Title: A Day in the Life
Archive: wherever, just let me know.
Notes: Absolutely, positively no spoilers. Whatsoever. Promise.
A Day in the Life by Nomi
When I found the third one in my office, that's when I began to really wonder what he was up to.
There it was - sitting in the middle of my desk, as if no one (such as Donna, or Leo, or, Hell, the President himself) was going to just walk in and see it. And, as I said, it wasn't the first such item I'd found since waking up this morning.
Looking as innocent as it could, a piece of standard white copier paper, with one line printed on it:
"I'd love to turn you on."
When I'd found the first one on my bedside table this morning, I smiled. When the second fell out of the _Washington Post_ this morning when I was reading it at the kitchen table over my first (of many) cup of coffee, I laughed. But now he'd brought this into the office. I have given up trying to figure out what's going on in Sam's head half the time, but this was confusing me no end.
Here it was, not even 11 AM yet, and already I felt my day was out of my control. I'd already survived a senior staff meeting, a quick jog with the Vice President where he told me nothing I didn't already know, and now I was back in my office trying to figure out what was going on in the brilliant but often convoluted mind of my lover, my beloved.
But I didn't have time to figure it out now: I had a lunch meeting on the Hill with Sanders and Cushing of the Congressional Committee on Agriculture, and I had to prepare.
Thankfully, she was right outside my office. "Yeah, Josh?"
"Bring me the Ag file, OK?"
"Here it is...See? I'm psychic." Only 'cause I'd asked her for it on my way in from my jog with Vice President Hoynes. But anyway, I opened the file, and there was another one of those sheets:
"I'd love to turn you on."
OK, now I was determined to get to the bottom of this. I promised myself that right after lunch I'd corner Sam and get an answer out of him one way or another...which could prove amazingly fun for both of us.
No other magical mystery sheets of paper appeared before I went off to the Hill, but I was wary of what might be when I came back. Throughout the meeting, my mind was half occupied with trying to figure out the puzzle. By the time my meeting ended, I was so obsessed with solving the puzzle that I went straight back to the West Wing instead of stopping along the way to touch base with some Senators I'd been trying to reach.
I got back to my desk at 2:15, stopping there only long enough to drop off my briefcase. And there was another note, same message. I grabbed it on my way out. Enough was definitely enough.
Striding out of my office and across the Communications bullpen, I must have made quite an impression, 'cause the junior staffers scurried out of my way. Cathy was seated at her desk outside Sam's office, but she just waved to me as I passed - she's used to me appearing unannounced, especially since Sam and I got together.
I noted on my way into Sam's office that he'd drawn the blinds on his big window, which made me wonder if he'd been anticipating my visit - ever since the early days of our relationship, when we sometimes got carried away and forgot about the window, Sam made sure the blinds were closed when I was expected. There's something about being caught with your hands down each other's pants during work hours that make men more cautious. But that's a story for another time.
I walked into Sam's office, closed the door, approached his desk, and put the final note down - with some force, I might add.
"Care to explain this...and its clones?" I asked in what I hoped was a menacing voice.
"Well, it's standard white, 20-pound, 8.5x11 paper..." he trailed off, seeing my expression. "Oh, you mean the message. Well, Josh, you strike me as an intelligent guy."
"I'm gonna strike you with more than that if you don't answer me soon," I said, coming around the desk and grabbing his shirt front, flicking loose the top couple of buttons. Sam knows I'd never hurt him, but I could strip him bare and leave him in his office...
"OK, OK. Well, you see, it would've been John Lennon's 60th birthday this week, and I thought you and I could...well...take a page out of his and Yoko's book and have ourselves a love in...So I thought I'd let you know," Sam said, blushing.
In a heartbeat, I decided I could play this game as well. I flicked open a couple more buttons and nuzzled his chest.
"Let me take you down," I said, working my way towards his waistband.
"Huh?" A turned-on, confused Sam is an exceedingly erotic sight.
"Love me, do." Sam probably didn't realize that I had a virtual compendium of Beatles lyrics stored in my brain, and I could use them to seduce him if I wanted. I undid his belt buckle, flicked open the clasp on his pants, and lowered his zipper half way.
"Uh...J," Sam squeaked.
Slipping my hand between his pants and his boxers, I cupped his growing erection. "Don't let me down," I whispered in his ear. Then, quickly, I re-zipped and re- clasped Sam's pants and released him.
Panting, Sam said, "What...huh?"
He was adorable standing there with his shirt open, rumpled, half-hard (which was still obvious in his dress pants) and befuddled. I love it when he looks that way.
"Teach you not to mess with someone who wore out 4 record- player needles on the White Album," I said, heading for his office door.
I knew he'd try to get his revenge later that night, and I couldn't wait to see what he'd do.
But I'm running for the hills if it's Guns N' Roses.
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