Work Text:
"Owwww"
"JOSH!!!"
Our voices echo through my quiet office. I rub my head as I turn around to see what I hit it on and why Donna is yelling at me. One glance at her and I have my answers. I was sitting at my desk reading my email, Donna was standing behind me. Apparently with a cup of coffee in her hand. The coffee is now down the front of the sweatshirt she's wearing, my sweatshirt, by the way. And the coffee wasn't in a nice sytrofoam cup; no it was in an industrial weight ceramic mug from the mess. Hence the nice lump that is forming on the back of my head.
"Are you ok, did you get burned?" I ask as I jump out of my seat.
"No, it wasn't that hot. But that was the last shirt in your secret stash," she moans as she holds soggy shirt out and away from her skin. She's exhausted and a little cranky. We never did get to dance at the ball, any of them.
"I've been meaning to restock my closet with spare clothes but haven't gotten around to doing it. Why don't you go down to the locker room and grab a bathrobe?" I suggest as I sit back down, suddenly a little dizzy.
She's by my side in an instant. "You ok?" she asks as she moves my hand out of the way to feel the lump.
"Yeah, I think I just hit my head a little harder than I thought."
"You want some ice?"
I nod a little trying not to move my head too much.
"I'll just wear this," she says as she leaves the room. I just nod, having no idea what she found to wear. I turn my chair around and prop my feet up on the desk. It's almost 4 in the morning but I am wide awake, pumped full of coffee, Hershey kisses and adrenaline. We spent a few hours in the Oval Office earlier. Donna hung out in my office, grabbing a short nap. I told her to go home but she wouldn't. So were been working the phones for a while, trying to get a handle on how the President's decision is going to be received. Since it's almost 4 not too many people are eager to chat on the phone so we've hit a lull. Which is why I was reading my email in the first place.
I close my eyes and try to relax while I wait for Donna to return. I hope she brings more coffee along with ice for my head.
"Josh, Josh, wake up."
I rub my eyes and open them a little. I blink a few times trying to decide if I'm really seeing what I think I'm seeing.
I see Donna standing in front of me, wearing my tuxedo shirt and jeans. It's a dream come true. Well, in the dream she's usually wearing the shirt and stilettos.
"Owww."
The ice pack just hit me square in the chest. Guess I'm not dreaming.
"Josh, put it on your head," she smirks as she sits down in my visitors chair and props her feet up too. She pushes a mug of coffee towards me.
"Thanks,"
"So why didn't you just call me?"
"Huh?" I ask as I'm savoring the nice hot coffee.
"Earlier. Why didn't you just call me?"
"You would have looked at the Caller ID and not answered the phone."
"Probably."
"So I yelled once and then started throwing snowballs. Not the most mature method but hey, it worked. You did come to the window."
"True."
"What made you change your mind about coming to the balls?" I ask, curious to know what finally swayed her into coming. "Not that we actually got to enjoy any of them." I add.
She shrugs, "I don't know."
I can see her blushing even in the dark room.
"Come on, tell me," I prod gently.
"It was what you said," she whispers.
"What did I say?"
"What is this---20 questions?” she teases as she fiddle with the cuffs on the shirt.
"Could be."
"When you told me I looked---amazing."
"You did look amazing. You d-do look amazing." I stutter.
"You looked pretty amazing yourself."
"So what about Jack?"
"What about him?"
"You going to see him again?"
"Not in the near future. But that's ok."
"He wasn't Mr. Right?"
She laughs, "No, he was pretty much Mr. Right Now."
My turn to blush, "OK, too much information." I manage to squeak out.
"Sorry. So what about you. All the single girls in DC and you couldn't get a date for the ball?"
"Hey I tried to get a date. But she wanted to sit home and throw herself a pity party," I tease.
"Me, you wanted to take me? After what I did?"
"Or didn't do," I say, correcting her.
"Whatever, that's not the point. You wanted to go with me?"
"Well, you were holding the tickets," I say, desperately trying to think of a way to steer the conversation in another direction. We are heading for dangerous territory.
I think she feels the same way, given the fact that all of the sudden she's fidgeting in her seat. "So how did you end up bringing Charlie, Danny, Will and Toby with you to my place?"
"Well, at first it was just Charlie and I. We have this bond you see.."
"You and Charlie have a bond?"
"Yeah, we're both trying to....never mind. Anyway, Danny caught up with us, then Toby followed and we invited Will to make him feel like part of the group. Plus I was going for Good Cop/Bad Cop and I needed some bad cops."
"They were the bad cops?" she snorts in a very unlady like fashion.
"Well, we had a little to drink before we came over."
"Gee, I couldn't tell," she laughs as she stands up and goes to look out the window. "It's snowing again," she says.
I get up and stand next to her. I can still smell her perfume from earlier, but now it's mixed with my cologne that's lingering on my shirt. A heady combination. Wonder if she's noticed it too.
I move to stand behind her, trying to decide if giving into my urge to hug her is a good idea or not. When she takes half a step back to lean into me I think my question has been answered. I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. I can see her reflection in the window and she's got that shy smile on her face. The same one she had when I told her she looked amazing.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure." she whispers as she wraps her arms around mine and pulls me closer to her.
"Why didn't you stop to think about your job?"
She flinches and tries to move away but I'm holding her where she is, for now.
"My job isn't that important."
"How can you say that?"
"I'm just an assistant."
"You’re not. And you know that. Donna, I don't know where I would be without you. And you know that too. You're more than an assistant. And if I could change that title I would."
"I know."
"It's just...I have trouble convincing myself that what I do is worthwhile, that it makes a difference. Some habits are hard to break, I guess." she whispers.
"Dr. Freeride?" I ask quietly.
She just nods a little. I tighten my hold on her, cursing the man that could have hurt her the way Dr. Freeride did. We look out at the snow as it falls on the White House lawn. In the past few minutes I've been hearing some more movement in the bullpen, more phones ringing, more people walking by. I have a feeling things are about to pick up again. I think Donna senses it too but she doesn't seem eager to move out of my arms. Her reflection in the mirror tells me she's trying to say something but can't quite get the words out.
"What?" I ask, turning my head towards her neck realizing how easy it would be to kiss her.
"Do you think things have been different lately?"
"More questions, Donnatella?" I tease, stalling for time.
"Yes."
"Different how?" I ask, going for oblivious but not coming close.
"Different between us. I mean, since Christmas I've gotten this feeling that things aren't the same."
God, how do I respond to that? Do I admit that after all these years I've finally realized I'm in love with her? Is now the time or the place...probably not. I've thought about this moment a lot in the past 3 weeks and I haven't come up with the perfect scenario, but I'm pretty sure this is not it.
"Josh."
Damn, I think I spent too much time thinking right there. "Things are different. Things are changing," I say quietly as I release my arms from around her and she turns around to face me. She's not wearing shoes so we don't quite see eye to eye. So I take a step back and sit on the desk. Her hands are on my shoulders and my hands are at her waist.
"Do you like the changes?" she asks as she moves one hand from my shoulder and runs her fingers through my hopelessly messy hair.
"Yeah, I do."
"Me too. Josh, I think we need to talk."
I nod in agreement, not trusting my voice to cooperate at the moment.
Donna cups my cheeks with her hands and takes a step closer. It's going to happen; she's going to kiss me.
Damn. As usually happens, our perfect moment is ruined by a ringing phone. I reach blindly for the receiver, not breaking eye contact.
"Yeah, Charlie, we'll be there in a minute," I mutter as Donna takes the phone from me and hangs it up properly. "The President wants us in the Oval."
"Us, as in me too?" she asks with this adorable grin on her face.
"Yes, you too." I say as I move my hands from where I had put them back on her waist. I try to stand but her hands on my shoulders prevent me from moving.
She leans in and whispers in my ear, "Soon, we have to talk soon." She kisses my cheek twice and then moves towards my lips. Gently she kisses me, lingering just a second longer than usual but it's enough to cause me to jump a little. She giggles a little and kisses my cheek once more before backing up. Smoothing my hair down she reminds me to breathe. "I have to get a few things. Meet me by my desk in a minute," she says as she glides out of the room.
"You look amazing," I say quietly as she turns around.
"I'm wearing your wrinkled tuxedo shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Oh my God, I can't go into the Oval Office looking like this," she cries as she opens my closet to see if any clothes have magically appeared in there in the last half an hour.
"Yes, you can."
"No I can't. People will think that we..." she stops short and turns bright red.
"They might. But more likely they'll think I spilled something."
She dissolves into nervous laughter, "OK, but if they think that other thing I'm telling the truth."
"Fine with me. But that other thing, that wouldn't be so bad would it?" I ask with a sudden boldness that came out of nowhere.
Donna stops dead in her tracks and turns around slowly, "No. In fact I'm sure it will be pretty good." And she continues on to her desk.
I wonder if she realizes what she said, **will** be good, not **would** be good. But there's no time for more questions. It's time for work.
The End