Story [The West Wing] Dynasty (Vignettes in the Mav-and-Bri-verse)

Title: Too Hot To Handle (Part 1?)

Timeframe: 2060 (ish - during Leo’s second term so kids are a bit older)

Characters: Leo/Marc

Notes: Well… at least this heatwave is good for inspiration. Kinda short, not sure if I’m going to continue this on to their vacation or not, but the first scene kinda works well alone so I decided to just post it.



It was hot.



One of the worst heat waves the Eastern US had seen in a century, and DC was the centre.



It was so hot, every news station was showing flashing warnings, urging people to take precautions. It was so hot that even sitting outside was uncomfortable, let alone trying to work or think.



And - despite being the epicentre of power for much of the western world, the White House still was a 260-year-old building. The AC units were less than ideal for the situation.



The only saving grace for the first family was that today was the start of Congress’ Summer Recess - therefore the President’s own 3-week quasi-vacation. Leo would still get briefings and would still need to deal with international matters and emergencies, but the day-to-day procedures would be put on hold. More importantly, he didn’t have to wear a suit in 115-degree weather.



However, Leo was not used to not wearing suits. Occasionally he wore slacks, jeans, or sweatpants on the weekend… but this weather demanded shorts. Leo only owned two pairs of shorts (both sweatshorts for working out), so Marc had lovingly ordered Leo a few pairs of various styles and had the usher pack them… which Leo was now unpacking his suitcase on their bed.



“Please, sweetheart,” Mark said, sitting in the armchair in the corner of the Presidential bedroom, rubbing his temples. “You look fine in shorts.”



“No. You guys are just going to bug me about my pasty white skin and chicken legs. I love you dearly, Marc, and thank you for thinking of me, but I’ll be fine in sacks.”



Marc rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure if anyone has chicken legs, it’s your paraplegic boyfriend. It’s too hot to care about what you look like. Please can we just get going?” Marc whined.



The first family was going to spend their vacation with the second family at Camp David. They had tossed around a few locations - the Hamptons or Martha’s Vineyard - but Camp David was just easiest - the kids loved all the various activities, it was completely wheelchair accessible, and the adults enjoyed the privacy and space the Secret Service and staff gave them.



“You guys could have gone up there a couple of days ago. You’re the one who’s been complaining all week.



“I have not been the only one complaining,” Marc said defensively. “You’re the one who’s been crabby since his birthday.”



Leo’s 50th birthday had been two weeks ago and it had been a point of contention for the normally happily married men.



“I have not been! I simply said I wanted no big hoopla for my birthday and yet you went off and through this grand surprise party with Rose.”



Marc rolled his eyes again. “Like the 50th birthday of the President of the United States was going to be a minor affair.”



“It could have been. I’ve never made a huge deal out of your birthdays - just dinner and drinks like you like - why can’t you respect that?”



“Because you decided you wanted to be President of the United States and dragged me along to be the perfect showcase husband who has to celebrate and praise your every move, even when I know that’s not what you want…” Marc’s tone turned from angry to sympathetic. He got up and hugged Leo. “Why are we fighting? We know we are on the same side with this.”



Leo nodded and rested his forehead on Marc’s shoulder. “Because we are both hot.”



Marc murmured in agreement, then grabbed Leo’s butt. “Yeah! You got that right!”



Leo chuckled. “Then - I guess - if you picked these out,” he said, referring to the shorts. “Then you must think I’ll look good in them.” Leo began repacking all but one pair. He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his slacks - all while looking at Marc. He slid off his slacks and put on the fairly formal navy dress pants. “Happy?”



“Yes, very handsome.” Marc spun Leo around and kissed him on the lips. After a moment he asked. “So, uh, did you bring up the problem with your doctor this morning?” Leo had monthly check-ups with one of the top general practitioners of the military.



Leo sighed and nodded. He picked up his pants, reached into the pocket and threw a bottle of pills into the suitcase. “She even rushed the prescription - which probably says a lot about our Health Care system. She said it’s probably stress-induced and I’ll probably only need to take them occasionally.”



Viagra.



Leo was now 50 and needed help in the bedroom. No wonder he was feeling so particularly critical of his appearance.



Marc kissed him again. “At least we now know it isn’t something more serious. And hey,” he said, running his fingers through the grey hair at Leo’s hair “this is all part of the plan, right? Have kids and grow old together? I love you, Leo.”



Leo blushed. “I know, I love you too. Except I kinda resent you: I’m the one growing old and you are as youthful as the day we met.”



Marc shrugged. “Not my fault I’m younger and years as president are like dog years.”



“Hey!” Leo exclaimed, wrestling Marc onto the bed.



Marc playfully fought back as Leo climbed on top of him. “At least I know you’ll never leave me for someone younger; I’ll be that someone younger. You know the other benefit of you being on Viagra?”



“What?” Leo asked, slightly annoyed Marc was bringing it up again. Still, he straddled his husband.



“We can finally have sex again.”



Leo laughed. “Well yeah, that’s the whole point!”



Marc rubbed Leo’s love handle. “Yeah, but you can finally nail me——.”



“Oh my god, DADS!” 9-year-old Miri screamed as she entered. Marc was still “Daddy” and Leo was still “Abba” but collectively they were “Dads”. She was wearing a bright yellow romper with her suitcase behind her. “Can you please cut it out with the sex and can we please ‘get to the ‘chopper’ as Abba likes to say.”



“We weren’t having sex, we were wrestling,” Marc said, defensively.



Miri rolled her eyes in a move that made her look like her Aunt Abi. “Yeah, okay,” she said sarcastically. “That line worked when I was three. Can we please just go? I’m hot!”

 

Yay for timely inspiration! At least this heatwave is good for something!!

Yeahhh... I imagine it's not all that great at staying any consistent temp when the weather gets extreme in either direction.

I went through a phase (in college, I think) where I wouldn't wear shorts because... I don't know, reasons. Vanity? Who knows. But now I'm like, I don't care what people think of my legs, I'm wearing shorts! So I can kinda understand the impulse he has here, but it's totally not worth suffering.

Yeaaah... sorry Leo. I also hate it when people make a big deal out of my birthday (I had a friend who always insisted on it and I hated it), but Marc is right. POTUS turning 50 is a big deal and will be made a big deal no matter what he wants. At least if Marc did it, things could be controlled.
And the heat really does have a way of making tempers flair over the smallest things.

Poor Leo, growing old sucks. It's totally normal and nothing to be ashamed of, but I know that's way easier to say than it is to feel. Feelings aren't always rational.

Hahah... poor Miri! I love it!

I love this and would love to see them all on their vacay together if the muse feels so inclined!

 

Hahaha. Yeah, fortunately for me (and unfortunately for the muse) temperatures have become much more reasonable... but now the air is toxic, which really sucks.

Yeah, I didnt think it was too unbelievable for a historic building to have AC issues!

Yeah, so I used to live in an environment that RARELY saw temperatures over 25C (77F) so shorts really were never a necessity and I used to hate my knees so I never wore them... but now, it's not worth the suffering. I've been enjoying just throwing on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and getting on with my day.

But my dad used to hate wearing shorts because of his skinny legs so I took inspiration from him!

Yeah. I like to do something small (like dinner and drinks) but anything beyond that is just too much for my introverted heart. But poor Leo. Nobody cares what he wants

Yeah it really does! And in the uncomfortable heat, little things just kinda blow up, even internal stuff.

Poor Miri. Her dads probably love being all mushy and embarrassing her.

My muse started on a part 2 (featuring Emilia!) but I have no idea how to end it.

 

Title: Night is long

Timeframe: 2060

Characters: Emilia, Ella, Mattie, Leo/Marc, Rose/Elvie

A/N: I know this is the fic gift I asked you for last year but I really wanted something to write with angst and this I was the only fully formed plot idea I had (my muse currently has the issue where it’s giving me starts of stories but not the end, and it only kinda gave me an ending for this one). If your muse ever lets you finish the one you were working on, I would love to read it. You know I get so much joy from writing these stories and this suddenly became one I really wanted to write (because you know I need some cathartic angst right now).





No one liked to be woken in the middle of the night. News at 2 am was rarely good, but in the Santos house (and probably in every previous Vice President household) it meant your father was now the most powerful person in America, or the world was ending… or more likely both.



So when Emilia woke up to dozen people and saw the hallway lights on, she immediately freaked out. Was something wrong with Uncle Leo? Was the county under attack? She grabbed a hoody to pull over her nightgown and crept out into the hall. She tried to stay out of the way as Secret Service agents passed by with a stretcher. She was only 12 and didn’t want to be in the way.



Suddenly a much worse thought crossed her mind: something was wrong with one of her parents.



Dad!



He had been gone for the past five days diplomatic trip to Mexico and South America and had just returned after dinner, not feeling great, so he had went right to bed.



Her brother and sister were also peeking their heads out of their rooms and looked around.



Their mom emerged from the master bedroom in a pair of leggings and a hoodie, with their father’s to-go duffle bag over her shoulder and her own tote bag in the crook of her arm. She looked tired and frazzled. “Hey loves-.”



“Is Dad okay?” Emilia blurted.



Rose’s expression softened. Then hugged all three of her children. “Dad is just a little sick and we need to take him to the hospital and make sure he gets better. I’m going to go with him - make sure he isn’t too annoying to the nurses. Tyra and your night-time agents are going to take you to stay with Uncle Leo and Uncle Marc for the rest of the night.” Tyra was one of their mom’s Secret Service agents and everything Emilia wanted to be - smart, tall, beautiful, and confident. “Can you guys get your go-bags and your school bags and go meet her in the car? I love you guys very much and will probably see you guys after school tomorrow.”



They all hugged their mom and ducked back into their rooms.



‘Poop has hit the fan’ bags were a necessity in the Vice President’s household. Emilia’s go-bag was a small duffle bag with a change of clothes (relatively formal since grabbing this bag may mean an impromptu inauguration; Emilia’s were a pair of dress pants and a white button up), 3 days worth of medication, a few granola bars, and a comfort item (for Emilia it was a stuffed cat given to her by her grandmother and a copy of her favourite novel).



Emilia then grabbed a pair of sweatpants and quickly changed out of her nightgown. Emilia’s family knew she was a girl, but the rest of the world still thought she was non-binary. She hurried out into the hall, only to see her dad, pale and in his plaid pyjamas, sitting on a stretcher being pushed by a dozen people. Of course he was surrounded by secret service agents. It all happened so fast (and she was still so tired) Emilia could barely comprehend what was going on or the state of her father.



“Come on Emilia,” Mattie demanded. He was tired too and that was mixing with fear and anxiety. “Get your school bag too!”



“It’s in the foyer!” she snapped back, stocking down the stairs. As she grabbed her backpack and headed for the garage, she heard the sirens retreating. She realized how scared she was without her parents and how worried she was about her dad. Emilia got into the SUV that was already running and pulled out her phone. She began researching anything and everything that could be wrong with her dad, barely noticing as Tyra, the other agents - Derek, Nick, and Winston - and her siblings got in the vehicle.



So many horrible things could be wrong with her dad. She didn’t really think about her dad’s disability that much, but he could be suffering so many complications - and she hadn’t even started looking at what he could have picked up in Mexico.



And then, while reading a summary of a journal article she didn’t understand, she read a horrible statistic: life expectancy for someone with a spinal cord Injury was an average of 66-years-old.



Her dad had already turned 51. She didn’t want to think about her dad dying at all, but she didn’t want him to die before she got married or had kids.



She showed her phone to her siblings.



“Daddy?” Ella gasped. “What could be wrong with him?” Only nine, she got worked up so easily.



“You guys,” Mattie sighed. “Dad is going to be fine.”



“Fine?” Ellie practically shrieked. “He crashed a plane! Anything could be wrong with him.”



* * *



They arrived at the West Entrance 15 minutes later. Emilia hated the White House at night (with the exception of the residence); it was so creepy (last sleepover, Miri had dared her to go into the sub-levels and Emilia would never be the same). Thankfully Uncle Marc and Uncle Leo were wanting for them (which kinda freaked her out even more) in their pyjamas.



“Hey guys,” they said. Leo was hugging Emilia and she completely broke down crying, burying her face into the baggy warm fabric of his sweatshirt.



This set Miri off, who clung onto Marc. Marc just smoothed her back. “We have three guest rooms ready for you guys, but I think you guys could use a night-time raid of the ice-cream freezer.”



“Do you know what’s wrong with our Dad?” Mattie asked.



“Yeah, and you guys dont need to be too scared,” Leo sighed. “I understand why you guys are freaked out,” he said as he took Emilia’s bag and led them down the hall. “So your mom called us before she called for the Secret Service. You dad didn’t want to go to the hospital but I pulled the President card; had to remind him of his constitutional duty to remain healthy. Your dad has an impacted bowl.”



“What?” Ella asked. “That sounds really bad. What does it mean?”



“It means he hasn’t gone poop for the past 5 days,” Marc explained. “And his body is… complicated. His body knows something is wrong, but the pain is happening below where he can feel it, so his body is freaking out in a different way. But they caught everything early and the doctors know what to do.”



By now, they had entered the mess and dumped all the to-go bags on an empty table.



“Your dad might be in the hospital for a few days,” Marc finished, “but I’m going to take you guys to go see him tomorrow after school.”



“And you guys can sleep in and just go to school in the afternoon if you want. Now,” Leo announced. “What flavour of ice cream do you want?”



“Strawberry cheesecake!” Ella exclaimed.



“Chocolate brownie,” Mattie replied.



“Cookie dough,” Emilia decided.



Leo decided on lemon poppyseed and Marc had strawberry cheesecake too.



“What was it like when my dad got hurt?” Ella asked. “When he crashed the plane? I know that was before he met Mom.”



Leo sighed, unsure if the kids should hear this under the circumstances. But he was always glad he had asked Uncle Sam all he knew about his dad’s shooting. It made Leo feel like he knew his dad more.



“That was so long ago,” Leo began. “Actually, a few weeks before I met your Uncle Marc.” He reached out and took Marc’s hand. Marc grasped it tightly, giving it a light shake. “That was a really scary moment.”



“What? When you met Uncle Marc?” Ella snarked.



Marc gave her an unamused look. “That’s another story for a different time.”



“How did you find out about Dad’s accident?” Emilia asked, curious about more details about something she did know much about.



“My dad called me. I had just gone back to university after being home for a few weeks during summer vacation. He told me very forward, I’ll never forget those words: there was an accident; Elvie was flying a fighter jet and crashed. We are with him now and it doesn’t look good.” Leo didn’t add that his father had admitted that he had called to hear Leo’s voice.



“Wait, your parents were with him?” Ella asked. Mattie and Emilia looked surprised too.



Leo nodded. “There’s a good reason why your full name is Donnatella.” Leo smiled at that fact. ”Your grandparents were in India at the time of the crash and your dad was stationed at the base just outside of DC. So they called my parents and they were the ones who sat at his side for that first night. Obviously we were all so anxious and worried about your dad being okay, but I think - religious or not - we were all praying that they would make it back in time. And obviously he survived so they did.”



“How close was he to dying?” Emilia was almost afraid of the answer.



Leo shook his head. He wasn’t going to tell the kids things Elvie had told him in confidence. “I’m not a doctor and I wasn’t there. Those first few hours and days we weren’t given much optimism. But he pulled through.”



“What was he like before?” Mattie asked.



“Well, he was taller and could walk,” Leo said, stealing a line from Elvie himself. “But other than that… I think he matured faster, but he was just as sarcastic and snarky before.” Leo sighed. “I love you guys and I am always happy to talk to you guys about this stuff, but it’s past 3 AM. I say we get you guys to bed.”



* * *



After a half day of school, Marc picked up the Santos kids from school (Marc let his own kids go back home with the Secret Service) and took them to Walter Reed. Elvie had been put up in the Presidential suite so it was really more of a hotel suite than a hospital room.



Elvie was sitting up in the hospital bed, looking tired but otherwise fine. He had an IV line in his hand was wearing a baggy sweater. Rose was sitting at his side in a mint green hoodie. They were taking this rare quiet afternoon just to hold hands and watch a movie. They could be working on their tablets, but they both knew quiet moments were what made their marriage strong.



“Hey guys,” Elvie said with a smile when he saw the kids enter. “Thanks for bringing them,” Elvie said to Marc.



“Did you poop?” Ella asked, walking to her father’s bed side.



Elvie glared at Marc. “Yeah I pooped, but the worriers here wanna keep me till tomorrow morning just to make sure everything is okay. But we’re going to eat dinner and watch a movie, then you guys are going to go home with mom. Sounds good?” All the kids nodded. “Good! Now who’s not too big to cuddle with your dad?”



Ella and Emilia decided they both could squish into the bed with their dad.

 

@mavjade I'm not sure if you got a notification for the above story, but I wrote something new!



Title: Wrath of Rose

Timeframe: December 2037; August 2054

Characters: Elvie/Rose

A/N: Written for the OTP: Seven Deadly Sins challenge. I was inspired by a conversation in the social thread. You really don’t need a background on this fandom or these OCs to understand this (Elvie is the son of a former-President and he later runs for Vice President with his childhood best friend, Leo Lyman). It’s a good PSA.

May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression,
and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for
justice, freedom, and peace among all people.
-a Franciscan Prayer



Elvie Santos jokingly referred to himself as “the unluckiest person in the world”. Of course it wasn’t true but there was the assassination attempt the night of his birth, being the president’s kid for the first 5 years of his life, crashing a fighter jet 4 years ago, and now this.


Of course the airline would lose his wheelchair on the way to their honeymoon. Houston, LA, to Honolulu. They had left Houston and were now on the layover in LAX… and his wheelchair was not. No one knew where it was. He had put a gate tag on his wheelchair so it would be brought to him at the airplane door for him to use during the 3 hour layover. But the plain had landed and his wheelchair hadn’t been brought to him.



He had transferred out of his seat, onto an aisle chair (he called it the Hanibal Lector chair since it was so skinny to fit down an aisle of an airplane) and now he was in a huge bulky airport transport wheelchair. It was horribly uncomfortable and he couldn’t move himself. It was a horrible start to their honeymoon.



Rose.



He was the luckiest guy in the world to have found her and married her. Except when she was mad. Hell knew no fury like her wrath.



But at least he wasn’t on the receiving end of it right now.



Rose was standing beside him, absolutely berating the gate agent. “You think it got put on the next flight,” she bit out. It was December 27th and the airport was insanely busy with holiday travellers rushing to - or from - home. “You need to go look and get my fiancé’s wheelchair.”



Elvie could fight his own battles, but Rose was furious and he knew she just needed to get it out. So Elvie sat beside her, holding their carry-ons in his lap. Travelling was hard enough for him, but fearing his wheelchair being damaged or lost was the worst feeling. His wheelchair was built to custom to him and his needs. It couldn’t be easily replaced. God, he did not want to rely on Rose at all during this trip. He wanted to wait on her every need. He was so pissed off, but still felt the need to lighten her mood before Rose bit someone’s head off (and preferably not his).



“Love, I’m your husband now, remember?” he said as he held her hand.



She sighed, leaned down and kissed him. “Now I know why you hate airplanes.”



“Pretty sure crashing a plane has more to do with why I hate air travel, but yeah, now I get why everyone who uses wheelchairs has a vendetta against air travel.”



“Ma’am, sir, the wheelchair was taken along with the baggage to your next plane. I can get someone to bring it but it might take a while. It might be easier if you just use the transport chair. Your wheelchair will be safe where it is. I can have someone come push you if your wife doesn’t want to.”



Elvie felt bad for the gate agent - this wasn’t her fault his wheelchair got tossed in with the rest of the baggage. Christmas travel was madness. But this wasn’t about Rose’s willingness to help him (he had no doubt she’d piggyback him if she had to). “No, I need my wheelchair, I’m in pain right now,” he said, and he was, trying to sit upright in this huge wheelchair was difficult, “and I will need to use my wheelchair to use the bathroom during my layover.” He didn’t want to have to find a bathroom big enough to have Rose help him, and he would need help. Plus he wanted to actually check and make sure his wheelchair wasn’t damaged during the first leg of the flight.



“You’re in pain?” Rose asked in alarm. “Here,” she used her purse and his backpack to help support him.



Eventually, his wheelchair was found and brought back to him. He smiled as he transferred. “There, much better.”



“Maybe you should have a tracker on that thing,” she muttered, swinging her purse around her shoulder as they made their way towards their next gate - looking for something for lunch.



“Oh, I do. I put a Tile in the seat pocket.”



She glared at him. “You knew where it was the entire time?”



“Yeah, that’s why I wasn’t too freaked out. I’m still pissed they lost it. But I have it now… it’s in one piece… for now, so let’s not let it ruin the rest of our honeymoon.”



* * *



17 Years Later…



This was rather unlucky… even for Elvie (now Governor Santos, candidate for Vice President). Elvie sat on the tarmac in the aisle chair after being unloaded from the Lyman-Santos campaign plane. He stared in dismay at his carbon fibre wheelchair - the footplate was completely broken.



Leo (Senator Lyman, candidate for President) stood beside him, uncharacteristically angry. “How could they do this? How could someone be so careless with a wheelchair?” He put his hands on his hips. “I’m going to call someone in Miami, make sure whoever did this knows it’s not okay.”



“Leo, don’t waste your time, this happens all the time,” Elvie muttered as he tried to come up with a plan. He travelled with an assortment of tools and zip-ties for any quick fixes… but this wasn’t going to be a quick or easy repair.



“That doesn’t make it okay! That makes it worse!”



“Well then, become President and we can make stuff like this assault. Plus I bet this doesn’t happen on Air Force Two.... I bet I’ll be able to use my wheelchair on Air Force Two...” Elvie paused. “I guess I could duct tape it.”



Josie walked behind him. “You are not duct taping your wheelchair together. Rosamie will kill me if she sees that.”



“Rose is going to kill Leo anyways; his campaign broke my wheelchair.”



Leo groaned. “Your wife is scary when she’s mad.”



“Oh, I know,” Elvie said with a laugh. “But at least this time she’s going to be mad at you and not me.” An aide came up and handed him a back-pack. Elvie pulled out a roll of duct tape. He got to work. “Dont worry too much. It’s only for this afternoon. I’ll use my exoskeleton for this evening’s appearance. I’m back in Austin anyways tonight so I’ll be able to use one of my old wheelchairs until I can get this one fixed.”



“Elvie,” Leo sighed, placing his hand on Elvie’s shoulder. “There’s so much in this country we have to fix. It makes me so angry.”



“Yeah. Let’s start with my wheelchair.”

 

Wrath is useful, as we see here - it shows the devotion between lovers - and wrath at the world's conditions effect change, good for all concerned.

This made me smile.

Yay for McGiverism!

*pictures this*

Excellent timeskip here to show how more things change, stay the same, etc. etc. etc.

 

Inferno

Aww, this sweet kiddo! So glad that Josh and Sam have been able to get through some of the shyness and wariness Leo has from all his early traumas. It's not going to be an easy recovery, never mind adapting to a new family and life. But it seems like he's starting to realize he's well-loved by his new dads and they obviously adore him. Though I don't know the backstory here, it sure seems like it was meant to be that Sam and Josh found out this kid needed a home.

It's incredibly sweet that Josh already has that parental intuition to realize that Leo's distress might be from having nightmares. (My knowledge of the show isn't very in-depth, but the way that his own dream went made me wonder if he's had his own bad experiences with fires. In any case, it's got to be tough to comfort a kid that you know has plenty of awful real experience behind their bad dreams. And he's able to handle that very well and with such compassion.)

I think this is a different universe's young Leo from the one in some of your other stories? Anyway, he's precious and I hope we get to see more of him and his Abba and Daddy in better times at some point!

Serenity

Your Elvie and Rose stories are a delight and it's fantastic to meet the next generation of their family. Emilia may feel like she's chasing after the feeling of serenity, but it seems like she's exactly the kind of person that others would see as the one who is the calm in the midst of a storm. (Always the one who knows the schedule, that does seem like the getting-things-done that I recall of Rose!)

Though that doesn't make the challenges of being a teen easy -- especially given that she's trans and has the eyes of the literal whole world on her while navigating the question of how she's going to present herself and when. Rose and Elvie (and those annoying siblings, of course ) are there on her team though, and that makes a kind of serenity amidst everything.

Wrath of Rose

Rose is such an interesting character, and I like that this focused on a more positive side of "wrath" -- sometimes getting mad about things is actually a necessary thing when it's in response to an injustice. Even if the poor gate agent was a hapless bystander, somebody along the line messed up big time. Elvie is already somewhat ahead of the problem (yay for technology) but it's still aggravating to have to deal with that on their honeymoon trip. And yeah, this time around her temper isn't directed towards him! As much as it's distressing for him to see her angry about something that he would rather wasn't even an issue, it can be nice to have someone on his side and I get the feeling that that is true here. (In a way, that's part of the whole marriage thing if it's going to work -- someone who hopefully doesn't have to fight your battles for you but will surely fight them beside you.)

And yes, what @pronker said about the epilogue showing the more things change, the more they stay the same. But as Leo says, with luck they are going to be able to do something about it!

(Also, I loved this part. )

 

I loved this!

Rose's anger is totally justified though - as the other lovely commenters have mentioned, this really shows the good side of wrath, when it's directed towards fixing injustice and making positive change in the world.

I really love the banter and the bonds between them all too!

Perfect way to end this!

Great work and a fantastic response to the challenge!

 

Yeah I wanted to show the righteous side of wrath! Thank you!

I swear I have a MA in McGiverism

This is set in the future so I try to insert some bit of futurism

Yes, This is an au for these OCs - one I keep trying to get my muse to latch onto, because its so cute and sweet - but it never really bites. Thanks for reading!

Thank you! I love writing Emilia because she really is the calm in the middle of a lot of madness! I love how supportive her family is.

I'm so glad you enjoyed it!

Hahaha! You should dive in more often. I'm actually working on something for the Josh/Joey AU I know you were following along on!

Hhhahahaa. I've only arrived/departed from there once but I can see that.

Yeah. they are a bit dehumanizing (I'm glad the captain kicked them off) but at lease Elvie has a sense of humour to deal with the stress

Thank you! This makes me so happy to read.

Hehehehe. I'm so happy you enjoyed!

Yaaayy!

Oh totally justified! I'm glad you loved the banter! I love writing it!

Thank you!

 

@mavjade Not sure if you have read the few above stories. I know RL has been a lot for you lately.

Title: The Need to Hold Your Hand

Timeframe: 2067

Characters: Elvie/Rose, Emilia, Ella
Notes: Written for the OTP Challenge “Our Song/Plot Point”. I picked “If We Were Vampires” and got the plot-point “Sudden Change of Plans”.


You don’t need to know anything about the fandom to understand the plot but some familiarity with the OCs is helpful: Elvie Santos was born while his father was President. There was an assassin attempt on his father and very pregnant mother the night of his birth. He later becomes Vice President (serving under his friend Leo Lyman for 8 years) then elected president. This takes place during his Presidency.




Rose somehow always knew she would outlive her husband, Elvie. It wasn’t the fact that he was older (he was all of 10 months older) nor his disability (sure his spinal cord injury put him at risk of various complications but he had an average life expectancy if he took care of himself). She simply had the feeling one day she would live her life without him. She had accepted it.


But, oh God, not yet. Not today.


Not today and not like this.


He was only 58. And it was their 30th wedding anniversary… just a week away from Christmas.


Rose knew everyday she had with her husband was a fortunate one. She knew about the night he was born. It was in all the modern US history textbooks. The assassination attempt of Matthew and Hellen Santos— the successful assassination of Governor Alexander Jackson - had turned Texas into a swing state. Even after his dad had left office there still had been threats to his life, all due to hatred of his mixed race. Then in university, he joined the Air Force and crashed an experimental fighter jet. He had fought for his life for many months and was left with physical disabilities.


Two times Elvie should have died. Would her husband pull through again?


What made this worse for Rose, was this was her first time at his side - knowing and loving him - when someone tried. Sure there had been health scares since they began dating - over 3 decades ago - but nothing like this. She was shaking in fear. Her skin was white. Her long, flowing cream dress was splattered with blood.


Elvie’s blood.


It had supposed to be a run-of-mill, boring state dinner with the Indian prime minister. Everyone knew it was Elvie and Rose’s anniversary so they were going to slip out after dinner. There were no grand plans - just a quiet evening with a bowl of popcorn, a crib board, and each other. Elvie kept hinting at a surprise but Rose kept ignoring him. All she wanted was to listen to him teasing her again.


She hated wearing off-white (the colour online was not the colour that came). Elvie loved the dress so she had worn it for him. He wore a purple bow-tie to match the purple detailing on the dress.


During the first course of the meal, Elvie had been chatting politely to the prime minister when he suddenly paused, tuned to Rose, tried to speak, but started coughing and spewing blood all over her.


The following events were a blur of memories. She remembered screaming his name as she tried to remain at his side as the Secret Service agents pulled him out of his wheelchair and to the ground. The agents forced Elvie’s already limp body to vomit before beginning CPR. At one point she had tried to take over compressions.


He was put on a stretcher swiftly and then she remembered a hand at her back, helping her into an ambulance after him.


She remembered rubbing his ankles - the only part of his body she could reach as the best paramedics - active naval officers - began to work on him. She felt stupid now - he wouldn’t have been able to feel her comforting touches to his legs and feet.


And now Rose was, in an empty, private waiting room, covered in blood, still trying to catch her breath as she sobbed. She didn’t know where Elvie was. She didn’t know where she was.


She needed to contact her kids, make sure they were okay. They needed to find out from her.


Find out… what?


Rose’s thoughts spiraled. Was her husband dead?


The door opened. A member of her protection - Gillian - entered. “Ma’am. Are you feeling okay?” She began trying to examine Rose.


“No!” Rose shouted, backing away from one of the people she trusted most in the world. To hell with ‘okay!’. She may never be okay again.


Another Secret Service agent entered - Jacob was the head of Evie’s detail, beside him was Surgeon General Jean Chan. Both looked stressed, yet tried to remain professional.


Dr. Chan pulled out a blood drawing kit. “Ma’am, we believe the President has ingested a tetrodotoxin. We need to test your blood to make sure you haven’t ingested anything harmful.”


“I need to know if my husband is alive!” she shouted in hysterics. She then began to sob uncontrollably.


“He is. His condition is critical but his prognosis looks good. Tetrodotoxin affects the respiratory system and in most cases, symptoms begin immediately. For a high survival rate, the patient has to begin respiratory support as soon as possible.”


“Ma’am,” Jacob continued. “We got your husband on a ventilator within four minutes - with bagged compressions before that and mouth-to-mouth before that.”


Dr. Chan had begun to take a sample of Rose’s blood. “The emergency doctors pumped his stomach and are now giving him activated charcoal through a feeding tube. He is sedated. As long as there are no complications, your husband will likely be home for Christmas.”


Rose felt like she could breathe again. “The girls. He’ll want to see his girls tonight. Make sure Mattie is on his way home. I need to call Leo and Marc.” She said the last sentence to herself.


“The White House is on lockdown right now,” Jacob began. “No one is allowed in or out, but we will get Emilia and Donnatella here as soon as we can. Matthew would have been placed under lockdown at his dorm but we will get him traveling as soon as it is safe.” Mattie was still at his university dorm in Texas.


“It may be a while before anyone or anything can get in or out,” Gillian began to explain, nearly repeating Jacob. “Whoever is responsible is likely still in the building.”


“And my daughters are still in there with them?” Rose asked in alarm.


“They will be secure in the residence,” Jacob assured her. “I have to get back to the president, Ma’am, but someone from my team will keep you updated.”


As Jacob left, another figure entered. Omer, Rose’s Chef of Staff. “Oh, God, Mrs. Santos, I came as soon as I heard and the Secret Service just let me in.” He had gone home for the evening before the state dinner.


Rose was so grateful to see a friend. “I need your phone. I need my kids.” Her youngest might be 17, but she needed to hold them all like babies again.


“Of course,” he said, handing his phone. “I’m going to see if I can find you a change of clothes. I don’t want Emilia and Ella seeing you like this.”


She nodded as she began FaceTiming all three of her kids at once. Only Emila and Mattie answered but Rose was relieved to see Emilia and Ella holding each other on the couch in the Presidential Suite. They had been crying. Mattie - in his mess of a dorm room at the University of Texas - looked so scared and upset.


“Where’s Dad?” Ella demanded, her voice full of tears. “Is he going to be okay?”


“He’s still in with the doctors,” Rose explained everything that she had been told. “It’s serious but they’re hopeful he’s going to be home for Christmas. I want to get you guys here as soon as possible. Dad is going to want to see you guys. In the meantime, can you guys call the family? Uncle Leo and Marc too. I don’t even want to know what the news is saying. I’m sure there will be a press conference soon but they’ll want to hear from you guys.”


Emilia nodded, showing too much maturity for a 20-year-old. “Focus on Dad. We’ll begin to call everyone.”


Omer re-entered the room with a paper bag. “All I could get was a pair of scrubs, but I’ll get into the White House as soon as I can.”


* * *


It was more waiting for Rose. She had changed into the set of blue scrubs and put her hair up. With a full security detail, she was allowed to use a washroom to wash the blood and make-up off. There were few updates on Elvie, but a great debate between the Secret Service (who wanted to transport Elvie via helicopter to the ultra-secure Walter Reed Army Medical Centre across the city) and Elvie’s doctor (who wanted him to remain here at GW hospital until he started to breathe on his own) broke out.


Rose just wanted to hold Elvie’s hand.


She knew the country and the presidency faced far worse issues right now, but she just wanted to be with her husband. Other people could deal with the government.


And then Aimee entered. Elvie’s Chief of Staff was efficient but cared deeply about the Santoses. She hugged Rose, then sat next to her. “The FBI and CIA have turned the White House into a locked room murder mystery - sorry Rose,” she said, stumbling over her words. Aimee could have been president herself, but often didn’t think about the phrasing of her words. “Attempted murder. We are going to get the girls out as soon as we can. The Vice President has set up a situation room at her residence along with the cabinet. They are monitoring the situation closely and we think the best course forward is to follow the Seaborn Protocol. Your husband will be brought out of sedation long enough to sign a letter invoking the 25th amendment - we want you there to calm him as he will still be on the ventilator.”


Rose closed her eyes at the thought. Of all the screwed-up things done to Elvie’s body in the name of the United States government. And now she was going to be an accessory in making him suffer. If he invoked the 25th amendment via a letter, Vice President Veronica DeBois could become acting president until Elvie was recovered… or at least able to breathe on his own.


Aimee finished. “Then he can focus on resting and his recovery. He’ll spend the night here and see what the best move is in the morning. We both know he hates Walter Reed anyways.”


* * *


This. This was horrible. Elvie in an empty ICU unit with armed military guards, along with the Secret Service, surrounding him. The lights were bright and the white walls seemed to glow.


And she was armed with a clipboard, letter invoking the 25th amendment, and a pen.


And then it got worse. Rose reached Elvie’s bedside. He was flat on his back, his skin pale and clammy. The mint-green hospital gown was not his colour. She was used to seeing Elvie’s medical needs, but the ventilator tubes coming out of his mouth were almost too much. She couldn’t even kiss his cheeks as there was a strap stabilizing the tube. So she settled on kissing his forehead and smoothing his greying black hair before sitting at his side.


“I love you,” she whispered, taking his hand on top of the blankets and holding it tightly.


One of the doctors came over and informed her what to expect when the sedation was lifted.


Rose nodded, “Can we at least dim the lights?” she asked. It just seemed more humane to not blind her husband. The overhead lights in the room were turned off and a bedside lamp was turned on.


Rose continued to hold Elvie’s hand and stroke his hair. It was quicker than expected for Elvie to come out of sedation. She made sure she was in his line of sight - leaning over him - as his weary eyes opened. His eyes were full of fear and confusion.


“Hey, my Love,” she whispered. “We’re all safe; the girls and Mattie are on their way. You’re on a ventilator so you won’t be able to talk.” She faltered as he moved his other hand over his body, searching for her. “Yeah, I’m here. I have a letter Aimee wants you to sign so that Veronica can take control and you can rest. We want you to invoke the 25th.” Elvie was a former vice president, he knew the context. She placed the pen in his hand and held the clipboard. “Please,” she asked.


With a shaking hand, Elvie signed his name.


Aimee, who was standing to the, stepped forward and took the letter. “Thank you, Sir. Please focus on getting better.”


Elvie, still holding the pen, began writing in the air as he stared at Aimee. Rose, in anger, had to roll her eyes and leave his side. Elvie was a workaholic but Rose couldn’t believe he wanted to communicate with his Chief of Staff. Rose wanted to blame it on the drugs and her husband in shock and not understanding the situation.


But of course, he did.


“Ma’am,” Aimee said gently. She held up a notepad she had given Elvie. It read: stay awake; keep paper. Want my anniversary. Tell R not dead yet. I love her.



Rose rolled her eyes again. She walked to his side and kissed his forehead. “Let’s talk to the doctors. But maybe we can slightly change our anniversary plans.”


He looked up at her and reached out.


* * *


The doctors agreed that as long as Elvie remained calm, they wouldn’t up his sedation.


Naughty notes. Elvie wrote. He and Rose were now alone (kinda - the Secret Service had allowed them to close the curtains). The nurses had given him a legal pad to write on. Just because he wasn’t sedated to the point of unconscious, didn’t mean he wasn’t stoned on drugs.


“You can write me all the naughty notes you want, but I think I hear your daughters. I’ll be right back.” She left his bedside and peered around the curtain. Emilia and Ella were making their way down the hall: Ella was carrying two bags, Emilia was pushing Elvie’s backup wheelchair loaded with another bag and a very large quilt.


“We didn’t know what to bring so we grabbed all our to-go bags,” Ella explained. Every family member had a ‘bug-out bag’ for circumstances such as these.


“The FBI wouldn’t let us into the State Room to get Dad’s wheelchair so we grabbed his back-up wheelchair out of the closet… we didn’t know if he’d need it. I grabbed the giant quilt Grandma made that Dad likes to have when he’s in the hospital so we can all be under it. Is Dad…” Emilia began to ask.


“He’s on a ventilator but he’s awake and cracking jokes. Come on, he’ll be so excited.” Rose led them into the room.


Elvie was holding up the pad of paper. Hug + cuddle with your Daddy!!!!! With several smiley faces with hearts for eyes.


“Did I mention he’s soooo drugged?”


Ella and Emilia unfolded the quilt and hugged Elvie as they covered him. They seemed to be relatively unfazed by their dad’s condition.


Rose dug through the bags and found the change of comfy clothes she knew to be in there (a pair of leggings, a long shirt, and one of Elvie’s “old man” cardigans). She quickly slipped into the bathroom and changed, splashing water on her face.


She emerged to see Ella and Emilia sitting next to the bed, cuddling under the blanket Elvie was under. They were groaning and rolling their eyes at something he had written on the notepad.


Rose sat back down, smoothing his hair and taking his free hand.


Momma’s anniversary gift?


Emilia sighed. “We tried getting into the Oval, but the Secret Service evacuated us right from the residence and weren’t going to let us near the West Wing. You can give it to her when we get you home.”


Tell Momma plans.



“Are you sure? You can keep the surprise until we get you feeling better,” Ella suggested, but Elvie just tapped the pad of paper to insist.


“You guys know how excited Dad gets when he surprises me. I think he just wants to feel a bit of joy tonight,” Rose said, playing with his ear (something incredibly intimate between Rose and Elvie). “And I am super curious to hear these plans.” She stared down into her husband’s eyes, smiling.


“Okay,” Emilia began. “After the state dinner, Dad was going to take you out to the Rose Garden. He had it decorated with so many candles…”


“Like seriously, Mom, it’s probably a fire hazard,” Ella interjected.


“… You guys were going to have some wine and dessert. Dad had his standing frame out there and you guys were going to dance-.”


“Until Dad got cold,” Ella teased. Rose laughed.


Elvie rolled his eyes. Elvie pointed to the words on the pad. Present.


“Oh yes,” Emilia nodded. “Dad bought you a beautiful pearl necklace. It’s so pretty.”


“Oh God Elvie. I’m sure it’s beautiful. I bought you a new watch, some new pajamas, and something I’m sure the third thing the girls don’t want to hear about,” Rose whispered, patting his chest. “So I had my own plans. When we got back to the Residence, I was going to draw us a bath with bath oils and we were going to have a warm bath, then cuddle on the couch. Make-out.”


Elvie wiggled his eyebrows and wrote, Wait until I get off this ventilator.


“You two are so gross,” Ella complained.


* * *


Elvie had been taken off the ventilator the following morning and transferred to Walter Reed to further recover. The 25th amendment had been revoked, but he had taken work easy. He was back home to the Residence 4 days after nearly being killed by domestic terrorists. The culprit had been caught but there was now a manhunt for the co-conspirators. But Elvie tried not to think about it too much.


His PTSD reminded him of the events often enough.


He was no stranger to flashbacks but these were excruciating. He had seen a therapist several times since the attempted assassination and was sharing everything with Rose. Every time he managed to fall asleep, he was back on the State Room floor… or that tarmac 35 years ago… unable to breathe, vomiting, and confident he was going to die. And he had so much to lose this time. Wanting to see his kids grow into adults, wanting so many more years with Rose.


Every time he woke in a panic, Rose was there with water and to hold him.


She was holding him now. They were lounging on the sofa under a blanket, wearing sweatpants and sweaters, watching a cheesy Christmas movie. Mattie, back from university, was sitting on the chair next to them, scrolling on his phone. Ella and Emilia were on the floor doing a puzzle on the coffee table.


Tonight had supposed to be the big White House Christmas party, but Elvie was glad it had been canceled. He much preferred this.


The lights were dim, candles were flickering, and the Christmas tree was glittering. Rose was running her fingers through his hair and rubbing his back and shoulder. Ella got up and looked down at her dad. “I’m going to make some hot chocolate. You want anything?”


This was happening a lot. His kids had always been good at giving Elvie a hand when he asked or needed it. But now they were asking every 2 minutes. He often just gave them something to do to make them feel useful. But there was something he wanted. “Can you make me a peppermint tea?” he rasped. The ventilator had rubbed his vocal cords raw, so he was supposed to rest his voice and drink plenty of warm liquids. “Maybe a shortbread cookie?”


Rose poked his stomach. “You’re supposed to be saving some of those for Marc!”


“They’re good!” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “And the Secret Service only wants me to eat things you make for me.”


Ella smiled, leaned down, and hugged him. This was happening a lot more too. He loved it.