theirlawyer | (no subject)

(no subject)

The Nexus has a lot of benefits, ranging from plush comfortable mattresses to long buffets filled with all kinds of food that Ainsley could normally only dream of, but what she finds is the very best door so far is the one she opens when she goes to find Sam and instead opens a door to a tropical beach paradise. The calming rush of ocean waves to the shore of a private beach and a cabana makes Ainsley all too aware that what she's missing is a beach vacation.

She props the door open with her shoe before heading off to find the appropriate clothes and the right partner for that kind of thing. Dressed in an oversized t-shirt that belongs to some guy she'd accidentally stolen it from, Ainsley hitches her well-stocked bag of preparations (and food) higher over her shoulder while she tries the door right next to the beach one, as if Sam might have moved without telling her.

"Sam?" she calls, knocking steadily. "I'm giving you another thirty seconds. Trust me, you'll like it," she promises sweetly, because she really can't imagine anyone who wouldn't like the hot sun and sand of a beautiful beach where no expectations or responsibilities lay on their heads.

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Sam isn't exactly opposed to the beach. Actually, the prospect of laying on warm sand next to a scantily-clad Ainsley is an appealing one but his point in coming to the Nexus this time around had been to get some work done without constant interruption and this isn't helping him in that endeavor.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. I just need to finish up this one line here before I can shut everything down and get going. Promise. Just the finishing touch on this speech for the Joint Chiefs?"

Ainsley hitches her bag a little higher on her shoulder, nibbling at a few grapes that she'd packed away in there while she waits. She rolls her eyes towards the ceiling and wonders exactly how many arguments she's going to have to give him before he folds. "Sam, what part of time not moving do you not understand? It'll be waiting for you when you come back," she coaxes.

Right. It's something he's never going to get used to but knowing now that he'll have infinite time to get this done after relaxing for a while is enough to get him to shut down and get going.

"You, as always, have the most brilliant ideas. Let's go have some vacation?"

She perks up at the praise, her one shoulder lifting as she draws out a straw hat from her massive bag, giving Sam a curious look as she peers inside of his room. "Do you have anything packed?" she asks warily. "Towels, food, clothes, books? It might be a beach, but it never hurts to be somewhat prepared. If nothing else, sunscreen so you don't end up scratching and itching to death," she points out.

Sam hadn't thought that far ahead but this is Ainsley, so maybe he should have. "I think I've got all that stuff around here," he says, throwing together a quick bag with a few essentials.

"But we can always come back through and get what we need, Ainsley. It's not life or death, it's just a trip to the beach."

She waits patiently, knowing that she's going to get her beach vacation if she gets her way. This one won't even cost her four digits and she won't have to endure the airports, the security, or the endless flight times where she has a battle with her anxiety to see which of them will win.

"What happens if we get stuck on the beach and can't find a door back to the hotel? Or what if there are some strange pirates? Or we're stuck on a beach in a different century? I've heard stories," she says pointedly.

"Then I will fight off all the pirates while singing a jaunty Gilbert and Sullivan number," Sam says, sliding an arm around her waist to lead her out of the room and to the door that will lead them to their vacation.

"It's going to be fine, Ainsley."

"Well, it will be if we plan it properly," she says, even though her mouth has made it ahead of her mind, because even though she's replying to Sam, she's actually wondering if it's possible that they'll end up in a Gilbert and Sullivan type number. "Pirates of Penzance isn't real, right? I mean, I know these doors can do that, but not like that, you think?"

She's not sure whether she wants it or whether it'd be just too, too weird.

"Well, I'm not inclined to say anything isn't real, considering the very existence of this place, but should Pirates of Penzance be real and we somehow stumble into our very own version of it, I think we know it well enough to make our way out. It's not something I'm going to worry about at the moment."

Sam grins at her. "Because at the moment, I have a date with a beautiful, brilliant blonde and there's a beach waiting for us."

"Because I can't sing, Sam," Ainsley says, very seriously when it comes to this most important matter. She likes to sing, but she can't do it very well and if she ends up in some Gilbert and Sullivan piece, then she's likely to get booted out on the merit of her singing. "And who might this beautiful, brilliant blonde be?" she does ask, to tease him along.

"Well, she's a Republican from North Carolina, which isn't really my type, but I just can't help myself," Sam says, winking at her. "She's smarter than me in every way imaginable and all it does is makes me want her even more than I already do."

Ainsley ducks her head down, her lips split in a delighted smile for the compliments (and she hides her face so that the pink rise in her cheeks doesn't earn her more teasing). "I hope you don't think you can win a long campaign to convert me to being a Democrat," she warns, peeking into public doors to see if she can find the beach one, but the first few are a no go. "And to think, I'm going on a date with the most eligible bachelor in the White House," she muses. "Good thing there's no gossip columnists lurking around this place."

"What can I say? I love a woman who can make me look like an ass," Sam says. It's true. He's never been satisfied with less than an intellectual equal and, in many ways, Ainsley surpasses him. It challenges him and makes him want to do better and that's something that keeps him interested.

It doesn't hurt that she's beautiful. Ainsley Hayes is quite possibly one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen in his life and she's the complete package. Any man would be so lucky. He's especially so.

It works, because Ainsley likes making him out to be one. Not that she's going to confess to that very loudly, but it's still the complete truth. She smiles warmly and shifts her bag to her other hand so that she can lean a little into his side -- her giant t-shirt all that she's wearing overtop her bikini, with the flip-flops.

"Here we go," she says, drawing open the door with a victorious smile. "Ready for some sun and relaxation?"

"Born ready." The beach is gorgeous - sparkling white sand and deep blue water. It reminds Sam of being back home in California in a lot of ways only he bets the water is a hell of a lot warmer than it is back home in Newport.

"But I'm a little more ready to see what you've got under that shirt of yours."

Ainsley laughs warmly when she sets up the towel under one of the beautiful palm trees, because while she may be eager to worship the sun, her skin isn't always the same. She stretches out and dips her toes in the sand, nudging her fingers towards him. "Eye for an eye," she insists. "Your shirt for mine."

Sam has no issues with pulling off his shirt and he does. He had more of a tan in his California days; long hours indoors during the relatively-harsher DC winter has made what was once golden brown very, very pale. Still, he can work on his tan now and he plans to.

"I think I got the better end of this deal."

Ainsley gives him a smile and does the same, though it's hardly the revealing kind of bikini that most men might hope for. She'd grabbed her sports two-piece from home that she'd always enjoyed swimming in, though it does occur to her that this is the first time Sam is seeing any bare part of her.

"I feel like this is something most people do for the first time in private," she confesses. "You show me yours, I show you mine."

"Well, I don't see anyone else around," Sam says, laughing lightly. "Ainsley, you're gorgeous. You know that, right?"

It's also the least important part of their relationship, in Sam's mind. It's wonderful, to be sure, but it's her mind and her convictions and her tenacity that draw him to her more than her creamy skin and long blonde hair.

"Oh, I know very well that I'm an attractive woman," Ainsley assures, giving Sam a look that says there's never been any doubt in her mind about that. "I also happen to enjoy my intimacies more in private than public, but I do think you're right," she admits, peeking left and then all the way down right. "I don't think anyone's really watching," she says, nudging off her shorts before she starts to lay out the towels and food.

"When you're ready, I get to rub suntan lotion all over that manly back of yours. It's just my part in preventing skin cancer," is what she has to say, so innocently, on the subject.

"Thank God I have you. Otherwise, I'd just have to take my chances with ozone layer holding up," Sam says, tossing her the bottle of sunblock.

While there's a practical purpose in it, Sam can't deny a certain pleasure in having Ainsley's hands all over his skin.

Ainsley catches it with both hands and settles herself in her place so that she's plenty comfortable. Once the blanket is the right way and the umbrella is doing what the tree isn't, she shifts closer to Sam, tapping on his shoulder to get him to face away from her while she starts to lather up her hands with the sunscreen.

"When's the last time you were on a beach vacation that wasn't California?" she wonders.

"Once upon a never," Sam admits. Ainsley's hands feel good against his back and Sam doesn't bother to suppress a sigh or the smile that comes along with it. It's been a long time since he's been able to share simple intimacy like this with anyone and it feels good. It feels like there's something more to his life than work and work and more work; while he loves his job and believes passionately in the Bartlet Administration and his part in it, part of him wants something for himself - his own personal legacy. Ainsley feels like she might be a part of that.

"I planned one, once, but then I had to cancel because of work. What about you? When was your last vacation?"

She digs her fingers a little deeper, encouraged on by that little sound. Her smile is a self-satisfied little thing, pleased with the vacation and of having Sam Seaborn prone and open to her whims and wills. "I think it was before my switch to my last job. I went to London for a week, but wound up lurking around and trying to get on the floor of the House of Commons to watch their processes."

"That's something I would like to see," Sam says. "Seeing how government works in another country, especially one so similar to our own...I would probably go through a ream of paper taking notes and still wouldn't have enough. Luckily I have a very good memory. So, did you actually get to see them introduce any legislation?"