CJ/Danny, others.
R-17 but nothing more than you get in a standard paperback romance.
Spoilers: through "Institutional Memory".
The characters belong to Sorkin, Wells, et. al.
Takes place before, during, and after "Testosterone", but should be read after it..
She awoke to her name being spoken in her ear, along with a slight tickling sensation and a rush of warmth breath against it. She felt better than she had in a very long time. Burrowing against the side of the man next to her, she asked him what time it was. He told her it was early, only 5:30, but she didn't have a bag with her last night and he didn't know if she needed to go to her place or if she had clothes in the office . She told him that she did have a clean outfit at the White House, and then she noticed that she was wearing her camisole and her underpants as nightclothes and said she hoped she could get by with grubby underwear. He offered to lend her a pair of his boxers. She thought fast; the skirt at work was a full one, not form-fitting, so, feeling the blush he couldn't see in the half-light, she took him up on the offer.
He told her to go back to sleep, when, her arm brushing against his groin, she realized that she didn't remember much of anything from the previsou night after being fed toast and scrambled eggs. He must have undressed her and put her to bed after she had fallen asleep. She reached up and pulled his head down to hers and moved her pelvis into contact with his. He obviously agreed to a better use of the time as he reached over to the nightstand beside the bed. She stopped him, reminding him that it had been 10 days since she started taking the pills Millicent Griffith had prescribed; they didn't need backup protection anymore.
Maybe it was because there was no tension in the back of his mind; maybe it was because this was the first time they didn't have that thin layer of latex between them. In any event, he was fast -- too fast. Self-deprecating, he said he would fix it and began to caress her. She opened wide to him and, with her hand on his, moved his thumb a little bit one way, his middle finger a little bit another way, and showed him where he should press a little lighter, and where a little harder. They were still so new to each other's bodies. She felt the pressure build there, but suddenly, it was gone, and she still had that aching, empty feeling. He knew it; she knew he knew it; and he knew that she knew that he knew it. This time, the apologies he murmurred into her neck held pathos and frustration. There wasn't time to start again. She pulled up his face, kissed his nose, and told him that it would be okay; he could make it up to her that evening.
As they dressed, they made their plans. He might wander by the Press Corps offices later in the morning. She had meetings in the morning so the confrontation with Santos would be in the afternoon. She would have Margaret let him know when. Other than that, her afternoon was light and she should be done at a civilized hour. He told her that his sister had postponed her trip into town and that he would pick up some salad and some fish for that night. He would also get her a toothbrush. Then his eyes developed that impish little gleam she was beginning to recognize and he asked her if he should also get her a package of those disposable pull-up Depends. She threw a pillow at him and told him to not get fish; instead she wanted him to pick up a whole frying chicken, a lemon, some fresh rosemary, and one of those disposable aluminum foil baking pans. She would send someone to her place to pick up a couple more outfits, including something casual.
She was standing by Margaret's desk discussing a briefing report with Charlie when the secretary told her that Josh was on the line. Without really thinking, she took the call on Margaret's phone. Josh told her how glad he was that she would be working with him again. She told Josh that that she had not agreed to be a part of the Santos administration and that, in fact, she would be turning down the position when they met a 2:00 that afternoon. Hanging up, she told Margaret to let Danny know about the time, asked her to send someone for the clothes, and to get the stuff from yesterday sent to the cleaners.
After she went over the day's plans with the President, he told her that he heard that she would be working for his successor. Feeling frustrated, she told him that Santos was presuming too much, and in confidence told him of Hollis' offer and about what was transpiring with her and Danny. He was delighted for her and asked her the wedding would be. She said that they hadn't yet talked about that much of a commitment, but admitted, under his persistent questioning, that she hoped the subject would be raised shortly. In a wistful voice, she told him that she wished her father was able to understand that she finally had the chance for the happiness he had always wanted for her. She also told him that Matt Santos seemed to be adapting to presidential power quite well and she asked him a say a little prayer that all went reasonably well that afternoon. The president said something cryptic about advice Admiral Fitzwallace had given him, something about changing venues and setting up diversions to confuse an opposing force.
She spent the rest of her morning discussing transition memoes with senior staff, writing some letters of reccomendation, and other incidental details.
About 12:30, Margaret came to tell her that Sam had called. There had been a change of plans. Several UN ambassadors were in town and that Santos, Arnold Vinnick, and Nancy McNally would be with them all afternoon. He, Josh, and the congressman were meeting in the Sit Room right now with the joint chiefs and would be up in about 15 minutes to talk with her. She asked Margaret to try to reach Danny. The secretary let her know that Danny had been with the President and that she would find him.
Two minutes later, he walked in, kissed her briefly, and began a casual conversation with her and Margaret as Matt, Josh, and Sam entered her office.
She was calm and collected and she must have transmitted that to Danny because when Josh asked Danny to leave she started to protest but Danny quickly took charge of the situation. She thanked the president-to-be for the honor of asking her. She told them of Hollis' offer and that she felt she could do more good in that position. She said that she had a chance to have what she had observed between the Bartlets and that it would be easier away from Washington. When Santos commented that he didn't think that bolstering Danny's ego and sense of worth was more important than serving her country, she told him that Danny's ego and sense of worth had always been in perfect operating condition but that she would overlook the insult to herself and to Danny. Over Josh's audible gasp, she began to put a more positive tone on the meeting. If he really needed institutional memory, if he needed the advice of someone who truly understood the complex issue that was the governance of this nation, he should look no further than his home state. If he was innovative and forward-thinking enough to offer State to Arnold Vinnick, if he believed in the possibility of redemption as taught by their shared religion, surely there was room in his circle of senior counselors for John Hoynes.
Before they could comment on her suggestion, Margaret interrupted and the four of them went their separate ways. When she got to Will, the press corps was there with a cake and some presents. Chris took her aside and told her that she wished her a long and happy life with Danny. When she started to protest, Chris reminded her that she was talking with a journalist.
Later in the afternoon, she called together her staff and let them know about accepting Hollis' offer. Once things were settled, she would let them all know how they could help if they wished.
Getting ready to leave for the day, she had a sudden whim and picked two roses out of the bouquet on the credenza. She told her detail that before going to Danny's, she wanted to stop at Arlington. In the dusky fog, she found Simon's grave and placed the flowers on it.
When he opened the door to the apartment for her and her detail, the controlled rage in the room frightened her. Not for herself, she knew instinctively that if wasn't directed at her, but the intensity was so thick. As soon as the agent closed the door behind him, he opened her coat and pulled her close up against him. She could feel him trembling as he held her, one arm around her shoulders, the other around her hips. She raised her head and started to ask him what had caused all this when he kissed her forehead and said that they would talk later. First he wanted to take care of the unfinished business of the morning.
It was exquisite. He was so gentle as he caused her to dance, first on his fingers, then on his tongue, and she was more than ready when he was. But she could sense that the fire and the rage were still there. Opening her eyes, she saw that he still had need of her and reached for him. The second time was different. He wasn't rough or abrupt but she could feel the demons pouring out of him as he took her.
When it was over, he briefly told her of his encounters with the men in her life -- the president as father figure, Charlie as devoted little brother, Sam as the "you're my best friend but she's my sister and she comes first" guy,Matt Santos and Josh Lyman as rejected suitors. When he walked in the door, there was a message on his answering machine from Toby, wanting to meet with him tomorrow. Beside the phone, the piercing gaze of Leo McGarry reached him from the stack of half-read magazines. About 15 minutes before she came home, he looked out into the darkening street and would almost swear that he saw Simon Donovan staring through him. He didn't notice her slight shiver at this last statement. He told her that even while the agent was still in the apartment, it was all he could do to keep himself from bending her over, face down, on the table, her skirt up at her waist, her underwear (well, his underwear, really) down at her ankles, and burying his -- she stopped him with a kiss. She told him that she would call Toby in the morning. Breathing a now relaxed sigh, he said that, no he would talk with him, that he was beginning to accept this rite of passage. She deserved to have people care about her; he would be ready to deal with Hollis and with her brother when the time came. But if her paperboy tried to stick his two cents' in, all bets were off.
Later that night, after they had showered and eaten, they were back on the bed. They were sharing between them a single pair of green silk pajamas with Notre Dame logos -- she in the tops, he in the bottoms. He told her it was time for "training". She told him about her conversation with the President and he told her about his. Neither of them mentioned his comments about their future together but they both knew that the subject would come up soon. She gave him the details of her conversation with Matt Santos and he marveled at the brilliance of her suggestion regarding the former vice-president. He noticed an undercurrent of distress at the mention of John Hoynes and decided that very soon, he needed to let her know that he knew. He didn't care, but he didn't want her fretting over it. She told him about the sudden dispersement of the group and he told her of the hastily constructed but well-executed plan he saw enacted in the outer office. He went into more detail about his conversations with the President, Charlie, and Josh. She told him about Chris. They weighed Sam's offer and decided that after a week or two in a hotel/resort setting, it might be good to adjust to everyday domesticity away from the city and a still smoldering new president. Margaret or Carol would babysit for Gail. They decided that for the next two weeks, she should continue to come to his place and opposed to moving back and forth. He would clear out a couple of drawers for her.
Then he asked her if there was anything else.
Taking a deep breath, she focused her gaze on that safe territory south of his eyes and north of his groin, and told him that she thought that sometime, under the right circumstances, being bent over the table face down sounded like a fun place to be.