A/N: In appreciation of International Women's Day, I thought it would be appropriate to post this story today. Disregard the fact that it took me nearly a week to write and I only now finished it. This might be AU, and there's a very VERY good chance I'm projecting my own insecurities onto Elizabeth, but if there is something I learned over the past couple of years is that no woman is ever 100% at peace with how she looks, no matter how stunning she is. And in that note, I do want to say to every female out there (myself included): you are gorgeous, you are unique, you are everything you'll ever want to be. And one day we will be treated for just that. I want to thank Holls for the major help with this, I got stuck so many times, and for proofing it! Jenni was a huge help here too, so thanks! I guess you know what I think about this, so I'll save it. I would, however, appreciate your thoughts. Happy International Women's Day!

Shape of You

Always the pretty girl, if there was something Elizabeth really hated, it was being known for nothing but her looks. It wasn't that she didn't sometimes appreciate it, nor that she thought she was as stunning as some people saw her. She liked being pretty, and when the compliments came from her husband, she'd blush and accept them with open arms. But it was also her downfall. It always had been. Even as a kid, she was always the "pretty" one. Later in life she was stereotyped as the blonde, the not so smart one. She always surprised people when she spoke, and she had to work very hard to be heard. It was why when Russell sent a stylist to her office, she resented it immediately. The last thing she wanted was for people to tag her as Madam Sexytary.

She rubbed her eyes, the fatigue and alcohol began to weigh on her. And still, none of it was enough to make her mind stop. She hated feeling so shallow, especially with all the efforts and time she'd put in to make this deal work. She wanted people to remember her work, not her legs.

Resting his hand on her back, Henry forced her look to him. He offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet. She stumbled into his arms. That last drink was probably a bit much, she thought. But Henry took advantage of her unsteadiness, pulling her closer to him. With his arms wrapped around her, their noses touched and she had to close her eyes at the intimacy of the moment, of the feeling of her husband holding her so close. This is home, she thought. It has been for so long. It was familiar and comforting and it was the one place she'd always want to go back to. His lips were on hers then, kissing her so slowly. She tasted his own drink when his tongue entered her mouth, the reminder that he had been by her side tonight. Just like any other night. He allowed his lips to linger before pulling away. He smiled, her eyes remained close for a few more seconds, and he could almost feel her at ease again.

"You should sleep before that phone of yours rings again."

She nodded and let him lead her to the bed. She was tired of thinking, tired of standing. Just tired. Probably looked tired, hence the hideous cover photo… She shook her head, as if trying to rid of this thought. She closed her eyes then, falling into the touch of her husband's hand on her back. Henry wrapped his arm around her, pressing her back to his chest. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, frowning at the feeling of her so tense. She was angry, maybe even at him for his remark before.

"You're not being nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize because of your legs."

"Depends who you're asking." She replied, bitterness in her voice.

"Elizabeth, that's just cheap gossip. Some stupid tweet on Twitter. It doesn't change all the hard work you've been doing."

"Henry, it's all everyone is talking about. My legs. Not the mountains I moved to make this deal happen. And then I need to listen to that jerk explaining how I've basically failed, and how easy it is with this simple formula to get everyone to agree. And maybe, if my appearance hadn't been a factor in all of this, people would've actually talked about the real thing that is going on here."

"You think your looks is a shortcoming?"

"Yes!"

"How so?"

"Even you said the first thing that drew you to me was my beauty." Rage was starting to build within her, rage that she's been pushing aside all day long.

"True, but I didn't know you. Elizabeth, you were standing at the other end of the room, of course I was enticed by your physical attributes. I didn't stay because of it, though."

"Didn't you?"

He stared at her in shock. Sure, he always found her gorgeous. There was no argument that she was stunning and he loved every inch of her body. But their relationship was never just physical. From their first conversation, he was captivated by her words, by her wisdom. She was mesmerizing when she spoke and he wanted to learn to know this mind of her, every single day for the rest of his life.

"No." his reply was simple, but she could feel the anger, the hurt. She didn't mean to hurt him. She wasn't blind, she knew he didn't love her for her looks. He was the last person she could blame for this. But she was so frustrated and the day was just too much.

"Elizabeth, I love every single part of you. I'm not going to lie and say I don't think you're stunning, that I'm not in love with how you look. You're smoking hot, like Alison said. But what really turns me on, what I love most about you, is your mind. I thought you knew that. I thought you knew I was joking before when I called you Madam Sexytary."

Sighing loudly, she met his gaze and he was surprised to see the tears at the corner of her eyes. "I do know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Babe, why is this getting to you so much? What is it?"

"I hate it, that's all."

"The attention? Because you can't prevent it. You are beautiful, but it doesn't mean you're any less in everything you do. You proved a long time ago you are much more than a pretty face and sexy legs. Everyone knows it. Even the social media. But more importantly, the world knows. And it's true that as a man I will probably never truly understand what it's like to be judged by how I look or what I wear, rather than by what I do and what I say. And I do think that talking these values to our kids might actually change something in this world at some point, but the glass ceiling is there, and I hate just as much as you do, but this isn't about just you. That Nobel Prize nomination says it all. I thought it would be enough to quiet those ghosts from the past about how people see you."

"Henry it's always going to be there. And I'm not getting any younger, so now they erase the lines from my face to keep me relevant. But in a few years, they won't be able to hide my age, and then what? Will anyone listen to me if I wasn't beautiful, as you say I am?"

"Is this insecurity I'm hearing?" he wasn't surprised. Elizabeth was always just a little insecure. No one knew it. No one but him. It was subtle, really. And over the years she managed to find ways to hide it, and she did it so well that everyone thought she was confident and powerful. And she really was, but at the closed confines of their bedroom all walls were gone, and every play pretend she had was left outside. She was bare, exposed, whether she intended to be or not.

"No." she lied, hoping she might still have the ability to hide from him.

Moving to press her to bed, he climbed on top of her. Meeting her eyes, he gazed at her, holding her look. "Elizabeth."

"I'm not…"

"Babe, I know you inside out. Spill it."

"When you brought that article, you said 'nice cover photo'. It didn't look odd to you that I looked like a plastic doll. You were okay with them erasing all the lines from my face. You thought it was pretty. You thought I looked pretty that way."

Moving his thumb along the lines on her forehead, he furrowed his brows as he searched for the right words. "I thought it was damn cool you're on the cover of a magazine where they mentioned your nomination for a Nobel Prize. And I told you, I love every inch of your beautiful face."

"You're avoiding." She whispered, afraid to voice the fear that surfaced in all its glory.

Sighing, he rolled off of her and sat in bed. He was wracking his brain; there was no right thing to say. If he said he loved the lines on her face she would call out his bluff and say that he was lying, especially after his comment about the picture. And if he would say that what he loved about her was more than just her pretty face, she might be offended and take this the wrong way. And if… "Elizabeth, what is it that really scares you?"

Needing to distance herself from him, she got up from the bed. Pulling the robe more tightly around her body, as if shielding herself, she blinked a few stray tears. "That you will realize I'm not twenty anymore. That you will find some hot new babe. Some stunning new wife to replace me."

Standing up from the bed, he made his way to her. But she didn't want him to come closer; she didn't want his comfort and his vain promises. He backed her into a corner, pressed between him and her dresser. Tilting his head, he glanced at her, sadness in his eyes and a desperate need to reassure her. "Elizabeth… no."

He took another step, closing the last remaining gap between them. He was now standing as close as possible to her and he could feel her struggle for a breath, the fast beating of her heart.

"I love you. I love you for so many reasons that have nothing to do with how you look, and for so many more reasons that has everything to do with how you look. But all those reasons, together, are what makes you who you are, what makes me love you even more. Baby, you were and still are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and age isn't going to change that. I really do love every inch of your face, of your body, of your soul. It's the fact that you are my soulmate that makes you even more beautiful in my eyes and I could never search for anyone else."

A tear rolled down her cheek and she blinked to adjust her vision. "See, your eyes now – they speak volumes. The color is darker, and I know it's because you're hurting. It's the most magnificent thing in the world. And when you smile, they are bright as the sky, and your entire face is lit up and you make me happy just by being there. Just by smiling. And that Frampton T-shirt. I remember we went to his concert and I insisted on buying this for you and I will never forget how gorgeous you were putting this on. So much joy and happiness and I knew I could never get enough of you. See, Elizabeth, you are not pretty because of how you look. You are pretty because who you are, and all these things make you damn gorgeous in my eyes. And if you think for a second I will go looking for someone else, you'd better reconsider. I don't want nobody else. I have everything I need, everything I ever wanted, right here."

Since the day she met him, Elizabeth's biggest fear was that he'd leave her. And in spite of his constant reassurances and promises, she failed to convince herself, to leave this fear behind. "I don't…"

"You don't believe me, I know. I learned to live with it. And I will remind you of this every single day, more than once if I need to." Leaning forward, he captured her lips with his, kissing her deliberately slow, his hands moving to wrap around her.

Smiling at him as their lips broke, she wrapped her arms around him to pull him closer. "Thank you." She whispered.

"No no no, miss. It's your turn." Henry grinned.

"My turn?"

"You need to tell me what you love about me."

"Well Mr. Arm Candy…" she trailed a finger down his chest, smiling coyly at him. "You definitely earned your nickname."

She allowed her hands to wander, joining their lips together as she pressed their bodies together. She pushed him slowly towards the bed, not breaking contact with him, until his knees hit the mattress and he fell, pulling her with him. Rolling them over, he pinned her beneath him, his lips moving in sync with hers. Gasping for air, they glanced at each other and smiled, his hand tucking a stray hair.

"I love you Elizabeth. Every second of every minute, I love you."