FIC: Post Lambert, Ergo Propter Lambert (American Idol/West Wing crossover, pg-13, gen)
(Whew doooone! Was supposed to be a drabble, dang it. AND NOW YULETIDE.)
Title: Post Lambert, Ergo Propter Lambert (American Idol RPF/West Wing)
~3300 words | Adam, TWW ensemble
Warnings: none, pg-13, gen
Summary: "You know we can't do anything about it," Josh said. "The White House does not call up Good Morning America and tell them who to put on their show."
Notes: My reaction to the GMA debacle (that apparently took a week to post, uh). A million thanks to thedeadparrot, amproof and leiascully for cheerleading and beta ♥.
Donna caught up with Josh on the way to the Press Room. "Did you hear about the-"
"Yeah," he said.
"What are you gonna do about it?"
"It's none of our business."
"Josh-"
"Are those for me?" He glanced at the stack of files she was carrying and took the green one on top. "Thanks."
"Josh."
"Okay," he said, leafing through the folder, "is this an equal rights thing, or is this you being disappointed that you're not gonna get to see him perform tomorrow morning? Because for the last time, no, I still wouldn't have let you take tomorrow off."
Donna rolled her eyes. "I was going to get sick tomorrow and you never would have known, but no, this is not about me. It's bullshit, Josh."
"Like that's new," he sighed, pushing open the door to the Press Room.
"-the President is pleased that we're continuing to make progress on a bill that would make health care more affordable for people that have it," CJ was saying, "provide increased accessibility for those that don't, provide some important insurance reforms, as well as bend the cost curve and chance the deficit over the next 10 years." She raised her eyes from her notes. "Yes, Danny?"
"Realistically, though, what are the odds of it actually being reconciled this year?"
CJ flashed him a brief smile. "You guys are better odds makers than me."
"Is that Michael Slezak?" a voice asked behind Josh, making him jump.
"Jesus, Sam," Josh said, as Donna snickered next to him. He really needed to get Sam that cowbell for Christmas. Josh scanned the rows of reporters which were keeping the Press Room moderately packed for a Tuesday morning, finally spotting the bespectacled light haired man in the back. He narrowed his eyes. "What is Entertainment Weekly doing here?"
Sam snorted. "What do you think?"
"For god's sake, is he seriously going to ask about-"
"It was bullshit, Josh," Sam said.
"Thank you," Donna humphed.
"I know it was bullshit, but it wasn't the kind that warrants a response from the freaking President of the United States - never mind," he rubbed his eyes. "CJ's not gonna call on him."
"I know," Sam sighed. "It was still bullshit, though."
"Yeah."
"Um, guys?" Donna pointed at the podium. "CJ's not wearing her glasses."
Josh snapped his eyes back to the stage. "Oh, come on," he groaned, just as CJ called on EW.
"You in the purple shirt and the sweater vest," she said.
Slezak cleared his throat. "Does the President have any reaction to Good Morning America's decision to cancel Adam Lambert's appearance due to his performance in the American Music Awards on Sunday night?"
CJ blinked. She looked a little disoriented, and not just because of the glasses. "Who are you?"
"Michael Slezak, Entertainment Weekly."
"Well," CJ said, with that look that meant she was holding back an eyeroll, "the President was in meetings regarding the situation in Pakistan all through last night and budget meetings this morning, so I don't think he's had time to form an opinion about the guest schedule of network morning television, and if he has, he hasn't spoken to me about it."
"Isn't the discrimination of a gay man by being censored on a national TV program a question that should be addressed by-"
"Mr. Slezak, these are very important conversations to have, but until I have time to discuss it with the President this is hardly the right platform to review the incident. Personally," she added with a twitch of her lips, "I wouldn't worry about Mr. Lambert's career. He seems to be doing just fine without the President's support. Next question. Yes, Jackie."
"Oh, god," Sam groaned, just as Jackie Roberts from the Post asked, "Are you saying that the President doesn't support Adam Lambert?"
CJ just raised an eyebrow and said, "Don't twist my words looking for a sound bite."
"What the hell is going on?" Toby growled, appearing out of nowhere and making Josh jump again.
"Adam Lambert's GMA performance was canceled," Donna explained.
"I know that."
"Everyone knows that," Sam noted, pointing at his PDA screen. "Front page news all over the place. Huh."
"What does ABC's bullshit have to do with the President?"
"CJ took the question," Josh said. "It's a thing now."
Toby muttered something incoherent and started walking backstage as CJ wrapped up the briefing. They all followed. It was clearly going to be that kind of morning.
"I still think we should do something about it," Donna said. "It's discriminatory and vile. We should march to Washington. Oh wait."
"You know we can't do anything about it," Josh said. "The White House does not call up Good Morning America and tell them who to put on their show."
"Well, it should," she huffed.
CJ met them backstage. "The President's support?" Toby asked without delay.
"Oh my god, I know," CJ groaned. "I don't know what got into me. It was like I was possessed by Josh or something."
"Hey," Josh said. "That is totally offensive."
"And right on the mark," Donna murmured.
CJ shook her head. "He just mentioned Lambert and I... got distracted." She flushed a little. "Shut up."
Sam patted her shoulder briefly. "I was right there with you."
"Damn it," Toby said, scribbling something on his yellow legal pad. "This is how it starts."
"Am I the only one not seeing why the White House should be getting dragged into this?" Josh complained. "Can't we just let Jon Stewart handle this one?"
"Yeah, still not actually working for us," Sam said.
"What does it take to buy that man?" Josh muttered to himself.
"I'd bet he'd start working for us if we arranged Adam Lambert to be uncanceled," Donna said. "Permanently. From anywhere in the entire world."
Toby raised a hand. "Okay, everybody shut up." It was slightly dismaying that everyone actually listened, considering the fact that it never actually worked when Josh tried it, and technically Josh ranked higher. "Whether or not this is turning into an issue, we're staying out of it. We have a budget to push and a war going on and a treaty to negotiate and this week, that's what we're talking about."
Except that apparently these days Adam Lambert was stirring up more press than the White House itself, and by the end of the day even Schwarzenegger's illegal parking ticket only managed to bump Lambert off the online headlines for fifteen minutes. What began as "Does the President support Adam Lambert?" evolved into "Should the President take a stand in the Adam Lambert Controversy?", mutated into "Is the President burying his head in the sand?" and ended with a string of evening blogs asking, "Why did the President allow Adam Lambert to fuck a dude on national television?"
Okay, so that last one may have just been a stray weed in the bed of thorns, but the issue was still going strong the next morning, when roughly 45% of the staff timed their very-early-lunch breaks to coincide with Adam Lambert's interview on The Early Show.
Josh was flipping through the file in his hand as he approached Donna, who was munching on a sandwich with her eyes glued to the screen of a portable TV in Margaret's office. "Donna, did Jacobs and Radson send you the latest HR-718 draft?"
Donna sat up straight, eyes wide with shock. "Oh no they didn't."
"Damn it, I needed it by this morning."
"Those hypocritical sons of bitches," she said, slamming a hand on the desk.
Josh blinked. "I get the feeling we're not talking about Jacobs and Radson anymore."
"They blurred him, Josh!"
Oh, crap, he thought, realizing. "Lambert?"
"They blurred the kiss. And then they showed Britney and Madonna kissing." She stood up with determination, scowling. "I'm writing a letter to CBS."
"Just don't sign it 'Donnatella Moss, White House'," he called after her as she left the office. He noticed Margaret looking up at him briefly, and then hitting the delete key on her keyboard a couple of times. He raised an eyebrow.
"Signed 'Sources in Washington'," she said edgily.
Josh sighed. "Whatever. This is Toby and CJ's problem, not mine. Is he in?"
Margaret tilted her head towards Leo's office, eyes still on the TV and her fingers still clicking away. Josh went inside. He really shouldn't have been surprised to see Adam Lambert chatting up Maggie Rodriguez on Leo's TV screen.
"I don't care," Leo was saying on the phone. "Nobody did anything illegal, if anyone has a problem with it they can turn to the FCC, and frankly the President has more important things to do than pander to parents who think that 11PM broadcasting is inappropriate for their children. And on a personal note," he added, "yes, I do think CBS are homophobic douchebags. All right." He hung up, and noticed Josh standing in the doorway. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Josh said. "Is he gonna-"
"Nah," Leo said. "This'll be over in a day, and he doesn't need to get involved. We need the votes next week, and we can't afford to offend anyone right now."
"Yeah," Josh said, and couldn't help adding, "Even though it is bullshit."
Leo nodded. "Right outta the cow's ass."
By CJ's afternoon briefing, the subject still hadn't died down - neither the debates about Lambert's original performance, nor the ones about the press coverage it received.
"You should have let me go, Josh," Donna said, still seething. They were leaning against the back wall of the briefing room, watching CJ talk about Healthcare and waiting for the questions that were sure to come.
"Donna, if I'd let you go I would have had to bail you out of prison for assault."
Donna glared at him for a moment. "Okay, probably. But Rodriguez would have deserved it."
"Here we go," Josh said, as CJ opened the floor for questions.
Three skillfully deflected questions later, Josh was already starting to get a headache. Which was when Roger Hinkley raised his hand, and said: "Public leaders such as Mary Marsh have stated that they feel reassured by the President's lack of support for Adam Lambert and what they described as his 'primetime onstage fornication' at the AMAs. Does the President's silence indicate unspoken agreement with the criticism towards Lambert and the subsequent censorship of his performance?"
Donna made a small noise and looked like she was seconds away from giving the reporter and virtual Mary Marsh the finger, which Josh really hoped she wouldn't, not in a room full of reporters and cameras.
Josh's phone buzzed. It was Sam. "What?" he whispered.
"Did you hear it?" Sam asked. He sounded like he was walking.
"I'm in the briefing room."
"He's on his way."
Josh's eyes widened. "Does Leo-"
"Leo's with him," Sam said. "And Josh, he is pissed."
"Leo's pissed?"
"Well, Leo's pissed too. And Toby. And I am, frankly. Hell, at this point I'd say if you're not pissed, there's something wrong with you."
Mary Marsh's face flashed into Josh's mind. "No, I'm pissed too," he said, and then, resigned, "He knows this could cost us next week's vote."
"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "Luckily enough, we serve at the pleasure of a man who's got principle. Is Donna with you?"
"Yeah."
"Put her on, I need her to look something up."
Josh turned to Donna and offered her his phone. "President's gonna put on a show."
Her face lit up. "I always did like him more than you," she said brightly, and took the call. After a moment her eyes widened. "On it," she said, hanging up and immediately dialed another number, turning her back to Josh and speaking in a low voice. Josh grinned. He could guess where this was going.
When the President walked into the Press Room, with Sam and Toby and Charlie in tow, everyone stood up. "I understand people have been asking about me," he said pleasantly, with no introduction. For a split second CJ raised her eyebrows, and then turned to the Press Corps with a suppressed smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States," she said, stepping aside from the podium to give him room.
"Thank you, CJ," the President said. "This won't take long. Now, despite my great love for the American music industry, I was unfortunately forced to miss the Awards show on Sunday night in favor of spending five hours in the Situation Room."
"Josh," Donna said quietly, catching Josh's attention as the President continued to speak. She held out the cell phone, covering the mouthpiece. "They think it's a prank call. Roger Widynowski, publicist."
Josh took the phone. "Mr. Widynowski, this is White House Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman."
After a short pause, a startled voice asked, "The guy who got shot?"
"That's me. If you go to the White House website right now you'll be able to see a live stream of the press briefing, where the President is about to ask to speak with Adam Lambert. You can go look it up if you like, but I'd suggest putting your client on the phone if you don't want to keep the President waiting."
Widynowski made a choked sound. "This is-"
"-Really not an opportunity you want to miss," Josh advised. A moment later, he heard a fresh, friendly voice on the phone.
"Hello?" Lambert said, sounding a little bewildered.
Josh smiled. "Mr. Lambert, this is Josh Lyman. I'm about to put you on the line with the President of the United States. Stay cool, okay?"
"You're shitting me," Lambert said, his tone equally shocked and delighted.
"I am really, really not. This is being aired live, so choose your language carefully," Josh advised, hoping Lambert wouldn't go too far, though you could never really know with that guy, and then the President was saying, "So just to satisfy everybody's curiosity - did anyone get me the number I asked for?" and Josh was elbowing past the Press Corps, wincing from the onslaught of flashbulbs, and then he handed the President his cell.
Bartlet frowned at the phone. "Does this thing have a speaker?" he muttered, and then pressed a button and placed it on the podium. Low static crackled through the microphones. "Ah, there," he said, pleased. "Mr. Lambert? I've heard your name so many times this week I feel like I already know you. May I call you Adam?"
Lambert's voice came through, strong and clear. "Um, yes, sir." The Press Corps collectively picked up their mics.
"You've had a long week, haven't you?"
"Not as long as yours, I'm pretty sure," Lambert said, sounding just a little nervous.
Bartlet's lips quirked up. "Well, it stands to reason. I got enough votes to win my election."
Lambert gave a short bark of surprised laughter. "I hope mine helped, at least."
"I hope you won't hold it against me that I voted for the other guy."
"Oh, not at all, he's a sweetheart," Lambert said fondly. "Hell, I voted for him. I mean heck," he rushed, and chuckled again. "Whoops. I don't think I'm going to stop getting in trouble this week."
Bartlet clasped his hands behind his back, rocking forward on his toes. "Adam, I hear you've come across some free time lately."
"What? Oh, the - GMA, yeah. Managed to fill it up nicely, though."
"Ah, that's good to hear. In that case you might not be desperate enough to consent to my next offer, but I hope you'll keep an open mind about it anyway."
Lambert laughed again. "Oh, I generally keep an open mind about a lot of things."
"Good," Bartlet nodded. "Because my granddaughter Annie would be devastated if she knew that I'd spoken to you without extending an invitation to the White House Thanksgiving dinner."
For a moment, there was a shocked silence. Some more flashbulbs went off. "Really?" Lambert finally asked.
"Oh, I don't joke about turkey," Bartlet said solemnly. "For some years now my granddaughters, and daughters, and, frankly, my wife, have been complaining that my personal brand of holiday dinner entertainment isn't to their satisfaction. Now, I don't understand what isn't entertaining about a survey of early American agricultural practices, do you?"
"No, sir."
"I find the development of different strains of corn fascinating."
"Hey, I love corn," Lambert agreed. "I'm a very corny guy."
"Well, it appears my family is in disagreement with the both of us. However, one thing my family does agree about is you, and from what I recall from the song that's been rotating on my exercise playlist for the past month, you like to entertain. So," Bartlet finished up, "What do you say?"
"I would be - incredibly honored," Lambert said, and laughed softly. "I think my mom would forgive my skipping Thanksgiving dinner for this."
"Tell your mother she's invited too," Bartlet said casually. "I look forward to meeting you, Adam."
"Thank you, sir," Lambert said, still sounding slightly dazed.
For a moment, the President stared directly at the rolling cameras in front of him; and then he nodded at the Press Corps, announced, "That's all I have to say about the issue," and turned on his heels and left.
CJ stepped back to her podium. "Well," she said, passing the still open cell phone to Josh at the bottom of the stage without even looking, "I think that pretty much sums it up for that. Does anyone have any questions about Healthcare?"
Josh put the phone to his ear, covering the other as the briefing room roared to life. "Mr. Lambert? Josh Lyman again."
"Am I off the air?" Lambert asked.
"Yeah."
Lambert let out an explosive breath. "Holy motherfucking shit."
Josh grinned. "How long have you been keeping that one in?"
"Sorry," Lambert said, incredulous, "just - I'm fucking going to the fucking White House to meet the goddamn President of the United States of America. And eat a motherfucking turkey. Shit."
"It's okay," Josh said patiently, "I can wait till you're done."
"Jesus H. tap-dancing jazz-handing Christ on a disco stick." Lambert took a deep breath on the other end of the line, and then let out another amazed little laugh. "Okay, I'm here. Wow. Okay. So, um, what's next?"
"Well, the White House Social Secretary's office will get in touch with your-" Josh cut himself off when he noticed the frantic hand motions Donna was directing at him, and then amended, "Sorry, I meant my assistant Donna Moss will be taking care of the arrangements, so she'll be in touch with you and your people."
Donna flashed Josh a brilliant smile. "Awesome," Lambert said.
"And hey," Josh added. "Sorry about your week. I know it's been rough."
"Oh hey, man," Lambert said. "People are people, you know?"
"Gracious and diplomatic," Josh observed with amusement. "You could have a future in Washington."
Lambert snorted. "Me? Hardly."
"Josh," Donna broke in impatiently, "will you stop flirting and give me the phone? I have arrangements to make."
Lambert excused himself, though, too wired to make any actual arrangements right now, so they agreed on Donna calling him later that day. The minute Josh hung up, his phone beeped with a new text.
Watched briefing. If you don't invite the boy over for Hanukkah, will disinherit. Love, Mom.
"Shoulda seen that one coming," he said murmured under his breath, and then noticed what Donna was doing. "You're only programming that number into your phone for work reasons, right?"
Donna glared at him. "Of course!"
"And you're not going to abuse it when the week is over?"
"I'm not a stalker, Josh," she said pointedly, shoving a file into his hand. "Jacobs and Radson, enjoy. I am going to go now to make my perfectly professional calls as part of my perfectly professional relationship with a guest of the White House."
"Okay," Josh said mildly, waiting for her to leave before rolling his eyes. He was Josh Lyman. He recognized bullshit when he saw it.
Title: Post Lambert, Ergo Propter Lambert (American Idol RPF/West Wing)
~3300 words | Adam, TWW ensemble
Warnings: none, pg-13, gen
Summary: "You know we can't do anything about it," Josh said. "The White House does not call up Good Morning America and tell them who to put on their show."
Notes: My reaction to the GMA debacle (that apparently took a week to post, uh). A million thanks to thedeadparrot, amproof and leiascully for cheerleading and beta ♥.
Donna caught up with Josh on the way to the Press Room. "Did you hear about the-"
"Yeah," he said.
"What are you gonna do about it?"
"It's none of our business."
"Josh-"
"Are those for me?" He glanced at the stack of files she was carrying and took the green one on top. "Thanks."
"Josh."
"Okay," he said, leafing through the folder, "is this an equal rights thing, or is this you being disappointed that you're not gonna get to see him perform tomorrow morning? Because for the last time, no, I still wouldn't have let you take tomorrow off."
Donna rolled her eyes. "I was going to get sick tomorrow and you never would have known, but no, this is not about me. It's bullshit, Josh."
"Like that's new," he sighed, pushing open the door to the Press Room.
"-the President is pleased that we're continuing to make progress on a bill that would make health care more affordable for people that have it," CJ was saying, "provide increased accessibility for those that don't, provide some important insurance reforms, as well as bend the cost curve and chance the deficit over the next 10 years." She raised her eyes from her notes. "Yes, Danny?"
"Realistically, though, what are the odds of it actually being reconciled this year?"
CJ flashed him a brief smile. "You guys are better odds makers than me."
"Is that Michael Slezak?" a voice asked behind Josh, making him jump.
"Jesus, Sam," Josh said, as Donna snickered next to him. He really needed to get Sam that cowbell for Christmas. Josh scanned the rows of reporters which were keeping the Press Room moderately packed for a Tuesday morning, finally spotting the bespectacled light haired man in the back. He narrowed his eyes. "What is Entertainment Weekly doing here?"
Sam snorted. "What do you think?"
"For god's sake, is he seriously going to ask about-"
"It was bullshit, Josh," Sam said.
"Thank you," Donna humphed.
"I know it was bullshit, but it wasn't the kind that warrants a response from the freaking President of the United States - never mind," he rubbed his eyes. "CJ's not gonna call on him."
"I know," Sam sighed. "It was still bullshit, though."
"Yeah."
"Um, guys?" Donna pointed at the podium. "CJ's not wearing her glasses."
Josh snapped his eyes back to the stage. "Oh, come on," he groaned, just as CJ called on EW.
"You in the purple shirt and the sweater vest," she said.
Slezak cleared his throat. "Does the President have any reaction to Good Morning America's decision to cancel Adam Lambert's appearance due to his performance in the American Music Awards on Sunday night?"
CJ blinked. She looked a little disoriented, and not just because of the glasses. "Who are you?"
"Michael Slezak, Entertainment Weekly."
"Well," CJ said, with that look that meant she was holding back an eyeroll, "the President was in meetings regarding the situation in Pakistan all through last night and budget meetings this morning, so I don't think he's had time to form an opinion about the guest schedule of network morning television, and if he has, he hasn't spoken to me about it."
"Isn't the discrimination of a gay man by being censored on a national TV program a question that should be addressed by-"
"Mr. Slezak, these are very important conversations to have, but until I have time to discuss it with the President this is hardly the right platform to review the incident. Personally," she added with a twitch of her lips, "I wouldn't worry about Mr. Lambert's career. He seems to be doing just fine without the President's support. Next question. Yes, Jackie."
"Oh, god," Sam groaned, just as Jackie Roberts from the Post asked, "Are you saying that the President doesn't support Adam Lambert?"
CJ just raised an eyebrow and said, "Don't twist my words looking for a sound bite."
"What the hell is going on?" Toby growled, appearing out of nowhere and making Josh jump again.
"Adam Lambert's GMA performance was canceled," Donna explained.
"I know that."
"Everyone knows that," Sam noted, pointing at his PDA screen. "Front page news all over the place. Huh."
"What does ABC's bullshit have to do with the President?"
"CJ took the question," Josh said. "It's a thing now."
Toby muttered something incoherent and started walking backstage as CJ wrapped up the briefing. They all followed. It was clearly going to be that kind of morning.
"I still think we should do something about it," Donna said. "It's discriminatory and vile. We should march to Washington. Oh wait."
"You know we can't do anything about it," Josh said. "The White House does not call up Good Morning America and tell them who to put on their show."
"Well, it should," she huffed.
CJ met them backstage. "The President's support?" Toby asked without delay.
"Oh my god, I know," CJ groaned. "I don't know what got into me. It was like I was possessed by Josh or something."
"Hey," Josh said. "That is totally offensive."
"And right on the mark," Donna murmured.
CJ shook her head. "He just mentioned Lambert and I... got distracted." She flushed a little. "Shut up."
Sam patted her shoulder briefly. "I was right there with you."
"Damn it," Toby said, scribbling something on his yellow legal pad. "This is how it starts."
"Am I the only one not seeing why the White House should be getting dragged into this?" Josh complained. "Can't we just let Jon Stewart handle this one?"
"Yeah, still not actually working for us," Sam said.
"What does it take to buy that man?" Josh muttered to himself.
"I'd bet he'd start working for us if we arranged Adam Lambert to be uncanceled," Donna said. "Permanently. From anywhere in the entire world."
Toby raised a hand. "Okay, everybody shut up." It was slightly dismaying that everyone actually listened, considering the fact that it never actually worked when Josh tried it, and technically Josh ranked higher. "Whether or not this is turning into an issue, we're staying out of it. We have a budget to push and a war going on and a treaty to negotiate and this week, that's what we're talking about."
Except that apparently these days Adam Lambert was stirring up more press than the White House itself, and by the end of the day even Schwarzenegger's illegal parking ticket only managed to bump Lambert off the online headlines for fifteen minutes. What began as "Does the President support Adam Lambert?" evolved into "Should the President take a stand in the Adam Lambert Controversy?", mutated into "Is the President burying his head in the sand?" and ended with a string of evening blogs asking, "Why did the President allow Adam Lambert to fuck a dude on national television?"
Okay, so that last one may have just been a stray weed in the bed of thorns, but the issue was still going strong the next morning, when roughly 45% of the staff timed their very-early-lunch breaks to coincide with Adam Lambert's interview on The Early Show.
Josh was flipping through the file in his hand as he approached Donna, who was munching on a sandwich with her eyes glued to the screen of a portable TV in Margaret's office. "Donna, did Jacobs and Radson send you the latest HR-718 draft?"
Donna sat up straight, eyes wide with shock. "Oh no they didn't."
"Damn it, I needed it by this morning."
"Those hypocritical sons of bitches," she said, slamming a hand on the desk.
Josh blinked. "I get the feeling we're not talking about Jacobs and Radson anymore."
"They blurred him, Josh!"
Oh, crap, he thought, realizing. "Lambert?"
"They blurred the kiss. And then they showed Britney and Madonna kissing." She stood up with determination, scowling. "I'm writing a letter to CBS."
"Just don't sign it 'Donnatella Moss, White House'," he called after her as she left the office. He noticed Margaret looking up at him briefly, and then hitting the delete key on her keyboard a couple of times. He raised an eyebrow.
"Signed 'Sources in Washington'," she said edgily.
Josh sighed. "Whatever. This is Toby and CJ's problem, not mine. Is he in?"
Margaret tilted her head towards Leo's office, eyes still on the TV and her fingers still clicking away. Josh went inside. He really shouldn't have been surprised to see Adam Lambert chatting up Maggie Rodriguez on Leo's TV screen.
"I don't care," Leo was saying on the phone. "Nobody did anything illegal, if anyone has a problem with it they can turn to the FCC, and frankly the President has more important things to do than pander to parents who think that 11PM broadcasting is inappropriate for their children. And on a personal note," he added, "yes, I do think CBS are homophobic douchebags. All right." He hung up, and noticed Josh standing in the doorway. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Josh said. "Is he gonna-"
"Nah," Leo said. "This'll be over in a day, and he doesn't need to get involved. We need the votes next week, and we can't afford to offend anyone right now."
"Yeah," Josh said, and couldn't help adding, "Even though it is bullshit."
Leo nodded. "Right outta the cow's ass."
By CJ's afternoon briefing, the subject still hadn't died down - neither the debates about Lambert's original performance, nor the ones about the press coverage it received.
"You should have let me go, Josh," Donna said, still seething. They were leaning against the back wall of the briefing room, watching CJ talk about Healthcare and waiting for the questions that were sure to come.
"Donna, if I'd let you go I would have had to bail you out of prison for assault."
Donna glared at him for a moment. "Okay, probably. But Rodriguez would have deserved it."
"Here we go," Josh said, as CJ opened the floor for questions.
Three skillfully deflected questions later, Josh was already starting to get a headache. Which was when Roger Hinkley raised his hand, and said: "Public leaders such as Mary Marsh have stated that they feel reassured by the President's lack of support for Adam Lambert and what they described as his 'primetime onstage fornication' at the AMAs. Does the President's silence indicate unspoken agreement with the criticism towards Lambert and the subsequent censorship of his performance?"
Donna made a small noise and looked like she was seconds away from giving the reporter and virtual Mary Marsh the finger, which Josh really hoped she wouldn't, not in a room full of reporters and cameras.
Josh's phone buzzed. It was Sam. "What?" he whispered.
"Did you hear it?" Sam asked. He sounded like he was walking.
"I'm in the briefing room."
"He's on his way."
Josh's eyes widened. "Does Leo-"
"Leo's with him," Sam said. "And Josh, he is pissed."
"Leo's pissed?"
"Well, Leo's pissed too. And Toby. And I am, frankly. Hell, at this point I'd say if you're not pissed, there's something wrong with you."
Mary Marsh's face flashed into Josh's mind. "No, I'm pissed too," he said, and then, resigned, "He knows this could cost us next week's vote."
"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "Luckily enough, we serve at the pleasure of a man who's got principle. Is Donna with you?"
"Yeah."
"Put her on, I need her to look something up."
Josh turned to Donna and offered her his phone. "President's gonna put on a show."
Her face lit up. "I always did like him more than you," she said brightly, and took the call. After a moment her eyes widened. "On it," she said, hanging up and immediately dialed another number, turning her back to Josh and speaking in a low voice. Josh grinned. He could guess where this was going.
When the President walked into the Press Room, with Sam and Toby and Charlie in tow, everyone stood up. "I understand people have been asking about me," he said pleasantly, with no introduction. For a split second CJ raised her eyebrows, and then turned to the Press Corps with a suppressed smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States," she said, stepping aside from the podium to give him room.
"Thank you, CJ," the President said. "This won't take long. Now, despite my great love for the American music industry, I was unfortunately forced to miss the Awards show on Sunday night in favor of spending five hours in the Situation Room."
"Josh," Donna said quietly, catching Josh's attention as the President continued to speak. She held out the cell phone, covering the mouthpiece. "They think it's a prank call. Roger Widynowski, publicist."
Josh took the phone. "Mr. Widynowski, this is White House Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman."
After a short pause, a startled voice asked, "The guy who got shot?"
"That's me. If you go to the White House website right now you'll be able to see a live stream of the press briefing, where the President is about to ask to speak with Adam Lambert. You can go look it up if you like, but I'd suggest putting your client on the phone if you don't want to keep the President waiting."
Widynowski made a choked sound. "This is-"
"-Really not an opportunity you want to miss," Josh advised. A moment later, he heard a fresh, friendly voice on the phone.
"Hello?" Lambert said, sounding a little bewildered.
Josh smiled. "Mr. Lambert, this is Josh Lyman. I'm about to put you on the line with the President of the United States. Stay cool, okay?"
"You're shitting me," Lambert said, his tone equally shocked and delighted.
"I am really, really not. This is being aired live, so choose your language carefully," Josh advised, hoping Lambert wouldn't go too far, though you could never really know with that guy, and then the President was saying, "So just to satisfy everybody's curiosity - did anyone get me the number I asked for?" and Josh was elbowing past the Press Corps, wincing from the onslaught of flashbulbs, and then he handed the President his cell.
Bartlet frowned at the phone. "Does this thing have a speaker?" he muttered, and then pressed a button and placed it on the podium. Low static crackled through the microphones. "Ah, there," he said, pleased. "Mr. Lambert? I've heard your name so many times this week I feel like I already know you. May I call you Adam?"
Lambert's voice came through, strong and clear. "Um, yes, sir." The Press Corps collectively picked up their mics.
"You've had a long week, haven't you?"
"Not as long as yours, I'm pretty sure," Lambert said, sounding just a little nervous.
Bartlet's lips quirked up. "Well, it stands to reason. I got enough votes to win my election."
Lambert gave a short bark of surprised laughter. "I hope mine helped, at least."
"I hope you won't hold it against me that I voted for the other guy."
"Oh, not at all, he's a sweetheart," Lambert said fondly. "Hell, I voted for him. I mean heck," he rushed, and chuckled again. "Whoops. I don't think I'm going to stop getting in trouble this week."
Bartlet clasped his hands behind his back, rocking forward on his toes. "Adam, I hear you've come across some free time lately."
"What? Oh, the - GMA, yeah. Managed to fill it up nicely, though."
"Ah, that's good to hear. In that case you might not be desperate enough to consent to my next offer, but I hope you'll keep an open mind about it anyway."
Lambert laughed again. "Oh, I generally keep an open mind about a lot of things."
"Good," Bartlet nodded. "Because my granddaughter Annie would be devastated if she knew that I'd spoken to you without extending an invitation to the White House Thanksgiving dinner."
For a moment, there was a shocked silence. Some more flashbulbs went off. "Really?" Lambert finally asked.
"Oh, I don't joke about turkey," Bartlet said solemnly. "For some years now my granddaughters, and daughters, and, frankly, my wife, have been complaining that my personal brand of holiday dinner entertainment isn't to their satisfaction. Now, I don't understand what isn't entertaining about a survey of early American agricultural practices, do you?"
"No, sir."
"I find the development of different strains of corn fascinating."
"Hey, I love corn," Lambert agreed. "I'm a very corny guy."
"Well, it appears my family is in disagreement with the both of us. However, one thing my family does agree about is you, and from what I recall from the song that's been rotating on my exercise playlist for the past month, you like to entertain. So," Bartlet finished up, "What do you say?"
"I would be - incredibly honored," Lambert said, and laughed softly. "I think my mom would forgive my skipping Thanksgiving dinner for this."
"Tell your mother she's invited too," Bartlet said casually. "I look forward to meeting you, Adam."
"Thank you, sir," Lambert said, still sounding slightly dazed.
For a moment, the President stared directly at the rolling cameras in front of him; and then he nodded at the Press Corps, announced, "That's all I have to say about the issue," and turned on his heels and left.
CJ stepped back to her podium. "Well," she said, passing the still open cell phone to Josh at the bottom of the stage without even looking, "I think that pretty much sums it up for that. Does anyone have any questions about Healthcare?"
Josh put the phone to his ear, covering the other as the briefing room roared to life. "Mr. Lambert? Josh Lyman again."
"Am I off the air?" Lambert asked.
"Yeah."
Lambert let out an explosive breath. "Holy motherfucking shit."
Josh grinned. "How long have you been keeping that one in?"
"Sorry," Lambert said, incredulous, "just - I'm fucking going to the fucking White House to meet the goddamn President of the United States of America. And eat a motherfucking turkey. Shit."
"It's okay," Josh said patiently, "I can wait till you're done."
"Jesus H. tap-dancing jazz-handing Christ on a disco stick." Lambert took a deep breath on the other end of the line, and then let out another amazed little laugh. "Okay, I'm here. Wow. Okay. So, um, what's next?"
"Well, the White House Social Secretary's office will get in touch with your-" Josh cut himself off when he noticed the frantic hand motions Donna was directing at him, and then amended, "Sorry, I meant my assistant Donna Moss will be taking care of the arrangements, so she'll be in touch with you and your people."
Donna flashed Josh a brilliant smile. "Awesome," Lambert said.
"And hey," Josh added. "Sorry about your week. I know it's been rough."
"Oh hey, man," Lambert said. "People are people, you know?"
"Gracious and diplomatic," Josh observed with amusement. "You could have a future in Washington."
Lambert snorted. "Me? Hardly."
"Josh," Donna broke in impatiently, "will you stop flirting and give me the phone? I have arrangements to make."
Lambert excused himself, though, too wired to make any actual arrangements right now, so they agreed on Donna calling him later that day. The minute Josh hung up, his phone beeped with a new text.
Watched briefing. If you don't invite the boy over for Hanukkah, will disinherit. Love, Mom.
"Shoulda seen that one coming," he said murmured under his breath, and then noticed what Donna was doing. "You're only programming that number into your phone for work reasons, right?"
Donna glared at him. "Of course!"
"And you're not going to abuse it when the week is over?"
"I'm not a stalker, Josh," she said pointedly, shoving a file into his hand. "Jacobs and Radson, enjoy. I am going to go now to make my perfectly professional calls as part of my perfectly professional relationship with a guest of the White House."
"Okay," Josh said mildly, waiting for her to leave before rolling his eyes. He was Josh Lyman. He recognized bullshit when he saw it.