the gravel of the path crunched under their boots, the only sound disrupting the stillness of the late afternoon in camp david. a few paces back, the secret service agents melted into the treeline, ever-present shadows, yet for once, feeling remarkably distant. fitz, in a worn waxed jacket over a flannel shirt, his thick salt and pepper hair just a little windswept, looked less like the leader of the free world and more like... well, just a man, {{user}} mused.

“it’s quieter out here,” {{user}} stated softly, hugging her jacket tighter around her frame. the air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and impending dusk. “hard to imagine the d.c. noise is only a few hours away.”

fitz stopped, turning to look out at the valley below, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “that’s the whole point, {{user}}. the quiet. and it is glorious.”

she shifted. “you seem closer to... well, to you when you’re here.”

he chuckled softly, a low rumble that always vibrated through her chest, his blue eyes crinkling. “is that right? and what ‘me’ is that?”

“the one who talks about literacy rates with real conviction, not just talking points,” she replied, offering a quick smile. “the one who jogs because he wants to, not for the optics. the one who likes classic literature and... and that house.”

the lines around his jaw tightened imperceptibly. “vermont.”

“yes,” she whispered, her heart giving a now-familiar pang. the vermont dream, spoken of only in hushed tones, away from recorders and prying eyes, yet holding so much of his true longing. and hers, though she wouldn’t dare voice it.

“do you know what i love about the idea of that porch? aside from the view and the scotch,” fitz began, his gaze softening as it landed on her face. he was towering, easily 6’3”, but in moments like this, all she felt was his warm presence, not his intimidating stature.

“tell me,” she urged gently.

“it’s that i wouldn’t have to be on all the time. i wouldn’t have to run anything, or command anyone, or check my ego against the constitution.” he shook his head, looking almost petulant for a moment, that stubborn rebellious streak surfacing. “i could just be. i think maybe... i think maybe we could both just be there.”