Thought this up after reading a post on Tumblr. The Tumblr form was just a crack headcanon, but I thought this up after finishing my other Steven Universe story and couldn't leave it by the wayside. I wrote a lot of this late at night, but I've also meticulously checked it for errors, so here's hoping there aren't any.

Full disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about the White House Correspondents' Association or their yearly dinner. All I know about it is the stuff I looked up and watched during the research I put into this story.

Steven operates on his wife's schedule, as least as far as waking up and going to sleep is concerned.

Up at 6:30 sharp, every day.

After that, their daily dockets diverge, and Steven has a bit of downtime for at least a few hours, until his work picks up to a busy pace that may not rival Connie's but at least mirrors it.

It's early April, and that means what he decides to do next may be the most boneheaded move he makes.

He decides to watch the news.

Now, it's in Connie's job description to follow the news; she's the President. She usually reads it down in her office or across the table from him at the start of the day alongside a national security briefing, often scarfing down a bagel and sipping some coffee or OJ.

But what Connie reads is, well, actual news. And what he's watching onscreen right now…

It just isn't.

He's watching Rox News, and they're running an interview with the leader of the America Undergriund news site. The headline reads "President Maheswaran: Kissing Babies?" He knows it's not a literal headline—it's a quip that got tired more than 15 months ago, maybe even closer to 15 years ago.

It's about him.

He can't deny it. He may not look eight anymore, but despite having definitely been alive about 38 years at this point, he still looks about 12.

This problem cropped up when Connie first ran for the Delmarva House of Representatives. He looked around ten then, and they thought it best to keep their relationship out of the public eye for the time for the sake of keeping the race simple and successful.

But someone had seen, and the news sites and blogospheres took it running. A 23-year-old, "dating" a ten-year-old?, the opinion columns and editorials had read. And so they'd explained themselves and managed to move past it, and Connie had won. The people in their state had rallied behind them and stood up against the outsiders who brought the concern to the forefront again when Connie had run for U.S. Senate some years later.

He'd only looked a little younger than he does now… maybe about 11? He isn't sure; the Senate race was a blur, and the "that can't be his actual age" argument had been so minor because of all the great support from their home state.

But then came the Presidential candidacy. Connie, at just over the minimum, was the youngest candidate elected to a major party ever, and that didn't help Steven's case.

It was a problem. Again.

People all over were yelling about how the president "supports child marriage" and was "lying about her history with that young boy". Connie had to explain, again, that she was actually younger than her husband by about a year and a quarter. When not enough people bought that, they held to their argument. It got so bad they had to release Steven's birth record (which in and of itself was almost a fight with the Delmarva records office…).

And eventually, from all but the most adamant sources, it seemed to taper off.

If Steven had been a ruder person, they probably would've gotten an earful. He was (still is) an accomplished speaker in his own right—a skill he picked up in the midst of the kerfluffle back during the State House race—and anyone who hangs around him for any length of time tends to leave with a broad impression of his views. He's not some little kid for people to stomp all over, and honestly, all these experiences have given him a strong opinion in regards to the current treatment of children in their society…

He was hoping this wouldn't happen this year. It happened—from the same sources and everything—around the time of the correspondents' dinner season last year, too, and in the end, he'd decided not to attend the event at all. He was too self-conscious, and he faked an illness to get out of it.

He sighs and refocuses on the television. The AU's leader is ranting that not only is the "birth-record-gate" a cover-up, but he believes the First Spouse to be even younger than most of the AU board's estimates, perhaps even seven or five. Steven rolls his eyes as the man goes on to explain he's also pretty sure people within the government have fed Steven lines for his speeches because no one can be that short and young-looking and that eloquent.

That earns the First Man's brow arching in anger, not just because he considers himself proud of his own public speaking ability, but because he's met people in the same boat as him who are just as proud of their own talents: sometimes short, sometimes young-looking. Sometimes actual children, sometimes little people, sometimes old people with childlike faces.

He supposes that's a good thing that came out of their ascent to the White House; they've met so many people who consider Steven an amazing person, a role model, someone who's more than a disputed birthdate and a cute face. Which is part of why he's so angry at the person on the screen.

To… to just discount someone's ability based on their looks! He's not new to this idea—this isn't the first time this sort of comment's been used toward him, and Connie's had it lobbed at her too many times to count (a thought that makes his heart hurt whenever it comes to mind).

Still, no matter how used to it he is, he exhales tensely through clenched teeth hearing it once more. The sentiment is just so… bigoted! He supposes thought processes like that are the root of all prejudice and considers penciling time into his schedule to write a speech about that very topic. He reaches for the remote to turn off the bumbling broadcast and maybe get some breakfast in him before he starts getting down to business.

He gets his hands on it a little too late, his wife walking in for a short early-morning break.

Has it been an hour already? They've really been rambling about a false story for an hour?

Connie sighs behind him. "I thought we agreed we weren't watching the news this month?" She continues as Steven switches off the TV. "And Rox News?" she scoffs, "They're… they're just… I don't know what they are, but it's definitely not reputable if they're having America Undergriund on! They're a bona fide conspiracy site!"

Steven laughs nervously. "Guess we should be glad Ronaldo stopped wanting to work there, eh?" His nervous laugh turns a little genuine as he remembers the scandal that got the Fryman to post an update to his blog about how the site had lost all respect with him.

He looks back toward his wife—she looks young for her age, but certainly not 12 like him; she looked 12 when she met him.

When his eyes meet her face, Connie's not laughing.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I passed over it on the way to the morning talk shows."

"…Steven, we both know full well that's not what happened; you've never been particularly good at lying." She pauses, sitting next to him on the sofa. "Plus, you've always been more of a game show guy."

That earns a giggle out of both of them.

"Yeah, or soaps!"

She snickers. "You do love schmaltz…"

He grins, and it grows awkwardly quiet.

"…It's not getting to you again, is it? Are we going to have a repeat of what happened at last year's correspondents' dinner?"

"No… no… I wanna go… but those dumb guys from the news channel will be there!"

"Of course, it's a correspondents' dinner, and they are correspondents!" she giggles.

"Yeah, I know, but something in me feels… I dunno, like I wanna… beat 'em at their own game?"

She gives a chuckle. "Well, if you come up with something you wanna do, let me know, and I'll see if I'm smelling what you're stepping in!"

"Ew…"

She smiles and kisses him lightly before hearing a knock at the door. "I've gotta get back to work. I'll see you next time they decide I'm allowed to have a break." She rolls her eyes and stands up to greet the person at the door.

"Steven, no!"

"But why not?"

"It's… I'm gonna be honest with you, it's the worst idea I've ever heard come out of your mouth!"

"Hey, no, it isn't! Bringing Amethyst to the Easter Egg Roll was a way worse idea!"

She sighs. "Can't argue with you there… but… still. I can't let you shapeshift into a baby!"

"But come on, I'll be the biggest joke of the night!"

"Steven, I respect your sense of humor, I do. The correspondents' dinner is supposed to be fun. But it also lasts several hours, and I know shapeshifting that long won't be fun for you."

Hmm… he hasn't considered that. What's with him and forgetting about his own needs and feelings?

He places his finger to his chin in thought, and an idea comes to him. "So… uh… would you go for a similar idea if it… didn't… involve shapeshifting..?"

An advisor pokes his head into the room. "Madame President?"

"I swear, they always pick the best times to interrupt us," Connie speaks sarcastically under her breath before shouting to the man who has infiltrated their abode, "Be right there, Colin!"

She walks toward the door.

"Yo, Connie, you never answered my question!"

She turns around in the doorway, a sly look on her face. "I can't say I wouldn't be opposed… but you might want to flesh it out." She winks and follows Colin toward a female advisor down the hall.

Steven's face breaks into a thoughtful grin. He knows exactly where he's going with this.

Steven's not there when Connie's schedule lets up for the day. Kate says he left on business.

The entire White House administration knows that really means gem business.

Connie is sipping a cup of tea when he arrives back. She asks him how it went, and he launches into an explanation of Garnet beating down a corruption, Amethyst hogtying it as Pearl goes in for the poof and he himself bubbles it. He'd expected to do more, but they'd also thought the monster was bigger.

Connie grins wistfully as he goes on, painting a vivid picture with his words. She hasn't done any swordfighting to speak of since she's entered the presidency. And they haven't even thought of forming Stevonnie—what would the GOP say? (And for that matter, what would the Democrats?)

She misses it.

She sets down her cup. "Glad you had a good time! Did you get to think any more about the… proposition?" She smirks at him.

Steven's face goes blank. "Wha—?" His brow furrows as he thinks deeply for a couple moments before remembering. "Oh! Yeah! I've got a whole plan! And I ran it by the gems, too!"

"And?"

"They think shapeshifting for an entire night is a bad idea, too—no matter how many 'baby war' jokes Amethyst thinks I could make… Oh, but they loved my replacement idea. Well, Garnet and Amethyst loved it. Pearl thought it might be undiplomatic, but I don't think she understood how the correspondents' dinner worked… All of 'em kinda wanna witness it live, though. Even Lapis and Peridot!"

"…So what are you doing?"

He places his hands out in front of him as if steeling his wife for the best news ever. "I'm dressing… in a sailor suit!" He moves his hands to extend to his sides and does a little "jazz hands" gesture.

"That's it?"

"And acting like I'm five!"

Connie places her hand to her chin, nodding. "We might need to plan a little more than that, but I like it! Oh, and I'll probably have to incorporate it into my speech…"

"That's the idea! Maybe not too much; you must have other things to joke about."

"Oh, I do…" If Connie could pull out a physical list… it would be exhaustive. The number of things about all those correspondents and even herself she could roast… it's a little beautiful. In a weird sort of way.

She must be in a trance thinking of all that fodder for her speech, because Steven nudges her elbow.

"…Do you really have that many ideas?" His face wears a mixed look of mock terror and a little real terror.

"How do you always know what I'm thinking?" She puts an arm around him.

"Isn't that why we got married?"

"We got married because we love each other, not because we're mind readers!" she chuckles.

"Really? I can think of a few times I've read your mind!"

"Oh, really? When?" She cocks an eyebrow.

He moves in until he's nose to nose with her. "In your dreams," he whispers, his eyes narrowed and a smirk on his face.

Connie bursts out laughing as Steven laughs and runs away.

"Hey! We have to start planning this 'kid' thing sometime if we wanna pull it off well!"

"We can do it after I read your mind again!" he yells from the other room, his voice itself making his smile heard.

Connie yells after him and runs into the other room with a smile.

Being President is all about constant action, but sometimes it's nice when things can wait until later…

They've spent the last couple weeks preparing and…

He's not sure he's ready.

He tugs at the suddenly tight-feeling collar of his sailor shirt and wonders if this was a bad idea. Will they get the joke?

Connie said he could back out at any time. One of the advisors, Danny, even has a tux sitting in a room not far off the ballroom, so if he needs to change quickly, he can…

…No. They've put too much planning into this. Backing out now would be like Connie resigning from the presidency, or he himself deciding not to be a Crystal Gem!

Okay, maybe not quite so serious… But still! There was so much planning! It'd be a waste to throw it out now!

Who cares what those correspondents think? Rox News, America Undergriund, the Empire Times, GBN… what do their opinions matter? He's gonna go out there and be the best 38-year-old-who-looks-12-but-is-pretending-to-be-five he can! He has to, for Connie's reputation!

…He has to, for himself.

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his nose.

"Mister First Gentleman," a voice rings out behind him, "are you okay?"

"Fine, Lauren," he says to the advisor, who passes him to make herself seen. "Where's Connie?"

"She'll be here momentarily, sir," she says, adjusting her glasses. "Nice suit, by the way," she remarks with a smile.

He snickers. "Thanks. We had it made special."

She nods, trying to stifle her own laughter as she stands by the door.

Connie runs up the hall to stand beside her husband. Once she gets to his side, she drops the hem of her dress, a sparkling blue evening gown that almost exactly matches the blue of his suit.

"…You ready?"

He's nervous, but he nods. "Are you?"

"I'm not the one going to the correspondents' dinner for the first time and wearing a sailor suit while I do it."

"It'll go over well, right?"

Connie's unsure. Almost all good-natured jokes go over well at an event like this, but there is a possibility it'll fall flat… but she can't tell Steven that.

"…I think you'll have fun."

He holds her hand, and the advisor opens the door. An announcer can be heard inside saying, "Please welcome the President of the United States, Connie Maheswaran, and the First Man, Steven Universe!"

The two walk out onto the stage, Steven taking his place in the line and Connie going to greet all the other people onstage. He glances at the gems seated at a table near the front, dressed in formal wear—well, except for Peridot, who's added nothing to her look but a bowtie, and Lapis, who's changed nothing about her outfit.

He doesn't keep his eyes on them for long as cameras flash to take photos of him and his wife, and bemused mumbles plus a few quiet laughs emerge from the audience.

He smiles. He has a good feeling about tonight.

Connie's speech is received well, and the jokes about him—aided by him acting the part when they come up—are a riot. She laughs as the host and the correspondents speaking onstage make jabs at her and even ad lib a few comments toward Steven's look for the night.

Steven cuts the act to award journalism scholarships to some college students, but he otherwise keeps it up until the last speech of the whole event. As it's all over, he stands up with Connie to mingle with the people onstage.

"See? That wasn't so bad at all!" she speaks over the din of the crowded room.

"Yeah, I can't believe I was so nervous! There was nothing to be worried about!" he chortles, pulling her closer to him playfully for a picture.

…Until there's a flash of bright light and a little confusion from the First Couple for several moments…

"Yay-uh, Ste-man!" Amethyst yells—to the other gems' chagrin—as the rest of the room becomes virtually silent.

The President and First Spouse aren't there anymore, and an entirely different flash of light erupts as every camera in the room goes off to capture the sight before them.

Someone a little taller than the President stands up, their fluffy hair in a slightly looser version of the President's style. They adjust their clothing, a sparkly, sailor-suit-inspired evening gown, and look down at themself.

"Oops."

Steven wakes up in the morning at 6:30 sharp, as prescribed by his wife's schedule. It's a Sunday, so the schedule is looser, Connie reading her news and briefs more lazily at the couch with a donut in her hand, trying to stretch the time she can spend in her pajamas as far as possible.

Steven flops onto the couch and flips on the TV, his face breaking into a wide grin.

Rox News is running another interview with the AU's leader about how his theories are "confirmed", but the headlines on other channels are much more interesting…

"White House Correspondents' Dinner A Success Once Again!"

"'First Boy' Bit Brings Laughs, Pokes Fun At Common Quip"

"Mysterious Giant Woman Appears in Flash of Light at Presidential Dinner: Who Is That?"

I really should learn to draw well enough that I could draw Stevonnie in that fused evening gown, because boy, do I have a concept, but boy do I not have the skills or materials to bring it to fruition. XD

…I kind of want to know if I can write more in this sort of AU, but I don't know if any good ideas will come, so for now, this is it. XP