Author's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE! Today is Day 100 of the 42-Day-Fic-a-Day-Til-The-Election-That-Wouldn't-Die! Every single day since September 27, I have posted at least one new fic or new chapter of a continuing fic, without pause or fail. They haven't all been that good, mind you, but there have certainly been a lot of them! This is the very last one, and to celebrate that, I'm coming back to a classic scene with a classic pair and anwering one more prompt. Today's prompt comes from Yorkiemusketeeer, who asked for a story about the hours before Josh and Donna went to Hawaii, how he asked her, and what the plane ride was like.
As I've said before, the end of the Fic a Day does not mean I'm done writing, or that people should stop sending in prompts. I'm probably going to take a few days off, sure, but I've got a lot of stuff still percolating, and I really do enjoy writing fic. I'm going to be finishing my WIPs and writing more one and two-shots as well, just slower than I have been. And if anybody would like to send me prompts or shoot me a comment or message me to talk about The West Wing, that's always awesome. I'm on Tumblr at ETraytin, very easy to find. Thank you to everyone who has come along with me on this wild and crazy ride, I hope you've all had as much fun as I have. Send me feedback, I love it!
…...
Josh understood what was happening as soon as they arrived in Washington DC, when Donna moved in with CJ instead of staying with him. People sometimes accused him of being an idiot when it came to women, of a level of blind incompetence that was frankly rather unflattering, but just because he made a lot of objectively terrible decisions during the course of his relationships with women didn't make him completely unable to decipher their thoughts and actions. Women were people, just like politicians were people, and it was his job to understand hidden motivations and unspoken words. When Donna refused to make herself readily available and instead said they needed a way to navigate their situation, it was pretty much the exact equivalent of scheduling lunches with him.
He'd be lying if he said the situation didn't unnerve him. They'd been in this boat once before, and she'd bailed, and it had overturned the whole damn thing. Matt Santos might not be president-elect today if Josh had kept even one of those eight broken lunch dates, so obviously they were pretty important. He knew that this time he couldn't weasel out again. That had been poorly done of him last time, and even if he still thought quitting without notice had been a severe overreaction, a little time and distance had given him perspective. Donna was a person who needed the people in her life to confirm her value. Ignoring her when she'd needed to talk about important things minimized that value, left her angry and hurt instead. He didn't want to do that again, he owed her better than that. If nothing else, not taking the time for her when he was sleeping with her really would make him no better than one of her old boyfriends, and he didn't think he could countenance being added to the Gomer List.
At the same time, though, getting together with her and actually talking was a lot easier said than done. Part of it was the sheer logistics of transition. There weren't enough hours in the day for sleeping or eating or grabbing regular enough showers, much less sitting down with one's... Donna and figuring out what exactly she was to him and vice versa. That had always been one of the good things about Donna, she'd always just been there and it had never been complicated, right up until that hadn't been enough anymore. Now she wanted things from him, and it made him feel like an asshole not just because he wasn't sure he could give them to her, but because it made him realize that if he couldn't give her this little bit, then what he'd been giving her before was basically nothing. But it was like Lou said, people like him didn't have lives, they had politics. They had legacies and memoirs and, he was increasingly certain, terminal cases of acid reflux, but lives were for the people who weren't out making things happen.
When Donna had come to his apartment and hadn't made him talk, that had been perfect. He knew exactly how to be with her when they were just being together. Some deep part of him resonated to the beat of her heart and the movements of her body, like she was the metronome that kept him in time. But actually saying that aloud would sound ridiculous or worse, and god's honest truth, he didn't know what else to say. Part of him was ready to put a ring on her finger right away with no thought at all; eight years of waiting was more than enough even if it hadn't all been roses. Part of him wanted her to join his staff so he could see her every day but have four or eight more years before he had to sort this out. Part of him wanted to just bury himself in her so deeply that he never had to come out and face the world again.
No part of him was ready for her to sit him down first thing in the morning when his brain was full of fog and Congressional talking points, look him in the eye with that oh-so-loving-and-serious face and tell him that if he wanted to keep her, he had to get the hell off the dime. Or words to that effect. He could tell she'd practiced the words; she had a particular way of storing up and reciting little speeches on things that were important to her, but it was still mostly babble to him. Four weeks, that part definitely stuck in his head. Four weeks to figure out what to do with Donna, when he'd spent nine years already wracking his brains about it. He was still staring at her dumbly when she gave him a really spectacular kiss and gone off to work before he could do more than babble out a goodbye.
Work that day was a disaster in progress, like every day of transition had been so far. CJ was warmer to him than she had been lately, and he could tell she was already looking to the end of the road. Getting her for the new administration would be quite a coup, despite the awkwardness of having a chief of staff and an ex-chief of staff, but he suspected that CJ wouldn't stay in Washington for love or money after January 20th. She was good at covering, but she was tired and she wanted out. Like the MS fight, but this time there was nobody to haul her back from the edge. Josh felt a little bad about that, but he had more than enough troubles of his own. He felt a little less bad later after her bitch-fit about Kazakhstan, no matter how justified she might have been in her tirade at the President-Elect. Nobody got to yell at Josh's guy that way but him.
Josh didn't get a chance to talk to Donna at all that day, but that did gave him a few seconds to think about what he was going to do with her. The deputy press secretary job was still open under Lou and whoever Lou put into the press secretary slot, almost certainly Edie Ortega. Josh wasn't sure what the job entailed, but it couldn't be that difficult; CJ had gone through like three of them and he had no idea what any of them even looked like. Deputy press secretary wasn't enough for Donna, wasn't close to what she was worth, but maybe with a lower-pressure job she could finally finish college and in a couple years Josh could let Sam go back to doing whatever Sam was doing in California and make her his actual deputy for real. That honestly didn't feel like enough either, but it was a plan, and a plan was good.
They met in the hallway between meetings, and it took her less than thirty seconds to completely destroy the plan. Not only had she been offered a much better job in the East Wing, chief of staff to Helen Santos, but she assured him that no matter what, she wasn't going to work for him anymore. Josh couldn't fault Helen Santos for noticing talent when she saw it, but the idea that Donna wasn't going to work for him, would barely be working near him, was vaguely panic-inducing. Josh knew she was looking for reassurance, waiting for him to say that of course they couldn't work together because they were going to be something else to each other now, but he wasn't anywhere near ready for that talk. Instead he told her that a month wasn't long enough, there was too much going on, what they had between them was too complicated, and he just wasn't going to be able to do it. He was having flashbacks to college, throwing himself on the mercy of a professor for just one little extension, just this once. But she was intractable. This was one lunch she wasn't going to reschedule for him.
Three weeks and six days to plan the rest of his life. Ten weeks to plan the future of the country. Twenty-four hours to figure out how to rein in the president-elect on foreign policy before CJ took Josh's head completely off, perhaps literally, perhaps to present on a platter to President Bartlet like some modern-day Salome. And maybe at some point he ougtht to sleep as well, but that was entirely negotiable until the actual hallucinations started. In any case, he was in a pretty bad mood by the time Otto had the tremendously bad fortune to try and update his Blackberry. Even as he was yelling, Josh knew he was going too far, knew Leo would've had him up by the scruff of the neck and be demanding what the hell he was doing, but somehow he couldn't seem to stop. The fact that Otto wouldn't stand up against him was just as infuriating as anything else; how could the kid expect to survive in a town like this if he wasn't made of iron from day one? This place was brutal and it would steal everything and leave you an empty husk, and if ittle-bitty Otto couldn't handle it then maybe he should get the hell out of town before January.
It was Sam who intervened in Leo's place, Sam who gave Josh the come-to-Jesus talk (so to speak), Sam who issued another, even harder-lined, ultimatum. It seemed to be Josh's week for ultimatums. It made him wonder if that's what it had really come to, that the people he was closest to were having to put it all on the line just in the hopes of reaching him. Was he really so far gone? He thought of his conversation with Lou, thought about his conversation with Donna in the hallway, and realized it was probably true. When Sam walked out, shutting the door softly behind him, Josh just stared after him for a long minute. Was this what he'd come to, yelling at helpless subordinates because he felt out of control himself? Making Donna an insulting job offer just to keep her neither too close nor too far away, risking the end of a relationship he couldn't afford to lose because he was afraid to just say what he was feeling? Being chief of staff to Matt Santos was surely going to be the first line of his obituary at this point, but at this rate it was going to be the only line. That wasn't what he wanted. Josh picked the Blackberry up, turned it over in his hands, then set it down firmly on his desk and went to find Sam.
Two hours later, Josh stopped by Donna's desk as she was putting together housing notes for the First-Lady-in-Waiting. She was incredibly organized, lists arranged in neat folders, everything in the exact right place and doubtlessly meticulously researched. She would be a good chief of staff, he realized. Probably a lot better at the everyday COS duties, the schedule-juggling and the gatekeeping, than he himself was going to be, even if she'd need to play catch-up for awhile on the politics. "Hey," he began, his voice catching just a little bit. He cleared his throat when she looked up. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
She looked up at him, her eyes full of the emotions he was just starting to be able to read again after their long separation. Caution, plenty of that. Donna had become very cautious about a lot of things in the last year and a half. He hated that for her, but it would probably serve her well as she spread her wings in this nasty town. Under the caution, though, was hope. She was still waiting for him to get himself together, she still had faith he was going to do it. Just seeing it was enough to smooth the ragged edges of his nerves from the meeting with the President-elect. "Sure," she told him easily, rising and following him to his office. "What's up?"
He closed the door, checked that the blinds were already drawn. "I told you earlier that I didn't think four weeks was enough time," he started. "I changed my mind. I want you to give me one week."
She blinked in surprised puzzlement. "Josh, what-"
"Please," he interrupted. "I need one week from you. One week of your time, you and me, going someplace and doing all the talking that we should be doing and never have the time to do. And maybe other stuff too, like vacation stuff and beach stuff, all those things you always want to do when we're campaigning in California or Florida and there's never any time. Or hell, we'll go somewhere that we can ski, there's gotta be tons of ski places open, right? It's fucking January!"
He closed the distance between them, wrapped his hands very gently around her wrists. "This could be the most important thing either of us are ever going to do, and it deserves time and thought and talking," he insisted. "You're right that we're never gonna do it here, so let's do it somewhere else. Wherever you want to go."
Her hands were warm in his, her eyes intent as she searched his face, trying to tell if he was serious or not. "You really mean it," she said, mostly not a question. "The President-Elect?"
"Swear to god," Josh promised. "I talked to him, I talked to Sam. One week, just for us."
She smiled at him then, and while it was a little too uncertain to be her full sunshine smile, he could feel the warmth and promise of a new day in it. "Wow," she murmured. "I mean... wow. When do we go?"
"Tonight," he told her, bouncing a little on his heels. Now that she'd all but said yes, the idea was really growing on him. "Why wait any longer? It's not like it's going to get any easier the longer we wait? And for god's sake, I kind of think we've waited long enough, don't you?"
Her eyes widened as she considered all the many things that would probably have to happen to make a trip happen tonight, but she didn't say no. Josh counted that as an extremely good sign. "Tonight?" she repeated. "Oh my god... I have to talk to Mrs. Santos, and pack, and tell CJ I'm going and-"
"And pick a place," Josh reminded her. "I've got a travel agent waiting for the word." He grinned at her. "There's a thirteen hour flight to Hawaii leaving at nine tonight. Once you figure in all the time zones we're flying through, we could be there in time for breakfast on the beach." He counted her squeal and enthusiastic kiss as a yes. It was close enough for government work.
It was possible, remotely possible, that neither Sam nor Josh nor the President-Elect had fully considered the amount of planning to be done before a weeklong vacation, especially one that was being embarked upon with barely five hours notice. Josh had some kind of ultra-mega-golden frequent flier miles status after the campaign, and he suspected it was the only reason the travel agent didn't laugh in his face when he told her what he wanted. But he got the tickets, and he got a suite at what had better be an extremely nice hotel considering how much it was going to cost, and he got home with just enough time to shower, change his clothes, and put his very small amount of casual clothing into a suitcase. He was going to have to buy a swimsuit in Hawaii. Donna's end of the planning was a little more complicated than that, judging by her slightly wild-eyed look and two full suitcases when he met her at the airport, but after that, the rest was out of their hands and it was time to relax.
The flight got off only five minutes behind schedule, practically a miracle at National, and by the time they reached cruising altitude, both of them were ready for vacation. Josh put up the armrest to let Donna lean against him, just like they used to do on the campaign buses back in the old days. The caffeine was beginning to seep out of his system, leaving him jittery and nervous, his stomach churning with too much acid. Donna ordered ginger ale for both of them and produced a sleeve of saltines from her bag, the same prescription she'd been using on him for years. This time she ate some of the crackers too, coping with her own stomach acid and blood-caffeine level. They made stupid jokes about airline peanuts and guys on the wing, then Donna showed him the travel guide to Hawaii she'd picked up at the airport. She had big plans, enough plans for two trips to Hawaii. It was probably some cunning feint to secure a second trip. He found himself strangely comfortable with the thought.
Josh eventually fell asleep where he sat, head lolling forward unceremoniously as weeks of stress and grief and exhaustion caught up all at once. When he woke, hours later, he was leaning against her where she leaned against him, asleep with her hand on his chest. The lights in the cabin were dim, noises muffled by cabin pressure and the overwhelming sounds of the engine. They wouldn't be talking much tonight, not here, not while they were both so tired. But that was okay, because now there was time to think, time to sit down and actually have a real conversation.
It was especially okay because now, with Donna's head resting on his shoulder and one of her dreams unfolding in front of them, Josh finally knew what he wanted to say. Having the legacy was good, writing the memoirs was good. Hell, one day he'd kind of like to have the money too. But he couldn't picture any of it meaning anything if he got there alone. Figuring out a relationship across the wings of the White House would be tough, but they'd done tough things before. And having so much of his future tied up in one person was only scary if he didn't trust that person to handle it. Donna was probably better prepared and more qualified to be in charge of the rest of his life than he was himself, but that wasn't her style. Just being there would be enough for both of them.
Josh yawned and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, smelling the citrus scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her skin. She mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep and snuggled in closer, her fingers tangling in the front of his shirt. With a sigh, he rested his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes again. They had plenty of time.
Fortuna Audaces Iuvat: Fortune favors the bold