Disclaimer: I own nothing
A/N: This is my first West Wing fanfic but I've loved the show for so long and am a big J/D shipper. I just thought of this while watching last weeks West Wing when Lou was talking to Josh about his sleeping habits…I couldn't help but wonder what else he might dream about, more specifically who. Ok so here it is.
Lou's P.O.V.
I sit on a plane and begin to read the contents of a folder in my lap with Josh sitting beside me.
He's asleep, again.
It's about damn time. He looks like shit, with those rings around his eyes. He doesn't get much sleep; he's too busy running the campaign into the ground with he's one-man show. I face the seat in front of me trying to erase the image of Josh drooling from my mind. I focus on the stats in my hand, wishing that my coffee was warm. I have to figure out these numbers preferably before Santos gets in front of a crowd.
And now he's twitching.
I can ignore twitching. It's not that distracting. I squint at a slightly smudged number praying it was a nine not a one or else we're kind of screwed. I put it up to the light and it's a nine. I sigh and take another sip of my coffee, it's still cold.
God hates me. How do I know this?
Josh has moved on to mumbling in his sleep.
That's how I know God hates me, that and the coffee thing. Twitching, I can handle but mumbling, that's more of a challenge.
"A book on skiing"
I stop reading. I must be hearing this wrong. I doubt Josh is a fan of skiing…Right, must turn attention back to numbers.
"You always take my fries"
I pause again. Maybe he has some sort of food obsession. I cock an eyebrow and look over at him. He has a grin on his face.
"I wouldn't stop to get a beer"
Apparently it's goes for all nutrition, alcohol too. He's twitching again, now it's a combo. I put my attention back to the numbers in my hand.
"We have eight balls, you'll all be bad cop"
At this point I put the sheet down and look directly at him. I did not want to know that much about Josh's personal life.
"It's a high wire act isn't it?"
In fact I don't want to know anything about his personal life. At least he stopped mumbling about balls, I can try to focus on the stats.
"Like chocolate chip ice cream again"
I roll my eyes…and we're back to the food thing. Ok, let's try one more time to ignore the crazy guy next to me.
"If you don't think I miss you everyday…"
He shifts in his sleep and his head lands on my shoulder. That's it! I give up. I can't focus with this. I push him back over to his seat, not trying to be gentle. He begins to wake up. Now I can get back to work.
"Donnatella?"
He sounds hopeful as his eyes slowly open.
"No Josh. It's Lou. Wake up" I say forcefully. A look of sadness appears on his face when he becomes fully conscious. He shakes his head, rubs his eyes and runs his hand through his hair once. "Donnatella?" I echo.
His face becomes hard and if I didn't know better, I think I heard him growl before he gets up and walks to the other end of the plane.
It's weird because the way his voice sounded when he said those things was soft and happy. But now that he's awake he's back to being a hardass. I shrug and look back to the sheet. I figure it's best not to wonder what goes on in his head.
