Title: Rules in Politics (1/1) - prequel to First Hundred Days and The Short List
Author: Alice J. Foster

Summary: Josh proposes in Hawaii, but getting Donna to say yes won't be as easy as he'd predicted.

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Transition.

Author's notes: This is a prequel to my other two stories: First Hundred Days and The Short List; Ad Infinitum: Exit Strategy is also part of this universe (crossover with Stargate SG-1), but that one is set ten to twelve years in the future :)

Disclaimer: Don't sue me. I have no money.

Rules in Politics (1/1)

"May I just say, a truly excellent notion?" I say after I slide into the uncomfortable coach seat next to him. Flying on Air Force One definitely spoils a girl where plane rides are concerned.

"Sam's," Josh replies.

"Of course." Someone remind me to kiss Sam Seaborn next time I see him.

"The vacation," Josh explains. "Going with you part was all me."

If I weren't so desperately in love with this man already, I'd find myself in serious danger of falling right now.

I move in to kiss him and he returns the kiss with eagerness and I don't think this will ever get old, the feeling of his lips against mine.

This is right.

When we finally separate, I put my head on his shoulder and I feel him breathing in my hair before touching his lips slightly to the top of my head. "Just when you'd lost all hope I'd ever take you to Hawaii."

I don't have to look at him to know he's grinning. "I knew all that bugging would break you down one day."

"Come on, marry me, Donna."

Ok, before I lose you, lemme explain some things:

I've been in love with Josh Lyman for a very, very, very long time. Possibly much longer than I can admit out loud to anyone, present company included. Now, the circumstances in which he and I became acquainted were not in the least favorable to any kind of long term personal relationship, romantic or not. This is politics, where loyalty is just a word unless you need something or have something to offer. Professional relationships are even worse – if you're lucky, you get to be employed for a full 2-year term; if you're really lucky, you get 4 years. If you're extraordinarily lucky, you get 8 years but honestly, you're better off gambling in Atlantic City than expecting any position in Washington to last that long.

It was a rare sunny day in New England when I entered those campaign headquarters in New Hampshire. My head was clouded; I was having panic attacks every time I thought about what I'd done. I tried to get as far away as possible from everything and everyone who'd known the old Donna Moss. I needed to bury myself under the biggest mess I could find, because at least it wasn't my mess and I could fix it. The biggest mess was personified by Josh Lyman – or more accurately, his office. His office practically screamed 'I am a mess and it would be easier to just torch me than fix me up.' So, in retrospective, maybe I can't blame the subsequent co-dependency on Josh alone.

It does take two to tango after all.

Anyway, I had doubts. I went back home and tried to go back to my old routine but my brief experience with the Bartlet team had forever changed me - I was damaged goods. After a small car accident and some beer incident, I was back on the road. Josh and I became a team, this one entity determined to break down deviant congressmen and fail terribly at any mediocre attempt at relationships. Ok, maybe the latter one was done subconsciously but seeing as I am currently in Hawaii with my former boss, I'd say Team Josh-and-Donna succeeded.

My reasons for leaving were all professional. I think Josh knows that now, even if he doesn't agree. And I do have to admit, a small part of me thought he'd find me right away and we'd act on those unspoken feelings - but I am glad that didn't happen because it gave me the opportunity I needed to create my own political persona (which resembled a little bit of every wonderful person I ever looked up to, including Josh, C.J., Toby, Dr. Bartlet, Leo, Mrs. Landingham, and the list could go on forever). I grew more in those few months apart than I'd grown the previous eight years, counting the campaign and our two terms in the White House. When I lost in my own campaign, it was painful but part of me knew it was coming, especially when fighting against Josh. I mean, the man sometimes has the perception of a blind bat but when it comes to finding the 'real thing' in politics, he's learned from the best.

Once I joined the Santos campaign, it was fantastic having Lou as my boss, because it provided the necessary buffer to keep Josh and I from falling into our old routine – at least right away. The two of us just can't help it, you see. I see the man's tie crooked, I have to fix it - it's got nothing to do with being an assistant or a woman; it's just one of those Josh-and-Donna things, something akin to a powerful, distinguished force that you can't really fight no matter how hard you want. Trust me, I've tried.

Next thing I know, he's kissing me in a hotel room and we both know we shouldn't but we can't think of enough reasons why not; so I return the kiss and the pull was too strong. I've had many a good kiss, but nothing ever compared to a first kiss charged with almost 9 years of sexual tension.

I'd always known that if Josh and I were to ever be together sexually, I would have to be the one to initiate things. Josh's mating call involves polling numbers, unfunny jokes and self-humiliation, not the signs one would typically look for when trying to get laid. Lucky for me, I'm fluent in Lymanese.

And the first kiss happened, and it evolved into the second one and everything got too damn complicated. Next thing I know I was teasing Josh into going on a date with some brainless feminista – ok, that was not nice, Sarah Potrero is gorgeous and smart and she so does not deserve to have her perfect power-dating life screwed up by trying to get some kind of commitment out of the future White House Chief of Staff. Or at least that's what I tell myself. Because, you see, Josh Lyman is terrified of commitment.

And with that in mind, my whole strategy to deal with this relationship was born. When I planned on communicating my deadline, I briefly wondered if I should use any visual aids but I decided giving us both some much needed sexual release followed by a short non-version of 'the talk' would be more effective.

You can't imagine my surprise when Josh told me to pack my bags and leave all my winterwear at home.

And here we are, in Hawaii, walking on the beach when Josh decides to forget simple basic facts (such as his fear of commitment, his tendency to screw up relationships in just the right amount so as to force the other party to break up with him, and let's not forget the current limbo our own 'thing' seems to be in currently) and proposes. To me.

"No." I decided on the short answer again as I try to finish my wonderful drink.

"Why?" He whines next to me as we sit watching the sun set. Although the first day doesn't count seeing as we slept for fifteen hours, Josh and I have only been vacationing for 3 days and I think he might have heat stroke or something.

I stop walking for a second and turn to him trying to find some answers. "You're not serious, are you?"

Something similar to hurt crosses his face. "How could you ever think I'd joke about something like that, Donna?" My expression must tell him the answer because he reiterates, "Ok, I might be the kind of person who'd joke about that. But not this time. I'm serious, you should marry me."

"Josh, I said we needed to talk. I never said I needed you to make an honest woman out of me. This is the first vacation you ever had. You really need to unfog your mind because you're obviously not thinking clearly." My umbrella drink tastes great right now as I examine the flip flops I'm wearing; I don't want to see the hurt look in his eyes.

"Exactly, this is the first vacation I've ever had, possibly the last. Can you think of a better time? If we don't do this now, it's like you said – it'll be the Inauguration, then the First Hundred Days, war in Asia, Second State of the Union, Third State of the Union, civil unrest in Africa, second term and it'll be too late." He pauses for breath and I feel his hand on my chin, lifting me up and now he's holding my gaze. "If last year taught me anything, Donna, is that I can be without you professionally, and I can muddle through without you personally, but I don't want to do either. I want you in my life; I want to wake up with you every morning. I have to help the most powerful man run this country but I don't want to do it without you, Donna."

"Oh, Josh," I try to say but I'm too busy trying not to cry in some gorgeous Hawaiian beach in front of at least a dozen strangers.

"Does that mean you'll marry me?" Josh fishes.

"No." I shoot him down again and you'd think the man would understand I'm impervious after all these years.

"Come on, Donna!" He's getting exasperated so I tug on his arm so we can keep on walking down the sandy shore. "I now understand how Toby felt."

I search for words to communicate to him why this is a bad idea. "Josh, I really don't think you're thinking clearly… in less than two months you'll be adjusting to a new position, managing a staff of hundreds, possibly thousands, bullying the new Congress and the new Cabinet, not to mention walking the new President of the United States through the job. Throwing a new marriage into the bundle might be just too much on your plate, don't you think?"

"No, I don't. Because you know what? This is the first decision I've made in years that isn't politically motivated – and you know what else? The last decision before that was flying to Germany to see you, and when I try to think of any decisions before that, it's always you. I've seen great men in our line of work fall prey to alcohol, drugs and other bad choices, and the only thing that kept me from going over the edge for the past nine years was you."

I'll admit, I'm crying again. I can't help it, this is just one of those times where Josh is so unlike Josh that I can't use my usual arguments, I can't crack a joke, I can only resort to feeling my heart beating somewhere in my throat as the tears well up in my eyes. I briefly wonder how many times he's going to make me cry this week. "Josh, there are more things you need to consider. We are going to be working in the same building, in a city with a monstrous divorce rate, working stressful jobs and I don't want to end up like Toby and Andy, or Leo and his wife. I think we need more time to figure out what's going on between us. There are so many things to be considered, living arrangements, if we want children, how this is going to affect the administration--"

"We've had nine years!" Josh cuts me off. "I know we need more time… more time to figure out stuff-- but can't we do that while we're married? And before you spew out more reasons why you think this is a bad idea – which is not, by the way, -- the administration will do fine. You're not my assistant anymore, you won't even be working in the same department; no one will have any evidence that any rules were broken during the Bartlet administration because they weren't. Even if anyone speculates that anything happened between us before it did, we broke no laws. In fact, if you're so concerned about how this is gonna look, then the more reason for you to agree to marry me. We'll be found out sooner or later, and it'll be much easier to deal with everything if I have a marriage certificate up my sleeve. Don't forget the President and the First Lady and a few other couples who make it, Donna. I thi—I know we can make it."

"Josh—Joshua—" Obviously the man has some experience negotiating. But then again, so do I. "If I were to agree to this, there'd need to be rules."

"Can you do anything in life without establishing stup—," he catches himself before the little slip. "… rules. Without establishing rules."

"Yes, I can. Just not the important stuff. Do you want to hear the rules or not?" At his nod, I commence. "I know I can't make you promise to get out of work at a reasonable time but here's the deal - rule 1: I don't leave the White House til you leave the White House, and I don't go to sleep until you go to sleep. You want to deprive yourself of sleep, that's fine-- but you'll be depriving me of sleep too and you know I get cranky and I will make you suffer. Rule 2: one vacation after every election—"

He interrupts me, "Midterms too?"

"Yes, Josh, midterms too. Rule 3: You'll eat better, exercise even if I have to put a treadmill in your office and most importantly, Josh, I need you to promise me you'll quit if you ever…" I try to find the words but no euphemisms come to me, nothing that will soften the blow. "…promise me you'll quit if you have a heart attack or anything else happens. Because if I agree to marry you, I need you to try your hardest to be there when I grow old."

This is Josh's turn to look a little teary-eyed so we stop walking as he pulls me into his arms, the cooling sand feeling refreshing against our feet. "Do I get to put in requirements for sexual obligations in that proposal?" Ah, good old Josh, it's nice to have you back.

I give him a smile for his effort before asking him, "Are you trying to pork-barrel your own marriage proposal?"

"A good politician takes every opportunity he can."

"Josh?"

"Yes, Donnatella?"

"Of the times we've slept together, how many times have I initiated the encounter?"

He seems to think very hard about it. "Maybe once or—…" he gives up, defeated. "Fine, all of them."

"What makes you think it'd be any different if I agree to this?"

He lowers his head in defeat. "I'm sure you have a rule for, you know—children. I'm not completely… what I'm trying to say is that the thought has obviously crossed my mind while I considered the matter at hand and…"

We haven't really discussed the topic, but considering our lack of birth control for the past month or so, we probably should've gone past the 'my last tests came clean' conversation we had our first night together, since obviously this is an issue. "Josh, it's ok, we don't have to decide right now, I just mean that we should at least acquaint ourselves with our new positions first. It'd be too hectic to start a family while in the White House." And I'm being very honest here, even if somewhat hypocritical considering our lack of concern over possible pregnancy as of late.

"No, you're mista—listen, Donna, I am not good with kids… actually, I might be great with kids, I just haven't been around them long enough to find out. And I thought I was comfortable with my, let's say, childlessness; even my mom has come to terms with it," he babbles.

He's cute when he babbles.

"But Donna, when we, you know," he makes bedroom eyes at me as explanation, "… and I think we might end up creating life, it just…" He's got this little smirk that's downright adorable even if what he's saying is kind of scaring me.

"Turns you on? The thought of getting me pregnant turns you on?" I must be starting to look pissed because Josh quickly gets his Damage Control face on.

"Not in a sexist way! Nothing to do with getting my woman pregnant and barefoot, except that I do enjoy the 'getting my woman pregnant' part." I should interrupt him now but I want to see just how far he can go with hanging himself. "Of course, your opinion matters more to me since you'll be doing all the work for the first 9 months, but I'm in my forties, you're in your thirties, if we wait until Santos is out of office, it could be too late. I want to be able to see our children graduate college, I want to see them getting married and I think if anyone can run a country and change diapers at the same time, it's us."

Ok, he might have redeemed himself a little bit. "Josh…" I start and he interrupts me.

"I'm not saying we should be trying to have a baby right now, Donna… I'm just saying I don't think we should waste time trying not to."

I nod and suddenly I realize I'm on the verge of agreeing to marry Josh Lyman, in a breezy Hawaiian beach, just a few weeks before the new President of the United States takes office. So I do the only thing I can do, I continue with the rules. "Fine, rule 4: no birth control. Also, Josh, we don't tell anyone."

"We don't tell anyone about our lack of birth control?"

"No, we don't tell anyone about the marriage. I say we wait until the Second State of the Union." I see his confused expression, so I attempt to explain. "Josh, I'm not embarrassed about this. You took a week off, I took a week off, we're both going back with tans, I'm sure people will put two and two together. God knows Sam's had suspicions for years and I think the President-Elect was on to us when he called me into his office to find out why you were so wound up. But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for both of us, I want to establish myself as a capable chief of staff to the First Lady before we let this particular can of worms out. Also, I don't want every newspaper speculating about the nature of this marriage or digging up old skeletons in our closet and eating up our news cycle. We wait until the Second State of the Union and if everything's going well for us, we make an announcement."

"Do you honestly believe we can wait that long, Donna? How about we wait until the Inauguration?"

I shake my head. "Too soon. First Hundred Days? But only if we get good reviews."

He finally nods. "Ok, rule 5: we tell everyone then. Any more rules?"

"No."

"So is this a yes?" He asks excitedly.

"What, just now? That was a no."

"Dooooonnna," he whines.

"Do you agree to all the rules?"

"Yes, Donna, now will you marry me?" There's some exasperation in his voice and I fight the temptation to tease him a little bit longer, but I end up smiling and he must understand it, because he picks me up and twirls us around, my umbrella drink falling to the sand.

I kiss him as hard as I can, trying to remember just how exactly I got into this mess.

Oh, right: it was a rare sunny day in New England when…

The End

Sequels: First Hundred Days and The Short List.