This isn't the half-written fic from Feb, this is an all new WW WiP caused by Josh's line from "Enemies". Really, I'm only posting this so I can access it when I go home tonight. *g*
***
What They'd Do
It had become a running joke amongst them. It wasn’t incredibly amusing, but between travelling, writing, dealing with reporters and all the other mundane tasks of campaigning, they needed something to laugh about. ‘Bartlet for America’ was a great concept, but it was hard work convincing the rest of America.
So, it had started after... Sam would say it was just after Connecticut, but Josh said it was much later, and Toby said it was before that. CJ couldn’t remember, and didn’t really care, so they’d just decided that it had started A While Ago, and left it at that.
So, A While Ago, they had been tired (exhausted, really), and had gone for drinks. Since they can’t agree on just when this happened, nobody’s sure if they were celebrating or commiserating, but either way, they’d decided drinking was a good solution.
They’d got to that stage when everyone was just drunk enough that the floor wouldn’t quite stay even, and Toby had brought up the prospect of just how long the campaign had to go.
"You realise we’ve barely started, don’t you?" Toby was playing his cardboard coaster, slowly ripping it into pieces.
"Started what?" CJ was leaning forward, concentrating very hard on lifting up her glass without spillage, and she still looked glamorous. As if all she needed was five minutes and a quick brief, and she’d be ready to handle the next throng of reporters. As long as she wasn’t required to stand.
"This. Everything." Toby gestured vaguely at the table. "The whole ‘Bartlett for America’ thing."
Josh blinked at Toby, then took another swallow of (Scotch? Bourbon? Sam’s not sure) something, and said, "Well, yeah. It’s gonna take a while, Toby."
"Rome wasn’t built in a day," Sam added, and Toby shot him a dark look. "What? Now I can’t use cliches in speech or in speeches...?"
"No. You’re banned from cliches altogether, Sam."
Josh sniggered at Toby’s reply, then asked, "So you don’t want to be doing this? Or you just wish it wasn’t taking this long?"
Toby shrugged.
"That’s not an answer, Toby. Answers require words. You know, the things you and Sam play around with all day?" CJ said with a smirk.
"Neither. Both. Pick one, and there’s your answer."
"Really, that’s not much of an answer either, Toby." Sam felt obliged to point it out. "And we don’t ‘play around’ with words, we write speeches. There’s a difference."
CJ could handle sticky questions from reporters. She knew how to defend her comments, even when rather intoxicated. "You write words down, cut and paste, move them around and try to stick them where they fit. To me, it sounds very similar to kids with a jigsaw puzzle. Hence, playing."
"Back to the topic--" Josh started, but was interrupted by a combination of "What topic?" and "There was a topic?" from CJ and Toby, respectively.
"It’s not playing..." Sam just got a disbelieving look from Toby, and an unimpressed one from Josh.
Toby placed his empty glass on the table. "Give up, Sam, she’s beaten you."
"Listen to your boss, Sam," CJ said with an air of smugness.
"As I was saying," Josh said forcefully, "What happened to the topic involving...time and campaigning and stuff? What did you want Toby?"
Toby didn’t look inclined to answer, but CJ answered for him. "I don’t care what he wants. I just want this to be over."
"No more early starts and late finishes," Sam suggested, raising his glass in a toast.
"No more constant questions. No more reporters," CJ continued. Their glasses made a brittle clink as they tapped them together.
"You do both know that you’ll still have to do those things after we win, right?"
CJ looked at Josh seriously. "Thank you Josh. I’d been living under a rock all my life and hadn’t, in fact, realised that."
Sam laughed.
Toby only raised an eyebrow at the indignant expression on Josh’s face. "Yeah, but at least we won’t be travelling all the time. We’ll have permanent offices. Desks. Doors that we can close."
Josh swirled the last inch of his drink in his glass, and sighed.
"Why the sigh?" Sam asked, ignoring his own empty glass to pull at his loosened tie, and undo another shirt button.
"It’s a nice thought," Josh said, raising his glass.
"But?"
"But," Josh paused for another swallow, "You realise how much work it’s going to take to get there, right? We’ve barely started."
Toby said, "You’re repeating me," and emptied his glass.
"Yeah, well, it’s a good point, Toby."
Toby nodded. "I’m not disagreeing. Just pointing out your lack of originality."
"Original or not, I know what he means," CJ offered. "What wouldn’t I give to have won already."
"More importantly, what would you give?" Josh asked, with a flash of dimples.
"Is there any way you could make that sound more sleazy, Josh?"
"Not without trying really hard," Josh said, and gestured to the waitress to bring over another round of drinks.
***
It's not slashy and I don't think it actually has far to go. If I do finish it, it'll be a present to the boozefest, since everyone (especially Lynda) was very understanding and patient about me failing to even come close to reaching the deadline.
***
What They'd Do
It had become a running joke amongst them. It wasn’t incredibly amusing, but between travelling, writing, dealing with reporters and all the other mundane tasks of campaigning, they needed something to laugh about. ‘Bartlet for America’ was a great concept, but it was hard work convincing the rest of America.
So, it had started after... Sam would say it was just after Connecticut, but Josh said it was much later, and Toby said it was before that. CJ couldn’t remember, and didn’t really care, so they’d just decided that it had started A While Ago, and left it at that.
So, A While Ago, they had been tired (exhausted, really), and had gone for drinks. Since they can’t agree on just when this happened, nobody’s sure if they were celebrating or commiserating, but either way, they’d decided drinking was a good solution.
They’d got to that stage when everyone was just drunk enough that the floor wouldn’t quite stay even, and Toby had brought up the prospect of just how long the campaign had to go.
"You realise we’ve barely started, don’t you?" Toby was playing his cardboard coaster, slowly ripping it into pieces.
"Started what?" CJ was leaning forward, concentrating very hard on lifting up her glass without spillage, and she still looked glamorous. As if all she needed was five minutes and a quick brief, and she’d be ready to handle the next throng of reporters. As long as she wasn’t required to stand.
"This. Everything." Toby gestured vaguely at the table. "The whole ‘Bartlett for America’ thing."
Josh blinked at Toby, then took another swallow of (Scotch? Bourbon? Sam’s not sure) something, and said, "Well, yeah. It’s gonna take a while, Toby."
"Rome wasn’t built in a day," Sam added, and Toby shot him a dark look. "What? Now I can’t use cliches in speech or in speeches...?"
"No. You’re banned from cliches altogether, Sam."
Josh sniggered at Toby’s reply, then asked, "So you don’t want to be doing this? Or you just wish it wasn’t taking this long?"
Toby shrugged.
"That’s not an answer, Toby. Answers require words. You know, the things you and Sam play around with all day?" CJ said with a smirk.
"Neither. Both. Pick one, and there’s your answer."
"Really, that’s not much of an answer either, Toby." Sam felt obliged to point it out. "And we don’t ‘play around’ with words, we write speeches. There’s a difference."
CJ could handle sticky questions from reporters. She knew how to defend her comments, even when rather intoxicated. "You write words down, cut and paste, move them around and try to stick them where they fit. To me, it sounds very similar to kids with a jigsaw puzzle. Hence, playing."
"Back to the topic--" Josh started, but was interrupted by a combination of "What topic?" and "There was a topic?" from CJ and Toby, respectively.
"It’s not playing..." Sam just got a disbelieving look from Toby, and an unimpressed one from Josh.
Toby placed his empty glass on the table. "Give up, Sam, she’s beaten you."
"Listen to your boss, Sam," CJ said with an air of smugness.
"As I was saying," Josh said forcefully, "What happened to the topic involving...time and campaigning and stuff? What did you want Toby?"
Toby didn’t look inclined to answer, but CJ answered for him. "I don’t care what he wants. I just want this to be over."
"No more early starts and late finishes," Sam suggested, raising his glass in a toast.
"No more constant questions. No more reporters," CJ continued. Their glasses made a brittle clink as they tapped them together.
"You do both know that you’ll still have to do those things after we win, right?"
CJ looked at Josh seriously. "Thank you Josh. I’d been living under a rock all my life and hadn’t, in fact, realised that."
Sam laughed.
Toby only raised an eyebrow at the indignant expression on Josh’s face. "Yeah, but at least we won’t be travelling all the time. We’ll have permanent offices. Desks. Doors that we can close."
Josh swirled the last inch of his drink in his glass, and sighed.
"Why the sigh?" Sam asked, ignoring his own empty glass to pull at his loosened tie, and undo another shirt button.
"It’s a nice thought," Josh said, raising his glass.
"But?"
"But," Josh paused for another swallow, "You realise how much work it’s going to take to get there, right? We’ve barely started."
Toby said, "You’re repeating me," and emptied his glass.
"Yeah, well, it’s a good point, Toby."
Toby nodded. "I’m not disagreeing. Just pointing out your lack of originality."
"Original or not, I know what he means," CJ offered. "What wouldn’t I give to have won already."
"More importantly, what would you give?" Josh asked, with a flash of dimples.
"Is there any way you could make that sound more sleazy, Josh?"
"Not without trying really hard," Josh said, and gestured to the waitress to bring over another round of drinks.
***
It's not slashy and I don't think it actually has far to go. If I do finish it, it'll be a present to the boozefest, since everyone (especially Lynda) was very understanding and patient about me failing to even come close to reaching the deadline.