Title: Spurred By a Stress Ball
Author: ScullyAsTrinity
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I'd kill John Wells... I'd kill him...
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Guys, I'm so sad. I miss the banter. I miss Sam. I miss GOOD West Wing. I miss the old days. So, I find myself watching Bartlet's Third State Of The Union... being mopey, wanting Ainsley and Sam to have been an item, wanting Leo to stop acting so feeble, wanting CJ back in her rightful position (not to say she's not totally bitchin, and I still want to BE her) and most of all... wanting like hell for Josh to pull his head out of his ass, just a little, just so that SOMEONE in the White House can get laid! Dear God John Wells, what the FUCK have you done to my show?
Also, Kenny is cute. I love Kenny. Sorry, it's just, can't get enough Kenny. Annabeth is getting on my nerves, just because of her voice, and Penn and Teller freakin rock HARD!
---
"Two R's!" Donna called to Josh as he rushed by, stack of files balanced precariously in between his torso and upper arm. He sighed, pressing his hand to the stack, steadying them.
"Yeah, yeah. Got it!" Josh called back, dumping the files onto his desk. Once that was completed, he placed his hands judiciously on his hips and surveyed the damage he had just caused. "Yeaaaaah..." He breathed, watching as several files slid off the desk and onto the floor. "Hmmm...." He breathed again, watching as the few files spurred an avalanche of manila and paper.
"Right." He said, swiping a hand over his face, landing in his hair, scratching his scalp. "Donna!" He shouted, not particularly wanting to expend the effort to bend over and retrieve the files.
"What?" She swung around into his view, one hand clutching the doorjamb, the other clutching a folder much like the ones that had scattered over the floor.
"My files fell." He said, motioning with his head to the mess spewed all over the carpet. He attempted a smile, only one side of his mouth quirking up. She sighed, met his eyes and then surveyed the damage.
"I see that, yes." She was stationary, staring at him, in stalemate.
"Well, they're, you know, not... in order anymore."
"Yeah Josh, it would seem that way." She released the jamb and stood up straight, licking her lips and tipping her head in the direction of CJ's office. She pursed her lips into a firm line, but couldn't help it and smiled.
"What?" Josh asked, finding something inherently wrong with her smiling at his mishap.
"I'm not reorganizing them."
"Why?"
"You can't even pick them up, Josh? How helpless are you?" She pondered, moving into his office, still making no effort to clean up his mess.
"I'm not helpless, I just-"
"Don't know your alphabet?" Donna threw back at him as she shoved her folder into his arms and moved behind his desk. She shook her head in dismay and glared at him.
"And what does that mean?" He asked, his voice getting quite high and indignant, and he tossed her file on top of the mess of other ones that hadn't hit the floor. Josh seated himself in his own visitor's chair and propped his leg up on his desk, watching her as she wondered what to do.
"It means, Josh, that the order of these files was dictated by, oh wait, what was it, the English alphabet Josh. If you can't realize that, and if you did indeed recognize that and can't cope with putting them back in alphabetical order..." She stopped and sighed in disgust. "You are pathetic."
She smiled sweetly at him and bent down to reorganize papers.
"Thank you." He said non-commitally, grasping her file he had just tossed down and cracked it open. He smiled when he head popped up over his desk.
"Please, the only reason you want me bent over down here is because I have a short skirt on." She said in jest, but Josh's eyebrows shot up nonetheless. He put the file back down again, this time as if it were a hot potato. Taking his feet off the desk, he stood up.
"Really?" He asked, peering around the edge of the dark mahogany at her backside.
"Don't you dare Joshua Lyman. I know many ways to make you fall to your knees in pain, so I suggest you keep your eyes on the file that you were just snooping around." She didn't even bother to pick up her head when she said it, instead choosing to quickly integrate a few papers into the pile she already had organized.
"That was slightly juvenile." Josh scoffed, falling back into the chair.
"Oh that's novel, coming from a man who doesn't know his alphabet." She poked her head back up as she said alphabet and smile evilly at him.
He paused, not having a comeback. "Touché." He responded, propping his feet up again.
There was no dialogue for a few moments, the only sounds being that of shuffling papers and odd grunts as Donna moved in a manner that her body protested against. "By the way!" Donna called to him as she sat up with his stack of files, sitting in his chair. "Guess who called for you?"
Donna began to integrate the files that had somehow, amongst all the tumult, remained on his desk. She didn't bother looking up at him, instead allowing him to simmer in his anticipation. "Are you going to ask me who?"
"I just assumed you would tell me, as, you know, it's your job." Josh retorted, finally managing to cause Donna to break out in a grin.
"Good 'ole Samuel Seaborn called for you earlier."
"Did he?" Josh sounded excited. He hadn't heard from his friend in nearly two months, the latter being extremely busy with negotiations of illegal immigration and drug trafficking issues. "What'd he say?"
"Well, I talked to him for a bit. He asked how I was, thank you very much I told him I was overworked and underpaid. He said he was coming out here this weekend and wanted to know if the 'old gang' as he put it-I didn't make that up, he said it-would get together for a drink. I think he misses Toby, you know all that agitation spurred him on. And said that he called Ainsley and she said, among other things that she'd be more than eager to get together as well... you know she still works here and I haven't seen her in ages?" Donna rambled on, and surprisingly, Josh made no move to cut in.
"And he said that he'd call you at your apartment tonight around one, he knows you won't be getting home early because of the thing. So be expecting that. I can't wait to see him though." She placed the last file in the pile and set it securely on his desk.
"Superb." Josh said, again sounding excited. Donna looked at him, amused. He looked about ten years younger when he forgot that he had a country to run. She smiled softly, placing one hand over the stack of files, leaning back in the worn leather of his chair.
"I think Ainsley misses him." Josh replied, twiddling his fingers, making no move to regain his seat that she was lounging in. "I spoke with her yesterday and she mentioned him twice. Well, that wouldn't be out of the ordinary, except for the fact that he's not, you know, here..." Josh trailed off, thinking of the implications of Ainsley's words.
"That's sweet." Donna said, the jitteriness sliding from her bones as she raised them above her head and stretched.
"Mmm." Josh agreed. He was silent, staring at his desk, as Donna settled even further into his chair. People passed by outside the office, jackets on, about to make their way home. CJ stopped in and said goodnight, tossing a stress ball and Donna, who caught it and squeezed.
"You think she's trying to tell me something?" Donna posed the question, studying the sand laden latex with interest, then looking to Josh for an answer.
"Like what?" He scoffed amusedly.
"Like my boss is a slave driver who rarely gives me a moment to myself?" She scoffed back.
"Maybe he likes having you all to himself." Josh said seriously, the corridor outside having quieted, the only people being left behind were stragglers gathering their coats and powering down their over-worked computers.
"I might have to tell him that that's kinda selfish." Donna said immediately, tossing the stress ball forcefully in his direction. He caught it without difficulty and squeezed tightly, watching at the sand flexed under his fingers. He licked his lips.
"Maybe he'll say he doesn't care because he wants all your time." He said even quieter, attempting to make it seem as if he were talking to the stress ball.
"Maybe I'll have to say that that isn't his prerogative."
"Maybe he won't care because he loves you." He tossed the ball back to Donna and finally made eye contact with her, his gaze not wavering.
"Does he?" Donna shot back, he face a blank slate, just waiting to be effected by his words.
"He does, more than he knows how to deal with." Without the rubber-covered sand he had nothing to occupy his hands, nothing to stare at. So he stared at her.
She wanted to smile, and she did, but it was bittersweet. "Too bad he works for the President and can't risk that type of exposure for her." She was beyond playing games; she had loved this man for so many years that she just didn't care anymore.
"Ohhh, Donna. But he wants to." Josh said, rising from his chair, moving behind the desk, and planting himself on top of it. Donna glanced around him and realized that the door was open. It appeared he didn't care.
"Then do it." She stated simply, sitting there, not moving. Josh hesitated, realized that he was in his office, the door open for everyone to see. It was a small gift that CJ had already left, so she couldn't possibly walk in on them.
Donna knew the repercussions, but she didn't care. She wanted to see how far he would go for her. To see what he would do.
Josh leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. "Not here." He whispered and hopped up, grabbing her hand and pulling her with him.
"What's happening?" She asked him, bewildered, somewhat paralyzed from the quick brush of his lips against hers.
"We're leaving." He said, pulling on his coat.
"Where are we going?" She asked. Still standing there, confused.
"Anywhere but here."