Darkness, Light
May. 23rd, 2003 09:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fizzawritesTitle: Darkness, Light
Author: Fizza
Rating: Pg-13
Pairing: Josh/ Abbey, WW
It was just a gray rainy day. Abbey folded her laundry into small manageable piles. Comforts of a normal living in the most famous house in the world. She slipped off the top of the box that lived on the shelf of her walk-in closet, and slid the shirts in.
It was too late when she saw him standing there, unsure of himself for the first time.
“Josh?” she says.
He had stormed in there looking for the president. (For what? He can’t remember now.) Instead he finds the first lady, living from moment to moment in her laundry. He tries to force a “sorry, ma’am” like he’s been trained. But he can’t bring himself to say ma’am to Abbey Bartlet, not in her closet, when she’s just a lady in the dark of the expansive thing.
He just says hi, like it means everything and puts his hands into his pockets by his hips.
She looks out and sees only his silhouette against the lights streaming inside from the paneled windows. In sharp relief, she can see his hair puffing out from the static electricity in the closet.
Before she can stop herself, she goes to fix it by running her hand through his hair and grabbing for his scalp. But as quick as she’s made the motion, she jerks back, realizing what she’s done.
“You should get a comb through that mop once and a while, Joshua Lyman.” She crosses her arms and hopes that using his full name makes it sound like a motherly nag. It doesn’t help that she’s standing close enough to smell his breath (salsa and weak mints).
He grins at her comment, and doesn’t move back.
“I like it messy.” And then his hand is in her hair. The first kiss moves his tongue straight to her mouth and finds her own. Abbey thinks she’s going to break from it, but she doesn’t. Not too surprising, actually. She continues the kiss on the threshold on her closet door and pushes him into it.
=
The comforter on the bed isn’t even off. It’s red with a pattern lacing through it in burgundy, which coincidentally, matches her face. Washington stares at them from the wall, the damn voyeur. She laughs and thinks of years of first ladies trying to make love to their tired president husbands, who missed the boy who works down the hall. She laughs at their ghostly stares of contempt, rebuking her for disgracing the residence with the love of another man. It’s the 21st century, ladies; I’ve got needs too.
Yes, she should know better. And she should recognize that he’s just like Jed. These egotistical sweeties she loves will have only stripped her of her sensibilities the moment they smile.
Josh is not young, but not weathered and taken by the job. Abby’s losing her 1st love to the job, so what’s wrong with taking Josh away from it, even for a little while. Josh is not the same and when he smirks and fiddles with her black underwear, slipping them off, she feels new again.
=
The next day at Senior Staff, the president and Leo are going back and forth with him. Two other things cross his mind…
“Josh, the appropriations on the crime bill for…”
Sorry Mr. President, I slept with your wife. Honestly, I’d do it again. I feel like I should be guilty, but I’m not. Nothing personal sir.
Thou shall not commit adultery
The second one doesn’t enter his head as a command from God, or a booming voice from the sky, but the measured tone of Jed Bartlet. He’s in his ear, whispering commandments and biting into his concentration.
“CJ, tell the Times to back off.” Leo cuts into his thoughts. “ Josh, get confirmation from the yea votes on the floor. Josh?”
“Okay, and the strategy meeting’s at five. I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, everyone” Leo nods.
He breathes in a little too deeply and turns his back on the president to leave. He can’t look him in the eye for too long.
=
“Abigail, come to bed.”
She should be out. Wearing her new lipstick and dancing in slightly shady looking places. Maybe not in shady-looking places, but out. Somewhere other than here. Her face is just washed, but when she looks up in the mirror, she reminds herself. Her face glows of soap and secrets.
If someone had told her that she couldn’t live that part of her life anymore…
“Abbey, what are you doing in there?”
“I’m signing a secret treaty so Canada can invade us and you don’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
“A treaty in the bathroom?” his voice edges on laughter.
“I told you it was secret.”
She takes one more look in the mirror, shuts off the bathroom lights, and turns out the door into the bedroom. She slides herself underneath the red comforter, perches her glasses on her nose and opens her book.
…that all that fun and romance, that part of her life, that complete half of her life was over…
“ It’s going to be a bloodless coup, right?” he says.
“What?”
“Canada invading. They’re not going to shoot me like the czar?”
She looks sideways at him, “Not if you don’t struggle.”
… that would make her very sad.
=
In his apartment, Josh can’t sleep. He twists his head around to see the red light letters tell him the time. 2:46. And in four hours he’ll have to start getting ready. He squints his eyes together, to force himself to sleep, but he only gets 2:46, flashing against his eyelids in a maroon color. The refrigerator starts whirring; somehow it’s become warmer in the kitchen, even in the cold of the winter. But thinking about the refrigerator only reminds him of the chicken leftovers on the top shelf.
His feet pad against the cold linoleum as he opens the door, letting in light into the kitchen. He remembers Abbey’s feet against his. They weren’t so cold then. Another part of flesh against hers.
The chicken isn’t as appetizing as he thought. Mainly, because it’s bathed in cream de something and sealed in ceran wrap. He decides on the yogurt instead, and pushes the refrigerator closed with his foot as he reaches for a spoon, somewhere in the drawer. He walks the familiar path to his couch and turns on the TV, which has been left on CSPAN. Unlike other people, CSPAN won’t make him sleepy. So he flips through the upper cable channels, and finds some kind of food network. They’ll probably be telling how to make the cream de something chicken after the next commercial break.
Half an hour later, Josh turns off the TV, still awake. The TV sounds one last buzz, and leaves him in silence. No sooner then he is back in silence than he hears her, laughing softly.
And he is back in the residence, dreaming on his couch. He remembers everything, and wants to stay there longer. Against his free will, the memory speeds up like the fast forward on his TV. He’s slowly coming into her, and it’s just getting dark outside. Her mouth opens a little, she closes her eyes and lets her head angle toward the bed. At the end of her release, she sighs one thing, barely audible.
“Jed.”
Josh sucks in air. She does the same.
He has never been so confused. He hears her and wants to run, but she opens her eyes again and looks at him with content. Now all he wants to do is cradle her.
He moves to wrap her in his arms, but the memory breaks into his dark apartment.
=
He did hold her for a little, until it was seven o’clock. Senator Choate will be eyeing Donna nervously while she wonders where he is. Abby knows this. She sits up on the bed and says one thing.
“Come back.”
He nods again happily, although it’s not the same big grin as before.
“ I will.”
Four words gets her through the next two nights. It’s late at night, the next time he walks past the secret service agent at the door. He’s already been told that the first lady was expecting Josh, and doesn’t think anything of it when he walks rather quickly through the residence. He closes the door and kisses her almost immediately. She has always owned any room she walks into, but she loves it this time. The comforter is green now, the other one’s in the laundry, but neither of them notices, she’s too busy taking his clothes off. He’s too busy kissing her neck.
The door opens, letting the light spill in from the hallway, and Abbey speaks again.
“Jed?”
=
fin
Author: Fizza
Rating: Pg-13
Pairing: Josh/ Abbey, WW
It was just a gray rainy day. Abbey folded her laundry into small manageable piles. Comforts of a normal living in the most famous house in the world. She slipped off the top of the box that lived on the shelf of her walk-in closet, and slid the shirts in.
It was too late when she saw him standing there, unsure of himself for the first time.
“Josh?” she says.
He had stormed in there looking for the president. (For what? He can’t remember now.) Instead he finds the first lady, living from moment to moment in her laundry. He tries to force a “sorry, ma’am” like he’s been trained. But he can’t bring himself to say ma’am to Abbey Bartlet, not in her closet, when she’s just a lady in the dark of the expansive thing.
He just says hi, like it means everything and puts his hands into his pockets by his hips.
She looks out and sees only his silhouette against the lights streaming inside from the paneled windows. In sharp relief, she can see his hair puffing out from the static electricity in the closet.
Before she can stop herself, she goes to fix it by running her hand through his hair and grabbing for his scalp. But as quick as she’s made the motion, she jerks back, realizing what she’s done.
“You should get a comb through that mop once and a while, Joshua Lyman.” She crosses her arms and hopes that using his full name makes it sound like a motherly nag. It doesn’t help that she’s standing close enough to smell his breath (salsa and weak mints).
He grins at her comment, and doesn’t move back.
“I like it messy.” And then his hand is in her hair. The first kiss moves his tongue straight to her mouth and finds her own. Abbey thinks she’s going to break from it, but she doesn’t. Not too surprising, actually. She continues the kiss on the threshold on her closet door and pushes him into it.
=
The comforter on the bed isn’t even off. It’s red with a pattern lacing through it in burgundy, which coincidentally, matches her face. Washington stares at them from the wall, the damn voyeur. She laughs and thinks of years of first ladies trying to make love to their tired president husbands, who missed the boy who works down the hall. She laughs at their ghostly stares of contempt, rebuking her for disgracing the residence with the love of another man. It’s the 21st century, ladies; I’ve got needs too.
Yes, she should know better. And she should recognize that he’s just like Jed. These egotistical sweeties she loves will have only stripped her of her sensibilities the moment they smile.
Josh is not young, but not weathered and taken by the job. Abby’s losing her 1st love to the job, so what’s wrong with taking Josh away from it, even for a little while. Josh is not the same and when he smirks and fiddles with her black underwear, slipping them off, she feels new again.
=
The next day at Senior Staff, the president and Leo are going back and forth with him. Two other things cross his mind…
“Josh, the appropriations on the crime bill for…”
Sorry Mr. President, I slept with your wife. Honestly, I’d do it again. I feel like I should be guilty, but I’m not. Nothing personal sir.
Thou shall not commit adultery
The second one doesn’t enter his head as a command from God, or a booming voice from the sky, but the measured tone of Jed Bartlet. He’s in his ear, whispering commandments and biting into his concentration.
“CJ, tell the Times to back off.” Leo cuts into his thoughts. “ Josh, get confirmation from the yea votes on the floor. Josh?”
“Okay, and the strategy meeting’s at five. I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, everyone” Leo nods.
He breathes in a little too deeply and turns his back on the president to leave. He can’t look him in the eye for too long.
=
“Abigail, come to bed.”
She should be out. Wearing her new lipstick and dancing in slightly shady looking places. Maybe not in shady-looking places, but out. Somewhere other than here. Her face is just washed, but when she looks up in the mirror, she reminds herself. Her face glows of soap and secrets.
If someone had told her that she couldn’t live that part of her life anymore…
“Abbey, what are you doing in there?”
“I’m signing a secret treaty so Canada can invade us and you don’t have to worry about anything anymore.”
“A treaty in the bathroom?” his voice edges on laughter.
“I told you it was secret.”
She takes one more look in the mirror, shuts off the bathroom lights, and turns out the door into the bedroom. She slides herself underneath the red comforter, perches her glasses on her nose and opens her book.
…that all that fun and romance, that part of her life, that complete half of her life was over…
“ It’s going to be a bloodless coup, right?” he says.
“What?”
“Canada invading. They’re not going to shoot me like the czar?”
She looks sideways at him, “Not if you don’t struggle.”
… that would make her very sad.
=
In his apartment, Josh can’t sleep. He twists his head around to see the red light letters tell him the time. 2:46. And in four hours he’ll have to start getting ready. He squints his eyes together, to force himself to sleep, but he only gets 2:46, flashing against his eyelids in a maroon color. The refrigerator starts whirring; somehow it’s become warmer in the kitchen, even in the cold of the winter. But thinking about the refrigerator only reminds him of the chicken leftovers on the top shelf.
His feet pad against the cold linoleum as he opens the door, letting in light into the kitchen. He remembers Abbey’s feet against his. They weren’t so cold then. Another part of flesh against hers.
The chicken isn’t as appetizing as he thought. Mainly, because it’s bathed in cream de something and sealed in ceran wrap. He decides on the yogurt instead, and pushes the refrigerator closed with his foot as he reaches for a spoon, somewhere in the drawer. He walks the familiar path to his couch and turns on the TV, which has been left on CSPAN. Unlike other people, CSPAN won’t make him sleepy. So he flips through the upper cable channels, and finds some kind of food network. They’ll probably be telling how to make the cream de something chicken after the next commercial break.
Half an hour later, Josh turns off the TV, still awake. The TV sounds one last buzz, and leaves him in silence. No sooner then he is back in silence than he hears her, laughing softly.
And he is back in the residence, dreaming on his couch. He remembers everything, and wants to stay there longer. Against his free will, the memory speeds up like the fast forward on his TV. He’s slowly coming into her, and it’s just getting dark outside. Her mouth opens a little, she closes her eyes and lets her head angle toward the bed. At the end of her release, she sighs one thing, barely audible.
“Jed.”
Josh sucks in air. She does the same.
He has never been so confused. He hears her and wants to run, but she opens her eyes again and looks at him with content. Now all he wants to do is cradle her.
He moves to wrap her in his arms, but the memory breaks into his dark apartment.
=
He did hold her for a little, until it was seven o’clock. Senator Choate will be eyeing Donna nervously while she wonders where he is. Abby knows this. She sits up on the bed and says one thing.
“Come back.”
He nods again happily, although it’s not the same big grin as before.
“ I will.”
Four words gets her through the next two nights. It’s late at night, the next time he walks past the secret service agent at the door. He’s already been told that the first lady was expecting Josh, and doesn’t think anything of it when he walks rather quickly through the residence. He closes the door and kisses her almost immediately. She has always owned any room she walks into, but she loves it this time. The comforter is green now, the other one’s in the laundry, but neither of them notices, she’s too busy taking his clothes off. He’s too busy kissing her neck.
The door opens, letting the light spill in from the hallway, and Abbey speaks again.
“Jed?”
=
fin
