Rating: G, I think.

Archive: Sure

Disclaimer: Not mine. But call me, we'll talk.

Notes: My first West Wing fic. I looked and looked for Sam fic, but I couldn't find any, so I wrote one. Sorta. It's supposed to be funny, so don't take it seriously. I know Mrs L isn't trying to take over the world. Oh, and I haven't exactly edited it or anything...

Spoilers: Nope

"Gooooooood morning, Mrs Landingham!" Sam burst into the room and almost skipped up to Mrs Landingham's desk. "Good morning, Sam. My, you're looking very chipper today." "I just did something that will make the president very happy," Sam informed her proudly. "That's nice, dear. Would you like a cookie?" "I would, thank you. Can I go in?" "They're waiting for you." "Thank you." Sam was unfailingly polite to Mrs Landingham, because he knew if he wasn't he would no longer be allowed cookies. He bounced up to the door to the Oval Office, stopped to compose himself, and opened the door quietly.

Leo was glancing over some notes. "So we're done, then, if Sam would just hurry up and- Oh." The President looked up and saw Sam standing at his door with a slightly manic smile on his face. "It went well, I take it?" he asked. "It's done." "Yes!" Josh high-fived Sam in delight. Even Toby almost smiled. "It's done?" Leo asked. "It's done." "Is it?" "I nailed it." "Sam." "Leo, it's in the bag." Leo smiled. "Good. Then... we're done, everyone." "Good job, Sam." "Thank you, Mr President." CJ, Toby and all the rest of the gang trooped out, smiling.

"I hear it's in the bag?" Mrs Landingham said cheerfully. Everyone confirmed this with a broad smile and a nod. "Well, then, how about a celebratory cookie for everyone?" "Yeah!" "Even me?" "Even you, Mr President." "Does this mean you've forgiven me for being snippy yesterday?" Bartlet asked, using his rank to bully his way to the front of the cookie queue as his bodyguards looked on longingly. They knew by now that they weren't included in the offer of cookies for "everyone". "Don't push your luck, sir," warned Mrs Landingham dryly. "Of course not," said the president, triumphantly holding his cookie aloft. "Do I still have that lunch with Senator Matheson?" "Yes, sir." "Damn. The man is such a bore." "Does he want to talk about tiresome things like all the National Parks on the planet, sir?" asked Josh sympathetically. "Don't you have a job?" "Yes, sir." "Go do it. All of you." "Yessir."

A short while later, POTUS was striding down one of the many corridors in the West Wing, arguing with Leo over his lunch with a certain dull Senator. "Leo, he is the most boring man in the world. He'll put me to sleep within five minutes!" "Sir, you've had this appointment for weeks." "Yes, but I was only told about it yesterday." "That's because we knew you'd want to cancel." "Is there anything stopping me from canceling? I'm the President, I should be able to cancel if I want to." "No, sir, there is nothing stopping you," Leo said resignedly. "Then I'm going to tell Mrs Landingham to cancel my lunch with the most boring Senator in the universe." POTUS wheeled around and set off in the direction of his office. "Sir, no, I'm afraid you're already late for your meeting with the Indian ambassador." The president stopped walking and sighed. "I don't like him." "No, sir." "You're not stopping me that easily, Leo. I'll send someone." Bartlet looked around for someone to send, focusing automatically on the person that looked to be in the biggest hurry. "Sam!" Sam skidded to a halt. "Yes, sir?" "Would you tell Mrs Landingham to cancel my lunch appointment with Senator Matheson, please?" Sam looked down at the pile of notes he held, thought of how much work he had, and groaned inwardly. "Of course, Mr President." "Thank you, Sam." "Certainly, sir." Sam headed off to Mrs Landingham's office, muttering to himself about presidents and personal aides and why one hadn't sent the other on what was obviously an unimportant errand.

Sam paused outside the office to balance files on one arm so he could open the door with the other, then stopped when he heard voices. He didn't want to interrupt any important conversations... Wait a minute. One of those voices sounded suspiciously like... the Vice President? He quietly cracked the door open and listened. "Don't worry," Mrs Landingham was saying. "They're all addicted to my cookies. Soon, they'll obey my every command just to get one." "Excellent," came the VP's voice. "The plan is proceeding properly, then."

Sam had to see this. He pushed the door open more so that he could look inside, mouth dropping open in shock. Mrs Landingham was leaning back in her chair with her feet on the desk, and the VP was leaning arrogantly on the desk, smirking. "Mrs Landingham?" Sam mouthed the words, but nothing came out. "Yes," Mrs Landingham was saying. "Today, the White House... tomorrow... The world!" The president's secretary and the VP joined in an evil laugh of triumph: "Muahahahahaaaaa!"

Just then POTUS pushed past Sam, not even noticing him, and entered the office. "Mrs Landingham, I don't want you to cancel the lunch thing after all - what are you doing here?" "The Vice-President was just dropping off a file, Mr President," said Mrs Landingham smoothly, removing her feet from the desk. The President accepted the explanation without question. "Mrs Landingham, may I have another cookie?" he asked hopefully. "You may have one as soon as you've signed the bill, sir." "Oh, good. You know, I think I'd do just about anything for one of your cookies." POTUS laughed good-naturedly, while Mrs Landhingham and the VP indulged in another evil laugh. POTUS didn't seem to notice. Sam watched in horrified silence until Mrs Landingham looked up - and straight at him. He dropped the files. "Why, hello, Sam," she said, smiling sweetly. "Would you like a cookie?"

"Aaaaaaaaargh!" Sam sat bolt upright in bed, shaking with fear. He looked around frantically for a second, registering that he was home in bed, and his alarm was set to go off in three minutes. He hated that. Not enough time to go back to sleep, and just enough time to make getting up an effort of will. Not that it wasn't usually. His dread was rapidly replaced by annoyance at the people who obviously designed alarm clocks to emit a signal to wake him up three minutes before they were set to go off. As he reluctantly got up to shower, he muttered to himself, "That's the last time I let Josh order the pizza."

"Morning, Sam." "Morning, Josh." "You look down. What's up?" Josh fell into step alongside his friend, fully prepared for a walk-and-talk conversation. "Had a bad dream." "About what?" Sam forced a laugh. "Nothing. It was ridiculous, really." "I suppose you're never letting me order the pizza again," Josh said sadly. "Damn right I'm not. Come on, we're late for the briefing."

They hurried to their destination, but, as they approached Mrs Landingham's office, Sam started slowing down. "Hurry it up!" Josh snapped. Leo was already mad at him, and he didn't want to make it worse. "I'll be... I'll... coming." "Good morning, Mrs Landingham!" Josh said, as he stepped into the office. "Morning, Mrs Landingham," Sam mumbled, reluctantly following Josh. "Good morning, boys. They're waiting for you." "Thank you." Josh sighed when he realized Sam wasn't beside him. "Come *on*, Sam." "Would you boys like a cookie before you go in?" Sam stopped dead at the words, face paling. "Yes, please," said Josh, eagerly. "You know, Mrs Landingham," he added, smiling, as he reached into the cookie jar, "I think I'd do just about anything for one of these." "Why, thank you, Josh." Josh wasn't listening. "Sam? Hey, Sam, where're you going? Come back! Was it something I said?" He turned to Mrs Landingham, a puzzled look on his face. "Oh well. As long as he's gone... can I have his cookie?"


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