West Wing FF: California Sunset, close as a kiss (CJ/Danny, PG-13)
Title: California Sunset, close as a kiss
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing: CJ/Danny
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Length: 1,200 words
Disclaimer: All belongs to Sorkin and Wells.
Spoilers: Set in the middle of S4, after Danny comes back.
Summary: CJ did not want him there, but she didn't ask him to leave either. Later she will blame this on Californian sun, though it is already setting.
AN: For scrollgirl, in tww_minis who requested: Set in California (or something about California). Nothing set between Seasons 5-7. And did not want: smut
Love California nights,
Always close as a kiss, nothing's sweeter than this,
And we'll spend California nights,
Always close as a kiss...
- LESLEY GORE - "California Nights" lyrics
CJ felt like screaming. The beach was pretty much empty, so she wasn’t ruling the option out yet. This trip was looking like a wash-out from the President’s point of view, and it was little consolation that she got to sit here on this bench and watch the ocean. But it was some consolation, up until the moment Danny showed up. He wasn’t even supposed to be in California, and yet there he was, walking towards her, shoes sinking a little into the sand. One evening, that was all she had asked for. One evening where she didn’t spend the entire time thinking about ways to get around the Concannon investigative technique; trying to get him to give up on the Shareef thing without telling him there was anything to give up on. One evening.
“Are you following me?” CJ snapped.
He shrugged helplessly. “You’re the Press Secretary. I’m Press. I go where you go.”
“You never came on these trips before.”
“I’ve been on trips,” he protested.
“Well you weren’t supposed to be on this one. I would have noticed.”
Danny grinned and placed a hand over his heart. “Aw, thanks.”
“What made you think that was a compliment?”
CJ looked out at the Pacific, and when she looked back at Danny, he was still giving her a hurt look. Or, rather, a mock-hurt look to cover up the fact that he genuinely was a little hurt.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Like I just kicked your puppy. Don’t look at me like that.”
“CJ...”
“If you would stop asking me questions about your pet conspiracy theory we could be having a nice time here.”
“We could, huh?”
“We could. We could sit here, admiring this beautiful Californian sunset, dangling our perfectly pedicured toes in the water, and just talk.”
He sat beside her on the bench comfortably. “That’s a nice picture.”
“Yes it is. So...”
“Did the President order...”
“Danny!” He stopped talking, and CJ stretched out her legs to admire her shoes, and not look at him. She had been so pleased when he had turned up again, like the best Christmas present she’d got in years. Now most of her wished he would just fly back to Germany or Bermuda or wherever the hell he kept getting nearly enough information to completely screw them over. The part of her that was still a little pleased that he was here was thankfully drowned out by the voice saying that she wasn’t twenty-two anymore and when work was in the White House, it trumped men. Especially men who not only resented her job, but were going out of their tiny little minds to make it more difficult for her. She owed Leo and the President, and also national security, and that was more important than the way a guy grinned with his chin down, and how he came to visit your fish. And if that, perhaps, explained her current dating record, well that was life.
Danny sighed, and changed the end of the sentence he had begun minutes ago. “Did he order you to come on the trip?”
“No,” she said, because she could answer that question truthfully, “I wanted to. I loved California when I was at Berkeley. I still do in fact.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“I was fired.”
“Morons.”
CJ giggled, couldn’t help it. He was so matter-of-fact. “They really were. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So, off the record,...’ he left the question dangling for a moment, but just before she either killed him or left, he smiled, “... you manicure your toes?”
“I do when I’m coming to California,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m always optimistic that I’ll get to sit on a beach, and go dabble my toes in the water.”
“You free now?” he quipped.
“Danny. It’s getting dark.”
“So it’ll be refreshing...”
“I’m the White House Press Secretary. You’re the Chief White House Correspondent for the Washington Post.”
“It’s like Romeo and Juliet,” he said, sounding satisfied.
“I’m not sure if you remember, Daniel, but that one didn’t end well!”
“I bet it was great while it lasted.”
“They were fourteen! They were married for what - a day and a half? And in that time they managed one dance and one night together. Then they died. Is that really what you want?”
He breathed her name in a disappointed sigh, “CJ.”
“What?”
“We’re taking a break from all that, okay?”
“What do you...?”
He laid a hand on her shoulder, a little coaxing touch. “Come dabble your toes in the water with me, CJ. Live a little.”
“And then die horribly,” she muttered portentously. But she still stood up.
They walked to the water’s edge, and CJ crouched down to take off her heels. She dangled them from their straps by her right side, and walked toe-deep into the water. Danny walked on her left, keeping his feet dry.
“I had a pool when I lived here,” she offered conversationally.
He looked out into the distance and took a while to respond. “... I’m sorry - I was distracted by a mental picture of you in a bikini.”
CJ punched him.
“Hey!”
When she laughed at him their shoulders brushed. He went quiet, and looked at the ground. Suddenly, he started laughing again. “Your toes are blue.”
“I told you...”
“I know. I just never pictured you with blue nail-polish.”
“You know it’s not my nail-polish, right? I mean, I don’t have a whole spectrum of nail-polishes in my bathroom cabinet. I’m not the kind of... I went to get a pedicure, and the girl said did I want to try something summery? No one ever gets to see it anyway.”
“I do.”
“Well, you’re special.”
“Why’s that?”
Tomorrow she would regret this. She would blame it on the sunshine, though the sun was setting; or the heat, though a chill was in the air, and when Danny offers his coat she may take it. Maybe she would just blame it on the fact that she is a different person in California, where she has never had to evaluate her love life on national security grounds, and on whether telling the truth to a guy she really likes will get the leader of the free world tried in an international court for political assassination. But this is a lie - she is the same person everywhere. Danny just makes her feel like maybe she doesn’t have to be.
So she told him. “You’re persistent, and you came back. Apparently just to make my life miserable... except that I missed you, and people keep leaving, but you always come back. I think that’s worthy of a toenail viewing.”
He grinned with his chin down. When he took her hand, she didn’t pull away.
“You didn’t get these to match?” he asked, spreading her fingers out carefully on his palm.
“Blue fingernails don’t really contribute to a look of professionalism on the Press Secretary.”
“Pity.”
“You like it?”
“I do.”
He looked at her hand for a long moment, and then let go, squeezing it slightly. CJ knelt down to put her shoes back on, screwing up her face at the damp against the leather. Danny put a hand on her back and walked her up the beach. They stood at the edge of the sand, and it was CJ who nodded towards the bench again. Danny smiled and offered her his coat. They sat down to admire the sunset, and just talked.
FIN. Feedback's lovely
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing: CJ/Danny
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Length: 1,200 words
Disclaimer: All belongs to Sorkin and Wells.
Spoilers: Set in the middle of S4, after Danny comes back.
Summary: CJ did not want him there, but she didn't ask him to leave either. Later she will blame this on Californian sun, though it is already setting.
AN: For scrollgirl, in tww_minis who requested: Set in California (or something about California). Nothing set between Seasons 5-7. And did not want: smut
Love California nights,
Always close as a kiss, nothing's sweeter than this,
And we'll spend California nights,
Always close as a kiss...
- LESLEY GORE - "California Nights" lyrics
CJ felt like screaming. The beach was pretty much empty, so she wasn’t ruling the option out yet. This trip was looking like a wash-out from the President’s point of view, and it was little consolation that she got to sit here on this bench and watch the ocean. But it was some consolation, up until the moment Danny showed up. He wasn’t even supposed to be in California, and yet there he was, walking towards her, shoes sinking a little into the sand. One evening, that was all she had asked for. One evening where she didn’t spend the entire time thinking about ways to get around the Concannon investigative technique; trying to get him to give up on the Shareef thing without telling him there was anything to give up on. One evening.
“Are you following me?” CJ snapped.
He shrugged helplessly. “You’re the Press Secretary. I’m Press. I go where you go.”
“You never came on these trips before.”
“I’ve been on trips,” he protested.
“Well you weren’t supposed to be on this one. I would have noticed.”
Danny grinned and placed a hand over his heart. “Aw, thanks.”
“What made you think that was a compliment?”
CJ looked out at the Pacific, and when she looked back at Danny, he was still giving her a hurt look. Or, rather, a mock-hurt look to cover up the fact that he genuinely was a little hurt.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Like I just kicked your puppy. Don’t look at me like that.”
“CJ...”
“If you would stop asking me questions about your pet conspiracy theory we could be having a nice time here.”
“We could, huh?”
“We could. We could sit here, admiring this beautiful Californian sunset, dangling our perfectly pedicured toes in the water, and just talk.”
He sat beside her on the bench comfortably. “That’s a nice picture.”
“Yes it is. So...”
“Did the President order...”
“Danny!” He stopped talking, and CJ stretched out her legs to admire her shoes, and not look at him. She had been so pleased when he had turned up again, like the best Christmas present she’d got in years. Now most of her wished he would just fly back to Germany or Bermuda or wherever the hell he kept getting nearly enough information to completely screw them over. The part of her that was still a little pleased that he was here was thankfully drowned out by the voice saying that she wasn’t twenty-two anymore and when work was in the White House, it trumped men. Especially men who not only resented her job, but were going out of their tiny little minds to make it more difficult for her. She owed Leo and the President, and also national security, and that was more important than the way a guy grinned with his chin down, and how he came to visit your fish. And if that, perhaps, explained her current dating record, well that was life.
Danny sighed, and changed the end of the sentence he had begun minutes ago. “Did he order you to come on the trip?”
“No,” she said, because she could answer that question truthfully, “I wanted to. I loved California when I was at Berkeley. I still do in fact.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“I was fired.”
“Morons.”
CJ giggled, couldn’t help it. He was so matter-of-fact. “They really were. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So, off the record,...’ he left the question dangling for a moment, but just before she either killed him or left, he smiled, “... you manicure your toes?”
“I do when I’m coming to California,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m always optimistic that I’ll get to sit on a beach, and go dabble my toes in the water.”
“You free now?” he quipped.
“Danny. It’s getting dark.”
“So it’ll be refreshing...”
“I’m the White House Press Secretary. You’re the Chief White House Correspondent for the Washington Post.”
“It’s like Romeo and Juliet,” he said, sounding satisfied.
“I’m not sure if you remember, Daniel, but that one didn’t end well!”
“I bet it was great while it lasted.”
“They were fourteen! They were married for what - a day and a half? And in that time they managed one dance and one night together. Then they died. Is that really what you want?”
He breathed her name in a disappointed sigh, “CJ.”
“What?”
“We’re taking a break from all that, okay?”
“What do you...?”
He laid a hand on her shoulder, a little coaxing touch. “Come dabble your toes in the water with me, CJ. Live a little.”
“And then die horribly,” she muttered portentously. But she still stood up.
They walked to the water’s edge, and CJ crouched down to take off her heels. She dangled them from their straps by her right side, and walked toe-deep into the water. Danny walked on her left, keeping his feet dry.
“I had a pool when I lived here,” she offered conversationally.
He looked out into the distance and took a while to respond. “... I’m sorry - I was distracted by a mental picture of you in a bikini.”
CJ punched him.
“Hey!”
When she laughed at him their shoulders brushed. He went quiet, and looked at the ground. Suddenly, he started laughing again. “Your toes are blue.”
“I told you...”
“I know. I just never pictured you with blue nail-polish.”
“You know it’s not my nail-polish, right? I mean, I don’t have a whole spectrum of nail-polishes in my bathroom cabinet. I’m not the kind of... I went to get a pedicure, and the girl said did I want to try something summery? No one ever gets to see it anyway.”
“I do.”
“Well, you’re special.”
“Why’s that?”
Tomorrow she would regret this. She would blame it on the sunshine, though the sun was setting; or the heat, though a chill was in the air, and when Danny offers his coat she may take it. Maybe she would just blame it on the fact that she is a different person in California, where she has never had to evaluate her love life on national security grounds, and on whether telling the truth to a guy she really likes will get the leader of the free world tried in an international court for political assassination. But this is a lie - she is the same person everywhere. Danny just makes her feel like maybe she doesn’t have to be.
So she told him. “You’re persistent, and you came back. Apparently just to make my life miserable... except that I missed you, and people keep leaving, but you always come back. I think that’s worthy of a toenail viewing.”
He grinned with his chin down. When he took her hand, she didn’t pull away.
“You didn’t get these to match?” he asked, spreading her fingers out carefully on his palm.
“Blue fingernails don’t really contribute to a look of professionalism on the Press Secretary.”
“Pity.”
“You like it?”
“I do.”
He looked at her hand for a long moment, and then let go, squeezing it slightly. CJ knelt down to put her shoes back on, screwing up her face at the damp against the leather. Danny put a hand on her back and walked her up the beach. They stood at the edge of the sand, and it was CJ who nodded towards the bench again. Danny smiled and offered her his coat. They sat down to admire the sunset, and just talked.
FIN. Feedback's lovely