Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Aaron Sorkin and whomever else actually makes money off the show.
Rating: R, for a couple of nasty curse words, but mostly for sex.
Note: Believe it or not, I was looking to write some nice smutty drabble, and I didn't want it to turn into a J/D syrup fest (not that I hate those, I just wasn't in the mood), hence the CJ/Josh paring. But stories often take on a life of their own, and I discovered that these two were really not in the mood for flippant trashiness. In fact, they downright depressed me. But that shouldn't be surprising. I have a hard time making believable too much soul mate stuff between these two. That all said, I still think it's worth reading. I hope you like it.
Better Than Most
The West Wing was not deserted, not by a long shot. In the flurry of activity that day, things had not gotten done. Josh snorted when he thought of how pointless it was for them to assume things would get done in a normal period of time. No, most things worth doing took place late into the night. They were all masters at working long hours, maintaining something like professionalism even early into the morning.
But Josh, at fifteen to two, was leaving, so he had his tie and suit coat slung over his shoulder. The feeling of unbuttoning that top button on his white shirt—it never ceased to amaze him how good that felt. Despite the years getting used to wearing suits, he always somehow felt more like himself when he unbuttoned and untucked his shirt. But that would wait until he got home, away from people whom he was supposed to be setting an example for.
As he passed CJ's office, her light was on, so he knocked and stuck his head in.
"You're still here?" he asked, but there was no one to reply. He heard the faint sounds of jazz, slow and sensual, and he noticed that the only light came from a corner lamp, and it sent warm yellow tones across the amber of the furniture. Three green bottles sat on the end of the desk, two empty, one half-full. Josh turned one, reading the name of some imported beer he'd never heard of, and he heard the door close behind him.
"Hi," CJ said.
"Drinking alone?"
"Everything alone," she said, turning the radio up. She had long since cast off the jacket to her dark green pants suit, so she was down to just the camisole. As she sat down in her desk chair, she pushed a green bra strap back up over her shoulder, and it promptly feel back down. "Why don't you stay, Josh. I'm having a pity party, and I forgot to invite anyone. There's free booze." She swung the door of her refrigerator open with her foot. "Well, there's enough to spare you the two beers it will take you to get drunk."
"Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Don't ask me questions. I've had a long day."
"Every day is long here."
"Oh, this one especially sucked. Not one but two of my ex-boyfriends—the kind I used to have before I realized dating people in this town is idiotic—"
"Why?"
"You screw someone, and you eventually get screwed again. Anyway, two of my ex-boyfriends are now working on something that requires me to speak to them on a regular basis, and they're both being perfect asses about it."
"How?"
"One is acting as though I owe him something…you know, because of the beautiful bond we share because we had sex a few times and we both happen to be democrats. The other is treating me like it's so precious that a woman really has the intelligence to be press secretary. And he thinks it's amusing to call me Claudia. I could kill them both. Why are you still here?"
"Nothing to go home to."
"What about Amy Gardner."
"What about her?"
"She's a bitch, Josh."
"I know."
"What is it about her, then?"
"She's smart. And she's sexy."
"Big fucking deal. So are a lot of us. We just get ignored."
"I thought you didn't want a man."
"God, Josh, that's the stupidest thing I've heard you say this week. Of course I want a man. Why else would I be here drinking alone on a Friday night."
"That doesn't make sense. And you're not alone."
Josh rose and got himself a beer from the fridge, relaxing a little just to have the cold travel down his throat. He listened to the music and moved toward the window. The city was icy and dark, he knew. It was warm and not so lonely in CJ's office.
She got up and joined him at the window.
"It's sad that I so rarely look out this window. There's a garden out there, and the sun hits it just right about mid-morning."
"And you've got a nice view of the city lights now."
He could only see the profile of her face as she switched off the lamp. The room was suddenly very dark, lit only by the white lamps outside in the courtyard.
"What good does any of this do me?" she asked. "That I can be so powerful and fulfilled in my job, but so unhappy."
"Because you don't have a boyfriend?"
"Because I don't have anybody. All my interactions are formal, or worse…based on manipulation. I can't remember the last time I had a conversation with anyone that didn't involve spin. I don't know the last time I said someone's name, asked about someone's day, without a million questions and problems shooting through my head."
"Me either."
"I work with such smart, funny people, and all I do is throw information at them all day. I never even have the time to look people in the eye. I struggle to say one word that sounds true, even to the people who are supposed to be my friends."
Josh took a drink of his beer and turned from looking out the window. CJ had moved to the couch, so he walked over and sat down, too.
She said, "It makes you feel like you don't know yourself."
"Why?"
"All I give is the political me, so all I get reflected back is the political me."
"As if that's all we are."
"Sometimes," she said, rising from the couch abruptly. "Sometimes, I'd swear that's all I am anymore. It's all I see." She set the third bottle down beside the other two, then she sat down on the desk. "Go out, Josh. Go home. Do something that makes you feel like you're an actual person. Don't sit here with me wallowing."
He rose and walked toward her. "Maybe being here does make me feel like a real person."
"I wish it were that easy. I still don't feel like you're here. I see you there, I hear you, but I still feel alone." She reached out and touched his face, smiling as she did. "You didn't shave today."
"Yes, I did. But it was very early."
"I can still smell your cologne. But you need a shave."
"Why?"
"Because now you'll have to look at the rash on my face tomorrow and feel bad about it."
He barely had time to register her reply before she was kissing him, slow and hard. Then it was as though something in her woke up, because the kisses deepened and she pressed her whole body into his. His own body was much quicker to awaken, the burning traveling all the way down to his toes even before he was hard. CJ rocked her body against his, and he was pulling her closer, kissing her harder. Then his brain, so trained to predict the worst possible outcome of any situation, told him to stop. He pulled himself out of her arms for a moment.
He said, "I don't want you to regret this."
"I won't. Will you?"
"I don't know."
"Josh, I don't love you. Not that way. But I need to be close to something."
"And I'm as good a thing as any?"
"You're better than most."
He replied by kissing her again. He feared that he would bruise her, so urgent were his hands all over her body. Then the hands were getting in the way. When she began to unbuckle his belt, he almost told her to stop. She didn't need to touch him. Feeling her thighs, her hips, her stomach, her breasts, her face, all against his body, was more than enough. But he let her pull him to the couch and pull down his slacks as he tore at hers. He was surprised by how impatient he was to be inside her, to have their bodies completely aligned and interlocked, to feel the weight of something more real than all the bullshit he had spent the entire day creating and destroying.
It was over fast, but they made no move to leave each other's arms. CJ was kissing the perspiration on his shoulder when it began to sink in with him just what had happened.
"CJ," he said.
"No, Josh. I've done too much talking today."
So he lay there on top of her, and there was just music and breathing and finally quiet.