(no subject)
Title: Across the Room
Fandom: West Wing
Pairing: Leo/Ainsley
Rating: PG
Word Count: 436
Spoilers: Dead Irish Writers
Notes: For challenge #41
Leo watched Ainsley out of the corner of his eye. Which, he told himself firmly, was at best an unwise thing to do. At worst, it was potential career suicide, said watching being done at the First Lady’s birthday party, where the entire West Wing, if not most of Washington were drinking, dancing and generally having the time of their lives. This was in no way the time to be staring after Ainsley - a member of his staff, a Republican to boot, young enough to be his daughter - as if he was some sort of love-struck teenager.
Which he’d been telling himself since the minute she walked into the room, but it didn’t matter.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
It could have been the dress she was wearing; a long shimmering column of green that hugged every curve and, he knew, echoed while accentuating the colour of her eyes.
It could have been her hair, tumbling in waves across her shoulders and down her back, soft and silken temptation that made his fingers itch.
It could have been the way she moved among the crowd, so completely at her ease, talking to this person and that person, even managing to greet the President with aplomb, so far removed from the woman who had quailed at meeting him.
It could have been any of these things, or all of them that attracted Leo’s attention.
But what kept it was the way that he caught her looking at him the same way he was looking at her.
Oh, she was discreet about it; she was always discreet. But every so often, her eyes would meet his, and he could see them lit up by the secret they shared, could see it too in the briefest of smiles that graced her lips. More than a smile of complicity though, it was a smile of promise, a harbinger of things to come.
A reminder that when he got home that night, she would be waiting for him, that same light in her eyes, that smile on her face. That his hands would give in to the temptation that had been with him all night, run through her hair, down her back, and he could almost see the column of green as it shimmered to the floor and lay there forgotten.
The thought made him smile, and almost as if she could hear his thoughts, she glanced at him again, and her lips widened in a smile that made him hope no-one was looking in their direction.
Though then again, for the thought alone, it was worth the risk.
Fandom: West Wing
Pairing: Leo/Ainsley
Rating: PG
Word Count: 436
Spoilers: Dead Irish Writers
Notes: For challenge #41
Leo watched Ainsley out of the corner of his eye. Which, he told himself firmly, was at best an unwise thing to do. At worst, it was potential career suicide, said watching being done at the First Lady’s birthday party, where the entire West Wing, if not most of Washington were drinking, dancing and generally having the time of their lives. This was in no way the time to be staring after Ainsley - a member of his staff, a Republican to boot, young enough to be his daughter - as if he was some sort of love-struck teenager.
Which he’d been telling himself since the minute she walked into the room, but it didn’t matter.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
It could have been the dress she was wearing; a long shimmering column of green that hugged every curve and, he knew, echoed while accentuating the colour of her eyes.
It could have been her hair, tumbling in waves across her shoulders and down her back, soft and silken temptation that made his fingers itch.
It could have been the way she moved among the crowd, so completely at her ease, talking to this person and that person, even managing to greet the President with aplomb, so far removed from the woman who had quailed at meeting him.
It could have been any of these things, or all of them that attracted Leo’s attention.
But what kept it was the way that he caught her looking at him the same way he was looking at her.
Oh, she was discreet about it; she was always discreet. But every so often, her eyes would meet his, and he could see them lit up by the secret they shared, could see it too in the briefest of smiles that graced her lips. More than a smile of complicity though, it was a smile of promise, a harbinger of things to come.
A reminder that when he got home that night, she would be waiting for him, that same light in her eyes, that smile on her face. That his hands would give in to the temptation that had been with him all night, run through her hair, down her back, and he could almost see the column of green as it shimmered to the floor and lay there forgotten.
The thought made him smile, and almost as if she could hear his thoughts, she glanced at him again, and her lips widened in a smile that made him hope no-one was looking in their direction.
Though then again, for the thought alone, it was worth the risk.