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Title: "Downtime"
Author: 
Disclaimer: As we all know, none of these 
characters belong to me, but to the people who 
created them. Please don't sue me; I have nine 
dollars in my bank account. 
Spoilers: To be safe, everything up to 
"Shibboleth," although it might never get all 
that specific. 
Rating: PG, I suppose. It's pretty clean. 
Category: general, although there's some other 
stuff thrown in - you'll know it when you see it. 
Fervent anti-romantics should probably turn back 
now, although maybe not. 
Archive: Anywhere.

Right. Here we are.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They sat in complete silence on the front steps, 
watching the few cars and people go by. The 
evening wind picked up a little, and she pulled 
her coat tighter around herself and muttered, 

"Thank you, November."

"It's not that cold," he said idly, not looking 
at her but up at the tree branches silhouetted 
against the sky.

"Speak for yourself," she replied not unkindly.

"Come here," he responded. She was sitting a few 
steps below him, and she twisted around to give 
him a curious look. He held out an arm and 
repeated, "Come here."

Shrugging, one eyebrow slightly lifted, she 
shifted until her back touched his knees and 
leaned back, resting her head on his lap. He bent 
forward to wrap his arms loosely and comfortably 
around her shoulders and rubbed her upper arms 
gently. "Better?"

"Mm-hm." She closed her eyes for a moment and he 
stroked her hair gently back from her face before 
stilling his movements, still holding her 
casually.

"Wouldn't you love for a reporter to come along 
right now?" he asked teasingly after a moment.
She laughed. "That would be just about perfect."

"Leo would burst a blood vessel."

"He wouldn't be the only one."

He grinned down at her. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to 
mess with the Press Secretary either."

She reached up to take one of his hands fondly in 
her own and twined their fingers together. "I 
heard she can be a real witch."

Their eyes met and they laughed quietly. She 
shifted against him and stretched her long legs 
across the stoop. "Nice skirt," he said 
appreciatively.

"Quit staring at my legs," she replied.

"I was just commenting on the fact that you don't 
wear skirts very often, and I like this one."

"And the fact that it's kind of short. . ."

"Doesn't hurt," he admitted. She smacked him 
gently and he hugged her a little tighter. "You 
know something?" he said a bit more subdued.

"What?" She leaned back a bit further to look him 
in the eye.

"You're one of the best friends I've ever had. I 
wanted you to know that."

She reached up and cradled the side of his face 
briefly in her palm. "Thank you."

For a moment they just sat quietly, looking into 
each other's eyes. She shivered and he rubbed her 
arms again. "So," he started.

"Hmm?"

"I heard about the job offer."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, can we not. . ."

"Did - ?"

"No," she cut him off, and repeated more softly, 

"No."

"Ah." He shifted his weight so that he could hold 
her a little closer and asked, "Have you talked 
about it?"

"Briefly." She raked a hand through the hair that 
was always falling over her face. "Got us 
nowhere. As indeed it should have, because that's 
where we're going."

He hesitated. "If it wasn't for the -"

"No."

"If you weren't -"

"Please, don't -"

He was persistent. "Would you want to, otherwise? 
I mean, do you - ?"

"I don't know," she admitted finally. "I - I 
mean, yes, I think I might have feel -" She 
stopped abruptly and tried to sit up.

He pulled her back into his arms and took both 
her hands, trying to keep her distracted. "You 
were saying?"

"Yes, I might have feelings for him," she 
confessed sharply. "Happy?"

"I'd be happier if you were, love." The word 
didn't surprise her - he had used it before - but 
as always it caught her attention. Like the 
embraces and the gentle caresses, it was 
something he reserved for when they were alone. 
Their friendship was no secret, but most people 
probably didn't understand the real intimacy 
between them.

"Sorry, but there's not a lot I can do about that 
right now," she replied.

"I won't tell you to do something you think is a 
bad idea," he said gently.

"Good, because it wouldn't work anyway."

"I know."

For a while they were silent again. Then she 
added, "Speaking of things I think are a bad 
idea. . ."

"Look, there's nothing -"

She interrupted him with a hand on his mouth. 

"This particular thing I do not happen to think 
is a bad idea."

"There is no thing!" he protested.

"There is a thing. It's obvious."

"There is not a thing."

"There is."

"Ask her yourself."

"I don't have to." She grinned smugly in the 
darkness. "I heard it from your own lips."

"You what? I never said a thing. . ."

"Not to me you didn't."

"Then to who?"

"The name 'Matt' ring a bell?"

He pretended to smack her upside the head. "Matt 
talked to you?"

"No, someone who overheard did."

"Who?"

"I plead the fifth."

"Anyway, I didn't say anything to Matt."
She grinned even wider. "If you didn't, then why 
did you just ask if he talked to me? What did you 
think he'd told me?" Even in the dark she could 
see him blush. "You let something slip and you 
know it."

"It wasn't a slip, it was -"

"Then you know what I'm talking about?" she 
teased.

He sighed resignedly. "It was the 'no future' 
thing, wasn't it?"

"Actually it was the 'because I say so' part that 
really got me."

"Damn."

She tugged on the hand she was still holding. 

"So?"

"So, what?"

"Anything you'd like to share with the class?"
He exhaled deeply and played idly with her 
fingers. "Okay, it made me mad that she was going 
out with this guy, all right?"

"Why?"

"Why?" he echoed.

"Why'd it make you mad?"

"Because. . . because. . ." He gave up on trying 
to find an innocuous answer. "It doesn't matter. 
What could I possibly do about it?"

"You could tell her," she replied, looking at 
their entwined fingers.

He laughed humorlessly.

"I mean it," she continued. "She loves you. She 
really does. And if you want to know something 
else that you darn well should have noticed 
before now, she only takes dates with other guys 
when you've been ignoring her."

He paused. "Have I been ignoring her?"

"Lately?" She pretended to think. "Hello? Yes!"

"I didn't mean to. . ."

"Look." She sat up and turned to face him, 
holding both his hands across his knees. "I don't 
mean to say that you should come into the office 
on Monday and declare your undying love, 'cause 
frankly I think she'd have you committed. But it 
wouldn't hurt to spend some time with her."

"I don't think -"

"I do. You'll bond, she'll feel loved, she'll 
back off on the losers, and when the time is 
right, you'll tell her how you feel and I think 
it'll work out okay."

"Okay, even assuming we ignore the fact that 
you're on crack, and assuming this could actually 
happen in the real world, wouldn't it be a press 
nightmare?"

"Nope," she replied. "I think we could spin it so 
that it looked like a good thing."

"We?"

She patted his knee. "I'm right here with you, 
buddy."

"Great," he said sarcastically. Their eyes met 
again, and they laughed - again. On a whim he 
reached down and pulled her all the way into his 
arms, cradling her against his chest. "I missed 
this," he said quietly.

"Spending time together?"

"No, having you be shorter than I am," he 
cracked.

"I was never shorter than you."

"That must be why our sordid affair could never 
last."

She laughed softly and he ruffled her hair. "I 
love your laugh," he said.

"Flatterer."

"And you know what? Dead serious, now."
She got to her feet slowly. "What?"

"You're drop-dead gorgeous when you smile."
She started to smile, then got self-conscious and 
blushed across her pale face. She shook her head 
at him.

He stood up, saying, "We have to be in early 
tomorrow for the thing, and I need to call -" He 
stopped quickly and flushed.

She grinned. "Call who?"

"My assistant," he stressed. "The woman who 
controls my schedule. I need to find out what I'm 
doing tomorrow. At work. Work."

"Sure," she said cheerfully.

"I mean it. This is business."

"Okay."

"Really."

"Okay." She came and hugged him one more time. 

"Good-night."

He gave her a friendly kiss on the forehead. 

"Good-night, sweetheart."

"Tell Donna hello for me."

"Go away."

She laughed again, heading down the stairs to her 
car. "See you tomorrow."

"Hey CJ?"

"Yeah?"

He tossed her his most seductive look. "Could you 
wear that skirt again on Monday?"

She tried in vain not to blush, even though she 
knew he was teasing her. "Good-night, Joshua."

"Maybe with the yellow shirt? You know, the one 
you wear buttoned really low. . ."

"Point made, revenge duly noted, good-night."

"You're blushing."

"Alabaster skin, Josh. Speaking of which. . ."

"Good-night, Claudia Jean!" he called hastily, 
ducking inside the house. She grinned at his 
retreat as the door swung closed.

The End.