Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Lisa and I are getting married in September.”

Josh thinks it’s stupid how he’s still disappointed each time he’s reminded that Sam dates.

Specifically, that Sam dates women.

He realizes he should answer, but he can’t manage to say anything beyond “Ah-kay”.

It shouldn’t really come as a surprise that they’d get married at some point. At least, that was the feeling he had the last time he saw them together, 4 years ago. Lisa was smart. Not as smart as Sam was – not that he thought that anyone could ever match Sam’s intelligence – but smart, nevertheless. They were comfortable together, there was this feeling of domesticity surrounding them that made his entire body ache with want. The Sam standing in front of him isn’t the wide-eyed intern he met on Capitol Hill anymore. He is a grown man, with a fiancée, a home, and a well-paid job in the private sector – he has to remind himself that he's a grown man as well, despite not having what Sam has. He has his passion and his ideals, which make him valuable in politics. Lawmakers listen to him – or rather, he makes them listen to him. But that’s all he has, politics and his parents.

Josh suddenly feels the need to leave as soon as possible, before he starts pitying himself. “Listen, I gotta go. I should let you...”.

“I gotta get back to this thing.”. They hold each other’s gaze for a beat too long.

“It's good seeing you again.” If only Sam knew how much he meant it.

“It's good seeing you too. I miss you.” He can’t answer, not honestly, so Josh offers Sam a half-smile and brushes his shoulder as he leaves. At the last second, he realizes he shouldn’t be storming off, not if he wants to play any part in Sam’s life ever again. “Congratulations on the partnership.”. He can’t bring himself to congratulate him on the engagement, and he has a feeling Sam knows it.

“Josh.”. Sam stops him. Please let him be oblivious to my lack of enthusiasm about Lisa. “Hoynes. He's not the real thing, is he?”. Of course he’s asking this. He doesn’t know, doesn’t care that he just broke my heart all over again, just by being oblivious to my feelings.

“The thing you gotta know about Hoynes-”. He feels the need to defend his boss, even though he’s on the way to seeing a possible competitor. “It's okay.” “No, I'm saying...”. I don’t really know what I’m saying. “Josh. What are you doing?” Hanging onto a dream I can’t fulfill. “I don't know. What are you doing?” “Protecting oil companies from litigation. They're our client. They don't lose legal protection because they make a lot of money.”

There are certain times when Josh wonders if he could do that, if he could give up his ideals and look for stability. Maybe, only maybe, he could then live with the fact that his friend has it all. Stop kidding yourself. It’s selfish, but you’ll never be okay with Sam building a life in which, if you’re lucky, you’re merely a bystander. “I can't believe no one ever wrote a folk song about that.” After all, humor is still part of his protective shield. Sam chuckles in response, but he knows it’s just because he’s Sam – nice, smart, gorgeous Sam. “If I see the real thing in Nashua, should I tell you about it?” Please, say yes. “You won't have to.” His heart falls. “Why?” “You’ve got a pretty bad poker face.” His lips curve into a smile without his permission, so he bites his lower lip. “Okay.” He tries to leave again. “Take it easy.” He tells him. Sam calls after him, “Okay.”

By all means, Josh is good with words. Granted, not as good as Sam is, but still above average. That’s why he spends the whole walk towards the station cursing himself for repeating “Okay” over and over again. It seems like standing next to Sam is enough to render him speechless.

He remembers that cursed summer of 1991, when Sam worked as a congressional aide for Congressman Johnson during his time as Floor Manager. Josh had set up a meeting with a few congressmen, and Sam had been invited to take notes. If he thought he was mesmerized by Sam’s ocean blue eyes, he didn’t have the words to express what he felt when Sam, polite and well-spoken Sam, had interrupted him – “It’s okay, I lead my office with the policy that anybody can speak up when they have an idea. It’s a way to keep me open-minded, and frankly, fresh.”, congressman Johnson had chuckled. Loosened up by the confidence the congressman had put in him, Sam started arguing how to improve the bill they were trying to pass. He was passionate, but he exposed his thoughts in an articulate way Josh could never fully achieve. Plus, he made some very valid points. Nevertheless, Josh tried to debate him on some of the ideas he explained. One by one, Sam convinced Josh (and the other attendees, who looked amused, as if they were witnessing a tennis match) about all of them, making him reschedule the meeting to get some time to debate with other members of the House and introduce changes to the bill.

Josh was intrigued by this young-looking aide, who had more spark in him than 75% of the people working in politics. He approached him while he talked with the congressman. “Hi. Uhm, let me introduce myself. My name is… Joshua Lyman.” This can’t be happening. I can’t be mumbling like an idiot because I’ve just seen the most beautiful eyes ever. For a guy who seemed so outspoken, he looked flustered as he noticed his outstretched hand. “Yes, sir, I’m Sam Seaborn.” His cheeks are slightly pink. Please, don’t let my cheeks turn the same color. “There’s no need for formalities, Sam. Just call me Josh.” “Okay, Josh.” He gave a timid smile. Oh, he’s intimidated by me. “You look very young, is this your first job?” “It’s not, actually. I worked on a New York State Assembly campaign during undergrad. I worked at the DCCC before law school, and I’ve been an aide for several years. I graduated last month.” “You’re going into politics?” “I don’t know yet, actually. My dad is pushing me to get a job at Dewey Ballantine’s in September, but all I’ve ever really done is politics. I might try corporate law, I don’t know.” “You really should consider politics. You’re smart and passionate. Just don’t lose that spark, and you’ll stand out.” Sam looked down at his shoes, but Josh saw him fighting a smile. Even when Sam was hiding it, he felt the air leave his lungs, and he knew right there he wanted to make Sam smile forever. “Look, it’s almost lunchtime. Do you want to… euhm, maybe join me?”. Sam looked around for his colleagues, only to find that, during those few minutes he has been talking to Josh, they had all left the room. “Um, yeah, sure. I’ll have to stop by the congressman’s office to drop my stuff, but I’d like that very much.”

And even though those first minutes had been filled with nearly unbearable awkwardness, and the walk to congressman Johnson’s office was silent and tense, the conversation had flown from the moment Sam had exited the office. They spoke about California and Connecticut, and neither could fully comprehend the other’s apparent need to leave their hometown, because to the other, their childhood sounded like a dream. They bonded over the demanding life leading up to and in an Ivy League institution (“and you still went for another round for Law school!”, Sam had incredulously exclaimed). By the time they had reached a diner where they could find a table, Josh knew he’d want to spend his whole life listening to anything Sam had to say.

“So did you go straight into politics after law school, or did you do corporate first?”

“I’ve never really practiced law, actually. An old friend of my dad’s, Leo McGarry, he sort of got me interested in politics when I was a teenager, and he told me to get a law degree, so I did that.” Josh answered to a wide-eyed Sam. “I’m not smart or articulate enough to stand in a courtroom and defend someone. I’d make a lousy lawyer. I wanted to understand how laws work so I can help make them.”

“My dad was the one who pushed me to go to law school. I majored in English at Princeton. I’ve always felt more like a writer. Not a creative writer, though, I minored in political science. I write speeches, mostly.” Sam looked around half suspiciously, leaned over and whispered, “I maybe shouldn’t tell you this, but during my time at the DCCC, some candidates straight-up paid me to ghostwrite their speeches if they felt their own staff wasn’t getting it done.” He then sat up straight again, and his almost comically serious face turned into a grin. “That’s how I met Congressman Johnson. He hired me. My dad is still mad about it, I was supposed to take the job they offered at Dewey after I interned there, but I really wanted to work here one last time.” His smile fell, and Josh’s heart hurt for this guy. “Anyway. I’m so sorry for holding you up, I’m sure you have somewhere important to be.”

At that, Josh snorted. “Me? I have another five meetings like the one you completely derailed back there to see if we can actually pass some legislation.”

“You’ll get it done, you’re Josh Lyman.” Sam affirmed with a slight blush.

“How do you know that? I thought you didn’t know who I was.” Josh couldn’t help but be amused. The kid was bright, but he was still not there in the power positions, he could still tease him.

“Of course I know who you are! I never said I didn’t. You’re a legend.” With that, it was Josh’s turn to blush. “You went directly from being an aide to Chief of Staff. Everybody knows you! Hell, I even heard several people saying they wanted you to run their campaigns during the last election cycle. Word is that you’re the greatest political mind of our generation.”

“I’m not that great, believe me.” He picked up his backpack from the floor, and stalled for a second when he saw Sam stand up and put on his suit jacket. “I’m loud. I listen and analyze what people want and what they need, and use that in my favor. There’s nothing genius about that.”

“See, I disagree. Most people don’t know how or care about fixing things or making deals. You might think it’s manipulation, but I think that makes you a great strategist. And you make sure you’re heard. You’re an inspiration, even if the rest of us won’t be able to ever get to your level.” Josh felt flustered at his praise, and Sam seemed to notice, because he stopped talking. He matched Josh’s stride back to the Hill, chewing the inside of his cheek, and Josh thought how unfair it was that this guy was both smart and cute.

“Do you want to have dinner this weekend?” He cursed himself. He’s cute, but you might as well have asked him directly if he wanted to go on a date. “I mean, to talk. You can tell me what other amazing stories you’ve heard about me.” He joked, grinning.

Sam smiled, and God, Josh felt as if a beam of sunlight had been directed at him. “Of course I want to have dinner with you.” He tried to dim his smile, but his eyes sparkled. “Friday? There’s Happy Hour at a bar next to my apartment, and we could go find something to eat afterward."

Josh’s mind told him not to, but the butterflies in his stomach made him nod. He got the address and the time, and after a half- (and very manly) hug, they each left to their own office.

Josh sighed, both dreading and excitedly anticipating their date. Alcohol and the prettiest and smartest guy he’d ever met. What could go wrong?

Chapter Text

His conversation with Josh left Sam half out of it the entire day. Considering their close friendship, and the fact that they had been inseparable the summer they both lived in D.C., they had spent much too long communicating only through mail and phone. And suddenly, Josh Lyman was in New York, in the lobby of the firm he worked for, to see him. His heart had soared, and the pang of disappointment was unavoidable when he started talking politics. Of course that would be the reason for his visit. Of course he was there in passing to see a candidate and of course he wanted to recruit him. For two guys who used to speak of dreams and wants and ambitions, both personal and professional (although it took some time – and alcohol – for Josh to open up), their conversations had become pretty monothematic lately. 

Sam wanted to resent him, but he knew he’d always had a soft spot for Josh. He remembers knowing about Josh Lyman years before he even met him. He’d heard stories about the 17-year-old kid who had shadowed Leo McGarry when he managed one senator’s campaign in 1978. A risky bet, a candidate who seemed to have little chance, but who ended up winning. In the following years, all the campaigns Josh was involved in seemed to follow the same pattern: people who started as the underdog, people with big ideals and colorful speeches, who nobody in D.C. would give a chance, who ended up being elected by a large majority after Josh joined their campaign. There was also a pattern in his employment beyond the election cycle: whoever he had gotten elected offered him a job, which he usually accepted, and then would leave after 3 months tops of seeing his big bet actually making policy. Word was that Josh always claimed he left those jobs because he was looking for “the real thing”. It made him sound arrogant, and most people were as annoyed as they were in awe of him.

It wasn’t until that Friday night in 1991, two margaritas in, that he both understood the stories and knew how misinterpreted Josh was. This guy with the wild curls, who talked a bit too excitedly – even before they’d started drinking –, and who gesticulated with impetus, wasn’t arrogant, he was passionate. He learned of his family, Jews who had to flee Germany because of the Nazis on one side, and Jews who helped people flee and settle in the US on the other. His dad was a civil rights lawyer, and his mother was a literature professor. Philanthropists and intellectuals who shaped him. He learned of his Fulbright to Brussels after he finished law school, which took him to the insides of the European Parliament, thatwhich made him think of the little things that they could do to improve people’s lives. The European Union wasn’t perfect, but neither was the United States, and that year abroad made him reaffirm his calling for politics. He was a deeply caring person who was in politics for the right reasons, to improve people’s lives. That was why he chose the idealists, that’s why he jumped ship once his hopes for the politician he got elected were crushed.

Sam also told him about his life and career. His mother was a public high school teacher with a heart of gold who’d married a cunning lawyer, partner in one of California’s biggest corporate law firms. How heHe is a product of both sides of his upbringing: his favorite weekend pastime is reading, but he likes essays. He knows how rough people have it, while he has also always been a wealthy kid with no real-world problems. He was allowed some freedom when he chose his undergrad focus (his mother was thrilled he chose to major in English, and his father was placated by his political science minor), but his father had basically demanded he went to law school afterward (at the threat that that was the only graduate school he was going to pay for). He was someone who knew the everyday problems that people faced, who knew how hard they fought and wanted to help, but who didn’t actually have a grasp on what he could do beyond volunteering and donating from time to time, because D.C. didn’t seem to be jumping at the chance to help them.

Despite their differences, Sam immediately understood what Josh meant when he said he was looking for “the real thing” and vowed to help him. For one evening, Sam let himself forget about the job that was waiting for him in New York in September, and believed that one day, he could assist Josh in getting the one person who would turn things around elected. He let himself be carried away by the wildly gesticulating man in front of him, who got into crazier ideas as the night progressed and the drinks were poured, by the dimples that automatically appeared on his cheeks when Sam replied, by the curls he desperately wanted to run his fingers through. In just a couple of hours, Sam felt how his stupid platonic crush on the person called to be one of the key political figures in the near future became a bone-deep adoration.

One thing he also found out that evening was Josh’s insanely low alcohol tolerance, and Sam chuckled as he supported a babbling Josh down the street. He tried to make sense of Josh’s directions to his studio, but finally decided to bring him to his own apartment, if only to avoid ending up in Virginia following his instructions.

“Do you know you have the most beautiful eyes ever?” Josh suddenly declared. Sam tripped over nothing and turned to look at Josh, only to find him inches away from his face, gazing into his eyes. “Like, you’re soooo pretty.”

Sam willed himself to deeply inhale and remember that they were in public, and that while it was late at night, he shouldn’t give in to his desires and kiss those lips he’d been observing for hours. At least not until they got to the apartment. Or until Josh was sober. Yes, that’s better, don’t be a creep. Instead, he forced a laugh and started walking again. “I’m flattered, Josh, you don’t look too bad yourself.” That’s not creepy at all, Sam.

Despite the considerable weight he was carrying, and the lack of cooperation Josh was providing, they soon arrived at Sam’s apartment in one piece. “Are you okay to stand on your own for a little bit while I open the door, Josh?” Instead of answering, Josh grunted and supported himself on the wall next to his front door. Not completely sober himself, Sam had to make a few attempts before introducing the key into the keyhole. When he turned to tell Josh they could go inside, he found him leaning against the door edge, dangerously close to him. He flung his arm around his shoulders, like he had the whole trip from the bar to the apartment, and yet Sam felt the air leave his lungs this time. When it looked like Josh was going to tug him closer and kiss him, he started walking, dragging a surprised Sam into his own home. Once they were inside, Josh moved his hand to Sam’s jaw, rubbed it with his thumb, and looked intently at his mouth. Knowing that all self-control would be lost if Josh kissed him now, Sam softly shook his head and started moving away. “No, Josh. Not here. Perhaps it’s better, I mean, if you want, the bedroom is at the end of the corridor at the left...” Josh smiled, seemingly trying to be flirty, flashing the dimples he so adored, and started walking to the bedroom. Sam stood in the entryway for a few beats, trying to regain control of his shallow breathing and slightly elevated heart rate, and decided to wash his teeth and use the toilet before he followed Josh to the bedroom. As he looked into the mirror, he noticed his blown pupils, wide with lust, and felt his body start to react at the mere idea that Josh was now waiting for him in his bedroom. He quickly rinsed his mouth and washed his hands, and after deciding to keep his work clothes on – it was casual Friday, anyway – he braced himself to enter the bedroom.

“Josh, I’m done in the bathroom, if you need to...” He trailed off, as he found Josh lying face down on the bed, and, judging by his regular breathing, fast asleep. While he felt a pang of disappointment at the missed opportunity, part of him was relieved that, whatever happened between them, it wouldn’t be a drunken night that they could come to regret. So, instead of waking Josh up, he laid next to him (attempting to keep a distance, just in case Josh simply was a flirty drunk) and fell asleep.

The next morning was when everything took a turn for the worse, at least in Sam’s eyes. He woke up curled around Josh, despite the distance he'd imposed a few hours earlier. He tried to move as delicately as possible, so not to wake him up, but he felt Josh stirring as soon as he moved his arm. Not wanting to freak him out, and realizing that he wanted to be at least this amazingly charismatic man’s friend, Sam quickly moved to his side of the bed and tried to laugh it off.

“Man, can you tell it’s been a while since I’ve had any human contact? I went for the cuddle in my sleep!” He tried to evaluate Josh’s expression, but he was keeping it carefully blank. He looked down at his body and sighed when he saw that he still had his clothes on, and Sam’s heart fell. Still wearing that guarded look, Josh quietly asked “Did... did we do anything last night?” Seeing him so conflicted, Sam wondered if he should tell the truth. Or what he thought was the truth. That Josh had flirted with him, and then tried to kiss him, and that he passed out before Sam had even gotten to the bedroom. Or if he should try and save whatever friendship they could build and deny everything, since it seemed to make Josh uncomfortable. “Nah, man. You were just so drunk that you weren’t really coherent, so I brought you here instead of your place. And my guest room isn’t set up, so I decided to sleep next to you. I hope I didn’t overstep or anything.” A shadow of something that looked like a mix of regret and relief crossed Josh’s face, before he forced a smile. “Oh, it’s okay. I just thought I might have done something inappropriate.” He cleared his throat and sat straighter against the wall. “Do you maybe want to go have breakfast? I’m slightly hungover and need to get something down my throat.” Sam tried to ignore the innuendo, which Josh had also noticed, judging by his slightly pink cheeks. “Yeah, that’s alright. We can go to this diner a couple of streets away.” He jumped out of bed before he gave in to his infatuation and did something he’d regret.

And in the 7 years since, Josh had never tried to make a move, even though he proved himself to be an advocate of LGTBQ rights, and even if Sam thought from time to time that he couldn’t be 100% straight, he actively tried to forget about that one night, the possibility of something more. But as he walked home from the firm, Sam found himself thinking about that summer again. How he came close to telling Josh the truth a few times, but then remembered his demeanor when he thought something had happened between them and gave up on the idea. The nights they spent together drinking, the lunches and dinners they shared, the heated debates at any time they had the chance, each moment they shared made him accept that having Josh as a friend was better than not having Josh in his life at all. The last few years, with his mounting workload once he got on the partner track and the unspoken animosity between Josh and Lisa had made it increasingly hard to get together, so it felt as if the ember that he’d finally controlled in his absence had been revived with less than an hour of a half-distant Josh.

Sam could only think about Josh that day, about “the real thing” and about the dimpled man who wanted to perform miracles in politics to improve people’s lives. A man with a personality so large who still wanted to hide on the sidelines. He dissociated away from his meetings, he nodded and smiled at Lisa, and probably agreed to details about the wedding that he would certainly find atrocious, all with a nagging feeling that he was doing the wrong thing. He wondered where his ethical principles had gone, and after two hours of spiraling, he got out of bed without waking Lisa and left for the office, committed to making things right.

The night of research did nothing to stop him from spiraling, and he found himself dynamiting all his work in a few minutes. Once he was pulled out of the meeting, he knew he’d messed up his chances to become a partner, and felt his carefully curated life fall apart. This job he’d given everything to had robbed him of his integrity. He felt appalled thinking about his 24-year-old self, back in D.C., who yearned for a chance to make the world a better place, and how he’d given all of it up just for a fat paycheck.

"Sam?” His colleague broke him out of his stupor. “Hmm?” “15 million pre-tax amortization.” With that, and without realizing it, Sam made the decision he’d been postponing for years. I’m really shooting myself in the foot here. Like an out-of-body experience, Sam started arguing in favor of his point. My dad will kill me. It was funny how he was a 33-year-old man and how he still wanted his dad’s approval. I wonder if Josh found the big thing. He said he’d come for me if he found them, right? And, as if he’d been willing him to appear, a knock on the door interrupted his passionate speech, and he saw a drenched Josh, flashing a smile at him that would have made him go weak at the knees if he hadn’t been sitting. He looks at him, trying to find in his eyes the last push he needs to leave everything to follow him.

“Sam, we're in the middle of a meeting.” He barely acknowledges her. “Sam, we're not indifferent to the concerns of the environmentalists... Excuse me, Sam?” His sense of duty makes him look at Mr. Loch, but it feels as if Josh is a magnet and he’s filled with metal, and he needs to look at him. Josh points at his dimples. Those damned dimples. “Yeah.” “It doesn't quite feel like I have your attention.” “Yeah”. Josh must see something in Sam’s face, because he starts slowly nodding, edging him to do the right thing. “Yeah! Yeah.” He frantically starts collecting papers, and realizes that he’s about to walk away from oil money and corporate law, and chuckles “I'm not going to need that.” He’s already leaving when he hears Mr. Gage protest “Sam? Sam! Sam, please keep your seat!” I must be a good lawyer if he’s still asking me to stay after the stunt I just pulled. “Sam, where are you going?” And, once and for all cementing the craziest thing he’s ever done, he shouts back “New Hampshire!”.

When they finally leave the building, they are so giddy they start giggling, making people take a detour to avoid them on the sidewalk. They hug, feeling so happy that, for once, they don’t care about what other people might think of them.

“I knew you’d come around.” Josh whispers in his ear, making goosebumps rise on his arms. “You are way too good for them.”

“I promised you I’d follow you if you found the real thing, didn’t I?” I’d follow you anywhere you asked, honestly. “That you did.” Josh changed the backpack to his right shoulder, threw his left arm around Sam’s shoulders and nodded ahead, as if giving him a chance to reconsider. Instead, Sam linked his arm around Josh’s lower back and started walking. “Come on, let’s go find your real thing. Lead the way.”