“…To The Best Of His Ability…”

By Jeff Baker

Author’s Note: As this is the inaugural edition of Friday Flash Fics, I decided this sort of tale would be appropriate.—-jeff

Schuyler Hampton Jones tossed his bowtie on the sofa next to his jacket, pants and shoes.

“As long as I remember where the bathroom is here, we’ll be okay,” he said. He grinned at Jim who had shucked out of his tuxedo and was seated on the floor next to their bed in just his shorts.

“Too bad you didn’t take my advice and wear the top hat,” Jim said.

“Not everybody can pull off the top hat,” Schuyler said, carefully taking off his cufflinks (they had been his father’s) and putting them in a box on the dresser. “J.F.K. did. I think Coolidge or somebody did.”

“And Lincoln,” Jim added.

“Yeah. Big shoes!” Schuyler said, putting his shirt on a hanger in the closet..

“Don’t forget Armbruster,” Jim said. “He was so preoccupied he kept his top hat on all through the swearing-in.”

“Don’t remind me!” Schuyler said with another grin. “I’m just old enough to remember that!”

“A little before my time,” Jim said. “Besides, Forty-three isn’t old. Not for you!”

“Neither is thirty-seven,” Schuyler said, bending down to kiss Jim.

“You don’t look old and gray,” Jim said.

Schuyler laughed and blushed.  “Give me about four years,” he said.

“Hey, how long have we been up anyway?” Jim asked.

Schuyler looked at the clock. “Since six-thirty yesterday morning, going on twenty-two hours.”

“Ow!” Jim said. “Definitely bedtime!”

“I’ll probably get up early,” Schuyler said with a yawn.

“It is early,” Jim said.

“Yeah, Schuyler said. “Guess I’ll get a couple of hours sleep.”

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Mister President,” came a voice. “My apologies for disturbing you but there’s a call for you. It’s the Joint Chiefs. The Armenian situation, I believe.”

“Be right there,” Schuyler said, starting to put his pants and shoes back on. He glanced over at Jim. “Sorry about this!”

“Hey, it’s the job!” Jim said grinning. “We knew what we were getting into!”

Schuyler grabbed his shirt and quickly buttoned it up, deciding to forgo his tie.

“James Thomas Randall, I’d marry you all over again!” Schuyler said kissing Jim passionately.

“Me too!” Jim said. “You’d better go talk to the Joint Chiefs.”

“Yeah. See you later,” Schuyler said. “Hey! Norcross didn’t wear a top hat either!”

“Way, way before my time!” Jim said grinning again as Schuyler headed out the door.

Jim sat on the bed for a moment then turned off the light. After a moment he got up and looked through the drapes out the window at the snow-covered city, the Washington Monument lit in the distance. It was going to be an interesting four years. He lay back in bed and pulled the covers around him.

No, eight years, he thought with a grin.

—end—