Work Text:
It’s 3:12 AM when Toby’s pager starts beeping.
It’s 3:36 AM when Toby wakes up to his pager beeping. It’s Josh.
Toby pulls himself out of his bed. What the hell could Josh possibly need at this hour? The work is slow and tedious recently, and certainly nothing that would require them to be working throughout the night. Toby wanders around his room for a moment, absently pacing in circles to try and wake himself up. He shakes his head, lightly slapping at his face to try to rid the sleep from his brain, and the grogginess from his voice.
His pager beeps again.
Toby freezes. A few minutes have passed since the pager initially woke him up, and the haze of sleep is finally starting to leave him. He takes a second to reconsider the situation: if there was no work related reason for him to be woken up, and Josh has paged him twice in the last ten minutes…
An emergency.
Toby feels like he’s been slapped. How could he not have realized sooner? There could be a war, or terrorists, or any number of things. He tries not to freak himself out too much as he scrambles to his phone.
He picks it up and hurriedly dials Josh’s number. As he anxiously waits to hear Josh’s voice on the other end, he realizes that the number he just called was definitely Josh’s personal phone number, instead of his office.
Before he can dwell on that any longer, Josh picks up.
“Josh? What’s going on?” He urges.
On the other end, there is silence, and then an exhale, as if Josh had been holding his breath. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” His voice is shaky. “Nevermind, I’ll just go, I-”
“Josh,” Toby interrupts him, trying to keep his voice calm. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”
Josh is silent again, for more than a moment. Toby doesn’t push it, just shifts his weight between his feet as he waits.
“Can I come over?”
The question is abrupt and unexpected, and takes Toby completely off guard. His mind closes in on just how panicked Josh’s voice sounds - and that’s not to say he doesn’t sound panicked normally, but this time feels different. Josh seems scared.
“Y-yeah, why, what’s happening?” Toby fumbles out an agreement as fast as possible. He cringes afterward, slapping a clammy hand against his forehead, worried his tone was too prosecutorial, that he might be coaxing more information out of Josh that he doesn’t want to share, or that Toby doesn’t need to know. He realizes that Josh has been silent for more than a few seconds, and kicks the wall.
“It’s just, I…” Josh finally speaks up, and Toby almost sighs his relief, “I just-”
“You don’t have to- to give me a reason,” Toby cuts him off, surprising even himself. “I’ll call you a cab. It’s… it’s okay.” He felt awkward, for some reason.
“Thank you, Toby. Really.”
“You don’t have to say…” Josh seemed genuine in his gratitude, which again, was confusing to Toby. Every response felt wrong leaving his lips. He sighed, and shook his head, restarting his sentence. “Do you want me to stay on the phone until it gets here?”
Josh chuckles dryly. “No, Toby, that’s okay. You can go get dressed up, I’ll be fine.” Toby thinks he hears a smile in Josh’s voice now, which is considerably less shaky now than at the start of their call, and classifies the conversation as a win.
“Okay, see you in a minute,” he concludes. He hears Josh mumble a noise of affirmation and moves to hang up the phone, before hesitating and holding it back up to his ear. “Stay safe.”
Josh is silent, another beat. “Yeah, okay.” He hangs up.
Toby slams the phone down into the receiver. What the hell had just gotten into him? “Stay safe?” he reiterates out loud to himself. “What the hell is stay safe? Who am I?”
He turns the TV on and sinks down into his couch cushions. Stay safe was not the only part of the call Toby is hung up on. It’s like the entire conversation is laser etched into his memory, and playing on loop like a CD. He hears Josh’s frightened tone of voice at the beginning ringing in his ears, the “Can I come over?” like his life depended on it. Maybe it did, Toby thinks to himself. He squeezes his eyes shut and pretends he didn’t keep thinking about it.
He calls a cab for Josh, and waits.
It’s best etiquette to wait until your guests have arrived to start drinking, so Toby holds off on pouring himself a glass of whiskey, even though he feels he really needs it. His gaze is aimed at the TV, but to anyone who knew Toby, they could tell he’s staring right through it. Worry infiltrates his mind and body, and a part of him wants to call Josh back, to see if the cab has arrived. He goes back and forth on this countless times; view darting from the TV to the phone every half a minute.
Finally, after what felt like years of waiting, the doorbell rings, and Toby inhales sharply as he hurls himself up off the couch to answer it.
He stops for a moment at the door. On the phone, before he hung up, Josh had joked about Toby getting dressed up, but it suddenly became increasingly clear that he should have heeded that advice. He undoes the chain lock on his door, hoping Josh won’t mind that he’s in flannel pajama pants and a branded tee for a local brewery.
He pulls the door open. There in front of him stands Josh, the usually hyperactive, wordy, passionate White House Deputy Chief of Staff, looking like nine kinds of a disaster. Toby takes in his appearance a moment more, before he says anything. Josh is wearing the same outfit he wore to work the previous day, with no tie or jacket, and his hair looks like he was given an hour-long noogie. The two meet eyes, and Toby can tell instantly that Josh has been crying. He can feel a part of himself break, inside.
“You- you made it,” Toby says, gesturing for Josh to come in, before mentally kicking himself for his continued use of horrible phrasing.
“Yeah,” Josh says, sounding about as awkward as Toby feels. He walks in and sniffs once, before continuing. “Y’know, I didn’t mean black-tie when I said ‘dressed up,’ but don’t you agree this is a little unprofessional?” Josh shoots him a small smile, gesturing at Toby’s outfit.
Toby closes the door behind him. Leave it to Josh to brighten the mood in seconds, even at his worst. Toby smiles back. “You don’t look too great yourself, hot stuff,”
Josh pats his hands against the sides of his legs with a sigh of admission. “Yeah.”
The urge to hug him suddenly overwhelms Toby, and the shift in Josh’s demeanor does not go unnoticed. He feels guilty, like he made Josh genuinely worry about his appearance. He settles for placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t really mean anything by it,” Toby says, and sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m bad at this kind of stuff.”
Josh looks at him for a moment, and exhales a shaky, broken breath. He reaches a hand up to rest atop Toby’s on his shoulder, and his skin is cold to the touch.
Toby almost flinches away from the cold, but manages not to. “Oh, my god, Josh, did you have the AC on?”
Josh picks his hand back up, probably realizing it was the cause of Toby’s question. “No, no, I, uh…” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Cab dropped me off at the wrong building, so I had to walk a couple minutes.”
Toby stares at him. The urge from earlier is back, and this time he doesn’t even try to suppress it. He pulls Josh, with the hand on his shoulder, into a warm, full-bodied hug. Josh is clearly caught off guard, going rigid in Toby’s hold, but Toby doesn’t let go. He shoves his face into the crook of Josh’s neck, hoping Josh will retain some of his warmth.
After a moment of this, Josh finally releases a stuttered breath and wraps his arms around the small of Toby’s back as well, resting his chin on Toby’s shoulder.
A moment more, and Toby can tell by the movement in Josh’s neck that he’s started crying. He’s started crying and trying to hide it.
“Josh?” Toby says, voice softer than it ever has been, as he carefully pulls out of the embrace. “Are you okay?”
Josh is quick to pull up one of his hands and use it to wipe his face, trying again to hide his tears. “Yeah, I’m, I’m fine.”
“For some reason, I don’t quite believe you,” Toby says, gently pulling Josh’s wrist away from his face. With his other hand, he swipes his thumb under each of Josh’s eyes to wipe away his tears, and Josh gives him a look that feels almost shameful. Toby wants to murder who- or whatever is responsible for Josh’s feeling like this. “Listen. Why don’t you go change into something less… I-work-in-this and we can watch a movie or something.”
Josh smiles, seeming to like the idea, but his smile falls after a moment. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
“I meant my clothes, Josh,” Toby points at his bedroom door. “Pajamas are in the bottom left drawer, tee shirts in the top left. I think I have another pair identical to these pants if you wanna match.”
Josh smiles and nods, walking to Toby’s door and shutting it behind himself.
Toby waits for him, leans against his kitchen counter and glancing at his door every so often. He wonders if Josh will go with the shirt and pair of pants on the top of the drawer’s pile, or if he’ll look around for one he likes. He wonders what would constitute a shirt that Josh would like. Suddenly his entire wardrobe is flashing through his mind, assessing which possible combinations Josh could come out of that door wearing. He might be overthinking this.
After more than a few minutes, Josh still hasn’t come out of the room. Toby pushes himself off the kitchen counter, and heads toward his door. He doesn’t think anything is seriously wrong, but something in him tells him to check up on Josh anyway.
He raps at the door gently with the back of his knuckle, to no response. “Josh?” He calls softly, again to no response. He reluctantly opens the door, peering in to see if Josh has miraculously vanished from existence.
Quite the opposite is true, in reality, and when he looks inside he is greeted by the image of a sleeping Josh curled up on his bed with his pillow clutched in his hands.
Warmth surges in Toby’s chest. After a brief search around the room, Toby can see that Josh had picked out a pair of pajamas, but didn’t quite make it to putting them in. After a quick glance over Josh's person, he can see that the younger had gotten about halfway through taking off his shirt before falling asleep. Cute, Toby thinks, before shaking his head.
He quietly approaches Josh’s sleeping form, taking this time to appreciate the rare softness, the relaxation of Josh’s features. His eyes were closed and his lashes fanned across his cheek. Pretty.
Toby rested a gentle hand on Josh’s shoulder, giving him a nudge.
“What?” Josh mumbled, sounding abnormally awake. He blinked a few times into the dim light of Toby’s bedroom, before realizing what had happened. “Oh, shit.”
He sat up, casting Toby’s pillow aside, and knocking the shirt he’d taken from Toby’s dresser onto the bed from its resting place on his leg.
That’s my campaign shirt, Toby realizes. It had been at the bottom of the drawer. He picked it out. Toby takes a deep breath as he tries not to overanalyze that realization.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” He replies, taking Josh’s dress shirt by the plackets and pulling it the rest of the way off his shoulders, leaving him in just his undershirt. Josh follows his movements willingly, and it only occurs to Toby after the fact how intimate the action was.
Toby retrieves the shirt from the end of his bed while Josh pulls off his undershirt, handing it to him and watching as he pulls it over his head. He tries not to stare at the scar on Josh’s stomach.
Josh grabs the pajama pants from where he set them on the nightstand and shoots Toby a look.
Toby turns around, putting his hands up to give Josh some privacy while he changes. He hears him remove his belt and fold his pants, and slide Toby’s pajamas on. It crosses Toby’s mind that they were the pair that matched his.
“Alright, you’re good,” comes Josh’s voice, and Toby turns around to face him again. The urge to hug the younger man has returned in full force as Toby sees him in his oversized campaign shirt and plaid pajama pants. He refrains for the time being.
“Did you pick out that shirt for… any specific reason?” Toby asks, indulging his curiosity.
“Yeah,” Josh confirms, smiling softly.
“Are you going to tell me?”
Josh simply sinks down into the bed. Okay.
“Fine,” Toby says, walking around to the other side of the bed. “I’m guessing you don’t want to go watch movies in the living room.”
Josh nods, and scoots a bit to his right so he can pull the comforter over himself. Toby throws the comforter back from the other side of the bed, so he can get in as well. Josh is laying on Toby’s side of the bed, but Toby doesn’t tell him.
Toby notices that Josh seems to be in a much better mood than he was when he first arrived at Toby’s apartment that day, but he can’t help but think about how he was feeling earlier, or how he still might be feeling right now, hidden under his lighthearted behavior. He’s known Josh for years now, and he can count the number of times he’s seen him cry on one hand. This wasn’t insignificant for him.
For what his job was, there’s a vast discrepancy in Toby’s ability to find the right words in situations like this. He doesn’t want to make Josh uncomfortable, or pry too far into his life, or cross any lines, but he wants to help. He needs to help.
So, Toby does the only thing he knows how to do when words aren’t an option, not that he’s any better at it: he uses actions.
Awkwardly, Toby turns to face Josh beside him. He lifts his left arm, and with it the comforter covering himself, creating an open area in front of him. He hopes to god that Josh will understand his gesture, and that he doesn’t have to explain it.
“What are you doing, Toby?”
Of course. “Performing an act of vulnerability. Come here.”
For what Toby thinks is the first time tonight, Josh doesn’t hesitate a single second. He slides himself to the right side of the bed, inserting himself into the space Toby made, close enough to feel each other’s body heat. When he settles, Toby lets the comforter and his arm fall to their original positions, almost surprising himself that there was a warm body there now. He quickly adjusts to the new experience, wrapping his arm around Josh’s middle and pulling him close.
Josh tucks his head under Toby’s chin, and Toby adjusts his head’s position to accommodate his habit. The younger nuzzles his nose into Toby’s collar, and breathes deeply. “I liked your old cologne better.”
“What?”
“Your old cologne. You changed it last year.”
Toby stares at the wall next to the bed. There’s no conceivable way Josh would remember that. How does he remember that? He almost shakes his head in disbelief, but catches himself before he can disrupt Josh’s comfortable position against him. “How do you possibly remember that?”
“I notice things, Toby,” Josh mumbles against his neck, and Toby feels his stomach do flips. “You’re a very noticeable person.”
It seems like everything Josh does and says is designed to cripple Toby’s ability to think critically. He doesn’t notice himself doing it, but he pulls Josh a little closer to himself.
They lay like that for a few moments, in a comfortable silence. The arm that isn’t wrapped around Josh’s waist is supporting his head with its bicep, and Toby tangles his fingers into Josh’s hair. Josh’s breathing is slow and steady, and Toby can feel it on his neck.
After a few moments, Toby breaks the silence. “Josh,” he starts softly. “Why are you here?”
Josh takes in a deeper breath, and exhales slowly. Toby can feel him swallow. “I was having a bad night,” Josh curls his hand into the hem of Toby’s shirt. “Living alone can get to you, y’know, and when you’re me, and you just have to look at that stupid fucking window all the time…”
Toby feels him tighten his grip on the shirt. “I, I know it probably isn’t the same, but I understand what it’s like feeling alone all the time,” He tilts his head down a bit, so he’s speaking into the top of Josh’s head. “I really do. I felt like I was the most alone person on the planet after I got divorced, and for a while after, too. But then, and you usually don’t even see it coming, sometimes you wake up and look around and your life is full of people. People who would do anything for you, anything you needed, and who you would do anything for. People like Sam, and CJ, and Leo, and the President. And you.”
He can feel Josh’s breathing turn jagged again, like it had been earlier, when he was crying. Toby isn’t naive enough to need to wonder if he is again. He pulls away from Josh, removes the hand around his waist, and uses it to wipe the tears from Josh’s cheeks. He tucks it under Josh’s chin to coax him to look at Toby’s face.
“I’m serious, Josh. I would… I would jump in front of a bus for you, seriously. I’d go wait in the line at the bank for you,” he chuckles. “That’s how serious I am.” He watches Josh’s lips start to turn up. “Joshua, I would, I would call your mom on the day after you forgot to wish her a happy Mother’s Day for you. I’d take the fall for you saying ‘anyone who learns Latin is a chump’ in front of the President, that’s how serious I am.” He wipes Josh’s cheeks a final time. “And I’m sure Sam, and CJ, and Leo, and Donna would all do the same. We’re all yours, Josh.”
Josh doesn’t waste another second after Toby finishes talking to fall back into his embrace, attempting to pull himself as close to Toby as physically possible. He fists his hands in the back of Toby’s shirt, and Toby replaces the arm around his waist.
A muffled sound comes from where Josh’s mouth is pressed against Toby’s skin.
“What was that?”
A dramatic, exasperated, if slightly shaky sigh comes from Josh. He pulls his head back just far enough to be heard.
“I love you.”
“Me?” Toby cringes. What a stupid response.
“Yes, you,” Josh laughs. “You idiot. I love you.”
Toby smiles, with a small sigh of relief. “I love you, too,” He moves his hand to the back of Josh’s head to nudge it back to its position tucked under his chin. “But you still have to tell me why you picked that shirt.”
Toby feels Josh shake his head, and decides to leave it at that.
The reason Josh picked the shirt, in fact, was because he recognized the smell of Toby’s old cologne on it, the kind he was wearing when they met.