by Am-Chau Yarkona
rating: no worse than the show, so perhaps a 12
summary: Josh and Sam… yeah, just that.
notes: expertly betaed by Likethesun and Britt Rose
* * *
"He's drunk," Sam said apologetically to the middle-age female face which peered belligerently down the hall at them. When she had disappeared, he turned his attention back to Josh's fumblings with the door key.
Josh tried once more to unlock the door, but… "It keeps moving," he grumbled, leaning on the door to keep from falling over.
"Allow me," Sam said, taking Josh's key and succeeding on his second attempt. Josh stumbled forward as the door opened, his normally tense body somehow out of his control. He finished the move nose-to-floor in the hallway.
"Hi," he said to his apartment floor, and then, "Durkheim was closer than people suppose."
The floor failed to reply. Sam hesitated for a moment, knowing that he could leave but sure he'd feel guilty if he did, then shut the door-decisively, and a little louder than he'd intended-and knelt beside Josh. "Time for bed, Joshua."
Josh rolled onto his side, with a drunk's graceful disregard for discomfort, and stretched a hand towards Sam. "I mean, compare his explanation of religious belief with Freud's. It makes so much more sense to place the origin of… it's possible I'm going to vomit later this evening."
"Obviously, sociology is the way to go," Sam agreed, taking Josh's hand and pulling him up to a sitting position. "Bathroom, or bucket?"
"I don't own a bucket," Josh said, as if this somehow made him a better person. He pulled away from Sam and stood up, swaying a little. "Children aren't religious as young as some people suppose-they copy their parents in words and actions, but they don't come to genuine, thought-through belief until…" Josh frowned. "Sam, aren't you listening to me?"
"I'm listening," Sam assured him, resting his back on the wall. "Are you going to be talking about sociology all night?"
"Maybe," Josh replied, haughtily. "It's highly important to understand these things."
"You love trivia, don't you?"
"You've got me confused with the President."
"No, I haven't," Sam said, looking at Josh's tousled hair and thinking that he was pretty sure he doesn't want to run his fingers through President Bartlet's hair. "Which is a good thing, because Abbey would kill me," he added.
"If Leo didn't get there first," Josh nodded. He looked around, seeming to realise that he was standing the middle of the hallway. "Come on in," he said, smiling at Sam. "Let us be like the warriors of old, quaffing fine ale and telling tales of brave deeds and derring-do."
A reasonable analogy, Sam mused: politics is a battlefield every day, and their latest loss-a bill with an amendment they were effectively blackmailed into accepting-hit Josh hard, even if the alcohol had given him a false veneer of good cheer.
"Speak not of our recent defeats, Good Knight Samuel," Josh continued, sauntering through his living room into the kitchen area and pulling wine bottles from the fridge.
"I think I need a tinfoil hat," Sam remarked. Logic didn't seem to be at a premium. He took a seat on the couch.
Josh took two corkscrews out, and leaned over to hand one to Sam. Their fingers brushed, softly. It could just have been the alcohol slowing their reactions. "Our tales will be of times past, when folk where brave and bold and dragons roamed the land."
"As opposed to nowadays, when we lock them in Congress."
"This is good wine," Josh observed, and put that bottle back, taking out two cheaper bottles instead. "Here."
Sam accepted a bottle. "So," he said, taking a kind of pleasure in digging the corkscrew deep into the defenceless wood. It seemed vaguely symbolic, though he couldn't say of what.
"You don't think Durkheim was so majorly misguided in other areas that his account of religion is flawed by it?"
"Obviously, one has to take that into account," Josh said, flopping down at Sam's side and leaning forward to place two glasses on the table. "But, no, I think it's inherently a stronger theory than Freud's, and much, much stronger than other theories-Marx, for example."
"Strong enough for atheism to be the only option for a right-thinking person?" Sam asked.
Josh shook his head. "No, no, genetic fallacy, and all that. But strong enough for atheism to be a viable option."
"You're drunk," Sam said, pouring wine. "You must be really drunk-you never talk about religion when you're sober."
"Yeah," Josh shrugged. "And I don't talk about…"
Sam gave him a glass, and tried to look him in the eye when he asked, "What? What else don't you talk about sober?"
"Never mind," Josh said, but he kept his eyes on the far wall. Sam tried to look at the pictures or the bookshelves, something innocent, but found himself studying the curve of Josh's spine, the slope of his shoulder blades pressed against his shirt. "What do you think, anyway? About religion?"
"I don't know," Sam said. "I often think I don't really care. Agnostic, I guess, with a bit of an inclination to be Christian in public or a crisis."
This was apparently not the answer Josh wanted. He stood up, too quickly, spilling his drink a little. "You don't care?" he asked. It was suddenly clear to Sam that the question wasn't about religion, wasn't even about politics. The mental tinfoil hat he had been using to try and stop Josh reading his mind, though, seemed to work both ways, and he couldn't for the life of him imagine to what the question did refer.
"I care," he said, because he knew it was a strong speaking technique to begin with a firm positive verb. The President would like to say that. I care. I know. I act. "I care about doing the best job I can. About working for the country, about looking out for my friends."
Josh turned to face him and at last their eyes meet. "Yeah," he said, with a little sigh, like he'd known all along but wanted it confirmed. He drained his glass.
"More?" Sam offered, because he was still holding the bottle. Josh nodded, sitting down again, closer to Sam this time and at a slant to the edge of the couch so that they were nearly facing each other. Sam shifted as he poured to emphasis or acknowledge that.
Their knees touched. The contact was warm, but it made Sam shiver; Josh didn't seem to be aware of it.
"Thanks," Josh said. He was smiling, Sam noticed. He looked relaxed, which was a rare thing for any of them.
"Josh," Sam began, "have you ever…" He couldn't finish the question. What kind of person needed to ask that, anyway? If Josh was bi, surely there would be some clue he could have-should have-picked up on… they'd known each other for so long, but he'd never had the courage to ask….
"What?" Josh asked.
"Nothing," Sam said. He stood up, tearing his eyes away from the edges and angles of Josh's body. "I should go. I have a seven-thirty tomorrow."
Josh nodded, absently, and poured himself another glass of wine. "Okay. See you."
"See you," Sam said. He let himself out.
* * *
The next morning, the sun shone spitefully down on Joshua Lyman's aching head.
"You look awful," Donna said, with a grin as unsympathetic as a large rock with a stone heart.
Josh didn't deign to reply. It was eight-fifteen, miniature men with mallets were building a cathedral of pain just behind his temples, and his assistant was being a smartass. He was seriously considering vomiting again.
"You have an eight o'clock waiting in your office, Leo wants to have seen you ten minutes ago, you also have an eight-thirty about a report I don't think you've read, and Sam looks nearly as bad as you do. Did you two go out drinking last night? 'Cos it was a really bad time." Donna rattled the list off cheerily as they stride along the corridor.
"Okay," Josh managed to say. He swung around. "I'm going to see CJ."
Donna frowned at him, but he didn't care. He walked away from her, and found CJ heading for Leo's office.
"Josh!" she said, "You know Leo wants to see you, don't you?"
"Yes," Josh said.
"Are you okay? You look even worse than Sam does."
"Yeah," Josh said. "After this, I need to talk to you."
CJ opened her mouth to answer, but they'd arrived at Leo's office, and Toby, Sam, and Mandy were already there. "Where've you been, Josh?" Leo asked. "I told Donna I needed to see you half an hour ago."
Josh shrugged. "Sorry, Leo."
"Don't let it happen again," Leo said. "Let's get started."
"Sam's writing a speech about the wonders of nursing," Toby said.
"And health workers," Sam said, "and medics generally." As CJ had said, he looked terrible. Josh hoped that wasn't his fault.
"What else is happening today?" Leo wanted to know.
"A school in Nevada wants to ban fairy tale books because they might promote damaging ideas," CJ said. "Other than that, not much."
"Josh, find out what's going on there and if someone needs to set up meetings," Leo instructed.
"I have to meet the finance people this morning, and someone who wants me to protect trees," Josh said, semi-protesting.
"I don't think anyone else can take it," Leo said.
He looked at Mandy, who shook her head. "The President's meeting with Boris Yeltsin is going to have to be very carefully staged or it'll be a major PR disaster."
Josh sighed, and Leo nodded. "If that's all, then…"
They scurried out. CJ took Josh by the shoulder and dragged him into her office like a lioness collecting her share of the kill. "What is it, Joshua?"
Flinching, Josh tried to find a place to begin. "It's…" He didn't really want to ask CJ this. Stupid to be laying the foundations for a revelation before you have anything to reveal.
"Have you done something monumentally stupid?" CJ suggested, shuffling papers on her desk until she uncovered a half-empty packet of fish food.
"It's not a work thing," Josh offered, "at least, not yet." Conversely, if you're ready to reveal it, you might be ready to obtain it…
"Okay," CJ said, "have you done something monumentally stupid in your personal life?"
Josh began to pace up and down the room: four strides from door to desk, four strides back again. "I don't know."
"You don't know what you've done? And please stop wearing a hole in my carpet, this administration can't afford to replace that kind of thing."
"It's more something I haven't done," Josh explained, perching on the edge of a chair. "Or something I've been thinking about but I'm not sure if I should do or not, because I don't know enough about the situation and how it might be received, and I'm not even sure why I'm telling you about this."
CJ nodded, slowly, and sat down behind her desk. "I'm your friend, Josh, it's perfectly normal that you should explain this stuff to me. By the way, that explanation was so stunningly clear that I can now understand it all, seeing through the muddy waters to a whole heap of mud."
"Maybe if I give you a hypothetical example of a similar situation?"
"Go ahead," CJ said, but Carol knocked on the door. "What?"
"Danny wants to see you before the briefing, which you said would be at eight-fifteen sharp today."
"So?"
"It's eight twenty-five," Carol said, apologetically.
CJ nodded briskly, and added in Josh's direction, "Make it a thirty-second hypothetical."
"Say there are two fictional people," Josh began. "One of them is very attracted to the other one, but doesn't know the other's sexual preferences. What does he do?"
"If you're trying to ask me out, Josh, I'm straight but the answer's no," CJ said, stacking folders.
"Not you, Claudia Jean. Someone else. And I never said I was one of the hypothetical people."
"In my experience, the best thing to do is ask them," CJ said. She stood up. "Either that, or find out who they've dated in the past. If she only dates other women, you're never going to trick her into going out with you, Josh, delectably feminine though you are."
"You're a fount of helpfulness and wisdom today," Josh muttered, and opened the door for her.
* * *
"…and the professor's really mean, he marks everyone down," Laurie finished, and then leaned towards the window in a vain attempt to be looking straight at Sam's face. "Sam, are you even listening to me, or did you come here to stare out the window?"
"Sorry," Sam said, and tried to concentrate on Laurie. "You were talking about… about your classes, right? Something about marking?"
"Right," Laurie agreed, rolling her eyes. "Shut up and eat lunch, Sam, you're clearly on some other planet."
They attacked their food in silence for a moment, and then Laurie asked, "Any chance you're going to tell me what's going on in there?"
"In where, Laurie?" Sam tried to keep his voice even. "You know I can't talk about my job."
Laurie nodded, stabbing an errant piece of lettuce. "I know. But I meant in your head. You're thinking about something big, and I have a hunch it's not work."
"It could be work," Sam objected. "My work is big."
"Yeah, yeah. But it's not work, is it?"
Sam sighed. "No, on this occasion it's not."
"So, what is it?"
"You don't take a hint, do you?"
"Was that a hint? Was I supposed to stop asking questions, or be overawed by your superior employment, or something? Because you should know, Mr Seaborn, I don't intend to be distracted that easily when I'm cross-examining a witness, and furthermore, I've started practising."
"That's good," Sam said. "You need lots of practise."
"Answer the question, Samuel Seaborn."
"Samuel Norman Seaborn, actually."
"Whatever. Answer the question."
"Which question exactly?"
"What were you thinking about?"
"What was I thinking about when?"
"When you were staring out of the window just now!"
"I was thinking about… how the trees are bare, and it's a long time until spring."
"And that took you a whole five minutes, to think that?"
"It could have."
"If you thought really slowly," Laurie countered. "I don't believe you, Mr Seaborn, and neither does the jury."
Sam looked around the quiet sandwich bar. "There's a jury now?"
"They're invisible," Laurie said. "And they're firmly on my side, so you'd better give me a believable answer, and quickly."
"Okay, okay," Sam said, holding up his hands in a gesture of mock-acceptance, then lowered his voice. "I was indulging in five of the three hundred and sixteen minutes an average guy spends every day thinking about sex. Believable?"
Laurie laughed quietly. "Oh yes. The thing is, now I want more details."
"Not you," Sam said at once.
"Oh?" Laurie raised her eyebrows. "Then who?"
"Well…" Sam hesitated. "You'll never, ever, talk to the press, right?"
"In my line of work? I try and avoid the public eye."
"Right," Sam said. "Well, then-okay, I don't want to just say this."
"So what do we do, play Twenty Questions?"
Sam checked his watch. At least ten minutes before he ought to leave. "Okay."
"You have to tell me if it's animal, vegetable or mineral, first."
"Humans are animals, Laurie, so I think that's a fairly safe bet."
"But is that actually the right answer?"
"Human, Laurie. I fantasize about a human."
"It's good to know that you're not one of these guys who thinks of women as subhuman, Sam."
Sam smiled, but didn't say anything.
"Okay," Laurie said, "If we're really doing this, then, question one is 'is it a woman?'"
Moment of truth. Sam took a quick glance to make sure nobody was watching, and then shook his head.
"O-kaaay," Laurie said, drawing it out almost as long as a sentence. For a moment, Sam entertained the idea that it would be a death sentence, but the invisible jury apparently declared him not guilty. Laurie took a deep breath in and asked, "Is he someone I've met?"
Sam nodded.
"Someone at the White House?"
Another nod.
Laurie opened her mouth to speak, but paused, looking thoughtful. "Not that Josh guy?"
Sam glanced around again, nervously. "Got it in four," he said, tightly, then checked his watch again. "I really should be going."
"You're going to tell me that and then leave?" Laurie said, taken aback.
"It's my preferred method of breaking news," Sam told her-thinking that her expression almost perfectly matched Josh's just a few months ago, when Josh had found out about Laurie. He felt that in a little while he might be able to appreciate the irony in that.
"Okay," Laurie said, shrugging, but when Sam stood up she grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. "Just two things, Sammy. One, don't you dare think I'm not cool with your being bi, and two, twenty bucks says Josh Lyman is straight like a ruler."
"Thanks for the advice, Laurie," Sam nodded, and hurried away.
* * *
Thirteen hours passed in a spot-lit blur: meetings, telephone calls, reading and drafting memos. At the edge of Josh's awareness all day, however, floated Sam.
Occasionally Sam was there in person, weighing in on a debate or coming from his office to tell Toby and Josh to keep their argument quieter because he was writing. Those moments seemed dreamlike when they finished, though.
Mostly Sam was there in his thoughts. He thought about Sam the night before, leaning close enough to touch-close enough to kiss-and derailed that train of thought as quickly as possible. He thought about Sam, all the years he'd known Sam, and he found himself doodling lists in the margins of his notes. They typically started: Laurie Lisa Mallory.
Once, he started a list which began Nicola Christopher Mandy, but Donna walked into his office with a message and he hid it quickly. It was as good an excuse as any not to write Sam.
"This is the speech of Senator Kinsey's you said you wanted a copy of," Donna said, adding another folder to one of the piles already on his desk. "And this is the memo I've just written about fairy tale books and why some people in Nevada want to ban them. Also, I'd like to know which dream-world you're living in today."
Josh looked at her, trying to work out if that was a serious request, an attempt at tactfully relaying a complaint, or just one of Donna's random things. "It's not a nice place, Donna. You're there, and it's like a nightmare."
"That's not because of me, though, is it?"
"Could be," Josh said, glancing at Donna's lips and wondering why he didn't want to touch them. "You make my waking world into an accurate facsimile of hell, after all."
"Not as much as C-" Donna began, but Josh's rapidly raised eyebrows warned her just in time. "Toby does," she finished, and turned around. "Hey, CJ. If you want to maul him, I was just leaving."
"I would, but Carol hasn't sharpened my knives this week," CJ replied. They exchanged smiles as Donna left.
"What is it, CJ?" Josh asked, retrieving his backpack from the corner and shoving Kinsey's speech into it. "If it's big, keep it quiet until tomorrow. I was just about to head home."
"Got reading to do?" CJ enquired, an eyebrow raised. Josh nodded. "It's like being back at school, isn't it?"
"Complete with scary teachers," Josh answered. "I think Toby may have missed his calling when he didn't go into teaching terrified second graders."
"He's certainly got a good enough grasp of Seasame Street to cope admirably," CJ agreed, shutting the doors. "But I didn't walk all this way to talk about Toby. It's about what you said this morning."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," CJ said, putting her hands on the front desk of Josh's desk and leaning forward enough that if he didn't know better, Josh would have mistaken the action for looming. "You were very careful with the pronouns, Josh, or rather the lack of them, so this is all guesswork, and if I'm wrong, ignore me: but if you're considering a relationship with another man, that's fine. The only thing is, I want to know as soon as he does, and long, long before the press has the slightest inkling. Okay?"
Josh nodded.
"Long, long before. Are you clear on that, Joshua? Not 'five minutes before', or 'before they ask questions about it' or even 'before they know'. Before they guess, right?"
"Before they guess," Josh echoed.
CJ looked down at him, straight into his eyes as if she was intending to drill oil out of him with her gaze alone.
"Before they guess," Josh said again. "I'm very clear about that, CJ."
"If it's someone else in the White House, I might need to know even sooner," she added.
Josh nodded again, a little lost for words.
"Okay," CJ said. "I'll see you tomorrow." She turned towards the door, but paused before she opened it. "By the way, Sam left the building about ten minutes ago."
She left Josh there to ponder bemusedly on the over-intelligence of certain press secretaries.
Josh pondered for a minute, as he knew he was expected to, then gathered his backpack and coat and went to his car.
* * *
Three doors along the hall from Josh's apartment, a middle-aged woman by the name of Irene Whistler sat at the window until one twenty-seven in the morning, when Joshua Lyman's car pulled around the corner. The she listened at the door until one forty-one, when Joshua Lyman staggered back into his apartment, singing under his breath. She was beginning to suspect that she and Catherine were a hair's breadth from their big break-and when she phoned Catherine, one floor up from Mr Samuel Seaborn, she knew it for sure.
Catherine reported that (Irene noted the exact words, in young Johnny needed them): "That Lyman came over about half past ten, and they were sitting talking for ages. I think they were a bit drunk, too-not as bad as sometimes, Lyman could still walk, but drunk enough to talk too loud-I heard it all. They're-this is what he said-'giving it a whirl'. And I could be wrong, but I think there was kissing. I'd call your nephew John, if I were you."
Irene did indeed call John. John called his editor, who called Joe, currently a member of the White House Press Corps….
* * *
The next morning, Senior Staff ran late-the President and Sam had a trivia face-off over American geography, while Leo, Toby, CJ, and Josh remained strategically silent-and CJ didn't manage to catch Josh alone before the press briefing.
She kept it short. "… just one more question before I wrap this up," she said, "Joe?"
"CJ, is it true that two senior White House staffers are in a homosexual relationship?"
"What staffers do in their private lives is, obviously, private," CJ replied, resisting the strong temptation to bang her head on the podium. "We don't comment on the private lives of our staff-that's our policy. Thank you, everyone; there'll be another briefing in an hour or so."
There were lots of questions unanswered-she could feel them in the air, a smog of curiosity that made her want to cough.
"Carol, please tell me nothing bad is going to happen today," CJ ordered as she entered her office.
Carol, carrying a stack of folders, frowned. "I can tell you that, but it might not be true."
"Lie to me," CJ said, slumping into her chair and staring at Gail, whose fishbowl featured a small plastic book. "What's Gail reading?" she added.
"Fairy tales, the same as every other kid in the country-except the two hundred who attend Lincoln Middle School, Nevada," Sam said from the doorway. "And you are soon going to be refreshing your memory of Little Red Riding Hood, because it's going to be part of the national debate tomorrow or sooner."
"How can you be so sure?" CJ enquired, nodding at Carol as a signal for her to leave. "And why will anyone care about it? Schools ban books all the time."
"Yes," Sam agreed. "But banning books isn't the issue. The issue is freedom of speech. Come with me, I have to tell Josh and Toby and possibly Leo this, too."
CJ stood up, but said, "Wait! Shut the door a second."
"Why, CJ, are you going to tell me something secret? You don't actually know missile codes, do you?"
"No, it's you who's going to be telling secrets, Sparky."
"I am?"
"It depends on the answer to this question: are you in a homosexual relationship with a fellow White House staffer?"
Sam, hand still on the doorknob, froze. "CJ, why are you asking me this?"
"I have reason to believe it's a sensible question," CJ said. "Sam, you do understand that if you are, I'm not only your new best friend but your best line of defence and possibly the only thing standing between you and your doom?"
"Err," Sam said. "Look, I…" His shoulders sagged.
"You what?"
"I'm not sure that relationship is the right word, but…"
"Did you talk to Joshua Lyman last night?"
"Well… talked isn't the word, actually. He came by. We drank. He-" Sam spun around, opening the door as he went, and proceeded to walk straight backwards into one of CJ's armchairs, which he fell into.
"Glad to see I still have the power," Josh remarked dryly.
"Speak of the devil," CJ replied. "Shut the door, Josh, we were just talking about you."
"Which side of the door do you want me?" Josh asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam, who struggled out of the chair and tried to regain a little dignity.
"In the meeting, Josh," CJ told him.
He obeyed.
"I had an interesting little question at the end of this morning's briefing about White House staffers and homosexual relationships," CJ said. "I'm looking at you two, and you two look guilty."
"I'm not guilty," Josh protested.
Sam said, quietly, "You kissed me."
"Yeah," Josh said. "I said, I'm not guilty. I didn't say, I'm not in a homosexual relationship."
"So what we have is a relationship?" Sam asked. "We didn't seem very clear about that last night."
"Last night we were drunk," Josh shrugged. "Again. Today we're clear. Clear like crystal which has been polished so that you can see through it, to use some of that imagery you're so fond of."
"Of which I'm so fond," Sam said, automatically. "Relationship. That's… good, I suppose. It just seems very serious."
"Sam…" Josh said, in a tone which had don't make me beg written on its forehead. "If you're having second thoughts…"
"You shouldn't be having them here," CJ interrupted. "This is all very cute, guys, but we have jobs to do. Apparently we have to talk about fairy tales, and I have to see Mandy, and things are going to keep happening around here whether you two are in a relationship or not. All I need to know is, how much are the press going to know, and how soon?"
"CJ, I honestly don't know have they could have even guessed," Josh said. "I know you said, before they guessed, but I'm almost positive there's no way they could have anything on us."
"Neighbours?" Sam suggested. "Someone might have seen you come into my building last night."
"But that wouldn't mean anything," Josh said. "I've been over before without anyone starting this sort of rumour!"
"Never mind that now," CJ said. "It could just have been a shot in the dark, but we'd better assume they have a source and work from there. I'm going to leave you two alone for five minutes, and then come back and you can either tell me that we have to go and see Leo about this, or everything I need to know about this school in Nevada, because there's nothing else to tell Leo."
CJ made a point of shutting the door behind herself, but she didn't go further than Carol's desk.
* * *
"Okay," Sam said. "Are we-?"
"I want to," Josh said. Sam looked puzzled. "I'll explain later," Josh promised. "If we're going to do this, we'll do better to get through the stuff here first, and the personal stuff later."
"And if the personal stuff doesn't work out?"
"We'll make it work," Josh said. "Okay?"
Sam was still frowning, but nodded.
"Let's go." Josh opened the door and nodded to CJ, who swept around and led the little group through the corridors. He thought they must look like the shot on the Buffy credits where the Scoobies march towards the camera, stakes and axes in hand, but he didn't dare voice the idea because he knew he'd be roundly mocked for watching Buffy. Even-no, especially-if he explained that Giles and Xander both reminded him of Sam.
"This isn't about the school in Nevada, right?" CJ checked.
Josh shook his head. "But you should be up on that anyway."
"Okay, what's the thing with that?"
"The thing is," Sam explained as they walked, "some kid who read a book of fairy tales outside school started telling them to his classmates. His classmates tried to look them up in the school library, but couldn't find them. They went home and asked their parents, who were upset that their little dears had come home talking about witches and things. Their parents are now trying to sue the school for allowing another child to corrupt their children."
"Fairy tales are corrupting?" CJ asked. "Really?"
"Well, I don't think so, but apparently they're as bad as Harry Potter about promoting witchcraft," Sam said. "Especially Cinderella."
"I liked Harry Potter," Josh said, musingly, but had the bad luck to do so at the precise moment Toby joined their parade.
"Who's your favourite character, Josh, Neville Longbottom?" Toby enquired. "What's wrong with Cinderella, and are we all going to see Leo?"
All three of them answered him at once. "Yes," said CJ; "It encourages magic," said Sam; and Josh said, belligerently, "You see, even you've read Harry Potter!"
They were at Leo's office, and Margaret was staring at them. "He's there," she said. "But if you lot are in one of your funny moods, I don't think you should hold him responsible for his actions."
"Fair warning," Josh muttered. "Always a bad sign," and they went on in.
* * *
It wasn't long before Josh was sure that this had been a bad idea. Coming out was bad enough, but coming out to an old friend of your father's over a relationship that had hardly started-really, really bad.
It was only made bearable by two things: CJ's firm we-support-them stance, and Sam's impassioned and eloquent defence in the face of Leo's professional concerns.
"We can stick with 'no comment on the personal lives of staffers' for a while," CJ said, trying to calm the situation, but Leo wasn't having it.
"And when the press refuse to take it, and hound these two until they can't do their jobs let alone have any privacy?"
"Then we'll make a statement," Sam said. "They're our lives, we'll spend them as we choose to. It's not the business of the press, but we're not going to live in secret or hide from them, so if they want to know, we'll tell them: we're out, we're proud, and if they hate our guts or are consumed by jealousy, that's not our problem!"
It was, Josh mused, a splendid sight: Sam Seaborn, not merely writing the speech but making it. He wanted to grieve the lost chances-the president that Sam could have been-but in that instant there wasn't space in his heart for anything other than love.
"Margaret!" Leo shouted. "Find out if the President has a minute."
* * *
"Josh and Sam have something to tell you," Leo announced, striding into the Oval Office. Josh and Sam trailed behind him.
"Is it nice?" the President enquired.
Leo looked at Josh, and Josh looked back at Leo. Sam stared the carpet.
"Well?" Bartlet asked. "Sam, I know I have a fascinating carpet, but you can look at me, you know."
"I know, Mr President," Sam said, lifting his chin. "This is just a little awkward."
"I'll leave you three alone," Leo said. He shut the door behind him.
"Well?" Bartlet repeated. "Are you two in trouble for some reason, or is Leo just determined not to steal your credit for some astonishing breakthrough?"
"Err…" Josh said.
"Um," Sam said.
"You start," said Josh.
"After you," said Sam.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Bartlet said. "Why don't you answer my first question: Josh, is it a nice thing?"
"For me, yes, sir."
"Sam, is it an important thing?"
"For me, yes, sir."
"Josh, are you going to tell me what it is?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well?"
Josh threw one last desperate glance at Sam, who stayed poker faced and looking straight ahead, before he said, "Sir, you know Ted Marcus wants you to be more vocal in support of gay rights?"
"Yes," Bartlet said. He was clearly trying to sound patient.
"Well, it's entirely possible that we're about to create a situation in which you can reasonable, legitimately, and without appearing to give in to any lobbies, do just that."
Bartlet looked slowly from Josh, to Sam, and back at Josh. "You two?"
"Yes, sir." The responses came in unison.
"You crazy kids. You realise I have some questions?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll try and be quick-there's something about fairy tales I need to know about?"
"Cinderella promotes witchcraft," Sam supplied.
"Right. Big ones first, or little ones?"
"Start small and work up?" Josh suggested.
"Sam, I thought you were dating Leo's daughter?"
"It wasn't really working, sir. I'm going to talk to her before we make a statement about this, but I think she saw it coming."
"Okay," Bartlet said. "How long has this been going on?"
Sam and Josh exchanged glances. "A while," Sam settled on. "We've only just gotten around to talking about it."
Bartlet nodded. "And you're ready for this to be a news story?"
"We're going to have to be, sir," Josh said. "CJ had a question about it in her first briefing today."
"You're going to make a statement?" Bartlet asked, and watched with quiet amusement as they checked each other's expressions again. "If you're not ready to, I'm sure CJ can hold them off for a while."
"A couple of days?" Sam suggested. He wasn't looking at the president. "I have to finish the speech for the American Nurses Association-that's tomorrow-and then draft this…"
"That makes sense," Bartlet said, just as someone knocked on the door. "Come in."
Leo appeared in the doorway. "If you're not finished, sir, I'll wait," he offered, but Bartlet shook his head.
"We were just finished, actually," Bartlet told him. "They're going to make a statement on Monday-Sam's taking a day to draft it, and he's going to get Toby to help him. Sam, tell Toby I want him to draft my statement of support, too-I know we're going to need one."
"Sir," Leo began. "Are you sure you want to… not that we don't support them, obviously, but it might not be a good move at this point."
"Lots of Republicans, and a certain number of Democrats, may be less co-operative," Josh put in. "They won't necessarily be up front about why, but we'll have more trouble getting people to switch their votes, for example."
"On a larger scale, you're never going to deal sensibly with the Christian right again," Leo added.
"That might not be a bad thing," Sam said. Josh glared at him, feeling a little betrayed, but he knew the President and Leo were going to agree.
"If it hampers your effectiveness too much, you're going to be in trouble," Bartlet said. "You're going to need a way to cope with those situations. Also, you're going to take even more of the kind of crap that Charlie and Zoey are dealing with. Are you really ready for that?"
There was a pause, a missed beat, while they considered that.
"If you're prepared to support us, sir," Josh said. "I know there are good reasons for you not to, but-"
"On the other hand, if I don't make a statement of support, Ted Marcus might really walk out on us," Bartlet replied. "Leo, can you have Toby be ready with something when this comes out? Now, what's this about Cinderella?"
* * *
…and I'm proud to recognise the hard work done by the nursing staff of America in caring for our citizens, Sam typed. That was basically the end of the first draft; the president could add a few thanks on his own.
Sam hit the 'save' button-at times he thought he'd do that before he rushed out of a burning building-sighed, and looked up for the first time in half an hour.
Josh was sitting on the couch, smirking at him. "It must be a good speech," Josh observed. "You were really deep in it, there."
"It is good," Sam said. "Or it feels good at the moment. Why are you here?"
"Sam, it's seven-thirty; we were going to meet at seven for dinner, remember?"
Shit. Sam froze. This was a great way to start a relationship-set up your first proper date as a couple, and your last proper date before you have to come out or end it, and forget to go. "I'm sorry, Josh," he said, much too fast, trying to shut his laptop and close his notepad and stand up all at the same time. Predictably, he made a mess of it.
Josh just watched him. Sam couldn't tell if it was the fond gaze of a lover or the cold gaze of a cobra about to strike, but he had a sinking feeling that it could easily be the latter.
The laptop's half-closed screen was flashing an error message. The top page of the notepad was creased. Sam sighed, and sat down again. He pressed Ctrl-Alt-Delete and told Windows to shut down, though he wished it had a 'fuck off and die' option. He smoothed the notepad and put it away in a desk drawer.
Then he looked up at Josh, took a deep breath, and said, "This isn't going to work, is it?"
"Nonsense," Josh said. He was fidgeting with something in his jacket pocket. "You didn't notice me, but I only got here five minutes ago."
"Ah," Sam said.
"Donna had to remind me," Josh added. "You talked to Mallory?"
Sam nodded. "And Laurie."
"Okay," Josh said, and for the first time in months he looked genuinely happy. "Let's go to dinner now."
"I… okay," Sam said. He stood up, careful not to bang his knee again, and picked up his coat. "Let's go."
"Steady," Josh said. He stood, straight up into the edges of Sam's personal space, and pointed at Sam's waist. "Pager. Cell phone."
Sam frowned. "What?"
"Leave them here," Josh instructed. "They know where we've gone. This is symbolic of our being not just about the West Wing."
"Someone else might want to get in touch," Sam said, even though he knew it was lame, because there always had to be a brief showing of a counter position. "Laurie might call me."
"All the more reason," Josh said, and it occurred to Sam that, indeed, mentioning Laurie at the start of their first real date was going to be a problem.
"Yeah." Sam put the two offending items on the desk, and let Josh shepherd him out of the door. Josh's hand on his shoulder was warm and firm.
"Have fun," Donna called as they passed her desk.
"Go home," Josh replied. "Unless you have an urge to stay at that desk until the end of time."
"I'm going," Donna told him. "Though it has to be said that if you two make this work, it could easily be a sign of the apocalypse."
"Ignore her," Josh told Sam, pushing him forward again. "She just likes to prophesise bad things. She's always sure it's going to rain tomorrow."
"It is," Donna said to their backs.
Josh propelled Sam past the security guards and into the car park before he let go of his shoulder.
* * *
Saturday night, and places were full. They ended up in a small Italian place, a little way out from the centre of the city, eating pasta and drinking vino de casa.
When Josh wasn't kissing him, Sam thought, when they couldn't even touch because they were in public and not yet out, it was a lot harder to believe that this could ever work.
"… the child must have some First Amendment rights," Josh said. "He only told a story, he wasn't trying to convert them to paganism."
"Yeah," Sam agreed vaguely. "Josh, how the hell do we do this?"
"Have a relationship, you mean?" Josh took a gulp of wine. "Well, it can't be that difficult, right?"
"It might be impossible," Sam said. "For starters, it's not going to work if we both have to get drunk before we can talk about it."
Josh put his glass down, deliberately. "It's going to work, Sam. We're going to make it work."
"Two questions: how and why?"
"Sam, if you don't know why, I'm not sure I can do the how part."
Sam shrugged. "I know my reasons why, Josh. I just don't know what yours are."
"You can be an idiot sometimes, you know that?"
"Humour me." Sam stared at his plate for a moment and then looked up, caught Josh's eyes. "I have reasons, Josh. Reasons that are good. But you've never said anything about your reasons."
"Well, then," Josh said, and his gaze flicked into the distance as if there was a teleprompter a few feet behind Sam's left shoulder. "One, it gives me a very good reason to tell Donna to stop flirting with me."
"Oh, don't spoil her fun," Sam said, grinning. He waved his fork at Josh to emphasise the point. "She doesn't mean anything by it, I'm sure."
Josh swore. "You two are colluding, right?"
"No," Sam said, but when Josh looked doubtful he did admit, "I did tell her to remind you about our date, before I shut myself in my office and proceeded to forget about it."
"I knew there was a conspiracy," Josh said, relaxing in the cushion-like safety of banter. "She's probably got Carol and CJ and the rest, as well."
"Donnatella Moss, head of an organisation-wide spy ring," Sam laughed. "Wanted on three charges: matchmaking, being a busy-body, and efficient diary-keeping."
"You're guilty too, remember?" Josh reminded him. "But you're not letting me get to my next reason."
"Which is?"
Josh leaned forward and lowered his voice. "The next reason for dating you, Sam Seaborn, and making it work, is this: despite your klutzy moments, your tendency to be anal, and your freakish knowledge of inter-state highways, you're actually a very attractive man." Josh sat back, apparently enjoying watching Sam's reaction, though he didn't quite manage to disguise the quick glance that ensured nobody was close enough to have heard them.
"Next up-if it's handled right, supporting us could be seen as a strong, even brave, move for the President. At the very least, it demonstrates that we do support gay rights and that the President isn't entirely middle-of-the-road. And whatever effects it has on our careers-and it's probably going to put an end to any ideas you or I have of running for Senate or Congress or whatever-it's bound to put some extra money on the book deal."
"Only probably?" Sam queried.
Josh nodded. "There's a small chance that by coming out now, the public will have time to get used to us, and in a decade or so one of us might stand a chance. I'm not ruling it out, I'm just not going to count on it. If you don't fancy the book deal, there's always lecturing-universities tend to be fairly liberal places and poly-sci departments would be falling over themselves to have people like us."
"Some of them are already inviting us," Sam noted. "Okay. Go on. You say these reasons are working upwards in importance?"
"Yeah."
"Aren't your priorities at little out of order? Surely my attractiveness is more important then the book deal."
"Wait until you've heard the last one," Josh said.
"Okay."
"Here goes." Josh swallowed, a little nervous. "Finally and conclusively, then, it's worth it-worth the trouble and the battles and the potential death threats-because I love you."
"Err, good," Sam said, when he'd recovered a little from the shock of hearing Josh say that aloud at all, let alone in a public place. "Um-shall we finish this conversation somewhere more private?"
Nodding, Josh waved the waiter over.
They made it to the car before Sam couldn't resist any longer, and kissed Josh until they were both gasping for breath.
"If that's on the front page tomorrow, CJ will kill us," Josh noted when he could speak again.
"I didn't see a flash go off," Sam said.
"Me neither. But I had my eyes shut."
"Me too." Sam shrugged and started the engine. "You'd better talk about work while I drive or we might not get there."
"Okay," Josh said. "By the way, where are we going-I realise it's a cliché, but-your place or mine?"
"I don't mind," Sam said, making a right on the road to head back towards the city centre. "It might be less trackable to go to yours, since you came to my place last night."
"Suits me," Josh said, thinking of the lube and condoms in the second drawer of his bedside table. "Do you really want me to talk more about the daft parents in Nevada?"
"Anything you like, so long as it doesn't involve Toby shouting at me."
Josh grinned, and started with, "Next week Congress is going to…"
Sam listened, and smiled, and drove into the warm darkness at the heart of Washington D.C.