Celebratory Ficlets 2a: koboldkind, xochiquetzl, cordeliadelayne
Here are the next seven ficlets (Okay, they're all between 1300-1800 words, so they're a bit bigger than ficlets, but whatever ;) ) from my celebratory ficlets thing :D Three Snupins, two non-Snupin HP, and two non-HP.
In For a Pound- Harry Potter- Severus/Remus- R
Advisory Committee- Harry Potter- Severus/Remus- PG-13
Hot Chocolate- The West Wing- Sam/Josh- PG-13
Title: In For a Pound
Rating: Lightish R
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Summary/Prompt: for koboldkind, who wanted sweet, not fluffy, Snupin. Snape wakes up- not alone- to pounding at the door and pounding in his head.
Word Count: 1472
As awareness fuzzed into being behind Severus Snape’s eyes, his newfound, painful consciousness was overwhelmed by pounding. A miniature mountain troll was hard at work inside his head, beating at the walls of his skull. The light, when he tried to open his gummy, swollen eyes, pounded in dazzling, pulsating waves, making him jerk and snap his eyes shut with a moan.
But the pounding continued, attacking his ears, rolling into his brain in punishing spikes of auditory torture.
Something next to him made a gurgling, growling noise, adding to the acoustic assault. The Something was warm and mobile and had very comforting, familiar arms, which the Something was currently wrapping around Severus in a most satisfactory manner. Severus burrowed into the inviting warmth, willing away the pounding from inside his head and out of it.
“Severus,” the Something said in a sleepy, mumbly baritone, right into his ear, “please, please go deal with whoever that is. Hex them, scream at them, expose yourself to them, I don’t care. But if they don’t stop, so help me I’ll go answer the door myself, and that wouldn’t look good, would it?”
Severus stiffened in the warm arms as fragments of memory surfaced in his foggy consciousness. “Lupin?”
The Something, which Severus now realized was quite definitely Lupin-shaped, chuckled. “Lupin? What, not ‘god, Remus, yes!’ this morning?”
If Severus had been a more expressive man, his jaw would probably have dropped, but he managed to swallow his shock. The pounding in his head, however, was now definitely being eclipsed by whomever was banging at his door. “Bloody hell!” he cursed, pushing himself out of bed. The room did a dangerous little jig around him and he clutched the headboard until the spinning ceased.
He was halfway across the room before he registered the fact that he was naked. Severus never slept naked. He needed to be wearing something at all times in case he was called upon. He was Slytherin Head of House, after all, and along with his duties to both the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, adolescents of his house, in the throes of some terrible teenaged tragedy or other, often came to him for mediation. Shivering, he wheeled back around and nearly fell down. God, he was so hung over! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this badly.
“Your dressing gown is on that chair,” Remus said helpfully. Severus had managed to forget about the werewolf’s presence, and realizing that he was prancing around his own chambers nude while someone looked on caused an ugly scowl to curl across his face. He snatched up the black dressing gown and glared at Remus while he cinched it shut. The other wizard was sitting up now, the blankets bunched around his waist, and it seemed that the only thing Remus was wearing at the moment was a lascivious smile as he watched Severus. With a snarl, Severus stalked out of his bedroom, through his sitting room, to his front door and the source of the agonizing pounding.
“Exhibeum,” Severus said, waving his wand at the door. The heavy oak shuddered and its colour began to drain away, trickling down its frame to pool against the floor, leaving Severus with a transparent portal to peer through. An agitated sixth year girl stood before the door, banging away, oblivious to the fact that Severus could see her.
“Reverto,” Severus said with a sigh, and the door returned to normal, the colour belching upward and freezing into place. He threw it open and the girl’s fist sailed through the air, slamming into Severus’ shoulder.
“Oof!” he gasped, shocked and winded.
“Oh, sir!” the girl gasped. “I didn’t realize-”
“What is it, Miss Bulstrode?” Severus barked, staring down his nose at her. He didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“Sir, the Gryffindors won’t give up the Quidditch pitch, and we have it booked!”
With a barely contained eye roll, Severus called a bit of parchment and a quill to his side and scrawled a note across it. “Give this to Potter,” he said with a nasty smile, picturing the Gryffindor Golden Boy and Quidditch Captain’s face contorting in outrage. “Now get out.”
He slammed the door in her face, wincing at the reverberating noise it made, and then dragged himself back toward his bedroom. Last night was becoming clearer to him. He remembered sitting at the table at the hated House of Black, glaring into the fire as he contemplated the Madcap Old Fool’s Latest Insanity- or as Remus had referred to it, Dumbledore’s Plan. Recollections flashed through his mind: Lupin joining him with a shy smile that should have been infuriating and sneer-worthy but was somehow welcome. The shared bottle of Benton’s Blazing Bourbon as he listened to the werewolf ramble on about his encounters with the Dark Arts in the intervening years between graduating from Hogwarts and return there to teach. Severus’ tongue loosening enough to speak, just a little, about his own experiences. Remus’ warm hand on his shoulder. And then on his neck. And finally in his hair, pulling him forward, meeting his lips halfway in a wordless promise of benediction and understanding and desire, and Severus had stood, sweeping the werewolf into his arms and then drawing them both toward the fireplace and through the floo network to his own quarters.
Oh yes. Now he remembered.
He hovered outside the bedroom, collecting himself, trying to banish the memories of Remus pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses across his chest, of the way he’d felt his own body arching beneath Remus’ touch. But the recollections wouldn’t budge, and Severus became aware of the pounding of his own heart. He stepped through the door as imperiously as he could, but he deflated at the sight that greeted him.
Remus Lupin, wearing one of Severus’ own nightshirts, emerged from the en suite bathroom with a vial full of sapphire fluid. Severus watched the way he walked, the way his eyes fixated on Severus, the way he smiled.
Severus cleared his throat. “What happened last night-”
“Should have happened long ago,” Remus interrupted him, his tone mock-stern, his eyes glowing as he handed the vial to Severus. “You’ve no idea how glad I am you keep a supply of hangover potion handy.”
Severus glared at him. “That’s why you’re annoyingly chipper.”
“I’m annoyingly chipper because I’m a morning person with a supernatural metabolic rate,” Remus countered, pressing the vial into the Potions Master’s hand. “Drink.”
Severus wanted to be petulant about it, but the pounding in his head had increased, as if to compensate for the cessation of noise coming from his door, and he had no desire to punish himself just to be surly toward Remus. He seized the potion, unstoppered it, and downed it in a gulp. He felt a warming sensation flood through him immediately, dulling the pain in his head, taking away the sharp edge of the light against his eyes. And he was left standing there, staring at Remus stupidly but soberly.
“I don’t do mornings after, wolf,” he finally said, placing the vial on his bureau. He waited for Remus to tuck his tail between his legs and retreat, hopefully never to torment Severus again.
“You’re not good at mornings after? Fine, I’ll give you lots of practice at them, then,” Remus said. He wrapped his arms around Severus’ waist and hauled him forward roughly into a demanding, possessive kiss. Severus’ memory of exactly what they’d done the night before was blurry at best, but his body remembered and responded to Remus’ touch immediately, his lips opening to Remus’ tongue, his arms of their own volition twining around Remus’ shoulders, cradling him close.
“Remus,” he gasped, pulling his head back and glaring down at the shorter man. “I don’t know what you think this is, exactly, but let me put any pretty fantasies to which you might be clinging to rest.”
Remus smiled at Severus so tenderly, so affectionately, that Severus felt a blush creep across his sallow cheeks. “I’m not picking out the china, Severus,” he chuckled, keeping his arms around Severus’ waist, “but I’m not letting you go just yet either.”
What could he say to that? Nothing, apparently, not when Remus was pressing hot, needy kisses against his jawbone, not when the werewolf’s clever hands were slipping beneath the fabric of Severus’ flimsy dressing gown, seeking skin.
The pounding began again, someone hammering at the door with precise fury.
“Pretend you’re not home,” Remus whispered, leading Severus back to the bed.
Severus hesitated for a moment, torn between answering the door and following Remus. The enticing smile of the werewolf made his mind up for him, and he followed Remus to his bed, where he became lost in the pounding of their twin heartbeats.
Fin
Title: Advisory Committee
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Summary/Prompt: for xochiquetzl, who prompted me with “Snape/Lupin critiquing the magic in Buffy”. Dumbledore wants to help out an old friend and Remus and Severus end up watching the Buffy episode “Halloween” to appease him.
Word Count: 1787
“They’re looking for locations in the British Isles to use for a future story arc.”
Severus Snape glared balefully at Albus Dumbledore. “I don’t like the direction this meeting has suddenly taken, Headmaster. Surely you’re not suggesting-”
“Joss is a very dear friend of mine, Severus,” said Dumbledore evenly. “He may write several episodes set in Scotland, and if he does I would like him and his crew to lodge with us. I’m not suggesting they use their movie machines to commit the castle itself to their film, and we can obliviate the Muggles who come with him once they’re finished.”
“And you’re willing to expose our location- our home- to Muggle television watchers? What if they want to come find us? Why should we take such an unnecessary risk?”
“Because,” a mild voice joined in, “Mr. Whedon’s television show doesn’t depict how life truly is for us. He writes interesting fiction that is very clearly just that- fiction. The more Muggles are inundated with fabricated accounts of the magical world, the less likely they’ll be to believe we even exist.”
Severus swept his gaze across the other teachers seated around the oblong table in the staff room before settling his best scowl on the figure just joining them. “You’re late, Lupin. I hardly think you’re in a position to start a debate.”
“I’m only late because you didn’t wake me as you said you would,” Remus said with a chuckle. He dropped into the empty seat at Severus’ right and planted a swift kiss on his cheek. “My apologies, Headmaster.”
“Not at all, Remus,” Albus replied, and Severus knew the old bugger was studiously hiding a smile. Months ago, had Remus tried to touch Severus in front of their colleagues, Severus would have blushed, glared at anyone who grinned at the display, and threatened to hex Remus across the Channel. Now, however, Severus ignored Albus and all the rest of them with his usual air of quiet superiority, his lips quirking up a little as he shot a look at Remus that, if one was adept at reading Severus’ expressions, could only be described as affectionate.
“Do you truly believe that by feeding lies to Muggles, it will benefit us?” Professor Flitwick said, and Dumbledore nodded, moving in for the kill.
“By working with American wizards like Joss, we will also be able to foster better international relations.”
“I agree,” Remus chimed in.
“I do not,” Severus said predictably.
“Well then. It seems we’re at something of an impasse,” Dumbledore said. “Luckily, I have a suggestion.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “And what might that be?”
“We shall form an advisory committee, who will watch an episode of this ‘Buffy’ series and decide whether it is in our best interests to offer Hogwarts to Joss and his crew as a home away from home.” Dumbledore paused as if considering. “Now, it would make the most sense to have people of opposing viewpoints on the committee. And since we already know how both Remus and Severus feel, I believe they should constitute the committee.”
“Seconded,” said Minerva McGonagall. “Is that all, Albus?”
“It is indeed, my dear. Have a good weekend, everyone.”
Severus shot to his feet, spluttering. “I will not waste my time on this foolish endeavour, Headmaster!”
Remus laid a hand on his shoulder and leaned him, whispering in his ear, “You’re very close to stomping your foot like a four year old and saying ‘you’re not the boss of me!’ Which, of course, he is.”
Severus turned his most venomous glower on his lover, who smiled calmly.
“Besides,” Remus continued smoothly, “I’m sure I could make an hour of your time spent watching a silly show more than worth your while.”
Severus paused mid-glare, the expression decreasing in severity as he processed the heat behind Remus’ words. Remus licked his lips and tilted his head, waiting for a response.
“Oh, very well,” Severus said in his most put upon tone. “But I shall hold you to that promise.”
“I should hope so.”
~*~
“This is stupid.”
“Stop being so petulant. You haven’t even started watching it.”
“I don’t have to. I can already ascertain its value to us. And that value is zero.”
Remus rolled his eyes and stretched out on the queen-sized bed, his hands behind his head. Albus, with his usual benignly manipulative flare, had failed to mention that electricity, and therefore televisions, couldn’t work in Hogwarts because of the heavy wards on the castle. Accordingly the Advisory Committee on The Buffy Issue- known to most of the staff as the Lupin-Snapes- found themselves in a hotel room in Glasgow, waiting for the videotape to finish rewinding.
“Severus, I do believe my feelings are hurt.”
It was the Potions Master’s turn to roll his eyes. “Pray tell, why?”
“I’d have thought an evening away in a romantic inn with the man you love would be worth an hour of your time,” Remus said with his best pout.
“A night spent in some Muggle cesspit-“ Severus began, but the click of the tape distracted him. “What the hell was that?”
“Relax, Severus. It’s ready to go. Do you want some popcorn?”
“No.”
Remus shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said as he pressed play. He removed a pile of popcorn kernels from his pocket, dropped them into a bowl on the night table, flicked his wand over them and muttered, “Incendio.” They immediately popped, saturating the room with the smell of fresh popcorn.
Remus sank back into the pillows and smiled as Severus joined him, their shoulders touching. Severus reached into the bowl, helped himself to a handful of popcorn, and muttered, “No butter?”
Remus wrapped an arm around his lover and pressed a lingering kiss against his throat, drawing his tongue along the warm skin just before pulling away.
“Insufferable tease.”
“Spoiled Slytherin. Watch the show.” Remus snuggled closer, his head dropping onto Severus’ shoulder as the theme song played.
~*~
“That was ridiculous!”
“Severus-”
“No, that was patently moronic,” Severus groused. “Vampires whose faces twist into demonic visages? That doesn’t happen.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“And why do Muggles persist in the belief that vampires cannot be exposed to sunlight? Vampires, to the untrained eye, simply look like thin, angry humans, in daylight or otherwise... Why are you looking at me like that?”
Remus doubled over laughing. “No reason. Had any adverse reactions to garlic lately?”
“Fuck off, Werewolf.”
“Speaking of, I like this Oz character. Very collected. Reminds me of me.”
It was Severus’ turn to be seized with a fit of silent laughter. “Yes, Remus, you’re just like that teenaged punk who plays in a rock band and dates girls.”
“It’s why you fell in love with me,” Remus said with a wink. “But really, they’ve portrayed werewolves quite accurately, right down to the enhanced sense of smell.”
“But those costumes! Have you any idea what sort of advanced jinxes, charms, and transfiguration spells would have had to go into them?”
Remus chuckled. “No idea at all, Severus. After all, I’m not a wizard, nor do I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for a living.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Lupin.”
“Ah, but it more than becomes you,” Remus said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. With a swift movement, he straddled Severus’ thighs and pressed him against the headboard, chest-to-chest. “So let me see. Jinxes to wipe away the victim’s memory of who they are.” He kissed Severus teasingly on the lips. “Charms to implant an entirely new set of memories, personality, and behaviour.” A hard bite on Severus’ neck. “Transfiguration to turn them into whatever costume they were wearing at the time.” A hot breath in Severus’ ear. “Am I missing anything?”
“Possibly treating the cloth in some kind of potion to prevent the spells from taking effect straight away?” Severus gasped as Remus drew his tongue along the Potions Master’s bottom lip, silencing him.
“But that Spike fellow was dead sexy, wasn’t he?”
“The bleached blond bad boy?” Severus said derisively. “Really, Lupin, that does it for you? Are you going to suggest I bleach my hair next?”
The image of Severus with lank, bleached hair was too much for Remus, who fell forward against Severus guffawing, his forehead resting against Severus’ shoulder.
“That will do, Werewolf,” Severus griped, though his arms wrapped around Remus’ waist, urging him closer. “What about that Ethan nitwit? He couldn’t possibly have summoned a demon, fictional or otherwise. He was too much of an incompetent.”
“I like Giles, though.”
“I suppose.”
“Tall, distinctive features, scholarly, reserved? I wonder why on earth I would find him appealing,” Remus teased, tangling his fingers in Severus not-bleached hair and tilting his head upward. Remus leaned forward, brushing their lips together, and then kissed him again, deeper, slower, his tongue insinuating itself between Severus’ talented, tantalizing lips as Severus rocked their hips together.
Remus groaned, fumbling at the buttons of Severus’ shirt. “But you must admit,” he said, kissing the newly revealed skin, “that it was fairly entertaining.”
“I...” Severus hooked his hands in Remus’ belt loops and twisted his hips until they both tumbled sideways, rolling until Remus was pinned beneath Severus’ weight, leaning forward to press kisses along Remus’ throat. “I suppose it wasn’t a total waste of time.”
“I found the story- oh, yes!- intriguing. I’d love to know what happens next.”
“The teenagers are annoying,” Severus said as he shrugged out of his shirt and turned his legendary concentration on the task of undressing Remus while maintaining as much contact as possible. “But then, teenagers always are. You certainly were when you were that age.”
Remus arched into Severus’ touch as the Potions Master trailed his clever fingers down Remus’ naked chest. “I daresay you were no better.”
“Still,” Severus said conversationally, as though he wasn’t at that precise moment rocking his arousal against Remus and fighting back a moan, “I... would rather like to know what happens with Spike and Drusilla. They are... interesting.”
“Albus sent more episodes, you know,” Remus said as Severus scooted backward to undo Remus’ belt buckle. He hitched his hips upward to help Severus slide the belt away.
“Perhaps, for the good of the advisory committee, of course, we could watch a few more.”
Remus smiled wickedly. “Right now? Well, if you insist.” He moved to get up and found himself flat on his back again, pinned as much by Severus’ hands on his shoulders as by those heated, depthless eyes.
“Later, Lupin. I do believe you mentioned a romantic evening with the man I love in a whimsical inn or some such nonsense.”
“I do believe I did.” Remus reached over his head, grasped his wand, and said, “Nox!”
Fin
Title: Hot Chocolate
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing: Sam/Josh
Summary/Prompt: for Cordeliadelayne, whose prompt was Sam/Josh fluff during Bartlett’s first campaign
Word Count: 1493
Josh sat slumped his chair, rhythmically smacking his forehead against the round table. There were days when would-be president Josiah Bartlet opened his mouth and Josh wanted to cram something large and spiky right into it.
“You know,” said a soft voice, accompanied by a reassuring hand laid across Josh’s shoulder, “that’s not going to get rid of your headache.”
Josh snorted but didn’t look up. “Really? ‘Cause the longer I do it, the better it feels when I stop.”
“We can fix this.”
“He can’t just go shooting his mouth off to half of Texas-”
“All of Texas,” Sam Seaborn said, dropping into the chair next to Josh.
“Fine, all of Texas about his grand plans for gun control,” Josh amended. He stopped his self-torture and leaned back, looking intently at Sam.
“You realize that you’re the one who dragged me away from a high-paying, high-profile job to squat in New Hampshire with a dark horse candidate who may very well spell the ruin of my career, right?”
“Your point?” Josh did his best to look menacing and failed spectacularly.
“You did it because you saw the passion and the potential in this man,” Sam said, fire in his eyes. “You saw all the possibilities spread in front of you, a future where we could actually be in a position to change things, to do something for the good of the country.”
Josh couldn’t help but grin at Sam, who returned the comfortable smile with one of his own, blue eyes flashing. Sometimes it surprised Josh just how young Sam looked. “You’re chock-full of idealism,” he said, “or full of something.”
Sam laughed at that. “My other point is, if this all goes straight to hell, it’s up to you to support me in my old age when I can’t find any place to work.”
“You want me to set you up in some extravagant penthouse, let you lounge around in your lingerie eating bonbons all day and watching your stories?”
“As long as you don’t call me your mistress.”
“I make no guarantees,” Josh said. His gaze fell on two styrofoam cups steaming innocuously on the table between him and Sam. “What are those?”
“Nuclear waste,” said Sam. “I thought we could drink it and gain super powers.”
“So I’d have the strength of ten men, of course. What would your super power be?”
Sam considered for a moment. “Well, if I can’t at least have X-ray vision, there’s no point.”
“X-ray vision’s the deal breaker?”
“X-ray vision’s the deal breaker. I wouldn’t mind having power over fire, either, like the Human Torch.”
Josh snickered as he passed one styrofoam cup to Sam. “You’re a Fantastic Four fan?”
“Don’t mock the Fantastic Four! They’d be able to kick your ass, you with the strength of only ten men.” Sam blew gently on his cup, creating ripples in the foam. “How long have you known me and you didn’t know I like the Fantastic Four?”
Josh shrugged. “Maybe I should wish for omniscience instead of super strength.”
“You realize that nuclear waste doesn’t work like a genie in a bottle, right?” said Sam before sipping gingerly. “You can’t wish for any mutation you want.”
“That’s maybe the strangest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I’ve said stranger.”
“Have you?”
“I think I have.”
Josh peered into his cup, eyes widening. Hot chocolate. Sam had... after all this time, all these years, was he really suggesting-? They drank in silence for a moment, Josh wincing as the scorching liquid burned its way down his throat. “Normal people our age drink coffee, you know.”
Sam grinned. “I find hot chocolate’s a better comfort drink. And you looked like you needed comforting.”
Comfort. If Sam was broadcasting anything by bringing him hot chocolate, comfort wasn’t it. Josh took a long look at Sam and burst out laughing. Sam looked confused, his wide eyes bewildered. Josh took a long breath and said, “Sam, how old are you?”
Sam blinked. “thirty-four. Why?”
Josh shook his head. thirt-four. Impossibly young and impossibly beautiful and one of his best friends. “You’re thirty-four and you can’t manage to drink your hot chocolate without smearing the foam all over your upper lip?”
Sam blushed, averting his eyes. “There was a lot of froth.”
“I didn’t get any of it on me.”
Sam’s tongue, reddened from the hot chocolate, swiped upward, catching some of the foam, and Josh watched, mesmerized in spite of himself.
“You, uh, missed a spot.”
Sam leaned forward, a strange smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Where?”
Josh touched his own lips, trying to demonstrate where the wayward foam was clinging. “Just, just right there.”
Sam’s tongue missed. “Still there?”
“Yep. Hold still a sec.” Josh reached out, brushing away part of the remaining froth with his fingers, eyes locked with Sam’s. He could feel the scruff of a five o’clock shadow just beginning to form beneath the warm, bubbly foam, and then he was experiencing a different kind of warmwetohgod as Sam tilted his chin up, catching Josh’s fingers between his teeth and sucking them into his mouth.
“Sam,” Josh gasped, the sensation familiar and almost forgotten and so, so good, and there was a reason that it was Sam in charge of writing speeches and not Josh, because Josh was just lost, unable to string more than two words together.
Sam smiled around his fingers and moved closer. He wrapped his hand around Josh’s wrist and slowly guided Josh’s fingers in and out of his mouth, puckering his lips to increase the suction, swirling his tongue around them. Josh squirmed in his chair, rapidly losing the blood supply to his brain until he ceased thinking altogether. He pulled his hand back and leaned in further, swiping his tongue across Sam’s upper lip, licking the rest of the foam into his mouth.
“No fair,” Sam grunted. “That’s from my drink.”
“You could, you know, come and get it, then.”
“Come and get it.”
“Yep.”
Sam didn’t wait to see if Josh was joking. He closed the distance between them, slithering his arms around Josh’s neck as their mouths met, looping his hands through Josh’s unruly hair as his tongue glided between Josh’s lips, searching for the stolen taste of hot chocolate. Josh groaned, opening himself to the way Sam seemed to savour his mouth, stroking Sam’s agile tongue with his own, his hands on either side of Sam’s head, pulling him closer, tugging urgently until Sam toppled easily out of his chair, kneeling before Josh, not breaking the kiss.
Josh was dizzy, delirious, unable to comprehend anything but the feel of Sam’s strong jaw bone moving against his own. He was bent over, unwilling to break the contact between them, not for air or the phone that started ringing in the other room or-
A door slammed. “Because you think you can just walk by with that cocky little walk of yours and I’ll forgive you.”
Josh and Sam exploded apart at the same time at the sound of the sardonic, coppery female voice echoing from the outer office.
“I rescue you from unemployment and I get, what, no thanks at all?” Toby’s voice joined her.
Sam was back in his chair, running a hand unsteadily through his hair as Josh took a deep breath. “Why does hot chocolate always do that to us?”
Sam shrugged. “That’s only the third time over the last ten years.”
“Where the hell is anyone?” Toby bellowed.
“In here,” Sam and Josh called at the same time. Josh looked back at Sam. “Have you noticed that we get interrupted every time?”
“And then we do our best to assiduously disregard that it ever happened? Yeah, I noticed.”
Toby appeared in the doorway, a tall woman with large eyes and a disgruntled expression gracing her beautiful face a step behind him. “Look what I found,” he said. “A press secretary.”
Josh’ eyebrow rose. “Where’ve you been?”
“In California, not helping me out of a swimming pool,” the woman supplied.
“Sam Seaborn, Josh Lyman, meet Claudia Jean Cregg,” Toby said, ignoring her.
“CJ,” she said, extending a hand to first Sam and then Josh.
“Josh, take CJ to the hotel,” Toby ordered.
Josh glared. “You can’t?”
“I have work to do with Sam.”
“Gosh, I feel so welcomed and loved already,” CJ said.
Josh flashed her his best Josh Lyman Adores Ya smile. She rolled her eyes. “Of course I’ll take you. Just one second.” He turned to Sam. “Not this time.”
“Excuse me?”
“No assiduous disregard. Swing by when you’re done, we can finish our discussion.”
Sam grinned at him, his whole face lighting up. “I’ll bring the hot chocolate.”
“Aren’t you two a little old for hot chocolate?” CJ asked as Josh ushered her toward the door.
Josh shrugged. “Nope. It’s never too late for hot chocolate.”
He winked at Sam as walked out, wondering where the evening would take them.
Fin
In For a Pound- Harry Potter- Severus/Remus- R
Advisory Committee- Harry Potter- Severus/Remus- PG-13
Hot Chocolate- The West Wing- Sam/Josh- PG-13
Title: In For a Pound
Rating: Lightish R
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Summary/Prompt: for koboldkind, who wanted sweet, not fluffy, Snupin. Snape wakes up- not alone- to pounding at the door and pounding in his head.
Word Count: 1472
As awareness fuzzed into being behind Severus Snape’s eyes, his newfound, painful consciousness was overwhelmed by pounding. A miniature mountain troll was hard at work inside his head, beating at the walls of his skull. The light, when he tried to open his gummy, swollen eyes, pounded in dazzling, pulsating waves, making him jerk and snap his eyes shut with a moan.
But the pounding continued, attacking his ears, rolling into his brain in punishing spikes of auditory torture.
Something next to him made a gurgling, growling noise, adding to the acoustic assault. The Something was warm and mobile and had very comforting, familiar arms, which the Something was currently wrapping around Severus in a most satisfactory manner. Severus burrowed into the inviting warmth, willing away the pounding from inside his head and out of it.
“Severus,” the Something said in a sleepy, mumbly baritone, right into his ear, “please, please go deal with whoever that is. Hex them, scream at them, expose yourself to them, I don’t care. But if they don’t stop, so help me I’ll go answer the door myself, and that wouldn’t look good, would it?”
Severus stiffened in the warm arms as fragments of memory surfaced in his foggy consciousness. “Lupin?”
The Something, which Severus now realized was quite definitely Lupin-shaped, chuckled. “Lupin? What, not ‘god, Remus, yes!’ this morning?”
If Severus had been a more expressive man, his jaw would probably have dropped, but he managed to swallow his shock. The pounding in his head, however, was now definitely being eclipsed by whomever was banging at his door. “Bloody hell!” he cursed, pushing himself out of bed. The room did a dangerous little jig around him and he clutched the headboard until the spinning ceased.
He was halfway across the room before he registered the fact that he was naked. Severus never slept naked. He needed to be wearing something at all times in case he was called upon. He was Slytherin Head of House, after all, and along with his duties to both the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, adolescents of his house, in the throes of some terrible teenaged tragedy or other, often came to him for mediation. Shivering, he wheeled back around and nearly fell down. God, he was so hung over! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this badly.
“Your dressing gown is on that chair,” Remus said helpfully. Severus had managed to forget about the werewolf’s presence, and realizing that he was prancing around his own chambers nude while someone looked on caused an ugly scowl to curl across his face. He snatched up the black dressing gown and glared at Remus while he cinched it shut. The other wizard was sitting up now, the blankets bunched around his waist, and it seemed that the only thing Remus was wearing at the moment was a lascivious smile as he watched Severus. With a snarl, Severus stalked out of his bedroom, through his sitting room, to his front door and the source of the agonizing pounding.
“Exhibeum,” Severus said, waving his wand at the door. The heavy oak shuddered and its colour began to drain away, trickling down its frame to pool against the floor, leaving Severus with a transparent portal to peer through. An agitated sixth year girl stood before the door, banging away, oblivious to the fact that Severus could see her.
“Reverto,” Severus said with a sigh, and the door returned to normal, the colour belching upward and freezing into place. He threw it open and the girl’s fist sailed through the air, slamming into Severus’ shoulder.
“Oof!” he gasped, shocked and winded.
“Oh, sir!” the girl gasped. “I didn’t realize-”
“What is it, Miss Bulstrode?” Severus barked, staring down his nose at her. He didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“Sir, the Gryffindors won’t give up the Quidditch pitch, and we have it booked!”
With a barely contained eye roll, Severus called a bit of parchment and a quill to his side and scrawled a note across it. “Give this to Potter,” he said with a nasty smile, picturing the Gryffindor Golden Boy and Quidditch Captain’s face contorting in outrage. “Now get out.”
He slammed the door in her face, wincing at the reverberating noise it made, and then dragged himself back toward his bedroom. Last night was becoming clearer to him. He remembered sitting at the table at the hated House of Black, glaring into the fire as he contemplated the Madcap Old Fool’s Latest Insanity- or as Remus had referred to it, Dumbledore’s Plan. Recollections flashed through his mind: Lupin joining him with a shy smile that should have been infuriating and sneer-worthy but was somehow welcome. The shared bottle of Benton’s Blazing Bourbon as he listened to the werewolf ramble on about his encounters with the Dark Arts in the intervening years between graduating from Hogwarts and return there to teach. Severus’ tongue loosening enough to speak, just a little, about his own experiences. Remus’ warm hand on his shoulder. And then on his neck. And finally in his hair, pulling him forward, meeting his lips halfway in a wordless promise of benediction and understanding and desire, and Severus had stood, sweeping the werewolf into his arms and then drawing them both toward the fireplace and through the floo network to his own quarters.
Oh yes. Now he remembered.
He hovered outside the bedroom, collecting himself, trying to banish the memories of Remus pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses across his chest, of the way he’d felt his own body arching beneath Remus’ touch. But the recollections wouldn’t budge, and Severus became aware of the pounding of his own heart. He stepped through the door as imperiously as he could, but he deflated at the sight that greeted him.
Remus Lupin, wearing one of Severus’ own nightshirts, emerged from the en suite bathroom with a vial full of sapphire fluid. Severus watched the way he walked, the way his eyes fixated on Severus, the way he smiled.
Severus cleared his throat. “What happened last night-”
“Should have happened long ago,” Remus interrupted him, his tone mock-stern, his eyes glowing as he handed the vial to Severus. “You’ve no idea how glad I am you keep a supply of hangover potion handy.”
Severus glared at him. “That’s why you’re annoyingly chipper.”
“I’m annoyingly chipper because I’m a morning person with a supernatural metabolic rate,” Remus countered, pressing the vial into the Potions Master’s hand. “Drink.”
Severus wanted to be petulant about it, but the pounding in his head had increased, as if to compensate for the cessation of noise coming from his door, and he had no desire to punish himself just to be surly toward Remus. He seized the potion, unstoppered it, and downed it in a gulp. He felt a warming sensation flood through him immediately, dulling the pain in his head, taking away the sharp edge of the light against his eyes. And he was left standing there, staring at Remus stupidly but soberly.
“I don’t do mornings after, wolf,” he finally said, placing the vial on his bureau. He waited for Remus to tuck his tail between his legs and retreat, hopefully never to torment Severus again.
“You’re not good at mornings after? Fine, I’ll give you lots of practice at them, then,” Remus said. He wrapped his arms around Severus’ waist and hauled him forward roughly into a demanding, possessive kiss. Severus’ memory of exactly what they’d done the night before was blurry at best, but his body remembered and responded to Remus’ touch immediately, his lips opening to Remus’ tongue, his arms of their own volition twining around Remus’ shoulders, cradling him close.
“Remus,” he gasped, pulling his head back and glaring down at the shorter man. “I don’t know what you think this is, exactly, but let me put any pretty fantasies to which you might be clinging to rest.”
Remus smiled at Severus so tenderly, so affectionately, that Severus felt a blush creep across his sallow cheeks. “I’m not picking out the china, Severus,” he chuckled, keeping his arms around Severus’ waist, “but I’m not letting you go just yet either.”
What could he say to that? Nothing, apparently, not when Remus was pressing hot, needy kisses against his jawbone, not when the werewolf’s clever hands were slipping beneath the fabric of Severus’ flimsy dressing gown, seeking skin.
The pounding began again, someone hammering at the door with precise fury.
“Pretend you’re not home,” Remus whispered, leading Severus back to the bed.
Severus hesitated for a moment, torn between answering the door and following Remus. The enticing smile of the werewolf made his mind up for him, and he followed Remus to his bed, where he became lost in the pounding of their twin heartbeats.
Fin
Title: Advisory Committee
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Summary/Prompt: for xochiquetzl, who prompted me with “Snape/Lupin critiquing the magic in Buffy”. Dumbledore wants to help out an old friend and Remus and Severus end up watching the Buffy episode “Halloween” to appease him.
Word Count: 1787
“They’re looking for locations in the British Isles to use for a future story arc.”
Severus Snape glared balefully at Albus Dumbledore. “I don’t like the direction this meeting has suddenly taken, Headmaster. Surely you’re not suggesting-”
“Joss is a very dear friend of mine, Severus,” said Dumbledore evenly. “He may write several episodes set in Scotland, and if he does I would like him and his crew to lodge with us. I’m not suggesting they use their movie machines to commit the castle itself to their film, and we can obliviate the Muggles who come with him once they’re finished.”
“And you’re willing to expose our location- our home- to Muggle television watchers? What if they want to come find us? Why should we take such an unnecessary risk?”
“Because,” a mild voice joined in, “Mr. Whedon’s television show doesn’t depict how life truly is for us. He writes interesting fiction that is very clearly just that- fiction. The more Muggles are inundated with fabricated accounts of the magical world, the less likely they’ll be to believe we even exist.”
Severus swept his gaze across the other teachers seated around the oblong table in the staff room before settling his best scowl on the figure just joining them. “You’re late, Lupin. I hardly think you’re in a position to start a debate.”
“I’m only late because you didn’t wake me as you said you would,” Remus said with a chuckle. He dropped into the empty seat at Severus’ right and planted a swift kiss on his cheek. “My apologies, Headmaster.”
“Not at all, Remus,” Albus replied, and Severus knew the old bugger was studiously hiding a smile. Months ago, had Remus tried to touch Severus in front of their colleagues, Severus would have blushed, glared at anyone who grinned at the display, and threatened to hex Remus across the Channel. Now, however, Severus ignored Albus and all the rest of them with his usual air of quiet superiority, his lips quirking up a little as he shot a look at Remus that, if one was adept at reading Severus’ expressions, could only be described as affectionate.
“Do you truly believe that by feeding lies to Muggles, it will benefit us?” Professor Flitwick said, and Dumbledore nodded, moving in for the kill.
“By working with American wizards like Joss, we will also be able to foster better international relations.”
“I agree,” Remus chimed in.
“I do not,” Severus said predictably.
“Well then. It seems we’re at something of an impasse,” Dumbledore said. “Luckily, I have a suggestion.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “And what might that be?”
“We shall form an advisory committee, who will watch an episode of this ‘Buffy’ series and decide whether it is in our best interests to offer Hogwarts to Joss and his crew as a home away from home.” Dumbledore paused as if considering. “Now, it would make the most sense to have people of opposing viewpoints on the committee. And since we already know how both Remus and Severus feel, I believe they should constitute the committee.”
“Seconded,” said Minerva McGonagall. “Is that all, Albus?”
“It is indeed, my dear. Have a good weekend, everyone.”
Severus shot to his feet, spluttering. “I will not waste my time on this foolish endeavour, Headmaster!”
Remus laid a hand on his shoulder and leaned him, whispering in his ear, “You’re very close to stomping your foot like a four year old and saying ‘you’re not the boss of me!’ Which, of course, he is.”
Severus turned his most venomous glower on his lover, who smiled calmly.
“Besides,” Remus continued smoothly, “I’m sure I could make an hour of your time spent watching a silly show more than worth your while.”
Severus paused mid-glare, the expression decreasing in severity as he processed the heat behind Remus’ words. Remus licked his lips and tilted his head, waiting for a response.
“Oh, very well,” Severus said in his most put upon tone. “But I shall hold you to that promise.”
“I should hope so.”
~*~
“This is stupid.”
“Stop being so petulant. You haven’t even started watching it.”
“I don’t have to. I can already ascertain its value to us. And that value is zero.”
Remus rolled his eyes and stretched out on the queen-sized bed, his hands behind his head. Albus, with his usual benignly manipulative flare, had failed to mention that electricity, and therefore televisions, couldn’t work in Hogwarts because of the heavy wards on the castle. Accordingly the Advisory Committee on The Buffy Issue- known to most of the staff as the Lupin-Snapes- found themselves in a hotel room in Glasgow, waiting for the videotape to finish rewinding.
“Severus, I do believe my feelings are hurt.”
It was the Potions Master’s turn to roll his eyes. “Pray tell, why?”
“I’d have thought an evening away in a romantic inn with the man you love would be worth an hour of your time,” Remus said with his best pout.
“A night spent in some Muggle cesspit-“ Severus began, but the click of the tape distracted him. “What the hell was that?”
“Relax, Severus. It’s ready to go. Do you want some popcorn?”
“No.”
Remus shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said as he pressed play. He removed a pile of popcorn kernels from his pocket, dropped them into a bowl on the night table, flicked his wand over them and muttered, “Incendio.” They immediately popped, saturating the room with the smell of fresh popcorn.
Remus sank back into the pillows and smiled as Severus joined him, their shoulders touching. Severus reached into the bowl, helped himself to a handful of popcorn, and muttered, “No butter?”
Remus wrapped an arm around his lover and pressed a lingering kiss against his throat, drawing his tongue along the warm skin just before pulling away.
“Insufferable tease.”
“Spoiled Slytherin. Watch the show.” Remus snuggled closer, his head dropping onto Severus’ shoulder as the theme song played.
~*~
“That was ridiculous!”
“Severus-”
“No, that was patently moronic,” Severus groused. “Vampires whose faces twist into demonic visages? That doesn’t happen.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“And why do Muggles persist in the belief that vampires cannot be exposed to sunlight? Vampires, to the untrained eye, simply look like thin, angry humans, in daylight or otherwise... Why are you looking at me like that?”
Remus doubled over laughing. “No reason. Had any adverse reactions to garlic lately?”
“Fuck off, Werewolf.”
“Speaking of, I like this Oz character. Very collected. Reminds me of me.”
It was Severus’ turn to be seized with a fit of silent laughter. “Yes, Remus, you’re just like that teenaged punk who plays in a rock band and dates girls.”
“It’s why you fell in love with me,” Remus said with a wink. “But really, they’ve portrayed werewolves quite accurately, right down to the enhanced sense of smell.”
“But those costumes! Have you any idea what sort of advanced jinxes, charms, and transfiguration spells would have had to go into them?”
Remus chuckled. “No idea at all, Severus. After all, I’m not a wizard, nor do I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for a living.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Lupin.”
“Ah, but it more than becomes you,” Remus said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. With a swift movement, he straddled Severus’ thighs and pressed him against the headboard, chest-to-chest. “So let me see. Jinxes to wipe away the victim’s memory of who they are.” He kissed Severus teasingly on the lips. “Charms to implant an entirely new set of memories, personality, and behaviour.” A hard bite on Severus’ neck. “Transfiguration to turn them into whatever costume they were wearing at the time.” A hot breath in Severus’ ear. “Am I missing anything?”
“Possibly treating the cloth in some kind of potion to prevent the spells from taking effect straight away?” Severus gasped as Remus drew his tongue along the Potions Master’s bottom lip, silencing him.
“But that Spike fellow was dead sexy, wasn’t he?”
“The bleached blond bad boy?” Severus said derisively. “Really, Lupin, that does it for you? Are you going to suggest I bleach my hair next?”
The image of Severus with lank, bleached hair was too much for Remus, who fell forward against Severus guffawing, his forehead resting against Severus’ shoulder.
“That will do, Werewolf,” Severus griped, though his arms wrapped around Remus’ waist, urging him closer. “What about that Ethan nitwit? He couldn’t possibly have summoned a demon, fictional or otherwise. He was too much of an incompetent.”
“I like Giles, though.”
“I suppose.”
“Tall, distinctive features, scholarly, reserved? I wonder why on earth I would find him appealing,” Remus teased, tangling his fingers in Severus not-bleached hair and tilting his head upward. Remus leaned forward, brushing their lips together, and then kissed him again, deeper, slower, his tongue insinuating itself between Severus’ talented, tantalizing lips as Severus rocked their hips together.
Remus groaned, fumbling at the buttons of Severus’ shirt. “But you must admit,” he said, kissing the newly revealed skin, “that it was fairly entertaining.”
“I...” Severus hooked his hands in Remus’ belt loops and twisted his hips until they both tumbled sideways, rolling until Remus was pinned beneath Severus’ weight, leaning forward to press kisses along Remus’ throat. “I suppose it wasn’t a total waste of time.”
“I found the story- oh, yes!- intriguing. I’d love to know what happens next.”
“The teenagers are annoying,” Severus said as he shrugged out of his shirt and turned his legendary concentration on the task of undressing Remus while maintaining as much contact as possible. “But then, teenagers always are. You certainly were when you were that age.”
Remus arched into Severus’ touch as the Potions Master trailed his clever fingers down Remus’ naked chest. “I daresay you were no better.”
“Still,” Severus said conversationally, as though he wasn’t at that precise moment rocking his arousal against Remus and fighting back a moan, “I... would rather like to know what happens with Spike and Drusilla. They are... interesting.”
“Albus sent more episodes, you know,” Remus said as Severus scooted backward to undo Remus’ belt buckle. He hitched his hips upward to help Severus slide the belt away.
“Perhaps, for the good of the advisory committee, of course, we could watch a few more.”
Remus smiled wickedly. “Right now? Well, if you insist.” He moved to get up and found himself flat on his back again, pinned as much by Severus’ hands on his shoulders as by those heated, depthless eyes.
“Later, Lupin. I do believe you mentioned a romantic evening with the man I love in a whimsical inn or some such nonsense.”
“I do believe I did.” Remus reached over his head, grasped his wand, and said, “Nox!”
Fin
Title: Hot Chocolate
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing: Sam/Josh
Summary/Prompt: for Cordeliadelayne, whose prompt was Sam/Josh fluff during Bartlett’s first campaign
Word Count: 1493
Josh sat slumped his chair, rhythmically smacking his forehead against the round table. There were days when would-be president Josiah Bartlet opened his mouth and Josh wanted to cram something large and spiky right into it.
“You know,” said a soft voice, accompanied by a reassuring hand laid across Josh’s shoulder, “that’s not going to get rid of your headache.”
Josh snorted but didn’t look up. “Really? ‘Cause the longer I do it, the better it feels when I stop.”
“We can fix this.”
“He can’t just go shooting his mouth off to half of Texas-”
“All of Texas,” Sam Seaborn said, dropping into the chair next to Josh.
“Fine, all of Texas about his grand plans for gun control,” Josh amended. He stopped his self-torture and leaned back, looking intently at Sam.
“You realize that you’re the one who dragged me away from a high-paying, high-profile job to squat in New Hampshire with a dark horse candidate who may very well spell the ruin of my career, right?”
“Your point?” Josh did his best to look menacing and failed spectacularly.
“You did it because you saw the passion and the potential in this man,” Sam said, fire in his eyes. “You saw all the possibilities spread in front of you, a future where we could actually be in a position to change things, to do something for the good of the country.”
Josh couldn’t help but grin at Sam, who returned the comfortable smile with one of his own, blue eyes flashing. Sometimes it surprised Josh just how young Sam looked. “You’re chock-full of idealism,” he said, “or full of something.”
Sam laughed at that. “My other point is, if this all goes straight to hell, it’s up to you to support me in my old age when I can’t find any place to work.”
“You want me to set you up in some extravagant penthouse, let you lounge around in your lingerie eating bonbons all day and watching your stories?”
“As long as you don’t call me your mistress.”
“I make no guarantees,” Josh said. His gaze fell on two styrofoam cups steaming innocuously on the table between him and Sam. “What are those?”
“Nuclear waste,” said Sam. “I thought we could drink it and gain super powers.”
“So I’d have the strength of ten men, of course. What would your super power be?”
Sam considered for a moment. “Well, if I can’t at least have X-ray vision, there’s no point.”
“X-ray vision’s the deal breaker?”
“X-ray vision’s the deal breaker. I wouldn’t mind having power over fire, either, like the Human Torch.”
Josh snickered as he passed one styrofoam cup to Sam. “You’re a Fantastic Four fan?”
“Don’t mock the Fantastic Four! They’d be able to kick your ass, you with the strength of only ten men.” Sam blew gently on his cup, creating ripples in the foam. “How long have you known me and you didn’t know I like the Fantastic Four?”
Josh shrugged. “Maybe I should wish for omniscience instead of super strength.”
“You realize that nuclear waste doesn’t work like a genie in a bottle, right?” said Sam before sipping gingerly. “You can’t wish for any mutation you want.”
“That’s maybe the strangest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I’ve said stranger.”
“Have you?”
“I think I have.”
Josh peered into his cup, eyes widening. Hot chocolate. Sam had... after all this time, all these years, was he really suggesting-? They drank in silence for a moment, Josh wincing as the scorching liquid burned its way down his throat. “Normal people our age drink coffee, you know.”
Sam grinned. “I find hot chocolate’s a better comfort drink. And you looked like you needed comforting.”
Comfort. If Sam was broadcasting anything by bringing him hot chocolate, comfort wasn’t it. Josh took a long look at Sam and burst out laughing. Sam looked confused, his wide eyes bewildered. Josh took a long breath and said, “Sam, how old are you?”
Sam blinked. “thirty-four. Why?”
Josh shook his head. thirt-four. Impossibly young and impossibly beautiful and one of his best friends. “You’re thirty-four and you can’t manage to drink your hot chocolate without smearing the foam all over your upper lip?”
Sam blushed, averting his eyes. “There was a lot of froth.”
“I didn’t get any of it on me.”
Sam’s tongue, reddened from the hot chocolate, swiped upward, catching some of the foam, and Josh watched, mesmerized in spite of himself.
“You, uh, missed a spot.”
Sam leaned forward, a strange smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Where?”
Josh touched his own lips, trying to demonstrate where the wayward foam was clinging. “Just, just right there.”
Sam’s tongue missed. “Still there?”
“Yep. Hold still a sec.” Josh reached out, brushing away part of the remaining froth with his fingers, eyes locked with Sam’s. He could feel the scruff of a five o’clock shadow just beginning to form beneath the warm, bubbly foam, and then he was experiencing a different kind of warmwetohgod as Sam tilted his chin up, catching Josh’s fingers between his teeth and sucking them into his mouth.
“Sam,” Josh gasped, the sensation familiar and almost forgotten and so, so good, and there was a reason that it was Sam in charge of writing speeches and not Josh, because Josh was just lost, unable to string more than two words together.
Sam smiled around his fingers and moved closer. He wrapped his hand around Josh’s wrist and slowly guided Josh’s fingers in and out of his mouth, puckering his lips to increase the suction, swirling his tongue around them. Josh squirmed in his chair, rapidly losing the blood supply to his brain until he ceased thinking altogether. He pulled his hand back and leaned in further, swiping his tongue across Sam’s upper lip, licking the rest of the foam into his mouth.
“No fair,” Sam grunted. “That’s from my drink.”
“You could, you know, come and get it, then.”
“Come and get it.”
“Yep.”
Sam didn’t wait to see if Josh was joking. He closed the distance between them, slithering his arms around Josh’s neck as their mouths met, looping his hands through Josh’s unruly hair as his tongue glided between Josh’s lips, searching for the stolen taste of hot chocolate. Josh groaned, opening himself to the way Sam seemed to savour his mouth, stroking Sam’s agile tongue with his own, his hands on either side of Sam’s head, pulling him closer, tugging urgently until Sam toppled easily out of his chair, kneeling before Josh, not breaking the kiss.
Josh was dizzy, delirious, unable to comprehend anything but the feel of Sam’s strong jaw bone moving against his own. He was bent over, unwilling to break the contact between them, not for air or the phone that started ringing in the other room or-
A door slammed. “Because you think you can just walk by with that cocky little walk of yours and I’ll forgive you.”
Josh and Sam exploded apart at the same time at the sound of the sardonic, coppery female voice echoing from the outer office.
“I rescue you from unemployment and I get, what, no thanks at all?” Toby’s voice joined her.
Sam was back in his chair, running a hand unsteadily through his hair as Josh took a deep breath. “Why does hot chocolate always do that to us?”
Sam shrugged. “That’s only the third time over the last ten years.”
“Where the hell is anyone?” Toby bellowed.
“In here,” Sam and Josh called at the same time. Josh looked back at Sam. “Have you noticed that we get interrupted every time?”
“And then we do our best to assiduously disregard that it ever happened? Yeah, I noticed.”
Toby appeared in the doorway, a tall woman with large eyes and a disgruntled expression gracing her beautiful face a step behind him. “Look what I found,” he said. “A press secretary.”
Josh’ eyebrow rose. “Where’ve you been?”
“In California, not helping me out of a swimming pool,” the woman supplied.
“Sam Seaborn, Josh Lyman, meet Claudia Jean Cregg,” Toby said, ignoring her.
“CJ,” she said, extending a hand to first Sam and then Josh.
“Josh, take CJ to the hotel,” Toby ordered.
Josh glared. “You can’t?”
“I have work to do with Sam.”
“Gosh, I feel so welcomed and loved already,” CJ said.
Josh flashed her his best Josh Lyman Adores Ya smile. She rolled her eyes. “Of course I’ll take you. Just one second.” He turned to Sam. “Not this time.”
“Excuse me?”
“No assiduous disregard. Swing by when you’re done, we can finish our discussion.”
Sam grinned at him, his whole face lighting up. “I’ll bring the hot chocolate.”
“Aren’t you two a little old for hot chocolate?” CJ asked as Josh ushered her toward the door.
Josh shrugged. “Nope. It’s never too late for hot chocolate.”
He winked at Sam as walked out, wondering where the evening would take them.
Fin