fic: it's always nice to make new friends (TWW/ASOIAF, Toby/Catelyn)
it's always nice to make new friends
The West Wing & ASOIAF crossover / Toby/Catelyn / 562 words
for damelola, happy holidays, my lovely. I hope they are wonderful for you, and as stress free as they can be.
He has a thing for red heads.
Not in the way some men have a certain type, or so that bullshit saying goes, but in the way that that particular shade of hair tends to short circuit something in his brain and drive him to distraction.
He should remember this. After all with the still weight of where once a wedding band rested he should have have all the memory he needed for his brain to scream danger.
It doesn’t though, and that’s the problem.
--
Catelyn Tully comes into his office on a Thursday morning when everything has gone to shit. Seriously gone to shit.
Josh has managed to piss off the delegation needed in the Senate for their bill to pass. Sam can’t write anything and is stuck tearing pieces of paper off his notepad after writing one or two lines, and then balling up the paper in frustration before pitching it towards the trashcan. Where they do not go in. And Toby cannot get a minute alone with the President to discuss what needs to be discussed.
He’s beginning to feel like the only one that wants to actually run the country around here.
A throat clears itself in his doorway, and he thinks it might be Bonnie or Ginger or maybe Sam. “What?” he asks without looking away from his computer screen.
“Mr. Ziegler.”
His name is not phrased as a question, and that causes him to look up. It’s not Bonnie or Ginger and certainly not Sam standing in the front of his office. It’s no one he knows, and he knows a lot of people.
Toby goes still, document forgotten on his screen, as he stares at the woman. She is tall, not the height of CJ but not far off. Her suit is a silvery blue, and her hair a deep shade of auburn that makes him think of the autumn leaves around the Mall. “Miss,” he says.
Her face pinches in confusion.
“Your name,” he clarifies, thinking if he’s supposed to have any meetings with anyone at this time.
“Oh,” she smiles, and it’s full of large white teeth with a hint of a bite. “Catelyn Tully.”
It’s his turn for his face to pinch in confusion as he rolls the name around in his mouth, searching for the placement.
“I’m a junior Senator--”
“--from Arkansas,” Toby finishes for her.
“Yes,” Senator Tully smiles. “You do know me then.”
He blinks, jaw working. “Only by the preliminary information from your race. You won by thirteen percent.”
She shuffles her feet, briefcase a dead weight by her side. “I did.”
“Do you have a reason for being in my office?” It could sound rude, so he amends with, “Do we have an appointment?”
She inhales and then exhales quickly. “No,” she looks back out through the door and the bullpen. “I’m part of your Tax Bill. Or the part that you need to get it to pass.”
“I see.” Toby’s still rolling her name around on his tongue, admiring the sheen of her hair under the fluorescent lights of his office.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you instead of Mr. Lyman.” She sets her briefcase down next to the chair in front of his desk.
He smiles, a victory for himself to use later. And a person of interest to add. “Yes.”
He manages to give away on some smaller details, but when he gets to lord it over Josh later that he brought the delegation back on board, it's worth it. Along with the promise to work with her again soon.
The West Wing & ASOIAF crossover / Toby/Catelyn / 562 words
for damelola, happy holidays, my lovely. I hope they are wonderful for you, and as stress free as they can be.
He has a thing for red heads.
Not in the way some men have a certain type, or so that bullshit saying goes, but in the way that that particular shade of hair tends to short circuit something in his brain and drive him to distraction.
He should remember this. After all with the still weight of where once a wedding band rested he should have have all the memory he needed for his brain to scream danger.
It doesn’t though, and that’s the problem.
--
Catelyn Tully comes into his office on a Thursday morning when everything has gone to shit. Seriously gone to shit.
Josh has managed to piss off the delegation needed in the Senate for their bill to pass. Sam can’t write anything and is stuck tearing pieces of paper off his notepad after writing one or two lines, and then balling up the paper in frustration before pitching it towards the trashcan. Where they do not go in. And Toby cannot get a minute alone with the President to discuss what needs to be discussed.
He’s beginning to feel like the only one that wants to actually run the country around here.
A throat clears itself in his doorway, and he thinks it might be Bonnie or Ginger or maybe Sam. “What?” he asks without looking away from his computer screen.
“Mr. Ziegler.”
His name is not phrased as a question, and that causes him to look up. It’s not Bonnie or Ginger and certainly not Sam standing in the front of his office. It’s no one he knows, and he knows a lot of people.
Toby goes still, document forgotten on his screen, as he stares at the woman. She is tall, not the height of CJ but not far off. Her suit is a silvery blue, and her hair a deep shade of auburn that makes him think of the autumn leaves around the Mall. “Miss,” he says.
Her face pinches in confusion.
“Your name,” he clarifies, thinking if he’s supposed to have any meetings with anyone at this time.
“Oh,” she smiles, and it’s full of large white teeth with a hint of a bite. “Catelyn Tully.”
It’s his turn for his face to pinch in confusion as he rolls the name around in his mouth, searching for the placement.
“I’m a junior Senator--”
“--from Arkansas,” Toby finishes for her.
“Yes,” Senator Tully smiles. “You do know me then.”
He blinks, jaw working. “Only by the preliminary information from your race. You won by thirteen percent.”
She shuffles her feet, briefcase a dead weight by her side. “I did.”
“Do you have a reason for being in my office?” It could sound rude, so he amends with, “Do we have an appointment?”
She inhales and then exhales quickly. “No,” she looks back out through the door and the bullpen. “I’m part of your Tax Bill. Or the part that you need to get it to pass.”
“I see.” Toby’s still rolling her name around on his tongue, admiring the sheen of her hair under the fluorescent lights of his office.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you instead of Mr. Lyman.” She sets her briefcase down next to the chair in front of his desk.
He smiles, a victory for himself to use later. And a person of interest to add. “Yes.”
He manages to give away on some smaller details, but when he gets to lord it over Josh later that he brought the delegation back on board, it's worth it. Along with the promise to work with her again soon.