Title: Sunday Morning
Author: ScullyAsTrinity
Rating: PG-13
Category: Angst/Romance
Disclaimer: I don't own them... I swear officer! They just... jumped into my trunk and... oh screw it. Props to NBC.
Summary: Driving slow on Sunday morning, and I never want to leave.
A/N: I didn't mean to make this a slight song-fic. I wasn't listening to or thinking of this song when I wrote it. But hey, here it is.
---
She had come in to wrap up some work she had left hanging the night before. She knew Monday morning would be far too hectic to find the time to be able to deal with it.
Debbie Fidderer grabbed her purse, and looked at the clock on the wall. She could hear it ticking. Why could she hear it tick?
And on second thought, why was there... there was no noise to be heard throughout the halls of the West Wing. Odd, even for Sunday, it was deathly quiet. She shrugged and made sure she had everything she needed and walked out of the office.
---
Zoey rolled over in the small bed and slung her arm around the bed's other occupant. Snuggling down into the warmth of both the blankets and the body. The voice emanating from the body broke through her last vestiges of sleep and she shifted happily when his arms wrapped around her.
"Hey, look at that, we're late." Charlie verbalized though a yawn. His eyes were just coming out of their haze as he glanced at the glaring red lights of the clock.
"We're not late, it's Sunday." Zoey replied, kissing his bare chest quickly, enjoying the rumble of a laugh that she received as a response.
Charlie was so content simply lying in bed, he was surprised. It generally occurred that the office was a nagging pull in his gut, an invisible rope pulling him towards the chaos that was politics. All of that flew from his mind when Zoey leaned over on top of him, claiming his lips with her own, searing him into Sunday morning submission.
---
The glass shattered as it was knocked to the floor. The loud tumult shocked the sleeping couple out of their reverie, she bolting straight up in bed, he nearly falling from it. The blonde couldn't help but laugh at the unkempt state of his hair and she ruffled it with her left hand, using her right to pull the sheet tight against her.
"Whassit the cat?" Josh Lyman mumbled, his lips thick with lethargy... for once. Blinking rapidly, he attempted to familiarize himself with his whereabouts.
His bedfellow tossed herself back onto the pillows in a dramatic flourish. "We don't have a cat."
"What happened to the cat?" Josh spoke, a tad more coherently. Fingers trailed over Donna's delicate skin, tracing untold patterns, which he imagined were brilliant physics equations.
"Josh, there never was a cat. There never will be a cat." Donna responded, patting his hand away from her thigh. It returned, only to climb higher and slip beneath the band of her panties.
Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff and one of the most powerful men in the country, began to whine. "Why no cat?" Nonchalant and childish as his fingers began to play over her nerve endings.
Her response was given on a moan. "You're allergic."
---
"You're an asshole."
"Uh huh." Papers rustled.
"You have no idea what I'm even talking about!"
"No CJ, I do, I'm choosing to ignore you completely." Toby Ziegler's head was stuck in between the pages of the New York Times. CJ would have much rather had his head between other places but she was fed up with him at the moment. "It's Sunday morning, just... do what people do on Sunday mornings CJ." He gestured at her with his free hand.
She promptly shrugged her robe from her shoulders, standing gloriously naked in her kitchen. Toby's eyes lifted slowly from the newspaper.
"Or.. we... could do that." Toby said, promptly rising from his seat, following her into her bedroom.
---
"Omelets, no, pancakes. Oh! What about hash browns!" Ainsley Hayes bounced around the kitchen, checking the contents of Sam Seaborn's refrigerator. "Or..."
Sam's resigned sigh emanated from behind her and she whirled around, hair fanning out behind her in its majesty. He leaned past her, grabbed the eggs and the milk. "A buffet?" Sam pitched in, catching onto her idea. A sweet, toothy grin was his reward, and Ainsley bounded off to start the coffee.
Moments later, whisk in hand, Sam began to scramble eggs. He realized that the only thing that could make the moment better would be if he were whistling a happy tune, but he decided against it when his short companion's arms snaked around his waist.
"Have I told you today, I love you?" She asked, placing a kiss on his spine and he shivered, his egg beating becoming erratic.
Sam actually thought about her question for a moment. "Yes, twice."
---
It wasn't just purple, it was royal, regal, or so Leo McGarry said. But it was only regal when she was in his arms. Jordan Kendal smacked him on the bicep and he held her close, swaying to the music coming from the small radio.
"You're going to the office today."
"Mmm, no." Leo said, stroking both her lower back and her hair.
"It wasn't a question, you're going to the office today." She chided, laying her head on his shoulder lightly, enjoying the dancing and the way their bloody marys had settled in her stomach.
Leo dipped her and she squeaked in surprise. "I, am not going into work." Leo grumbled, bring her body back up into contact with his. "At all." Was grumbled into Jordan's ear, and she smiled, warm and low, feeling so very, very relaxed for the first time in months.
"We're gonna dance all day?"
"We're going to dance... all day." Leo confirmed and spun her expertly.
---
The kiss lingered, long and wet and warm.
"Mmm, so do you think the staff actually took your time off advice, or..." Abbey trailed her fingers down his arm slowly.
Jed rolled over and cracked his back. He sighed while glancing at the clock. "With that bunch? They're... probably at the office, but who cares, it's Sunday."
Pulling Abbey close to him, the two fell back to sleep, basking in the early morning sun.