A word of warning: I've been having a lot of brotp feels about Sam and Toby recently, so this may or may not become all about them for a while. It's hard to say. My muse is being fickle.
Anyway, this one is a Sam & Toby early campaign flashback. Enjoy!

"It wouldn't kill you to be a little nicer to Sam."

"You know, it just might." Toby glanced up at Josh's glare, then turned back to his work, unaffected.

"Toby."

He sighed and looked up again. "What?"

"I brought him here from New York for this. He dropped everything, Toby. Left his job, a damn nice apartment… hell, his fiancee left him over this."

Toby rolled his pen between his fingers, frowning very slightly. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah. And you're gonna pretend you still don't, because he hasn't told anyone but me. I just…" Josh ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "This campaign is all he has right now, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay?" Josh asked again, a bit more forcefully.

"Yeah, Josh, I got it," Toby answered, annoyed. "Now if you don't mind, I have work to do - unless you'd prefer the governor to get up on stage and wing it tomorrow night."

Biting back a retort, Josh rolled his eyes in exasperation and left the office, hoping he'd at least done some small amount of good for his friend.

It was late. Very late. He should go home - not that 'home' really described the hotel where he was staying. Alone. And he was so tired… he didn't want to move. It was so much easier to just stay here at his desk… sleep here again, just like he had for the last three nights. Too exhausted to be fully aware of what he was doing, he absentmindedly reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring he'd been carrying around for a week and a half now, the ring he didn't want to keep and couldn't bear to get rid of. It burned a hole in his pocket wherever he went, never quite forgotten. With a long sigh, he leaned heavily on his desk, resting his forehead on his left hand, the ring clutched in his right. He was so tired…

"Hey."

Sam jumped, quickly sliding the ring out of sight. He'd thought he was alone in the campaign headquarters, but there was Toby standing at his desk across from Sam's, watching him stoically - Toby, who never seemed to be satisfied no matter how hard Sam worked, who didn't like him at all and certainly didn't want him around. Sure, it was all well and good that Josh had gotten him this job, but Josh wasn't a writer. Toby was, and if Toby thought they should get rid of him…

"You all right?"

Sam frowned as the question registered, rubbing his eyes as he attempted to wake himself up more fully. What did Toby care if he was all right or not? Toby was probably just looking for a reason to have the governor fire him, and then where would he go? Back to California? There was nothing for him in New York now.

Realizing that Toby was still waiting for an answer, Sam sat up a little straighter, marshalling his sluggish thoughts into order through a haze of exhaustion. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I'm - " Sam swallowed hard. "I'm fine," he repeated lamely, unable to think of anything else to say.

Toby didn't look convinced, but unsurprisingly, he didn't press the issue. "Right."

Sam didn't know what Toby was waiting for, didn't know what else to say to him. All he wanted was for him to leave so he could get some sleep.

But strangely, Toby didn't seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere. Remembering what Josh had said, he cast around for something encouraging he could tell Sam. "That was good work today," he managed finally, awkwardly.

"What?" Sam frowned, confused and too tired to have any idea why Toby would suddenly want to be nice to him.

"The speech. It was good." Toby shrugged. "You did good."

"Oh." Sam stared at him, unsure how to respond. "I… thanks."

Toby cringed inwardly, frustrated at the flatness of Sam's tone. He'd hoped that would be enough, but… well, frankly, Sam looked like death warmed over at the moment. He probably wasn't even awake enough to know what Toby had just said to him. "You going home soon?"

Sam's head dropped slightly, and he rubbed his eyes again. "Home," he muttered quietly, barely aware of what was coming out of his mouth. "Don't have that anymore."

Toby froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. He knew Sam wouldn't be saying anything of the kind to him if he weren't so damned exhausted. But at last, a strong suspicion prompted him to ask, "Where have you been sleeping, Sam?"

Finally realizing that he might have said more than he wanted to, Sam didn't answer, didn't even move from his hunched-over position, his face slightly red with embarrassment.

"You've been sleeping here." It wasn't a question. Toby knew he was right without Sam needing to confirm it. His frustration with this whole situation quickly mounting, Toby crossed his arms and rubbed his forehead tiredly, finally looking back up at Sam, who was already beginning to nod off. "Damn it, Josh," he muttered under his breath. If it wasn't for him, Toby wouldn't even still be here now. If it wasn't for him, it never would have crossed his mind to do the thing he was considering. If it wasn't for him, he wouldn't have realized that he just couldn't leave this kid who was so perfectly opposite Toby himself on the outside - but so much like him at heart - here in the office alone for another night. "Damn it." Sam had left behind everything he knew, lost everything he loved, to come here and fight for something he believed in. He deserved better than a boss like Toby - or maybe he just deserved to see a better side of Toby.

Already half asleep, Sam woke with a start to find Toby standing by his desk, shaking his shoulder lightly.

"Come on, Princeton."

Sam rubbed his eyes, blinking up at him in confusion. "What?"

"I'm leasing an apartment here in town," Toby said gruffly by way of explanation. "It's small, but the couch is probably a hell of a lot more comfortable than your desk."

Sam frowned, struggling to process what Toby was telling him - and that was when Toby's earlier statement at last properly registered: "That was good work today… You did good." A little of the weight seemed to ease off of Sam's shoulders as he finally realized what Toby was saying. Suddenly, there were so many questions he wanted to ask: So you don't really hate me? You don't want Governor Bartlet to get rid of me? I really am… good enough? But he didn't say any of that. Toby was still watching him, looking as concerned as he seemed to be able to as he waited for an answer, and Sam wanted so badly to not be alone anymore. So all he finally did say was, "Okay."

Toby didn't say anything. Instead, he reached out silently and pulled Sam to his feet, steadying him when he swayed slightly in exhaustion. He didn't say anything while they walked to the car, or when Sam fell asleep during the short drive to the apartment, his head resting against the window. He didn't say anything when he helped Sam out of the car, supported him up the walk to the building, kept him upright in the elevator the the third floor. He didn't say anything as they made their way down the hall to the apartment, or when Sam fell asleep again practically as soon as his head hit the pillow Toby had put at the end of the couch for him. He didn't say anything as he tossed a blanket over Sam, who, to his surprise, suddenly looked even younger than he had before.

It wasn't until he had turned the light off and started to leave the room that he paused, turned back around for a brief moment to look at the sleeping form on the couch and muttered one more time, "Damn it."

He had no idea when it had happened, but somehow, Sam Seaborn had managed to find his way into a place in Toby's heart that he'd previously thought could only be occupied by his brother David.

Shaking his head, Toby left the room, looking forward to finding his own bed for the night. It had been a hell of a long day.

"Damn it."