imnotrobin | welcome to congress

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ainsley

welcome to congress

California's 48th has been red for as long as most people can remember but Sam runs a good campaign on the issues and tries his best to deflect everything his opponent throws at him. There's the usual mud-slinging, most of which is fixated on the fact that Sam had once accidentally dated a call girl and then not-so-accidentally continued his friendship with her after he knew her chosen profession.

He thinks it helps that Ainsley's by his side. She makes an excellent candidate's partner and while she's still just his girlfriend, he has a ring in his pocket that's burning a hole and he thinks tonight is the best time to do it. He'll propose to her now, before they call it, and no matter what happens, hopefully she'll be with him through it all.

"Ainsley? Could I borrow you for a moment?" Sam pitches his voice a little lower, just enough to be audible above the excited din of the ballroom they've rented out to hold their party in. It's getting down to the wire, with the votes, and he's still deadlocked with the republican candidate. It might come down to the last few precincts before one or the other of them pulls away.

"Away from the cameras and the people? There's something I wanted to ask...talk to you about."

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Ainsley sits there brimming with overjoyed pride as she watches her boyfriend -- no, not boyfriend anymore, her fiance -- calling and accepting the concession, on his way to being a Congressman and this fills about half of the fantasies she's had growing up. She keeps her hand covering up the left hand so that the ring stays hidden, having been serious about wanting the focus on this right now.

Except, when Sam announces, she's clapping and whistling the loudest of all, unable to contain her glee.

There's a lot of congratulations and calls for speeches and after making a speech to his staff and rushing off to make a speech to the press, it's gotten into the late hours. All Sam wants is a little time alone with Ainsley to celebrate their new step forward but it's proving difficult to get away. He takes one more congratulatory glass of champagne before finding her, sliding an arm around her waist.

"I'm ready to go home, Ainsley. We can let them celebrate the rest of the night but I need some time with you."

Ainsley lets Sam go and finds the champagne, indulging until the room is starting to get a little dizzy, at which point she eases off because that way leads to bathrobes and dancing and while she wouldn't mind dancing with Sam, they need more privacy than the party really affords. She leans heavy into his body, stumbling a little as she adjusts her bearing. "I'd love to give my time to my Congressman," she gets out, low and flirty.

Sam laughs lowly and holds her a little closer. She's definitely tipsy but he is too - it's not like he's safe to drive. Luckily for them both there's a car and driver waiting to take them home as soon as he finds his way to the door.

Their house here in the district is oceanfront because that was one of the things that Sam had missed most about being in DC - the deep blue Pacific and the stunning cliffs. "Let's get back home, then, and we'll see about extending your service."

Ainsley climbs in until she's nearly on top of Sam, keeping the window slightly down so she can get that ocean air she's loved so much about this coast, holding onto him even as they walk up the front steps, grateful she hasn't made too much of an embarrassment of Sam in front of the driver. "Well?" she prods. "I expected more bragging."

"Still trying to let it all sink in," Sam admits. "I don't think it's real - any of it. I can't believe I won the election and I definitely don't believe you're going to be my wife. I feel like if I fall asleep, it's all going to disappear when I wake up."

He feels like everything is magic right now in the deep twilight of a California night and he doesn't want it to ever end.

She's still trying to get used to the idea that she's going to be Sam's wife. It's honestly a little bit of a surprise, but in the best way possible. She shivers, slightly, and grins as she follows after Sam, winding her arm around his waist to curl in against him. "Seeing as I love to oversleep, I'll definitely be there when you wake up. I'll try and wake up a bit earlier for coffee and breakfast in bed to reward you," she says coyly.

"I think I'm still on East coast time even though we've been here for weeks," Sam says. "I think I'll always be on Washington time even if I'm going to be maintaining a permanent residence on the beautiful California coast."

He's always had some kind of East Coast sensibility - starting with Princeton and moving on to New York and DC. He's never going to be the California boy he grew up as, even if he's representing them now. Maybe that's a good thing, a marriage of the two best parts of him.

"I'm happy to put my new fiancee to bed, though."

"And we're going to have to really make our home here," she agrees, trying to hide back her grin even though Ainsley knows there's not a reason in the world that she has to hide it. "Putting me to bed, though, hmm?" she echoes. "Sam, that reeks of an early night for no good reason."

Sam smirks at her. "You sound like you have a problem with that. Do you have a problem with that, oh beautiful future wife of mine?" He's laying it on a bit thick but he hardly ever gets a chance, with how they work, so he wants to take that chance now.

Ainsley likes the sound of that far, far too much. It sends shivers down her back and makes her grin like a madwoman, curling into Sam as much as she can. "Mr. Seaborn, I can promise that I have no issue whatsoever. Only that I don't get to be your wife immediately, that's my only problem."

"Well, we want to do it right," he reminds her. As he does, he tugs her hands up to his chest because he's got to get this tie off and he's pretty sure he would rather have Ainsley deal with that than deal with it himself.

"I want you to have the wedding you've been dreaming about since you were a little girl."

"I'm ashamed to say there's both a hope chest and a scrapbook involved," she says, allowing Sam to guide her hands, grinning because she already knows exactly what he wants. Idly, slowly, she unknots the tie, but at the last minute once it's loose enough, she gives it a hard yank and winds it around her palm.

Turning, she brushes her hair over her shoulder to allow him access to the zip of her dress. "And what about you? What are your wedding wants? Seeing as I suspect we'll get some coverage, you might as well get your way, too."

"Near the ocean," Sam says, slowly easing her zipper down. "I've always wanted my reception and ceremony near the ocean around sunset. It's pretty cliched, I know, but I thought it would be a beautiful way to get married. Anything else, it's all yours, but I would like to pick the venue if I can."

She wants the ocean, too. She has an image in her mind that will be hard to shake. "I like the idea of a bit white awning near the ocean, with a thousand flowers," she admits, easing into his touch. "With the smell of the ocean wafting with the flowers," she says fondly. "An outdoor reception would be really nice and you know we're having at least seven courses, so we'll need some good weather to get through the meal."

"I think we can make that happen," Sam says, gently running his knuckles along her skin. "Because the idea of marrying you with the ocean crashing in the background is kind of a dream of mine. I'm pretty sure there's no other way I want it to happen."

"In that case, you're getting more and more of your dreams in one day," she says, stepping back just a touch so Sam has to come after her. "I know you love me and I know you're excited about the wedding, but I bet you're already coming up with your staff roster in your head for the office, aren't you?"

"I am. And I bet the only reason you just mentioned that is because you have some staff suggestions," Sam says. One of the things he loves about Ainsley is that her mind never stops working and this is one of those times. As much as he'd like to just relax and enjoy the victory, he's too type A to let things simply lie. Luckily she's on the same page.

"How close am I?"

"I'll want to interview them all, you're right," Ainsley concedes, smirking given that she might have said yes to marry a Democrat, but she's got her own thoughts about him going into office that she plans to take advantage of, wherever she can. "And make sure that they're all working in your best interest, in a bi-partisan fashion."

"Well, of course. Anyone on my staff has to be familiar with going across the aisle," Sam says, giving her a slow, soft grin. "Bi-partisan works for us so there's no reason that it shouldn't work for my entire staff."

And he trusts Ainsley's judgment as much as he trusts his own.

Ainsley leans up to kiss him as she works him free of his shirt, taking special attention to undo his pants next, walking Sam backwards until he's standing in nothing but his boxers and she's got her hands all over that body of his that belongs to her now, exclusively and in the way that thrills her. "We should get you an op-ed, with Vanity Fair, or some other puff piece that'll talk about the wedding and give you a chance to air your opinions."

"Yeah, something that I can wear something casual and look approachable," Sam says, winding his hand in her hair and tugging her up close for a kiss. "Something you can be proud of and want to put on the coffee table."

It's a random thing but he's a little distracted at the moment. A lot distracted.

"Like a yachting enthusiast," is her reply, because she can absolutely picture him in a Ralph Lauren commercial, though she supposes that she has her place there too and shouldn't talk so loudly when the finger can be pointed right back at her. She grins and slides in to kiss him, up on her toes as she winds her arms around his waist.

"Sam," she says, voice a touch husky, "take me to bed."

"Better than looking like a yachting enthusiast," Sam says, finishing up with a completely random thought. He kisses her as he backs her up toward the bed, unwilling to break contact with her even though it would make getting into bed a hell of a lot easier.

God, he's never been in love with someone as much as he loves Ainsley and he's just happy she's agreed to be his.

"You're very handsome when you look like a yachting enthusiast," she teases, leaning up to kiss him and having to strain now that her heels are off and the height difference between them is as far as ever. She knows she doesn't want to just be a wife, knows she wants to be more, but she can't help worry that she's going to get pigeonholed into it.

There'll be time to worry about that later, though.

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