Twilight
CJ/Bruno
Manchester, New Hampshire
I closed her door with a soft click, spooked by the reaction her face had evoked in me. What did I care if CJ Cregg wanted to tell Bartlet to fuck off? Why did it matter to me if she smashed a drained bottle in the middle of the night?
Hell, she'd emptied the entire thing. A fifth of Jack—that's impressive. As I cleaned up her hands I was reminded that most people would be passed out on the floor after that. But she's six feet tall and can probably hold more liquor than most people. And I'm betting she'd been drinking for a couple hours…
But I digress. I went back to my own room, utterly unable to sleep. I knew that CJ Cregg should be last on my list of concerns but when I saw her face…I had no idea she'd been hit so hard. In the last four weeks I've watched the dynamic of Bartlet's staff, and anyone can see that they're close. But CJ's been outside the circle just a bit, and that's even more obvious.
I've always had a good amount of respect for the woman; she's held her place in a man's world with more poise and position than anyone before her ever could. I guess that no one expected her to make a mistake, or maybe she never thought she would, but there was no reason for her hand to be covered in blood like that.
She probably hates me. I know that my people aren't getting along with Bartlet's people and that's something I don't understand. We're on the same damn team, working for the same damn goal. But they're pissed at the President and it's projecting onto my staff. We're trying to ignore that, trying to keep cool heads about it because Bartlet was their guy first. And now they feel betrayed; CJ wants to resign.
I shook my head, walking over to the window. If she left them now…No one handles the press like that girl does. Bartlet would lose one of his only magnets for female voters, not to mention that she's a great person. Beautiful, even with a dizzy head and bloody hand.
I was startled, thinking of CJ affectionately like that. I can recognize my feelings early, and these were emotions that needed to be pushed to the back of my head.
She probably hates me. But as I stood looking out the window onto the quiet Manchester street, my drowsiness was gone. I couldn't sleep again if I tried; the only thing on my mind was her smooth skin and the way it felt to have her head on my shoulder.
But she was so drunk. She won't remember it in the morning. I smirked to myself, hoping that I wouldn't either. I took one last look onto the street before I headed back to the bed. With morning poking at the horizon, the sky was invaded by a twilight appearance. But the sun was rising, not setting. I frowned and willed the sun to go back down, just as I hoped that my thoughts of CJ would go back to wherever they'd come from. *
CJ/Bruno
Manchester, New Hampshire
I closed her door with a soft click, spooked by the reaction her face had evoked in me. What did I care if CJ Cregg wanted to tell Bartlet to fuck off? Why did it matter to me if she smashed a drained bottle in the middle of the night?
Hell, she'd emptied the entire thing. A fifth of Jack—that's impressive. As I cleaned up her hands I was reminded that most people would be passed out on the floor after that. But she's six feet tall and can probably hold more liquor than most people. And I'm betting she'd been drinking for a couple hours…
But I digress. I went back to my own room, utterly unable to sleep. I knew that CJ Cregg should be last on my list of concerns but when I saw her face…I had no idea she'd been hit so hard. In the last four weeks I've watched the dynamic of Bartlet's staff, and anyone can see that they're close. But CJ's been outside the circle just a bit, and that's even more obvious.
I've always had a good amount of respect for the woman; she's held her place in a man's world with more poise and position than anyone before her ever could. I guess that no one expected her to make a mistake, or maybe she never thought she would, but there was no reason for her hand to be covered in blood like that.
She probably hates me. I know that my people aren't getting along with Bartlet's people and that's something I don't understand. We're on the same damn team, working for the same damn goal. But they're pissed at the President and it's projecting onto my staff. We're trying to ignore that, trying to keep cool heads about it because Bartlet was their guy first. And now they feel betrayed; CJ wants to resign.
I shook my head, walking over to the window. If she left them now…No one handles the press like that girl does. Bartlet would lose one of his only magnets for female voters, not to mention that she's a great person. Beautiful, even with a dizzy head and bloody hand.
I was startled, thinking of CJ affectionately like that. I can recognize my feelings early, and these were emotions that needed to be pushed to the back of my head.
She probably hates me. But as I stood looking out the window onto the quiet Manchester street, my drowsiness was gone. I couldn't sleep again if I tried; the only thing on my mind was her smooth skin and the way it felt to have her head on my shoulder.
But she was so drunk. She won't remember it in the morning. I smirked to myself, hoping that I wouldn't either. I took one last look onto the street before I headed back to the bed. With morning poking at the horizon, the sky was invaded by a twilight appearance. But the sun was rising, not setting. I frowned and willed the sun to go back down, just as I hoped that my thoughts of CJ would go back to wherever they'd come from. *