Title: Stewart's Key Lime
Author: Baked Goldfish
Disclaimer: NBC owns TWW, Snapple Beverage Co. owns Stewart's, I enjoy both yet I own neither, so please don't sue me. Title and summary courtesy http://www.drinkstewarts.com, characters courtesy Aaron Sorkin.
Rating: PG
Archive: Sure.
Category: Jed/Leo, fluff
Summary: That's what drinking a bottle of Stewart's Key Lime is like.


Stewart's Key Lime by Baked Goldfish

In his hands he had a glass bottle, with near-opaque green liquid inside.

The scent coming from that glass bottle Jed was holding caught Leo's attention. Stewart's Key Lime soda, bright green and creamy, sweet and mellow on the tongue. There used to be a small shop in Fell's Point, Baltimore, right where a person got off the ferry, that sold no other drinks but Stewart's - first just root beer, then key lime, orange cream, grape soda and all the rest - before the shop went out of business. There weren't too many places in DC that sold Stewart's on a regular basis; once in a while, a case of it would appear in a small out-of-the-way grocery or single store out of a chain, but it was never consistent. He wondered if Bartlet had started having them delivered to the White House, or if he'd gotten Charlie to hoard it for him, save it for a time when he wouldn't be able to find it anywhere. It was a nearly empty bottle.

"I'm telling you, Leo," Bartlet said, before taking a swig from the bottle; Leo, across from him in his office, heard his words only on some second level of his mind as he watched the soda touch Bartlet's mouth for a moment, tingeing his tongue the color of limes before disappearing down his throat. He leaned forward as if to hear Bartlet better as Bartlet leaned back into Leo's couch against the office wall. "If Josh can't find the votes for this - I mean, if we can't pass this-"

"Yes sir," he said, dutifully. He watched Bartlet take another sip, watched the lines of his throat change as he swallowed, watched the glint in his eyes as he admired the glass bottle, watched him as he passed a thumb over the raised lettering of the Stewart's name.

"This is good stuff," Bartlet said absently and quietly. "You ever have any of this stuff?"

Leo leaned back and eyed Bartlet for a moment. "Matter of fact, yeah."

"I swear, I thought they only did root beer," Jed said, picking at the label with strong fingers. "And I thought they only sold it at roadside stands."

"They expanded to bottles and cans around twelve years ago," Leo said, looking at the way the label was being peeled off.

"I'd offer you a taste," Bartlet said as he gently swished the remnants of the soda around in its bottle. "But you know the last sip of any drink is about seventy-five percent saliva, right?"

"Yeah," he said.

"You like this stuff?"

He stared at Bartlet as he pulled the bottle close to his face; the light from Leo's desk lamp glinted against the edge of the bottle, sparking light like a camera flash from the glass. The slim line of clean, almost cartoonish-bright soda tipped diagonally to the bottle walls and formed a slight triangle on the curved base, and he traced with his eyes up from the soda to the way Jed's fingers curled loosely around the bottleneck, tilting it just enough so that the mouth of the bottle barely scraped against his cheek. Jed stared back, and put the mouth of the bottle to his own lips before tipping the bottle up and letting the last of the soda wash down into his mouth.

It was then that he got up from behind his desk. He straightened his suit jacket as Jed sprawled further onto his couch, and he walked towards him with an almost professional determination in his eyes. He pushed Jed's hand away from his face, pushed the empty bottle against the back of the couch, and with one hand against the wall and one knee on the cushions by Jed's thigh, he leaned down and licked Jed's lips for him. The taste lingered there, and when Jed opened his mouth, he could taste even more - a mellow wash of summer and lime, smooth and without the tang of carbonation or the full bitterness of citrus. It was sweet and lazy, rolling like a marble over carpet as he pushed further in; he remembered things while he kissed Jed. He remembered how the first time he'd kissed Jed, it had been summer, and they had been at Jed's farm, and Jed tasted nothing like soda or key lime pie or anything like that. He'd simply tasted like Jed: warm, dark, and rich like good root beer. He remembered how his hands had felt like silk in the sun, and how his eyes had looked like the Pacific. He remembered the sounds Jed had made, and the way the sound vibrations had felt coming off Jed's throat and onto Leo's mouth. But most of all, he remembered how Jed had tasted.

Now, he ran his tongue over Jed's, and lapped at the inside of Jed's mouth until the taste of Stewart's Key Lime Soda blended with, and eventually dissolved into that taste Jed had all on his own. It was a well-known taste to him, and more refreshing than the soda could have ever been.

"You really do like that stuff," Jed murmured, an answer to his last question, when Leo pulled back to look at him.

"Well, I prefer their root beer, myself," he said with a shrug. He leaned down, and tasted Jed once more.


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