Of Patriots and Perfection
Disclaimer: I don't own Toby Ziegler or CJ Cregg, nor do I own the New England Patriots or the Minnesota Vikings, though I wish I did because then I could make money, money that would pay my student loans! As it is, they're not mine, and the intent of this story is just to give me (and hopefully its readers) a little thrill: I'm not making a cent!
Author's Notes: I live on a farm, which means a lot of physical labor, which means I have lots of thinking time while I do chores. Many of my stories (the ones I've "published" and the ones I've yet to even write down) fill my head while I'm working. Where this one came from exactly, I don't know, but it's here!
P.S. I'd take Tom Brady home…
P.P.S. I hope it's not illegal for government employees to gamble on football games…
Pairing: CJ/Toby
Rating: PG
And away we go!
xxxxx
"Tom Brady. Now there's a kid I'd like to take home."
"The purpose of watching a football game, CJ, is to watch a football game, not to swoon over the players."
"I'm hardly 'swooning,' Toby. Like you don't check out the cheerleaders!"
"Professional cheerleaders are hot."
"Professional cheerleaders are whores."
"You're just jealous."
"Jealous that I don't get to prance around in a sparkly, miniscule skirt and tube-top, shake my boobs, and wave pom-poms for men all over America to masturbate to during the half-time show?"
"You said it, I didn't."
"Shut up and pass me a beer."
Toby complied, blindly choosing a chilled Miller Lite from the wisely-stocked cooler beside the couch and handing it to CJ, who was curled up beside him. So smooth was Toby that he didn't even have to unglue his eyes from the television where the New England Patriots were slaughtering the Minnesota Vikings.
"Did you bet on this game?" CJ popped the top of the beer can and took a sip. Ohhhh, ice cold beer: something to be savored.
Toby stole his gaze away from the TV (which was now running a Pepsi commercial, making it okay to look away) to stare incredulously at his best friend. "Of course."
CJ chuckled. "Duh. Stupid me. I should have known." Another sip. "How much?"
"I didn't realize that was any of your business." Toby chose a new beer for himself.
"Ooh, that much, huh?" CJ touched her tongue to her lips and crossed a leg over his. "How much?"
"I'm sorry. Did I not make myself clear when I said it was none of your business?" He rested his beer on her knee.
"Come on, Toby! Enough to whisk me away to a haunted European castle where we can have a host of servants? No, wait. I think I'd rather go to a secluded island and have you all to myself." She leaned in to prop her chin on his shoulder and breathe softly in his ear.
"If I had enough money to buy a secluded island, I'd live there alone. Hence the word 'secluded.'" He turned his head to face her. Their noses touched.
CJ brushed Toby's lips with her own. "You would not. You'd bring me."
The game was back from commercial: a short break, but that's the way things go with the NFL. Toby ignored John Madden's annoying gurgle and let CJ kiss him. Still, in order to drive her crazy, he refused to kiss her back. "Why would I bring you?" he managed to whisper.
"Because you love me." Her fingers tickled the back of his neck, urging him closer.
"Who told you that?" He swore he wouldn't give in. He loved watching her – feeling her – struggle to make him falter.
"The man in my bed last night." CJ nibbled on Toby's ear and lined his jaw line with kisses.
"That son of a bitch. Do I know him?" He wouldn't be able to control himself much longer. Certainly it was the beer.
"You might." Her lips touched his temple, moving oh-so-gently to the soft skin around his eye, which Toby let flutter closed. "He's terribly sexy."
Toby's outright, startling burst of laughter surprised CJ and destroyed the mood she had effectively created. Frowning, she pulled away from him and scooted over so that their bodies no longer made any sort of contact. "I don't know what you're laughing at, but you just ruined my buzz," she told him. She took a long draught of Miller and focused on the game just in time to catch Daunte Culpepper throw a perfect interception pass into the open arms of Asante Samuel.
Toby, who hated the Minnesota Vikings with a passion, couldn't even enjoy Culpepper's screw-up. He rolled his eyes. "Shit, CJ, come on." He turned his whole body, pulling a leg up onto the couch so that he could look at her. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"No. I was well on my way to seducing you, and you laughed at me." She crossed her arms over her chest, still clutching her beer, eyes still on the game. The Patriots offense was jogging back onto the field, Brady no longer in the game. "Fuck. Flutie's taking over." Doug Flutie was going to finish the game: the Pats were ahead 45-3 with the second-half two-minute warning coming up. No reason to risk injury to the hottest quarterback in the league. "He's not even good-looking. He's old."
"So am I." Toby was watching the TV now too, his beer suddenly half gone.
Taken aback, CJ shot a confused, concerned glance at her best friend. "What?"
"I'm old, CJ, and I'm about as far from sexy as you can get. I'm balding, and if you think that this," he patted the tiny paunch on his tummy, "is baby fat, you're sadly mistaken, my friend."
"Oh, Toby." CJ had to bite back a giggle. "Is that what…?" Her voice trailed off as she put her beer down on the coffee table and slid back to her original spot right next to Toby on her plush forest-green sofa. Her leg over his again. Her fingers in his hair. Her lips on his cheek. "Toby, my love, you are very sexy." When he wouldn't respond vocally or even look at her, she touched his face, gently turning it so she could see into his chocolate orbs. "Toby."
He snorted and tried to tug away, but she wouldn't let him go. "Tobias, listen to me. You are brilliant." Her stare was intent. "You have the most incredible eyes I've ever had the pleasure of gazing into." She traced his cheekbones lightly with her fingers. "You're one of the most caring, sweet, gentle men I've ever known, even though you try desperately to hide it. And the fact that you try to come off as a hardass? Sexy as hell, Toby." CJ kissed the tip of Toby's nose. "You adore your children. You've never forgotten my birthday. You put your heart and soul into everything you know is important. You don't take a compliment well. You're an amazing cook. You've got a flawless ass…" Her arms around him, CJ pulled Toby into a warm embrace. "You are the sexiest, most perfect person in the world to me."
Toby wrapped himself around CJ, resting his chin on her shoulder and smiling in spite of himself. "You're just trying to get into my pants," he teased.
CJ laughed aloud and slapped him lightly on the back. "Pervert." She pulled back just enough to be able to plant a kiss on Toby's lips. "Okay?" she wondered, touching her nose to his once more. Toby's response was to hold CJ close again.
Toby simply hugged CJ for a long moment, watching the end of the game quietly with her and contemplating his feelings for this woman. He loved the way her body fit so perfectly against his, the way she always knew what he was thinking, her skill at making him feel like king of the world. All over the northeast coast, barflies and Patriot fans were celebrating a victory for their team, a victory that, despite the Patriots' amazing quarterback, was unexpected against this year's hot Vikings team. Toby kissed the top of CJ's head as she relaxed against his chest. "Ten thousand."
"Hmmm?" she asked. She felt so safe and warm here.
"Ten thousand dollars. I just won ten thousand dollars," Toby announced.
CJ sat back and stared at Toby, his hands in hers. "You're serious?"
"It's not enough to buy an island for you, of course," he admitted, squeezing her hands, "but it's not bad, don't you think?"
"Ten thousand dollars, Toby. Holy shit! Congratulations! We should celebrate!" Her eyes lit up excitedly, then narrowed seductively. She raised an eyebrow and leaned in close. "And I've got a pretty good idea how. C'mere, sexy."