Title: Final Preparations

Fandom: West Wing

Pairing: Leo/Ainsley

Rating: PG

Spoilers: AU, but up to Election Night to be safe.

Word Count: 1,036

Notes: For the Rare Pairings Ficathon… title sucks, but considering this was a different story and pairing until very recently, I’m not fussing!

Prompts: Episode Title: Hartsfield's Landing; Random Object: dress ;Quote: Even if I now saw you/Only once,/I would long for you/Through worlds,/Worlds - Izumi Shikibu (c.974)

“You’d better not be sitting down!”

The call came from behind the bathroom’s closed door, but still Leo hopped to his feet straight away, making sure to stow the incriminating copy of the Time crossword underneath a stack of papers on the table. “Of course not,” he called back, adding on a mildly sarcastic “Dear” for good measure.

“Leo…” How Ainsley managed to inject seventeen syllables into his name had long been a source of confusion to him. He rolled his eyes about it, complained about it on a regular basis, but he’d never told her that he actually found it quite endearing – why should he, when he was pretty sure she already knew? “If the papers tomorrow talk about your wrinkled tuxedo…”

“I think the papers tomorrow have more interesting things to talk about… or at least I’m sure Sam hopes they do.” The Inaugural Speech had been a runaway success, and the last Leo had seen of Sam, he’d been surrounded by eager well-wishers telling him so. However, even as he spoke, he was smoothing his tuxedo jacket, checking the trousers in the full length mirror in the room – no sense in giving the press any help.

“I’m more worried about what they’d write about how your tux got so wrinkled,” Ainsley countered, wry amusement in every syllable, and he found himself casting an eye upon the smooth, unruffled bedclothes.

“If only,” he murmured to himself.

“What?”

“We should let them,” he told her, moving closer to the still closed door, checking his watch. Almost time to go; the Secret Service would be knocking on the door at any moment. “Make a change from all the stories they’ve been running about my ill-health and how my heart’s not up to the Vice-Presidency…”

A scoffing noise came from the other side of the door. “You’ve had monthly physicals all during the campaign,” Ainsley pointed out. “And I’ve told you before, I’m more than willing to issue a statement that your heart seems to hold up pretty well under strenuous exercise….”

She was teasing again, just like she’d been teasing when she’d made that very offer to Josh. She’d said it with such a straight face that the time, though, that the fact that she was teasing hadn’t been readily apparent, and the memory of the look on Josh’s face was enough to make Leo’s face break out in a smile. His only regret was that there had been no camera present.

A thousand retorts ran through his mind; a knock at the door derailed them all. “You nearly ready in there?”

“Just putting the finishing touches… apart from one thing…” The door opened then, and Ainsley emerged, a diamond pendant – a gift he’d given her that morning, one that she’d dismissed as ridiculously expensive and far too much – in her hands. “Can you fasten this for me?” There was a winsome smile on her face as she spoke, her voice much more Southern Belle than usual, but Leo barely noticed.

All he could see was her dress.

He’d long since told her that red was his favourite colour on her, and this dress was no exception. It was a long column of red; form fitting, but not too much so; halter-necked, showing just enough décolletage to be considered decent, but still enough to make his lips just a little drier. A pair of diamond drop earrings – the first present that he’d ever given her, on their first Christmas together – sparkled as they caught the light, a sparkle second only to that in her smile as she saw the effect she was having on him.

“See something you like?” she quipped, doing a slow turn – quite the manoeuvre, he noted absently, in heels like those – and his immediate response was to step closer to her, rest his hands on her hips, delight in the feel as hers – necklace and all – wound around his neck.

“Wow,” was his considered opinion, and she laughed delighted.

“Times like this, I’m sure glad you don’t write your own speeches…” she teased, and who knows what she might have said if he hadn’t kissed her.

“That dress is amazing,” he told her a few moments later. “You are amazing.”

Ainsley giggled, a sound of pure delight, stepping back from him and looking down at herself. “Isn’t it fabulous?” She straightened it, smoothed it down, positively preened. “I’d been looking at it for weeks… and the second we saw the results from Hartsfield’s Landing, I knew I had to buy it.”

Leo remembered that night, remembered how people had celebrated when Hartsfield’s Landing declared for Santos, remembered how Josh, sounding more like Toby than he’d ever admit, had bellowed that there was to be no premature celebrating, no tempting fate. He also remembered that he and Ainsley had had a small celebration of their own that night – it had been their third wedding anniversary.

“Even if I now saw you,” he murmured, tracing the contour of her cheek with one finger, “Only once… I would long for you through worlds, worlds…”

Her cheeks flushed, eyelids fluttered as she looked down, and this time, there may have been more than seventeen extra syllables in the way she said his name.

“I love you,” he told her simply, kissing her again, briefly, before taking the necklace from her and fastening the clasp. He took a little time positioning the pendant against her chest, so that it rested just so, enjoying the little smile that hovered around her lips.

“Does this mean I get a dance tonight?” she asked, an old joke, and he just about stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

“Tonight… on this night of nights… I may, perhaps, be moved to dancing.”

Ainsley’s smile widened, and she all but bounced as she leaned forward and kissed him. “I love you too,” she told him. “Come on… let’s go.”

She was all ready to step past him, reach for her wrap, but he stopped her, hand closing around her wrist, pulling her back to him in what he considered quite an impressive semi-dance spin. “Let ‘em wait,” he mock-growled, bringing his lips to hers again. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”