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If Josh is being honest with himself, he’s always had a thing for her hands. Well not a thing, that would be inappropriate, more like an appreciation. Yeah, that’s it, an appreciation. He’s noticed them, that’s all. A lot.
Her long, slim fingers typing up memos while he dictates. More than once he’s gotten distracted and started rambling, just by seeing how graceful and efficiently her fingers move across the keyboard.
When she uses the side of her pinkie to brush invisible schmutz off the lapel of his suit jacket, making sure that he looks his best for a meeting that doesn’t matter. Even more so for one that does. The way she runs her fingers through his hair to make him look presentable after an all nighter at his desk, her nails lightly scratching his scalp. It takes every ounce of willpower not to moan in those moments.
And then there’s the way her hands take care of him. When she holds his hand at the hospital. The harsh fluorescent lights making the backs of her hands look almost translucent. The surprisingly strong grip she uses to ground him through the pain.
The bow ties kill him the most. These moments when he allows himself to be close to her, he can’t decide whether he wants to look into her eyes or watch her dexterous fingers flicking and threading and pulling and flourishing. The black satin jumping out in contrast to her porcelain skin.
So when he’s reading a memo on his desk, a random file landing on top, and a perfect bright red fingernail pointing at a signature line, it takes his brain a second to catch up. Because this finger looks like Donna’s but in the years he’s known her, he’s never once seen her nails painted. Other than that time she had to explain to him what a French manicure was. But still, never a color. So his eyes trace up from that nail, up the finger and the back of the hand, to a graceful wrist, and up the pink sweater covered arm to Donna’s face, he just blinks blankly up at her.
“Sign here.”
“Huh?”
“Josh, I need to get this back to Margaret. Sign here. Now.” He does as she says, his brain slowly getting back online.
It’s only as he sees the swish of her hair around the doorway that he starts to process what happened. And that’s a problem, because in this case, processing looks a lot like fixating.
Red. Nails.
Red.
Nails.
There’s something so striking about them. Not that they’re not professional. They were nicely done. Is that a thing people say? They’re just unexpected. He shakes his head and reads the same paragraph four times before he can keep going with his memo.
He’s not entirely sure he could say what happens for the rest of the day. Every little moment is struck through with the flash of her red nails. The way they tap at the glass in the Roosevelt room to get his attention, the flick of her fingers to get a crumb off his desk.
Lunch is the worst. They’re sitting across his desk and she’s eating a sandwich. Bright against the bun, he can still make our her nails. His eyes glaze over and he can see them wrapped around his… nope, can’t go there. He almost chokes on his fry. Donna pushes his glass of water in front of him, but that just brings those devil nails right back in his line of sight. He thinks he sees a little smirk on her face as he regains his breath.
It’s late and the bullpen is empty. Josh pokes his head out of his office to see if the coast is clear and the first thing he sees is her red nails pulling her hair behind her ears. The red somehow making her blonde hair look brighter, like she’s being lit by a spotlight. His incredibly unhelpful brain puts his grandmother’s ring on her finger and he has to admit it looks good. So he retreats very quickly to his office.
Later, couldn’t tell you how much later, she pops in to say goodnight. She brushes something invisible off her cheek as she walks him through his morning schedule, but all he can see is that same finger stroking the cheek of a newborn with curly blonde hair. He must manage to say something because before he realizes what has happened, she’s gone again. Leaving him alone in his office wondering how long nail polish lasts.