Work Text:
Ainsley pauses in the doorway of Toby’s office. “Ooh, hamantaschen! Can I have one?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before stepping inside, grabbing a cookie, and turning back towards the door.
“Uh, Ainsley?” Josh’s voice stops her and she spins back to face him, Toby, and Sam.
She means to say “What?” but it comes out more like “mmmph?” It seems more important to avoid spraying crumbs than to be intelligible. Josh will keep talking regardless of what kind of interrogative noise she makes.
“You…uh, you know what, never mind.” Josh seems to have thought better of his question.
Ainsley, mouth no longer full, raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“He’s surprised that you know what hamantaschen are,” Sam fills in, earning himself a scowl from Josh.
Ainsley’s inhaled the entire cookie by this time.
“Okay, first of all, despite your east-coast, big-city preconceptions, there actually are Jews in North Carolina. As there are also liberals, people of color, Muslims, and gay people. And furthermore, even if I hadn’t known any Jewish people growing up, I have since spent seven years in Massachusetts, three of which were in Boston, which must count as cultured even by your standards, Josh, and I am also no longer new to DC. But, as it happens, the very nice gay Jewish couple down the street used to make these and give them to the neighborhood kids, of which I was one, every spring. The apricot ones are my favorite.”
She snags another of said apricot specimens and heads for the door. “Thanks for the cookies, guys.” She doesn’t have to turn around to know Josh is looking sheepish, Toby is smirking at him, and Sam feels awkward.
******************
Nor is Ainsley entirely surprised when she gets back to the steam pipe trunk distribution venue after a meeting, several hours later, and finds a plate of apricot hamantaschen on her desk.
The note next to the plate reads, “For our persecuted Republican. Sorry.”
“Damn straight,” she mutters as she sits down, bites into another cookie, and gets back to work.
