Down Time, West Wing gen, G
Title: Down Time
Fandom: West Wing
Characters: C.J., Sam, Josh, Toby, Donna.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine! They belong to Sorkin, Wells, NBC etc. No profit is being made.
Spoilers: Set some nebulous time in season 3, after the original trip to Manchester.
Prompt: Sam (or Will or CJ or President Bartlet) - Boys' toys.
Dedication: For thistle_chaser, I hope your holidays are peaceful and lovely, and thank you for giving me this idea <3
The nicest thing about Manchester is the quiet. It helps that the President bought a home in the middle of nowhere, and with the additional security measures, nobody but the immediate staff gets on the property.
C.J. needs to clear her head, and so she shrugs on her jacket and slips out onto the porch. There’s not much sign of movement beyond the silhouettes of Secret Service agents over by the front door. Nodding to the agents, she takes off in the late evening dusk towards the barns and ploughed fields; despite everything, this is a well-maintained estate.
As she approaches the hay barn, where the President likes to rehearse his speeches and not accept resignations, C.J. can’t help but notice the light that’s spilling out under the door. Seems she’s not the only one too restless to be confined to barracks for the evening. The speeches are done and they all fly back to Washington after tomorrow’s photo ops, so tonight is some incredibly rare downtime for most of them.
Sure enough, when she slips inside the door C.J. discovers her friends and colleagues sitting and lying on bales of hay, bottled beers in hand.
“Hey, C.J!” Josh is the one to greet her, a lazy smile on his face and a crumpled flannel shirt on his back. He looks about as relaxed as she’s seen him since the Inaugural. Sam is flopped out on the next bale along, singing quietly to himself with his eyes closed.
“You didn’t invite me to your party, Joshua,” C.J. points out.
“Donna was just coming to get you and Toby,” he shoots back, and it seems honest enough. Donna is nowhere in evidence, but just then she slips through the door with Toby on her heels. “We just didn’t want the President to invite us all for a game of charades, you know?”
“I’m sure he’s not desperate for another night of your company, Josh,” C.J. deadpans, but she smiles when he offers her a beer from the cooler.
Sam sits up just then, that boyish excitement written all over his face. C.J. really does not have a clue how he sustains that. It’s all she can do to muster a smile away from the cameras, most days.
“Who wants to have a little fun?” He asks, scanning the room for co-conspirators. C.J. considers volunteering, although with Sam it could be anything from strip poker to making up more television shows about Pilgrims.
“I thought we were already,” Toby says, taking the beer Josh hands him and taking a healthy mouthful.
“More fun,” Sam clarifies, not even slightly knocked off his stride.
“What did you have in mind, Sunshine Man?” C.J. asks, leaning against Sam’s bale of hay and swigging gratefully from her own bottle. The beer is cold and just sudsy enough; it goes down easily on nights like these.
“There are some dirt bikes the next barn over. I’d say we still have an hour of light, plus the security lights cover most of the land.”
“You wanna race?” C.J. shakes her head at the idea. These boys and their toys, she can’t quite believe they never outgrow it.
And somehow, they end up trooping in to liberate a couple of bikes and rev them up without causing a major security breach. It’s all fun and games and macho bravado until C.J. takes a turn and shows them how it’s really done (her best friend in Dayton lived on a farm, and she rode these things all the time). Sam compounds his humiliation by taking a spill into some long grass, and the sun finally setting puts a dampener on their misbehaving for a while.
They’re trooping back to their respective rooms, still mocking each other for failures real and imagined when it hits C.J. that these are maybe some of the dearest friends she’s ever had. There’ll never be another situation like this, something that only insiders will ever understand. She links arms with Donna, who’s accusing Josh of driving like her grandma, and laughs all the way back to the porch outside her room.
It’s quiet again by the time she sits back down on her bed, the peace of the countryside settling over the whistles and jeers and sarcastic remarks. C.J. kicks off her shoes with a sigh, and reaches for the next briefing memo in her stack. In the morning the real world encroaches once more, and she’s got to be ready.
But for a while there, it was nice to almost forget.
Fandom: West Wing
Characters: C.J., Sam, Josh, Toby, Donna.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine! They belong to Sorkin, Wells, NBC etc. No profit is being made.
Spoilers: Set some nebulous time in season 3, after the original trip to Manchester.
Prompt: Sam (or Will or CJ or President Bartlet) - Boys' toys.
Dedication: For thistle_chaser, I hope your holidays are peaceful and lovely, and thank you for giving me this idea <3
The nicest thing about Manchester is the quiet. It helps that the President bought a home in the middle of nowhere, and with the additional security measures, nobody but the immediate staff gets on the property.
C.J. needs to clear her head, and so she shrugs on her jacket and slips out onto the porch. There’s not much sign of movement beyond the silhouettes of Secret Service agents over by the front door. Nodding to the agents, she takes off in the late evening dusk towards the barns and ploughed fields; despite everything, this is a well-maintained estate.
As she approaches the hay barn, where the President likes to rehearse his speeches and not accept resignations, C.J. can’t help but notice the light that’s spilling out under the door. Seems she’s not the only one too restless to be confined to barracks for the evening. The speeches are done and they all fly back to Washington after tomorrow’s photo ops, so tonight is some incredibly rare downtime for most of them.
Sure enough, when she slips inside the door C.J. discovers her friends and colleagues sitting and lying on bales of hay, bottled beers in hand.
“Hey, C.J!” Josh is the one to greet her, a lazy smile on his face and a crumpled flannel shirt on his back. He looks about as relaxed as she’s seen him since the Inaugural. Sam is flopped out on the next bale along, singing quietly to himself with his eyes closed.
“You didn’t invite me to your party, Joshua,” C.J. points out.
“Donna was just coming to get you and Toby,” he shoots back, and it seems honest enough. Donna is nowhere in evidence, but just then she slips through the door with Toby on her heels. “We just didn’t want the President to invite us all for a game of charades, you know?”
“I’m sure he’s not desperate for another night of your company, Josh,” C.J. deadpans, but she smiles when he offers her a beer from the cooler.
Sam sits up just then, that boyish excitement written all over his face. C.J. really does not have a clue how he sustains that. It’s all she can do to muster a smile away from the cameras, most days.
“Who wants to have a little fun?” He asks, scanning the room for co-conspirators. C.J. considers volunteering, although with Sam it could be anything from strip poker to making up more television shows about Pilgrims.
“I thought we were already,” Toby says, taking the beer Josh hands him and taking a healthy mouthful.
“More fun,” Sam clarifies, not even slightly knocked off his stride.
“What did you have in mind, Sunshine Man?” C.J. asks, leaning against Sam’s bale of hay and swigging gratefully from her own bottle. The beer is cold and just sudsy enough; it goes down easily on nights like these.
“There are some dirt bikes the next barn over. I’d say we still have an hour of light, plus the security lights cover most of the land.”
“You wanna race?” C.J. shakes her head at the idea. These boys and their toys, she can’t quite believe they never outgrow it.
And somehow, they end up trooping in to liberate a couple of bikes and rev them up without causing a major security breach. It’s all fun and games and macho bravado until C.J. takes a turn and shows them how it’s really done (her best friend in Dayton lived on a farm, and she rode these things all the time). Sam compounds his humiliation by taking a spill into some long grass, and the sun finally setting puts a dampener on their misbehaving for a while.
They’re trooping back to their respective rooms, still mocking each other for failures real and imagined when it hits C.J. that these are maybe some of the dearest friends she’s ever had. There’ll never be another situation like this, something that only insiders will ever understand. She links arms with Donna, who’s accusing Josh of driving like her grandma, and laughs all the way back to the porch outside her room.
It’s quiet again by the time she sits back down on her bed, the peace of the countryside settling over the whistles and jeers and sarcastic remarks. C.J. kicks off her shoes with a sigh, and reaches for the next briefing memo in her stack. In the morning the real world encroaches once more, and she’s got to be ready.
But for a while there, it was nice to almost forget.