AndreaLyn

Josh has stopped thinking about how long it’s been since he last saw Sam Seaborn. His appearance is doing that trick for him. There’s more grey to his hair, there are more lines around his eyes to indicate that he’s been smiling for a state (and has just started to try and smile for a country).

They meet in a crowded restaurant in middle-America where no one knows who either of them are just yet and just like so many times before, they have to end things before they even get started again.

“Look at you,” Josh notes in amazement. “God, you’ve practically had your campaign team emblazon that across your suit. I mean, Jesus, Sam, you’ve got the whole Superman-meets-JFK thing going for you,” he says, shaking his head and hating that he feels like he’s dying a little on the inside at all of this.

It’s the unspoken, you’re running for President now, you can’t have another scandal on your hands, but Josh wants to be selfish and he wants to embrace a goddamn scandal already.

But he knows, better than anyone, that the country isn’t ready yet.

He’s a politico first and a person second.

Maybe, maybe someday, he knows. It’s just not his day yet.

“Well, if I’m Superman, that makes you Lois Lane,” Sam points out as he orders the chicken. And instead of making a joke or saying something witty and cutting like he probably could, Sam just unleashes his thousand-megawatt smile on him. “I couldn’t think of any better role.”