Note: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed my last story, "Confessions of an Insomniac." You all gave me enough confidence to go ahead and put another story out there! This one was really fun to write, and I hope it's just as fun to read!
Disclaimer: Sorkin's characters, Wells' pen. There is not a time where this will not be very unfortunate. (prove me wrong, Wells!)
How it Should Be
"Donna!" She heard his voice echo through the suite. And really wasn't near in the mood to hear his voice echo through any building. He was loud. She was tired. The two were not about to mix.
"Josh, how many times to I have to tell you not to yell." Donna headed over to the kitchen. Josh sat in a chair in the living room, papers strewn everywhere, laptop balanced on the arm of the chair, coffee in his right hand. She glanced over, prepared to stare him down, if challenged.
"But..." His eyes pleaded and hers glared.
"You aren't a child."
"Donnatella, I'm panicking here!" His voice showed it, too. He probably saw a spider or something...She started over with her Starbucks in hand, and continued to glare over her shoulder on her way to shut off CNN.
"I'm sure you-oh, oh, no." She stopped her trek to the TV. "What...what did you do?"
"I think it's pretty obvious..."
"Josh!"
"...and it just spilled, and I..."
"You spilled coffee on confidential government material!" She wanted to die. More, she wanted him to die. As much as he loved him..
"Yes," he sheepishly answered. She could strangle him.
"You couldn't help yourself, could you?" Donna said, setting down her own coffee to come over and assess the damage. "You couldn't have spilled on this list of phone numbers, or the report on tax reform, or anything backed up on the hard drive...!" She held up the very dry various documents as she called them out, as if she was willing him to drench them now, if it could take away the damage done to the very wet confidential file.
"Oops." She could bet money, that was the only word his mind was able to form just then.
"What are you going to do?" she pointed out the obvious for him, forcing him to come up with a solution.
He hesitated, then looked at her, searching for empathy with his big, brown eyes. "Can you clean it?"
"Can I clean it?" Extra emphasis on the word, 'clean.' "No, Josh, the ink's already running from you shaking it!" She held it up. Sure enough, black ink mixed with the brown coffee drips, flying freely from the paper as she yanked it away from him.
"Oops?"
"Damn right, oops. You'll have to get another copy from the Pentagon." Donna let the document flop, with a squish, onto the coffee table as she let her body flop onto the love seat.
"...In less than twenty minutes?" He should not be pointing this stuff out right now. He'll regret it later.
"Exactly!"
"Oops," he said, quietly, to his laptop.
"You've said that enough, Joshua." She looked at him, at the papers overflowing, threatening to engulf him, at the laptop to check for its safety, then at the coffee, as if it were the perpetrator itself. "It's even got a lid on it!" she said, exasperated.
"The...lid must have come off..." The lid was still on. The story didn't hold, and he knew it. Donna dismissed it, knowing he was just trying to cover his tail. If that particular tail wasn't so fine, she would have kicked it. Or better, shoved his coffee up it. She might do that, anyway. CJ would be so proud...
"How are you going to have this ready before you get there?" she asked, referencing to the half-typed document on his laptop. She'd shove coffee later.
"I don't know. I'm...smart..."
"I think you've already proved yourself wrong on that..."
"I'll come up with something." Great.
"Just with no credibility." She knew she was right. He knew she was right. He got the idea he was screwed. Which she had presented.
"Donna?" he asked her, voice toned down quite a bit.
"Yes, Joshua?" she replied, dead panning.
"Don't kill me, please?"
Choose to ignore it was the best tactic right now. "Get the report done. Before you're fired. I'm not going to be the only one earning money here."
"It's not like a government salary is that much..." Oh, Joshua. Stop digging. The hole is deep enough.
"You don't really want to talk right now, do you?"
"No," he quickly answered.
"I didn't think so."
"Of course not." He turned to his laptop and commenced reading, then typing. Donna stood up and continued to the television, turning it off.
"How much of those papers do you need?"
"None except the one I'm printing out soon."
"Okay."
She headed back to the kitchen part of the suite. She found her purse on the kitchen table, and, upon opening it, spied Advil next to the lipstick she was actually searching for. She popped open the bottle and shook out a pill, popping it into her mouth before she lined her lips with the pink-tinted makeup.
In the background, the sound of a printer echoed out, then a zipper. Josh swung into the kitchen, briefcase in one hand, jacket in the other. He offered her the briefcase, then threw his jacket on. She handed it back to him and opened the door in one swift graceful movement, then scooped up her coffee and purse. Josh held the door open and she rushed out, her shoulder bumping into the door frame on her way.
Suddenly, Josh's eyes widened. Donna felt something strangely warm on her pant leg as the door slammed behind her. She looked down at her very white pants and wanted to cry. The coffee stain glared up at her.
Slowly she looked up at Josh, whose eyes showed the laughter his voice refused.
"Can you clean it?" she asked, smiling a little, her eyes wrought with dismay.
"Not really..."
Something else hit her like a brick wall. She closed her eyes.
"I turned in the hotel key."
"This morning."
"We weren't going to need it." Worry entered her voice. She could feel herself panicking inside. "I'm going to a big, important meeting. In ten minutes."
Josh smiled and took the coffee from her hand, kissing her as he did.
"A big, important meeting, Josh." Now she was the one echoing.
"Do you have a big sweater?"
"Just the meeting." She was frozen. How did this always happen? She could never just be totally right. There always had to be...a stain...oh, the irony was going to crush her, like a little bug.
"Untuck your shirt," he suggested.
"Can't," she replied, dismayed.
"Why?"
"Bottom three buttons fell out."
"When did that happen?"
"Dry cleaners." She looked up at him. He was trying very hard not to laugh, but knew the consequences of such an outburst.
"Wanna sue?"
"It was half-off."
"Probably for a reason."
"It was the nearest place."
Josh started down the hall; Donna followed him.
He turned around for a second, gazing at her, smiling with dimples. "And you wonder why I married you."