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.