Consultation

by: Allison

Character(s): Sam, Ainsley
Pairing(s): Sam/Ainsley
Category(s): Romance
Rating: YTEEN
Summary: ...and a little consulting on the side.

Sam watched uncertainly for a second before making up his mind and settling on the grass beside Ainsley, folding his legs awkwardly in front of himself like a kindergartener at a campfire. The image made him snicker out loud, and made Ainsley turn and give him a questioning look.

"Um, nothing," he said, opting to keep his thoughts to himself.

She looked unsatisfied but turned away anyway and looked back at the glowing obelisk. "You know, I never got this thing," she commented.

"The Monument?"

"Mmm-hmm." Frowning, she rested her chin in one hand. "It doesn't say freedom, or liberty, or nationalism, or America, or whatever it's supposed to say. It just looks kind of forbidding."

He unconsciously matched her posture. "I think it's supposed to be forbidding."

"Forbidding?" She leaned back on her elbows, close enough to lying down that he gulped quietly. "Strong, maybe. Proud, maybe. But I don't think they meant for it to be forbidding. It's a monument, not, you know, a war camp."

"A war camp?"

"Yeah, I couldn't think of anything that you would build just to scare other countries."

"Disney World?"

That made her laugh, the kind of short, silent laugh that was more a tightening of her stomach muscles than anything else. She turned away before he could catch her smile and looked back up at the obelisk. "I just never liked it," she commented.

"Well, that settles it."

"What?" she asked, sitting up curiously.

"You really are un-American."

"You going to turn me in?" she asked, twisting sideways.

He gave her a sly smile. "Maybe we could work something out." He leered suggestively, one eyebrow lifted.

She had to lay back on the grass in order to laugh without collapsing, and he looked down at her almost fondly. "You're going to get grass in your hair."

"That's part of my evil plan," she said, grinning up at him.

"Oh?"

"This way when I get up you can offer to brush the grass off."

"Which will then lead to our rolling around like teenagers on the National Mall."

"And possibly getting arrested by the Park Police, yes."

"Maybe we should rethink that."

"Maybe." Her smile softened dangerously and she looked up at the sky instead of at him. "Yeah, as romantic and wild as this is, I think I'm getting bitten by mosquitoes."

He held out his hand chivalrously and she used it to pull herself back to a sitting position. "See," he complained as she carefully pulled her skirt down over her thighs, "now you've got me thinking."

"God forbid."

"Shut up."

"Okay."

"Okay, cut that out."

"What?" she asked almost seriously.

"That complying thing you do."

"Sam, I think we can safely say that my compliance has never been a problem in our relationship."

"Well, no, because if it were..."

"We'd be rolling around on the National Mall?"

"Right." He leered again and she burst out laughing.

"But not really," he rushed to say, "because..."

"I know," she interrupted, allowing herself a softened look again before asking, "What have I got you thinking about?"

"Well, if you really want to know, at the moment it involves you, me, and a perfect world with no floodlights, Park Police or grass in uncomfortable places..."

"Sam!" she exclaimed, laughing again. "I meant, when you said I'd gotten you thinking. What were you..."

"Oh," he said, pretending to be embarrassed. They shared a smile that felt almost a little too intimate, and he quickly said, "You, me, and the National Monument."

"That's ambitious of you," she said, barely able to restrain her laughter.

"Ainsley!" he said, horrified.

"What, you're the only one who's allowed to use bad sexual innuendo?"

"You win." She opened her mouth and he quickly said, "Don't you dare."

She grinned. "Fair enough. So what were you actually thinking about?"

"I don't know - I think I might agree with you about the monument. I'm not quite sure what it's supposed to stand for, either."

"Truth, justice, and the American way?"

He laughed. "You think?"

"Constancy?"

His eyes narrowed. "Constancy?"

"Of the government. No, not the government, of - the country? This isn't coming out the way I mean it..."

"No, I think I know what you meant." He swallowed the last remnants of laughter and looked up at the object in question. "That it means something always lasts, even if one administration..." He trailed off, unable to voice the dire thoughts in his head.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"Yeah," he acknowledged without looking at her.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and then she said, "I think it lies, a little."

"It lies?"

"The Monument."

That caught his attention, and he turned his face to her. "Okay."

"I mean, it gives you that..." Unable to find the right words, she gestured with a hand that glowed white in the semidark. "That feeling that whatever happens is for the good of the country, and that the right thing is somehow always done, and that's... not always true."

"No kidding," he agreed with a short, humorless laugh.

"In fact," she said, drawing her knees up to her chest while carefully keeping her skirt over her legs, "I'm beginning to wonder if it's ever true."

"Working in the White House'll do that to you."

"I'm serious, Sam," she told the grass at her feet.

"So am I."

She nodded without looking up. Something in the downward tilt of her head struck a chord with his own idealism, and he said hastily, "But it works both ways, you know. Sometimes, when something actually gets done..."

"I don't get to see much of that," she said wryly. "I spend most of my time looking at the White House's mistakes."

"So nothing's changed since you came to work there."

Ainsley smiled into her knees. "You could say that." She stretched both legs out in front of her again and leaned back on her arms, this time so close that her shoulder brushed Sam's and their arms came almost into contact. In the long silence that ensued he began to get nervous, and so he said quickly, "The President likes you," before he could be completely overcome by the tiny heat and pressure of her shoulder on his.

She laughed again. "The President thinks I'm a lunatic."

"No, he doesn't." He smiled slyly because she wasn't looking at him. "A former exotic dancer, perhaps, but not -"

"Sam!"

"Ow!" He reached over to rub the arm she'd just hit, dragging the backs of his knuckles over her arm in the process. Because he could have sworn that she leaned into his touch just the slightest bit he said, "Listen, about that..."

"About what?"

"The - you know, the, um, 'sex kitten' comment..."

She groaned and, just for the tiniest part of a second, leaned her forehead on his shoulder. "Can we just not discuss that right now?"

It registered in his brain that their tactile relationship had increased steadily this night, but he tucked that away in anticipation of her anger at his next confession. "I just thought you might want to know that, um, the President didn't exactly generate that statement."

Her eyebrows narrowed as she tried to follow that. "Sorry?"

He winced, positive he shouldn't be sitting this close to her when he said this. "He was repeating it."

If possible, Ainsley looked even more horrified than she had that night. "Oh, God. From who?" Before he could answer she went on, "Did someone - I mean, is that what the Republicans in Congress have been saying? That the White House hired me because -"

"Ainsley," he interrupted. "First of all, you know that's what people have been saying, although they haven't been saying it to the President. Most of them, anyway," he muttered under his breath. "But I am glad to see you're beginning to recognize that the Republicans are the enemy."

"Sam..."

"Me."

She stopped, confused again. "What?"

"Me, he was repeating me."

Her face turned a shade paler and he realized instantly that he'd incorrectly predicted her response. She looked much more hurt than angry. "Who did you..." She barely managed to choke the words out and had to start over. "Who did you say that to?"

"Ainsley, not - I didn't -" He sighed and began again himself, noting without surprise that she had shifted her weight away from him. "I didn't say that I thought it was true. I said - when I talked to the President about coming down to meet you he asked if there was anything in particular he should say, and I said he could say something like -"

"'A lot of people think we hired you because you were a blond Republican sex kitten?'" She had probably intended only to repeat the words, but somewhere in the middle it turned into a rather shrill, disbelieving question mark.

He winced. "Yeah."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Yes, possibly."

"Sam!"

"In my own defense, you know, things are usually pretty informal with the President. I didn't think he'd repeat it, but I think he found it funny."

She frowned. "So he really repeated it more to embarrass you than me."

"Yeah, probably."

Her gaze had turned back to the obelisk, probably because she didn't want to be looking at him. "Why did he think it was funny?"

That was, oddly enough, a question Sam had never really asked himself. When he did, his breath stopped for a moment and he could feel his face reddening. "He thinks I have a crush on you," he said flatly, realizing belatedly that he'd spoken aloud.

He could hear in her tone that her eyebrows were lifted again, even though he was too humiliated to look at her. "The President thinks you have a crush on me," she echoed.

"Yes, I think he does," he said, trying desperately to pull off casual.

"Do you?" she asked half-seriously, turning to face him again. He opened his mouth and she said quickly with a laugh, "I'm kidding, Sam, you don't -"

"Yes."

She stopped mid-sentence. "Yes?"

He fought the new blush that threatened to creep over his face and said lightly, "Who wouldn't? I mean, I personally have always been attracted to very conservative women who think I'm an idiot."

"I don't think you're an idiot," she said, keeping her tone just the safe side of seriousness.

"No?"

"Sadly misguided, yes, but..."

He would never know what complete and total insanity took over him at that particular moment - although he would blame it on the alcohol, the casual conversation, and all the careful dancing-around-sex talk - but as he started to laugh again he dove over and grabbed for her side. She didn't disappoint, turning out to be extremely ticklish and shrieking with a combination of laughter and indignation, clutching at his arms until he stopped. "I hate being tickled," she stated from her supine position on the grass as he loomed over her.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said with an exaggeratedly suggestive grin.

She rolled her eyes and pushed him off of her. "Let me up."

"Yeah," he agreed quickly, suddenly afraid that he might have gone too far. Joking was one thing, but he never wanted her to feel threatened. As she sat up, though, he saw in her look that she was fine and that she hadn't misunderstood his mood. He tested her with a hand on her back, very lightly rubbing. She didn't object, and he began to enjoy the unaccustomed freedom to touch her - until his mind suddenly filled with thoughts of touching her in other ways, and heat flooded his face again. As he tried to rein in his imagination, she said quietly but distinctly, "He's going to win."

"The - President?" he asked, dragging his mind back from wherever it had been.

"Yes."

"You think so?"

"Yes," she repeated more certainly.

"Well, good."

"I'm serious," she said for the second time, giving him a piercing look.

"I know you are," he said, and the affection in his voice surprised them both. She looked away from him and leaned back, angling her head toward him just the slightest bit, almost as if she were asking...

He decided to take the plunge and risk being wrong. The hand on her back slid up to her far shoulder and he pulled her into him, tugging her head down onto his chest and carefully supporting her with both arms. She came into his embrace willingly, settling herself before wrapping both arms around his waist. He decided to stop thinking, stop worrying and stop planning. He let his arms go tighter around her and bent his face into her hair, feeling her breath lift her chest against his. They both carefully avoided turning this into a sentimental moment; he made a comment about full disclosure and she countered with some obscure argument. But she was warm against him, and they had finally stopped arguing long enough to appreciate each other, and so he held her a little closer and they talked - a Democrat and a Republican - about reelection.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

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