The Prime Minister and Her

Washington

Driving to work was the biggest chore Cassie could ever do. The traffic was horrible every morning, which is why she usually left an hour earlier than she should. She couldn't be late to work, not with her job. She doesn't have a seven minute grace period, she can't be a minute or two late, she has to be at the White House at exactly five o'clock every morning, seven days a week. 

Luckily, she got their just in time this morning when the possibility looked slim. She quickly drove through the gate and scanned her I.D. just a minute before. She's never been late and she certainly won't start now. 

While the president was just waking up to start his day, Cassie was running around the halls and into the kitchens making sure his and the first lady's breakfasts were correct and cooked properly. Their daughters won't be up until much later, so she didn't have to worry about them yet. 

Cassie made her way into the oval office and set up documents that needed to be looked over, as well as T.V. appearance requests and fan mail. By now, the president was making his way to the office (as her radio told her, "The Eagle is flying"), so she quickly made him his cup of coffee and set it on the desk, where he usually puts it. 

The door opened and Cassie stood up straight with a smile, ready to greet her leader. "Good morning, Mr. President," she happily greeted. He smiled at her and said, "Morning, Cass. And what do I keep telling you? Call me Barack, we've known each other long enough." 

Cassie chuckled and said, "Will do, Mr. President." Knowing how he likes to get settled and relaxed before he's bombarded with issues from congress and anything else that happened over night, she let him enjoy his coffee for a few minutes. 

He gestured to the seats in front of his desk on offer for her to sit down. She greatly accepted and they were soon getting to work. She explained what a lot of the documents meant, who they were from, and why they were important for the leader of the free world to look at. 

They spent almost six hours looking at each document. Around the two hour mark, they moved to the couches and looked them over there. Barack had made himself more comfortable by taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, as did Cassie. 

By the six hour mark, they were practically leaning on each other to keep upright. It's been non-stop thinking and discussing for the both of them. Of course, the staff had come in to give them some snacks and drinks, but those were hardly touched. 

"Alright, Mr. President, I think I ought to get you out of here and get you something to eat before Michelle kills me," Cassie joked. He laughed and said, "Oh, so you're on a first name basis with her now, are you?" 

Cassie simply smiled and rolled her eyes. "All in due time, Mr. P. We'll see how things turn out near the end of your second term." He sighed and stood up with her, as they walked to go grab some lunch. "Elections haven't even started for that yet. Speaking of which, I want you to be on my campaign team again. What you did with all that, uh...computer stuff was impressive." 

"I would be honored, sir! It was a lot of fun with all the traveling and commercial shoots." She was so excited about this! She was barely finishing her last year in college when she got recruited to his campaign party in 2007. She was in charge of social media and designs, but mostly anything to do with computers. 

After they grabbed a quick bite to eat, they were pulled to two separate meetings. Cassie wasn't exactly sure what hers was about, but she figured it was about a change in the president's schedule. 

Boy was she wrong. 

She was delivered the unfortunate news that she was being transferred. To England. 

"Wh-why?" She asked, her voice breaking. She was told it was about some deal they made with the Prime Minister's office. Apparently, he can't hold down an assistant and has been a whole lot of trouble lately. 

"How is that my problem?" She snapped. "I have been with the Obama Administration since I was 23! He won't be happy about this, you know." She crossed her arms and looked at the man she's never seen before. 

The man sighed and told her, "Believe me, we know. The entire family adores you...but England is our ally and it is our job to help them out in any way we can. By sending you, we believe it will make a significant difference." 

He didn't give her another chance to argue, before saying, "You leave tomorrow. We're not sure how long you'll be there, so pack enough bags for at least a month, possibly more. Once your job is done there, you'll come back home." 

Cassie had tears in her eyes. She didn't want to leave this place. The White House was her home and she didn't want to go. 

"Can I still help with the campaign?" She asked, her voice full of hope. The man gave her a warm smile and said, "Of course. We'll send you everything you'll need to know about it. In the meantime, you will be assisting Benedict Carlton. He's the youngest Prime Minister in history. He's your age, 27." 

He handed her a file and she looked through it. This Carlton guy had a very impressive track record. Graduated highest in his class and he was an olympic runner from the age of 16 to 24. It said that he had an accident and he hasn't been able to run the same since. 

"He's a bit of a hot-head," she was told. "He's charming and everything in front of cameras, but apparently he's a complete dick when he's off. His staff keeps quitting, that's why they're hoping you can kind of settle things a bit. Apparently he's not too...fond of women assistants..." 

Cassie whipped her head up from the file. "Well, he's just going to have to deal with it then. As much as I don't want to do this, he sounds like he needs to be slapped around a bit."