Little Miss Vixen

Drinking In LA

2008-05-02T01:43:38Z

Title: Drinking In LA
Fandom: Miss Match
Character(s): Kate, Victoria
Word Count: 470
Rating: PG-13

Summary: "Why am I not drunk yet?"

Notes: Set post-series. Written for smallfandomflsh.

"Why am I not drunk yet?"

"It's a virgin margarita."

Kate frowns at her glass, then up at Victoria. "Why?"

"Because it's one o'clock in the afternoon, and you're on your lunch break."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"This sucks."

"Not being drunk?"

"Everything." She finishes her drink - not bothering to go slowly, now that she knows there's no alcohol in it - and leans forward to rest her elbows on the bar. "Dating."

"I thought you said you wanted to be single."

"That was before I remembered that being single sucks."

"I know a good matchmaker, if you're interested." Victoria flashes her a smile, picking up the empty glass. "Besides, it's not that bad."

"Easy for you to say. You've got Nick."

(When, exactly, dating Nick Paine became an enviable prospect, she isn't sure she wants to know.)

But Victoria kind of frowns, and Kate tilts her head.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nick and I broke up."

"What? When did that happen?"

"The other night."

"Why is this the first I'm hearing of it?"

"It's not that big a deal. Besides, you've had your own stuff to deal with."

"Victoria -"

"Really, it's fine. You've been busy."

"Yeah." Kate sighs at the accidental reminder that she should be back at the office; it's really too bad she's still sober. "Ever since the article came out, I've been swamped."

"Exactly."

"You still should have told me you guys broke up."

"Hey, you broke up with Michael and Adam. Me and Nick are the least of your concerns."

"I did not -" She pauses, takes a breath. "Michael and I weren't back together. And there was never anything going on between me and Adam."

"If you say so."

(I'm falling for him, Victoria had said. Kate's a bad friend.)

"I do say so. Look, if you need a place to crash -"

"No, it's okay." Victoria smiles, a little too brightly, and Kate frowns.

"You got a place already?"

"Not exactly."

"Victoria." But Victoria's expression is carefully blank, and the realisation hits her. "You're not still staying with Nick?"

"Sort of." Victoria doesn't quite meet her eyes; Kate leans forward again.

"Sort of?"

"We're still ... you know. We're just not dating."

"But you're sleeping together."

"Yeah."

"And living together."

"It's temporary."

"So if I asked you to come out with me this weekend to pick up guys ..."

"I'd absolutely be free to do that."

Right. Kate's pretty sure that most of this is going way over her head.

"Do you want to go out this weekend and pick up guys?"

She sighs. "Not really."

There's a pause, and then -

"You should call him, you know."

Kate looks up. "Which one?"

"Whichever one you want."

Yeah. That's going to happen. "And you should talk to Nick."

There's another silence, and Victoria glances away. "So. Clubbing this weekend?"

Kate smiles. "Absolutely."

Papercuts

2008-05-01T23:16:23Z

Title: Papercuts
Fandom: Sports Night
Character(s): Dan, Kim
Word Count: 100
Rating: PG

Summary: She's still not his secretary.

Notes: Written for sn100.

"What's this?"

Dan turns to face Kim, putting on his best innocent look. "What?"

"This." She's waving a sheet of paper, and he shrugs.

"I don't know."

"It's your weekend schedule."

"Is it?" He tries to look surprised; he doesn't think she's buying it.

"Yes."

"Well, if you're not busy -"

"I'm not your secretary!" But he's already hurrying away, and he does his best to indicate he hasn't heard her.

-

After lunch, there's a stack of paper on his desk; the memo he sent Kim is on top, production schedules and miscellanea underneath. All marked urgent.

He's definitely in trouble.

There Is Never Enough Food (We're All Going To Die Hungry Remix)

2008-04-27T13:05:25Z

Title: There Is Never Enough Food (We're All Going To Die Hungry Remix)
Fandom: Farscape
Character(s): Ensemble (John/Aeryn)
Word Count: 1715
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 2:1 - Mind The Baby. A remix of There Is Never Enough Food by hossgal. Written for remixredux08.

Aeryn reaches across his plate, and he half-heartedly slaps her hand away. It's not like he cares, really, not like the blackened wafers bear any real resemblance to actual food, but the motion is familiar; he can picture them sitting at his parents' table, the television blaring somewhere in the background -

She's looking at him askance, her head tilted and what might be a smile playing on her lips, and if this didn't feel so much like family, he'd think she didn't know.

D'Argo mumbles a complaint about the food, as if they haven't been living off the same stuff for weeks, now -

(It was probably already stale when they bought it, and there's a thought he doesn't dwell on.)

- and Zhaan smiles, faintly; she looks like his mother.

"I did the best I could with what we have. If you think you could do better with these ingredients -"

(Raises the glass of water to his lips, pretends it isn't filtered through Moya's systems -)

"It tastes fine to me," Chiana says; the lie rolls easily off her tongue. "Kinda like gruba nuts."

"Doka bread," Aeryn says, and John closes his eyes; biscuits and gravy, Thanksgiving turkey and sweet potato -

"You've all gone fahrbot," Rygel says, and nobody's really paying attention. "My servants ate better than this."

(Maybe, but could they fly? He always wanted to see the galaxy.)

He offers to wash up, as if this is home; Aeryn's hand brushes his.

-

"This is not open for negotiation."

Not a negotiation; this is war, or maybe piracy. The scruffy band of heroes -

(Every man gets to be his own kind of hero; John's still waiting.)

- armed as if they're going into battle and not to pick up supplies for dinner, milk and bread at the corner store.

(Aeryn introduced him to lashak juice, once. It had tasted like rancid goat's milk, and he had smiled.)

But Chiana doesn't compromise. They're all going in the transport, as if there's real food down there somewhere they can afford and they'll each be the one to find it.

(The definition of insanity -)

The credits are too light in his pocket, and it's too late to blame Crais for this. He's beginning to think he won't die in a Peacekeeper jail cell.

-

Chiana's new trinket shines in the light when she thinks nobody is looking, and they needed more chakan oil. Zhaan offers to cook.

-

He still hasn't got the hang of this, washing his clothes in Moya's amnexus fluid. He remembers fabric softener, chemicals and detergent, his first year at college when the washing machines broke and he took to doing laundry in the shower. This is not like that, more like beating clothes against rocks and laying them out to dry, and his always come out stiff to the touch and smelling of saltwater.

Aeryn's kneeling next to him, and she has no more trouble with this than with anything else she's tried. Rygel had asked her, once, to turn down his bedsheets, and John's hand had grazed her hip as she reached for her pulse pistol -

(The leather is tight against her skin; he won't ever ask her to do laundry.)

Rygel's muttering something about a stained robe, Stark and sartia oil; John wonders what silk sheets would look like against Aeryn's skin. She turns her head, and he's sure her expression matches his; she raises an eyebrow, and he thinks of a place that was almost Earth.

(He can't picture her in bed on Sundays, sports section and crossword puzzles, but he knows what she looks like in the rain.)

The amnexus fluid splashes against his elbow, and a stray lock of hair falls down over her cheek -

(He thinks she'd like coffee; dark and bitter, hot and sweet and strong. He's starting to forget the taste of chocolate.)

He remembers the taste of her skin, hope and desperation; he was never really home.

Later, he remembers more.

-

He eats the soup standing up, hot water and dried meat. Nobody reaches across the table to share, and they're past the point of complaining as if something better exists. Aeryn leans against the wall, her back to them, glances over her shoulder to catch his eye -

(In another life, he'd have cooked her breakfast.)

D'Argo's too tall for the table, and his knees knock against the underside -

They're past pretending, too, that this is anything it's not.

(Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space.)

The conversation is stilted, awkward; once, Chiana had laughed so hard she fell off the upended store-all she's using as a chair.

(I could knock you off your feet.)

-

"There's got to be some place -"

But there isn't, really, and he doesn't even sound like he believes it. This far out, the only planets they've come across aren't safe for trade; he thinks they'll chance it, anyway, when food gets scarce enough.

(At least he has Winona.)

Pilot fixes him with what might be a glare, and he shrugs, kind of; he's pretty sure he used to be able to think straight.

"Moya can attempt to starburst -"

He wants to tell Pilot to forget about it; it's not like they have much left to trade, anyway.

(He'll be dead before he sells his module.)

He rests his head on the console, and prepares to jump.

-

Moya isn't dark at night. It used to bother him, he thinks, but -

(Where the wild things are.)

- now it's kind of comforting, disorienting; he almost doesn't notice he's losing sleep. He thinks about going to her room, but his feet take him to control, instead. He's not surprised to find he isn't the first one there.

"Stealing food, spanky?" Rygel almost jumps, and John laughs, the sound echoing high and brittle off the walls.

(This living ship.)

"I was preparing a meal," Rygel says, adjusting the braid of his robe; John shrugs, like it was a joke anyway. He isn't hungry.

(He's always hungry; he just doesn't notice it any more.)

"Is it still darkcycle?" Zhaan's bluer than usual in the doorway, and she doesn't quite make eye contact -

(Go back to sleep.)

"I was preparing a meal," Rygel says again, like a mantra, so low John almost doesn't hear. None of them mention that what he's eating doesn't really qualify as food.

He leans back against the wall, closes his eyes; he feels Zhaan's touch, light on his arm, pretends -

(Nothing to see here.)

-

"This one is mine." D'Argo's growl should be forceful, dangerous, but it comes out as petulant; Chiana laughs, and takes the wafer anyway.

(The sound grates across his skin.)

Zhaan looks like she's about to step in - children, play nice - but after a minute, her eyes unfocus, and John wonders if she's still seeing them.

"When I was Dominar -"

Rygel is easy enough to drown out. John's heard it all before, anyway; it's all repetition, now. His eyes scan over to Aeryn, instead. She stiffens a little, as if she can feel his gaze, and doesn't look up.

"- always the perfect temperature, and now -"

"Do you need -"

"- give it back!"

"- amusement, once -"

He doesn't put his hands over his ears, but he closes his eyes; he can feel Aeryn looking at him, and he doesn't open them.

(The voices in my head -)

"D'Argo, really, I don't think -"

He reaches out, and she isn't there -

(He's forgotten the way the leaves change in October.)

He wonders how quiet it is, out in space.

(- giving me nightmares.)

-

Something's broken on the ship, which comes as a surprise to no-one. It takes two days of crawling through every level before Pilot admits he doesn't know what's wrong. Moya, as ever, is silent.

(And the rest is -)

The air is thick, the humidity enveloping them, stifling communication. Aeryn closes her eyes in the corridor, and John takes her hand, leans into her; he rests his head on her forehead, and then his lips -

(Form prayers to broken -)

- and she breathes in. The condensation pools like sweat on her skin -

(Like rain, and she sticks out her tongue -)

- and he traces the lines of it, so close he can feel her breath. He remembers how she looked after Zhaan had taken her into the shower, remembers the living death -

(Come take us all.)

Rygel looks happy about the sudden change, and John doesn't think for a moment he isn't capable of this. Chiana looks studiously innocent, later, when Rygel's muttering something about a broken throne, and John thinks -

(You'll never get out of this metaphor in time.)

-

Nobody speaks as they distribute the last of the food. It isn't a sombre occasion, really, not a time for reflection; he thinks they've simply run out of words to say. Pilot's image flickers on the clamshell; they'll find a planet soon.

(It should be noted, here, that their last meal doesn't taste anything like freedom.)

He glances up at Aeryn across the table; she's picking crumbs off her plate. Nobody offers to clean the dishes.

-

Chiana will accuse Rygel, later, of hoarding food. He will accuse her of being sorry she didn't think of it first. They will both be right.

A pulse pistol will discharge; nobody will be hurt.

It will almost be a pity.

-

The only sound he can hear is his breathing, and hers. Her cries ring in his ears, meeting the silence of the ship; they might as well be the only two people alive.

(If they knew -)

His fingers trace her skin lightly, almost reverently, and then harder, as she shudders beneath him. His lips meet her neck, salt and sweat, and he almost whispers her name -

(In another life, everyone gets out alive.)

He closes his eyes against the not-quite-darkness; she rolls over, her limbs draped across his, and he chooses not to register the feeling in the pit of his stomach as hunger.

Neither of them sleep; when she shifts, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest, his breath catches, and he kisses her again. Later, she calls his name -

(He'd do it all again, and that thought should scare him more than it does.)

- and he breathes into her hair, almost black against the sheets.

(Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space.)

She Will Always Be A Broken Girl

2008-04-22T22:04:39Z

Title: She Will Always Be A Broken Girl
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing(s): Sam/Keller
Word Count: 703
Rating: PG

Summary: She's not really any better than this, except it's better than rusted underground chambers and rope swings over bottomless chasms.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 4:16 - Trio. Written for such_heights.

The mess is empty when they get there, quiet except for the occasional snippet of conversation from passing groups. Rodney smiles kind of nervously as she sits down, places the bottle on the table between them. It isn't exactly beer, and Rodney isn't buying, but she did promise Zelenka Rodney's next shipment of chocolate from the Daedalus, so maybe that's good enough.

Jennifer bites back a grimace as she takes the first swig, and hands the bottle to Rodney. He studies it as if it's some sort of alien specimen.

"It won't kill you," she says finally, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. The look he shoots her says otherwise, but he doesn't complain as he takes a drink; his expression says enough.

"You couldn't have found, I don't know, beer?"

She could have. More to the point, he could have, but he'd made no move to offer, and she thinks maybe he really is worse at this than she is.

But she shrugs instead of answering, and takes another drink. It isn't so bad, really; after the week she's had, the sudden tingling sensation in her extremities is actually kind of welcome.

They've run out of things to say by the time the bottle's made its fourth round, which is as much her fault as it is his. She's not really in the mood for tales of thrilling heroics - her own experiences have been bad enough - and she suspects he really isn't interested in the details of her residency. Neither of them are drunk enough to reminisce over the things they miss most about Earth, and they don't have the props for her to demonstrate more bar tricks. She's about to suggest they make up their own Atlantis drinking game when she sees Sam, hobbling slowly towards them from the doorway, and she tries not to think of it too much like salvation.

Rodney actually jumps up from his seat, almost sending his chair flying backwards, and Jennifer reaches clumsily for the bottle across the table. She'd laugh, except she's not quite sure what she's laughing at; Sam's got this smile on her face as she sits down, and Rodney's silence is more strained than ever.

"Got enough to share?" Sam asks, and Jennifer passes her the bottle; her fingertips graze lightly over Sam's skin, and it's a good thing they were already tingling.

"Are you sure you should be out of bed?" Rodney asks, his gaze falling to Sam's leg. She takes a drink, and shrugs.

"I've had worse. What do you think?"

Right. Sam's asking her. Because she's a doctor. "As long as you don't put too much strain on it, you should be fine."

Sam smiles, like that's good enough for her, and hands the bottle back.

-

"I could have made it, you know. I just needed a couple more tries -"

Jennifer's knee brushes Sam's, and she bites her lip.

"- not like it did us any good, anyway, the ground wasn't -"

Sam throws her head back as she takes a drink; Jennifer tries not to trace the line of her neck.

"- those kids. They never like me, you know, and it's not like -"

Sam's chair moves closer to hers; her hand falls, almost accidentally, low on Jennifer's thigh.

"- not half as bad as the time we were -"

Sam smiles sideways at Jennifer as their fingers clasp together, and Jennifer's not really any better at this, except it's better than rusted underground chambers and rope swings over bottomless chasms.

"- Telya had to - well, you'd know all about that, of course, except it was -"

The alcohol hardly burns any more, and Jennifer leans forward, her leg pressing against Sam's.

"If you wanted, I could -"

"You know, I think I should probably get some rest." Sam stands up, a little unsteady, and Jennifer's not sure if it's from the alcohol or the broken leg or -

"Did you -"

"Actually, it's been a long day. Rain check?"

She doesn't bother to watch Rodney's reaction; Sam shoots her a last look over her shoulder, and Jennifer's legs shake a little as she stands.

And it's not like she expected this, at all. But maybe she should check on Sam's leg, just in case.

Dominating The Lesser Races (This Is Not The Way Home Remix)

2008-04-22T12:28:51Z

Title: Dominating The Lesser Races (This Is Not The Way Home Remix)
Fandom: Farscape
Character(s): John
Word Count: 250
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Sometimes John wonders what his father would think, what other life he might have led than this.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 4:11 - Unrealized Reality. A remix of Dominating The Lesser Races by lady_smith. Written for remixthedrabble.

The girl in front of him collapses, her blood as alien as her skin, and

(You survived.)

(Don't I always?)

he can't help the twist in the pit of his stomach as he raises the gun again. She could have been

(Karen Shaw in the back of a minivan.)

(It was a four-by.)

someone he knew, but for her skin; grey beyond pale, lifeless.

There are others; a Hynerian, funny green creature not even remotely human, but something

(If you must address me, do so as Your Supreme Eminence.)

in his expression anyway, like he could almost believe it. A Delvian,

(I am also flora.)

savage and silent, and the Luxan

(You are my ally. I will not abandon you.)

warrior; fierce according to

(The radiant Aeryn Sun.)

Officer Sun, snarling like a rabid dog as he's put down. Sometimes - sometimes John wonders

(I can't be your kind of hero.)

what his father would think, what other life he might have led than this. Whether he could have taken Aeryn

(We never actually met.)

to Earth, to meet his family; shake off the uniform he wears

(Our little masquerade is over.)

and pretend, maybe, that he could have been anyone other than Commander John Crichton - Special Commando, Ikarian Company, Pleisar Regiment. That maybe he could have been John; in a world that isn't this, one where even the prisoners had names.

And sometimes, he accepts his due, salutes his commanding officer, and forgets to think of unrealised realities entirely.

I Need You Around (A Movie Script Ending Remix)

2008-04-22T07:55:36Z

Title: I Need You Around (A Movie Script Ending Remix)
Fandom: One Tree Hill
Pairing(s): Brooke/Peyton
Word Count: 212
Rating: PG-13

Summary: There's absolutely no reason she should be jealous.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 4:17 - It Gets Worse At Night. A remix of It Comes Down To I'm The One Always Around by sinandmisery. Written for remixthedrabble.

"Butterscotch or chocolate?"

Brooke pulls the cartons out of the freezer just as Peyton glances up, smiling. "Both."

"Excellent choice." Pausing to grab a couple of spoons, Brooke makes her way over to the couch, snuggles in beside Peyton. "So, what are we watching?"

"I don't know. Some comedy, I think. Lucas lent it to me."

Brooke tries not to frown at the mention of Lucas' name. They're over that, she tells herself. There's absolutely no reason she should be jealous.

Then Peyton grins at her, raises the spoon to Brooke's mouth, and she amends the last statement a little.

-

She hopes nobody asks her, later, what she thought of the film. Brooke honestly isn't sure if she could even say who'd been in it. Because Peyton's doing this thing, you see, tracing circles on Brooke's stomach, and Brooke doesn't think she'd notice if the apartment suddenly caught on fire.

Her breath hitches as Peyton's hand moves up, over her ribs, and Peyton glances up; her head is resting in the crook of Brooke's neck, and her lips brush, almost imperceptibly, across Brooke's skin.

And then it's not so imperceptible; Peyton's kissing the line of her jaw, and Brooke turns her head, leans down, and -

They needed to christen the couch, anyway.

Bright Red Star

2008-04-18T13:06:03Z

Title: Bright Red Star
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Josh/Donna
Word Count: 200
Rating: PG-13

Summary: "Did you know the Manhattan was created in honour of presidential candidate Samuel J. Tilden?"

Notes: Written for writing_game prompt "so quick bright things come to confusion, so we grow together like to a double cherry."

"Did you know the Manhattan was created in honour of presidential candidate Samuel J. Tilden?"

Josh is barely paying enough attention to nod, staring transfixed at the drop of whiskey that rolls down her wrist as she plucks the double cherry from her drink.

"You want half?" She raises the cherry to his lips, and he remembers to open his mouth only when she tilts her head, giving him an odd look. She takes the other half, her lips closing around the stem, and suddenly it's too hot in here, too bright; he can barely breathe.

"Josh?" She's staring at him, concerned, and he can't quite speak. He thinks, vaguely, that he may have swallowed the seed. "Are you okay?"

Dance with me, he wants to say, but nothing comes out. After a minute, he must look better, because Donna nods.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go rescue CJ. I think she's stuck talking to Senator Milford."

Stay, he tries, but it's no use; she's already halfway across the room. He watches as she touches CJ's arm, pretends to give her a message; her dress, the colour of cherries, shimmers under the light.

He leans back, and orders a drink.

And I Think The Dress Looks Nice On You

2008-04-18T12:46:57Z

Title: And I Think The Dress Looks Nice On You
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Josh/Donna
Word Count: 100
Rating: PG-13

Summary: "You look like a doily."

Notes: Written for writing_game prompt "crochet."

"You look like a doily."

"Josh!" She spins around quickly, trying in vain to cover herself up; Josh leans in the doorway, apparently oblivious to her distress. "You're not supposed to see me like this."

"Like a doily?" he asks, and she fixes him with a glare.

"In -" She gestures down at the dress. "This."

"Why not?"

"It's bad luck."

"To see you in a dress?"

"To see me in a wedding dress."

"Well, then, maybe we should get you out of it."

"Josh!" But he's already moving forward, intent, and she closes her eyes.

This definitely isn't the dress.

Exit Music (The Last Train From Mandyville)

2008-04-13T21:22:52Z

Title: Exit Music (The Last Train From Mandyville)
Fandom: The West Wing
Character(s): Ensemble
Word Count: 1867
Rating: PG

Summary: Some dance to remember, some dance to forget. (You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.)

Notes: Crack!fic. Spoilers up to episode 6:17 - A Good Day.

1. The Leaving Song (Mandy)

"You're leaving?"

"What gave you that impression?"

Josh looks around for a minute, hands in his pockets. "All your stuff's packed up."

"You're a brilliant political mind, did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Constantly." But she isn't looking at him, and he thinks his charm is probably wasted. "Seriously, you're leaving?"

"Yes, I'm leaving."

"Did you think you might want to, you know, tell anyone before you go?"

"I already handed Leo my resignation."

"Leo?" He makes an effort to calm his voice. "We already had this conversation. Several times. You answer to me -"

"I'm leaving, Josh, not trying to change national policy. I went to Leo."

"Just like that?"

"Yes."

"Right. Because I can see how working in the White House might be a step down for you. I mean, obviously you'd rather work somewhere else."

"There are plenty of other jobs, Josh."

"You already have a job."

"I'm young," she says, turning to face him. "I'm cute, and I have a Ph.D. Somehow, I think I'll be able to find another job. One that doesn't require eighty hour work weeks and a completely nonexistent social life."

"So you're just going to leave."

"Josh." She takes a breath, squares her shoulders. "You guys aren't freshmen any more. You don't need someone to stand here and tell you what to do. It's time to figure that out on your own."

-

"Josh."

"Yeah." He looks up; had he been sleeping?

"I said, what do you want to do about -"

"Where's Mandy?" The name seems unfamiliar on his lips, and he blinks a couple of times.

"Who?"

"Mandy." He's pretty sure that was her name. "She used to work here. Something about media -"

Sam looks confused. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

Right. No, not right. Something's definitely not right here. "I swear, she used to -"

"Josh. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." Maybe. He thinks so.

"Do you want me to get Donna -"

"No, I'm fine. It's just - never mind. What were you talking about?"

"The meeting with Senator Richardson. Do you think -"

-

2. Her Disappearing Theme (Kathy)

"So. Big day tomorrow."

Kathy glances up from her desk, and shrugs. "I guess."

"You start your new job."

"Yes."

"Are you excited?"

"To be getting away from you, you mean?" But she's smiling, and Sam can't help grinning back.

"Your farewell's at nine?"

"If you can make it. If you can't, I'd understand -"

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss it."

"Okay."

A beat. "I'm going to miss you, you know."

"Yeah, right. You probably won't even remember -"

-

"That's an awful lot of paperwork you've got there."

Sam looks up to see CJ, then back at his desk. "Yeah. It just seems to keep piling up."

"Didn't you used to have an assistant to do that sort of thing for you?"

An image flashes in his mind; a girl with dark hair, but he can't quite make out her face. "An assistant?"

"Yeah. You know. Someone to take phone calls, type up memos -"

Did he? It seems like - "I have Bonnie and Ginger."

"There was no-one else?"

"Who else could there have been?"

"Right. Anyway, I just thought I'd give you a heads up -"

-

3. Who Sold Her Out (Ainsley)

"So you're not taking the job?"

Ainsley turns to face him, and Sam can't quite read her expression. "No, Sam. I'm not taking the job."

"Did you see the pay differentials?"

"I did see the pay differentials."

"And?"

"I'm still not taking the job."

Oh. "Deputy White House Counsel's quite a title bump -"

"And that's supposed to convince me? Because I'm a blonde Republican girl, so I must be in it for the glory and self-promotion. I mean, why else would I be working in this White House?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I didn't earn the promotion, Sam."

"So you're just going to leave? You could stay on as an associate -"

"And live out the rest of my days in the steam pipe trunk distribution venue? Just hope that someone comes to get me when the administration's over? I believe, Sam, I do believe, that this is for the best."

"Where are you going to go?"

She shrugs noncommittally. "I've heard the weather's nice in Miami."

"Ainsley."

"Sam, honestly, I haven't thought that far ahead. I can get a job in the private sector. I just know that my time here is up."

-

"Time's up."

"What?" Toby's standing over him, and Sam sits back. "What are you talking about?"

"The speech, Sam. You know, the one we're supposed to be working on right now? I'm just going to go with what we already have."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever." He really isn't sure he knows what speech Toby's referring to.

But Toby has this look on his face, and he sets down the papers in his hand. "Not that I especially care where you've been for the past half hour, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I just miss -" Ainsley. It's okay to say her name. "Never mind. I'm sure the speech is fine."

-

4. Better Get A Lawyer (Tribbey)

"Is this about Ainsley Hayes?"

"What?" Tribbey looks genuinely surprised at that, and he shakes his head. "No, Leo, this isn't about some Associate White House Counsel. However Republican she may be."

"Okay."

"Do you know how many important cases I've been involved in since I became White House counsel? None."

"I'm sure -"

"None, Leo. Not a one. Now, while I appreciate that I serve at the pleasure of the president -"

"Do you?"

"I'm done, Leo. I'll give you a list of names."

-

Oliver Babish doesn't frighten him. Oversized hammer aside, there's not a cricket bat to be seen.

"Leo. Come in."

"How are you settling in?" he asks as he takes a seat. Babish doesn't look up.

"We should start with -"

"I like what you've done with the place."

"I'm ever so pleased to hear it. Now -"

"Do you still keep in touch with Lionel Tribbey?"

Babish does look up at that, and there's something in his expression Leo can't quite identify. "We don't talk about that."

"I just wanted to know if -"

"And I said we don't talk about it. Now, when did you learn about the president's M.S.?"

-

5. You Can't Be Missed If You Never Go Away (Danny)

"You're going to miss me."

"I'm not going to miss you," CJ says, but she's smiling.

"Sure you are. Without me here, who are you going to have these conversations with?"

"Without you here, I might actually get some work done."

"Nah, you're definitely going to miss me. Gail's going to miss me, too."

"Gail's going to miss you?"

"Sure."

"Gail's a goldfish."

"Doesn't matter. I can tell these things."

"You can tell that Gail's going to miss you?"

"Yeah. That, too."

"Danny -"

"Just admit it. You're going to miss me."

"I'm not going to miss you."

-

"Katie."

"CJ, when is the president going to announce -"

"The president will announce the bill when the bill's ready to be announced. Steve."

"When does the president get back to the White House?"

"He's scheduled to land at four o'clock, which means he should probably be back some time before midnight. Chris."

But there's one seat she doesn't look at, one seat she can't bring herself to call on. If Danny were here, she'd kick his ass.

Damn him. She misses him.

-

6. The Leaving Song (Part Two) (Mandy)

"You really think you're going to find a better job."

"Josh -"

"You already got a job." It's almost an accusation.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"North Carolina," she says, and he rolls his eyes.

"Mandy -"

"I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"Is it in Washington?"

"Josh, I'm really not allowed to talk about it."

"You're not allowed to -"

-

"Sam, I swear. She had dark hair -"

"Josh?"

"I'm not making it up. She -"

"I'm going to get Donna."

"No, wait. Never mind. I'll deal with Richardson."

-

7. You're A Beautiful Loser (Sam)

It isn't with anything like shock that he watches the results scroll across the screen; he always knew how this was going to end.

And really, the numbers are much better than anyone thought they'd be. If he ever decides to run for public office again, he won't be a complete laughing stock.

Still, he doesn't think that day is going to come any time soon.

Maybe he'll go back to the private sector.

-

"Did anyone catch the election in the California 47th?"

Nobody looks up, and Josh wonders if he spoke aloud.

"Hey. Did anyone -"

"What election in the California 47th?" Toby. So people really can hear him, after all.

"The special election."

"There was a special election?"

"Yeah. After Horton Wilde -" Sam. That's right. "Sam's election."

"Why would we be watching that?" CJ asks, and he has to resist the temptation to smack his hand against his forehead.

"Why would we - listen, does anyone know -"

"Josh." She's closer, now, her voice lowered in a conspiratorial whisper. "We really shouldn't talk about it here."

"Why the hell not?"

She looks stricken, and he's not quite sure she even knows. "Just - try not to mention it, okay?"

-

8. We Are Nowhere And It's Now (Cliff)

It's been three weeks, and the office still doesn't feel like his office. He hasn't bothered putting anything up on the walls; his stay is temporary here, and he knows it.

He doesn't even have a nameplate for his desk. Cliff Calley, Deputy Chief of Staff has a nice ring to it, he thinks, and it's a little sad to know he won't even have a reminder of it when his time here is up.

Not that it really matters that he's here now. Josh Lyman had walked into the office as if he never even left, making Cliff feel like a visitor in what should have been his own space.

He wonders if maybe he's already been forgotten.

He wouldn't be surprised.

-

Senior staff meetings seem a lot smaller than they used to. Sometimes, it feels like it's just her, Toby, and the president, in here alone.

"So you'll float the new initiative with some of our people?"

"Yeah. I'm on it." If she ever gets time.

Toby follows her back out to her office, and she's already been given three impossibly scheduled meetings by Margaret by the time he speaks.

"Didn't you used to have someone you could staff these things out to?"

She barely hears him as she scans down the notes for today's schedule. His words, when they register, ring a bell somewhere in the back of her mind.

You know, she's almost sure she did.

-

9. Last Stop: This Town (Danny)

The landscape is blurred as he steps out, indistinct faces staring back at him. They're expectant, almost hopeful, and Danny suppresses the feeling that he could just stay here and -

"How did you get back?"

He's almost certain somebody speaks; he doesn't know their name.

And then it comes back to him. He doesn't belong here.

"This guy's walking down the street when he falls in a hole."

I've been down here before, and I know the way out.

Staccato

2008-04-10T19:58:43Z

Title: Staccato
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Amy/Donna
Word Count: 475
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Amy's fingers tap out a harsh rhythm on the wood.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 4:8 - Process Stories.

Donna's halfway through her fourth glass of champagne when Amy sidles up next to her at the makeshift bar, and she glances up slowly, noticing the way Amy's fingers tap out a harsh rhythm on the wood.

"Nice party," Amy says, and her voice is almost bored, if you don't know her. Donna just nods, her hand curling around the stem of her glass to keep from placing it over Amy's, stopping the beat that seems to echo in her spine.

"We have our moments," but she's smiling a little more than is strictly necessary; this is a good night, and maybe the alcohol has gone to her head a little, because when Amy stops suddenly, turns, her hand brushing against Donna's thigh, she could swear she almost shivers.

Amy doesn't say anything, just smiles knowingly, and when her hand reaches out again, her fingers almost curling around Donna's, Donna is sure it's not an accident.

And then it's definitely gone to her head, because now it's her who's reaching out, her skin sliding over Amy's, pinkies twisting together. Neither of them lets go as someone Donna doesn't recognise approaches them, talks inanely about elections and polls and next term's strategies; when he's gone, their hands are clasped together, and Donna doesn't hesitate as Amy pulls her away, leading her out through the crowd towards the relative quiet of the bullpen.

It doesn't escape her that they're in Josh's office as the door closes behind them; she glances up, sees Amy's smile, and she knows it isn't a coincidence, either. A few minutes later, she's pressed up against Josh's desk, Amy's already indecent dress sliding up over bare skin, and she twists a lock of dark hair around her fingers, almost forgetting to breathe as Amy kisses her. They both taste like alcohol, tangy and sharp, and her breath catches in her throat as Amy's fingers slide up, over her waist, then under the fabric of her bra, and she doesn't even have time to think, I have to work here tomorrow.

"I can see why Josh hired you," Amy says, after; her fingers are tracing circles on Donna's thigh, and it doesn't sound like a barb.

"If I did that for Josh, he'd have to give me a raise."

Amy smiles; in agreement, maybe, or willing disbelief. "Maybe I should poach you."

Maybe you should keep doing that, Donna thinks, but doesn't say; instead, she smiles back, and she's almost surprised when Amy leans over, brushing a nearly chaste kiss across her lips.

"Or maybe I should just visit more often."

That, Donna thinks, is an excellent idea. Outside, she can hear the party still going on, but it fades away as Amy kisses her again, not at all chastely, and her fingers slide upwards.

"I'm sure we can find some reason for that."

Dressed In Cobras

2008-04-09T21:27:58Z

Title: Dressed In Cobras
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Amy/Donna
Word Count: 400
Rating: PG-13

Summary: "I thought I saw a snake."

Notes: Written for slashthedrabble prompt "snake."

"Is that - aah!" Startled by her own shriek, Donna jumps closer to Amy; her hand brushes Amy's hip, and suddenly her nerves are tingling for a completely different reason.

"What?" Amy's looking around; only half interested, Donna thinks, in seeing whatever it was that made her scream, the other half still amused as she catalogues Donna's reaction.

"There was - I thought I saw a snake." She bites her lip, aware that it sounds sillier out loud than it had in her head a moment ago. Amy doesn't seem to mind.

"It's the White House gardens," she says instead, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "I don't think they allow snakes in here."

A sudden image of the Secret Service shooting at reptilian threats makes Donna glad she's still biting her lip. Amy takes her hand, pulling her closer behind the bushes, and the image fades.

"You don't think -"

But then Amy's lips are on hers, soft and silencing, and Donna doesn't think anything; she raises her free hand, slides it around Amy's neck, and closes her eyes against the late morning sunlight. She can feel every inch of Amy's body pressed against hers, Amy's hands sliding insistently under the fabric of her shirt, and she barely notices the way they sort of tumble sideways, first falling against the bushes, and then landing, finally, in a heap on the grass. Amy's murmuring something in her ear, and Donna thinks it might be no snakes, but it's hard to make out, and she doesn't really care. She might care, she thinks, if the Secret Service were to come across them like this, but barring that, all she really cares about is Amy's hands, Amy's lips, the way she arches up -

-

She's sitting at her desk, later, when Josh plucks something out of her hair, and he hands her the leaf with raised eyebrows. She doesn't blush, not even as she thinks of Amy, but she doesn't quite meet his eyes, either.

"Have fun at lunch?" he asks, and he doesn't know, can't know; she shrugs noncommittally, but she can feel the smile that threatens to surface.

"I did." And he doesn't ask about Amy's sudden back flip on 437 as she hands him the memo, doesn't question the new line item that's been added, but she doesn't tell him where she's going out to dinner tonight, just in case.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

2008-04-05T08:09:41Z

Title: Something Borrowed, Something Blue
Fandom: Gilmore Girls
Pairing(s): Luke/Lorelai
Word Count: 1095
Rating: PG-13

Summary: "I hear west Nantucket is nice this time of year."

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 7:22 - Bon Voyage. Written for larah33 for femme_fic.

The diner is still open when she gets back; Miss Patty's the first to comfort her, if that's what this is, pulling Lorelai tight, and okay, this must be what it feels like to be crushed to death.

"Coffee?" -

and god, yes, and she doesn't even have to answer; she burns her tongue a little on the first sip, and she barely notices.

He's watching her when she glances up, refills her cup, and she breathes in.

-

"You have to go home some time."

She's not sure how long they've been alone; he turns the lock on the door, flips the sign -

and maybe this wasn't the world's best idea, because last night he kissed her, and she raises the empty cup to her lips.

"You still have danishes," and that's probably the worst segue ever, but he passes one over, his hand brushing hers -

His lips meet hers, his hand on her waist, and the pastry lies on the counter, forgotten.

"What are we doing?" She isn't sure she cares, but someone should probably ask, and he smiles, really smiles, and god, she's missed him -

-

She stumbles a little on the stairs, because it's dark, her skirt bunched up above her knees, and they're suddenly unfamiliar -

His bed still creaks in the middle, and she cries out.

-

She catches the phone on the fourth ring, keys dumped unceremoniously on the table.

"Hello?" -

She notices the blinking light on the machine at the same time she hears Rory's voice.

"Hey. I tried to call you last night."

"Oh?" and then, "Oh. Yeah. I let the machine get it. We've been getting these telemarketers - you know how it is, they try to sell you a set of steak knives and you end up buying a vacation home in west Nantucket, only you have to share it with nine other people, and you know how I feel about sharing."

"Sharing is bad," Rory agrees solemnly. "But I hear west Nantucket is nice this time of year."

She's unbuttoning her skirt as they segue from vacation homes to farmers named Ted to Rory's first day, and she almost doesn't catch -

"So, how's Luke?"

The phone slips out of purchase, slams back against her ear. "Luke?"

"You know. Backwards baseball cap, works in a diner -"

"Oh, that Luke."

"In the diner yesterday, there was definite looking."

"There was no looking."

"There was looking. Maybe even hovering."

"There was no hovering." Except - "Luke is good. Luke is Luke."

"He does possess a distinct Luke-ness that other people lack. In fact, I'd say it's one of his defining characteristics."

Well, at least they're agreed. And there's no more mention of hovering.

-

"Coffee."

It's in front of her almost before she reaches the counter, and she glances up -

He's smirking. And she really wishes she didn't find it so appealing.

"So -"

and he leans in, brushes past her; she bites her lip. "I have to -"

"I'll see you later?"

She doesn't have to ask what time he closes.

-

"So, you and Luke."

It's been four days. The gossip mill must be running slow.

"Babette -"

"I always knew you kids would work it out. I was just saying to Morey the other day, wasn't I?"

A noncommittal grunt, and she has enough time to take a step away. "It's really not -"

"Oh, don't worry about me, sweetheart. I'll be rooting for you."

That's going to stay with her.

-

There are benefits to the entire town knowing every detail of your personal relationship.

(She keeps telling herself.)

She doesn't have to wait in line for coffee, ever - that's definitely a plus. And she doesn't have to pretend not to be keeping a secret, because she's really bad at that. Obviously.

And she doesn't have to worry about a surprise repeat showing of her in a flannel shirt. She keeps a change of clothing upstairs, just in case.

But there are the smug glances to contend with, the ones that say I always knew you'd work it out. Which is more than she knew.

She pretends it was a forgone conclusion. Really, she's trying not to repeat the same mistakes.

Taylor gets shouted down before he can open his mouth at the town meeting, and Luke uses the charts to start a bonfire at the next festival.

-

She misses Rory. Lorelai doesn't even get to break the news when she calls; so, you and Luke, and she could swear Stars Hollow has its own national advertising service.

"I'm happy for you," and she lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

-

Nobody interrupts them when he cooks an intimate dinner for two; it's kind of anticlimactic.

-

It's a vacation. She's not really sure if they've been together two months or two years, but a vacation seems appropriate. It takes two minutes to clear the time off with Sookie, another twenty to fend off questions about the destination, wardrobe, and purpose -

(Do you think he'll ask? and she really doesn't want to answer.)

It takes an effort not to search his luggage for incriminating little black boxes, and she wishes it didn't feel like the entire town had come to see them off.

But the car ride is soothing (her music, and he smiles lazily as she slides the tape in), and he lets her sleep -

"You're not driving my truck again," when she offers, and that's fine with her -

-

Really, Rory meeting them at the hotel should have been her second clue.

Maryland should have been her first.

-

"My parents are going to kill me."

She wishes she'd brought something nicer. A little warning wouldn't have gone astray.

"Sookie's going to kill me."

She doesn't even have a dress. A white blouse and her camel skirt will have to do.

"The entire town is going to kill you."

Rory lends her a bracelet. Blue; there's nothing wrong with multitasking.

"April's going to kill you."

She's had the blouse for a few years. The shoes are new.

His hand brushes the small of her back, and he leans in for a kiss -

"We'll do it again, in a church."

She shouldn't have brought it up.

She'll have been engaged twice, married three times. One of them has got to stick, right?

He has a tux. It isn't fair.

She isn't taking his name.

"You were in on this?" to Rory, who looks infuriatingly smug.

At least it isn't a June wedding.

-

They need a honeymoon spot; she's not due back for another week.

"I hear west Nantucket is nice this time of year."

Losing My Religion

2008-04-01T17:52:49Z

Title: Losing My Religion
Fandom: The West Wing
Character(s): Ensemble
Word Count: 1000
Rating: PG-13

Summary: The Ten Commandments, as observed by West Wing staffers.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 7:18 - Requiem. References various canon and non-canon pairings, none explicit. Written for talumin, who gave me the prompt.

1. I am the Lord your God. Do not have any other gods before me.

"As far as you're concerned, I might as well be God. Now, you can get on board, or we can do this thing without you, and believe me, we will." He stands, trying not to look too pleased with himself; fixes them with one last stare. "You've got until the end of the day."

He's triumphant as the door shuts behind him, Sam following a moment later. "That was certainly -"

"I kicked their asses."

"He was very impressive," Sam tells Donna; she smiles indulgently.

"I'm sure he was."

"I was their God."

"Your fly is undone."

He was this close.

-

2. You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.

"It's cursed."

Josh follows CJ's gaze, trying to see what she sees. "It's a cat."

"It's a cursed cat."

"CJ -"

"No, I'm telling you. First, I get jumped on about that whole national parks thing, and then some moron forgets to say "off the record" when he's -"

"Well -"

"I was asked what his favourite national parks were. I didn't expect three different articles describing the President as having dissed -"

"CJ."

"It's a false idol. I'm being punished."

"Because you constructed a false idol?"

"I'm just going to break it. Or is that tempting fate?"

"CJ."

"What?"

"It's just a cat."

-

3. You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God, for the Lord will not acquit anyone who misuses his name.

Josh is almost killed at Rosslyn, and Donna buys a mezuzah. She isn't sure it works if you don't believe in it, but she'll take all the help she can get.

When her car blows up in Gaza, he's on the first plane. He doesn't stop to pray.

-

Zoey Bartlet is kidnapped, and an entire nation holds vigil.

-

When Dolores Landingham is killed at 18th and Potomac, Josiah Bartlet calls God a feckless thug.

(Cruciatus in crucem. Eas in crucem.)

Now, the weight of the coffin on his shoulders, he doesn't speak.

(He sent you a priest -)

(Eas in crucem.)

-

4. Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.

"Josh."

He wonders, sometimes, how she can stretch four letters into two or three syllables. It seems to be an innately girl thing; he isn't sure male vocal cords are even capable of it.

"Donna, it's just for a couple of hours."

"It's Sunday. It's the Sabbath. Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Jewish Sabbath is on Saturday."

"You worked yesterday, too."

"I'm not observant."

"I'm not Jewish."

"You're Jewish by proxy." Which isn't even remotely true, but it seems to placate her a little. "When we're done, I'll take you shopping."

"You always say that."

"I promise."

"You're going to Hell."

-

5. Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.

"Raise you five."

Josh is slumped forward, cards in hand, when Donna enters. Toby looks up briefly, then goes back to examining the table.

"Are you guys all right?" It's the wrong question, maybe, but the only one she can ask.

"Yeah. CJ was here before, but she left."

Probably for the best. Josh shifts, and Donna tries to smile. "My dad said you called him today."

"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair.

"That was really sweet."

He says nothing. Toby calls the bet, flips his cards.

"Well, I should go." A pause, and then - "Happy father's day."

-

6. You shall not murder.

"Leo."

"Yeah. Just a sec."

"Leo."

"Yeah. What's up?"

"I think Sam and Josh are hiding a body in their office."

"Wait - what? Whose office?"

"One of their offices. A body."

"Like, a dead guy?"

Margaret leans in, whispers conspiratorially. "I think they murdered somebody."

And -

"It's okay, I won't tell anyone."

-

"You. Office. Now."

Sam and Josh follow him in; Leo shuts the door behind them. "Just so we're clear - are you guys hiding a body?" At their silence, he nods. "Margaret thinks you killed somebody."

"It's a dummy. For the thing."

"Yeah."

And -

"Let's not tell Margaret, okay?"

-

7. You shall not commit adultery.

"Adultery, Donna."

She looks startled for a minute, and then apparently writes it off as just another Josh Lyman opener. "Good morning to you, too."

He blocks her path as she veers towards the bullpen, leans against the wall in front of her. "It's a mortal sin."

"Adultery?"

"Yeah."

He holds her gaze for a moment, until something visibly clicks. "What, against you?"

"Yeah."

"You're not my husband."

"Yeah, but I'm your man."

She smiles. "You are my man."

"Well?" He doesn't say anything else; just raises his eyebrows, and she shrugs.

"Well, then, I guess he's got to go."

-

8. You shall not steal.

"So, what did you think of the speech?"

"I thought it was good."

"Well -"

"I thought it was good when I wrote exactly the same thing three years ago, and it certainly hasn't lost its edge since then. Except for, you know, the whole plagiarism thing, but I'm sure us reputable writers don't let little things like that stop us when -"

"Now, hang on."

Toby raises an eyebrow.

"First of all, it's not exactly -"

"It's pretty damn close."

"And second of all, a good writer -"

"Borrows, steals outright, yadda yadda yadda. Change it."

"Toby -"

"Sam."

A beat. "I'm changing it."

-

9. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour.

"All right, which one of you -"

No sooner has the door shut behind her than Josh and Sam are pointing at one another, their expressions carefully blank.

"Josh."

"It was Sam."

"It was not me."

"Josh, give me my underwear."

"Donna, it wasn't me."

And then she drops the anger, bites her lip, steps forward. "Then I guess -"

"No, wait, it was me."

"Was not." And Josh pulls the underwear from his pocket, dangling them from his fingers before letting them drop. "So, what's my punishment?"

She lets her gaze rest on each of them, briefly, before backing away.

"Gotcha."

-

10. You shall not covet your neighbour’s house; you shall not covet your neighbour’s wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbour.

"I coveted a neighbour's wife once." He's not sure they're talking about this again, but Sam doesn't look surprised, so he figures he's good. "Well, more a girlfriend, really. And not so much a neighbour as a roommate -"

"Amy?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"You?"

"Sort of. I had a crush on my best friend's sister, once."

"Not really the same thing."

"No."

"Unless -"

"Will?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

There's a moment of silence. "Is there some kind of commandment against that?"

"Actually, I think it's pretty much standard in the Bible."

"Weird."

"Yeah."

"So, then, these people probably shouldn't be making our laws?"

"Yeah."

Sleep Now In The Fire

2008-04-01T14:27:33Z

Title: Sleep Now In The Fire
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing(s): John/Teyla
Word Count: 100
Rating: PG

Summary: She's radiant when he sees her.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 4:8 - The Seer.

She's radiant when he sees her, standing atop the spoils of battle. The rest is rubble at her feet; detritus, discarded, forgotten for the moment.

A calm he would have said was impossible just an hour ago surrounds her; surrounds them all, really, but he knows - she did this, and she did this alone.

"How -" But he's speechless, otherwise; she is a goddess, triumphant, and he knows he could never do what she has done. "He's -"

"Asleep, yes."

"And Ronon?" Who's now slumped in the corner; knocked unconscious, he'd guess.

"He was in the way."

"Right."

A goddess, and his.

Internal Delegation

2008-03-29T07:20:56Z

Title: Internal Delegation
Fandom: The West Wing
Character(s): Josh, Donna
Word Count: 629
Rating: G

Summary: "I'm going to draw a chart for her, with lines and arrows, clearly indicating that she answers to me, and she answers to Toby."

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 1:2 - Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc.

"She answers to me, and she answers to Toby."

"Who does?" Donna's just coming into the bullpen when Josh arrives, and she glances up, following close behind him. He pauses when they reach her desk, leaning over her chair, and she slides into it.

"I need you to make up some instructional charts. She answers to me, and she answers to Toby."

"Okay." She's already reaching for a sheet of paper, and Josh slides it away.

"No. It has to be bigger. Really, really big."

She frowns for a second, looks over her shoulder at him. "I could get some butcher paper."

"Good. That's good. Bonnie!" He straightens, steps out into the corridor. "I need you to get me some butcher paper."

"Sure."

He fidgets with his tie, and Donna looks up expectantly.

"Markers! We need markers. Lots of colours."

"In your desk drawer," she says, and her gaze follows him into his office.

"Donna!"

"Second drawer!" she calls back; a minute later, he reappears, markers in hand, and grabs the paper from Bonnie as she returns.

"Okay." He's leaning over her again, and his tie brushes the back of her neck. "This is what we need. We need it to be really, really big. She answers to me, and she answers to Toby."

"Who answers to you and Toby?" She takes the marker he hands to her, pulling the cap off with her teeth.

"Mandy."

"Mandy?" She swivels in he chair, and Josh steps back as it hits his chest. "Your ex-girlfriend Mandy?"

"If you know another Mandy we can hire, I'm all for it."

She shrugs as she turns back around, and he moves closer. "What's her job?"

"Media consultant." She can hear the resignation in his voice, and can't help smiling a little.

"Okay."

"She answers to me, and she answers to Toby."

Donna draws a neat box, sketches in Josh's name.

"We need lines and arrow, clearly indicating that -"

"She answers to you, and she answers to Toby."

"Right." She's just finished Toby's box when Josh leans forward, adding Mandy's in a different colour below. His handwriting is neat, contrasting with her own scrawl, but she frowns; his box is a mess.

"Okay, now we need some arrows. Clearly indicating -"

"I got it."

"It needs to be clear."

"It'll be clear."

She adds a line from his name to Mandy's, and Josh immediately presses closer, going over it for emphasis. When he's done, she shakes her head, glances back.

"We'll need to redo it."

"What? Why?"

"Our boxes are different."

"Donna -"

"This one's a mess. Do you want her to get confused?"

That gives him a moment's pause, and eventually he nods. "No, you're right. That's good. Clear is good."

"I can get some more paper!" She's already yelling as he moves towards his office, grabs his coat.

"Great."

"Where are you going?"

He shrugs on his coat, surveys the chart again. "I need to go offer her the job."

"Josh!"

"What?" He pauses, his coat halfway on.

"What if she doesn't take it? We'll have wasted two perfectly good sheets of paper, not to mention my extremely valuable time."

He smiles at that, but doesn't dispute her claim. "She'll take it. She knows it'll drive me crazy, and she's not going to pass up that opportunity. Plus, I just put her out of a job."

"So this is all your fault." She's already out of her chair, and he shakes his head.

"Just make sure it's done by the time I get back. And make it clear -"

"She answers to you, and she answers to Toby."

"Right." He starts off down the hallway, pauses, turns back. "And -"

"I'll make sure it's clear." She watches him leave, breathes out. "She'd better take the job!"

I Saved The World Today (Studies In Probability)

2008-03-25T06:51:02Z

Title: I Saved The World Today (Studies In Probability)
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Josh/Donna
Word Count: 443
Rating: PG

Summary: There's a list, somewhere in the White House, of possible scenarios for the apocalypse.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 6:9 - Impact Winter.

There's a list, somewhere in the White House, of possible scenarios for the apocalypse. It probably has a name, the apocalyptogram, or the memo at the end of the world. Josh has been reliably informed that there's a ranking system in place (Margaret's); a list of Things Most Likely To Kill Us, in order of probability.

Donna leaving the West Wing probably isn't on the list. In retrospect, that may have been an oversight.

-

"Good news," he says, and it is good news, especially if you were expecting bad news. Which he maybe should have been; he isn't sure where a giant asteroid hitting Earth is on Margaret's list, but he'd bet it's somewhere near the top. And if the apocalypse ever comes, it will probably be when the President and most of the senior staff are out of the country, when he isn't on the list of names for the bunker but the UPS guy is. It's times like these he wishes he'd kept the card.

But now -

He'd look out across the bullpen, grin at Donna. He'd tell her, see, nothing to worry about, and she'd come back at him with some statistic about the actual probability of a meteor impact he really doesn't need to know right now; he'd lean across the desk and tell her, only pretending to be joking, that he'd take care of her, bunker or no bunker, make some crack about having to repopulate the earth -

Or maybe not, because things have been a little off balance lately, ever since he flew halfway across the world to see the woman he probably loves only to find out he'd been beaten to the punch by some IRA photojournalist hack, and really, where does she meet these guys? (Okay, don't answer that.) And then he'd come back, because he was trying to save the world, okay? - and maybe because Donna's mom kept giving him these looks; the ones all parents give, when are you going to have kids, when are you going to get married, when are you going to tell her -

And then they'd been back here, and everything had been back to normal, mostly, except that he kept avoiding the bit where she tells him she has a new boyfriend or she wants to sit in on a meeting or

(she's leaving)

she loves him or something else he probably doesn't want to hear. And they'd been a little off balance.

But that's okay, because the world isn't ending, and they've got time. So he says, "The world isn't going to end today," and he looks up at where she should be sitting -

-

The world ends.

Hero/Heroine

2008-03-22T14:07:54Z

Title: Hero/Heroine
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing(s): Wash/Zoe
Word Count: 417
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Zoe saves the day and gets the guy.

Notes: Written for jadesfire2808 for purimgifts.

It would have been so easy to let him sweat it out a little longer. If Mal had been here, Zoe thought he might just have ordered her to. Of course, that probably would have meant Jayne being discovered and the lot of them being captured and hanged, so it was probably a good thing he wasn't.

"Is there a problem?" She stepped forward, drawing the women's attention to her, and caught Jayne's eye. "Jayne. Go wait for me back at the ship."

Jayne glared at Zoe in a decidedly unladylike manner as she passed her, his hand gripping the bonnet that hid most of his face, and she had to hide a smile.

"You in charge?" one of the women asked, and Zoe raised an eyebrow.

"I'm the one you ought to be speaking to if you want to make a deal."

The woman held her gaze for a beat, her mouth set in a firm line, and Zoe thought about all the ways she was going to kick Jayne's ass once they got back on board Serenity.

"Then let's talk."

-

"I still don't see why I had to be the one in a dress."

Zoe shared a look with Mal as Jayne fumbled with the straps of the dress, and quickly glanced away. "You were backup," she said, not bothering to keep the amusement out of her voice. "You were backing me up."

"Yeah, well Mal could have - how do you get these gorram things off, anyhow?"

Mal glanced down as Jayne tore the dress down to his waist, looking as if he were trying his best not to laugh. "I was busy. Anyway, you should be thankful. Zoe damn near saved your ass back there."

In hindsight, maybe it hadn't been the best idea to send Jayne into the female-run colony. Orders not to anything but stand there quietly notwithstanding, his hands had nearly got them all killed.

Zoe thought it had been worth it.

She looked up as Wash entered the cargo bay, Jayne storming off behind Mal, and she reached down to pick up the dress. "I think it's ruined."

"Probably for the best," he said, grinning as he caught her eye. "I don't think I'd have like to see you in it again, anyway."

She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer as she let the dress fall to the ground. "How would you like to see me out of it?"

"For the heroine of the day?" he asked. "Anything she wants."

Imagine Me And You

2008-03-22T14:06:08Z

Title: Imagine Me And You
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing(s): Mal/Inara
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13

Summary: From anyone else, it would have been a compliment. From Mal, it sounded like an accusation.

Notes: Written for jadesfire2808 for purimgifts.

"You look nice."

Inara spun around, keeping her features carefully schooled. From anyone else, it would have been a compliment. From Mal, it sounded like an accusation.

"I'm meeting a client," she said, and watched his features tighten. She didn't look away, and after a moment, he met her gaze.

"Lucky guy."

"As opposed to the unlucky one you'll be stealing from." She hadn't meant the words to come out sounding quite so harsh, but there was rarely a point in mincing words where Mal was concerned.

"At least he'll know he's been conned."

If he'd been closer, she might have slapped him; instead, she glanced away. "Not that what I do is any of your business -"

"'Course not." He stepped forward, and she could practically feel the space left between them. "Your business is your own. Just making an observation."

"That I'm a thief?"

"That you look nice."

He reached out, his fingertips almost tracing the line of her skin, and it took all her self-control not to step back.

"Mal -"

"You won't be late." He stepped forward again, and her stomach tightened reflexively. They were almost touching, now.

"That's not what I'm worried about." She met his gaze, and after an instant, he stepped back. She let out a breath, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed at the absence.

"Have fun with your client," he said, and for once, it didn't sound like a condemnation.

"You, too."

"Always do."

She didn't run into him when she returned the next morning, memories of the distracted dinner still heavy in her stomach, unusually stilted dialogue still on her tongue. She bathed slowly, washing away the memories of the night before, and didn't glance at the dress as she stood.

She didn't think she'd be wearing it again.

Porcelain Dolls

2008-03-22T14:03:24Z

Title: Porcelain Dolls
Fandom: Firefly
Character(s): Inara, Kaylee, Mal
Word Count: 501
Rating: PG

Summary: "You're like one of those dolls."

Notes: Written for jadesfire2808 for purimgifts.

"You're like on of those dolls."

Inara looked up, the brush falling to rest on Kaylee's shoulders. "What?"

"Those dolls." Kaylee turned around, and Inara moved back to allow her room on the bed. "You know, those dolls you dress up in different outfits? Seems every time I see you, you've got a different dress."

Inara smiled, laying the brush on the bed beside her. "You have a pretty dress, too."

"Yeah, I do." Kaylee looked wistful, and Inara tried not to remember the occasion on which she'd worn it. "But not nearly as many as you."

Mal would have had a fit at the idea of girls playing dress-up on his ship while there was work to be done. Maybe that was why Inara suggested it.

"You want to try some on?"

Kaylee's eyes lit up, but she shook her head. "Nah, it's okay. They probably wouldn't fit."

"I'm sure we can find something to fit you." She stood up, and after a moment, Kaylee followed. "What about this one?"

Kaylee ran her hands over the fabric; blue silk from one of the border planets famous for the material. It was out of style by a few seasons, and she'd only worn it once or twice. She thought it would be perfect.

Kaylee shook her head again, but her hands were already hovering at the hem of her shirt, and all it took was a pointed look from Inara before she started to undress.

"Here, let me." As Kaylee slipped into the dress, her hands fumbling with the ties, Inara took them gently, winding them loosely around Kaylee's neck. After a moment, she spun Kaylee around, and smiled. "You look gorgeous."

"It ain't ... It doesn't feel like I'm wearin' nothin'," Kaylee said, her hands clutched at her waist.

"That's the point." Inara stepped back, and reached for another dress. "Here, try this one."

She wasn't sure how many dresses they'd been through when Mal stepped into the shuttle. Kaylee froze, the dress pulled up to her waist, and Mal covered his eyes with a cry of protest.

"Lao tyen yeh! I don't need to be seeing that."

Inara laughed, and helped Kaylee finish securing the dress. "You know, you could try knocking."

"If I'd known you two were gonna be naked in here, I would."

Kaylee's cheeks were red by the time the dress was tied, and Mal cautiously lowered his hand.

"Do you two really need to be doing that?"

Inara shrugged. "It's my shuttle."

"And that's my mechanic."

"Engine's taken care of," Kaylee said, and Inara looked at him as if to say, see?

"We're gonna be planetside in an hour," was all Mal said, and Inara smiled sweetly.

"Then I guess we have another hour to try on dresses."

Mal mumbled something about engines and mechanics and pay after that, and Inara waited until he was gone to turn Kaylee back around.

"This one," she said, looking Kaylee up and down. "You should keep this one."

Speaking In Tongues

2008-03-21T03:56:14Z

Title: Speaking In Tongues
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Josh/Donna
Word Count: 145
Rating: R

Summary: They've invented a whole new language.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 4:3 - College Kids.

They've invented a whole new language, the two of them; words that say everything but what they really mean, a touch on the arm, a head tilt, a smile -

It isn't the smallest language in the world, but it's close.

-

"I need a memo," he says, and ducks his head -

(You look good.)

"All right, but I need you back in the office by nine."

(I don't want you seeing other people.)

"You should ask Joey out," she says, and smiles -

(You should date me instead.)

-

Or -

"Hey."

(His mouth on hers, the small of her back jammed against the kitchen counter,)

"How are you doing?"

(his hands firm on her waist. Later, his grip on her arms as she arches up to meet him -)

"Good."

(We can't do this again.)

Later, his hands in his pockets, dimples -

(One day ...)

-

English isn't her first language.

No Surprises

2008-03-21T03:54:29Z

Title: No Surprises
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Toby/Andi
Word Count: 180
Rating: PG

Summary: Party planning isn't as easy as it looks.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 4:5 - Debate Camp. Written for writing_game prompt "quick."

"Quick, get down! Be quiet."

Last-minute shushing aside, people were crouched and ready by the time the door opened, the lights off and the room (mostly) silent.

Which was probably why the sounds coming from the doorway - and Sam tried his very hardest not to be able to identify them - could be heard so clearly. He exchanged a look with Josh behind the couch, before realising he couldn't actually see Josh's reaction, and mentally cursed. The acceptable time frame for the lights to go on and people to shout, "Surprise," had pretty much expired, which left them with two options; do it anyway, and risk embarrassing Toby and what he fervently hoped was Andi, or try to get twenty people out of a small apartment without being spotted.

Then somebody coughed, and the lights flicked on; Sam stood up where he'd been hiding, shrugging an apology.

"Surprise?" he offered, and winced at Toby's pointed glare.

"You," Toby said, as the rest of the party emerged. "I want my keys back."

All in all, it probably could have gone better.

Let's Make A Deal

2008-03-21T02:11:03Z

Title: Let's Make A Deal
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Josh/Donna
Word Count: 200
Rating: PG

Summary: "Why don't you have a date?"

Notes: Written for writing_game prompt "shiny, companion, deal."

"I need a date for this thing tomorrow night."

She looks up; Josh is hovering over her. "The parks benefit?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't you have a date?"

"Because I - look, I just need a date, all right?"

"All right." She shrugs, goes back to typing.

"Great. So I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Wait." She's pretty sure they've skipped a step, here. "What?"

"Tomorrow night. For the benefit. I'll pick you up at seven."

"You want me to be your date?"

"The invitation says plus one." He says it like it's the most natural thing in the world, which, this - her and Josh, on a date, or a whatever - is not. She presses her lips together.

"So, pretty much I'm just a backup? In case you couldn't find anyone better?"

"I just meant - it's a party. I thought you'd have fun."

"I don't have shoes."

"You have plenty of shoes." He sighs, and she can almost hear the internal struggle. "Fine. I'll buy you shoes."

"What shoes?"

"Any shoes you want! Those shiny ones, with the heel, and the -"

"It's a deal."

It takes him a minute to register, and he blinks at her. "What?"

She smiles. "It's a date."

Drink To Me, Babe, Then

2008-03-20T23:38:15Z

Title: Drink To Me, Babe, Then
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Sam/Donna
Word Count: 171
Rating: PG-13

Summary: This can't be what it looks like.

Notes: Written for writing_game prompt "charm."

Josh was working. Josh was working, and she was emphatically not working, unless you counted the occasional anxious glance in the direction of his office to make sure he was still okay. Which, granted, is most of her job description half the time, but still -

Sam asked her out for a drink.

-

She wants to ask if he's practising for something, because he's being charming, a hand resting soft on her thigh as he sips his drink, no political debates or impromptu speech writing or half-forgotten sentences as he tries to explain why they're there.

He catches her eye, and sort of smiles, and -

This can't be what it looks like.

-

She isn't sure if she should ask him upstairs. If this were a date, it would be easy, but she really has no idea.

He leans forward, a hand on her waist -

- and they stumble in the dark, his jacket halfway off his shoulders. His mouth is hot on hers, and -

It was only supposed to be a drink.

The Great Debate

2008-03-20T23:34:47Z

Title: The Great Debate
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Josh/Donna
Word Count: 165
Rating: PG-13

Summary: There are, in fact, drinks on the plane.

Notes: Spoilers up to episode 4:6 - Game On. Written for writing_game prompt "drunk."

There are, in fact, drinks on the plane.

"We just won an election," Josh says, and she's smiling back at him so hard her cheeks hurt. He refills her glass, drains his own; they just won an election, and they're celebrating.

His hand traces lightly across her thigh, and she almost doesn't notice

(that's a lie; she knows how close he is to her, always)

until he leans over, his shirt open at the neck. He's still smiling, but there's something else in his expression, and her glass lies on the table, forgotten.

Josh, she wants to say, but she can't speak, won't; there's something in his expression, and they never get this far.

It comes as a surprise to exactly no-one when he kisses her, his hand firm on the back of her head, and she could swear there's nobody else in the room.

Tomorrow, they'll go back to work, and he'll lean back and she'll smile, this never happened.

Tonight, they're celebrating.

Striptease (Let Me Entertain You)

2008-03-20T11:40:41Z

Title: Striptease (Let Me Entertain You)
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing(s): Josh/Donna
Word Count: 180
Rating: PG-13

Summary: "Entertain me."

Notes: Written for writing_game prompt "entertain."

"Josh, I'm bored."

"I know." He puts his pen down as he glances up; notes that will have absolutely no bearing once the current round of meeting is over.

"Entertain me."

He'd tell her she sounds like a petulant child, but that's not what he thinks of when she pouts like that. "We could get naked."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. You could do a striptease."

"That would be me entertaining you. I want you to entertain me."

"I could do a striptease."

This is entirely the wrong train of thought when they're stuck in the office in the middle of the night, but he doesn't try too hard to shake it.

She looks him up and down, and he suddenly wishes he had.

"Let's go bug CJ."

He isn't sure if he's more disappointed or relieved, and he tries not to look too hard at it.

"Okay." His hand lingers on the small of her back for just a second as he follows her out of the office. "But I seriously think you should consider that whole striptease thing."