A/N: What? Another story? Isn't she in a little over her head? I know, faithful readers, I know. But I figured you'd prefer I post what I have, rather than keep it under wraps until the ribbons are tied on all my other stories.
I hope you like it! I'm rather fond of it myself.
Rating: T
Reviews: Yes yes yes yes please please please please always :)
Disclaimer: I couldn't handle the responsibility of owning the West Wing. I'd probably foist it on someone else (I feel you, Sorkin).
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"I'm telling you, the coffee is great. I mean, not great. But better than the Congresswoman's."
I cringe. "It's like weak tea."
My coworker of three weeks, Donna Moss, grins at me. "You can't pry that French press from her. Believe me, I've tried. You should've told me you were suffering earlier."
"I was trying to be polite!" I say defensively. "I was the new guy!"
Donna laughs. "There, there. I'll fix you up."
We lapse into amicable silence as the tired 8am line shuffles forward, and we place our orders. I head over to the other side of the shop, and Donna, who I'm beginning to consider something of a friend, follows. "So, Donna."
She looks up at me. "So, Alan."
"Where did you grow up?"
"Northern Wisconsin. So close to Canada, actually, that it's constantly subject to border disputes. Once, when I was working at the White House, they wouldn't let me in to this event because they'd actually revoked my citizenship." She smiles.
"You might just be one of the most interesting people I've ever met." I say truthfully. The girl was quite a character. Sweet, idealistic, but with a bite. Some sass, some fight. Abundant quirks. It seemed she cared so much she occasionally tripped over herself. I liked her enormously - she'd made me feel at home the moment we were introduced.
"Why, thank you."
"How long did you work at the White House?"
"Three and a half years."
"Wow. What was your position?"
"I was an assistant." She says shortly.
Obviously a sore subject, I note. "Hey, that's cool. Gotta start somewhere."
"Right." She agrees, not quite looking at me.
I had noticed something about her. It's a cliché, I know, but something a little sad. Like she was grieving. I wasn't sure who she was grieving, but there it was. "Do you think you could help me with the opener for the Congresswoman's speech today? I can't quite get anything that packs a punch."
"Sure thing." Her usual smile, one of the fullest I'd encountered, is back. I'm relieved.
"Thanks."
"I do have a way with making an impression, wouldn't you say?" She jokes, likely referring to our first meeting - she'd spit her coffee all over me when I cracked a joke.
"Indeed." I chuckle.
"Oh, I agree. A lasting impression if nothing else."
I startle at the voice behind me, and turn to find a man standing at my shoulder, grinning at my coworker. I swivel my head to look at her, to confirm that she knows him, and I see the strangest expression on her face.
"Josh." She says breathlessly in place of a greeting.
I look back to this man, who has now been identified as Josh, and realize that he looks familiar. I'd probably seen him on the hill or somewhere similar. "Donnatella. What a coincidence."
She clears her throat, and looks around, as if suddenly remembering her surroundings. "Right. Right, well. I wanted coffee."
"Right. Me too." He says, giving her an amused look.
She blinks a few times, obviously at a loss. She looks to me, and I look back curiously. After a moment, her expression clears. She throws on a smile and gestures to me. "This is my friend Alan, Josh."
I see that I've been rapidly bumped from coworker to friend, but I don't stop to marvel at the title change. "Hi. Alan Santiago. Nice to meet you."
His smile is still in place, but it is somehow less friendly as he stares me down and grasps my hand. "Yeah, good to meet you, Alan. I'm Josh Lyman."
I know that name. "Oh, hey. You work at the White House, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do. How'd you know?"
"I work on the Hill."
"As what?"
"He's a speechwriter." Donna interrupts before I can say anything.
"Yeah, I am." I'd add that I'm a speechwriter for Congresswoman Wyatt, but somehow, I'm getting the feeling that Donna doesn't want this guy to know we work together. "Aspiring novelist, though."
Josh narrows his eyes. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Romance, probably."
He looks deeply amused by this. "Fascinating. And why did you decide to get into speechwriting as a day job?"
"Well, I see a lot of common ground between speechwriting and romance novels. The flowery language, the hope, the emotion. You're basically trying to make the audience fall in love with you." I say seriously.
He stares at me for a moment. Eventually, his gaze reverts to Donna. "Has this guy met Sam?"
She smiles, though I have no idea who Sam is. "No, but I'm thinking of introducing them."
"Don't. It'd be a nightmare."
She laughs, a laugh that is kind of skittish but mostly genuine. There's something in the way she's looking at him. Like she's peering through a window. "So, how are you?"
His gaze is the same. Warm, but guarded. "Good. And you?"
"Good." She says, too quickly.
"How's Toby?"
This elicits another smile. "He's good. How's Toby?"
"Crotchety. I swear, fatherhood isn't making him any warmer."
"The same goes for the congresswoman. Except, I mean, you know. Motherhood." She amends lamely.
"Right."
And then they're just looking at each other. And I know I'm a romance novelist and all, but you've gotta believe me, you could cut the sexual tension in there with a spoon. I cough to alert her that our drinks have come up.
She jumps a little. "Oh. Hey, would you look at that." She grabs hers and hands me mine. She looks away from him. "I guess we should get going."
"Yeah. I guess you should."
She puts on the smile again. Walls up. "It was good to see you."
"Yeah, you too. Always." He leans in to kiss her cheek, and for a split second, her eyes close. They're a little hazy when they open. "Good to meet you, Alan."
"You too." We head for the exit. She doesn't look back, but I do. And I catch his eyes on her. When the door finally closes behind us, I whirl on her. "Okay, you've got to tell me what that was about."
She takes a sip of her coffee, staring with detachment at the cement. "What?"
"You. Him. What's the deal?"
"Who, me and Josh?"
"Don't play dumb."
She glares at the ground. "It's nothing."
"Really? Because that guy kinda looked like he wanted to hit me."
"Yeah. He has that effect on men that I'm friends with. I wouldn't let it bother you."
I press on. "And you obviously didn't want him to know we worked together, for some reason."
In a small, hard voice, she says, "I want him to know I have friends."
I raise my eyebrows at her. "Of course you have friends. You're like the friendliest person I know."
"I know I have friends." She snaps. "I'm just making sure he does."
"Donna. C'mon." I whine. "I'm dying to know."
She takes a deep breath in through her nose. "He's my ex boyfriend, okay, Alan?"
"I knew it!" I cry triumphantly, before catching myself. "I mean, I'm sorry we ran into him."
She rolls her eyes. "It's not a big deal."
"It's not?"
"No. It happens all the time. I have to work with him sometimes, after all."
"Right. What's with the Toby thing?"
"Oh. That." A smile creeps across her face. "It's just a little thing that we do. We had this coworker named Toby - great guy, super mopey though. And then when we got a dog, I named it after him. Because they were both mopey. So now when we see each other, he asks about the dog, and I ask about the person. Because they still work together."
"Toby, like... The congresswoman's ex-husband?"
"The very same."
I process this. "You guys co-owned a dog?"
She looks at me like I've offended her. "Toby is my dog."
"You just said, when 'we' got a dog."
"Okay. Fine." She says frustratedly. "Maybe when we got the dog, I was under the impression that the dog would be co-owned. But now I'm a single dog owner. And I'm fine with it."
I smile slightly. "Okay, Ms. Independent. I'm just saying, that sounds like a serious relationship."
Her expression hardens. "It wasn't. Not really."
"How long did it last?"
"About nine months."
"And how many days and hours?"
"Alan. Drop it."
"I know that you know."
She turns her eyes skyward as if asking the heavens what she's done to deserve my inquiry. In my defense, I'm like this at work, and she should've know what she was getting into with this friendship. "It doesn't matter. I'm over it. He's over it."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
"Trust me. He's over me. He's moved on." She says this like it's something she tells herself a lot.
"Really? Because the way he was looking at you? That's not the way you look at someone you've gotten over."
She looks at me sharply. "You think?"
"Definitely."
She bites her lip. "It doesn't matter, Alan. It's over."
"If you say so."
"Can we please just drop it?"
I've never seen her look so pained and vulnerable. I swallow my curiosity for a later time. "Okay."
"Good."
It was strange. I'd known she was grieving, but I'd never thought it might be for someone who was still alive.
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May, 2002
Josh lets himself into his apartment, and pauses in the empty living room. "Donna?"
"In here!" He hears from the bathroom. "Come in!" Her voice is muffled.
Curious, he pushes open the cracked door, and takes in the sight before him. In the tub, his girlfriend sits cross-legged in her underwear, holding onto the collar of a wet basset hound with one hand and clutching a toothbrush in the other.
"Hey." She greets casually.
"What the hell are you doing?"
She looks over at him, as if this should be obvious. "I'm giving Toby a bath."
"Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear come out of your mouth." A grin spreads slowly across his face.
"You said he smelled, so. Here we are."
"You're in the tub with him."
"He wouldn't sit still."
At this, he can't contain his laughter.
"What's so funny?"
"You look ridiculous."
"Hey!" Her indignant expression fades into a smile as he continues to laugh, clutching his side. "Jerk."
"I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" She calls after him, but he doesn't respond.
A minute later, he reenters the bathroom, holding a camera. Without warning, he starts taking her picture.
"Hey!"
"Oh my god. This is priceless."
"Josh, put down the camera. I'm warning you."
"Are you kidding me? Everyone I know is going to see these. Going to put them up on a big slide projector, at our wedding reception."
Her hands stops midway through turning the tap on. "What?"
"I said they'll be up on a screen at-"
"Our wedding reception."
"Yeah."
"There'll be a wedding reception?"
Realizing what he'd said, he blanches. "Oh, um..."
"There'll be a wedding?"
He blinks, trapped. "Well... Yeah. I like to think so."
She stares at him a moment longer. "I do too." She beams.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Well. Good."
"But you're definitely not showing those photos."
"Like hell I'm not." He raises the camera again, and in response she turns the faucet back on and grabs the shower head. He gapes at her. "You wouldn't."
"Try me."
He clicks the camera one more time, and is immediately drenched in water. "Hey!"
"Drop it."
"Never."
She sprays him again.
"Agh!"
"I warned you."
"What are you doing with that toothbrush, anyway?" He attempts to distract her.
"Did you know that you're actually supposed to brush a dog's teeth?"
"Whoever told you that was conning you, Donna."
"No, really, it's true."
"Is that... Is that my toothbrush?" He asks incredulously.
"You're the one that complained about his smell."
"That's it." He sets the camera on the sink's edge and approaches the bathtub. "I'm taking that damn shower head."
"Agh!" They're both sprayed fantastically as he attempts to wrestle it from her. Toby barks and jumps out of the tub just as Josh steps in it, taking off and tearing through the apartment.
"Great, now he's going to get everything all wet."
"It's your fault."
"Is not." He finally succeeds in taking the showerhead from her, sinking down into the tub, soaking wet in his work clothes. They sit facing each other, legs crossed.
She flicks wet hair out of her face to grin at him. "So, a wedding, huh?"
"A wedding." He affirms, not sure what he's gotten himself into this time.
"Can Toby be the ring bearer?"
"Toby can't come."
"You're not inviting Toby Ziegler? He'll be crushed."
"Very funny."
She leans forward to kiss him, sure for all the world that she'd spend the rest of her life with this man.
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Here's the plan: Almost every chapter will include a scene or two from the present (from Alan, my OC's, POV), and one flashback to their relationship. So, a nice little mix of angst and fluff for you all :)
