Title: For Better Or For Worse
Author: Nick
Email: yecats_elocin@yahoo.com
Dedication: To my beta Jamie, who always earns her halo! To Nomi, for being supportive, and writing good girl/girl stuff for me.
Posted: Not yet.
Archive: Yes to West Wing Slash, all others please ask first.
Series: This is the fic that comes after 'Something to Talk About'.
Pairing: Sam and Josh
Rating: NC-17
Notes: I don't think there are any spoilers here. If there are, I missed them, sorry. This is done in Josh's point of view.


For Better Or For Worse by Nick

Sam was soaking wet when he arrived at my apartment. "Is it raining?" I asked.

"No. This is your imagination," he said, coming inside. "So when do we eat?"

I laughed. "Why don't you come in and change out of those wet clothes first. Sam, you're soaked to the bone."

"I forgot my umbrella," he responded. "And I didn't think it was important enough to run back to my office and get it. So where's dinner?"

"In the fridge."

"And what are you trying to poison me with tonight?"

"I called for takeout, smartass."

He grinned. "Thank God."

At my glare, he said, "Oh please. I know your idea of cooking is putting a TV dinner in the microwave. Stop glaring at me like that."

"Go take a shower and warm up while I heat up our meals," I groused, not really wanting to admit he was right.

"Why don't you come with me?" He asked.


"If I do that, we'll never eat."

"And the problem there is...?"

I couldn't help but grin. "I thought you were hungry."

His gaze raked over my body like hot coals. "I'm suddenly starving."

I grabbed his tie and yanked forward, pulling him flush against me. Our mouths met quickly and I fumbled for the buttons on his shirt. But he was soaking wet, and the material was clinging to him so I couldn't get the shirt undone. "Sam..."

He stepped back and tore off his tie, then yanked his shirt halves apart, sending buttons scattering in all directions of the room. I started stripping my clothes off with equal fervor, but he was faster than I. "Meet you in the shower," he said, and took off down the hall.

I tore of my pants in record time and rushed into my bathroom. He was already heating up the water, goose bumps rising underneath his skin. When he got it to a satisfactory temperature, he stepped under the spray. "Josh? You coming?"

"Soon," I answered, stepping into the hot water behind him. Taking the soap, I wrapped my arms in front of him and began to wash his chest. "Sam, hand me that tube on the shower rack."

"What is it?"

I nipped his earlobe. "Lube."

He grabbed it and handed it to me. "Oh God, Josh. Fuck me hard."

I wasn't about to argue. "Lean against the wall."

Sam did, spreading his legs slightly and bending forward. I squeezed some of the lube onto my finger and slipped it into him, wiggling it around. He moaned. I used my other hand to smear a generous amount of lube on myself, and then removed my fingers. "Sam, are you ready?"


I entered him in one quick thrust, reveling in his moan of pain/pleasure, enjoying the way he clamped down hard around me, stroking his skin tenderly.

"Damn it, Josh, move," he growled.

"Bitch, bitch," I sniped, bucking my hips fast. I was rewarded with another moan, and I started a decent rhythm inside him.

I loved the fact that Sam liked to bottom as well as top. Trading places was a wonderfully nice change of pace for both of us. I also loved the fact that Sam hated condoms. We'd both been tested clean, and we were monogamous lovers. The thought made me smile.

I reached in front of him to stroke him off to the tempo of my thrusts, eager for him to climax. It didn't take more than a few strokes before he whimpered and came, spilling hot semen over my fingers. As soon as he was done, I thrust hard again, making sure to brush over his prostate. He yelled loudly and tensed so hard he all but ripped the orgasm from me. "JOSHUA!"

I collapsed on his back for a moment, pressing him into the shower wall. "Yes?" I panted.

"That felt...I want..."

"Sam?" He shook his head. "The water's getting cold." I hadn't noticed, but he was right. We got out of the shower and threw on comfortable clothes: I chose a pair of navy pajamas and he threw on sweatpants and a tee-shirt. "Sam? What were you going to say?"

"I wanted you to do that again."

"Do what?"

"Move like you did. It was like lightning exploded behind my eyes, Josh. It felt so good."

I smiled, pulling him to me, and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Later," I promised.

He nodded. And then his stomach growled at me. He grinned, "I think you have to feed me now."

I went to the kitchen and put the pasta and breadsticks in the oven, serving the salad and wine. We sat at my kitchen table eating in silence for a while, but it wasn't that awkward silence. It was rather nice.

"Josh, are you worried about tomorrow?"

"You mean, am I worried that I have to tell The President of the United States and the highest members of the White House staff that I'm bisexual? No, Sam, why would I be worried?"

He blushed. "Yeah. I'm a little worried, too. This is the right thing to do, though."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Donna's right," he said. "Secrets always have a way of coming out. Also, these people are our friends. They'll support us, just like we'd support them. And, most importantly, I can't wait to tell everyone that I nailed a stud like Josh Lyman."

I choked on my dinner. "Sam!"

He grinned and patted me on the back. "You okay?"

"Sam," I said, doing my best to look stern, "You shouldn't say things like that."

"Like what? I shouldn't say that my lover is hot?"

I felt my face flush and knew I was grinning like a moron. "Sam, what's up with you?"

"Other than telling the truth, I'm desperately trying to get you into bed again. Is it working?" He asked, wagging his eyebrows at me.

Sam was in a horny, playful mood; it seemed contagious. I pushed my plate away and got up. "I think it is."

He jumped up and followed me to my bedroom, both of us dropping clothes down the hallway as we went. We made it to the bedroom naked and he pushed me onto the bed face first. "Sam!"

I heard him snicker, then felt him straddle my waist. "Stop talking," he ordered.

I obeyed, never one to argue with a back rub. Stretching out like some sort of overly conceited feline, I said, "By all means, continue."

This was not the kind of massage to induce relaxing. As soon as I gave the word to go ahead, Sam leaned forward and started to trace my spine with his tongue. I groaned and pushed my hips back, bringing my ass into firm contact with his groin. "Hey," he groaned. "This is supposed to be me torturing you."

"Too bad," I replied.

He made a noise of dismay, but continued. I felt his fingertips breeze over my shoulders and down my arms, gently arousing every nerve ending in my body. His hands rubbed lower, soothing the tense muscles I always get in my lower back, until I was squirming beneath him. He kissed my ear and then moved beside me. "Spread your legs."

I did. He reached into my nightstand drawer and removed the lubricant I had stashed there. I heard the cap pop and within seconds his fingers were inside me, scissoring and brushing against my most sensitive areas. I think I was moaning, but it was sort of an out of body experience to me; Sam knew how to do magical things to make me scream. I felt him slip inside me, and move. I was begging by that time, unable to explain the way he made me feel in anything more than grunts and growls. But it was Sam, and he knew, because he started to chant, "Come on baby" over and over until I suddenly knew I was screaming, and soaked his hand with my come.

He collapsed on my back, and I felt his orgasm inside me as I shifted a bit to get more comfortable. "Sam?"


"That was amazing," I replied.

"Good," he said, rolling to the side.

I curled up in his arms, dreading the next morning. But somehow I knew, that with Sam there, it would be all right.


We made love twice more that night; when my alarm went off, I was so stiff and sore that I could barely sit up to slam it off. "Sam, do you want the shower first?"

"That would mean I have to move," he grumbled.

I grinned; Sam was, in all actuality, a morning person. I was the one who liked to stay in bed, but sometimes, just sometimes, I could manage to wear him out. Which wasn't bad - for an old guy like me to wear out a youngster like Sam - on my ego. "Go on, Sam, get a shower. I'll put on coffee for breakfast."

"I brought Danish," he said, his voice slightly muffled by my pillow. "On the counter."

I got up and put on the bottoms of my navy pajamas, and padded barefoot to the kitchen. I heard the water start in my shower, and smiled. Then I put the coffee on. At first, I couldn't understand why my coffeepot was making this horrible banging noise. Then I realized it wasn't the coffeepot; someone was banging on my front door.

That was when the shit first hit the fan.

I opened the door to find Leo standing in the hallway of my apartment building. "Good morning, Josh. You've got Sam here, too? I saw his car parked out front."

"What are you doing here?" I blurted, not able to get another formed sentence out.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Yesterday, I talked to you about an early meeting to finish the drafting of Bill Thirty-two for the committee. You said you'd have it done by this morning. I was hoping, on the off chance you'd have it ready now, that I could read it on the ride into the office. Are you and Sam still working on it? Am I disturbing you too early?"

"Yes," I replied. Then, realizing how that sounded, I added, "Sam and I are still working on the final draft. He came over last night to help me organize..."

I drifted off when Leo's gaze went over my right shoulder, and his eyes got as round as saucers. I turned to find Sam standing behind me, wearing nothing but a towel, the shower steam still rising off his skin. He was as still as a statue, staring at Leo and me. "I didn't hear the doorbell ring," he said sheepishly.

I groaned inwardly; Sam had a few bruises along his ribcage and a deep bite mark on his left shoulder. And then there was the fact that I hadn't bathed yet. I could only imagine that I smelled like sex and sweat and Sam's cologne. I looked at Sam, then back to Leo, who had yet to say a word.

"Leo?" I asked, tentatively.

"I want you to tell me one thing, honestly, and I want an answer now. Is this what it looks like?"

"Yes," Sam said, firmly. "I think... I think I should go put something on, and then we should talk."

But Leo wasn't going to wait for Sam to change. He started firing questions off in rapid succession. "Do you realize how damaging this could be to the President, not to mention both of your careers? Does anyone else know about this? My God, the press would have a field day! Have you two considered the repercussions here?"

"Yes," I said, in response to the last question. "Donna knows, but that's the only other person, other than you. I have considered how this could affect my career, and Leo, at this point; I really don't give a rat's ass. I want Sam. I love Sam. I need Sam in my life, and if no one in all of Washington likes it, then fuck them all. I'll quit."

"And just because I happen to be in love with Josh doesn't make me less qualified or less capable then I was before. And if anyone feels that way, I'm not going to let it affect me." Sam added. "To hell with bigoted, narrow-minded people."

Leo sighed deeply, and sat unsteadily on a nearby chair. "Have you two considered telling the President?"

I looked at Sam, and he nodded in the affirmative. "We were going to tell all of you this morning at the Staff meeting. We figured it wouldn't be fair to keep you all in the dark any longer about us."

"But we wanted to have a fair chance to try this out for ourselves first, before we told anyone else, Leo." I added. "And I know, from my perspective, that I don't want to give up on this relationship."

"You don't have to," Leo said. "I'd never make you two give up on your relationship. And you don't have to explain to me that your sexual preferences have nothing to do with who you are as people. I know both of you, and I would trust both of you with my life. Just... make sure you tell the President about this. For honesty's sake. For my sanity's sake. The senior staff needs to know... CJ especially, since she always handles damage control, if need be... and we're your friends. You should know you can trust us enough to be happy for you instead of furious."

"But you got furious, Leo," Sam said.

"That's because it's early, and I didn't exactly find out in all the best possible ways," Leo replied, staring pointedly at Sam's towel. Sam blushed cranberry red, and shut up. With that last shot, Leo got up. "I expect both of you at work... soon.

With that report finished. And I want both of you, again, to know you have my support. I'm going into the office now. I want to have a talk with the President first, all right?"

Leo was willing to smooth the way for us. I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face. "Thanks, Leo."

Leo put on a stern look. "Don't thank me. You two have been doing your best work ever in the last few weeks. I wouldn't do anything to alter that."

Then he smiled at us. "Be in the office by eight."

I showed him out and came back to Sam.

"That was a truly frightening experience," he said.

I nodded in agreement. "One down. And he was supportive, at least."

"And he'll put in a good word for us with the President," Sam replied. "I think it'll get easier from here."

I could only hope he was right.

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