**********
Sam scowled at the stack of folders that had mysteriously appeared on his desk. He was fairly certain there had only been two when he left for the bathroom. "Multiplying like rabbits," he muttered, then swore. "You just keep telling that joke, don't you, Seaborn?" He swore again and settled in to figure out what the hell these things were for.
"Take socks, for instance."
Sam grinned as a familiar, calming voice drifted to him across the bullpen. That was a funny thing; of the many adjectives the detached observer could use to describe Josh's voice, "calming" would not be high -- or, indeed, anywhere -- on the list, but now matter how unbearable his day had been, Josh's voice soothed Sam instantly. Of course, he was anything but a detatched observer when it came to Josh, so maybe he should stay out of it.
Wait. Back up.
Josh's words finally hit him. Socks? Why on Earth would Josh be talking about socks? In the bullpen?
"What about them?"
With Ainsley?
"I'm talking about the color spectrum here. I'm talking about the fact that his socks start at white and work up the color spectrum to black -- and there's never a single pair out of place."
"Whose socks?" Ginger asked.
Sam closed his eyes. He knew whose socks. He just hoped Josh would have the sense not to answer.
"Sam's."
Well, Josh had escaped retribution -- for the moment -- but a certain blond Republican sex kitten was going to wish she'd never left North Carolina.
"Look at his office, Josh," Ainsley said. "Would you not expect his home to be that neat, as well?"
"Neat I can handle. Neat I have no problem with. This...this is compulsion, and frankly it scares me."
"Why?" she asked. Sam knew he should go out there and put a stop to this, but suddenly he was itching to find just how much trouble Josh could get himself into.
Quite a lot, apparently. "I don't know how far it extends. I mean, is he a 'live and let live' kinda guy who doesn't mind that not everyone's as freakish as he is, or is he going to, I don't know, lean over some night while I'm asleep and cut my hair?"
"JOSH!" Sam banged his knee on the desk in his rush to stand. He hobbled to the door and yanked it open.
"Uh-oh," Josh said. "I said the soft part loud, didn't I?"
For a moment, all Sam could focus on was Josh, but as his fury began to subside a little, he noticed just who was noticing the exchange. In addition to Ainsley and Ginger, he spotted Carol, Donna (looking oh so pissed), Bonnie, Margaret (dear god, what was she doing here? Might as well take out an ad in the Post), Cathy, Zach, Ed, and Larry. Great. It's a party. Don't forget to grab a noisemaker.
"Uh...h-hi, Sam," Josh said, blanching. "Ainsley and I were just..."
"Just what, Josh?" Sam asked casually, leaning against the doorjamb. Josh swallowed hard and snapped his jaw shut, but Ainsley was playing dumb on this one. Or, hell, maybe she wasn't playing at all.
"I just started dating this guy who calls his mother every day at 11:50 in the morning," she said cheerfully, and Sam wondered at the endless sparkle of this woman who could ruin a man's whole day and never stop smiling. "Every day, no matter what else is going on, 11:50. So Josh and I were discussing weird habits of significant others, and--" Josh's eyes widened, and he abandoned all hope of subtlety as he waved his arms frantically at Ainsley to catch her attention and get her to shut the hell up. She looked over at him and blinked. "What?"
Josh groaned. "Forget it."
A look that was distinctly a smirk had stolen over Larry's face. "So what I hear you guys saying here is...what, exactly?"
Josh looked to Sam in panic. Sam crossed his right leg in front of his left leg and bounced his toe on the floor. "Oh, I think this one is all you, Josh."
"I, uh, that is, we are...Sam and I are involved." Well, look at that. That's taken care of, and I didn't die or anything.
"Involved? Involved in what, Josh?" Damn. Should've known Cathy wouldn't let it go at that. "Some sort of vast international sock drawer conspiracy?"
Josh scratched his chin and wished desperately for some help from Sam, who looked like he'd be perfectly happy to lean on that damned doorframe until the end of time. "Uh, we're involved with, you know, each other." He cleared his throat and risked another glance at Sam, who rewarded him with a tiny smile. Well, thank God. That was when he realized the assistants hadn't said anything, and he turned back to them slowly.
Beat. Beat.
Then...
"Hallelujah!" That was Bonnie.
And, "Damn." That was Zach. Some of the others started laughing.
Sam and Josh watched in stupefied awe as what looked to be an obscene amount of money changed hands among the assistants -- most of it seeming to end up with either Bonnie, Cathy, or Margaret. Donna hung off to the side of the group, a scowl creasing her forehead.
Josh kept looking back and forth among the staffers. He felt like the Macy's Thanksgiving parade had just marched past them, and he wasn't entirely sure what had happened except that no one had seemed nearly as surprised as they should've been. "Sam?"
"Office."
"Yes." Josh turned to follow Sam back into his office, only to have Larry and Ed clap them both on the shoulders.
"Welcome to the team, guys," Ed called as they walked away.
Josh stumbled over his shoes as he tried to look over his shoulder and walk into Sam's office at the same time. "Ed and Larry, huh?" he mused. "I always suspected--"
"Hello? Earth to Lyman. Come in, Lyman." Josh blinked and looked over at him. "Ed and Larry are not what you want to be focusing on right now."
"Yeah, I -- were they paying off bets out there?"
"Yes, they were. Lord." Sam tossed his glasses onto the desk. "I should just hang a big pink triangle on the door. Maybe in neon."
"Come on, Drive." Josh snickered. "It was funny."
"It was funny?"
"Dude, it was Ainsley."
"Yes. Ainsley outed me. Talking about my sock drawer. I'm still laughing," Sam deadpanned.
"Us," Josh corrected.
"Huh?" Sam shook his head.
"Ainsley outed us talking about your sock drawer. I think that's important to remember. You're not, you know, gay in a vacuum here."
"I think it's important to remember that you made that awful crack about me cutting your hair while you sleep in front of pretty much the entire junior staff. So technically, you outed us. Didn't need Ainsley at all."
"Of course I needed Ainsley. She was my straight man. So to speak." He sighed. "It was a joke, Sam. You remember those, don't you?"
"Yeah." He stared off for a minute, then chuckled. "It was an amusing image."
"To you, maybe." Josh put his hands protectively over his hair. "I've only got so much up here; I can't be losing any of it just 'cause you think it looks messy."
Sam smiled and shook his head. "You really are something else, you know that?"
"It's my natural charm."
"Okay; if that's what you want to call it."
"Why?" Josh's eyes narrowed. "What would you call it?"
Sam put his hand over a picture of his young cousins. "Please, Josh, there are children present."
"I really am sorry," Josh said softly.
"I know you are."
"And you're not mad at me?"
He considered. "No. But you might want to sleep with one eye open tonight."
Both of his eyes nearly fell out of his head. "Why?"
Sam mimed a pair of scissors and adopted his best mad scientist leer. "Today the sock drawer, tomorrow the world."
"You'd never be able to do it," Josh scoffed. "I sleep twenty times lighter than you; I'd be awake in half a second."
Sam shrugged and dropped his hand. "You're right." He spun his chair to face the computer, then back around to Josh. "I am taking over the world, though."
***The next morning***
"Shut up," Josh muttered. "I mean it."
"No one said anything, Mir," Sam whispered, smiling broadly.
"You especially need to shut up."
Cathy passed them on her way to her desk and greeted them absently. Then she stopped and turned slowly. Josh clenched his jaw and waited. "Hey, Josh," she said, biting back a giggle, "nice haircut."
He glared at her as she stood just to the side of her desk, fighting a losing battle against hysterical laughter. "Shut up." He turned abruptly and stormed to his office. The last thing he heard before the door slammed was Sam's and Cathy's laughs ringing across the West Wing.
You laugh now, Josh thought darkly, but I'll have my revenge. I'll -- oh, hell, who am I kidding? He hit the intercom button. "Donna? Can you -- I need a hat or something here."
END
**********
The contents of the nightstand of one Samuel Norman Seaborn (as per "The Sock Drawer")
(In case you're wondering -- which I know you're not -- there are no pictures of Josh because they all made it into frames or photo albums. Awww....isn't that cute? Isn't it clear that Julian needs a hobby, stat?)