A/N: Okay, so this is my second West Wing fic ever, and again it's another snippet. I modified the first scene after Josh and Donna finally hook up. This is from Donna's point of view and it was written very quickly, so I apologize for any grammatical errors or if it doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

Here We Are

By FumbleOfReality

So…here we are. Yep. This is us. Here. Lying here. Breathing. Not moving. Thinking? Who knows? Because really, this thought process has to be among the dumbest ever. Ever, in history. Ever, in the history of mankind. Er, humankind.

Yep. Here we are. Oh, wait he's moving. He's moving. He's stealing a glance at me out of the corner of his eye that was supposed to be sly and go unnoticed. Like the other looks he's been shooting me for nine years now.

Wow, has it really been nine years? Well, almost nine years, if you count the first Bartlett campaign, the seven years we both worked in the White House before I left and then he left, and this campaign. Should I subtract the time that I was with the Russell campaign?

Okay, now you're complicating things, and, really, why do that to yourself?

And, you're maintaining an inner monologue…who are you J.D. from Scrubs? No, because obviously you're Donna and lying here in a bed…next to your ex-boss.

And wondering if I should count the time I was away from him when campaigning for Russell complicates things? You're already past complicated. Way past complicated, look back and the line between complicated and uncomplicated is not even visible that's how far past complicated you are.

Oh God, should I say something? What would I say? ''Bout time, eh?' Donna, you're from Wisconsin, not Canada…wait no, I am from Canada! After all this time, I still don't think of myself as a Canadian.

But why in all that is holy, am I thinking about my nationality in a time like this? I just slept with my ex-boss, the man who gave me a job in the first place despite my having no qualifications, the man who came to depend on me as more than an assistant, the man who…is now rolling over to look at me.

He's looking at me. He's looking at me with those eyes. Well, Donna, genius, if you move your head, you can look into his eyes and try to judge his mood or what's going on in that brain of his.

So, after a short deliberation with myself, I turn my head to look at him.

And, here we lay. Neither of us attempt to say anything, most likely afraid of how the other will take it. At least I think that's why I've started what is turning out to be a staring contest. His eyes have always been a warm brown, but now there's an element to them that I've never seen before. I don't think I ever even saw him look at Amy like this.

However, instead of being freaked out by it, I'm somehow comforted and am surprised to feel a sense of peace and calm that's been lacking for…well, forever I guess. No other man has made me feel so at peace like this before.

And I'm not freaking out, why?

Because this is Josh.

Need I say…er, think more? I think that sums everything up nicely.

This is Josh.

The End.

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