The god of writing known as Aaron Sorkin, and his cohorts at Warner Bros. and NBC own the characters. I'm just taking them out for a spin in a rented limo.
This is pure goofiness, plain and simple. It shouldn't even qualify as good fic, because just about every cliché, bad word, etc., is included. Just read and laugh (or cry), and I shalt be happy. ;-)
Mucho gracias to AJ for all of her help in this. This fic wouldn't be here without her!
Category: Pick one - it could fit under general, romance, angst, or humor
Rating: R for language and sexuality
Spoilers: minor "Let Bartlet Be Bartlet" references
Pairings: Jed/Abbey Archive: Yes, if you have to. But ask permission first!
Feedback: To BeckyAnneA@aol.com or on the lists.
Summary: The White House goes to hell in a handbasket, starting with the plumbing.
by Rebecca A. Anderson
He spluttered something unintelligible and took another giant scoop and flung it at his wife, hitting her square on the nose. Zoey just sat there, giggling and holding her pint of ice cream out for her father to scoop out of when he needed to refill.
"Traitor!" Abbey yelled at her daughter.
"Well, I'm a daddy's girl," Zoey grinned right before her mother hit her in the cheek with a scoop of cold ice cream. "Eeeeeew! This means war!" she squealed.
After a good healthy few minutes of flingy ice cream around, Zoey and Jed finally exhausted all of their ammunition, in which Abbey smiled as she hit each of them one more time.
Then she went back to calmly eating her Hagen Daaz. "Now, Zoey, about your dream," she mumbled around a spoonful, unknowing how totally ridiculous she looked with ice cream dripping down her face and hair. "I think we ought to just blow it off. The only White House ghost I know about is President Lincoln. And I haven't run into him for a while, so we're okay on that front."
Jed rolled his eyes and muttered, "And here we go again," as he went to dig for something to eat in the fridge.
"Is there something you would like to say?" Abbey turned her body, so it was facing Jed.
"Uh, nothing I can think of, Dear."
"Then find something to stuff in your mouth and concentrate on chewing it," she said snidely. "Now, Zoey, sometimes a dream like that can be the foreshadow of things to come. Other times, it can be the byproduct of stress and an overactive imagination."
"Just like your mother seeing President Lincoln," Jed said, not expecting a cold whack on the back of his neck as his wife flung another spoonful of ice cream at him.
"You really want to start this again? I have an entire fridge and freezer full of food here for ammunition."
"Just shut up," Abbey instructed curtly, turning away from Jed just before he brandished a wicked-looking turkey leg in her direction.
"Mom, I get the drift," Zoey said with a hint of a smile as she watched her father carefully take out another turkey leg and use the two behind her mother's head to make it look as though she had devil's horns.
"Josiah Bartlet," Abbey growled. "I know you're up to something."
"And how do you know I'm up to something?" Jed asked with an interested voice.
"I can see the shadow's, Jed. Really, devil horn's?" Abbey said sarcastically. "Now, Zoey. If you want, tomorrow morning, we can get my Ouija board out and try to figure your dream out."
"Abbey, don't you dare drag that thing out again," Jed scolded, putting one of the turkey legs back in the fridge. "Remember what happened the last time?"
"Yeah. I got possessed by an angry spirit and scared the crap out of you and every other person around," Abbey grinned. "But boy, was it fun!"
"Abigail, you are truly psychotic," Jed said, taking a huge bite of turkey.
"Maybe she's been hanging out with you for too long, daddy," Zoey said with a grin. Seeing the looks on her parents' faces, she said,
"I'm off to take a towel to my hair. Night all!"
"She's your daughter." Abbey said, watching Jed's mouth drop.
"But the attitude comes from your side of the family!" Jed interjected.
"Shut your mouth, please," she instructed. "I don't relish seeing half-chewed turkey, thank you very much."
"Fine then." Jed mumbled as he shoved everything that he had taken out of the fridge, back into it. "I'm going back to bed."
"I am." Jed turned to leave, "Aren't you coming too?"
"To sleep, maybe," he retorted.
"Well, in that case, no," she replied, shoving another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.
"Fine, be that way," Jed finally said, storming out.
"I will." She smiled.
Later on that evening, when Abbey returned to her bedroom, she went straight to the bathroom to take a look at what that food fight had done to her. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she entered the bedroom again and climbed into bed. Turning slightly, she looked over at Jed who was in a peaceful slumber, and sighed. Carefully, she moved so that her head was resting on top of his chest, and her arms were wrapped tightly around him.
"Abbey?" He sleepily muttered.
"Go back to sleep," she whispered. "You have to work tomorrow. All I have to do is worry about when the plumbing will be fixed." She gently kissed him on the lips, and he mumbled something to the affirmative, and went back to sleep.
The next morning, Abbey woke up to find that Jed had already left for work for the day. Stretching in bed, she reached over for the phone. "Hey Zoey, did I wake you?"
"Yeah." Zoey replied.
"Sorry, honey. Look, I need to talk to you about something. Can you come to my room right now?" It had been long enough in coming. But she didn't want to tell Jed yet.
"Sure. Give me five minutes," Zoey replied.
ELSEWHERE IN THE WHITE HOUSE....
CJ Cregg took her customary place for the morning press briefing. "Hello, everyone," she extolled cheerfully. "The only bathrooms functioning in the White House are 5 on the lower floor of the East Wing. Please use those. See baskets outside of those bathrooms for hand sanitizer. Now, on to bigger and better news. There is a crew onsite today to work on digging up the ruptured pipe. It should be fixed by Friday. And last, the First Family had a food fight in the kitchen last night. Won't the National Enquirer have a hey day with that?"
"CJ?" Danny raised his hand.
"Yes fish boy?" CJ called out, taking notice of the face that matched the hand and voice.
"Are you trying to be glib on purpose?" Danny asked, earning snickers around the room.
"Yeah, bite me," CJ grinned cheerfully.
"Your place or mine?" he retorted to more snickers.
"Oh, blow somewhere else, Danny," she said. "Brief's over. Have fun with your headlines for the morning, folks." She turned and ran like a bat out of hell towards the East Wing. "Of all the times to get an intestinal virus...." she muttered.
"Mom?" Zoey said warily as she entered her parents' room.
"Do you mind handing me that bowl over there?" Abbey called from the bathroom. "I'd throw up in the toilet if it would flush."
For a brief moment, Zoey's feet were glued to the ground, as her eyes were fixed on her mother. After that moment passed, she did as she was asked. Coming to her mother's side, she handed the bowl to her and brushed her hand through Abbey's hair. "What's wrong, Mom?"
"Promise me you won't tell your father," Abbey groaned, hunching over the bowl.
"How can I promise that, Mommy?" Zoey asked softly.
"Please." The plea was so soft, she almost didn't hear it.
"Pregnant?" Zoey repeated.
"Yeah. Now don't go telling your father."
"I won't." Zoey paused. "I just have one question."
"Aren't you too old?" Zoey asked.
Abbey groaned and vomited again. "You're only as young as you feel," she quipped in agony.
"MO-OOM," Zoey groaned, supporting her mother's weight.
"It's a high-risk pregnancy, which is why I cancelled my tours, my work, my everything, and stalk around like a caged beast," Abbey moaned, heaving dryly.
"I'm going to go get dad."
"NO! Zoey, you promised."
"I said don't," Abbey whimpered.
"You're sick," Zoey whispered, then burst into tears.
"Yeah, it comes with the territory."
"I'm calling dad. He should know."
"Mother!" Zoey said as she picked the phone up.
"Traitor," Abbey mumbled, throwing up again. Every time she thought she had purged her stomach, she vomited again.
"Dad, it's me. Sorry -- I don't care if I interrupted your call with the Prime Minister of Australia. Yeah, f*ck the Olympics anyway. Hey -- I don't hear better language coming out of your mouth, either. Why am I calling? Gee, could it be because my mother is on her hands and knees in her bathroom, puking her guts up? Yeah, be a good daddy and hang up the phone and get over here!" She slammed the phone down. "Honestly!" she exclaimed.
"You really didn't need to use such language to your father," Abbey moaned.
"I was only matching the words from his mouth." Zoey replied honestly. "Now, is there anything I can do for you?"
"Crackers and water," Abbey mumbled, lurching over to the bed unsteadily. "That ice cream didn't sit well last night."
"Should you eat so soon after... you know," Zoey asked.
"Plain soda crackers help with the nausea," her mother replied.
"Abbey?" Jed's rushed voice entered their bedroom before his body did.
"What?" She asked, clearly upset that Zoey had called him.
"Zoey just called and said..."
"I know what she said," Abbey growled. "I told her *not* to call."
"Now, why would you do a..."
"Excuse me, I'm going to get your crackers, Mom," Zoey mumbled, running out the door, unwilling to tell her father for her mother.
"Abbey?" Jed inched towards the bed. "You don't like crackers. You've never liked crackers, except..." Jed trailed off as he began to put the pieces together.
"Don't touch me," she sighed as he reached to help her sit down steadily on the bed. "It's partially your fault, you know."
"So what I'm thinking is right?"
"Depends, what are you thinking?" Abbey replied dryly.
"Are you pregnant?"
"Maybe I've just developed a taste for crackers," she shot back.
"I don't think so."
"Oh, fine -- I'm pregnant, for Christ's sake!" There was a thumping on the door. "COME IN!" Abbey yelled.
CJ stuck her head in the door. "Look, I'm sorry to interrupt...."
"What do you need, CJ?" Jed asked.
"Abbey, can I borrow your port-a-potty?"
CJ looked absolutely miserable as she repeated, "Can I borrow your port-a-potty? The East Wing is too far, and the lines to use the other port-a-potty's are too long," she whined.
"Fine. Whatever. But if I find out that you brought a Vogue magazine in there, you're dead." Abbey muttered.
"Never could understand that magazine myself," CJ grinned, running back out the door. "Thanks!" CJ's voice called out before the door was shut.
When left alone, Jed moved to lay next to his wife on the bed. Placing a hand on her stomach, he whispered, "Pregnant."
"Yes, Jed. And you weren't supposed to know!" Abbey frowned at him, glowering. "If I ever get Zoey alone, I'll skin her alive," she vowed.
"Why wasn't I supposed to know? Aren't you happy about this?" His wife's anger was confusing Jed.
"Damnit, Jed, of course I am, but I'm also scared to death of what might happen. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm getting older," she growled, slapping his hands away. "I didn't want to tell you, get your hopes up until I was sure that nothing was going to happen!"
"Come here." Jed tried to gather her up into his arms. When she resisted, he forced it that much more. "Nothing is going to happen. You hear me? Cause you're too stubborn to let anything happen."
"Yeah, whatever," she mumbled unhappily.
"Now tell me, how long have you known?" Jed asked, drawing Abbey's head to his chest.
"Almost three months," she muttered with a little hint of chagrin.
Jed pulled his wife away from him. Looking deeply into her eyes, he said with a hurt voice, "Three months? Three months, and you're just now telling me?"
"Jed, I needed to know that nothing was going to happen," Abbey sighed.
"But you can't know that," he said. "You're not God."
"Jed, please understand that I didn't not tell you on purpose. I was just... I was just scared, that's all." Abbey nestled herself back into his arms. "I was scared how of the high risks, and how you'd respond."
"Abigail, you know I love you and I will help you in any way I can," he said softly, cuddling his wife. There was a loud series of knocks on the door, and Jed groaned, "COME IN!"