Talking to the Fish
Title: Talking to the Fish
Characters: CJ Cregg, Carol
Rating: Mature. I'm branching out & trying to be brave.
Notes: No real time. Also, can people stop berating me for porn now? No? Mmk.
Disclaimer: All credit goes to Sorkin, Wells, & NBC/Warner Bros.
Carol’s not new to walking in on her boss in weird situations. The various states of undress brought on by torn stockings, stained blouses, and all manner of evening-wear related difficulties were awkward at first, but, well -CJ’s kinda clumsy. And, as Carol had quickly learned, her clumsiness tended to take itself out on her clothing, so it was a rare occurrence when a week went by without her happening to see more skin than she’d originally signed on for.
There were also a couple of times where Carol’d come in fully expecting to interrupt a phone call, only to find that CJ’d been talking to her fish. She tried telling herself it’d be weirder if the fish didn’t have a name…but, yeah. Still weird. Especially considering the conversation had been rife with pauses, almost as if CJ were listening to Gail talk back.
It was stress, though. Just stress.
Besides, Carol did it too, sometimes.
Okay, no, that was a lie -she never did. But she could see why CJ would. Kinda.
The one thing Carol had never, ever in a million years expected to walk in on, though, was this:
CJ, sprawled out on her sofa, with one hand in her blouse, and the other down her skirt.
Okay. She’d been changing. Changing and…moaning. And arching and -
Oh, god. This wasn’t in her job description. So was not. But she was still close to the door, could still make it out without CJ noticing, so long as her eyes stayed closed and she stayed -busy.
Carol took two steps back. Drew the door closed, slowly, slowly. Almost home free.
“Danny…oh!”
The door clicked shut.
She’d been talking to the fish.
Yeah.
Characters: CJ Cregg, Carol
Rating: Mature. I'm branching out & trying to be brave.
Notes: No real time. Also, can people stop berating me for porn now? No? Mmk.
Disclaimer: All credit goes to Sorkin, Wells, & NBC/Warner Bros.
Carol’s not new to walking in on her boss in weird situations. The various states of undress brought on by torn stockings, stained blouses, and all manner of evening-wear related difficulties were awkward at first, but, well -CJ’s kinda clumsy. And, as Carol had quickly learned, her clumsiness tended to take itself out on her clothing, so it was a rare occurrence when a week went by without her happening to see more skin than she’d originally signed on for.
There were also a couple of times where Carol’d come in fully expecting to interrupt a phone call, only to find that CJ’d been talking to her fish. She tried telling herself it’d be weirder if the fish didn’t have a name…but, yeah. Still weird. Especially considering the conversation had been rife with pauses, almost as if CJ were listening to Gail talk back.
It was stress, though. Just stress.
Besides, Carol did it too, sometimes.
Okay, no, that was a lie -she never did. But she could see why CJ would. Kinda.
The one thing Carol had never, ever in a million years expected to walk in on, though, was this:
CJ, sprawled out on her sofa, with one hand in her blouse, and the other down her skirt.
Okay. She’d been changing. Changing and…moaning. And arching and -
Oh, god. This wasn’t in her job description. So was not. But she was still close to the door, could still make it out without CJ noticing, so long as her eyes stayed closed and she stayed -busy.
Carol took two steps back. Drew the door closed, slowly, slowly. Almost home free.
“Danny…oh!”
The door clicked shut.
She’d been talking to the fish.
Yeah.