Author: Baked Goldfish
Category: Leo/Sam (yeah, you read that right.)
Spoilers: SGTE, SGTJ; 17 People; TFGKY, 18th & Potomac
Disclaimer: I don't own TWW. I'm not making money here. Additionally, this is all George Michael's fault, for that stupid song "Father Figure". Go sue him, if you're lawyers are getting antsy.
Summary: Because after the lies and the heartache, there's still need. A series of post-eps.
Archive: Sure, wherever you feel like archiving this mutant. A/N: I actually started writing this waaaaay before the Rob & John AOL pic came out, so . . . yeah. I'm twisted on a regular basis.
[Post SGTE, SGTJ]
Postscript by Baked Goldfish
He hung the phone up a moment after his father had, and stared at it with unblinking blue eyes for just one second before getting up abruptly and leaving his office. Sam knew that Toby, Donna, and Josh would be waiting for him by Josh's office, so he walked there quickly, normally.
They were talking quietly, most likely about him. "Hey, guys," he said.
"Hey," Josh said. "Ready?"
Smiling apologetically, Sam replied, "I really don't think I'm up for it tonight."
They all nodded understandingly. "You're still going home, though," Toby stated. It was more of a quiet order than a question.
"Promise," Sam agreed, his eyebrows going up and eyes getting a little wider as he said it. "Straight home, dinner, off to bed."
"Good boy," Toby said, nodding.
"You sure you don't want to come?" Donna asked, her eyes asking a different question: Are you okay?
"Yeah," he said with a smile, answering both her questions. "You guys go on ahead. I'll see you tomorrow."
They said their goodbyes for the day, and the three people who were previously going to get Sam drunk and put him to bed, left to get drunk themselves and find solace in their own beds. On his own, Sam made his way back to the office, and sat down in front of his laptop.
"Late night," came a gravelly-but-smooth voice at the door.
Sam looked up to see Leo standing in the doorway, overcoat on and briefcase in hand. "Just wanted to finish something up before I go home."
"You sure?" he asked, detachedly concerned.
"I'm sure," Sam nodded with a friendly smile. "I'll leave in a little bit."
"Don't believe you," Leo stated frankly. "Go home, Sam. I wanna see you leave before I do."
"But you're leaving *now*."
"Yeah. You doing the pardon thing?"
"It can wait til tomorrow." Leo motioned for Sam to exit. "Now get your stuff, and go home."
Sam sat there, a searching expression on his face as he regarded Leo. "How did you deal with it?"
"With what?" he asked, a little thrown.
"With your dad, cheating on your mom," he answered stiffly. "You said that he-"
"Yeah, I know," Leo cut in quietly, nodding. He sighed, and rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Let me take you home, Sam."
Nothing more was said, and Sam got his things together before following Leo out to the garage. Sam noted that Leo drove his own car, even though he could easily get a government limo to take him wherever he needed to go. Shrugging mentally, he got into the passenger seat. A few minutes later, they were at Sam's Georgetown brownstone rowhouse.
"Thanks," Sam said, climbing out of the car. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"No you won't," Leo replied. "Bonnie'll take care of things. You take the day off."
Sam stared crossly at his boss. "Leo, I'm perfectly fine. It's not as if body parts are falling off or anything."
"Still," Leo began with a bit of a sigh, "I'd feel better if I knew you took a little time off. Just sleep in tomorrow, at least."
His indignation lowered, and he nodded. "I'll be in by lunch, though."
"Fair enough," Leo replied, shrugging. His eyes turned serious and he asked, "You're set up for dinner, right? And breakfast tomorrow?"
Chuckling, Sam replied, "I'm fine, Leo. Since when did you start acting like this?"
"Like, I dunno. Mother Goose."
Finally, Leo let go of the steering wheel and got out of the car. "Just for that crack, I'm making you dinner."
Sam ducked his head sheepishly as he walked to the door. "Okay," he mumbled, maybe a little guiltily.
"Sam," Leo said warningly.
Stopping abruptly, he turned to face Leo. "Thing is, I have, like, a can of soup," he admitted in that nonchalant voice that meant he was anything but.
"A can of soup," Leo repeated slowly. "And nothing for breakfast, I assume."
"I don't eat breakfast," Sam replied meekly.
"You should eat breakfast," Leo stated, ushering him closer to the door. "Most important meal of the day."
"I know." He unlocked the door and stepped inside, a little startled that Leo was following him. "What're you doing?"
"I was serious about making you dinner. Move it."
Sam flattened himself against the door and gave Leo access. "Sure thing," he said, still a little surprised. "Need anything?"
"Where's your kitchen?"
Sam pointed in its general direction. "Thataway."
"Thanks. Go take a shower in the meantime."
"Take a shower?" he repeated, incredulous.
Leo turned to face him, and looked him up and down. "You're starting to smell funny."
"Honestly, Sam, when was the last time you took a relaxing, hot shower?" Leo asked pointedly. "Go, relax, I'll have dinner ready for you."
Sam left, and returned fifteen minutes later with wet hair and still- damp skin. On the kitchen table was a bowl of tomato soup and a plate with a few grilled cheese sandwiches. "Wow," he uttered.
"What?" Leo asked, glancing at him distractedly from the sink.
"I *really* don't know how long that bread's been in the fridge," he replied, sitting down.
Shrugging and drying his hands, Leo said, "Well, it wasn't turning green, so I figured it was still safe." He turned around and leaned against the countertop. "You need anything else? I think there's a Superfresh somewhere nearby, I can make a grocery run."
Sam dipped the sandwich in the soup and took a bite. "I'm fine." Pausing, he glanced up at Leo. "Y'know, could you sit down? You're kinda making me nervous, standing there."
He sat. "You sure that's enough?"
Nodding, Sam took another bite. "Seeing as how I wasn't gonna eat *anything*, this is more than enough. You okay?"
Leo waved the question off. "I had something at the office."
Putting the sandwich down, Sam regarded Leo curiously. "You're gonna watch me eat?"
"Well, now that you put the idea in my head . . ."
"That was your plan all along," he stated with a chuckle, picking the sandwich up again. "And I only just figured it out."
"Ahh, don't feel too bad," Leo began good-naturedly. "It's politics, and I've been in the game of politicking almost as long as you've been alive."
"Politicking?" Sam repeated, a teasing light in his eyes.
"No, really, people still say that?" he interrupted, barely keeping his laughter at bay.
"I come here, trying to be a nice guy, and what happens? You mock me," Leo stated dramatically. "That'll teach *me* to have a heart."
"Thank you, Leo," Sam said quickly, though he completely meant it. "I really appreciate it."
Leo smiled and nodded his understanding. A moment of quiet passed between them, and he absently looked around at the small kitchen while Sam ate. When Sam was just finishing up, Leo got up and walked to the fridge. "What do you wanna drink?"
"I think there's a beer in there," the younger man replied as he spooned the last of his soup. "I've got soda, too, if you want."
He pulled out the two bottles, and handed Sam the beer before cracking open the Coke. "You really wanted to be alone tonight, didn't you?"
Sam took a sip before nodding. "Yeah. I guess."
"Sam." He sat down opposite the younger man and placed his soda aside. "Nights like these, it's not good to be alone. You should've gone out with Toby and Josh, they tried to take you out for a reason."
"You saying you told them to take me out?" Sam asked cautiously.
"No," Leo replied truthfully. "They tried to take you because they knew that nights like these, it's not good to be alone."
He took another sip of his beer and let it seep into him before swallowing. "You're alone on nights like these."
"I'm also fifty-four, and I've already been through the rocky parts of my life with the help of my friends," Leo countered. "You're, what? Thirty-six? If you think that being alone's the solution when you're thirty-six, it's gonna be even worse in twenty years. You gotta let your friends help you, Sam. Otherwise . . . " He leaned back and sighed. "I don't know. Otherwise, it's gonna be a tough road."
"Leo, I can get through this-"
"Yeah, you can get through this," he interrupted. "But what about the next thing? You'll think you can get through that, too, but who knows? You might not be able to, on your own. Trust me on this, Sam. Trust me when I tell you I know both sides of the fence."
Sam regarded Leo for a moment, fingering the neck of the beer bottle distractedly. "He's not a . . . a monster, or anything, you know."
"I mean, people always associate adultery with, with close- mindedness, or abusiveness," he went on. "Dad's not like that. He's a retired lawyer who likes gardening and movies with Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn." With a chuckle, he added, "When I told him I left Lisa to join the campaign, he congratulated me. And you know what he said when the President won? 'Finally, a good man is in office.'"
"He's not a monster," Leo agreed quietly, one hand having found its way over Sam's wrist. "But."
"Yeah, but." Sam's free hand went up to his face and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "But . . . I can't reconcile that with someone who could betray his family like this."
"I know." His thumb pressed against the round, jutting bone of Sam's wrist, and he tried to catch the younger man's gaze with his own. He could tell that there was something that Sam was holding back, something that he felt he couldn't tell Leo. "Sam?"
"You can say anything you need to, to me."
He pulled his hand out from under Leo's, and took a healthy swig of beer as he got up. "I think I'd just like to go to bed, right now, actually."
Nodding, Leo pushed out of his chair. "Give me a call if you need anything, all right?"
"I'm bisexual," he blurted out suddenly. Almost hesitantly, he went on. "When I told him that, he was okay with it. He's not a monster."
"Oh," Leo stated, nodding. Taken aback. "Oh. Well-"
"That was stupid of me, wasn't it?" Sam asked with a self- depreciating smile. "Leo, just forget I said that. That was me, being stupid."
"Sam," Leo began, closing the space between them and holding the other man's shoulders, "I said you could tell me anything, and you can, all right?"
The smile withered away, and the first tear eked out of the corner of his eye. "He's not evil," he began, his voice wavering. "How could he have done something so bad, for so long?"
When no other words or actions came to mind, Leo simply pulled Sam into his arms. Sam wrapped his own arms around Leo's back, and they stood there for a moment. "I don't know," Leo admitted quietly, his hand making tiny circles on Sam's back. "I'm sorry, Sam."
"I just . . . I wish I had something I could depend on."
A pang of guilt pierced Leo's throat, and he had to swallow hard to start breathing again. "You can depend on us," he said, hoping it would stay true for long enough.
"It's not gonna be . . . I mean, I'm bi. That's not-"
He stepped back and looked Sam right in the eyes. "It's a non- issue," he replied. "If anyone ever got wind of it--it's a non- issue. Don't worry about it."
Sam smiled at him, his blue eyes shining in the harsh light of the kitchen. "You're probably totally wrong, Leo. But thanks anyway."
"Hey," Leo began, his voice tough and political. "You think this administration hasn't dealt with so-called scandals before? You think, in all my years in Washington, that *I* haven't dealt with situations exactly like this before? I'm telling you it's a non- issue, so it's a non-issue. Got it?"
Chuckling, Sam nodded. "Thanks, Leo." The laughter dissipated, and he glanced at the direction of his bedroom. "I think I'll turn in for the night."
Nodding, Leo walked towards the door. "I can let myself out. Remember, Sam, no earlier than lunch tomorrow morning."
"Yeah?" He stopped at the door, and turned to look at the younger man.
"How did you finally get over it? Your father, I mean."
He inhaled deeply. "Time," he said, breathing out.
Sam nodded. "When did he-" Grasping for words, he stopped momentarily. "Why did he stop?"
Leo almost told him that the elder McGarry stopped because a bullet went through his brain. "He died," he answered matter-of-factly.
"Yeah." Leo swallowed almost nervously under Sam's burning blue gaze, and turned back to the door. "Goodnight, Sam."
[Post 17 People]
Sam made his way back down to the mess at around two in the morning, in need of some more coffee. He found Leo at the small table, hunched over a bowl of ice cream.
"You and comfort food, Leo?" he cracked, setting some coffee to brew.
Leo looked up, a little startled by Sam's voice. "I guess," he replied, absently spooning up some whipped cream. "You guys still working on the speech?"
He sat down opposite Leo and shrugged. "We thought Toby would bring the funny. He didn't."
Leo peered up at him curiously. "'Bring the funny'? The hell kinda phrase is that?"
"The same as 'politicking,'" he goaded. "Seriously, Leo. Ice cream?"
"I wanted ice cream," he retorted. "Nothing wrong with a grown man eating ice cream, is there?"
Again, he shrugged, leaning against the counter. "I don't know. It's just kinda weird, seeing *you* of all people, moping over comfort food."
"I am not moping, and this is not comfort food," he exclaimed, the spoon clattering in the half-empty bowl. "Contrary to popular belief, Sam, I *am* human, and, like normal well-adjusted humans everywhere, I like ice cream!"
"Getting defensive about our ice cream, I see," Sam joked.
Leo glowered at him and picked up his spoon, rather testily. "What do you need, Sam?" he asked, all business.
He wanted to ask Leo what was so obviously bothering, but Leo was not that kind of approachable, and never had been. So, instead, he asked, "How often do you eat ice cream?"
"The hell is wrong with you tonight?" Leo retorted, annoyed.
"I'm happy, Leo," he answered, throwing his hands in the air and smiling. "Don't I have a right to that?"
"Yeah," he sighed defeatedly. "Yeah, you do." He picked at his ice cream a little more. "Getting nowhere with the speech, huh?"
Sam nodded and got up to check on the coffee. "Probably gonna be an all-nighter. You sticking around?"
"Probably not," he replied, spooning a bit of ice cream into his mouth. "Sam-"
"Yeah?" He turned away from the coffee pot and mugs, and faced Leo with wide, inquisitive eyes.
Stretching a bit on the stool, Leo stared contemplatively at the spoon in his hand. "Nah, nothing," he said quietly with a soft shake of his head.
He would find out soon enough, if he needed to, Sam figured, and part of him said to ignore the nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. But curiosity and worry got the better of him, and he asked, "Leo, it didn't leak, did it?"
His head shot up apprehensively "*What* didn't leak?" he replied quickly, cautiously. Then, he caught on: "Oh, no, no. You're--it's fine. It didn't leak." He caught himself before he told Sam that there were bigger fish to fry than his sexual orientation; still reeling from Toby's reaction, he did not want the added stress of telling Sam.
Sam nodded. "Thanks." He put down the tray he was preparing, picked up a full mug, and turned fully towards Leo. "I'll find out about whatever it is when I find out, right?" he asked with a good-natured smile before taking a sip of coffee.
"Yeah," he chuckled, staring down into the half-melted remnants of his ice cream. "Sorry."
Sam shrugged, and moved to sit down on the stool next to Leo. "Nothing to be sorry about," he replied, putting the mug down.
Looking up at him, Leo wondered how he would tell Sam of Bartlet's multiple sclerosis. He wondered, absently, if he would even be able to. Rationality kicked in, and he wondered if he would be able to get out of the task of telling Sam, of all his staff.
"I guess not," Leo replied at length, his voice muted and distracted.
Sam locked onto the half-pitying, half-worried glint in Leo's eyes, searching for some reasons. Something told him to move closer; that same something told him Leo was doing the same. Scents of vanilla and coffee mingled as they came together, and any trouble that Sam sensed on the horizon was out of mind. It was random, it was illogical, it was heady, and it was probably stupid, but there they were, in that awkward position, on the verge of touching each other for the first time
A sound from the staircase startled them, and they jerked apart like two marionettes. "You get lost down there?" Josh joked good- naturedly as he came down the stairs, totally oblivious to what had almost happened short moments earlier. He saw Leo, nodded with a tiny smirk, and said, "'Sup."
Sam tried to swallow the cotton out of his mouth while Leo took his empty bowl to the sink. "I was just . . . it's ready," he chirped nervously.
Standing at the sink, his eyes shifting uncertainly back to Sam every few seconds, Leo said, "I was about to leave for the night." He started walking to the stairs, and added, with much more gruffness to his voice, "I'm gonna be back at six, and that speech better be on my desk."
Josh watched his boss leave, no longer ignorant to the tension that had filled the room. "What just happened here?" he asked Sam.
"I gotta go talk to him," Sam stated awkwardly, unintentionally ignoring Josh's question.
He bounded up the stairs two at a time, and managed to catch Leo a few feet from his office. "Hey," he called out.
"I mean it, Sam, you've only got a couple hours left to do this speech," Leo warned as he walked into his office.
"It'll be done," Sam replied. "Ed and Larry-" He stopped himself short, realizing that they were working on autopilot, talking about work because it was the easiest thing to do. "Leo, I'm sorry."
Standing in the doorway, he almost told Sam about the sickness that was slowly ripping apart their President. He didn't. "Forget it."
"But, it's not that easy, is it?"
"It is *just* that easy," Leo replied, his voice hard and assertive. "Forget it."
Sam almost said he wanted to remember it. He didn't. "It was the sleep dep," he said with a self-depreciating smile. "And you eating ice cream at odd hours of the night."
"There was nothing odd about me eating ice cream," Leo said, covering the unease that he was feeling with a false lightness. "I'm heading home. Have that speech on my desk by six." He left without further discussion.
Sam stood in Leo's office for a moment after the Chief of Staff had left, and didn't notice when Josh came in.
Looking around in the near-empty office, Josh said, a little worried, "Toby's not bringing the funny, and Leo's acting weird. What's up?"
Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Sam answered, "Dunno." He knew it was more than just the incident moments earlier, as awkward and confusing as that was; he knew that there was something else, and more sinister, that led to that momentary drop in McGarry's armor. He did not quite know what, though, so he took Leo's advice and tried to forget it all. Taking a deep breath, he started to head out of the office. "Let's go finish that speech."
[Post The Fall's Gonna Kill You]
Leo watched as the President left the room, and he rubbed his right knee absently. He did anything possible to keep from making eye contact with Sam. For the past two weeks, he had managed to keep up appearances of normalcy with the speechwriter; they had even been able to pass the near-kiss off as a result of exhaustion and distraction. Now, Sam knew, and they were back in that awkward stage.
"I was the last to find out," Sam stated numbly, abruptly.
"Toby thought--you were writing the speech, he thought this'd upset you," Leo replied quietly.
"Gee, ya think?" Sam snarled. "Of all the stupid-"
"Hey," Leo interrupted, his voice tainted with warning. "Watch it."
"Of all the stupid things to do," Sam continued, undaunted, his own voice quiet and dangerous. "America had a right to know, Leo. *We*, at least, had a right to know."
"If it makes you feel better, I only found out last year," Leo growled out angrily. "I've known him for, what, forty years? And I only found out last year."
Biting his tongue, Sam looked away momentarily. "Is he really okay?" he asked, a little harshly.
"Yeah," Leo answered, calming down. "Yeah, he's okay."
Sam was still looking away. "I've got to go do-"
"You've got to go do nothing, Sam," Leo interrupted. "Go home."
Sam got up and headed to the door. Pausing, he turned back to face Leo. "This was the thing?"
"Pardon?" Leo asked quietly, distractedly.
"Two weeks ago. You were in the kitchen, eating ice cream. This was what was bothering you, and Toby."
"Did you want to tell me then?"
"Yeah," Leo answered, without hesitation. "I did." He left out the fact that he didn't want to be the one to tell him.
"Why didn't you?"
"Because . . . " Because it was easier to hold back. Because it would have been yet another betrayal to Sam, so close after the first few. Because it would be hard to look Sam in the eyes again. Because they had almost kissed, and he still didn't know what to make of that, and to tell Sam at that point would have just complicated things even further.
"I don't know," Leo finally answered. "Go home, Sam."
He turned, blue eyes still hard, and left. Leo leaned into his high- backed chair, and wondered how it could possibly get any worse than this.
[Post 18th & Potomac]
They filed out of the room, leaving Leo and the President behind. The two men looked like wind-battered statues, old and weary and hunched into themselves. Tears openly stained the President's visage, but Leo had managed to keep his own grief at bay.
"You going home?" Bartlet asked, at length.
"Yeah," Leo replied, his voice wispier and weaker than normal. "I just gotta finish up some . . . yeah."
"Go home, Leo," Bartlet stated. "Or stay here with us. Don't do work now."
"I just gotta finish this thing up," Leo said numbly, staring at some point on the fabric of the opposite chair.
Bartlet got up and walked into the hallway, still numb and really just needing to move about to stave off the intense grief that was burning his throat. Outside, the rest of the senior staff and Charlie seemed to be holding vigil, clumped together in a hushed group by the opposite wall.
He waited a few minutes before saying, "I need someone to take Leo home."
"Is he okay?" Josh asked, worried that this latest blow had affected his boss and mentor in some way that they had not noticed earlier.
"He's fine," Bartlet replied, "but I want someone to make sure he gets home tonight."
"I'll take him," Sam said before anyone else had a chance to speak up. He went back into the room without preamble, and stood awkwardly in front of Leo. The older man was still sitting, almost pulled into himself, with his head hanging to his chest.
"Leo," he said quietly. "The President-"
"Asked you to take me home?" Leo finished for him. "I'll go home, Sam." Pulling himself out of the chair, he added, "I'll be fine. You go do what you gotta do."
"He asked us to make sure you got home," Sam replied, "and he's got a little bit more power than you, Leo. What I've got to do is take you home."
"Let's get the hell outta here, then," Leo conceded grudgingly. "I just gotta stop by the office for a few things."
"Fine," Sam said. "But you're not gonna be working at home."
"And how the hell are you gonna stop me?"
Sam thought for a moment, a solid plan forming in his head. "I don't know," he lied smoothly.
Leo shook his head and walked to his office, trying to ignore Sam as he trailed close behind. Soon, they were parked in front of a building, but not Leo's hotel; rather, they were in front of Sam's brownstone.
Leo looked at it from the car, annoyed. "*This* is how you're gonna stop me from working?"
"Leo, just come inside," Sam pleaded, looking directly at his boss. "I don't want you working tonight."
"Why?" Leo shot back caustically.
"Because I know why you work on nights like this, it blocks everything else out," Sam replied. "Don't think nobody noticed yours were the only dry eyes in that room. You work to escape. You push things down, and try to move on. It's the way you're wired, but it won't work tonight. Come inside." He got out of the car.
Leo went inside, after Sam; Sam, for his part, did not even look behind him to see if Leo was following, because he didn't have to. They were inside momentarily, and Sam said, "I'm getting a beer. You want anything?"
"Some water," Leo replied quietly, still standing in the middle of the living room. Sam had been right, in what he had said in the car. And Leo knew that drowning himself in work would not help, tonight.
"Here you go," Sam said, entering the room again and sipping at his beer. "Sit down, I'll get you something to eat."
"I'm fine, Sam," Leo replied, taking his ice water without drinking it. "I'll be fine." He took one drink of water, and placed the cup down on a corner table. "I should go now."
"Dammit, Leo-" Sam put the beer down and stood between Leo and the door. "You forced me to be with someone, to talk to someone when I was feeling down. Tonight is a hell of a bigger reason than adultery to be feeling down."
Brushing past him, Leo stated, "I'm going home. Thanks for the water."
"Nights like these, it's not good to be alone," Sam said quickly, suddenly.
It was bizarre. It was as if Leo's legs had taken root in the hardwood floor of Sam's living room. He turned his head, but not the rest of his body, to face Sam, with an understanding look on his face. Alarms went off in his head, telling him that this was the wrong time with the wrong man for the wrong motives, but for some reason he did not move away. As if it were some sort of trance, Sam closed the distance between them quickly, and kissed him.
Leo kissed back. Sam tasted to him of Michelob Light, the bitterness of the liquor resting on the tip of Leo's tongue as he sunk himself deeper into the younger man's mouth. An almost unfamiliar twinge of longing crept up the small of his back; then, Sam pulled back for air, and that longing became one for something else.
"It's been a while," Leo murmured as he felt Sam's fingers undoing his tie.
"Since you've been with a guy?" he asked, pausing, and maybe a little surprised.
For a moment, he lost himself in those eyes, blue irises framed by thick lashes. For a moment, he fell in them, and they swallowed him up. For a moment, those liquid diamonds cut him to his soul.
"Yeah," was all he could breathe.
Somehow, they made it to the bedroom, a trail of clothing scattered behind them. It was wrong, Leo knew, for him to take Sam tonight, when they were both as vulnerable as they were. But their hands were all over each other, grasping for something real and true, and any ideas of right and wrong were out the window.
"God, Sam," he prayed later as he entered into him, his shoulders buried in the crooks of Sam's knees. Sam looked up, his eyes half- unfocused and his hands leaving red marks where they were pressed down onto Leo's shoulders. Those same hands slid up into the older man's hair, pulling his head down. Their lips met in wet, messy kisses, tongues colliding halfway between shuddering breaths as they moved against each other. Sam came first, quickly, with a hitched, jilted choke of a gasp; Leo, seconds later, with the one hand laced through Sam's hair, and the other hand pressed against Sam's bare shoulder.
The smell of sweat and sex filled the room, and they lay in a tangled, breathless heap, neither one really on top of the other. Eventually, Sam was asleep on his side, one hand under his head and the other pulled to his chest, and Leo watched him in the subdued light of the early morning hours. Leo knew that one day soon, they would face things that would threaten everything they hold true, and those things might just tear them apart. For now, though, he resigned himself to absently fingering the thick, black hair that was mussed on top of Sam's head, and he deluded himself that everything might just be okay, if only for that moment.
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