It had been a week since the date, and Margaret was convinced Toby had been avoiding her.

He had told her that he’d be back at work on Monday. She had looked for him to no avail. It was only later that Leo told her Toby was staying in New York for a couple of days. The Mayor had been incensed over some campaign event, and Bruno had demanded Toby sort it out. Hence his extended trip and his constant calls to Leo’s private line.

Toby had returned late Tuesday night and secreted himself in his office pretty much ever since. Ginger and Bonnie were taking turns in giving him his messages, each sighing in relief when they re-emerged. From what Margaret could gather, he was bad tempered and ignorant, and better off on his own.

He had slipped in and out of staff by the other door for the past two days, in so doing, bypassing Margaret’s desk.

Margaret hadn’t seen him since he left her apartment on Friday night, and she was able to draw her own conclusions. Not that she cared anymore. He obviously wasn’t interested and that was fine by her. It had been one date, it wasn’t as if she had expected a lifetime commitment. Yes, it was just fine, she concluded, slamming the filing cabinet door and returning to her desk.

******

Toby stood in the doorway of the Roosevelt room, staring into Margaret’s office. He had been there for ten minutes, watching her unobserved. He had winced at the force with which she had shut the drawer, wondering what Leo had done to upset her this time.

He had been avoiding her all week. Which in itself, wasn’t easy. The trip to New York had gone badly. The Mayor was Republican and had spent two days making excessive demands and generally yanking Toby around. By the time he arrived back in the West Wing, his mood had been less than affable. He hadn’t wanted to take it out on her and now he was convinced she wouldn’t be interested in going out with him again.

He growled and rubbed his scalp. The fact was, she had been seeping into his consciousness all week. And for that matter, his unconsciousness. After one night, he was convinced that she was special, and he wanted to see her again. The problem was he wasn’t sure if he had screwed it up completely.

“Is Margaret dancing again?” CJ asked, creeping up behind him and resting her head on his shoulder.

“No, and don’t do that,” he growled, stepping forwards.

“Lighten up. What’s going on?”

He closed the door and turned to look at her. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

CJ folded her arms across her body. “Of course.”

“I went out on a date with Margaret on Friday,” he started, stroking his beard, subconsciously.

“Our Margaret?” CJ’s voice was high and incredulous.

“Yeah.”

“Oh good God. It wasn’t bad enough Sam dated his daughter, now you go and ask Margaret out. Please tell me it didn’t go badly.”

“No, in fact, it was great,” he said, giving her a rare smile.

CJ stared at him out of one eye.” So why are you out here, watching her?”

Toby scratched his head. “It’s possible I may have made a faux pas.”

“If Leo’s out for blood, you’re on your own,” she groaned, shaking her head and watching Margaret through the glass door.

“I haven’t spoken to her all week,” he admitted, grimacing in anticipation of what was coming.

“TOBY!”

“Don’t yell. I know I’ve been an idiot,” he growled, glancing quickly towards Margaret’s office.

“So fix it,” CJ said softly. “Do you like her?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Then tell her that. But make it fluffy.” She squeezed his arm gently.

Toby stood staring at where she had been standing. He wasn’t sure what the hell “Fluffy” meant, but he knew he had to do something. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. He shuffled into Leo’s outer office and stopped in the doorway.

“Hey Margaret,” he called quietly.

Margaret looked up from her keyboard and looked at him blankly. “Leo’s in his office.”

Toby drummed his fingers on his forehead. “I came to see you.”

“Oh?” she glanced back down at her keyboard.

“I, um, well,” he stammered, shoving his hand in his pocket and staring at the carpet. “I should have come here sooner but . . . Things haven’t been. . . “ He gestured wildly with one hand.

“Toby, are you still the Communications Director?” Margaret asked, smiling at him.

“I’m not good at this,” he mumbled.

“Are you trying to apologize?” she asked, surprised, her eyes lighting up.

He mumbled something incoherent and looked up at her beneath hooded lids.

“So. . .?”

“What?”

“Apologize.” Margaret shook her head and pretended to put papers in order.

Toby growled, “I’m sorry.” He waved his hand at her. “So, would you, um, like to do something tomorrow?”

Margaret grinned. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you have in mind?” Her stomach was doing somersaults, but the image of fumbling Toby was definitely worth storing for later.

“I thought we could do something you like. So, what are you into?” He rocked back and forth on his heels as he watched her.

“What do I like? I enjoy movies and art, but my main hobby is gardening. I can spend hours looking at flowers.”

“Oh, god, you’re gonna make me commune with nature,” he grumbled.

Margaret shook her head and looked at him with a straight face, “Actually I thought we could fly down to Epcot. Meet Mickey Mouse and visit A Small World.”

Toby groaned.

“I was joking,” she laughed, standing up and walking towards him. “We could go to the Botanical Gardens. I‘ve been meaning to go but what with the renovations and hearings, I haven‘t made it.”

Toby frowned. It sounded almost as much fun as having his teeth pulled, but he wanted to make things up to her and spend more time with her. “I’ll pick you up at nine, after Temple, if that’s okay?”

Margaret grinned back at him and nodded. “I’ll see you then,” she said, picking up the papers and knocking on Leo’s door.

Toby’s mouth turned up into a small smile as he turned and walked away.

********

Toby knew he was early as he parked up outside her building. The fact was, he would have been even earlier, if he hadn’t driven around the block three times. Which pretty much convinced him that his assumption the night before was correct, he was an idiot. He sat in the car, staring at the clock on the dashboard, willing nine o’clock to come around.

Margaret watched him pull up from her window. She waited for him to get out. When after five minutes he hadn’t, she sighed and grabbed her jacket. Locking the apartment behind her, she headed downstairs.

The car was still parked in the same spot, and he was still sitting in the driver’s seat as Margaret approached it and tapped lightly on the window.

Toby jumped as he spun around at the noise. He stared at her for a second, before opening the door and looking up at her. ”Hey.”

“Good morning, Toby.”

“I was early.”

She smiled and nodded. “Shall we go?” she asked walking around to the passenger side and getting in.

They sat in silence for the drive across town, as Margaret stole quick glances in his direction. The black sweater and cords looked pretty good on him, and she couldn’t help but notice he had trimmed his beard. She smiled at the knowledge that he was making the effort for her.

Toby located a space and pulled up. He walked around the car and opened the door for her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking his hand and stepping out onto the pavement.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled at her and locked the door. “I’m sorry I couldn’t park any closer.”

Margaret waved him off and started to head in the direction of the gardens. As they strolled, their hands bumped against each other, sending shivers up Margaret’s arm.

Toby glanced between them at their hands and back up at Margaret’s face. He took a deep breath and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers.

Margaret continued to face forwards, grinning inanely at his small gesture. “We don’t have to stay long, if you don‘t want to.”

“Stay as long as you want,” he offered, squeezing her hand lightly. “Then we’ll go somewhere for lunch.”

“I always wanted a house with a conservatory,” Margaret sighed as they approached the imposing 1933 building.

“You’d need a pretty big house to afix that on the side,” Toby joked.

Margaret rolled her eyes at him. “You’d better start saving then, hadn’t you?” She grinned as he coughed at her suggestion.

“Aren’t you the funny woman?”

“Yeah,” she dead panned, dragging him inside the Grand Conservatory. “So, half the space is devoted to exhibits that focus on the importance of plants to people, and half to ecology and the evolutionary biology of plants.”

Toby stared at her wide eyed before casting his eyes around the structure. “They all look alike to me.”

“You’re really that adverse to nature?” Margaret asked, turning to look at him.

“Yeah.”

“Why on earth?” She loved all things flora and fauna, it was the array of color and texture that amazed her.

Toby concentrated on his shoes and shuffled his feet.

“Toby, what happened?” Margaret asked softly, ducking her head to look up at him.

He cleared his throat. “I used to be bullied at school. I was the only Jewish kid in an otherwise Protestant class. Then one day we went on a school trip to study some geographical point of interest. When the teacher wasn’t looking, they pushed me into some poison ivy. Within minutes I had blisters everywhere, I mean everywhere.”

“Oh Toby,” she sighed, taking his other hand in hers.

“I’ve never told anyone that story before,” he said sadly.

Margaret leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Well, I’m glad you told me.”

He blushed beneath his beard at her lips on his skin and her breath against his ear. “So, tell me what’s so great about green leafy things,” he growled.

“Okay.”

They walked around the conservatory for the next hour as Margaret pointed out the different species of plants, explaining her love of orchids and lilies as he trailed behind. Neither realized that their hands were still tightly entwined, or that they were both smiling.

Toby kept a safe distance from anything plant-like, but he had to admit he rather liked the jungle where the old palm house used to be. It was his idea of a garden, low maintenance.

Margaret stopped at a door. “This leads to the National Garden.”

“You mean we have to go outside,” he mock whined. “You promised no communing with nature.”

“I hate to say it buddy, but you’re sounding like Josh there,” Margaret teased.

Toby pulled a face and pushed the door. “Okay, let’s get this over with. But I’m not talking to the plants.”

“You don’t like talking to people, so what were the odds.”

He didn’t like nature, but he did like water. In fact water was probably the only thing that had a calming influence on him. It also gave him many happy memories from the number of times he’d watched CJ fall in. Margaret was pulling him through the First Ladies water garden, when he tugged her hand. He was immersed in the fountains and wanted to stay and watch.

Margaret stopped and watched the emotions cross his face. He looked totally at peace for once, his attention firmly focused on the water before him.

Without thinking, he released her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He sighed contently as they stood there in silence.

Margaret took a deep breath as she savored the warmth from his body and his scent. There wasn’t anywhere else she wanted to be.

After a few minutes he realized what he was doing and released her, clearing his throat and rubbing his palms together. “What’s next?” he croaked.

“We can go over the street to the Bartholdi Park,” she suggested, shivering at the loss of contact.

“Lead the way,” he mumbled, extending his arm.

They wandered aimlessly for the next twenty minutes, as awkwardness set in. Toby walked with his hands joined behind his back, glancing nervously at Margaret every few seconds.

Margaret described in detail all the points of interest, debating whether to tackle him on what just happened. Driven crazy by his silence, she finally spoke. “The gardens around the fountain were supposed to inspire the urban gardener. They have different themes, therapeutic, romantic, fragrant, etc.”

“Can we sit awhile?” he asked, staring past her to the vine covered bowers. “I want to talk to you.”

Margaret sighed. She knew what was coming, it wasn’t as if it was the first time her eccentric ways had gotten in the way of something good. She followed him as he walked over to one of the benches and sat down.

Once she was seated, he reached for her hand and covered it with his own. He looked at her briefly, then away and then back at her.

“Toby?” she asked, exasperated. “You can say whatever you gotta to say. I’m not going to have an episode on you.”

“About before,” he started, concentrating on his thumb drawing circles on her knuckles.

“Which before?”

“Margaret, can I just say what I’ve got to say?” he groaned, glancing up at her.

She nodded mutely.

“About before, at the fountain. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. . .”

“You didn’t,” she interrupted softly.

“. . . I was carried away in the moment and I. . .” He stopped to look back up at her. “I didn’t?”

“Toby,” she sighed, shaking her head. She held his gaze for a second before she leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. As she pulled back, she looked away, fearful of what she would see in his face.

Toby was speechless. The kiss itself was soft and over in a second, but he had caught the trail of her perfume and their hands had somehow ended up on his thigh. He couldn’t remember when he’d had such an intense reaction to a simple kiss.

Margaret swallowed her pride and moved to stand up. “We should go.”

He held on to her hand pulling her back onto the bench. “Margaret?”

“Forget about it,” she mumbled, her cheeks tinged with red.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted huskily, waiting for her to turn and look at him.

She turned apprehensively at first, but as she saw his face, she smiled.

“You said something about first base the other night,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. “And, I don’t think we quite covered that.”

Margaret lowered her gaze and shook her head.

Toby released her hand and tipped her chin to look at him. Gently he inched his way towards her face. The first kiss was tentative, he barely brushed her lips.

Her response was to run her fingers down his beard, and press her lips more firmly against his. This time the kiss deepened, and his hand found it’s way up to cup her cheek.

Margaret parted her lips.

His pager bleeped between them and he exhaled sharply. Pulling back he grabbed the offending item off his belt and groaned. “911. I have to go. And I’m guessing Leo will be looking for you too.”

“Probably.” Her fingers continued to caress his beard.

Quickly he leaned in and kissed her firmly on the mouth. “Today’s going to be a write off. Wanna have dinner on Monday?” he asked, a little more sure of himself than he had been all morning.

“I’ll cook. I can cook,” she stated.

“I believe you,” he said, waving his hand in surrender. “Monday night, it is.” His hand sought hers, as he moved to his feet.

Margaret stood and entwined her fingers with his. He had been wrong about the day being a write off. She had discovered a little more about Toby and gotten herself another date. That in itself, was something she was looking forward to.

The End

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