The West Wing/Andrea Wyatt/Prompt #5/Hours
Title:Always the Flowers
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing:Andy/?
Prompt: #6 Hours
Spoilers:None. Totally AU
Word Count:633
Author's Notes:So I'm being silly with this prompt. But I'm that kind of girl. Props to the book and the film. For _witc who loves them in all their forms, and for raedbard, in lieu of The Thing.
She never really understood Mrs Dalloway.
She appreciated the need to fill the gaping hole in your life, but she’d realized quicker than the protagonist that it never really replaces what’s missing. But the idea that constantly throwing parties would somehow achieve that was utterly foreign to her. It was the obligation of her job which she hated most, attending functions, parties and social events. She hated to think of the minutes wasted on inane small talk with strangers which ate into time that could be better spent helping. Hours and hours over the years, slipping away.
As she so often does, she stands on the outer edges, watching. She has been there long enough to be bored, but not long enough to yet warrant slipping away. In truth, she’s forgotten what this party is even for, knowing only that the people she can rely on to brighten the event will not be there. She rolls the stem of her wine glass between her fingertips as she exchanges pleasantries with yet another nameless face and wanders why she is more ill at ease tonight than before. She fakes a smile as the face moves on to another victim and she sighs softly grateful for the solitude. She lifts the glass to her face, pressing her cheek against the smooth surface. The contents have long since warmed to room temperature and offer no relief to the stifling atmosphere of the room.
“Which one is Mrs Dalloway?” The voice comes softly over her shoulder, cool breath skimming over her bare skin.
She smiles softly, yet doesn’t turn her head, her outward appearance masking the fluttering within. “What are you doing here?”
“You know me…I love a good party.”
“Which is why I’m asking why you’re here.”
“Funny.”
She closes her eyes for a second and lets the familiar voice wash over her, shutting herself off from the party in front of her to the seclusion of the voice behind.
“I hate these things.”
“I know. Our heroine you are not.” The voice moves slightly, cool air against her ear. “More like Sally or Richard…Dragged to the party out of duty.”
She leans a fraction toward her companion, in the hope of feeling lips against her skin.
“Well, we know about duty, you and I. What it costs.”
“I think you’re more Vaughan than Dalloway. Choosing life, but having to lose it to find it.”
She turns round in acknowledgment. “How did you know?”
“It’s been on your bedside table for a fortnight. It was back on the bookshelf when I went over tonight. And seeing as you’re not the type to give up, I figured you’d finished it. I should never have let you watch it in the first place”
“I didn’t think you paid that much attention to what’s beside my bed.”
“Only when you’re not in it.”
Her eyes flicker shut as she finally feels the kiss on her neck, just below her ear, over the pulse point which quickens beneath the lips touching her.
“I need to show my face for a bit. I’ll see you back at yours in 20 minutes. You’ll find some flowers on the bed.”
Andy swallows the last of her warm white wine and turns to leave. She turns at the doorway and looks back. The smile that reaches her from the other side of the room elicits one in return and it is the first genuine smile she has given all night.
She thinks of the flowers CJ has left for her. A long-standing joke between them, symbolic of their appearance. She can almost see them. Flame-colored poppies intertwined with sunflowers, their stems encased in dark green paper, lying on the crisp white cotton of the bed. And not a rose in sight.
She hurries home.
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing:Andy/?
Prompt: #6 Hours
Spoilers:None. Totally AU
Word Count:633
Author's Notes:So I'm being silly with this prompt. But I'm that kind of girl. Props to the book and the film. For _witc who loves them in all their forms, and for raedbard, in lieu of The Thing.
She never really understood Mrs Dalloway.
She appreciated the need to fill the gaping hole in your life, but she’d realized quicker than the protagonist that it never really replaces what’s missing. But the idea that constantly throwing parties would somehow achieve that was utterly foreign to her. It was the obligation of her job which she hated most, attending functions, parties and social events. She hated to think of the minutes wasted on inane small talk with strangers which ate into time that could be better spent helping. Hours and hours over the years, slipping away.
As she so often does, she stands on the outer edges, watching. She has been there long enough to be bored, but not long enough to yet warrant slipping away. In truth, she’s forgotten what this party is even for, knowing only that the people she can rely on to brighten the event will not be there. She rolls the stem of her wine glass between her fingertips as she exchanges pleasantries with yet another nameless face and wanders why she is more ill at ease tonight than before. She fakes a smile as the face moves on to another victim and she sighs softly grateful for the solitude. She lifts the glass to her face, pressing her cheek against the smooth surface. The contents have long since warmed to room temperature and offer no relief to the stifling atmosphere of the room.
“Which one is Mrs Dalloway?” The voice comes softly over her shoulder, cool breath skimming over her bare skin.
She smiles softly, yet doesn’t turn her head, her outward appearance masking the fluttering within. “What are you doing here?”
“You know me…I love a good party.”
“Which is why I’m asking why you’re here.”
“Funny.”
She closes her eyes for a second and lets the familiar voice wash over her, shutting herself off from the party in front of her to the seclusion of the voice behind.
“I hate these things.”
“I know. Our heroine you are not.” The voice moves slightly, cool air against her ear. “More like Sally or Richard…Dragged to the party out of duty.”
She leans a fraction toward her companion, in the hope of feeling lips against her skin.
“Well, we know about duty, you and I. What it costs.”
“I think you’re more Vaughan than Dalloway. Choosing life, but having to lose it to find it.”
She turns round in acknowledgment. “How did you know?”
“It’s been on your bedside table for a fortnight. It was back on the bookshelf when I went over tonight. And seeing as you’re not the type to give up, I figured you’d finished it. I should never have let you watch it in the first place”
“I didn’t think you paid that much attention to what’s beside my bed.”
“Only when you’re not in it.”
Her eyes flicker shut as she finally feels the kiss on her neck, just below her ear, over the pulse point which quickens beneath the lips touching her.
“I need to show my face for a bit. I’ll see you back at yours in 20 minutes. You’ll find some flowers on the bed.”
Andy swallows the last of her warm white wine and turns to leave. She turns at the doorway and looks back. The smile that reaches her from the other side of the room elicits one in return and it is the first genuine smile she has given all night.
She thinks of the flowers CJ has left for her. A long-standing joke between them, symbolic of their appearance. She can almost see them. Flame-colored poppies intertwined with sunflowers, their stems encased in dark green paper, lying on the crisp white cotton of the bed. And not a rose in sight.
She hurries home.