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Donna disappears sometime between the Canadian National Anthem and the First Lady’s speech.
Not that Josh is in the habit of tracking his assistant’s whereabouts, but it’s Donna and he’d been looking forward to plying her with champagne and teasing her about her newfound heritage. Plus she looks really pretty tonight and, sure he’s already told her this, but she deserves to hear it again and, for some reason, he’s certain it will mean more coming from him after one glass of champagne too many.
Amy mutters something beside him and he tries to tamp down the feeling of guilt that starts growing when he realises he’d forgotten she was still there with him.
“Josh?”
“Hmm?” He glances at her out of courtesy before fixing his gaze once more on the crowd. A flash of blonde hair in the distance almost has him walking away until Amy reaches out to take hold of his arm. She looks annoyed and Josh at least has the decency to give her his undivided attention at this. Something flashes in her eyes and she shakes her head, releases his arm with a sardonic grin.
“This is so over,” she tells him.
And Josh opens his mouth to argue, to plead for another chance, before realising that he doesn’t really want to. So he nods, an awkward apology on the tip of his tongue that he never manages to get out because she’s already halfway across the room without so much as a glance back in his direction.
And he should feel bad, and he does to an extent — he likes Amy; she’s funny and hot and crazy smart. But they argue more than they get along and they’re hardly the poster couple for a healthy relationship, so he can’t help but feel a sense of relief knowing that he’s now free to —
To what? He thinks. Mope over Donna and hope no one notices? To stare at her for longer than is appropriate across the bullpen? To share inside jokes and lingering touches when they think no one is looking?
Because he’s not obtuse enough to think their relationship is one-sided. Donna’s never been one for subtlety, no matter how much she likes to argue against this, and Josh has always enjoyed her attentiveness a bit too much to actively try to dissuade her.
It was only after Rosslyn that he realised that what she felt for him went beyond a silly crush. And it wasn’t until after Christmas that year that he realised the same thing for himself.
.
She’s in his office, leaning back in his chair, ankles crossed on his desk as she stares forlornly out the window. Something tugs in his chest as he watches her for a moment, because she looks like she belongs there and, not for the first time, he wishes things were different.
“Hey,” Josh says quietly, leans against the doorframe with a soft smile on his face.
Donna turns to look at him, expression unreadable in the dim light of his office. With a sigh, she swings her legs onto the ground and rests her forearms on the desk. Her eyes are wide as she looks up at him, eyebrows raised as she shrugs her shoulders dramatically and tells him: “I yelled at the First Lady.”
“Is that why you’re hiding?” he asks fondly, although he’s at least wise enough to hold back a huff of laughter when she narrows her eyes, an honest to god pout on her face.
He doesn’t know the full story but he knows that Abbey had been very impressed by Donna’s — gumption, she had said, something she had relayed to Josh at least three times over the course of the night. And each time he’d grinned smugly, chest puffing out in pride because finally everyone else is starting to see what he knew from the beginning. But he can tell from the slump in her shoulders and the furrow of her brow that Donna’s pretty torn up about it, so he drops into the seat across from her and says with a shrug, “hey, I yelled at the president and I’m still here.”
Donna tilts her head at this, mouth quirking up at the sides in a reluctant smile.
“Yeah, you did.”
“We make quite a pair,” he grins before swiftly standing up and motioning to the door. “Come on, we’ll split a cab.”
“Josh, we live in opposite directions,” she argues, but she stands up and starts to gather her things anyway. “I’ll be fine. Besides, what about Amy?”
“Yeah, that’s over,” Josh drawls, crossing the room to help her into her coat. “We got into a stupid fight and she left.”
Donna looks over her shoulder with a frown, “you should call her.”
And Josh, as he smooths his hands along Donna’s shoulders, gently squeezing before letting his hands drop to his side, is reminded of Joey Lucas’ words from the year before.
Maybe they’ve both been hiding behind misdirection recently.
“I don’t think it’s going to work out with her.”
“I thought you liked her,” Donna murmurs absentmindedly, rifling through her purse to make sure she has everything she needs.
Josh barks out a laugh that surprises even himself, startling Donna somewhat.
“She drives me crazy. And not in the good way.”
Smirking, she turns to face him, eyes sparkling with laughter.
“There’s a good way to drive someone crazy? Because I gotta tell you, maybe you should try it.”
“I’m a delight,” Josh tells her haughtily, a smile playing on his lips as he watches her hide her own smile with a roll of her eyes. “Come on.”
“Josh,” Donna says, ready to argue once more but he can tell she gives in the moment he throws his arm over her shoulder and she leans into his touch with a small smile.
“Anyway, it’s not like you can pay for a cab with Canadian dollars.”
.
The cab ride is silent, comfortably so, other than Josh throwing out the occasional jibe about Donna’s citizenship. The champagne has worn off enough to leave them both tipsy and sleepy and Josh has to physically stop himself from reaching out to her when Donna turns to face him with a lazy grin on her face.
“Do you want to come up?” she asks softly. “I’ve got cheap beer and leftover pizza.”
“What?” Josh teases. “No poutine?”
“This is gonna get old real quick,” she warns him, tone threatening despite the smile still splitting her face.
“Does this mean I have to start taking you to hockey games?” he groans, his own grin threatening to break through.
He doesn’t bother to comment on the fact that he’s so far gone he would probably take her if she asked him. Or at least get her tickets and she could take a friend; he’s not an animal. Maybe he could take her to a Mets game one day or —
She’s looking up at him expectantly and he realises he still hasn’t given her an answer. Had gotten distracted imagining an impossible future.
Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat he returns her smile.
“Pizza sounds good.”
.
They settle on the sofa, beer and reheated pizza on the small coffee table, while her roommate’s cats regard him with an air of suspicion. They’ve never liked him for some reason and it bugs him to no end. Not that he particularly likes cats, but he likes Donna and she likes cats. Even if these cats look like they might be plotting to murder him in his sleep. The TV’s on in the background, C-Span muted so they can continue their conversation.
“Do you hate me now I’m Canadian?” Donna asks, somewhat dramatically Josh thinks but that doesn’t mean he’s above teasing her.
“Absolutely. In fact, it would probably be for the best if you found yourself a new job.”
“I thought so,” she nods solemnly. “I guess I’ll need to update my resume.”
“No hard feelings,” he tells her, reaching for another slice of pizza. “And, hey — I’ll write you a perfectly adequate letter of recommendation.”
“That’s really all I can ask for.”
Donna turns to the TV but he can see the hint of a smile on her face, the curve of her mouth in place even as she raises her bottle to her lips.
“If you wanna know what I think,” Josh drawls, slow and deliberate, “American or not, you’re still just Donna.”
She looks at him, biting back a grin as a slight blush spreads across her cheeks. And she really is beautiful, Josh thinks. He’s close enough to make out the flecks of green in her eyes, the light smattering of freckles across her nose. He can feel her warmth, can smell her perfume, a different one than she usually wears but still so Donna. And he has to stop himself from reaching out to comb his fingers through her hair, to see if it’s as soft as it looks.
Donna cocks her head, brow furrowed slightly as she waits for him to speak. But she doesn’t look away. If anything, she leans imperceptibly closer, and Josh is struggling to focus on anything other than her warm breath on his cheek, the way his heart is pounding in his chest, Donna nervously tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
And it’s entirely overwhelming.
So he does what he does best and pulls away with a long exhale, runs his hand through his hair. Tries not to notice the way Donna’s look of disappointment matches how he feels.
“Do you remember that first night in Charleston?” he asks suddenly. And if the sudden change in conversation surprises her, she doesn’t let it show. “You’d only been with the campaign a week and we’d been working for three days straight. Remember Leo turned up —“
He’s grinning now, earlier tension long gone as he remembers her first couple of weeks on the campaign. As he remembers Donna, endearingly enthusiastic and impressively persuasive, staring up at him with a sparkle in her eyes and a grin on her face as she convinced him she was exactly what he needed for a job she had just made up. And immediately proving herself to be invaluable. Donna groans in embarrassment, brings her hands up to cover her face as she slumps against the back of the couch. Josh continues, a fond smile on his face. “He wanted us to look over some policy that was apparently vital to the campaign, and you yelled at him.”
“I didn’t yell,” she interrupts, voice muffled by her hands.
“Alright, you didn’t yell,” he concedes, a warmth filling his chest that has everything to do with the way Donna is curled up beside him, bare feet tucked under his thighs as she tilts her head against the back of the sofa, looks at him with a sheepish grin. “But you did suggest where he could put his overtime.”
“Josh,” she whines. “Why are you bringing this up?”
“Remember he just accepted it and gave us the next day off?”
“Haven’t I suffered enough?”
“My point is,” he tells her, leaving no room for argument as he holds her gaze. “Leo was very impressed with you that day. Just like the First Lady was tonight. And just like —“ He trails off, voice wavering slightly as he swallows past the sudden lump in his throat, tries to keep the emotion out of his voice. “Just like I am every day.”
“Dammit, Josh,” Donna mutters and he’s horrified to see that she’s blinking back tears, one hand coming up to wipe at her cheeks as she says, with a teasing grin, “There’s that famous Lyman charm.”
“So you admit I’m charming?” He grins, relieved to realise that she’s crying because he caught her off guard with his words and not because he’s once again said something stupid. His lack of self-awareness and inability to filter his words before he speaks have caused more upset than he cares to admit, especially as Donna is more often than not on the receiving end of his thoughtless comments.
He has, however, been making a conscious effort to not be such a jerk. To Donna, at least. Everyone else is just going to have to continue to put up with him. Besides, no one else is able to make him feel debilitating guilt with just a look the way Donna can. And, when he thinks about it, there’s no one whose opinion he cares about more. Except maybe the President and Leo but that’s on a professional level and Donna, well, Donna’s on her own level.
“You have your moments,” she tells him lightly, cheeks slightly flushed as she pokes at his thigh with her toes.
Donna places her now-empty beer bottle on the table with a sigh, reaches over to take his from his hands, gently lifting his fingers where they hold onto the neck of the bottle. He’s ready to question what she’s doing, a bemused frown on his face, when she takes a long drink before placing his bottle next to hers.
And this is just another one of their intimacies that they’ve shared for years, that they’ve never bothered to question. But now as she angles her body towards him, leaning into him slightly as she smiles up at him, he’s beginning to question why he ever thought it would be a good idea to follow her up to her apartment.
She’s still wearing her dress from earlier and he can’t help but map her features with his gaze, her eyes, her lips, the curve of her neck, his gaze returning to rest on her lips every time.
Josh thinks he must have drunk more than he thought because he suddenly feels very warm, dizzy almost, and there’s a buzzing in his ears that’s getting louder and harder to ignore. Especially when Donna lets her hand drop onto his thigh, bottom lip drawn in, eyes dark and half-lidded. And he can feel her touch through his pant leg, can feel her gaze right down to his core, her breath warm on his cheek as he leans closer, and it’s suddenly too much and not enough.
And he has to leave her orbit before she draws him in any further, before something happens that they won’t be able to take back.
He jumps up from the sofa, crossing her apartment in three strides, leaving a confused Donna to look up at him bemusedly, barely managing to mask the expression of hurt that crosses her face. And that just makes him feel worse so he turns to look out the window, shoulders slumped as he scrubs his hand over his face.
There’s a huff of frustration from behind him, followed by some rustling and Donna’s soft footsteps. Josh doesn’t need to look at their reflection in the dark window to know she is standing right behind him.
“Josh,” she says softly, and he’s thinking about ignoring her, at least until the tension is gone and he can stand to look at her without wanting to give up everything for her. But then her hand is on his back, pressing gently, and he loses any semblance of control.
Donna’s surprised squeak is muffled by his lips on hers and, it’s only as he moves one hand to her hair and she still hasn’t responded that he thinks maybe he’d been misreading the signs and she didn’t want this after all. So he quickly pulls back, one hand still in her hair, the other tangled in the silky fabric of her dress, examines her face for any kind of clue as to how she’s feeling about this.
Her slightly startled expression gradually softens as she searches his face for — for what, exactly, he’s not sure. But she must find what she’s looking for because she grins up at him and leans up to kiss him, her lips soft against his.
It’s slow and gentle, their lips moving against each other as she curls her arms around his shoulders, nails scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. Josh’s heart is pounding in his chest and he’s somewhat worried he might pass out from lack of oxygen but he really doesn’t care. Because he’s kissing Donna. Finally, after what feels like forever, he’s kissing her and she’s kissing him and it exceeds his every expectation.
Then Donna nips at his lower lip, tugging lightly on his hair and he loses all coherent thought.
Everything is Donna. Donna’s tongue sliding against his, Donna’s body soft and trembling as she reacts to his touch, Donna’s hands frantically tugging at his bow tie before pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders.
“Should we talk about this?” She asks breathlessly, words undercut by the way her mouth barely leaves his, her fingers moving to unbutton his shirt as she speaks.
And maybe they should. This is kind of a big deal and they have a lot to work out, but he’s also been imagining this moment for an embarrassingly long time and he’s not exactly eager to stop now.
Josh pulls away slightly, distracted by her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, how thoroughly kissed she looks. He rests his hands on her shoulders — another distraction as he’s reminded how much bare skin she has on show tonight — and smiles at her.
“Donna, this means something to me. And I promise you we will figure this out. Because I want to be with you and —“ he drops his gaze, embarrassed almost, hopes she’ll blame his reddening cheeks on their current state of intimacy as he tentatively continues. “And I think you want to be with me, too. At least I hope so.”
Her response to this is a small nod paired with a slightly awestruck grin, her eyes sparkling with warmth and affection, and he feels a burst of happiness so intense he doesn’t know what to do with it, isn’t entirely convinced this isn’t a dream.
“But right now,” Josh tells her, stepping closer so he can wrap his arms around her, one hand splayed across the soft skin between her shoulder blades while the other searches the material of her dress for a zipper. He kisses her softly, just once, can only hope he isn’t moving too fast as he looks her square in the eyes and says: “Right now I really want to kiss you some more.”
Donna nods once more, a dazzling smile on her face as she closes the gap between them once more, her hands going back to work on his buttons until she is able to pull his shirt down his arms, leaving him in only his pants and an undershirt. And leaving her vastly overdressed in his opinion.
So Josh deftly unzips her dress, taking the opportunity to gently push the material off one shoulder, his mouth immediately following in it’s path as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along the exposed skin of her collarbone and shoulder. She gasps his name, squirming slightly when he nips at her earlobe, one hand flying into his hair to hold him there.
And Josh feels a tightening in his stomach, can barely control the loud groan that escapes as he buries his face in the curve of her neck, eyes squeezed shut. Because this is finally happening and Donna — God, Donna is practically trembling in his arms, breathless and soft and warm and it’s almost too much.
God, he’s so into her.
“God,” Josh murmurs, lifting his head so he can pepper light kisses along her jawline. “You drive me crazy.”
“In a good way?” Donna teases breathlessly, tilting her neck to give him better access, hands clutching at the undershirt he is still inexplicably wearing.
He pulls away, hands framing her face as he meets her eyes.
“In the best way,” he tells her firmly before slanting his mouth over hers in a frantic kiss.
Donna steps out of his grasp suddenly and Josh would be embarrassed by his responding whine if she weren’t currently looking up at him through hooded eyes, with flushed cheeks and mussed hair, her dress loose at the back and hanging off one shoulder. She looks ravishing and enticing and whatever other word his slightly stunned brain can come up with that means un-fucking-believably beautiful.
She takes another step back, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cocks her head at him, her dress now dangerously low across her chest.
“Donna.”
Okay, that one was a whine and, again, the look in Donna’s eyes makes it pretty hard for him to feel embarrassed by it. He’s pretty sure she wants this just as much as he does, if the way she turns on her heels and all but struts down the hallway to his bedroom is any indication.
Josh stares after her, a dumbfounded look on his face. It takes him approximately three seconds to come to his senses and then he’s following her at what can only be described as a light jog, yanking his t-shirt over his head as he goes.
Donna is standing at the end of the bed, hands clasped in front of her as she shuffles from foot to foot, her earlier tenacity seemingly replaced by uncertainty.
A flicker of despair crosses her face when he steps further into the room and he just knows her eyes have landed on his scar. He doesn’t know what she’s thinking, chances taking another tentative step towards her as she frowns at his chest.
“Donna?” Josh murmurs, barely a whisper, so afraid of what she’s going to say, so afraid that she’ll tell him that this was a mistake, that she doesn’t want him anymore. He can barely focus on anything other than the blood rushing in his ears.
Her eyes linger on the scar, her mouth turned down slightly at the sides, before she moves her gaze back to his face, her expression softening into one of relief and affection, a soft smile playing on her face.
Then, without warning, Donna lowers her arms and lets her dress drop to the floor.
And Josh’s breath catches in his throat, his heart practically beating out his chest, because Donna is standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of black lace panties, all long limbs and smooth skin and he really things he might have lost the ability to function.
“God, Donna,” he chokes out, “are you trying to kill me?”
She giggles at this, a familiar giggle he has heard hundreds of times before, the smile on her face one he has committed to memory, and the moment is just so them that any tension they’ve been holding onto dissipates until they’re standing there grinning at each other. Which starts to feel ridiculous after a point so Josh moves to stand in front of her, slowly bringing one hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear.
“You’re sure about this?” He asks quietly, one last chance at giving her an out
“I’m sure,” Donna tells him, her own hand coming up to rest on his chest just below his scar. “Are you?”
Having distracted himself by trying to distract himself from openly ogling her body, he doesn’t realises she’s asked him something until she laughs softly, gently pushing at his chest.
“Josh?”
“Sorry, I was just — What did you say?” He can feel himself blushing as he bites back a sheepish grin.
“Are you sure? About this, about me?”
And because he’s Josh and she’s Donna and even their most sincere moments are rooted in lighthearted banter and intrinsic understanding, he casually shrugs one shoulder and tells her, “I wasn’t. Until you took off your dress.”
“Shut up.”
Donna rolls her eyes despite the grin breaking out on her face and Josh, feeling lighter than he’s felt in years, leans in until his nose is nuzzling hers, his lips brushing softly against hers as he challenges: “Make me.”
And then he’s hooking his arm around her waist, their laughter ringing out as he tackles her to the bed, silences her with a searing kiss.