Title:
Tangle
Author: Raedbard
Fandom:
The West Wing
Rating: R
Pairing:
Toby/Jed
Disclaimer: I make no claim to be Aaron Sorkin or
John Wells, I just like to borrow their characters and make them do
morally reprehensible things to each other.
Word Count:
1,050
Summary: Dialogue-heavy ficlet, in which Jed and Toby
snipe at each other and then come to an agreement.
TANGLE
"Toby?"
"Yes, sir?"
Bartlet shakes his head, just a fraction, slow - staring. He is wearing the grey Notre Dame sweatshirt and jeans. Toby notes, slightly dazed, that he's not wearing any shoes.
"No, Toby. Not tonight."
"Okay."
"Come over to the Residence in about ten minutes. They'll let you in."
"Okay."
"I'll see you."
"Yes, sir."
Bartlet - Jed - nods and saunters out, leaving Toby staring at his laptop screen, at a blank document with no title. His hands are shaking.
"Is it raining out there?"
Toby stands, silent and dripping, raindrops sitting heavy on his hair.
"You're wet, Toby. Would you like a towel? Some bourbon?"
"The drink would be good."
"You don't want the towel?"
"No, I think you should get damp too."
"Oh, nooo. Not going to happen."
"No romantic evening on the Truman balcony?"
"We'll have to see how it goes, Toby."
"I think we can probably guess."
"Yeah, maybe."
"Do you..."
"No, no. I'll start."
Toby is still standing, still wet, as Jed approaches him. He takes hold of Toby's wrist and his voice is soft as he says, "Your hands are shaking, Toby."
"Ah, the bourbon'll help with that."
"Nervous?" Jed asks, concerned and close, his breath warming Toby's cheek.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Toby, I mean - I know I'm very handsome but really."
"You're a damn lunatic."
"So why don't you call me Jed. Stop saying 'sir' in your head after every sentence."
"Jed?" Toby says, his hands resting on the President's forearms.
"Yeah," Jed says, stroking Toby's hips, his fingers slipping inside the waist of Toby's pants.
"Okay."
"Still nervous?"
"Give me a minute."
"You can't have a minute Toby, I'm a busy man," Jed says as he moves his hands up Toby's chest, undoing buttons and pulling apart the tie. Bending his head to kiss skin that is hot and damp with sweat and the rain, Jed presses his face against Toby's neck. Toby's hips buck when Jed strokes him, but his hands, now resting on top of Jed's, neither encourage nor resist when those hands move to his zipper.
"I know what you're trying to do," Toby says.
"You do. Well, your knowledge of sexual practices staggers me, Toby."
Toby's breathing has heightened but he doesn't speak, only shakes his head slowly, staring at a point just over Jed's shoulder.
"Look at me, Toby."
"Mr. President."
"Dammit, Toby."
Toby meets his eyes, and underneath the fear is fury and underneath that, desire.
"Are we going to do this thing?"
"You do have a choice, you know."
"Yeah. You want me to bend over the bed now?"
"No, Toby."
"Kiss me," Toby asks, low and quiet.
So Jed does, holding Toby's face, his thumbs fascinated by the texture of his beard. Toby's breath heaves and sighs into Jed's mouth and his chest is angled in towards Jed's so that the inside of his President's wrists brush against Toby's bare neck with every exhalation. He just stares when Jed pulls away. His face is passive but his lips are red, wet. Toby takes his hands back and runs his fingers over his forehead, sitting down on the bed.
"Was that satisfactory?" Jed asks, smiling.
"Not bad," Toby says, looking up at him. He shakes his head and manages two seconds of a smile. "I mean, I've had better, but..."
"Yeah, thanks for that."
"Jed?"
"Yes."
Toby nods, stroking his chin with two fingers. His hands are steady as they reach for Jed's and pull him between Toby's open legs.
"You're picking up, Ziegler. Getting into the game a little, now."
"Yeah," Toby says, standing so he can pull Jed's sweatshirt over his head. Into the President's ear he whispers, "I'm going to kick your ass, Jed."
Jed raises his eyebrows, "It's about time. You've been sitting here all night not contributing."
"Shut up," Toby says, softly. He passes a hand over Jed's hair, trying to smoothe the waves left by the removal of the shirt. Jed leans into his hand, closes his eyes. Toby kisses him, quick and slight while his fingers flutter somewhere near the back of Jed's neck.
"You can do better than that, Toby," Jed murmurs.
"Yeah, I know."
Power fades, there is no struggle. Jed enjoys Toby best when he is underneath him, his thighs aching where Toby's body holds them open. He likes having his fingers in Toby's hair and Toby's forearms either side of his head. Toby always strokes Jed's face with the tips of his fingers, passing over and over his mouth until he bends his head to kiss it, which is when Jed arches up into a strong, heavy body - prompting Toby, prompting himself. They sink together: their hands in each other's hair, Toby's cry a soft sound at Jed's ear and Jed's own a short, sharp moan which he buries in Toby's shoulder.
Toby shifts off him carefully and lies on his back, his hands joined over his stomach. Jed turns on his side and props himself up on his elbow; he watches Toby as his breathing slips back into a regular rhythm. Jed smiles, and waits for Toby to turn to him.
"What?"
"Nothing. I like watching you."
Toby raises an eyebrow and taps his fingers over his stomach. "Don't think I've ever had that sentiment directed at me before."
"Yeah. Well, Andy was a little ... Well, you know."
"No, I don't know."
"You may not have noticed, Toby, but I don't think you wife likes you very much."
"Ex-wife. But otherwise accurate."
"Also, she's rather arrogant."
"We had that in common, actually."
Jed laughs, then says, "The afterglow suits you is all."
"Mr. President are you coming on to me?"
"I would never do that, Toby."
"Don't you find something to appreciate in the human form, Toby?"
"It's usually not my form which is under discussion."
"Yeah," Jed says, reaching between Toby's legs and holding him. "That is a shame."
Toby opens his legs, tilts his hips towards Jed's hands. He is soft, but his breathing stops and starts just as it did fifteen minutes before, and Jed smiles to himself as Toby moans and grips Jed's arm, tight and vital. Jed leans in and kisses his chest, tasting the sweat still standing on Toby's collarbone.
"God, Jed ... Jed."