Senior Staff

[happybunny]

Oh god! This is so good!!!! You are an excellent writer. The dialogue always fits perfectly with the characters. Everything reads so easily! I'm enjoying this so much I'm so happy you keep updating!!!!

[anikadicara]

For the next two hours, Willow ran through the basic scientific principles of embryonic stem cells, an artificial pancreas, the latest developments in cancer therapy, and (because the President seemed particularly interested in it) genetic disease screening. She was having a great time, talking about science to someone who wasn't very familiar with the concepts but was eager to learn. Bartlett understood everything quickly and asked fascinating questions. He kept Willow on her toes, squeezing every last bit of knowledge out of her.

Sam was not having nearly as much fun. He was sneezing about every two minutes, and seemed unwilling to blow his nose in front of the President. This meant that he spent almost the entire time swiping at his increasingly sore nose with a tissue and sniffling while Willow and Bartlett largely ignored him. Willow had never seen him this quiet; he usually jumped in at every chance he got to correct people's phrasing and grammar. She had a suspicious that he wasn't paying attention at all. Occasionally, the President would try to include him.

"Sam."

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Genetic testing for research purposes is 'essential', or 'imperative'?"

"HISHHoo! Huh-ISHH!"

"Alright." And the President would answer the question himself and then go back to questioning Willow.

After about an hour of this, both Willow and the President had stopped asking Sam's advice. As the two of them carried on, Sam slumped more and more in his seat and sneezed more and more tiredly. Only when he started to actually drift off did Willow stop the president in the middle of a monologue about insurance rates for genetically at-risk workers to say, "Sorry sir. Um, Sam? You okay?"

Sam's head snapped up. He coughed and dragged a raggety tissue under his nose. "Fide," he said hoarsely.

"You're not," said the President, and he leaned over to put an arm on his speechwriter's shoulder. "It's time you got some rest. I think we can pack it up for tonight, I feel pretty good about my chances in front of the science folk tomorrow." He gave Willow a small smile, and she felt a surge of warmth toward him. "Thank you both."

"I'b sorry sir. I wasid't buch help todight."

"We all have our days, Samuel. I need you to rest, though. Get back on your feet. Willow, see to it that he gets up to his room." And then the President of the United States winked at Willow and strode out of the ballroom. She stood there dumbly for a minute, while Sam sniffled into his tissue, then recovered herself.

"Okay. You heard him. Let's go up," said Willow, walking over to Sam and offering her hand. He took it silently and slowly stood up, leaning on her a bit and then pressing a hand to his forehead.

"I thig I have a fever," he said hoarsely.

"I'm sorry," said Willow as sympathetically as she could. "I'll walk you up."

"Thags, Willow." He sneezed and blew his nose squelchily. "This is disgustig."

"A little," said Willow, and Sam laugh-coughed miserably. "But it's not your fault."

They rode up the elevator in silence. Sam leaned against the wall, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Willow asked him for his hotel key, which he relinquished without joke or argument, and she opened his door for him. As Sam collapssed on his bed with his hands over his face, Willow went into the bathroom and filled a glass of water for him, which she placed on his side table with a box of tissues. He muttered "thags" but didn't move from his bed. Willow considered asking him to change into pajamas, but felt too weird mentioning anything about his clothes after the morning's underwear spectacle. Feeling it was safer to stay away from the subject, Willow crept toward the door and whispered a soft "sleep well" that she couldn't even be sure Sam heard.

[rsquared906]

Yay!! New post!!! Hey, the president isn't going to get sick, is he...?

[jezebel215]

it sounds like Sam is getting worse, Willow should probably keep an eye on him... :-)

[anikadicara]

Willow woke suddenly at 3:51 am on Tuesday morning. She blinked confusedly around the room for a minute, momentarily forgetting where she was. It didn't take long for it all to come flooding back to her - the President would give his speech to the scientists today. Sam was asleep in the next room, too sick to work. Josh and Donna thought Willow and Sam were entangled, and the President knew about it. Yesterday Sam's head had been in Willow's lap. It was enough to keep anyone awake in early hours of the morning. Knowing it would be nearly impossible to get back to sleep, Willow switched on her television and found Morning Joe broadcasting live from Manhattan, where the sun was up. Settling back on her pillows, Willow tried to clear her mind of thoughts of Sam and instead focus on Joe and Mika's political bickering. It almost worked, until she heard a soft knocking on a door she hadn't noticed was there. It was a door to an adjoining room. Which would be Sam's.

Sliding off her bed, Willow made sure her pajamas were on straight, ran her fingers quickly through her hair, and popped a Mento in her mouth. She swung the door open to find Sam leaning against the frame, looking glassy-eyed, red-nosed, and rumpled. He wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt even though the rooms were more than warm enough, and he had his comforter wrapped around his shoulders.

"Hi," said Willow awkwardly around the Mento. "Sorry, did the TV wake you up?"

"Cad't sleep," croaked Sam. "Bid up all dight."

"Sorry," said Willow.

"Stop apologizig," said Sam.

"Right." There was a moment of silence. "See?" said Willow. "It's weird if I don't say sorry."

Sam gave her a small smile. "By dose is so stuffy I cad't get cobfortable. Bind if I joid you id here? Log as we're both awake?"

"Oh, um, sure," said Willow, "No problem." The words were barely out of her mouth before Sam made a beeline for her bed and collapsed on his back, hands on his forehead and eyes closed. What was it with these guys and Willow's bed? Sam tried to sniff, was unsuccessful, and ended up in a coughing fit instead. He sat up, doubled over and coughing into his hands. Willow retreated into Sam's room, found the box of tissues, and tossed them wordlessly beside him on the bed. She filled him a glass of water from the bathroom and put it on the bedside table as she waited for his coughs to subside. "You okay?" she said hesitantly, taking a seat on the couch.

"I hate this," Sam moaned, reaching for the tissues and trying to blow his nose. It made a feeble squelchy noise, and then he pitched forward with a congested sneeze. "HTCHXX! Ugh."

"I know you do." Willow watched as Sam's glassy eyes fell on the TV. Joe Scarborough was complaining about liberal arts education. Instead of arguing back like he almost always did, Sam sat and watched in silence while swiping at his sore nose with a crumpled tissue.

Willow stood up and got her Kindle from the bedside table, but when she made to return to the couch Sam said, "You cad sit here." He patted a hand beside him on the bed. After a split second's hesitation, in which Willow weighed the inappropriateness of being in the same bed with a member of the senior staff against the fact that the bed was more comfortable than the couch and that Sam was too sick to notice the inappropriateness, Willow took a seat next to him. She leaned back against the pillows and sat cross-legged, Kindle in her lap and eyes trained on MSNBC. Sam sneezed a couple more times and swiped at his nose. He tossed the tissues aside onto the floor.

"So," Sam said when the show came to a commercial break. "You're dot sick. Why're you awake before five?"

"No idea. I just woke up really early."

"Dervous about today?"

"I'm fine." Sam raised his eyebrows. "Fine. A little nervous. A little bit. Like, what if he doesn't know something and it was my job to teach him or whatever. But I didn't write the speech, the president did, and I read it and it's really good so I think we're fine."

"By first speech," said Sam, "was ode I wrote for his addoudcebet id Dew Hampshire-"

"His what?"

"Addoudcebedt"

"Blow your nose, I can't understand you."

"Add- Addoud-" Sam sniffed. "Add-" Willow reached over him, pulled a tissue from the box, and pressed it into his hand. Sam blew into it with a slightly squelchy sound and then let out a series of massive sneezes. "HETCHXX! HETCHXX! CCHHXXX!" He tried again to blow his nose, but a squelchy gurgle was all he produced. He pulled another set of tissues out and wiped under his nose instead. "Doesd't work. Too stuffed up," he said dejectedly, tossing the tissues aside and falling back into the pillows.

"Sorry," said Willow, and Sam raised his eyebrows at the apology. "You were saying?"

"By first speech," he said, hoarser than before, "id Dew Hampshire durig the campaid. I was so dervous I threw up uder the bleachers."

"Gross," said Willow.

"I was afraid the Presidedt would find out I was dervous ad it would bake hib dervous, so I ... hiTCHH! huhSHH! hid id the car. Didd't listed to the speech. Afterwards he cabe lookig for be, and when I told hib what happed he read the whole thig for be, right there id the back of that car."

"Wow," said Willow.

"I dow."

"He's a good guy."

"The best."

They sat in silence for a while longer, until Sam fell into a sneezing fit. He sneezed seven times in a row, tried to blow his nose, and ended up coughing so hard he was doubled over, tears leaking from his eyes. Willow watched helplessly, handing him tissues and rubbing his back (it wasn't like anybody'd ever find out) until the coughs subsided. She withdrew her hand and got off the bed to refill Sam's water glass as Sam fell back against the pillows.

When Willow returned from the bathroom with the glass, she saw that Sam's face still shone with tears. When he sucked in a ragged breath Willow was shocked to find that the tears weren't just from the exertion of coughing. Sam was crying, really crying, and it intensified once he saw that Willow noticed. He buried his face in his hands and turned away from her, shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

"Sam?" she said hesitantly. "What's wrong?"

"I'b sorry," he said in a choked voice. "I just... I feel... so weird, ad shitty, ad codfused... "

Willow was scared now. She knew Sam felt bad, but could a cold really reduce a grown man to tears? "I think I need to get Dr. Bartlett," she said.

"Do." Sam shook his head, stopping quickly and raising both hands to his forehead. "Ow."

"Sam, you're so sick you're crying. This isn't normal."

"What, are you a doctor?" Sam looked suddenly angry.

"No, that's why I want to get one. She can help you," said Willow, starting to feel panicky.

"You're helpig be."

"I'm not," said Willow quietly. "I'm trying but I have no idea what to do. You need Dr. Bartlett."

"She cad't help."

"She can check you out, maybe get some medicine-"

"I dod't deed medicid"

"You do." Willow sat down cross-legged on the bed beside Sam, and they stared at each other. His blue eyes were red around the rims and very shiny. A clear trail of snot was tricking out of his nose, which he swiped away in a crumpled tissue. "Sam, I don't know how to help you." To her horror, Willow felt her eyes start to fill with tears as well. Sam's beautiful eyes bore into hers. "I'm trying but I don't know how." Her voice cracked on the last word, and Sam took her hand. His was hot and clammy.

"You're doig fide," he said huskily. Willow lowered her eyes and stared at her knees to stop the tears from falling. Then she felt something hot pressing on her lips. Sam's lips. Without thinking, without weighing her options or making sarcastic comments or worring about what would happen next, she kissed him back. They fell into each other, embracing and kissing hard. His hands were in her hair. Hers traced his jawline, his neck, his shoulders. They became truely entangled. She was wrapped in him, he in her. There was a buzzing in her ear and it grew louder and louder until she felt a hand on her thigh and realized it was Sam's hand. Sam the 27-year-old presidential speechwriter with a bad cold. She pulled away.

"We can't do this," she said, voice stronger than she expected. "We can't. It's wrong."

"I'b sorry." Sam looked as shocked as Willow felt. "I didd't bead to. It just cabe over be, I dod't dow what... HIXXCHH! CHHH! what..."

"Sam. It's fine." Willow got up off the bed, straightening her clothes and running her fingers through her hair.

"It's dot. I'b so sorry." Sam looked like he could cry again.

"Don't worry about it," Willow said, in her best imitation of an offhand voice. "You have a fever. That can make people a little delusional."

"I'b dot delusional. Ad you kissed be back."

"Okay." said Willow, looking for a way to take charge of the situation. "I'm sorry too. We made a mistake, neither of us were thinking, so let's just forget about it. I need to take a shower, let's wake ourselves up a little and we'll meet up downstairs before the speech."

Sam blinked up at her from the bed. "You're probably godda get sick dow." he said softly.

"Maybe, but I'll deal with it." said Willow. Did he not realize she'd asked him to leave?

"You deal with a lot." Willow saw that Sam's eyes had once again filled with tears. Her heart broke for him, and she sat back down on the bed.

"You know what I think?" she said in a softer voice.

"What?"

"I think you're sick. You feel icky, you have a fever, you're extra emotional. You just need to get some sleep and everything'll feel easier. This doesn't have to be a big deal."

"I'b just so sorry. I didn't bead to-"

"I know you didn't. Sam." He had buried his face in a tissue. "Sam. Listen. I know you didn't mean to. I didn't mean to either. You're sick, and I was scared, and we're in a weird situation. Let's just get some rest for a few hours and it'll seem like less of a big deal when you're feeling better."

"You're right. You're always right. I've gotta pull byself together."

"I'm going to remind you sometime that you said I'm always right," said Willow. She walked over to Sam and offered her hand. He took it, and she helped him up off the bed and back to his room, carrying the box of tissues. "I'll see you downstairs in a little while."

"Thadks. Seriously," Sam said.

"You're welcome."

Willow shut her door and collapsed on the bed. There was no room in her head for any more thoughts, so she drifted quickly off to sleep.

[ID2006]

Yay, don't know the show, but loving the fic.

[Coffee Mug]

I just kept reading and reading without ever stopping from the beginning till the end and now that I've reached the last post and there's no more... I'm SAD!! More please!! I love sick Sam lovely story thanks!!

[jezebel215]

willow is TOTALLY gonna get sick now....

[happybunny]

oh god i hope she doesnt get sick.. i like it with just a sick Sam. this is so inense!! i was so happy you posted more.

Poor sam.. you really can write!

[anikadicara]

Willow felt better when she woke a couple of hours later, refreshed and with new perspective on the events of the morning. She'd held it together pretty well, all things considered. It could have been a lot worse. So she and Sam had kissed a little bit, big deal. People kissed people all the time. No reason to worry about it. Willow showered, dressed in a skirt and jacket, grabbed her bag, and headed to the lobby to meet the motorcade for the President's speech at Berkeley.

"Morning," Donna greeted her in the lobby. She was leaning on the side of a couch chatting with C.J.. Toby and Josh stood behind her pouring over the final copy of the speech.

"Hi," said Willow, adjusting her bag on her shoulder and surreptitiously looking around the lobby for Sam. She didn't see him.

"You sleep last night?" asked Donna.

"Yeah. Sort of."

"It's always weird sleeping on the road. I miss my own bed."

"Me too. Yeah. It'll be nice to head home."

"Not that we see so much of our beds there, either."

"Ha. No, we don't really, do we."

Josh, who had been talking to Toby, leaned over and said in a low voice "I see your bed, you know, sometimes."

Willow looked around in surprise as Donna rolled her eyes. "Stop it," said Donna to Josh, before turning to Willow. "Speaking of," said Donna, "any sign of Sam?"

Willow's heart caught in her throat. "Speaking of?" she choked out.

"Of sick people." Donna grinned. "Or of your bed. You pick."

"Sick people," said Willow quickly. "Right. Um, I saw him earlier this morning. He's still really sick."

"Do you think he'll come to the speech?" Donna asked.

"Dunno."

"He almost never misses anything. Almost Josh-level never misses anything."

Josh, once again, had been listening in. "He's nowhere near my level."

"Of crazy" said Donna.

"Of committed," countered Josh.

"Of overworked."

"Of dedicated."

"Dedicated and committed mean the same thing here," Toby added unhelpfully.

"Dedicated means I care, committed means I put in the time." Josh was reading his day sheet. "If we cut the rope line, we can hit wheels up before lunchtime and fit in a call with Leo on the plane."

"He won't cut the rope line," said Toby.

"He might, to fit in Leo."

"Rope line beats Leo if there are ordinary Americans to understand," CJ pitched in.

"He'll want to kiss babies and ruffle hair," added Donna.

"Fine. Rope line stays in." Josh rolled his eyes.

"And he admits defeat." CJ grinned. "A rarity."

"I'm still fighting off the cold," said Josh.

"And it robbed you of all your powers?" Donna teased. Josh scowled.

"We'll do the rope line, rush him out of there as fast as possible," said Toby.

"Aim for wheels up by 11:15." Josh rubbed his nose with a tissue.

Willow checked her watch. 7:05. Her day sheet said the motorcade would leave the hotel at 7:15 sharp. Where was Sam?

"Any sign of Samuel?" asked the President, coming up behind Josh and reading Willow's thoughts.

"No, sir. Not yet," said Josh. "He'll be here."

"Anybody seen him?"

Everybody shook their heads, but Willow said, "I have."

"He on his way?"

"I don't know, that was a little while ago. I think he was gonna try and sleep more."

"It's seven in the morning. When did you see him?"asked C.J.

Willow thought too late that she should've seen this coming. "Um, just a little bit ago. Few hours."

"In the middle of the night?" C.J. looked confused.

"Well I was awake. I woke up really early. And I ran into him."

"What was he doing wandering around in the middle of the night when he's sick?"

"Dunno," said Willow. She figured it'd be best to give as little information as possible, like the fact that they were in her room.

"Well, let's find him, shall we?" asked the President.

"I got it," said Josh, pulling out his phone.

"Thank you," said the President, and left the lobby toward the waiting cars.

"Should we wait, or..." Willow looked up at C.J., hoping they could head for the cars so that she wouldn't have to share a ride with Sam.

"Hold on." C.J. was watching Josh.

"Sam?" said Josh. "Where the hell are you?"

"Sensitive," said Donna, rolling her eyes.

"We're in the lobby," said Josh into the phone. "You're coming, right? ... Soon. Five minutes. ... Yeah." He snapped the phone shut. "He's coming."

"How'd he sound?" asked Donna.

"Like a wuss," Josh answered.

"You realize that was you a week ago?"

"I wasn't like that."

"You broke into Willow's apartment!" exclaimed Donna.

"That wasn't being a wuss, that was being resourceful."

"There's a couch in your office," C.J. pointed out.

"She offered!" Josh yelled.

"Did you?" C.J. turned to Willow.

"Well, sort of. And I did forget to lock the door, so..."

"The point is you were sick, and now so is Sam, so be nice to him," Donna told Josh.

"Fine," said Josh. "We've gotta go."

"You told Sam five minutes, give it a sec.

"I didn't think he'd actually take five minutes."

"Why don't you go," said C.J. to Josh, pointing at the cars. "You go with Toby, and Donna, Willow, and I will ride with Sam. This is a job for the women," she said with a small smile, which Willow tried her best to return.

"Okay, but don't, like, cuddle." said Josh, and he left with Toby.

"Why not?" Donna yelled after him, and C.J. laughed.

A few minutes later Sam emerged from the elevator. He was wearing a suit, but did not look like he'd showered. He had tousled hair, glassy eyes, and a bright red nose, and carried a box of tissues. C.J. went right to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and feeling his forehead with her other hand. Willow marveled once again at the ease with which C.J. could do this in a completely platonic way.

"Geez, this thing really got you," she said sympathetically. "You have a fever."

"I dow," he said miserably, and sniffled. "Ad by dose is so heavy it feels like it's godda fall off."

"Are you up for this?" asked Donna with concern.

"Have to be," said Sam, and he rested his head on C.J.'s shoulder. "We're gettig od the plade adyway, bay as well go to the speech."

"The cars are out front," said Willow. "They can take us to the event or they could drive you to the plane if you'd rather rest." She forced herself to make eye contact, but he looked at the floor almost immediately.

"I'll be fide," said Sam, sniffling and lifting his head. "Let's go."

The four of them got into an Escalade, Willow and Donna in back and Sam leaning on C.J. in the middle seat. They sat in near silence for a little while, aside from Sam's sneezing and sniffling.

"You sound awful," said Donna as Sam sneezed harshly for the forth time. "Have you taken anything?"

"Sudafed," said Sam. "But I thigk it's bakig be sdeeze ... HuhISSSHHH! bakig be sdeeze bore." He blew his nose with a disgusting squelch, and leaned away from C.J. "Sorry."

"It's the decongestant," said Donna knowledgeably as C.J. patted him on the arm. "Hopefully it'll get it all out of you and you'll feel better for the flight."

"Ugh, dod't rebide be about the flight," Sam muttered. "'s godda be hell."

C.J. put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "Poor Sam."

Sam coughed into a tissue and blew his nose. "This sucks."

Willow stared out the window. She felt distinctly uncomfortable. Sam had barely said a word to her, or even looked in her direction. Which should have been all well and good, except that it didn't feel that way. She was starting to realize the magnitude of her mistake. How could she have let this happen? Sam wasn't the president, but he had a lot of power and was fairly well-known and he was much older (well, maybe ten years older) than she was. What if this turned into a thing, like the Lewinsky scandal? Was there anything illegal about what they'd done? There wasn't, Willow knew that. They hadn't even had sex. It was ridiculous to even be thinking about a scandal, because nothing had happened. How could they possibly get in trouble? She'd done nothing wrong.

Willow was preoccupied with these thoughts for the entire ride. She stared out the window at the curious passerby, who stood on the cubs and on street corners to oggle at their police escort. Willow figured they must stragglers from when the motorcade passed through a few minutes ago. She was irrationally jealous of the fact that none of them had made out with a presidential speechwriter in their beds.

[jezebel215]

yay! i love this story.

[anikadicara]

I watched a bunch of West Wing on a plane over the weekend, so... here's this.

***

They pulled up to the venue and were hustled out of the car by a phalanx of Secret Service agents. Willow was so distracted by the crowds and the hustle that when Sam sneezed right behind her, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Sorry,” he croaked.

“It’s fine,” she shot over her shoulder, making sure to look composed and unruffled as pictures were being taken from all sides.

They were ushered into a lobby, where they waited in some confusion for instructions on where to go next. The President was immediately whisked away to do some preliminary interviews, and an administrator of the university assured the rest of the group that someone would be by shortly to show them to their seats. Toby was scribbling last minute speech changes on a battered copy in his hand, and Josh was reading over his shoulder arguing every point. CJ mingled with the press pool, a few assistants wandered the lobby looking at the portraits on the walls and admiring a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling (wasn’t it odd, Willow thought, to continue to be impressed by things like that, when you spent your days at the White House? But you still were, all the time). Willow was on the point of pulling out her phone and looking at a few articles when Donna tapped her on the shoulder.

“Go help him out,” Donna murmured.

“What?”

“Sam.” Donna nodded to her left, and Willow followed her gaze to find that Sam had seated himself against a wall, alone, knees pulled to his chest and his head in his hands. A Secret Service agent stood several feet from him, keeping watch but not intervening.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got a, um, thing.” Willow raised her eyebrows at her. “What? I do!” said Donna defensively, indicating her phone. “Josh’s schedule waits for no one.”

“Fine,” said Willow, and she stalked off, all too aware of Donna’s eyes at her back. She crouched down next to Sam, who didn’t stir. Quietly, she said, “Sam?”

Sam sniffled.

“Sam?” Willow repeated tentatively. “You okay?”

“Fide,” he snuffled, not raising his head.

Willow sat in silence for a minute, unsure of where to go from here. Once it became apparent that Sam had no intention of conversing, she said, “do you need anything?”

“Rest,” he croaked.

“How about some water?” she said, a false brightness in her voice.

“I’b fide,” he said, and Willow didn’t miss the edge in his voice.

Hesitantly, she said, “you sure?”

“Please. Just leave be alode,” he said, then broke into ragged coughs.

“Okay,” said Willow, and sat all the way down on the floor beside him, leaning her head against the wall and pulling her knees up to her chest, like his. They sat in silence, Willow’s heart beating so loudly that she was surprised, once again, that Sam couldn’t hear it. What now? Was Sam mad at her, for what happened last night? Was he going to tell somebody? But wasn’t he, as her elder and her superior, more at fault than she was? Wouldn’t it be worse for him if the story of their kissing got out?

Willow’s internal monologue was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath behind her. “Huh!” Sam shuddered. “Huh… huhISHH! CHHH! CHHH! hutCHH! huhIXXXTchuh! CHH! CHISHoo! Ow.” Sam sniffled thickly, still not raising his head out of his arms.

“You sound like crap,” said Willow softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to help, I’m better with paper and books and stuff.”

“Just,” said Sam, and then paused. Willow was sure he was going to tell her to go away again, but it turns out he was just waylaid by a straggler sneeze. “huhIXXTCHH! Uhhhhh,” he groaned. They sat in silence once more. “Just sittig here is good.”

“Okay,” she said. But then not ten seconds later, Sam croaked.

“Willow?” he still didn’t raise his head.

“Sam?”

“By dose is ruddig od my suit.”

Willow rolled her eyes. This was NOT in her job description.

[jezebel215]

“By dose is ruddig od my suit.”

LOVE THIS. and happy to see you continuing the story :-)

[ShyGirl]

great story please continu!

[HPG]

I agree! I have been binge watching the West Wing (I just finished the Thanksgiving episode in season two), and this site does not have enough West Wing stories. Plus, Sam is adorable, and you are a very good writer.

[anikadicara]

+1 for not having enough West Wing stories! If anyone else wants to write one, that would make my day

***

Willow tracked down a box of tissues from a student volunteer; Sam had left his box in the Escalade. She sat back down next to him and offered him a few, waiting patiently while he blew his nose in a string of endless, horrible gurgles.

“At least I cad blow by nose dow,” he said with a wet sniffle, “but it’s is really ruddy,”

“It’s probably the decongestant,” said Willow.

“Yeah,” said Sam, raising his head and sniffling again, his breath hitching. “Cad I have..?” Willow wordlessly handed him the tissue box.

“Hih…” Sam pulled out several tissues and held them over his face. “HihIXCHH! IXCHHhhh! huhISXCHH! Huh…” Pinching his nose, Sam swapped the used tissues for new ones and blinked rapidly up at the light. “ISHHOoo! Uhhh. That felt good,” he said thickly. “By sdot’s gettig thidder.”

Willow pulled a face. “Thanks for sharing,” she said.

Sam went red and grabbed a few more tissues. “Sorry,” he said, and blew his nose into the wad. “Ugh. It’s just pourig out of be.”

“Okay,” said Willow definitively, getting to her feet. “You do that, and I’m gonna go figure out where we’re going.” Without waiting for a response, Willow strode away and approached CJ, who was reading a heavy looking press packet. “CJ?”

“Yes?” said CJ, startled. “Oh, Hi. How’s Sam?”

“Feeling the effects of Sudafed,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Sam who’s face was buried in a pile of tissues.

“Poor guy,” said CJ.

“Yeah. Hey, do you know where we’re supposed to be going right now?”

“They’re coming to get us in a few minutes. We’re on the balcony. I assume you want to watch?”

“Yeah. I mean, if I can. I want to see how he handles the Q&A, if that’s fine by you,” said Willow, remembering their session yesterday and thinking she’d be crazy to expect his answers would be anything but stellar.

“Course you can. I’m going to stand in the back and take some press calls, and I’m thinking maybe Sam should sit with me so he doesn’t disturb people trying to actually listen.”

“Probably not a bad idea,” said Willow. “Aren’t you worried about getting sick though?”

“We’re all going to get sick,” said CJ, waving a hand dismissively. “We’re in such close quarters on so little sleep, happens every time. Que sera.”

“What?”

“Que sera sera?”

“I don’t…”

“Whatever will be will be. Dorothy Day in The Man Who Knew Too Much.”

“Haven’t seen it.”

“Turn on TV Land sometime,” said CJ. “You’re making me feel old.”

“That movie came out in …. huhISHH! Id the fifties,” said Josh. Willow jumped.

“Stop sneaking up on me!” she joked, as Josh gave his nose a quick blow.

“Stop being in conversations I’m eavesdropping on,” said Josh with a cocky smirk. “Hitchcock made that movie in the fifties, you weren’t even alive then,” he said to CJ.

“Shut up, Josh.”

“I’m just saying, don’t pretend to be all knowledgable when you weren’t even ali-”

“Shut UP, Josh,” said CJ, annoyed. “Go check on Sam, would you? We’re moving in a minute.”

“I’m right though,” Josh muttered as he turned on his heel and strode over to Sam.

CJ shook her head, giving Willow a commiserating look. “It’s amazing we get anything done.” Willow laughed in agreement. “Do you think he’s ready?” CJ asked.

“Sam?”

“The president.”

“Oh. Yeah. He knows his stuff. I mean, as long as they don’t ask anything really detailed, like about a certain study or something-”

“They won’t,” assured CJ. “They’re here to talk policy, it’ll be all stem cells and cloning and requests to fund the NIH to the brim.”

“Then we’re good.” Willow spotted a couple of secret service agents and an awed-looking student volunteer striding towards them. “I think it’s time.”

“Ms Cregg,” said the student breathlessly, approaching them and holding out her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, thanks so much for coming, this is really amazing-”

“The pleasure’s mine,” said CJ, turning on the charm and shaking her hand. “What’s your name?”

“Mine?”

“Yes.” CJ cocked her head, looking amused.

“Right. Sorry. Emily. Emily Rollins.”

“Nice to meet you Ms. Rollins,” said CJ, nodding to her and then turning to one of the Secret Service agents. “Let’s gather the troops.”

Sam chose that moment to let out a particularly loud “haASSSSHHHOoo!”, drawing the looks of CJ and everyone else in the room. “The ones who can make it to their feet, at least,” CJ added to the agent with a small smile.

[HPG]

You're the best!

[ShyGirl]

Please please write more!!!

[silentdreamer789]

Sorry to bump up an older post, but I've only recently started watching the West Wing, and I wanted to let you know that discovering this definitely made my week! Awesome fic

[RiversD]

Well, since, it's been bumped, I'll add my appreciation. I read through this all in one go- you've got a great flow to it, and Sam's adorable.

[Poniessneezetoo]

Again, since it has been bumped, I would also like to say that this is my favourite West Wing fic, and that its awesome, and adorable, and a whole bunch of other stuff.

[anikadicara]

I'm back!  I'm re-watching the series with The West Wing Weekly podcast, and have been thinking about this for a while.  Here's a new bit:

****

The Secret Service agents fanned through the room, herding the Bartlett staffers together and walking along the perimeter as the group moved toward the theater behind a starstruck Emily.  They climbed a set of stairs, Willow following closely behind CJ until they reached a door to the theater balcony and were shepherded into front-row seats.  To Willow’s relief, she was sandwiched between CJ and Donna, and Sam had gotten lost in the moving crowd.  Willow leaned over the balcony, drinking in the enormity of the theater that would soon be full of the greatest minds in science.  In that minute, Willow felt like the luckiest person in the world.

 

And then it ended.

 

“Donna!” Josh boomed from a few rows back.  Donna sighed and got up, and Willow continued to gaze out at the crowd that began to trickle in below.  Donna returned a minute later. “Sorry, I have to go sit with Josh, he’s having trouble with the amount of time we’re devoting to DNC delegates,” she said to CJ.  

 

“We’d already been over that, he agreed to meet with -” CJ was cut short by an explosive sneeze, and Willow whipped around to find Sam standing right beside her.

 

“HuhRUSHHooo!”

 

“Geez, sit down before you fall down, Sparky,” said CJ, and Sam slumped into Donna’s empty seat beside Willow’s, depositing his tissue box on his lap and pulling out a few.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, before leaning over and blowing his nose thickly with his elbows on his knees.

 

“You sound even worse than before, if that’s possible.  It’s all right,” CJ said, turning back to Donna.  “Go deal with whine-y over there,” she said, gesturing to Josh.  

 

“Thanks,” said Donna, and she stalked off.

 

CJ and Willow both looked at the top of Sam’s head.  He was doubled over, nose buried in his stack of tissues, and his breath was hitching erratically.

 

“Hhh… huhISHH!  ISHHH!  HUH… ugh.”  The sneeze was stuck.  Sam tipped his head back, giving the theater lights a watery glare.  No luck.

 

“You okay there?” CJ asked.

 

“Doh.  I have to… sdeeze…”

 

“Try blowing your nose,” suggested Willow, just to have something to contribute.  She immediately regretted it, as Sam dropped his tissues on the floor, pulled out several more, and blew his nose with the grossest, squelchiest sound Willow had ever heard.  He pulled tissue after tissue out of the box, blowing until his face was red and he was panting.

 

“Dot helpig.  By dose is still stuffy ad dow it hurts,” Sam whined, then gave a great gasp.  “HurrrUSHOO!”

 

“See?” said Willow.  “It worked.”  Sam just buried his head in his hands and moaned.

[HPG]

A few things.  This is fantastic.  This is adorable.  You captured their speech patterns and banter perfectly.  This is perfect.  In Hebrew they say "kohl ha kavod" which kind of translates to "all the respect" which I think applies here.  I'm about half way through and I cannot tell you how amazing this story is in words.

[WishUponAUnicorn]

On 03/09/2017 at 4:02 AM, HarryPotterGeek said:

A few things.  This is fantastic.  This is adorable.  You captured their speech patterns and banter perfectly.  This is perfect.  In Hebrew they say "kohl ha kavod" which kind of translates to "all the respect" which I think applies here.  I'm about half way through and I cannot tell you how amazing this story is in words.

I can't reiterate how much I agree with this!