The waitress reappears, sets down their sandwiches and looks like she's about to invite herself to eat with them, but Josh levels a glare at her and she scoots off.
"Josh." Julian sets down the fork he'd been playing with. "I don't have any dirt. Nothing from college, law school -- I didn't even look. I'm a Republican, not Richard Nixon. I don't have blackmail, or evidence, or terms -- or, well." He glances down to the side, then looks up and meets Josh's eyes. "Not unless you count me planning on asking you out to dinner."
Josh's brain hits the skids, hauls itself into a u-turn, and catches up with Josh's mouth two seconds too late for Josh to reconsider saying, "Friday at six?"
Julian looks shocked for a moment, but he recovers quickly and says, "The vote's at five."
"It'll be over by six." Josh takes a swallow of water and uses the pause to berate himself inside his head. "Trust me. It'll pass, and it'll pass fast."
"I know," Julian says, and slumps his shoulders, resting his head on the heel of his hand. "I hate this town."
"I don't know," Josh says, and picks up his sandwich. "It's not so bad."
They stick to lighter topics during lunch, and Josh finds out where Julian went to school, that he hates Dupont Circle, and that he'd rather chew broken glass than practice law again. Josh, for his part, only reveals whatever an anecdote about losing his White House ID four times in the first two weeks might say about him. He's just pleased that Julian laughed -- irrationally pleased. He's supposed to be immune to dark-haired lawyer-boy charm by now.
Julian pays for lunch, just as he'd promised, and walks Josh back to the White House. "It's on my way," he says dismissively. Josh stops walking, looks around at all the tourists telling each other the urban legend about the electrified White House fence, glances up Pennsylvania at the Capitol building, a fair hike away, then raises an eyebrow at Julian. "Maybe a little out of the way," he admits.
Josh shoves his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat to restrain himself from ruffling Julian's hair. The man is only a few years younger than Sam, but looks at least a decade younger -- the bow ties might have something to do with it. He's like a kid dressing up in his dad's clothes. Josh keeps wanting to treat him like a college kid. A college kid he kind of desperately wants to have sex with. "This isn't going to happen if you're this unsubtle all the time," he tells Julian.
Julian mirrors the eyebrow-raise back at him. "Hey, we're not currently making out in the middle of Pennsylvania Ave, I consider that subtle."
Josh tilts his head back and laughs. "Oh, very good, very honest. We'll make a Democrat out of you yet."
"Thanks, I'll pass." But Julian ducks his head and grins at him. "No kissing in the park, huh?"
"Not in broad daylight, anyway." Josh bumps his shoulder against Julian's, then makes for the entrance. "Thanks for lunch," he calls over his shoulder.
Julian waves and shouts back, "Friday at six." Josh shakes his head, laughing behind his teeth, and goes back to work.
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this is all your fault, pt 5/7
Date: 2006-05-14 10:31 pm (UTC)"Josh." Julian sets down the fork he'd been playing with. "I don't have any dirt. Nothing from college, law school -- I didn't even look. I'm a Republican, not Richard Nixon. I don't have blackmail, or evidence, or terms -- or, well." He glances down to the side, then looks up and meets Josh's eyes. "Not unless you count me planning on asking you out to dinner."
Josh's brain hits the skids, hauls itself into a u-turn, and catches up with Josh's mouth two seconds too late for Josh to reconsider saying, "Friday at six?"
Julian looks shocked for a moment, but he recovers quickly and says, "The vote's at five."
"It'll be over by six." Josh takes a swallow of water and uses the pause to berate himself inside his head. "Trust me. It'll pass, and it'll pass fast."
"I know," Julian says, and slumps his shoulders, resting his head on the heel of his hand. "I hate this town."
"I don't know," Josh says, and picks up his sandwich. "It's not so bad."
They stick to lighter topics during lunch, and Josh finds out where Julian went to school, that he hates Dupont Circle, and that he'd rather chew broken glass than practice law again. Josh, for his part, only reveals whatever an anecdote about losing his White House ID four times in the first two weeks might say about him. He's just pleased that Julian laughed -- irrationally pleased. He's supposed to be immune to dark-haired lawyer-boy charm by now.
Julian pays for lunch, just as he'd promised, and walks Josh back to the White House. "It's on my way," he says dismissively. Josh stops walking, looks around at all the tourists telling each other the urban legend about the electrified White House fence, glances up Pennsylvania at the Capitol building, a fair hike away, then raises an eyebrow at Julian. "Maybe a little out of the way," he admits.
Josh shoves his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat to restrain himself from ruffling Julian's hair. The man is only a few years younger than Sam, but looks at least a decade younger -- the bow ties might have something to do with it. He's like a kid dressing up in his dad's clothes. Josh keeps wanting to treat him like a college kid. A college kid he kind of desperately wants to have sex with. "This isn't going to happen if you're this unsubtle all the time," he tells Julian.
Julian mirrors the eyebrow-raise back at him. "Hey, we're not currently making out in the middle of Pennsylvania Ave, I consider that subtle."
Josh tilts his head back and laughs. "Oh, very good, very honest. We'll make a Democrat out of you yet."
"Thanks, I'll pass." But Julian ducks his head and grins at him. "No kissing in the park, huh?"
"Not in broad daylight, anyway." Josh bumps his shoulder against Julian's, then makes for the entrance. "Thanks for lunch," he calls over his shoulder.
Julian waves and shouts back, "Friday at six." Josh shakes his head, laughing behind his teeth, and goes back to work.