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"You alright, Jackson?"
The aforementioned man was hunched over a small desk in the Oval Office, frantically writing something down. He seemed to make no notice of the other man in the room. He didn't even care if there was anyone else.
So, the vice president moved closer to his coworker's side. "You know what the Supreme Court said, you can't just go against that—"
Jackson, in his usual fashion, quickly stood up and pulled a gun at van Buren, the latter of whom wasn't fazed. "The Supreme Court is a group of motherfucking idiots. I'm not fucking listening to them."
Reaching his hand out to lower the gun until it faced the ground, van Buren sighed. "You're overstressed, dude. I'm sure there's a solution somewhere without breaking the law."
"Ugh, I know..." Jackson hunched over his desk once again, in minor defeat. "How am I supposed to do what the people want, if what the people want is fucking contradictory to itself?"
Buren took a seat next to the president, anxiously waiting for him to sit up and calm the fuck down. Jackson man was gonna die early from all this stress if it was the last thing he ever did.
Jackson straightened his posture slowly as he became more calm, muttering, "I'm the motherfucking people's president. How am I the people's president if I can't do what the people want?" He turned to see his vice president, quickly making a focused eye contact between the two.
Buren thought. And then he spoke, hesitantly. "Maybe the people don't really want to follow the Supreme Court."
Jackson paused.
"You're right."
He stood up.
"You're fucking right, oh my fucking god."
The president suddenly kicked his chair to the side, a grin on his face.
"You're actually so right," he turned to the other man, still standing close by, "I could fuckin' kiss you right now—"
"You'd what?"
"What?"
An awkward silence hung between the two. Jackson was just a stupid idiot after all, huh? Of all the stupid stuff he's said to his vice president in his rare moments of joy, this has to have been the stupidest.
"You— you said you'd—" Buren stumbled over his words.
"What, you want a fucking medal or something?" Jackson slammed a hand down on his desk. "What the fuck do you want?"
And, in a typical fictional sense of romance, Buren knew what he wanted. Since the day Jackson completely failed to get elected, in 1824, up until now—
Oh, he fuckin kissed Jackson.
And the weird part was, Jackson kissed him right the fuck back.
And maybe, in the end, Buren was struggling to get out of Jackson's chokehold, but there's nothing in the Constitution that says the president can't make out with his vice president very sloppily in the Oval Office.