Work Text:
He’s never liked formal events. He’d rather be holed up in his office trying to cram through a piece of legislation, not schmoozing with foreign dignitaries. Lately, though, he’s started to look forward to them a bit more. It’s certainly not the small talk or the fancy meals on White House China. No, the part that he looks forward to comes later in the evening.
After the President has spoken, and the guests are engrossed in conversation amongst themselves, and the band is playing, the mood shifts in the East Room.
He usually finds her with a barely consumed white wine in her hands, listening earnestly to someone tell her about a project from their special interest group. Even when she’s fully engaged in conversation, all that he has to do is meet her eye. A slight nod of the head from him and she politely excuses herself, discarding her drink on an empty table and meeting him on the edge of the dance floor.
He gently takes her hand and pulls her close, swaying softly to the music.
They forego the banter for their precious few minutes, and silently drink each other in. He leads them to the middle of the floor, encasing them with couples too absorbed in conversation to notice them and away from the prying eyes mixing near the tables. She moves slowly towards him in a calculated rhythm until their bodies as as close as decorum will allow.
His hand finds the small of her back as it has so many times before, and his thumb grazes gently back and forth. It’s only the slightest of movements, imperceptible to anyone but the two of them. It’s so different from the type of contact to which they’ve come accustomed, yet it feels oddly familiar to him.
He revels in the feeling of her hand resting in his as though it’s meant to be there, and she shifts her body again as their hips sway in time to each other.
She’s been on his mind all of the time lately, and he grows fonder of her every day. He catches himself daydreaming of her more and more with every passing year, losing himself in just the thought of her.
God only knows why it's taken him so long to face the reality that she’s all he’s ever wanted and more. When he holds her like this, so tenderly in his arms, he can finally let his doubts go. The fear and the anger and the worry he’s held on to his entire life begin to drift away for a moment.
He moves them slightly, leading her in a subtle path around the other couples dancing without a care in the world, for which he’s momentarily jealous, but he can’t imagine that even a fraction of them know a love with the depth of his for Donna. It’s not a realization that startles him, but rather something that’s been building inside of him for a long time.
Something shifts within him and he realizes that he can finally begin to put words to what he feels for her. He wants, more than anything, to be the man that is worthy of her love. If she’ll give him the chance he’ll go to the ends of the earth to prove it to her. She’s the only person that matters to him now, and he’s not even precisely sure when he fell so deeply in love with her.
The typical fear at the thought of commitment isn’t there this time, replaced instead by the flutter of excitement at his understanding that she’s his one and only. He watches her as they move about the floor and finds himself imagining their life together.
With a gentle move of his wrist he intertwines their fingers and pulls their hands closer to him, resting just over his heart. As they dance he turns them slightly so that his back to the room full of political playmakers for a fleeting moment it feels like just the two of them. He tilts his head closer to her, resting against his temple. He craves her, and more than anything he wants to know what it’s like to feel his lips on hers, to feel himself smile against her. But figuring that out right now wouldn’t be fair to either of them, and this is bigger than an impulsive moment. He closes his eyes and breathes her in, moving as slowly as he can to savor the remaining seconds in which their orbits cross and they can just be one.
He moves their clasp hands up towards him, his lips grazing her knuckles with a featherlight precision before returning their intertwined fingers into to his heart. He feels her begin to melt into him and it takes all of the strength he has to maintain his composure. He’s forced to shift slightly away from her as the rotation on the dance floor begins to sway them closer to the outside of the crowd.
Her eyes flutter open once again, the softest hint of a wholly content smile appears on her face.
He’s never dared to hope that she feels as deeply for him as he does for her, but in that moment something passes between them and he finally understands. She does.
He knows it’s not easy to give up your heart to someone else, but if she trusts him with her love he’s not going to let her down. He’s certain he’d give up his entire life before he hurt her.
It’s time, and he knows that without a doubt. She’s his forever and he doesn’t want to wait any longer. He’ll do it tonight, when he takes her home. He’ll walk her to her door in the warm summer evening and when they arrive at the steps to her building he’ll be honest with her.
Whatever road she chooses after he’s put it all on the line will be her own decision, and he’ll respect that. But he can’t stand the thought of her not knowing. And after tonight, he has the slightest amount of faith that she wants the same thing he does.
The song ends and the couples on the dance floor clap softly, disbursing a bit. He gives her hand a final soft squeeze before letting go of her, lingering as long as he can. They step away and join in the applause, sharing one last glance before making their way back to the crowd of coworkers and political appointees.
He can barely keep his mind on anything other than the conversation he’s going to have with her in a few hours, but he tries to play it cool. The nerves build inside of him as he watches her move around the room, smiling and laughing. He can’t take his eyes off of her in that blue dress.
When the crowd disburses he’s about to burst from the nervous energy that’s building inside of him. He just wants to get them out of the building so they can be alone. He sends her on a few errands so they can expedite the process, and he’s got his coat to head out the door. This is it.
But the crash calls stop him in his tracks and he’s practically climbing the walls. He knows she’s okay, assured by CJ that they’re in her office.
They’re free to go home a few hours later and he knows this is it. He bellows her name when he’s fairly certain he hears her, grabbing his belongings but not wanting to miss her. They need to get out of there before they’re stuck again. She doesn’t appear in his doorway so he calls her name again before making his way to the bullpen, looking around for her.
He’s missed her. He can feel the disappointment crash into him and the realization that this conversation will have to wait. He convinces himself that maybe it’s better this way. They won’t be dead on their feet and half delirious from exhaustion. She’s heading out on the trip of a lifetime in the morning, and he decides not to overwhelm her before she departs for five days. She’s earned her seat at the table, and he doesn’t want her to doubt his motivations for sending her. Besides, this way he’ll have a week to formulate a plan to sweep her off her feet when she gets home from Gaza.