Title: Light Up My Room
Author: ScullyAsTrinity
Spoilers: Vaguely for ITSOTG, I & II
Rating: PG
Category: MAJOR angst; drama; romance; Josh/Donna
Disclaimer: Clearly, I don't own these characters, or the Doobie Brothers for that matter.
Summary: Donna, Josh, some dialogue, some drama, some Doobie Brothers.
[---]
Everyone could feel the Friday evening lethargy hanging all around the West Wing. It was thickest in the dark areas, where secrectaries and interns were pretending not to watch the clock for five. It was pleasant, relaxing, the way a Friday is truly meant to feel.
They were experiencing the annual lull. The hype of the State of the Union had died down and the leader of the free world and his minions were thrown into a holding period so severe that it now had them blowing on the embers of the fire, trying to make something out of it.
For the first few hours, it was a nice change of a pace; from a sprint to a jog. Gradually, the lack of files, papers and disasters became tedious.
So tedious, that Leo McGarry had resorted to aiding Margaret in reorganizing the DNC memoramdums.
So tedious that CJ Cregg was making a haphazard attempt at cleaning Gail's fishbowl.
So overwhelmingly tedious that Deputy of Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman was neatening his disaster of a bookcase and having a sing along to the Doobie Brothers. This was not uncommon; In fact, over in the communications bullpen, Toby and Sam were butchering the Rolling Stones and The Eagles... respectively. Their assistants, who were preparing to leave, bobbed their heads to the music while tidying their out-trays.
However, Donna Moss decided to use the peace and quiet wisely, and get a small jump start on Monday's work. She pulled out a stack of papers for the week to come and began condensing them, making index cards and trashing the inconsequential political garbage. Every few minutes, she paused to take a sip of her Diet Coke.
Donna moved from the Childcare Bill fluidly into the Welfare Incentives Act, and almost did not notice when the music lilting from Josh's office increased in volume. It occured to her only then that she hadn't spoken to Josh in over two hours, in fact, he hadn't bellowed for her all day. Her brow knitted as Donna tried to comjure a reason for the sudden change in his behavior. She could think of none.
Determined, she perked up her eyes and tried to decipher the strains of music permeating from the otherwise silent office. Slight country twangs with the distinct sound of seventies rock emmenated, making its way to her ears where it burned a hole in her mind. It took her a moment, but she was able to place the name of the song, the name of her band. Her father listened to this.
Donna was, for a moment, put off by the thought that her father and the man that she had more than a keen liking of, listened to the same music. Grooved to the same tunes. She pushed that thought aside and continued to eavesdrop.
Her thoughts ran into the land of fond memories, of when her father would take her downtown in his Chevy pickup , tap his fingers on the steering wheel along with the cadance of the percussion. She was lost reminiscing until a muted, but in-tone voice hammered through her thoughts and joined in with the lead singer.
It was Josh, happily following the 'bouncing ball' through the lyrics of the song. Donna nearly laughed aloud at how ridiculous her was. Slowly, she made her way over to the door, prepared to be sly if anyone caught her snooping. Leaning against the door, she listened.
Over the music, she could faintly hear the 'tap, tap, tapping' of keys. Perhaps he was typing another one of those touching emails to his mother, in which case, he wouldn't hear her approach, thus allowing her to be successful in her sneak attack.
Slowly, carefully, the brass knob was turned and she slipped inside, undectected. On her face she wore a small smile, one that was generally reserved for when he would say or do something sweet. Now, he was being inadvertantly adorable, and Donna found it very cute. He continued to sing with the music, and bob his head, and make odd twitching movements that she could only take as him dancing in his chair. His typing fell in tune with the beat and when the song reached a crescendo, his typing stopped, and he really belted out the words.
"We're talkin' 'bout the China Grove, wo, oh, oh, oh, China Grove." He shook his head from side to side, and from what Donna could see, was wearing an entirely too goofy grin on his face. He returned to the email and tapped out a few more words, all the while swaying erratically. Clasping a hand over her mouth, Donna fought the overwhelming compulsion to laugh; not at him, but at the situation, at how carefree he seemed.
The CD player made a few odd noises and shuffled straight on into the next song. Josh however, did not stop his swaying, but hummed a few more bars after the song faded out. The next song filtered in, and reminded Donna faintly of a southern gospel song, but was vaguely familiar to her; she vaguely remembered liking it. Vaguely.
"You don't know me but I'm your brother, I was raised here in this living hell. You don't know my kind in your world, fairly soon the time will tell." Again, he stopped typing, but this time he began drumming on the mahogany of his desk. He turned for a brief second, his eyes closed, biting his lip.
Donna lost the smirk that was seemingly plastered on her face. She arched an eyebrow and was, for a moment, intruiged. Suddenly, she was stuck with the feeling of being a voyuer and shifted her stance to relieve herself of the feeling. Then, Josh hit the skip button and other song began to play. He continued to sing along, typing haphazardly.
"You, telling me the things you're gonna do for me. I was blind and I don't think I like what I see."
Josh, in all of his musical glee, spin around in his chair and caught Donna watching him. Instead of being upset at her invasion, he smiled, picked up the stereo's remote control, and spoke.
"Can I help you Donnatella?"
He continued to smile his patented Josh Lyman, dimpled smile. Her uneasiness at getting caught indulging in voyeurism subsided.
"Oh well I uh... I just..." Donna searched for a suitable excuse, as Josh arched his brows at her, this smile lengthening. "I've got nothing."
"So, am I correct in assuming that you, Ms. Moss, were spying on me?" He swung his chair back and forth. Still, Donna stood there in shock, at a loss for words.
"This is the Doobie Brothers." Donna said matter of factly. She hung her head for a moment and then looked back at Josh. His smile faded slightly as he attempted to discern the look he saw pass over her face.
"What?" The question was asked softly, hesitantly; he could feel that the frivoloty of the moment had waned, a much more serious mood replacing it.
"Yes." He replied, drawing out the word, making it a question rather than a statement. He moved forward, leaned his elbows on the dark wood of his desk.
"You wanted Leo to play this..." Donna's eyes glazed over, as she was reminded of their winning California and the fanafre that was supposed to follow. She remembered Josh wanting Doobie Brothers on the stereo. She remembered him wanting to dance, but having to instead tell him that his father had died.
Her brow wrinkled, and her lips down and she asked him, "Don't you remember?" It came out a harsh whisper. Josh sat for a moment, blinked, smiled.
"What would I do without you Donna?" He asked, increasing the volume slightly. "Of course I remember, I just didn't expect you to." His eyes sparkled then, and he turned away, running a hand through his hair. "No pressing matters of State to attend to, no one around..." The gleam in his eyes looked devilish... just a bit. "What do you say, you wanna dance?"
The dimples returned, and his easy posture filtered back into his frame. Josh leaned back in his chair and waited for a response. Donna stood, her thin frame casting a long shadow out the office door. Josh watched it for a moment, as she weighed her options.
"Right here?" She asked skeptically, glancing back at the bullpen only to find it deserted. When she turned back, Josh was already getting out of his seat and had switched the CD. He picked up the case, found the track he was looking for and scanned to it.
Music filtered out of the Sony speakers, the tempo slower, sadder.
"I thought we were making up for that celebratory dance." Dona said, walking over to where he was standing.
"We are." He took her into his arms then, holding her closer than she knew was appropriate. She let hom hold her regardless, as they moved slowly.
And before she gave in to the temptation, she heard him whisper the lyrics, "If you question what I would do to get over and be with you, lift you up over everything to light up my room."
Author: ScullyAsTrinity
Spoilers: Vaguely for ITSOTG, I & II
Rating: PG
Category: MAJOR angst; drama; romance; Josh/Donna
Disclaimer: Clearly, I don't own these characters, or the Doobie Brothers for that matter.
Summary: Donna, Josh, some dialogue, some drama, some Doobie Brothers.
[---]
Everyone could feel the Friday evening lethargy hanging all around the West Wing. It was thickest in the dark areas, where secrectaries and interns were pretending not to watch the clock for five. It was pleasant, relaxing, the way a Friday is truly meant to feel.
They were experiencing the annual lull. The hype of the State of the Union had died down and the leader of the free world and his minions were thrown into a holding period so severe that it now had them blowing on the embers of the fire, trying to make something out of it.
For the first few hours, it was a nice change of a pace; from a sprint to a jog. Gradually, the lack of files, papers and disasters became tedious.
So tedious, that Leo McGarry had resorted to aiding Margaret in reorganizing the DNC memoramdums.
So tedious that CJ Cregg was making a haphazard attempt at cleaning Gail's fishbowl.
So overwhelmingly tedious that Deputy of Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman was neatening his disaster of a bookcase and having a sing along to the Doobie Brothers. This was not uncommon; In fact, over in the communications bullpen, Toby and Sam were butchering the Rolling Stones and The Eagles... respectively. Their assistants, who were preparing to leave, bobbed their heads to the music while tidying their out-trays.
However, Donna Moss decided to use the peace and quiet wisely, and get a small jump start on Monday's work. She pulled out a stack of papers for the week to come and began condensing them, making index cards and trashing the inconsequential political garbage. Every few minutes, she paused to take a sip of her Diet Coke.
Donna moved from the Childcare Bill fluidly into the Welfare Incentives Act, and almost did not notice when the music lilting from Josh's office increased in volume. It occured to her only then that she hadn't spoken to Josh in over two hours, in fact, he hadn't bellowed for her all day. Her brow knitted as Donna tried to comjure a reason for the sudden change in his behavior. She could think of none.
Determined, she perked up her eyes and tried to decipher the strains of music permeating from the otherwise silent office. Slight country twangs with the distinct sound of seventies rock emmenated, making its way to her ears where it burned a hole in her mind. It took her a moment, but she was able to place the name of the song, the name of her band. Her father listened to this.
Donna was, for a moment, put off by the thought that her father and the man that she had more than a keen liking of, listened to the same music. Grooved to the same tunes. She pushed that thought aside and continued to eavesdrop.
Her thoughts ran into the land of fond memories, of when her father would take her downtown in his Chevy pickup , tap his fingers on the steering wheel along with the cadance of the percussion. She was lost reminiscing until a muted, but in-tone voice hammered through her thoughts and joined in with the lead singer.
It was Josh, happily following the 'bouncing ball' through the lyrics of the song. Donna nearly laughed aloud at how ridiculous her was. Slowly, she made her way over to the door, prepared to be sly if anyone caught her snooping. Leaning against the door, she listened.
Over the music, she could faintly hear the 'tap, tap, tapping' of keys. Perhaps he was typing another one of those touching emails to his mother, in which case, he wouldn't hear her approach, thus allowing her to be successful in her sneak attack.
Slowly, carefully, the brass knob was turned and she slipped inside, undectected. On her face she wore a small smile, one that was generally reserved for when he would say or do something sweet. Now, he was being inadvertantly adorable, and Donna found it very cute. He continued to sing with the music, and bob his head, and make odd twitching movements that she could only take as him dancing in his chair. His typing fell in tune with the beat and when the song reached a crescendo, his typing stopped, and he really belted out the words.
"We're talkin' 'bout the China Grove, wo, oh, oh, oh, China Grove." He shook his head from side to side, and from what Donna could see, was wearing an entirely too goofy grin on his face. He returned to the email and tapped out a few more words, all the while swaying erratically. Clasping a hand over her mouth, Donna fought the overwhelming compulsion to laugh; not at him, but at the situation, at how carefree he seemed.
The CD player made a few odd noises and shuffled straight on into the next song. Josh however, did not stop his swaying, but hummed a few more bars after the song faded out. The next song filtered in, and reminded Donna faintly of a southern gospel song, but was vaguely familiar to her; she vaguely remembered liking it. Vaguely.
"You don't know me but I'm your brother, I was raised here in this living hell. You don't know my kind in your world, fairly soon the time will tell." Again, he stopped typing, but this time he began drumming on the mahogany of his desk. He turned for a brief second, his eyes closed, biting his lip.
Donna lost the smirk that was seemingly plastered on her face. She arched an eyebrow and was, for a moment, intruiged. Suddenly, she was stuck with the feeling of being a voyuer and shifted her stance to relieve herself of the feeling. Then, Josh hit the skip button and other song began to play. He continued to sing along, typing haphazardly.
"You, telling me the things you're gonna do for me. I was blind and I don't think I like what I see."
Josh, in all of his musical glee, spin around in his chair and caught Donna watching him. Instead of being upset at her invasion, he smiled, picked up the stereo's remote control, and spoke.
"Can I help you Donnatella?"
He continued to smile his patented Josh Lyman, dimpled smile. Her uneasiness at getting caught indulging in voyeurism subsided.
"Oh well I uh... I just..." Donna searched for a suitable excuse, as Josh arched his brows at her, this smile lengthening. "I've got nothing."
"So, am I correct in assuming that you, Ms. Moss, were spying on me?" He swung his chair back and forth. Still, Donna stood there in shock, at a loss for words.
"This is the Doobie Brothers." Donna said matter of factly. She hung her head for a moment and then looked back at Josh. His smile faded slightly as he attempted to discern the look he saw pass over her face.
"What?" The question was asked softly, hesitantly; he could feel that the frivoloty of the moment had waned, a much more serious mood replacing it.
"Yes." He replied, drawing out the word, making it a question rather than a statement. He moved forward, leaned his elbows on the dark wood of his desk.
"You wanted Leo to play this..." Donna's eyes glazed over, as she was reminded of their winning California and the fanafre that was supposed to follow. She remembered Josh wanting Doobie Brothers on the stereo. She remembered him wanting to dance, but having to instead tell him that his father had died.
Her brow wrinkled, and her lips down and she asked him, "Don't you remember?" It came out a harsh whisper. Josh sat for a moment, blinked, smiled.
"What would I do without you Donna?" He asked, increasing the volume slightly. "Of course I remember, I just didn't expect you to." His eyes sparkled then, and he turned away, running a hand through his hair. "No pressing matters of State to attend to, no one around..." The gleam in his eyes looked devilish... just a bit. "What do you say, you wanna dance?"
The dimples returned, and his easy posture filtered back into his frame. Josh leaned back in his chair and waited for a response. Donna stood, her thin frame casting a long shadow out the office door. Josh watched it for a moment, as she weighed her options.
"Right here?" She asked skeptically, glancing back at the bullpen only to find it deserted. When she turned back, Josh was already getting out of his seat and had switched the CD. He picked up the case, found the track he was looking for and scanned to it.
Music filtered out of the Sony speakers, the tempo slower, sadder.
"I thought we were making up for that celebratory dance." Dona said, walking over to where he was standing.
"We are." He took her into his arms then, holding her closer than she knew was appropriate. She let hom hold her regardless, as they moved slowly.
And before she gave in to the temptation, she heard him whisper the lyrics, "If you question what I would do to get over and be with you, lift you up over everything to light up my room."