He waited.
It was probably the first time in Joshua Lyman's life that he did anything of the sort, but he was waiting and he would wait forever if he had to for Donna.
Sam was right. Sam, more often than not, was right, especially when it came to relationships. Josh was always the geek, the one that had girlfriends but those girlfriends had to understand that come finals time, there would be no dates.
There were the few times that he had tried to be "normal" and date, but most of the time it just didn't work out and he got so caught up in something that eventually the girl would just break up with him in frustration.
Sam, meanwhile, was able to date even while being in college and more importantly, in this hell-hole of a job.
So, it was all fine and dandy for Sam to tell him to charm Donna, but Josh really had no idea how to do that.
Sure, he gave her a book where he wrote an amazing note to her, when she hugged him and he realized how good she smelled and how much he wanted his present to be the best one, but he was pretty sure that it was the work of divine intervention rather than the work of him.
Even if he was god like.
That and he couldn't walk fifteen feet without having to sit down. Now Sam wanted him to take her to dinner or something.
He couldn't even get her flowers.
She came in, looking like hell. He could always tell when she had been crying, because she would always forget the corners of her eyes when she was trying to wash the mascara away. She carried some groceries with her, along with a files in her black leather tote bag that she carried around with her everywhere.
"How was the office?" he asked. Maybe he needed to establish a conversation, maybe she would be happy Donna again.
"Fine," she said with no intention of telling him more.
He walked into the kitchen. "You get everything you needed?"
"Yes."
"Still hot and muggy outside."
"Unfortunately."
He was getting tired of her one word answers. He wanted to yell at her, tell her that he had done nothing except be the normal him and he would not act like an invalid forever. He would tell her that he was more than scar tissue, more than breathing problems. He would tell her that he might now not be in the best shape of his life, but to believe him, he was more than all man and he was more than willing to show her.
He gritted his teeth. "Fine," he bit out, walking away from her.
He couldn't stand to be on the damn couch anymore, he was on it all day. Instead he made his way out onto the pathetic excuse for a deck in his apartment. It just overlooked the small courtyard, but there was a woman across the way determined to beautify it with flowers, so at least there was something to look at. That and he couldn't stand the frigidity coming from Donna.
She was right, it was unfortunately hot and muggy, the type of oppressive heat that made one want to howl in frustration. Though, Josh thought, it could be because Donna was both angering the hell out of him and making him love her for it.
He tried to rationalize his love for her at first, saying that it was the love of a brother, but then, when he realized just how amazing she would look in a ball gown, he decided that it was just because Mandy had broken up with him, again and he wanted a rebound.
Then, once the White House was theirs and Mandy was gone, he didn't take too much time to think about his relationship with Donna. He loved her, sure, but that's because she was an amazing assistant and friend.
It was platonic.
Now he was not so sure. When he was shot, his first thought was the President, his last thought was Donna. In the hospital he just wanted her there, he was always at peace when she was. Suddenly, very suddenly, he needed her and, more importantly, he wanted her. He wanted to be with her more than just at the office. He caught himself thinking about what she would taste like, if her skin was as soft as he thought it was.
Now she wouldn't look at him. She was there out of obligation and he hated the thought. If she was going to be here, if she was going to take care of him, it had to be because she wanted to be here, because she cared about him.
"Why are you out here?"
He didn't to turn around, didn't want to see that the concern in her voice didn't meet her eyes, that she was just here because she thought he was pathetic and needed babysitting.
"I needed to be."
"It's disgusting out here. Come inside."
"Why?"
He wasn't sure why he asked, but now he wanted to hear her answer. He needed to hear her answer.
"Because you shouldn't be standing around anyway. You should be inside so I can go back to dinner and you can rest. Like you're supposed to."
Like you're supposed to. Throughout his entire life he did what he was supposed to do and sometimes it turned disastrous. He was tired of doing what he was supposed to do.
So he stopped.
He turned around, surprised at his own speed and agility. She was closer than he thought, but he didn't mind. He grabbed her, pulling her as close as he could when a groan escaped him as her hands brushed his still healing scars. He wasn't sure if it was out of pain or out of pleasure, but at the moment he truly didn't give a damn.
He kissed her. He wasn't what he imagined their first kiss to be.
It was a thousand times better.
He kissed her for all he was worth, pulling her closer still, wrapping his fingers in her hair, loving the fact that he finally could.
She wasn't kissing him back, he realized. She stood in his embrace, just taking it as if she was merely a mannequin.
Now, this wouldn't do.
He broke the kiss, taking the time to explore her face with his lips, ghosting them over her cheeks, her eyelids. Marveling how truly amazing it was when he just didn't do what he was supposed to.
"Josh," she murmured.
He ignored her, instead moving his lips to the place where her neck and her face met, realizing that he could do this forever and not be tired of it.
She groaned, leaning into him just slightly before speaking again.
"We can't do this."
"Like hell," he growled.
He kissed her again. He hated being told what to do and he was pretty sure this was the best thing since politics.
But she still wasn't kissing him back.
He drew away, unable to kiss her when he could tell she wasn't enjoying it.
"Josh," she said softly.
"Save it. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."
With that he walked past her, going into his bedroom and shutting and locking the door, unsure if he wanted to punch something or realize that no matter what Sam thought, the geek never got the girl.