Title: Broken Cookies
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: The West Wing
Pairing: Sam/Josh
Rating: Teen
A/N: Originally written as a special present for mcgarrygirl78 who, as usual, has made me push beyond my comfort zone. I’ve discovered that I really like writing Sam/Josh UST, especially from Sam’s end. She dared me with the following: a homoerotic Josh/Sam but with no sex; Sam getting soaked; Mrs. Landingham’s cookie jar, and Toby finding something revealing in Sam’s desk. This is the outcome of that.
Disclaimer: Even though The West Wing is gone, I still can lay no claims to these characters. It’s sad.

Summary: His feet wouldn’t move. Despite the rain pelting his body and the desire to go upstairs to just be near Josh, his feet would not move.



Tell Josh if you see him that I’ve got a new cookie jar and that I’ve forgiven him for making me knock over the other one. Could you do that for me Sam?

How could he say no to Mrs. Landingham? He’d have to go upstairs. He’d have to go upstairs and maybe while he was helping to change the bandages, he’d tell Josh about how Mrs. Landingham broke her cookie jar the night of the shooting. He’d mention the new one and how the cookie of the week was Oreos.

His feet wouldn’t move. Despite the rain pelting his body and the desire to go upstairs to just be near Josh, and to also deliver the news from Mrs. Landingham, his feet would not move.

He hated that when he stood on the street like this, he felt like Romeo waiting for Juliet. There was a time when he’d have called as he raced up the stairs, but that was before the Roslyn and the pools of blood coming from Josh’s pale body. Before Roslyn, Sam would have had no issues waking his best friend up in the middle of the night to deliver a message from the President’s secretary. Now, he didn’t dare to even go inside the building. The angry torrent of rain told him to keep walking, but instead he stood still, staring at the window, searching for the courage to go upstairs. Not even Mrs. Landingham’s cookie jar could get him moving.

But Josh just wasn’t his best friend and he didn’t know how much longer he could hide how he felt. Before today, he thought he’d been doing a pretty good job, but before today, Toby hadn’t accidentally discovered the legal pad with his unrequited, unsent love letters to the Deputy Chief of Staff. Toby knew now. Toby, his boss and his idol, knew his darkest secret.

Hey, Sam … you … uh … might want to put this in a drawer next time you leave your office.

The rain came down harder and still Sam ignored it.

It would be easy if Josh felt the same way.

Yes, if Josh felt the same jolt when their hands accidentally touched when they hurried through the hallways it would be easier. If Josh felt the same rush when he walked into Sam’s office as Sam did when he walked into Josh’s, it would be easier. But Josh didn’t feel the same way and Sam had to get over it. The best, if not easiest, thing to do was to walk on and let Donna be the one to love Josh, but instead he stood in the rain and watched her shadow in the window.

He wouldn’t be of any use to Josh if he went up there now, drenched to the bone despite his raincoat. Josh could barely get out of bed and Donna would have to find dry clothes and it just wasn’t worth it to put her through that. She did enough and Josh needed his rest.

The smart thing was to move on, to keep walking.

I didn’t realize I’d left that out.

He’d do best to put his feelings back in his brain, behind his primary task of writing for the President. People who worked at the White House didn’t have time to do stupid things like stand below their best friend’s windows in the pouring rain and wish for the courage to tell them the truth about how they felt.

I don’t care, you know. But just … don’t let it interfere. More than say, it does anyway.

His mind told him to keep walking. His feet wouldn’t budge. He stood there, his skin shriveling in the rain, and wished for the courage to walk up the stairs into Josh’s apartment and kiss him. He could stand up to Presidents and Kings and even Leo, but he couldn’t walk up the stairs and open up to his best friend.

It was tragically poetic. Shakespeare would have a heyday writing this part of the play.

Josh didn’t feel the same way and Sam had to accept that. He had to accept that he needed to move on, or just be satisfied with the occasional glimpse of Josh in his workout clothes. He’d have to treasure the times when they touched – either intentionally or accidentally. After all, Josh didn’t feel the same way and Sam knew better than to make him uncomfortable.

A thunderclap jolted his gaze from the window and he started to laugh. Even nature was telling him to move on, to just keep walking. Even nature was telling him that the message from Mrs. Landingham could wait. Slowly, he turned to walk the few extra blocks to his own place; a shower and a cup of hot tea would take away the chill from the rain and he could fall asleep on the couch and dream of Josh. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would have to make do. Josh didn’t feel the same way, and Sam had better things to do than lust after a man who could never love him in return.

But as he walked, he looked back over his shoulder more than once, hoping to catch a glimpse of Josh in the window, looking down, waiting for him.

~fin~






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