Sam ignored, as always, the fluttery, unsettled feeling in his abdomen as he pulled open the door to The Coffee Fairy.  He'd been reluctant to venture inside the small café when he first moved into the neighborhood -- were they serving coffee in tutus, he wondered -- but once he'd had his first skinny vanilla latté, he'd permanently relegated Starbucks to second place.

Which was especially convenient, given his new career path as a professional agitator.  It wouldn't do to show up at a deposition for a lawsuit against Big Business carrying $4 corporate coffee.  (Sam preferred to ignore the possible downside of showing up to a deposition with a pastel blue cup with "The Coffee Fairy" splashed across the side.  After all, it was San Francisco.)

Sam's skinny vanilla latté habit grew right along with his fledgling practice, and he soon knew the baristas by name.  He also recognized the other regulars by sight, many of whom returned his grin-and-nod greetings before disappearing into the morning mists.

There was one customer, though, who often struck up short, sparkling conversations with Sam.  They'd never exchanged names, because after the first few morning chats, it seemed strange to introduce themselves.  After all, they'd already commiserated over the faltering economy (which sent Sam off on a mini-rant against Baker), the sorry state of professional sports (which sent Sam's new friend off on a mini-rant against the skewed values of American society), and the pleasures of sailing in the Bay (which sent both men off on mini-sermons on the unparalleled peacefulness of sailboats).

Although they seemed to have much in common, Sam knew the man only by sight -- a tall man, maybe a little on the thin side, but still fit, with unruly light brown hair and bright green eyes.  He dressed more casually than Sam (whose Armani habit, he found, was quite hard to break), usually in khakis and a neatly pressed shirt.  And every morning, Sam tried to ignore the sense of anticipation he felt the entire half-block walk to The Coffee Fairy.

Would he be there?

Sam swung the door open and stepped inside.  His eyes adjusted quickly, since the morning fog outside had yet to roll off, and he glanced around.  A short woman dressed in jogging clothes gave him a short nod, and there were a couple other familiar faces, but not him.

Behind the counter, Eduardo grinned at Sam.  "Good morning, sugar."

Sam swallowed his disappointment and smiled back.  "Morning, Eduardo.  What's the special?"

Eduardo, already working on Sam's skinny vanilla latté, rolled his eyes as always.  Sam asked about the special every day, and every day he ended up ordering the same drink anyway.  "Today," Eduardo sang, "we've got Chocolate Covered Cherry Coffee -- a café mocha with a twist of cherry sauce, topped with whipped cream and a big, wet cherry."

Sam laughed and accepted the skinny latté.  "Thanks, Eduardo."

"Welcome.  You've gotta live dangerously," Eduardo admonished.  "Walk on the wild side.  Try something new.  Like this guy."

Sam glanced over his shoulder as the door jangled, and there he was, hair still dripping.  He looked somewhat flustered today, and he threw Sam a grin, "Sorry I'm late."  Then he greeted Eduardo and ordered the special.  He always ordered the special; Sam didn't think he'd had the same drink in the six months he'd been frequenting The Coffee Fairy.

"Hey," he said, running his hand through his hair in a way that Sam found somehow disturbing.  "Do you have any time this morning?"

Well, Sam thought, this was new.  They'd walked out together a few times, extending their chat a few minutes, but they'd never sat down to talk.  "Sure," Sam said, curious.

"Excellent," he answered, then accepted his Chocolate Covered Cherry Coffee from Eduardo.  "Do you wanna grab a seat?"

"Sure," Sam said again, choosing a small table with a poorly-rendered latté cup mosaiced on the top.  Sam and his friend settled into the artfully mismatched chairs and shared nervous looks.

"This is silly," Sam said finally.  "I'm Sam Seaborn."

"Jesse Addox," Jesse answered, grinning.  "I'm sure this seems presumptuous, but I was at the lab late last night, and I ended up sleeping through my alarm.  And as I rushed around my place in order to get here in time for our daily chat, it occurred to me that I don't even know your name, and I probably should if I'm going to feel bad for standing you up."  Jesse finished and gave Sam a small shrug.  "Did that make any sense?"

"Yes," Sam answered.  "I was looking for you this morning.  You're part of my morning routine, you know?"

"Exactly."  Jesse looked relieved that Sam didn't think he was a nutcase.  He relaxed enough to take a sip of his coffee.  He made a thoughtful face, then said, "Doesn't really taste like a chocolate covered cherry at all."

"I heard that," Eduardo yelled.

Jesse gave him a little wave.  "I didn't say it wasn't good."

"Good boy," Eduardo grinned, going back to cleaning the espresso machine.

Sam and Jesse exchanged small smiles, then took slow sips of their coffees.  Sam thought it was more to buy time than out of any sudden, overwhelming need for caffeination.  He didn't like the sudden discomfort, so he took a deep breath.

"The lab?" Sam asked.

"I'm sorry?" Jesse looked up, a bit startled.  His wide, green eyes were a little disconcerting, Sam though, when they were trained directly on someone.

A little uncertain, Sam said, "You mentioned that you were at the lab last night and--"

"Oh," Jesse laughed.  "Yes.  Sorry.  I keep forgetting which things you know about me and which things you don't.  I'm a chemist.  I'm working on my Ph.D. at Berkeley."

Sam brightened.  "I have a friend at Berkeley.  Of course," he frowned, "she's working on her bachelor's in political science, so it's not like you'd be likely to stumble across her."

"True." Jesse watched him with an amused look.

"Your Ph.D., huh?" Sam mused.  "I'm jealous.  I've only got a bachelor's and a J.D."

Jesse raised his eyebrows and gave him a speculative look.  "You're a lawyer?  Really?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.  "Why?"

"You don't look like a lawyer," Jesse commented.

Sam laughed outright.  "I'm not sure if I should be thankful or offended by that."

Jesse shot him a worried look.  "I didn't mean--"

"Don't worry about it," Sam interrupted.  "I only passed the California bar about three months ago, so maybe the lawyer look hasn't had time to settle in."

Jesse took another sip.  "Three months ago, huh?  So what'd you do before that?  Law school?"

"No."  Sam looked away, his jaw tightening.  "I graduated from law school a long time ago.  I practiced for a few years in New York, and then..." Sam sighed.  "I was in politics."

Jesse cocked his head to the side and studied Sam.  "I take it you didn't like politics."

"No, I loved it," Sam answered quickly.  He twirled the coffee cup in his hands and considered his answer . "At least I did at first.  I ended up hating it, I think."

Jesse made a non-committal noise, letting Sam decide how much he wanted to share.

After a moment's indecision, Sam leaned forward a bit, holding Jesse's gaze.  "I was in New York doing terrible things, working for this prestigious law firm that catered to the elite, making money hand over fist, but I was just... marking time, you know?  I guess I was pretty idealistic in law school.  I always pictured myself doing good.  Changing the world."

Sam shifted in his seat.  "And then an old friend came to visit me.  He convinced me that I could help him change the world."  Sam stared into the middle distance, his tone growing bitter.  "I believed him, like I always did, and I quit my job to join President Bartlet's campaign."

"Oh," Jesse said as the pieces slid into place.

Sam gave a humorless chuckle.  "Yeah."  He nodded.  "We won, and for a while, we really were doing good things.  Not as often as I liked because of the political reality of D.C.  We compromised too often, especially at first.  But we were getting there.  And then--"  Sam shrugged.  "You know the rest."

Jesse nodded.  "Yeah.  The hearings were awful."

Sam laughed bitterly.  "You can't imagine what they were like from the inside.  I was deposed for two weeks straight, and my testimony in front of Congress lasted for almost three.  It was hell.  He lied to us, and we had to defend him."  Sam stopped suddenly, still cautious who he confided in.  He didn't need the headlines in the Star:  Deputy Communications Director Still Bitter Over Presidential Lies.  CJ would still kill him, even if she was no longer Bartlet's press secretary.

Sam glanced up at Jesse, who was giving him a look like he really wanted to ask something, but wasn't sure if he should.  Sam grinned.  "Go ahead.  Ask me."

"You really didn't know that he was sick?"

"I really didn't," Sam answered sadly.  "President Bartlet is a good man, and he was a damn good president.  If we'd known going in, we could have gotten it out there in the primaries.  We could have neutralized it.  But..."  He shrugged.

"Wow," Jesse said.  "And I thought the squabbles over office space in the chem department were annoying."

Sam laughed, oddly charmed by Jesse's droll comments.  "Yeah."

"So," Jesse asked carefully, "what kind of law do you practice now?"

Sam gave him a genuine grin.  "I'm an agitator."

"An agitator?" Jesse repeated, smiling in spite of himself at Sam's enthusiasm.

"Yes.  My pet project right now is finding a case that I can take to the Supreme Court to strike down the Defense of Marriage Act that--"

"Bartlet didn't veto that," Jesse noted, giving Sam a curious look.

Sam dropped his gaze.  "I know.  That wasn't long after -- Well, the person who was in charge of that was--"  He blew out a frustrated breath.  "No.  He didn't veto it and he should have."

Jesse nodded, his green eyes studying Sam shrewdly.  "So you're going to fix that."

"Yes," Sam confirmed.

"Any particular reason why?"

Because Josh blew that call.  Because Bartlet should have argued harder.  Because it was an easy way to get back at both of them for their actions.  But most of all, because it was the right thing to do.

Sam flushed a little, unsure how many layers of Jesse's question he should answer.  He chose the least complicated.  "Because it's wrong."

"True," Jesse said.

"It's wrong and it should be struck down as unconstitutional."

"I agree," Jesse said, finishing off his coffee.  "But this particular Supreme Court might not be your best bet.  Too conservative.  They've already ruled against gay rights a few times."

Sam held Jesse's gaze.  "I know."

Jesse nodded, then checked his watch.  "I've actually got a meeting with the department head--"

"I should get going too," Sam said, downing the rest of his coffee in one long gulp.

Jesse hesitated beside the table.  "Look, Sam, a couple friends and I are planning to go sailing on Saturday, weather permitting.  I know we just met and this is probably strange, but would you like to join us?"

Sam grinned, pleased with the invite.  "I would love to."  He fished one of his brand new cards out and handed it to Jesse.

"Excellent." Jesse glanced down at the card.  "'Sam Seaborn, Esquire.  Professional Agitator.'"

Sam blushed a bit.  "They were a present from an old colleague."  CJ'd had the cards printed as a joke gift when Sam passed the California bar, but he'd ended up loving them.  He decided to use them, and for CJ's birthday, he'd given her "CJ Cregg, Feminista" cards that still filled her business card holder at the Feminist Majority office.

"I'm glad I rushed my shower this morning, Sam Seaborn, Esquire," Jesse said, smiling softly.

"Me, too," Sam admitted, offering his hand.

Jesse shook it firmly, then pulled out his wallet and handed Sam his card.  "Not nearly as fancy, but..."

"It's perfect," Sam said, accepting the card and tucking it into his breast pocket.

Jesse grinned.  "I'll give you a call later in the week with details for Saturday."

"Great," Sam said, heading for the door with Jesse.  "And I'm sure I'll see you in the morning."

The two men stopped outside the door before heading in opposite directions.

Jesse gave Sam a genuine smile.  "Oh, you can count on that.  Have a good day, Sam."

"You too, Jesse," Sam said, then turned and trudged up the hill to his car, feeling unaccountably happy.  Happier than he had been since a certain horrific night in Seattle, actually.  But he wasn't going to overanalyze it, Sam decided as he unlocked his car and climbed in.  He was just going to go with it.  Enjoy it while it lasted.

Whatever 'it' was.

THE END

08.06.01