Whitening Toothpaste
Chapter Nine: The Pajama Game
By: Eve Karma
Disclaimer: Do I look like Aaron Sorkin? Nope, I didn't think so either. Y'know, since he's a male and I'm a female and all......LOL :)
Spoilers: Two Cathedrals and beyond, but no Season 3 spoilers
Other: In Two Cathedrals, Margaret and Donna go to the President's press conference. In my story, they stay in the office. I know, I'm bad with mimicking the show, LOL :)
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I was sitting in Sam's chair with my feet up on his desk and entranced by ABCNews when Sam walked in, shut the door behind him, and sighed. I was so startled that I leaned back too far and caused the chair to overturn. I let out a stifled yelp as I tumbled out of the chair, legs and arms flying, into a groaning heap on the floor. I had gotten the wind knocked out of me. Sam walked over to where I had rolled over onto my back and was holding my right knee, wincing. He stared down at me, looking cross and puzzled.
I gave him a cheesy smile, trying to act like nothing was wrong. "Oh, hi, Sam! You, uh, look really nice from this, uh...angle?"
It didn't work. He looked at me for another minute before storming out of the room. I scrambled to my feet and limped after him, calling, "Sam? Sam! Sam, wait...."
I could hear Donna at the other end of the bullpen, yelling, "Josh! Joshua Lyman, stop right there and listen to me!"
And then Sam and Josh were face to face, with Donna and I breathing hard behind our respective bosses.
Josh pointed at me and stammered, "What...how-How did this happen?"
At that moment, Leo stomped into our crowd. Margaret followed close behind, giving Donna and I a look that said, "Well, I tried to hold him back, but..."
The eyes of all three men widened as they gawked at the three assistants surrounding them.
I was wearing my beloved Rowan volleyball jersey, a pair of gray lounge pants, and my pink fuzzy slippers. Yes, that's right. Pink and fuzzy.
Donna had on a pajama set that had rubber duckies on it. Yes, that's right. Rubber duckies.
Margaret almost made me laugh. She was wearing a lavender bathrobe and red slippers. Yes, that's right. Lavender and red. She didn't seem to mind the color clash. (Who knows what she had on underneath, but I hoped it didn't clash as bad as the robe and slippers....)
Josh let out a harsh chuckle and remarked, "I always knew that someday Donna would want to throw the pajama party."
"You should work for Cleo," I piped up, making a second attempt at my joke.
Josh laughed, but Sam turned around and said, "Huh?"
I shook my head at him. At least my joke worked on somebody....
"Actually," Margaret started, stepping into the middle of the group, "It wasn't Donna's idea, or Kate's. It was mine. I just thought that with it being such a stressful time here, that, well, the three of us could let down our hair a little and try to relax a bit. Plus...we're all going to be here all night anyway..."
Her words seemed to calm the men.
"Hey, next time, can you at least tell us?" Josh asked.
"Yeah, or, let's see, maybe invite us?" Sam asked with a twinge of sarcasm.
"Sure, boys, we can all play 'truth or dare' and then eat cold pizza at 5 AM in the mess, does that sound good to you?" Donna quipped, and I couldn't help but laugh.
Leo grunted and stormed back to his office. Us girls considered it a victory.
Soon, we all split up and went back to our offices. As I followed Sam through his office doorway, he noticed my limp. "Are you okay, Kate? Here, lay down on the couch. I didn't realize you were hurt..."
I sank into the couch and watched Sam upright his heavy chair. "I'm fine, really," I told him, "It's just an old volleyball injury."
He walked around and leaned on the front of his desk. "You're sure you'll be alright?"
"Yep."
"Sorry I startled you."
"Don't be."
"Were you any good?"
"What?" I replied.
"In volleyball. Were you a good player?" He clarified.
"Good enough, I guess...They put my first name on the back of my jersey-they don't do that too often, only to the best players..."
"Really?" He asked.
"No. They couldn't fit my whole last name on my jersey." I grinned at him.
Sam grinned briefly, but noticed that the TV was still on. He stared at it.
"What is it?" I asked him, concerned.
"I just.... can't believe this is happening."
"It is, Sam."
Sam sighed, and grabbed a notepad before sitting down on the floor next to the couch. I studied him as he watched the TV.
Finally, he said, "Would you vote for him again?"
I thought for a minute before meeting his inquiring eyes and answering him. "Yes. I would."
"Seriously?"
"Sure. Think of it this way-it's really not the public's business to know about the President's personal life. If his condition isn't dangerously affecting his work, then why should we worry? I think a lot of people will vote for him again. The rest will come around after they learn about the condition and realize that the President isn't going to drop dead on the front lawn of the White House...Am I making any sense, Sam?"
I knew that my thoughts may not be the most reasonable, but Sam agreed. "Yeah. I think you make a lot of sense. I just wish.... that...." he stopped, trying to find the right words.
I eased myself off the couch and onto the floor next to him. "You just wish that everything could be perfect?" I asked softly.
Sam's eyes seemed to glaze over. "Yeah," he agreed, looking down at his hands. "The thing is, nothing's ever going to be perfect. You'd think I'd know by now."
"I know how it is."
"You do?"
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed before continuing.
"My boyfriend and I were taking a walk here in downtown DC one night. I wanted to see all the monuments lit up." I smiled, remembering how I had begged Ben to go downtown on a Saturday night. "It was our junior year of high school. We were coming out of a store...and this....it was crazy....this shootout started, and we were in the middle of it, and we didn't know why, and didn't have time to think, and the gun went off, and he threw himself over me and knocked us both to the ground..." I didn't realize that I had tears streaming down my face. "I hit my head and everything went black...a minute later I came to and was just...I felt like I was drowning in blood. And then I realized it was his. He was gone pretty soon after that..."
Sam pulled me into his arms. "I remember hearing about that...I can't believe it happened to you."
I hadn't finished yet. "Well, everyday for about a month after that night, I would wake up in the morning and walk to school expecting to see him. Every morning was perfect, because he waited for me by the flagpole. And, finally, one day I stood out there next to the flagpole in the freezing cold and it occurred to me that....that he wasn't coming back."
"Yeah..." Sam mused. "Life really....sucks, doesn't it."
I laughed at him.
"What? He asked, as I pulled away from him. "Just because I wear a tie, I can't use slang?"
I laughed too hard and wiped my tears out of my eyes.
Sam struggled out of his tie and threw it to the ground, saying "Here! It's off! Now am I allowed to talk like a normal person?" He was trying to act angry, but he was laughing as hard as I was.
I picked up his navy tie and slipped it around my own neck.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Well," I said as I inspected the neckwear, "I thought maybe it would help me talk like a politician. But it doesn't match the rest of my outfit."
We fell into another fit of laughter.
We watched TV, doing some work here and there, and reading reports on the Internet as they came in from newspapers around the world.
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