Looking Out For the New Guy

"Yeah, he's kind of cute, in a nerdy sort of way," I say with a smile. Bonnie and I are grabbing a few minutes of peace and quiet, away from the yelling, grouchy Toby. He's been extra grumpy today ever since he caught me talking on the phone to Sam this morning. He put out his hand for the phone but Sam had to run to a meeting and didn't have time to talk. So somehow that ended up being my fault because I talked too long to Sam and then he didn't have any time to talk with Toby. So here we are taking a few moments to hide. The conversation has turned to Will Bailey, hence my comment.

"So go for it," teases Bonnie.

"Go for what, he's gone after the Inauguration," I sigh. My love life has been a little lacking lately. Probably because I'm always at work. The last date I went on was with Larry and although we had a nice enough time there were no romantic sparks, none whatsoever.

"You could have fun for a few weeks," she says with a smirk.

Not that the thought isn't appealing I'm looking for more than fun, I'm looking for a relationship, I'm looking for Mr. Right, not Mr. Right Now.

"I don't know," I sigh as I finish my coffee.

"Well, whatever you decide we should probably get back before Mr. Grumpy Pants tracks up down" says Bonnie with a laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toby's yelling, again. But at least he's made the effort to walk out of his office instead of yelling from behind his closed door.

"Ginger, where are the stats on...."

I cut off his request as I shove a piece of paper with the requested stats in his hand.

"Toby?"

"What?" he mutters as he starts to walk away.

I glare at him and he looks at me with that completely clueless look. The one that I find vaguely endearing every once in a while. Now is not one of those times.

"Thank you," he mumbles. "I'm going to the Hill, keep an eye on Will."

"Keep an eye on Will? He's a grown man Toby; I don't think he needs a babysitter." I say a little too quickly.

Toby eyes me and I start to fidget, he's reading my mind, I know he is.

"Well," he mutters as he looks at his watch, "It's almost 7; I don't think he ate dinner. Drag him down to the Mess and feed him. And make sure he leaves the section he's working on on my desk so I can go over it when I get back."

I just smile at him, knowing that no matter how hard he tries to hate Will he can't. Will reminds him too much of Sam. Sometimes that's good and sometimes it's not.

"Stop smiling at me," he mutters.

"It's ok to care, Toby," I say as I brush past him and grab his coat.

"I don't care. I just don't want him passing out from hunger or anything. Blood sugar gets too low, he falls, hits his head on one of the bikes, has to go down to get a few stitches and I lose a few hours of work out of him. I'm just looking out for the speech," he mumbles as he shoves his arms in his sleeves.

"Your compassion overwhelms me sometimes," I snicker as I hand him his briefcase and pat him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he mutters as he leaves. "Have fun keeping an eye on him, behave yourself," he smirks as he turns the corner.

I straighten a few things on my desk and get up to check on Will. He's on the phone with his feet propped up on the desk. "Just a minute" he mouths as he motions for me to take a seat. I hesitate for a second, unsure of whether or not I want to sit and wait. I'm still getting used to seeing someone other than Sam behind the desk. I don't think I've actually sat down in here since Sam left. But hanging in the doorway doesn't sound too exciting so I take the chair by the door.

I take the opportunity to look around. There's one bike left in the corner of the office, I think that belongs to either Ed or Larry. The Seaborn for Congress posters have been taken off the window but there's still a sticker on the window. There's a plastic bag filled with oats on the table by the door.

Over the last few days Will has finally started to bring some of his own things to the office. A picture of his family sits on the shelf, there's a Dodger's cap on the coat tree and a Wilde for Congress mug on his desk. There's also a rather large bottle of Advil on the corner of the desk; some things don't change.

Will seems to be wrapping up the conversation, it sounds like he's talking to Elsie. He hangs up, takes off his glasses and wearily puts his head in his hands. He looks really tired. Eighteen hour days take a bit of getting used to.

"Will, you ok?"

"How long until I get used to living on 4 hours sleep?" he asks as he raises his head to give me a small smile.

"Couple of months. How addicted are you to caffeine?"

"One or two cups a day," he replies as he points to the half full coffee mug on the desk.

"Well, for starters, double that amount," I tease. "So Toby went to the Hill and he told me to make sure you ate. So let's go."

"The Mess?"

"Unless you have the ambition to go out in the freezing cold, get something to eat and then get back here to finish up," I say, really hoping he doesn't have that kind of ambition.

"Not at all," he says as he puts his glasses back on and stands.

I smile and I head out to my desk to grab my wallet. I show Will the short cut to the Mess. By this time of night there's not a great selection left so I point out the better choices. He doesn't say much but seems thankful for the helpful hints. I steer Will towards a table in the corner, away from the rather loud group I recognize as assistants from the OEOB.

I try to make small talk while we eat. But Will's a pretty quiet guy and still seems nervous and uncomfortable in his surroundings.

"It gets better, just give it time."I saw with a smile, trying to reassure him.

"I'm not going to be here much longer." he says quietly, with what sounds like a bit of regret in his voice. As much as he tries to act like working in the White House is no big deal I can tell he's still in awe every time he walks into the building.

Halfway through his meal he pushes the plate away and tosses his glasses on the table.

"Not hungry?"

He shrugs his shoulders a little and takes a few deep breaths as he rubs his eyes. I recognize the look, it's the "I thought I was hungry but the sight of the food is making me sick to my stomach. And on top of that I have a headache" look. Happens frequently in the West Wing.

I take his tray and dump the remains of his dinner before going to buy him a large ginger ale.

"Here, try some of this," say as I had him the cup.

"Thanks," he says with a weak smile as he takes the soda.

"No problem, you have that vaguely green look about you," I point out as we head for the door.

"Yeah, probably a combination of too little sleep, junk food and stress."

"Happens to everyone. Sam used to keep a virtual pharmacy on his desk."

"So I've heard," he says as he opens the door for me.

"So how much do you have left to do before you get out of here?"

"The section isn't quite done and it's still on actual paper. So I figure at least an hour, maybe more if I keep changing things." he sighs, sounding exhausted. "You have some time to help me?"

"Me, help you write the President's inauguration? I don't think so."

"Oh, ok," he mutters with that look that reminds me of junior high when I told Benny Ward I didn't "like him", like him. Wow, maybe Will "likes me"? Maybe it was an excuse to spend time with me. Maybe I should stop acting like I'm in junior high.

He opens the door to the Communications Bullpen for me.

"Look, I have some things to type up for Toby and then if you really want some help I'd be glad to type up the section for you," I say, silently cursing the blush I can feel starting to color my cheeks.

"I'd like that." he says in that shy, endearing tone.

He heads into Sam's office...his office. I get my stuff done quickly and go to see if he's ready for me to type up his section. Judging by the fact that he's sound asleep with his head on the desk I'm thinking he's not quite ready yet. I kneel next to the chair and tentatively put my hand on his shoulder, trying not to startle him. I decide that, nerdy or not, he really is quite adorable.

"Will...Will wake up," I whisper.

"Hmmm?" he moans as he cracks his eyes open. "Oh God, I fell asleep," he groans as he sits up, a little too fast judging by the fact that all the color has just drained from his face.

Without thinking I put my hands on his knees and turn his chair a little so he can put his head between them without smacking his forehead on the desk.

"Drop your head for a minute," I whisper as I gently guide his head down with one hand while I loosen his tie with the other. I rub his back while he takes a few deeps breaths. A few minutes later he sits up. I hand him the soda and he takes a few tentative sips. "Better?"

He nods slightly, obviously trying not to make any sudden movements.

"You're not going to throw up all over me are you?" I ask as I take a quick look around for his trash can.

"I don't think so," he says.

"Good, just relax, take a drink."

Will sits up and the look on his face is pure mortification. "I feel like an idiot," he groans.

"Why? You didn't even puke on my shoes," I tease. "I'll let you in on a little secret. I've lost track of the number of times I've brought Toby a can of ginger ale and the trashcan."

Will laughs a bit as he rubs at his eyes again.

"OK, your color's coming back a little and you've stopped shaking. Feel better?" I ask as I look down and realize I've been holding his hand. He looks down at our intertwined hands too. He looks a little surprised but doesn't drop my hand like a hot potato. That's a good sign if you ask me.

"I think I'm ready to get back to work. You want to do it in here or out at your desk?" he asks. It only takes him a split second to realize what he said. He turns red instantly and starts to stutter. "S-sorry, that's, that's not what I meant. Not that doing that is uh, a terrible thought. No, wait, that's not what I meant either..." I press my hand over his mouth to save him from himself. He's reached the punchy stage. Something else that is a frequent occurrence in the West Wing after a long day.

"Will, calm down. How about we go in Toby's office, we can relax on the couch." My hand flies to my mouth as I realize that I too seem to have reached the same punchy stage. "OK, let's both take a deep breath," I tease as I pat his knee before standing up.

"I'll be there in a minute," he says as he stands up slowly, trying to make sure his legs will hold him up.

A few minutes later we go into Toby's darkened office and set up shop on the couch. Will sits on one end; he's kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up on the coffee table. I put his laptop in my lap and put my own feet up. He reads and I type for about half an hour. The phone rings so I leave him to pick it up at my desk. It's Toby, he'll be back in about an hour and he expects me to have some numbers waiting for him. I poke my head in to check on Will, he's still scribbling furiously on his yellow legal pad. "I have to run some numbers for Toby; I'll be back in a few." He just nods and grunts a little. I start the necessary program on my computer and go to make us some tea.

By the time the water is boiling the numbers have been printed.

By the time I get back to Toby's office Will is snoring. He's sound asleep with his feet on the coffee table, yellow pad in his lap and his pen still in his hand. A quick glance at the pad and it looks like he's finished the section. I grab the laptop and type up his revisions without waking him.

I send the document to Toby's printer and take Will's computer back to his office. I grab the afghan Toby keeps hanging off his coat rack and toss the throw pillow from the chair in my lap as I settle down on the end of the couch. Without waking him up I tug on the sleeve of Will's shirt and get him to lie down. He settles down and curls up with his head in my lap. I take off his glasses and cover him up.

Yeah, he's really cute.

I spend the next half hour or so drinking my tea and running my fingers through Will's dark hair. He hasn't woken up or even stirred. I hear someone come into the bullpen and I crane my head around to see who it is. It's Toby. I'm in for the teasing of my life. And with Will sound asleep in my lap there's not much I can do to stop it.

"Ginger," he yells into the darkened office.

"In here," I whisper loudly as I wave my arm so he can see me through the window.

"Where's Will," he yells as he grabs his phone messages off my desk.

"In here."

"In the dark, how cozy," he snorts before he even gets to his office. I can tell he's building up to a rant when he steps into his office and takes a look at Will and I. He smiles in spite of himself as he leans in the doorway.

"Crashed?"

"Yeah, about half an hour ago. The section's in there," I say, pointing towards the printer.

He pulls it out of the printer and turns on the desk lamp. He quickly reads the page I've printed out. "This is good, really good," he says quietly.

"I thought so too."

He looks at me a little strangely. "He let you read it before I read it?" I can't quite tell if his tone is meant to be annoyed or teasing.

"Will wasn't feeling well so I typed it for him," I explain, trying not to sound annoyed, just in case Toby was teasing.

"He's going to be ok tomorrow right? We have ton of stuff to get done," he mumbles distractedly as he turns his attention to the numbers I've gathered for him.

"Well, Toby, let me look into my magic ball," I shot back, a little loudly causing Will to start to stir. I rub his shoulder and he calms down instantly. I press my hand against his forehead.

Toby looks at me and tries to hold back the smile threatening to appear. "He running a fever? Cause I don't need to get whatever he has."

"He's cool. I'm pretty sure he's just a little overwhelmed, stressed and exhausted."

"Great," he mutters.

"I'll remember this conversation next time you're on the couch moaning that your head hurts, you're tired and you need ginger ale."

"Whatever. Can we go over a few things, please? he whines.

I start to move Will a little so I can sneak off the couch.

"Don't wake him. You have some paper?"

I nod and snag my notepad off the coffee table but in the process knock my pen onto the floor. I glance down and take the one that Will is still clutching, even in his sleep. Toby and I work for a while and talk about the next few days. His cell phone rings and I can tell by the look on his face as he glances at the read out that it's Sam. He stands to take the call out in the bullpen.

"Tell him I said hi."

"I will. Take care of him," says Toby as he gestures towards Will's sleeping form.

Oh, I plan on it.

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