A/N: The two of them alone in Sam's apartment? What could possibly happen... :P Enjoy!

Washington D.C.

Sam Seaborn's Apartment

Dinner, Night One

She had arrived at seven on the dot with bags full of groceries, at least two in each arm. Apparently she thought he lived like a bachelor. Upon reminding himself of what was in his own fridge, Sam realized she had assumed correctly. On tonight's menu was southern style baby back ribs, cornbread, and steamed broccoli. It was arguably the best and most complete meal Sam had ever eaten in his apartment.

Ainsley had almost burned down the building in the process, but that was the fun of it, right? Sam had made a joke about calling the fire department and she had hit him playfully on the arm defending herself.

'I'll have you know I'm an exceptional cook,' she had said, 'I've just never done baby back ribs in the oven before.'

They were now almost all the way through their meal, sitting at the small table in the dining room which Sam never used. Whenever he did eat at home it was either on the couch or in front of his computer. He had always needed a distraction while he ate and tonight his distraction was her. She hadn't dressed up for dinner, not that he expected her to, but she was even more gorgeous than she had been when they were out at the restaurant. She had donned a simple jeans and sweater combination, and her hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail. She was perfect.

Sam had cleaned up as well, having showered twice, once after she left, and once before she arrived. He made sure to put on cologne, but not too much to overwhelm her. He combed his hair, or tried to, but it always ended up doing whatever it wanted to anyways so he didn't worry so much about that.

He dressed casually, but hoped she would be impressed by his choices, that she would enjoy looking at him as much as he enjoyed looking at her. He desperately needed to return the favor after all she had done for him, after all the affection she had shown him. And what had he ever done? Not enough.

"Sam," Ainsley said drawing him back to their conversation. "Did you hear what I said?"

Sam looked back over at her and spotted a small drop of barbecue sauce on the corner of her mouth, just underneath her lip. He reached across the table with his napkin and lightly dabbed it clean for her as she stayed completely still. He brought his napkin back from her face and placed it in his lap again.

"No, sorry, you had a little smidgen," he explained mimicking the spot where it had been on his own face, "what were you saying?"

The corners of her mouth formed into a small grin as she spoke. "I was trying to change your mind, but I can see it's currently elsewhere. Anything you want to talk about?"

Sure there was. He wanted to talk about her. He wanted to talk about their kiss. Their night long ago in Washington state, their time in his office after the shooting, the time she had outright told him she wanted to kiss him. How long ago that was. In an effort to keep himself contained, he chose a less dangerous topic.

"How're things in the counsel's office?" he asked.

Ainsley sighed and took a sip of the wine he had poured them. She had bought five bottles for the three nights and he had asked her if she was trying to get him drunk. She had told him she didn't need him drunk to get what she wanted from him, and he believed her.

"As bureaucratic and disorganized as ever," she answered, "feels just like home."

Good, he wanted to say. Because I never want you to leave. "Anybody still giving you crap for your Republicanism?"

"Why?" Ainsley asked raising an eyebrow at him. "You going to report them to Leo for disagreeing with me?"

"No," he answered, "I'd report them to the President." Sam saw her blush and try to hide it by taking another sip of her wine. She lowered the glass from her lips and her voice graced his ears again.

"Anybody ever tell you that you worry way too much?"

"Well if I'm not there to have your back from all the war-mongering Democrats who's going to?" Sam asked facetiously. "Toby can't throw a punch to save his life and Josh thinks you hate him so I doubt he'll come to your rescue."

"Who ever said I needed rescuing?" Ainsley retorted as she winked back at him. God that woman. A simple wink and Sam was already swimming in arousal. "If anything, you're the one that keeps getting hurt, and mostly at your own expense might I add."

Sam couldn't deny it. He knew it was true. He had worked himself too hard.

"So that makes you my knight in shining armor huh?" he asked looking again at his friend.

"Maybe," Ainsley answered as she took another bite of broccoli. "But I've never been one for flashy costumes."

Sam took another sip of his wine and cleared his throat. "Speaking of flashy costumes, the correspondent's dinner is coming up relatively soon-,"

"Soon?" Ainsley asked cutting him off before he had gone too far. "Sam, it's in a month and a half. I can't believe you're already thinking about it. Don't you have a thousand other things on your mind before then?"

"Not right now," he admitted. "Right now I'm thinking about the correspondent's dinner, and how much I want you to accompany me."

Ainsley blushed again. "Sam…are you asking me out on a date?"

Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms playfully. "Wasn't dinner the other night a date?"

Sam didn't think Ainsley's face could get any redder, he didn't think his could either but was still trying to maintain a shred of charm.

"Well, yes…," she answered softly, "I suppose it was, but I didn't really give you much of a choice did I?"

"You were quite unladylike about it," Sam said reminiscing on that day and teasing her. "I mean you might as well have dragged me there by my collar."

"Saaaammm," she pleaded, "Don't make fun of me! I was nervous…,"

"You don't have to be," Sam confessed. "Never with me."

Sam caught her eyes again with his and they exchanged what could only be described as a look of true friendship, and maybe something more. Suddenly realizing how long he had been looking into her eyes, he quickly got up from the dining table, collected their plates and headed into the kitchen.

"Do you even know how to do dishes Mr. Seaborn?" Ainsley asked coming up behind him at the sink.

"Contrary to your stereotypical and frankly degrading view of my bachelor-like lifestyle Ms. Hayes, I do know how to do simple caveman tasks yes," Sam answered as he turned on the faucet and let the dirty plates soak. Ainsley scooted next to him in front of the sink and reached across his body for the dish soap.

"Then you wouldn't forget this would you?" She asked shaking the small bottle in her hand. "Now, where are your sponges?"

Ah, yes. The sponges. Those things he didn't own having rarely needed to actually scrape dinner plates.

"Ah, those would be at the corner store a few blocks away…,"

Ainsley giggled. "I guess we'll have to use our hands then."

Sam raised his eyebrows at her suspiciously as she requested he hold out his hands over the sink. He did slowly and she poured the dish soap in his palms. She did the same thing with her own hands and began to swipe her hands across the plates as water pelted her wrists. Sam smirked and did the same thing on his side of the sink. A few seconds later, he felt a splash of water on his arm and looked over at the beautiful woman next to him.

She was smiling like a kid with an ice cream sundae. "Sorry," she said sarcastically, giggling again.

Goddamnit if she only knew what that giggle did to him. "You did that on purpose," he said accusingly.

"Yes. I did. And this is on purpose too," she said splashing soapy water on his sleeve again.

"Oh you are so going to get it Ainsley Hayes," Sam said as he turned the faucet on her side of the sink and began to splash her with water. She laughed as he did so he continued. Soon enough, her sweater was fairly well watered down and she was staring at him in disbelief. Then she smiled devilishly and began to splash him back, turning the faucet on him, literately. In an effort to stop the massive amount of soapy water he was being bombarded with, Sam blindly reached for Ainsley's hands in the sink.

He found them, quickly sliding his fingers over hers and releasing her grip on the faucet. Almost instantaneously, he was overcome with lust as her wet, silky hands writhed beneath his, fingers playing across his palms. In this moment of primal urges, Sam slipped each of his fingers in between hers in the sink under the running water and held them there, feeling the wet touch of her skin move against his. She was squirming to reach for the faucet, but he needed more. Sam clawed into her palms with his fingertips, dragging each finger across her hand with equal pleasure. The sensation of the warm water running over and through their combined hands nearly sent Sam over the edge.

She stopped struggling and Sam hurriedly stopped his rushed touching of her water-soaked skin. Drawing his hands away from hers slowly, he felt her fingers linger on his for just a second longer than expected. Extremely embarrassed, Sam looked at her sweater, it was soaked through and even the tip of her ponytail had gotten damp.

"I'll get you a shirt to wear home," he said as he walked off to the bedroom, leaving her standing there at his sink, equally embarrassed.

He returned to the kitchen thirty seconds later to see she was no longer wearing her sweater, it was lying on the floor at her feet and she was looking dangerously at him in just a bra. Sam tried not too stare at her chest for too long, but her breasts…they were the most beautiful, perky, luscious pair Sam had ever seen. And they were only covered by a thin layer of black fabric. Dear God.

He gulped and approached her, holding out the light sweatshirt in front of him for her to take.

"Thank you," she said simply as she took the sweatshirt and slipped it over her body, covering her chest again from view. Sam breathed a sigh of relief quietly.

"Sorry for that," he said.

"It's okay, I started it, sorry about your shirt too," she replied pointing to his own soaked chest. "I think I should get going."

Ainsley walked past him headed for the front door. Sam spun around.

"Ainsley," he said as she turned to bid him goodbye. "Thanks for dinner, I really enjoyed it."

She smiled and spoke sweetly. "Your welcome. I'll see you tomorrow night, as long as I don't have to bring an extra set of clothes."

Sam smirked and chuckled at the implication. "No, no of course not. Goodnight Ainsley."

"Sam," she said bringing his gaze up to meet hers one more time. "I would love to be your date for the correspondent's dinner."

He couldn't do anything but nod his agreement. Ainsley smiled once last time and left his apartment. Not more than five seconds after she had left, Sam looked down at the floor humbly and grinned. He was standing in a growing puddle of lukewarm water, but he didn't care. She had said yes.