Check out the time! (WW WiP: Part 3)
Jul. 9th, 2003 03:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereIt's now 3.45am and I'm supposed to be back at the conference at 9.45am (well, tenchnically, I'm supposed to be there earlier, but there's nothing I want to do until 9.45am). Hmmm... I'm pretty tired, so I'll just "forget" to set the alarm, and see when I wake.
Hey, no Angel tomorrow night, so I don't need to set the VCR! I could do it, I just don't want to.
Okay, I've fixed up the next bit of the WW fic. The bit after this should be smutty, but I have... trouble writing smut, so it'll be a long and painful process (for me, not Sam and Josh! *g*). Hence, I'm not going any further on this tonight.
If you're curious, the other bits are here and here.
***
"Yeah." Josh stood up as Sam gave a twenty to the waitress, and then followed Sam to his car. "It's still freezing, you know." He said it because he couldn't think of anything else to say, but it was enough to make Sam look him in the eye and attempt a smile.
"Tomorrow morning, remember your coat."
"I'll do that," Josh said as Sam started the car. Sam was silent, concentrating on the road before him. The night was quiet and fairly empty, and it took Josh a while to work out what was missing. "Car radio broken again?"
Sam glanced across at him. "No. Why?"
"What happened to the classics of the 80s, 90s and today?" Sam's taste is music was always bland and commercial. Long road trips with the two of them had always included arguing over the quality of music and choice of station. Generally, Josh gave in, because watching Sam bop away to 80s pop was more entertaining than listening to good music.
"Not in the mood for music, I guess."
The quiet in the car was starting to make Josh fidget. "Mind if I put it on?"
Sam gave him a sharp look. "Are you sure? I mean, what about your whole music thing?"
Josh took that as permission and switched on the volume. "I, um, I don't have any trouble with pop music. It's just... everything else really. Classical, opera, any folk music you can name." He was weirdly embarrassed by that admission. He knew that Sam wouldn't hold it against him but it still cost something to say aloud.
He distracted himself by flipping through Sam's preset stations. Rock ballad, something by The Cure, Celine Dion, and then some modern boy group. Josh decided to take his chances on The Cure. "You have the crappiest radio selections. You know that right?"
"Yeah," Sam answered distractedly.
They continued in an uncomfortable silence, the chirpy sound of synthetic pop filling the car. A song later (some R&B thing from the 90s, but Josh wasn't sure what), Sam spoke.
"You know, I expected you to come to me before you put your hand through a window. If things went really wrong, I expected you to let me know."
"I couldn't." The answer sounded dismissive, but how could you explain the fear that Sam wouldn't want to know. Or that Sam would listen to the evidence and come to the same conclusion he did; that he was losing his mind; that he wasn't fit to work in the White House.
"Why not?"
"It..." Josh trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "It would have made it too real."
"It was real Josh."
"Yeah, but... As long as I didn't admit it to anyone, I could convince myself that I could deal with it, keep it under control." Sam just waited patiently, didn't say that Josh really hadn't been able to cope at all. "If I told someone, it would become real. It would be real enough to lose my job."
"I wouldn't have let that happen."
"I know. I just..." Josh swallowed, and then forced the words out. "I just wasn't sure at the time." Then Sam took a left when he should have turn right and Josh was distracted. "Where are you going?"
"Your place."
"And my car?"
"Oh. I'll turn around." Second time tonight Sam had been too distracted to remember basic arrangements. There had to be something on his mind.
"Nah. Just drop me home. I can walk in tomorrow. It'll be good for me." His tone sounded wrong; it tried too hard to be light-hearted, and failed miserably.
"Okay." Sam pulled over in front of Josh's building but remained silent.
"I couldn't tell anyone Sam, not just you."
"Would you have told me? If you could?"
"I..." He had to pause before he replied, because honestly, he wasn't sure if he would have.
"It's okay," Sam said, but clearly it wasn't, and he hated to hear Sam sound so hurt.
"It was a one-off thing. It's not like I get shot everyday."
Sam flinched. "It's not that." Sam turned to him, then stared past him at the entrance to his building. "I hate that we're like this. We don't talk anymore Josh. We can't. We can't confide in each other."
"You know it's not that simple. If I went to you, if I told you, I wouldn't just want you to listen." If he went to Sam, he'd have wanted to be consoled and to be distracted. He'd have wanted to be reassured with Sam's soft mouth, with his firm hands that knew him inside and out.
"You could have come to me." Sam's fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against the steering wheel, but Sam didn't take his eyes off the cars parked in front of them.
"Sam..."
"You should have."
Josh sighed. "We agreed that we couldn't do that anymore."
"No, I said that I couldn't do it." As if that even mattered.
"Same difference. It doesn't matter who brought it up, we both agreed."
Sam reached over and turned off the music. "What if I was wrong?"
"Nothing's changed, Sam."
Blue eyes bored into his and Sam said softly, "I know. But I think I was wrong."
Josh gave in to his first reaction and turned away, staring as if the right answer was written on the deserted sidewalk. He had the urge to tell Sam that they couldn't do this. They'd made a deal and he'd stuck by it, even when he was being torn apart at the seams. He'd followed the rules, done the right thing. It wasn't fair to tell him now.
However, what came out of his mouth was a very heartfelt, "Fuck."
"Yeah." Sam breathed a pale imitation of a chuckle. "I'm sorry, Josh."
Now last night made more sense. Josh knew if he thought about it for a bit, he'd work out where the algebra equation fit in too, but at the moment his mind was trying to figure out what the hell Sam would have said last night. If Josh hadn't been half asleep.
"Fuck." Really, it was as far as he could think at the moment. There was something absurd about the entire situation; hearing a confession like that while sitting in a car, staring at his front door while Sam stared at him. He could see Sam's reflection in the window, his face half covered in shadow, skin bleached pale by the street light and defeated dark eyes.
Hell, Sam hadn't looked this hopeless when he'd come to Josh over a year ago and said that he couldn't do this anymore; that he wouldn't let it become some shameful political secret. It had hurt, and they'd discussed it like the intelligent, mature men they pretended to be, but Sam had certainly done it in his own true style. Confident and convincing because one look in his eyes and you knew he believed in what he was saying. Sam knew that it was the right thing to do, that it was best for both of them, and Josh had let himself be convinced.
But right now, Sam just looked lost.
"I'm not talking about this in a car. C'mon." Josh got out of the car, then leaned back in to hiss at Sam, "Come upstairs. Now."
Sam nodded and followed him after locking the car. Unlocking the front door, Josh trudged up the stairs, barely waiting for Sam or caring about how much noise he was making. He was furious at Sam for making him feel like this. He couldn't believe Sam had the nerve to just say he was wrong, as if that fixed everything. Over twelve months of trying not to think about it, of convincing himself that Sam was right, that it was a bad political decision, that at least this way they were still friends, and all it took was one sentence from Sam to turn that upside down. To make him wonder what had been the point of the last year. And just one look of too-wide blue eyes, and he still had that same compulsion to fix it, to make Sam feel better, to make Sam smile. Sometimes, he wondered if he had "SUCKER" tattooed across his forehead.
Opening his apartment door, he was mentally preparing a list of all the reasons why it was unfair for Sam to do this now, why it still wouldn't work, why Sam couldn't just expect him to fix everything. He let them both in, then closed and locked the door, turning to face Sam. He was still concentrating on his inner monologue of objections when he felt his back slammed into the door with Sam's body tight against him.
Sam's lips were warm and wet against his, and he opened his mouth under the assault, feeling a hand clutch the back of his neck as the kiss deepened. He swore it was instinct that made him react; it was just habit to wrap his arms around Sam's shoulders and pull him closer, to part his legs slightly and press against Sam.
It wasn't habit that made him groan when Sam rocked against him, or made him twist his fingers in the soft hair at the nape of Sam's neck, to pull Sam to a better angle for kissing. As he devoured Sam's mouth, Sam's hands were moving, pushing off his jacket and tugging at his shirt buttons. Josh stopped thinking about old habits altogether.
***
Night all!
Hey, no Angel tomorrow night, so I don't need to set the VCR! I could do it, I just don't want to.
Okay, I've fixed up the next bit of the WW fic. The bit after this should be smutty, but I have... trouble writing smut, so it'll be a long and painful process (for me, not Sam and Josh! *g*). Hence, I'm not going any further on this tonight.
If you're curious, the other bits are here and here.
***
"Yeah." Josh stood up as Sam gave a twenty to the waitress, and then followed Sam to his car. "It's still freezing, you know." He said it because he couldn't think of anything else to say, but it was enough to make Sam look him in the eye and attempt a smile.
"Tomorrow morning, remember your coat."
"I'll do that," Josh said as Sam started the car. Sam was silent, concentrating on the road before him. The night was quiet and fairly empty, and it took Josh a while to work out what was missing. "Car radio broken again?"
Sam glanced across at him. "No. Why?"
"What happened to the classics of the 80s, 90s and today?" Sam's taste is music was always bland and commercial. Long road trips with the two of them had always included arguing over the quality of music and choice of station. Generally, Josh gave in, because watching Sam bop away to 80s pop was more entertaining than listening to good music.
"Not in the mood for music, I guess."
The quiet in the car was starting to make Josh fidget. "Mind if I put it on?"
Sam gave him a sharp look. "Are you sure? I mean, what about your whole music thing?"
Josh took that as permission and switched on the volume. "I, um, I don't have any trouble with pop music. It's just... everything else really. Classical, opera, any folk music you can name." He was weirdly embarrassed by that admission. He knew that Sam wouldn't hold it against him but it still cost something to say aloud.
He distracted himself by flipping through Sam's preset stations. Rock ballad, something by The Cure, Celine Dion, and then some modern boy group. Josh decided to take his chances on The Cure. "You have the crappiest radio selections. You know that right?"
"Yeah," Sam answered distractedly.
They continued in an uncomfortable silence, the chirpy sound of synthetic pop filling the car. A song later (some R&B thing from the 90s, but Josh wasn't sure what), Sam spoke.
"You know, I expected you to come to me before you put your hand through a window. If things went really wrong, I expected you to let me know."
"I couldn't." The answer sounded dismissive, but how could you explain the fear that Sam wouldn't want to know. Or that Sam would listen to the evidence and come to the same conclusion he did; that he was losing his mind; that he wasn't fit to work in the White House.
"Why not?"
"It..." Josh trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "It would have made it too real."
"It was real Josh."
"Yeah, but... As long as I didn't admit it to anyone, I could convince myself that I could deal with it, keep it under control." Sam just waited patiently, didn't say that Josh really hadn't been able to cope at all. "If I told someone, it would become real. It would be real enough to lose my job."
"I wouldn't have let that happen."
"I know. I just..." Josh swallowed, and then forced the words out. "I just wasn't sure at the time." Then Sam took a left when he should have turn right and Josh was distracted. "Where are you going?"
"Your place."
"And my car?"
"Oh. I'll turn around." Second time tonight Sam had been too distracted to remember basic arrangements. There had to be something on his mind.
"Nah. Just drop me home. I can walk in tomorrow. It'll be good for me." His tone sounded wrong; it tried too hard to be light-hearted, and failed miserably.
"Okay." Sam pulled over in front of Josh's building but remained silent.
"I couldn't tell anyone Sam, not just you."
"Would you have told me? If you could?"
"I..." He had to pause before he replied, because honestly, he wasn't sure if he would have.
"It's okay," Sam said, but clearly it wasn't, and he hated to hear Sam sound so hurt.
"It was a one-off thing. It's not like I get shot everyday."
Sam flinched. "It's not that." Sam turned to him, then stared past him at the entrance to his building. "I hate that we're like this. We don't talk anymore Josh. We can't. We can't confide in each other."
"You know it's not that simple. If I went to you, if I told you, I wouldn't just want you to listen." If he went to Sam, he'd have wanted to be consoled and to be distracted. He'd have wanted to be reassured with Sam's soft mouth, with his firm hands that knew him inside and out.
"You could have come to me." Sam's fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against the steering wheel, but Sam didn't take his eyes off the cars parked in front of them.
"Sam..."
"You should have."
Josh sighed. "We agreed that we couldn't do that anymore."
"No, I said that I couldn't do it." As if that even mattered.
"Same difference. It doesn't matter who brought it up, we both agreed."
Sam reached over and turned off the music. "What if I was wrong?"
"Nothing's changed, Sam."
Blue eyes bored into his and Sam said softly, "I know. But I think I was wrong."
Josh gave in to his first reaction and turned away, staring as if the right answer was written on the deserted sidewalk. He had the urge to tell Sam that they couldn't do this. They'd made a deal and he'd stuck by it, even when he was being torn apart at the seams. He'd followed the rules, done the right thing. It wasn't fair to tell him now.
However, what came out of his mouth was a very heartfelt, "Fuck."
"Yeah." Sam breathed a pale imitation of a chuckle. "I'm sorry, Josh."
Now last night made more sense. Josh knew if he thought about it for a bit, he'd work out where the algebra equation fit in too, but at the moment his mind was trying to figure out what the hell Sam would have said last night. If Josh hadn't been half asleep.
"Fuck." Really, it was as far as he could think at the moment. There was something absurd about the entire situation; hearing a confession like that while sitting in a car, staring at his front door while Sam stared at him. He could see Sam's reflection in the window, his face half covered in shadow, skin bleached pale by the street light and defeated dark eyes.
Hell, Sam hadn't looked this hopeless when he'd come to Josh over a year ago and said that he couldn't do this anymore; that he wouldn't let it become some shameful political secret. It had hurt, and they'd discussed it like the intelligent, mature men they pretended to be, but Sam had certainly done it in his own true style. Confident and convincing because one look in his eyes and you knew he believed in what he was saying. Sam knew that it was the right thing to do, that it was best for both of them, and Josh had let himself be convinced.
But right now, Sam just looked lost.
"I'm not talking about this in a car. C'mon." Josh got out of the car, then leaned back in to hiss at Sam, "Come upstairs. Now."
Sam nodded and followed him after locking the car. Unlocking the front door, Josh trudged up the stairs, barely waiting for Sam or caring about how much noise he was making. He was furious at Sam for making him feel like this. He couldn't believe Sam had the nerve to just say he was wrong, as if that fixed everything. Over twelve months of trying not to think about it, of convincing himself that Sam was right, that it was a bad political decision, that at least this way they were still friends, and all it took was one sentence from Sam to turn that upside down. To make him wonder what had been the point of the last year. And just one look of too-wide blue eyes, and he still had that same compulsion to fix it, to make Sam feel better, to make Sam smile. Sometimes, he wondered if he had "SUCKER" tattooed across his forehead.
Opening his apartment door, he was mentally preparing a list of all the reasons why it was unfair for Sam to do this now, why it still wouldn't work, why Sam couldn't just expect him to fix everything. He let them both in, then closed and locked the door, turning to face Sam. He was still concentrating on his inner monologue of objections when he felt his back slammed into the door with Sam's body tight against him.
Sam's lips were warm and wet against his, and he opened his mouth under the assault, feeling a hand clutch the back of his neck as the kiss deepened. He swore it was instinct that made him react; it was just habit to wrap his arms around Sam's shoulders and pull him closer, to part his legs slightly and press against Sam.
It wasn't habit that made him groan when Sam rocked against him, or made him twist his fingers in the soft hair at the nape of Sam's neck, to pull Sam to a better angle for kissing. As he devoured Sam's mouth, Sam's hands were moving, pushing off his jacket and tugging at his shirt buttons. Josh stopped thinking about old habits altogether.
***
Night all!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 12:18 am (UTC)You provide just enough detail so that we know where we are, without distracting from the conversation and the way Josh is feeling.
Looking forward to the next section.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 01:09 am (UTC)It feels as though we’re right inside Josh’s head.
Yay! It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. *bg*
Looking forward to the next section.
Thanks. Hmmm... I need to work on it. Smut isn't my strong suit.
I'm thinking my best bet would be to have a look over some of the authors whose sex scenes I like, and then try to work out why...
Thanks for the encouragement. It's much appreciated.