Title: Betting on a Sunday

Author: Eve Karma

Disclaimer: If they were mine I would announce it to the world, don't worry.

Rating: PG-13 for sex and some language

Spoilers: Everything up to War Crimes (just in case)

Other: A Kate Montgomery story with a bowl of Sam and Kate and a smidgen of Josh and Donna. Buon Appetite!



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"I won the football pool today."



"Yeah? Who did you have?"



"Eagles."



"They won? Man, were you lucky."



"Yeah, don't remind me."



We're leaning against the window outside his office on Sunday afternoon. Usually I'd hate to be at work on a Sunday. But hey, I get to dress down, so I can't complain.



Not like I have a real social life outside work anyway.



Plus, Sam is wearing some tight-ass jeans. I really can't complain.



"How long have they been going at it?" Sam asks.



"Umm.." I look up at the clock on the wall. "About thirty seconds."



"I'll bet you five bucks it's over within the next minute."



"Deal."



We're watching Josh and Donna fight in the middle of the hallway outside the communications bullpen.



It's not a fight, really, but they're obviously disagreeing about something, and Josh's voice keeps getting louder, with Donna trying to match it. I keep hearing the phrases "Dr. Freeride" and "Republican Bastard."



But really. I don't want to know. So we just watch.



"What's your Secret Service code name?" I ask Sam.



"Princeton."



"Damn."



"Why? What's yours?"



"Betsy Ross."



"Damn."



"Told you."



"Well, it's not really a bad name, it's got some prestige involved..." he tries to help. "But, you've lived in D.C. for what, eight years now?" I nod slowly and take a swig of my Heineken. "And you've still got Philly written all over you."



"A'ight. Whatever," I retort, making fun of myself. "But c'mon. 'Prestige?' 'Princeton' spells 'Prestige.' 'Betsy Ross' spells, 'Oh look, I can sew.'"



We both laugh and Sam takes a drink.



"You know what they called me in high school?" I test him.



"I don't have the slightest clue," he admits.



"Ferret."



"Ferret?"



"Ferret Montgomery."



He snorts. I shoot him a look.



"Do I look like a ferret to you?"



"Uh, no, of course not." He tries to stop laughing. "You're helpless," I sigh, and reach down to scratch a spot behind my knee.



"Don't you two have anything better to do than stand around with your heads up your asses?"



I jerk my head up and see Toby coming out of his office. I expect him to be mad, but he's coming as close to a smile as he ever will be.



"No," Sam and I reply in chorus, shaking our heads.



"Fine. As you were." Toby shrugs his coat onto his shoulders. "Hey," he adds, "Congratulations, Kate. That's my football money that's coming your way."





"Thanks, Toby. Anytime you feel like donating to a poor single girl, let me know," I smile.



He waves, then he's gone, breezing past Josh and Donna, who are still in the hallway.



"Sam?"



"Yeah?"



"I think you owe me five dollars," I say as I watch Josh make big motions with his arms.



"No I don't," he says, looking at the clock. Then, "Oh, wait. I do," he grumbles and digs out his wallet.



He pulls out a five-dollar bill and I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans, grinning at him.



"Thank you, Sam."



"Yeah, you're just raking it in today," he remarks.



We're so wrapped up in each other that we don't notice that Josh and Donna have stopped arguing. They're just standing there staring at each other, and I can't tell if they're mad at each other or madly in love with each other.



I guess the latter, because just then, Donna turns, and Josh hurries after her in the direction of his office.



"Hmmm..." I muse out loud, wondering what they were going to be doing in his office. Maybe philately. I was always a big fan of that. *wink*



But I don't wonder for long.



Because, in one swift movement, Sam pulls me into his office, the door gets closed and locked, the blinds get shut, our beers are set on the bookshelf, and I'm up on the edge Sam's desk, with him standing between my knees.



"My god, Sam!" I moan in surprise as he kisses my neck and lets his hands roam around my hips. Then our lips are locked and as I grasp the back of the blue polo shirt he likes to wear so much, I think "God! Thank you, thank you, thank you, God! Whatever you did to Sam, thank you!!"



All of a sudden, he pulls away, wearing a look on his face that screams, "What have I done?!?!"



"No, no, Sam, it's okay," I croon and reach up to run my hand across his cheek.



"I...we're moving to fast," he manages, breathless.



"Ya think?"



"Dinner? Sometime this week?" he offers.



"Sure," I nod.



"Okay," he beams and slowly backs toward the door.



"Oh, and Kate?" he asks as he fumbles with the lock.



"Yeah?"



"Looking for this?"



He opens the door and holds his hand up, showing me a five-dollar bill. Then he bolts out of the communications bullpen.



My hand immediately falls on my back pocket, and I realize my money is gone.



"Sam!" I yell and leap off his desk, running after him.



As I rush down the hall, my footsteps are echoed by a long, muffled scream that's still decidedly female.



But I'll worry about that later. I want my five dollars back.