Title: You’re Pretty When I’m Drunk
Fandom: The West Wing
Characters: Andrea Wyatt/Toby Ziegler
Prompt: sorkin_fest: not drunk enough; fanfic100: 33 – Too Much; un_love_you: 12 – I’m drunk.
Word Count: 530
Rating: pg13
Author's Notes: Written for round 1 of sorkin_fest.



There was a way Andy’s eyes changed when she got drunk that made Toby remember that she really was dangerous. And she was especially dangerous when she drank tequila.

She’d spent most of the afternoon fighting with him in her office on the Hill until he suggested they’d do better with booze and sustenance. And she hadn’t asked any questions when he’d led her far from both their respective offices and their homes, but she could tell the moment they walked in that nobody there could care less about their job titles.

She continued to fight with him, and her arguments became more impassioned, if less coherent, with every shot. And with each passing moment she argued, she got more turned on. She sat up straighter, her legs nudged his under the table, and her gaze connected with his more often.

She leaned into him in the darkest corner of his favorite bar, and it was like old times, when they used to meet midway between their offices at the end of the day. They’d share a bottle of wine or a few scotches and some onion rings and hide themselves in one of the tall back booths. His arm would be slung over her shoulder and he’d be able to feel as the tension drained from her body. Those were his favorite times with his then wife, and she remembered too.

“Does this remind you of New York?” she asked quietly, her eyes lifting to his.

He nodded. “Think that place is still there?”

“Yeah. Brian still goes there sometimes. They have a wine he really likes.” Andrea slid her hand over his, her fingers hooking between his. “Wanna go there now? We can get on a plane. Forget the vote. Forget the rest of Congress.” Her thumb stroked his skin. “We could make out in the back like we used to.”

(He loved to kiss his wife, and she loved it when he did so in public. More often than not, in those dark bars, he pushed her against the wall just outside the back door and kissed her senseless. More than once they were discovered by other couples stumbling out, and she hid behind him as she giggled. He loved to see the small, secret smile she gave him then, and the way her inebriated high kept her humming on the way home. She loved night, loved the play of shadow and light throughout the city, and loved pulling him in and out of the patches of darkness.)

“Andy,” he said warningly, if not convincingly so. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.”

She hesitated for a moment before pulling away from him. Without a glance back, she headed to the bar. Moments later she was back with two doubles, both of which she set in front of him before sliding back in next to him, her leg warm against his.

“Better catch up, then.” She gently turned his face toward her and kissed him, slow but insistent, and when she pulled back, he saw that familiar, dangerous darkness in her eyes. “I just want to kiss you for a while.”

Toby immediately downed one of the shots before turning back to her.