AN's: Well, I just noticed that added a Studio 60 section. I wrote this awhile back, when I still had hope that this brilliant show would make it. I'm gonna miss it. Also, I also posted this on the Studio 60 lj fanfic forum. I hope you enjoy and please review!!

Disclaimer: Sorkin owns them.

Matt had been on a roll. Words were flowing like water out of his fingertips- it was all he could do to type fast enough. Genius- of all that he had previously written- this piece was THE work of comedic genius.

That was, until he felt the slight itch on his lower back. At first he ignored it, too consumed in his writing to be bothered to lift a finger from his keyboard. He went on typing, thinking nothing of it. But the itch persisted and Matt, still typing furiously, leaned slightly back in order to rub the spot against his chair. Within seconds, the itch subsided and he went on writing his masterpiece.

But the itch wasn't too keen on that idea and came back moments later. Matt growled in frustration and lifted one hand from the keyboard (the other still typing) as he reached around and attacked the itch head on.

Nothing worked and soon both hands had abandoned the keyboard in the fight against the itch. At this point, the work of comedic genius was long forgotten and Matt was at his wits end. Rubbing did nothing, scratching made it worse, and the use of pens just wasn't cutting it.

Matt stood up from his chair and began pacing, his hands still kneading his back as his eyes searched for something to relieve him from this torture. His gaze landed on the countdown clock, its red numbers steadily decreasing- almost laughing at his dilemma. And then Matt saw it, against the wall under the clock- the bat Harriet had given him.

He shrugged to himself. At this point he'd try anything. Grabbing the bat, he lifted it over his shoulder and rubbed at the itch.

It was then that Harriet decided to breeze into his office.

"Matthew, I know you're busy but I wanted to as-" she stopped mid-sentence as she took in his appearance.

Matt, who had frozen in place the second he heard her voice, closed his eyes and let out a sigh as he hung his head.

Harriet bit her lip in hopes of stifling her laughter, "But I see you're busy, so I'll come back," She said as she turned to leave.

"I have an itch!" Matt exclaimed to her back, "I was working and I got this itch that won't go away and I tried to make it go away but nothing worked because it's the itch of death and it wants me dead."

Harriet turned back to look at him, a wide grin on her face, "And…the bat?"

Matt dropped the hand that held the bat to his side and fought his own smile. The whole situation was kind of funny. "Nothing else worked."

Harriet watched him reach his hand behind him again and her smile softened, "Is it that spot you can never get?"

Matt eyed her, "No."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," he sighed.

"Mind if I try?"

Matt blinked at her words before shrugging, "Sure…I guess," He replied as he turned and leaned against his desk.

It wasn't long before he felt Harriet's hand slide up under his shirt. Matt stiffened at first, but then relaxed as she intermittently caressed and glided her fingernails over his skin. Matt closed his eyes as an all too familiar tingle from the pit of his stomach washed over him.

"Better?" Harriet asked, her voice sounded choked.

"Better." Matt let out a sigh as he felt her hand leave his back.

He stayed where he was, with both arms holding him up against his desk. He didn't need to turn around to know that Harriet had left.

She was gone and with her, the itch.

As for the tingle, well…Matt was used to that.