TITLE: Rock My World
DISCLAIMER:All characters are the sole creation and property of Aaron Sorkin. No copyright infringement is intended.
SUMMARY: Sam was dancing, and it was driving Josh crazy.
ARCHIVE: Lists may take. Others, just please let me know where.
FEEDBACK: Always welcome and appreciated. abigalep@yahoo.com
THANKS ALWAYS: amerella (nee Dalia). It's getting repetitive, I know.
NOTES: This and other things can also be found at http://subtractions.homestead.com/


Rock My World by Abigale

Sam was dancing, and it was driving Josh crazy. Sam never danced, unless it was to something formal and deliberate and someone had tormented him into doing it. Or bluesy. None of these things were true right now.

But here he was bouncing and bobbing and sweating and laughing, stumbling into Donna and CJ and a junior staffer Josh couldn't remember the name of. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes flashing like strobes, and it was a riveting sight.

It fleetingly occurred to Josh that he should get over there and rescue the empty bottle of beer from Sam's flailing hand before it became a danger to everyone, but he just couldn't move. And the way the women kept circling Sam, Josh figured he wasn't gonna get within arm's reach anyway.

Wow. Josh had... he'd never seen Donna move like that before. And the thing she was doing with - Rachel! That was her name! Well, he'd seen women do that before, of course. In his dreams. And Sam was right in the middle of it. Hair plastered to his forehead, stains growing under his arms, and Josh thought he was radiating light.

The four of them were whipping their heads around now, making Josh dizzy just watching. He really had to get that bottle out of there. CJ's strikingly long legs, clad in endless denim, were propelling her in perpetual orbit around Sam, hips and arms swinging in time to the driving beat. Who knew CJ was a Springsteen girl?

And who the hell knew Donna could go that low without toppling over? Josh watched with admiration as she slowly began to straighten her knees, making her way up Sam's body. Wondering how Sam could stand her doing that without reaching out to grab hold of something. Maybe it was because he was too distracted by the shoulder Rachel was -- ow! That was gonna leave a bruise.

CJ caught Josh's eye for the briefest of moments, and he was eternally relieved when she made no indication that she expected him to join them. In fact, if Josh was reading that look right, he was pretty sure he was being warned away.

Okay, *that* was called 'grinding.' Josh didn't even want to speculate about what it felt like. He'd have to make sure to ask Sam about that....

Walking from the parking lot just a few short hours earlier, Sam had 1) stumbled over the curb and hit his knee on a car's bumper. Then 2) hit his own elbow on the door he was opening. And now here he was bounding around to the music, staying on his own two feet, against all odds.

Hmm. Josh was tempted to ask Toby if there was any technical difference between 'grinding' and 'gyrating,' and if so, which one was Donna doing right now. He even turned his head to pose the question, but Toby's eyes were so glassy and dilated, Josh decided to skip it for now. He looked back just in time to see.... Well. That had to feel good. Even if it was in front of a couple dozen strangers and your boss.

The air smelled of sweat, and beer and cigarettes and the deep, defining scent of camaraderie. It reminded Josh of college and the campaign and forever. Of bonds unbreakable even in the face of surface divisions and disparate ideologies. For an instant, Josh chided himself for having that third beer, because he wasn't usually prone to such sweeping, grandiose statements. The atmosphere was going to his head, he decided. Kind of like how CJ's hands were going to Sam's.... She's gonna to have to wash them, before she dives into the pretzels again, Josh resolved stupidly.

The music pounded on, and Josh made a decision. He really needed to get that bottle out of Sam's hand.

When he was a kid, ten or eleven, Josh's best friend Phil got a pool in his backyard. That entire first summer, they'd acted out the same foolish ploy over and over. Phil, already splashing endlessly in the water, would somehow get a fully clothed Josh to lean over the side, just enough to get pulled in. It was an arrangement they had, to get around Josh's mother's belief that because they were already paid through the summer at the community pool, that was where Josh should be swimming. She was being unreasonable, as were Josh and Phil, but it was always funny, and it always worked. Josh would strip to his jockeys, and spend the rest of the afternoon sloshing around with his friend.

So, cautiously heading for the crush of dancers, Sam at its epicenter, Josh was absolutely convinced that when he reached his hand in there he was going to get pulled in.

And was monumentally disappointed when Rachel simply snatched the bottle from Sam and clumsily handed it off to a hovering Josh.

Not that he wanted to dance. He just wanted to get closer to Sam.

As close as Donna was getting right now. As close as Rachel was, on the other side of him. But not in public.

Backing away from the frenzy in front of him, Josh made his way to Toby's side, where he bumped shoulders as he took up his position.

"They... they seem to be having a good time," Josh ventured.

"He's practically mating with three women," Toby spit, more with awe than ire.

Startled, Josh laughed. And looked at where CJ was applying herself. Yup. That's how you mate.

The song was not ending, didn't sound like it was ever going to end. And as strange as that seemed to Josh, stranger still was the impression that it was actually getting louder. Or was that his blood pounding in his ears? Because if he discounted the music, he could swear Sam was dancing to Josh's throbbing pulse.

Good god in heaven and all across the land. Now he was singing?? And looking right at Josh. This... this was not good. Except... this was very good. Josh could feel Toby's eyes cutting over to him and was determined not to give him the satisfaction of looking so... satisfied. Clearing his already clear throat, Josh leaned back against the bar and crossed his long legs out in front of himself as casually as he possibly could.

"...I see you standing across the room watching me without a sound. Well I'm gonna push my way through that crowd, I'm gonna tear all your walls down. Tear all your walls down. My love love love love love love love will not let you down......"

Try as Josh might, that stupid grin was still blazing across his face, and he damned well knew it. And Sam saw it, because Sam was staring directly at him, cocking his head back and forth at him in time to the music, belting out the words, kicking his legs, pressing against Rachel's....

That was really bad form, Josh thought grumpily. You don't do this with one person while you're doing *that* with another. On the other hand, Sam seemed to be spreading himself pretty evenly among everyone tonight. Josh wondered if he'd missed Sam playing footsie under the table with Toby earlier. The way things were going, it wasn't a completely unreasonable thought.

"Hey, Toby. When we were sitting at the table earlier did Sam happen to - "

There was a commotion on the dance floor, sudden enough to cut Josh off mid-sentence. CJ, towering above almost everyone around her, was clearing quite a large swath, doing what Josh could only describe as a can-can. Showing amazing balance and agility, hopping up and down on one leg, pumping the air with the other, the entire sight so surreal Josh only knew one way to react.

"Beer!" he called out to the bartender.

A flicker of honest to god amazement licked at Josh. Sam was doing that *thing,* that thing he said he couldn't do. But he was doing it, quite well, in fact, Josh noted. And wondered what it would take to get the President to invite Springsteen to play the next State Dinner. Really, everyone at the White House should be seeing this.

Finally, finally, the song was starting to fade out. So Josh allowed himself to believe they might all get out of there alive, after all. Until. Jesus. What, was the DJ from Jersey, or something?

The dancers didn't seem to lose any of their enthusiasm. In fact, watching as carefully as he was, Josh didn't see anyone miss a beat. But Donna missed that spin, and for sure, if Sam hadn't been paying attention, she'd be on her ass right now. But she looked fine, her ass was fine. Sam was apparently seeing to that. "Eh hem. It's *fine,* Sam," Josh muttered.

Above the cacophony of sound, Josh heard Toby snicker into his drink.

There were more people on the floor now; it was getting harder and harder to see everyone's positions. If CJ wasn't there to mark the spot, Josh would have never seen that woman come out of nowhere and fling her arms around Sam's neck.

Sam must be pretty pissed off at that, Josh figured. He was probably giving her a piece of his mind, chiding her on invading his personal space, giving her his standard lecture on how Snow White should have called the cops on Prince Charming for kissing her without first getting permission. Or possibly... Sam was getting her phone number?

"That's...." Toby leaned towards Josh, eyes never leaving the tangle of bodies in front of them. "Carla Reese-Kinsey. New associate counsel. I think Sam knew her -"

"Yeah, yeah," Josh agreed a little too eagerly. "Duke. Right. I... I knew that." Didn't *dare* look at Toby now. Or ever again, as long as he lived.

So. Four women now. That was.... Josh fished around for the fancy word for a foursome, failed, drank from his beer. And wondered when this had turned into the Sam Gets Some From Everybody Show.

He guessed it was the minute he came out of the womb. Those eyes. That skin. The smile and the laugh and the bone structure you could propel down.

As for tonight, it was most likely the minute Sam's beloved Community Workforce Partnerships initiative passed, undiluted and uncompromised. That kind of righteous victory made Sam irresistible. Suddenly remembering a forgotten thread from a few moments ago, Josh turned to Toby. "So, earlier tonight, when we were all at the table, did Sam by any chance - "

"You might wanna. Someone might wanna...." Toby was waving a vague hand in the general direction of the swelling tide of bodies.

Clearly there were still thoughtful, generous people in the world. People who recognized the hard work and dedication of the lowly put-upon public servant. Patriots who would, out of pure generosity and in the spirit of citizenship... hand a bottle of rock-gut whisky to a bouncing, sopping wet, albeit strikingly good-looking man. A man who had clearly already had his share of alcohol.

Okay, party over, Josh decided, placing his own beer on the bar. Shooting a 'thanks for all your help' look at Toby. Well, at least now he'd get closer to Sam. Sweaty, stinky, drunken Sam.

CJ was the first to see Josh approaching, the one he heard squeal "Uh oh, Dad's here!" He didn't laugh.

Donna and Rachel were causing quite a scene. Between Donna's shirt riding up to expose the creamy white expanse of her stomach, and the way Rachel was.... Well, if they weren't Democrats, that would be considered obscene.

CJ was wagging parts of herself defiantly at Josh. Carla and Sam, facing away, seemed unconcerned about his imminent approach, passing the bottle back and forth. There were too many bodies between them for Josh to get any closer. He called Sam's name, pulled on Donna's arm and pointed frantically. "Get him, would you?" Josh whined.

"Stop whining, get him yourself!" Donna responded, and pulled Josh into the pool.

Nobody was grinding against *him,* Josh noticed miserably. Oh, they were touching him, all right. But it was more of a 'hey buddy, get out of my way' touch. Finally breaking through to Sam and Carla, and... oh shit. Another one? How many women did Sam need at one time tonight?

"Sam? Sam? SAM?!" Josh shouted.

Head whipping around, blue eyes bright and alert. Sam wasn't drunk.

"Hey! You're dancing!" Sam, with congratulatory glee. "Josh, you're dancing!"

"No, I'm really not. I'm just... I'm standing here, and people are bumping into me."

"I couldn't tell." Sam put his hand behind Josh's neck and pulled him closer. "Are you gonna dance with me?" he croaked hoarsely.

Pulling back enough to look deeply into Sam's eyes, an uncontrollable smile spread across Josh's face. "Um. I'd love to dance with you. But not here. I... seriously, Sam, there's no more of you to go around." Carla reached in front of the two men and grabbed the bottle out of Sam's hand before rubbing herself against him as she turned back to CJ.

"Well... I saved part of myself for you. So...." Sam's eyes flashed as he spoke. "I saved myself for you." And then he started laughing again.

Letting go of Josh's neck, Sam was pulled away by CJ, leaving Josh standing there looking exactly as idiotic as he felt. And still, no one was shimmying against *him.* Not like they were with.... Nope. There was no way there was going to be anything left of Sam for Josh.

Giving up, giving in, patience giving out, Josh began battling his way out of the throng. He'd reached the edge of the writhing mass, when his hand was caught in a clammy grip.

"Home," Sam snarled directly into Josh's ear.

Twisting his head around spasmodically, Josh made eye contact with CJ. And Donna. Then Rachel, followed by Carla. He gratefully accepted their encouraging grins, and, still holding tightly to Sam's hand, drew him out of the crowd.

Letting go of Sam's damp hand when they reached Toby at the bar, Josh began frantically patting down his pockets. Pulling out a wad of crumpled bills, not stopping to count them, Josh smacked his money down on the bar. "If that doesn't take care of it, just, let me know tomorrow," Josh instructed the older man.

Toby nodded his head agreeably, and watched the two men head for the door.

"Ahhhhh!" Sam exhaled extravagantly the moment the autumn air hit his skin. Eyes closed, head tilted back, offering himself to the night.

"This way," Josh directed, tugging gently on Sam's sleeve.

"You really stink. Sam. You... man, go take a shower," Josh suggested.

There was no music in the apartment. Only the sound of the refrigerator humming to itself in the kitchen. So there was no reason Sam should be moving like that. Towards Josh.

"Sam. Go." Smiling now, at the sight of Sam. Dark hair matted to his head. Shirt still drying and plastered to his body. Grinning wickedly. If he wasn't careful, that smoldering look was going to ignite the curtains.

"You said you'd dance with me," Sam reminded him. Seizing Josh by a belt loop.

Completely conflicted, Josh wrinkled his nose, started to squirm away. "You're not getting anywhere near me until you - Eww. Sam, stop! GA! Don't, don't... oh that's just juvenile...."

After ten minutes under hot water, sweatpants hanging precariously low on his hips, no shirt, no shame, Sam presented himself to Josh. "Where's my dance?" Sam wanted to know.

Speechless, Josh nodded his head dumbly, and stared back. He'd always thought that was a trick of Hollywood; rivulets of water moving down burnished skin in a slow-motion trickle that never seemed to end. Droplets clinging expectantly to the tips of damp hair, spiky and uncombed. Eyes that actually caught the light and danced it back. This had to be special effects. 'Cause, damn; it was having a very special effect on Josh.

And the view from the back was almost as effective. When Sam turned to the stereo, a vast expanse of skin greeted Josh. Shoulder blades like wings. The gentle slope leading to the sway of his back. The.... I've done something so right, Josh concluded. I've actually managed to do something so indescribably right, even I couldn't ruin it.

Oh. That was to be expected. Josh felt stupid that he hadn't thought of it himself. Sam really was going to dance with him. And it wasn't going to involve bouncing or hopping. Obviously Sam had something more sublime in mind.

Where the *hell* had he learned to do that? To anyone else, that would be walking. Going from point A to point B, straight line, shortest distance. Somehow walking was the least of what Sam was managing to accomplish at the moment. But it wasn't dancing, Josh noticed. It was hypnotic. And excruciatingly slow. And completely deliberate. And now Josh was nearly liquid with desire. Watching Sam's lips move, sound barely coming from them, singing to him again.

"Look at the sun sinkin' like a ship Look at the sun sinkin' like a ship Ain't that just like my heart, babe When you kissed my lips?"

Still unable to form coherent speech, Josh allowed a low groan to rise from his throat. That. That right there. CJ taught Sam that, Josh had seen her do it earlier. Only when CJ did it, she hadn't been looking directly into Josh's eyes; and she didn't have a five o'clock shadow that made her look treacherous and innocent all at once.

The distance between them down to barely a hair's breath now, Sam tilted his head, a drop of water falling to his bare shoulder. "Can I touch you?" he asked, voice husky and sure.


A cock of Sam's eyebrow repeated the question.

"Yes," Josh breathed, an expectant shiver passing through him. But the only part of Sam that moved were his eyes. Trailing down Josh's body, climbing agonizingly back up, taking note of the slight trembling.

Sam's hand came up, hesitated in the air for a moment, then came to rest on his own chin. Rocking to the music spilling from the speakers, soaking through their skin. Sam's hand on the move again. Fingers hovering near Josh's flushed cheeks, lingering over his lips. Finally, finally finding their destination; the hollow at the base of Josh's throat. "Now this is dancing," Sam sighed.

I'm shaking, Josh realized. I'm actually shaking.

"Can I kiss you?" Sam's breath on Josh's lips even as he asked.

"Are... are you going to ask every time?" Josh asked warily. "Because there's something to be said for spontaneity and - " Unable to finish his sentence, the words turning into unintelligible moans when Sam's lips met his in a deliberate attempt to short-circuit every nerve in his body.

A sharp intake of air, prelude to a sigh. If I don't move now, I'll never make it to the bedroom, Josh reasoned. Pushing against Sam's bare chest, backing him towards the door, trying not to let their lips part again.

No choice when Sam spoke. "Wait. No preamble?"

Craning his neck back to make sure this was the same Sam that just had his tongue down Josh's throat. "I think... ya know I think the kids are calling it foreplay these days, Sam." Stepping around him, pulling now, come here, we have to go in here. "Besides. You had your share of foreplay at the bar."

Chagrined, Sam began moving fluidly, gladly following wherever Josh wanted to take him.

"That was fun," Sam agreed. "Donna. Man, can she...." The warning glare from Josh stealing the word from his mouth. "Type." Oomph. Josh, tackling Sam. "Did you *see* her typing away?"

Bed springs giving way to the combined weight of the two of them, laughing, scrambling into the center. Josh deftly lifting his shirt over his head. Flopping on his back, shifting hips to allow Sam to withdraw his jeans. Sam, slipping out of his sweats. Allowing Sam to do whatever the hell he was doing now.

"Don't look," Sam instructed him.

What the hell? Where did he think he was going? He can't just - Oh. Well, that's okay. 'Cause, they're gonna be needing that later. Sam likes that. But right now....

While soft, pliant lips grazed his nipples, Josh's fingers prowled through Sam's still drying hair. Soap and Sam. Later, later....

Nails raking down his leg, a weak whimper caught in Josh's throat. The moments slowed and accelerated simultaneously, wiping out all cognizant thought. He could feel his erection humming away, desperate for Sam's eventual touch. Touch me. You really have to touch me.

"Wait! Don't - ahhh, Sam, don't touch me yet! I might - " Josh was physically, desperately holding Sam's hands away from his body, saw it was imperiling Sam's balance.

Wide blue eyes, dazed with longing stared down at Josh. "I thought I didn't have to ask every time?" Sam sounded confused. Then he toppled over.

Laughter easing the intense pull in his groin, Josh rose to his knees above Sam. Fell in love all over again, in the space of the time it took to touch him.

A well-orchestrated assault from Josh sent Sam's back arching, head spinning, and hips bucking.

"Don't stop!" Sam gasped between convulsions. Josh obediently complied.

Eventually joining the living again, Sam propped himself on an elbow, mirroring his lover's position. Josh watched as Sam's eyes strayed over his body, lingering on the scar for only an instant. When Sam reached out, fingers wandering vaguely down his body, Josh leaned in for a kiss.

Beer, whisky, and a barbecue sandwich. So why did he taste so sweet and clean? He was unnatural, this man with eyes as blue as the Caribbean sky and hands as clever as his mind. And a bruise - no, two - that needed healing kisses.

There was a smell of old coffee somewhere in the room. The mug Josh left on the dresser that morning. He focused his mind on the comforting scent to slow his body's reactions down. He wanted this to last.

"I want to make love to you, now." Sam sounded raspy and aroused again. "Can I make love to you?"

"Again with the asking?" Adoration and amusement in Josh's voice.

A sigh. "Yeah." Sam, feeling unexpectedly shy, but holding Josh's gaze. "There's nothing I want more."

His hands stroking Sam's hips, caressing his ribcage, resting at his waist, Josh smiled at him before craning his neck and nibbling on Sam's ear.

Sam's eyes flooded with affection as their lips met.


Late. Content. Spent.

Sam was snoring softly, and it was driving Josh crazy. Sam never snored, unless he was drunk or sick or trying to ignore Josh. None of these things were true right now.

Legs thrown over Josh. Why did he weigh twenty pounds more asleep than awake?

Sam growled gently and rolled away, Josh following instinctively. Arm secured around Sam's waist. Legs working their way into a tangled knot. Hand resting atop tousled hair. Warm, moist breath collecting on the back of Sam's neck.


"Shh, go back to sleep."

"Josh." Sam tipped his head back almost imperceptibly. "You're a hell of a dancer."

"You - you're really good too. But Sam, next time you want to dance with me? Let's come straight home, okay?"

"Mm hm. Next time..."



The song 'My Love Will Not Let You Down' belongs solely to Bruce Springsteen. 'Meet Me In The Morning' is Bob Dylan's.

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