For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.

Iago, Othello Act I Scene i

Even before taking the DCOS job, Sam Seaborn had done nearly every task of the office at least once, but it was when he had nothing else on his plate and Josh had too much - or when Josh was left behind in Indiana. Until he actually became Deputy Chief of Staff, he couldn't fathom how daunting the job was.

He's beginning to understand why Josh's hairline rebelled.

"We're down six votes on HR 42 - "

Speaking of things he and Josh have in common.

"Press the pause button for sixty seconds," he begs Amy without lifting his head from where it sits in his hands. He hears her huff and move further into the office, sitting in her usual seat across from him.

He could have stayed in California. He would be making a six-figure salary while only working forty hours per week. But Santos is The Real Thing, so instead he's in D.C where he's taken a 75% pay cut and is still in his office at eight o'clock on Friday night.

All things considered he's not surprised Emily called off the wedding.

Sam takes a deep breath, his fingers releasing his hair from their grip as he moves to sit upright. Across from him, Amy is looking at her watch. Her eyes flick up to look at him and she grins but says nothing. Sam opens his mouth to speak but she lifts her other hand to stop him while her gaze returns to her watch and she counts down with her fingers.

4...3...2...1...

Closing her raised hand and resting both in her lap, she looks back up at him. "You look like hell, Sam."

"Gee, thanks, Amy," he drawls.

"You read the article?" She asks, receiving a nod from Sam. "It's pretty good. Almost makes you feel like you went through those eight years with them." She smirks. "Oh, wait, we did."

This earns a soft laugh from Sam, who knows there's no bitterness from Amy regarding her ex's imminent wedding. In fact, she and Donna have become very good friends since they started working together.

"What does this have to do with HR 42?" Sam asks.

"Absolutely nothing, but you looked about ready to rip all your hair out so I thought I'd give you a break."

"How considerate."

"I don't think you'd be nearly as handsome bald."

"I've got a flat head."

It's her turn to laugh now. "We should coordinate on how to get the votes back."

"I just figured you'd kick them in the balls and I'd swoop in with ice packs."

"Oh good then we're on the same page."

Sam smiles back at her. "Big day tomorrow," he says.

"I'm surprised you still have your kneecaps. Figured the President would be gunning pretty hard for that best man job," she jokes.

"There's still time for that," Sam points out. "Although violence doesn't seem like his style. More likely he'd just have the Secret Service lock me in a closet until he'd given the best man speech. And I won't even have a date to wonder where I am, so I might never get out," he adds.

"Well I'll keep an eye out to make sure you don't randomly disappear."

"I appreciate that," he replies genuinely. "So is Nick coming with you or does he have some sort of woodworking emergency that requires his attention?" It's a joke, but Amy cringes almost imperceptibly, causing Sam to furrow his brow and tip his head appraisingly. "Amy?"

"So HR 42 – "

"What's going on?"

"I think I may be able to get Peters on board but he'll probably want to attach – "

"Amy, forget about the goddamn bill for a second."

She stares at him with a stony expression. "A bill protecting survivors from their abusers is more important than my love life. Can we just focus on that, please?"

It's the please that catches him off guard. So he concedes and lets her talk about the resolution and her plan to get the bill passed. He distracts her in the only way he knows how: by delving into an argument with her.

They close the door and debate for a long time in the way to which they've grown accustomed. To an outside eye it would seem as though they were genuinely fighting, but this has become the way they strategize before going into battle. They debate heatedly until they've worked out both sides of the argument so they can be adequately prepared for anything the other side has to throw at them.

They finally end up sitting in the visitors' chairs next to one another. Amy has propped her feet up on the desk, crossed at the ankles while she scribbles on the notepad in her lap.

From the other seat, Sam silently watches her work, wondering what could have happened between Amy and her boyfriend that would cause the reaction he'd witnessed. He's known Amy for years – since he was a congressional aide. He's never seen her rattled til now.

Eventually Amy stops writing mid-sentence and side-eyes him. "Sam, all that distracting you did is gonna go to waste if you don't stop staring at me," she utters as she returns to writing notes on the page.

"But my staring at you is distracting as well, so in that sense I'm doing my duty."

Silence falls over them again save for the scribbling of Amy's pen. After a few seconds she stops writing again and starts twirling her pen slowly between her fingers. "Nick proposed," she finally breathes. Sam, not wanting to startle her in a rare moment of vulnerability, waits patiently for Amy to continue. "He loved me. He wanted to build a life with me, and all I could think about when I saw the ring was… I don't know his parents' names."

She tosses the notepad on the desk and rests her head in her hand, the armrest supporting her elbow beneath while Sam leans forward to listen. "I know the names of all 435 members of the House of Representatives and one hundred members of the US Senate, most of whom I've never spoken to personally. But I slept next to this man more nights than not for nearly a year, and I can't remember his parents' names."

Carefully she sits up and takes her feet off the desk. "I know I have a reputation for being…" She pauses, searching the air for the right word. "I think the most common description is a cold-hearted bitch." She scoffs, and Sam notices the way her eyes tear up. "But I never thought it was true until…" She trails off and presses her fingers to her lips, breathing deeply to calm herself. "I don't think I've ever been in love, Sam," she whispers.

Sam reaches for her then, squeezing her hand with his. "It's overrated," he quips, causing her to let loose a snicker that breaks the dam holding back her tears. Suddenly she's crying quietly and dabbing at her eyes with the fingertips of her free hand. The other clutches Sam's tightly. "Look, I've got two failed engagements and a slew of disastrous relationships, so maybe I'm not the best person to give advice on this," he rambles. He then takes a deep breath and moves to kneel in front of her. "But you're a smart, kind, wonderful woman who can do anything you set your mind to. I have no doubt that one day it'll happen for you."

Her eyes study him sadly, the tears slowing. Their fingers, laced together, rest in her lap, and Sam just looks up at her, hoping he's been able to provide some comfort. They sit like that for a while, and then Amy does something Sam never expected.

She leans in and kisses him.

His immediate response is to kiss her back, his lips moving slowly against hers. It isn't until she unlaces her fingers from his and moves to cup his neck that he comes to his senses and pulls away. She tries to follow him, but he presses his hands to her thighs, holding her off.

"We can't – "

"Yeah," she whispers back, her voice as quiet as his. But she doesn't look away from his eyes. Only a couple inches separate them at this point, and the tug of desire he feels for her makes him think he was an idiot for pulling away.

"I – "

"Yeah, I know," she says, removing her hands and reaching past him to pick up her notepad again. "I'm gonna go." She quickly slips past him and grabs her things. "I'll see you at the wedding." And then as quickly as she'd come, she's gone.