, but I could tell she would have, had we been alone. Her eyes shone with victory and humor and I was left breathless until she pulled me back upright. 

We danced, matching the tempo of each successive song, slow and fast, and after a few songs, something just clicked. I spun her around, danced close behind her, performed a few ridiculous dance moves– was this what I’d missed all those nights I didn’t go out with college or work friends? This was fun.

Eventually, her family joined us. I let the Harris girls all dance together, silly and happy, my heart full . I didn’t think anything else could possibly fit inside it. Then Kamala pulled me back in and spun me around some more, and whether it was the alcohol or the giddy relief of no longer hiding, I was giggling up a storm. I took the hands of her two little nieces and danced them around the floor, all thought of being watched gone, replaced with only the desire to enjoy this moment. 

It was a while before we stumbled off the dancefloor, feet aching but drunk with laughter. Kamala made a beeline for one of the few tables scattered around the room, grabbing us glasses of champagne as she went. I collapsed into the chair, wishing I could pull her onto my lap– but that would have to wait until we were alone. 

“You didn’t tell me you were such an amazing dancer,” Kamala panted, leaning back in her own chair and crossing one leg over the other. 

“Oh, shush,” I waved at her, blushing. I felt about as graceful as a baby giraffe, but I’d had fun dancing for the first time in my life. As I sipped the champagne, I tried not to think about what the photographic evidence would reveal tomorrow morning. A headline flashed in my mind: ‘PRESIDENT-ELECT’S SURPRISE FIRST LADY TURNS HEADS ON THE DANCEFLOOR’ and then a picture of me making a fool of myself. I suppose that might be the best we could hope for. 

“You’re worrying,” Kamala said, taking my hand into hers on top of the table. I stared at our linked hands, so very visible to those passing by or sitting near us, and something about it was more intimate than dancing together had been. “We can only control what we can control, the rest will be up to the people. There’s no sense in worrying over it, honey.”

“I know,” I sighed, meeting her eyes. I saw my relief reflected back at me tenfold. “But even you can’t stop me from worrying.”

“So rebellious,” she chastised lightly. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re going to make such a stunning First Lady.” I blushed, and her smile turned teasing. “You know, I could make you Second Lady–”

“You wouldn’t!” I laughed, lightly nudging her leg with mine. “You only have a month left in office.” 

“It might be worth it, just to rub it in their faces,” she muttered, and for the first time that night, true anger flared her nostrils as she stared down the very same group of congressmen we’d scattered earlier. “On paper only?" she grinned at me, pleading with the biggest puppy dog eyes she'd ever given me. I giggled, beyond flustered. "Come on, baby–”

“No!”

The night danced on, and when the ball-drop neared, Kamala gathered her family together, myself in tow, and began a rousing chorus of Auld Lang Syne, the classic new years song. Party goers drifted over to join in, and we sang arm in arm until the countdown started.

“Three… Two… Happy New Year!” 

I pulled Kamala in for a kiss, and she wrapped her arms securely around my neck. Those around us cheered and whistled and a few noise-makers went off, showering us in confetti. I had to be the one to pull away first, cheeks red, feet unsteady. 

“Happy New Year, Val,” she whispered in my ear, and I let her pull me back onto the dance floor to twirl and shimmy until we collapsed. 

“They loved you! As your former subordinate, I can finally say this: you were a hard-ass. I wasn’t sure if your unique charm would capture America, but–” Miller pushed a stack of printed headlines across my coffee table. I sighed theatrically as I flicked through them. All the predictable beats of mainstream media- shock, fascination, adoration from Kamala's supporters, horror from her detractors- with hardly any shockers. Only the Fox News headline made me raise an eyebrow. I found that, honestly, I didn't care. The world still spun, Kamala was still going to be sworn in, and if all Fox News could harp on about was the fact that I was a woman? That was perfect.

“It was my hard-ass qualities that got us here,” I reminded him, glaring over top of the headlines. “But thank you."

We were in my apartment, as I was halfway through packing my personal possessions in preparation for the move. Into the White House. It still didn’t feel real. Reporters had been camping outside my building for days since the new year, but luckily it was a doorman building and I had been busy.

"Actually, Miller, um–” I threw the stack of headlines back down onto the coffee table and prepared myself to say something I’d been meaning to tell him for a while. I cleared my throat, and Miller cocked his head and sat back against the couch cushions, eyebrows raised in expectation. “I wanted to thank you, officially, both for being a very capable senior staffer, and for, uh–”

“Giving you a much needed kick in the ass?” he finished for me, looking about as pleased as I’d ever seen him. 

“Essentially, yes. I’ve always put my career above anything else, including personal feelings, and, well… I’m glad I had someone to remind me to reflect on those priorities.” 

“Honestly, Val, it was my pleasure. You have no idea how fun it was to watch this whole thing blossom. And thank you as well. I know I can be a bit unprofessional–”

“A bit?” I questioned, laughing.

“Yes, a bit. I can be worse! Anyway, I’ve always taken my job very seriously, and I won’t let you down. Nor the President.” 

“Good man,” I nodded at him. “Get going then, she’s used to me getting there before her, making sure all the interns are on top of her coffee, her lunch–”

“I know, I know. I hope you’ll understand if I don’t kiss her ass quite as much, don’t want to end up perpetuating–”

“Miller, go before I use my new First Lady powers to have you barred from the White House.”

He gave me a salute and left me to my packing. I ambled around the apartment, feeling a little lonely in the grip of its blank walls and empty shelves. Most of my personal belongings were books– law, memoir, some scifi, several thrillers, and just a few romance books that only joined my shelf in the last year. I’d found that reading about romance was the only way to stem the flow of the feelings that had grown for Kamala in the months that preceded our first kiss. Not by much , but still.

There was one section of the apartment I’d been avoiding, and I went to it now, determined to be done with this as soon as possible so that I could go back to staying at Kamala’s residence until the official move. I almost wished she were here, because as much as I had a hard time facing my feelings for her, I had a much harder time facing this. 

My mother’s ashes were sealed into a beautiful vase, one she’d picked out herself in the months before she passed, adamant that she not be buried “to rot with the worms.” I’d carried it with me always, from our home, to my college dorm, to the various shitty apartments I’d had while rising up the ranks on Capitol Hill, and now here in this much nicer apartment. It stood between two of my only nice photos of her. 

Hot tears began to roll down my cheeks as I knelt before the vase, tucked in a nook beside my bedroom. I didn’t bother to wipe them away, and I found that the pain that wrapped itself around my heart like vines wasn’t quite as tight. Its sharp thorns didn’t pierce quite as deep. Was that Kamala’s influence? 

“Hey mom,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. “I haven’t done this in a long time, huh? I’m sorry about that. It’s been a helluva year.” Her kind face smiled out of the photograph that was my favorite of her, from before her cancer had really taken hold. I’d insisted on getting professional photos done, planning for the worst. “You’re not going to believe me, but you know how I haven’t had a real relationship since Kim in my freshman year of college? Well, uh,” I laughed, and wiped away the tears that were freely splashing into my lap. “I’m dating the next President of the United States.” 

I imagined the look of absolute shock that would transform her expressive features, and her laugh when the words finally sank in. “ Sweetheart! And you’re just now tellin’ me? Oh my god, I have to call Sarah, see if she can squeeze me in for a trim— oh honey! How?!” I laughed imagining the way we would both dissolve into uncontrollable laughter until we were both crying. She was like that– her reactions and emotions were contagious. Had been.

“I love her, mom. She’s smart and funny and has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. She’s an amazing cook and makes a great martini. You would love her, too. I wish–” I broke off with a sob. I wish you were here. I wish you could meet her. I let the tears have me, bowing my head and missing the mom who’d given me everything. 

Some time later, after I’d cried myself dry and carefully packed the small shrine away into a box that had “FRAGILE” posted on every inch, I texted Kamala. 

Can you pick me up on your way home? Could really use a kiss 

Only seconds later, she responded. 

Of course baby girl. Are you okay? 

Mostly. I just finished packing, and you know that one part I was putting off? It’s done now

I see. Leaving now, give me fifteen minutes 

True to her word and despite my protests that she didn’t need to leave immediately, Kamala’s limo pulled up fifteen minutes later and I crawled into the back, the “FRAGILE” box awkwardly tucked under my arm. Kamala drew me into her and kissed me for a long moment, not letting go until the driver pulled away. There was a slight pout to her lower lip, and I rolled my eyes at her. 

“I’m fine, promise. I hope you didn’t just cancel any meetings for me, I just–” 

And just like that, I wasn’t fine. For the second time that day, a frequency that broke records for me, I was crying into Kamala’s suit lapels. She took the box from me and carefully tucked it into the seat next to us before drawing me into her lap. Her arms held me together even though I very much wanted to fall to pieces, dissolve into my salty tears, and be washed away like seafoam. 

“Shhhh baby girl,” she cooed, rubbing my back and holding me to her breast. “Just feel it. I’m here.” 

Through the churn of feelings and salt water, I heard Kamala tell the driver to take us home as quickly as physically possible. He must have taken that seriously, because the usually smooth as butter ride jostled us, and in less than ten minutes, Kamala was helping me out of the limo. Agent Han, who she had not fired yet, held the door open, averting her eyes from my obvious emotion. 

Kamala carried the box while I clutched her free arm, and as soon as we crossed the threshold, some strange strength found me. I sniffed and straightened up, trying to wipe away the embarrassing evidence of my breakdown. 

“I know just the place for her,” Kamala said, holding her hand out to me. I let her lead me upstairs to one of the bay windows with a beautiful view of the yard, and watched with an overflowing heart as Kamala, with one sweep of her arm, unceremoniously cleared a table that overlooked it. It was a pretty little white thing that stood against the wall and glowed by the setting sun. I helped Kamala open the box and took out the small vase. It was stunning when bathed with the dying light, and after Kamala arranged the pictures around it, a few more tears leaked out. 

“She was a beautiful woman,” Kamala murmured to me. “Inside and out, from everything you’ve told me.” She wrapped her arms around my waist from behind and held me with her chin on my shoulder. We stood there together for a while. 

“I’m just sorry you’ll never get to meet her. She really would have loved you.” I sniffed and Kamala tightened her grip around me. “I buried myself in my career, put up all these walls, and never really acknowledged how much it hurt to lose her…”

“It must have been really hard to lose her so young.” Kamala came around to look at me. “You did what you felt you had to do, and you matured into an amazing woman. I know she’d be proud.”

“She would,” I agreed. “I’ve got the heart of the president.” It was a feeble attempt at humor, but it still curled Kamala’s lips up just enough to soothe the ragged edges of my old wound.

“You are a force of nature, Val. Even if we’d never met, I know you would have gone far. You still will. You already have. It’s no small feat to become the Vice President’s chief of staff.”

“I know,” I sighed, wrapping my arms around Kamala’s neck. “I’m looking forward to having a bit more balance in my life, though. Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Can we always make time for each other? I know you belong to the country now, but–”

“I also belong to you , baby, first and foremost. I promise. I will always make time for you.” 

Kamala kissed me then, a better seal than any word, and I melted into her arms, content to spend the rest of my life in them.

Chapter Text

“Thank you for meeting with me Agent Han, please take a seat.” Kamala’s voice was so detached that even I looked over at her warily as the agent sat across from us. In an effort to enforce neutrality and professionalism, Kamala had scheduled this little meeting in one of the small conference rooms that lined the other half of the building her office was in, though she’d made sure that nobody would see or hear anything. 

“Of course, Madam President-elect,” Han said, nodding once as she sat. “Is this about the First Lady’s security detail? Because it would be best to talk to Captain–”

“No, actually, this is about you,” Kamala interrupted. The red-haired woman, who was tall and masc, showed only the barest hint of anxiety via a heavy swallow. “About… some boundaries that may have been crossed, or might be crossed in the future.”

“Ma’am, if this is about the other night, I’m very sorry for intruding, I should have been more, uh, aware–”

“It’s not really about that either, though you’re closer,” Kamala interrupted again, a muscle flexing in her jaw. I could tell just by the way she was sitting that she was very reluctant to broach this conversation, but she’d insisted. “It’s come to my attention that you, well– that I–”

“I shared with Kamala that I thought it was very likely you had feelings for her, based on my observations and our interactions since you learned about our relationship.” My words, like a bomb, left behind silence and settling dust. Han’s poker face was excellent, but she couldn’t keep the blush from creeping up her face. 

“That is–” she started, but snapped her mouth shut and swallowed again. She tore angry eyes from me and redirected to Kamala. “Ma’am, I have never had anything other than the utmost respect for you, and I have sworn to protect you from any and every harm.” Han’s eyes flicked in my direction– so that’s how it is.  

Kamala sighed and sat back in her chair. I knew that contemplative look– she’d seen or realized something and was trying to determine how to use that to get the answer she wanted. 

“Emily, you have served very well, I’ve never had anything to complain about. My concern here is for you. There are things I’ve noticed myself, Valerie only added more pieces to the puzzle, and I don’t want you to have remain in such a close capacity if you’re harboring–”

“Ma’am, can we please speak privately?” Han asked, her tone finally fracturing into anger. Kamala narrowed her eyes. 

“Valerie is my First Lady, anything you have to say to me, you can say with her here. And if you wouldn’t say it with her present, then I don’t think there’s anything further to discuss. I will talk to Captain Grant to request a transfer to–”

“Kamala,” Han said, leaning forward in her seat, her voice so low it was nearly a whisper. “Fine, yes. I’ve been in your service since you became Vice President, and I have watched over you, put myself on the line for you, and I have seen everything you’ve been through. But I’ve never had any intentions to act on the way I feel about you.” 

“It seems cruel to have you remain in my personal service when you feel that way. I want to be clear here– I do not and will not ever reciprocate your feelings.”

“I was already well aware of that, ma’am. I’ve loved working for you, and I am requesting to remain in your service. There is… There’s no one quite like you, Kamala. Even if you fired me, my feelings are about as permanent as my Air Force tattoos.” 

I clenched my fists beneath the table, wishing Kamala had listened to me and not asked for this meeting. Han was a grown woman, she could make her own choices, and Kamala didn’t need to give her a reason to have her reassigned. But now, I had to listen to this woman who had known Kamala for years, seen parts of her that maybe not even I had seen yet, talk about… ugh . Bile rose up and I swallowed it back. I was being irrational. And immature. 

“I need to think about this. Thank you for being candid– mostly. You may go,” Kamala said, dismissing her. Han rose immediately and with nothing but a curt nod, she left the room. Kamala turned to me, apprehension clear in her eyes. “Baby–”

“I wish you hadn’t,” I pushed away from the table and paced to the end of the room. I was suddenly and embarrassingly emotional about this. “I know it was bothering you, but now, I’m going to feel like a bitch if I say I don’t feel comfortable with Han staying on.”

“Do you feel uncomfortable?” Kamala didn’t join me, and I was glad. I hadn’t ever felt this upset with her. I felt… unreasonably jealous. 

“If I hadn’t been hired, if you hadn’t met me–” God, this was humiliating. “Never mind.” 

Her chair scraped and her heels clicked as she stood and closed the distance between us. 

“Are you asking me if I would have entertained Agent Han’s feelings?” I didn’t respond. I didn’t really want the answer. “I didn’t even know she had them until you pointed it out. Val, please look at me,” she pleaded. I did, and saw that there was pain on her face that I hadn’t heard in her words. 

“You would have figured it out eventually,” I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant while feeling anything but. 

“And then what? I would have just given in? She’s in my service–”

“Was I not?” I could hardly breathe with that steely gaze on me.

“That’s entirely different, Val. Is that what this is about?” I looked away from her and back towards the ugly painting that took up most of the back wall. “Please, I need to know.” I blew out a huff of air. 

“How was I any different? Honestly, Kamala, why me? And why not Han? She’s capable, attractive, highly trained, and–”

“ Valerie,” she put her fingers under my chin, a familiar gesture, one I loved. One that, even now, caused heat to spread low in my stomach. “I have never felt anything towards Agent Han, nor towards any other person who worked with me or for me. You were different, you struck like a lightning bolt, again and again. I agonized over making my feelings known to you, I didn’t want to make you feel– I don’t know– obligated , because I was your boss or the Vice President.” 

Her words were exactly the ones I wanted to hear, and I wanted to give into the warmth they inspired, but something still bothered me. 

“I believe you. But I still wish you had heard me out about not confronting her. It just made me feel like… Ugh, like you wanted to have her feelings for you confirmed- like you hoped I was right. I don’t know, I’m sorry.” I felt like a fucking moron, but Kamala didn’t look mad. 

“I did, but only because I’ve come to care for Agent Han, and it was eating me up on the inside to think that… maybe she’d always be waiting. For us to break up.” Color spread across her high cheekbones, and I knew she was sincere. “But I also know how valuable loyalty is. And is there anything more loyal than love?”

“Kamala,” I chided, taken aback by her selfishness. “So you’re not going to have her transferred then?” Her hesitation, the way she avoided meeting my burning gaze, all but answered my question. “Fine. I’ll see you at home.”

“Val, wait,” she called after me, but I sped past the table and out the door, not wanting to look back and have her see the tears building in my eyes.

It was a long day. I spent most of it walking around the memorials that stood sentinel all around the National Mall, thinking. I knew I’d been unfair, but so had she. I almost felt bad for Han at this point. No matter how much she wanted to lie to herself, to think that being the President’s bodyguard would be enough, it wouldn’t be. I couldn’t even blame her– Kamala was captivating and beautiful and powerful, who wouldn’t fall in love with her? 

I had to get this jealousy under control for exactly that reason. It was easy to dismiss the pining of half the nation’s– oh who was I kidding, half the world’s sapphics– they were far away and didn’t have the opportunity to get to know the real woman herself. But Han… she was close. I trusted Kamala, but maybe I didn’t trust Han. Not entirely. 

When I started to make my way home, I finally noticed that I’d been tailed the entire time– there were two men in dark suits, trying to look nonchalant as they crossed the street behind me. Ugh. This was going to get old really fast. A girl couldn’t even have a bit of a breakdown alone anymore…

The house was fairly dark when I pulled into my parking spot, the only light came from the kitchen windows. She must be cooking. The idea soothed me, both because it meant a warm, homemade meal, and that she’d been doing some thinking herself. 

“Kamala?” I called as I entered, hanging my coat and scarf at the rack by the door. 

“In here,” she answered from the kitchen. Her voice was subdued, and anxiety bubbled in my gut as I entered the bright room, filled with the smell of– “I made french onion soup, I’m just waiting for the bread to bake.”

“It smells amazing.” I walked up to her, unable to find the spark of anger I had held before, not while her face was so filled with trepidation. Curse that expressive, lined, beautiful face. I hesitated where I stood, not knowing what to say. I was still mad at her, but she made it so hard. The timer going off dispelled the growing tension in the room, and she bustled around, preparing the bread with cheese, cutting it to fit the bowls of soup, and sticking them both back in the oven. I sat at the breakfast nook, and stared at my hands. 

I heard her approach slowly, and anticipated the sound of her voice, so low and raspy, so dear and beloved. 

“Does this count as our first fight, or second?” she asked. I snorted, but didn’t look up, and it was as though Kamala’s anxiety pierced through me like a lance. She leaned across the counter and grasped my hands. “Please tell me I didn’t ruin this over a Secret Service agent who I’m definitely going to have fired,” she said, the pain and devotion in her voice as clear as a window straight into her soul. 

I finally looked at her. A sad smile wavered on her lips, and I could tell she was biting her cheek. She brought my hand to her lips and held it there as I stared into her liquid eyes. 

“You haven’t,” I assured her. The very thought of ending this relationship over something as ridiculous as Han was more infuriating than Kamala’s reluctance to fire her. A reluctance that I understood. You don’t work in power without observing things, things that made what she said about loyalty make sense, unfortunately. “I have a compromise to offer, though,” I murmured, kissing the back of her hand. She fought a smile, and nodded at me. “Have her transferred to general White House duty. She can still watch over you, but I think… I would feel better about it that way. Hang on,” I said, holding up my other hand as she looked ready to agree. “I just want you to understand– I felt like… you allowing her to continue in your personal service felt almost like a slap in the face. Especially after she outright admitted her feelings. It hurt. But I understand what you meant about loyalty. I just don’t want to worry about you while you’re away, you know?”

“I do. I’m so sorry, Val. I should have considered it that way. I’m so crazy about you that it's hard to even imagine looking at anyone else the same way. I accept your compromise. I hope you’ll forgive me.” 

In answer, I leaned forward and kissed her, not wanting to waste a single extra second on this. My anger evaporated, her lips warm on mine– it meant next to nothing anymore. 

“You’re forgiven,” I murmured against her, breathing her in, wrapping my fingers in her hair–

Another timer went off, and she rushed to get our meal from the oven. 

Time passed so fast that inauguration day was staring us in the face in just days. Our next moment in front of the country together, Kamala the new President, I her First Lady. The thought was terrifying, despite the massive amount of prep I’d done with her team, who’d barely been able to keep the pleased smiles off their faces long enough to do more media training with me. 

True to her word, Kamala had requested that Agent Han be transferred to the White House detail, and she accepted it with grace. Though, I still caught her gaze every now and then, directed at Kamala, as devoted as ever. A thrill of jealousy would rattle through me until I remembered that I was the one who had the privilege of hearing Kamala moan my name. But there were other things to worry about. 

There were rumblings, only quiet whispers on the internet that were closely monitored by Homeland Security, about another coup attempt. People who supported the failed felon trying to rise up and take what was rightfully earned by Kamala seethed online, and I hoped it would stay that way. They could talk all they wanted, but the moment they decided to do anything more, their asses would be handed to them faster than they could book plane tickets to D.C.

As Kamala and I dressed the morning of, surrounded by her wardrobe specialists and assistants, I couldn’t help marveling at the absolute goddess of a woman I’d managed to find. She wore a suit of the richest navy blue, accented with red and white, and I wore one of a lighter blue, almost like a clear sky, cut in a more traditionally feminine way. We stood in the mirror together, my arm linked with hers, admiring the image that would soon be on so many TV and computer screens across the country, and cemented in history books in the near future. The first black and South Asian female President, and her First Lady. When the others trickled out of the room with murmurs of well wishes and excitement, I grasped her face in my gloved hands and kissed her. 

Chapter Text

“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

I held the bible on which Kamala rested her hand as she spoke the oath that would confirm, once and for all, her position as President of the United States of America. Her inauguration crowd roared, and I knew that I would never witness anything quite as powerful as Kamala then: her smile solemn but proud and her hair being tousled by the brisk January wind. 

Life became a whirlwind of press, meetings, traveling, and, my absolute favorite, interviews. The issues I had spent countless nights worrying about didn’t manifest in the ways I feared– most of them anyway, Kamala still faced much scrutiny from the right– but that didn’t mean the entire country wasn’t enthralled with the way our relationship came to light. 

“First Lady Valerie Wright, welcome! Wow, it is such an honor,” Stephen Colbert said as he shook my hand. His show was to be the first of these interviews, and I wished that Kamala had been able to come with me. But duty calls.

“Same here, Stephen. I’ve always been a fan of yours, I think your show was one of the few things that kept me going in the era of, well, he-I-won’t-speak-of,” I joked. After hours upon hours of media training, my team settled on maintaining a public aura of serious but down-to-earth, sprinkled with a comedic charm. At least it felt close enough to me that I didn’t go home to Kamala afterwards feeling like I was peeling off my entire face, just a mask. 

“You’re not the only one, am I right?” he turned to the crowd, already laughing and clapping. “Well,” he exclaimed after the audience calmed. “First Lady Valer–”

“Call me Val, please, I beg of you.” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t–”

“I insist! It gets tiring– First Lady this, First Lady that. Besides, most of the internet already calls me Val, something about Kamala’s election day tiktok…” I trailed off gesturing vaguely, and quite a few people in the audience whooped and clapped. 

“Well then, Val… What’s it like to date a President?” he asked, leaning in like a confidant, as though we weren’t on a stage, filming for a television show that would be viewed by millions. I gave him a coy smile. 

“I don’t really see it that way. I’m dating Kamala, who happens to be President.”

“Come on, Val,” he urged me, exaggerating his lean as though we were teenagers at a sleepover. “Details, details!” The audience agreed with simmering noises and a few claps. 

“She’s an amazing woman, and even though she’s busy running a country and working so hard to carry out her plan for the first one hundred days, she always makes time for me. For us,” I added, knowing that would endear at least those who already approved. 

“That’s hard even for us normal folk! I’ve heard she’s pretty family oriented, I bet that’s one of the things that wooed you in the first place, hmm?” he asked, very leading, but not unexpected. We’d so far avoided talking about the beginning of our relationship publicly, but we had also recently decided that a few details… Well, the more the American people could relate to Kamala, the better. 

“Actually, Stephen, it was. Campaigns are brutal. But Kamala always kept time for her family, for herself, and eventually… for me.” I blushed, not an act. The crowd and Stephen cooed appreciatively at the scraps, and I was signaled to keep going. “I didn’t set out to fall for her, and believe me, I tried really hard to ignore the feelings that grew over time, but you know what I realized? Life is short. And here is this amazing woman, who I saw firsthand agonizing over the suffering of people who were just doing the best they could under horrible circumstances…” I was actually getting choked up. Something about the bright lights, the sea of faces, or maybe the idea of millions of people basing their opinion of Kamala on my words. “Not many people get to see politicians at their most vulnerable. When the cameras are off, when they’re at home and you have to wake them from much needed sleep to inform them about a terrorist attack, or when, at the end of a really long week of constant efforts to help a family of immigrants, you see her hunched over and close to tears… I fell for a woman. A human being, who, thanks to all of you,” I gestured to the camera and to the audience. “Is now our president.”

The audience erupted into applause, and Stephen joined in, uncharacteristically serious as we waited for calm again. 

“Wow. Well, now I’m in love with her.”

“Hey there,” I warned him. “She’s mine. ”

“Woah, alright, don’t sic Secret Service on me!” 

After that, the interview went as expected– questions about White House life, my new role, and what my plans were.

“Every First Lady has their own cause, how ‘bout you, Val?” Stephen asked, and here it was. The moment that I’d truly been terrified about. I thought of Kamala’s shining smile when I told her about my idea to bring me strength to speak. 

“My mom was a nurse, and she practically worked herself to death.” A hush fell over the audience, and Stephen offered a brief word of sympathy. “Thank you. Yeah, she was amazing. Even after she was diagnosed with cancer, she kept working. Part of that was a desire to help people, but of course, the other part is that there were just not enough nurses to keep up with the demand, and insufficient benefits for extended sick leave. Now that I have time to really focus on the way I want to make an impact, that’s what I want to focus on. I want to get more nursing programs running, more clinical sites, more funding for hospitals and schools so that the people who dedicate their lives to taking care of others can also have time to take care of themselves.”

Applause. And this time, it was for me. I acknowledged it with tears in my eyes, tears for my mom, who I hoped could see me from wherever she was now. The interview ended and I walked off stage, eager to be out of the spotlight. My assistant followed me back to the small greenroom I’d been given for the appearance, and I walked in, excited to collapse into the dinky little chair, but–”

“You were amazing!” Kamala gushed, and she lifted and spun me around once. 

“Kam! I thought you were–”

“Canceled it. The Prime Minister of Norway can wait.”

“ Kamala,” I chastised her, reaching up to cup her face. I pressed my lips to hers, overjoyed to have her here. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to. How do you feel? Social media is lit , as the youths say–”

“I don’t know if they say that anymore,” I laughed, leading her to the couch against the wall. She sat and pulled me into her lap. “I feel great. Oddly, I think I feel… lighter.”

“So do I, baby girl. You have no idea how proud I am. You know, the first time you told me about your mom…” Kamala murmured, gripping me tight to her. “I knew then that I was going to fall for you. It’s hard to understand the pain of losing a beloved parent, and I could see my own pain in your eyes. I would have kissed you that night, if we hadn’t been interrupted. You had me in the palm of your hand, Val, even then.”

“I might have kissed you back,” I admitted, biting my lip. “All that wine… I probably would have resigned the very next morning, though.”

“I don’t doubt that for a moment.”

We both knew she wouldn’t have accepted my resignation. If she’d kissed me then, the steps to get to this moment– sitting on the lap of the president post-interview as her First Lady– would have looked different, but I would still be here. There was something inevitable about her pull on me, like gravity, like she was a sun hurtling through space and I was a planet that had spent its life on a trajectory to be captured in her orbit. 

“I’m really glad you didn’t resign,” Kamala whispered, pressing her forehead to mine. I brushed a strand of her hair away that tickled her nose, and ran my thumb over her lips. “Miller is great, but I do miss having you with me all the time.”

“Now you get to come home to me every night and tell me all about what Russia did or how boring every congressional leadership meeting is now that you don’t have my tits to stare at.” 

Kamala laughed and buried her face in what little cleavage she could access through the tastefully unbuttoned shirt I wore. But before she could do anything naughty, like unbutton it further, there was a knock at the door. She sighed deeply but didn’t move, and so her voice was muffled. 

“Why am I always being prevented from enjoying my irresistible woman?”

I laughed at her and sprang to my feet to get the door. 

She rewarded me again and again on the plane, and this time I had to make sure to be quiet, because half her staff were on the plane, too, albeit in a different room. Luckily, I was better at that than she was. My coat-muffled moans barely reached her ears, which she complained about as surfaced from between my legs to kiss me. 

“I can’t wait to be home, you’re much less self-conscious in our bed,” she grumbled.

“I’m just trying to prevent Miller and his staffers from being traumatized unnecessarily, they don’t need to know how fucking good you are at eating me out.” I was still panting as I pulled my pants back up. Kamala laughed and went to clean up in the bathroom. “It’s enough that the whole world knows how lucky I am to be with you.”

She took her time brushing her teeth, reapplying her lipstick, and making sure the only thing anyone would detect about our recent mile-high foray was my post-coital glow. There was something tense about the recycled air of the cabin though, and she was a little too quiet. I waited for her to come back, and when she finally left the small bathroom, I held my arms out to her. I knew I was right about her shift in mood when she hesitated for a moment before settling into my lap. 

“Do I have to ask?” I murmured into her hair. She snorted and played with the necklace she’d given me for my birthday. The only time I took it off was to shower or sleep. 

“You know me a little too well. I’m fine, Val. Just… Pensive.”

“About what?”

She thought for a few minutes, and the only way I was able to remain patient was by watching her shifting microexpressions and drinking in her beauty, the way I used to when we would travel together before we’d started dating. Or when I would be working late and she would insist that I at least come into her office so we weren’t ‘two lone wolves,’ as she had said then. I blew out an amused little snort remembering how nervous I’d been. 

“What’s funny?” she asked, shaking her hair back and looking up at me. 

“Just thinking about how much things have changed in the last year. Why are you stalling? You don’t usually stall.” I brushed a stray lock of hair away from her tired eyes.

“I was also thinking about time, actually. It passes so quickly, and I see the evidence whenever I look into a mirror. It doesn’t ever… bother you?” Kamala stared down at her hands, and I wrapped them into mine.

“No, it doesn’t. Sometimes I… It’s not something I like to think about,” I said, my voice wavering slightly. I swallowed and trekked on, for her sake. “I don’t ever want to live in a world that you aren’t in.” My words settled around us like ash after a forest fire, but I didn’t let it linger long. I swept it away by saying, “I guess it's presumptuous of me to assume we’ll still be together in twenty or thirty years, huh?”

“Not at all.” Her voice was thick, too, and I didn’t try to dispel that pit we both must have been feeling– it would dissolve on its own, in time. I hoped... I just held her close, watching the sky clear up as we entered Virginia airspace.

Chapter Text

Not one to be outdone, I tried to keep up with Kamala’s rapid pace as she worked through her one hundred day plan, but I was finding it very difficult. There were few people actually willing to meet with me in any official capacity other than as the shiny new lesbian First Lady, except for one hospital, not far from where I’d grown up. The very same hospital my mom had worked in. The chief nurse there was actually someone I’d known in high school, so that may have been part of it, too.

The first time I met her, I had hardly even recognized her. Gone was the girl I remembered– all dolled up, short skirt, that Prom Queen kind of pretty– and in its place was a woman with short, almost masculine blonde hair and a pantsuit that tried to emulate Kamala’s.

After a shout of, “Valerie Wright!” Natasha pulled me in for a hug, which shocked me, but I acquiesced quickly, waving away my security detail. Natasha and I hadn’t ever been close in high school, but we were friendly. She’d been a year ahead of me, and, well… I’d had a crush on her. But that was well over and done with now, and as she showed me around the hospital, all I could think about was my mom. How she’d walked these halls, pushed through the very same doors, and helped someone in probably every room of the hospital after over fifteen years of service. 

Natasha was a gracious and informative host. She’d prepared statistics and projections and even anecdotal evidence from the nurses who’d worked there for years and years. Once I left to go back to D.C., our project truly began. We spent weeks and weeks pouring over the data together, reaching out to surrounding nursing schools and universities, and trying our best to paint the most accurate picture of nursing as it stood that we possibly could. It was crucial in arguing for better.

After an in person meeting with the president and deans of a local university, Natasha and I were heading back to her hospital. It was rather late in the day, close to dinner time, and I longed for Kamala’s cooking. Natasha was gushing across from me, still riding the high of the university buy-in, while I listened with half my attention, the other half on a woman far away. My assigned security rode in the SUV behind us, so we were alone. I should have seen it coming. Maybe if I had, I would have been able to stop her before things escalated. 

“Gosh, Val, I’m so glad we reconnected. This is so exciting! You and me, tackling the nursing shortage together,” she grinned over at me, and nudged my leg with hers. I was just tucking my phone away, waiting for a text from Kamala, but she was busy in a meeting with various international heads of state. My news could wait. 

“Yeah,” I agreed, instinctively pulling my leg in. “I’m just glad there’s hope. I was so worried that nobody would care, or at least that nobody with the power to do something–”

“You’ve always been amazing like that. Reaching out and taking what you want.” The way she eyed me should have registered, but it didn't. “I’ve always really liked that about you.” 

Natasha moved to the edge of her seat and put her hand on my knee. My cheeks burned as I finally recognized the way she looked at me, the spark in her eyes, the way she leaned in, mere inches between us–

“Madam First Lady, we’ve arrived,” came the voice of the driver. I pulled away to speak to him, ignoring the way Natasha’s face fell. Ignoring the bile trying to claw its way up my throat. 

“Thank you, Natasha, I’ll speak with you next week. We’ll need to go over our draft agreement with the university before sending it to be signed by the school,” I said coolly as Natasha slid out into the brisk air, bright color in her cheeks. She looked warily at me as she moved to shut the door behind herself, but I didn’t say anything else. I wanted to be anywhere but in her presence. 

An hour later, I was alone on the jet that would take me back home, and I’d already tried calling Kamala twice. A third call would probably get her pulled from her meeting, and I didn’t want that. She would call me back when she could, and I would just have to seethe and squirm alone. 

I didn’t try again to call her when we landed. The sick feeling inside me was preventing it. She hadn’t called me either, so I thought the meeting must have gone over, and that I’d be left alone in our quiet residence until she returned. What would I tell her? What even was that with Natasha? Anxiety and exhaustion fogged my vision, so I didn’t notice that Kamala had been waiting up for me, just beyond where the light couldn’t reach on the stairs to our residence in the White House. She caught me in a hug that scared the holy hell out of me. 

“ Jesus!” I cried, stumbling backwards a bit until she steadied us on the landing.

“Thank you, but you know you can call me Kamala,” she joked, grinning at me like I’d just made her day. It was a moment before I caught my breath enough to speak, and she took advantage of it, pulling me to her and blessing me with a kiss so fervent, you’d think we’d spent a week apart, rather than just over 24 hours.

“Kam,” I whispered into her lips, still out of breath from the scare and her kiss. 

“That’s more like it, baby girl. Come on.”

She poured us two glasses of wine, pulled me to the sofa, and sat down with me, not even letting me shed the clothes I’d been traveling in. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, I only just got out of that meeting and got word that your plane landed. World leaders can be so long winded,” she said, nestling in beside me. I felt like crying, but seeing her managed to dull the strange ache of guilt and grief that had plagued me for the last several hours. “How’d it go?”

I told her, trying to inject the excitement and triumph I knew I should have been feeling into my voice, but it just wasn’t there anymore. Had Natasha been going along with this from the start just to… just to get in my pants?

“Val, baby, what’s wrong?” Kamala asked, setting down her wine glass. I looked into her eyes, but that was a mistake. Traitor tears came, filling my lids and obscuring her beauty. “Honey? I’m sorry I didn’t call, I should have, I–”

“Natasha came onto me after the meeting, she– she tried to kiss me.” Kamala’s face took on a sculpted quality. But I saw fury burning behind the calm mask, and she drew me into her. I felt rotten. Like a contagious, plague-ridden pest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? Val, you have no reason to–”

“I should have seen it! She’d been so nice and invested, but now all the hugs and touches–”

“Touches?” Kamala’s voice had become dangerously calm. “What do you mean?” 

My mind raced through every in-person meeting we’d ever had, and even some of the virtual ones. Had she always taken my excitement as flirting?

“I don’t know!” I stood and paced away from her, peeling my coat off and tossing it to the sofa. Kamala didn’t join me. When I turned to look at her, what I saw sent another wave of anxiety crashing over me. “Kam?”

“How long has this been going on?” she asked, and I was confused at first by her question. But the meaning quickly sunk in. 

“ This? I don’t know, I wasn’t–” I struggled with words. And then, with the look of blossoming disgust on Kamala’s face, they failed me entirely. An uncomfortable silence settled over the living room.

“Do you… feel the same way? For her?” she asked, not looking at me. Fiddling with one of her rings. 

“Of course not! How could you–”

“How could you not notice, Valerie? You’re a smart woman. You caught onto me immediately.”

“Because I felt things for you!” I argued back, honestly shocked that she would take this view of what happened. “Why do you think I’m so upset? I thought she was a partner in this plan, but all along–”

“You did have feelings for her once,” she interrupted, finally rising from her seat and coming to face me. “You told me. A crush.”

“A high school crush. Kamala,” I gathered her hands into mine. “I could not give less of a shit about this woman, except that we were working on this project together. I’m upset about it because now I have to wonder if she ever even cared.” 

The tears were spilling now. Without a care, without dignity, tears spilled down my face and fell onto our joined hands. I ripped mine away so that I could find a tissue or towel, but there didn’t seem to be any. Kamala swiped a pocket square from the blazer she still wore and pushed it into my hands. After I wiped away the tears and blew my nose once, I discarded it onto the coffee table. I stood facing away from her, seething in injured silence that the woman I loved could think so little of me. 

Until a sound caused me to turn on instinct. A strangled little sound. Kamala stood there, her arms wrapped around herself, her own tears falling now. I went to her, and wrapped my own arms around her, but that only seemed to make it worse. 

“Kam, talk to me,” I ordered, pulling us back to the couch. When she didn’t speak and only continued to stare into her veined hands, I went on. “I love you. I only want to be with you. Natasha means less than nothing–”

“She’s your age. She can give things that I can’t,” Kamala whispered. I almost couldn’t believe what I’d heard, but as she was only inches away from me, I had to believe. 

“Kamala,” I chided gently, cupping her face in my hands and forcing her to look at me. “I. Love. You. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted and things I didn’t even think to ask for.” I chuckled lightly, a stray tear falling down my face. “Why? Tell me why–”

“I’m getting older. I can’t give you children, I can’t give you the life you deserve, not here,” she gestured around us, to the White House at large. “If I’d met you years and years ago, I don’t know if I would have been able to sacrifice our life together for this. I ache for that, Val. All that lost time… And all the time I’m taking from you every moment you spend with me.” 

God. I wanted to shake her, to pry her up out of this couch and show her exactly how much I wouldn’t trade this for anything on the planet. But I didn’t know how to tell her that, and I knew that right now it would fall on deaf ears. So I just drew her into me, and held her. She cried, she clutched at me, she wrinkled her well-pressed suit. But when she finally seemed to dry out a bit, I swooped in. 

“You’re not taking anything from me. I want to be with you so badly that it scares me,” I began, laughing lightly. “I didn’t have many long-term relationships, I was too focused on my career, on making my mom proud. Sometimes I feel like I missed out, sure, but… If I hadn’t given my career every ounce of me, I wouldn’t have met you. You complete me. You’re silly where I’m serious, you’re loving where I might be a bit harsh, and our sexual chemistry is just–” I made a rocket noise with my mouth, trying to get her to laugh, “–out of this world. We met exactly when we were supposed to. I don’t really have any specific feelings towards children. If you wanted to have them, I would be ecstatic to take on that adventure with you. If not– then I get you all to myself. I love you, Kamala. I’m not going anywhere.” 

She looked up at me as I finished my little speech, tears still obfuscating her beautiful eyes, but now, there was a smile on her face. I leaned down, waiting for her to meet me, and she did. Our lips touched with the familiar spark that always contained the potential to devour whole forests, only stopped by time, place, and the demands of our lives. This time, it was held back by Kamala, murmuring against my lips. 

“I’m sorry, Val. That was so selfish of me. Fuck Natasha. I’ll have her– mmm,” I’d quieted her by pressing myself onto her, trapping her between the arm of the couch and my body. 

“Actually,” I muttered, pulling away, suddenly feeling… like I wanted to be claimed. “What would you do?” My voice was a low rasp, and she caught onto what I wanted immediately, shedding her blazer without breaking out eye contact for a single second. 

“I’ll make her regret every single time she ever touched you,” Kamala growled, pushing me back against the seat cushions. “What a presumptuous woman, thinking she could make a move on the First Lady. My First Lady,” she emphasized, grabbing me by my chin. My body was on fire at her touch. She burned away the clinging memory of Natasha’s hand on my thigh, and I moaned at the way her hand slid down to grip my throat so possessively. 

“Yes, please,” I panted, hardly able to speak. I’d never seen Kamala like this, and it was so hot. My panties must be drenched by now. I tried to shimmy out of my pants at least, and Kamala saw, even paused to chuckle at me with that sexy smirk. 

“Go ahead, baby girl. Strip for me.” She took my hand and pulled me upright. I did as I was told, unbuttoning my shirt as fast as my frenzied fingers could go. Kamala sat back into the couch with her predator's eyes on me. Her hand slipped beneath her waistband and her eyes momentarily rolled back, but she quickly refocused on me as I slid out of my pants. “Panties, too, Ms. Wright.”

I bit my lip as I slid my panties down my legs, which were quaking slightly beneath her lustful gaze. I stood there, feeling more naked than I ever had been in her presence, especially as she was still fully dressed. I loved it. 

“Lay down on your stomach,” she ordered, gesturing beside her. I did so, and she spanked me, hard enough to draw a shocked gasp. My pussy was exposed to her, catching every draft and every breath of hers as she neared me. “You smell so fucking good. I missed you, baby.” Her voice was softer then, just for me, and I knew this wasn’t part of whatever strange, sexy act we were putting on for one another. I missed you, baby. That was just one woman to another. I couldn’t speak. 

Kamala was kissing my thighs, starting low and trailing her lips higher and higher until she was inches away from my pulsing core. I wanted to beg, but I couldn’t, my voice had vanished. Her fingers gripped my thighs, caressing them, massaging the tension she must have been able to feel–

“Oh fuck,” I moaned as her mouth made contact with my pussy lips. I felt more than heard as she laughed into me. Her tongue explored, greedy and searching, and I tried to lead her to where I wanted her most–

“Impatient, aren’t we?” she breathed, igniting me further. “I’ll be right back. You’re not allowed to move.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, more turned on than ever. I could practically feel my arousal dripping down my thighs. 

I waited in desperate anticipation. Kamala often topped me, but never like this. She was always so gentle and careful, but I found… I liked this. Loved it. I wanted her to claim me, to fuck me, to own me in every single way she possibly could. 

When she hurried back into the room, I heard her coming. She’d put her heels back on, so they clicked across the hardwood floor, echoing around the living room. I peeked behind me, and what I saw made me gasp. There she was, her pantsuit still on, minus a blazer, and a fleshy dildo peeking out from the waistband of her pants. 

“Like what you see, Ms. Wright? You’re such an eager girl, aren’t you,” she purred, coming up behind me, caressing my sensitive skin. I bucked at her touch, wanting more of her so badly but loving every moment of her teasing. She made me so wet, it was hard to be sure why I’d even been upset earlier. “I want you to remember this, whenever you have to leave me to fly across the country to be my First Lady.” Kamala dug her fist into my hair and raised me from where I’d been posed with my ass in the air, until our lips were inches apart. “You’re mine, Valerie.” 

Kamala kissed me harshly, digging her teeth into my lip and shoving her tongue down my throat. At the same moment, her fingers entered me. An aching sensation of fullness caused me to moan into her mouth and she sped her pace. My face hit the pillow as she released me, and I moaned into it. As her fingers went from two to three, I bit into the pillow, moaning loud enough that someone should have come rushing up, but nobody did. Thank god. 

“Tell me what you want, baby girl,” Kamala ordered, her voice a sexy rasp as she fucked me with just her fingers. 

“I want you to fuck me,” I whined, shaking as she gripped my throat. “Please Kam–”

“My title, Ms. Wright,” she commanded, tightening her grip. She pulled her heavenly fingers out and I whined again at the loss. 

“Madam P-president, please,” I whimpered. “Please fuck me.” She knew exactly how to press my buttons. I was a mess of arousal and tears as she sighed in approval, and finally, I felt her ready herself at my entrance. 

“That’s my girl.”

And then she was fucking me . She was still fully dressed, and that added to the mental image as stars burst in front of my eyes. But she must have lifted her shirt because I then felt her skin on mine with a particularly hard thrust. 

“Is this okay, baby?” she asked in a low, sweet voice, leaning down over me, and her thrusting ceased for a moment. 

“ Yes!” I moaned back. “Please don’t stop.”

Kamala obeyed by continuing her unrelenting pounding, her ravaging of my needy pussy. All sense and decorum had gone out the window, and I was too far gone to even consider what I sounded like to her, let alone to the Secret Service agents who I was sure could hear. But Kamala was enjoying herself. She mounted me, pushed my hips into the couch, and plunged the strap so deep into me that I let out a yelp of pain. 

“Sorry!” she cried, trying to pull away, but I wrapped my legs around hers and pinned her there, begging without words for her to continue. “Oh fuck Val, you’re such a slut for me.”

“ Fuck yes, just– just for– for you–!”  

I reached below myself and started rubbing my clit, feeling that familiar pressure building just beneath it. Kamala always fucked me so good but something about how recklessly she did so now had me closer to orgasm than I ever been this quickly. 

“You close, baby girl?” she asked, not slowing. I hummed my assent, no longer capable of speech, and she held her pace steady. “You are mine , Valerie Wright. Only mine. Mine to hold, mine to kiss, mine to fuck–”

I came like a comet flashing across the sky– hot, bright, rocketing towards the earth without control. Kamala didn’t relent, but her hands held me, gripping my shoulder, my waist, and I cried out in pleasure again and again until the blazing heat had passed, leaving behind a cooling puddle of a woman. 

She pulled out and collapsed on top of me, panting into my ear. Her weight was glorious, and it seemed to keep me in place as shockwaves rocked through me. Arms snaked around my middle and gripped me tight. Heaven was too small a word. 

I was crying before I could warn Kamala. 

“Baby?” Kamala gently turned me over, and buried her face in my neck. “I’m so sorry, baby, did I hurt you?”

“No, I just– that felt so–” I couldn’t really speak, but I wanted to comfort her. “So good.” 

“I love you, Val. So much.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Later, wrapped in the silken sheets of our bed, the mesmerizing taste of Kamala still on my tongue, she asked me again if she’d hurt me. 

“Not even a little bit,” I assured her. I pulled her against my chest, and she nestled comfortably beneath my chin, still coming down from her own orgasm. “I think, um,” I chuckled, self-conscious. “I think I like when you’re possessive like that.” The admission earned me a deep, throaty laugh, and in the darkness, Kamala’s lips found mine. 

“I liked it, too. And about that woman,” she uttered the word like it burned. “I’ll let you handle her however you see fit, but if she ever–”

“I almost want to let you lose on her. But I’ll take care of it. One phone call tomorrow ought to do it.” 

“That’s my girl,” Kamala mumbled, and I could tell that sleep was taking her from me. 

“Hang on baby,” I recalled her, pulling her face up so that she could see mine by the dim light of D.C. beyond our windows. “I was serious. I love you and everything you’ve given me. Don’t doubt it for a single second.” 

Kamala practically glowed, and when she kissed me, the spark was only kept from flame by the fact that we’d just sated each other so thoroughly. Instead, she settled herself back down against me, and the tides of sleep pulled us both under. 

Chapter Text

Months and current events passed seemingly in the blink of an eye. The White House renovations were nearly complete, and though it was something I hadn’t really been looking forward to at first, I was pretty excited to unveil it. I’d worked with local artists to make something so unique that I was absolutely positive half the country would hate it, but I didn’t care. For months, D.C. artists were getting paid a living salary, and we’d already started to plan for a program that would hopefully keep them funded for a while to come with community arts programs. Apart from my continued work with nursing schools and hospitals, it was probably one of my proudest achievements. 

Of course, my proudest achievement was continuing to kick presidential ass. She’d signed several executive orders and helped pass tens of bills already, all of them more progressive than ever before, including one that was celebrated for weeks on end– Supreme Court term limits, and a process to remove corrupt judges. Kamala had already made it her personal mission to have at least one of those lying pricks who sat on the highest court stripped of their title and kicked to the curb. 

I made it my personal mission to keep the president well satisfied. Via sex, of course– I’d learned that the more stressed Kamala is, the more fierce a top she becomes, and I loved it– but I also kept her satisfied in other ways, too. She taught me how to cook over many countless evenings and bottles of wine, and now I was able to at least have a simple meal prepared for her with zero help from White House staff when she came home to me at the end of her long days. 

“Oh my god, Val! It smells amazing in here,” she said one evening in early November. “You made– is this Gumbo?!”

“Yeah,” I said, blushing as Kamala rushed over to the serving dish in the middle of our table. “I used your recipe. I just wanted to do something special for you, you know, since today is– well I guess we never really made it official , but–”

“It’s the anniversary of our first kiss,” she finished for me, cutting through my stuttering.  “I know.” She came around the table while rifling through her purse, and I caught my breath. From it, she pulled a thick envelope, sealed with the burgundy-colored imprint of Kamala’s lips. 

“What’s this?”

“Open it, baby girl. I’ll start serving.” Kamala started bustling around, getting us bowls and spoons, acting strangely… nervous. It was a rare sight. I slid my finger through the seal and pulled out what looked to be a stack of travel approval documents, the kind I used to have to submit for her whenever she–

“Oh, Kam–”

“I know, it's not as long as I would like it to be, but I had to compromise, the president of–”

“ Shh!” I put my fingers over her plump lips while I continued to scan the approval. The documents almost slipped from my grasp. “Baby, oh my god, how?”

“It wasn’t easy, but I’ll fight each and every one of my advisors and cabinet members for you,” she declared, pulling me against her. “It’s only a week, but I figure we make the most of it, we get a cabin, we leave everything but the presidential phone behind–”

I interrupted her with a kiss so forceful that I nearly tackled her to the ground. She moaned into my mouth and responded with equal enthusiasm, and when I picked her up by her ass and spun us around, narrowly avoiding our dinner, she pulled away laughing. The lines around her mouth and eyes crinkled and I kissed each one, desperate to show her just how much I loved her, now and always. 

“I thought, maybe, you’d forgotten, or–”

“Forget the anniversary of the night you fucked me so good that we won the election? Never.” 

The next morning, we boarded Air Force One, bags packed and press crowded around, asking Kamala’s staff where we were headed. 

“The President and First Lady are going to take a well-earned little retreat together, and that’s all I’m going to say,” Miller told them. He turned to wink at me just before I stepped into the plane. 

After renewing our membership to the mile-high club, Kamala and I cuddled beside the window, waiting for the view I’d wanted to see my entire life. She played with my hair while I leaned against her, skin to skin for the moment and feeling more peaceful than I had been in so long. 

And then, finally, hours after we’d reached dark sky–

“ Wow, ” I breathed, leaning towards the window to get a better view. Aurora borealis. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. Like magic. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers along the rays of mutlihued light and feel whatever they were made of, because they must be made of something. 

“So beautiful,” Kamala whispered, leaning with me, looking just as in awe as I was. “It has nothing on you though.” She nipped my ear and I pushed against her, at a loss for words. In moments like these– very rare moments for me, as busy as I had been from the age of eighteen– that it struck me how beautiful the world could be. That we would fight wars against one another over something as insubstantial as religion, racism, and profit when we were living on a planet with beauty like this … 

Only a few hours later, dressed in thermal underwear, thick wool clothing, and winter coats, we padded out of the plane and down the very private airstrip. The only other people around were led by Agent Anderson, who had replaced Agent Han so many months ago. I still didn’t know how to feel about him; he was extremely professional to the point of seeming robotic and never smiled. But he did his job well, and so far I hadn’t seen any wandering eyes. For a moment, I recalled Han’s latest longing look at Kamala as we departed the White House, and felt the flash of jealous heat that I thought I’d doused entirely.

I shook off the immature feelings as we piled into the SUV that would take us to the cabin we’d be staying in. Per the request of Secret Service, it was more like a cluster of cabins, and I tried not to think about the fact that we would never truly be alone. Every now and then, I longed for the privacy of life after Kamala’s term. Or terms.

“This is cozy,” she said when we finally entered the wooden cabin. It was truly humble: only a single room with a small kitchen, couch, queen sized bed, and a tiny bathroom. I loved it. Intensely. 

“This is the life ,” I sighed, falling back onto the bed. A feather bed!  

“You’re adorable. I haven’t stayed in something like this since– phew, college?” Kamala set our bags down by the door and checked the fridge, only complaining a little when it wasn’t stocked with every essential she was used to having in her own fridge.

“Don’t tell me down-to-earth, middle-class Kamala Harris is a snob?” I teased, propping myself on my elbows with a cheeky grin. Kamala shut the fridge door and prowled towards me, every step resonating somewhere deep between my legs. Even in puffy outerwear, which she had slowly begun to strip off as she leered at me, Kamala exuded power.

“I know what I want.” She peeled off the sweater that earlier I had watched her put on over her set of thermal underwear, which now rode up, exposing the brown skin beneath. “And I think you’ll agree, I usually get what I want.” Heat seared across my covered skin, and I started taking my own clothes off as well, desperate to be bared to her, to be seen and held and devoured . 

“Oh fuck ,” I moaned, still feeling her lips suctioned around my sensitive clit even as she kissed her way back up my body to share the taste of my own pussy with me. 

“We’ve never made love in foreign country,” she muttered against my lips. “Good first experience for you, baby girl?”

“Kamala, you fingered me on the plane–”

“International waters, and all that,” she dismissed, quickly melting into my touch as I slid my hands up her thighs to grip her waist. “Or air– you know what I mean. I can’t think properly when you touch me.”

“Well in that case– mmm–” I lost my train of thought as she settled herself on my thigh and began to grind onto me. The feel of her arousal increased my own, and it was all I could do not to roll us over until I had her beneath me so I could penetrate the sweet, holy warmth of her pussy once again. “Are we going for round– what is it now?”

“You keep track?”
“Not really, but I love how insatiable you’ve been today,” I said, pulling her face back to mine, sorry to expose my nipple to the chilly air after the warmth of her mouth. “I don’t think we’ve had this much sex in one day since the official end of your first one hundred days.”

“Oh baby girl, I’m always ravenous for you. It’s like the country and congress just don’t understand that I was put on God’s green earth to make you happy first, and the rest of them second.” 

I rolled my eyes, but secretly my heart fluttered. Sometimes, I wished more people could see this side of Kamala– not the sex, obviously, that was all mine, but the way she loved so deeply. But I knew that even if she got on that press podium tomorrow and told everyone her real, true feelings about being President, good and bad, they would still believe it was some kind of act. Her words, here in the silent wilderness of Canada, were whispered only for me to hear, and I was perfectly okay with that.

“Babe, I think we’re lost.”

“We’re not lost, I just need to reorient,” Kamala argued, spinning around while holding a compass and our map. I wasn’t too worried. I was sure we had eagle eyes on us from every direction, even though it appeared that we were totally alone in the darkening tundra. Our few hours of sunlight waning, Kamala had insisted on a hike, and I gladly went along with her. “Ah! This way.” 

“My navigator,” I beamed at her, taking her hand as she led the way forward. 

It wasn’t long before the northern lights showed themselves. It was, again, like magic. One moment, we were passing through a small copse, the next, we emerged and there– hanging in the sky like curtains of light and time, shimmering against a starry sky, was the most beautiful natural sight I’d ever seen. 

“So worth getting lost,” I muttered, earning a halfhearted, glove-muffled smack on my ass. 

We beheld the lights, marveling, absorbing, breathing them in like they were some kind of magic, and I knew that as long as I lived, I would never forget this moment. I turned to Kamala, wanting to see the hues of green and blue reflected in her liquid chocolate eyes, but she wasn’t where I expected her to be. 

“K-Kam, what–”

“Valerie Wright,” she said, a resonant joy in her voice as she knelt before me. Her gloves were discarded to the snowy ground, and in her hands– oh. Oh my god. “I have never–” she broke off with a wild burst of giggles. “I– I had this whole fucking speech prepared but right now– god, Val. I love you.” Tears blurred the aurora in her eyes, and I wanted to cup her cheek in my hand or kneel with her or say her name over and over and over again, but once again I was held frozen in her gaze like that mortal before a goddess. “You’ve always seen me, not Kamala Harris, not Senator or Vice President or President– you saw me. I’ve never been seen like that. I want to have you look right through to the center of me for the rest of my life, every day, after every silly fight and every time we make love. Please,” she said, fighting back tears harder than she ever had. “ Marry me.”

“ Yes,” I burst, the word nearly unintelligible as tears of my own cascaded down my face, freezing before they could splash onto my coat. I dropped to my knees and did take Kamala’s face into my gloved hands, shining with victory and the lights– “ Yes!”

I shook my left glove off and watched as she fit a stunning but simple ring onto my finger. It was perfect. She knew me well. 

“I’m sorry, that was a mess–” she stammered, twisting her fingers into my hair, pulling me even closer. 

“You– Shush!”  

I kissed her with my tear-streaked lips, my skin warming at the touch of hers, lit by the earth’s ethereal light show. Nothing, not the biting wind or the snow managing to soak through three layers of socks, could manage to tear me apart from her. I’d like to see anything try. 

Chapter Text

My lungs burned as I sprinted through the halls of the White House, bare foot, wearing only what I’d managed to throw on over my nightclothes. The thunderous sound of boots on hard floor was dead ahead, and I had to get there, I was so close. Only a few more feet–

Arms stretched out and intercepted my hurtling form, and the abrupt loss of momentum coupled with the pain of capture disoriented me enough that I didn’t immediately fight to be free. Once I could see properly again, I did. 

“Let me go! ” I screamed, scratching at the stiff black sleeves of whoever had hold of me. They lifted me from the ground before I could find purchase against it to get away, but that just meant I could kick. “Motherfucker, let go! Let me–!”

“Calm down, Valerie!” said a harsh but familiar voice in my ear. I froze, chest heaving, and turned just enough to see– Agent Han. “There, see? No harm– ouch! Valerie, stop!” 

I’d headbutt Han with the back of my head, hard enough that her grip actually slackened. I ripped free and took off again, but ran face first into the chest of another Secret Service agent. He wrapped his arms tight around me and this I didn’t fight as hard. Agent Wood was my assigned agent, and didn’t secretly love my– my–

“Where is she?” I spat at them both, still struggling uselessly in Agent Wood’s arms. Han stared at me with narrowed eyes, but not in anger or jealousy– in pain. Her jaw flexed as she looked over my head to Wood. “Goddammit! If one of you don’t tell me where the fuck Kamala is right now–!”

“We don’t know. All we know is the communications are down all over D.C. and even here. But last we heard, the President is physically safe.”

“ Safe? How could she possibly be safe with a bunch of homicidal white supremacists running around Capitol Hill? Fuck!”  

“Are you going to try to run again if I let you go? It’s not going to help the President, and we’re only going to have to waste time detaining you,” asked Agent Wood, much more kindly than I’d ever heard him speak. He was not a man of many words, and the few there were often came out in a gravelly growl. 

I shook my head and he let me go. He and Han had a tense whispered conversation while I watched more Secret Service members than I’d ever seen in one place continue to run down the main corridor of the White House. Fear gnawed at my gut, but anger kept me present. Kamala would be fine.  

“You are not to leave the White House,” Han instructed me, and I couldn’t help the scowl I threw her way. Of course this wasn’t her fault, but who was she to be giving me orders? “Here, take this. Wood, stay with her.” She pushed a satellite phone into my hand.

“Where are you going?” I threw at her as she spun and jogged down the hallway. 

“To do my job.”

I paced up and down the main hall of our living quarters, satellite phone in hand, resisting the urge to call Han every few minutes. Communication still hadn’t been restored, and it scared me. Nothing like this had ever happened as far as I knew, unless it had been kept really quiet, and Wood was about as conversational as a brick wall. And as immovable. I begged and pleaded until tears fell, but he was resolute. 

“If Agent Han gets information, you’ll be one of the first to know,” said Wood, too fucking calm. One of the first. Not the first. Without movement, without a plan, fear was the only emotion able to take hold, and I continued to pace. 

Maybe half an hour passed before the satellite phone rang. I answered it before the first ring had ended.

“Han, is she– oh thank fuck,” I moaned into my hand. My knees shook. Han’s voice crackled on the other end, but despite her assurance that Kamala was alive and whole, her words were not all comforting. 

“ She’s secure, but… something’s wrong. Internal information has been contradictory. Wires could have been crossed in the chaos, but…”

“You don’t think so,” I mumbled into the phone, edging back from Wood. “Are you saying…” I struggled to comprehend Han’s vague words. My voice lowered to a whisper. “Internal… this came from the inside?”

“ Possibly. If I can get to her, I will keep her safe. You have my word.”

“Thank you. Please,” I choked out, loathe to beg, to not have any agency myself, to not be at her side. Was she scared? A hysterical laugh nearly escaped me– she was probably terrified for me more than herself . “Please bring her back to me.” 

“ You know I’ll do everything in my power. One more thing– don’t trust anyone. Not even Agent Wood. Lay low. I’ll contact you.”

The phone went silent after Han hung up, but I kept it pressed to my ear, trying to digest her final warning. Against my will, my eyes were drawn to the massive agent standing guard at the staircase, eyes always on me. What the fuck was happening?

I lowered the phone and tried to compose myself. I would keep it together, for her. Agent Wood’s eyes seemed to call me over to him without any words, and I went, eager to gather whatever proof I could that he was able to be trusted. 

“Any word?” he asked, his voice back to its gritty monotone. 

“Han says she’s secure, but can’t say more than that yet, things are too chaotic. Wood, what’s going on? What happened? I only know about the bomb threat, then the actual bombs. Kamala was supposed to be on fucking Air Force One by now!” 

Fuck. I needed to keep it together. I was too emotional, too distracted. Wood didn’t look perturbed or surprised or– anything really. 

“A domestic terrorist group managed to plant and detonate bombs at several of the nearby memorials. President Harris was on her way to Andrews Air Force Base, but we lost contact when the bombs went off. It sounds like the President’s detail was able to get her somewhere secure, but due to the loss of regular communication, they haven’t been able to plan her route back. She’s more vulnerable on the move, so it's better she stays where she is. I’m sorry, ma’am, I know that doesn’t help right now.”

“No, it doesn’t.” I swallowed back tears, determined to remain calm. The fact that a terrorist group was able to destabilize communications and plant several bombs meant this went deep. But how deep? 

“I trained with Agent Han, she’s extremely capable.”

“So is Anderson,” I mumbled. A sick, guilty feeling stole through me. The man had always been so quiet, so professional. Was it… Was he the dirty one? I put my face in my hands, overcome but desperately trying to stave off emotion, even if I had to push the goddamn tears back in. I’d practically demanded that Han be transferred out of Kamala’s personal security detail. It would be my fault if something happened to her, and Han wasn’t there to stop it. A big hand patted my shoulder somewhat awkwardly.

“I’ve never worked with him, but I’ve heard–,” Wood broke off, then looked away. His eyes fell on the staircase down to the main White House hall. He held his finger to his ear as though receiving orders, and started backing away.. 

“What’s–”

“ Go!” Wood pushed me towards the bedroom. “Get in the panic room, don’t let anyone in.”

“Why?”

“Just go!”

A moment later, before I could even think to heed his instructions, boots were pounding up the staircase. Wood grabbed me and practically threw me into the room and shut the door behind me. And then–

Gunshots. Four quick shots, a muffled thud, and then silence.

My mouth went dry. I ran to the panic room hidden in our bedroom and entered it, breathing fast but trying not to think about who had fired nor who had been fired at. Minutes seemed to pass in agonizing molasses form and the stale air of the cell-like room didn’t help. I thought of Kamala, tried to recall countless happy memories together, any kiss, any touch, but all I could see was her face pinched with fear or– worse. I wished I’d at least put on my necklace. Since I couldn’t wear the engagement ring in public yet, I’d taken to sliding it onto the necklace which stayed under my shirt. I rubbed the skin where it usually was while I waited in horrible silence.

Then, someone knocked. I held my breath. Maybe they’d think I wasn’t here. 

“Madam, it’s– it’s me,” came a strained pant. I wrenched the door open and there stood Agent Wood, his hand pressed to his blood stained white shirt. I stared at it– blood, real, fresh blood– unbelieving for a few seconds before some survival instinct kicked in. 

“Sit,” I ordered him as I ran to retrieve our medical kit from the dresser compartment. I cleaned and dressed his wound– he’d been grazed by a bullet. I dreaded to think what I’d find when I stepped into the hallway. Wood was stoic, only wincing as I did what I could for him. 

The men were dressed as agents, but were not Secret Service. Their bodies remained on the floor as we left the residence level, Wood in front of me, his gun out and ready. We’d make a break for the panic room, and await communication from Han there, but I was beginning to doubt I’d ever hear from her again. Despair set in like a creeping vine, crawling up my legs, wrapping vicelike around my chest, and choking me until my vision blurred. 

Focus, Val. Do it for her. 

Shouts at the entrance to the White House made Wood hold out his hand, and we froze. The calls were frantic, and among them, I heard words like ‘treason’ and ‘terrorist’ shouted angrily, as though by a mob. I wanted to run ahead, but common sense– and Wood’s physical presence– held me at bay. 

Finally, those calling out came into view. It was the military, Army from the looks of them, hauling several men dressed as agents in handcuffs. I didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t mean much. There were so many Secret Service agents I’d never met or heard of. How many could have been involved in this?  

When Agent Wood saw the army personnel, he sighed and relaxed. I wasn’t so sanguine, but I followed his lead as he made for them. They raised their weapons, but Wood put his own away and stuck his hands in the air. 

“I’m Secret Service Agent Spencer Wood, assigned to protect the First Lady, who is with me. We were accosted in the First Family’s residence, you’ll find the bodies of three–”

“At ease,” the army officer who looked to be in charge called out, most likely a general. The soldiers all lowered their weapons, but did not put them away. Danger must remain. The man strode towards us and spoke in a low voice. “We’ve set up a rudimentary line of communication between the branches and homeland security. There was an internal breach, but we’ve isolated it, though insurgents still remain at large.”

“Sir,” I stepped around Wood and towards the general. “Where is the President?” 

He eyed me, and I knew then that I wouldn’t like his answer. 

“She’s being held in a secure location near Andrews AFB, but First Lady, I’m afraid we’ve lost contact with the squad we sent their way.”

Air was refusing to enter my lungs. The man’s face came in and out of focus. 

“What does that mean?” I asked, tonelessly. 

“It means that we need to prepare for the worst.”

Chapter Text

Han hadn’t called. Had it only been an hour since the bombs? Time was passing so slowly, as steeped in fear as I was. I didn’t relinquish the satellite phone and I didn’t trust anyone. Perhaps Wood, but even then I didn’t let my guard down.

Communications were being restored slowly, and I’d spoken briefly with the Vice President, who was being kept in a secure location and… prepped. I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t imagine a future in which– no.

“Wood,” I whispered, the first word I’d spoken since we’d been sequestered in the residence level once again. “I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.”

“The best thing you can do is stay safe, that’s what she would–”

“You have no idea what she would want,” I spat, though he was probably right. “At least let me go down stairs to the situation room, I want to know what’s going on!”

“That requires a security clearance level you don’t have, ma’am, I’m–”

The phone in my pocket rang and I immediately answered.  “Hello?”

“Val, thank god–” Kamala’s voice crackled from the speaker and I almost passed out from relief. “Emily made it to me, we’re on our way–”

“On your way where? To the White House?” I asked, my voice remarkably calm for how loudly my heart was beating.

“ Yes. It’s just the two of us. Emily snuck us out of the bunker. She doesn’t trust any of the other agents and at this point, neither do I. Is the White House secure? Are you safe?”

“ I’m safe. I don’t know Kam, I don’t know who to trust. The Army is here, some communications have been restored and they say they’ve isolated the problem.”

“ We’ll see about that. Stay there, don’t– shit!” Kamala got cut off by a sound that must have blown out the microphone, because it was a few unintelligible seconds before I heard her voice again. “ We’re a block away from the White House, someone just–” she cut off with a gasp of pain, and I must have been close to snapping the phone in my hand. “ They rammed our car. Stay there– please Val, we’ll–”

The connection went dead, and I stared at the phone, horror sinking in like an ice bath.

“Wood!” I shouted, the sound tearing through my throat like a knife. He was already in motion, having heard most of the conversation. He took my hand and we ran. 

Outside was chaos. Reporters and civilians barricaded behind mobile walls, military personnel still hurrying around with weapons drawn, and the two of us, sprinting through it. Honestly, the chaos worked in our favor. 

“There!” he said, pointing ahead of us. A black SUV sat in the middle of an intersection, its side crumpled in like a soda can. Soldiers stood around, pointing their weapons at it, while another group was pulling men out of a totaled truck near it and handcuffing them.

I ran faster than I’d ever run in my life. The center of my world was in that SUV, pulling me towards her like gravity, like a vacuum, and this time there were no arms to stop me. The soldiers shouted at me, but I ignored them as I skidded to a halt beside the SUV, and tugged at the one intact door, tears streaming down my face. 

Kamala threw herself at me and my world narrowed to brown hair that smelled like her shampoo and smoke, her arms tight around me, her voice, whispering relief against my cheeks, my forehead, my lips. 

“ Dammit Val, you headstrong, reckless – I told you to stay ,” she moaned. I pulled her out of the SUV and we collapsed against the side of it together, shaking.

“Fat fucking chance, Kam,” I whimpered. A laugh choked with tears broke free of her, and we sank to the ground, the chaos around us as important as a buzzing fly. 

“Madam President, we really should–”

“You will all debrief me here . And you can start by telling me how the hell the Secret Service was infiltrated by white supremacist terrorists.” 

And so they did. Nobody dared defy the President, not when she looked ready to storm a castle on her own. Her hand rarely left mine.

We were in our living room, surrounded by the highest military officials, all of Kamala’s cabinet members, and only a few Secret Service agents, including Han and Wood. I was curled up on the couch beside Kamala, who I hadn’t let out of my sight since I pulled her from the wreck. Hours had gone by in a whirl of people talking at us, news broadcasts, and phone calls. The only time I wasn’t at Kamala’s side was when she had to make a statement to the country, but even then, I was just off camera, eyes trained on her. There wasn’t a moment that I felt safe, but at least I was with her. 

I couldn’t sleep much, but it was worse for Kamala, who continued to be needed long after the sun sank beneath the horizon. I was able to doze against her side while activity continued on and on around us until finally, they all left. The sun had already risen again and bathed us in its golden light.

Her eyelids drooping, still dressed in the clothes she’d been in when she left more than twenty-four hours ago, I carried Kamala to bed. She was barely conscious as I peeled off the soot-covered clothing, ripped in some places, and tucked her into bed. I was about to get her some water when she grabbed my hand. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, her words slurred with exhaustion. I smiled as tears gathered in my eyes, and kissed her knuckles. 

“I was just going to get us some water. I’ll be–”

“I could’ve lost you, you’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you leave my sight.” Her eyes were more focused as she met my gaze, and even though she looked mere seconds away from passing out, there was still that steely glint. I looked over to the door, where Han was standing, facing away from us. 

“Agent Han, can you please get us some water?” After she left, I pulled back the covers. “Scoot, love,” I whispered to Kamala, who smiled for the first time in many hours and did as she was told. I nestled myself beside her and pulled her against me, where we stayed, breathing each other in until Han came back with two glasses of water. I made her drink the whole thing before she finally fell asleep.

Han remained posted outside our (closed and locked) bedroom door, despite my insistence that she could go get sleep. I was secretly glad, though. There was no single person in the White House I trusted to keep us safe more than her right now, except Wood, who had already left to have his wounds properly attended to. Poor Han, who was probably running on every stimulant known to man, only switched off when she physically could not keep her eyes open. 

She came to let me know, very quietly since Kamala was still asleep, that she was leaving and Wood would take her place. 

“Thank you. Wait, Han–” I reached out and took her hand. “ Thank you .” I tried to fit every ounce of gratitude I possessed into the words, desperate for her to understand how much I owed her, for Kamala’s life and my own. “I don’t know what I would have done, if…”

“It was an honor, ma’am.” Han’s eyes grew soft as she looked from me to the woman in my arms. “She’s strong, but take care of her okay?” I nodded, and Han actually smiled . I don’t think I’d ever seen her smile before. 

After she left, I stroked Kamala’s hair, marveling at the fact that she was here, in my arms, safe . When she’d left the White House the day before, our parting was brief, routine. She woke me, the sky still dark, and kissed me, promising that as soon as they were in the air she would call me. It had been a sudden flight, and now, I wondered if it had always been a ploy to get her out in the open.

Tensions had been rising: riots and terrorist attacks in various US cities, all led by angry, screaming white supremacy groups. They were still stung by Kamala’s victory, as though the devil himself had taken office. I had to take several breaths to calm myself before I accidentally woke Kamala up with my fuming. It was ridiculous. And they almost took the woman I loved from me. 

As though shaken awake by my violent thoughts, Kamala jerked and sat up, panting like she’d just run a mile. 

“Baby?” I reached out for her, but she flinched. “Sorry! It’s just me. You’re safe.”

“ Oh,” she blew out, and then tears were rolling down her face. Her eyes were wild but when she finally looked over at me, they seemed to calm. “Sorry, Val. Nightmare.” Kamala laid back down and rolled over until we were nose to nose. Her breath tickled against my lips. “I’m so glad you’re okay. All I could think about the entire time was–” her breathing hitched and she couldn’t speak. I caressed her cheek and relished how warm, how soft it was.

“Me too. I almost concussed Han. She had to physically restrain me from running out into the park.” 

Kamala laughed, and though the sound was nowhere near as carefree as usual, it still brought a fresh wave of relief to crash over me.

“Of course. She nearly had to do the same to me. And then you came running up to our car,” she said. Suddenly, anger flared deep in her eyes. “Valerie Jane Wright, you will never go running out into danger for me again.”

“You can’t stop me,” I replied, matching her ferocity. “Kamala Devi Harris, I love you. You are the most important thing in my life, and I will do whatever I have to do to make sure you stay in it.” 

“You stubborn woman!” Kamala took my face in her hands and kissed me, passion bleeding freely from every point our bodies touched. She tasted like fear and coffee, but as our kiss deepened, I started to taste hope again. Tears were shared between us, too, salty and sweet. Though I was exhausted and Kamala was supposed to be awake in only a few hours, we couldn’t stop.

We’d made love more times than I would ever be able to count, but never quite like this. Never tinged with the fear of almost losing each other; never so sweet that I cried when she entered me; never so filled with bone-deep primal need that I pressed into her as though trying to merge our bodies. I kissed every freckle, every line and wrinkle, every single vein I could find carrying her heart’s blood back and forth, keeping her alive. Keeping her here with me. 

As her sounds crescendoed under my touch and her face transformed into ecstasy, I commit it all to memory, never wanting to forget a single moment of her. 

It seemed only seconds later that I was being shaken awake. The hands on my shoulder were soft, so I didn’t startle quite as much as I would have done otherwise. Kamala was leaning over me, dressed as though for a funeral, all in black. Her face was drawn in deep lines of stress again, but a secret smile meant only for me sparkled in her eyes. 

“I have to go, honey. But I want to say something first.” I sat up, pulling the covers around my naked body in case anyone came in, and waited for her to go on. “I want to marry you the second all of this is dealt with, not a moment sooner or later.”

I sucked in a shocked breath, dazzled by the intensity of her gaze. 

“I thought you wanted to have a big, traditional wedding? That’ll take months, we’ve already set–”

“I don’t care about any of that now. The people I love will be there and it will be as beautiful as we can make it in the time we have. The only thing that matters is us.”

“Okay,” I said, my throat choked with emotion. “I– I’d love that.” I smiled at her, and her answering, eye-crinkling smile made my chest swell. “Can I come with you today?”

Kamala chuckled and kissed me before pulling me up and out of bed. 

Chapter Text

“My fellow Americans, just a few days ago someone attacked our nation’s capital, destroying several of our national monuments, killing twenty-seven people, injuring over a hundred others including myself, and attempting to harm my partner in our home.” Kamala’s nostrils flared as she paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. This was being broadcast live to the country, and once again I stood just off camera. “I said someone, but we know who they are. A domestic terrorist group, mainly comprised of white supremacists, managed to infiltrate the ranks of the Secret Service. A full-scale investigation is being done within every branch of the government, during which we will find and prosecute every single person involved until we are absolutely certain that we have chased this to its source.” 

When Kamala stepped out of the camera’s eye, she came to me first to cup my face in the palm of her hands and kiss me. Only after her lips lingered on mine for a moment did she walk away without a word to allow her staff to claim her attention. I watched her go, not hearing anything that my assistant said to me. 

The next White House press briefing held later that day was an absolute madhouse. Kamala made a short appearance, reiterating the things she’d said in her address, and left. I watched from my office in the East Wing, my chest constricting as it did every time Kamala was anywhere but right beside me, but I knew that was something I had to get over. She would be fine. Han had been reassigned back to Kamala’s personal security detail, and I was perfectly okay with that. As far as I was concerned, Han and Wood were the only agents that I trusted, and I would deal with any remaining fragments of jealousy I felt towards Han. She’d proven herself, and I trusted Kamala more than anyone on earth.

The briefing ended before the press could have all of their questions answered, and as the White House Press Secretary left the room, the room erupted into chaos, question after question fired at her retreating back. 

I still didn’t know everything, which meant that Kamala didn’t either. We didn’t know who to trust, only that there were absolutely people we couldn’t trust. Every night, she came home to me with that same flare of her nostrils and that furious fire in her eyes, adamant that she would figure it out. I was able to massage away the tension, but the fire remained, doused only in the moments before she passed out in my arms. 

Even in the first few months of her presidency, I hadn’t ever seen Kamala this worried or stressed. Sometimes… It felt as though she was keeping the worst of it from me– but what could possibly be worse than what I’d seen? What I went through in the hours after the attack, imagining that Kamala– that she had been– I couldn’t even think it. 

The sound of an email notification brought me back to my body. Something as mundane as email was almost comforting, despite how much I wanted to ignore every single one and pull the bottle of whiskey from my desk drawer. I was just about to try focusing on my actual work when the door to my office swung open and Kamala marched in, followed by her staff and Agents Han and Wood. 

“Val, come, we have to go,” she said, hurrying over to me. When I looked at her quizzically, she pulled me up from my chair. “We set a trap.”

“A– a trap? Hang on,” I gently pulled out of her grasp. “Context, please– a trap for whom? How? At the briefing?”

“One of the infiltrators turned, and we had him send out a coded message during the briefing, hoping to trap enough of the terrorists to point us to their leader.” 

I stared at her, my mouth falling open, and I heard a snicker behind Kamala. Miller, who was looking a little worse for wear, was giving me a look that plainly said ‘ duh’. I rolled my eyes at him, but laced my fingers with Kamala’s and allowed her to lead us right back out the door. 

“This is insane.” 

“I know.”

“You are insane,” I hissed again. I sat beside Kamala in the White House’s secure bunker, wishing that at the very least, the designers had thought to include some kind of fake sunlight panel. I was going to go stir crazy in here. ”Why didn’t you tell me? No wait– I know, you knew I wouldn’t have agreed.”

Kamala didn’t say anything at first, but took my hand in hers. We sat on a small and lumpy couch at the south end of the underground bunker, far from any of our staff or Secret Service. Last I’d seen them, they were gathered around a wall of TVs, waiting. Watching. Now I knew for what. The drab, gray walls seemed to close in on me.

The trap had finally been fully explained. Evidently, Kamala had hidden the full scope of what she knew from me for days. Including what she’d been planning. A trap to catch those responsible for the atrocities I’d witnessed, and many I hadn’t. A trap that involved putting herself at risk: not physically , we were perfectly safe in this bunker, but in the eyes of the world. She’d turned Capitol Hill into bait . 

“I had everyone evacuated into underground bunkers, just like this one,” she said, pleading for me to understand. “I would never intentionally put people in danger. Every person I could trust is in on this. We spread a vague threat warning, and it’s going to be fine.”

“But if people find out that the leak was you , there’s no explanation that will be enough to assuage the country’s–”

“Val,” she turned to face me fully. We were relatively alone, and the thick walls offered privacy, but she still spoke in a low voice. “If Agent Wood hadn’t been there, they would have killed you. Anderson confirmed as much when he turned. I did this for you.”

For me. Ruining her image, taking time and expertise away from the real issues, all to protect me. Nausea roiled within me.

“This is going to be all anyone talks about for the rest of your presidency,” I moaned, unable to meet her eyes while guilt broke through all my carefully maintained dams. I knew it had been reckless to agree to this relationship. I had become a chink in her armor, one that people could– and did – use against her. Kamala was going to end up sacrificing everything she’d spent her life working towards. “Maybe we can still– maybe there’s still time to…” The idea of breaking off our engagement, of leaving her– the pain of it silenced me. But Kamala was smart, and knew what I’d been getting at. 

“We are not going to give them that power.” Her voice was harsh, and I knew some of it was directed at me. She’d once said that she saw me as a woman who feared nothing. Well, she was wrong. I feared for her more than anything. 

“I’m not worth this!” I whimpered. “You have a country to run, one that needs you, now more than ever. I can’t–”

“Valerie,” she grasped my face. “When are you going to understand that you are the most important thing in my life? These mothafuckahs specifically targeted you, and I will not stand for that.” Her fury burned bright, momentarily blinding me to everything but her. “The only reason I haven’t resigned yet and whisked you away to some remote island is because I know that we can fight this. I will protect you.”

“I’m one person–”

“You’re my person.” Her voice, still so low, had taken on a fervent quality that resonated deep within me. Her face was so close to mine that I could see every pore, every line, every twitch of tired, overstimulated muscle. “I spent my life searching for you. My career, my presidency– those are temporary, those are ego, you– ” her voice became choked with tears. “You are everything .”

We could have been the only two people in the world then. My head spun– this woman, this champion of the American people– how could she possibly… For me–?

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat, clearly not wanting to interrupt, but needing to do so. I wanted to wave them away, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t tear my eyes away from Kamala’s. Her brown irises pulled me in towards the endless depths of her pupils, so warm and engulfing. When the person who stood before us spoke, I realized it was Agent Han. “We’re getting reports of activity nearby. They took the bait.”

Kamala, still holding my face, still directing the full force of her eyes on me, grinned. 

“I’m always a woman with a plan.”

After I composed myself, Kamala led me towards where the others who’d accompanied us into the bunker were gathered. They were watching bodycam footage as government agents entered an apartment building somewhere in Virginia. I took Kamala’s hand, and something about the way we all waited in tense anticipation reminded me of election night, more than a year ago. It astonished me how much and how little had changed. Miller stood on my other side, and I hooked my arm through his, grateful for his presence. 

Another screen showed live news coverage of several detained men dressed in ridiculous camouflage outfits outside one of the capitol buildings. Their guns and bags had been confiscated, and they knelt with their hands behind their heads as one by one, they got loaded into the back of a police van. They’d been sent to kill us . Anderson’s message was one that had assured the terrorist group that now was the time: while we were still vulnerable and recovering from the shock of the first assault, and while Kamala and I were supposedly headed to a safe house. I couldn’t believe they’d be so stupid as to believe that, but since when were racist assholes smart? 

The bodycam footage was more interesting. The agents were walking through narrow, filthy hallways at a measured pace, checking every room and corner until they came to the end. With one swift kick, the final door was broken open at the latch, revealing a man surrounded by computer screens, holding a gun to his head. 

“Don’t look–” Kamala hissed, but it wasn’t necessary. The agents were prepared, and shot the man in his arm before he could take the coward's way out. He collapsed to the ground, moaning in pain while the agents converged on him. I clutched Kamala’s hand so tightly that I was sure I’d cut off her circulation, but she gripped mine back just as tight. Murmurs filled the room as every agent within began receiving orders. 

“Well, I don’t know about anyone else,” said Miller, whose face was pale but remarkably calm. “But watching terrorists fail miserably makes me ravenous . Shall I put in an order for Chinese? Pizza?”

@c0c0nutqu33n: President Momala wanted revenge for how close those racist fuckers got to killing our beloved first lady!! And herself ofc, but who wouldn’t want to protect a woman as stunning as this? *photo of Val at a hospital, meeting with a group of nurses*

@tyepgfh4783294: if i were first lady val, i’d be getting on my knees if you know what i mean (; some people just have it all (i know they almost got assassinated, but still UGH she’s living my dream)

@lindseybuzzfeed: Anyone else catch that flash of a ring on Val’s finger, or am I crazy?? Did Kamala propose????

“You just can’t help driving the internet insane, can you?” I said, smirking over at Kamala after putting away my phone. She was sitting behind her desk in the Oval Office, a crinkle in her brow, her lips pursed. I spun my engagement ring around on my finger as I stared at her. She was bent over the letter she was writing, her wavy brunette hair falling to cover most of her face. 

“What can I say, I have a gift,” she deadpanned, finishing the letter with a flourish of her quill pen. “There. I think that’s the last one.” 

“Their families will really appreciate it,” I said, though I knew it would be of little comfort to Kamala right now. Several genuine Secret Service agents had given their lives trying to protect us on the day of the attack, and she was writing personal letters to each of their families to honor them.

Hours had gone by since she’d called me to her office, a vulnerable plea in her voice, one that I couldn’t refuse. I’d watched over her while she took out the quill, dipped it into an inkwell, and penned the first letter. Tears had gathered and fallen to the paper of that first letter, sealing it with her sorrow, but each letter since had been dry, the brunt of her emotion having been absorbed by the handkerchief I’d given to her. 

Now, she tried for a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. What did reach them was a silent request. I stood, rounded her massive desk, and when she held her arms out to me, I gratefully nestled myself in her lap. 

“It’s not your fault, baby,” I murmured, brushing strands of hair from her face. A few tears had fallen at my touch, and I wiped them away with my thumbs. She nodded slowly. 

“I know. But I’m still their president.” Kamala sighed, seeming to try to release the grief she held on her shoulders. Though the deep lines between her brows didn’t fade entirely, her smile began to twinkle in her eyes again as she looked up at me. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be doing the same thing you were doing before you hired me: kicking ass, taking names, and attracting all the ladies,” I joked, wiggling my eyebrows at her. She laughed hard enough to shake me in her lap, and I couldn’t bite back my smile. There was mischief in the curl of her lip and tilt of her head. 

“You free next Wednesday?” she asked, dragging her fingers down my back in a lightly suggestive manner. I suppressed a shudder.

“I’ll have to check my schedule, but I’m sure I could move something. What’s the occasion?” 

“There’s a few important words I want to exchange with you,” she said, leaning forward to press her lips to my neck. “In front of friends and family.” Oh.  

“N-next week?” I asked, breathless from the motion of her lips. “That’s so soon, I–”

“Not getting cold feet, are you, baby girl?” 

“Of course not.” There was no suppressing the shudders that coursed through me as she nibbled my ear. “But do I not have any say in the date of our wedding? I’m just supposed to accept your unilateral decision, hmm?”

Kamala’s cheeks glowed with that stunning, dark blush, and she seemed genuinely abashed for a moment as she pulled her lips away from my collarbone. 

“I– I’m sorry, Val. I just didn’t want to wait a second longer than I had to. If you want to move it, we can–”

I giggled at her blustering, so unlike her usual demeanor. I stopped her with a finger to her lips.

“No, next Wednesday is perfect. I’ll need to fly back home before we exchange those words, though.”

“Why?” she asked, having to speak from around my finger. I could tell that I’d actually surprised her, and I giggled again, giddy at the shock in her expression. 

“There’s something there that’s been waiting for me to meet the woman of my dreams. It’s my grandmother’s, my mom saved it for me. So I suppose you finally get your wish.”

“My wish? You mean other than marrying the most amazing woman I’ve ever met?” 

“Haven’t you always wanted to see me in a dress?” I teased, threading my fingers into her hair. Kamala’s eyes lit up, and she kissed me. 

Chapter Text

Miller sat across from me with the most satisfyingly dumbstruck look on his face that I’d ever seen, and I stayed silent to watch him work through it. I leaned back against the couch and crossed my legs, not fighting the smirk that tugged at my lips. My phone buzzed and I reluctantly looked away to see that Kamala had texted me. 

Have you offered it to him? He usually responds immediately to meeting requests but it’s been 10 mins. Is he still alive? 

I stifled a snort, and texted her back.

I did. He’s still computing. Hasn’t even asked me any questions yet. Should I poke him with a stick? 

Hahaha maybe. Are there signs of life?

He’s breathing, fidgeting, eyes open like a deer in headlights. I’m going to put him out of his misery, one moment <3

“You still with me over there?” I asked, nudging his leg with mine. He started slightly and looked over at me. 

“Why me?”

Heat rose into my cheeks. Had I overestimated the friendship we’d been building since I’d stopped being his boss? Well, he may have many other friends, but I certainly didn’t. Being a surprise First Lady had actually caused most of my existing friendships– few that there were– to dwindle. I learned very quickly that many of them had only ever been my friend as long as they benefited from it.

“I consider you a close friend. You can say no, I won’t hold it–”

“I would absolutely love to be your best man!” he yelped, sitting forward in his seat. “I just– I always thought– don’t I annoy the fuck out of you?”

“Sometimes,” I smiled. “But you’ve also been supportive of me from the very start. You made sure I ate, you made sure I left the office at least a few times a week, you even shamed me into dating your boss. I owe you a lot.”

“Put that into your wedding speech, and I’ll block out an extra hour of Kamala’s schedule, just for you.”

I pretended to consider that, but we both knew that if I wanted an extra hour, Kamala would block it out herself.

“You won’t have to do much, there’s not really time for–

“Oh no, girl, you are getting the best bachelorette party I can throw. It being in the White House will significantly decrease the amount of reckless fun we can have, but–” I cut him off with a hug, more touched than I would ever express out loud to him, lest his head get even bigger. He hugged me back. We were awkward for a moment when we came apart, but then he gasped. “Oh my god, are you and Kamala going to announce this publicly?” 

I nodded, unable to suppress my smile. I’d been looking forward to his reaction regarding this specific bit of news. He would not be able to resist writing that speech himself. And it was our gift to him to allow it. 

I texted Kamala while he celebrated himself hoarse in the kitchen, having declared that this called for a cocktail. 

He took that exactly how I expected. I hope you’re ready to fight him on every innuendo known to man

BRING IT ON!

“There’d better not be any strippers at this party–”

“ Kam! ” I laughed, and lightly shoved her backwards, towards the front doors where her sister and niece were waiting to take her out. “Who do you think I–” 

“You–” Kamala grabbed my waist and pulled me to her until we were chest to chest. Someone beyond our little bubble whistled, and my cheeks burned. Even more so when she whispered her next words directly into my ear. “ Are about to be my wife.”

I shuddered as her warm breath lingered on my neck, entranced by the power of those two words. My wife.  

“Careful, Madam President, or I might just request that you stay here and strip for me instead,” I purred, fluttering my lashes at her. She gave me a look that plainly communicated that the moment they returned her from their night of excess, I’d better be prepared for exactly that– and more. 

“Miller,” she called, not looking away from me, not allowing a single inch between us. “Take excellent care of Ms. Wright this evening.” Or else, was implied, if only jokingly. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, closer than I was expecting. He started to tug on my elbow, but I resisted, already missing Kamala before she’d even left. 

She kissed me then, tenderly. I sighed, and the pressure on my arm lapsed. There was more whistling from around the hall, and then, Kamala was pulling away. 

“I love you, Val. Make smart choices,” she added, louder, with a wink. 

“I love you, too.” I snuck one more kiss, then allowed Miller to pull me away, knowing I’d have a hard time walking away myself. Then, I called out to Kamala’s family, “Send pics, please! She’s still claiming to have lost any evidence of her college party days!” 

They all laughed, and then Kamala was swept away by her sister, and I by Miller. 

After one of the most insane parties I’d been to since college, capped with Miller streaking through the room– God willing, I would forget the details, ugh – I stumbled my way back up to our residence level. It’d been fun . I drank too much, danced for too long, and my feet ached, but I hadn’t felt so alive in a long time. After everything that had been going on, I think I needed it. But what I needed more, was–

“Kamala!” 

There she was, sprawled on our sofa, looking as gorgeous as she ever had, grinning at me through what I suspected was a similar level of intoxication that I was currently operating at. She held her arms out to me, and I leapt into them– actually leapt.

“Missed me? Oof–” she grunted as I collided with her, but she dissolved into giggles as I wrapped my arms tightly around her. “I’ll take that as a yes. I missed you too, honey. So, how did our Miller do?”

“He’s a goddamn party animal. I could have guessed, but I’m glad I got to witness it. How was yours? It can’t have been anywhere near–”

“Actually, I’m probably going to have to make an apology phone call to the bar we closed down for the occasion. My family can get very excited.”

“Any casualties?” 

“There may or may not have been a game of drunken musical chairs where the last chair ended up getting its legs snapped,” she said in a vague, offhand tone, not looking at me. 

“By you?” I prodded her in the chest, grinning. She bit her lip, trying not to smile. “Did you at least win?”

“Oh baby, you know I won,” she purred, with that confident smile that’d won the election, my heart, and my hand in marriage. 

“I would brag if I were that bar owner. ‘The President of the United States broke this chair!’” I joked, holding out my hands in an exaggerated gesture. “They should put it in a museum.” 

We laughed together, me on her lap, feeling so right, so at peace that I could almost forget that our home had been a place of violence. Right now, it seemed far away. Kamala was here, safe, happy, and I was going to marry her. 

“ Woah,” I muttered, shaking my head, which felt full of liquid. 

“Val? What’s wrong?”

“I’m about to marry the President of the United States.” 

Kamala snorted, but brought her hand to my cheek with that feather light touch that burned. She met my gaze, and something darker than matrimonial anticipation stirred in hers. 

“Are you sure about this, Valerie? Marrying me. You’ve seen how dangerous it can be. Your life, your career, your freedom to exist outside all this–” she swept her arm in a great arc, “–will be on hold as long as we’re together.” 

“Kam, you’re the one who fought so hard to–”

“I know,” she choked out. 

Her emotional shift gave me whiplash. I cradled her crumbling face in my hands, too inebriated for this . Was she having second thoughts? I waited for her to go on, but she didn’t. 

“Baby,” I cooed, caressing her cheeks, wiping away the few tears that trickled down her face. “I’m sure. I’m ready. I didn’t get into politics to have a carefree life, I got into it because I want a better world for those who come after me. And I fell in love with you because you want the exact same thing.” 

“But you were so afraid. You still are, I see it in your eyes every time there’s a sudden sound, or when we part ways in the morning.” 

“I am. But you were right, back in that bunker– we can’t give anyone that power. You said you would protect me, and I trust you. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than at your side– while you finish out this term, and when you start the next one.”

Kamala’s tears had stopped, and she was looking at me with mounting intensity. A speculative look crossed her face. “I was thinking that… I might stop at one term.”

“No you won’t,” I growled. A smile broke onto her face, dispelling the dark clouds. 

“You’re right, I won’t.” That’s my girl. This woman, who’d sacrificed so much to get to where she was, would not be a one-term president. She’d earned it. “Thank you, Val. I– I’m sorry for–”

“Shhh, just tell me that once your two terms are done, you’ll let me take you on a two-year long vacation to Europe.”

“Deal.” 

I leaned forward and kissed her. She sucked in a surprised breath through her nose, then surrendered to me. Fully . She became limp in my arms, submissive perfection. Desire blossomed within, its scorching petals burning hotter the longer my lips devoured hers. I was about to legally join myself with the most gorgeous, sensual, powerful woman on the planet. 

“You remember when you asked if there were going to be any strippers at my party?” I murmured against her lips, drawing away reluctantly to see her face. I was rewarded with a smirk. 

“ Were there?” 

“That depends.” I grinned, rising from her lap. “The party happened in the White House. This room is in the White House, and I’m still tipsy, so to me, the party is still on.” I winked at her, waiting to see if she would follow my train of thought. She stared up at me, aroused, but confused. “Alright fine, let me be clear: Madam President, will you please strip for me? I’m getting married in a few days, and I want something to remember you by.”

I grabbed the lapels of her blazer and tugged her to meet my lips before she could protest. A moan resonated against my tongue, and I deepened the kiss. I tried to peel off her blazer, but she stopped me. 

“Isn’t that my job?” she said, pulling out of my grasp. “Sit for me baby, let me take care of you. Would you like another drink to go with your entertainment?”

My mouth went dry– she was really going for it. “Y-yes please.” 

She winked, fixed the lapels I’d wrinkled in my grasp, and sauntered to the kitchen. God. An idea struck me then, devious, irresistible. Kamala would love it. I rushed off the bedroom, and made it back just in time for my fiancée to walk back in with two glasses of something fruity and strong.

Kamala set one on the coffee table, then approached me with the other, hunger evident in every stride, the kind that always turned my limbs to jelly. When she reached me, she straddled my lap, handed my drink to me with the order: “Don’t drink that yet,” and finally pulled off her blazer, one sleeve first, revealing a broad shoulder beneath, then the other– so slow, so mesmerizing.

The buttons of her deep purple shirt strained as she pushed her chest out to me. I yearned to release her breasts from their prison, and she must have seen that. 

“No touching, Valerie, or I’ll have you thrown out.” 

I laughed. “You wouldn’t–”

“Don’t tempt me, honey. My partner is the jealous type, she won’t take kindly to clients who touch me.”

Fuck. My clit throbbed at her words, just the right amount of earnestness to make me feel almost guilty. Where was this coming from? We’d gotten kinky, of course, but this… this was new. And so hot. 

“Alright, baby, no touching. When can I drink this?” I held up my skinny cocktail glass, and Kamala smiled mischievously. She didn’t answer, but held my gaze as she unbuttoned her shirt. My eyes dropped to watch her nimble, sculpted fingers undo each button until– fuck – her cleavage was revealed, though still trapped behind a lacy red bra. Kamala took the glass from me and tucked it between her breasts, gasping lightly as the chilled glass slid into place.

“Lean back,” she ordered. Oh. “And open wide.”

I obeyed, and she leaned forward over me, tipping the liquid into my mouth. She drained the entire glass, and I was so entranced that I didn’t even notice some had missed my mouth until she was stooping to lick the trail. Her tongue– hot, wet– followed the drips up my neck until she was breathing in my mouth. Instinct drew me forward, into her–

“Uh uh – remember what I said,” she purred, pushing me back into the couch. 

“ Fuck , Kamala, please–”

“You paid for a dance, didn’t you? Oh!” she gasped, sliding off my lap. “Pause! I have something that will– you’ll see–”

She left me heaving on the couch, fingers itching to dip beneath the hem of my pants and give into the pulsing, aching need. I didn’t have time though– Kamala was back, clutching in her fist–

“Here,” she said, thrusting her wallet into my hands. I opened it in a daze and–

“ Kamala!” I pulled out the wad of cash, mainly fives and tens, and gave a surprised laugh. “Why do you–”

“Am I a woman with a plan, or not?” she said, grinning at me, cheeks filled with that lovely dark blush, hair messy and curling, tits almost out– “Now, how about that payment, huh baby?” She’d slipped right back into that sultry voice, and onto my lap. I swallowed roughly, pulled a few of the bills out and pocketed the rest. 

“This for now,” I tucked the cash between her ample breasts, very careful not to touch her skin– but God I wanted to. “And we’ll see if you do well enough for a tip.” 

“Don’t worry, I will.” 

She got up, downed her glass in one gulp, and put a record on– one of her favorites for when we wanted background music during love-making. Then finally– oh fuck, finally– Kamala began to strip. First, that shirt– unbuttoned the rest of the way and tossed to the side while I sat there, devouring her with my eyes only. Kamala swayed in time with the song, undulating her hips and spinning slowly until her back was to me. The ass of a goddess dangled before me like fruit I couldn’t pick– Kamala you succubus– and she began to shimmy her pants down her thighs, down, down, until they pooled at her ankles.

My mouth was actually watering. Matching red lacy panties framed her beautiful, glorious ass, and I couldn’t help it. I reached out to touch–

“Ms. Wright,” she called, smacking my hand away and glaring at me from over her shoulder. “That’s one strike.”

“I was just tipping!” I lied, pulling more bills from my pocket. Kamala smirked at me, but sighed and looked away again while shaking her toned ass right in my face. 

“Go ahead then, you filthy woman.” 

I grinned as I tucked a few of them into the hem of her panties, making sure to trail my finger along her skin just a little too much. That earned me a soft moan, and I knew then that she was enjoying this just as much as I was. 

I could watch Kamala dance and strip for hours. She was loving the attention, I was loving the view, and I rewarded her– every time she came close enough to allow it– by stuffing even more money into the scant fabric still covering her. I removed my own top, blushing as Kamala’s dance stuttered. Blushing even more when she leaned over me, pulled one of the fives from her bra, and stuffed it into mine. 

“My partner would be furious if she saw that. But life’s short, you know what I mean?” she asked, straddling my lap again. My arms ached to envelope her and my lips buzzed with need, with anticipation. “So you’re getting married, hm? Who is this lucky woman?” 

“She’s–” I gasped when her hand dove into my pants. 

“Oh, wow. Cash tips are one thing, but this –” she stroked the strap on I’d adorned. “This is the best compliment. I make you feel this good, honey? What about this fiancée of yours? Can she do this for you?” 

Kamala pulled the fleshy toy out of my pants, and stroked it again. I felt the pressure and motion of every touch against my clit, unfortunately dulled but no less divine. I groaned, wanting so badly to touch her, too.

“So you can give me a hand job, but I can’t touch you?” I teased, sprawling out, removing my hands from reach of temptation by laying them across the back of the couch. 

“That’s the deal. Though… how about you use that second strike, for free. Touch me wherever you’d like.” 

I reached out in disbelief, and saw to my embarrassment that my hand was shaking. Kamala smiled– so sweet and warm, just for me – and kissed my knuckles before straightening again and resuming that haughty look. I pulled down one bra cup until her overflowing breast spilled all the way out, and into my mouth.  

Her nipple was hard and soft all at once, and I sucked it greedily. Kamala dissolved into moans against me, clutching at my neck, my hair, digging her nails in, scratching, pulling–

“That’s enough,” she gasped and pulled away from me, out of breath, chest heaving. I stared at her, desperate for more, but loving this game we played. “God Val– Ms. Wright– your fiancée is indeed very lucky.” 

“I’m the lucky one.” She could have asked whatever she wanted of me at that moment, and I would have done it for her. But she only bit her lip and slid off of me once again. 

“I don’t know. I can’t think of a single person who could possibly deserve a woman so generous,” Kamala said, pulling all of the bills I’d tipped her with and straightening them out, pretending to count them. She tucked them under a coaster, and turned away from me, fiddling with the straps of her bra. “She took her time, this woman. If it had been me, I’d have snapped you up immediately.” Her bra slipped off, falling to the floor, and she stepped out of her panties next. 

My arousal was nearly painful. I reached into my pants, beneath the strap, and soothed the aching burn– just a little– while Kamala danced on with her back to me. The tease ! I wanted to watch as her heavy breasts moved with her, the way her dark, curly bush would peek out from between her legs. 

“Well, Ms. Wright,” she purred, finally spinning to face me. Fuck. “How do I compare to this other woman? Any… second thoughts?” Oh god. Kamala wanted me to prefer her over my ‘fiancée’. 

“Uh– I–”

“I’ll take speechless as a maybe. What can I do to steal you away?” Kamala sauntered forward, closing in like a lioness about to seize her prey. She must have realized what my dazed look meant, because she leaned in close enough that her hanging tits brushed against my arm, her nipples even more hard than before, and whispered in my ear. “ Claim me, Val. Fuck me. Turn your stripper into a dirty slut.” 

Oh fuck oh fuck–  

She backed away, a sly smile on her lips. How was she so fucking good at this? I was at her mercy, rather than the other way around– I would do whatever she asked of me. So I stood. 

“Your pussy might sway me. Do you think your partner would mind if I had a taste?”

“Oh, she would absolutely mind,” Kamala backed towards the couch opposite mine and fell into it, propping one leg up on the coffee table. “But she’s never known her way around a woman. Show me that you do, Ms. Wright.

I strode forward and knelt in front of her. The scent of her arousal made me lightheaded, and I leaned forward for more. Kamala chuckled low and deep, settling more comfortably into the couch, and the movement spurred me. I buried my tongue in her beautiful folds, lapping up every ounce of her tangy nectar. Her moans filled the room, weaving into the track that played, and she dug her fingers into my hair. 

“ Fuck yes, just like that baby girl!” 

Her pussy, divine ambrosia, sated my thirst, but not my hunger. Without thinking, without asking, I thrust two fingers inside her, causing her to tremble and moan louder beneath me. The warm, slick walls welcomed me easily, their looseness inspiring me. I released her clit with a lewd pop and looked up at her. 

“You’re so loose, Madam President. Do you let every client fuck you like a slut? Or just the ones with enough cash?” Her pussy was so wet that it squelched around my fingers, but that was nearly drowned out by her whining moans. 

“No– just– just you!” she panted, coming undone, losing that seductress composure she’d wielded so well. “ God, please, Val– fuck me with your cock!”  

“With pleasure.” I pulled out my fingers, coated in the tantalizing juices of my soulmate, and stroked the strap on until it was glistening, too. I licked the rest away while gazing into Kamala’s eyes. “Will this be extra?” I asked, barely containing a grin as I positioned the tip at her entrance. I teased her, pushing inside just enough to make her eyes roll back. 

“Only if you don’t fuck me right now,” Kamala groaned, glaring beneath her lashes at me, flushed, trembling, gorgeous. 

I pushed inside her, sighing as the resistance I expected was nowhere to be found. Who would have thought– the President of the United States enjoyed being made into a slut. I wrapped one hand around her thigh and buried the other in her hair as I thrust into her, not troubling to go slow. She was so wet. I felt the slick juices run down my thigh. 

Thank god I’d thought to put in the mini-vibrator in just the right spot for it to hit my clit with every thrust. I reached into my pants and turned it on. 

“Oh fuck… I feel that through the dildo,” Kamala breathed, going limp. I leaned down to kiss her, and a moan escaped my lips as the position increased the contact. 

“You’re so beautiful, Kam,” I murmured to her, gripping her hair tighter as I thrust again and again and again, turning her into a whimpering, needy mess of pleasure. Her fingers flew to her clit and rubbed furiously. She was getting close. Her eyes seemed to beg for more . “My beautiful slut, so eager to be ogled and fucked. Your partner could never fuck you this good.”

“Never,” she whimpered. “Never as good as you, Val.” 

“I want to fuck you like this forever,” I pleaded, so close to my own peak that it was becoming difficult to think, to keep this roleplay going. “I’ll marry you instead, baby.” 

“ Fuck yes! God– Val, please– harder!” 

I did. I plunged harder and deeper into her than I ever had, shaking the entire couch, possibly the wall it was pressed up against, but I didn’t care. How could I? She mewled and whimpered, taking me so fucking well– Fuck fuck fuck–

I was about to come. 

“Kam– I’m going to–”

“Come inside me, please! Val–” 

We came together, crashing like opposing waves meeting in the ocean, the force of our impact enough to capsize any ship that sailed into our path. I continued to rock inside her, riding out both our waves until the seas calmed, though that took longer than usual. We were both controlled by some other force, the moon perhaps, making us crash again and again. 

Finally though, I collapsed on top of Kamala– sweaty, exhausted, supremely satisfied. 

“Valerie Wright,” Kamala breathed my name almost like a curse– or a prayer. “You are–the most–incredible–woman–I’ve ever– met.” She punctuated the words with kisses all over my face, saving my lips for last. I savored that salty kiss, knowing I’d remember it always. 

“Look who’s talking. That was so incredibly hot, Kam. I had no idea you had such a– a thing about–” I laughed, unable to finish my sentence, bashful even while I was still buried inside her pussy.

“I may be a president, but I’m still a woman, Val. Thank you for indulging me,” she smiled, also bashful. “Can you pull out, baby girl?” 

“Of course, sorry!” I rose slowly, until the toy came out all the way, and stepped out of the harness. Then, unable to resist how small and soft Kamala looked, I stooped to slide my arms underneath her. She gasped as I rose again, and then sighed into me, too spent, too well-fucked to argue as I carried her to bed. 

We traded sweet nothings in the darkness, but it was only minutes later that sleep found us both, and took us into its blissful arms. 

Chapter Text

I was ready. Kamala was somewhere beyond the door right in front of me, in a suit I hadn’t been allowed to see. Well, I hadn’t let her see my dress either– some things we kept traditional. The walk down the aisle wouldn’t be– down the aisle, oh my god. 

Breathe. Being ready didn’t mean that my heart didn’t pound, nor that my knees, strangely free beneath the long, flowing gown, didn’t shake. We were only minutes away from walking down the aisle arm in arm to have the next chapter of our lives officiated by her sister.

There was a knock, and I hurried forward, careful not to step on my dress. I opened the door just a crack to reveal a glowing face, and let out a squeak of surprise and affection. 

“I just wanted to see you once before we– you know– I couldn’t help it,” Kamala stammered, her cheeks high and rosy, her dark eyes sparkling brighter than I’d ever seen them. “Will you let me in, baby girl? Before my family sees that I’m forgoing all tradition.” 

I bit my lip as I pulled her in, then released her with a sigh. She was glorious. Her white suit was perfectly tailored, giving her that stunning silhouette that would have made any sapphic fall to her knees. Those broad shoulders subtly accentuated– ugh– and the low cut of her blouse drawing my eye in unchaste directions– Keep it together, Val . I crossed my arms tightly, stifling the impulse to throw myself at her. 

Kamala was also busy looking at me. With hunger, yes, but also with awe, with a twinkle in her eye as she appraised my long-sleeved wedding dress. She held her hands out to me as though in worship, drawing me to her like a magnet. 

“Val, you look so beautiful. There aren’t enough words in the English language to convey how it feels to see you like this, so…” she trailed off as I fit myself into her open arms. “Dreams don’t come anywhere near, no song in the world captures it.” Her voice was a soft whisper as she cupped my cheek in her palm, her other hand wrapped securely around my waist, fingers dug into the white satin. “My love, my Valerie, you mean everything to me. If I could say ‘I do’ right now, I would.” 

My cheeks burned hot while pleasure and adoration gathered in my eyes, in the tips of my fingers that came to rest around her waist, in the back of my throat, preventing speech. I swallowed against the threatening tears, and tried for a chuckle. It came out more like a whimper. 

“So impatient,” I murmured. I trailed my hand up her suit, along the shoulder that made me swoon, and stopped when my fingers met warm, vibrant skin. Kamala leaned into my caress, and we swayed gently back and forth, dancing to the tune of our hearts. 

“Kamala, do you take Valerie to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and be faithful to her through sickness and adversity as well as health and prosperity, forsaking all others, so long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Kamala’s voice rang with sincerity, and she grinned at me. I sucked in a quick breath, so gloriously happy that it felt unreal. 

“And do you, Valerie, take Kamala to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and be faithful to her through sickness and adversity as well as health and prosperity, forsaking all others, so long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” I said, beaming, clutching Kamala’s hands so tightly in mine that they must be aching. She didn’t seem to mind. 

One of her nieces ran up with a ring box, and Kamala accepted it from her with a kiss on her little cheek. Then she took my hand again. “In front of our family and friends, I vow my lifelong love to you,” she said, sliding the wedding band onto my ring finger. “This ring symbolizes my promise to always put you first, no matter what life nor our careers throw at us.” She turned to her sister. “May I say my vows?” 

“Of course!” She encouraged, waving her on. Kamala turned back to me and took my hands in hers again, the ring sitting perfect on my finger.

“Valerie Wright, I knew the moment I shook your hand that you were something special, and that you were in my life for a reason. Even though the timing was a little insane,” she chuckled, and our audience did, too. “I wouldn’t trade our beginning for anything. You kept me sane, you were my rock, you were the bright sun of my long days and I missed you every time the moon came– or whatever time of day you actually went home to sleep,” she finished, winking at me. I narrowed my eyes at her, but my smile never wavered. “I already had so much in my life to fight for, but you gave me someone to fight alongside. I never want to stop fighting by your side. I love you, Valerie.” 

I was overcome. The only things keeping me upright were Kamala’s hands, so warm, so engulfing. She smiled at me in that special way that she does– eyes twinkling and lips curled up at the edges. I swallowed and took her ring from the box her niece still held. 

“Kamala Harris, this ring symbolizes every promise I’ve ever made and will make for the rest of our lives to love and cherish and support you.” I slid the ring in place with an ease that felt like magic. “I didn’t think I would meet anyone who would complete me the way you do. You share my passion for justice, but somehow you make it look so damn easy.” Our friends and family laughed along with me, and Kamala snorted. “Even when things look grim, you shine so brightly. You light the way. You light my way. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life in your brilliance. I love you, Kamala.” 

There was a moment of stillness as I finished my vows, a hush like a fog drifting over the assembled loved ones, over Kamala and I, perhaps over the whole world. Her and I were the only two people in it, just for that one moment. 

“By the power vested in me by the state of California, I pronounce you married. You may kiss.” 

Our lips met like the dawning of a new day, the kind you can only see from the window of an airplane. The sun kisses the earth, its light radiating across the land to break the night and warm all its flora and fauna. 

I only remembered where I was when the gentle roar of happy people finally broke through my perfect sun-soaked moment alone with the perfect woman. My wife. 

“Val made me swear not to tell this one, but I have to– I have to, sorry!” He waved me down, and Kamala recaptured my fingers in hers. I tried to let the memory of our first dance wash over me and tune Miller out as he embarrassed me for his own entertainment. He had clearly already indulged in the open bar, and his skinny face was bright red as he went on. “Not many people know this, but I am the real reason these two got together,” he said, pointing over at us. I hid as much of my face as possible, but Kamala looked oddly smug beside me. His voice dropped into a dramatic storyteller's timbre. “I’ll set the scene for you: there we all are, just days before the election, tensions are high, VP Harris is going through it, and Val, her trusty chief of staff, is doing every goddamn thing she can to keep the VP sane– except face the reality: she was in love with Kamala, just as Kamala had fallen for her. And I had the privilege of watching that happen real time, people.” Laughter and coos of affection soothed the ferocity of my embarrassment, but I still couldn’t look up. 

“And then,” he said, his voice earnest, and I could tell from the direction of it that he was facing me now. “Val did what she thought was best, as she does –” I could hear the eye roll– “Which threw everything into chaos and heartbreak, yada yada, until I gave her a much-need kick in the ass. So in the end, my tally is: got the hottest power couple in the country together and saved the election. You’re welcome, everyone!” 

Applause and cheers and laughs covered the curses I was muttering at Miller, but they were half-hearted. I truly did owe him so much. 

Kamala’s family went next, and it was her turn to blush and lean into me. The love with which they spoke of her alone would have made me fall for her if I hadn’t already. And with that, speeches were done. We could eat, drink, dance, and breathe. 

As the night wore on, I didn’t let go of Kamala once except to dance with Miller while she waltzed with her sister. Her sure fingers found mine again and I wanted to bind our hands together permanently. 

“How is my beautiful wife feeling?” she breathed into my ear as we twirled away to a more secluded portion of the reception hall. I grinned, hardly able to contain a girlish giggle while her other hand took hold of my waist. 

“I’m… fucking exquisite.” I’d been about to joke, but suddenly, I couldn’t. “You?”

Kamala pulled back until I could see her liquid chocolate eyes, swimming under the twinkling lights strung in rows above us. 

“This has been one of the best days of my life. You are a vision in that dress. Your grandmother had excellent taste.” I sucked in a breath as she trailed her fingers down my waist, following them with her eyes, and suddenly I wished we were alone. When she dragged her gaze back up to mine, that desire must have been plain on my face, because she bit her lip. 

“I think the moon is full tonight, would you like to see it with me baby girl?”

The night air was cool and crisp. Kamala wasted no time in pressing me firmly against a vine-covered lattice wall the moment the church door shut behind us, cutting off the babbling voices of our loved ones. I clutched at her lapels as though they were a life line, and they were– I couldn’t breathe. Her kiss stole what air I had in my lungs and turned my body to jelly. Soft, yielding lips moved against mine in a dance that somehow felt brand new, despite the innumerable times they’d danced together before.

My wife.

She was mine . And I was hers.  

And she made me hers once again, right there in the garden, surrounded by flowers and bathed in moonlight. Her delicately sculpted fingers found the hem of my dress and hitched it higher, and higher, until my leg was exposed to the chill of the night air. Goosebumps rose up, but only along where she’d trailed her scorching path.

“I know you’re keeping your last name, and I’m keeping mine, but can I– please,” Kamala panted against my lips. “Allow me to indulge for a moment in the selfish idea of you taking my name.” 

“Hmmm,” I pretended to deliberate, smiling when Kamala pulled back with an expression of desperate impatience. “What do I get out of that?” 

“Are you saying you wouldn’t feel anything if I called you Mrs. Harris?” 

“No,” I admitted. The sound of the title made my blood pulse red hot. When I wasn’t so far removed from rationality, I knew why I’d kept my name, but right now… She wasn’t helping by slipping her hand into my panties, and she knew it, the way she smirked at me. “But I’m already your First Lady. How about I call you Mrs. Wright? The country will just have to–”

She interrupted me with a searing kiss and finally sank her fingers into my pussy, quenching my aching need. Her lips trapped my moan until she pulled away again to whisper in my ear. 

“You’re my Mrs. Harris, and I’m your Mrs. Wright, does that satisfy you, Val? So discerning, and bossy!” She chuckled as I bucked into her, already so close to a vibrant climax that the twinkling lights of the garden were swirling beyond Kamala’s dark silhouette. “ Come for me, Mrs. Harris. Honor me with your pleasure .” 

She pulled out of me and twirled her fingers around my clit, and I broke beneath her expert touch. As my body twitched and writhed, Kamala pressed herself more firmly into me, pinning me against the wall and keeping us both upright. 

“That’s my girl,” she purred, finally removing her hand and licking each finger clean. “We should probably get back before someone comes looking for us.”

“I think– I may need another moment– or two,” I panted, vision still unfocused, pleasure still bouncing from nerve to blessed nerve. I giggled when I recalled where we’d just fucked. “For a president, you are very naughty.” 

“How am I supposed to resist you, Val?” Her tone was joking, but the weight of love in the inky depths of her eyes pulled me into them. The words reminded me of Miller’s story, and then of that stressful and chaotic time that I’d lived firsthand. Old shame stirred within as the image of Kamala’s fractured face superimposed itself onto the gloriously happy one before me. 

“I wish I hadn’t tried so hard to resist you . In the beginning,” I added when confusion dimmed her smile. 

Kamala shook her head slowly. “I shouldn’t have used my emotional state as a justification for crossing professional boundaries, no matter how strongly I felt for you. But I don’t regret it. In fact, I would have come forth with my feelings a lot sooner, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

I crinkled my nose at the word. “Don’t remind me of that god awful year!” We laughed, and she took advantage of my inability to move by pulling me in for another long, languid kiss. There was no hurry in the way her lips moved with mine, not here, not now. We had forever. When she kissed down my jaw to catch her breath, I twisted my fingers into her hair and whispered, “I wouldn’t change a thing either, Kam. I love you.”

Kamala cupped my face in her hands and kissed me lightly once more before saying, “I love you, too. Come on, baby. Let’s get back.”

The reception ended not long after, and despite how much fun I’d had, I was so grateful. My feet and cheeks were aching from all the dancing and smiling, and I just wanted to be alone with my new wife. Our guests chased us into the presidential limo with rice, and then we were off to catch a flight.

“ Valerie… ” 

A whisper penetrated the sleepy haze that blanketed me, and an unwilling yawn pulled me the rest of the way towards consciousness. I was laying with my head in Kamala’s lap, grateful that I’d changed into something much more comfortable as I dethawed and stretched. Then I processed how quiet it was, and that the plane was motionless. 

“Are we there?”

“We are,” Kamala confirmed, helping me sit up. I looked out the window and grinned. A very different isolation from where Kamala had proposed looked back at me, and I was so excited to feel the warm sand between my toes and rock back and forth in a hammock. But first…

Being that this was a private island and no threat could reach us here, we were afforded a bit more privacy than usual, though I still wasn’t allowed to drive Kamala to the bungalow we’d be staying in myself. As soon as we arrived, I helped her from the car and swept her into my arms. 

“Val! What–”

“It’s finally your turn.” 

“For?” she asked. But once I looked down at her, my gaze hotter than the sun shining above us, she seemed to understand. “Our bags?” she murmured halfheartedly, a smile inching across her lips. 

“We’ll get them later. I have what I need.” I winked at her as I pushed through the door.

Fingers snatching at clothing and lips leaving messy trails on feverish skin, we managed to make it all the way to the small bedroom before I set Kamala down. Rather, I practically tackled her into the immaculately made bed in my haste to continue our kiss. Her gasp was light though, and the ferocity with which she pulled me into her made me confident that my pressure wasn’t too much. 

“Mrs. Harris,” Kamala whimpered as I ground my thigh into the radiating heat between her still-suited legs. Only the whites of her eyes were visible. 

“I love how that sounds,” I groaned, more tempted than ever to simply give in. Not when you’re horny. 

My hands found her belt of their own accord and fumbled with the thing until it came loose. Her pants next, my motions getting more frenzied with my desperation to have her, to please her, to make her see stars on this island in the middle of nowhere. 

I yanked at the silken white pants while Kamala gazed down at me, victory in her eyes. Her chest, still covered but with teasing cleavage, rose and fell fast enough to let me know that despite her calm façade, she was just as desperate to feel my tongue as I was to bury it inside her. 

“You’ve been keeping this from me on purpose, haven’t you?” I teased when I finally laid eyes on her panties, which were soaked through. With a gentle pressure I knew would drive her crazy, even as she composed her expression into orchestrated disapproval at my words. “You haven’t let me touch you since we left DC. And then you fuck me in a church! How do you explain yourself?” 

“Should a president be so easy to dominate? You should consider yourself lucky I’ve allowed you to get this far, Val,” Kamala purred. She slapped my hand away from her panties and closed her legs, chuckling darkly when I bit my lip and let out a moan of desperation. “Mmmm, that’s what I like to see. Tell me how much you want me, and I’ll consider letting you continue.”

“You’ll ‘ consider’ ?” I asked in mock horror. “So you want me to beg for just a chance I’ll get to eat you out?”

“That’s the deal, baby girl. Take it,” she spread her legs back open, one falling off the edge of the bed, and slipped her hand beneath her panties. “Or leave it.” 

Kamala’s breathing increased as she touched herself. The setting sun bathed her in golden light, making her look like a fucking goddess. 

“I want you so badly. Please, let me have you,” I begged, letting the earnest need I felt gush out of me. Kamala tried to fight the grin teasing on the corners of her lips as she ‘ considered’ my words– and won.  

“I think you can do better than that, Valerie.” She slid off the bed and waltzed past me to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a bath, perhaps you’ll come up with a more convincing plea by the time I make it out.” 

I was still kneeling on the bed, mouth agape and my body oscillating between arousal and disappointment. A startling feeling was building at the center of my chest, one I had no name for, but it wasn’t… pleasant. 

Kamala hadn’t looked back at me and was now peeling off her remaining layers of clothing and draping them over a counter in our beach-themed bathroom. She turned on the tap of the massive tub, and while it was filling with steaming water, finally looked back at me, warmth in her eyes. 

Something fluttered within, and I let out a strangled little noise. 

“Val?” Kamala’s eyebrows pulled in and she hurried back to me. Warm hands found my waist and cheek and drew me towards her. “Love? What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, embarrassed and ashamed– that silly little feeling had been rejection. Why now? We’d done this kind of roleplay before, and it hadn’t ever made me feel this way. We were married now, for god’s sake! Rejection? And… maybe something else? The word didn’t encompass the feeling entirely.

“It’s nothing– I don’t–” I said, but my throat was closing around the words, and I felt a sob threaten. Fuck me. 

“Baby,” Kamala cooed, enveloping me into her warm embrace. Well now she’d done it. I couldn’t fight the emotion as it burst from me, rolling down my cheeks and wrenching itself rather violently through my mouth. Kamala held me tighter, murmuring into my hair. She smelled like her shampoo and hairspray and leather, so familiar, so– so–

I pulled back from her grasp and kissed her, not caring that I would get salty moisture all over her, not caring that my body still pulsed with choked sobs. Kamala kissed me back. Fiercely. Unrestrained, joyously, recklessly. She bit and sucked on my lower lip and dug her fingers into my scalp until it was nearly painful. 

“I need you,” I managed to gasp as we both surfaced for air. Kamala stared at me with round eyes, her pupils so large that I could hardly see the brown of her irises. “I need you so bad that it hurts. ” I placed my hand over where my heart ached and clutched at the thin fabric of my blouse. 

“Is this about… just now? Val, I’m so sorry. I need you, too. I was teasing you, I was going to ask you to bathe with me,” Kamala stammered, cupping my face and lightly tracing my temples with her thumbs. “And then I was going to give you everything. Whatever you want.”

A teary smile broke onto my face, but the pain wasn’t entirely alleviated. What the fuck…? I caressed her bare skin as I tried to make sense of my insanity, but if anything the truth was becoming more obscured. I shook my head, unable to voice the sudden turmoil. 

“Come,” she said, and she pulled me with her to the bathroom. 

Kamala removed my clothing one piece at a time, taking time to kiss the skin that was revealed with each one until I was as naked as she was. Tears still fell slowly down my face, and I felt like a fool. Crying on my honeymoon! 

“I’m so sor–”

“Hush.” Kamala gently placed a finger over my lips. “There’s no need to apologize, baby.” She stepped into the bath, shuddering when the heat sunk beneath her skin, and pulled me in after her. “Lay with me?” she suggested with a wink. I smiled and allowed her to pull me, once again, with her as she settled into the tub.

Steam fogged the wall of windows across from us, turning the view into a green and blue blur. My wife’s arms held me tightly against her, and my shaken arousal spiked whenever I felt her hardening nipples brush against my back. We didn’t talk, but I felt her thinking and worrying as clearly as though she were speaking out loud. 

We washed each other, laughing whenever the water splashed up to hit us in the face or slopped over the edges of the tub. The feeling ebbed away, but left confusion in its wake. Why now? The question nagged as we finally emerged, dried ourselves, and paced with an unfamiliar shyness back to the bed. 

Kamala untucked the thin covers and gestured for me to get under them. There was a stern air about her so I didn’t fight it. She slid in beside me and pulled me against her. My heart increased its pace. We’d laid like this a thousand times… So, again, why?

“Are you able to talk about it yet?” Kamala asked, her voice soft and steady. I bit my lip and turned my face until my lips were pressed to her collarbone. 

“I felt… rejected. And… I still don’t know, something else, like–” The words seemed to clear the steam from the window of my mind. I sat up slightly so I could look at her. The delicate lines of her face, her brows, her full lips– they all held concern and guilt. “I… I’ve never been married, obviously,” I laughed weakly, wanting to soften her. “I didn’t realize it would change anything, not like this… I’m terrified to lose you. In any way. I know that’s absurd, after everything we’ve been through. But I don’t want you to– to– ugh , this is pathetic.” I grit my teeth and shut my eyes, but the gentle touch of long, sculpted fingers opened them back up.

“I feel the same way,” she practically whispered. Her lips quivered– a rare sight. “Sometimes, I wonder, ‘ will this be the day she grows tired of me?’”

“Kam! I could never–”

“And neither could I.” She wore the steely look of a prosecutor who was not about to let the truth slip away. “Valerie, I could shake you!” She laughed, and I laughed with her. “God– I want you. More than anything. Before, I was only playing the part of a woman who could somehow stand to go without your touch. I want you.” She emphasized her words by grasping my hand and leading it right to the fuzzy edges of her trimmed bush. “Do you still want–”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation, cutting her off. “ Please.” The plea burned as it left my mouth, but the burn was pleasure and need . Kamala’s reaction stoked the licking flames. Her eyes grew dark and she leaned back against the sand-colored headboard, inviting me forward with the way her lips parted and how her breasts rose and fell with quickened breaths.

“Touch me, Val.”

I didn’t waste any time. I pressed into her and almost cried again when she gasped and pressed right back into me. Our salty kiss gave way to her hot and fast moans as I took what she’d so freely offered between her heavenly legs. Kamala’s slippery folds were as divine as they ever had been, but somehow, with her ring on my finger, our lives tied together more securely than ever, it was different. She was home and love and light and lust, lovely and filthy and perfect and mine.  

Kamala came just as I sank two fingers inside her and ruthlessly sucked her clit so hard that she actually screamed. I didn’t let go or pull out. Her feeble protests were quickly abandoned and I hummed in satisfaction into her as her slick walls clenched around me.

“Val– oh God– don’t stop–”

I had no intention of doing so, but I had to fight through lightheadedness as Kamala wrapped her legs around my head, trapping me in place and pulling my face farther into her so that I truly couldn’t breathe. I loved it. 

Tight, delicious pussy walls pulsed around my fingers. She’s close again, I thought, marveling at her. I steadied my thrusts and focused my fingertips so they hit that spot–

Kamala’s whines pitched so high that for just a moment, I worried someone might hear and assume the wrong thing. It was our honeymoon after all, what else would we be doing? Even the president deserved a vigorous, thorough fucking from her wife. My wife.

I sucked her clit into my mouth again and flicked it with my tongue, rejoicing in the way it made Kamala buck and writhe and pant. She’s so good, so fucking good–

There was no warning when it happened, and it was only the grip Kamala had on me with her legs that kept me from pulling away in shock. A flood of hot liquid gushed onto my chest, onto the bed below us, and around my thrusting fingers. Kamala was more lost in pleasure than I’d ever seen her– eyes rolled back, ass half a foot off the bed with every involuntary buck, moaning and whining so loudly that I was glad my ears were covered by her sweaty thighs. 

Had she just…?

“Oh…” Kamala breathed. Searching hands sought me out and the grip she had with her legs slackened, but then she froze as one hand found the wet sheets. Her eyes flew open and met mine, which were wide and awed and frozen. “Oh my God, Val, did I– is that–”

“I made you squirt. ” I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her soaked bush– so hot, so good– then, overcome with need, I moaned and stuck out my tongue to lick up every fucking drop of her. 

“Val!” she curled her dry hand into my hair and pulled me away from her pussy. “I’m so sorry, I’ve never, ever done that–”

“Relax, baby,” I said, coming slightly back to my senses as I sat up. I looked down when I felt drops of her glide down my breasts and drip to the pale blue sheets. When I looked back up, Kamala was biting her lip and blushing a deep red. “That was so . Fucking. Hot.”

She laughed as I pounced on her and didn’t protest when I pressed my lips to hers. Covered in her wetness, our skin glided together just as it did when we had sex after a shower and couldn’t be bothered to dry off first. But better.  

After a few minutes though, Kamala put her foot down. “If we’re going to continue, I’d like it to be on dry sheets with clean bodies.” She smirked when I made a show of my reluctance.

Several hours later, we lay on a bed in total disarray once again– a little more dry this time– and watched the sun disappear into the ocean through our big picture windows. Kamala’s hair– curly and unruly– tickled my cheek as she nestled deeper into the crook of my neck. It was so quiet that we could hear the calm waves lapping against the shore just twenty feet from our little bungalow. 

Kamala broke the silence with a heaving sigh and a growling stomach, which I then filled with whatever I could easily throw together from the fridge. We ate on the little chaise by the window, watching the moon sparkling off the dark water. That night, we fell asleep while gushing to each other about all the fun things we would do tomorrow– snorkeling, hiking, beach volleyball– blissfully and entirely at ease for the first time in years. 

  The life of a president belongs to the people, so Kamala and I had to make the best of our limited honeymoon. And we did. Sunny days were spent out on the beach, doing those things we’d fantasized about. Balmy evenings would start with a walk on the beach and end with breathy moans and panted curses. We hardly ever saw our security detail, and for that I was eternally grateful. When would we ever get the chance to be together like this again? 

Whether it was the illusion of privacy or that we were now married, something indefinable had changed about how we made love. It was… primal. I thought I already understood need , at least with Kamala, but this was… more. She was more. As perceptive as always, she noticed. 

“Baby girl,” Kamala cooed as she trailed her lips up from my quivering center. I’d just come, and was grasping her hair between clenched fingers, pulling her up to kiss me. She was teasing me, though, resisting my pull and allowing her lips to linger at my navel, then my breasts. She hovered her lips over mine and I just about lost it when she pinned my body down with hers. “Such a greedy woman you are. I make you come and it’s still not enough,” she whispered. 

“It’s more than enough,” I said, still panting, still hardly able to think. 

Kamala shook her head slowly. “No, I think there’s something else you want.” There was fire in her dark eyes, and my breath caught in my throat along with my denial. She was too sharp to miss that, and so triumph joined the fire. “Ask me.”

“A-ask you what?” I stuttered. My heart was hummingbird fast as Kamala pulled back and repositioned herself so that her bush brushed against mine. She pressed down, grinding herself into me, and I gasped when she found my still-engorged clit. 

“That first night, when I came–”

I hummed with pleasure at the memory. “When you squirted all over me.” I gripped Kamala’s thighs, firm with the tension of holding herself over me the way she was. 

She gave me that irresistible smile, the one that could soak my panties in seconds, but said nothing as she leaned back and propped herself up against her heels. Her long fingers trailed slowly down her own torso, teased the dark curls of her bush, then slid between her pussy lips. I swallowed hard. She pried the two outer lips apart to expose the mouthwatering sight of her clit and her gaping, pulsing hole I’d already fucked twice– once with my fingers, then again with her favorite strap on. I didn’t think she wanted more , but who was I to refuse?

When I made to get up though, Kamala pushed me back down. I blinked at her, confused, aroused, excited. What was she asking for? She’d said ‘ ask me.’ For what? Her expression had shifted from sultry humor to… concentration. Her brows were furrowed and she was taking deep breaths while caressing the place just below her clit. Her hips rocked back and forth. My mouth watered. 

Oh. Oh my–

“ Kam,” I breathed. Her eyes flashed to mine, and in them I saw the very same primal arousal that was attempting to claw its way from my chest. And doubt. There was no need for it– she’d seen into the most hidden parts of me, even from myself, and wanted to give even more than she already had. “Please…” 

“Please what?” she demanded, and it was the relief and connection that passed between us that gave me the strength to beg for the most kinky thing I had ever considered. 

“ Will you please–” I broke off with a hysterical laugh, but Kamala wasn’t shaken by it. She waited with intense focus and parted lips. “ Piss on me,” I pleaded. Desire coursed through me so strongly that my vision went fuzzy. Fuck. Kamala came back into focus just as her mouth opened wider and she closed her eyes. 

Warmth. That’s the first thing I felt. Then, I couldn’t help myself. I twirled my finger against my own clit as I watched Kamala’s trickle become a stream. Fuck fuck fuck– it was so warm, so fucking filthy! Kamala panted with the effort of pissing hard enough that her warm pee splashed against my pussy, my thighs, then my stomach as she leaned forward. I wriggled farther down our soiled bed and moaned with ecstasy as her piss painted my tits, my neck, warm drops splashing onto my chin…

“Do you want to–”

“Yes!” I grabbed her with the hand not busy fucking her piss into myself and brought her pussy to my mouth. I licked from her thoroughly fucked pussy to her clit, savoring the way her piss felt as it dribble down my chin, and into my mouth. I fucking swallowed. 

“You’re such a filthy slut,” Kamala moaned, digging her nails into my scalp and thrusting into my mouth. “Such a good girl. My good girl.”

I didn’t stop, even when I felt her stream trickle into a few drops, then stop entirely. Kamala’s moans grew louder again as I sucked and flicked her hardening clit, and with another, much smaller splash, she came. 

So did I. 

Our cries of pleasure mingled in the moist air of our room until Kamala collapsed onto me with a drawn-out sigh and the most abashed smile I’d ever seen on her lips. 

“How did you know?” I asked, caressing her cheek. She buried her face into my chest, then jerked back, laughing as it came away wet. I stifled my own laughter as I reached around for anything– a tissue, the sheet, a pair of panties– to wipe her face with. 

“Don’t bother, baby. In two minutes, I’m insisting on another shower.” Kamala rested her head on my shoulder and pressed a kiss there. 

“How–”

“Because I know you. And… I wanted it. Was that okay? We didn’t discuss it beforehand, but– my God– how was I even going to start that conversation?”

“I didn’t even know that’s something I’d enjoy until…” I trailed off. Embarrassment was starting to sink in as the euphoria ebbed away. “If you didn’t like that, we don’t ever have to–”

Kamala silenced me with a kiss, and I tasted the remnants of her on her own lips. A shiver ran down my spine and I gripped her tightly. She only pulled away when we were both out of breath. 

“We probably can’t do that often – what would the white house staff think?” Kamala’s cheeks were rosy red but her smile gave away how she really felt about our newfound kink. “But… if we plan it, clean up ourselves…” 

“Madam President,” I said, rolling over so that I could get on top of her. Cooling droplets dripped from my stomach to land on hers. Kamala cringed, and I grinned at her. “It would be an honor to be your–”

“Valerie!”

Kamala pushed me off of her, rolled off the bed, and practically ran to the bathroom. I followed her, wondering if I’d drank enough water that day to return the favor. 

On the last night of our honeymoon, after we’d made love in a much more conventional manner, we took a blanket out to the beach to lay beneath the stars. I was sad to be going back. Back to stress and cameras and people and only having Kamala to myself in the small confines of our presidential bedroom. She was mine. And yet, she belonged to the whole country, too. For the first time, I felt true resentment, however slight, that she wasn’t only mine and wouldn’t be for another two years, six if she could win again. 

Where would we be now if she hadn’t become the president? Surely, we would have still tried to make things work, and it probably would have been easier without the scrutiny of hundreds of millions. But I cringed at the alternative. I wasn’t selfish enough to want that for the world. What a world it might have been…

“What’s wrong, love?” Kamala asked. I looked over to see that she was propped on her elbow and watching me. 

I sighed, knowing she wouldn’t let me not answer, and would smell a lie faster than I could tell it. “What would you have done if… if you hadn’t won the election?” My voice was quiet and shadowed by the dark thought. Kamala inhaled slowly and wrapped her arm around me. Either she didn’t have an answer, or her answer was something she didn’t want to utter aloud. The possibility of… I could hardly think it. It was unthinkable, unmentionable, absolutely horrible. But what if? “Kam?”

“It haunts me, Val. Somewhere, in some parallel universe, that reality came to be, and I can’t fathom it. I’m sure I put on a brave face, went out there, and gave the people that voted for me something to hope for. Something to fight for.” Kamala’s voice broke. “I can imagine that I was really pissed . Inconsolable at times. Resolved to fight harder at others. I’d have my family, you… There’d always be hope. There always is hope. I wouldn’t have made justice my lifelong goal if I didn’t believe that there was a balance to the universe. Where there are people like him,” she spat, throwing a middle finger to the ceiling. “There are people like you. Like Miller. Like–”

“You,” I finished for her. I rose to my elbows and smiled at her. “You are the best of us. The drive to win, the compassion to heal… Even if you’d lost, I have no doubt that you would’ve kept on fighting. And you would have won the next election.” 

“As long as I have you, I know we can do anything.”

Kamala twirled her fingers into my hair and pulled me to meet her lips, sealing the words with hope and love. 

Chapter Text

“Welcome back, President Kamala, First Lady,” said Agent Han as she and her other agents met us outside the White House. I nodded at her. We’d come to some semblance of an understanding over the last several weeks since the attacks, but it was still awkward. 

“Thank you, Emily. Ah, Tim! I got your message, I’ll be there in a moment–”

“Nonsense! You just got back from your honeymoon. I only came over to say congratulations, and that I can handle our meeting with the leadership.”

Kamala looked at me, a smile hanging at the corners of her lips. I knew that she wouldn’t go if I asked her to stay, but I also knew she really wanted to be there. It was, to anyone else, a run-of-the-mill briefing that she likely could skip in favor of letting me pamper and love on her before she became the country’s Kamala again. To her, to us, it was following through on the promise that she could be the president that the country needed her to be, and be happily married, too. 

I could– and would– love on her later.

“Go on, I’ll start unpacking.” 

“I love you,” she whispered, just for me to hear, kissed me on the cheek, and allowed herself to be hustled off to the oval office. 

Agent Han walked with me to the living quarters in silence and nodded at me again once I made it to the bedroom. She didn’t take her leave right away though, and I hesitated beside the door, suitcase already over the threshold. 

“Agent Han, is there something–”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat, removed the little earpiece and cord from her person and left them on the little table in the hall. My heart raced. What now? “Ma’am, I… I know my reappointment to the President’s detail must be awkward for you, but I want to assure you that I will remain professional and committed only to ensuring her– and your– safety.”

I let out a slow breath. Relief and annoyance battled it out in my stomach for a few moments as I surveyed Han’s stoic face. Perhaps it was a good thing that she was in love with the president. Who would sacrifice more or work harder to protect her? Other than myself, of course. And she could be with her where I couldn’t. Wood was amazing, but he was only one person, and Han had proved herself extremely capable. 

“Thank you for saying so. Just…” I fumbled around for words that didn’t sound juvenile, given our circumstances and history. “Remember who she’s married to.”

Han laughed. Loudly. Then said, “I could never forget. I had a black eye for a week after your headbutt. Don’t worry, ma’am, I will keep my eyes, ears, and hands to myself unless otherwise required of my duties. One more thing–” Han’s face arranged itself back into seriousness, and she leaned in closer, glancing at the door to the rest of the floor. Her voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ll be keeping an eye on the insider terrorist situation. My contacts say that it’s dealt with and there are no other threats, but in my experience, nothing is ever that simple. This is against protocol, but I will tell you the moment I hear anything concerning. I think you’re smart, and deserve to know, and I want you to be able to trust me.” 

Without meaning to, I’d snapped the cheap plastic handle of the suitcase in my grip. Han’s eyes darted to it, then back to my face. “I trust you. God, I… I hope you’re wrong.”

“Me too.” 

And with that, Han reaffixed her earpiece, nodded at me one last time, and left me to my swirling thoughts.

By the time Kamala made it back to the residence, the sun was down and our bags were unpacked and neatly tucked away for later use. She found me on the sofa with a glass of wine and poured herself one from the bottle I’d left on the coffee table. 

“What’s the occasion?” she asked softly. It was sometimes a curse to be married to someone with such honed senses. 

“How do you do it? Live your life so fearlessly, despite all of the insane ways people can find to threaten you?” 

Kamala set down the glass and sat beside me, suddenly business-like. “What happened?”

“Nothing. You would have been the first to hear.” My voice sounded dead, and I couldn’t meet her eyes. Not until she grabbed my chin and turned my face up to hers. Her eyes implored me silently. “Han thinks the threat isn’t over. I just… I don’t know how to cope with that.”

“By not letting them get to you. By trusting our secret agents to do their job.”

I nodded noncommittally. We had trusted them, and look what happened? Still, Han and Wood got us through it once, they could do it again, heaven forbid. I decided to change the subject. “How did your meeting go?”

Kamala suddenly grinned, and despite myself, I smiled back. “Now here’s something that’ll cheer you right up, baby. They want to go for it. The bill.” 

My moment of confusion was interrupted by shock, then triumph. “They do?” I gasped, coming out of my slump and clutching at Kamala’s arms. She nodded, still grinning. 

My bill. The one I wanted named after my mom. The one I’d been working on since we moved into the White House. The one that would make it possible for nurses to have their debt erased, to have school paid for, to raise their wages, to have free childcare and healthcare and— 

“Who’s taking it to the floor?”

It was only a few months later that the bill passed through the house, the senate, and landed on Kamala’s desk largely unchanged from our original vision. It was a fucking miracle that any republican representatives voted for it, but we only needed a few. It helped that the attack on the capitol left people desperate for good news. 

When Kamala signed it into law, I was there, along with every person who made it possible. She gave me her signing pen and I couldn’t maintain decorum— I threw my arms around her and hugged her in front of everyone in the country. She hugged me back just as fiercely. 

Her presidency didn’t falter. The attack had done nothing to change her momentum. If anything, she and her cabinet were more determined than ever to take what her predecessor had handed her— the still mangled but healing mess of an office left over by the 45th occupant— and turn it into a prime example of what a good leader is capable of with the right minds and the right message. 

She won her reelection by a landslide. I was by her side every step of the way when I wasn’t out campaigning for her, just like old times. Also like old times, I took care of her when she came home, and this time, I had many more methods of relieving her stress at my disposal. There was nothing I found greater pleasure in than submitting to the President of the United States— or having her submit to me. 

Who knew that the secret to a good presidency was just really incredible lesbian sex?

EPILOGUE - 4 YEARS LATER

Snowflakes obscured the view of our yard from the living room where our family was gathered, laughing and merry, but the scene was so idyllic that I couldn’t help but watch each piece of icy fluff flutter to the ground instead of joining in on the lively festivities. 

“There’d better be a good reason you look so glum on Christmas Eve,” said my best friend. He’d already downed two glasses of eggnog, but his tone was lighter than I would have expected. 

“I’m not glum, just… contemplative.”

“Tonight is a night for family and cheer– come on, Val,” Miller said, dragging me up. I laughed and shook off his hand. 

“Alright! I was just thinking about… my mom. She loved Christmas. She’d love this : a full house, kids running around, the snow looking so pristine before said kids run out to make snowmen out of it.” 

Miller gave me a sad little smile, then wrapped his arms around me. I tightened mine around his shoulders and breathed in the smell of gingerbread, ham, and peace that wafted off him. 

“Think I could steal my wife for a moment, Miller?” 

Kamala’s face, flushed from her time in the kitchen, came into view over Miller’s shoulder, and he released me with a shove towards her. She took my hand and led me through our home, deftly avoiding being tackled by one of her nieces as she chased her new robot toy around, and cutting through the stacks of boxes that still lined the hallways. Once Kamala officially left office, we would have this beautiful home to grow in together. It needed some work, but it was ours. And far enough away from DC that I felt like I could breathe. 

I knew where we were headed, and I fought back tears– both happy and sad– as we neared the niche at the far end of the house where we had already unpacked the small shrines to our mothers. 

Two photographs stood on the small table, surrounded by mementos, candles, and two beautiful urns. Kamala handed me a match and one by one, we lit the candles until the walls around us flickered with warm light.

“I’m glad we were able to unite them here. It feels right,” said Kamala, surveying our work. 

I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her tight to me. “It does. Your mom would have been horrified to discover that mine couldn’t cook. We often went to Denny’s for holidays,” I admitted, blushing as Kamala gasped dramatically.

“Not Denny’s! Well, I hope this feast we’re about to devour reaches them somehow.” Kamala gestured to the photographs. “Shall we?”

I sighed before kneeling, knowing that my melancholy before would surely come all the way to the surface. Kamala knelt, too, and we joined hands. 

“Merry Christmas, mom. I hope this full house and home cooked meal makes up for all the holidays I spent working. I’m sure you were worried, from wherever you are,” I said, chuckling. Holidays before Kamala had always been too painful to face with anything but work. “And in a real house! You’d love it– it’s old, a little drafty, but sturdy. Once Kamala’s term is over, we’re going to fix it up! That should keep us busy for a while. Until our next crusade, at least.” I looked over at Kamala, who was watching me with a warm smile, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes. “I love you, mom. I will never stop wishing you were here.” 

Kamala squeezed my hand, then spoke to her own mother. I listened with my eyes closed, imagining that she was here with us, and the way Kamala spoke, she almost was. Then, she was done. We got to our feet, blew out the candles so they didn’t burn down the house, and I turned to leave. 

“Wait, one more thing, baby,” Kamala said in a voice choked with emotion. She pulled me back to her, and caressed my cheek. “I agreed that I would take time off from being a politician, but–”

“Kam, do you honestly think I believed that you were done for good?” I grinned at her, winking as shock flitted across her face. “I give it a year. Maybe two, if this house allows. Of course you’ll go back.” Kamala shook her head, then seemed to firm her stance and the pressure with which she held me.

“Be my partner in that as well. Not working for me but with me. We’ve done so much good already, but I know we can do more. There’s always more to do.”

I caressed her face, still so enthralled with the passion held within every line, in her chocolate eyes, and in that powerful voice that would always undo me. 

“Only if you promise me that for this next year, we focus on us. ”

“I promise, Valerie. And I’ll make it the best year of your life. Anything for the woman who captured my soul.”

I leaned in to kiss her, and she threw herself into it with such enthusiasm that I stumbled back into the wall. The end of her time as President of the United States seemed to invigorate rather than depress her, and I shuddered with anticipation. So much time to be kissed like this, to be pressed into, held, touched–

“Dinner is ready!” called a voice from the kitchen, making us both jump slightly. Kamala laughed as she dragged herself away from me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“ Later,” she promised, and I had to take a deep breath. 

With the promise of later, both the immediate ‘later’ as well as the future years that stretched out in front of us, we walked hand in hand to enjoy Christmas Dinner with our family. 

THE END