Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo (helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: The band played songs that we had never heard - but we danced anyway
Author's Note: I found this on my hard drive while looking for something else, so don't blame me…I think it was started for the July SotU challenge last year, also known as the time that Jeanine realised she really can't write smut, but couldn't bear pressing delete so she forgot all about this fic until she found it again. The song is Deana Carter's We Danced Anyway. And no, this has nothing to do with any series I'm writing, and yes, I am writing it still! <g>

In the course of his life, Leo McGarry had been to lots of places, and plenty of them he'd never expected to be. He'd never expected to fight in a jungle war, never expected that letter to drop through the door, never expected to see his mother crying in the arms of his childhood best friend as he drove away. He'd never expected to find himself face down in a motel parking lot, searching in vain for the quarter to call that same best friend. He'd never expected that same best friend to move heaven and earth to help him out of the hole he'd dug himself into. He'd never expected to be in the White House, as the Chief of Staff to the President of the United States. Never expected to stand at the door of his home, looking out the glass panels at the cab that was taking his wife to the Watergate, away from him. Never expected to stand at that podium, announcing his drug and alcohol dependency to the world. Never expected to be lying on that path in Rosslyn as bullets flew around him and screams echoed off the tarmac. Never expected to stand in the emergency room as his best friend was preparing to go into surgery, never expected the doors to fly open and admit the boy that he had known, the man he had come to think of as a son, inches away from death.

He'd been a lot of places that he'd never expected, and most of them unpleasant.

But it's safe to say that the last place he'd ever expected to find himself was here.

And it's safe to say that he hadn't found the evening the least bit unpleasant.

Outside the window, the Eiffel Tower lit up the night sky. Behind it, stars shone brightly against a velvet background of deepest blue. It was a magnificent view, the kind that sold postcards, the kind that you told all your friends about when you got home. But Leo knew that it paled when placed against the view he had when he lowered his gaze to the woman beside him. She was sleeping soundly, head pillowed against his chest, sleep lending her features a serenity and stillness that her animated style of chatter ill afforded her in everyday life. Her long blonde hair fanned across the pillow, strands of it woven through his hand as he caressed her head gently. There was a small smile on her face, indicating pleasant dreams, which Leo hoped that he was a part of.

He hadn't expected to be here, not like this. Right now, he should have been at the tail end of the State Dinner, talking to the dignitaries, making sure that Toby and Sam were prepared for tomorrow's speech, and more importantly, that Toby hadn't annoyed anyone. The proud French and the proud Toby in a room with alcohol was a lethal combination, and there was no CJ on the trip to keep him under control. Besides which, Leo had been responsible for the organisation of this trip; the French were expecting to see him at these meetings, at these dinners.

What no-one had been expecting was that a problem would arise concerned a House Resolution that Leo was an expert on, and that it was going to coincide with the Paris trip. All concerned agreed that Leo staying at home wasn't an option, and after long discussion, it was decided that Leo should come along, but would remain in constant contact with Josh via phone and email. The White House Counsel's office, mindful of the legal ramifications of the House Resolution in question decided that one of their own should go on the trip with Leo, to talk him through any potential pitfalls that might arise.

Enter Ainsley Hayes.

As it so happened, she had extensive knowledge of this particular resolution, it being one of Judge Dreifort's pet concerns. She had both written and edited briefs on the matter, and was more informed than any other lawyer from the office. When the President heard that she could also speak fluent French, that she indeed had spent a semester in Paris during college, he agreed with Oliver Babish that she was the perfect person to come along.

Leo hadn't been too sure how he felt about that at first. Oh, he knew Ainsley, knew how good a lawyer she was. She'd worked with him already on this, and she knew the arguments for and against backwards and forwards. There was no doubt that she was the most qualified person for the job. The problem was that in meetings lately Leo was noticing how strong her arguments were, how fearless she was at giving her opinions, how quick she was to anticipate his needs and know where he was heading with a train of thought. They worked well together. They worked very well together. Maybe too well. Leo had the sneaking suspicion that given half a chance, he could find himself falling for her, a thought that both thrilled and terrified him.

Leo honestly had no idea how he'd survived the trip over to France. Air Force One was the most comfortable flying could get, to be sure, but comfort didn't come into it when Margaret and Ainsley were in full chatter mode. Ainsley, so excited at being part of the Presidential Entourage and flying on Air Force One, was almost breathless with the thrill of it all, although she got her breath back pretty quickly when Margaret mentioned that she'd never been to Paris before and that she was really looking forward to it. The two of them had talked about shops and bargains and all manner of things that Leo really didn't give a damn about and he'd all but had to smack them to remind them that they were there on the taxpayer's dime and that they really did have work to do, and could the two of them please concentrate on that?

They'd landed at just past three in the morning local time, and had gone straight to their hotel to get some sleep. The day had passed without much event. The President and staff had had their meetings, Leo and Ainsley had kept up with news from home, and during the two hours of personal staff time allowed, Margaret, Ainsley, Cathy and Ginger had disappeared together, arriving back laden down with bags, laughing and talking about things he couldn't possibly understand, but which still made him nervous.

They'd begun to prepare for the State Dinner, and had begun to congregate in the lobby of the hotel when his cell phone had rung.

Which of course, spelled disaster.

It was Josh on the other end, needing Leo's input on something vital. He'd motioned Margaret and Ainsley over, explaining the matter to them as Josh explained it to him. He'd noticed how their faces had fallen, noticed how much effort they'd gone to to look nice this evening, Margaret in an evening dress that didn't look as if it was something she could afford on what he paid her, Ainsley with her hair done up in some complicated knot that defied gravity. He'd explained the matter to the President when he arrived down, told him that he wasn't going to be able to make it on time, that he had to attend to this.

He was trying to figure out how to make it up to Margaret, picturing from her face a hard couple of months ahead. He hadn't seen her look this miffed since he'd cancelled his involvement in the trip to L.A. for, among other things, the Ted Marcus fundraiser. He wasn't looking forward to repeating the events of that time when Ainsley threw him a lifeline. "Leo, does Margaret really need to stay behind?"

He'd raised an eyebrow. "She's my assistant Ainsley. Traditionally, they assist their bosses."

Both Ainsley and Margaret had cast their eyes over to Cathy and Ginger, who were talking in a corner. "But Leo," Ainsley had pointed out. "Most of the stuff we need is on my laptop. I can cut and paste what we need, type up anything extra. You'll be on the phone to Josh or whoever most of the time, I can handle all the scut work."

Margaret had looked from her boss to Ainsley, wanting to do her job, but wanting to attend the dinner more. Finally, Leo had nodded. "Fine."

"Are you sure?" Margaret stared at him in shock.

Leo had given her his patented "look at my face" look. "Go." The word brooked no argument.

She'd grinned and gone and he'd pretended not to notice Ainsley whispering that Margaret owed her one.

They'd taken the elevator back upstairs and she'd brought her laptop to his room, not even bothering to change out of her evening dress, her only concession to comfort being kicking off her shoes, leaving them beside the wastepaper basket. He'd taken off his tuxedo jacket and tie, but left his shoes on as he paced around the room taking a conference call with Josh and five other people. He'd shouted out things to her, told her what he needed and, true to her word, she'd put it all together in a neat little package and emailed it off to Josh faster than he'd thought possible. Somewhere in the middle of it all, she'd found time to order soda and sandwiches from room service, and he'd made a joke about how she'd make a great assistant. Her long dress had swished around her legs as she walked over to the bin, discarding the finished soda can, and she'd told him that for his sake, she'd avoid mentioning that to Margaret.

They'd made small talk as they waited for Josh to call them back, he trying to prise from her just what she'd done for the afternoon with the other women, she refusing to tell him, he eventually backing down. When the phone had rung and Josh had told them that the crisis had been averted, they'd exchanged tired smiles and she'd looked at her watch as he'd hung up the phone.

"It's only half past ten," she'd told him. "What do we do now?"

He'd shrugged. "It's too late to go to the dinner," he'd told her. "I'd say call it a night."

She'd perked up at that, all traces of tiredness vanishing. "You mean we're free for the rest of the night?"

"Yup."

A broad smile had spread across her face. "We can do whatever we want?"

He'd considered that a minute. "As long as it's not illegal, go for it."

He hadn't thought her smile could get any wider, yet it did. "Terrific. I'll get changed and meet you back here in fifteen minutes." Her words had puzzled him, and it must have been written on his face, because she looked at him askance. "You're not just going to stay here all night are you?"

He'd cast an eye to the nightstand. "Well, I have a book with my name on it…"

"Leo!" She'd made an impatient noise. "You're in Paris. In July. With nothing to do for the rest of the evening. And you're going to read a book that you could read anytime?" One eyebrow made a perfect arch as she stared him down, one hand on her hip, a grin on her face.

He'd felt himself smile too. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"Great." She'd turned and found her shoes. "Get changed. You've got fifteen minutes."

True to her word, there had been a knock on his door fifteen minutes later, and he'd opened it to see her there. He'd hardly recognised her at first, her long hair left loose and falling around her face and shoulders in soft waves. She'd been wearing a strappy little lemon sundress, covered with small blue flowers, carrying a small purse. He couldn't help thinking how young and innocent she looked, and had done his best to squash the surge of emotion that had risen at the sight of her. "You look nice," he'd finally managed, all ready to step out the door when she'd pushed him back into his room.

"You can't go out like that," she'd told him matter-of-factly.

He'd looked down at his dark grey suit, his blue shirt and the tie that Mallory had given him for Father's Day. "What's wrong with me?" he'd asked.

"Leo, do you know how warm it is out there? Lose the jacket," she'd commanded him, even as she began unworking his tie. He'd tried to stop himself thinking impure thoughts as she worked, and failed utterly, failing all the more when she looked him up and down as the tie joined his jacket on the bed and she unsnapped the top button of his shirt. "You'll do," she'd finally pronounced. "You might want to roll up your shirt sleeves though."

She'd turned then, her hair flying out behind her as she did and led him out of the room, and as he'd followed her down the hallway, he'd tried to stop those thoughts again.

He'd failed again.

They'd walked down the street together, and if Leo minded when Ainsley slipped her arm through his, he didn't say anything about it. He'd looked down at her and asked her where they were heading, and she'd laughed and said that she didn't know, but that she was sure they'd find something. They'd walked through the streets together, pointing out sights and sounds and smells, enjoying the anonymity, the freedom that had been gifted them.

They'd stopped walking when they came to a park filled with people. In the centre, there was a band gazebo, with a band playing music as the audience laughed and danced and sat and listened. On the street across from the green, there was a small coffee shop, with tables outside. It was still warm out, and Leo had long since taken Ainsley's advice and rolled up his shirtsleeves to the elbows. They'd sat down at one of the tables, waiting for the waiter to take their order. Ainsley had ordered a glass of red wine, then looked at Leo as if for permission, as if she wasn't sure if he minded her drinking or not. He'd waved a hand to indicate that it didn't bother him before ordering a mineral water for himself. He'd been surprised when Ainsley had changed her order to a mineral water as well, waited until the waiter had left before telling her that she didn't have to do that on his account. She'd just shrugged and smiled, and he'd tried not to notice how her casual movement sent the strap of her dress slipping down her shoulder slightly.

When their drinks came, they had remained silent for a while, taking in the scene around them before Ainsley had taken a long sip, leaning back in her chair as she did so and looking at the stars contentedly. "I love this city." She may or may not have meant to say that out loud. "We used to do this all the time when we were studying here," she'd continued. "Just walking around, sitting out at places like this and talking. Of course, most of the time we just drank water, or Coke…we were very good at making one glass last for hours."

Leo had laughed along with her, telling her that Mallory had backpacked around Europe one summer while she was in college, and had brought home similar tales, tales that he had only heard years after the fact. "But I know what you mean," he'd told her. "It seems like another world here, doesn't it?"

She'd nodded, considering his words. "I feel like the White House, the State Dinner, the House Resolution…it's like it all belongs to another person." She'd taken another sip of her drink before laying the glass down on the table. Her hand had played with drops of moisture on the surface of the glass, her fingers running up and down it lightly.

What possessed him to do what he had done next, he was never quite able to say, but Leo had stretched out his hand, placed it over hers against the glass, capturing the fingers in his gently. "I know what you mean." His voice had been so soft that he'd hardly been able to hear himself over the noise of the band, but the blush on her cheeks and the look in her eyes had told him that she had heard him, and that she wasn't alarmed at what she had heard. "I could stay here all night," he'd added, just as softly.

When she had spoken, her voice had matched his. "That would be…nice."

>*<*>*<
And the band played songs we'd never heard
But we danced anyway
We never understood the words
We just sang oh la la la la la la la oh
And we danced anyway
>*<*>*<

They'd sat in silence then, just content with looking at one another while the party went on around them. They hadn't needed to talk, just to sit there and come to terms with this new thing that was happening between them had been enough. After a while, Ainsley had turned her attention to the revelry across the street. Men and women had been dancing animatedly, the men turning and spinning the women in every conceivable direction, the women all too often appearing to defy gravity as they moved. Leo had caught the look of rapt attention on her face and followed her gaze. "Want to dance?" he'd asked her, and she'd turned to him with an embarrassed grin on her face.

"Oh, I could never dance like that."

"Sure you can." His reply had been matter of fact. "It's easier than it looks, all you have to do is follow my lead."

She'd laughed self-consciously, even as he'd stood and offered her his hand. "I'm not really that good of a dancer."

He'd raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I hear. Or do you just blame that on the bossa nova?"

Her jaw had dropped open and her eyes widened with surprise, either at what he'd said or that he knew about it in the first place, Leo hadn't asked which. But she had laughed, so he'd taken that as a good sign and used her surprise to pull her to her feet and lead her across the street into the midst of the dancing. Her final attempt to end things had been, "But we don't know the songs."

He had only smirked and shrugged. "So we'll dance anyway."

And they had.

It had been a long time since Leo danced at all, and even then, it had been limited to the stiff waltzes and formalities of balls and state dinners. But under the stars that night with Ainsley, it had been as if the years had dropped away, and he was back in high school or college, jiving with his best girl on Saturday night. And in spite of her protests and denials, Ainsley had taken to it like a duck to water, and she moved gracefully under his tutelage, her dress flaring as she spun, her long hair flying all around her. After the first song, he'd pulled her close to him and had to lean down to talk directly into her ear so that she would hear him. "Another one?" he'd asked, and she'd nodded, eyes shining, enjoying herself immensely.

The second dance had passed the same as the first, but when it was over, the band had gone straight into a slow song, and the couples around them had moved closer to one another, swaying to the music. Almost without thinking, Leo had smoothly spun Ainsley towards him so that she ended up pressed against him. Instinct from both parties meant that her free arm slipped around his waist, ending with her hand resting between his shoulder blades, while his had slipped around her waist. She'd looked up at him, suddenly uncertain, and his look had been a question too, wordlessly asking her if this was ok, if they should continue. When she'd rested her head against his shoulder, he had his answer.

Midway through the song, she'd lifted her head, and he'd seen the questions in her eyes, had understood that the spell that had seemingly been woven around them so far that night had been dented. "Leo," she'd whispered. "What are we doing?"

He'd known what she meant, but the answer she wanted was an answer that he hadn't had then. So he'd settled for the simple one. "We're dancing."

She'd opened her mouth, perhaps to say something, but she'd stopped when his hand moved from her back to her shoulder. The strap of her dress had slipped down again, and he traced the path it had taken with the tip of his finger before coming to the strap itself and pushing it back up where it belonged just as slowly. His finger had lingered there a fraction longer than it needed to before travelling up again, this time tracing the length of her jaw, ending cupping her chin. Slowly, taking his time, giving her a chance to pull away if she'd wanted, he'd lowered his head, bringing his lips to hers.

Like the night around it, the kiss was slow and easy, long and languid, and Leo had felt Ainsley press closer to him, slide her arm up and around his shoulders to caress the back of his neck. His hand had at first stayed on the small of her back before moving up slightly to where the dress began and beyond, feeling the smooth skin of her back underneath his hand. Her mouth had opened under his, and their tongues had slid against each other, teasing, tasting, dancing together.

When they drew apart from each other, she'd returned her head to his shoulder and he had rested his head on top of hers and they'd continued dancing until the band packed up. Then they'd begun the walk back to their hotel.

They'd seen no-one they knew on the way back, had been seen by no-one. That allowed Leo to keep hold of Ainsley's hand, leading her to his room. Neither had spoken, afraid to draw attention to themselves. Or perhaps, Leo had reflected, both knew that the spell had rewoven itself around them and that to speak again could break it this time. He'd let her into the room ahead of him, chivalry prevailing, and she'd turned to face him. He'd crossed the room slowly, and his first act when in front of her had been to push the strap of her dress back up again, just as he'd done in the park.

A wry chuckle had escaped her lips. "Isn't that supposed to be going the other way?"

She'd spoken in jest but he'd looked at her seriously. "Is it?" Mild surprise had shown on her face. "I need you to be sure about this Ainsley," he'd whispered. "I don't want you…or us…doing anything that you'll regret."

"I'm not going to regret this Leo." Her voice had been low and husky. "God, if you knew how long I'd wanted to do this…" Even as she spoke, her fingers had been busy, unbuttoning his shirt. He'd known how warm it was going to be; this was Paris in July after all, so he hadn't bothered with an undershirt, and the slight touch of her nimble fingers against his skin had spurred him into action. His lips had found her temple first, moving down her cheek slowly before finding her mouth again. Just as in the park, there had been no hurrying, just a slow building of passion as their tongues danced together once again.

From there it had been a natural progression and now, she slept soundly, and he watched her, wondering how they got here and where they were going. There were so many obstacles, so much that could go wrong, so many things that they hadn't considered on a magical night in Paris.

But that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight he just wanted to hold her tight and dream about dancing. Which, he realised, wasn't going to happen, for he felt her stirring, and moved his hands so that one was moving up and down her back while the other moved through her hair. Looking down at her, he saw her smile drowsily before opening her eyes. "Nice sleep?" he asked her.

"Mmm." She stretched against him, elongating her body against his, her smile widening. "Very nice." She managed to prop herself up, bracing her arms on his chest before bringing her lips to his.

Neither of them knew how much later it was when they jumped apart, the sound of several familiar voices from the hallway filtering through the closed door. They stared at each other, then at the door, afraid that someone was going to come knocking. But no-one did, and then there was silence in the corridor once again.

Leo let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and Ainsley's head flopped down, her hair spilling across his chest. He pushed it back, tucking several strands behind her ear when she lifted her head. "Leo, are we crazy?" she finally whispered.

Her question had been serious, but Leo found himself chuckling at it, maybe for just that reason. "I think we just might be," he told her, and she started to laugh too. When both sobered up, it was his turn to ask a question. "Are you sure you're not going to regret this?"

She shook her head. "I meant what I said Leo. I won't regret this. I've wanted it for so long…" She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, dropping her head. She didn't look up at him when she added, "If this isn't what you want…"

He removed a hand from her back, bringing it around so that he could tilt her chin up. "That's not what I meant Ainsley. I wanted this too."

She smiled. "So there's no going back then?" She didn't sound broken-hearted at the prospect.

"None." He kissed her again and she twined her arms around his neck, and he could feel her lips curving into a smile under his and she pulled away, resting her head against his shoulder, a sleepy yawn escaping her. "Sleepy?"

"Hmmm…" She snuggled closer to him, wrapping the blankets closer around them both. "Will you hold me?"

He looked to the ceiling, smiling still. "I can do that."

So he did, and they slept in one another's arms, dreaming dreams of music and dances and songs they'd never heard.