Notes:

Part one in my "Collection of Prompts." This was written for a drabble meme on tumblr, but I am really bad at writing drabbles. Prompt: "We're in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?"

Donna's making the face again.

"You've lost all sense of wonder," she tells him, "and I feel sad for you."

"Donna." Josh sucks in a breath, tries to pretend they're anywhere but trapped in a stuffy rental car on the side of some muddy gravel road in the middle of Nowhere, New York. If possible, the storm has gotten worse in the last five minutes. "I am not having this conversation."

"Clearly."

"Yeah, how old are you again?"

"Twenty-five," she says. "Well, almost twenty-six, really. Two more months! I like strawberry shortcake, in case you were wondering."

"I really wasn't."

"Strawberry shortcake, Josh. I'm also fond of—and this is just a short list, mind you—diamonds…trips to Hawaii… rare books…Bon Jovi…."

"Exactly how much money do you think I have?" he demands. "I'm not Leo, for God's sake."

"I'm a girl with dreams," Donna says, leaning her forehead against the car window. She huffs, and her breath fogs up the glass. "I still have those. Unlike you."

"For the love of—I'm just saying, you're kind of a grown-up. I mean, barely. You could still pass for a cheerleader, I guess."

"Sexism!" Donna widens her eyes at him. "Charming." An ominous rumble vibrates through the car, and together, they stare out into the downpour. Josh is pretty sure they'd been driving past a soybean field or something when he had made the executive decision to pull off to the side of the road and wait out the worst of it. If the field's still there, he can't find it. All he can see is rain. And Donna.

"My point," Josh finally says, "is that it's not, y'know, dignified. We're going to be late to the fundraiser as it is."

"Josh, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but we're definitely missing the fundraiser. Like, it's halfway over." Donna leans forward in her seat, blocking his view out the window, and goddammit—she makes the stupid face again. The one with the wrinkled nose. Why did he have to get an assistant with a nose that wrinkles like that? It's really quite unfair. "I know it's the last one and you were really looking forward to it, and we were almost there, but it's time to accept defeat gracefully now, boss. Governor Bartlet and Leo understand! They have Sam wheeling and dealing in your stead. Meanwhile, we're stuck here for who even knows how long, and it's been forever since I've done this, and I'm just saying that you could take a break from being you for five minutes and experience the spontaneous joys in life—" The crack of a bolt of lightning cuts her off.

"See?" Josh jabs a finger at the window. "We're in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain? Never mind my dignity; I'm not particularly interested in death. Or hypothermia. Or electric shocks of any kind. Or—"

"Oh, fine. You're afraid of a little risk." Donna unlocks her car door. "But I'm not. You can stay here and enjoy being bored."

"Donna!" Josh protests, but before he can so much as unbuckle his seat belt, she's out of the car, and the door is slamming shut. Josh lets his head fall to the steering wheel. This is really his life? He's really going to have to run into the middle of a thunderstorm to retrieve his ridiculous assistant? An assistant, by the way, who is supposed to listen to him.

He thinks about that face again, even though he probably shouldn't linger on it. God, it's the freckles. And the eyes. And the smart mouth, come to think. And—nope. He's done.

Josh runs his hands through his hair, squeezes his eyes shut, curses the day Donnatella Moss tricked him into hiring her, and gets out of the damn car.

Within about eight seconds, he's soaked. It's freezing, and he can't help but gasp, hold up a hand to shield his face. He fumbles his way around the car, head ducked, and sees her.

Donna is standing just a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself, face upturned. Eyes closed. She's beaming, and her hair is plastered every which way, and even when the thunder claps, she doesn't so much as flinch. Josh hasn't ever seen anything quite like her before.

"Hey," he finally says, sidling up next to her. "Crazy lady. You're gonna drown."

"Admit that this is the best you've felt all day," Donna says, opening her eyes and blinking up at him. "Admit it's a welcome shock to your over-caffeinated, under-hydrated system."

Josh opens his mouth impatiently, ready to tell her that his socks are wet and his teeth are literally about to chatter and he's probably going to come down with pneumonia and keel over before he sees Jed Bartlet win the Presidency, but then, he's losing his train of thought—there are raindrops beading on Donna's eyelashes, and her thin coat is clinging to her like a second skin, and he's never met someone in real life who stands in the rain just to…well, stand in the rain. So, he stands there with her, hands in his pockets, two inches of murky water pooling around his ruined shoes, and he doesn't say anything at all.

Donna closes her eyes again, arms outstretched. Josh isn't sure he could look away, even if he wanted to. He listens to the rush of the wind, breathes in the cold and the wet and the sheer improbability of this moment. There's a burst of lightning, a little closer than before, and this time, Donna jumps. She grabs his elbow, drags him back to the car, and they tumble inside, panting and shivering. Josh turns the key, punches on the heat.

"You know," Donna says, leaning in to the warmth of the vents, "it occurs to me that we don't have towels."

"It had occurred to me, too," Josh mutters.

"Or blankets."

"Or coffee."

"Or any idea of when we're getting to our hotel."

"Or common sense."

"Well," Donna sighs, after a beat of silence, "I never said standing in the rain was a good idea. I just said it would be exhilarating."

"You're exceptionally weird," Josh agrees.

"You knew that when you hired me," Donna says, waving a hand in his face. "Whatever. I'm good for you."

Despite himself, he grins at her, watching a raindrop roll down her nose. It also occurs to Josh that for the first time in…well, he can't really remember how long, he hasn't been obsessing about ad buys and stump speeches and the undecideds and how many hands Jed Bartlet is supposed to be shaking. Josh hasn't really been thinking much at all. Donna can make his brain go very still.

It should worry him, maybe, but he shrugs it off, tears his gaze back out the window. The rain's letting up some. It's about time he put the car in gear and got them the hell back to civilization.

"Seriously!" Donna insists, as they pull slowly back onto the gravel road. "I'm a delight. I keep you young, or something."

"Yeah," Josh says, and he's careful to keep his focus locked steadily ahead. "Or something."