What’s your favorite femslash pairing featuring Joey Lucas? I know that Joey/Donna is fairly popular and I’ve read some great fics, but I’ve been also thinking about Joey and Amy recently. Also Joey/Andy, but picture for a second Josh seeing Amy do some ASL, and he hasn’t seen her in a few years and he’s like “since when do you know ASL?” And she just looks at him and says “Since I learned for my girlfriend?” And then Joey appears behind him and Josh is shocked.
Ohhhh all of the above. I know I keep saying Donna feels so Straight to me, but she really also does deserve to hook up with every love interest Josh has actually (get her that astronomer's number too) so Joey/Donna is absolutely so good.
Obviously I'm always a little biased towards Andy and I remember how excited I was when I saw @pelorsdyke had an Andy/Joey section on Pinterest bc !!! Oh gorgeous. They really could have such a vibe.
But oh !!! Joey/Amy is SUCH a good idea? I do think it's another case where maybe not longterm, just because I can't really see Amy being willing to become a stepmother for any relationship? It's also why she and Andy can't work? But also like Joey is pregnant for one episode and mostly because Marlee Matlin was iirc and it's never brought up again so... I think you could be justified in claiming not to even remember. (On that note though, Joey/Andy starting as just. Late night calls when they're both up with their young kids??)
Josh's expression would be everything. He still remembers the bit of ASL he learned when he was flirting with Joey, and he knows just enough (and learned just the words) to know Amy is flirting pretty explicitly right in front of him. Joey and Amy also could have SUCH a good time taking on specific candidates together??
I also do wanna throw in Joey/CJ? We know they had a moment where CJ confided in her about feeling so out of place in season one and like she was on thin ice in the administration. I would have loved more closeness from them??
There had not been a major battle for the past three weeks.
There was an ample supply of ether and laudanum, plenty of sorghum and wheat, even a sack of coffee beans.
The baby had slept through the night for three days and had begun to smile.
Jedediah Foster was exhausted.
“Shall I put my foot down and tell you to stay abed tomorrow?” Mary asked, Daniel cradled in her arms, contented by his mother and his success at cramming a small fist into his small mouth. There was a basket full on mending sitting near her feet and a leather folio of papers neatly tied closed; she was a thrifty housewife and a thoughtful scholar but Jed was consistently relieved, given his own upbringing, to see how tender and warm she was with their son, how eager to soothe his cries or chuckle at his occasional frustrated shrieks when his hunger was not immediately gratified.
His home was all that he could ever have wished. It was more than he had ever wished, ever imagined as a child or young man swanning about Paris, ever considered possible as the husband to Eliza Foster, though there were fewer servants, less bric-a-brac, and Mary remained lame after her lengthy illness. It was a place of pleasure and restoration and amusement, of intellectual stimulant and physical delights, and it bore no responsibility for his debilitating fatigue.
“It won’t help. I have met my match,” he said, shaking his head.
“I see,” Mary replied.
“Dr. Robby—Molly, tell me, was I ever so impossible? So incapitatingly exasperating?” Jed exclaimed.
Mary smiled calmly, untroubled by his outburst and secure in the knowledge that all the household staff knew Dr. Foster’s raised voice was nothing to worry about and if there was more than one shout, there would likely be some ribbons or other sewing notions handed round with an apology.
“I must admit, I believe you were twice as bad, Jed. Emma has spoken to me a little, but why don’t you unburden yourself? I suppose you must or risk exploding and I shan’t think you want to trust Dr. Robby to attend to any repairs,” Mary said.
“He wouldn’t turn a hair if the whole place exploded,” Jed said morosely.
Mary laughed merrily and Jed could not help smiling at her.
“I would have preferred to have him present when the bombs were found in ‘63, pace Dr. Hale,” Mary said.
“I cannot argue that point. Robby’s brilliant, deft and steady and seemingly imperturbable, and then I find him alone in that closet you used to use, muttering some prayer under his breath,” Jed said.
“That sounds…difficult for you?”
“He argues every point, he wins more than I should like, and Nurse Hastings actually listens to him!” Jed replied.
“Of all you’ve told me, the only piece that gives me pause is the last. I believe you are finally experiencing having a true colleague and peer,” Mary said.
“I had that with you, other than the bit about Anne,” Jed said.
“I don’t think that was an accurate description of our relationship, though you do recall how often I drove you to distraction, how you railed and fretted,” Mary said.
“You were far prettier than Dr. Robby,” Jed said.
“Should I be offended by your use of the past tense?” Mary teased.
“You were pretty then, impetuous Nurse Mary the Yankee Baroness. Now you are beautiful, adorable Molly Foster and far too patient with my complaints,” Jed said.
“How is the new nurse performing?” Mary asked.
“Miss King? Mrs. Hopkins has taken her under her wing and she appears to have a great aptitude for the work. The oddest fellows like her best for all her eccentricities and I find her quick to learn, clever with her hands. She is becoming Matron’s favorite,” Jed said.
“I’ll invite them both to dinner, Dr. Robby and Miss King. Dr. Robby is a gentleman and being in the presence of ladies will sweeten his temper. I’m sure the Hopkins will come, so there is no awkwardness at the table, and a good meal with some amiable company will do wonders,” Mary said.
“You’ll manage us all into perfect harmony, won’t you?” Jed said.
“That is beyond my capabilities, but we’ll see how it goes by-and-by. You recall what it was like before, to live and work in the same place, to be ever surrounded by boys struggling to live or die, without any respite—and even then, though you may not count it much, Matron and I did all we could with Aurelia’s help and Samuel’s, to make Mansion House tolerable. I know he’s been given your old room and I saw to his linens, but I don’t imagine anyone’s offered Dr. Robby a decent game of chess since he arrived,” Mary said.
“It will only take a gambit to win the game, eh?” Jed grinned.
“Not the way you play, Jedediah,” Mary retorted. “You rely on the Nordisches Gambit every time. Matron says she’ll knock the pieces off the board if she sees you play it again.”
I think I've shared some of this before? But this is if Tommy had been involved with the attic drama at the start of season 9!
---
"I promise you it's not that bad, Evan."
"But it's not perfect, either."
Despite Evan's own insecurities about the cookies, Tommy delightfully swallows the one he has been offered and reaches for a second one, unable to help himself.
"Are you asking or telling me," he muses, grin widening as his ex shoots him a sharp glare. "It's really good, Evan."
"But something is missing." Evan frowns at the plate of cookies, as if they are personally offending him, and then stares back at Tommy again. "You really like them?"
"I never lie about cookies. Or any baked goods for that matter." That earns him a genuine laugh from Evan, causing Tommy's heart to skip a few beats. It's a sound he'll never get tired of hearing.
"Well, have at it. Maddie didn't like them much— and maybe you'll figure out what's missing."
Tommy swallows down the rest of the cookie. "As much as I love to be your personal cookie taste-tester, I'm not sure I can be of much help when I never had any of Bobby's cookies," he offers apologetically.
"Yeah, I-it's fine, Tommy. I just wish I knew where I put the recipe," he sighs, leaning back against the counter next to where Tommy is. He pushes the plate away from him, to avoid the temptation of helping himself to more and turns to face Evan instead, his hand causally reaching out to touch Evan's shoulder. Now when the name has been dropped, he figures there's a lot more behind this than the cookies.
"I'll help you look."
"You don't have to—"
"I told you. I don't joke about cookies," Tommy interjects. "This clearly means a lot to you, and the more I hear about them, the more I want to try them. Let's check the rest of your boxes." He moves before Evan has the chance to protest, right into the living room where he sees some of the boxes.
It's the second time Evan has uprooted his life for a new place to live just within the year. Tommy doesn't know the details as of why, nor has he asked, but he think this could be good for him. Evan needs and deserves his own space where he can feel at home. Tommy likes what he's seen of it, at least. It's a lot more homey than the loft and a lot more Evan than Diaz's house.
More importantly, he is glad to have been more involved this time. Even as just his ex, or his friend, Evan likes to invite him over for something as simple as being a cookie taste-tester— and who is Tommy to deny such a request?
Tommy reaches through one of the boxes and unpacks it as he does so, figuring he might as well be helpful while they are searching for the missing recipe. No such luck as of yet, so he reaches for a second box to do the same, and…
Oh.
A soft, familiar bundle of fabric meets his eyes, and Tommy finds himself taking it out of the box to unfold it. He recognizes it as his own hoodie. He must have left it behind the loft after his and Evan's break-up. "Huh."
"Did you find it?"
"Not the recipe, no." Evan joins him, and his face goes scarlet the moment he sees what Tommy is holding up.
"Uh— H-how did that get there."
Tommy's heart flutters a little. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe this had just managed to get mixed up with Evan's own clothes. It's the most likely scenario, but the look on Evan's face suggests that that might not be the case.
"It's still in great condition," he hear himself say, clearing his throat as he folds it again, placing it back on the table. "Thank you for taking care of it for me."
"Tommy, I—"
They both look up abruptly as they here a shuffling noise. Tommy frowns. Evan has told him about the possibility of squirrels before, but it sounds a lot heavier than a bunch of rodents.
"Maddie says it might be ghosts," Evan says, more lightheartedly now when the tension was broken. "Hey, did I ever tell you about how they got their house? So—"
Tommy hangs out for a while. There's no luck finding the recipe, and when Tommy leaves later that evening, he leaves the hoodie behind.
sleepover Saturday and it’s a throwback: top 3 moments on Mercy Street?
"What is all this? This cavalryman, is he someone to you? No, not at all. Then why the urgency? The boy got drunk, fell off his horse, and was kicked in the rump on his way down. Is he late to receive his medal? He can wait."
2. "Miss Phinney, when we are finished, we take our key and we go."
(this is way longer than five sentences but i got carried away!)
So he’s having a bad day, everybody has bad days, Mel told herself as she walked towards the lockers. She’d had bad days before even when she did her best to keep up an upbeat attitude, so it wasn’t surprising that the man who’d come back from rehab only to be sidelined by the other doctors wouldn’t be having the best time.
She had watched him standing in the break room, gripping the countertop with both hands, the tension in his shoulders as weighted of those of the mythical Atlas and she had physically ached to go to him, but Trinity had called her over to the nurse’s station and she had no choice but to keep working and hope she would have a chance to talk to him later in the shift.
Now was that time and she glanced over her shoulder but the floor was mostly calm. Dana was sitting in her desk chair, fingers tapping out a staccato on the keyboard while Perlah and Princess rattled off a string of Tagalog that she didn’t understand but they weren’t turned towards her so she was free to seek him out in the locker room.
The door opened quietly, and Mel moved down the hall on silent feet. She had never enjoyed being the person to make unnecessary noises (there was less attention focused on her that way) and her walk reflected that.
The bank of grey lockers lined one wall but Langdon was the only one there and she moved to stand on the side opposite the open door so she wouldn’t startle him.
His head was downturned, chin almost to his chest, and she realized that he was using the door as a shield, his face crumpled into a ferocious look but the tears on his cheeks belied his mood.
She didn’t know what to say, the well-intentioned, practiced monologue she had prepared suddenly seemed too clinical, so she reached forward and touched his shoulder.
“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, and then felt stupid because obviously he wasn’t alright. “Is there anything I can do?” She backtracked, rubbing a thumb along the fabric of his black scrubs.
Mel had never been a tactile person, but in this profession, she had learned that touch was healing. Even if it was just a touch to the back of a patient’s hand or a gentle pressure as she checked for a pulse; the warmth of human touch is so much more beneficial than the cold, sterile steel of a stethoscope and scalpel.
Langdon sniffed, shaking his head as he lifted his gaze towards hers. “Nah. I mean, thanks Mel. I just— got overwhelmed for a minute.” He pushed his hair back and scrubbed his cheek along the shoulder of his shirt and tried to smile, but then his features crumpled again and she tsked a sympathetic sound before she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“It’s okay,” she found herself saying, over and over, as his chin dropped to rest on her head. She rubbed his back, and tried to contain the depth of her own emotions, for he deserved her full support and not to be distracted by his attempts to comfort her instead.
The warmth of his chest against hers made a funny tingling sensation explode in her stomach and she tried to focus on the weird and titillating distraction of attraction to hold back her own tears.
The minutes ticked by and she thought, in another more, analytical section of her brain that she was probably needed and he was as well, but she didn’t care enough to prod him out of the moment.
“Sorry, Mel. I— I don’t know what came over me.” He tried to explain, as he pulled away, turning his intense gaze to the side (was he afraid to look in her eyes or maybe just ashamed of his emotions?) and she shook her head as she stepped back.
“No need for apologies.” She ducked her head momentarily and tried to focus on anything but the tension that suddenly started to expand between them. He wouldn’t look at her and she didn’t know how to get him to open up (didn’t he trust her and their friendship?) and it was all suddenly too confusing so she turned around and headed back out the door, in search of something she could control, perhaps a patient who needed a pill, a medication that she knew could fix the problem.
What TWW character have you never written fic for yet but would like to try someday?
technically i only have one published fic for the west wing, and a few drafts. so really i could choose anyone. but i think id choose andy! ive wanted to write about her for a while, and i will once i have more free time. theres so much i want to write about her, and i loove the idea of writing about her because theres some canon knowledge about her that means theres a basis for whatever i want to write. but theres also a *lot* we dont know/ stuff that fandom has fleshed out. which means that i can kinda do whatever i want or whatever feels right to me! i’ve struggled in the past to write about main characters just because i cannot remember everything about them. so writing andy seems comfortable?
i want to write about andy mentoring donna / just being a *good* friend who is there for donna. but that’s a very recent idea.
something that i will *definitely* write at some point will be about amyandy! not necessarily as a ship? but maybe? but also perchance them as friends. ive had a few ideas about them bouncing around in my head for a while (which have flooded my amyandy board)!! and i just love the idea of them. especially the idea of them figuring out how to be together while theyre both becoming more well known in politics. theyve both had flings with other women in their field before, but they had always been short (and no one had been particularly influential). and suddenly andy is on her way to being a congresswoman and amy is becoming well known.
or an au where amy helps andy become president that @bartletslesbians sent me as an ask!! which i have been thinking a lot about recently!! because if anyone could become the first female president of the us, it would be andy. and she deserves it.
Set sometime during the first year of the Santos Administration
Donna’s tired. No, scratch that. She’s exhausted.
She thought it would get easier, she really did. She figured that once the First Lady worked through her initial reluctance, once the House was more settled and therefore more pliable, once she was used to living with Josh, once she had actual experience in the East Wing… it should be easier. But then she remembers how much harder their second term became, how many more enemies they made, how hard she watched the staff work to create little change, and she’s not at all comforted.
Still, it’s been a bad week, and she blames Josh. Maybe that’s not fair, but her office has gotten no support from his on the amendment she’s been working on for weeks. Which is why she’s not thrilled to see him when he appears at six on Friday evening in the door of her office.
“Go away,” she says.
His face falls. “Donna, I…”
“I’m not done for the night, and if the state of the education bill is any indication, you shouldn’t be either.” She doesn’t look up from her computer, because she knows if she does, she’ll see the hurt in his eyes, and that she’s not sure she can handle.
Josh steps into the office. “Yeah, probably not. But you need to take a break from all of this. The vote isn’t for another week.”
Donna shakes her head and picks up the phone, beginning to dial. “I really have to get this done, Josh. Go home. Get some sleep. God knows one of us should.”
Instead of following her instructions, he comes behind her desk chair, wrapping his arms around her and leaning down, and kisses the top of her head. “Come on. We’ll both be back here tomorrow. I’m not spending my Friday night in the Sit Room unless something happens, so I want to take advantage of it. I want to take you to dinner.”
“I really can’t, Josh. You should know that better than anyone. I have to…”
He pulls one of her hands away from the keyboard, fitting her fingers into his. “I know bilingual education has been a big initiative for Mrs. Santos, and really, the President is all for it, but if we want to get this bill passed, it might have to go,” he says with a heavy sigh. “That doesn’t reflect on you or your…”
Donna pushes the chair back, almost rolling over his foot in the process, and jumps out to face it. “It doesn’t reflect on me? It doesn’t reflect on me? This was going to be the one legislative victory I’ve had in the last three months. This was going to be the one thing I could do to make an impact, beyond going to parties and fundraisers. This is what the First Lady wants, this is how she wants to shape the nation, and I’m damn well going to make sure it happens!”
His face softens and he takes a seat in her chair, pulling her down into his lap. She fights it, her frustration still spilling out into nervous energy, but there’s something calming about his touch. “Donna, is this about the article?”
“What, the one outlining just how young and inexperienced the White House Staff is? With me as their shining example? About how I have no education, not enough experience, and only got the job because I’m sleeping with the Chief of Staff?” Donna takes a deep breath and tries to keep her voice under control. “No, Josh,” she says, cold and sarcastic, “why would I be upset about that?”
He shakes his head and kisses her cheek. “That rag is a piece of trash. It’s not even good enough for our dog to pee on.”
“We don’t have a dog.”
“We could,” he says with a glint in his eye.
“With all the free time we have?” Donna shoots back. At his chuckle, she settles back against him; the desk chair is certainly not accommodating for the two of them, but she doesn’t want to move. “I just wonder if there isn’t some truth to it. I don’t have a degree. I fell into this job by happenstance, really. I can’t even get bilingual education funding added to a bill that’s all about education. The truth is, I am unqualified and I’m not even sure if I’m good at this.”
He kisses the top of her head again. “Don’t sell yourself short, Donna. You’ve come such a long way, and it’s not because you were privileged, and had access to the best education, or all the right connections. You got here because you’re brilliant. Let me tell you, if you had the same opportunities that I was privileged enough to have, you’d probably be sitting in my office.” He smiles and pushes her off so that he can stand up. “You got the job because Mrs. Santos thought you were the best person for the job, and I happen to think she’s right. That’s not to say you can’t ever go back to school, or that you shouldn’t, but not having a degree doesn’t make you a lesser chief of staff for her.”
Donna looks at him, looks at the sincerity in her eyes, and allows herself to shyly smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So will you let me convince you to prioritize the bilingual education funding in the bill negotiations?”
He grabs her waist and squeezes it. “Well, now you sound like a real political operative. Taking a nice moment and making it about politics.”
“You would know all about that.”
Josh pulls her coat off the rack and comes to drape it around her shoulders. “But if I’m taking a break tonight, then so are you. And we’re not going to talk about politics. It’ll be a job-free dinner.”
“What will we talk about, then?”
“Getting a dog?” he teases, with that stupid grin that she loves so much.
“Not happening.”
“Hmm, we’ll just have to see which one of us has better negotiating skills,” he replies, opening the door to her office. He’d intentionally let her win to cheer her up, but he knows that she’ll win no matter what.
