Work Text:
Thankful
Hillary sat on the living room sofa, legs tucked beneath her as she scrolled through batches of emails on her phone. Sighing – half out of boredom and half out of frustration – she closed the email application and switched to her Twitter feed.
Post after post showing throngs of dedicated supporters lined up outside the venue holding her first book signing the next day assaulted her retinas and she couldn't help but smile to herself.
“What're you doing, babe?” Bill sauntered easily into the space and sunk down onto the cushion next to her, handing her a glass of Chardonnay.
“Thanks, honey,” she nodded, eyes twinkling in appreciation over the rim of the glass as she took a long sip. “I'm just scrolling through Twitter.” She set the glass lightly down onto the coffee table, turned her device away from her face and toward her husband so he could see.
“Oh wow,” Bill breathed. “They all waiting for you?”
“Looks that way,” Hillary nodded. “Some of them have blankets and pillows, the whole nine.” She glanced quickly at the clock on the wall. “It's eleven thirty at night. I can't believe anybody is that dedicated.”
“I can,” Bill told her. “You're amazing.”
Rolling her eyes, she chuckled softly. “You always say that.”
“Well, it's true,” he smiled. “Am I not allowed to tell my wife how special she is anymore?”
“Of course you are,” Hillary winked.
“Good, cause I'd keep doing it anyway even if you told me no.”
“Stop it,” she said, laughing more heavily and nudging him playfully in the shoulder. “I bet those people are starving by now,” she mused. “Dinner was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, I'd imagine so.”
Hillary sat deep in thought for a moment, glanced at the clock again before setting her phone down next to herself and returning a focused gaze to Bill's face. “I'm gonna send them a second dinner.”
“Hillary..” Bill said, voice trailing off as he found himself again in awe of his wife's thoughtfulness.
“What?” she challenged. “I would appreciate someone doing that for me if I were waiting outside exposed to the elements for eight hours or more.”
“I know,” Bill said softly. “You can do it, by all means. Just caught me off guard, that's all. I wish everybody could see how sweet you really are.” Leaning in closer, he gently touched his lips to her cheek.
She smiled. “What would you be craving if you were camping out all night for a book signing?”
“I don't know,” Bill said thoughtfully. “Pizza? Probably the easiest thing to send. You can order it en masse and there'll be enough to go around without anyone coming up short.”
“True,” Hillary nodded in agreement, retrieving her phone and clutching it tightly in one hand. Waking the screen that had become inactive, she swapped Twitter for the dial pad. “I'll call Joe's and then have someone pick it up and send it over on my behalf.”
Bill nodded silently, watched his wife stretch out her limbs and rise from her position on the couch before exiting the room to make her calls in private. Shaking his head at her retreating form, he felt his mouth lift upward into a smile. “That's my girl,” he mumbled under his breath.
///
As the pair lay in bed later that evening, neither seemed to be able to fall asleep. They alternated between tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling, staring at one another, or engaging in snippets of hushed, meaningful conversation.
Hillary's phone buzzed loudly against the wood of the night table, startling both of them. Rolling onto one side, she glanced quickly at the screen before answering.
“Hello?” she said.
“Did I wake you?” one of her staff said hesitantly. “I'm sorry if I did. Feel free to chew my head off tomorrow morning when you see me.”
“No,” she laughed good naturedly. “You know I don't usually nod off before at least midnight. You're fine. We were awake.”
“Oh good.” The body on the other end released a sigh of relief that travelled down the line before continuing. “I just wanted you to know that all pizza was delivered successfully to some very dedicated, hungry and appreciative supporters. We were sure to let them know that it was sent at the request of Madam Secretary herself.”
Hillary smiled into the mouthpiece. “Perfect,” she said. “Thank you for your help. I'm glad they're enjoying it.”
“My pleasure. We will see you bright and early tomorrow morning to kick off the first leg of this tour.”
“You bet,” she responded enthusiastically, feeling butterflies bubble up in the pit of her stomach. “Good night.”
“Good night. Sleep well, both of you. You're gonna need it.”
Hillary disconnected the call, pulling the phone away from her ear and staring contentedly at it for long minutes before Bill's voice penetrated the fog that had descended upon her brain.
“Pizza delivery go okay?” he drawled softly, gently extricating his wife's device from her hands and placing it on the night stand closest to him next to his own.
“Went off without a hitch,” she told him happily. “They were really thankful.”
“I'm sure,” Bill said. “That's such a kind, thoughtful thing you did.” The glint in his eye was not at all lost on her. A thickness manifested itself, coating the inside of her throat and momentarily robbing her of the ability to speak once she noticed it.
“It's the least I could have done,” Hillary warbled. “After all of the endless support they've given. I'm indebted to them, too.”
Bill propped himself up on an elbow so that he was peering down over her, scratched an itch at the bridge of his nose with a free hand before leaning in to touch passionately to her lips. “I'm so proud of you,” he said when he pulled away. Not for the first time.
“I know,” she told him. “Thank you.”
“I have to pee,” he declared into open space after a few silent moments, and Hillary laughed deeply from the pit of her stomach.
“So go,” she told him.
“I am,” Bill said in mock defiance as he swung his legs over the side of the mattress and stood. “Don't fall asleep while I'm gone,” he told her. “I've got plans for what I'd like to do to you when I get back.”
He looked devilishly at her, and she wiggled her eyebrows, causing him to be the one to laugh heavily as he retreated from their bedroom into the en suite bath.
Hillary turned all the way over onto her back, sighing audibly as she watched the methodical, predictable spin of the fan on the ceiling above her. Shimmying across the mattress so that she was close to her husband's night table, she reached for her phone, powered it up as she returned easily to her side of the bed.
'When @Hillary Clinton sends you pizza' she read as she returned to Twitter. The caption was followed by a picture of supporters sitting with their pillows and sleeping bags, surrounded by Joe's Pizza boxes, cloaked by the dark of night.
“So sweet,” she murmured, tapping the button to reply.
'Enjoy,' she typed quickly with the help of auto prediction. 'see you all tomorrow.'
Hitting another button, she shifted to another function on her keyboard, eyes fanning over it.
“Babe,” she called out loud in the direction of the closed bathroom door. Bill was still situated on the other side, but didn't offer up a response. “Did you know Apple has a pizza emoji?!”