TWW FIC: Love Letter
Title: Love Letter
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Toby (Toby/Andy)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. No infringement intended.
Summary: "The inaugural, Toby. If I win, I want you to write it."
Author's Note: Post-series. Involves my own personal canon. Written for the prompt: Toby, the last speech he writes, at fictorium. Feedback and concrit is love.
When Toby received the call two days after the election, he wasn't surprised. He hunched over his desk in his Columbia office, surrounded by an air of clairvoyance and bathed in the warm wash of his shaded lamp.
Over the phone, Amy Gardner relayed the request. "She wants you to do it. Can you fly in tomorrow?"
---
"I want you to do it."
With his mouth full of well-done ribeye, Toby raised his eyebrows at Andy, who hadn't yet touched her risotto. "Do what?"
"The inaugural, Toby. If I win, I want you to write it."
Toby let his eyes wander across the table. Half-formed phrases tumbled through his mind, a domino effect of words--an old habit. "Why?"
She waited to speak until he met her eyes. "Because you're still the best writer I know."
---
"We'll reimburse all your expenses," Amy said. "I need you here tomorrow for an initial meeting. This needs to start as soon as possible."
Toby bit the inside of his cheek. Amy didn't need to know that the speech was more than half-written, more than a year in progress. Policy, ambitions, cadence--all of it already a custom fit for Andy. For her presidency.
"I'll fly down tomorrow," he said before he ended the call, pulled out his wallet, and booked his plane tickets.
---
He returned to New York with details in tow, and a quarter of a draft already on paper.
More than once, a student saw the scribbles on his notepad and asked, "So what are you writing?"
Toby always tilted his head and tapped the pad with the top of his pen. "A love letter."
No one took it seriously. His answer never changed.
---
On January 13th, he sent the finished copy.
On January 20th, he watched from his office chair as Andy spoke his words with a clear, commanding voice.
As he held a warm cup of coffee, a soft smile pulled at his mouth and his chest expanded with pride and age-old love for her, still the best woman he knew.
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Toby (Toby/Andy)
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. No infringement intended.
Summary: "The inaugural, Toby. If I win, I want you to write it."
Author's Note: Post-series. Involves my own personal canon. Written for the prompt: Toby, the last speech he writes, at fictorium. Feedback and concrit is love.
When Toby received the call two days after the election, he wasn't surprised. He hunched over his desk in his Columbia office, surrounded by an air of clairvoyance and bathed in the warm wash of his shaded lamp.
Over the phone, Amy Gardner relayed the request. "She wants you to do it. Can you fly in tomorrow?"
---
"I want you to do it."
With his mouth full of well-done ribeye, Toby raised his eyebrows at Andy, who hadn't yet touched her risotto. "Do what?"
"The inaugural, Toby. If I win, I want you to write it."
Toby let his eyes wander across the table. Half-formed phrases tumbled through his mind, a domino effect of words--an old habit. "Why?"
She waited to speak until he met her eyes. "Because you're still the best writer I know."
---
"We'll reimburse all your expenses," Amy said. "I need you here tomorrow for an initial meeting. This needs to start as soon as possible."
Toby bit the inside of his cheek. Amy didn't need to know that the speech was more than half-written, more than a year in progress. Policy, ambitions, cadence--all of it already a custom fit for Andy. For her presidency.
"I'll fly down tomorrow," he said before he ended the call, pulled out his wallet, and booked his plane tickets.
---
He returned to New York with details in tow, and a quarter of a draft already on paper.
More than once, a student saw the scribbles on his notepad and asked, "So what are you writing?"
Toby always tilted his head and tapped the pad with the top of his pen. "A love letter."
No one took it seriously. His answer never changed.
---
On January 13th, he sent the finished copy.
On January 20th, he watched from his office chair as Andy spoke his words with a clear, commanding voice.
As he held a warm cup of coffee, a soft smile pulled at his mouth and his chest expanded with pride and age-old love for her, still the best woman he knew.