Something Sweet to Look Forward To…

Category: Sam/Ainsley

Summary: Sam is told about the President's illness and goes to see Ainsley afterwards...

Archive: Please, just tell me where and use my name. I shared this on an Ainsley Hayes/Sam Seaborn site a few years back and thought I'd post it here on , too.

Part 2 of 2- Ainsley's POV-

In the Steam Pipe Trunk Distribution Venue…

"I thank you for this assignment, Mr. Babish. I will complete it with all due scrutiny and care, while also proceeding with all possible speed. You can count on me… and my discretion… completely, utterly, and without fail." I stand here and, without any obvious display of emotion, calmly enunciate this pledge. If looks could kill, Oliver Babish would be dead on my floor.

He moves to the door. He turns back. "Do you do some sort of breathing exercises that keep you from needing air between sentences, Miss Hayes?"

I simply shake my head. I am not amused. He shrugs. "Well, good night. I'll expect you at 5:00."

I nod, and reply, "Yes, sir."

The door closes behind Oliver Babish. Bastard!

Now that he's gone, I allow my eyes to mist and the color to return to my cheeks. I sit down weakly. I'd like to kick and scream and throws things at Babish. I'd like to… I run my hand over the outline of speeches and tapes I need to un-archive for review. With my free hand, I search my desk drawer for a snack.

Sam.

I push thoughts of violence against Babish away. I pick up the outline, and begin to guess at the volume of material I'll be reviewing. Judging from times I've helped to condense position memos, I'm guessing I'll be sifting through several tractor-trailers worth of stuff.

Sam.

Damn Babish! Even if I did have the traitorous tendencies he attributes to me, to Southerners, to Republicans, to blonde woman lawyers in general… he would prevent me from leaking this before they are ready... by throwing Sam in the path of my potential treachery. Bastard.

And, that's a good thing. He's smart, and mean and observant. It makes me feel good about the President's chances of getting through this thing intact.

But, then there's the Multiple Sclerosis. The opposition is nothing next to that. Dear God, why? I've only met President Bartlet a few times… and one of those I try very hard to forget about… but, I like him. It was his spirit and his integrity and his passion and his sense of duty and honor that called me to this job. Why him?

I can't do anything to help with that, but I can help immensely with the battles to come.

My first day here, Leo told me I was in their foxhole now. I wondered, at the time, if the war analogy was appropriate. I know now that it was. And, it seems that even then he knew the truth of the situation, that this war was inevitable. A doubt creeps through my mind. Did they hire me only so they'd have a Republican as a part of their defense on the cover-up? I banish the thought. Jed Bartlet is a good man.

Now, Oliver Babish, on the other hand… I try to resist grinding my teeth at the thought of him and fail. I stand and pace. I turn on my CD player. Chopin. Lovely. Relax. Relax. Grind. Relax. Sam.

Oh, Sam.

I could go on and on to myself all night about duty and honor and integrity and spirit… but I'd only be hiding behind the words. Babish said they were telling Sam tonight. Said he was with the President and Leo as we spoke. I had an insane urge to run up there and pull him into my arms. Sam has that affect. And I've always been weak for that. A man in sincere distress. A strong, passionate, intelligent man in distress? My toes practically curl at the thought. And more that it's Sam. It's infuriating, liberal-minded, stubborn, opinionated, dear Sam.

I will decimate anyone who tries to hurt him. They want a war? Well, they'll get one.

One concern I have is to wonder how Babish could know how much I'd want to defend Sam. He thinks I have traitorous potential. What gave him the idea that Sam would be more important to me than the opportunity to make this secret public before the White House can control it? I would never betray this White House that way. I'm their lawyer. But, more than that, I WILL protect Sam. I'm surprised at the intensity of my feelings, so how could Babish know more about them than I do?

I'll run right over anyone who tries to bring Sam down. To bring any of them down for that matter... But, especially Sam. I think of that first day here, and Brookline and Joyce. The cold reception I get whenever I'm around my former colleagues now. Sam including me on meetings, and giving me advice. Sam, bringing me in on the speech for the Correspondents' dinner. Sam, reminding me to remember I'm on their side.

I realize now that he is, in fact, the only person who's been completely on MY side all these months. He understands what I'm doing here, and has supported me… from the "Englishman" serenade on.

And tonight, for the second time in recent weeks, his world has been turned upside down. A man he reveres told him he lied to him. A man he loves told him he has a terrible disease. He was told that all he hopes to accomplish is in jeopardy.

There's a knock at the door. I straighten both my expression and my jacket, and then call out, "it's open." I brace myself.

Oh, thank God! It's Sam, and he's got doughnuts and coffee! Despite everything, I smile broadly at him. He stops and stares. I temper my smile a bit, and sniff the air appreciatively. "Are they actually warm?" I look in his eyes to see how he's doing.

He looks serious, "I heated the box in the microwave… and ran them down here."

I reply, "that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me, Sam. I could really use something sweet about now." He nods, and peers at me askance.

He asks, "you met with Babish tonight?"

I frown, and pluck a doughnut out of the box. I take a big bite, and just nod in reply. I'm not sure I trust myself to talk about Babish right now.

He hesitates, "and he told you…?"

I swallow and murmur, "Sagittarius." Our eyes meet for a long second.

He takes a doughnut. I eat the rest of the first. He replies, "yeah… Sagittarius. I met with the President earlier tonight." He looks away. I feel a surge of desire to take him in my arms and sooth his pain. I suppress it, but not without difficulty.

I sip the coffee. He fixed it just like I like it… a bit too much cream compared to the average person, no sugar. I'm touched. He has quite a mind for details. And, he really notices things. That worries me for him where the case is concerned. He'd be safer if he was dumber. I take another doughnut, "I was surprised you hadn't been told earlier." At his look, I feel awful. I add, "I only meant…"

He holds up a hand, "nothing to worry about… they wanted me to finish the SME speech, before I became distracted." He sounds just a little bit defensive, and I can't blame him. On closer look, I wonder if he's been crying. Suddenly, I feel like crying. After all that's just happened to him, he brought me doughnuts and coffee.

I murmur, "thank you for this." I munch the second doughnut. It's like a plain 'Krispy Kreme'… the kind I grew up on… searching out their "Hot Doughnuts NOW!" signs…

He attempts to joke, "gotta keep your strength up." He looks down, realizing there's really nothing funny about it.

I reply lightly, "well, that is the least you can do to help me through my upcoming ordeal, Sam. Not only do I have to be in Babish's office with you before dawn tomorrow; but, it seems that I am going to have to watch every television appearance you've ever done, read every word you've written, and listen to every radio program you've ever been on. At the very least, a sugar high will be required in order to get me through it all."

He grins, "you could learn a lot, you know, from the Master…"

I give an exaggerated sigh, "only about the many ways in which you err."

He raises his eyebrows, "I sincerely hope that is not the case."

My eyes grow wide. I ask quietly, "is there someplace I should start?" This is the closest I'll come to asking him if he's been involved in the cover up knowingly. I'm sure he hasn't.

He looks at me solemnly, "No." He holds my gaze for a long moment, "I'm glad you're going to be evaluating Toby's and my position in this thing."

He's sincere. He believes in me. He's grateful for my help. I can't resist smiling at this.

He shrugs, "not that I'm encouraging you to call your father about it or anything…"

I chuckle. "Perhaps I'll let you off the hook this once. I mean, you DID bring doughnuts and coffee…"

He bites his lip, distractingly, "I don't suppose you'd like to go grab a real dinner?" He is a study in looking casual as he says this. I blink in surprise. We've never deliberately gone to a restaurant together, just the two of us.

But, I can see he doesn't want to be alone. And I understand. I don't want to be alone, either. I reply as breezily as I can, "I'm always up for a meal, Sam. Especially when you're buying! Let's just promise not to talk about the thing... and you're on."

He smiles. "Who says it's my treat? I wouldn't want to mortify your feminist sensibilities with any macho assumptions…"

I close my computer, and turn off the lamp. "You know it is, Sam. Also, I think it is entirely possible that I may, in all actuality, be the more macho of the two of us."

He stops and frowns. "Are you referring to my support of the ERA, or calling me girly?"

I laugh aloud, something I would not have thought possible a few minutes ago. I lightly touch his arm, "either one, Sam. Either one."

He smiles mischievously at me, and I just melt. He looks me directly in the eye, "I assure you that I am not at all girly."

I believe him.

To regain my balance, I recall something Donna mentioned earlier when I saw her in the cafeteria. "Whatever you say, Boy Wonder..."

He groans, and holds a hand against his head. We're standing pretty close, facing each other. He sighs, "and to think I thought I might feel better…"

I smile at him sweetly, teasing, "you thought I'd make you feel better? How nice!"

He looks mock-exasperated for a moment, but then his expression softens and becomes more serious. His eyes are so blue. My breath catches. I'd really like to make him feel better, I decide. But, the timing…

He moves a bit closer, and moves his hand to my cheek. He looks at me like I'm precious to him. He pulls me closer, and we each put our arms around the other. He's quite a bit taller than I am. My arms are around his waist, at first. Then, I move one up around his neck, and pull his head down to my shoulder. We hold each other close. I feel his breath catch and one of his hands stroking my hair. We take comfort in each other. We hold each other for a lovely, long moment. I can feel him tremble.

Then, he pulls back a fraction and leans down. His lips touch mine so lightly, then more urgently. I'm nearly overwhelmed. He feels so good. I realize I've wanted this for a long time. I kiss him hungrily. We cling to each other, hands caressing. He murmurs, "you taste sweet."

I pull back, breathless. "That, my friend, would be the doughnut sugar." He smiles, and leans in for another taste.

After a few more seconds, I force myself to stop. Both of us are breathing fast and hard. Nearly whimpering, I push back from him. He groans. I manage to speak, "I think we should go eat now…" I fear he'll take it as a rejection, until I look up at him again and see that he's hanging his head. His eyes are closed, and he's breathing deeply, regaining control. He nods. I continue, "Sam…"

He opens his eyes at my tone, "Ainsley, don't. I realize that you have just been asked to evaluate my work of the past three years to determine whether or not I'm party to conspiracy to commit fraud in a Presidential election. I know that. I'm sorry for the awkwardness this will bring us now, and realize I should have resisted the temptation I feel. I'm even more sorry that circumstances necessitate that we put this on hold for the time being." And he takes a step back.

I can see that he wants to resume kissing me as much as I want for him to do so. And he looks sad again. I tremble as he turns to open the door for me, and can barely stand it. As he starts to open the door, I push it closed again. He looks surprised as I push him against the door and pull his head down for another kiss. I kiss him long and hard. I run my hands over the muscles of his shoulders and chest. I let him know in no uncertain terms that he's not the only one who's tempted. We both savor the moment. Then, I push myself back from against him, catch my breath and declare, "NOW, we can put it on hold." I straighten my jacket and look at him seriously.

He gasps, and nods in reply, looking almost shocked. Then, he grins and chuckles.

I ask, "aren't you going to open the door for me?" with a wide-eyed, innocent look.

His grin becomes mischievous again, and I hold my breath for a second. He smirks "I'd really rather wrestle you to the floor, and do things with you that you'd never dare call your father about, but I'll wait."

I grin, "I'm a pretty good wrestler, by the way."

He groans, and grins ruefully. "I believe you, macho woman. Now let's leave... before I go completely insane here." He opens the door. He definitely looks happier than when he arrived.

I beam at him. Not only because he looks happier, but also because I love the thought of making him insane like that. And mostly because it's good for both of us to have something sweet to look forward to…

-End