TWW FIC: By Design
Title: By Design
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Josh/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. Make love, not lawsuits.
Summary: On the heels of the nuclear accident, Sam asks to see Josh to make his own campaign contribution.
Author's Note: Post-Duck and Cover. 387 words. Written for Challenge 11: Slash Pairings at sorkinverse. Feedback and concrit is love.
All things considered, Josh thought as he raised his fist to knock on the door, the news came at the best time. Maybe not the best time. And maybe not all things considered. Hardly a best time for a nuclear accident, but, when it came to the election--when it came to their position in the polls--that plant had plunged into near-meltdown status just in time. Another week of "nine points down"--or seven, or five, or nine again--and he would have spiraled into a meltdown that would have spurred a campaign-wide evacuation.
So. Just in time. Two nuclear plant employees had given their lives in the service of their country. As he waited, Josh wondered if they'd been Democrats. Might have been more useful to live in the service of the Party. Even with the jump in the numbers, they needed every vote they could get.
When the door opened wide, Josh was too slow on the draw, and Sam started first. "Now I know you've been having a roller-coaster week, with the accident, and the spike in your numbers, but you can spare me the gruesome details. I hear more than I could ever want to know on the news, and, truth be told, I didn't ask you here to talk about the campaign."
Josh blinked and swayed in the doorway, weary and confused. He'd imagined that Sam had only arranged to meet to reminisce, maybe join the campaign. Wrong, and wrong. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. "Then--why," he said, "did you want me to come here?"
Josh's eyes widened as Sam slapped a hand across the back of his neck, hauled him over the threshold, and into a kiss. His backpack teetered on the edge of his shoulder until it fell, its thud simultaneous with the door's loud slam. Sam's fingers slid into Josh's hair and squeezed, and his tongue pushed past Josh's lips. Rough. Hard. Designed to wipe speeches and schedules from his mind. Crafted to calm the chatter in his brain and make him stop.
When Sam pulled away, he laid a hand on Josh's shoulder. "Because you've looked like you could have used one of those for weeks," Sam said, his voice low and even, one corner of his mouth curving into a half-grin.
When Josh stepped back into the elevator, his mind quiet, he still hadn't caught his breath.
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Josh/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. Make love, not lawsuits.
Summary: On the heels of the nuclear accident, Sam asks to see Josh to make his own campaign contribution.
Author's Note: Post-Duck and Cover. 387 words. Written for Challenge 11: Slash Pairings at sorkinverse. Feedback and concrit is love.
All things considered, Josh thought as he raised his fist to knock on the door, the news came at the best time. Maybe not the best time. And maybe not all things considered. Hardly a best time for a nuclear accident, but, when it came to the election--when it came to their position in the polls--that plant had plunged into near-meltdown status just in time. Another week of "nine points down"--or seven, or five, or nine again--and he would have spiraled into a meltdown that would have spurred a campaign-wide evacuation.
So. Just in time. Two nuclear plant employees had given their lives in the service of their country. As he waited, Josh wondered if they'd been Democrats. Might have been more useful to live in the service of the Party. Even with the jump in the numbers, they needed every vote they could get.
When the door opened wide, Josh was too slow on the draw, and Sam started first. "Now I know you've been having a roller-coaster week, with the accident, and the spike in your numbers, but you can spare me the gruesome details. I hear more than I could ever want to know on the news, and, truth be told, I didn't ask you here to talk about the campaign."
Josh blinked and swayed in the doorway, weary and confused. He'd imagined that Sam had only arranged to meet to reminisce, maybe join the campaign. Wrong, and wrong. That seemed to be happening a lot lately. "Then--why," he said, "did you want me to come here?"
Josh's eyes widened as Sam slapped a hand across the back of his neck, hauled him over the threshold, and into a kiss. His backpack teetered on the edge of his shoulder until it fell, its thud simultaneous with the door's loud slam. Sam's fingers slid into Josh's hair and squeezed, and his tongue pushed past Josh's lips. Rough. Hard. Designed to wipe speeches and schedules from his mind. Crafted to calm the chatter in his brain and make him stop.
When Sam pulled away, he laid a hand on Josh's shoulder. "Because you've looked like you could have used one of those for weeks," Sam said, his voice low and even, one corner of his mouth curving into a half-grin.
When Josh stepped back into the elevator, his mind quiet, he still hadn't caught his breath.