Title: Poetry Emotions
Author: Hannah
Email: hannahfmuk@yahoo.co.uk
Rating: CHILD
Summary: Your recent romantic feelings are hard to express directly, and you're getting confused. Get a hug and go write a poem. (OR, Josh is not a poet and he really, really knows it)
Disclaimer: Still not mine
Feedback: Pretty please
Notes: Yet another horoscope-inspired fic. This time the summary given was the Pisces iVillage Romantic prediction on yahoo.co.uk on 10 Aug 04. Beta'd by the ever-lovely Sue C.
Notes Pt2: This fic looks way better with italics - you can see it at www.geocities.com/hannahfmuk/PoetryEmotions.html

Poetry Emotions by Hannah

**Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet,
And I'd never force you to read something this unimaginative.**

Josh furiously scribbled out the words he had just written and thought for a moment, sucking the end of his pen before trying again.

**Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
No, because Toby would somehow find this and grumble about my use of imagery.**

A frown formed on Josh's face and he screwed the sheet of paper into a tight wad before lobbing it at the wastepaper bin. Needless to say, he missed and the ball rolled a short distance across the floor before coming to a stop alongside Josh's six previous attempts at putting his feelings into words.

It was his own dumb-ass, repressed-male fault he was in this situation anyway, Josh reflected. The previous evening had found him and Sam curled up together on the couch in Josh's lounge eating pizza, watching videos and making out.

As the last film ended and the video popped itself out of the machine, Sam had turned to Josh and whispered in a tentative voice, "I love you."

That was when the wheels had come off Josh's proverbial wagon. He and Sam had been dating for months, and had gone as far as exchanging house-keys several weeks earlier, but this was the first time either of them had said those three terrifying words.

In his usual don't-think-just-act way, Josh leapt off the couch away from Sam, who was left bitterly regretting opening his mouth.

For a painfully long moment the two men stared at each other, Sam in embarassment and Josh in amazement. He had no doubts about the depth of his emotions for his - lover?... boyfriend?... partner? - for his Sam, and he had been pretty sure those feelings were returned, but given that he hadn't even managed to place a label on their relationship yet, hearing the words spoken came as quite a shock.

Sam stood. "I should go," he stammered, bustling out of the apartment, a blush heating his face.

"No, wait," cried Josh, chasing after him. He caught up with Sam and reached out a hand towards him, dropping it before they made contact. "Don't go," he pleaded. "I just... I wasn't expecting that."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Why not?" he asked. "Didn't you think I feel that way about you?" His eyes widened and he took a step backwards. "You don't feel that way about me, do you?"

Josh swallowed nervously. "You know how I feel about you Sam. How could you not?"

"Because you've never told me," shouted Sam in a thick voice that sounded moments from tears. "In all the months we've been together, we have had exactly zero discussions about how we feel, about where this relationship is heading."

"Sam, I... I'm not good at that stuff. I never have been. You knew that about me long before we hooked up."

Sam glared and raised his voice another notch. "Hooked up? That's how you're summing this up? We hooked up?" He paused for a moment and when he spoke again, his voice was low and dangerous. "Josh, this relationship is it for me. I mean, *it.* I've never felt this way about anyone before. I want this to work out long-term, but for that to happen, I need you to talk to me about your emotions. I need to know you want all that too."

Hearing this, Josh's chest tightened and he gasped for breath, desperate to find a way to reassure Sam that the vision he had just painted of a future featuring the two men together forever sounded pretty much close to perfection to him. His mouth opened but no sound came out. He tried again, and again, but his vocal chords steadfastly refused to move.

Sam shook his head sadly and turned the door handle. "Come find me if you're ever ready to talk. Until then, I think it'd be best if we spent some time apart."

Josh had been left standing alone in his apartment, where the temperature seemed to have suddenly dropped way below freezing. He had gone to bed that night with a heavy heart, shivering under a pile of blankets as he desperately tried to think of a way to convince Sam that they both wanted the same things from their relationship - a relationship he feared he may have ruined for good.

And so now he was sitting in his office, ignoring the stack of briefing notes and memos clamouring for his attention and the lights flashing on his phone. Instead of working, he was trying to write to Sam, hoping that where his voice had let him down his writing could prevail.

After four letters had been written and deemed trite by his ever- critical mind, Josh had turned his focus to poetry, convinced that by changing a few lines of some of the classics he would find a way to tell Sam how much he meant to him. But it was all to no avail, and Josh knew that if he didn't get on with some actual work before too long, Leo would be demanding an explanation - and, he reflected, that was possibly the only conversation he would ever find more difficult than the disaster of the previous evening.

The day went on and Josh found his thoughts drifting in the direction of rhyming schemes and sonnet forms far more frequently than he was honestly comfortable with. Several times, Donna had found him muttering to himself, trying out different phrasings under his breath. This behaviour had resulted in her rushing to Leo to report her concerns that Josh's post-traumatic stress disorder might be rearing its head again.

An awkward conversation between Josh and his boss had followed, in which the deputy had denied the existence of any current psychological trauma. In the end, Leo had compassionately sent Josh home for 'a good night's rest' with instructions to call his therapist if he began to feel that things were 'slipping out of control'.

So Josh had been able to devote the entire evening to his task. Finally at 2am inspiration struck. On the last page in his notepad, Josh scrawled the words down before they could escape him, then read them back to himself. Satisfied, he tore the paper out and folded it neatly. Now, how to get it to Sam...?

---

Four hours later, Sam awoke to the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen - a somewhat confusing experience considering that he had gone home alone the night before. He headed downstairs to find the kitchen empty. A mug of steaming coffee, containing the perfect amount of cream, sat in the centre of the table behind a folded piece of paper which had Sam's name written on the front. Confused, and not yet entirely awake, he picked up the note and opened it.

As he read the words written there, Sam felt tears of happiness forming in his eyes. He put the note back on the table as he felt a pair of strong arms encircle his waist.

"I mean it, you know?" murmured Josh into his ear, before kissing the side of his neck tenderly. "I might not be good at saying it out loud, but that doesn't mean I don't feel it."

Sam nodded, his unshaven cheek rubbing against Josh's smooth skin. "I know that now." He turned and the two men stood in a warm embrace, enjoying a few moments of stillness, before Sam headed upstairs to get ready for another day at the office.

Fifteen minutes later, as the two men walked out the door, Sam looked across to the table. The note lay abandoned, but he knew the words written there would stay with him for years to come.

**I don't know how to say it,
I only know it's true.
I'm sorry that my writing sucks,
But the one I love is you.**

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