Disclaimer:
Once again, if they were mine, they'd be having sex and kissing. Conservatives be damned. Aaron, you're a swell guy. Don't sue a fellow writer.Author's Notes:
So much for no more Sam/Toby. Learned my lesson about never promising a sequel.The Truth Shall Set Me Free
By Perpetual Motion
Toby woke quickly the next morning. He tried to say as still as possible so he wouldn't wake Sam. Even in sleep, the other man looked very angry. His brow as furrowed, and he was clutching an extra pillow in a death grip.
Toby watched Sam and realized it was the first time he had woken up next to him when he hadn't been touching him. It was a disturbing thought.
Sam shifted and yawned and turned over as he opened his eyes and looked at Toby. "Morning."
"Morning."
"We need to talk."
"I figured we did. May I get coffee first?"
"Fine." Sam tossed his share of the covers off himself and stood up, stretching. "I'll start it up if you want to shower first."
"I want to shower with you."
"Showering will lead to sex, and sex will lead to nothing being resolved. Shower alone."
He sounds cynical. Toby threw the blankets aside as another thought hit him. He sounds like me. Oh, God. Ignoring the need for a shower, Toby hurried to the kitchen. "Sam, we need to talk."
"I thought you wanted coffee first."
"Maybe its best I have this conversation without the added spike of caffeine. Sam, talk to me."
"I already talked to you. I already told you what was wrong. You get to talk."
"What do I have to talk about?"
Sam turned from the counter and stared at Toby. "Why do you second-guess me? Why do you shoot down my ideas? Why don't you tell me the truth when I ask why you want to add or subtract something from a speech?"
"You're young. Your ideas are bad. I don't want to stifle you."
"Toby, talking this out requires more than three sentences."
"You want me to elaborate?"
"It would be appreciated."
Toby sighed and ran his hands over his head. "Fine. First, I second-guess you because you're young."
"I'm 36. I'm not that young."
"You're a young mind, Sam. You still believe every person on the street needs to know every detail I the White House. You still believe you can make everyone like the President. I second-guess you because you're still naïve' enough to need second-guessing."
Sam hopped up onto the counter and kept eye contact with Toby. His voice was eerily even. "Keep going."
"I shoot down your ideas because they can be bad. Using a Communist's quote seems innocent, but that's to you. There are people-reporters-who will twist it around. I know you know this, but I also know you think they'll read nothing into it. I know they will. I shoot down your ideas to protect you."
"Protect me from what?"
"From becoming a cynic or uncaring. I don't' want to look back ten years from now and realize that I made you a cynic because I let you carry such a strong faith in people too far. I don't want to watch you hold back tears when your faith in good, decent, morals gets you ripped by some bastard reporter trying to get ahead."
Toby scrubbed at his eyes and suddenly wished for the extra boost the caffeine would give him. He needed to finish this.
"I don't give you the truth behind editing the speeches because I know you'll stop writing and start wondering how to change the numbers, or the collective mind of a group or how to fix the whale damned world with a few words. I need you writing, Sam. Not out saving the world."
There was a long pause as Toby waited for Sam's reaction. He had given him the truth. As bluntly as possible, Toby had given him the truth.
"I'm to young, to idealistic, and to trusting for you to give me the truth because you don't want me to become a cynic. Toby, I'm going to slam your head against the table and tell you something you need to remember. You can't protect me. We work in a country of backstabbers, cynics, and people who would rather hit on me than give me change for the bus. I know this. I've known this. Whatever fantasy you're living in is very skewed. Just because I don't ooze sarcasm like you doesn't mean I don't' know what it is. Be realistic, Toby. I've spent most of my adult life around the biggest bastards in the world-lawyers and politicians. I'm just as cynical as you. I just tie it down because it wears me out."
Sam slid off the counter and walked over to Toby, kneeling beside him. "I know you're my boss. I know you have to edit me, but don't act like I just fell off a bus from California. I am award of the bullshit in the world. Just because I choose to ignore it doesn't mean I don't know it's there. You can tell me the truth."
"The truth shall set me free."
Sam smiled slightly and ran a hand over Toby's beard. "It won't always set you free, but it'll make things much smoother between us." Sam stroked Toby's cheek. "Promise to tell me the truth."
"I promise."
"Really?"
"For as long as you keep your ideals on a pedestal, I'll tell you the truth."
"I can work with that."
Toby stood up and brought Sam up with him, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry, Sam."
"I know. Sam shifted and kissed Toby. "You're forgiven."
"I'll tell you the truth."
"Yes, you will."