Title: Devil In A Blue Dress
Author: Victoria (atlantic_iced_tea@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Summary: Toby thinks about his devil in a blue dress.
Spoilers: "Two Cathedrals"
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters, they were born into the mind of the incredible Aaron Sorkin. I didn't create their love, it was there already. All I did was write this little story. It's not worth suing over. Seriously.
Authors Note: I'm a real Josh/Donna shipper so imagine my surprise when I pick up my pen to write my first ever West Wing fan fiction and it turns out to star two completely different characters…
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She's my devil in a blue dress. I can withstand anything - the sound of her footsteps as she walks away oblivious to the effect she has on me, the way she runs her hand through her hair when she's tired before she fixes me with that steely glare of hers, the scent of her sweet perfume - anything but the blue dress.
My name is Toby Ziegler, and I'm a CJ-holic. Bizarre, but true. She is addictive. A drug, a stimulant I first encountered many years ago and have been dying to sample ever since.
I digress - back to the infamous blue dress. Its not her favourite, not even particularly expensive as she once confessed to me at some random fundraiser after a bad-news day and a few too many white wine spritzers. But to me, it is the dress that transforms her from a striking, beautiful woman into a goddess.
Its the kind of dress that makes the blood in your veins stop flowing as your heart ceases to beat and you find yourself having to actually remind yourself to breathe. It's the kind of dress men fought wars over. I mean, Helen of Troy doesn't have anything on Claudia Jean. It's exactly the kind of dress that heightens my awareness of how far away I am from a woman like her.
I loved her long before the dress, of course. From the moment I set eyes on her I was drawn in. we were friends, that's all. I was married to Andie, as well as to my work, and so I watched as the woman that is CJ strayed perilously close to my outstretched arms and itching palms. I confess, I was waiting for her to fall into them. To call out to me like a siren through the noise and confusion and dark haze that was my life. She didn't of course - that's not her way. Maybe it was for the best.
She never knew what I felt for her. I think she knows now though - that I love her. Not in the desperate, aching sense that causes me so much pleasure and so much pain in the same moment, but as a colleague. A friend. I'm certain she feels that way about me. I mean, you don't know someone for this many years without forming that sort of bond, but what sort of comfort is that? That knowledge doesn't make it any easier to get through my day, deflecting Sam's woeful attempts at banter or sitting through Senior Staff when every ounce of my being is yearning to reach out to touch her.
I want to tell her how I feel, I want her to tell me she feels the same. But I wont. And neither will she. Such is the curse of Toby Ziegler.
Time passes swiftly, and I fear the day that the Bartlett administration comes to an end, because that's the day she'll leave. I wont just feet away from her, wont even work in the same building. She'll keep in touch, of course. She won't forget. But we won't be together either. Not like I can pretend we are now.
She'll always be my devil in the blue dress, and she'll never be mine.
Author: Victoria (atlantic_iced_tea@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Summary: Toby thinks about his devil in a blue dress.
Spoilers: "Two Cathedrals"
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters, they were born into the mind of the incredible Aaron Sorkin. I didn't create their love, it was there already. All I did was write this little story. It's not worth suing over. Seriously.
Authors Note: I'm a real Josh/Donna shipper so imagine my surprise when I pick up my pen to write my first ever West Wing fan fiction and it turns out to star two completely different characters…
************
She's my devil in a blue dress. I can withstand anything - the sound of her footsteps as she walks away oblivious to the effect she has on me, the way she runs her hand through her hair when she's tired before she fixes me with that steely glare of hers, the scent of her sweet perfume - anything but the blue dress.
My name is Toby Ziegler, and I'm a CJ-holic. Bizarre, but true. She is addictive. A drug, a stimulant I first encountered many years ago and have been dying to sample ever since.
I digress - back to the infamous blue dress. Its not her favourite, not even particularly expensive as she once confessed to me at some random fundraiser after a bad-news day and a few too many white wine spritzers. But to me, it is the dress that transforms her from a striking, beautiful woman into a goddess.
Its the kind of dress that makes the blood in your veins stop flowing as your heart ceases to beat and you find yourself having to actually remind yourself to breathe. It's the kind of dress men fought wars over. I mean, Helen of Troy doesn't have anything on Claudia Jean. It's exactly the kind of dress that heightens my awareness of how far away I am from a woman like her.
I loved her long before the dress, of course. From the moment I set eyes on her I was drawn in. we were friends, that's all. I was married to Andie, as well as to my work, and so I watched as the woman that is CJ strayed perilously close to my outstretched arms and itching palms. I confess, I was waiting for her to fall into them. To call out to me like a siren through the noise and confusion and dark haze that was my life. She didn't of course - that's not her way. Maybe it was for the best.
She never knew what I felt for her. I think she knows now though - that I love her. Not in the desperate, aching sense that causes me so much pleasure and so much pain in the same moment, but as a colleague. A friend. I'm certain she feels that way about me. I mean, you don't know someone for this many years without forming that sort of bond, but what sort of comfort is that? That knowledge doesn't make it any easier to get through my day, deflecting Sam's woeful attempts at banter or sitting through Senior Staff when every ounce of my being is yearning to reach out to touch her.
I want to tell her how I feel, I want her to tell me she feels the same. But I wont. And neither will she. Such is the curse of Toby Ziegler.
Time passes swiftly, and I fear the day that the Bartlett administration comes to an end, because that's the day she'll leave. I wont just feet away from her, wont even work in the same building. She'll keep in touch, of course. She won't forget. But we won't be together either. Not like I can pretend we are now.
She'll always be my devil in the blue dress, and she'll never be mine.