SiriuslySapphic

hmm can you please do a fic of Cj and Abbey during the beginning of season 3.? When everyone seems to be crapping on Cj.

Okay, so it’s not quite the beginning of the season but I think it’s along the lines you were shooting for. Right after The Women of Qumar ends.

CJ had high-tailed it out of the pressroom and back into the relative safety of her office. She had fully intended to start work on tomorrow’s briefing, but the weight of the day’s events had finally caught up with her. 

She sat down heavily in her desk chair and folded her arms on her desk. She tucked her face in the corner of her elbow like she had when she was in elementary school and they played Heads Up Seven Up in class. She remembered being in middle school and overhearing another group of students talking about how they always cheated in that game and peeked at the shoes of the person who tagged them.

CJ had never peeked. CJ had always kept her eyes tightly shut and tucked into the crook of her elbow. CJ had always followed the rules.

And where had it gotten her? CJ had done as she was told her entire life, and just when she thought she had gotten to a place where she called the shots, she was proven wrong. 

Sorry CJ, you guessed wrong. It was Cecily Jacksonwho tagged you, Cecily who wore pink glittery high-tops that would have been a dead giveaway.

Sorry CJ, you can’t date a reporter because then everyone will see you as a weak-willed woman and you could tank the entire administration.

Sorry CJ, you can’t do jack shit to help the women of Qumar.

She let out the sob she had been holding in.

“Rough day?” a quiet voice asked.

CJ jumped violently and immediately began scrubbing the tears away from her face. She hadn’t heard Abbey come in.

“For the record, I think you’re right,” Abbey continued, working her way around the desk. 

CJ dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her blazer. “Yeah well being right doesn’t seem to get you very far here.”

Abbey clucked her tongue lightly and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of CJ’s head. “Now now Claudia Jean, cynicism doesn’t suit you.”

CJ was about to protest, but was cut off when Abbey trailed her fingers down the nape of her neck and began kneading. CJ melted at the touch of Abbey’s fingers, sinewy and precise from decades of performing surgeries. 

Abbey worked her fingers into the collection of knots that had been building in CJ’s shoulders all day, occasionally planting the odd kiss to CJ’s temple.

As Abbey massaged her, CJ felt her stress level lowering dramatically. Qumar was just a place on a map. Nancy McNally was just another person trying to do the best she could. Cecily Jackson and her high-top sneakers were just a distant memory.

CJ shivered lightly as Abbey leaned in so her lips were milimeters away from her ear. “Just for the record,” Abbey purred. “Being right might not get you anywhere in Washington, but it will get you everywhere with me.”