TWW Fic: Five Minutes (1/1)
My brain wants to write West Wing fic, despite the abject horror it feels at the mere thought. Um. I tried. Feedback very welcome.
Title: Five Minutes
Author: kangeiko
Fandom: West Wing
Summary: Toby, CJ and an overdue set of notes. Set at an indeterminate point during S1-S2, but certainly pre-17 People. No spoilers.
*
"Hey."
"Yeah?" The dark smudges beneath Toby's eyes had deepened in hue. Probably from the excessive rubbing, CJ thought, lying, as she watched him scrub his hands over his face. "What d'you want?"
She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "I'm being what's known as 'friendly', here, Tobus. You might want to try it sometime."
"CJ, I have these remarks on - on something I could care less about - due in about twenty minutes, and it's really not helping that Sam's in Patagonia -"
"He's at the Hill," CJ corrected.
"- wherever, and the little brain that my assistants were born with seems to have trickled away since we got here." He reached for his coffee and grimaced; CJ surmised that it must be quite, quite cold by now.
"So you have twenty minutes before I come knocking on your door - much as I'm doing now - if you were, in fact, on time."
He made a face at that sentence, but skipped across the grammatical irregularities to focus on the more important issue of content. "CJ, I honest to God have no idea what you're talking about."
"Those twenty minutes? All gone, mi compadre."
Toby looked at his watch. He stood, stalked to the door of his office and peered out at the numerous clocks gracing the opposite wall. He looked back at his watch. "Are those clocks accurate?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, Toby, I snuck in here while you weren't looking and reset the clocks across all time zones to confuse you."
"Well, you are the only person tall enough to reach them, Claudia Jean," Toby said, trying to stifle a smile.
CJ glared. "Time doesn't move any slower if you're being annoying, does it?"
Toby hissed softly as he stomped back to his desk and sat down, almost immediately submerged in papers. "Unfortunately, no."
CJ waited a moment. "Toby? The notes I needed? The notes you promised me?"
"CJ -" She was glaring. He threw up his hands in surrender. "Give me five minutes, I'll get them done."
She waited another beat. "And you'll owe me?" She laid a slight stress across that entire sentence, as if to underline just how much annoyance she was putting up with on his behalf.
Toby seemed oblivious to her martyrdom, rolling his eyes instead. "When do I not?"
"Five minutes, and not a moment later!"
"You're kinda using up my minutes here, CJ," he said to her retreating back, eyes back already down over the paper. CJ graced him with a curl of a smile, unseen and unnoticed, and spun smartly on her heel, marching out to hold the Press Corps at bay for another precious five minutes. As she closed the door behind her, she could hear the steady scratch of pen on paper.
*
fin
Title: Five Minutes
Author: kangeiko
Fandom: West Wing
Summary: Toby, CJ and an overdue set of notes. Set at an indeterminate point during S1-S2, but certainly pre-17 People. No spoilers.
*
"Hey."
"Yeah?" The dark smudges beneath Toby's eyes had deepened in hue. Probably from the excessive rubbing, CJ thought, lying, as she watched him scrub his hands over his face. "What d'you want?"
She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "I'm being what's known as 'friendly', here, Tobus. You might want to try it sometime."
"CJ, I have these remarks on - on something I could care less about - due in about twenty minutes, and it's really not helping that Sam's in Patagonia -"
"He's at the Hill," CJ corrected.
"- wherever, and the little brain that my assistants were born with seems to have trickled away since we got here." He reached for his coffee and grimaced; CJ surmised that it must be quite, quite cold by now.
"So you have twenty minutes before I come knocking on your door - much as I'm doing now - if you were, in fact, on time."
He made a face at that sentence, but skipped across the grammatical irregularities to focus on the more important issue of content. "CJ, I honest to God have no idea what you're talking about."
"Those twenty minutes? All gone, mi compadre."
Toby looked at his watch. He stood, stalked to the door of his office and peered out at the numerous clocks gracing the opposite wall. He looked back at his watch. "Are those clocks accurate?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, Toby, I snuck in here while you weren't looking and reset the clocks across all time zones to confuse you."
"Well, you are the only person tall enough to reach them, Claudia Jean," Toby said, trying to stifle a smile.
CJ glared. "Time doesn't move any slower if you're being annoying, does it?"
Toby hissed softly as he stomped back to his desk and sat down, almost immediately submerged in papers. "Unfortunately, no."
CJ waited a moment. "Toby? The notes I needed? The notes you promised me?"
"CJ -" She was glaring. He threw up his hands in surrender. "Give me five minutes, I'll get them done."
She waited another beat. "And you'll owe me?" She laid a slight stress across that entire sentence, as if to underline just how much annoyance she was putting up with on his behalf.
Toby seemed oblivious to her martyrdom, rolling his eyes instead. "When do I not?"
"Five minutes, and not a moment later!"
"You're kinda using up my minutes here, CJ," he said to her retreating back, eyes back already down over the paper. CJ graced him with a curl of a smile, unseen and unnoticed, and spun smartly on her heel, marching out to hold the Press Corps at bay for another precious five minutes. As she closed the door behind her, she could hear the steady scratch of pen on paper.
*
fin