Children of a Lesser Geek

By Nomi

"Josh?"

I jumped slightly at the sound of my name - it was one of those very rare Saturday mornings where I have the opportunity to sit and enjoy the paper, and I had lost track of my surroundings. Sam was standing across the table from me, and it was completely possible that he'd been calling my name for a minute or so.

"Yeah?" Sam was using one of his 'I'm about to ask you a strange question' tones; I've become used to this sort of questioning.

"Do you like kids?"

"With rav sauce?" I asked, distracted by the article I was reading in the _Post_.

"Jo-osh, I'm serious!"

I put the paper down on the kitchen table and looked up at Sam. I thought for a minute. Kids were a complicated subject. Not that I had ever ruled out having one - my father, 'til the day he died, was just as interested in my potential for producing children as he was in my potential for producing a winning candidate. As I told then-Governor Bartlet in the airport in Illinois the night I went home for the funeral, my dad wanted grandkids. And my mom...she also wanted grandchildren. She still does. But actually _having_ a child wasn't anything I'd thought about seriously since...well, since ever. And once I got involved with Sam, my opportunity to have children became even more limited, but it never bothered me.

Intellectually, I thought having kids was a nice idea. I've been told I'm good with kids, that I can relate to them on a number of levels. There are parts of me that are still in touch with my own childish instincts - like the part that convinced me that setting a fire in the White House for warmth was a good idea. Or that putting live turkeys in CJ's office would be fun. But I didn't think that was what Sam was asking.

"I like kids, love. Why?"

"If we were to want to have a kid, who would you want to be the surrogate?" Sam asked.

OK, that didn't answer my question, but it gave me an idea of where Sam's thoughts were headed. But I knew the answer to Sam's question.

"CJ. No doubt about it."

Sam looked surprised. Whether it was at my choice of mothers for my - our - child or at the fact that I actually had an answer, I wasn't sure.

"Why CJ?" Sam asked.

"Well, my possible, serious choices, the ones who wouldn't either laugh or scream, were Donna or CJ. And as Donna's boss and the constant target of her annoyance, I don't want to further exacerbate her ever-changing moods by getting her pregnant."

Sam shuddered. "Sorry - I just had an image of you actually impregnating her...ugh!...sorry...she's a lovely woman, but you're _mine_." He paused for a sec, shook his head as if to dislodge something that was stuck, and then continued. "But that just explains why _not_ Donna. You still haven't said why CJ."

I smiled. "Well, when she goes on maternity leave, I could handle the press briefings," I answered confidently.

"Yeah, right," Sam said dryly. "Can you say 'woot-canal,' Josh? If I remember correctly, we were instructed that, if CJ were to be bleeding on the floor and unconscious, we were to prop her up and make her do the briefing rather than allowing you close to the press room."

OK, so I'll admit that - in the past - I've had problems with the White House Press Corps. But it's only 'cause CJ coddles them. I'm tough, and they can't take it, so they find ways to undermine my authority.

While I was contemplating the injustice of it all, Sam broke into my thoughts again.

"J?"

"Yeah?"

"Seriously. Why CJ?"

"Because she's the toughest lady - except for Mrs. Bartlet - that I know. Because she's so amazingly capable that I couldn't see childbirth slowing her down. Because she stands up to me when I get stupid and pushes back when I push her to far. Because..." I paused as it finally all clicked in my brain.

"Yeah?"

"'Cause she's the closest in personality to you...'Cause if we had a child that was part her and part me, it would be like it was part you and part me. And if we had a child that was part her and part you, it would be..." I broke off, not having the words to describe how perfect a child that was genetically part Sam and part CJ would be.

Sam came up behind my chair and put his arms around me. I leaned back, resting my head against his chest.

"J?" I felt Sam's chest expand as he spoke, and I was strangely comforted by the sensation.

"Yeah?"

"When we decide to have kids, d'ya think CJ will agree to help us?"

"Without a doubt." If necessary, I'd use that all- important Lyman charm on her.

We were silent for a minute or so. Sam started carding one hand through my hair, gently stroking my scalp.

"J?" Sam asked tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Can I..." He paused, then started again. "Do you mind if..."

"What, love?" Sam was rarely this tentative - at least in speech - so I was sure that whatever he wanted to ask was very sensitive.

"Iwanttobethefather," Sam said, all in one breath.

"Huh?" I couldn't parse what Sam had just said.

"Of our first child...I want to be the father...if that's OK with you."

Half an hour ago, I hadn't even thought about the possibility of children, and now Sam wanted to know if it was all right with me if he was the father of our first child? This conversation was going much faster than I could handle.

I extricated myself from Sam's arms and the chair I was sitting in. This conversation was shaping up to be one that I wanted to be able to see Sam's face for. I took his hand and led him into the living room, where we settled into our usual position on the couch - me semi-reclining along the length of the sofa and Sam lying against me. This way we could hold each other but still look at each other.

As soon as we were settled, I picked up the conversational thread. "Sam? Love? Why?" I hoped that hearing Sam explain why he wanted to be the father would help me understand what Sam was really asking.

"I think it would be nice, knowing that part of me will go on. I've been very aware of my mortality ever since Mrs. L's funeral, and I've been thinking about what I'd want to leave to the world."

I nodded. Many recent events - starting with the shooting and ending with Mr. L's funeral - had made me quite aware of just how precious life is.

Sam continued speaking. "And...honestly, J?"

"Yes, love," I said warily.

"I'm not sure I could handle _two_ of you at one time," Sam said with a grin. "That would be just _too_ much geekiness in one place."

I pondered my choices - smack him for his comment or kiss him senseless to remind him who's in charge around here. I opted for the second, pulling Sam close and doing a thorough exploration of his oral cavity.

"Love?" I said as I kissed his nose.

"Yeah?"

"What if the baby's a girl?" I understand close to nothing about women, and I understand even less about young girls.

Sam didn't answer at first, and then - as if as one mind - we spoke at the same time.

"We'll staff her out to Donna!"

Not that we really would, but we were comforted - or, at least, I was - knowing that we had female resources who could help us handle the raising of our daughter.

That thought gave me pause. When, I wondered, did this child of ours move in my mind from the hypothetical to the actual? When did I internalize the idea of procreation?

Sam spoke again, this time in a much more serious tone. "J?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we do this? Would we be good parents?" I could hear the fear in his voice.

I kissed him on the top of his head. "Love, we'll be _great_ parents. Our children will want for nothing." Not if I had any say in the matter. "And just think - these kids will grow up as part of the extended Seaborn-Lyman-Bartlet- Ziegler-McGarry-Cregg family."

"These kids are going to be soooooooo screwed up, aren't they?" Sam asked in a much lighter tone.

"Most likely," I acknowledged.

And that's when I figured it out - I was ready to consider having kids because I knew Sam would be with me 100 percent of the way.

"Just promise me something?" Sam said.

"Yeah?"

"We cannot let President Bartlet teach them to ride bikes."

If that was Sam's biggest concern, we'd be fine.

"No problem, love. No problem."

He settled back against me and we lay in silence for a long while. Then Sam spoke again.

"Noah."

"Huh?" I said.

"Noah. We'll name our first son Noah. For your father. For the father they can look up to."

"Love..." I started, then I realized that this was not the time to try to convince Sam to go easy on his father. Sam had started the process - they were back to corresponding regularly by e-mail, and the healing process had begun. I hoped that if - when - Sam and I became parents, he'd seek out the counsel of his parents, just as I would seek guidance from my mother. "Thank you," I said instead.

We sat in silence again, and then I was the one who spoke first.

"He liked you, you know. He would've loved you if he'd gotten to know you the way I do."

Sam smiled. "Ew!"

"Not what I meant..." This time _I_ shuddered at a mental image I couldn't get rid of. "God, Sam. I don't even like to think of my parents having sex. Now I've got a picture of you in bed with my _dad_? Ew!" I sat up a bit, jostling Sam out of the nest he'd built against my chest.

"Thought you were getting too serious there. Had to lighten the mood," Sam replied.

"But did you have to go _there_?" I asked with another shudder.

We settled back again, and soon I felt Sam's hand doing a bit of exploration along my waistline.

"Love?"

"Yeah?"

"So, we're done talking for now?" Sam knows I can't talk and screw at the same time.

"Yup." His motions got bolder, his fingers dipping into my jeans and then retreating. "Enough of the theory of procreation...now how about a practical exploration?" Sam kissed a path along my collar bone through my t-shirt as he unfastened my jeans.

"Uh...Sam? Love?"

"Yeah?"

"One of us...both of us...have the wrong plumbing for actual child-bearing. You _do_ remember that, right?" It was getting hard to form sentences as Sam continued his ministrations.

"So we'll just practice 'til we figure out how to get it to work, right? You're the one with the do-it-'til-you-do- it-right philosophy." Sam pushed my shirt up to expose my skin and started tracing random patterns with his tongue.

"Sam?" I gasped right before my language centers shorted out. "When the kids are born...we won't be able to do this."

"Maybe not so blatantly...but we'll still do this." Sam sounded so confident that I chose to believe him.

And I decided to do the same on the issue of children. We'd figure it out as we went along; we always did.

---END---