Work Text:
Sam watched her. He wanted her. He was jealous of her. The absolute ludicrousness of the situation didn't make it any easier to resolve.
In his California apartment he watched the news obsessively when he wasn't campaigning. He taped the cycle each day, over and over on the same tape until the quality was too low to recognize her blond head following Josh's. She wasn't there often - he could imagine her at her desk taking messages. Sometimes his messages. He called to hear her, to check in with Josh. The Golden State was supposed to be his brand new starting over, the place where his real career would be launched, but he couldn't get away from a few thousand feet of office space. He left the tv tuned at night to C.J.'s late briefings, her sharp voice like a lullaby.
Donnatella. He tasted her name on his tongue like something smooth and sweet, rolling the curves of the letters in his mouth like bits of chocolate, letting them melt. He liked the flavor she gave to his name when she said it, the midwestern accent making the a sharp and tangy. Late at night he sometimes tested their names together out loud. Donnatella Seaborn. Donnatella Lyman. He couldn't figure out whether the inelegance of Josh's name complemented the regal syllables of hers or whether the fluid vowels of his own name were too much or just right. It didn't matter. To her he would always be Josh's best friend. Sam wasn't the kind of guy to put a move on his best friend's girl.
Not that he hadn't thought of it. He wanted to find the inevitable flaws that made her alabaster skin perfect. He wanted to make her back arch and her eyes close with pleasure. He wanted to take advantage of those low necklines and cup her milky breasts in his tanned hands. He wanted to whisper her name into her pink mouth, to help her see how beautiful she tasted.
He wondered if Josh had ever kissed her. He wondered if Josh would kiss her they way he'd kissed him back in college when they were piss drunk and could pretend it was nothing. Sam could remember the texture of Josh's curls tangled around his fingers. Joshua was a nice name, sleek and suave like red wine. It went well with Samuel. They didn't talk about those kisses anymore, except once at West Wing truth or dare when Ginger had challenged Josh to kiss any male in the room. Josh with a swagger and a cocky smile had leaned over to Sam: a firm kiss with a flicker of tongue so subtle it might have been imagined.
How professional, C.J. had quipped, and Josh had told the story of how he and Sam had been trying to pick up girls by kissing each other once when they were drunk and stupid. He didn't mention the other times. He didn't mention the hot nights, the two of them sprawled out in jeans years past being merely ripped, barechested and so drunk they were probably sweating tequila. He didn't mention the way their skin had been slippery to the waist as they rolled over each other with desperate mouths. But that was years ago. Perhaps it was better to leave it unspoken.
Sam had a picture of the three of them together, Josh with an arm over Donna's shoulders and one over Sam's, the night of the New Hampshire primary. Sam studied it. They were a beautiful couple, Josh and Donna. They looked right together, a nice balance of features and just the right height for each other. Perfect. Sam looked at his own face, split by a grin so wide it seemed garish. But Will said it was a smile he could sell. Perfect, he'd said. Just smile at them, Sam. Flash those white teeth and blue eyes and wave at them. They'll love you.
Sometimes Will was in the footage, looking like an earnest little frog and whispering with Toby. Donna was earnest. Donna was beautiful, the Madonna in the West Wing classical sort of beautiful, and she was there when he needed her with a hug or a few of just the words he had to hear. But she only really looked at Josh, and the Connecticut Yankee lit her up like the strips of lights on cinema floors, not easy to see at first but the meaning was unmistakable. Sam had seen that look before. This way to salvation, it said, but not for you. She had been Josh's since he had found her in his makeshift office answering the phone with his name as if she were meant to be there. Maybe she was. Sam couldn't imagine her with anyone else.
Not even himself, at the end of the day. In his dreams of seducing her, she always mentioned Josh. Sam, we can't. I'm sorry, Sam. What are you doing? What about Josh? I had no idea. I can't. It's not...kosher. I couldn't face Josh. I'm sorry, Sam.
He set down the picture and decided against a drink. If he were elected, he'd see her again. He couldn't go crawling back to beg Toby for the job he'd practically signed over to Will. In this mood, he'd drink for hours. It was best if they had nothing on him aside from Laurie, and that was old news.
He rewound the tape to watch today's old news just in case.