Home for Christmas
Fandom: West Wing
Pairing: Leo/Ainsley
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Season 6
Notes: For Heidi, who wanted Leo and Ainsley at Christmas
Hard as it is to believe, this will be the first time in years that he’s had a normal Christmas. This year, there are no rapid Republicans out to bring him down, no protégées in imminent danger of nervous breakdown, no Congressional hearings, no roofs to be fixed. There is no campaign to worry about, no Inauguration on the horizon, no reports to read, papers to sign.
Instead, the most strenuous writing that Leo does is the Times crossword, and the only politics in his life is that of the television remote control; he wants to watch CNN, while Ainsley favours “It’s a Wonderful Life,” over and over and over again.
In years gone by, Margaret did his shopping, sent his cards, but this year, Margaret is walking CJ through her new role. Before Margaret, it was Jenny who took care of those things, but this year, Ainsley dumps a box of cards in his lap, along with a pen and paper, telling him to make a list of the people he usually sends cards to, buys presents for. It takes him longer to remember than he would have believed possible, and most of the time, he’s not sure what to write on the card, but he sits across the kitchen table from her as she writes her own list, and the time goes quickly.
When it comes time to shop, once again, she tells him to make a list, which she promptly tears up when she sees it. Then she takes him by the hand, takes him to a mall which would make the Gaza Strip seem like an ocean of tranquillity, and proceeds to help him shop for everyone in his life. He can’t say that he enjoys himself; in fact, it’s pretty much his idea of hell on earth, but Ainsley is smiling broadly, her cheeks pink with cold from the outdoors and the heat of the shop, and she keeps up a non-stop stream of chatter, making him feel like he’s involved with the decision, even if he knows that, when it comes to what he should get for Mallory, he’s not going to get a look in.
For the last few years, he’s eaten Christmas dinner with the Bartlets, or at the hotel where he used to live. Not this year though, oh no. This year, Ainsley is cooking for him, warning him to stay well away from her kitchen, as she wages war with low salt this and low cholesterol that, and when she’s got a knife in her hand, he knows better than to argue with her.
He’s well aware of what Ainsley’s like when she’s set her mind on something – after all, she fell for him, didn’t she? And when he called it off, she came back. Even when he lay in his hospital bed, told her that she should leave, that she deserved better, more, than an old man with a weak heart, she’d stood her ground. She loved him, she said, and she knew he loved her, and she wasn’t going to lose him.
So when he left the hospital, he went home to her, and that’s where he’s been ever since. It surprises him, sometimes, how right it feels, as if things were meant to work out that way. There are times when he misses the West Wing, times when he feels like he should be in his office, hollering for Margaret and giving everyone hell.
Then there are times when he’s sitting on the couch, Ainsley’s head resting on his shoulder, and he knows just where he’s meant to be.
Which is where he finds himself on Christmas Eve, looking at – what else? – “It’s A Wonderful Life,” on TV. Ainsley is already sniffling softly, a sure sign of tears to come, but he doesn’t mind. This is far preferable to the Christmas songs she’s had blasting from the stereo all day – except “Jingle Bell Rock” that is, because when he saw her shimmying around the kitchen to that, all he’d wanted to do was hold her in his arms. He’d tried too, but for once, she hadn’t been compliant, and for the first time in his life, Leo McGarry had found himself dancing in the living room, and loving every second.
In the corner of the room, there is a real Christmas tree, lavishly decorated with baubles and lights, and he smiles as he remembers how she stood, precariously balanced, on a chair to put the star on top. He remembers his hands on her waist, steadying her, remembers how he helped her down, pulling her into a kiss, and he smiles. On the table in front of them is some non-alcoholic eggnog, alongside a plate of homemade cookies, her grandmother’s recipe, that she spent hours slaving over. A fire dances in the fireplace, and he doesn’t want to leave.
Except he will, because they’re going to go to Mallory’s place for dinner before heading to Midnight Mass together, the three of them. They’ll make plans for tomorrow, when Mallory will come here for dinner, and he’ll sit back, watching as the two most important women in his life, who already get along like the proverbial house on fire, get to know one another better.
And later, when they get home, they’ll curl up on the couch, in front of the fire and the Christmas tree, and he’ll give her the present he got her, the one that he shopped for and picked out and bought all on his own, without any help from anyone. It’s a necklace, gold chain and emerald pendant, the colour of Ainsley’s eyes, and he knows it’s going to look amazing on her. Even now, his heart skips a beat at the thought of her, wearing the pendant and nothing else, and he pushes the thought aside with force, because otherwise it’s going to be a long evening.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Southern accent warm and teasing, Ainsley is looking up at him, her eyes dancing, and he lifts an eyebrow, affecting innocence. “What?” he asks, and she chuckles, low and throaty. It’s a sound that recalls his previous image of her, makes it hard to push it aside, and that much must show on his face, because she chuckles again.
“I don’t think I need a penny,” she teases. “I know what you’re thinking when you look like that, Leo McGarry… shame on you…”
“That’s not what you were saying last night…” Leo reminds her, gratified when a pink flush paints her cheeks, even as a smile curves her lips. For once, she’s speechless, and he doesn’t mind, because it makes it easier to pull her close, fit her lips to his, and he figures if they’re late to Mallory’s, his daughter will understand.
Because for all his worries about how Mallory would react to his relationship with Ainsley, she’s been a pillar of support, to the point where she’s even suggested that his present to Ainsley this year shouldn’t have been a necklace, but rather a ring. “We’ve only been back together a few weeks,” he’d countered, and she gave him a look that made him think that she’d never looked more like her mother than she did in that moment.
“She loves you Dad,” she’d said. “And you love her… what are you waiting for?”
Part of him had agreed, still does, but there’s still part of him that thinks that it was too soon, too fast. So he’d played it safe, opted for the necklace over the ring, and he doesn’t regret his choice too much.
After all, he reasons, he has to leave something for next year.