Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. Whether or not that goal can be reached, we'll see... This is The 365 Project, 16 January.

An additional note; I've noticed that there's an increased number of omitted words and homonyms used in my '365 Project' works. I apologise for those. Normally they're caught and fixed over weeks and sometimes months of reading and re-reading my stories as I work on them, but as the '365 Project' is more of a speed and creativity drill, I don't always proofread the stories before I post them. I'll try to fix that in the future.

Disclaimer: The West Wing is the creation of Aaron Sorkin and property of NBC, used without permission or intent to profit.

What Ainsley does in this story IS illegal, DO NOT do this yourself or you will likely face charges of theft or shoplifting.

"Aisle Seven"
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

It might not be Heaven, but C.J. Cregg was in a happy place; her happy place was the cookies and snack crackers aisle at a D.C. grocery store. Everyone had their little foibles or addictions, the President loved trivia facts; Josh liked his hamburgers burnt, while Donna made it one of her missions in life to get him to eat healthier; and Toby wasn't shy about his support of PBS. C.J.'s was a simple one; she loved Goldfish, she could literally eat them every day, she kept a supply in her office to snack on while watching the different news stations.

And she had reached the Goldfish Promised Land. The store was one she had never visited before, but would definitely make a point of visiting again; they had all the different flavors, regular, white chedder, extra cheesy, they even had the Rainbow Goldfish. It made C.J. feel almost giddy just looking at the rows of packets on the shelves and mentally calculating how many plastic bags full of the little white bags of fish-shaped crackers she could easily carry. For a moment, she actually even considered calling Danny and using the fact that he was always trying to get her to go to lunch or dinner with him to get him to help carry more Goldfish, even. She had quickly shot that idea down, Danny didn't need any more encouragement. While C.J. was standing there trying to decide where to begin buying Goldfish, what flavor she wanted most at the moment, she felt more than saw or heard someone approach where she stood.

"Hi, C.J.," Ainsley Hayes remarked distracted as she walked past the Press Secretary, as though she hadn't actually realised that the other woman was there, and picked up a bag of cookies from further down the shelves, "Mm, Mint Chocolate."

Then she opened the bag so that she could take one out and nibble on it.

"Mm!" Ainsley closed her eyes in pleasure at the taste, "Minty."

"Ainsley! Ainsley! Ains-" Sam Seabourne groaned as he rounded the corner and came to a stop, "Not again... Ainsley, you know you're not supposed to do that! It's illegal, it's stealing."

Ainsley pointed at the Deputy Communications Director with the nibbled-on cookie in her hand, "I'm going to pay for them, Sam."

"Yes, but you haven't yet," he countered, "Which makes eating them stealing."

"What does it matter if I pay for them then eat or eat them then pay as long as I pay for them, Sam?"

"According to the legal system, it matters a great deal," Sam answered, beginning to get flustered.

"You know, Sam, you keep getting worked up like this, you'll give yourself a heart attack." Ainsley bit the cookie in her hand in half and finished chewing and swallowing as she turned back to the shelves, "I think I saw some dark chocolate-macadamia nut cookies up here. Dark chocolate's supposed to be good for your heart, Sam."

"Ainsley..." Sam now half-walked, half-stormed up behind her and snatched the open bag of cookies out of her hand, "Stop it."

Ainsley turned back around to face him, only inches seperating them, "Why don't you make me, Sam?"

To emphasis the challenge, the blonde Southerner popped the rest of the cookie in her hand into her mouth and began to blatently and almost rudely chew it. Silently cursing the pixish looks that made her so adorable even when she was doing things like this, Sam reached the conclusion that she couldn't eat any more cookies if her mouth was otherwise occupied.

So, he kissed her. He cupped the back of her head with his free hand and pressed his lips to her own soft, pink ones and gently prodded them with his tongue until they parted to grant him entry. As his tongue moved in Ainsley's mouth, Sam had to admit that the cookie did give her a nice minty flavor. After a few moments, they seperated and Ainsley had to put her hands on his chest to keep her balance.

"Take me home, Sam," Ainsley ordered breathlessly.

"Ahem," both Sam and Ainsley turned to see C.J. standing there, arms folded and tapping her foot, looking for all the world like a disapproving mother, "Something the two of you want to tell me before I hear it from the Press Corps?"