A Teasing Distance
Author: Cappuccino Girl
Genre: CJ/Sam. Angst. Drama.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters still aren’t mine. They belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions and Warner Bros. The song is Every Breath You Take, by Sting.
Notes: Follows Complicated Piece and Abandoned Communication.
Thanks: Eris, for the many 1 AM calls to cure writer’s block. Honey, you rock, and I will make you write your own!
Jess, I’ve thought ‘because’ all the time ;-) This one comes complete with duct tape.
Summary: I used to feel like a kid in a china shop. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you all evening, every time we had one of these functions, and it was always ‘you may look, but don’t touch’ and it killed me, in fact, it still does.
“I’m alive, incase you were wondering,” she says wearily, struggling for words, and she wishes he wasn’t standing in the doorway to her apartment, because she’s missed this more than she can ever explain.
“So I see,” he states awkwardly as he enters, closing the door behind him.
They stand face to face for a while, not speaking, just looking, observing, for they’ve never been ones to apologise. She starts to smile, and he feels as though the sun has risen for the first time in weeks.
“Why didn’t you speak?” she questions quietly, moving closer to him.
“It just- I couldn’t. I wanted to so badly, but each time I heard your voice on the tape and you sounded so cheerful when you recorded it. I tried to say something, and nothing came out.”
She looks at the floor for a second, carefully choosing her words. “That’s okay. Nothing’s good sometimes.”
He puts his arms around her and kisses her ever so gently on the mouth, as though he is asking permission for what he is about to tell her. “But not always.” He’s noticed a tear falling down her cheek, and kisses her where it falls, holding her like she’d run away if he didn’t.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers before reciprocating his gesture, kissing him deeply, while he runs his hands over her body in reverence of her perfect flaws.
She looks more worn than she did when they parted that night, and that scares him, because he thought she couldn’t get any lower without falling down completely. Maybe she did.
“I’ll be right back.” She speaks softly, and he holds onto her hand for as long as he can. As she walks across the room, he can’t help but think how, in spite of everything, she hasn’t lost her grace, and watching her move is like water and air and floating.
He takes a seat perched on the edge of her couch, looking at the family pictures on the end table, and when that tires him a little, he moves towards the cabinet which holds the cd player. Maybe it’s boyish curiosity, but he finds himself pushing play, listening to a familiar melody which fills the room.
“Every breath you take, and every move you make, every bind you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you.”
He listens for a moment, but has to stop it, not sure why, so he just stands in front of the cabinet, staring blankly at the wall. The words run through his head until he hears the sound of her feet on the floor, and when he turns around, she’s standing before him, wearing something sheer, and blue silk. He wishes she wasn’t wearing anything at all, and all he can do is look at her because she seems almost too pretty for him to touch.
“Claudia,” he says, sighing because he hasn’t taken a breath for a minute.
She smiles back at him. “You’ve never called me that before,” she comments as they lean in for a kiss. So it’s lips meeting, his hands on her back, on her breasts, as she unbuttons his shirt, kissing every part of his body she exposes. It’s forgiveness, and effortless, and true. His hand runs up her shoulder, and he traces her collar bone with his tongue, slowly removing the threads of fabric which hold the gown on her delicate frame. He pulls her towards him and they roll onto the couch as blue silk slides down slowly to the floor.
~* *~
He runs his finger along her stomach and hips which are barely showing through the tangle of sheets surrounding them. She’s smiling, blissfully content.
“Think they’ve noticed?” she questions cryptically, as she rolls over to him.
His eyebrows raise quizzically. “What?”
“These months. How we’ve changed.” He brushes her hair out of her face to reveal her eyes, eyelids fluttering shut as he showers her with kisses.
“Maybe.” He takes her hand confidently. “Think we ought to go public?”
She moves away a little so she can study his expression. “Yeah, ‘cause that’s just what we need right now.”
He’s about to say something, so she places her finger on his lips, only moving it when she’s sure he won’t comment.
“Let’s leave things as they are for now.”
He moves closer and embraces her. “Please stay,” he whispers, promising her safety and fidelity as he watches her fall asleep beside him.
~* *~
“You seen my pager?” she calls from the bathroom, words muffled by the toothbrush in her mouth.
“No, but we both got the same message anyway,” he says, straddling the doorway. “See, you’ve got to appreciate these unexpected practicalities.”
She takes the brush out of her mouth so that she’s able talk clearly to emphasise her words. “Such as identical pager messages?”
He nods emphatically, moving close to her. “Yes, and having me make you coffee and toast in the mornings.”
She leans over the sink and rinses out her mouth, spitting the water into the basin before explaining. “I don’t do breakfast, Samuel.” She dabs her face with a towel.
“What do you mean?” he questions.
Her back is towards him while she fixes her hair, but she can still see his every expression from the reflection in the mirror. “Exactly what I said. I don’t do breakfast.”
She tosses her hairbrush into a small wicker basket on the shelf before spinning around and sauntering out the open door, gliding past him and the exasperated look on his face.
“You know, you really should.” He calls after her.
She stops before the wardrobe and turns around. “What time is it?”
He’s visibly confused, but complies none the less. “5.50”
“Yes.” She swings the door open to reveal a colorful wave of blues, reds and greys, the vast collection of expensive ball gowns he’s admired her in. Her fingers flick past them until she gets to the more practical aspects of her closet, and picks out a coat while talking. “5.55 AM. Now, no sane person is about to go to work at 5.55, are they Sam? Most are asleep, and I really should be, as should you for that matter.”
She tosses the coat to him, and closes the door, purposefully making a move for the hallway. “Breakfast really isn’t my thing. Anyway, if you aren’t here, I tend to go for a run in the morning, and my experience has taught me that food just doesn’t work, either before or after.”
She rummages through the items on the table, gathering her car keys and shoving them into her pocket. A few sheets of paper fall to the floor to reveal her pager, which she thrusts into his face before it joins the keys.
Opening the front door, she raises her eyebrows, questioning. “So, you just going to stand there?”
He hands her the laptop. “You should eat more.”
She rolls her eyes at him, stuffing the laptop under her arm.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she states, moving out the door. “Coat.”
He hands it to her as she leaves.He’s standing in the doorway looking perplexed. “This is just like being married,” he calls out after her.
The sound of her shoes echo through the stairwell. “Don’t leave before 6.15, or they’ll get suspicious,” she comments before the main door slams shut behind her.
~* *~
“I’ve gotten word through back channels of some story brewing in the offices of Senator Miers,” Sam reads from his note pad. It’s probably the first time that morning that he’s stopped looking at her across the room. He’s watched intently as she ate a bagel, and scalded her tongue on the coffee which now sits on Leo’s desk, no doubt going cold because she isn’t about to test it again.
She was flipping her pen around between her index and middle finger like a baton twirler while the others talked, and he watched with unaltering fascination, because every aspect of her captivates him. She has been taking more notes than usual, as she’s scared of seeming unprofessional. She’s brilliant at covering up, he thinks.
“Yes, he’s giving a press conference at 11,” she answers, looking deliberately towards Leo so she won’t smile. “I haven’t got any further information, but I doubt he’ll do more than discuss relevant issues. You know these kind of things, at most it’ll be another mindless publicity stunt on his behalf.”
“Which is precisely why we’ll all be taking notes,” Toby comments in his usual pessimistic way.
Leo nods in agreement. “Ok, that’s it then.” He moves his arms about to dismiss them, and they scatter like leaves in the fall wind. Sam remains for a second longer, while CJ is eager to leave, and they each chuckle over the other’s behavior.
Leo looks down at him from his place behind the desk, his usual ‘too-much-work-to-do’ expression on his face, so Sam grabs his things in one quick swoop and exits.
He can’t avoid going past her office, for it’s on his way, and it’s when he is before her door, not entering, that he realises she was right last night, because everything has changed. Each visit to her office will feel like temptation, and each discussion like foreplay, and he knows she is aware of this also. His mouth forms a subtle smile before he goes towards his own desk around the corner.
~* *~
She’s sitting there at her desk, feet up on its surface, waiting for the Senator’s conference. It’s a confident pose, one she hasn’t struck in a long time. She’s replaying last night in her head, thinking of the choices they made without uttering a word, and she wishes they weren’t interlaced with uncertainty. Already now she’s squirming a little, because tonight is yet another formal occasion; he’ll be in a tux, she in a dress, and it’s always different then, even if it is just small talk and flirtatious glances.
She tosses the notes she had planned on reading back onto the desk, replacing them with some blank paper and a pen, turning up the volume as the Senator’s face appears. In her usual style, she writes notes for the press gaggle in two hours time, letting the monotone words coming from the TV run through her while she writes something totally unrelated. She’s perfected the skill, and she knows he admires her for it.
“It’s common knowledge that the President was influenced in his decision by the First Lady.”
Her attention leaps to that on the television. She twirls the end of the pen she is holding in her mouth, totally alert.
“She’s always been very influential in this administration, more so than most senior White House staffers.”
Her eyes widen, and she rolls them a little. She’s focusing on her door now too, because she can anticipate who will storm through there in the next few seconds.
“CJ!” The door whips open. “Turn up the volume.”
She complies. “Quiet Toby. We have to like, hear this before we can discuss.”
He stands there impatiently, tapping his foot. She’s still sitting behind her desk, expression unaltered.
“My question is, do we want some unelected person who is known to be very radical when it comes to issues of drug control and abortion rights to be so influential that she might as well have her finger on the button?”
The two exchange knowing looks.
~* *~
“What the hell was going on there?” Toby fumes.
Josh strolls into the conference room, slightly too at ease considering the situation. “We just got screwed on national TV, but that doesn’t matter. We’re used to it by now.”
“Great Josh, I think that’s what I’ll tell the White House press corps when I have to brief in less than an hour,” CJ snaps, trying to get fully into her public persona because she knows that she won’t be able to survive today without it.
“I’m just saying that-”
“It’s brilliant that you are saying something Josh. Unfortunately, it’s so useless that we don’t really care,” Toby retorts.
Sam marches through the open door, barely looking at CJ seated across the room from him. “The First Lady pushes all the buttons?” he yells.
“Apparently so. We all do nothing, while Abby, you know, pushes buttons, and-” Josh rambles on until Leo’s stern fatherly look cuts him off.
“We’ve got to respond,” he states.
“I’ve got less than an hour before the briefing, so you’d better start throwing ideas my way.” CJ’s voice wavers slightly, and Sam can’t help but notice this. He wishes he could just reach out and hold her, try and give her some support. Instead he just looks at her hands as they gesture frantically while she speaks.
“The Office of the President, and that of the First Lady, while not entirely separate offices, are totally independent of each other. You are to stress that.” Leo glances at his desk for a moment, hoping to find some know-all answers laid out before him. He sighs when he sees the documents he has to sign instead. “The Senior White House Staff always advise the President, as does the First Lady, but she under no circumstances forces him to make decisions against his will.”
“Don’t use ‘forces’,” Sam tells her in a matter of fact tone. She nods in response, and it’s all business once more, and she can hardly recall that they woke in the same bed some hours before.
~* *~
She stands in the hall which leads to the briefing room, looking at her feet, tapping her files against her thigh. She’s trying her best to look confident, but she knows she’s failing miserably because they’ve all piled on the pressure, assuming she won’t crumble under the load. Everything she has heard scampers through her head, and she tries to organise a million perfect responses for all the unasked questions.
She’s so lost in panic-stricken thoughts that she barely notices a hand on her shoulder.
“You okay?”
She spins around, startled, and gasps a little when she sees him. “I didn’t notice you there.”
“All work now, isn’t it?” he comments, trying not to talk about what is obviously plaguing her thoughts.
She nods, fiddling with the binding of her notepad.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll be there in the next room watching you.”
She sighs heavily and looks at him, wishing for once that someone would take her place. “You and a couple million others, all nice and easy. I’m going to be the one fending off the questions, trying my best not to make the administration look like a farce.”
He takes her hand and holds it close to him. “And you are so brilliant at it. Every time I see how you manage them, taking it all in your stride, I just-” He pauses for a moment, for he can feel her hand shaking, and he knows it’s her restless nerves. “You’ll be fine, because I’ll be watching, blowing you a thousand kisses for luck. Now go. Go and kick some ass.” He grins.
She does her best to look positive, if only to please him. “I’d accept an actual kiss now, but people might notice us,” she whispers before walking into the briefing room.
“See you later,”he says, a barely detectable tone of longing in his voice. “You do have a dress, don’t you?” he calls out just as she’s about to go through the doorway, and she waves her arms about, trying not to confuse public and private at such a moment, but it’s on her mind throughout the entire briefing. She’s surprised by how well it works, and whenever she feels she might lose her composure, she imagines him there beside her, comforting her.
~* *~
They’ve thrown the questions at her like ping pong balls, all rapid fire and no relent. Her head pounds as she enters her office, the time now 6.25 pm. There are too many hours in the day, she thinks, as she flips through the multi-colored post-it notes left on her desk, arranging them in order of importance. Opening the top drawer of her desk, she finds the bottle of Tylenol and swallows two down with the remainder of the bottled water on her desk. She doubts she’ll get home at all tonight, which is typical, seeing as she’s found new pleasure in going home.
“CJ,” a voice calls from outside. Carol stands there holding a garment bag. “Dress.” She hands it to her.
“Thanks. I’ll go get changed now so I can deal with these few things before the German Chancellor arrives at the dinner.” She places her glasses on the desk, and waves the notes around, empahasising her point. She moves out of her office, past Carol, flinging the bag and its no doubt exorbitant contents over her arm. She’s too mentally exhausted to care, relieved that nothing worse happened that day, for she doubts she would be standing any more if something had.
“The First Lady wanted to speak with you,” her secretary mentions as she leaves.
“Okay, I’ll talk it through with her at the function in an hour,” CJ states before walking out of sight.
~* *~
He stands there in the middle of the corridor, fiddling with his bow tie a little because he’s always been a jeans guy.
“Nice,” a voice comments, and he turns around to see Abby’s approving face. Before he has the chance to respond to the compliment, Josh whisks into the hallway in similar attire.
“We do look good, don’t we?” he questions.
“You ask this every time Josh, but yeah, you do.” She flicks her hair out of her face. “You seen CJ?” she asks, watching Sam do a turn on his axis at the sound of those two letters.
“Who, me?” he stammers. “No, why?”
“I need to talk to her, make sure we get our stories straight.”
Sam does his best to shake his head, struggling with involuntary reflexes. “’kay. I’ll let her know if I, you know, see her.”
The First Lady smiles, takes his hand and squeezes it before leaving to trace down whomever is next on her schedule. “If I don’t see you later, have fun.”
The two men share identical expressions.
~* *~
She’s typing at her computer once more, trying to focus on the last scraps of work she must complete, and her head is still aching despite the painkillers. She crumples up another sheet of notes and chucks it into the nearby trash can.
She doesn’t want to be working now, for, in spite of her throbbing head, she feels really pretty, and she loved how heads turned to look at her as she walked down the corridor. All she can think of is walking into the room, and finding him standing there. She wishes it could be even more of a cliché, and they could dance all night, because she learnt to dance so many years ago for such an occasion, and it seems a pity to be unable to use that skill.
The deep green fabric falls in gentle waves about her, and she fingers at it a little while, dreaming for a moment.
“Wow.” A breath coming from the doorway causes her to take off her glasses and look up, and she finds him standing there in the doorway.
“I’m working Sam,” she states defensively, doing her best not to betray her inner thoughts.
He continues to stand motionless, eyes transfixed on every aspect of her. He can see she’s weary, the strains of the day visible in her eyes.
“We’d better go, or they are going to wonder where we’re at,” he mentions, and is surprised by her quick response, tossing the pen onto the desk and rising from her chair.
She moves out from behind her desk, can feel his eyes on her and it makes her skin flush. He enters, closing the door behind him as she walks closer to him until they are almost touching, a teasing distance between them.
His eyes follow the delicate swoop of the dark emerald fabric over her chest, tracing the perfect silhouette before him. She brushes her hair out of her face, taking in the way he’s looking at her, all blue eyes and transfixed.
“You shouldn’t do this to me,” he says, moving even closer.
She breathes heavily. “What?”
“Look like you do right now. I used to feel like a kid in a china shop.”
She raises her eyebrows slightly, visibly confused.
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you all evening, every time we had one of these functions, and it was always ‘you may look, but don’t touch’ and it killed me, in fact, it still does.” He sighs, and runs his fingers down her cheek, leans closer, and kisses her gently.
He moves away a little, saying, “They are going to wonder where we are.”
“But spending the whole evening here would be far more enjoyable than superficial small talk and having to see you in a tux, wishing I could rip it off you all night.” She pulls him back to her, kissing him deeply once more and he runs his hands over her back, wishing they weren’t separated by the slick fabric.
They lean over the desk, almost lying down upon the papers, pens and pictures. They move slightly, causing a mass of files to float towards the floor, papers flying around them. She sees it from the corner of her eyes, but barely registers. She’s sure there is another sound mixed with that of falling leaves. He kisses her along the slope of her neck, listening to her sigh.
“CJ, I just wanted to talk about the press confer-” A familiar voice interrupts the daydream.
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