Reciprocity

CJ/Danny, mentions of others.

Maybe PG-13.

Spoilers: through end of series.

Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul.

Feedback welcomed.

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Memorial Day Weekend 2007

Saturday morning and afternoon

The middle-aged resort assistant manager knocked on the door while the two busboys waited behind her with the serving cart. "Mr. and Mrs. Concannon, it's Sandra, the manager. We have your breakfast."

The door opened and Sandra immediately saw that the woman was hesitant. It was obvious that the knocking had wakened her. Underneath the bedspread she was clutching around her shoulders, Sandra could see a very sheer lace nightgown. The hair was tousled, and the manager could recognize, from her own 35 years of marriage, the minor irritation a beard can cause along her neck. She'd dealt with new brides many times before and while she was a bit surprised that this one was a little shy, she knew what to do. "Bobby, Dale, just push the cart into the room; I'll take care of the rest." She could hear the shower running. "I'll just leave everything on the cart. The omelets are over hot water, the juice and fruit are on ice, the toast is in here."

The bride checked over the cart. "Sandra, could we possibly get some pulp-free orange juice? My husband" a slight blush at the word "doesn't like it. I tell him the fiber's good for him, but he won't listen. And maybe some white toast? He'll eat the wheat, but he likes white better".

"Of course. Mrs. Bartlet asked me to tell you that the buses will be taking the others away at 11:00. They won't be back until 6:00. You and Mr. Concannon have the run of the place. If you need anything, when you want lunch, whatever, use this pager. It has a GPS so we'll find you." She handed her the device. "Once the housekeeping staff has finished with the rooms, you won't see anyone unless you want to. The bridal suite is back in order and if you would pack up your things, we will get them moved for you. Just call the main desk. I apologize profusely for what happened. The young woman who gave the others the key copy just started working here this week. We hadn't had time to make her aware of the kind of things that might happen in wedding events such as this; She believed the stories she was told; your friends are very persuasive. She wasn't supposed to be here this weekend, but one of the other housekeeping girls had a death in her family and this new one was called in at the last moment by the other manager; he didn't know that I hadn't fully trained her yet. Again we are so sorry."

A few minutes after 11:00, Sandra saw the busses pull away from her office window. About five minutes later, she could hear splashing and laughing coming from the pool area.

When the pager sounded at about 2:00, the GPS indicated that they were still at the pool area. He was lying on his back on one chaise lounge, she was on her front on another. Their hands met in the area between the two lounges. They asked for some iced tea and some sandwiches. "Make sure it's mayonnaise", she said. "He doesn't like Miracle Whip".

A little after 4:00, the pager sounded again. When Sandra approached the pool area, she saw that Mrs. Concannon was sitting at the foot of one of the lounges, her sleeping husband's head in her lap. "Do you think we could get some of the umbrellas repositioned so he doesn't burn?" she whispered. "I'd hate to wake him, he's so exhausted."

Coming back with some of the staff, they very carefully shifted some of the umbrellas, angling them to shade the couple. Sandra could observe Mrs. Concannon; she looked somewhat tired herself as she sat there and softly played with her husband's hair. "Thank you," she whispered. "He did everything possible to make this a perfect wedding weekend for us; I don't want him sunburned and unable to enjoy the rest of it." Realizing the possible implication of her words, she blushed again.

Sandra returned to her office, thinking about everything that Mr. Concannon had done yesterday for his bride – the champagne, the food, the candles — and now everything that Mrs. Concannon was doing today for him. Tomorrow was her day off; maybe she could do some special things for her husband.