[fic] Anywhere But In Between - inocciduous - PG13
Title: Anywhere But In Between
Author: inocciduous
Rating: PG13
Prompt: Sam helps Will through any of the events of any S7 episode. Although, I really kind of didn't follow it.
Summary: Transitions all around!
Notes: This kind of turned into a what-if - Sam actually says no to Josh in Transitions. Also, this is unbetaed (*shameface*) so feel to point out any errors or inconsistencies.
"Think about it."
Josh is brashly charming, laying out his case in front of Sam, everything he has right on the line, up front and in his face. He listens as Josh makes his case for Santos, like Sam hasn't been paying attention - like Santos and Vinick haven't been waging their battles right on his doorstep for months. He knows what Josh wants, knew it before he opened his mouth. Josh's poker face hasn't improved any over the course of the last decade, although Sam finally learned how to use one himself. He wonders, though, because under Josh's obvious enthusiasm there's a desperation that worries him. He almost interrupts to ask if he's ignoring Donna's rules again, but imagines that things have been rather fragile between them, if he reads the gossip going around the usual circles correctly.
Something in him wants to say yes; to fight the good fight Josh is calling him to, even if he's not sure he believes in it any more. There is a majesty to working in the White House that has settled deep in his bones, and no matter how long he spends warming himself in the California sun, no matter the good he is doing for real people, the tangible results he can see in the neighborhoods he passes on the way home, he can't shake the feeling that there's a lack of depth to it.
Sam brought it up to Will once, their fingers wound into a complicated knot and lost somewhere in the haphazard spread of pillows and blankets. The night was loud around them, summer storms letting loose against their small haven, but Sam couldn't feel anything but drowsy and satisfied, Will's arms anchoring him to this time, this place, in a way that he was starting to think he could get used to.
"D'you ever miss it? Washington, the White House ..." Sam wiggles fingers lazily in the air, encompassing the whole of the American dream realized with fingers turned slow and clumsy with relaxation.
"Mmm" Will says noncommittally. "Not really."
Sam turns over, casually dislodging Will's arm and props his head up with one hand. "Really?" He eyes Will suspiciously.
Will cracks one eye open and when he sees Sam's expression of disbelief, he opens the other and says, resigned, "Really."
He reaches out and knocks Sam's forearm out, his head falling abruptly onto the pillow and huffing out a breath of surprised laughter, but he gets the point. "Okay, okay, introspection later; afterglow now." He wiggles down and tucks himself neatly into the convenient holes Will's body leaves for him.
Sam thinks of Will, of the way he found his way to Sam's office, defeated and strung out. He'd been sick of himself, and sick of politics, in a way that Sam recognized in himself. He'd offered Will a beer and his guest room, happy to have a friend and companion in his rebuilding, or at least someone to split rent with. It had been comfortable, and he'd thought Will had felt the same. Sam wasn't willing to question the first truly effortless thing to happen to him in what had felt like ages and so it had come as a bit of a shock when, companionably sharing the Sunday paper over pancakes one warm morning, Will had unceremoniously reached across the counter, cupped his jaw carefully and kissed him.
He'd left Will this morning sprawled across their bed, sunlight just beginning to peek through the windows, the coffee pot set to stay warm long enough for Will to have a bit of a lie-in. It was nice, domestic, and entirely unexpected. Looking at Josh now, Sam isn't sure he's ready to give it up, trade in this hard-won peace for another eight years of take-out cartons and certain exhaustion. He certainly isn't ready to give up Will. He might not ever be ready for that.
Josh, expectant and impatient, is practically vibrating, either from caffeine or sheer pent-up energy. Sam effortlessly feeds him a line about an engagement - he wasn't kidding about the lying - and prepares to face a Lyman rant. He can practically see Josh gearing up for it, and then suddenly he ... deflates.
"Yeah, okay."
Sam smiles, a little surprised at how easily he won this round (and he's certain there will be many more rounds, although probably not conducted in person). "Can you stay for an actual lunch, or are you on a schedule?"
"Nah, I've got a thing in Sacramento in a few hours. The next time I'm in town, though ..." Josh trails off, looking around at the other tables.
Sam smiles, "Make sure to look me up."
Josh's returning smile is brilliant, if somewhat distant. He's already leaped on to the next thing, Sam is sure, planning out the details of whatever's waiting for him in Sacramento, no doubt.
They stand up and embrace, and as they let go Sam grabs Josh's sleeve and turns him back around. "Hey," he says, "do good out there."
Josh nods solemnly and goes. He doesn't look back, already wrestling his blackberry out of its clip.
That night, he finds Will standing at the window, looking out over the sea of lights and colors below them. He twines his arms around Will's waist, inter locking their fingers and hooking his chin over the other man's shoulder. "Thinking deep thoughts?"
Will doesn't answer, although he does lean back into Sam's embrace. After a while, Sam thinks he isn't' going to answer at all, and just when he's getting ready to extract himself, Will says, "I heard Josh Lyman came to see you today."
Sam nods, tilting his head to rest his forehead against Will's neck. "He offered me Deputy Chief of Staff. I turned him down."
Will makes a noise that Sam isn't sure how to interpret. He decides not to try and presses a kiss to Will's neck, drawing him towards the bedroom. "Come on, let's sleep."
Author: inocciduous
Rating: PG13
Prompt: Sam helps Will through any of the events of any S7 episode. Although, I really kind of didn't follow it.
Summary: Transitions all around!
Notes: This kind of turned into a what-if - Sam actually says no to Josh in Transitions. Also, this is unbetaed (*shameface*) so feel to point out any errors or inconsistencies.
"Think about it."
Josh is brashly charming, laying out his case in front of Sam, everything he has right on the line, up front and in his face. He listens as Josh makes his case for Santos, like Sam hasn't been paying attention - like Santos and Vinick haven't been waging their battles right on his doorstep for months. He knows what Josh wants, knew it before he opened his mouth. Josh's poker face hasn't improved any over the course of the last decade, although Sam finally learned how to use one himself. He wonders, though, because under Josh's obvious enthusiasm there's a desperation that worries him. He almost interrupts to ask if he's ignoring Donna's rules again, but imagines that things have been rather fragile between them, if he reads the gossip going around the usual circles correctly.
Something in him wants to say yes; to fight the good fight Josh is calling him to, even if he's not sure he believes in it any more. There is a majesty to working in the White House that has settled deep in his bones, and no matter how long he spends warming himself in the California sun, no matter the good he is doing for real people, the tangible results he can see in the neighborhoods he passes on the way home, he can't shake the feeling that there's a lack of depth to it.
Sam brought it up to Will once, their fingers wound into a complicated knot and lost somewhere in the haphazard spread of pillows and blankets. The night was loud around them, summer storms letting loose against their small haven, but Sam couldn't feel anything but drowsy and satisfied, Will's arms anchoring him to this time, this place, in a way that he was starting to think he could get used to.
"D'you ever miss it? Washington, the White House ..." Sam wiggles fingers lazily in the air, encompassing the whole of the American dream realized with fingers turned slow and clumsy with relaxation.
"Mmm" Will says noncommittally. "Not really."
Sam turns over, casually dislodging Will's arm and props his head up with one hand. "Really?" He eyes Will suspiciously.
Will cracks one eye open and when he sees Sam's expression of disbelief, he opens the other and says, resigned, "Really."
He reaches out and knocks Sam's forearm out, his head falling abruptly onto the pillow and huffing out a breath of surprised laughter, but he gets the point. "Okay, okay, introspection later; afterglow now." He wiggles down and tucks himself neatly into the convenient holes Will's body leaves for him.
Sam thinks of Will, of the way he found his way to Sam's office, defeated and strung out. He'd been sick of himself, and sick of politics, in a way that Sam recognized in himself. He'd offered Will a beer and his guest room, happy to have a friend and companion in his rebuilding, or at least someone to split rent with. It had been comfortable, and he'd thought Will had felt the same. Sam wasn't willing to question the first truly effortless thing to happen to him in what had felt like ages and so it had come as a bit of a shock when, companionably sharing the Sunday paper over pancakes one warm morning, Will had unceremoniously reached across the counter, cupped his jaw carefully and kissed him.
He'd left Will this morning sprawled across their bed, sunlight just beginning to peek through the windows, the coffee pot set to stay warm long enough for Will to have a bit of a lie-in. It was nice, domestic, and entirely unexpected. Looking at Josh now, Sam isn't sure he's ready to give it up, trade in this hard-won peace for another eight years of take-out cartons and certain exhaustion. He certainly isn't ready to give up Will. He might not ever be ready for that.
Josh, expectant and impatient, is practically vibrating, either from caffeine or sheer pent-up energy. Sam effortlessly feeds him a line about an engagement - he wasn't kidding about the lying - and prepares to face a Lyman rant. He can practically see Josh gearing up for it, and then suddenly he ... deflates.
"Yeah, okay."
Sam smiles, a little surprised at how easily he won this round (and he's certain there will be many more rounds, although probably not conducted in person). "Can you stay for an actual lunch, or are you on a schedule?"
"Nah, I've got a thing in Sacramento in a few hours. The next time I'm in town, though ..." Josh trails off, looking around at the other tables.
Sam smiles, "Make sure to look me up."
Josh's returning smile is brilliant, if somewhat distant. He's already leaped on to the next thing, Sam is sure, planning out the details of whatever's waiting for him in Sacramento, no doubt.
They stand up and embrace, and as they let go Sam grabs Josh's sleeve and turns him back around. "Hey," he says, "do good out there."
Josh nods solemnly and goes. He doesn't look back, already wrestling his blackberry out of its clip.
That night, he finds Will standing at the window, looking out over the sea of lights and colors below them. He twines his arms around Will's waist, inter locking their fingers and hooking his chin over the other man's shoulder. "Thinking deep thoughts?"
Will doesn't answer, although he does lean back into Sam's embrace. After a while, Sam thinks he isn't' going to answer at all, and just when he's getting ready to extract himself, Will says, "I heard Josh Lyman came to see you today."
Sam nods, tilting his head to rest his forehead against Will's neck. "He offered me Deputy Chief of Staff. I turned him down."
Will makes a noise that Sam isn't sure how to interpret. He decides not to try and presses a kiss to Will's neck, drawing him towards the bedroom. "Come on, let's sleep."