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Title: Served 2/? Author: Suz suzvoy@tesco.net Disclaimer: Umm, yeah. They own them; I don't. No profit etc. Rating: Should be suitable for all. Notes: My first ever West Wing fanfic. Feedback would be very much appreciated. I only envision this having one more part, but just in case...sorry this was so long in coming. Real Life. Dedications: For Morgan, who taught me everything worth knowing. Like the best Toby quotes. Archiving: If you want, but please let me know! Summary: So, a certain sporting occurrence was mentioned in 'Crackpots...'. This is my explanation. * "Tennis?" Donna asked. Josh nodded, not really paying attention, too engrossed in the report he was reading. The woman he was currently ignoring was doing an equally good job of ignoring his lack of interest as she rested the lower half of her body against his desk. "Toby?" She continued. Again he nodded, turning over to the next page. "Toby." Donna was definitely having trouble with the concept. "Tennis. Toby Tennis." Tapping the pen she was holding in her right hand against her chin, her frown deepened. "Isn't that an oxymoron?" Another page turned. "It's not the only thing in here that's a moron." The pen stilled. The sound of paper turning stopped. Expressions grew, then froze. Then... "Did you...say what I think you-" "I didn't mean to - I wasn't even paying attention!" "Well..." Donna paused, considering. "Congratulations, Josh. That was a good one." And she smiled. Josh's heart started beating again. He threw her a careless smile, trying to act as if he hadn't been fearing for his life, and decided the best way to carry on was to become absolutely fascinated by what had ultimately been a one-sided conversation. "So...you don't think Toby is particularly brilliant at tennis?" "No." He wasn't surprised by her blunt reply. "Why?" "Why won't he be brilliant, or why do I think he won't be brilliant?" "Isn't that the same thing?" "Not always." That immediately caught Josh's interest. "So...you're actually admitting that you don't always know everything? That you may think that you know the explanation for something, but in fact that explanation is wrong and there's another - correct - explanation that you hadn't thought of?" Rolling her eyes, Donna stood and shook her head. "God, Josh. If I knew you were going to-" "You're avoiding the question." He was having the time of his life, placing the report on his desk and standing up, smirking. "And you have an unhealthy obsession with proving me wrong. You really should study this competitive edge of yours, Josh; it can't be healthy, and is bound to cause conflict in the workplace. After all-" "Enough, Donna. I give." He'd discovered a long time ago that when Donna didn't want him to know something, she could keep talking about one of his faults for a very long time. Rather than have to sit through thirty minutes of psychoanalysis, he thought it better to quit; not while he was ahead, but more while he at least had some chance of perhaps one day being able to see the finish line with a powerful telescope. Donna simply smirked triumphantly. "So, as I was saying, Toby will be useless at tennis." "For what reason? His build? His lack of skill? His-" "-partner," Donna concluded. "CJ?" She nodded. He frowned. "How is CJ going to make Toby into a terrible tennis player?" At the perfect moment, Donna heard the voice of the very people they were discussing approaching. Silently nodding to Josh, she indicated for him to listen. He rolled his eyes, but did so anyway. CJ's words became decipherable first. "So, Toby...I look forward to seeing you in white shorts." Toby's response was no less exasperated than usual. "I won't be wearing white shorts." "Really? Damn. For a while there that was a nice mental image." It was then that CJ and Toby walked by Josh's office, giving the eavesdroppers the wonderful opportunity to see Toby's face change colour. Once he was sure they were a safe distance away, Josh shrugged. "I don't see your point. That's CJ; she's like that with everyone." "No she isn't." "Yes, she is." "No she isn't." Knowing this was going to go on all day (and weren't they supposed to be working?) Josh changed tactics. "I say stuff like that to her all the time!" "Yes," Donna agreed, twirling her pen around. "*You* say things like that to her, but does she ever make comments about *your* body, about how *you'll* look in a pair of shorts?" "Well...no..." Josh finished lamely, feeling more than a little inadequate. "But how is that going to put Toby off his game?" He rushed the words out, eager to change the subject. "Because," Donna smirked as she continued, "That man has no idea what he's letting himself in for. Besides, have you ever seen anyone else who can make Toby blush?" * Ten minutes before the tennis match was due to begin, CJ was inside tying up her sneakers. She'd already changed into comfortable jogging bottoms and a form-fitting top, and her work glasses had been swapped for the pair she usually kept at home because she really didn't care what happened to them. As she was musing that she was actually quite looking forward to the match, she heard footsteps approaching. Surprised to see anyone else aside from the players and security there, she frowned, then smiled. "What are you doing here?" Josh smiled broadly. "I volunteered my services as the ball boy." Finished with her sneakers, she stood up. "Are you so desperate for entertainment that you volunteered?" "Hey, Claudia Jean, I'll have you know that I am a great follower of tennis." CJ held up a hand. "Okay, okay." Josh cleared his throat as if he were uncomfortable with something, then said, "Well, I'll think I'll limber up a little." She nodded, and almost before she had time to blink he had dropped the to the ground and started doing vigorous press-ups. Her eyes widened for a moment but she knew warming-up was a smart idea, so before long she started her own - much less strenuous - warm-up exercises. Josh stopped almost immediately, gasping for air. Pushing himself up he faced her, held out his hands and said, "What do you think?" Stretching to one side, CJ frowned. "What do I think of what? Your hands?" "No, my outfit." CJ regarded said outfit, and shrugged. He was simply wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. "It's okay. I'm not sure I'd choose that colour scheme..." "Forget it," He muttered, then headed out towards the court. Her gaze followed his back for a while, until a new voice interrupted her thoughts. "What's he doing here?" She didn't turn. "Ball boy." CJ could almost hear him nod slowly, carefully. "Some people spend their free time at the opera or planning a free world..." "Would we rather we make you get the balls? Because I could make you do it." Toby didn't argue that. "I didn't think it was physically possible to hold one position for that long." CJ had begun to wonder by certain parts of her body were aching, and only just realised that she was still stretching to one side. Carefully standing straight, she finally turned to look at him. He had changed into comfortable clothes just as she had; in his case, jogging bottoms and a shirt. Folding her arms across her chest, she stuck her chin out. "Some of us are born with talents." Toby began walking slowly, making his way by her and towards the court. "If that's the case...most of them are hidden." Her response failed to take form as the limousine arrived. Almost immediately security swarmed into view, and the President - already dressed for the game - emerged, smiling triumphantly. He seemed to be under the impression that he had already won. "CJ, Toby." "Mr President," They greeted. He spotted the ball boy and shook his hand. "Josh, thanks for doing this." "Not a problem, Mr President. A pleasure to be here." CJ tried to peer through the windows of the limousine. "Where's your partner, sir?" "Oh, she's in there," He assured her. "She'll be out in a minute." As if on cue, someone taped on the window from the inside of the limousine. "Ah!" The President declared dramatically, then opened the door himself. His partner stepped out, and he began introductions. "Everybody, this is Ms Smith. She works at the American Embassy. Ms Smith, this is CJ Cregg my Press Secretary, Toby Ziegler, my Communications Director, and Josh Lyman, my Deputy Chief of Staff." Their mouths hung open, their greetings evaporating, and the arms that had immediately lifted up to shake hands now hung in mid-air, as they took in her appearance. It was Steffi Graf. She said nothing. Nothing at all. She merely smiled, and nodded, using movement to express her pleasure. Then she moved towards the court. The President deliberately mistook their silence. "I know she's a little quiet, but she's a lovely woman-" "Talented, too." Toby told him. "You've met her before? Wonderful! Well, if you'll excuse me, I really should get ready..." Then he, too, headed towards the court. Josh, closing his mouth and rediscovering his feet, took up after him. "Mr President..." "Yes, Josh?" "Have you noticed your partners unbelievably strange likeness to a particularly well-known female tennis player?" "You noticed that too?" The President sounded shocked, then shrugged. "Hardly surprising, I suppose. She does look quite a bit like Monica Seles." "Yes sir," Josh conceded. "She does at that." Back by the limousine, Toby turned to CJ. "At what point would you like to admit that the Presidents tennis partner is Steffi Graf?" Finally she blinked. "You heard him. It's not Steffi Graf. It’s Ms Smith from the American Embassy." "Really? Well, if you're sure. Although I'm certain that on the side she runs a very profitable look-a-like company." Straightening her back, CJ turned towards the court. "Come on, Toby Ziegler. We've got a tennis match to lose." TBC
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