Chapter Text
It was mid-February of 2001, and the newly-inaugurated president, George W. Bush, had just retired to his bedroom for the evening after enjoying a warm bath. He slipped into a comfortable, loose-fitting bathrobe and paused to examine himself in the mirror, something that he had taken to doing every night for the past few months. The president’s brow furrowed, and he grimaced.
“My God! I look like a damn cow!” He muttered, disgusted by his own appearance. He turned slightly to view his body from a different angle, hoping that he would find his figure to be more satisfying from this new perspective, but alas, he did not. George sighed and folded his hands atop the swell of his stomach, which had grown quite big with the new life he was carrying. He was nine months pregnant with a baby boy, and he was due to give birth any day now. That day couldn’t come soon enough for him. He was sick of being pregnant; he hated how he looked, he hated how he felt, he hated himself, and so did the American people apparently.
While his pregnancy had blessed him with a child, it had had a catastrophic effect on his presidential campaign. George had tried to hide it initially, expertly masking his morning sickness and cravings from the prying eyes of the public, but when he inevitably started showing he could no longer keep it a secret. Like Hester Prynne’s scarlet letter, George’s growing stomach told everyone of his sin. Even the dimmest of voters could spot the difference between a baby bump and belly fat, and they were not deceived when he tried to pass it off as mere weight gain from a poor diet. Betrayed by his body, he found himself cornered, and was essentially forced into revealing his shameful secret to the media. George cringed as he thought back to how much of a firestorm that had caused and the hostility with which the country had reacted.
He had thought that coming clean about his pregnancy would dispel any controversy, but it only paved the way for more. Soon after he revealed that he was with child, the media began pressuring him into revealing the identity of the other father of his baby. The tabloids spread all sorts of filthy rumors about him, claiming that the child was that of his running mate, Dick Cheney, or the product of a one night stand. None of it was true, but the press and political cartoonists had a field day with the falsities, using them to humiliate George and hurt his campaign. Thinking that debunking the lies would take some of the heat off of him, he finally gave in and named the other father at a press conference: the child had been sired by none other than the previous president, Bill Clinton.
Unfortunately for George, instead of remedying the scandal, revealing the child’s father fueled it even more.
George and Bill had already gotten into some hot water for an affair that they had carried out during the late 90s, an affair that they both claimed to have ended after it became public knowledge and after Bill was nearly impeached for lying about it in court. However, as their lovechild clearly showed, that was untrue and they had still been continuing to see each other in secret.
Bill, as he somehow always managed to do, escaped this newest scandal unscathed. At the time, he had been married to his vice president, Al Gore, but Al went ahead and filed for divorce soon after George’s pregnancy became known. Once their divorce was finalized, Bill began an exclusive relationship with George and publically pledged to be there for both him and their unborn child. His taking responsibility for the baby and commitment to George had won him back the nation’s approval, but George was not so fortunate.
The American people despised him, and their sympathy laid entirely with Al, who was running against him in the election. To them, George was nothing but a dirty liar and a homewrecking slut who was so overcome by lust that he wouldn’t think twice about hopping into bed with a married man. Al wasn’t like that at all. Al had always been a doting husband, was honest, and would not stand for Bill sleeping around with the likes of George. He was clearly the better candidate, and all the signs pointed towards him winning the election.
When Election Day finally rolled around that November, George lost the popular vote, just as everyone had expected and wanted. However, thanks to a mishap in Florida and intervention from the third party candidate Ralph Nader, George managed to secure the electoral vote, and that was all that he had needed to win. Al begrudgingly conceded defeat, and the presidency was his.
Now, here he was, the new president, hated by the public and heavily pregnant with the previous president’s lovechild. George knew that he should be glad-he had achieved the nation’s highest office, had a devoted boyfriend by his side, and he was going to be a father-but he still felt miserable.
“How’ll I ever bounce back from this?” He wondered aloud. “How’ll I win over the American people? They’ll never see me as anything more than a hoe and a liar.” Unable to cope with his unhappiness any longer, George broke down and started to sob into his hands.
“George?” He heard a familiar voice say. Glancing back over his shoulder, he noticed Bill standing in the doorway of their bedroom. George sniffled a bit and dragged his sleeve across his face in a vain attempt to conceal his tears before facing his boyfriend.
“Yeah, Bill?” He replied. Bill frowned and walked over to him, placing his arms around him in a tender hug.
“Why are you crying, honey?” He asked gently.
“It’s nothing,” George mumbled, leaning his head against Bill’s shoulder. The ex-president wasn’t satisfied with that answer.
“If it were nothing then you wouldn’t be so upset about it.” He reasoned. “Please, George, won’t you tell me what’s wrong? It breaks my heart to see you so upset.” George looked up at Bill and mentally debated whether or not he should tell him of his troubles. He didn’t want his boyfriend to think he was being needy or whiny, but if he refused to share his feelings then Bill would think he was hiding something. The entire country hated and mistrusted him; he didn’t want Bill to do that too. George broke down again and cried into Bill’s blazer.
“I look and feel like shit and the American people hate me!” He wept. “Look at me, Bill! I look like a damn cow! I’m nothing but a whore! I’ll never be more than that to the country! I’ll never be a great president! I’ll never win a second term!”
“George, baby, none of that is true” Bill assured him, soothingly stroking his back to calm him down, “You’re a very handsome man, and your pregnancy’s only enhanced your looks. You are not a whore, you are not a terrible person, and I know that you’ll be a great president. Regardless of whether or not you win a second term, regardless of what happens in the future, I will always love you, and I will always be there to support you and our son.” He reached down and placed his hand protectively atop George’s stomach, grinning when he felt the baby kicking in response to his touch. George placed his own hand atop Bill’s, and, feeling comforted by his boyfriend’s words, the president smiled.
“Oh, Bill, you always make me feel good again when I’m down.” He mused.
“If you come to bed with me I can make you feel even better.” Bill drawled seductively.
“Oh, I’d like that.” George smirked. He took Bill by the hand and led him over to their bed. He untied his robe and shrugged it off his shoulders, letting it pool around his feet while Bill stripped out of his suit. Now there was nothing separating them, and president and ex-president were free to become one. They made love on the bed, and oh how wonderful it was! George melted under his boyfriend’s touch, enjoying every passionate minute that they spent together. He felt special, loved, wanted, appreciated. The country didn’t love him, but he was content in knowing that at least Bill did, and he always would. When they had finally finished up, they laid back amongst the pillows together, spooning. George laid on his side, the only comfortable position he could manage this late into his pregnancy, and Bill laid behind him, resting his chin upon the president’s shoulder as his arms found their way around his waist.
As they laid together, enjoying the quiet of the night and the closeness of their embrace, Bill reached down to stroke his boyfriend’s swollen stomach. He found it amazing that there was a child in there, a little person whom he had helped to create.
“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a daddy,” He murmured softly, “Al and I never had any children when we were married.” George grimaced at Bill’s mention of his ex. He absolutely detested Al, and he hated it when his boyfriend talked about him.
“Well, now you’re with me,” He said, quickly changing the subject, “And we’re going to have our son. Our little George Herbert Walker Clinton.”
“Yeah, little Bert,” Bill mused, “Your dad was so happy when we told him we were naming our son after him.”
“I know. I was surprised that he and Mom took this so well,” George replied, “They’re very excited about becoming grandparents.” Suddenly, he felt a pain in his lower stomach, a sharp, tightening, crushing pain, and he tensed up.
“You alright?” Bill asked.
“Y-yeah,” George assured him, “I’m okay.” He felt the tightening ease, and he relaxed, thinking that it was just a practice contraction. However, a few minutes later he felt it again, and it was much worse this time. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out and clutched his stomach, wanting it to end. Bill was growing worried now.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He pressed. “It’s not time yet, is it?”
“No, no, the baby’s not coming now,” George waved him off. “I think I’m just getting practice contractions. I’ll be right back; I’m going to the bathroom.” He got out of bed and went into the bathroom, but then he felt the tightening once more, excruciatingly painful this time, and doubled over the sink. He heard what sounded like a soft popping noise, and he felt a trickle of something wet running down the backs of his thighs. Realizing what had happened, he panicked and screamed for Bill. Not two seconds later, Bill ran in, still fully unclothed.
“What’s wrong?!” He asked frantically.
“I think my water broke!” George told him.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Bill swore. “Come on! Let’s get dressed; we need to take you to the hospital!” He ran back into the bedroom, returned a few moments later fully dressed and with some clothes for George, and after helping George dress they left the White House with some Secret Service agents trailing close behind.
Once they reached the hospital, George’s labor progressed without much issue. The doctors had given him an epidural so he wasn’t in pain, but he still didn’t enjoy the experience very much. He hated being in such a compromising position and having all of these people poking around between his legs. At least he had Bill by his side to comfort him. Eventually, after much pushing, the baby was out. The doctors let Bill cut the umbilical cord and then one of them handed the child to George.
“Congratulations, President Bush,” She said to the president, placing the baby gently in his arms, “You and President Clinton have a beautiful baby boy.” George thanked her and then focused his attention on his son. The doctors had swaddled him in one of those Kuddle-Up baby blankets, the white ones with thick blue stripes and thinner pink stripes, and only his face was visible. He cried softly, and George held him close to his chest, feeling tears of joy starting to well up in his eyes. Bill leaned in and kissed him.
“You did great, George.” He praised his boyfriend. “How do you feel?”
“Sore, but happy,” George replied. “I can’t believe it. We’re fathers. Isn’t this amazing?”
“Yeah, it sure is,” Bill agreed. “Can I hold him?” George nodded and handed Bert to him. Bill tucked one of his hands under his son’s body and used the other to support his head, holding him very carefully as if he were a delicate porcelain doll. He smiled, admiring the precious little life that his and George’s union had created. George couldn’t help but smile too. As he watched his boyfriend hold their child, he felt himself beaming with an immense sense of pride. He had given Bill a son, something that Al had never given him. He was the president, something that Al would never be. He was the one whom Bill was with, not Al, and he was so happy he could hardly describe it.
Maybe they would get married soon. George was too nervous to ask about that, especially since Bill’s divorce from Al was still so recent, but he had a feeling that he would eventually become his second husband.
All of that could wait, though. One day they would live in wedded bliss as president and First Man, but for now, George was content. He had his beautiful son, his wonderful boyfriend, and the presidency, and that was all that he needed.