Rating/Pairing: PG, Leo/Ainsley
Disclaimer: The West Wing and Peanuts are not mine, nor ever will be mine.
Spoilers: Post ep to "The Drop-In"
Summary: Ainsley gate-crashes the diplomatic reception.
Archive:On my site, The Band Gazebo Anywhere else, ask first
Feedback: Yes please!
Author's Notes: Fifth in the Stolen Moments series; after Reports, Statistics and Divine Intervention and Of Divorces and Desserts and Cookies and Children's Choirs and Loose Lips

Have I mentioned lately that these diplomatic receptions are really not my cup of tea?

I mean, seriously, all this walking around, smiling and making small talk with people, when there's this small matter of a country to run…

It's really not something that I enjoy.

Especially when there are glasses of free champagne going around.

Not that I'm tempted. I don’t hate these things that much.

But there have been days…

I shake my head to clear thoughts like that, and force myself to look around to see who else I have to schmoose. If I can make eye contact with enough people, chat with about half that many, then I should be able to get back to my really important work.

It's when I'm looking around the room that I see her. She's wandering around, obviously looking for someone, and she's got a frown on her face. She could be just trying to see whoever it is she's looking for. Or it could be that she doesn't feel she belongs here.

I know she gets that feeling a lot. She's told me that much in our conversations that we seem to have got into the habit of having, usually very late at night. But she doesn't complain about it. Not really. She can be just talking about her day when something slips out, and then she gets this stricken look on her face, like she's telling tales.

We haven't had one of our conversations in a while, and I know exactly how long it's been. Since the night of the leadership breakfast when I made a horse's ass out of myself in the mess. Since then, she's either been doing a very good job of avoiding me, or she's been really busy. I'm hoping it's the latter.

The last time we had anything approaching a normal, civilised conversation - pleasantries don't count- was Christmas Eve when we went to Midnight Mass together. When I held her hand as I walked her home and kissed her on the cheek, all the while feeling as awkward as a high school kid on his first date.

I don't know why I felt that way.

I mean, I'm not blind. I've seen the way that men look at her. And why shouldn't they? She's a beautiful woman. And not only that, but she's sharp as a tack too. If it weren't for the fact that she's Republican, she'd be beating off the guys in here with a stick.

It's pretty clear that she's already got Sam on the ropes. And since his last romantic liaison was with my daughter, I should be happy about that.

Yet strangely, I'm not. There's another emotion going on that I vaguely recognise, and I'm trying to keep it under wraps.

I don't think it's working.

While I'm pondering these deep thoughts, she's spotted me, and she instantly flushes red and looks down at her feet.

Interesting.

It could be that she's embarrassed that I caught her here, when she probably isn't supposed to be here. Or it could be that she's still upset over what I said to her that night in the mess.

Or she could be wondering how to handle the fact that the last two times we've been in the same room together, she's caught me staring at her. I don't know why I do that. Aside from the obvious reasons that is.

Nope, not gonna have thoughts like that.

She looks up again, seeming to pull herself together and comes over to me. I wait with baited breath to find out if I've been forgiven. "Hey Leo," she starts.

"Ainsley." The signs look promising. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh, I'm not. Here I mean. Not in any official, that is to say, invited, capacity."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why Miss Hayes, are you crashing this party?"

She's instantly defensive. "Well, I wouldn't say…crashing is a very strong…that is…I have a reason…" She sees the look on my face and grins self-consciously. "Yes Sir."

I shrug. "Well, I'm pretty tight with the guy running this shindig. I'm sure I can get you in." I take a sip of my orange juice, turning serious. "So, what does bring you down here?"

She cranes her neck, looking around again. "I'm looking for Sam." Some kind of something flares up inside me, and I trample it. "He has me researching a thing for him, and I just wanted to check up a point with him."

"I don't think he's here."

"So I see. Maybe I should check-"

"No Ainsley. I think he's gone for the day."

There must be something in my tone that gives me away, because she tilts her head and looks at me. "Is there something wrong?"

I sigh. "The President gave a speech tonight that Sam's been working on all day."

Ainsley nods. "The environmental thing."

"Yeah. Toby didn't know about the speech, and when he found out, he talked the President into dropping in a smackdown." Ainsley winces. "Yeah. Sam found out that everyone else knew about it but him, and he's pissed."

Ainsley looks as if she doesn’t know whether to be sorry for Sam or pissed herself. She looks at her watch. "Damn. I was hanging around so that I could talk to him about this."

"You got somewhere you have to be?"

She shakes her head quickly. "Not really. Some friends were going out tonight, they invited me along."

"You could still catch them," I suggest, but she shakes her head.

"By now, they're well onto talking about the deficiencies of this White House. They might never have started had I been there from the start, but I don't much fancy walking into it right now."

"Well stay here then." She looks doubtful, so I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and put it into her hand. "I insist."

She smiles and takes a sip, and I find myself smiling back at her. "So…" she begins. "Donna told me about the missile test."

I grimace. "Is this a running joke around the White House?"

"No." I almost believe her.

"We missed by a hundred and thirty seven miles." I keep my voice low.

"But you're getting closer right?"

"Not close enough."

"Why would you think it was a joke?"

"It was something the President said earlier. Something about some cartoon. He called me the Charlie Brown of missile defence."

She looks perplexed for a moment, and then she bursts out into peals of giggles.

Since she's not going to be saying anything for a while, I continue. "Something about some kid and a football? I don't get it."

She calms down, looks up at me, and promptly dissolves into giggles again. I wait patiently for it to pass, and she finally gets something approaching a sentence out. "I'm sorry…I just got this image of you in a red sweater…with the little cap…" She's in gales of laughter again, and I'm really perplexed now.

"I thought it was about some kid with a dog…" My hands are waving around in the air. "And he couldn't kick a football…and he said that the Pentagon is…Lizzie?"

"Lucy?"

"Yeah."

She's still laughing, gasping out her sentences, but she's making every effort to control herself. "You really don't know anything about Peanuts?"

"They're the snack you get served on planes."

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you. Who doesn't know about Peanuts?"

"I can't believe it myself, and me."

She smiles, taking another sip of her champagne to calm herself. "The Charlie Brown of missile defence," she muses. "You know, now that I think about it, it kinda fits you…"

"How so?" I'm intrigued, and she's just about to tell me when there's a shout from behind me.

"Gerald!"

"Oh God." I close my eyes in anticipated pain, and feel the hand clamp down on my shoulder.

"Gerald, old boy, so this is where you've been hiding!" His gaze lights on Ainsley and he looks her up and down, and I swear, this time I really mean it, I'm going to kill him. "Well, now I can see why you've been away from us for so long. Who is this charming creature I see before me?"

Ainsley has a look on her face that's something in between terror and bewilderment. "This is Ainsley Hayes. She's one of our Associate White House Counsels. Ainsley, this is Lord John Marbury, the new British Ambassador."

Ainsley holds out her hand. "It's nice to meet you Ambassador."

"Oh dear lady, there's no need for such formality." He takes her hand and kisses the knuckles. Ainsley's eyes widen, and I feel bile start to rise. "Your Lordship will do just fine."

Ainsley gives me a look that asks me if this guy is for real, but she gamely answers him. "Certainly, Your Lordship."

"Ainsley. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman." She blushes as he continues. "I can see why Gerald has been monopolising you." He pats my shoulder again, and I think that he might have dislocated something. "Still life in the old dog yet, eh Gerald?"

Ainsley has turned beet red at this point and I open my mouth to say something, but the man just keeps right on talking. Which, for the first time in history, might just be a good thing. "And what a charming accent you have. Might I enquire as to where you are from?"

"North Carolina."

"Ah yes, North Carolina. Lovely place, just lovely." He takes a rather large gulp of his drink, draining it, before deftly grabbing another glass from a passing waiter and setting the empty one down. I have the strongest urge to do likewise.

"Oh, you've been there?" Ainsley perks up at the thought of discussing her home state, and waits for Lord Fauntleroy to answer her.

"Where?"

"North Carolina."

"Oh, there. No, never."

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud at Ainsley's face. It's easy to forget what he's like when you know what to expect from him. "But you said-"

"My dear…" He takes her hand in his, looks deep into her eyes. "How can the place which gave such a vision to this city be anything less than beautiful?"

That's it. If I have to listen to any more of this, I'm not going to be able to stop laughing. "Your Lordship, I think I just saw CJ Cregg over there…" I gesture vaguely.

"CJ Cregg? Your lovely Press Secretary CJ Cregg?" He looks over, and sure enough, there's CJ. I hadn't even seen her, but his Lordship is bounding over there, with a shout of "Princepessa!"

Ainsley stares after him with wide eyes, then swings her gaze back to me. "Who…what…?" is all she can manage.

The look on her face does me in, and I shake my head, taking her by the elbow, indicating without words that she should follow me. We make the short walk to my office unobserved, and when I close the door behind us, we both double over laughing.

When we've both calmed down somewhat, I'm the first one to speak. "Meeting John for the first time is…quite an experience."

"So I see." She looks at me, eyebrow raised. "Gerald?"

I shrug, used to this. "He thinks I'm the butler."

There's a slight pause while she digests that, and she's off again. "And he's the new…"

"British Ambassador. I think it's revenge for Yorktown."

"He's certainly a character."

"He's certainly a lunatic."

"He was a little tipsy, right?" She's looking for reassurance.

"Back there? Yeah. But he's pretty much the same when he's sober."

She giggles. "This is gonna be interesting."

"That's one word."

She drains the last of her glass, still chuckling. "Well, fun as this has been, I think I'm going to head home."

I nod. "You gonna be ok?"

"My car's in the car park. I'll be fine."

"You sure? Because I can get someone to walk you down…" I'm a hair's breadth away from offering myself, and the only thing that stops me is that she walks towards me, shaking her head with a smile on her face, and puts a hand on my arm.

"I was right about you," she says. Her voice is so soft I can hardly hear her, and all of a sudden it's Christmas Eve again and the high school kid is back.

"About the thing?" I ask, because one of us should be talking. We shouldn't be standing in silence, because that could be bad. That could lead to thoughts that can't be acted on this close to the Oval Office.

But she's nodding and still smiling. "Yep." She doesn't say anything more, just stands on her tiptoes and brushes her lips against my cheek.

Then she's gone, walking towards the door slowly, leaving me looking after her.

She's at the door before I recover my voice. "Right about what?"

She's at the other side of the door before she responds. "You're a good man Leo McGarry."

The door closes behind her.

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