Disclaimer: I do not own The West Wing, Donna Moss, Josh Lyman, et al. I've earned nothing but the pleasure of the writing, and the possibility of some nice feedback.
~*~
Donna and I follow C.J. and Toby to Leo's office.
"Is he still here?" C.J. asks Margaret.
Margaret nods and points toward the Oval office. "They're having tea."
I glance at Donna. She's holding it together, but barely. I touch her arm for support. I wish it could be more, but propriety and all. And present company.
A few moments later, Will joins us.
"Did you hear it on the wire?" C.J. asks Will.
"No, I got a call," Will says. "Does the President know?"
"Looks like the gang's hovering," the President says jovially, looking from the Oval office into Leo's.
"Come on in, guys," invites the First Lady, also sounding gay.
Leo steps into the doorway, a smile on his face. "What's up?"
Donna rushes from Leo's office.
I glance at C.J.
"Go on," she says softly.
I take off after Donna. Her heels clack on the tile and she rushes toward my office.
She's so tenderhearted. It's one of the things I love most about her. And one of things I hope this town never steals from her.
Not that I disagree with her on the pardon issue. The President mentioned how many pardons Coolidge, Wilson, and Roosevelt had issued. Why don't contemporary presidents issue as many?
Donna is good at her job, despite her soft heart, and if she thought all these people deserved a pardon, them I'm guessing there are hundreds, if not thousands, more with similar stories.
I walk into my office, closing the door behind me. She's standing at the window, hugging herself. Her shaking shoulders tell me she's weeping.
Mostly I don't like crying women, but with Donna, I don't mind so much. It's not that I like the reason she's been brought to tears, but I like it when I can be the one to comfort her. To make things better. And if it's at all within my power, you better believe I move heaven and earth to do so.
Moving behind her, I wrap my arms around her and kiss her on the neck. She smells so delectable. Some sensual floral scent I really like the smell of. Magnolias—that's it. Oh, wow. She's wearing the perfume I bought her for her birthday. Well, what do you know...? I could spend a lot of time and attention here if we had the time. But we don't...
"Why?" she asked, her voice tremulous. "Why couldn't he have just done it? It was the right thing to do."
"It was. I agree with you." The President should have left Donovan Morrissey's name on the commutation list. If the press asked, we could have been honest with them and said we were damned either way and opted to do it. He was just as deserving as any of the other thirty-five folks on the list—no matter who his parents happened to be.
"You do?" She's surprised.
"I do." I kiss her again. Most of the time, I am about political gain, but every now and then, she convinces me that the right thing to do is greater than political gain or loss. "I'm sorry about Donovan."
She turns in my arms and buries her face in her hands on my chest. She weeps some more for a young man lost in a vast system.
A system we created for the greater good. But sometimes, a lot of times, apparently, decent people get caught in that system. A complicated system that obviously needs changing. Needs a way for the personal touch to make a difference. Maybe his death would not have to be in vain.
I rub her back and let her cry for a little while longer. I love having her in my arms. Something that happens far too infrequently. Maybe tonight...
"Donna?"
She looks up at me. Beautiful, despite her shiny tear-filled eyes, splotchy cheeks, and the black streaks from her mascara.
"Why don't we do something after the thing?"
"Yeah, like what?" she asks softly.
"I dunno. We could go to a bar and get shit-faced."
She shakes her head. No, of course not. This isn't a getting drunk kind of situation.
"We could take in the late show."
She shrugs, apparently liking that suggestion a little better, but it still doesn't feel right.
"We could just go home...together." Together comes out as a whisper. One that holds hope.
Her face changes. Well, really it's her eyes. They transform from watery blue to smoky blue, and I feel the charge deep in my gut. Well, deeper actually.
Yes, sometimes we make love. Not often, but sometimes. Not as often as I'd like, but we work in a fishbowl, and we have to be careful.
"Okay," I say, kissing her on the forehead and then lightly on the mouth. "Go fix your face. I'll meet you by the motorcade."
****
We stand outside near the limos and Suburbans. Donna huddles into her coat. I want to put my arms around her again. To kiss her and make her forget for just a little while.
"There's nothing you could have done," I tell her again.
It was the President's decision. Had he asked, I would have argued to keep Donovan on the list. But he assumed he knew my position, since nine times out of ten it's the choice I would have made. I should have spoken up. I almost did, but then we were being dismissed and the moment was lost.
"It's stupid.... I don't even know why...." She looks at the ground.
"You met 'em," I remind her softly. "They got to you."
"I need to learn how to not be so...how to keep things at arms length."
"I hope not," I whisper as Toby approaches.
"We're heading over," Toby says, his voice gentle. "The President asked for you to escort the special guests."
Donna looks at me, sorrow still etching her beautiful countenance. We turn toward the vehicles and I slide my hand across her shoulder and into her hair, offering what comfort I can with a meager, impersonal-looking touch.
****
Donna looks much better when I find her. The reception is pretty much over; the pardoned and their families have all been escorted back to the hotels. The Bartlets have gone to the residence, and Leo seems to have left as well. The cleaning crew now outnumbers the staffers and assistants.
"You ready?" I ask. "You wanna share a cab?"
Ed and Larry walk by.
"G'night guys," Donna says to them.
The cab ride home is quiet, and Donna snuggles into me and I hold her close. We hold hands up the stairs and into my apartment.
"You want a beer?" I ask.
"No." She shrugs out of her coat and lays it over her purse on the chair.
"Water?"
"Water's good."
She enters the kitchen as I push the fridge door shut and hand her a bottle of water. She leans against the counter and looks at me. Most of her sorrow is gone. Unfortunately, most of the smoky is gone, too.
Now that we're here, and since we really came here for one purpose, I'm not quite sure how to get things started without seeming like all I want to do is get her into my bed.
Not that I usually have this problem with women, but this is Donna. And those other times we made love, we were already together for some purpose or another, usually a late work meeting.
"You did good today," I say, coming to stand right in front of her. I rest my hands on the counter, one on each side of her.
"Yeah?" She places her hands on my upper arms and looks deep into my eyes and the smoky returns.
I feel the heat of her hands through my dress shirt and all the way down to my toes.
She leans toward me, eyes wide open, holding my gaze just until she opens her mouth against mine and inviting me in. Her eyes sweep shut, and I wrap my arms around her, my tongue dancing with hers to a tune unique to the two of us.
My hands explore her back, slipping up under her jacket and blouse. She gasps when my hands move from fabric to skin. The kiss ends, and she looks at me, eyes wide and, God help me, filled with desire.
"Josh..." she whispers; it's more of a plea really.
I take her by the hand and lead her to my room. I switch on a couple of lamps.
"Lights, Josh?" she asks.
"I want to see you. You're so beautiful. I want to watch when you..."
A pretty blush stains her cheeks.
I cradle her head with both hands and kiss her again. She's immediately pressing herself against me and making little mewling noises that are making me so hot for her. If my penis had hands, it'd be undoing my zipper for me.
She's finally unbuttoning my shirt, although there's an undershirt. She pushes the dress shirt off, then immediately tugs the soft cotton tee out of my waistband and pulls it off as well.
I release her and work on my pants. She shrugs out of her jacket, allowing it to slide to the floor. Then she crosses her arms across her body to grab the hem of her blouse. She pulls it up slowly, revealing creamy white skin and a black lace bra that makes my breath catch.
I'm standing there with my boxers tented out in front of me as she undoes her pants and lets them slide down and pool around her ankles. She steps out of them and toward me.
The matching black lace panties stop my heart.
She's in my arms so fast I don't remember closing the distance between us. We're kissing again. Wet, hot kisses.
I pick her up and she wraps her long slender legs around my waist, and I can feel her heat and desire on my stomach.
Oh, God, this is going to be...
I lay her down on my bed, and lie down next to her. I just want to sink into her. To feel her around me.
But that's not fair to her. I know she's physically ready for me, but I don't want it to be over too soon.
"Josh..." she calls to me again.
I flick her bra open to release those gorgeous breasts that are actually fuller than they look when she's completely dressed. And thank God for that, too.
I knead one and suckle at the other, pulling a low moan from her that almost sends me into orbit.
When I'm done with that, I move back to her delectable mouth. She shimmies out of her panties and then pushes my boxers over my erection and off my body.
"Is it still safe?" I whisper. I do have a box of condoms, but I'm so glad when she nods. Having to roll a rubber on right now would be a real buzz-kill.
Positioning myself over her, she hooks an ankle around my leg and slides it up and down.
"You're so beautiful, you know," I say.
She smiles, but her eyes get watery.
"Hey, hey...what wrong?" I ask. Shit.
"Nothing," she says, shaking her head. "Love me, Josh."
I sink into her slowly, a groan tearing from my throat. "Oh, God, Donna..."
I'm in heaven right now. This needs to go no farther.
But it does. I start moving and we find our rhythm. I watch her and she watches me. It's so erotic, it's all I can do to not come right now.
Our bodies instinctively increase the pace, each looking for the little death. Her body begins to flush. God, I love that.
Her eyes sweep shut, and her face relaxes. I know she's close. Oh, so close. And I am, too...
"Ohhh...Joooshhh..."
I feel her spasm around me, and I fight my own orgasm for a few more seconds to watch her and allow her to finish.
"Oh, God, Donna..." I groan and push into her one last time, releasing myself into her.
I bend my arms and lower myself to press a kiss to her mouth before burying my face in her neck. She runs her hands through my hair, which I love.
This can't be comfortable for her any longer, so I gently pull out of her and slide to one side. "You need a wash cloth or anything?" I ask.
"Nu-uh," she mumbles, cocooning into me. "Just you."
"Well, you got me." I wrap my arm around her, stroking her hair. And although she doesn't know it, yet, I'm hers forever.