Devil May Care
Disclaimer/Acknowledgements: TWW isn't mine. Gasp! And yet again I'm borrowing from Wendy Cope, this time "From June to December" which is taken from "Making Cocoa For Kingsley Amis".
Notes: This follows "Fun Loving Criminal" and "Rock My Boat" and I've decided it's time to call it a series and give it a title: I'm calling it Coping With You after the wonderful Wendy (even though this one only has the tiniest of references to a poem).
Summary: There's a saying. It involves a fan and what happens when the excrement hits it.
When one of the security guards winks at me on the way in, I know something is up.
This feeling is compounded when I haven't even finished bellowing, "Donna!" by the time she storms in and dumps a coffee and some papers on my desk (well, she dumps the papers on my desk; the coffee ends up mostly all over my copy of the gays in the military report).
I don't manage to figure out what's going on before she's flounced out again.
Her mascara seems to be running; maybe that's what's upsetting her. Probably best to leave her alone for a while.
Well, I seem to be at a bit of a loose end so I guess I'll just think about sex for a bit. Mmmm.
But I promised CJ I wouldn't do that at work, and it's very important in a relationship to keep promises.
Hehehe, I'm actually getting a kick out saying we're 'in a relationship', now that I've realised I want to be in one. It's weird as hell but it's kinda fun.
I have a girlfriend. I am a boyfriend. Ha! Freakish. In a good way.
I could ask my girlfriend what she, as a woman, feels may be troubling Donna – who, by the way, is probably the only assistant in the universe who would express her displeasure with me by bringing me coffee.
And a newspaper. She brought me coffee and a newspaper. I didn't notice the newspaper till right now.
I left for work before my papers were delivered and I didn't hear any rumours that this was going to happen. I've never seen this photograph before.
I don't even remember the scene it depicts, unsurprising since it looks like I was already several units of alcohol over my safety limit (which is really not as low as the women in my life would have you believe!).
Oh God. My hand is right up her skirt – I don't think even she remembers this happening. She couldn't have been wearing pants like she does every other day?
But this isn't her fault. I'm the one who's pictured in a pool of vomit on the floor pulling myself up by her thigh.
My first thought is that I've spread my share of joy for the day: seeing this could make Mary Marsh die of happiness – the benefits for the rest of the world are incalculable.
My second is whether or not Donna feels better yet because I could really use her to type up my CV.
Sam bursts through the door with the kind of expression on his face that gives me the urge to cry, "Not my face!" but he comes to a halt a foot in front of me.
"What the hell... What the... What right do you think you have to..."
It's not as bad as it looks, I go to say, but I stop myself. 'We got drunk and went to bed together, but in a nice way?' It's totally as bad as it looks!
Except for the ending which is warm and fuzzy and reminiscent of puppies.
"I ought to kick your ass for this."
He looks as if he's still considering it.
"That would make for a really bad follow-up story," I begin but he throws his hand up and turns his head away like the 'out-of-control teen' on a talk show.
"Save it for Leo."
Uh-oh. I am not going to make it through this morning alive.
"He wants you in his office five minutes ago."
"I have to see CJ-"
This is the first time I have been pinned to a wall by Sam and to be perfectly honest I'm starting to understand what women see in him.
"You stay the hell away from her!"
God! Is it just me or is he taking this personally? He should be grateful, we're starting to make him and his call girl look good.
"So." I don't want to say I squeaked – but I kinda did. "I believe I'm on my way to see Leo?"
Whew. I can breathe again.
However if breathing means having a conversation with Leo at this point I'm not at all sure I want to.
* * * * *
I am standing in front of Leo attempting to look innocent and trying very, very hard not to think about Josh, which is rather hard when he's standing right beside me - far too close for Leo's liking.
I lunged at him outside the office and ordered him to let me do the talking but he paid no attention. He thinks he can handle Leo better than me.
Even in light of our current predicament, I'm having trouble not laughing at his cluelessness.
"Really, it's not as bad as it looks."
What is he talking about? It's completely as bad as it looks!
"We're both serious about our relationship."
Oh, wonderful. How much does Leo resemble a cardiac patient right now?
"You are so far beyond fired!"
Thank you, Josh.
"We just want to be together!"
Shut up, Josh.
I take a step to the side and lean forward, trying to draw Leo's attention away from The Idiotic One.
"Leo, I realise how inappropriate our behaviour was."
"Gee, you think?"
"And I can't express how much I regret not telling you."
At my side Josh is thinking I'm laying it on a bit thick, I can tell. I can almost *feel* him start to dig my grave...
"We didn't want everyone watching us while we figured out where we were going. Ow!"
One advantage of having him so close is that I can kick him without our boss seeing.
"I did want to tell you, Leo, but I couldn't stand the idea of you thinking badly of us."
Whatever anyone says, however many space shuttles to Mars they take, there's only one word that counts in the handling of men.
Flattery. Every time.
"I mean, we were only drunk that first time..." Josh continues.
They say you can tell it's love, the real thing, when you dream of slitting his throat.
My idiot boyfriend is given a temporary reprieve by the arrival of the President.
"Oh." He's grinning the way people with power can grin at the people they've got power over. "It's you two kids."
"Sir, I should point out that it's in no way as bad as it looks!"
Repeat: shut up, Josh.
"You're fired, you don't get to point anything out!"
"Fired already?" the President says. "I thought we were giving him time to sober up first?"
He's joking. I think. He picks on me next.
"CJ, were you aware that during the mating season the male Japanese quail is unable to take off for flight?"
I can tell this is going somewhere painful.
"No, I can't say that I was aware of that, sir."
"Then you won't know why that's the case?"
"No..."
"It's because their gonads have swollen too much."
The President of the United States pokes my shoulder with his pen.
"That's a true story, CJ. I'll leave you to work out the moral yourself."
He turns and winks at Leo, who doesn't look terribly amused.
"Can you excuse this knucklehead a minute?" he asks, nodding at Josh.
"I'll speak to you later," I am told.
I *hate* being threatened by the President. There's absolutely no defence possible.
I wait until they're out of sight, then I try to make my eyes as big as possible as I face the man who pretty much controls our destiny.
"Leo," I say sweetly, "I think we need to take a moment..."
* * * * *
Oh, this is a perfect continuation of a perfect day. Toby's waiting for me when I get back to my office.
Maybe if I'd been sweeter to Donna she'd have given me a heads up, but I gotta doubt it.
"People are reacting badly to this."
"Um. Yeah."
Don't make fun. I save my own incredibly witty verbal gymnastics for conversations not involving Toby because then I stand a chance of sounding like the smartest person in the room.
"Do you know what would make them react worse?"
"Me and CJ co-starring in a porno movie?"
"Did I strike you as having humorous intent?"
"It's just that we may have to resort to that to make a living soon."
"Joshua."
Now there's a thing. Toby isn't one of the people that calls me by my full name when he's pissed at me. That's more of a girl thing, something to do with their maternal instincts.
Toby usually just yells mean things that I don't understand until it's too late to retort.
He must be building up to something really bad.
I resist the urge to whimper.
"Graveyard humour," I shrug.
He stands giving me a patented Toby Hard Stare until I sheepishly meet his gaze.
"There is a long list of people who will not find it humorous if you hurt her."
Okay... not exactly what I was expecting, but okay so far.
"I am on that list," he continues. "As you know I don't like you, but I did think you deserved fair warning that if you make one wrong move you will be destroyed."
It's disturbing that this man issues my death warrant in such a matter-of- fact tone.
Disturbing, but not surprising.
"I didn't even know you liked CJ."
"I don't. I don't like anyone. Anyone living, at least. I was fond of my paternal grandmother at one time - but to anyone who is alive today I am at best indifferent, even CJ. You, however, I actively dislike."
"Okay."
It's a word that often proves useful in conversation with Toby.
"Thanks for the warning."
"It's not appropriate to thank someone who is threatening both your life and your will to live it."
"Okay. Screw you then."
He nods, satisfied, and starts to leave, turning back in the doorway.
"You understand my saying I don't like you doesn't mean I do like anyone else?"
"Absolutely."
"You're clear about the me not liking CJ?"
That guy freaks me out.
* * * * *
"They were for him!"
A distraught Donna is screaming at me in front of the entire bullpen. This has the potential to become an embarrassing situation.
"That disgusting... those black panties, they were for him!"
I turn to Carol, aghast.
"You looked in my shopping bags?!"
She pretends to be sheepish, but she's still can't hide a smirk.
"Well, I had to, you know, in case there was a bomb or something..."
"Stop trying to change the subject," Donna's saying tearfully.
I'm too busy watching my dignity slide quietly to the floor and run away to pay much attention.
"Why the hell did you tell Donna about my choice of underwear?"
"Oh, I told everyone," Carol says airily.
"Everyone?"
"Well, only everyone who works here. It's not like I had a choice, how would they have been able to participate in the pool if I hadn't told them about all those packages from Victoria's Secret?"
I spy Josh hiding just outside the door. Groan. I bought that stuff when I was still thinking it would really be for the best if we didn't do anything again.
It was just, you know, for insurance purposes.
"What pool?" I ask, trying to ignore the fact that I'm going to have to talk to him sooner or later.
"The pool about who they were for," Carol explains, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Hardly anyone bet on Josh, though," she carries on. The general betting trend was Toby, though Danny Concannon was pretty well-backed."
I told you no-one thinks we make a good couple.
"I wondered if it might be that Paul guy. Thank God it wasn't, what a waste of money, huh?"
Sometimes I really hate Carol.
Donna's looking highly distressed. Damn. I should have thought of this before.
"How long has this been going on? Have I been making an idiot of myself for months, trying to cheer him up when he's down, looking after him?"
Rapidly losing sympathy here. If she wanted him, she had plenty of time to say so before I wanted him.
And now she cannot bloody well have him because he is *mine* and I intend on keeping him for a while.
"Since he stopped needing cheering up!" I snap.
Carol steps back and perches on a desk to watch the show.
"You're just pissed because you know that since it started he's been happy! He hasn't needed you and your TLC and your badgering and your schemes because for a change he's in a relationship that's good for him!"
"Well, I don't know if I'd say I was 'happy'..."
Oh. Shit. I forgot he was there. As if the new black underwear wasn't enough for him to tease me about.
"I'd go more with 'quietly content' crossed with 'experiencing hourly joy'."
Donna is looking from me to Josh like she doesn't know who to kill first.
"You've never been quiet about anything in your life."
We're having one of those cutesy couple moments, the kind that makes you want to barf when it's happening to other people.
"I quit!" Donna shrieks.
Am I expected to express distress at this?
Josh looks a little thrown. I'm not worried. I'll make it up to him in ways she in her skinny blondeness can't even imagine.
But first we have work to do.
* * * * *
We walk across the platform together but not touching. We exchange a look that speaks a thousand smart-assed comments and turn to face America.
We are CJ and Josh. We are very similar to the Borg. We have assimilated each other's traits. United we stand and united we will kick the sorry asshole who printed that story right out of our pressroom.
Sorry, link terminated. I just can't have Josh thinking he has any kind of stake in my pressroom.
The moment of tension is too brief for the press to pick up on. We're in harmony again.
Okay, so we probably won't stay harmonious for very long – come on! We're CJ and Josh, we were born to drive each other nuts, we feed off each other's irritation.
But they say the the making up is worth the fighting.
It'll keep things interesting.
Which is us as an entity all over. We may not be the world's idea of a classic couple but we're an interesting one.
The reporters congregated in front of us certainly look interested.
Well, shocked could be a better word, to see us walking out together, smiling and not looking hideously embarrassed to be on the same planet as each other after what happened in the picture they all saw this morning.
We don't care. That night seems like such a long time ago – we've come a long way in the time inbetween.
They're probably also wondering why we're not scared about the public humiliation, the jeapordy our careers are in and the destruction of our reputations.
If we're honest, we're probably wondering the same thing.
The reason is something to do with the slight flushes in our faces when we're standing this close, and the gleams in our eyes.
The public admission of what's been going on makes it all real, which is exciting and scary and deeply satisfying all at the same time.
We link hands behind the lectern where the world can't see and the better half of us steps forward to address the hounds:
"I'm joined today by Josh Lyman; I'm sure he needs no introduction, at least not after this morning."
There are a few nervous titters at that.
"We have a short personal announcement to make..."
THE END
Disclaimer/Acknowledgements: TWW isn't mine. Gasp! And yet again I'm borrowing from Wendy Cope, this time "From June to December" which is taken from "Making Cocoa For Kingsley Amis".
Notes: This follows "Fun Loving Criminal" and "Rock My Boat" and I've decided it's time to call it a series and give it a title: I'm calling it Coping With You after the wonderful Wendy (even though this one only has the tiniest of references to a poem).
Summary: There's a saying. It involves a fan and what happens when the excrement hits it.
When one of the security guards winks at me on the way in, I know something is up.
This feeling is compounded when I haven't even finished bellowing, "Donna!" by the time she storms in and dumps a coffee and some papers on my desk (well, she dumps the papers on my desk; the coffee ends up mostly all over my copy of the gays in the military report).
I don't manage to figure out what's going on before she's flounced out again.
Her mascara seems to be running; maybe that's what's upsetting her. Probably best to leave her alone for a while.
Well, I seem to be at a bit of a loose end so I guess I'll just think about sex for a bit. Mmmm.
But I promised CJ I wouldn't do that at work, and it's very important in a relationship to keep promises.
Hehehe, I'm actually getting a kick out saying we're 'in a relationship', now that I've realised I want to be in one. It's weird as hell but it's kinda fun.
I have a girlfriend. I am a boyfriend. Ha! Freakish. In a good way.
I could ask my girlfriend what she, as a woman, feels may be troubling Donna – who, by the way, is probably the only assistant in the universe who would express her displeasure with me by bringing me coffee.
And a newspaper. She brought me coffee and a newspaper. I didn't notice the newspaper till right now.
I left for work before my papers were delivered and I didn't hear any rumours that this was going to happen. I've never seen this photograph before.
I don't even remember the scene it depicts, unsurprising since it looks like I was already several units of alcohol over my safety limit (which is really not as low as the women in my life would have you believe!).
Oh God. My hand is right up her skirt – I don't think even she remembers this happening. She couldn't have been wearing pants like she does every other day?
But this isn't her fault. I'm the one who's pictured in a pool of vomit on the floor pulling myself up by her thigh.
My first thought is that I've spread my share of joy for the day: seeing this could make Mary Marsh die of happiness – the benefits for the rest of the world are incalculable.
My second is whether or not Donna feels better yet because I could really use her to type up my CV.
Sam bursts through the door with the kind of expression on his face that gives me the urge to cry, "Not my face!" but he comes to a halt a foot in front of me.
"What the hell... What the... What right do you think you have to..."
It's not as bad as it looks, I go to say, but I stop myself. 'We got drunk and went to bed together, but in a nice way?' It's totally as bad as it looks!
Except for the ending which is warm and fuzzy and reminiscent of puppies.
"I ought to kick your ass for this."
He looks as if he's still considering it.
"That would make for a really bad follow-up story," I begin but he throws his hand up and turns his head away like the 'out-of-control teen' on a talk show.
"Save it for Leo."
Uh-oh. I am not going to make it through this morning alive.
"He wants you in his office five minutes ago."
"I have to see CJ-"
This is the first time I have been pinned to a wall by Sam and to be perfectly honest I'm starting to understand what women see in him.
"You stay the hell away from her!"
God! Is it just me or is he taking this personally? He should be grateful, we're starting to make him and his call girl look good.
"So." I don't want to say I squeaked – but I kinda did. "I believe I'm on my way to see Leo?"
Whew. I can breathe again.
However if breathing means having a conversation with Leo at this point I'm not at all sure I want to.
* * * * *
I am standing in front of Leo attempting to look innocent and trying very, very hard not to think about Josh, which is rather hard when he's standing right beside me - far too close for Leo's liking.
I lunged at him outside the office and ordered him to let me do the talking but he paid no attention. He thinks he can handle Leo better than me.
Even in light of our current predicament, I'm having trouble not laughing at his cluelessness.
"Really, it's not as bad as it looks."
What is he talking about? It's completely as bad as it looks!
"We're both serious about our relationship."
Oh, wonderful. How much does Leo resemble a cardiac patient right now?
"You are so far beyond fired!"
Thank you, Josh.
"We just want to be together!"
Shut up, Josh.
I take a step to the side and lean forward, trying to draw Leo's attention away from The Idiotic One.
"Leo, I realise how inappropriate our behaviour was."
"Gee, you think?"
"And I can't express how much I regret not telling you."
At my side Josh is thinking I'm laying it on a bit thick, I can tell. I can almost *feel* him start to dig my grave...
"We didn't want everyone watching us while we figured out where we were going. Ow!"
One advantage of having him so close is that I can kick him without our boss seeing.
"I did want to tell you, Leo, but I couldn't stand the idea of you thinking badly of us."
Whatever anyone says, however many space shuttles to Mars they take, there's only one word that counts in the handling of men.
Flattery. Every time.
"I mean, we were only drunk that first time..." Josh continues.
They say you can tell it's love, the real thing, when you dream of slitting his throat.
My idiot boyfriend is given a temporary reprieve by the arrival of the President.
"Oh." He's grinning the way people with power can grin at the people they've got power over. "It's you two kids."
"Sir, I should point out that it's in no way as bad as it looks!"
Repeat: shut up, Josh.
"You're fired, you don't get to point anything out!"
"Fired already?" the President says. "I thought we were giving him time to sober up first?"
He's joking. I think. He picks on me next.
"CJ, were you aware that during the mating season the male Japanese quail is unable to take off for flight?"
I can tell this is going somewhere painful.
"No, I can't say that I was aware of that, sir."
"Then you won't know why that's the case?"
"No..."
"It's because their gonads have swollen too much."
The President of the United States pokes my shoulder with his pen.
"That's a true story, CJ. I'll leave you to work out the moral yourself."
He turns and winks at Leo, who doesn't look terribly amused.
"Can you excuse this knucklehead a minute?" he asks, nodding at Josh.
"I'll speak to you later," I am told.
I *hate* being threatened by the President. There's absolutely no defence possible.
I wait until they're out of sight, then I try to make my eyes as big as possible as I face the man who pretty much controls our destiny.
"Leo," I say sweetly, "I think we need to take a moment..."
* * * * *
Oh, this is a perfect continuation of a perfect day. Toby's waiting for me when I get back to my office.
Maybe if I'd been sweeter to Donna she'd have given me a heads up, but I gotta doubt it.
"People are reacting badly to this."
"Um. Yeah."
Don't make fun. I save my own incredibly witty verbal gymnastics for conversations not involving Toby because then I stand a chance of sounding like the smartest person in the room.
"Do you know what would make them react worse?"
"Me and CJ co-starring in a porno movie?"
"Did I strike you as having humorous intent?"
"It's just that we may have to resort to that to make a living soon."
"Joshua."
Now there's a thing. Toby isn't one of the people that calls me by my full name when he's pissed at me. That's more of a girl thing, something to do with their maternal instincts.
Toby usually just yells mean things that I don't understand until it's too late to retort.
He must be building up to something really bad.
I resist the urge to whimper.
"Graveyard humour," I shrug.
He stands giving me a patented Toby Hard Stare until I sheepishly meet his gaze.
"There is a long list of people who will not find it humorous if you hurt her."
Okay... not exactly what I was expecting, but okay so far.
"I am on that list," he continues. "As you know I don't like you, but I did think you deserved fair warning that if you make one wrong move you will be destroyed."
It's disturbing that this man issues my death warrant in such a matter-of- fact tone.
Disturbing, but not surprising.
"I didn't even know you liked CJ."
"I don't. I don't like anyone. Anyone living, at least. I was fond of my paternal grandmother at one time - but to anyone who is alive today I am at best indifferent, even CJ. You, however, I actively dislike."
"Okay."
It's a word that often proves useful in conversation with Toby.
"Thanks for the warning."
"It's not appropriate to thank someone who is threatening both your life and your will to live it."
"Okay. Screw you then."
He nods, satisfied, and starts to leave, turning back in the doorway.
"You understand my saying I don't like you doesn't mean I do like anyone else?"
"Absolutely."
"You're clear about the me not liking CJ?"
That guy freaks me out.
* * * * *
"They were for him!"
A distraught Donna is screaming at me in front of the entire bullpen. This has the potential to become an embarrassing situation.
"That disgusting... those black panties, they were for him!"
I turn to Carol, aghast.
"You looked in my shopping bags?!"
She pretends to be sheepish, but she's still can't hide a smirk.
"Well, I had to, you know, in case there was a bomb or something..."
"Stop trying to change the subject," Donna's saying tearfully.
I'm too busy watching my dignity slide quietly to the floor and run away to pay much attention.
"Why the hell did you tell Donna about my choice of underwear?"
"Oh, I told everyone," Carol says airily.
"Everyone?"
"Well, only everyone who works here. It's not like I had a choice, how would they have been able to participate in the pool if I hadn't told them about all those packages from Victoria's Secret?"
I spy Josh hiding just outside the door. Groan. I bought that stuff when I was still thinking it would really be for the best if we didn't do anything again.
It was just, you know, for insurance purposes.
"What pool?" I ask, trying to ignore the fact that I'm going to have to talk to him sooner or later.
"The pool about who they were for," Carol explains, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Hardly anyone bet on Josh, though," she carries on. The general betting trend was Toby, though Danny Concannon was pretty well-backed."
I told you no-one thinks we make a good couple.
"I wondered if it might be that Paul guy. Thank God it wasn't, what a waste of money, huh?"
Sometimes I really hate Carol.
Donna's looking highly distressed. Damn. I should have thought of this before.
"How long has this been going on? Have I been making an idiot of myself for months, trying to cheer him up when he's down, looking after him?"
Rapidly losing sympathy here. If she wanted him, she had plenty of time to say so before I wanted him.
And now she cannot bloody well have him because he is *mine* and I intend on keeping him for a while.
"Since he stopped needing cheering up!" I snap.
Carol steps back and perches on a desk to watch the show.
"You're just pissed because you know that since it started he's been happy! He hasn't needed you and your TLC and your badgering and your schemes because for a change he's in a relationship that's good for him!"
"Well, I don't know if I'd say I was 'happy'..."
Oh. Shit. I forgot he was there. As if the new black underwear wasn't enough for him to tease me about.
"I'd go more with 'quietly content' crossed with 'experiencing hourly joy'."
Donna is looking from me to Josh like she doesn't know who to kill first.
"You've never been quiet about anything in your life."
We're having one of those cutesy couple moments, the kind that makes you want to barf when it's happening to other people.
"I quit!" Donna shrieks.
Am I expected to express distress at this?
Josh looks a little thrown. I'm not worried. I'll make it up to him in ways she in her skinny blondeness can't even imagine.
But first we have work to do.
* * * * *
We walk across the platform together but not touching. We exchange a look that speaks a thousand smart-assed comments and turn to face America.
We are CJ and Josh. We are very similar to the Borg. We have assimilated each other's traits. United we stand and united we will kick the sorry asshole who printed that story right out of our pressroom.
Sorry, link terminated. I just can't have Josh thinking he has any kind of stake in my pressroom.
The moment of tension is too brief for the press to pick up on. We're in harmony again.
Okay, so we probably won't stay harmonious for very long – come on! We're CJ and Josh, we were born to drive each other nuts, we feed off each other's irritation.
But they say the the making up is worth the fighting.
It'll keep things interesting.
Which is us as an entity all over. We may not be the world's idea of a classic couple but we're an interesting one.
The reporters congregated in front of us certainly look interested.
Well, shocked could be a better word, to see us walking out together, smiling and not looking hideously embarrassed to be on the same planet as each other after what happened in the picture they all saw this morning.
We don't care. That night seems like such a long time ago – we've come a long way in the time inbetween.
They're probably also wondering why we're not scared about the public humiliation, the jeapordy our careers are in and the destruction of our reputations.
If we're honest, we're probably wondering the same thing.
The reason is something to do with the slight flushes in our faces when we're standing this close, and the gleams in our eyes.
The public admission of what's been going on makes it all real, which is exciting and scary and deeply satisfying all at the same time.
We link hands behind the lectern where the world can't see and the better half of us steps forward to address the hounds:
"I'm joined today by Josh Lyman; I'm sure he needs no introduction, at least not after this morning."
There are a few nervous titters at that.
"We have a short personal announcement to make..."
THE END