fic: get your priorities straight (TWW, Sam/Ainsley)
Ainsley and Sam have a standing lunch date every Tuesday. Today, she is late, so when she rounds the corner into her office Sam is already there. He sits at the small round conference table off to the side, open containers of Ethiopian, this week’s choice, spread out. In his hand, he holds a picture frame.
The White House Counsel’s office is big. Much bigger than the first one she had down in the basement, and she is tiny compared to the rest of the room. She’s filled her office with belongings and pictures to make it less intimidating. The one currently in Sam’s hand she easily places.
She takes the seat across from him, shedding her suit jacket and grabbing a plastic fork.
“You were a Girl Scout?” Sam asks, tilting the frame towards her.
The picture is of when she was roughly ten or so. Her hair is plaited in two braids, done under her Mama’s skilled fingers, and her father stands beside her. “I was.”
“You’re adorable,” he says and grins.
Ainsley reaches out a hand to snatch the photograph. “Give me that.”
He pulls it back and repeats, “Adorable.”
She rolls her eyes, but smiles. She spears a vegetable on her fork, “I was in it for the cookies.”
“Not the prizes?”
She shakes her head. “The cookies. Though Daddy did help me sell the most boxes in my troop. He’d take the order form into the office, make everyone buy at least one if not two.”
Sam takes a sip from his water. Outside the open door, an Associate walks by. “Abuse of power, I see.”
“No,” she draws the word out into two syllables. “Using what’s available to my advantage.”
He smiles again, and she knows what he wants to say. Adorable is on the tip of his tongue, she can read it in the uplift of his mouth and the crinkle around his eyes. It reminds her of a conversation from years ago when they argued about the ERA.
“If you say so.” It’s said with a flash of teeth.
“I do,” she says and quirks her eyebrow as she picks up a piece of bread. She points it at him, emphasizing her words. “You don’t know how competitive it is. All bets are off.”
He laughs. They finish the rest of their lunch. Later, Ainsley puts the photograph back on its respective shelf and finds herself with a sudden craving for Tagalongs. She’ll have to find someone in the building with a daughter in the Scouts, she thinks. It really had been about the cookies for her.
The White House Counsel’s office is big. Much bigger than the first one she had down in the basement, and she is tiny compared to the rest of the room. She’s filled her office with belongings and pictures to make it less intimidating. The one currently in Sam’s hand she easily places.
She takes the seat across from him, shedding her suit jacket and grabbing a plastic fork.
“You were a Girl Scout?” Sam asks, tilting the frame towards her.
The picture is of when she was roughly ten or so. Her hair is plaited in two braids, done under her Mama’s skilled fingers, and her father stands beside her. “I was.”
“You’re adorable,” he says and grins.
Ainsley reaches out a hand to snatch the photograph. “Give me that.”
He pulls it back and repeats, “Adorable.”
She rolls her eyes, but smiles. She spears a vegetable on her fork, “I was in it for the cookies.”
“Not the prizes?”
She shakes her head. “The cookies. Though Daddy did help me sell the most boxes in my troop. He’d take the order form into the office, make everyone buy at least one if not two.”
Sam takes a sip from his water. Outside the open door, an Associate walks by. “Abuse of power, I see.”
“No,” she draws the word out into two syllables. “Using what’s available to my advantage.”
He smiles again, and she knows what he wants to say. Adorable is on the tip of his tongue, she can read it in the uplift of his mouth and the crinkle around his eyes. It reminds her of a conversation from years ago when they argued about the ERA.
“If you say so.” It’s said with a flash of teeth.
“I do,” she says and quirks her eyebrow as she picks up a piece of bread. She points it at him, emphasizing her words. “You don’t know how competitive it is. All bets are off.”
He laughs. They finish the rest of their lunch. Later, Ainsley puts the photograph back on its respective shelf and finds herself with a sudden craving for Tagalongs. She’ll have to find someone in the building with a daughter in the Scouts, she thinks. It really had been about the cookies for her.