![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helsinkibabyFic: In Between Dances
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: West Wing
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Carol, Toby/Ginger
Spoilers: Dead Irish Writers post ep, so anything up to that to be on the safe side.
Summary: The sidelines of the First Lady's birthday bash.
Sam took the long way to the North Lobby from Leo's office. That's what he told himself at any rate; however, there was an insistent voice in his head that pointed out that there was no reason for him to go to meet Doctor Millgate by way of CJ's office. That little voice continued by pointing out that in fact, CJ's office took him well out of his way, but his feet weren't listening to that little voice. Once he got to CJ's office, he realised that that little voice was a friend of his, one he really should listen to more often.
She was standing at her desk, phone to her ear, bending over slightly as she scribbled something down. She didn't notice him there, so he had a chance to admire how her long dress clung to her curves, exposing the creamy skin of her back laid bare by her upswept knot of hair. The dress was a deep shade of purple, made of a material that seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the office, and his heart did a funny kind of two-step when she straightened and turned, smiling widely when she saw him there. She held up a finger to indicate that he should stay quiet and he nodded, stepping into her office, leaning against her desk.
She flashed another quick grin at him when she hung up the phone, looking him up and down as she did so. "Hey you," was all she said, but her eyes spoke volumes, and she leaned forward and kissed him quickly.
"Hey," he replied, crossing his arms. "You get to the party yet?"
She shook her head. "CJ's got me helping her with a thing…"
"The First Lady?" he guessed, and she nodded.
"We need to get it confirmed, because if it's true, CJ needs to talk to her." She crossed something off a list on her desk, then looked back up at him again. "You?"
"Not yet. I’m on my way to meet Doctor Millgate now. Then it's into the party to see Jack Enlow." At the mention of the second name, her lips pursed slightly, and a slight frown marred her features. "What?"
"Just promise me that you're not going to do anything that CJ's going to have to clean up."
Sam laughed. "What is with everyone tonight? I'm not an instigator." She gave him a look. "Well…like I said…" he backtracked. "I'm on the side of the angels."
"And grateful we are for it honey," she said quickly, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. "But the fact of the matter is, Jack Enlow is a self-righteous son of a bitch, with whom you have a bit of a history, and you tend to get a little…" She paused, trying to come up with the word. "Vociferous," she finally settled on, "When you get going. Not that that's a bad thing," she amended. "Just be careful, ok?"
"I promise." He leaned forward and kissed her quickly. "I will not get blood on my tuxedo."
"I should hope not." She stepped closer to him, slipping one arm around his waist, resting the other over his heart. "You look good in it."
"I know." He was leaning to kiss her again when CJ strode into the office from the corridor, shouting out another list of names that Carol should begin calling, stopping cold when she saw them standing there like that.
"Oh for crying out loud, don't you two ever stop?" she wondered, pausing only briefly before continuing on into her office. Sam and Carol stepped away from one another, identical blushes on their cheeks, which only deepened when CJ came back out, standing in the doorway between her office and Carol's. "Oh, and Sam? When I told you not to start anything with Enlow, I might have forgotten to mention that I don't want to have to spin the two of you dirty dancing in the middle of the First Lady's birthday party to the press. You understand that, right?"
"Loud and clear CJ," Carol replied, her hand already reaching for the phone to carry on with her calling.
"Yeah…we'll save that for home." Sam was looking at CJ, thus was unable to see Carol's smack coming. "Or maybe not," he added, seeing the look that Carol was directing his way.
CJ laughed. "I'll be phoning," she told Carol, pointing into her office.
"And I shall be meeting Doctor Dalton Millgate," Sam added, heading for the door. "You'll save me a dance right?" he called back, half-turning at the door.
The phone was pressed to her ear, a devilish smile on her lips as once more her eyes flicked over his figure from top to toe. "Count on it."
Smiling, he made his way to the lobby to greet his old professor.
>*<*>*<
"You're being ridiculous."
She was, Ginger knew that, and if she hadn't, talking to herself in the mirror would certainly have given her a clue. This wasn't the first White House social event that she'd ever attended, she reminded herself, although it was certainly one of the biggest. Assistants weren't usually invited to something like this, but the First Lady had apparently felt strongly that all the women of the West Wing should be invited to share in her birthday party, and had issued them with invitations. Carol was probably the only one that it hadn't affected; after all, she would have been going with Sam no matter what, but the rest of them hadn't planned on it, and had spent most of the previous week discussing just what they were going to wear, and how they were going to enjoy it.
She couldn't help but feel that they were all still walking on eggshells around her though, remembering all too well what had happened the last time that the women and men of the West Wing had all mixed, with alcohol taken. Sam and Carol had started in on a relationship that looked for all the world like it was altar-bound. Toby and Donna had gone home together, as has she and Josh.
Which of course was where all her problems had started.
That wasn't true, she knew that. She'd known that even before Josh had referred her to a therapist friend of his. He was taking extremely seriously his pledge that night in her hospital room, that he was going to help her any way he could, and he'd been there for her, every step of the way, to the extent that she'd joked with him that Amy was going to get jealous about all the time that they were spending together. He'd replied with an offhand shrug and a smirk, but he hadn't said anything beyond that, and she couldn't help but wonder just what that relationship was based on. Especially since he'd all but told her on New Year's Eve that he was interested in Donna.
She shook herself back to reality, looking into the mirror once more, checking that her hair was sitting where it should, that her makeup was just so, and she wished once more that she could do something about the uncertain look that she saw in her eyes. That look had been there a lot lately, diminishing slowly but surely, and tossing her head, she took a deep breath and made for the door. She could get through tonight, she knew that she could.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she almost choked in surprise when she saw Toby leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for her. He grinned slightly at her, the corners of his mouth just barely turning up, and that sight, combined with the tuxedo that he was wearing, sent her mouth dry and her heart racing. "Toby," she said, manners overcoming her shock, but not enough that she could think of anything else to say.
"Ginger." He inclined his head just slightly, looking her up and down briefly, but long enough for a blush to pass across her cheeks. "You look lovely this evening."
The thought briefly occurred to her that he was flirting, but just like the nervous look in her eyes earlier, she pushed it aside. Toby wouldn't be flirting with her. "Is everything ok?" she asked him, her mind seizing on the concrete. "Do you need me for anything?"
He shook his head. "Bonnie told me you were in-" He gestured over her shoulder. "I was just wondering if you were all right."
Ginger frowned slightly, not sure how to take that. On one hand, she was flattered that Toby would take the time to worry about her, to come looking for her. On the other hand though, she was well aware that her being flattered could easily turn into something else, hope, and that hope could just as easily turn into disappointment. Not to mention the fact that Toby was one of the people who had most been walking on eggshells around her since she'd come back to work. There hadn't been one caustic comment in her hearing since her return, he'd taken to coming to her desk and asking for things politely instead of bellowing her name at volume, and danishes - the nice ones, not the boisenberry kind that had nearly poisoned her - and other pastries were turning up on her desk on a regular basis.
Again, it was flattering that he would care, sweet even, but much to her surprise, she found herself missing the yelling. She'd been missing it for a long time, since New Year's Eve in fact. Even before that, she and Toby had never had the banter-filled relationship that Josh and Donna had, or even the kind of friendship that she had with Sam. But there had been something, some kind of connection between them; she knew she hadn't been imagining that. New Year's Eve had changed everything though, and the next morning he'd hardly been able to look at her. It had been strictly business between them, using a severe economy of words, and it had slowly but surely eating away at Ginger a little piece at a time.
Carol had asked her when she'd come home from the hospital if what had happened with Toby and Josh had caused her to do what she did, and Ginger had told her the truth. That it had something to do with it, yes, but that it wasn't the only thing. That she had issues in her life before that that she had to work through, and that she knew that now. Carol had nodded, reaching over to squeeze her hand, and said that she and Sam would be there for anything Ginger needed. They'd already done more than enough for her, Ginger had countered, amazed at their generosity, at how much they were willing to go out of their way for her, but Carol had just shaken her head, telling her that they wouldn't have it any other way.
She was grateful for their concern, she really was. It was just that sometimes, she felt bad about taking them away from their lives, despite them telling her that they didn’t mind. Sometimes Toby's silent reserve, the little things he did for her, rather than the overt concern, were easier to handle.
"I'm fine," she told him now, giving him a quick grin, trying to reassure him, to reassure herself that she really was fine. "Just making myself beautiful."
His lips quirked upwards quickly, and he looked down at the floor. "That shouldn't take long," he murmured, but she heard him anyway, the words rendering her speechless, making a blush race up her cheeks,
Casting around for something to say, she heard the music from down the hall and asked, "Have you been inside yet?"
"Not yet," he said, stepping towards her, extending an arm. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me?"
She blinked in surprise, but there was no laughter in his face, only sincerity. "Me?" she asked, amazed, just to make sure.
"If you think you can stand walking in there with me," came the reply, and she giggled despite herself, taking his arm.
"It would be my pleasure."
Arm in arm, they walked down the hallway into the reception hall, where Ginger stopped in awe upon seeing the splendour around her. "Wow," she breathed, her eyes sweeping the room, taking in as much as she could. She looked over at Toby, only to see him looking at her and grinning, enjoying her reaction.
"Let's go over here," he pointed, taking her over to a quiet corner, sitting her at a table before vanishing to get them both a drink. When he came back, he had two glasses of champagne, and he handed one to her before he sat down. By the time she got back, she'd more or less regained her composure, and was able to muster a genuine smile.
"This," she told him, taking a sip of her champagne, "Is impressive."
Toby looked around him, nodding. "The President's going all out this year," he agreed.
"How are things looking for the First Lady tomorrow?" Ginger asked him, having heard the latest rumour that was going the rounds of the White House, wondering if it was true. She realised that it was when his eyes darkened, and he didn't answer her right away.
"Not so good right about now. CJ's tracking something down-" He paused, raising an eyebrow almost imperceptibly in question, and she tilted her head just as slightly in affirmation that she knew. "If that pans out, it just got worse."
Ginger recalled the glimpse they'd got of Doctor Bartlet as they'd walked through the room, the image of her smiling and posing for pictures springing immediately to mind. She certainly didn't look like a woman who was worried about a potentially career ending hearing the next day, and Ginger marvelled at her composure. "I don't know how she does it," she murmured.
His glass met the table with a clink of crystal that had her looking up in surprise to find him leaning forward in his chair, closer to her. His brow was furrowed and his voice was low, so low that she could hardly hear him. "I'd have thought that out of all of us, you were one who'd know best." There was no recrimination in his voice, in fact, it was light. Too light, she realised a second later, and when she put her own glass down on the table, her hand was shaking. She swallowed hard, trying to force back the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, only to feel his hand reaching across, touching hers gently.
The touch made her look back up, into his eyes and what she saw there had tears pricking the back of her eyes. Toby hardly ever touched her; in fact, she could only remember two occasions when he had. The first was the night of the shooting, when she'd appeared in the bullpen in the middle of the night, having seen the nightmarish images on television. The second had been the morning of Mrs Landingham's funeral, the morning of the MS announcement, when she'd had to tell him that she'd put Greg Summerhayes back on his schedule. It had been just like this one; a brief touch to the back of her hand, but it had been enough to get her through the day.
"I didn't mean to upset you," he told her quietly now. "I just…I don't know why I said that."
"Because it's true?" Ginger found herself saying, surprising herself with her own honesty. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and she shrugged. "I did bottle up my feelings…didn't let people help me, even though people tried…" She remembered Carol talking to her over dinner one night, getting her to admit some of what was going on inside her, only to be interrupted by Sam. Would she have said anything more if he hadn't come in, she wondered briefly now, or would she have clammed up anyway? She dismissed the thought as irrelevant now; because Sam and Carol had been fantastic to her while she was in the hospital, visiting her every day, with Sam often having to physically drag Carol out of there. They'd been the ones who had brought her home, fixed her dinner that night, and had picked her up her first morning back at work. "I pushed everyone away from me," she continued. "I wish…" She sighed, hardly able to believe that she was talking to Toby, of all people, like this. "I wish I hadn't done that."
"Me too." The words were so quiet, she wasn't sure if she was imagining things or not, but when she looked up at him, she was in no doubt that she'd heard correctly. He was leaning over to say something else to her when there was a shout from across the room.
"Toby!" It was unmistakably Leo's voice, and when they looked over, he was gesturing to Toby, with another man standing by his side.
Toby fought back a groan. "This isn't going to be good," he murmured, standing.
"Who's that?" Ginger asked, knowing that she'd seen the man before, but not sure where.
"Lord John Marbury," Toby informed her, rolling his eyes. "Don't go anywhere."
Ginger fought back a grin as she sipped her drink, remembering various stories that she'd heard about Lord John Marbury, and in particular Leo's reaction to him. Leo looked from one to the other for all of five seconds or less before walking away, and Ginger looked on with a smile as Toby and Lord John talked to one another before they began walking towards her. Toby flashed her a quick grin as he walked by her seat, and she shrugged in return, indicating, she hoped, that she knew he had to work, but her eyes followed him as he walked away.
Once he was out of sight her gaze wandered around the room, stopping when she noticed one of her best friends making their way through the crowd towards her.
>*<*>*<
Carol looked around her with a smile when she walked into the reception hall. No matter how long she'd worked in the White House, how many of these shindigs she went to, the grandeur always amazed her, and she never came to one of these events without taking a moment to observe, to remember. She hadn't thought that she'd get in here as early as this, but CJ had managed to track down the source she was looking for sooner rather than later, and once she'd been sure of that, she'd waved Carol off while she did her thing. Carol hadn't been able to keep the surprise off her face, asking CJ if she was sure, but not having to ask twice.
She walked around now, seeing several people that she knew, but she frowned slightly when she saw Ginger sitting at a table by herself. Even as she stood watching, Toby walked by, Lord John Marbury at his side, and Ginger smiled up at him as he nodded briefly down at her. The hairs on the back of Carol's neck rose one by one of their own accord, and she found herself making her way through the crowd to the seat beside Ginger, trying to force a smile to her face. She knew she was being silly, ridiculous even. She knew it wasn't just her feelings for Toby that had made Ginger do what she did, that there was more to it than that. But she couldn't help but feel deep down that maybe Ginger working in such close proximity to the man she was in love with wasn't a good idea, and despite the fact that she knew there was no point in blaming Toby, that nothing that had happened was his fault, still her radar automatically rose whenever she saw the two of them together. "Hey Ginger," she began, sitting down across from her friend, realising as she did that the seat was warm, that someone had only recently vacated it. "You all alone?"
Ginger grinned. "You just missed Toby. Leo pawned off Lord John Marbury on him."
Carol smiled too, having heard on many occasions from the men of the West Wing what they thought of Lord John Marbury. CJ on the other hand, found him utterly charming, and the feeling was entirely mutual. Watching the two of them together had given Carol some pretty decent dinner theatre, but she wouldn't have minded being a fly on the wall for Toby and Lord John going toe to toe either. "I hope Toby wasn't trying to make you work," she said, gauging Ginger's reaction carefully. "You're off the clock once you get in here."
"It wasn't like that." Ginger looked down at her glass of champagne, resting her fingers on the base, turning it around slowly. It caught in the tablecloth beneath it, rucking up the delicate material. "He was asking me how I was."
"And how are you?" Carol leaned closer to her friend, not wanting to miss a word of her answer.
It came with an exhalation of air, and Ginger's head tilting back in exasperation. "I'm fine Carol," she said. "I just wish that everyone would…"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Carol cut across her quickly. "We're just worried Ginger. That's all." Idly, she realised that she was trying to pull the sleeves of her dress down over her hand; impossible since the material wouldn't stretch that way, and besides, the scars on her wrist were well covered anyway. She joined her hands on the table, noting the whiteness of her knuckles, willing them to relax.
"I know Carol." Ginger's own hands were clenched tightly on the table too, but she flashed a weak smile at Carol. "I know." They sat in silence for a moment, neither sure of what to say. Finally, Ginger looked around her, a too bright smile on her face. "Doesn't this place look fantastic?"
Carol seized on the safe topic, looking around her too. "I just can't believe we all got invited."
Ginger rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You've known for weeks you'd be coming with Sam." She blinked then, looking around the room. "Speaking of…where is he?"
Carol shrugged. "He had to meet Dalton Millgate about the Supercollider before coming here to find Senator Enlow."
Ginger's wide eyes grew instantly wider at the mention of the Senator's name. "Is that wise?" she wondered.
"CJ's told him, Leo's told him, I've told him not to start anything," Carol reassured her. "Not that that means anything when Sam and Enlow get together, but we're trying."
Ginger looked up and off to the side, an air of mock consideration settling around her. "I'm just wondering if we can sell tickets to that…what do you think?"
"That we're about to find out."
Carol had been looking around the room, and her eyes narrowed as she spotted something on the other side. Jack Enlow was walking by, but something had caught his attention enough to make him stop and turn. A second later, Sam walked up to him, and even from clear across the room, Carol could tell that the conversation wasn't going Sam's way. She glanced quickly at Ginger, and was met by her friend's nod. "Go," was all she said, and that was enough for Carol to be out of her seat, positioning herself in a place where neither Sam nor the senator could see or hear her, but where she could do both.
She winced when she heard the senator call Sam "kid," knowing how that would make Sam's hackles rise, especially when it was uttered in that condescending tone. "Check around," the senator continued. "I'm on record in favour of it." She supposed that that was the Supercollider.
"Thank God the hold's anonymous," was Sam's quick response, which is when Carol knew that they were in for a battle. Then something small shifted in Sam's face, and she didn't know if the senator had seen it or not, but it was clear to Carol. "It's you."
"Sam, do you really care about the Superconducting Supercollider?" It had all the hallmarks of a closing hand, a parting shot, but Sam got the last word anyway.
"I didn't before. It's a long night and we're not done yet. Go dance with your wife." He walked away then, Senator Enlow going in the other direction, and Sam walked right past Carol's hiding place.
She stepped from it, following him for a couple of steps before calling out, "That's not a bad idea you know. Dancing."
He stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face her, and his face, which had been a mask of frustration, softened into a smile when he saw her there. "What, were you checking to make sure that no blood was spilled?"
"That's my job," she told him lightly, going over to him and resting a hand on his arm. "What happened?"
"He told me that the Supercollider is on anonymous hold. That's what's stopping it." His jaw set in indignation. "He's the one who put it on hold. Jackass."
"What are you going to do?" She asked the question because she knew he was going to do something. Another person might have left well enough alone, but this was Sam. And not just passionate Sam who wanted to help his old college professor, but Sam whose ire had just been raised by the not-so-honourable Senator from Illinois.
"I don't know," he told her, looking in the direction in which Enlow had vanished. "But something. I'm going to talk to Doctor Millgate again…we have to be able to come up with something."
She grinned up at him, slipping her arms around his waist. "I take it that's by way of saying that I'll have to wait for my dance?"
His face relaxed back into a smile; she even got a chuckle out of him with that one, and his arms went around her waist to boot. "For now," he told her, pressing his lips briefly to hers. "But save one for me."
"Yeah." The word was a sigh as she released him, watching him walk away, waiting until he vanished from sight before she returned to Ginger. Once there, she found that company had found them in the forms of Bonnie and Margaret. "Hey guys," she greeted her friends. "You both look great."
"You too," Margaret told her. "Although I thought I'd never get here."
"Join the club." Carol rolled her eyes.
"Where'd Sam go?" Bonnie wanted to know. "I wanted to admire him in his tux."
"Hey!" Carol pretended affront. "That's my boyfriend you're talking about."
Bonnie just gave her a cheeky grin, but Margaret was serious. "Where is Sam?"
"Trying to figure out a way to horsewhip Jack Enlow without getting blood on his tuxedo."
Bonnie snorted. "Good luck!"
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"So, let me get this straight." Margaret was more concerned with the party than politics. "What you're saying is that the three of us are all here solo. You're the only one here with a guy, and you can't see him because he's busy working."
There was a moment's silence while they considered this state of affairs. "There's only one thing for me to do right now, isn't there?" Carol asked, knowing what the response was going to be, knowing that she didn't drink much, but giving them the opening anyway. A glass of wine wouldn't do her any harm.
"Girls," Margaret announced. "Let's get drunk."
>*<*>*<
"No. But you're not bad for government help."
Sam didn't even bother to stifle his smile at Doctor Millgate's words as he left the office. Dalton Millgate was famously parsimonious when it came to praise; in fact, Sam had long thought that he made Toby look like a model of gushing sentimentality in comparison. A "not bad" from him was a standing ovation from anybody else, and for just a second, Sam let himself bask in his mentor's words. When you added those words to the fact that he'd just got the better of Senator Enlow - and he acknowledged now that Carol was right about that; he and Enlow did have a history together, and beating him on this was extra sweet - he wasn't having too bad a night.
With that in mind, he looked at his watch and realised that, while the whole affair had taken longer to sort out than he'd originally thought, it was still early enough that he could fit in a dance with Carol. Possibly more than one.
Almost giddy at the thought, he made his way into the reception hall, to be confronted with the final strains of the Canadian National Anthem. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, he spotted Josh and Amy beside Donna and the President and the First Lady standing beside them, along with Leo and CJ. He walked over towards them, smiling at Josh when he turned towards him. "Hey," he said, greeting the group at large. "What's with the anthem?"
"I was Canadian for a couple of hours," Donna supplied helpfully.
"But now she's not," Amy chimed in.
"But the First Lady didn't know that," CJ concluded, with something less than her usual vigour Sam noted.
"You feeling ok CJ?" he asked, worried about her, choosing to ignore whatever it was the other two were talking about. He had the distinct feeling that he was far too sober to understand it.
"I'm fine Samuel," she murmured, her hand rubbing across her forehead lightly. "Although I think it may be possible that I am, in fact, a little drunk."
Josh snorted, receiving, for his troubles, a smack to the back of the head from both Donna and Amy. The two women exchanged a conspiratorial smile, which left Josh looking quite nervous, and Sam could well imagine why. He'd long known of Josh's suppressed feelings for Donna, and where Amy fitted in, he wasn't too sure, especially when you considered that Josh, along with many of the West Wing staffers in the know, had been keeping a close eye on Ginger in the last couple of weeks, taking a close interest in her welfare.
"Sam, how did it go with Enlow?" Leo asked, with the President's ears perking up suddenly.
"Oh, is this about the Superconducting Supercollider?" he asked, taking Sam's nod as a means to continue. "It's absolutely fascinating you know…they can, in laboratory conditions, recreate the particles which were only found in the first trillionth of a second after the universe was created. The first trillionth of a second, think of that!" The fact that all around him save Sam were rolling their eyes didn't deter his enthusiasm at all, and he was taking a breath to continue when the First Lady stepped in.
"Jed, will you stop talking physics and dance with me? Now?" She didn't take no for an answer, not that it had really been a question, steering the President to the centre of the floor.
"Good idea," Amy said, taking Josh by the arm and physically dragging him out on to the dance floor.
"But I wanted to hear about-" Josh's protests fell on deaf ears as he was led away, and Donna grinned at Sam.
"If all I hear for the next three weeks is about theoretical physics-" She inserted as much emotion into those words as one would in a dozen swear words. "-I'm swapping jobs with Bonnie."
Sam grinned at her in return. "It's all worked out," he told Leo. "Enlow had it on anonymous hold. Now he doesn't."
Leo tilted his head. "Am I going to need to worry about this?"
Sam shook his head. Thanks to the threat he'd made, they were safe for the time being. And if it came back to bite them on the ass later on, well, that was later on. They'd deal with it when the time came. For now, there was only one thing that he wanted to think about, and when Leo nodded his approval at him, he turned to Donna. "Donna, have you seen Carol around?"
Donna pointed across the room. "She and the other assistants are over there. I'll head over with you." They nodded at Leo, who was waylaid at once by Lord John Marbury, and began to move across the room. "You think we should have left Leo like that?" she asked him, glancing over her shoulder.
Sam did likewise, biting his lip at the sight of Leo looking as if he wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, else. "He'll be fine," he replied. "Better him than me."
Donna nodded her head. "You've got a point."
By then, they were at the table where the other assistants were laughing uproariously over something, and Sam instantly decided that it was nothing that he needed to hear about. "Donna, you're here!" Margaret announced, just in case they'd missed her. "Where were you?"
"Mix-up over my nationality." At their confused looks, Donna waved a hand. "Long story."
"And Sam…" Bonnie continued, looking not at the man himself, but at Carol. "Sam, Sam, our sunshine man…"
"You've been talking to CJ," Sam accused as the rest of the ladies laughed.
"Are you done working?" Margaret asked him. "Because it's not nice to work when your girlfriend is sitting here alone."
Sam looked at each assistant in turn. "She's hardly alone," he pointed out, arching an eyebrow. "But yes, I am done with work. And I am here…" He turned his gaze on Carol, extending a hand to her. "To ask my beautiful girlfriend if she would bestow upon me the honour of a dance?"
"Smooth," Bonnie chuckled as Carol stood up, taking Sam's hand without a word.
"What happened to playing hard to get?" Margaret called after them as Donna slid into Carol's vacated seat.
They just about heard Ginger's response. "Like that was ever going to happen."
When they reached the middle of the dancefloor, Sam slipped his arm around Carol's waist, and she around his, and he brought their joined hands to rest just over his heart. Mindful of CJ's warning, they kept a respectable distance from one another, not too close, and they moved in silence for a moment before he looked down at her, quirking an eyebrow. "Playing hard to get?" he asked.
She laughed lightly, a faint blush rising up her cheeks. "Margaret was giving out some relationship advice. Treat them mean, keep them keen and all that."
"You think it works?"
She shrugged. "I told her that I thought I was doing pretty well on my own."
"That you are," he breathed, his hand moving up and down the smooth skin at her back, enjoying the slight shiver that went through her. "That you are." His fingertips continued their gentle exploration, moving to the rhythm of the music. "You know," he murmured. "I really do like that dress."
"I thought you might."
"I like you in purple," he decided, and she blinked once in surprise.
"I thought you liked me in red," she challenged.
"I like you in red," he acknowledged. "Or purple. Or pretty much any colour really…"
"Good answer," she laughed as she pressed herself slightly closer to him, and he wondered briefly what CJ would say if she saw them, before deciding that he really didn't care. "I take it things went well with Enlow?" she asked.
"He's going to remove his hold," Sam confirmed, unable to keep the pride out of his voice, especially when he saw the smile that spread across her face. "And I did it all without a drop of bloodshed," he added.
It was her turn to lift an eyebrow then. "I'll check for that later on," she told him archly.
"Promises, promises," he countered before tilting his head. "Do you think I'd be a good physicist?"
"No." Her response was quick, but not cruel, although he couldn't help but feel a little miffed by it. "I do however," she continued. "Think that you're a fantastic speechwriter. A great advisor. And a not-too-bad boyfriend, even thought you left me alone for most of the night…" Her voice trailed off teasingly and he found himself smiling at her. "The world has plenty of experts in physics," she told him, her hand moving up his back and curling around his shoulder. "But this White House only has one Sam Seaborn, and we need him more than science does."
He took a deep breath at her words, let it out slowly. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice even to his own ears sounding hoarse. He moved his head closer to hers, pressing a quick kiss to her temple, before letting his head rest there. Something over her shoulder caught his attention, and he smiled. "Look at them," he said, turning her so that she could see.
"What?" She didn't understand at first, but then she saw what he saw, and her face cleared. The President and First Lady were dancing, their faces mere inches apart from one another. The President's arm rested on the First Lady's back, just high enough there to be socially decent, while her arm was around his shoulders. Their free hands were resting against the President's chest, just above his heart, and there might have been a million people in the room, or none for all they knew. They only had eyes for each other. Carol smiled before turning her gaze back to Sam.
"You remember last week? I told you that the President and I played chess."
She nodded, a glint coming into her eyes. "You told me that he beat you, and you were shocked that I couldn't play chess. And I still say that strip chess is not the way for me to learn."
He laughed, shaking his head. He'd made that joke to her to be sure, and he'd only been half joking, but that wasn't what he was thinking about now. "We were all so involved in the results from Hartsfield's Landing that I didn't tell you the rest of what he said."
A slight frown appeared on her face. "What?"
He smiled, in part to ease her worry, in part because he was embarrassed to even tell her this, because it had sounded so ridiculous to him at the time. That, as much as any excitement over Hartsfield's Landing, had been what caused him not to say it to her yet. "We were talking about the thing with China and Taiwan, and he had me trying to figure out what they were going to do. Which I did, eventually." He'd been proud of that too. "I told him that I didn't know how he did it, how he could see all those possibilities, make all those decisions. And he told me…" He broke off, uncertain of what her reaction would be, but her hand sliding down from his shoulder to the small of his back, exerting just a little more pressure there, gave him the impetus to continue. "He told me that I was going to run for President some day. And that I shouldn't be afraid of it. That he believed in me."
His eyes met hers, his uncertain, hers smiling. She hadn't burst out laughing at the notion, which he supposed was a good thing, but was her silence a good or a bad thing? "Well," she said finally, and her voice didn't sound very clear, the smile on her lips shaking perilously with the promise of tears. "I'd vote for you."
He let out a breath he didn't even realise that he was holding. "Well," he quipped. "That's one I suppose."
"Two." At his look of surprise, she elaborated. "Me. The President. Plus, I'm sure that most people around here would vote for you in a heartbeat."
Her casual confidence surprised him. "You think?"
She nodded, all traces of laughter gone from her face. "I do," she told him seriously. Then her head tilted to the side. "Is that what you want Sam?"
He looked down at her, then around the room, then over to the President and First Lady. "That's what I want," he murmured, still looking at the older couple.
She turned her head, following his gaze, then looking back to him in confusion. "To be the President?"
"No." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "That."
That. To be married to someone for over thirty years, and still be as in love with them as you were the day that you got married. To have endured a hellish year, knowing that it wasn't over yet, and know that no matter how bad it got, the two of you would get through it together. To be facing the worst day of your professional career in a matter of hours, and still be able to dance in a room full of people, as if there was nobody else in the world but the two of you.
"Oh," she whispered, her face clearing. "That."
Ignoring the rest of the room, ignoring CJ's explicit instructions from earlier on, he pulled her as close to him as he thought proper in a room like this, pressing his lips to hers for the briefest of touches. Then he rested his head against hers, and they moved in silence for the rest of the dance, their hands joined over his heart, and there might have been a million people in the room, or none for all they knew. They only had eyes for each other.
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: West Wing
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Carol, Toby/Ginger
Spoilers: Dead Irish Writers post ep, so anything up to that to be on the safe side.
Summary: The sidelines of the First Lady's birthday bash.
Sam took the long way to the North Lobby from Leo's office. That's what he told himself at any rate; however, there was an insistent voice in his head that pointed out that there was no reason for him to go to meet Doctor Millgate by way of CJ's office. That little voice continued by pointing out that in fact, CJ's office took him well out of his way, but his feet weren't listening to that little voice. Once he got to CJ's office, he realised that that little voice was a friend of his, one he really should listen to more often.
She was standing at her desk, phone to her ear, bending over slightly as she scribbled something down. She didn't notice him there, so he had a chance to admire how her long dress clung to her curves, exposing the creamy skin of her back laid bare by her upswept knot of hair. The dress was a deep shade of purple, made of a material that seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the office, and his heart did a funny kind of two-step when she straightened and turned, smiling widely when she saw him there. She held up a finger to indicate that he should stay quiet and he nodded, stepping into her office, leaning against her desk.
She flashed another quick grin at him when she hung up the phone, looking him up and down as she did so. "Hey you," was all she said, but her eyes spoke volumes, and she leaned forward and kissed him quickly.
"Hey," he replied, crossing his arms. "You get to the party yet?"
She shook her head. "CJ's got me helping her with a thing…"
"The First Lady?" he guessed, and she nodded.
"We need to get it confirmed, because if it's true, CJ needs to talk to her." She crossed something off a list on her desk, then looked back up at him again. "You?"
"Not yet. I’m on my way to meet Doctor Millgate now. Then it's into the party to see Jack Enlow." At the mention of the second name, her lips pursed slightly, and a slight frown marred her features. "What?"
"Just promise me that you're not going to do anything that CJ's going to have to clean up."
Sam laughed. "What is with everyone tonight? I'm not an instigator." She gave him a look. "Well…like I said…" he backtracked. "I'm on the side of the angels."
"And grateful we are for it honey," she said quickly, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. "But the fact of the matter is, Jack Enlow is a self-righteous son of a bitch, with whom you have a bit of a history, and you tend to get a little…" She paused, trying to come up with the word. "Vociferous," she finally settled on, "When you get going. Not that that's a bad thing," she amended. "Just be careful, ok?"
"I promise." He leaned forward and kissed her quickly. "I will not get blood on my tuxedo."
"I should hope not." She stepped closer to him, slipping one arm around his waist, resting the other over his heart. "You look good in it."
"I know." He was leaning to kiss her again when CJ strode into the office from the corridor, shouting out another list of names that Carol should begin calling, stopping cold when she saw them standing there like that.
"Oh for crying out loud, don't you two ever stop?" she wondered, pausing only briefly before continuing on into her office. Sam and Carol stepped away from one another, identical blushes on their cheeks, which only deepened when CJ came back out, standing in the doorway between her office and Carol's. "Oh, and Sam? When I told you not to start anything with Enlow, I might have forgotten to mention that I don't want to have to spin the two of you dirty dancing in the middle of the First Lady's birthday party to the press. You understand that, right?"
"Loud and clear CJ," Carol replied, her hand already reaching for the phone to carry on with her calling.
"Yeah…we'll save that for home." Sam was looking at CJ, thus was unable to see Carol's smack coming. "Or maybe not," he added, seeing the look that Carol was directing his way.
CJ laughed. "I'll be phoning," she told Carol, pointing into her office.
"And I shall be meeting Doctor Dalton Millgate," Sam added, heading for the door. "You'll save me a dance right?" he called back, half-turning at the door.
The phone was pressed to her ear, a devilish smile on her lips as once more her eyes flicked over his figure from top to toe. "Count on it."
Smiling, he made his way to the lobby to greet his old professor.
>*<*>*<
"You're being ridiculous."
She was, Ginger knew that, and if she hadn't, talking to herself in the mirror would certainly have given her a clue. This wasn't the first White House social event that she'd ever attended, she reminded herself, although it was certainly one of the biggest. Assistants weren't usually invited to something like this, but the First Lady had apparently felt strongly that all the women of the West Wing should be invited to share in her birthday party, and had issued them with invitations. Carol was probably the only one that it hadn't affected; after all, she would have been going with Sam no matter what, but the rest of them hadn't planned on it, and had spent most of the previous week discussing just what they were going to wear, and how they were going to enjoy it.
She couldn't help but feel that they were all still walking on eggshells around her though, remembering all too well what had happened the last time that the women and men of the West Wing had all mixed, with alcohol taken. Sam and Carol had started in on a relationship that looked for all the world like it was altar-bound. Toby and Donna had gone home together, as has she and Josh.
Which of course was where all her problems had started.
That wasn't true, she knew that. She'd known that even before Josh had referred her to a therapist friend of his. He was taking extremely seriously his pledge that night in her hospital room, that he was going to help her any way he could, and he'd been there for her, every step of the way, to the extent that she'd joked with him that Amy was going to get jealous about all the time that they were spending together. He'd replied with an offhand shrug and a smirk, but he hadn't said anything beyond that, and she couldn't help but wonder just what that relationship was based on. Especially since he'd all but told her on New Year's Eve that he was interested in Donna.
She shook herself back to reality, looking into the mirror once more, checking that her hair was sitting where it should, that her makeup was just so, and she wished once more that she could do something about the uncertain look that she saw in her eyes. That look had been there a lot lately, diminishing slowly but surely, and tossing her head, she took a deep breath and made for the door. She could get through tonight, she knew that she could.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she almost choked in surprise when she saw Toby leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for her. He grinned slightly at her, the corners of his mouth just barely turning up, and that sight, combined with the tuxedo that he was wearing, sent her mouth dry and her heart racing. "Toby," she said, manners overcoming her shock, but not enough that she could think of anything else to say.
"Ginger." He inclined his head just slightly, looking her up and down briefly, but long enough for a blush to pass across her cheeks. "You look lovely this evening."
The thought briefly occurred to her that he was flirting, but just like the nervous look in her eyes earlier, she pushed it aside. Toby wouldn't be flirting with her. "Is everything ok?" she asked him, her mind seizing on the concrete. "Do you need me for anything?"
He shook his head. "Bonnie told me you were in-" He gestured over her shoulder. "I was just wondering if you were all right."
Ginger frowned slightly, not sure how to take that. On one hand, she was flattered that Toby would take the time to worry about her, to come looking for her. On the other hand though, she was well aware that her being flattered could easily turn into something else, hope, and that hope could just as easily turn into disappointment. Not to mention the fact that Toby was one of the people who had most been walking on eggshells around her since she'd come back to work. There hadn't been one caustic comment in her hearing since her return, he'd taken to coming to her desk and asking for things politely instead of bellowing her name at volume, and danishes - the nice ones, not the boisenberry kind that had nearly poisoned her - and other pastries were turning up on her desk on a regular basis.
Again, it was flattering that he would care, sweet even, but much to her surprise, she found herself missing the yelling. She'd been missing it for a long time, since New Year's Eve in fact. Even before that, she and Toby had never had the banter-filled relationship that Josh and Donna had, or even the kind of friendship that she had with Sam. But there had been something, some kind of connection between them; she knew she hadn't been imagining that. New Year's Eve had changed everything though, and the next morning he'd hardly been able to look at her. It had been strictly business between them, using a severe economy of words, and it had slowly but surely eating away at Ginger a little piece at a time.
Carol had asked her when she'd come home from the hospital if what had happened with Toby and Josh had caused her to do what she did, and Ginger had told her the truth. That it had something to do with it, yes, but that it wasn't the only thing. That she had issues in her life before that that she had to work through, and that she knew that now. Carol had nodded, reaching over to squeeze her hand, and said that she and Sam would be there for anything Ginger needed. They'd already done more than enough for her, Ginger had countered, amazed at their generosity, at how much they were willing to go out of their way for her, but Carol had just shaken her head, telling her that they wouldn't have it any other way.
She was grateful for their concern, she really was. It was just that sometimes, she felt bad about taking them away from their lives, despite them telling her that they didn’t mind. Sometimes Toby's silent reserve, the little things he did for her, rather than the overt concern, were easier to handle.
"I'm fine," she told him now, giving him a quick grin, trying to reassure him, to reassure herself that she really was fine. "Just making myself beautiful."
His lips quirked upwards quickly, and he looked down at the floor. "That shouldn't take long," he murmured, but she heard him anyway, the words rendering her speechless, making a blush race up her cheeks,
Casting around for something to say, she heard the music from down the hall and asked, "Have you been inside yet?"
"Not yet," he said, stepping towards her, extending an arm. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me?"
She blinked in surprise, but there was no laughter in his face, only sincerity. "Me?" she asked, amazed, just to make sure.
"If you think you can stand walking in there with me," came the reply, and she giggled despite herself, taking his arm.
"It would be my pleasure."
Arm in arm, they walked down the hallway into the reception hall, where Ginger stopped in awe upon seeing the splendour around her. "Wow," she breathed, her eyes sweeping the room, taking in as much as she could. She looked over at Toby, only to see him looking at her and grinning, enjoying her reaction.
"Let's go over here," he pointed, taking her over to a quiet corner, sitting her at a table before vanishing to get them both a drink. When he came back, he had two glasses of champagne, and he handed one to her before he sat down. By the time she got back, she'd more or less regained her composure, and was able to muster a genuine smile.
"This," she told him, taking a sip of her champagne, "Is impressive."
Toby looked around him, nodding. "The President's going all out this year," he agreed.
"How are things looking for the First Lady tomorrow?" Ginger asked him, having heard the latest rumour that was going the rounds of the White House, wondering if it was true. She realised that it was when his eyes darkened, and he didn't answer her right away.
"Not so good right about now. CJ's tracking something down-" He paused, raising an eyebrow almost imperceptibly in question, and she tilted her head just as slightly in affirmation that she knew. "If that pans out, it just got worse."
Ginger recalled the glimpse they'd got of Doctor Bartlet as they'd walked through the room, the image of her smiling and posing for pictures springing immediately to mind. She certainly didn't look like a woman who was worried about a potentially career ending hearing the next day, and Ginger marvelled at her composure. "I don't know how she does it," she murmured.
His glass met the table with a clink of crystal that had her looking up in surprise to find him leaning forward in his chair, closer to her. His brow was furrowed and his voice was low, so low that she could hardly hear him. "I'd have thought that out of all of us, you were one who'd know best." There was no recrimination in his voice, in fact, it was light. Too light, she realised a second later, and when she put her own glass down on the table, her hand was shaking. She swallowed hard, trying to force back the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, only to feel his hand reaching across, touching hers gently.
The touch made her look back up, into his eyes and what she saw there had tears pricking the back of her eyes. Toby hardly ever touched her; in fact, she could only remember two occasions when he had. The first was the night of the shooting, when she'd appeared in the bullpen in the middle of the night, having seen the nightmarish images on television. The second had been the morning of Mrs Landingham's funeral, the morning of the MS announcement, when she'd had to tell him that she'd put Greg Summerhayes back on his schedule. It had been just like this one; a brief touch to the back of her hand, but it had been enough to get her through the day.
"I didn't mean to upset you," he told her quietly now. "I just…I don't know why I said that."
"Because it's true?" Ginger found herself saying, surprising herself with her own honesty. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and she shrugged. "I did bottle up my feelings…didn't let people help me, even though people tried…" She remembered Carol talking to her over dinner one night, getting her to admit some of what was going on inside her, only to be interrupted by Sam. Would she have said anything more if he hadn't come in, she wondered briefly now, or would she have clammed up anyway? She dismissed the thought as irrelevant now; because Sam and Carol had been fantastic to her while she was in the hospital, visiting her every day, with Sam often having to physically drag Carol out of there. They'd been the ones who had brought her home, fixed her dinner that night, and had picked her up her first morning back at work. "I pushed everyone away from me," she continued. "I wish…" She sighed, hardly able to believe that she was talking to Toby, of all people, like this. "I wish I hadn't done that."
"Me too." The words were so quiet, she wasn't sure if she was imagining things or not, but when she looked up at him, she was in no doubt that she'd heard correctly. He was leaning over to say something else to her when there was a shout from across the room.
"Toby!" It was unmistakably Leo's voice, and when they looked over, he was gesturing to Toby, with another man standing by his side.
Toby fought back a groan. "This isn't going to be good," he murmured, standing.
"Who's that?" Ginger asked, knowing that she'd seen the man before, but not sure where.
"Lord John Marbury," Toby informed her, rolling his eyes. "Don't go anywhere."
Ginger fought back a grin as she sipped her drink, remembering various stories that she'd heard about Lord John Marbury, and in particular Leo's reaction to him. Leo looked from one to the other for all of five seconds or less before walking away, and Ginger looked on with a smile as Toby and Lord John talked to one another before they began walking towards her. Toby flashed her a quick grin as he walked by her seat, and she shrugged in return, indicating, she hoped, that she knew he had to work, but her eyes followed him as he walked away.
Once he was out of sight her gaze wandered around the room, stopping when she noticed one of her best friends making their way through the crowd towards her.
>*<*>*<
Carol looked around her with a smile when she walked into the reception hall. No matter how long she'd worked in the White House, how many of these shindigs she went to, the grandeur always amazed her, and she never came to one of these events without taking a moment to observe, to remember. She hadn't thought that she'd get in here as early as this, but CJ had managed to track down the source she was looking for sooner rather than later, and once she'd been sure of that, she'd waved Carol off while she did her thing. Carol hadn't been able to keep the surprise off her face, asking CJ if she was sure, but not having to ask twice.
She walked around now, seeing several people that she knew, but she frowned slightly when she saw Ginger sitting at a table by herself. Even as she stood watching, Toby walked by, Lord John Marbury at his side, and Ginger smiled up at him as he nodded briefly down at her. The hairs on the back of Carol's neck rose one by one of their own accord, and she found herself making her way through the crowd to the seat beside Ginger, trying to force a smile to her face. She knew she was being silly, ridiculous even. She knew it wasn't just her feelings for Toby that had made Ginger do what she did, that there was more to it than that. But she couldn't help but feel deep down that maybe Ginger working in such close proximity to the man she was in love with wasn't a good idea, and despite the fact that she knew there was no point in blaming Toby, that nothing that had happened was his fault, still her radar automatically rose whenever she saw the two of them together. "Hey Ginger," she began, sitting down across from her friend, realising as she did that the seat was warm, that someone had only recently vacated it. "You all alone?"
Ginger grinned. "You just missed Toby. Leo pawned off Lord John Marbury on him."
Carol smiled too, having heard on many occasions from the men of the West Wing what they thought of Lord John Marbury. CJ on the other hand, found him utterly charming, and the feeling was entirely mutual. Watching the two of them together had given Carol some pretty decent dinner theatre, but she wouldn't have minded being a fly on the wall for Toby and Lord John going toe to toe either. "I hope Toby wasn't trying to make you work," she said, gauging Ginger's reaction carefully. "You're off the clock once you get in here."
"It wasn't like that." Ginger looked down at her glass of champagne, resting her fingers on the base, turning it around slowly. It caught in the tablecloth beneath it, rucking up the delicate material. "He was asking me how I was."
"And how are you?" Carol leaned closer to her friend, not wanting to miss a word of her answer.
It came with an exhalation of air, and Ginger's head tilting back in exasperation. "I'm fine Carol," she said. "I just wish that everyone would…"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Carol cut across her quickly. "We're just worried Ginger. That's all." Idly, she realised that she was trying to pull the sleeves of her dress down over her hand; impossible since the material wouldn't stretch that way, and besides, the scars on her wrist were well covered anyway. She joined her hands on the table, noting the whiteness of her knuckles, willing them to relax.
"I know Carol." Ginger's own hands were clenched tightly on the table too, but she flashed a weak smile at Carol. "I know." They sat in silence for a moment, neither sure of what to say. Finally, Ginger looked around her, a too bright smile on her face. "Doesn't this place look fantastic?"
Carol seized on the safe topic, looking around her too. "I just can't believe we all got invited."
Ginger rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You've known for weeks you'd be coming with Sam." She blinked then, looking around the room. "Speaking of…where is he?"
Carol shrugged. "He had to meet Dalton Millgate about the Supercollider before coming here to find Senator Enlow."
Ginger's wide eyes grew instantly wider at the mention of the Senator's name. "Is that wise?" she wondered.
"CJ's told him, Leo's told him, I've told him not to start anything," Carol reassured her. "Not that that means anything when Sam and Enlow get together, but we're trying."
Ginger looked up and off to the side, an air of mock consideration settling around her. "I'm just wondering if we can sell tickets to that…what do you think?"
"That we're about to find out."
Carol had been looking around the room, and her eyes narrowed as she spotted something on the other side. Jack Enlow was walking by, but something had caught his attention enough to make him stop and turn. A second later, Sam walked up to him, and even from clear across the room, Carol could tell that the conversation wasn't going Sam's way. She glanced quickly at Ginger, and was met by her friend's nod. "Go," was all she said, and that was enough for Carol to be out of her seat, positioning herself in a place where neither Sam nor the senator could see or hear her, but where she could do both.
She winced when she heard the senator call Sam "kid," knowing how that would make Sam's hackles rise, especially when it was uttered in that condescending tone. "Check around," the senator continued. "I'm on record in favour of it." She supposed that that was the Supercollider.
"Thank God the hold's anonymous," was Sam's quick response, which is when Carol knew that they were in for a battle. Then something small shifted in Sam's face, and she didn't know if the senator had seen it or not, but it was clear to Carol. "It's you."
"Sam, do you really care about the Superconducting Supercollider?" It had all the hallmarks of a closing hand, a parting shot, but Sam got the last word anyway.
"I didn't before. It's a long night and we're not done yet. Go dance with your wife." He walked away then, Senator Enlow going in the other direction, and Sam walked right past Carol's hiding place.
She stepped from it, following him for a couple of steps before calling out, "That's not a bad idea you know. Dancing."
He stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face her, and his face, which had been a mask of frustration, softened into a smile when he saw her there. "What, were you checking to make sure that no blood was spilled?"
"That's my job," she told him lightly, going over to him and resting a hand on his arm. "What happened?"
"He told me that the Supercollider is on anonymous hold. That's what's stopping it." His jaw set in indignation. "He's the one who put it on hold. Jackass."
"What are you going to do?" She asked the question because she knew he was going to do something. Another person might have left well enough alone, but this was Sam. And not just passionate Sam who wanted to help his old college professor, but Sam whose ire had just been raised by the not-so-honourable Senator from Illinois.
"I don't know," he told her, looking in the direction in which Enlow had vanished. "But something. I'm going to talk to Doctor Millgate again…we have to be able to come up with something."
She grinned up at him, slipping her arms around his waist. "I take it that's by way of saying that I'll have to wait for my dance?"
His face relaxed back into a smile; she even got a chuckle out of him with that one, and his arms went around her waist to boot. "For now," he told her, pressing his lips briefly to hers. "But save one for me."
"Yeah." The word was a sigh as she released him, watching him walk away, waiting until he vanished from sight before she returned to Ginger. Once there, she found that company had found them in the forms of Bonnie and Margaret. "Hey guys," she greeted her friends. "You both look great."
"You too," Margaret told her. "Although I thought I'd never get here."
"Join the club." Carol rolled her eyes.
"Where'd Sam go?" Bonnie wanted to know. "I wanted to admire him in his tux."
"Hey!" Carol pretended affront. "That's my boyfriend you're talking about."
Bonnie just gave her a cheeky grin, but Margaret was serious. "Where is Sam?"
"Trying to figure out a way to horsewhip Jack Enlow without getting blood on his tuxedo."
Bonnie snorted. "Good luck!"
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"So, let me get this straight." Margaret was more concerned with the party than politics. "What you're saying is that the three of us are all here solo. You're the only one here with a guy, and you can't see him because he's busy working."
There was a moment's silence while they considered this state of affairs. "There's only one thing for me to do right now, isn't there?" Carol asked, knowing what the response was going to be, knowing that she didn't drink much, but giving them the opening anyway. A glass of wine wouldn't do her any harm.
"Girls," Margaret announced. "Let's get drunk."
>*<*>*<
"No. But you're not bad for government help."
Sam didn't even bother to stifle his smile at Doctor Millgate's words as he left the office. Dalton Millgate was famously parsimonious when it came to praise; in fact, Sam had long thought that he made Toby look like a model of gushing sentimentality in comparison. A "not bad" from him was a standing ovation from anybody else, and for just a second, Sam let himself bask in his mentor's words. When you added those words to the fact that he'd just got the better of Senator Enlow - and he acknowledged now that Carol was right about that; he and Enlow did have a history together, and beating him on this was extra sweet - he wasn't having too bad a night.
With that in mind, he looked at his watch and realised that, while the whole affair had taken longer to sort out than he'd originally thought, it was still early enough that he could fit in a dance with Carol. Possibly more than one.
Almost giddy at the thought, he made his way into the reception hall, to be confronted with the final strains of the Canadian National Anthem. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, he spotted Josh and Amy beside Donna and the President and the First Lady standing beside them, along with Leo and CJ. He walked over towards them, smiling at Josh when he turned towards him. "Hey," he said, greeting the group at large. "What's with the anthem?"
"I was Canadian for a couple of hours," Donna supplied helpfully.
"But now she's not," Amy chimed in.
"But the First Lady didn't know that," CJ concluded, with something less than her usual vigour Sam noted.
"You feeling ok CJ?" he asked, worried about her, choosing to ignore whatever it was the other two were talking about. He had the distinct feeling that he was far too sober to understand it.
"I'm fine Samuel," she murmured, her hand rubbing across her forehead lightly. "Although I think it may be possible that I am, in fact, a little drunk."
Josh snorted, receiving, for his troubles, a smack to the back of the head from both Donna and Amy. The two women exchanged a conspiratorial smile, which left Josh looking quite nervous, and Sam could well imagine why. He'd long known of Josh's suppressed feelings for Donna, and where Amy fitted in, he wasn't too sure, especially when you considered that Josh, along with many of the West Wing staffers in the know, had been keeping a close eye on Ginger in the last couple of weeks, taking a close interest in her welfare.
"Sam, how did it go with Enlow?" Leo asked, with the President's ears perking up suddenly.
"Oh, is this about the Superconducting Supercollider?" he asked, taking Sam's nod as a means to continue. "It's absolutely fascinating you know…they can, in laboratory conditions, recreate the particles which were only found in the first trillionth of a second after the universe was created. The first trillionth of a second, think of that!" The fact that all around him save Sam were rolling their eyes didn't deter his enthusiasm at all, and he was taking a breath to continue when the First Lady stepped in.
"Jed, will you stop talking physics and dance with me? Now?" She didn't take no for an answer, not that it had really been a question, steering the President to the centre of the floor.
"Good idea," Amy said, taking Josh by the arm and physically dragging him out on to the dance floor.
"But I wanted to hear about-" Josh's protests fell on deaf ears as he was led away, and Donna grinned at Sam.
"If all I hear for the next three weeks is about theoretical physics-" She inserted as much emotion into those words as one would in a dozen swear words. "-I'm swapping jobs with Bonnie."
Sam grinned at her in return. "It's all worked out," he told Leo. "Enlow had it on anonymous hold. Now he doesn't."
Leo tilted his head. "Am I going to need to worry about this?"
Sam shook his head. Thanks to the threat he'd made, they were safe for the time being. And if it came back to bite them on the ass later on, well, that was later on. They'd deal with it when the time came. For now, there was only one thing that he wanted to think about, and when Leo nodded his approval at him, he turned to Donna. "Donna, have you seen Carol around?"
Donna pointed across the room. "She and the other assistants are over there. I'll head over with you." They nodded at Leo, who was waylaid at once by Lord John Marbury, and began to move across the room. "You think we should have left Leo like that?" she asked him, glancing over her shoulder.
Sam did likewise, biting his lip at the sight of Leo looking as if he wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, else. "He'll be fine," he replied. "Better him than me."
Donna nodded her head. "You've got a point."
By then, they were at the table where the other assistants were laughing uproariously over something, and Sam instantly decided that it was nothing that he needed to hear about. "Donna, you're here!" Margaret announced, just in case they'd missed her. "Where were you?"
"Mix-up over my nationality." At their confused looks, Donna waved a hand. "Long story."
"And Sam…" Bonnie continued, looking not at the man himself, but at Carol. "Sam, Sam, our sunshine man…"
"You've been talking to CJ," Sam accused as the rest of the ladies laughed.
"Are you done working?" Margaret asked him. "Because it's not nice to work when your girlfriend is sitting here alone."
Sam looked at each assistant in turn. "She's hardly alone," he pointed out, arching an eyebrow. "But yes, I am done with work. And I am here…" He turned his gaze on Carol, extending a hand to her. "To ask my beautiful girlfriend if she would bestow upon me the honour of a dance?"
"Smooth," Bonnie chuckled as Carol stood up, taking Sam's hand without a word.
"What happened to playing hard to get?" Margaret called after them as Donna slid into Carol's vacated seat.
They just about heard Ginger's response. "Like that was ever going to happen."
When they reached the middle of the dancefloor, Sam slipped his arm around Carol's waist, and she around his, and he brought their joined hands to rest just over his heart. Mindful of CJ's warning, they kept a respectable distance from one another, not too close, and they moved in silence for a moment before he looked down at her, quirking an eyebrow. "Playing hard to get?" he asked.
She laughed lightly, a faint blush rising up her cheeks. "Margaret was giving out some relationship advice. Treat them mean, keep them keen and all that."
"You think it works?"
She shrugged. "I told her that I thought I was doing pretty well on my own."
"That you are," he breathed, his hand moving up and down the smooth skin at her back, enjoying the slight shiver that went through her. "That you are." His fingertips continued their gentle exploration, moving to the rhythm of the music. "You know," he murmured. "I really do like that dress."
"I thought you might."
"I like you in purple," he decided, and she blinked once in surprise.
"I thought you liked me in red," she challenged.
"I like you in red," he acknowledged. "Or purple. Or pretty much any colour really…"
"Good answer," she laughed as she pressed herself slightly closer to him, and he wondered briefly what CJ would say if she saw them, before deciding that he really didn't care. "I take it things went well with Enlow?" she asked.
"He's going to remove his hold," Sam confirmed, unable to keep the pride out of his voice, especially when he saw the smile that spread across her face. "And I did it all without a drop of bloodshed," he added.
It was her turn to lift an eyebrow then. "I'll check for that later on," she told him archly.
"Promises, promises," he countered before tilting his head. "Do you think I'd be a good physicist?"
"No." Her response was quick, but not cruel, although he couldn't help but feel a little miffed by it. "I do however," she continued. "Think that you're a fantastic speechwriter. A great advisor. And a not-too-bad boyfriend, even thought you left me alone for most of the night…" Her voice trailed off teasingly and he found himself smiling at her. "The world has plenty of experts in physics," she told him, her hand moving up his back and curling around his shoulder. "But this White House only has one Sam Seaborn, and we need him more than science does."
He took a deep breath at her words, let it out slowly. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice even to his own ears sounding hoarse. He moved his head closer to hers, pressing a quick kiss to her temple, before letting his head rest there. Something over her shoulder caught his attention, and he smiled. "Look at them," he said, turning her so that she could see.
"What?" She didn't understand at first, but then she saw what he saw, and her face cleared. The President and First Lady were dancing, their faces mere inches apart from one another. The President's arm rested on the First Lady's back, just high enough there to be socially decent, while her arm was around his shoulders. Their free hands were resting against the President's chest, just above his heart, and there might have been a million people in the room, or none for all they knew. They only had eyes for each other. Carol smiled before turning her gaze back to Sam.
"You remember last week? I told you that the President and I played chess."
She nodded, a glint coming into her eyes. "You told me that he beat you, and you were shocked that I couldn't play chess. And I still say that strip chess is not the way for me to learn."
He laughed, shaking his head. He'd made that joke to her to be sure, and he'd only been half joking, but that wasn't what he was thinking about now. "We were all so involved in the results from Hartsfield's Landing that I didn't tell you the rest of what he said."
A slight frown appeared on her face. "What?"
He smiled, in part to ease her worry, in part because he was embarrassed to even tell her this, because it had sounded so ridiculous to him at the time. That, as much as any excitement over Hartsfield's Landing, had been what caused him not to say it to her yet. "We were talking about the thing with China and Taiwan, and he had me trying to figure out what they were going to do. Which I did, eventually." He'd been proud of that too. "I told him that I didn't know how he did it, how he could see all those possibilities, make all those decisions. And he told me…" He broke off, uncertain of what her reaction would be, but her hand sliding down from his shoulder to the small of his back, exerting just a little more pressure there, gave him the impetus to continue. "He told me that I was going to run for President some day. And that I shouldn't be afraid of it. That he believed in me."
His eyes met hers, his uncertain, hers smiling. She hadn't burst out laughing at the notion, which he supposed was a good thing, but was her silence a good or a bad thing? "Well," she said finally, and her voice didn't sound very clear, the smile on her lips shaking perilously with the promise of tears. "I'd vote for you."
He let out a breath he didn't even realise that he was holding. "Well," he quipped. "That's one I suppose."
"Two." At his look of surprise, she elaborated. "Me. The President. Plus, I'm sure that most people around here would vote for you in a heartbeat."
Her casual confidence surprised him. "You think?"
She nodded, all traces of laughter gone from her face. "I do," she told him seriously. Then her head tilted to the side. "Is that what you want Sam?"
He looked down at her, then around the room, then over to the President and First Lady. "That's what I want," he murmured, still looking at the older couple.
She turned her head, following his gaze, then looking back to him in confusion. "To be the President?"
"No." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "That."
That. To be married to someone for over thirty years, and still be as in love with them as you were the day that you got married. To have endured a hellish year, knowing that it wasn't over yet, and know that no matter how bad it got, the two of you would get through it together. To be facing the worst day of your professional career in a matter of hours, and still be able to dance in a room full of people, as if there was nobody else in the world but the two of you.
"Oh," she whispered, her face clearing. "That."
Ignoring the rest of the room, ignoring CJ's explicit instructions from earlier on, he pulled her as close to him as he thought proper in a room like this, pressing his lips to hers for the briefest of touches. Then he rested his head against hers, and they moved in silence for the rest of the dance, their hands joined over his heart, and there might have been a million people in the room, or none for all they knew. They only had eyes for each other.
