Work Text:
She walks up as he's writing on the dry erase board and she stops in the doorway to watch him. He's adding Nevada's five votes onto their total, but she knows that's not what he's thinking about. If he was
really thinking about the victory, he'd be downstairs, standing off to the side of the stage clapping at the important parts of the congressman's speech and whistling through his fingers when it's
over. She wishes he could have that. That moment of euphoria, where nothing's wrong in the world and he feels nothing but pure bliss. He deserves that. He deserves to hear Barry Goodwin tell him that he
never should've doubted him. He deserves phone calls from the other members of the DNC, thanking him for the impossible. He deserves a big bucket of Gatorade dumped over his head like the winning Super Bowl team does to its coach. Instead, he's convinced himself that Leo got them there, she's sure of it. And she loves Leo, she really does, but this was all Josh.
She remembers the moment she found out he was running the congressman's campaign. How she sat at her desk that morning stunned and hurt, wondering why he hadn't told her what he was thinking. Why, when she quit, he hadn't dragged her into his office and told
her about Santos. She would've gone with him, if he would've made her a real part of it, she would've. Because if he was leaving the White House, Santos was the one, and it didn't matter that not a soul had heard of him.
He stands upright and looks at the dry erase board before turning to face the corkboard. Something catches his eye and he walks closer to it. She knows what he's looking at; the picture of Leo and the
congressman from the convention. Leo's wearing that infectious smile of his, and his eyes are full of excitement and bewilderment, like he can't quite believe what he's gotten himself into, but can't wait
to get started. She loves that picture.
She remembers that night so well. The way he'd walked in and handed her a beer, pulling up a chair and watching the President introduce the Santos-McGarry team with her. He'd looked beaten-up and broken
and pushed around and abandoned and, like tonight, not at all euphoric. But he had looked proud.
But she knows Josh and she knows that he's seeing the picture very differently than she sees it. Instead of the excitement and bewilderment on Leo's face, she knows he's seeing a man who's going to die. He's seeing a man who didn't really want to be the Vice
President, but who agreed because Josh asked him to; because Josh told him the country needed him; because Josh didn't stop to think about his health. And she can tell him over and over that it's not his fault, but he'll never completely believe her. Just as he wishes he hadn't run out of that burning house or left on that first campaign while his father was sick or sent her to Gaza, there will always be a part of him who wishes he'd convinced Baker to be their
running mate.
He mumbles something, but she can't make out what it is, and then he takes a step backwards and looks further down on the board. There's a picture of Josh and her there and she wonders if that's what he's
looking at, and if so, if he can tell when it was taken. She doesn't remember, but then again she's forced those memories out of her mind. Still, she's found her gaze on that particular photograph several times throughout the day, a reminder that only a few months ago they looked almost like strangers, standing too far apart as they spoke, not smiling, not touching, certainly not teasing. She doubts anyone can feel the tension pouring out of the picture, but she can and she hates it.
He moves again a minute later, going over to a window behind the dry-erase board and leaning heavily against its sill, looking out to the parking lot. "The sun's coming out," he says quietly, and she smiles to herself, wondering how long he's known she was there.
"It's almost seven o'clock in the morning," she answers equally as quietly, taking a few tentative steps inside.
"Is that why I'm so tired?"
His voice sounds almost broken and she pauses before answering. "No."
He turns around so he's facing her and tries to smile, but it comes out flat and he lets it fall. "Were you downstairs?"
She shakes her head and stops five or so feet from him. "I went to my room for a little while." She doesn't tell him that she went there to cry so he wouldn't have to see her mourning. He doesn't
need her vulnerability now, he needs her strength and that's what she'll give him.
He holds his hand out to her and she glances down at it and then up at his face before taking a few steps and reaching out for him. When her hand's in his, he pulls her towards him and hugs her again, closely and tightly and just as desperately as he had an hour
earlier when the results were given, and she wishes, for maybe the first time in her life, that she were a little shorter so she could rest her head on his chest and feel his heart beating. Instead, she
tucks her head into his neck and breathes in his scent. She can smell a little of herself too and she smiles into his skin and makes a mental note that he needs a shower.
The congressman's speech on the television is the only sound for minutes. She's not listening to it, and doubts he is, but neither let go of the other, so they stand there holding each other while it plays in the background. She knows he'll talk when he's ready, but when he does, it's not what she expected to hear. "He offered me Chief of Staff."
She doesn't let go of him, but turns her head and rests her chin on his shoulder so she's now looking out at the sun through the window. "Of course he did."
He takes a deep breath that makes her hair flutter and tickles her ear. "What if I say no?"
This takes her by complete surprise and she stiffens, for just a second, but long enough that she's sure he feels it. It's quiet for another second while she grasps for something to say, and even then it's nothing more than, "I didn't know you were considering that."
He pulls back, moving his hands slowly down her back to her waist before dropping them from her body altogether. "I could recommend CJ to him. She's already there, she knows the job."
She nods slowly. "Yeah."
"What do you think?"
She looks at him hard, and wonders if he's looking for some sort of permission or if he's waiting for her to ask him what the hell he's thinking. And what's more is that she's got mixed emotions about it.
He's not the healthiest, and if she ever had to find him in a bathroom they way Annabeth had Leo, it would absolutely kill her. She'd be lying if she said she's never thought of them away from DC in a little house, him teaching poly-sci and her doing… hell, something. "I think…" She moves to stand beside him, their shoulders touching and both of them facing out into the room that had recently given them their future. "…it depends on why."
He looks over at her and then down at the floor, the congressman's speech still going on in the background. Eventually it would stop and they'd have to move or the staff would be back. "They wanted to
replace me," he says quietly.
She looks over at him and he's glancing up at her from his position, but she can't give it to him. Not for that. "That doesn't matter anymore and you're looking forward to throwing it in their faces
anyway."
A smile creeps up to the corners of his mouth and he looks back down at the floor again. "I thought it might be interesting to write a book," he says after more silence.
She scoffs, she can't help it. "Nice try," she deadpans.
He sighs and lifts his head to the ceiling. "What if I can't…"
"You can," she insists, cutting him off. "It would've been nice to have him nearby, for questions and support, but… you don't need it." She turns to face him, resting her shoulder on the glass of the
window. "You can do this."
He shakes his head and brings it down to look at her and she knows; she knows he's finally ready to tell her the real reason. "I can't pick somebody to…to replace him. I can't call the wrong man Mr. Vice-
President for the next four years. I can't sit in his office and…" he trails off, sniffling just a little and quite obviously trying to keep from breaking down again. "…pretend it's mine."
She nods slightly at him, a soft, sad, smile on her face, and steps a bit closer to him. "It won't be your office. Just like it's not CJ's and it wasn't Leo's. It's the office of the Chief of Staff to
the President of the United States of America. That's the magic of it. That's what you love about this whole thing."
He stares at her for a long time before nodding, not that it's answered anything. She still doesn't know if he's going to say yes, if she even wants him to, but she leans in and kisses him very lightly on the lips anyway. That's strange in itself, if for no
other reason than that it's still very, very new and different for them, but it doesn't stop him from cupping her cheek with his hand or smiling at her when they part.
He looks back out the window then. "He made mistakes," he says almost inaudibly, as if it's less true if he says it quietly.
"He was just a man, Josh. Of course he made mistakes."
"What if I…" he looks back at her then but doesn't continue and after several seconds, she answers for him.
"You will. You will make mistakes, Josh."
"No," he says, shaking his head and looking away again. "What if… I don't want to be divorced in two years."
She half chuckles. "You're not even…" She stops suddenly and stiffens again. He's saying something, something important, but he's still looking out the window and she's not sure if she can trust
herself to hear it correctly. "Josh," she whispers in a shaky voice.
More seconds pass before he looks directly at her. "I don't want to be divorced in two years," he repeats quietly.
She can't really breathe and she's not sure if he's proposing or just telling her that he's going to eventually, but either one eases the small doubts she's carried with her throughout the day. She
didn't want to cry in front of him, but there have been too many ups and downs today and tears spring to her eyes, pooling there but not falling down her face. "Then put your marriage first," she whispers.
His voice is soft and husky when he replies, reminding her of sandpaper. "What if I forget?"
She shakes her head. "I won't let you."
He brings his hands up and cups her face, pulling her even closer to him. "You can't. You can't let me." He's insistent, forceful, and she nods.
"I won't; I promise."
He pulls her face to his and kisses long but softly, softer than he has yet, their lips barely touching and his fingers soft on her cheeks, and the tears in her eyes start trailing down her face. When
he pulls back, he kisses her forehead before hugging her again and sighing into her hair.
They stand that way for a few minutes, quietly listening to the sounds on the television until the congressman starts the final paragraphs of his speech. "I'm tired," he breathes out.
"We need sleep. The plane leaves for DC at two."
He pulls back from her and nods, then takes her hand and leads her out of the room, pausing at the doorway and looking back inside.
"What?"
"I just… hold on." He drops her hand and goes back to the corkboard,looking once again at the picture of Leo and the congressman. She wonders if he can see the bewilderment and excitement at all, or if
he still only sees the man who's going to die, but she smiles when he pulls the picture down, folds it, and puts it into his pocket. Then he looks down at the other picture, the one of Josh and her,
and takes that down too, slipping it into the trash can next to the npupchalkboard. He stares at it there for a second before turning around and joining her at the door again. She smiles at him and he kisses
her temple and takes her hand, then leads her down the hall towards his room.