With Respect, To the Gentleman From California

by: Abigale
Category: Drama, Sam, Sam/Josh (slash) Toby
Rating: ADULT
Author's Note: For more of Abigale's WW fiction: http://subtractions.homestead.com/

Friday

Damning himself for skipping breakfast, Sam sat behind his desk and sipped at a bottle of tepid water.  The beginnings of a dull headache thumped behind his eyes, and he still had the unpleasant aftertaste of his fourth cup of coffee clinging to his tongue. 

Apart from that, he was making terrific progress on the Nice & Nasty speech, as Josh had called it that morning, toothbrush jammed in his mouth.  Sam was still anxiously waiting for Toby to come back from a breakfast meeting he'd had, hoping their discussion the night before successfully dispelled the tension both men had admitted was wearing on their nerves. 

And then there was Francine Mallet.

Sam knew he had to deal with her at some point, and had called the Protocol Office first thing after morning staff to make sure she'd be back in the White House after a meeting at State.  He'd spoken abstractedly to Josh about the situation the night before, careful to leave all names out of the conversation.  Sam felt nervous about identifying her as a possible traitor, until he was absolutely sure of her involvement.  He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but part of him still smarted at the memory of uncovering the woman who had leaked Leo's personnel files to Lillianfield, only to have the Chief of Staff himself hire the bitch right back.

"Good morning there, Sam."  Toby's voice held none of the trepidation of the day before.

"Hey, Toby.  How'd it go?  With Carson?"  Sam sat back in his chair and fingered his pen.

"She just bought a dog."

Sam put down his pen and removed his glasses carefully, swinging them between his fingers.  "And the punch line is...?"

"There's no punch line."  Falling heavily into a chair, Toby rubbed at his forehead, a familiar Ziegler gesture. 

"Okay.  I'm missing something.  The Secretary of Agriculture just bought a dog.  Um."  Sam patiently awaited what was surely going to make his morning that much brighter.  Toby looked seriously pissed off.

"She bought a dog, from a highly reputable breeder – "

"Well, that's just wrong.  In this day and age; *breeding* animals as pets -   Oh.  That wasn't where you were going with this, was it?"  Sam's leather chair squeaked a little as he leaned back in it.

Aiming a steely glare at Sam's chagrinned face, Toby resumed his explanation.  "A reputable breeder, highly recommended, and she goes to Pennsylvania to pick up the dog, and she stumbles into a backroom."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah.  So, instead of spending the morning discussing grazing rights and water tables, I'm sitting over a plate of too-hard eggs and soggy toast, hearing about the repeal of 2142 – "

"Oh!  I know that one!" Sam beamed, like a fourth grader at a spelling bee.

"Sam."

"Sorry.  But it was a necessary law, Toby.  I agree it shouldn't have taken the whole morning, but you *know* what Gandhi said.  'You can judge a society by the way it treats its animals'.  I think I have that on a t-shirt or something...."

"I'm going to my office now," Toby moaned, shooting to his feet.  "I think I liked you better as Grumpy Sam."

Shrugging lightly, Sam replaced his glasses and adjusted himself in his seat.  "Poor puppies," he mumbled to himself.  Then, eyes flashing towards the door, he caught Toby looking back, the smallest of smiles showing.

"We're okay?" Toby asked quietly.

"Well, we're better than the dogs.  Yeah," Sam assured his boss.  "We're fine."

_______________________________________

Sam's initial draft of the Nice & Nasty speech met with Toby's grunted approval, and he'd managed to weave together some fairly coherent notes on a drug policy panel that he'd been asked to speak to at the beginning of the next week.  All in all, a productive morning; just busy enough to keep him from dwelling on his meeting with Ms. Mallet.

By one o'clock, Sam was restless and edgy, and his headache was now pulsing at his temples.  He knew from experience that it would be gone within thirty minutes of downing some pain relievers, so he was sitting quietly in his office, blinds partly closed, rehearsing in his mind how he was going to approach the woman who in all likelihood caused his head to pound in the first place.

"Sam?"  Ginger poked her head in the half closed door.  "Do you have a minute?"

Head coming up from where it was resting on the back of his chair, Sam sighed.  "Sure, what's up?"  He really needed to concentrate on his strategy, needed to collect his thoughts before the confrontation to come.

"Ben Cohen is on the phone, Sam.  He sounds a little distraught."

Ben Cohen.  Assistant Chief of the Office of Protocol.  Sam scrubbed his eyes with clenched fists and then looked up at Ginger.  "Did he say *why* he's 'distraught'?"

"Something about an interview you were going to conduct.  And... about not letting someone leave the premises?"  Ginger pointed to the blinking phone.  "Well, they're holding her."

Bolting to his feet, Sam's mouth dropped open.  "They're *holding* her?  What the hell?!  I never said -  I told them to let me know when she got back, to keep track of her schedule!"  He was already to the door when he turned back to the startled assistant.  "Get on the phone and tell him to let her out of wherever they're keeping her, not to move an inch himself, and to get the Deputy Chief of Protocol there Right Now."

Tearing thorough the corridors of the West Wing, heading to the East Wing, Sam's mind was racing ten paces ahead of his body.  He'd never asked that anyone be detained!  Who the hell takes a simple request for a heads up as license to lock someone in a room?  Sam's anger was driving him forward; he never saw the wall.  Until it hit him.

"Ow!"

"Watch yourself, Mr. Seaborn," came the concerned voice of a park police officer who was passing by.

"I would if I could, Stephen," Sam answered when he recognized the man.  "They don't call them blinding headaches for nothing."  He shook his head a little to clear his sight.  "Hey!"  Sam spun around and reached out to the officer.  "Do you have a few minutes?" he asked.

"Sure.  Are you all right?"  The man looked concerned, his eyes searching out Sam's face for signs of injury.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine.  But I might be able to use your, um, presence.   If you wouldn't mind."

Nodding his agreement, Stephen fell in behind Sam, as he continued on his way down the hall.

A good thirty feet away from the door to the formally decorated Office of Protocol they began to hear the shrieking.  A woman's voice, rising above a man's rich baritone.

Rolling through the glass doors, Sam and Officer Stephen Lipton skidded to a stop in the middle of a group of four or five people, all of whom wore varying degrees of red on their cheeks.

"Hey!"  Sam shouted above the din.  "Cut it out."  A hush swept over the gathering, all eyes on the Deputy Director of Communications.  Hands on his hips, Sam scanned the startled faces until he found the one that concerned him the most.  "Francine?"  he asked.  "Are you all right?  Have you been harmed in any way?"

"No.  No, I – they said – what the hell's going on?!  They said I was to be held?  You asked that I be held?"  The woman looked rattled and angry, and more than a little bit fearful.  Her dark eyes flashed around the room.

"I'm so sorry.  There's been a terrible mistake."  Sam moved to Francine's side, and firmly took hold of her elbow, the sincerity in his voice calming her a little.  "Are you *sure* you're all right?  No one hurt you, you weren't physically restrained in any way?"

She shook her head quickly.  "Nothing like that.  No, they just said I couldn't leave my office, I couldn't even come into the reception area.  Sam, you remember me from when I worked with CJ Cregg, right?  You *know* I'm not dangerous!"

"Of course you're not.  As I said, this was all a mistake.  An overreaction to something I instructed someone to do for me.  Believe me, I had intended to go about this much more subtly."  

Sam threw an annoyed look at the Deputy Chief standing to his right, then leveled his icy blue eyes back on his prey.  He had witnesses who heard her say she hadn't been harmed or abused, so he was fairly confident no law suit would be forthcoming.  Still with a solid grip on her arm, Sam drew her a few inches closer and lowered his voice.

"But now that we're both here, I think we should go into your office and have a talk.  About Daniel Swift."  Ignoring the look of complete shock on the woman's face, Sam drew her to an open door.  "Is this your office?" he asked, looking into the brightly lit room.

"Uh.  No, I'm over – "

No longer holding onto her, Sam began walking to the office she had indicated, beckoning her to follow with an extended arm.

Walking behind him, Francine peered over her shoulder fretfully, looking for some sign of impending rescue from her co-workers.

"Have a seat.  You look a little shaky," Sam instructed, voice cool and controlled.  Leaning out into the reception area, he addressed the Deputy Chief.  "You, wait right there.  I'm not done with you."  He firmly closed the door behind him.

End part 5/7

_________________________

With Respect, To the Gentleman From California

Part 6/7

Sam's careful intentions to win Francine's confidence before attempting to gain the information he badly wanted lay in chunky pieces at his feet.  Nothing went according to plan.  She caved the moment he mentioned her fiancé's name; so steeped in contempt for his stupidity, she didn't even seem aware of just how much trouble *she* was in.

When Sam opened the door and called in Officer Lipton, her eyes went wide, all the blood drained from her face, and she whimpered quietly.

"Am I under arrest?"  Francine looked from the somewhat hesitant face of the officer, to Sam; back stiff, eyes glinting with authority.

"Stephen.  Please escort Ms. Mallet from the building.  She's only to take her purse and her coat."  Sam helped the stunned staffer to her feet and propelled her towards the waiting man.  "Any other personal effects will be packed and sent to you after someone has had a chance to look through them.  And Stephen?  For god's sake; don't stop for *anyone,* do you understand?  I mean Any One.  Get her out of here."

Following the departing figures, Sam stepped into the reception area, coming face to face with a stunned, but silent Deputy Chief.

"Now for *you,* Sam sighed, and brought a hand to his brow.  "Step into my lair."

__________________________

Leo leaned against the corner of his desk, arms crossed over his chest.  "She isn't pressing any charges, is she?" he addressed to Sam, who stood in front of him.

"God no.  All they did was put her in a room and tell her to stay put.  There was no unlawful restraint, or physical contact."  Sam's expression turned slightly awkward.  "I may have squeezed her arm a little too tightly.  But Jesus, my head was pounding."

Toby snickered quietly, ignoring CJ's pointed glare.

"So it's all over?"

"Yeah, I feel fine now.  Oh.  Yes.  She's gone."

"And the fiancé?" Josh wanted to know, legs sprawled open, sitting next to CJ on the sofa.

Sam's eyebrows shot up questioningly.  "I can't imagine he still thinks he's gonna get a job with Swift out of this.  Exposing him will mean exposing Swift.  Not that I have a problem with that.  But it'll be embarrassing to us."

"We can live with the embarrassment," Toby said.

"Just for a little revenge?" CJ wondered.

"We owe Swift no favors, CJ."  Toby stood and strode a few feet away before turning back.  "I for one would love to see him and his cock-eyed brand of politics brought down in a fiery heap."

"And I think you're still taking this a little personally, it being your speech he pilfered," Leo added.

"Who the hell cares what my motives are?  The man's a menace.  We have an opportunity to take him down, if not out.  What are we waiting for?"

"Well," Sam spoke up.  "He already looks pretty foolish, flip-flopping on the Transportation Equity Act.  And for bailing on a high-profile speech he'd been lining up a lot of publicity for."  He turned to face Toby.  "But I have another reason for wanting to keep quiet.  Or...."  He turned back to Leo again. "At the very least, holding onto it for a few days."

All eyes were on Sam, hands jammed into his pockets.

"Kim Carruthers," Josh said quietly. 

"Out of gratitude," Sam added, bobbing his head.  Ignoring the skeptical reaction he was getting, Sam pressed on.  "Look, this whole thing begins and ends with her.  She brought it to us, and she gave us the names that led me to Mallet.  We owe *her* something."  I owe her, Sam added to himself.  And he wasn't about to leave her hanging in the wind on the Hill, a pariah just for having the bad luck of running the office of a demented old coot, long past his prime.

"Leo?"  Sam brought his hands out of his pockets and let them hang to his sides.  "I need to talk to you about this." 

Pushing himself off the desk, Leo took his place behind it, and waved a hand through the air.  "CJ, keep your ears open, let us know the minute word about this gets out.  It can't have escaped the rapt attention of the Press Corps that a woman was escorted from the premises.  Toby, start lining up a response; a *measured* response.  Josh, stick around for a minute, will ya?"

CJ went to the doorway, Toby reluctantly straggling behind her.  He shot a pointed, but unreadable look Sam's way before closing the door behind him.

Once the room had cleared, Leo motioned Sam to take a seat next to Josh.  "You had to promise her something, didn't you?" he asked abruptly.

Looking more confident than he felt, Sam met Leo's gaze.  "I didn't promise, no.  I made it very clear that it wasn't in my power to grant her, uh, request.  But I told her I'd do what I could."

"What does she want?" Josh wanted to know.

"A job."  Sam made it sound simple and clean, a clear-cut request that only required a straightforward answer.

"Not on your fucking life."  Josh sounded pretty unambiguous himself.

Turning to his partner with obvious shock, Sam leaned away a little to get a clear look at his face.  "That seems a little excessive. "

"Leo!"

"Now, hold on, you two."  Leo left his desk and came to sit in an upholstered chair nearer to his staffers.  "Considering what this woman has done for us – "

"This week!" Josh groused.  "What about for the last three years?  She's been a thorn in my side – our side – the entire time we've been in office.  I swear half the time it's just out of obstinacy."  Josh huffed a little, and sat back against the cushions, rubbing at his eyes.  "God, I hate that woman."

Sam's shock grew deeper.  Josh never said a word to him the night before, when Sam had loosely talked about his earlier meeting with Kim.  He wondered if what he was about to say next would send Josh into cardiac arrest.

"She wants to work here.  For President Bartlet."  There, he'd said it, and Josh was still breathing.  Raggedly.  In giant gulps.

"There's no way in hell," Josh growled, getting to his feet.

"Josh."  Leo's tone sounded like a warning, and Sam felt as though he was being left out of something he should understand.

"No fucking way is she...."  Stopping with a hand tangled in his hair, Josh faced Sam.  "Sam, I'm....  I know you like this woman.  And you think you can handle her."

"Whoa," Sam interrupted, rising to meet Josh.  "She's not a personal friend.  And I don't 'handle' her.  We get along; something no one else around here seems capable of doing."

"Right," Josh scoffed.  He stepped over to Leo and bent slightly, an intimate gesture.  "Leo, you gotta... you know she can't...."  Clearly at a loss for words, Josh fell back against Leo's desk.

"All right, that's enough."  Once more taking charge of the disintegrating tone of the meeting, Leo got up from his seat.  "This isn't something I need to be a part of," he grumbled.  "Take it home with you, Josh, but don't you dare bring this in here." 

Moving around the younger men, Leo stood behind his desk, a solid barrier between him and the tension in the room.  "I'm finishing this discussion with Sam.  You can go," he directed Josh.

Sputtering helplessly, Josh seemed to understand there was no point in arguing with his boss, and slinked from the room, tossing one more charged look in Sam's direction.

When the door shut with a resounding and definitive click, Sam faced Leo.  Mouth hanging agape in open surprise, he placed both palms on the desk and leaned against it, dropping his head.

"What the hell, Leo?" was all he could think to say.  "I don't understand.  What – "

"I told you, it's not something for here.  You need to talk to him, but I don't want any part of it.  Goddamn it."

Sam's head snapped up, his eyes focused out the window.  At Leo's epithet, a memory had found him.  Not very long ago, but something he'd hoped he would never have to revisit.  Over time he'd let it drain away from his consciousness.

"This is personal," Sam ventured, still searching the world out the window for the right combination that would unlock the puzzle.  "Leo, what has Josh got against her?"  Finally switching his focus back to the Chief of Staff.  "I'm sorry if this breaks our... agreement.  But you really need to tell me what's going on."

Leo collapsed into his chair with a growl.  "Shit."

"I know," Sam offered weakly.  He knew now that this was something intensely personal, something Leo was vastly uncomfortable discussing.  What Sam still didn't know was if it was something he really wanted to hear.

"Please," Sam said quietly.

"This was *your* request, Sam."  Leo sat back in his chair and tented his fingers above his stomach.  "You came to me and asked me not to get involved.  Not that I was about to argue with you.  I can assure you now, as I did then, I have *no* intention of becoming drawn into your domestic situation with Josh."

"I know it can't be easy for you," Sam responded.  "And I hope that this is the first, last, and only time.  But something's going on here, and if it has to do with Kim Carruthers, I need to be let in.  Especially if it concerns Josh and me."  Sam turned a chair to face the desk and sank into it.  He felt the tug of pain beginning behind his eyes again, and suddenly became aware of the echoing emptiness of his stomach.  His day kept getting better and better, he thought miserably.

Expelling a tortured breath, Leo dipped his head down for a moment, clearly wrestling with something.  Eventually, he lifted his eyes, and spoke to Sam.  "He's jealous, Sam.  And from what I know of her, I can't say I blame him."

The word 'jealous' was still bouncing around inside Sam's head, and he nearly missed the rest of what Leo was saying.

"...take some time and talk to him.  Get it over with.  You and I can talk later about what to do next.  But Sam, I swear – "

"You, you'll never hear another word about it, Leo.  You have my word."  Sam was already out of his chair, heading briskly, if unsteadily towards the door.

"And Sam?"  Leo rested his head against the back of his chair with confidence.  "Damn good job on this whole mess."

"Thank you, Leo."

__________________________

Donna stood in the open door to Josh's office, a stack of unneeded files clutched to her chest.  She'd felt it necessary to have something between her and her stampeding boss, even if it was only seven inches thick and made of paper.

"I ask for one simple thing, one summary, and now I have half the Library of Congress on my desk!  And still no summary!  Donna!  Where's my neatly typed, double-spaced piece of paper with the little bullet things that make it easy for me to read?  *That's* what I need.  Omph!"  Josh bent to rub his foot.  "And what is this crate of oranges still doing in here?  Has my office been turned into a storage closet when I wasn't looking?"

Courageously entering the den of annoyance, Donna plucked a crinkled sheet of paper from the seat of Josh's chair.  "The one place I figured you couldn't miss it," she sniffed, and started to leave.  "And you can load your own fruit into the car, you know.  Or get your big strapping – "

"Donna!" Josh yelped, eyes narrowing.  "I can't think of anything I'd like more than to verbally rip someone wing to wing right now, so if you're volunteering, stick around.  Otherwise – "

"I think I'll just go out here and do some filing," Donna said, shuffling out of the way.

Sam's voice drifted into the office from the doorway.  "Why don't you try picking on someone your own size?" he directed at Josh, while offering an apologetic smile to Donna.

"You're so sweet," she smiled back, and left, closing the door behind her.

"And you're a bully sometimes," Sam said to his lover.  "If you're mad at me, you should be addressing it at me, not Donna."  Picking up a book from a stack on the table under Josh's chalkboard, Sam examined the binding pointedly before he looked up again.  "Well?"

"I'm not mad at you, Sam."  Lowering himself in his seat, Josh wore the look of someone who'd just been told he'd made his mother cry.  "I'm pissed off at myself for that truly impressive spectacle I made in front of Leo.  He must be... oh, man.  Can't think about it; *really* don't want to think about it."  Josh tried shaking the image from his mind.

"So.  I take it you aren't very fond of Kim Carruthers."  Sam leaned back against the wall, slipping his hands into his pockets.  He was relieved Josh's anger had dissipated so quickly, even if Sam felt his own creeping up on him.  "Why the hell didn't you ever say anything?"

"You know how I feel about her, Sam.  Everyone feels that way about her.  She's a barracuda, a raving madwoman....  And you two are pretty close."

"Josh.  We're not close.  At all.  In any way.  She likes me.  She trusts me.  We work well together."

"No, see, that's the thing.  You haven't actually worked with her.  Not really."

"The energy voucher issue.  I worked very closely with her on it.  And the rider for 501.  We spent weeks going around on *that.*"

"And you have lunch with her."

"We talk over lunch once in awhile."

"And she wants to sleep with you."

Sam moved forward.  Extracting his hands, he placed them over his chest in a gesture of sincerity.  "That really *was* a joke, Josh." 

"Actually, Sam.  I know you meant it as a joke.  But she really does want to sleep with you.  She has for eleven months.  Since you danced with her at the European Nations Aid reception; where she cornered CJ out on the terrace and told her you smelled great and asked why oh why you weren't seeing anyone."

Sam stood dumbfounded in the middle of Josh's office, and dropped his hands.  "Why doesn't anyone ever tell me these things when I'm straight?"

Josh's glum expression tugged at Sam's sympathies.  Then a thought occurred to him, and his skin tingled.

"Wait.  Leo knows about this?  Please, tell me you weren't the one to say something."  Sam dropped into one of Josh's chairs in anticipation of what he knew the answer to that question was.  "Josh...." he groaned.

"I'm sorry!" Josh said.  "I just wanted to keep you away from her after 501.  And he was actually really happy with the way you guys got along.  So I figured, knowing how aggressive she could be, and your, um, history with, you know, um...."

"Yes?"

"Sleeping with women; suddenly.  It was better to keep Leo appraised."  Josh's voice sounded weaker and more unsure with every word.  "And... this was right after us.  After we." 

"For god's sake, finish a sentence, would you please?"

"After you and I got together.  And, okay, I thought it couldn't hurt if you weren't sent into her clutches again when we were so new and vulnerable."  Josh dropped his eyes.  "When I felt so vulnerable."

"Aw, Josh...."  Sam didn't finish the thought.  He just sat there, a compassionate smile nestled in one corner of his mouth. 

"Are you gonna tell me how sweet I can be?  How irresistible and unexpected you find it?" Josh fished shamelessly.

Sam snorted softly.  "I was *going* to tell you that you've made Leo very uncomfortable, as well as forcing him to break a promise he made to me about never getting involved in our private matters.  And you've also managed to rock my little self-esteem boat slightly, insinuating that I can't handle a woman with a crush – "

"A shark with your scent – "

"All the while keeping something from me that apparently everyone else in the West Wing knows."  Sam cocked his head at Josh suddenly and squinted his eyes.  "Bonnie knows, doesn't she?  Damn.  I knew she was acting strange when I came back from my meeting with Kim."

"Sam – "

"You're a piece of work, you know that, Josh?"

"You don't sound mad."  The wonder in Josh's voice made Sam want to smile.

"I'm not.  My headache is back, I have a speech to work on, I haven't returned a single phone call all day, and I still have to deal with Kim.  Frankly, I don't have the time to be mad."

Sam rose out of his chair and went to the door, turning back when his hand reached the knob.  "Besides, you really are irresistible when you're jealous."

Josh leaned back in his chair, and let out a deep, relieved breath.

__________________________

Arriving back in his office, Sam stood in front of his desk, taking in the uncharacteristic disarray.  He truly couldn't stand to have things pile up, and wondered what he might foster off on the support staff.

Bonnie had come to him weeks earlier, and confided that she was growing bored with the secretarial aspects of her job.  Sam had made a quiet effort to direct assignments with more substance to her, even asking her to write a position paper once or twice, which passed through Toby and Josh uncommented on.

Sam went to the desk and began shuffling through a few notes, trying to decide what needed his attention first.  The insurance speech was coming along well.  He'd been in a groove on that, and felt good about picking it back up again.  But the policy luncheon was beginning to worry him. 

Speaking to a camera or a conference room full of people was nothing new to Sam.  But full-blown public speaking, in front of crowds that had the option of applauding, or not, tended to make him apprehensive.  

And the pink phone messages were definitely getting out of hand.  Sam sank into his chair and began leafing through them, appalled that some of them were two days old.

Just as he reached for the phone, a young male staffer appeared in the doorway. 

"Sam?"

"Hey, John.  What can I do for you?"  Silently, Sam prayed the answer would be a resounding 'nothing.'

"Ginger asked me to keep an eye out when you came back.  She's at lunch."

"Okay."

"Which is what I'm supposed to order for you."

"Lunch?"  Sam instinctively looked at his watch, and was stunned to see how late it had gotten.

"The, you know, second meal of the day?" John ventured.

Unless you're me, in which case it's the first, Sam thought to himself.  "Thanks, John.  I think I'll just go down to the Mess later and see what's good.  But I appreciate the offer."

The man hesitated in the door a moment longer, until Sam looked up again.

"Yes?"

"Well, I was told I had to do it.  Or you might not.  So, if you know what you want –"

"Sam?"  Another voice added itself to the mix.  Toby excused himself past the young man and walked to Sam's desk.  "Leo wants to see us.  He wants to talk about the...."  Toby's eyes cut to John, then back to the questioning face in front of him.  "The 'employment' statistics."

"Ah."  Sam nodded his head in understanding.  So, Josh was out, and Toby was in, when it came to who was most likely to entertain the idea of Kim Carruthers working in the White House.  "Let's go."

He rose from his desk, and shrugged his shoulders at John, standing to the side to let the two senior staffers and advisors to the president pass.  As a last thought, Sam spun around to John.  "If you want to be able to tell Attila that you got me something, you could find some apple juice, and leave it on my desk," Sam suggested.

The look of relief on the young man's face made Sam smile.

__________________________

"Keep our enemies close, Leo."  Sam was blowing on a cup of steaming hot coffee, as he'd been doing for almost ten minutes.  He couldn't keep his mind from wondering how Margaret kept it so hot, on the tiny little burner she had set up in Leo's anteroom.

Toby seemed to be slurping down his scorching beverage just fine.  "Yeah.  But the West Wing's just a little *too* close, don't you think, Sam?"

"She knows a lot of people.  Her reach extends way beyond ours with the conservatives."

"You said she feels closer to us than to them," Leo reminded Sam.

"Closer to us than to Swift.  And what he's become.  She can be an asset, Leo.  She has eyes in the back of her head."

"And you think she could be loyal?"

"I believe so."

"It's still too close.  And I'm not just thinking about the thing with Josh."  As he spoke, Leo shifted his weight and shot a quick glance at Toby.  "No one else likes her much, either.  I don't see her working for the President, Sam."

"Okay."  Sam waited a beat.  "How about the next best thing?"

"Hoynes?"  Toby laughed throatily.  "You want to put one enemy into bed with our other enemy?"

"She's *not* our enemy, Toby!"  Sam put down his mug and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  "Look what's she's done for us.  Yes, she had her own motives.  But she took a risk, with no guarantee that we'd show any gratitude other than a hearty 'thank you.' "  Sam sat back in his seat.  "I think it would satisfy her, and I think she knows better than to turn on us."

Leo and Toby exchanged loaded looks, an entire conversation passing between them, right over Sam's head.

Finally, Toby spoke.  "They're losing Isaac Howard.  That's gonna leave a huge hole in Hoynes' energy team."

"And Swift was chairman of the Committee on Energy and Commerce for three years!" Sam exclaimed, clapping his hands together, unconcerned by the startled looks he was getting.  He felt dangerously close to giggling.

"Oh, come on!  This is the answer."  The pleading in his own voice even took Sam by surprise.  He recognized his reasons for being so determined to bring Leo and Toby around.  But he was a little dismayed by how much it meant to him to be the one to do this for Kim.

Another thirty minutes passed, the two older men taking turns playing devil's advocate, while Sam continued to sip at his still scalding coffee.  He really wanted to know what Margaret did to keep it so hot....

End Part 6/7

__________________________

With Respect, To the Gentleman From California

Part 7/7

"Sam."  Josh was standing directly behind his lover, staring at the back of his neck, right where his hair touched his collar.  He felt a physical need to sweep the hair aside and bring his lips to the silky skin he knew waited for him there. 

One of the most amazing things Josh had discovered while being with Sam was the way his body responded to the simplest non-sexual situations.  It could be Sam, looking up at Josh through his full, feathery lashes; bright blue eyes contrasting with the darkness framing them.  Or the washed away scent of soap, clinging to his skin.  Or the sound of his voice, leaking out of his office as Josh approached.

Any one of those things could cause an adolescent thrill that seemed to build of its own accord into a full-blown erotic longing that would leave Josh light-headed.  Right now, the sight of Sam's hair brushing back and forth as he moved his head was bringing the front of Josh's pants to life.

Groaning softly, he leaned over, nearly giving in to his craving, veering off at the last second to whisper in Sam's ear instead.

"Get off the phone."

His head whipping around, Sam's eyes went wide, obviously unaware that Josh had even entered his office.

"Look, I, uh, have a – I have to go right now," he stammered into the phone.  "But I'll see you soon, right?"  The skeptical look on Josh's face registering briefly.  "Yeah.  Seven.  Okay.  Okay."

Reaching across the desk to hang up the phone, Sam came to his feet with one motion.  "I didn't hear you.  Did you say something?"  Sam placed his hands on his hips, searching out Josh's face for some clue as to why there was a definite scowl there.

"Was that who I think it was?"

"Kim?"  Sam took off his glasses and placed them on his desk, then reached for the half finished bottle of apple juice he'd found there after his meeting with Leo.  "Yeah.  I'm meeting her – "

"At seven.  Where?" 

Sam knew that sounded nowhere near as casual as Josh wanted it to, but he wasn't in the mood for a confrontation.  "Leo's talking to Hoynes right now.  If he's on board, I'm gonna hook her up with him tonight."

"That's all very interesting.  And not what I asked."  Josh hefted himself onto the corner of Sam's desk, hands limp in his lap.

"American History."

"...closes at five-thirty."

"The north terrace," Sam said testily.  "What are you planning?  To have me followed?"

Josh hung his head, and wiped at his eyes wearily.  "Course not."  When he looked up again, Sam was still standing in front of him, but his expression had softened to one of mild reproach.

Sam brushed a hand over Josh's knee, then leaned his own body against the credenza.  "Leo expects Hoynes to go for it.  So, I'll pitch the idea to Kim, and if she's willing to accept, I'll bring her back for a meeting.  Then, it's over."

Josh snorted his skepticism.  "Or just beginning.  Depends on how you want to look at it."

Sam wiggled his fingers at the bottle that was out of his reach, and Josh handed it over.  "Exactly what is it you're afraid of, Josh?  That she'll gang up on us with Hoynes?  Or that she'll be within sniffing distance of me?"  Sam had hoped to confront his lover's discomfort with some humor, but it appeared to only make him more miserable.

Sliding off the desk, Josh hesitated before taking a few backward steps toward the door.  "I don't trust her.  Professionally, or personally.  But I trust you."  He stopped walking and shot a conciliatory smile Sam's way.  "Listen, I've gotta hang out until the president comes back from the place.  So, find me when you're done.  Okay?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, settling back into his chair.  "I'll find you."

__________________________

"Okay, I'm asking again," Sam was saying, hip planted firmly against the concrete handrail at the American History Museum.  "You've lived here for eleven years, and you've never been to the Smithsonian?"

Kim's laughter was throaty, as she bumped Sam's leg with her knee.  "I've been a little busy, counselor.  Consider yourself lucky that I didn't suggest we meet at the aquarium.  I hear that place is pretty damn dismal."

Sam's expression was impassive.

"Oh, wait!" Kim exclaimed.  "Don't tell me you've never been to the aquarium at the Commerce Department?"  She shook her head with mock earnestness.  "And here I thought you were the poster boy for D.C. tourism."

"Me?"  Sam's eyebrows shot up at the statement.

"You just seem like the type to be awed by the majesty of the town.  Or... maybe that's worn off over the years?"

The wind picked up a notch, and they both turned their backs to it.  When Kim's hair curled into her mouth, Sam absently reached over to pull it away.  "It's getting cold, Kim," he said pointedly.  "Are you gonna give me a straight answer so we can get the hell out of here, or what?"

Kim sighed deeply.  Pressing her bare hands together for warmth, she stared down at Constitution Avenue for a moment before turning to face Sam.  "I suppose there's no way you can break through the resistance and get them to consider – "

"Kim," Sam warned, not wanting to go over the same territory they'd been rehashing for the last forty minutes again.  "This is as close as I can get you."

"It's not even in the White House, Sam!"

"The hell it isn't," he contradicted. 

"Bullshit."  Kim eyed Sam boldly before allowing her voice to soften.  "Hoynes uses his West Wing office less than any other vice president in history.  I'll be stuck over in the OEOB for 5 years," she sulked.

Sam bent down a degree to place his face directly in front of hers.  "Hoynes has the largest staff of any vice president in history, Kim.  He needs to use the Ceremonial Office because it's bigger.  And," he added, straightening to his full height.  "If we all play our cards well, in a few more years you'll be in the White House all right.  You might even be running the place."  He shrugged his shoulders slackly.  "But if I need to convince you that this is the opportunity of a lifetime...."  He fixed a sad smile to his face, and began to turn away.

"Oh, all right, okay!" Kim laughed, pulling on his arm.  "God, you really don't like playing this game, do you?" she asked with affection, stepping further into his space.  "Even *you* can't expect a woman to just lie down in front of you without some wining and dining, Sam."

He blushed lightly, hoping it looked like the cold was getting to him.  "I wouldn't dream of thinking you were that easy, Kim.  And just between you and me," he added, leaning closer.  "I'd give my right arm to see Toby Ziegler having to deal with you on a daily basis."  He chuckled lightly to himself.  Though he was content with the way things had worked themselves out between him and his boss, Sam couldn't resist the urge to picture Toby, grousing about having to work so closely with 'that woman' every day.

It was the vivid image of Toby's florid and flustered face that distracted Sam enough that he didn't sense how close Kim was, until her lips were brushing against his cheek.

"Thanks, Sam."  Her voice was serious and sincere, a marked difference from her earlier bantering tone.  She tipped her head up to look into his eyes.  "You came through for me."

The kiss didn't take Sam by surprise.  Not really.  If he wanted to be honest with himself, he might even admit that he'd known it was coming, and hadn't chosen to get out of the way.  But Sam wasn't too eager to be that honest with himself yet.  To do that, he'd also have to admit that he may have wanted it to happen.

Her breath was tainted with coffee, like Josh's often was.  But there was an underlying sweetness, too, and Sam thought he tasted vanilla.  When she kissed him again, and parted his lips gently with the tip of her tongue, he knew it was vanilla, and he knew he was in trouble.

"Mgh – "  Sam pulled his mouth away delicately, his eyes flying open at the rush of biting, cold air where a second before there was only warmth and softness.  "Kim," he began, stepping away once.  "Ooooooh, Kim."

The tiny smile that danced around her lips faded quickly at the look of dejection on Sam's remarkable face.  "That bad, huh?" she asked lightly.

Sam shook his head quickly, taking a deep, cleansing breath into his lungs.  Blowing it out through pursed lips, he forced himself to look her squarely in the eye.  "I, I'm sorry.  That wasn't.... I didn't...."

He saw the next kiss coming.  And still, he didn't get out of the way.

Kim's hands found their way under the front of Sam's open coat, slipping into place against his chest.  She used her grasp of his tie to pull him closer, her hips resting snuggly against his. 

"No, no, Kim, no."  Sam pushed ineffectively at her hands.  He looked down and realized that he wasn't actually pushing her away, as much as holding her wrists tightly in his hands. 

Dropping her from his grip, Sam stepped away a few paces, and raised his hands in front of himself in a warning gesture.  "I'm sorry, Kim, but this can't happen."  He was dismayed by the plaintive quality he heard in the words as he spoke them.  And silently questioned why he hadn't just told her that he didn't *want* it to happen.

Sliding her lips together a few times, Kim looked slightly amused.  "Sam, if you think this is some kind of payment for services rendered...."

"God, Kim!"  Sam looked around the desolate terrace they stood on, and ran his hand across his mouth once, quickly.  "Don't even joke about that.  Shit."  He turned his back to her and stared off in the direction of the White House, just a few blocks away.  Where Josh was waiting for him.

"Look," he said, turning back to her with more determination than he actually felt.  "If there was any way, if it was at all possible...."

"We're both adults, Sam.  I can't see where there's any conflict here."

Sam felt like he was caught in a swift tide that was taking him further and further from shore.  "I have a conflict, Kim.  I have a personal conflict, why I can't let this happen.  I'm, I'm already involved with someone, and, as attractive as I find you, which I do, even if I'd really rather not think about how long I've thought so, I really can't even entertain the idea of us being anything more than possibly friends, beyond our current, um... current working... um...."

"Take a moment, Sam."

"Working, uh...."

"Relationship?"

"Relationship!  We have a very good current working relationship, yes!  And I'd like to continue to develop that, and the friend thing.  Too.  I'd hoped we were beginning to become friends.  And I'd like that."  Sam blinked hard at the bemused expression on Kim's face.  "What?  Why are you smiling?"

"You are *fucking* adorable, Seaborn," she answered with trademark bluntness.  "You are such a fucking doll, I could eat you up right here."  Her laughter caught in the wind and drifted away, taking a little of Sam's anxiety with it.  "And if I believed for one second that you were really seeing someone, I'd hunt her down and chew right through her to get to you."

Sam's eyes went wide with alarm.  Josh was right, he mused.  She was a shark.

"But if you were off the market, I'd have heard about it.  Hell, the entire female population of D.C. would know about it."  Kim walked directly up to Sam and slid a cold hand across his cheek.  "You're sweet to make up a lover to let me down easily, Sam.  But I'm used to the harsh realities, remember?  If you're not interested, so be it.  I don't imagine I'll have any problem maintaining our... what was it you were trying to spit out a minute ago?  Current work– "

"Workingrelationshipandapossiblefriendship," Sam finished eagerly.  He swallowed hard and tried to bring up a heartfelt smile.

Threading her arm thorough his, Kim began to lead them to the wide staircase leading down to the street.  "Riiiiiight.  So, what do you say we get started on the working relationship part, and you take me to meet this Vice President of yours?"

Sam took a few gulps of air and felt himself calming.  Even if he never really believed it himself, he would forevermore maintain that he'd handled the entire situation very, very well.

__________________________

Josh sat slouched indelicately across a chair in the Roosevelt Room, books and papers spread out as widely as his legs.  He'd been checking his watch so often, he'd finally removed it from his wrist, and set it on the table in his line of sight, watching the minutes continue to tick by without word from Sam.

It was after ten, and Toby had called to report that the President was staying after his speech to do some glad-handing.  Josh could hear CJ in the background, her voice clear and confident as she joked easily with someone, glasses clinking away musically. 

The work in front of Josh wasn't anything that required his immediate attention.  He was really just killing time.  He'd sent Donna home, much to her surprise and delight, but grousing that if she'd known she could go home this early again, she would have tried to make plans.  Donna's ability to find Josh at fault in just about any situation had been raised to an art form over the years. 

Josh's own plan had been simple.  Make sure everything had gone well with the speech; then get Sam home.  The previous night's aborted attempt at sharing some intimate time was weighing on Josh's mind slightly.  He knew he'd dashed all hopes of that when he'd made the remarks in the bathroom, even as he felt more than ever it was something Sam had to deal with once and for all, that it cast a shadow over most of his dealings with people.  So foremost on his agenda tonight was to keep things on track, and make Sam forget all about the last few days.

It took Josh a moment to register the voices down the hallway growing closer.  He could make out Leo's, saying something about running behind schedule.  Then, the unmistakable voice of his lover, and best friend.  "...notes on the luncheon next week."

One minute later, Josh saw Leo enter his office, leaving Sam still standing a little awkwardly near his door.

"Oh, yoo hoo," Josh called teasingly.  Sam's eyes found Josh a second later, a look of surprise and relief on his face.

"Hey, what are you doing camping out in here?" Sam wanted to know, pulling out a chair beside Josh.  His eyes darted around hastily, as if gauging their level of privacy.

"I want to kiss you, too," Josh said low, his dark eyes flashing mischievously. 

Sam squirmed slightly, a timid smile gracing his lips.  "I want to do so much more than that," he sighed.  "President Bartlet's not back?"  He picked up Josh's watch and examined it idly. 

Josh leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, hands clenching and unclenching each other.  "Another hour, Toby says.  So?"

"So...?"

"Sam."  Blowing out a breath, Josh shot back in his seat.  "Shark Woman, and the V.P., and everything?  Leo said it was a done deal before he headed over to the OEOB.  So, tell me.  Obviously, she took it.  But how did it go?"

Sam nonchalantly spread some of Josh's papers out on the table, then carefully drew them back into neat piles.  A pen sat inside a book, and he removed it and replaced its cap with studied movements, then tore a strip of paper and placed it in the book to mark the page.

"Hello, my name is Josh.  And you are...?"

"Hm?  Oh.  It went well.  Like you said, she took it, and he met her, and they're still over there working out the details."  Sam smiled benignly.  "There's nothing else to tell, really."

Seemingly satisfied, Josh reached under the table, and gave Sam's thigh a squeeze.  "Nice job, Sam.  I mean it.  You and Toby worked things out, and Toby said the speech was a hit; Swift's little stunt will be common knowledge as soon as Kim's out of there; our Ms. Mallet and her nefarious betrothed are both out of government work, I imagine.  And you survived your dealings with the Shark with all your body parts intact."  His smile turned slightly predatory.  "At least, I'm assuming they're all there.  I guess I won't know for sure until I get you home, and out of your clothes...."

"Yeah," Sam said, dislodging Josh's hand, and getting to his feet.  "Well, thanks.  I, I feel like, yeah; it was a good week."  Ignoring Josh's startled expression, Sam headed for the door.  "I'm gonna get my laptop and work on my notes for the drug thing while we wait.  You're staying in here, right?"  Sam was already halfway into the hallway.

Josh nodded his head in the affirmative, but Sam out of sight before he had a chance to say 'yes'.

__________________________

His own project long abandoned, Josh sat with his shoulder nearly touching Sam's, who was typing away on his laptop, embellishing his ideas for the drug policy luncheon.  "That's the longest damn sentence I've ever seen, Sam.  You write like you talk."

"They're just notes, Josh.  Stream of consciousness."

Fidgeting with a pair of paperclips, Josh leaned into Sam firmly.  "Wanna make out in my office?"

"No."  The keys of Sam's computer continued their clacking sound.

"Wanna – "

Sam stopped typing abruptly.  "Do you wanna know what I want?" he asked over the top of his glasses.  "I 'wanna' get enough of these thoughts on paper, so I don't have to think about it all weekend.  Freeing up time I could be thinking of you.  So, if that idea pleases you – "

"I should let you work. Got it."  Josh tossed aside the paperclips and picked up a highlighter.  His second attempt at twirling it around his fingers like a baton sent it flying across Sam's screen, causing the speechwriter to pause momentarily.

"Grrrr."

Josh's eyes narrowed with curiosity.  "Did you just growl at me, or was that your stomach?" he wanted to know.

The right corner of Sam's mouth twitched in amusement, but then dipped into a frown.  "You know, it may very well have been my stomach.  I think I forgot to eat anything today."  He seemed puzzled, but ultimately unconcerned.

"Anything?  All day?!" Josh bleated.  "No, Baby, that's just wrong."  Then, "Uh.  Sorry.  Again.  But wait right here, don't run away or anything.  Just...."  Josh was on his feet and moving swiftly to the door.  "Just stay there."

Josh was long gone before Sam sighed and began typing again. 

Stumbling back into the Roosevelt Room a few minutes later, Josh sat next to Sam.  He held three large oranges, which he placed on the table.  "Compliments of my mother," Josh announced, glowing.

"I'm really on a roll, here," Sam said apologetically, dipping his head in the direction of the full screen.  "I don't want to step out of the zone right now.  But thanks; they look good."  He went back to flittering his fingers across the keyboard.

"'Kay.  Okay."  Josh took one of the heavy pieces of fruit in his hand and dug a fingernail into the thick skin.  Once he made a clean dent, he plunged in further, ripping chunks of the outer layer away from the juicy flesh.  He sloppily separated a section, and presented it to Sam.  "Here."

Sam looked casually at Josh's offering, his eyes crinkled in appreciation.  Popping the orange into his mouth, he reset his gaze back on the screen for only a second before whipping his head around to face Josh.  "Oh my god; that's delicious!"

Josh beamed back at Sam's expression of delight.  He quickly tore away another section and handed it over.

"Mmmm!"  Sam smacked his lips contentedly.  He accepted one more piece before bringing his attention back to his notes.  "You gotta thank your mom for these," he said distractedly.  "Why haven't you brought these home yet?"

"I don't like to eat oranges.  I hate peeling them."

Sam smiled to himself.  "You're doing it now."

"You weren't going to.  Here."  Josh held a new section to Sam's lips.  Eyes never leaving the screen, Sam opened obediently and let Josh slide the fruit into his mouth.

"Ask her to send some more."

"Here."

"Hey, can I bring up the "mean and mandatory" thing, or should I wait for the President to make it part of our official recommendation?"

"Mention that the President is enthusiastically investigating it, but don't commit.  Here."

Sam worked on for twenty minutes, while Josh systematically fed him another orange, allowing his fingers to briefly linger against Sam's lips every once in a while.  He brought his own mouth close to Sam's ear and whispered, "I bet you taste like oranges."

Sam slid his eyes over his lover's hands and whispered back, "I bet your fingers are sticky."

Leo's voice broke through the charged silence that followed. "What are you two doing here?" he barked, coming into the room.

Josh almost came out of his seat, scattering his untidy pile of orange peels across the floor.  "Leo!  We're – I'm waiting for President Bartlet and Toby to come back.  Sam's working on – "

"Yeah, well, I just spoke to him, and he's planning on going straight to the Residence," Leo said sternly.  "And I wasn't just talkin' about what you're doing sitting in here.  Now clean this mess up, and get the hell out of here, both of you."

__________________________

After two bowls of cereal apiece, eaten in bed, with an Al Pacino movie droning on in the background, Sam and Josh turned out the lamp and found each other under the covers.

Josh's arms encircled Sam possessively, pulling on him until the younger man blanketed his body.  Rocking gently, letting friction take care of what he wanted his hands, or his mouth to be doing, Josh pulled back and looked up into shockingly hypnotic eyes.  By the undulating light of the tv, he could see the clear outline of blue circling the wide, dark pupils.

"You *are* beautiful, Sam.  God, how I wish you could accept that as a complement, and not a judgment."

Sam's groan climbed out of his chest, and rested against Josh's cheek.  "I can't believe you're doing this again....  Just one fucking night, you know?  Give me this one goddamn night, Josh."  

Josh was surprised that he heard resignation, and not fury in Sam's voice.  With Sam's head resting dejectedly against Josh's shoulder, he pressed a kiss to his temple.

He considered backing off again, but the sight of Sam's dark hair spilling across his arrestingly handsome face, made him feel compelled to speak his mind.  "Half your problem is that you think people can't see who you are past your looks.  But I think *you're* the one who's not giving credit where it belongs," Josh said accusingly.  "If this is always going to undermine you, you're the only one to blame."

"Which I've heard before, and I'm not in the mood to analyze tonight."  Sam sounded drained and wounded suddenly, and Josh once more considered dropping the subject.  The same way he had the last half a dozen times he'd tried to bring it up.

"You know, Sam, you can't go your whole life questioning people's motives.  That's got to wear you down at some point."

"I know that."

"You've got to trust them to – "

"I know, I know." Sam lifted his head and looked pleadingly at his partner.  "Why are you doing this now?  Do you really think this is fair?" he asked quietly, rolling away.

Josh stared open-mouthed for a moment, then propped himself on an elbow and stared intently at Sam's profile.  "Fair?" he challenged.  "Do you think it's fair that I can't tell you - the man I love, my *lover* - that I find you attractive?  That I like looking at you?  You think it's fair to me, that I have to censor myself *in bed* because you're unable, or unwilling to take my expressions of endearment at face value?"  He snorted dismissively before cupping Sam's cheek in his hand.  "Put it away, Sam.  Just put it away, let it go, and listen to the words I'm saying to you right here.  In our bed, while I'm *trying* to make love to you.  Jesus."

Sam lay still, his gaze plastered to the ceiling.  Without looking away, one hand reached out and took hold of Josh's.  Pressing his lips together, he slowly turned to face him.

Josh's voice came to him through the sputtering light from the tv. "I'm not Toby, ya know.  Equating your looks with your abilities.  And I'm not Kim Carruthers," Josh said, a faint accusation lurking beneath the words.  "I don't want to fuck you just so I can put it on my resume."

Sam grunted softly.  He swept a hand over his face; let it drop into his lap.

"You're right," he exhaled.  "You're absolutely right, and I'm sorry I'm...."  Sam wriggled closer, squirming around to line up neatly facing Josh, one arm under his head, the other hand lazily tracing Josh's pelvic bone under his boxers.  "Okay; I'm just gonna do that.  Put it all away.  There it goes.  Bye-bye."  Sam's hand dove deeper into Josh's shorts, moving over his hardening shaft, twirling his fingers in the profuse thicket of hair.  He smiled sweetly at Josh, settled himself into the pillow and gazed back at the man he loved.

Josh focused entirely on Sam's eyes again, admiring each individual, thick lash that framed the blue spheres.  "You have purdy eyes, Sam," he whispered, nuzzling his lover's nose with his own, dropping a light kiss on the inviting lips.  "Mmmm.  Soft."  Drawing his tongue across his own tingling lips, Josh let one corner of his mouth twitch against a smile.  "Nice nose.  Very, um, classic."

Sam's shy smile grew more confident.

While his hand moved down along the curve of Sam's hip, Josh licked at the hollow at the base of his throat.  "Good chin; strong chin.  Great shoulders."

A surge of desire flooded through Josh, the game becoming too much to concentrate on when Sam's hand gripped him harder, playing along his length.  A series of small moans escaped his throat, and his lids fluttered feebly as he began to feel every muscle in his body begin to quake.  Josh felt helplessly aroused, insanely in love, frantically alive.

His orgasm ripped through him, tearing a path that led straight to Sam.  With quick movements that took them both by surprise, Josh flung Sam on his back, and devoured him whole, barely finding the ability to gulp down air.  He watched Sam slide towards his climax, arms thrown to his sides, back pressed into the bed.  The sweet, tortured, delicious liberation brought Sam into Josh's arms, breathless, quivering, and weakened to a point near tears.

"God, Baby," Josh murmured softly in Sam's ear.  "That was...."

"Beautiful," Sam finished, his eyes closing contentedly as he sank further into Josh's arms.  "That was beautiful."

Chapters - 1 | 2 | 3 |

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