oh, mr president | H.S.

FORTY FOUR: Underground

"Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek." - Barack Obama

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F O R T Y F O U R : Underground

        They didn't want to leave the comfortable, springy mattress that was paraded with cotton, plush blankets. The president slid the calloused fingertips of his slothful hand down the curve that outlined her wife's spine. He was ecstatic that his mind could even fathom such an exclusive term, how he was bonded to her by Massachusetts law. He informed the White House staff about their new, official martial status to ensure that they remembered that Ophelia was now the First Lady of the United Status privately, but not yet publicly. Either way, he was cradling his wife in his undeserving arms, clutching her with a soft, lazy kiss to her forehead.

        "Good morning." Her sleepy voice hushed against his chest as her eyelashes fluttered to the peaking sunlight. Her messy bedhead tickled his chin when she rotated to face him. "How'd you sleep?"

        His hooded, green eyes blinked at her morning imagery of bliss and beauty. "Fantastic, baby girl. How about you?" He wanted to overuse the term until she groaned in agitation about his sappy tendencies that developed over the last few years. "All I could think about is you and that flower crown."

         "Oh, shut up. Your bare feet in the grass was very adorable." Her body adjusted to the closely approaching flammable piercing sunlight that crept through the unturned blinds, inching closer with her nightgown's silk sliding against his rib cage. She was able to fully imagine their intimate wedding of close family and friends, still amazed that they were actually married.

"Man, I am one lucky guy."

Ophelia giggled at his random observation, shifting to sit on the back of her calves. Her hands flickered with the lace hem, smiling at how everything had played out in her favor without noticing the sequence of events.

"And I am one very lucky mother and wife for two of the best gentlemen this world has ever seen," Her finger tapped his nose, and she climbed off the edge of the mattress to visit their son. Her ears could pick up the sound of his toys jiggling at his enjoyment. "How is my little Theodore doing this morning? Yes, you are so cute!"

Harry leaned on his elbows to fully see his wife bouncing their one year old on her hip, sharing a contagious smile with him. A soft, appreciative smile appeared, and he joined Ophelia with their child. "Hey, have you ever thought of having another?" He blurted out in curiosity, receiving a pair of bothered eyes. "You know, because...it would be fun?"

"Fun? It is a human child, Harry. Not a simple task. Not to mention one that I have to carry. Remember?" She argued to him, cooing at Theodore who was starting to speak simple words. "Mommy was very tired, but she loved carrying her little prince!"

"Just give it some more thought. Please?" Harry chirped with the corners of his mouth sinking. "Think about it, a family of four. The power family!"

Ophelia did not mind having another child, and she would love for Theodore to have a sibling. The problem stood with Harry and his physical strength being jeopardized by her needy requests. He had enough on his plate from the presidential office, did he need anymore?