Joe and Jill Biden: The Vignettes | SFW

Midterms: 1/1 [Fluff]

A/N: short, but hopefully sweet?

Midterms

Joe despises this part of public service. When their schedules didn't align and they are ships passing in the night, relying on short phone calls and updates through text.

He calls her every chance he can simply to hear her voice.

He knows it drives her a bit crazy when her moment of respite is interrupted, but she always answers. Her voice sometimes thick with exhaustion, in between a soft yawn, she still expresses her gratitude and tells him that she misses him.

"I love you," he says.

This wasn't entirely new to them. They'd spent much of their marriage apart - working to advance in their separate interests and passions. This, though, was different.

During his Vice Presidency, they'd still managed to keep true to their rule: no more than three days and nights apart. It was a rule they enforced much to the dismay of staff members who were desperately trying to schedule events.

However, it was unfeasible now. Their new roles were even more impactful and neither of them wanted to miss an opportunity to utilize their large platforms.

So, they do their best. They work hard at making sure that they find time for each other, both of them declaring that if it becomes too difficult to manage and they begin to neglect their marriage they'll walk away.

Nothing is more important to them than each other.

"We haven't come this far to throw away our last good decade, Joe," Jill would say in jest. But there was truth in that. Her words often echo in his mind when he's asked in interviews if he'll be running for a second term.

He isn't scared of aging. He feels no fear about death. But he's not sure that he could ever forgive himself if he took her for granted and didn't give her the life and marriage that she deserves.

When they agreed to run, Jill sat him down at the dinner table one night. For a moment, he drank in the stunning image of his wife peering over a roman candle silently wondering why on earth she puts up with him.

"Joe," she began. He wrung his hands together restlessly under the table.

Discussions that start with his name said in that tone typically never end well for him. "I do have some... concerns about you running," she explained, choosing her words carefully.

She admitted that she thinks that he can be a bit of a workaholic and he wasn't always a master at work-life balance. For that reason, she put forth a short list of nonnegotiables.

The first was that they would have dinner together every night if they were both in the White House - with their phones off. She emphasized that. Twice, in fact. The next was that before their day started, they would see each other off in the morning. And, finally, they would make time for each other away from the chaos of the White House.

Jill loved it there. It was a privilege to occupy it. But it was not her home and she made that very clear to him.

She had an advantage that other first ladies didn't. She was able to observe the way Michelle and Barack gracefully navigated their marriage during his presidency. This meant that she knew exactly what she wanted - and what she didn't want - for her marriage once they'd officially moved in.

Joe agreed without hesitation. Despite the challenges of the everlasting pandemic, their own COVID infections, and her full time teaching job, they were managing well. They kept their word and had dinner together as frequently as possible, and spent several weekends at Camp David or in one of their Delaware residences.

As the presidency reached its halfway point, it became more difficult to make time. Now, as midterm season picks up, they are both finding themselves stretched thin.

They are both independent - often to a fault - and having to do things alone feels comfortable to both of them. Their marriage has been through enough trials and tribulations that it is as solid as a rock.

But, still, they miss each other.

Lately when she approaches a doorway, she sighs, missing the way his palm on the small of her back guides her. He stands beside the podium as he's being introduced, recalling the way she leans into him, knowing that he will be her backbone, when her heels start to become a nuisance.

This was harder than either of them anticipated it being. They both counted the days until November 8th, when their schedules would finally overlap on a more consistent basis.

In Delaware, Jill finally reaches the sofa. She considers dragging her tired bones up the stairs to rest in their bedroom, but it's simply too far for her to bear. Her knees ache, her eyes are heavy, and all she can think about is the comfort of the cream throw pillow resting against the arm of the couch, and the knitted blanket that awaits her.

Joe checks the time on his phone, noting that he has less than 30 minutes left until he reaches his destination. He smiles to himself, barely able to contain his excitement. He decides to check in with everyone before he arrives, intent on tossing all of his devices on the counter for the next few hours.

~oOo~

A knock on the door startles her from her nap. She wonders why the Secret Service hasn't warned her that someone has arrived. Reluctantly, she walks toward the white oak door and opens it to find him on the other side.

Before he can say anything, she flings her arms around him, holding onto him for dear life. She's almost afraid to release him. She wonders if it's all a dream and he isn't really there.

"Hi baby," she hears him whisper softly into her ear, his voice hoarse with emotion. She can tell that he's fighting back tears, which makes hers flow even more freely. She inhales his cologne and immediately feels the tension leave her shoulders.

Finally, when she realizes that he is there - in the flesh - standing in front of her, she lets her arms drop from around his neck.

He steps in and hands her a bouquet of yellow flowers, leaning down to capture her lips in a soft kiss.

"How did you manage to pull this off?," she asks as she looks up at him in awe.

He smirks that signature Joe Biden half-smile that she finds irresistible, "I have my ways."

She grabs him by the hand and pulls him into the living room, fearful that he'll say that he only has a minute to spare.

"How long are you here for?," She inquires nervously.

"We only have a few hours before I have to head back," he says regretfully but she lights up.

A few hours in one day is far more than she's seen him in the last week.

"Perfect," she affirms. "What shall we do first?"

"Nap?" He proposes and she concurs. In their younger years, she wouldn't have hesitated to strip off his clothes right there in the living room, but there will be time for that later. The idea of finally getting decent sleep wrapped in each other's arms is the kind of intimacy she's been craving.

"That sounds like a fabulous idea, Mr. President."

He wraps his arm around her waist as they walk up the stairs together. "You know, I'd offer to carry you, but I don't think either of us would make it up the stairs."

She laughs and rests her head on his shoulder, "You have no idea how much I missed you."

He kisses the top of her head in response.

As they reach the door to their bedroom, he turns the knob. She closes her eyes when she feels that predictable hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the room.