Dance at My Wedding

Disclaimer: Created by the brilliance that is Aaron Sorkin, will be ruined by the idiots that are John Wells Production. Neither of them is me.

AN: Written in honor of NiCole Robinson's Wedding. (Don't worry, I'm still a Leo/Margaret shipper.)

She looked beautiful. Her red hair piled on top of her head in soft curls. Her dress wasn't exactly white, more an antique pearl white. She smiled brightly at him as he walked into the bride's room. Discretely, her bridesmaids, in their soft pastel dresses, eased from the room giving them a moment or two of privacy. He asked her if she had something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. She nodded telling him that old was her Grandmother's pearl earring, new was the dress, borrowed was a bracelet from the First Lady, and blue was a handkerchief tucked in the back of her flowers. He surveyed her thoughtfully for a second, before shaking her head and telling her that the dress would not do as the something new. She gasped as he pulled the famous blue and silver box from his inside pocket. With trembling fingers, she opened the box to reveal a pearl and diamond necklace that perfectly matched her grandmother's earrings and was shaped to fit perfectly in the sweetheart neck of her dress. She cried a few soft tears as he slipped it from the box and placed it round her neck. Drying her eyes with the blue handkerchief, he smiled and told her that he was paying attention when she was rambling on about wedding plans. She cried even harder. A knock on the door told them it was time. He kissed her forehead, helped her adjust her veil and offered her his arm. She smiled and thanked him for so many things.

The priest asked him whom gave this woman, and for a split second he was tempted to say no one and pull her from the Church to keep her all to himself, but he didn't. He replied that he and her loved ones gave her. As he pushed the veil back off her face, he kissed her cheek and whispered that no matter what she would still be his good girl. She laughed slightly as she returned the kiss. It was a beautiful and normal service, except for the fact that the President of the United States did the reading from the Old Testament and didn't change anything on his feet, much to Toby's relief. He even clapped when she kissed her new husband. He should be thrilled, he had introduced them, well a broken tooth and his assistance that she see his miracle worker dentist had introduced them, but that was his girl his dentist had stolen, so he wasn't completely thrilled. He was happy for her, but it was hard to let go.

The band was playing and people were swirling on the dance floor. The reception was a grand party, with music and champagne flowing. He hadn't partaken in either yet, but it was getting near the time. The bandleader smiled and nodded at him, just before he announced that there was a special surprise for the bride. Crossing to her side, he smiled and held out his hands. She smiled at him as he led her onto the cleared dance floor. Once they were at the very middle, the band started to play. They were only a few notes into the intro, when she gave him a watery smile recognizing the tune as "Wind Beneath My Winds." Tears and laughter vied for place in her eyes as they slowly moved around the dance floor. No one dared to join them as they danced, this was their moment to be revered and shared. She rested her head on his shoulder and he sighed into her hair. Even after the music ended they had stayed that way for several moments, until he finally pushed her back with a sniff to his own emotions. She looked at him tenderly for a moment then gently kissed his cheek. Returning the kiss, he linked his hand in hers and led her to her new husband. Placing her hand in his, he smiled at the tall good-looking man. Gruffly, he told them to dance. She just laughed, but her husband looked vaguely frightened. He had been going for that, there was no way he was going to let any idiot hurt his girl. Watching her pull her husband back onto the dance floor, he sighed softly.

"Be happy, Margaret."