Chapter Text
Josh always had trouble sleeping in beds that weren't his own. Ironic, considering the amount of travel his job demanded. Four years in and he still had trouble getting used to it. Deputy White House Chief of Staff. Serving the President. You know, that guy? Sometimes he still woke up in a cold sweat from dreams that the election hadn't actually been won. He was still out on the campaign trail, shaking hands and talking up Bartlett to donors and voters. He'd been meaning to bring that up to his therapist.
Josh was sweating tonight too, although not from his nightmares. Bartlett's New Hampshire farmhouse was usually drafty, and it was January, but somehow his room was so warm, he was sweating through his shirt.
He rolled over again, his eye catching on the lime green glowing display of the small clock on the dresser. 1:43. He'd be a mess tomorrow if he couldn't get some sleep. They had the strategy meeting at 7:30, so he needed to be up at 6 to have time to shower, shave, and prepare for the meeting. Four hours of sleep certainly wasn't his worst— during the campaign he had been getting by on 2 most nights— but he still wouldn't be at to top of his game.
After the president came clean about his MS diagnosis, the re-election campaign had been stagnating. The American people felt lied to. The senior campaign staff were at the Bartlett farm in New Hampshire for two nights to strategize and come up with a new game plan.
Josh had never been to the farm, not even during the first race. He had missed several of the group trips due to illness or alternate campaigning to be done elsewhere, and successfully danced out of any Thanksgiving or Christmas invitations over the past 4 years.
Not that he didn't like the president. But he spent so much time with the man as it was. And he preferred to keep his Thanksgivings peaceful, no worrying about small talk or helping in the kitchen. The last four years, unable to make it all the way home to Connecticut for just one day, he had spent the holiday watching football with Sam. Of course, he felt sorry for all the missed holidays over the years but his mother knew he worked at demanding job. He couldn't help it.
Sam rarely went home for the holidays, as it took a large sum of money and hours of vacation time to even get to California from DC. Josh had never really asked if Sam missed his family, being so far away all the time. He assumed that he must.
In every meeting that day, Sam had caught Josh's eye, pursing his lips together to hold in laughter when the President or Leo or Toby said something he thought was funny. Josh knew he had to be up early, and his lack of sleep only made him more anxious, but he couldn't stop thinking about the way that Sam's eyes seemed to find him in every room…
Water. Water was what he needed. A nice cool glass of water would clear his throat and cool him off, and put him right to sleep. He got up and navigated the dimly lit halls to the kitchen.
The night was humid even though it was winter, the windows fogging up with condensation. As he filled up a glass from the tap, Josh again pictured Sam's crooked grin, caught from over CJ's shoulder earlier that day. He had made a wisecrack about something; he didn't remember what the joke had even been, and CJ had not found it funny. Lucky that she hadn't turned around to see Sam's laughter. Sam's eyes had glittered as his shoulders shook silently.
Josh was still standing at the sink when he heard someone softly walk into the kitchen behind him. Sam stood in the doorway in a t-shirt and a pair of blue striped pajama pants.
Josh couldn't help but notice that the shirt clung to the muscles in his arms and chest more than his suits or dress shirts ever did, although how Sam stayed in such good shape was beyond him. Josh barely made it out of the office at a reasonable hour, and lacked enough discipline to end up anywhere else besides his couch with a glass of whiskey in his hand every evening.
"Sorry. Couldn't sleep," Josh said.
"I couldn't either. I heard you walking down," Sam said quietly.
He looked up at Sam's face. Sam was staring at him with a strange look on his face.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing. You're just… oh, never mind."
"What is it?"
Sam frowned. "You'd hate me if I told you."
"Go on, try me."
"Well…with the moonlight, you just look… pretty, I thought. Go ahead and beat me up if you're going to."
Josh didn't reply immediately.
Josh wasn't gay. There gad been some dalliences in college, high school— but those were years ago. He had barely been 18. He had always had girlfriends in the past, but since the campaign, the only woman he had seen for any length of time had been Amy, and look where that had gotten him.
Sam was still staring at him and hadn't said anything. The moonlight was coming in from the windows, lighting his face up from the side.
"…I think you're pretty too."
Sam's mouth quirked up in one corner. He took a step closer. He was standing quite close now.
Close enough that Josh could reach out his arm, encircling Sam's waist. Their faces were inches apart.
Sam made a small noise of surprise. Josh dropped his arm.
"Sorry," he whispered. "I thought… well, I'm just sorry."
"No, I—" Sam sighed. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Oh." Josh breathed. They were still standing very close together.
"I just— I just think that this isn't something that we would want to risk the whole campaign over. If something were to go wrong between us, or people were to find out."
Josh scoffed. "I can keep a secret."
He knew in is head Sam was right, and anything happening between them would be a risk. But he wasn't really thinking with his head in that moment.
Sam was still standing very close to him. He leaned in, and his lips grazed Josh's jaw.
"Well, Mr. Secrets. It's still probably not a good idea."
He squeezed Josh's arm and turned and walked out of the kitchen. The digital clock on the stove read 1:58. Josh sighed and refilled his glass with water. He likely wouldn't get any sleep tonight.