Title: Stern Talking To
Author: Danibannani
Characters: CJ, Toby
Pairing: CJ/Toby UST
Rating: PG
Summary: She wanted to feel that level of gratitude, not from anyone, from
him.
Spoilers: This is a drabble set IN the episode Red Mass
Author's Note: I hate drabbles, but I couldn't help myself. This is the
first West Wing fic I'm posting on my own, so please Review. And, of
course, thanks to ScullyasTrinity, because she rocks.
She was scared of him. Scared what he may do to her once he read the memo. She had Carol type it. He would know it wasn't her own writing, know it was delegated. she thought it would make calm him... the news not coming from her. No "Hey Toby, know we're friends, know you're worried and tired and overworked, but guess what... it's about to get worse. Your friend, CJ." Just a sweet, urgent memo "One debate with change of format." Businesslike. Yes. This was business, not the playground. She did the right thing. This was right.
Then why was she trembling. Sitting outside the church. Church where she always felt at home. The singing, the organ, the stern talking tos. It would be nice to sit there, to listen to the speech (Sam did a good job this time, no mishaps), so sit with her friends. But no.. no.. here she was in the slight cold just waiting, Pit and the Pendulum style, for him to walk out, to scream, to say nothing. Just give that look. That simple look. That "how could you make my sad life harder" look.
She heard his steps. His walk was so familiar, specially when he was mad. Infuriated. He was upon her, and she was pleading. It reminded her of when she wanted a puppy. The debates with her mother went on in her head for a month before the real fight. Ten minutes, begging, pleading, point after point. She was left in the same stance. Pleading eyes, silent stance, watching wheels turn. Always asking.
And the relief, the childlike giddiness that followed. He had given in to her, given up for her. She was sure this was what love was like. Making your life harder for the other, but this wasn't love, this was work. And she was off making 24 hours for him. Back-Scratching....
Next time she'd do for him. Let him win. Let his eyes fill with relief and joy. She wanted to see it. Wanted to feel that level of gratitude, not from anyone, from him.
She wanted him to owe her for once.
She was scared of him. Scared what he may do to her once he read the memo. She had Carol type it. He would know it wasn't her own writing, know it was delegated. she thought it would make calm him... the news not coming from her. No "Hey Toby, know we're friends, know you're worried and tired and overworked, but guess what... it's about to get worse. Your friend, CJ." Just a sweet, urgent memo "One debate with change of format." Businesslike. Yes. This was business, not the playground. She did the right thing. This was right.
Then why was she trembling. Sitting outside the church. Church where she always felt at home. The singing, the organ, the stern talking tos. It would be nice to sit there, to listen to the speech (Sam did a good job this time, no mishaps), so sit with her friends. But no.. no.. here she was in the slight cold just waiting, Pit and the Pendulum style, for him to walk out, to scream, to say nothing. Just give that look. That simple look. That "how could you make my sad life harder" look.
She heard his steps. His walk was so familiar, specially when he was mad. Infuriated. He was upon her, and she was pleading. It reminded her of when she wanted a puppy. The debates with her mother went on in her head for a month before the real fight. Ten minutes, begging, pleading, point after point. She was left in the same stance. Pleading eyes, silent stance, watching wheels turn. Always asking.
And the relief, the childlike giddiness that followed. He had given in to her, given up for her. She was sure this was what love was like. Making your life harder for the other, but this wasn't love, this was work. And she was off making 24 hours for him. Back-Scratching....
Next time she'd do for him. Let him win. Let his eyes fill with relief and joy. She wanted to see it. Wanted to feel that level of gratitude, not from anyone, from him.
She wanted him to owe her for once.