Title: All Straight Things Must Bend
Fandom: The West Wing
Characters: Andrea Wyatt/Toby Ziegler
Prompt: fanfic100: 25 – Strangers; un_love_you: 9 – Always wondered what this’d be like; tww_minis: Beginnings
Word Count: 768
Rating: pg
Summary: I only want it to begin.
Author's Notes: Thanks to christinekh for a fabulous once over.



They met on a Tuesday, just after 6:30 pm, at the town hall meeting introducing the candidates for city council. He was working for a smart guy without a lot of personality, and the moment Andrea walked into the room, he knew the race was going to be harder than he ever expected. She was genuine and clever, witty and sharp, and he had trouble simultaneously looking at her and breathing.

Five minutes into the event, he threw out the entire strategy for the campaign. He and his staff stayed up all night to revise their game plan, and as Toby pounded cup after cup of coffee and slipped outside for his 3 am cigar break, she was constantly in his mind as she’d been at the podium that night, hair aflame, lips quirked into something not quite a smile, but not quite smug either. He blamed the coffee, but she was still there three days later.

He didn’t see her again until a month later, at a neighborhood barbecue, and he ended up next to her while waiting in line for sandwiches. She remembered his name without prompting when they shook hands, and her smile was warm as she asked him to call her Andy.

“Is anybody going to be suspicious that you’re fraternizing with the enemy, Toby?” she asked, her eyebrow lifting just slightly, her smile playful.

“How do you know I wasn’t sent over here to plant a bug in your potato salad or something?” He watched as she glanced down at her plate, skeptical.

“You’re not gonna ruin this potato salad for me. This is why I came. Glad-handing, baby-kissing, kicking Jack’s butt like I have since law school…those I can do anywhere. But I had insider info that this was the place to be for potato salad and the best pulled pork in the city, so here I am.”

He was sold.

*****

They began on a Saturday, four months later, at the end of a tough campaign and months of idle flirtation and tentative friendship. He waited a full three days after the election before going to her campaign headquarters. Only a few staffers were there stacking extra yard signs, and they pointed him back to her office.

She was on the floor, stacks of papers spread out around her, her shoes kicked to the side, and he watched her for a moment before knocking on the open door.

“Congratulations, City Councilwoman-Elect. Quite the mouthful of a title you’ve suddenly acquired.”

Her head snapped up but she was too surrounded by papers to move. “It is. I was thinking of having it put on a baseball jersey or something, but my staff told me it wouldn’t fit.” She gestured for him to come in, and he did, setting the bag he was holding on her coffee table.

He slipped off his coat and sat down on her couch. “Not to mention that it’ll be out of date when you actually take office. Maybe Councilwoman Wyatt.”

“You know, three days in, I’m not tired of hearing it yet,” she flashed him a winning smile. “But you guys gave me a run for my money, seriously. I had a drink with Jack yesterday, so I think we’ll be okay.”

“He’s a good guy.”

Andrea nodded. “He really is. I’m trying to convince him to go the judging route. He’d be fantastic on the bench.” She stood and stepped gingerly around the mess on the floor, joining him on the couch.

“That’s smart. I’ll work on him too.” Toby reached for the bag, pulling it down in front of him. “I brought you some celebratory items.”

She leaned over, trying to peer into the bag, but he shielded it from her before he lifted out a container and set it on the table. “You brought me potato salad?!” Andy exclaimed with a delighted laugh.

“I did. It’s November; I thought you might be missing it by now. And I brought beer,” he pulled out a six-pack, “because champagne didn’t really go with potato salad.”

“Thank you, Toby.” Her hand fell on his forearm as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’ve never gotten congratulatory gifts from someone on the other team before.”

And there were no declarations, as would become their style in this simple romance. Instead, they lingered in her office for the rest of the afternoon, slowly making their way through all of the potato salad and nearly all of the beer, and he told her that he knew the moment she opened her mouth that he had backed the wrong candidate.