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Blaine calls, breathless, while Kurt’s eating breakfast.
“Did you see it?” he asks. “Did you know about it?” His voice is giddy and wild; Kurt’s alarmed for a moment, but no, he’s definitely happy.
Kurt swallows his coffee too fast and coughs. “See what?”
“The Today Show!”
“Since when do you watch the Today Show?”
“My mom and I watch it together before school sometimes. It’s a bonding thing. Kurt, the Today Show. The First Lady. Did you not see it?”
“No, I didn’t.” He knows about Mrs. Santos’ New York trip, of course; Donna even stole him from Josh for a few hours to consult on her wardrobe. But the First Lady has her own staff, and media appearances like that are usually pretty tame affairs. “I was going to watch it at work.”
“You didn’t know she was going to do that?”
“Blaine, at some point you’re going to have to tell me what happened.”
“She – OK, they were just talking about, you know, her family literacy stuff, and how the kids are liking DC, and the elections, just normal stuff. And then out of the blue – you know they’re in New York, and I guess the mayor’s daughter just got married, and Meredith Vieira asks, what do you think about marriage equality?”
“Oh my god,” Kurt murmurs.
Here’s the thing: Everyone at the White House is completely accepting. Kurt’s far from the only gay person there. They know about Blaine. They want to meet Blaine.
But that doesn’t change the fact that President Santos doesn’t support marriage equality.
He doesn’t actually oppose it. But he’s Catholic, and from Texas, and his position is that it’s up to individual families and communities (and states) to decide. And while the pressure’s picked up a bit from LGBT groups since he was elected, everyone says there’s no chance he’ll shift his position—at least not before he runs for reelection in two years. It’s bullshit, but it’s reality.
The part of Kurt that’s not-so-secretly loving working at the White House understands that. The part that keeps a ring box on his dresser really, really doesn’t.
Blaine can barely catch his breath. “And she didn’t even hesitate, Kurt, she said of course she supports it, she believes in it with all her heart, and it – what was it? – it breaks her heart that there are people who love each other but can’t get married just because of ignorance.”
Kurt tries to say something, but his throat’s closed up. “Wow,” he manages.
“I know,” Blaine says, his own voice thick and shaky. “I know. And she said she bets we’ll see marriage equality in the country in five or ten years. Nationwide.”
“Oh my god.”
The other thing is, the president can’t actually do all that much about marriage equality. He can offer equal spousal benefits to federal employees (which he’s done). He can require that companies offer equal benefits to qualify for federal contracts (which he hasn’t). Marriage, actual marriage, is up to the states. It’s not up to the president. It’s definitely not up to the First Lady.
Which doesn’t explain why Kurt’s getting choked up over his toast.
“So you didn’t know that was going to happen?” Blaine asks.
“I definitely did not know that was going to happen.”
The political news cycle has kicked into overdrive, with the midterms less than a month away. The Republicans seem ready to consolidate their hold on the Senate and have a good chance of taking the House, and they’re turning the election into a referendum on President Santos, hitting him from every possible angle — substantive, silly, racist, ridiculous. Casting him as a lazy liberal libertine, and Mrs. Santos as a radical power behind the throne.
This would have been big news either way. Now it’s going to be a firestorm.
Kurt shakes himself out of his trance. “I have to get to work,” he says. “I’m surprised I can’t hear Josh yelling from here.”
“Is it – I guess this is bad. For them.”
“He just doesn’t like being surprised.” Kurt dumps the rest of his coffee into the sink, as his stomach does a nervous flip.
“I wish you were here,” Blaine says. “Or I wish I were there. It feels like … something to celebrate. Doesn’t it?”
“Maybe.” He pauses over the sink, running through the senior staff roster in his head. They’re good people, the Santos administration. But they have a job to do, and they're very good at it. “I think it’s good news,” Kurt says. “I guess I’m about to find out.”
**
“DONNA!”
Kurt hears Josh before he sees him.
“Donna, I know you are in this building!”
“Josh!” Sam says, loud enough to interrupt. The two of them are in Josh’s office — at least, that’s where it sounds like the shouting is coming from. “Is that really necessary?”
“Is it necessary to take an hour and a half to walk from the East Wing to the West Wing? DONNA!”
“Morning,” Ginger says as Kurt passes her desk. “Did you hear about —”
“I did.” It would be hard to miss it — Mrs. Santos’ face is on every cable channel now, on the TVs scattered around the bullpen. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
“No, senior staff has been —”
“Donnatella Moss, if your spectacular ass is not in my office in the next thirty seconds —”
“— They’ve been doing that, pretty much,” Ginger says.
Long hair swinging, Donna stalks down the hall toward Josh’s office. “You are impossible!” she yells. “Hi, Ginger.”
“Morning, Donna.”
“But keep talking about how spectacular my ass is,” Donna says to Josh, and slams the door behind her.
A few minutes later, Sam emerges and heads toward Lou’s corner. “Sorry about that,” he says to the interns as he passes by. “I was hoping he’d stop doing Brando in ‘Streetcar’ when they got married. No such luck.”
**
“Today’s top story, of course: the First Lady, Helen Santos, coming out in support of gay marriage. Mrs. Santos made her statement during a television appearance this morning, and the White House is scrambling to respond to what seems to be an unplanned announcement. Some big questions here: With the First Lady now saying she supports same-sex marriage, will this put pressure on President Santos to change his position as well? And perhaps most importantly, what does this mean for the midterm elections?
“For more, we’re joined by CNN correspondent Jessica Yellin at the White House. Jessica, lots of questions this morning — any answers so far?”
“Thanks, Soledad. The White House is saying very little this morning; we heard just a few minutes ago from White House spokeswoman Lou Thornton, who said only that the president won’t be making any announcements today. With control of Congress hanging in the balance in these midterm elections, the last thing the Santos administration wants is a big new debate on social issues. What we’re more likely to see over the next few days is damage control — the president, perhaps, needing to distance himself from his outspoken wife.”
**
Kurt ducks into Sam’s empty office to call his dad, who’s back home campaigning this week.
“Dad, I don’t know if you saw, the First Lady —”
“I know, bud,” he says. “I was glad to see it. It’s about time, huh?”
“Yeah.” He smiles a private little smile into the phone.
“How are things over there? You doing OK?”
“I’m fine. Things are a little crazy.” He glances out into the bullpen; he’s not sure how much he’s allowed to say, even to his dad. “I just wanted to make sure you knew, in case you get questions about it.”
“Anything I should know? You folks aren’t planning to announce anything, are you?”
“Dad, I’m not ‘you folks.’” He rolls his eyes. “And I don’t know. I don’t think they’ve decided anything. Right now they’re just pretty mad.”
His dad sighs. “I don’t know why he doesn’t just say it. It hasn’t hurt me any, being honest.”
(Burt first got the question shortly after his election, in an interview with Roll Call. “I want to go to my son’s wedding someday,” he’d told them. “And if anyone has a problem with that, they can take it up with me.”)
“It’s different when you’re the president,” Kurt says.
“If you say so.”
“It is different. He can’t just —”
“I get it,” Burt says. “So is there anything you want me to say, if they ask about it? Anything you don’t want me to say?”
“No, no. You can say whatever you want.”
“Well, I’m talking to a couple locals of the health care workers’ union today, and the Marion city council. I don’t think it’s going to be at the top of the agenda. But, you know, my position on this isn’t exactly a secret. I’m glad she said it. I hope the president does too.”
“Me too,” Kurt says. “Good luck with the unions.”
“Thanks,” he says. “You sure you’re OK?”
“Dad. I’m fine. It’s — it’s work. It’s exciting to be here, even if things aren’t going to go my way.”
“OK. I have to ask.”
“I know. Thanks, Dad.”
**
Josh appears over Dan’s shoulder, even more wild-haired than usual. “I need you to give me everything the president’s ever said about marriage,” he says. “And the First Lady. And the Vice President. And the Senate Majority Leader.”
“About gay marriage?” Dan asks.
“About marriage, period,” Josh says. “And if you could do it, like, half an hour ago.”
Kurt looks to the other two as Josh storms away.
“We should check with Lou’s staff first,” Sophia says. “They keep issue binders; they might have something like this.”
“I’ll go,” Dan says. As he straightens his tie and gets up, Kurt blurts out, “It’s marriage equality.”
He stops. “What?”
“Marriage equality, not ‘gay marriage.’ It’s the same marriage.”
“Right.” Dan shakes his head. “Right. Sorry, man.”
**
Apparently, the Vice President has mentioned that Mrs. Baker is “as beautiful as the day they were married” 21 times so far in 2012. Kurt opens the next speech transcript just as Hurricane Josh whirls into the intern cubicle.
“Ohio,” he says. “I need you.”
Kurt hesitates. “I don’t have much yet –”
“Forget that,” Josh says. “I mean, don’t forget it,” he adds to Sophia and Dan. “You two, keep up the good work. I need you for something else.”
He follows Josh into his office, where Sam and Donna are seated in front of the desk. Lou is pacing behind them, coffee cup in hand.
“There’s no way she’s walking it back,” Donna says. “The First Lady’s not shy. She speaks her mind about issues that are important to her.”
“You don’t say,” Lou says, deadpan.
“I’m all for the First Lady speaking her mind,” Josh says. He flops back into his chair. “Just not when it’s going to cost us the House!“
“It’s not going to cost us the House,” Sam says.
“You don’t know that.” Josh notices Kurt still hovering by the door. “Have a seat,” he says, and Kurt perches on the couch at the back of the room. The others turn to look at him.
“You probably know why I brought you in here,” Josh says.
“Um,” Kurt says, and wants to crawl under the couch.
“Ohio,” Josh says. (Oh.) “All of us are liberal Washington elites. Our opinion can’t be trusted.”
“I’m from the Midwest,” Donna says, indignant.
“A, you’re from Canada, and B, when was the last time you lived there? Lived, not campaigned.”
“Fine.”
Josh folds his hands, leans forward on his desk. “So, Kurt, a question for you. Say the president went on television tomorrow and says he supports same-sex marriage. How would that go over back at home?”
Kurt glances around the room, feeling their eyes on him. He’s very aware that there is a right answer and a wrong answer here, and he’s not sure which one this is. But it’s his answer. “Well,” he says, and swallows. “I’d like to get married. And I vote in Ohio.”
Josh buries his head in his hands.
“My dad and stepmom support marriage equality,” he adds. “So do my friends. And my teachers—some of them.”
“Due respect to your dad,” Josh says, “but what about, you know, the rest of Ohio?”
“Josh, you asked him and he answered,” Donna says. “The Midwest isn’t a monolith. Kurt’s dad won in Ohio.”
“Did we win in Ohio?”
Lou rolls her eyes. “Josh.”
“Did we win in Ohio?”
“That was two years ago,” Donna says. “Public opinion is evolving.”
“I’m going to keep asking until someone answers me. Did. We. Win. In. Ohio.”
Sam stands up. “I have a ten-thirty with OMB,” he says. “As edifying as this conversation has been.”
“What’s going on with OMB?” Lou asks.
“They’re fighting with Energy about light bulbs.” He turns to Josh. “We lost Ohio. We might lose Ohio again, for any number of reasons. Let’s not blow this up any bigger than it already is.”
As Sam goes to leave, Josh asks, “Light bulbs?”
Sam pauses in the doorway. “Companies are making light bulbs that use less energy.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“They’re doing it too fast.”
“Still not seeing the problem.”
“The technology is evolving so quickly that our standards can’t keep up,” Sam says. “It takes years to develop a federal standard, and by the time we’re done, we’re setting the bar too low — rewarding run-of-the-mill products, rather than innovative ones. DOE wants us to get smarter about anticipating technology developments, so we’re not constantly behind the curve.”
“And why wouldn’t we do that?”
Sam shrugs. “It’s speculative. We’d be regulating based not on what industry’s doing now, but on what we think they might be able to do, years in the future.”
“So OMB doesn’t like it.”
“OMB hates it.”
“Good luck with that,” Josh says.
“Thanks.”
Lou turns to Kurt. “So, honest opinion, is there a message on this that would resonate in your district?” she says. “Not your friends and family, but, you know, the unwashed masses.”
“Individual liberty,” Donna suggests. “The government shouldn’t be telling people they can or can’t get married. It would be like telling me and Josh we can’t get married because I’m taller than him in heels.”
“You're not taller than me.”
“I’m saying in heels. Tall heels.”
“But that’s assuming people see sexual orientation the way they see height,” Lou says. “What about people who don’t see it that way? What if to them, it’s more like …”
“Pedophilia? Bigamy?” Josh suggests, and wow, there are some words Kurt never thought he’d hear in the White House. “People see it as a sin,” he says. “I mean, they’re wrong, and we know it, but that’s how they see it. It’s a moral issue.”
“Or a choice,” Kurt offers. “Like … like being a vegan. When you get the school lunch, they can’t force you to eat a hamburger, but you don’t have some constitutional right to make them make you a veggie patty instead.”
He wants to agree with Donna. He really does. But he knows better.
“Is that how you think it’d go down at home?” Josh asks him.
Kurt glances around the room, aware of their eyes on him. “There are gay people in Ohio,” he says. “Everyone knows we’re there. But they don’t want to see it. They’d rather we just blended in, or moved away.” His mind goes to Blaine, alone at McKinley — but, no, not alone. “We’re making progress,” he says. “At school, it’s better now than it was for me. But.” He looks at Donna. “When you make that argument, you’re asking people to look at a gay person and see themselves. And they … they don’t.”
“What about going for the moral dimension?” Donna asks. “If marriage is so important to sanctify a relationship, maybe people would feel better about gay couples if they could get married.”
“Can I ask a crazy question?” Lou asks, interrupting. “Do we know how the president actually feels about this issue?”
No one responds.
“We’re talking about this like this is what he really believes, and it’s just a question of how to frame it,” she continues, gesturing with her coffee cup. “I’m just a hired gun. You’ve known him a lot longer than I have. Has anyone actually had a heart-to-heart with him about this? Does he actually support equal marriage rights? Not just civil unions, but marriage?”
Everyone looks at everyone else. Lou opens her mouth to say something, but Josh sighs and says, “He supports it.”
“You know that?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve heard him say it, with your own ears.”
“Yes.”
“In a setting where, you know—”
“Lou, I’m saying we talked about it.” Josh leans forward, ducking his head and raking his hand through his hair. “When Ronna and Cindy seemed like they were getting serious. We were on Air Force One, late, coming back from … somewhere. Neither of us could sleep, and we got to talking.” Josh chuckles softly. “He asked if they got married, if I thought he’d take any flak for going to the wedding. And I said he’d probably take more flak if Ronna got married and he didn’t go to the wedding. I mean he’d get questions, sure, but.”
The room is intensely quiet.
“And then he asked if I thought she’d rather get married at home in Pennsylvania, and I said I had no idea, and he said it’s a shame it makes a difference. He said, it’s nobody’s business but yours who you fall in love with. He said he understands some people aren’t ready, but just because they’re uncomfortable doesn’t mean they should get to impose their ignorance on other people.”
Kurt looks at the floor and smiles to himself: The president’s on their side. He may not be able to say it without committing political suicide, but in his heart he’s with them. And even if now’s the wrong time, if that’s how the president really feels, maybe something can happen a few years down the line.
He wonders how much trouble he would get in for telling Blaine.
There’s a moment, broken when Lou says, “OK. So we know.”
“But that doesn’t mean he has to say it a month before the midterms,” Josh continues.
“So you think he should be dishonest,” Donna says.
“I think the president should be diplomatic and punt on this for now. Which, may I remind you, is what he’s been doing up until now.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s going to jeopardize every part of our agenda!” Josh slams his hand down on the desk. “The values caucus is gaining power. They’re going to win seats in the midterms no matter what. And they’re thinking ahead. They think we beat Vinick because Vinick was too moderate. Next election, it’s not going to be another California Republican — it’s going to be the Christian right, the white conservatives, coming at us guns blazing. You think that’s going to do much for gay rights?”
The press team, and the staff in general, keep a close watch on the cable news shows. As a result, Kurt’s probably listened to more conservative talking heads in the last five weeks than in his entire life to date. If this is what it’s like when they’re not attacking, then that’s a terrifying thought.
He understands, and at the same time, it’s intensely frustrating. Josh’s message is clear: Keep waiting. Keep waiting, and we’ll support your rights later, when it’s less dangerous.
“If we do this, we give them all the ammunition they need to kick off the 2014 primary, right now, and launch an all-out assault against us and everything we want, right now. And your boss may not understand that,” he says, pointing at Donna, “but my boss does.”
**
It turns out that all White House activity does not get put on hold for Marriage-gate. Other things come up. Meetings are held. People scurry through the office on unrelated business. Kurt goes back to work, pulling material for briefings, thinking about Josh’s argument.
Put that way, it seems simple. If the president takes a stand, it doesn’t actually change anything about marriage rights, but it risks stoking support for the religious right, leading to them capturing Congress now and the White House in two years, leading to unimaginable setbacks for gay people, women, the educational system, scientific research, the list goes on. Not worth it.
It makes sense. But he can’t make himself feel it.
A few hours later, Kurt’s dropping off a briefing book for Josh when Donna appears in the doorway again.
“You wanna go downstairs for lunch, or somewhere outside?” he asks.
“Downstairs is fine,” Donna says. “You’re treating, by the way.”
“OK,” Josh says, getting up and feeling for his wallet in his pants pocket. (One of these days, Kurt is going to have to have a serious chat with Josh about his affinity for clown suits. Or maybe with Donna.) “Can I ask why?”
“You yelled at me.”
“I was … caught up in the heat of the moment.”
“You yelled at me, and you’re going to buy me lunch.” She turns to Kurt, who’s just been trying to slip out the door as subtly as possible. “And you’re going to buy Kurt lunch, too.”
“That’s really not necess —”
“I didn’t yell at Kurt,” Josh protests.
“No, but you yelled at me, and I’m telling you to buy lunch for Kurt. I’d like to share the benefits of your bad behavior.”
Donna takes her salad back to her office (“I thought we were having lunch together,” Josh says, and Donna clarifies, “I said we could get lunch together.”), leaving Josh and Kurt to head back to the West Wing.
“Sorry for putting you on the spot earlier,” Josh says, as they walk.
“Please don’t apologize,” Kurt says. “I’m flattered that you asked my opinion.”
“You’ve got good instincts,” Josh says. “How long have you been here, again?”
“Five weeks.”
Josh shakes his head. “We need to give you more to do,” he says. “I didn’t bring you here to make copies.”
They sit down in Josh’s office. “So,” Josh says. “I take it you didn’t have the easiest time in Ohio.”
Kurt pokes at his salad. “True.”
“Was it bad, or —” Josh stops himself. “Sorry, that was out of line. I mean, was it mostly in school? Other kids?”
“Mostly school.” It’s a delicate thing, talking about this with people in Washington — not that he’s had much occasion to do it. How bad was McKinley? He doesn’t know, really; he doesn’t have enough to compare it to. He doesn’t want to play into a stereotype, doesn’t want people to feel bad for him, but also doesn’t want to downplay it for someone who might truly not know what it’s like. He answers Josh’s question carefully. “Someone called my dad’s tire shop once, to tell him his son was a fag. Luckily my dad already knew and didn’t care.”
Josh doesn’t laugh.
“School was bad, for a while,” he says, vague on purpose. (Some anecdotes are too vivid; they take on a life of their own. He threatened to kill me. They voted me prom queen. They put him and his friend in the hospital.) “I switched schools for part of junior year. There was …” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t be there. And the school couldn’t handle it, or wouldn’t handle it.”
Kurt thinks about Josh’s message: Be patient. It’ll be better for you in the long run. Supporting your rights is political suicide. He thinks about how happy Blaine had been on the phone that morning, both of them so excited and emotional. “It meant a lot to us, what the First Lady said,” he confesses.
“Us?”
“Oh. Me and my boyfriend.”
“Right.”
He watches Josh’s face carefully. “I understand the timing might not be ideal. But … when things got bad at school, the worst part was feeling like people weren’t paying attention. Like they didn’t care. It just means a lot to hear that someone’s on our side.”
Josh nods thoughtfully, and finishes chewing. “There’s a thing this afternoon. Strategy meeting on the marriage thing. You should come.”
“I — I’d love to.”
“And then later you can tell me what school district you grew up in, and we’ll have them investigated by the Education Department.”
“You can do that?”
“No. But I can ask.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Kurt says. He adds, “It really has gotten better. It’s gotten better at school. People know about me, and they still voted for my dad. It might not be obvious from the outside, but when I think about it, a lot has changed in a few years.”
Josh smiles into his salad. “I was just thinking about Sam’s light bulbs,” he says. “Industry’s moving forward so fast we can’t keep up. Our standards are holding them back instead of driving them forward. Maybe it’s government that’s behind the times.”
**
“Ohio.” Josh beckons from outside the cubicle. Kurt grips his legal pad and pen (do you take notes in a strategy meeting?) and follows him through the bullpen and into the Roosevelt Room.
The room is quiet, everyone a little tense. Around the table are Sam, Lou and her deputies, the press secretary, Donna, and a tiny blonde woman who looks oddly familiar. There are a few more faces Kurt recognizes but doesn’t know; they might be from Legislative Affairs, or the Counsel’s office.
They’re almost all senior staff. Kurt is … very much not.
He goes for the seat behind Josh, against the wall, but Josh slaps the back of the chair next to him. “Up here.”
Kurt sits, the leather squeaking slightly under his sweaty hands.
"Everyone, this is Kurt Hummel," Josh says. "He works for me. Kurt, you know all these people?”
He glances around. “I –”
The tiny blonde woman is sitting to his other side. “Annabeth Schott,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’m the First Lady’s press secretary.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
“You just got back?” Josh asks.
Annabeth nods. “She’s in the residence.”
“All right.” Josh raps on the table to start the meeting. “So, what we’ve established so far is the First Lady won’t be walking back any part of her … very touching announcement this morning. She’s said it, it’s done, she’s not making any other big speeches about it, but at this point, backtracking would cause more trouble than standing by it. So we’re standing by it. Good?”
Nods around the table.
“So, the president.” Josh flips through the briefing book they’d spent the morning putting together. “His position is: it’s a personal matter, it’s up to different communities to decide how they want to handle it; clarification that yes, he means up to the states. Supports domestic partnerships with hospital visitation rights, financial benefits, yada yada. The vice president hasn’t said much of anything on this. We’ve been getting some pressure on this from the gay rights groups since the election, but not too heavy; they’re probably planning on hitting us after the midterms.
“On the other side, the Senate Majority Leader is, unsurprisingly, opposed. And on the further other side, Reverend Elijah Hill of the Christian Values Coalition says this is their highest-priority issue, and they will mobilize the full force of their member base against any elected official who supports efforts to, quote, ‘tear asunder the moral fabric of the American home.’”
Sam chuckles; Josh shoots him a quizzical look. “Sorry,” he says. “Tearing asunder the moral fabric. I was picturing him ripping up the curtains, like Maria von Trapp.”
Kurt bites down on his tongue, hard, to keep from laughing.
“I see three options,” Josh says. “Stick with his current position, make a statement explaining where he stands now, maybe revisit after the midterms. Announce that he now supports equal marriage rights, thereby inciting the rage of untold millions of conservative Republicans. Or say as little as possible. That, I think, is off the table given the amount of attention this is getting.”
“I agree,” the press secretary says. “We have to say something.”
“OK, then. If he’s not switching his position, the message is pretty clear; he’s said it several times. We’ll just need to clarify that the First Lady was speaking for herself, and that — as everyone knows very well at this point — the President and First Lady don’t agree on every issue.”
“Right,” Lou says. “Annabeth, that good with you?”
“That’s fine.”
“Say he does switch his position,” Josh says. “Lou, what’s the messaging if we go down that road?”
“The president’s already said he thinks it’s a personal matter,” Lou’s deputy says. “We should keep that frame for it. It’s a very personal question, between you and the person you love, and your family, and your church, if you have one. It’s not the government’s business to tell you who you can and can’t marry. It’s a personal privacy issue.”
“It’s not private,” Kurt says, and swallows hard as every head in the room swivels to face him.
“Marriage isn’t private,” he says, his heart pounding as he scans the room. “Relationships are private. If you know you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone, you don’t need a piece of paper to tell you that. Or a ring.” His voice wavers, just a hint, and he wrestles it under control. “Marriage is public. It’s saying to the world, this is who I am and this is who I love. It’s the government agreeing to treat you as a family, even if your family won’t, even if society won’t.”
The deputy looks from Kurt to Josh, addressing Josh when he speaks. “We just need a statement in line with what the president’s said previously. We don’t want to introduce a lot of new ideology. It just invites further attacks from the right.”
“Kurt’s right,” Sam says. “You can’t say it’s a privacy issue. Personal, sure, but not private. Any of you ever been to a private wedding?”
“I don’t like the timing,” Josh says, and Kurt sinks back into his seat. “Given that this all happened a matter of hours ago, obviously, no polls yet on how this could affect the midterms. But what I’m worried about is —”
“Afternoon, everyone,” says a voice from the doorway. Everyone in the room gets up, and Kurt scrambles to his feet as President Santos walks in.
If you didn’t know Matt Santos was the president, you could guess just by watching him walk into a room, radiating calm authority. Kurt also can’t help noticing that he’s even more attractive in person than on TV.
It’s not the first time Kurt’s met the president—the West Wing interns all filed into the Oval Office to shake his hand a few weeks ago. But it’s definitely the first time he’s been in a meeting like this.
Santos gestures for everyone to sit down and makes his way to the end of the table, sitting down in the empty seat next to Josh. Right across from Kurt.
“So,” he says. “A reporter asked Helen for her opinion, and she gave it. And somehow this is news.”
“Sir,” Josh starts.
Santos waves him down. “I know, I know. So tell me what you’ve got.”
They reiterate the arguments for and against. Josh leans heavily on the argument he made earlier, to Kurt and Donna and Lou: take a stand now, and we might end up losing everything later.
Santos takes it all in, then leans back in his chair and looks around the room. “Here’s the thing,” he says. “I was wrong.”
“Sir,” Josh tries again, but Santos continues.
“Fifty years ago, there were still around a dozen states that wouldn’t have let Helen and me get married. Hell, there are a lot of people out there who still wouldn’t let us get married, if it were up to them.”
He looks around the table as he speaks, and for a moment, he’s talking directly to Kurt.
“It’s taken me far too long in my life to see that this is exactly the same thing,” he says, looking levelly at Kurt. “I’m glad Helen had the guts to say it in public.”
“Sir, the conservatives —”
He shakes his head. “This is important, Josh. The majority doesn’t get to vote on the rights of the minority. Democracy can’t be two wolves and a lamb voting on what’s for dinner. That’s why we protect individual rights in this country, and this issue should be no different. My church may not agree, but I need to stand up and say it. It was wrong 50 years ago, and it’s wrong now.”
Kurt glances around the table. Donna and Sam are smiling. Josh and Lou aren’t.
“I want to make a statement.”
“You shouldn’t do it now,” Josh says. “Wait until after the midterms.”
“Because it’ll look like Helen made me do it.”
“Because it’ll look … like she made you do it. It looks defensive. You’ll give up any bump you would have gotten from making the announcement,” Josh says.
Lou chimes in. “Doing it so fast, it’ll look like you weren’t being honest before, when you said you wanted to keep it personal. It’ll make it seem like that was some political, calculating thing.”
“I wasn't being honest,” Santos says. “It was political and calculating. And it was wrong, and if I have to pay some penalty for that, maybe I deserve to.”
Josh leans forward slowly and bangs his forehead, once, on the table.
“You knew I was going to say that,” Santos says.
“I did.”
“Your church is going to have some serious objections,” one of Lou’s people says. “The archbishop might say something.”
“That's between me and the church,” Santos says. “That, at least, is consistent with everything I’ve ever said on this issue.” He shakes his head. “I should make a statement. Today.”
“No,” several voices around the table chorus.
Lou is the first to jump in. “Not today,” she says. “You’ll get sucked into the Today Show thing, it’ll look like we’re panicking. Wait a couple of days. Let the excitement over the First Lady die down. Do an interview.”
He nods. “I can live with that.”
Kurt watches them talk through it, working through the messaging, considering sympathetic reporters. The pad on the table in front of him is blank. The strategy was never the hard part. The decision was the hard part.
**
In the end, it blows over remarkably quickly. The president gives an interview, and he’s compassionate and honest and personal, and Kurt’s glad he’s watching in the office and not with his dad, because he’s not sure he could hold it together otherwise. Afterward, there’s a day or so of headlines and a few days of cable chatter. But the way people react — supporters and opponents alike — it’s like that’s been his position all along.
They lose seats in the midterms — possibly a few more than they would have, but House races are always a bit of a crapshoot. On election night, the talking heads talk first about the president’s education reform agenda and whether it hurt him with the teachers’ unions. Marriage equality is third or fourth on the list, and when they do bring it up, the focus is mostly on the administration’s lack of “message discipline” and whether voters believe Mrs. Santos is really running the show.
They hold onto the House. They keep the Republican Senate majority under 60. In context, it’s a victory.
**
They’re eating lunch in Josh’s office, sometime later, when the story is dying down and the talking heads have mostly moved on. Josh puts his sandwich down and says, “Can I give you some advice?”
“Of course.”
Josh stares out the window for a moment, then back to Kurt. “Working here, sometimes you’ll get an issue that hits a little close to home. Sometimes a question comes up and you feel like you can’t look at it objectively, because it just feels personal.”
Kurt nods, and fixes his expression, and girds himself. He’s an emotional person; he can be dramatic, he knows that. But how can he not take it personally when they’re talking about his rights, his life?
“Hold on to that,” Josh says.
“What?”
“Being emotionally involved — that’s a good thing.” Josh points out the doorway of his office, toward the bullpen. “All the people who work in this building. The 20-hour days, the death threats — you think they’d put up with that if it wasn’t personal for them?”
He leans back in his chair. They’ve had more moments like these since Marriage-gate, moments when Josh momentarily stops being a whirling dervish and gets reflective. “We still have to be strategic. We have to think about the politics. But this isn’t business, where following your emotions means you make mistakes. If it ever stops being personal, that’s a sign you need to find a different line of work. Got it?”
Kurt nods.
“I like you,” Josh says. “Not just because you’re from Ohio. I like you because you care, and you don’t try to kiss my ass, and you speak up.”
Kurt laughs. “Thanks.”
“Keep doing that,” Josh says. “And don’t ever worry about caring too much.”
“I won’t,” Kurt says.
**
They get a picture at the Christmas party, Kurt and Blaine and the First Lady and President Santos. Mrs. Santos compliments Blaine on his cranberry bowtie; it matches her dress, she exclaims, and pauses to smile for the photographer.
President Santos claps Kurt on the shoulder as he shakes his hand, his grip firm and enormous. “Thanks for all your hard work, Kurt,” he says, and Kurt thanks him and tells him it’s an honor.
He hears a tiny “oof” behind him, and when he turns around, Mrs. Santos has thrown her arms around Blaine in a tight hug. They pull apart, and Mrs. Santos blinks back tears, laughing at herself. She hugs Kurt too, then, and wishes them both a merry Christmas.
“What did you say?” Kurt whispers, as they move back toward the crowd.
“Um.” Blaine clears his throat. “I just … thanked her.” Kurt finds his hand and holds on tight; Blaine gives his a little squeeze back, and says, “I just told her it meant a lot to me, her speaking up. It meant a lot to us.”
“Yeah,” Kurt agrees.
Blaine sniffs, and smiles. “She said we should invite them to the wedding.”
They laugh, exchanging tentative smiles: Can they talk about this? Yes, they can. “So we’ll invite them to the wedding,” Kurt says softly. Weaving behind a pillar, they sneak a chaste, sweet kiss, and go back to the party.