Chapter Text
Slouching on his couch, Leo had been zapping through the channels for already twenty minutes when there was a knock on his door.
He checked the time, a frown building. It couldn’t be room service, as he had wasted time watching TV to come down from the stress of the day right after stepping through his hotel room door instead of ordering food.
With a huff, he pushed himself up and trotted to the door, not caring to put his jacket back on, which hung over the rest of his sofa. Leo was already in relaxation mode.
Swinging open the door, expecting anyone but—“Margaret?” He had just said good night to her, like an hour ago. His eyes widened as he took her in. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“Hey,” she said, rubbing her hands together, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Did something happen?” he asked in alarm. “At the office?” Though they’d usually call.
“Oh! No,” she said quickly, shaking her head, but didn’t add anything else.
Leo shifted—same as Margaret—awkwardly on the spot. There was no doubt she had her reasons. “How about you come in?” He stepped back, letting her enter.
Slowly, she stepped inside, her eyes taking in the room. It wasn’t the first time she had visited his hotel suite. She had been here just last week, when they’d made a detour to pick up a suit while Leo and she talked through some paperwork.
Closing the door, he turned to her, an expectant look on his face. “So?”
Unsure where to put her hands, Margaret wrapped them around herself first, then shoved them into the back pockets of her jeans. “Would you believe me if I said I was… in the area?”
Leo let out a short laugh. “As far as I know, your apartment is in the opposite direction.”
Margaret bit the inside of her lip. “So?”
“Margaret. You were obviously at home,” he said, gesturing at her. “You changed your clothes.”
Glancing down at herself, she nodded in agreement. “Okay. Sherlock.”
Shaking his head with a grin, he turned to the small table in front of the couch and grabbed the remote to turn off the TV. By now, he had a pretty good hunch why she was here. “I’m not going to drink, okay.”
As if on cue, her eyes darted around the room. No bottles. Only a carton of orange juice sitting on the dining table beside an empty glass. She stepped closer, one hand resting on the back of a chair. “I… I was worried, okay?”
Rubbing his tired eyes, he said, “You’re always worried.”
“That’s not true,” she contradicted quickly, earning a knowing glance from Leo. “Well, okay. I am. So what?”
Crossing her arms, she pouted at him, and Leo smirked. Rationally speaking, he paid Margaret to worry. Berating her for it wouldn’t be fair. He looked her over again.
“What?” she asked, catching his gaze.
“Nothing,” he said. “I just realized I’ve never seen you in Levi’s and a sweater.”
“Really?” She thought about it. “Not even on the campaign trail?”
“You had time to wear a sweater and jeans on the campaign trail?” he quipped, remembering that year only as a blur of fast, uncoordinated fragments of memory, if he was honest.
“Guess not,” she said, then added with a shrug, “that’s how I look in them. Wanna follow suit?”
“You kidding me?” he called out. “Sweater? Levi’s? I don’t own that.”
Now it was Margaret trying to hide a smirk. Naturally, Leo didn’t own anything like that—though she could easily imagine him looking good in it. “You’re aware that sometimes you’re a little strange?”
“And that from the woman who sends emails to the entire administration to correct the calorie count of a muffin,” he shot back, grabbing a leather folder from a small table. “Anyway, you hungry?”
Still processing the accusation—unfair, but not wrong—Leo’s question caught her off guard. “Why?”
“Because I am.” Fishing his reading glasses out of his breast pocket, he opened the folder, which turned out to be the room service menu. “I was thinking about ordering.”
She frowned, not quite following. “And?”
Leo snapped the menu shut again and let out an exaggerated huff. “Heavens! Since you’re here, why not… join me?”
“Oh,” it escaped her. That hadn’t been the plan or on her radar, but she hadn’t eaten yet. After getting home, she had gone to take a quick shower, change into relaxing clothes, and in a fit of worry had decided to pay him a visit. “Yeah. Sure.”
Pleased with the progress, he opened the menu again. “Great. What do you wanna eat?”
Margaret inched closer, without actually being able to read the card. “Do they have pasta?”
“Guess,” he mumbled, studying the menu. He had thought about getting a steak, just to celebrate his divorce, but with Margaret he sensed she would throw him scrutinizing glances all evening long. “Pasta with what?”
Their eyes met, and Margaret shifted in uncertainty. “Salmon? I like salmon.”
“Sure.” Pasta with salmon — hell, he could have that steak tomorrow. “Let’s order that.”
He was ready to grab the phone when Margaret made another step closer. “They have asparagus?”
“They have everything you want, Margaret,” he said, glancing over the rim of his glasses. His eyes sparkled with amusement.
Giving him a fake glare, she tugged the menu from his hand and flipped to the dessert section. “In that case,” she said, her eyes trailing down the list of possibilities, “I’ll take the cheesecake for dessert.”
With a snort, Leo dialed the number for reception. “Hi, yeah, Leo McGarry here. I’d like to order pasta with salmon and asparagus, twice. Yes, please. And… two portions of cheesecake. Twenty minutes? Great. Thanks.” He placed the receiver back on the holder. “Happy?”
“Low-key,” she said with a smirk. “Thank you.”
Leo rubbed his hands, bracing himself for the awkward moment building between them. “Okay, listen, while you obviously had a shower and changed clothes, I have not.”
Blinking at him in confusion, Margaret tilted her head slightly. “Yeah?”
Walking over to the TV, he grabbed the remote. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m going to take a shower and change.” He pressed the remote into her hand. “You entertain yourself with whatever old black-and-white movie you can find, okay?”
Looking at the remote in her hand, then at the TV, then at Leo — who was already making his way into his bedroom — she said, “Okay.”
“Glad we could agree on that,” he called from the bedroom as he gathered clothes to change into.
“Hey, uh, Leo,” Margaret called after him and waited for him to peek out of the room. “You gonna wear denim and a sweater?”
“Not in a million years.” He shut the door behind him, leaving Margaret grinning.
“Well, fine. Grouch,” she muttered, settling into one corner of the sofa and turning on the TV.
She flipped through channels for a while but couldn’t find a movie she liked, so she turned it off and lay down. Shoes off, she stretched her feet and stared at the ceiling, enjoying the moment. Through the wall she could hear the shower running, and a few minutes later the hair dryer. In all the years, she had never done this — lying in Leo’s suite, listening to her boss dry his hair. It was kind of funny.
Closing her eyes, she was ready to doze off when she heard the bedroom door open. “Margaret?”
Popping up from behind the sofa, she peered over the edge, finding Leo standing in the room with a worried expression. It was impossible to overlook how much his appearance had changed. He was wearing cream-colored linen trousers and a dark blue long-sleeve polo shirt. His hair was dry, and she thought he had even shaved.
“There you are,” he said, relaxing. “I was worried I’d have to eat two portions of cheesecake alone.”
Margaret swung her feet from the sofa to the floor. “Not gonna happen in a million years, boss.”
Then there was a knock on the door. Room service. Leo startled into motion. “Let me get that.”
A minute later, Leo wheeled in a dining cart. Together they set the plates on the table and then settled across from each other.
“Smells delicious,” she said, looking at the pasta in front of her with a wide smile. Her eyes narrowed.
Leo, balancing a piece of asparagus on his fork, froze. “What?”
“I… they really skimped on the asparagus, didn’t they?”
Leo counted the pieces on his plate. She wasn’t exactly wrong. “Want me to complain, honey?”
Margaret made a face. “I’m just saying, okay? It’s not like you couldn’t afford a whole field.”
“Always wanted to own one,” Leo said deadpan. “They were generous with the salmon. Think that evens it out?”
She huffed softly. He was teasing her. “Just admit you wanted a steak.”
“No.” His tone failed in every way to sound honest, not that he made any effort to do so. Shoving a piece of asparagus and salmon into his mouth, he gave her a smile while chewing. “It’s delicious.”
She took a bite. “It really is.” After a few seconds, she tilted her head, musing. “You think they deliver to the White House?”
Leo laughed softly. “Now let’s not get wasteful. What about your monthly sermon about ‘you should cook more for yourself’?”
“It is cheaper and healthier,” she said, chewing. “And I know you can cook. You told me!”
“I lied.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said simply.
Leo hesitated, working on the casual delivery. “How’d you know?”
Lowering her fork, she let her eyes rest on him for a second. It would have been easy to make a quip, but something in Leo’s eyes mirrored a deep, genuine question. “Because you’re not a liar, Leo.”
The fork clanked against the edge of the plate. That response had rendered him speechless. Not because he wasn’t one when necessary — he was a politician. People like him lied and got paid for it. Margaret didn’t mean those occasions. This was deeper, and it touched something inside him.
“I mean…” Her hands reached for the salt shaker, nudging it slightly to the left. The pepper shaker followed. “After all these years, I know you a little.”
Leo watched her intently. Normally, this was the moment he would deflect. Out of habit. Self-protection. His mouth was already open, the words ready to come out.
Margaret had come here — not because he had asked, not for the job, but out of care. For him. If anyone deserved honesty, it was her.
“Jenny didn’t.” He tried it as a cruel joke. It came out only cruel. “Know me, I mean.” Falling back in his chair, he rubbed his forehead, unable to meet her eyes.
Her hands dropped into her lap, the food no longer important. The whole day had carried dark clouds — clouds she had believed she was imagining. “Leo.”
Turning the glass of juice in his hand, he raised the other slightly. “With the papers, there was a finality I wasn’t prepared for.” A wry laugh escaped him. “Bet Jenny’s throwing a parade.”
“Why would she?”
He met her gaze. “I was a bad husband.”
“Don’t do that to yourself.” Margaret swallowed. It hurt to hear him talk like that, like he wasn’t worth happiness. “Caring about your work isn’t a crime.”
“It was more important than my marriage,” he said, his voice betraying the pain he had felt the night he’d said it the first time. Margaret’s eyes widened, unbeknownst to that fact. “It’s what I said to her the night she left. Clearly, that doesn’t make anyone stay.”
Mirroring his grip on the glass, Margaret let the words sit between them for a moment.
“It’s not about Jenny, is it?”
It didn’t surprise him anymore that she had seen through him. He merely shook his head. “I didn’t put Jenny first. What if I never will?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because all my life, I never did. I put work and the President first. But—” He broke off. It was too much of an admission. Not that Margaret needed to hear it all to understand his real fear.
“Questionable priorities,” she said dryly. Leo glanced up, unsure where this was going. “It’s what we do. No need to punish yourself, Leo. We all do it. I do it.” Biting her lower lip, she ended with a scornful scoff. “The last guy I dated asked me why I was fussing over labeling files. Why I had you on speed dial and not him. Told me I was behaving like the President himself instead of a simple assistant.”
Leo leaned in slightly, his hand landing close beside hers. “He didn’t!”
“One night, you called, asked me to come over to go through some files. The next morning, there was a hearing. I didn’t hesitate for a second, because it’s my job. He was gone when I came home.” She shrugged one shoulder, watching their hands in close proximity. “Wasn’t a marriage. Didn’t feel nice, though.”
It was her job. He was her job. Leo remembered that hearing and the night hours they had put into it. The sad expression in her eyes a few days later. Because the job was relentless, fast-paced, he had never found the time to ask what it meant.
Over all the years, he had called her a hundred times for last-minute work. She had never let him down. How many times had she chosen him instead of another guy?
“You have me on speed dial?” he asked, guilt creeping into his voice.
“Of course.” What kind of question was that? Margaret wasn’t an amateur.
A second passed. Leo tugged at his collar. “Yeah, I have you on it too.”
Their glances met. One of Margaret’s eyebrows slowly rose. Grim expressions shifted into slow smiles until they both broke into laughter.
“Truth is, we all wonder the same thing. Can we make someone stay who understands?” She let out a sigh and went back to eating. It would be too wasteful not to.
Leo watched her, then decided to do the same. They ate in silence. A clock ticking somewhere. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just different — both of them working through what had been said.
After a few minutes, both plates were empty. Leo gave a satisfied sigh. He really had been hungry. “That was good.”
Margaret offered a smile, happy on behalf of the cook. “It was.”
On instinct, Margaret rose and was about to reach for the plates, like she would for files in the office.
“Don’t,” Leo said. “Just leave it.”
No need to discuss. With a nod, she turned toward the sofa, and Leo subtly motioned her to it. Slipping out of her sneakers, Margaret drew her feet under her, sitting in one corner of the sofa, her elbow propped on the armrest, supporting her head. After spending all day in the office, straight and at attention, she liked being more relaxed in the evening. Even she could find joy in slouching.
Leo’s eyes drifted over her before he settled beside her. Both feet on the ground, his hands in his lap, like he was ready to be called up for a doctor’s appointment or whatever else might come.
Awkwardness spread between them. A soft chuckle rose from Margaret. Leo turned his head, staring at her as if she had grown a second head, which only made her laugh more. One hand covered her face as she tried to stay professional.
“I’m sorry,” she managed between giggles. “I just…”
Leo broke into laughter as well. One hand brushed through his hair as he turned to her. “I’m glad you came.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t want you to think I’m overdoing it,” she admitted, “but—”
“If there’s one person I wish to have around me tonight,” he said, “it’s you, Margaret.” His hand came to rest against hers on the arm of the sofa. “I’ve always trusted you. You know that, don’t you?” His grip tightened briefly. “And… you deserve someone who sees your worth.”
“Thank you.” For a moment, they just looked at each other, letting the feeling settle between them. “You’re a good guy, Leo. You really are.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Well, that’s at least one person in the room giving me credit.”
Hearing the doubt laced through his voice, Margaret reached out, her palm cupping his cheek. His face was warm, and she felt herself shudder at the contact — and at her own courage. For a second, she expected Leo to pull away. Or make a quip. Instead, he blinked at her, curiosity flickering in his eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d done something that caught him off guard.
And then Margaret leaned in. Slow, but steady. Leo would have had all the time in the world to pull away.
He didn’t.
Her mouth pressed against his in the gentlest kiss possible. Not fast, not slow—it wasn’t pity, but a choice—long enough to show him her appreciation.
When it was over, Leo had trouble following the sensation that raced through him. Yeah, that was one more dot on the list of Margaret doing or saying things to him he wouldn’t have imagined in a million years.
His reaction was almost comical. Mouth slightly open, he gaped at her, rendered into bafflement.
It was the moment Margaret felt blood rush into her cheeks, coming to the realization of what she had just done. “I’m sorry, I—”
“No,” he interrupted. Not that he could say why he did. In the morning she had made sure everyone was on high alert about his divorce and possible relapse, and by now she was kissing him. “Simply didn’t expect that.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a curious statement.
“Yeah, me neither,” she admitted with an embarrassed smile, glancing at the hand she had dropped from his face into her lap, the imprint of his warmth still lingering. “I somehow thought you needed that.”
“A… a kiss?”
She gave a soft shrug. “The meaning of it,” she said. “If that makes sense.”
“It does.” His eyes darted around her face. “I probably did. Needed that, I mean.”
There, Margaret felt the fingers of his hand on hers dig carefully into her skin. That wasn’t Leo opposing or getting ready to drop the topic. She knew him that well. Watching his fingertips trace her pulse point, the space between them turned electric.
“Should have warned me, though,” he suddenly added. “Then I could have gotten more… involved.”
Her eyes doubled in size.
“Oh,” it escaped her, like that was an obvious mistake one made when kissing their boss.
“Yeah.”
Margaret needed a second, then said, almost without her consent, “You… want me to do it again?”
Leo’s breath caught in his throat. “Would you?” She gave a bare nod. “Okay.”
Slowly she leaned in once more. Right before meeting his lips, Leo’s hand curled fully around hers, halting her.
“Am I allowed to get more involved?” His breath collided against Margaret’s chin, sending a shiver down her spine.
Stunned, she stumbled over that question for a second, but understood before he could clarify. “You… I mean, why not?”
“Good.”
Again, her mouth brushed against his in a slow, careful motion. The palm on his cheek, more to steady herself than him, as she let her lips capture his. Longer this time, more thorough, yet far from passionate. Eyes closed, she let herself lean into Leo, into the motion of his mouth, into the touch of his hand, which had moved from her hand to her shoulder.
Leo felt his heart race, felt the warmth run through him, as he made sure to match Margaret’s energy. Slow. Careful, almost delicate. His fingers curled into her shoulder, holding on to her, as he let his lips taste hers.
Seconds passed, and when Margaret parted, her forehead against his, they were both breathless. Another second, then Margaret leaned back, finding his eyes. His pupils blown, lips parted, she thought she had never seen him more beautiful. God, what had she done?
She couldn’t tell if he was able to see the growing panic in her eyes—he probably could—but before she could pull away completely, he touched her face, saying, “It’s been quite a while since a woman kissed me.”
“Really?” It was a bit odd to ask, because if anyone had oversight over Leo’s appointments—even private ones—it was her, but then again, Leo wasn’t an unattractive or uninteresting guy in her opinion.
Leo gave a smirk. “I’m not very famous for courting many women, am I?”
That she had to laugh about. “If it helps, I haven’t kissed a man in ages as well.”
His eyebrows bowed in surprise. “Why you decided to change that with me is beyond me.” A pause. “Though…”
“Though?”
“When was the last time a guy kissed you?” His voice was low, full of intent, but also faintly mischievous.
“So, there is a difference?” she asked, shifting slightly in his direction.
“Somehow,” he said, his face tilting upward. “You’ve kissed me twice. I just thought it’s only fair to kiss you… back.”
If this wasn’t Leo outright flirting with her, then she didn’t know what it was. “Seems fair to me.”
“I don’t want to—”
“You don’t,” she said. Leo would never pressure her. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll try not to.” Stretching his neck, he leaned in, like a moth to the flame.
The kiss was still careful, both of them testing the water, but what had been initial fright of the new swiftly turned into delicate urgency.
A gentle hum escaped her as Leo tilted his head, breaking the kiss for a fraction of a second before claiming her mouth once again with enthusiasm.
Margaret’s hands found their way around his neck, pulling herself in, as Leo let his left arm come around her waist. One of his legs came up onto the sofa as he crawled over her, and together they sank into the cushions of the couch, holding on to each other in a quiet kiss packed with longing.
Leo didn’t dare deepen the kiss, didn’t mean to push whatever was developing. He simply let it happen, let his lips feel hers as much as he felt her body—her slim figure bending solid against his. Whatever it was Margaret was looking for in him, he could only hope she’d find it.
“Margaret,” he breathed when the air ran out. With both arms wrapped around her, he wasn’t sure if he could let go if she asked him to.
Her face grazed against his, heat radiating between them. “Don’t stop.”
That she chose him was something he would have never bet on, not for one second. “You sure?”
She nipped his lower lip, her tongue teasingly tipping against his upper lip. “Very.”
Leo hadn’t courted many women in his life; that didn’t mean he couldn’t catch on when a chance presented itself. The kiss finally deepened, their hands clinging to each other yet staying in all the decent places. The kiss, that connection—it was all that mattered. All their sanity and hopes resting on nothing more.
Urgency turned into tenderness, then into a slow dance of their mouths and tongues. Time was forgotten, consequences ignored, reasons not to, pushed to the sidelines long ago.
Yet at some point Leo became aware of his body’s reaction. So did Margaret.
“Leo…” His name caught in her throat. She didn’t want to— it just happened. “I… you—” Panic slipped into her voice as her hands gently pressed against his chest.
Eyes opening, Leo caught on, unsure what it was about. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, parting. “I didn’t mean—” No. He had no idea what he had done wrong. “Margaret?”
They both slipped off the sofa, tugging their clothes back into position. Margaret brushed down her sweater several times, then her hair.
“It’s me. Not—” What a stupid cliché to say. “That’s not why I came here tonight.”
The situation was tilting into something he hadn’t anticipated. “I know.” He tried to pinpoint the moment he had made a mistake. “When you… kissed me… I thought…”
An unsteady breath escaped her. “I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have.”
Leo was stunned, unable to say more than, “Okay.”
Seeing that, Margaret felt the panic rise. “Oh God. I am so stupid!” She slipped into her sneakers. “I should have never come here. I simply should have never—”
“Listen—”
“No, Leo. It’s okay. Let’s just… I should better go.” She grabbed her things and hurried to the door.
Leo followed. “Margaret. Hey. I’m not angry or anything, just… what’s wrong?”
Taking him in, she asked herself the same question. She didn’t have an answer—not an easy one. “I… this is a mistake. I’m sorry I made a fool out of us both.” Tears were ready to emerge, and she didn’t want that in front of him. “Let’s just forget about it. Sorry for intruding. It was out of line.”
In all the years, Leo had never seen her in such a state, never heard her speak such nonsense. This was so not Margaret. Just as he was about to tell her she hadn’t been out of line, the door shut in his face.
“Margaret.” She couldn’t hear him anymore, naturally. “Damn me.”
Sinking down onto the sofa, Leo tried to understand what had happened, but there was no answer.