Disclaimer: The usual stuff: I don't get money from this, the people who own the show really DO own the show, not me.
Rating: G
A/N: Ooh! Look what I found! Some JD! From me! I haven't written that in quite some time. I had forgotten all about this story, which has been written AGES ago, I just never posted it. Well, I guess it's time for everything... The song in here is written by Oscar Hammerstein and Jerome Kern. A wonderful song, not only for those who like jazz ballads.
Warning: Pure Fluff! ;)
All The Things You Are
The bullpen is dark as she slides in through the twin doors. They stay swinging behind her for awhile before closing, trapping her inside. It's almost eleven thirty in the evening, the house is quiet, and she feels lonely standing there in the doorway with no one else around. She squints her eyes to see through the black cloak of darkness all around. She's suspicious, not quite sure how to react to the lack of human presence and light. Cautiously, she reaches her hand to flick on the light.
The voice pushes through the dark. "Don't turn them on."
Her head jerks up, her look scanning through the dark - her eyes have now fairly adjusted, starting to recognize shapes and shadows. She's not frightened because she recognizes the voice, and she smiles. "Josh, what is going on?"
She sees his shape, the black form of a man, approaching through the dark. He is smiling. She can't see it; she can feel it. After a few steps he's right in front of her. She can smell him, feel his warmth through her coat. His hand searches her arm, pulling at it gently. "C'mon, I have something for you."
Her eyebrow shoots up, even though she knows he can't see it. "You do? Really?" Her voice is full of genuine surprise and, even to her own ears, happiness. "I thought you'd forgotten."
"Of course I hadn't." He says it with total honesty, and she finds no reason not to believe him. Still she can't help protesting. "But you kept acting like you had all day."
"I'm a politician," he laughs.
His hand guiding her leads them to the door of his office. It's closed, and he pushes it open.
Her breath gets caught in her chest as she stares at the view. The walls bathe with the soft yellow glow coming from the candles placed on his desk; the desk is cleared out of files and books and all that stuff, now occupied with a simple setting for two. A tray, obviously stolen - or borrowed - from the mess, stands next to the desk.
A single red rose lies next to the other plate.
"I know, I know, not exactly the best place to eat, the desk I mean, but I couldn't drag another table here, it would've stolen all the space and I didn't want to do that because... well, I thought it would be nice to dance on the floor instead of the table, not that I'd mind the latter option --"
"There's dancing?" her voice cuts in. She looks at him with wide eyes.
"Of course there is. A fine dinner is hardly fine without dancing, now is it?" His smile fills his eyes with a spark and makes the dimples appear.
She turns her gaze back to the room, to the candles and the rose, and stares. When she doesn't say anything, his smile slowly fades. "Donna?" he whispers, standing barely a feet from her in the doorway, and knits his brow. "Um... If you don't like it, I can always take you home --"
Her eyes dart to him. "No! No, no... I mean, don't. It's..."
A soft smile curves her lips. "It's really... Josh, it's beautiful. Thank you."
Her compliment makes a light rouge rise on his cheeks and the smile reappear. "You think so?"
"It's the best birthday present I've ever had."
His face forms into a proud smirk. "Would you like to dance, milady?"
"Why, thank you, my good sir," she laughs as she takes his hand, letting him lead her into the middle of the room. His other hand steadies gently on her lower back as he digs out a remote control from his pocket, turning on the soft music that sounds from the player. As the first chords play out, he takes her hand and pulls her closer, starting to sway to the slow music. She doesn't recognize the soft jazz tune that wraps around them, but she does know it's beautiful.
You are the promised kiss of spring time
that makes the lonely winter seem long
She glances up at him, smiling to his brown eyes that stare at her face only inches away. He smiles too and spins her around little faster a couple of times, making her blond hair fly in the air and a girlish giggle bubble from her chest. When she stops, she presses her cheek against his shoulder, closes her eyes to enjoy the comforting feeling of his arm around her and his breath against her skin.
You are the breathless hush of evening
that trembles on a brink of a lovely song
She can feel his cheek slightly leaning against her head as they dance. The silence between them is peaceful, not at all awkward, as if they could talk without saying a word. The thought makes her smile.
You are the angel glow that lights a star
The dearest things I know are what you are
It was then that she starts to listen to the words. The words that flow through her, her mind. She lifts her head from his shoulder, leveling her eyes with his. His eyes look at hers, not flinching away. And as if the most natural thing in the world, he cups her chin and dips his head. His lips land softly on hers, savoring her taste. She doesn't pull back.
Someday my happy arms will hold you
and someday I'll know that moment divine
When all the things you are, are mine
As the song fades into the night the two figures stand in the candle light, wrapped in each others arms, long after the last sounds are gone.