13: Daring Deeds and Dinner Dates

"Ready?"

Josh looked down at himself. "No," he admitted.

His appearance was a little mis-matched, fancy tux contrasted with the battered backpack slung over one shoulder. That he was used to. The contents of said bag, on the other hand, were definitely a little unusual.

It might not set off any metal detectors, but it would certainly raise a few eyebrows if he was stopped by security. One crossbow, with bolts. Five sharpened stakes. Three bottles of holy water. A whole bunch of pungent-smelling herbs and strange objects that would apparently allow Toby to cast spells.

"I'm not exactly the best man for the job, Toby," he pointed out.

"Of course you're not," Toby agreed without hesitation. "Unfortunately, you're the only man I've got, so shut up."

"We could bring Donna," suggested Josh hopefully. Toby gave him a look.

"We're not completely changing our carefully worked out - and might I add universally agreed - plans just because you're ridiculously possessive of your assistant."

"Okay, first, how is it universal if I don't agree? Second, possessive? I am not possessive. I am a benevolent and thoughtful employer."

Toby snorted into his beard. "Josh, the only possible answer to both of those points is that you are woefully out of touch with anything approaching reality."

"So why are you bringing me at all?"

"Probability theory. If there are two of us, there's a fifty percent chance they'll attack you."

"I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you, Toby, for being so understanding and reassuring about my role in events tonight."

"Shut up and get in the car."

Sam paced back and forth uneasily in his tuxedo. Donna had to admit that, brotherly position he occupied in her life notwithstanding, he was certainly pretty easy on the eye in formalwear.

However, she couldn't help wish Josh was in his customary place beside them. He cleaned up surprisingly well for these sorts of functions, despite his semi-legendary ability to rumple clothes he'd only worn for five seconds. And then there was the fun of watching him wrestle uselessly with his bowtie, which inevitably ended with the two of them standing nose to nose as she tied it, practically close enough to-

It was probably a good thing that Sam rescued her from that dangerous line of thought.

"I'm still not happy about this," he confided, looking worried. "I mean, I don't want people to think I'm-"

"Sam." Donna thought it was sweet that Sam was so concerned with the propriety of the thing, but it could grate on the nerves after a while.

In a way that had absolutely nothing to do with thoughts about the appropriateness of dating a man ten or fifteen years older than you.

"Sam, everybody knows you're a gentleman. Nobody would ever accuse you of doing any more than being very sweet, and offering an opportunity to a nice young woman who wouldn't normally get to come to the White House. She gets to see the president, hobnob with ambassadors, do some dancing-"

Sam found a new fear to latch onto. "Dancing? You think there'll be dancing?"

"That's why we have a dance floor, Sam."

"But what about Tribby?"

"Well, if all goes well on Josh's end, he won't even be there. In which case, we can just have a perfectly ordinary ambassadorial reception. With dancing."

"I can't dance with Buffy!" Sam insisted, panicked. "What if I fall over?"

"She's the Slayer, Sam. I'm sure she'll be able to pick you up."

Sam resumed his nervous pacing. After a moment, he looked at his watch. "Where are they?"

"CJ's gone to bring them up, Sam, they'll be here any minute."

He paced a bit more, and then stopped abruptly. "Okay, even so, I'm still not- yah!" He practically swallowed his tongue as his date appeared in the doorway and smiled at them both.

After seeing the unfortunate young woman brought back from actually beyond death's door, Donna found it impossible to bedgrudge her the way she positively lit up the room. She grinned brightly, for a moment not caught up in the grim business of slaying but just like any young woman about to enjoy a fantasy night out. "Hi, Donna." She turned towards her companion for the evening ahead, and her smile widened. "Hi, Sam."

"Hi." Sam blushed furiously, and Donna half wished Josh was there to see it and tease him about it.

Then the others arrived. Giles was looking extremely distinguished in a tux of his own, and CJ, with her arm linked through his, shot Donna a smug grin. Wesley, following behind, was looking pretty dapper himself. He extended a hand a little shyly to Donna.

"Ms. Moss?"

"Oh, please. Call me Donna." She accepted the proffered arm. Their 'dates' this evening might be nothing more than a contingency plan... but that didn't mean they couldn't have a little fun along the way.

They headed towards the reception.