Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Light flooded the foyer of Donald Trump’s penthouse as the disgraced presidential candidate entered, wrapped up in an animated conversation on his cellphone.
“You should see your sister! She’s tremendous, believe me!” He boasted, “She looks just like me, inherited all my rugged good looks!” Another man limped in behind him-his husband, Mike Pence, now known as Mike Trump since he had changed his name after his marriage. In Mike’s arms was a small wrapped bundle; he shifted the bundle slightly and rested one of his hands on Donald’s shoulder, getting his attention.
“Donald,” He said softly, not wanting to disturb the man’s phone call, “Is the nursery done? I want to set Topaz down in her crib.”
“Yeah yeah, I had one of the maids finish putting it together, go see for yourself,” Donald muttered, waving Mike off, “Anyways Barron, I’ll send the chauffer to come get you from your mom’s on Sunday. Be ready to go by eleven.” With that, he hung up, stuffed the phone in his pocket, and made his way to the new nursery he’d ordered to be set up. Entering the room, Donald took a moment to admire the décor. Like the rest of the penthouse the nursery was decorated in garish gold, with the most prominent feature being the elegant canopied crib in the center. Mike stood by its side, still clutching the bundle to his chest. Carefully, he set the bundle down within the crib and began to unwrap it, freeing the baby girl encased within. Donald joined his husband and stared down at their new daughter, beaming with pride. Though she was only a few days old one of the traits she had inherited from him was already visible. Soft wisps of blonde hair peeked out from beneath the little pink cap she’d been given at the hospital to keep her head warm, the beginnings of what would one day become a wild blonde mane to rival that of her father. Mike reached down to gently brush some of the wisps aside to get a better look at her face. Wide blue eyes stared back at him, and he grinned.
“I wonder if her eyes will stay blue like yours or get darker so they’re more like mine,” He thought aloud, “What do you think, Donald?”
“They might not stay blue?” Donald asked, confused by this new piece of information.
“No, the color could change in the next few months,” Pence explained, “This was in one of the books about baby care and development that I gave you to read. Didn’t you look at any of them? I read through each of them at least twice!”
“Ah, well, I skimmed through them.” Donald replied with a shrug. Mike frowned and placed his hands on his hips. That was not the answer he had hoped for.
“Donald! That’s not okay!” He berated his spouse.
“Oh come on Mike, why would you even expect me to know that her eyes might change color? That’s not important!” Donald scoffed. “I read enough to pick up all the important things!” A soft whimpering emanated from the crib; Donald and Mike directed their gazes back to their daughter, who was wriggling and making a fuss. Mike scooped her up in his arms again, prepared to rock her to get her to calm down, when he suddenly remembered something. Donald hadn’t had the opportunity to hold her yet!
“Topaz has been with me almost constantly since she was born, I think you should spend some time with her now,” He decided, turning to his husband, “Why don’t you hold her for a little while?” Donald nodded and held his hands out to take the baby. Mike gently placed Topaz in his arms and watched as Donald held her up to get a better look at her face. She stared back at him, bearing a grimace quite like his own. He smiled approvingly and then shoved her back towards Mike.
“Okay, you can have her back now,” He announced, “I’m done holding her.”
“You’ve been holding her for less than thirty seconds!” Mike pointed out.
“Yeah, but holding her is kind of boring,” Donald complained, “I’d rather be doing something fun, like golfing.” Mike sighed at this.
“Look, if you want something to keep yourself occupied, why don’t you fix her a bottle and feed her?” He suggested. “It’s been a couple hours since I fed her last, she must be hungry. Come on.” Mike took Topaz back from Donald and led him into the kitchen. After giving Donald a brief summary of how to prepare the baby formula since he probably hadn’t read up on how to do that either Mike left him alone and decided he’d go to his study to get some work done. He sat down at his desk, wincing slightly as he did so. The birth had been difficult, he’d torn quite a bit and required a lot of stitching afterward, leaving that particular area of his body feeling rather tender. It hurt to sit down, but Mike did his best to ignore the pain and, nestling Topaz safely in one of his arms, he used his free hand to boot up his computer. Though he had resigned as governor of Indiana and decided he would no longer run for any type of office he had since busied himself with working for the New York Republican Party in an advisory capacity, strategizing and fundraising for the local Republican politicians. With 2018 fast approaching the New York governorship, one of the senate seats, and all the house seats would soon be up for grabs. New York had a reputation of being a solidly liberal state and the potential Republican candidates were going to need all the help they could get, so Mike certainly had his work cut out for him. He had just finished sifting through his work email when Donald entered the study several minutes later, bottle of formula in hand.
“Soup’s on!” He announced, jabbing the tip of the bottle towards Topaz’s face, “Drink up!”
“Donald! No!” Mike shrieked as he drew Topaz closer to his chest and turned her head away from the bottle. “You can’t just give it to her like that! You need to see if it’s the right temperature first; it needs to be warm but not hot! Let a little bit of the formula drip onto your wrist to check it.” Donald rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He drew his sleeve up, held the bottle to his wrist, and let some of the formula dribble out onto it. He let out a pained hiss; it was scalding hot! On top of that the formula had mixed with his poorly-applied spray tan, creating orange streaks as it dripped down his arm.
“Mike! It burns and it’s ruining my tan!” He whined. “I don’t have to do this every time I feed her, do I?”
“You most certainly do!” Mike emphasized. “It’s burning your wrist, right? Well, imagine what it would do to her mouth if you fed it to her like that! Wait a few minutes for it to cool and check it again, it should be the right temperature then.” Donald grumbled something about having to reapply his tan and sulked off with the bottle. He returned a little later, looking slightly more orange with a fresh coat of spray tan, and after assuring Mike that he’d checked and made sure the formula was now the right temperature he took Topaz from him and began to feed it to her. Mike wasn’t pleased with how he was doing it, though.
“Not like that, Donald!” He scolded him. “You need to hold her more securely, and you need to tilt the bottle so she’s not swallowing air with the formula! She’ll get gas if she does! Here-just give her to me.” Donald shrugged and handed their daughter and the bottle back to Mike. He watched as Mike fed her, and when it seemed like she had had enough Mike set the bottle aside and held her against his chest, resting her chin on his shoulder as he gently patted her back to burp her.
“So we need to feed her like three times a day, right?” Donald asked. “That should be easy to remember. That’s how often Barron needs to eat.”
“Yes, but he’s eleven! Topaz is a newborn; she needs to eat way more often than three times a day!” Mike clarified. “Yesterday I think I fed her about ten or so times, and I had to get up a couple times during the night to do it.”
“I don’t have time to feed her that often!” Donald complained. “I’m very very busy and I need my beauty sleep!”
“Busy? Ha! Busy with what?” Mike retorted. “You don’t have to lift a finger all day! I’m the one who’s busting his ass working to take New York back from the Democrats!”
“Yes, typing away at your computer all day is busting your ass.” Donald said flatly.
“You’re one to talk! You spend half the day tweeting! Besides, I do other jobs aside from working on the computer,” Mike defended, “I organize and attend fundraising events and rallies, I go to meet local Republicans to strategize, I do a whole host of things and I’m working hard!”
“You don’t even need to work in the first place!” Donald pointed out. “I told you when we got married that I had the money and the power to keep you happy and comfortable! Why do you still go to work when you’ve got me to take care of you?”
“I might not need to work, but I want to! It’s important to me to stay active and do what I can for my party,” Mike huffed, “Look, let’s just drop it and stop fighting. Topaz looks a little sleepy; we should put her down for a nap. Why don’t you try swaddling her so she’ll be nice and warm? I can show you how to do it if you don’t know how.” Donald stared down at his child and cracked an overconfident grin.
“Ha! How hard can this be?” He scoffed. “It’s just like wrapping a burrito, right? I’ve seen it done plenty of times at Taco Bell; I can definitely do it myself. Give her to me.” Mike hesitated a moment but then handed Topaz to Donald. He headed off to the nursery with her, leaving Mike alone. Mike frowned. Given what he had already seen from Donald that day he was doubtful that he’d properly swaddle their baby. He fired off one last email to a Republican acquaintance and rose from his desk. By the time he made it to the nursery Donald had finished his poor attempt at swaddling Topaz and was staring down at her in her crib, arms crossed and triumphant grin plastered across his face. He noticed Mike in the doorway and beckoned for him to join his side and admire his handiwork. Mike winced at what he saw.
“You did it wrong,” He noted, “Her feet are sticking out.” Instead of creating a snug wrap Donald had just laid the blanket out flat, folded it over, and loosely rolled Topaz up in it like a jelly roll, leaving her tiny feet uncovered.
“It’s good enough,” Donald argued, “She’s mostly covered.”
“She’s going to get cold!” Mike insisted as he began to undo the blanket. “Donald, this isn’t okay!”
“Either do it yourself or don’t complain about how I did it!” Donald snapped at him, clearly frustrated. “Screw this, I’m gonna crack open a Diet Coke and tweet about Crooked Hillary.” He pulled out his cellphone and lumbered out of the room to locate his soda, leaving Mike alone. Mike didn’t even bother going after him. He scooped Topaz up and swaddled her correctly, neatly tucking and folding the blanket to create a snug cocoon to cover her. Topaz cooed at him; he smiled and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead before setting her down in her crib again to nap. He turned off the lights and left the room, closing the door behind him. Mike leaned against the doorframe and sighed, shaking his head in dismay. He was beginning to wonder if he’d made a mistake in deciding to start a family with Donald. He thought back to mid-July the previous year when they’d first been acquainted, when Donald had asked him to be his running mate. He’d been charmed by the man during that first meeting, captivated by his looks and ideas, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Mike was so happy to join the ticket, and he’d grown even happier when Donald had asked him another question-if he would spend an evening with him in Mar-a-Lago. That night that they had flown down there together, the first night he had spent in Donald’s bed, was truly magical to him.
He’d felt some guilt over it, conflicted about carrying on with a married man, thinking of Melania who was abandoned with her son up in New York while the two of them were together in Florida, and he was scared of his true sexuality being exposed in spite of his adamantly anti-gay attitudes in public, but Donald dispelled all of his worries. “I’m not happy with Melania”, he had said, “I think she’s cheating on me too”, he had claimed, “This’ll be our little secret and no one will ever know”, he had assured him. Well, things didn’t entirely turn out the way Mike had hoped. It all seemed fine the first few weeks after that encounter, the Republican National Convention went off without a hitch, he and Donald began campaigning together, and they continued to carry on their affair in secret. But then Mike discovered he was pregnant, and it all went downhill from there.
Donald had been scared shitless when Mike had finally mustered up the courage to tell him, but in spite of his distress he remained at Mike’s side. Mike had made it clear that abortion was against his beliefs, and they knew they couldn’t hide his pregnancy forever-he was going to start showing at some point and that would give it away-but they figured they would be able to at least keep it under wraps until after Election Day. They thought that he wouldn’t begin to show until after it had passed, and they went about business as usual, continuing to campaign and attempting to stoke opposition against their adversary, Hillary Rodham. But the pregnancy proved harder to conceal than they had expected. Mike was hit with terrible bouts of morning sickness and often appeared visibly ill at campaign events, even requiring hospitalization at one point, he started showing early, and people were asking more and more questions. A press conference held to try and deflect any inquiry only made it worse and ended up with them cornered into revealing their shameful secret, killing their campaign. Donald had stuck by his side through all that, through his divorce from Melania, their humiliating defeat on Election Day, their hastily arranged shotgun wedding in Las Vegas, the birth of their child, but now would he fail him? Was all of this worth it?
“Things are going to be okay,” Mike told himself, “This will be worth all the trouble in the end. I’m not the vice president, but I’ve got a husband who loves me, we’re going to raise our baby together, and we’re going to be happy. This is worth it.” But as much as he kept saying that to himself he wasn’t sure he truly believed it. He had been in love that night in Mar-a-Lago, Donald had been a gentleman to him then and had continued to dote upon him all throughout the time he had carried Topaz, but now the passion was cooling, the spark that was once there was fading, and Donald didn’t seem very interested in being a parent either. Was this just a rough patch, a tough period of adjustment due to the new baby? Would things settle down again and go back to how they were before, or would they just get worse? Mike sighed and shook his head. He didn’t have time to dwell upon this. There was work to be done. Putting his worries aside for the time being, he returned to his study to create some fliers for one of his Republican cohorts.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
It's been like five months since I posted this and I'm only just now getting around to finishing it. Sorry for anyone who was eager to see how this cursed bullshit ends. Funnily enough, today is Mike Pence's birthday. Fitting day for me to post cursed shit about him. Enjoy this trainwreck.
It was nearing the end of April now, Topaz was about a month old, and Mike sat in the living room of the penthouse watching the news. A momentous event was being broadcast live-the wedding of the president and the vice president.
President Hillary Rodham and Vice President Tim Kaine were getting married today in a lavish ceremony in the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, the most prominent Catholic church in Washington D.C. The camera panned across the church, giving a view of the massive number of guests populating the pews, among which were the former presidents, vice presidents, their families, and other high ranking government officials, before it finally focused upon Tim standing at the altar with Bill Clinton, who had been asked by the bride and groom to officiate the ceremony. Tim was beaming, absolutely overjoyed that he was about to get married in the presence of his friends and family and under the eyes of the nation. Mike was hit with a wave of jealousy. He envied the man, not just for securing the office he had aspired to, but for the happiness he had found with his soon to be wife and their son.
Mike and Donald had mocked Tim and Hillary mercilessly during the election, calling them all manner of names and accusing them of an array of misdeeds in order to stoke hate, and the two Republicans had been ecstatic when the Democrats revealed at a press conference that they had had a one night stand in their younger days that had left Hillary carrying Tim’s child, unknown to Tim at the time. Even though their honesty and frankness on the matter had pleased the American people and averted a scandal and even though the two had genuinely fallen in love since reconnecting as running mates Mike and Donald still used this information to attack them and distract from their own problems. But their attacks were in vain. They were exposed, they lost support, Hillary and Tim were in the White House and getting married in a grand church and here Mike was sitting alone in Trump Tower with his baby, thinking back on his own wedding, cobbled together at the last minute in a dingy casino chapel in Las Vegas. He had gotten sick and tired of being in the media’s headlights after their scandal broke and he had asked Donald if they could elope, if they could go someplace where they could blend into the crowds and nobody would ask them any questions. Mike was happy to be married no matter the circumstances, but a small part of him did ache over not being able to have a traditional wedding.
“I wish your daddy and I could have had a nice church wedding like this one,” He murmured to Topaz, who was resting on his stomach, fast asleep, “It would have been lovely.” The camera panned across the church again to show an organist at the pipe organ beginning to play the first few notes of the bridal march, and the song picked up in earnest as the camera panned once more to the end of the church’s aisle. Hillary stood there, looking radiant in her lacy gown and veil, her blonde hair swept back and face lightly made up. Her and Tim’s son was at her side, and he began to escort her down the aisle, led by the two flower girls tossing petals at their feet. Mike recognized the girls-they were Clinton’s twin daughters. As they reached the altar the girls took their places at either side of Bill, and Hillary’s son lifted his mother’s veil from her face and gave her a hug before joining Tim’s side.
“We’re gathered here today to witness the joining of two of my dear friends in holy matrimony, and it is my great honor and privilege to conduct the ceremony,” Bill began, “Hillary and I have known each other for a long time. She’s been one of my closest friends and confidants, someone to laugh with, a shoulder to cry on, always there for me through the good and the bad, and I’ve been there for her as well. I haven’t known Tim as long as I’ve known her, but I’ve also come to call him a friend, and I knew from the moment I met him that there was a mutual attraction between him and Hillary. It pleases me to see what’s become of it, that after sharing the Democratic ticket and sharing the nation’s highest office they are about to share a marriage as well.”
“Mutual attraction,” Mike scoffed, “More like mutual lust. We all know what they did, and she has a lot of nerve wearing white to her wedding when she’s a far cry from the purity that color embodies. She preyed upon Kaine, drew him into her bed, and he was stupid and horny enough to go along with it. This isn’t love. They just wanted sex from each other, and they still only want sex from each other, nothing has changed. They’re only getting married because they have a kid together, but it’s too little too late. He is and always will be an unplanned bastard.” As much as he kept telling himself these things, he knew deep down that it wasn’t true, and a small part of him started to question if he was projecting his own anger, fears, and hurt upon his enemies. Had Donald only married him because of Topaz? Did Donald genuinely love him or just make him think he did to get sex? Was it all a lie? Mike shoved those disconcerting thoughts away for the moment as he watched the ceremony continue.
“The bride and groom have prepared some vows for each other,” Said Bill, “The vice president takes the oath of office before the president, so I’ll allow Tim to say his vows first.” Just then, Mike heard the door slam. He winced, and Topaz started wailing loudly.
“Mikey! I’m home!” Donald called out to him. He entered the living room and, upon noticing what Mike was watching, grimaced. “Why are you watching Crooked Hillary and her baby daddy get married?”
“I’m not watching for them,” Mike scoffed, “I just like church weddings. I wish I could have married you in one.” He stood up and rocked Topaz a bit to get her to settle down.
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted the private sad wedding, not me,” Trump grumbled, “I would have paid for a tremendous fancy wedding for us, we could have had it in any church in the world, but you wanted a sad one out of the way of everything.”
“It could have at least been somewhere nicer than Las Vegas,” Mike huffed, “What a trashy, sinful place that was to get married.”
“It’s not trashy or sinful! I’ve got another one of my towers there!” Trump snapped. “It’s a very very glamorous city!”
“I disagree with your definition of glamorous, dear,” Mike said flatly, “Anyways, I suppose the important thing is that we did get married, even if it wasn’t a nice church wedding like I’d dreamed it would be, and it’s also important that we’re still married now. Let’s see how long Rodham and Kaine’s marriage lasts.” He focused back on the TV, Tim had finished his vows and Hillary was almost through hers now.
“Tim, you brought balance to my ticket and to my life,” She said, “I’m proud to have you at my side. Our campaign slogan is right-we really are stronger together.”
“The rings, please.” Bill requested. The ring bearer-who Mike recognized as Clinton’s son-entered the frame, presenting the ring pillow. Tim grabbed one of the rings, gently took Hillary’s left hand, and slipped it onto her ring finger. She did the same to him, and the two clasped their hands together as they watched Bill in anticipation, waiting for him to finish the ceremony.
“As was said to me both times I got married, I now pronounce you president and husband,” Bill announced, “Tim, you may kiss the president.” Tim cupped Hillary’s cheeks as she embraced him and they drew each other into a long kiss, earning applause and cheers from the wedding guests. Donald turned his nose up at them and was about to leave, but he felt Mike grab his hand.
“What do you want, Mikey?” He muttered.
“It’s been so long since you last kissed me like that,” Mike lamented. “And you’re never at home anymore. Why don’t you come cuddle on the couch with me and we can watch the Christian channel together?” Donald jerked his hand out of Mike’s grasp and turned away from him.
“Not now,” He declined, “I only came to get my golf clubs. Rudy and I are gonna hit a few holes.”
“Will you join me for dinner tonight at least?” Mike pleaded.
“I’m going out to eat with Rudy.” Trump replied. “Go invite some of your coworkers over if you want somebody to eat with.” After locating his golf clubs he departed, and Mike was alone again with his baby. He watched Hillary and Tim on the TV, trotting down the aisle hand in hand, greeting guests and supporters and giggling and kissing and having the time of their lives. They were flanked by their son and Bill; their son was hugging a woman who Mike recognized as his girlfriend and Bill was hugging his two husbands, Al Gore and George W. Bush, as their three children crowded around them. Mike desperately wanted what all of them had, that love and admiration and happiness and sense of family, but he was beginning to worry that he wasn’t going to get it from his husband. In the past month Donald hadn’t improved much at caring for Topaz-in fact, he’d grown even worse at it-and was still being distant. Mike was distraught but trying his hardest to remain optimistic. Everything would improve at some point even if it took some time, wouldn’t it? Letting out a despondent sigh, Mike turned off the TV and went to put his daughter in her crib to finish her nap.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Another week had passed, the first week of May, and things were still terrible. Donald had been increasingly pushy on the matter of sex, but Mike was still recovering from having Topaz and was still too tired and sore to do it for the time being. He’d kept trying to persuade Donald to cuddle with him and share some kisses, a way for them to keep the intimacy between them until he was fully recovered, but Donald wasn’t terribly interested in that. He wanted one thing and one thing only, and Mike couldn’t give it to him right now. On top of that, when Donald wasn’t around and unsuccessfully hounding Mike for sex he was out “golfing” with his lawyer, Rudy Giuliani. Mike was beginning to suspect that they were doing much more than playing golf, but he didn’t have any concrete proof. It was late in the evening now, and Mike strolled into his and Donald’s darkened bedroom, holding a bottle of formula in one hand. Donald was relaxing on the bed, his face illuminated in the darkness by the bright glow of his cellphone. Mike figured he was distracted with firing off his usual late night tweets and would pay him no mind, but he was wrong. Upon noticing his husband had entered the room, Donald looked up from his evening tweet barrage and grinned.
“Coming to bed, Mikey?” He asked, setting the phone aside.
“In a minute,” Mike replied, “I’m going to give Topaz a bottle, but I have to pee first.” He was about to set the bottle down on the bedside table and head into the adjoining bathroom, but Donald grabbed hold of his wrist, stopping him.
“Wait! Don’t go!” Donald pleaded, pulling Mike down on top of him, “You don’t have to go to the bathroom for that, you can do it here in the bed. I’d like it if you did.” A blush came to Mike’s cheeks, and his eyes narrowed. He was getting tired of the risque propositions.
“Donald! I have to go feed the baby!” He scolded his husband. “I don’t have time to indulge you in your piss kink.” Mike tried to wriggle out of Donald’s grasp, but Donald held firm, shifting his hands to grab onto Mike’s hips.
“Aw, come on Mike! You can spare a moment for this,” Donald whined, “I’m not even asking if I can fuck you, I just want you to do this one thing for me and then I’ll leave you alone! It’ll be quick, and it’ll make me very happy.”
“Donald, no” Mike said sternly, “We can cuddle together when I’m done with the feeding, but I’m not doing that for you.” Donald still wasn’t satisfied; the two of them kept arguing and fussing back and forth with Mike trying to squirm out of Donald’s hold and Donald constantly pulling him back into place until eventually Donald felt something warm and wet soaking himself and the bed. A satisfied smirk crossed his face.
“I knew you’d see things my way!” He cackled.
“That’s not piss!” Mike cried. “You made me spill the formula! Now I have to fix another bottle!” He got off of Donald, heading into the bathroom to pee and clean up before he stomped off to prepare some more formula. Donald meanwhile just shrugged, curled himself up in the soaked sheets, and fell asleep, snoring loudly. After giving Topaz her bottle Mike went to lay down on the couch, not wanting to spend the night in his and Donald’s soggy bed.
“This will be worth it in the end,” He muttered, repeating the mantra he’d been saying to himself for the last two months, “This will all be worth it. We’re going through a rough patch, but we’re going to work past it. He loves me and he loves our baby.” Eventually, Mike drifted off to sleep. He woke up the next day, got ready, and fed Topaz a bottle as he watched morning mass on the Christian channel. Donald shambled in about half an hour later, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he whipped out his phone to check his Twitter account.
“Morning.” He greeted Mike, plopping down beside him on the couch.
“Good morning, Donald,” Mike replied, “Now that you’re up, I’ve got a favor to ask you.” Donald groaned at this.
“What is it?” He prodded, scowling at his husband.
“I have to attend a meeting with some other Republican strategists this afternoon, and I need you to keep an eye on Topaz for a few hours while I’m gone,” Mike explained, “I’ll put her down for her nap before I leave, so she shouldn’t be too much trouble for you. You can just sit in her room and tweet while she’s napping so you’re there to tend to her if she wakes up.”
“Ugh, fine,” Donald reluctantly accepted, “But you better come home as soon as your meeting’s done. I don’t want to be stuck here with her all day.” He got up from the couch to go retrieve the KFC leftovers from dinner the previous evening out of the fridge. Mike sighed and went to finish preparing for his meeting. Once he was ready to leave he laid Topaz down to nap in her crib and made sure Donald was sitting in the room with her. He was preoccupied with his Twitter account, whining online about Rodham and Kaine and CNN and everyone else who he had perceived as wronging him, and Topaz was sleeping peacefully. Mike gave Donald a kiss on the cheek and grinned.
“I’ll be back soon, dear,” He whispered so as not to wake their baby, “I know you’ll do a good job watching her by yourself!”
“Whatever,” Donald grunted, “Go to your meeting so I can finish tweeting about everything wrong with the latest fake news from CNN.” Mike frowned and quietly crept out of the room. His meeting proceeded uneventfully, and when he left it there were no angry texts from Donald awaiting him on his phone, so he assumed that everything was okay at home. However, when he returned to the penthouse he was immediately greeted with the sound of Topaz crying at the top of her lungs. He rushed into the nursery to get her, realizing that she needed a change and was likely hungry as well. After changing her and giving her a bottle Mike went off in search of Donald, carrying Topaz on his hip as he trotted around the penthouse.
“Topaz, where’s Daddy at?” He asked her softly, gazing down at her tiny face. “He better not have left you here alone so he could go golfing.” Topaz cooed back at him, and he smiled. Even though he was angry at Donald for leaving her unattended, he was glad to know that she was unharmed. Finally, Mike decided to check his and Donald’s shared bedroom. Donald was there in bed, but he wasn’t alone. Rudy Giuliani was with him. More specifically, underneath him.
“Oh Rudy, that was a good fuck!” Donald sighed, rolling off of Giuliani, “You’re almost as good in the sack as… Mike…” His voice trailed off as he realized his husband was standing in the doorway, looking absolutely crushed.
“How could you do this to me?” Mike cried, voice shaky with a mix of rage and hurt. “I love you! I had your baby! I’m your husband! I changed my last name to yours to show you how devoted I was to you! I do all of these things for you, and this is how you treat me in return?”
“Mikey, I can explain-” Donald started to say, but Mike threw his hand up, cutting him off.
“Don’t ‘Mikey’ me, Mister!” He snapped. “And tell that whore of a lawyer of yours to get out!”
“I think you should go now, Rudy.” Donald mumbled, and Giuliani didn’t need to be told twice. He hastily collected his clothes, dressed, and fled from the penthouse. Mike, still holding Topaz, had managed to find a suitcase in the closet and had started angrily throwing some of his and Topaz’s belongings into it.
“This is the last straw, Donald!” He announced, “There’s no way you can redeem yourself after this.”
“Mikey, wait!” Donald cried despondently as he threw on a robe and chased after his husband, “Don’t do this!”
“I'll do as I damn well please!” Mike shouted back at him. “I’m leaving you and taking Topaz with me. I thought you loved me, but clearly I was mistaken!” He turned away from Donald and tried to zip up the suitcase. It wasn’t closing, so he sat atop it in an attempt to squash down its contents.
“Mikey, you’re only taking the bare minimum and it’s still too much to fit in that one suitcase!” Donald pointed out. “Don’t leave like this! I love you, I want you to stay!” Mike ignored him, still sitting atop the suitcase and holding Topaz tightly to his chest. Mike was trembling a bit, and Topaz was staring at Donald over Mike’s shoulder with wide, confused eyes. Mike stroked Topaz’s hair and turned to face Donald, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Do you really love me, though?” He asked, “I know I’m not a trophy husband to be paraded around as a status symbol. I’m not young, I’m not a model, if you were looking for a trophy husband you would have married someone else, not me, but I’m no longer convinced that you truly love me. I thought you married me because you did, but you’ve done nothing but hurt me lately. You’re cheating on me with your lawyer, and you’re not being a good father to Topaz! You treat her like she’s nothing more than a status symbol! You’re happy to have a child, someone to represent you, someone you can show off and brag about, but you don’t actually care for her! You’re avoiding her any chance you can and when you do try to tend to her you do a half assed job of it! I’m sick of your behavior, Donald!”
“Well, I’m sick of your behavior too!” Donald retorted. “I really do love you Mike, but I don’t love what our lives are like now! We’re disgraced, you won’t let me fuck you, we’ve gotta devote all this time to looking after Topaz-I hate it! It isn’t like it used to be.”
“It’ll never be like it used to be,” Mike said softly, “It’s never going back to that. We can make love again when I’m fully recovered, as Topaz gets older she’ll be able to take care of herself more and more and won’t need as much help from us, but things aren’t going to be like they used to ever again and you either need to adapt to that or end things with me.”
“I won’t see Rudy anymore,” Donald promised, “I’ll break it off with him. I don’t have feelings for him, I just wanted him for a piece of ass.”
“That’s not enough, Donald,” Mike maintained, “I need you to stop badgering me for sex when you know full well it would hurt me and be unsafe for me right now, I need you to step up and make an effort to care for Topaz, and I don’t trust you to do either of those things. I love you and I’ll always cherish the happy times we had making love during the campaign and speaking badly about the Democrats together, but I think we should go our separate ways now. I want a divorce.” Trump seemed hurt for a moment, but then nodded glumly and lowered his head.
“If that’s what you really want then we’ll get divorced.” He conceded. “I won’t fight you on it.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I think it’s for the best.” Mike replied. “I’m going to finish packing the rest of my things and then I’ll leave.”
“Where will you go?” Donald questioned him.
“You remember Brock Duncan, right?” Mike asked, but upon being met with a confused, blank stare from Donald he explained, “I know Brock through work, he’s a strategist like me and we’re good friends. Even though you don’t remember him you have met him, I invited him and some of my other friends over here for the baby shower before Topaz was born. He’s a kind Christian man, I’m sure he’ll let me stay with him for a little while until I can rent my own apartment.”
“Why don’t you let me pay for a place for you to stay?” Trump pleaded. “Or go stay at Mar-a-Lago free of charge until the divorce is finalized? I’d feel better knowing you were put up somewhere nice.” Mike wasn’t falling for his facade this time around; he knew now that Donald didn’t care about him and was only looking to control him.
“I’d feel better staying with Brock, and I’ll be quite happy in his apartment,” He maintained, “That’s all I have to say to you, Donald. Go back to tweeting and I’ll be on my way.” Donald grabbed his phone from the nightstand and sulked off to tweet some more while Mike finished packing up his things. Instead of getting Donald’s chauffer to drive him to Brock’s house he opted to take a taxi. Sitting in the back with Topaz strapped to his chest in a baby carrier, Mike breathed a sigh of relief. A part of him was saddened that his marriage to Donald was ending, but he knew he was making the right choice. He hoped Brock wouldn’t mind too much that he was showing up unexpectedly.
Brock had been more than happy to let Mike and Topaz live with him until Mike could save enough money to rent his own apartment. He lived alone and was glad to have some company, and even though Mike insisted that he didn’t have to Brock eagerly helped him care for Topaz. Mike was impressed by how good Brock was with her and how fatherly he acted despite not having any children of his own. Their friendly work relationship carried over into their home life, and they’d spend many hours watching the Christian channel on TV and talking and playing with Topaz together. Soon the friendly feelings became something more, and Mike and Brock fell in love. Brock was tall, blonde, blue-eyed, deeply religious, and very, very Republican-everything Mike could ever want in a man. He was happier with Brock than he had ever been with Donald.
Mike and Donald’s divorce was finalized after a few months, with the two of them managing to work things out surprisingly amicably in court even though things had ended badly between them and even though Donald was now badmouthing Mike on his Twitter account, giving him the moniker “Marriage-Ending Mike”. Donald had expressed no interest in being a father to Topaz so Mike was awarded full custody of her in court, and Melania, seeing what Mike was going through, decided to change her and Donald’s custody arrangements to give her sole custody over their son. Donald had to pay Mike alimony and child support, something else he ranted about in tweets, but other than that they severed all ties with each other. Mike wanted nothing more to do with their doomed love affair, their doomed presidential ticket, or their doomed attempt to parent together.
It was 2019 now, and things were much improved in Mike’s life. Topaz was now a toddler, Mike had made a name for himself as one of the most prominent Republican strategists in New York, and he and Brock had gotten married in the spring of 2018. Though his focus was now local politics instead of national politics Mike still kept informed about what President Rodham and Vice President Kaine were doing and had learned from the news that the two of them had recently become grandparents. Their son had gotten married to his girlfriend towards the end of 2017 and they now had a child of their own. Mike had also learned that the president and vice president’s close friends had been rather busy lately as well. Clinton and Gore were working with the current congress to push for greener climate legislation, while Bush, who had no interest in helping them with that, was focusing on looking after their children. Their son was going to head off to Yale in the fall, while their daughters were finishing up middle school. Mike and Brock were in Washington D.C. now for a conference. They decided to relax by the Washington Monument for a little while after lunch. The three of them were laying on a blanket together, gazing up at the clouds rolling by. Mike clasped Brock’s hand in his own and then reached over to grab hold of Topaz’s hand. But, much to his horror, Topaz wasn’t there.
“Brock! Topaz is missing!” He cried. “We need to find her!” Figuring that she must have gotten distracted and wandered off-Mike had found that she had unfortunately inherited Donald’s short attention span-the two of them decided to split up to search for her around the monument.
“Mike!” He heard Brock finally call out to him after what felt like forever, and turning in his direction he was relieved to see him standing next to a young woman who was holding Topaz in one arm and a baby boy in the other. The woman was Latina, looked to be in her mid-thirties, and was dressed rather nicely in a white blazer, skirt, and heels. Her hair, which was straight and jet black, was pulled back into a loose bun, with a few strands falling out of place to frame her lovely face.
“Topaz!” Mike exclaimed, rushing over to join Brock’s side, “There you are! I was so worried!”
“Papa!” Topaz called out to him. She put her arms out and, sensing that Topaz wanted to be held by Mike, the woman handed her back to him, being careful to not disturb the other baby in her arms as she did so.
“She found her way over to where this young lady was walking with her son,” Brock told him, and then, addressing the woman, he said “Thank you so much for making sure she didn’t wander off even further!”
“Say, you look familiar,” Mike noted, “Have we met before?” He was sure he knew this woman from somewhere. Her warm brown eyes and kind smile looked oddly familiar to him, but he was having difficulty remembering if they’d been previously acquainted or not. Perhaps she was a lobbyist or a newly-elected congresswoman whom he had seen somewhere.
“I don’t think so, but I’ve been on television a few times with my husband so that’s probably where you’ve seen me,” The woman replied, “When you marry the president’s son you’re bound to appear before the cameras at some point.” Mike’s eyes widened at this.
“You’re Ramona Cabrera!” He gasped, putting her face with a name now. He had heard of her through Donald’s Twitter account, which he still occasionally checked to have a laugh over Donald’s cheap jabs towards him and Brock and any other nonsense he had decided to rant to the world about. Ramona was a law professor at Cornell Law School, and was also the wife of Rodham and Kaine’s son. The son had met her during 2016 while attending a law conference there with his firm; she was presenting at it and afterwards he had asked her if he could take her out for coffee. Soon enough, they were married and having a baby. Mike at this point in his life had better things to do than attack Rodham, Kaine, their family, and their associates. He still thought they were all horrible liberals implementing horrible policy, but his main focus now was turning New York red, especially after the New York Republican Party’s failures in the recent midterms. However, Mike knew that Rodham and Kaine must be taking delight in his failed marriage after all the hell he’d given them and he wanted nothing to do with them or anyone related to them. He grabbed Brock by the arm and was about to make a hasty exit when he heard a voice call out, a voice he recognized all too well from his vice presidential debate.
“Mona!” Said the voice, and glancing in its direction Mike caught sight of none other than the vice president, Tim Kaine. Tim wasn’t alone either, he was arm in arm with Hillary Rodham and the two were walking towards Ramona, though they hesitated a moment upon noticing Mike with her. They seemed concerned, although they tempered any animosity they still felt towards Mike and made an effort to remain civil with him.
“Oh, Mike Pence,” Hillary regarded him calmly, “Or is it Mike Trump still? I would hope you’re not giving my daughter-in-law a hard time.”
“I’m not, and it’s Mike Duncan now, actually,” Mike clarified, “I’ve remarried. This is Brock, my new husband.” He gestured to Brock, who gave a nervous wave.
“Madam President, Mister Vice President,” He greeted the two cordially, “We’re not here to bother you or your family, we were only thanking Miss Cabrera for finding our daughter after she wandered off. That’s all.”
“Huh, I didn’t realize at first that you were Mike Pence,” Ramona commented now that she’d had a few moments to look at the man, “I thought you were just another one of the congressmen or lobbyists you always see here on Capitol Hill.” Mike took offense to this.
“Do I really look that generic to you?” He huffed. “I ran for vice president! I’ve been on national TV! Everybody should know who I am!”
“There are lots of old white men here who look like you,” Ramona pointed out, “We’re in Washington, it’s full of generic old white men that all look alike.”
“I know I’m also an old white man but she’s right,” Tim agreed, “It’s easy to mistake one old white man for another here.”
“Mona, we should head back to the White House now,” Hillary advised, resting her hand on her daughter-in-law’s shoulder, “It’s almost time for Carlos’ nap.”
“Would you mind taking him for me?” Ramona requested. “I need to go pick up some more baby formula before we head home and don’t want to keep Carlos awake. If you take him I can go by myself.” Hillary and Tim agreed to take the baby and Ramona carefully handed him to Hillary to hold before rushing off to the store. Hillary cradled Carlos against her chest and he yawned softly.
“Somebody’s sleepy,” Tim chuckled, reaching down to caress Carlos’ hair, “Don’t worry little buddy, Grandma and Grandpa will get you home so we can get you back in your crib.”
“He’s about to fall asleep right here in my arms,” Hillary laughed, “I don’t think I’d make a very good pillow, though.”
“Well, I quite enjoy falling asleep in your arms, honey,” Said Tim, kissing her cheek, “I always love being at your side.” Hillary smiled and kissed him back, on the lips this time.
“And I love being at yours, dear,” She replied, “Come on, let’s go.” The two Democrats departed with their grandson, leaving Mike and Brock alone with Topaz. Mike breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that had not been an unpleasant encounter. Topaz’s stomach growled.
“Papa!” She whimpered, holding on to Mike’s neck, “Food!”
“Okay, okay, Daddy and I will get you some lunch,” Mike assured her, “Brock, take out your phone and find the nearest McDonald’s.” Brock nodded and pulled his phone from the pocket of his blazer. After locating a McDonald’s the three of them gathered their things and set off. Mike let Topaz toddle alongside him and stood in between her and Brock, holding both of their hands as they walked down the street.
“You seemed a little panicky when you realized we’d run into the First Family,” Brock said to him, “Are you feeling better now?” Mike nodded and gave a reassuring smile.
“I thought they would be harsher to me than they were, given how badly I talked about them when I ran against them, and I know it sounds silly but in a way I used to be a little jealous of them,” He told Brock, “They were happily married and were both good parents to their son. I was in a bad marriage and caring for Topaz fell solely on me. But it’s not like that anymore, Brock. Now I’ve got you. I almost feel like this is a happier outcome than I deserve.” Brock grinned and leaned in to kiss his cheek.
“I think you deserve the world, my dear,” He purred, “Now, what do you want from McDonald’s?” They’d reached the restaurant now, iconic golden arches in full view. Mike wanted his usual order and asked Brock to get a happy meal for Topaz. As they were sitting with their food, Mike couldn’t help but smile while he watched Topaz play with the little toy that had come with her meal. Even though he’d been through a lot of hurt and craziness with Donald, it had all somehow miraculously worked out in the end. He had a husband who loved him, his daughter, his career, and all Donald had were his money and his twitter account. Mike was in a much better place now than he had been a couple years ago, and life was good.
And finally this cursed story and cursed series come to an end. I feel like this was a way happier ending than was warranted and originally I was going to give it a sad melodramatic type of ending but I struggled with writing that so that's not the ending I went with. Anyways, hope you enjoyed whatever this disaster is and that it made you laugh.