Disclaimers et al. in part 1
Acknowledgements: For Kerry. Words are not enough.

When I First Met You

V

"I got one!"

"You got all excited hailing a cab, that's cute."

"Bite me."

I smirk. "Sure, but let's take this back to my place." I get the impression she's trying not to stick her tongue out at me.

"Would you just get in the cab already?" She's using her exasperated tone, but I can see the smile she's trying to hide.

"Yes, ma'am," I salute. "After you," I grin, gesturing toward the door as I open it. My ringing phone distracts me from teasing Donna further. "Josh Lyman, Love God to all. And how can I help you this fine hour, CJ?"

"You're happy. Too happy. What did you do beetle-boy?"

"Beetle-boy? I just offered you some high grade service, Claudia, and that's all you can say?" I quip while closing the door.

"Josh, three minutes isn't high grade. And before you get all huffy on me I just called for an ETA. Now if you said three minutes for that, you'd have found your only way to satisfy me."

"That's because you've never had true satisfaction, Claudia Jean. I keep telling you that you need to get a love life." I turn to Donna. "CJ wants an ETA."

"I'm sure you could give her one if you'd give the driver an address."

"You didn't tell him where to go?"

"Does it look like we're moving, Casanova? Would you just give him an address before he kicks us out?"

"North side of 1600 Pennsylvania," I tell the cab driver before turning back to CJ. "Listen, CJ—Ow!" I turn sharply toward Donna. "What was the elbow for?"

She looks at me as if I've lost my mind and whispers fiercely, "We're going straight to the White House?"

"Well, yeah." Didn't we discuss this on the plane already?

"The White House," she repeats in a low tone. I slowly move away from her, to the far side of the cab, realizing for the first time how close we were sitting. She's got the aggravated wife thing down cold.

"Yes." I nod. "I'm sure CJ has a GPS tracker in my cell-phone."

"You're certifiable, you know that?"

"Well, that's a given."

Donna struggles for some patience, and then asks, "What does the GPS tracker have to do with anything?"

"I'm betting she's had someone doctor it so that if I don't go straight to the White House when she wants, she'll hit a button and my phone will turn into a stun gun."

" Joshua."

I should really learn when to shut my mouth.

"CJ! There isn't a chance you didn't hear that? Is there?"

"My stun gun and I will be eagerly awaiting your arrival."

"I don't suppose you could round up a cute little star trek uniform with the stun gun?" I joke. I don't need to hear her response to know it falls flat.

"You have an hour." And the line goes dead. I repeat: I should really learn when to keep my mouth shut. Especially when talking to an already irate Press Secretary.

"We couldn't go to the hotel first?"

"Donna, didn't we cover this already?" I question, shifting my attention back to her.

"No. We did not. I would remember that. I need time to prepare."

"Prepare for what? It's not Buckingham Palace with all its jewels and, you know, the Queen. It's just a big white building with lots of ergonomically incorrect desks. It's the desks you have to watch out for. They do it on purpose, to make sure you don't want to stay past eight years. I bet you it was the Republicans."

You can stop looking at me like I'm an escaped mental patient, Donnatella. I'm only trying to ease the tension. But you know, now that I think about it…

"I'm curious, were you dropped on your head as a baby?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "I'm just saying."

"Your little rant doesn't really help right now."

"What's the big deal? It's not like you've never been before."

"Not with a suitcase in tow I haven't."

"That's your concern? We can stash that in my office. See, problem solved."

"Or we could go to the hotel and leave my things there and then head for the White House."

Oh crap. Don't give anything away.

You told me you had your assistant book me a room, remember?" It's a question that's phrased more like a statement.

I did say that. I was, of course, lying through my ass. I think it's prudent to deliver news that could potentially leave me castrated in an open space. So I can, you know, run like a bat out of hell.

She's looking at me with squinted eyes trying to judge if I'm going to tell her the truth or not.

"Sure. It's taken care of, so just sit back and relax."

"Now I'm worried."

"Why would you be worried?"

"What's next 'Put your seats back and trays in an upright position and prepare for a smooth landing into the White House'?" she says in what I assume is meant to be her flight attendant's voice.

"I'm offended."

"I'm still worried."

"Why?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "But it feels like I should be at least a little bit concerned."

"Donna, you could have a little faith in me."

"I've known you all of five minutes, Josh."

"Well actually—" I smirk.

"Shut up."

"I was just saying—" I shrug, smiling at her obvious attempt to appear stern.

"And I said shut up."

"Oh how I love the way you sweet talk me, Donnatella."

There's no reply. I take my eyes off the road ahead for a moment and take in the blush rising in her cheeks. She clears her throat and says, "Right, just remember that."

Shut up and kiss me.

Huh?

"Remember, Josh, it's only a few drinks to get us going before we head down to the casino and then back to the suite for some adult entertainment—Josh?"

"Yeah," I croak, not taking my eyes off the sight in front of me. Her head is thrown back in laughter, and it's a sound that seems to echo throughout the room.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, loud and clear, man."

"What did I just say?"

"That you're going to come up with a brilliant idea to get us alone together."

"Josh, I love you like my brother, but I just don't swing that way."

"And here I thought I had a real shot at enticing you over to the dark side."

"I like breasts too much."

"I'd go in for the surgery, but somehow I don't think it'll be enough for you. I'd give and give and give and get nothing in return."

Mike laughs, throwing his arm around my shoulder. "You could just go over there."

Does it look I have a death wish, Mike?

"Do you not see how many of them there are?" I sputter.

I'm not brave enough to face her friends. Especially the one who seems to be devouring every man worthy of her attention with her eyes. That's like sending me to the sharks.

"Yes I do, my friend. And it would be my pleasure to watch you squirm your way around a conversation with the blond goddess you can't seem to stay away from. Especially while her friends prepare to bite your balls off, Jaws style, for interrupting their bachelorette party because you can't control your libido."

"This isn't about my libido. And why are we friends again?" I ask, taking a long draw of my drink.

"Here," he says, handing me a glass of whiskey. "You'll need something stronger than Bud-Lite if you're ever going to get the courage to talk to her." I gratefully take the drink and finish it in one go. "And if you don't want her to think you're stalking her, then I'd stop staring." I turn to look at him and he just points back to the table. "Her friend just noticed you."

I turn back to Donna in time to see her friend whisper in her ear, and catch Donna's eye as she looks up toward me.

She gives me the once over and turns back to the table.

That's it. No smile. No shy look. No blushing.

I've been watching her for the past ten minutes with tingles running up my spine and all she does is take a two second look in my direction?

Mike sniggers, "Looks like you have some work to do if you want to get her alone."

"You're a real help, Mike," I shoot back sarcastically. He drags me back to the bar and hands me another drink.

"What did you expect? The first time you met the woman you didn't exactly make the best of impressions and since then..." Mike continues to snigger and shakes his head for added effect. "Look, Josh, the guys are going to want to leave soon, so if you want anything to happen, make it happen. What's the worst case scenario? She turns you down, big deal." He shrugs. "Chase the girl for once instead of waiting for her to chase you."

"Thanks for the pep talk. How long have you been waiting to throw that out?"

"Second year of college."

"You're funny."

"I have my moments."

"I'm particularly impressed with how you managed to say all that without cracking up."

"Those drama classes in high school have really paid off," he quips. I shake my head and laugh. He points to my empty glass. "So, you want another?"

"Did you take Drama in high school?"

"Er… No?" It's been quiet since our last bantering session about fifteen minutes ago, so the question throws me for a loop. We're stuck on the I-395 and it's looking like the journey may take longer than CJ's designated hour.

"Are you asking, Josh? Because, really, I know you're old, but the memory loss shouldn't kick in for another few years yet." She smiles and her eyes crinkle at her own joke.

"Very funny, Donnatella. And no, I didn't take drama. Was there a reason for the non sequitur?"

"No reason." She fidgets for a moment. I've only seen her move like this when she's nervous. The adrenaline rush you get when you're at crossroads about to take the next step died out about two minutes into our journey toward the White House. We're stuck in limbo here, not sure what should happen next and when the next crossroad will present itself.

"You're boring me."

Of course I am. "I haven't said anything."

"Exactly." She nods.

"Ok, I'll bite. Why 'exactly?"

"I'm in your city, as your guest, under duress I might add. The least you could do is be a gracious host and limit my boredom."

"I believe silence is golden," I shoot back.

"No you don't," she crosses her arms over her chest, the perfect picture of indignance.

"How would you know?"

"How can someone who loves the sound of his own voice think silence is golden?" -she states matter-of-factly. "Next you'll expect me to believe that you think patience is a virtue."

"Patience is a waste of valuable time. But silence, silence is golden. That is a lesson the many women in my life have taught me." Seriously, spend a day with Mandy and your appreciation for silence multiplies ten fold. Spend an hour with Amy and you begin to think the Republicans haven't got it so wrong with the death penalty. Spend a minute with—eh, you get the picture.

"The many women?"

"Well," I shrug, exuding arrogance. "I don't like to brag…"

She snorts. "Says the 'Love god to all.' Let's talk about these many women in your life." She looks almost giddy, getting ready to dissect my love life.

"Why on earth would we want to do that?"

"Because I have a feeling it will entertain me," she shrugs.

"And as your husband I live to entertain you."

She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow, and starts, "You never know, Josh, we could have a profound conversation that could very well prepare you to settle down and live like an actual adult. This may be the most important moment of your life, how can you say no to that?"

"And it doesn't hurt that it will entertain you."

"Exactly." She smirks. "Now, where should we start?"

I don't even entertain the idea of telling her the first answer that flashed through my mind as she spoke. If this conversation were to occur during another scenario then my answer would be something else entirely.

I do however, smirk to myself at the thought of her reaction and go with the second, safer answer.

"You can start anywhere you like, but I won't help you finish."

She ignores me and states, "You seem like the type of man that dates women who annoy his friends."

I will not say anything. I will not say anything. I will—

"I don't."

At least I didn't say a lot. A man's got to defend himself.

"I think you do."

"You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It is what it is."

"So, do you like women to dominate you?"

"Oh for the love of— Yes. I like women who dominate me," I mock.

"I thought so."

"The sarcasm just washes right off you, doesn't it?"

"No it doesn't. But what can I say? When I'm right, I'm right."

"What is that, Donna?" I lean closer and whisper in her ear. "You want to show me some tough love?"

"Yeah, just wait until we're in your office so I can pop open my suitcase and get my equipment," she deadpans.

I gulp.

"You have equipment?"

"I'm surprised I got the suitcase through security without trouble," she answers coyly.

"You're playing with me."

"You make it so easy."

"I was perfectly fine being quiet until you spoke just now."

"No, you weren't. You were having a conversation in your head. Do you know how rude that is, with your guest sitting right next to you?"

Huh?

"Are you still drunk? Is this meant to make sense in any universe?"

"It made sense," she huffs.

"Sit tight and enjoy the views, Donna."

"I'm in a cab stuck in DC traffic. Exactly what views should I be enjoying?"

"Well, you have a—" I smirk.

"Don't say it."

I shrug. "I'm just saying."

"So… Is the President working today?"

I grin. "I don't think there's a day where he's not working."

"So, theoretically, I could bump into him?"

"Unless you have something of national importance that he should know about, I doubt it."

"Are you sure you work for him? Does he even know you? Because really, he seemed sane to me when I voted for him." I think the unspoken implication there is, ' How could a sane man hire you?'

"I happen to be good at my job."

"So it's just everything else you need lessons in."

"Are you offering to be my teacher?"

"It's a full time job and I'm afraid I have better things to do with my time."

"Sucks for me then."

"Yes it does."

"Drink up guys, time to move on!" Everyone hoots and hollers excitedly, attracting the attention of the dining guests around us. I reluctantly finish my drink and prepare to leave when Mike pulls me aside.

"Not you. You are going over to that table and asking the pretty lady to dance. I am not going back to Washington with you whining about not gathering rosebuds."

"Rosebuds? What the hell did you do? Go to sleep and wake up as your mother?"

"No, yours. Now get your ass over there."

"I'm going," I say, putting my hands out in surrender. "I'm going."

I start walking towards Donna, trying to catch her eyes before I reach her. Before I know it I'm almost at her table. I take a quick look back over my shoulder only to realize all the guys have left, except Mike, who doesn't look like he's going to be leaving any time soon; instead he raises his glass and grins. I turn back to Donna and stop dead in my tracks only two steps away from her.

Wow.

That dress is… the slit… and where the hell is the back?

My mind is racing and my jaw agape, my legs stricken in place, any hope of looking even slightly intelligent or you know, sane, has flown out of the window as I watch Donna climb onto her chair. I wish I could meet her eyes, the only problem being I can't get past the thigh high slit of her dress revealing long creamy legs and a backless dress showing off her beautifully sculptured and flawless back.

My brain can't distinguish the words; the only thing that registers is the sound of her voice.

And those legs, because those are some pretty damn sexy legs.

She bends down as a waiter catches her attention and passes a bottle of champagne, giving me a prime view of her firm ass.

"Wow."

Donna turns around sharply with the champagne in hand spilling everywhere as she trips on her dress, falling off the chair and clumsily into my arms. Stumbling back, I lose my balance and land flat on my ass with Donna clinging on top of me giving me her evil eye.

Ah crap. I said that out loud.

"Okay, Donna, I'm a strong guy, but when someone lands on you like that, even the Iron Man champion would have trouble holding their balance. Or it could be the moment you hit my arms all my blood rushed somewhere else."

Did I really just say that?

"Josh, move your hand off my ass. Now."

Guess I did.

"Oh, right." I remove my hands like I'm trying to run away from the plague. "Done."

We scramble together to stand up, and Donna takes a step back as soon as she's upright. Her friends, who were expressing concern not two seconds ago, all burst into fits of laughter. I look at Donna, who is blushing like a bride, and take a look in the direction her eyes seem to be glued on.

It takes a second to register her friends are howling at the rapidly decreasing tent in my trousers. And now I'm blushing like the bride.

"GO, Donna!" her friends cheer.

"Would you guys quieten down? We're not a bunch of horny high school cheerleaders! Everyone's watching," Donna whispers fiercely, still blushing red and completely embarrassed.

"Says the former Captain of the 'Wisconsin Bulls' cheerleading squad," her friend manages to supply during her fit of laughter.

"I was a cheerleader for two whole hours, when are you going to let that go?"

"No, my dear, you weren't just any cheerleader, you were the captain, for two whole hours. And I'll let it go when it stops getting to you."

"Fine. It's no longer going to have an effect."

"Yeah, I can see that, Bella."

I grin, my embarrassment forgotten as I watch her adjust her dress and avoid the curious gaze of one of her friends. She's focusing on wiping the presents left haphazardly on the table after being unwrapped, when she turns to glare at me.

"Get your ass over here and wipe."

I take a step closer to make sure I heard her right.

"This is all your fault," she mutters.

"How is this my fault!" I exclaim, incredulous. I'm also on the verge of giggling like a school girl.

I wonder if she still has the uniform.

"You said, you know—you spoke!" Donna explains eloquently.

"And that somehow equates with you tripping over your dress—which, by the way, should be illegal—and falling all over me?" I shoot back, grinning as I take a step forward and help her clean up the champagne.

She's about to retort, when her friend jumps in. "Yes, Donna, how does this fine gentleman shouting out ' wow'—"

"Hey, backup there, I didn't shout—Ow!" Donna elbows me and shoots me a glare. I promptly shut up.

"Mel, be quiet and help clean up." I grin at Mel, since she's now on the receiving end of Donna's scolding which, you know, means she's not yelling at me for a second. To keep myself in her good graces, I absently pick up a gift and start wiping it, my eyes focused on Donna as she avoids my gaze.

"Yeah, in a sec. So, Josh, is it? Who's the dreamy man that came into the bar with you and is currently watching you make an ass out of yourself?"

"Melanie! Be quiet!" Donna's head shoots up and her whole body is blushing. Suddenly I feel like I've missed out on the inside joke as Donna takes a quick peek over my shoulder to look at Mike.

Wait.

Mike?

She likes Mike?

"And take the Rabbit away from Josh. We don't want him to start comparing sizes in a respectable establishment as he manhandles the thing."

"I haven't manhandled anything," I shoot back automatically, glaring at Donna. As an afterthought, I add, "What the hell is a Rabbit anyway?" My eyes are now glued to the small smile on her face.

She likes Mike?

"That is the vibrator that our good friend Jenny over here will be experimenting with on her wedding night. We've heard it's one of David's fantasies," Melanie pipes up, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "So, Josh, you planning on letting go anytime soon?" She gestures to the item in my hand.

"I'm just going to go wash my hands," Donna says quietly, trying not to laugh at the way I just dropped the thing like a sack of hot potatoes. "Champagne, who knew it could be so sticky?" she shrugs, holding up her hand as evidence.

"And, I'm going to go back over there," I say, pointing in the direction where Mike is sitting and chatting away with a redhead. "And, Mel," I say, looking at Donna. "His name is Mike."

His name is Mike, and Donna likes him.

"How long, Josh?"

"We're here, CJ. I'm unloading as we speak." I'm actually watching the cab driver unload Donna's suitcase as I speak. Needless to say, we've reached the White House.

"Do I need to tell you where your first stop is?"

"CJ, we'll be there in less than a minute." I snap my cell shut and watch as Donna steps out of the cab, sizing up her surroundings, looking like she's planning to bolt the second I take my eyes off her. I don't take any chances and pay the driver and watch him go.

"We're here," she states. She takes a step closer to me and asks haltingly, "So, what's next?"

"CJ wants to see us."

"I meant after that." I know. I just haven't thought that far ahead. This is surprising in itself, given the fact that I'm always thinking three steps ahead even if the situation doesn't require it.

However, right now, I'm stuck in the past.

Shut up and kiss me.

"If CJ lets me walk out of her office alive, then we'll tackle, you know…" I trail off and let the sentence hang, as there are any number of White House staff and reporters milling around.

I cock my head to the side and wait for her reaction. She takes a moment to contemplate and then starts walking into the White House. "You're carrying the luggage."

"Only one of these cases is mine," I point out.

"I'm aware of that," she states haughtily.

"And yet, here I am, dragging two suitcases, one of which happens to weigh a ton."

"It does not and you insisted on coming here first, so you carry it. I'm not walking into the White House with a suitcase."

"Because everyone here cares about that."

"Why would I care what anyone else thinks?"

"Then why am I the one lugging this thing about?" She shrugs and tries her best to hide her grin as I sigh in exasperation. It's a pointless conversation that she's taking great pleasure in only because it's annoying the hell out of me. "You know, there's a universe out there where you're the one following me about, catering to my every whim," I sigh, imaging such a beautiful world. It's becoming a guilty pleasure.

"Does it look like that's going to happen here anytime soon?"

I drop my head. "No."

We stop at the front desk to sign Donna in before we start making our way to the bullpen.

"Josh, if it's too much for you to carry my small suitcase, I have no objections carrying it." She of course says this in front of the duty guard stationed by the desk as she smiles at him.

Is she flirting?

Now, if I was Sam Seaborn, I would have taken the bait. Hell I would have puffed out my chest and proudly proclaimed that I've got everything under control.

I am obviously not Sam.

"That's great, here's the handle." I dump the handle to her case in her hands and start making my way toward the bullpen, not really waiting for her to follow.

"You're not a gentleman."

"Never claimed to be one."

"I'll be sure to remember that."

I didn't really have a problem carrying her case, I just expected more banter if I didn't. I'm kinda disappointed now.

"So…" I start, as we enter the bullpen. We're almost at my office when I ask, "You were a cheerleader?"

"We're in the White House."

I grin. "I can see that."

She's looking at me like she's a constipated two year old trying to figure out how to get the poop out.

Rose, you gotta love her. Who knew Mandy's offspring would be that cute.

"We are standing outside, what I assume is your office, in the White House, and you want to know if I was a cheerleader?"

"That's pretty much the gist of it." I nod.

"Shouldn't you be meeting with CJ, right now?"

"She can wait," I start, leading Donna into my office. "I'm curious is all."

Donna turns her head in my direction. "Why?"

"You, as a Cheerleader; it presents a nice mental image."

"Why oh why do I think you're imagining the uniform?" She raises a perfectly sculptured eyebrow. And then mutters, "Or lack there of." I watch as Donna takes an inventory of my home away from home. She's bypassed the books and the mess and has gone straight for the photos on the wall.

"You can't mention equipment and not expect a guy to get ideas, Donna," I say, distracting her from further examining my small collection of personal assets scattered around. I watch as she fingers the picture of my grandfather and I and smiles a little before she turns to face me.

She looks at me for a moment, trying to read my motives for continuing with the light conversation. We're here now. I should be meeting with CJ and getting my ass kicked in person. I should be in Leo's office either watching him laugh at my stupidity or sighing in disappointment. We should be getting this marriage annulled and moving on with our lives as if nothing happened.

We should not be engaging in pointless dialogues that serve no other purpose but to delay the inevitable.

"That conversation was a lifetime ago," she replies with a smile.

I guess we agree: pointless conversation is better than the alternative. I'm just not sure either of us understands what that means.

"And yet it seems as if an hour hasn't even passed."

"Funny that."

"There isn't any chance you still have it, is there?"

"You really are a perverted old man." It's not so much the perverted old man as it is the horny high school geek that's imagining her in her cheerleader outfit.

"So I'll take that as a yes," I divert.

"Yes, Josh, not only do I have the cheerleader uniform that I wore for all of two minutes," she starts, sarcasm in full force. "I carry it around with me everywhere in the hopes that I would one day run into you and fulfil your fantasy."

"That's a lofty goal you have there."

"I live to serve," she deadpans.

"I wouldn't complain if you wanted to whip the old thing out and take it for a spin," I whisper in her ear.

"I think CJ is waiting."

That she is. I really should make my way over to Claudia Jean.

However…

What are the chances that Donna actually does have some sort of equipment in there?

"Josh, what are you doing?" she asks as I continue to stare at her carryon.

"Wishing I had x-ray vision."

"What?"

I said that out loud. It seems to be an illness that I just can't seem to shake.

"Nothing."

Nothing at all.

"I don't have equipment in there."

How the hell?

"That's not what I was thinking."

"I bet," she smirks. "You should probably go."

"I probably should."

"And yet, here you stand."

"You get to know me a little more and you'll realise I get caught in enough crossfire already without actively seeking an ass kicking."

"Crossfire?"

"I don't rat on my friends."

"I get to know you a little more and maybe I'll actually follow your logic."

"It's simple. My friends are the type of people who leap without thinking, open their mouths before their brains are engaged, that kind of thing."

"I would imagine that often causes trouble," she smirks.

"You assume correctly."

"And these friends of yours--"

"Sam, Charlie, sometimes Ed and Larry--"

"I have absolutely no idea who these people are."

"It doesn't matter. Just avoid them like the plague," I interrupt, sifting through the mass amounts of junk that has piled up on my desk in my absence.

"Because they're likely to get me into trouble," she states with her sceptic voice.

"No, because Sam's unnaturally white teeth will blind you."

"Of course they will," she mocks. "So let me make sure I have this right. You have friends that are…" she trails off trying to find the right words. "Idiots. And they seem to love creating trouble, which you just happen to get caught in." Her sceptic voice is out in full force.

"I wouldn't call them idiots," I defend. She raises an eyebrow, as if to say, ' yeah, I know who the idiot here is, Josh.' I grin in answer, as if to say, Donnatella, I may be an idiot, but I'm your—' Yeah. I stop grinning right there.

I clear my throat. "That pretty much covers it."

"And CJ realises that you're the weak link--"

"I'm not the weak link. That would be Sam."

"And yet she comes looking for you when she's forced to fix a mess your friends created." She now has her ' How long is this going to last? Because, I'm getting bored already indulging you,' face on.

"I'll make a long story short—"

"Please do."

I give her my annoyed face. "She works for the biggest trouble maker there is out there—"

"She works for the President."

"My point exactly."

Donna looks at me and realises that I could make this exchange last forever if given the chance, so she skips ahead and states, "So what you're saying is she'll come looking for you?"

It's a pretty fair assumption since CJ always coming looking for me when there's trouble ahead.

I look at my watch. "Give her a few minutes, she'll stroll in here, pretend she didn't know I had company, fish for information, and then drag me out of here by the ear."

"Your ear?"

"She'll like you and want to humiliate me."

"You don't need her help for that," she grins. "So how much longer before she comes looking for you?"

"Tobias Zachary Ziegler!"

"That was freakish timing," Donna says, impressed.

"That was not CJ," I correct.

"Toby, get your ass where I can see it!"

"Wow, that was… loud."

I grin at Donna. "Wait until she shouts my name."

"How do you know she—"

"Joshua Lyman, I swear to God, if you're hiding Toby, I will kick your ass seven ways to Sunday." And then she bursts through the door.

"Donnatella Moss, meet Madeline Hampton-Parks. Mandy, meet Donna." Mandy stops short and looks at Donna. Well, stares at her in fact. Mandy keeps looking between Donna and me. It would be quite comical if I didn't have a sinking feeling about this.

"Hi," Donna says politely.

"Donnatella… Donna?" Mandy asks as if she's trying to place the name. "CJ wasn't kidding?"

Oh shit.

"Mandy—"

"You actually got married?" she asks, sceptical.

"Mandy—"

I'm getting a little offended that my closest friends seem to think I would never get married. Sure, I wasn't planning on tying the knot any time soon, but I've thought about it. It's hard not to when you're confined to bed rest for months after being shot. And even without that, it's not like I was planning on spending my life alone or jumping from a bridge to end my misery.

"She's blond." Mandy says this as if it's more important than the fact that I got married.

"I'm sorry?" Donna looks at Mandy like she should be in an insane asylum. I'm thinking right now it'd be a great place for her to disappear to.

It takes Mandy a minute to answer. The woman is still trying to process the last five minutes. "Josh doesn't date blonds, the fact that he married one—"

"I've dated blonds," I interject defensively.

"Name one."

"That is so not the point," I rebut. Yes, I am five years old.

"Josh, sit down and think of a name," Mandy glares. A mischievous smiles lights up her face as she winks at me and then turns to face Donna. "In the meantime, Donna— may I call you Donna? If you want to send me a fruit basket for the pleasure he gave you on your wedding night, I won't mind."

The hell?

A fruit basket?

Mandy grins, and somewhere down there in hell even Satan shuddered.

"A fruit basket?" I ask.

Mandy ignores me and turns to Donna, adding, "Because, I taught him everything he knows."

"She's kidding. Tell Donna you're kidding."

"I'm really not."

The shock at being present for this conversation is taking some time to wear off. Seriously, Mandy has met at least ninety percent of the women I've dated since we broke up, and not once has this type of conversation occurred-- at least not in my presence.

I don't really want to imagine the conversations that have occurred in my absence.

Donna grins at my mortified expression and turns back to face Mandy. "I think he forgot everything you taught him," she mock whispers.

What the hell?

"That is so not what you said last night."

"You don't remember last night," Donna shoots back.

Damn. The woman has a point.

"I remember orgasms, Donna. Multiple orgasms."

Mandy walks over to the mini fridge, grabs a Yoohoo and some chips and takes a seat in my visitors' chair.

Donna snorts.

"And I remember you couldn't get a condom on." This is the first time talking about last night doesn't leave Donna looking weary or trying to run from the room. I'd take it as a good sign except she decides to do this with Mandy in the room.

"One time, Donnatella—"

"Wait," Mandy interrupts. She chokes on her drink trying to stop herself from laughing. "You couldn't--" She loses her battle and cracks up. "Oh that's just classic. Does CJ know? Please tell me she doesn't know."

"She knows," I answer, fiercely. "And it was one time." Maybe two, quite possibly three. "And I was drunk for crying out loud!"

"Ah yes, you do have a sensitive system."

Oh, for the love of all things holy.

"Donna, excuse us for a second— Mandy, outside. Now."

Mandy takes her sweet time following me out, turning around to wink at Donna just before I close the door.

"You got married?" she chuckles.

"Say that a little louder; I don't think the President heard you in the Oval."

"He's in the Residence at the moment."

"We got drunk." Why doesn't anyone seem to remember that? "It was a mistake."

"You know, the next time you say that, you might want to say it like you believe it."

"Mandy." I lean back against my assistants' cubicle as Mandy takes a moment to appraise me.

"Oh shut up, Josh," she scoffs. "Before I tell you how much of an idiot you are, I just want to say that I like her."

You and me both.

"You spoke to her for all of two seconds."

"And she used her two seconds wisely and made a joke at your expense. If that doesn't warrant her an invitation to join the sisterhood, I don't know what does."

"You're funny, you know that?"

"How did you manage to get yourself in to this kind of situation, Josh?" she asks with kindness. "This we expect of Sam."

I smile reluctantly. This woman may be the bane of my existence but she's also someone I couldn't live without. It's amazing what happens when I stop dating the women I date and actually form friendships with them instead.

She knows I don't have an answer to her question, or at the least, for whatever reason, I'm not looking all that hard to find it, so she lets me off the hook. "You're meeting with CJ?" she asks instead.

"Yeah, in a minute. You're looking for Toby?"

"I stole a rolling pin from the mess. When I find that man I will knock his ass into tomorrow with it."

I chuckle. "When he's hiding from you he's usually near pie."

"Toby has pie hidden everywhere, that doesn't help me any." I shrug. She hesitates before asking, "I take it you haven't told Toby yet?" I nod my head in the affirmative. "You know that Toby knows her fiancé?"

"Yeah."

"It's a safe bet he knows Donna, then. You should probably find him and clue him in before anyone else can."

"I should find CJ first."

Mandy laughs. "She's been in her office looking out of her window and glaring in your direction since you stepped into the building."

I look up in the direction of CJ's office and see her leaning against her door. I nod to indicate I'll be there in a few.

"How is she?"

"She was mad about two hours ago. As long as you haven't done anything else between now and then, you'll walk out of there alive."

I start to walk back to my office to let Donna know I'm about to see CJ. "I'm just going to let Donna know—"

"I could keep her company while you get your ass chewed by CJ. I've always wanted to share horror stories with your wife; who knows if I'll ever get another chance."

"As much as the idea of you sharing any stories with my wife fills me with untold joy, I think I'll pass."

"She's in a strange place, Josh, after what I can only imagine has been a whirlwind of an experience, she might want some company right now."

"You think?"

"I honestly don't know. She might be grateful for the distraction, or she might beat CJ to the punch and send you to an early grave for leaving her alone with the Wicked Witch of the East."

"Don't sell yourself short there. Your satanic tendencies have implications across the globe."

"Don't push it," she warns, playfully.

"Sorry."

"If it looks like she wants to be alone, then you can be satisfied with the knowledge I know how to walk out of a door."

"You may know how to, but you don't always know when to," I tease. She glares at me. "What about Toby?"

"He can wait for another day," she replies with a casual air.

"It didn't sound like it before."

"I didn't have anything else to entertain me before. Now go see CJ, before she loses her patience."

As if on cue CJ shouts, "Captain Smartypants, get your bony ass over here."

I motion towards my closed office door as I start to walk backwards to CJ's office. "You'll…"

"Good luck," Mandy offers, before opening the door and walking through. I turn around, and attempt to face CJ. Something I've been avoiding since I stepped into the building.

"This can't be good." He smirks. With a sentence like that you'd think he'd show some sympathy.

"Gee, what gave it away?"

"Because you look like Republicans just won back the White House."

"Yeah, the world just came to an end," I quip.

He slides his drink across and nods to the bartender for another. "Details, Josh."

"Something very wrong just happened."

Seriously. Mike? She likes Mike?

"So the worst case scenario, huh?"

"Oh, much worse. It turns out the woman has no taste."

Mike almost chokes on his drink through his laughter. "She what?"

"Gomers."

"Gomers?"

"Yeah, you know, piss ants that… Gomers!"

"Ah, Gomers. And who falls under that category?"

"That would be you."

"Seriously?" he grins, not at all insulted with the prospect of a hot blond interested in him. He looks like he's contemplating taking a trip over to her table to try his luck.

I shoot him a glare and he grins.

"Sorry, man."

"Yeah, I see that." He just shrugs. Dick. "There really is no accounting for taste."

"I would take offence to that, but I got a beautiful woman interested in me. So really, take your best shot." Smug bastard.

"I wouldn't get too attached to that feeling. One woman out of you know… the many that are here isn't a good outcome."

"Joshua Lyman at a loss for words really is a sight to see." The asshole is grinning.

"That was a complete sentence. Where the hell did I lose the words?"

"That would be right about when you find out that she prefers my devilishly good looks and sophisticated personality to your--well, you."

I snort. Sophisticated personality my ass. "Like I said, there really is no accounting for taste."

"Yeah, I wonder why she could possibly like a guy who's initiated intellectual conversations with her and made her laugh," he shoots back sarcastically.

"I have a quality," I shrug.

He snorts. "Josh, I know that the alpha females of Washington find your flirtation technique somewhat endearing—I don't pretend to understand how that works—"

"It's because I'm also ruggedly handsome."

He snorts even louder this time. "Right, whatever floats your boat. But my point is, in the real world—"

"And you consider Vegas the real world?"

"In the real world, insulting a woman and then not five minutes later flirting with her friend isn't the best first impression to make."

I never insulted her. Just, well, kinda…

"It was a misunderstanding." He gives me a look. "How was I meant to know she was going to take offence?"

"You were you and she's a member of the opposite sex. What did you expect?"

"Thanks for the support."

"Right, because this is going to scar you for life." He smirks.

"It might. She could be the 'one'." I grin.

There's an evil glint in Mike's eyes as he says, "What is that I see in your future? Little blond rugrats running around your feet giving you hell?"

"I am so not having blond children."

"And what is so wrong with blond kids?"

That bastard.

I shake my head, throwing a quick glare toward Mike before turning around to face an adorably annoyed Donnatella Moss. And I can't help but grin as I reply, "Absolutely nothing, Donnatella."

"So you won't be the proud father of a blond child because…?"

"Are you offering, Donnatella?"

"Quit it with the Donnatella!" she orders.

"No."

"You didn't answer the question, Joshua." She says Joshua with all the venom she can muster while trying to fight a smile.

"I have strong genes, they're bound to supersede anything else, Donnatella." I place emphasis on her name just to annoy her some more.

"God help them if they inherit your ego too," she mutters.

"As long as the dimples get passed down they'll be fine," Mel pipes up, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

"It's not ego; it's confidence," I shoot back.

At my reply Mel whispers in Donna's ear and shrugs as Donna starts to giggle.

What the hell?

"Wanna share with the class, ladies?" Mike shares my sentiments exactly. I knew there was a reason I kept this guy around.

Mel pipes up, "All I said was as long as the kid inherits Josh's 'rabbit' he'll be fine." Donna erupts into full blown laughter as Mike looks around confused for a second and then notices Mel's concerted stare at my nether region and joins Donna.

"Are we done having fun at my expense?"

"Well, we could go on all night, but if you want to cry uncle…" Donna grins.

I glare at her.

"So, what can we do for you ladies?"

"We were wondering if you'd like to join us for the evening." Mel answers.

Donna turns toward her friend and gives her a look as if to ask, ' We were?'

"We would love to, however, that would interfere with my mission, so I'm afraid we must decline," Mike answers with a flirtatious tone, looking toward Donna.

Traitor.

"And what mission would that be?" Donna replies back airily.

Mike steps in again. "To get this man laid and in every tabloid paper in the country," he reveals a tad too quickly. I just laugh and shake my head.

"Aw, you don't need to leave for that," Mel grins, looking at a blushing Donna. "Despite the lame pick up lines, you're cute, and the size comparison did you some favours, so you could get lucky right here, that is if you're man enough," she shoots back, smirking at me.

Mike sniggers.

"Brunettes aren't really my type," I interject, before Mike say's something I'll regret.

"So tell me your favourite colour and 30 minutes later I'll be your soul mate," Mel flirts, leaning closer.

"Wow," I cough. "That's so Pretty Woman," Mike says simultaneously.

"And look how she got the guy."

"Michael here is the guy who can commandeer a limo whenever he wants, not me," I say, smiling at her.

"But it's not the Limo I'm interested in," she says, while stroking my arm and grinning.

I take a moment to appraise Mel. She's about medium height, slim with long wavy brown hair that only the word luscious fits. She's got fiery green eyes and creamy skin that has a glow to it. She's actually very beautiful: you could almost describe her as a sultry siren.

"Should Donna and I leave you to get a room?" Mike pipes up, smirking at me.

"No one said you couldn't join in, handsome." Mel winks at Mike as he blushes.

"It wouldn't be polite to leave Donna alone," I shoot back.

"Donna here says buy her a drink before you shoot off on your adventure. She'll find her own Prince Charming." Donna huffs her annoyance at Mel and throws a fake smile her way before swinging those razor sharp orbs in my direction, and raises an eyebrow, impatiently waiting for my reply.

I smirk.

"Who knows what I'll turn into if I'm kissed by a princess?" I say, looking directly into Donna's eyes. She blushes and offers a serene smile. Mel takes a step back from me and grins from ear-to-ear, as if she's just achieved her mission.

"Can I gag or are you going to redeem yourself?" I shoot Mike a look.

Shut up.

"So, are you guys going to buy us drinks or..."

"Captain Smartypants is at your service," I grin. I lean against the door frame, one leg crossed over the other and my arms crossed over my chest, striking the most casual pose I can muster.

CJ's seated behind her desk, flicking through the papers in front of her while answering someone on the phone and indicating for me to come in. "Declan, I understand. You know that's not going to work for us right now. I tell you what, I'll put you through to the First Lady's Office and you can deliver the message yourself. Yeah, I didn't think so."

I take a seat on her very comfortable couch, almost melting into the soft folds. I sit back and close my eyes, taking the moment to unwind. I don't even notice when CJ ends her conversation and gets up to close the door.

"Hey yourself, Mi Amore," she replies with a sweet smile on her way back to her desk. I'm on full alert, my eyebrows are somewhere up in my hairline. CJ being sweet when she should be in ass kicking mode sends warning bells everywhere.

She walks just past me when she stops and turns around. "Wait, I can't say that anymore, not to someone else's HUSBAND!"

"OW! CJ!" I really should have expected the smack across the back of my head.

"Oh please, it was a clip."

"Is it out of your system now?"

"I'd like to say yes, but I can't guarantee it," she shrugs as she plops into her chair. She takes a moment, probably deciding which way is the best to attack. "How are you?"

I rub my hands over my face and rake them through my hair. "Would it be okay if I said tired?"

"If it's any consolation, you don't look like crap. You look so well rested it's disgusting."

"They say an endorphin release will do that for you."

I'm pretty sure I released a lot of them last night.

"That's a mental image I don't need."

"Oh, we all know how that's not true, Claudia Jean."

"My own nocturnal exploits are so good, Josh, that there's no room to even consider yours."

"You keep telling yourself that. When was the last time you threw caution to the wind, knocked all the teddy bears off the bed and had some crazy monkey fun?"

"About the same time I took out my Josh voodoo doll and hovered over a certain area with pins."

"Now that's a mental image no man should ever be introduced to." CJ smirks.

"I caught a glimpse earlier," she starts.

"Yeah?"

"Not what I expected. I'm not sure what I expected, but she wasn't it. She's pretty, but you know, not..."

'She's beautiful,' I correct automatically in my head. I must have conveyed something in my face as CJ raises an eyebrow as if to say ' I heard that.'

Instead of calling me on it she starts on a different tangent. "It's amazing how easy it is to get an annulment in this great nation of ours."

"What do we have to do?"

"There are various forms that you have to fill in, obviously." She hands me a folder with the forms inside.

I look at the papers as I ask, "How long will it take?"

"Who knows? The information I read said two-to-three weeks for court processing time, but then you have pop-culture icons staying married for less than seventy-two hours."

"Do Donna and I need to book a flight back out to Nevada for this?"

"If you have the papers witnessed by a Notary you don't have to go back to Nevada to get the annulment. I'm sure someone in the counsels' office is a Notary, but I don't know how wise it is to have a government lawyer be a witness."

"I have a friend."

"I figured as much." We both sit in silence for a few moments.

"Is that it?"

"You lost me."

"I thought there'd be more pain involved. Definitely more of you yelling at me. Maybe a little physical abuse… not that the head smack wasn't enough. But, you know, I did hear you'd been trawling Ebay for old torture devices."

"Sam has a big mouth."

I sneer.

"Is that what you honestly thought? As soon as you stepped into the building I'd be ready and waiting with my Press Secretary hat?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I'm honestly in no mood to keep playing the role of your mother, Josh," she sighs. "We're friends and colleagues. As your friend I don't want to see you get hurt, as your colleague, I don't want to see the administration get burned. But this situation, while it has the potential to be a disaster, I don't think it will be." She knocks on her desk as she says this. "If anything, I think you'll be the one— there's just not much for me to say right now."

I look at her earnestly, feeling guilty for painting her in an assigned stereotypical role.

She accepts my silent apology with her usual panache. "Anyway, you still have to tell Leo and Toby. I thought that'd be enough punishment for you. Of course, this doesn't include the daily punishment I will force on you."

I avoid looking at CJ, the thought of confessing to Leo about this, much less Toby, is enough to send my stomach plummeting into the ground.

"So have you remembered anything more about what happened?" she asks sympathetically.

"Not really," I exhale.

"What about Donna?"

"I don't know."

"How is she?"

"She's… I honestly don't know. It's complicated."

"It sometimes help to talk about stuff like this, you might find a way to un-complicate things."

"I get a flash of what happened and I want her to explain it to me. Ask her if she remembers. But I can't because then things become real. Conversations become uncomfortable. And you know what the worst thing is?"

"What?"

"I can tell when she has those moments too, and instead of being able to—I don't know, compare notes, we clam up. It gets awkward and the silence becomes suffocating. Then one of us starts up a pointless conversation because we'd rather not sit there with this tension in the air. And…"

"And what?" she asks with infinite kindness.

"Then we forget that we screwed up."

Talking about nothing doesn't seem pointless anymore, because the more I do that, the more I get to know her.

It took me half an hour to come see CJ, and it wasn't because I didn't want my ass kicked or to listen to her berating me, because I deserve that. It took me half an hour because talking to CJ makes this real.

When I'm with Donna I don't feel like I screwed up.

"Josh." CJ says my name with a hint of warning.

"I know." And I do. The ' what if's' just seem to grow with each passing second.

CJ starts to say something, but stops herself, and instead pinches the bridge of her nose and states, "Look, if she tells the Congressman that's it's over between them then you can do whatever the hell you want. Stay married and have 2.5 kids for all I care. But while she's still engaged, Josh, you have to stay away."

"That's not a problem," I assert.

"You sure? Because it looks like you might have a thing."

"Yeah, I mean, it's a thing, a small insignificant thing. It'll blow over."

"Exactly. Plenty of fish in the sea."

I smirk. "Any fish in particular you'd like me to go hunt?"

"Are there any left in the tri-state area for you to hunt?"

"I'm sure I could find a couple here and there."

"You really are a man-whore."

"Yeah, that's me," I snort. "Joshua Lyman Esquire – Man Whore Extraordinaire."

"You should put that on your business card," CJ quips as we hear a knock on the door. Mandy slips inside and takes a seat across from me.

"Her phone rang," Mandy responds to my silent question.

"You've met her?" asks CJ eagerly.

"I have indeed." Mandy grins serenely, and once again I'm afraid.

"Did you leave my manhood intact?" Mandy ignores me and continues her conversation with CJ.

"It looks like Josh's taste in women has improved over the last forty-eight hours."

"You realise you were one of those women," I point out.

"I'm the exception to the rule," she shoots back indifferently. Mandy likes to continuously find fault with the women that have been in my life, always forgetting the fact that she was one of them. "I think she blacked out when she agreed to marry the dumb-ass over here." She shoots me her, ' I'd like to say one sentence without you being you,' look.

I give her my, ' Quit unnecessarily trying to paint me as the idiot and I'll let you say whatever the hell you want without interrupting,' look.

We communicate a lot without uttering a word, Mandy and I.

"Which reminds me, CJ," Mandy starts with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Did you set up the blood tests yet?"

Blood tests?

"I set up the appointments but haven't spoken to Miss Blackout or Casanova here." CJ bites her lower lip to keep her from laughing.

"Don't have to worry on that front," Mandy grins. "Donna would love to know what drugs Josh used to subdue her normally impeccable judgement."

Oh that's just perfect. Every man in this building hates it when these two women gang up on them. Add Dr. B into the mix and you get a very vivid look into our nightmares.

"You guys are just too funny, you know that?" I sit back and just watch them have their fun. It's much more preferable to objecting to their every joke and making a bigger fool of myself.

CJ sniggers and Mandy continues to ignore me. "You'd like her. She's sassy. Suffice to say, she's not like we'd thought she'd be."

"You have to like a woman with sass," CJ grins. "When do I get to meet her, Josh?" As much as CJ doesn't want to get involved in this mess, she looks as if she's positively salivating at the thought of sharing horror stories with my wife.

She's living under the misguided conception that my wife will not know of these quirks when she agrees to spend her life with me.

She'll also be somewhat disappointed when she realises that Donna won't be surprised by any stories she might share with her.

"She's right across the bullpen, CJ."

CJ makes a move to stand up and gestures to Mandy to follow suit. "Come, Madeline, you can do the honours."

I stretch out on the couch and smirk, not falling for the act. CJ raises an eyebrow before walking out the door.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

One.

One…

On-

"It's no fun when you don't play, Josh," CJ gripes, plopping down on the couch beside me.

I shrug. "You're going to meet with her at some point today, and it's not going to happen anywhere but in this office. We both know that."

"He's got you there," Mandy agrees.

"So, where is she staying?" CJ asks, moving on.

I don't answer and it doesn't take long for CJ to connect the dots.

"Josh…" It's my name phrased as a question with so many implications. The loudest of which is ' she'd better not be staying with you.'

"She's—"

"No," she states adamantly. And then whacks me on the head for good measure.

"There are brains cells that you kill every time you hit me on the head, Claudia Jean."

"And as you so often love to tell us, you have them to spare; losing one or two won't reduce your IQ. It might, however, knock some sense into you."

"CJ," I implore. "Hear me out."

"Absolutely not. Pick a hotel. D.C. has an abundance of them."

"We put her in a hotel and then there's a possibility her fiancé finds out."

"How?" I don't answer. Donna may be engaged to a congressman, but that doesn't imply automatic fame. The chances of anyone actually recognising her are slim to none. "Exactly."

"Actually, I think Josh has a point," Mandy pipes up. "It takes one friend of the congressman's to recognise her and mention to her fiancé in passing that they saw her in here."

Thank you, Mandy!

"As much as it pains me to say this, she makes a valid point."

"We'll ignore the fact that genius over here bought her to the White House; if there's anywhere she's likely to get recognised it's here with the reporters not 100 feet away," Mandy shoots back at me.

"But the point stands, we don't want this to get back to the congressman," I say, trying to get back on track.

"Right, and the logical conclusion the guy will make is that she married the White House Deputy Chief of Staff and he forced her to come back to D.C. with him."

"I think we can all agree that's highly unlikely, but do you want even the tiniest hint of a possibility that he'll ask questions?"

CJ considers Mandy for a moment and then concedes, "Fine, she can stay with me."

"No," I reply forcefully.

"No?" she asks, incredulous.

"She doesn't know you," I explain.

"She doesn't know you either."

"Need I remind you about the endorphin release?"

"Oh, please don't."

"The point is she knows me more than you, and she has a certain amount of trust in me."

"Her carnal knowledge of you isn't really the best case you can put forward here, Josh," CJ explains, frustrated.

"She could stay with me," Mandy pipes up happily.

"No, she can't," I answer.

"Why not?" Mandy and CJ ask simultaneously.

"With the lies she tells?" I exclaim, facing CJ. Come on, CJ, work with me here! As much as I don't think Donna would be surprised with any information Mandy decides to share, it doesn't mean I want her to spend her time here only learning about this side of me. "I'm not letting her near Donna."

"My my, Josh, aren't we a little touchy?" Mandy smirks at me. "I promise, we won't talk about you."

"She's not staying with you." I'm adamant about this. I don't want nightmares of Mandy opening up a bottle of wine and sharing all my dark secrets, or more likely, embarrassing moments.

"I think she likes me," Mandy replies tartly.

"She doesn't, she was just being polite," I shoot back.

"Really. And how would you know?"

"Mandy, no one likes you. That's how."

"Are you two done?" CJ interrupts before we descend into second grade behaviour. "I do actually have better things to do with my time, and Josh, you have to meet with Leo."

"She started it," I mutter. Mandy sticks her tongue out at me. Having a kid has really brought about the inner child in Mandy.

" Josh."

"She's staying with me. It's not up for debate," I say firmly. Both women look at each other and know that's not a tone they can compromise with. CJ resigns herself to that fact.

"There will be rules, Josh."

"Right," Mandy snorts. "Because he follows them so well."

"It will be a platonic sleepover. Nothing more."

"I don't care what it is, as long as I don't read about it in tomorrow's newspapers," CJ asserts.

"I promise."

"So that's it then? Nothing else to discuss? Fine, go do whatever it is you're meant to be doing right now and get the hell away from me." CJ shoos us out of her office.

"Hey, Josh, do me a favour?" Mandy starts as she makes her way to the door. I hold back, waiting for her to continue. "Wait an hour before you tell Toby."

"Why?" I'm puzzled.

"I need to go find a camera to record this for posterity," she teases. At least, I think she's teasing me.

"Go jump off a cliff without a parachute, would you?"

"Oh, that's original," she deadpans.

"Mandy, your simpleton mind has trouble comprehending anything more than, you know, simple stuff."

"Uh huh. Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Hey, Laurel and Hardy—what am I saying, I just insulted comedy genius," CJ mutters.

"CJ?"

"Would you two idiots just leave my office already?"

"I think she means us," I snicker, looking at Mandy.

"Harvard really paid off, didn't it, Josh?"

"You forgot Yale. Everyone always forgets Yale."

"That's because we don't care. Now let's leave CJ alone, idiot boy."

"You realise that she was actually referring to both of us as idiots?"

"No, she just meant you."

"Mandy, do you not understand English?"

"I do, I just know that you're idiotic enough for two people."

"You really do live in your own little world. It's a good thing Richard's sane or I'd be afraid for Rose's—" Mandy turns sharply and glares at me. I'm sure CJ is enjoying that in ten seconds flat my mouth clamps shut and instead I slowly start to back away from the mad woman.

"Josh, don't bring my daughter into this."

"Sure," I gulp, quite inelegantly.

"Good," Mandy says, grinning as she walks away.

"That woman loves to play with me."

"Josh, face it, we all do."

I chuckle, shake my head and start to make my way out of CJ's office, again.

I'm at the door when CJ stops me. "Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"When are you meeting with Leo?"

"I'm about to check with Margaret when he has a minute."

"You want me to be there?"

"You think it would help?"

"No. But I figure you could use the support."

I remain quite for a moment, wondering if I should voice my thoughts.

"I've been thinking," I say as I close the door behind me again. "What good is it going to do telling him?"

"Josh." Her tone is clear: Don't go there.

"Seriously, what exactly is Leo going to do besides chew me out?"

CJ looks at me, realising the truth in my argument. The fact is, Donna and I will get this marriage annulled, she'll go back to Boston and I'll stay here. Nothing will change; no one will be any wiser. So what exactly is the point of telling Leo?

"Unless you plan on keeping Donna locked up in your home, chances are Toby will bump into her, you should at least tell him, Josh. And Leo, well…" she sighs. "Do you really want this to be something he finds out ten years down the line when you can joke about it? Is there any point in telling him? Probably not—there's not much he'll need to do unless this becomes public knowledge. But it's his house, Josh; he should know what's happening in it."

"Yeah," I sigh.

"Take Mandy with you."

"Why?"

"Because when things get heated she'll work her magic and annoy the crap out of him. Leo will pick the lesser evil and you two can join forces to fight the good fight, or whatever. He'll forget he was mad two minutes ago and everything will be fine."

"Mandy," I clarify, still somewhat incredulous. CJ has a point. We all tend to drown out the voices when Mandy goes off on one of her tangents.

"Yeah, just give her a few minutes. She wasn't kidding about the camera."

"You're funny." Sarcasm is rolling off me in waves.

"You know, for someone who's showed off his dancing prowess so well at functions, it's a shame those skills don't transfer to the bedroom."

"How is it that you've managed to work with Mandy for over six year and still haven't caught on to the fact that the woman tells lies?"

"How is it that I've worked with you for over six years and still have yet to understand how you mangle the English language to suit your own perverse needs?"

"Seriously, I'm sure she has me confused with some other poor schmuck who was sucked in by her for a while."

CJ grins. "Hey, twinkle toes? Get out of my office already."

"Would you like to dance?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Donna almost chokes on her drink and tries to bite back a laugh.

"Nothing," I mutte,r utterly mortified.

What the hell possessed me to ask that?

Donna has a look of concentration as she openly stares at me, her eyes squinted in an adorable fashion. "I have to wonder if you are okay," she states, with a curious air.

"Any particular reason?"

"I count at least seven beautiful brunettes in the room, not to mention the stunner sitting not two feet from you," she nods, pointing to Mel. "And yet," she sighs in an exaggerated manner, "I have yet to hear a single lame pick up line."

"Brunette's aren't my type," I shoot back automatically, throwing a pre-emptive glare in Mike's direction before he gets any ideas about interrupting. Mike throws back an indifferent shrug, grinning, and then continues to flirt with Mel.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," she answers, as if she doesn't believe me.

"It's true," I defend.

She snorts.

"That was rather inelegant of you, Donnatella."

"Josh, every time I've had the misfortune of bumping into you, you've been bewitched by a petite brunette." She takes a sip of her drink, and adds, "Lame pick up lines are all that I've heard come out of your mouth."

I grin. "Jealous, Donna?" She's right; every time we've met over the course of the past few days, I've been otherwise engaged with women of the dark haired nature. So there's no point denying it.

Donna smirks and gestures to Melanie to take the lead, who nods empathically. "'Hi, my name's Josh Lyman. Do you like the name Lyman, because it will be yours one day,'" Mel sniggers.

"Was that supposed to be an impression of me?" I look to Mike for support; he grins, and distracts Mel by kissing her.

I do not use pick up lines. At least not ones that bad.

"She was being nice," Donna sniggers. "Your pick up lines were worse."

"I think you have me mistaken with someone else. I don't need to use those methods to attract women."

"Right, they flock to you," she mocks.

"I can't help if they find me irresistibly charming," I grin, offering what I hope is a charming smile.

"And yet, here you are, beautiful women all around and instead of enjoying a pleasant evening with one of them, you're sitting here annoying the hell out of me."

I shrug in answer. There's not much I can say in response to that. I'm trying not to think about what it means that given the chance, I'd rather sit here with Donna, arguing with and being mocked by her, instead of spending an evening with a beautiful woman doing… other stuff.

"I'm sitting with a beautiful woman who likes to harass me." She offers a blush and I can't help but add, "There isn't anything that turns me on more than that." I grin and dodge as she makes a move to hit me over the head.

It's been near misses and fifteen second verbal sparks since she first berated me for using lame pick-up lines on her friend. All I can think about are the awe inducing put downs I've received in response to my attempts of being charming. It's not a natural state of being for me, as much as I like to think otherwise, and yet every time I'm around her it doesn't matter because I walk away with butterflies.

And it's only because of the alcohol running through my system that I can admit this, almost forty eight hours since we first met and I can't stop thinking about her.

I'm not about to let opportunity waltz on by.

I hold out my hand and smile. "Care to dance?"

She has her sceptical face and protests, "There isn't any music." However, she places her hand in mine as she says this, so I don't feel like a complete idiot.

"That's because they don't want people dancing here, they want them going to the nightclub on the other side of the casino, paying the huge cover charge," Mel announces, removing her lips from Mike's for a moment.

I almost forgot Donna and I weren't the only ones here.

I contemplate that for a moment, but I'm not a nightclub kind of guy. Let's be honest, there would be too many other men in there that would attempt to hit on Donna, so, you know, we're not going there.

"I could sing." It's safe to say we're all feeling the alcohol induced buzz.

"Oh, this I have to hear," Mel goads, as Donna asks, "You can sing?" She has her sceptical but intrigued face on now, her hand still firmly locked in mine.

I ignore Mel. "I don't actually know, but I could give it a try."

I just offered to make an ass of myself. That has to score me some points.

"Go for it," she smirks, gesturing with her free hand for me to start singing.

"Only if you get on the dance floor with me," I say, pulling her into my arms. I shoot a look of triumph to Mel as Donna settles comfortably without any protest.

"But there's no music, Josh," Mel points out, again. "As much as I'd love to hear you serenade Donna, it isn't going to do much for me while I'm dancing with Mike."

"And I should care about that because…?" I ask. Donna turns in my arms to face Melanie and Mike, and it's not lost on any one of us, except quite possibly Donna, that she remains in my arms, which are now wrapped around her, coming to rest on her stomach.

Mel grins and pulls Donna out of my arms. "No music. No Donna." Mike takes this moment to kiss Mel again and Donna sighs disgusted, announcing, "Donna doesn't need music. Donna needs to get drunk."

I smirk. "You could get high off my charm instead."

"With pickup lines like that, it's no wonder Mike was on a mission to get you laid," she shoots back.

" Was on a mission? Does that mean the mission is now going to be accomplished?"

"Oh god," she groans, reading the very apparent innuendo. Mel and Mike are happy playing tonsil hockey and I'm grinning at her discomfort. I don't know if it's that she looks cute when she pouts, or that by now it's quite obvious it wasn't Donna that was interested in Mike earlier, but I'm happier now than I was at the beginning of this evening. "I really need to get drunk."

"See, a guy could take offence at that," I shoot back. Melanie may be happy being mauled by Mike, however, as much as I'd hope otherwise, my charm really doesn't seem to be working for Donna, as she looks ready to call it quits for the evening. Or get drunk.

"If you see a guy, ask him if he would."

"You're funny!"

"I'm too sober," she complains.

"If it helps any, you're cute when you pout."

"I'm too sober to fall for your pick up lines, Josh."

And that's my cue.

"Yeah, we should really get you a drink."

"You should have worn a tux."

"A tux?"

"Yes," she nods. "You could have the done the Tony Bennett thing with the tie," she says as she trails her hand across my chest, studying it intently.

She's been nursing her fourth cocktail for the past half hour, which is roughly when she declared her state of severe tipsiness.

"Yeah?" I smile.

"Yes." She nods. "I think you'd look very handsome in a tux. I bet all the girls would love you."

"All the girls love me anyway." A fact that doesn't matter to me as long as this girl likes me.

"Ego isn't sexy, Joshua," she reprimands. Although she's holding back a smile, so I'm thinking she finds me somewhat sexy. At least I'm hoping she does, and living quite happily with that delusion.

"I haven't had any complaints." It's not a lie, per say, as, with the exception of CJ, women who complain about my ego tend to be doing it while flirting with me.

She gives me her sceptical face. Her sceptical face is really quite entrancing.

"Did you bring a tux?" And we're back to this again.

"No," I laugh, "I didn't think I'd need one this weekend."

Her eyes start to crinkle and a delicious pout forms on her face. She looks around for a moment and then starts to leave. "Let's go get you one."

"How about we hit the dance floor instead?"

"There's no music, Joshua," she points out, impatient. "Now, where can we find you a tux?" She stands up and starts to look around.

I laugh and pull her back. She stumbles and falls into my arms, and it's amazing how well she fits. "What?"

"Let's go find you a tux," she says, stressing each word as if she's talking to a child.

"Donna… are you drunk?"

"No." I give her my sceptical face. "Ok, well, maybe a little," she says, holding up her forefinger and thumb less than an inch apart, after which her arm promptly goes back around my neck.

"Uh huh." The way she softly plays with the hair just above my neck is really quite distracting.

"So, we're not going to find a tux?"

"Maybe next time."

"But we only have today," she pouts.

"That's not set in stone you know. We could maybe go for dinner, say… Monday." And Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. I could free up a lifetime for you, if you wanted.

The sappy stuff has really got to stop. I'm lucky Mike isn't here to read my mind and mock me for it.

"No, we really can't."

"Friday then. Pick a day, any day."

"Nope. That will not work either I'm afraid," she shakes her head. The effort leaves her looking adorably disorientated.

"Why not?"

"I— … I think we should go find you a tux."

"You really are drunk," I sigh. I try my best not to sound disappointed, but it's quite difficult, considering how disappointed I am. "I should take you to your room."

"No, it's ok. I'm only slightly drunk," she says, leaning against me. Instinctively my arms wrap around her waist a little tighter and I'm loath to let her go. "I'm a happy drunk. We don't have to find a tux. We can stay here and dance," she smiles.

"How about I take you to your room now and you can go to sleep?" She pouts and then tucks her head in the crook of my shoulder; her breath dances along my neck and an involuntary shiver runs through me. I find myself holding her even closer and breathing in the scent of her hair. "I'll find a way to make you happy all over again tomorrow." I whisper the promise in her ear and this time the shiver runs through her and I have to suppress the urge to kiss her senseless right here and now.

"No. I think we should stay here and dance," she asserts, ignoring the small fact that we're not actually dancing. It would be amusing if it wasn't so obvious it's time to call it a day. "Or maybe you should drink? Would that make you want to stay? I could go get you a drink—you can have some of mine."

"I want to stay, Donna," I sigh, disappointed. "You have no idea how much," I mutter. "Trust me. But I think you've had enough."

"We need to get you drunk," she says with affection, completely ignoring what I just said. This woman has no idea the kind of effect she's having on me and that in itself makes me want her that much more.

"We need to get you to bed."

"Want to join me?"

"Donna!"

"I'm good in bed."

"Ok," I struggle for patience. "Do you remember your room number?"

"No," she shakes her head. "But the bar is right here. We could get you drunk."

"I think you're more than drunk enough for the both of us."

"I'm a happy drunk though," she repeats, "And you're a boring… sober person."

"And you've lost the ability to shoot back witty quips," I mutter.

She shoots me a confused look and reiterates, "You're not drunk."

"No."

She gets a twinkle in her eyes, as if she's suddenly remembered an important fact. "You can't fail in your duties. And you're dangerously close to failing," she asserts, proud of her argument.

I'm lost.

"My duties?" I grin.

"Yes, you're here for a Bachelor Party, you're supposed to get drunk, Josh," she whines adorably. I grin at her logic and step back as she points an accusatory finger at me. "Come and get drunk," she continues, grabbing my arm and heading back towards the bar, which would have a better effect if we weren't already standing right next to it.

"So these duties, what else do they include besides getting drunk? Because you've only actually mentioned the one thing and that doesn't constitute the use of the plural."

"That's not the point," she says after a moment of silence. "Shut up and come get drunk."

"I was just saying—"

"And I said shut up."

"Oh, how I love the way you sweet talk me, Donnatella," I whisper.

"Josh," she says breathlessly. "Shut up and kiss me."

"Okay—wait, what?"

Donna ignores my bewilderment and takes a step closer, if that's possible.

"I was just saying," I repeat dumbly.

She takes another step and gives me a radiant smile, her eyes clear. She leans just a fraction closer, every inch of her body pressed against mine, and I'm acutely aware of how she smells, so delicate and alluring. I know I should pull myself away; she may not be drunk but she's definitely not sober, but she's so completely arresting that I'm lost. She whispers so delicately that I almost miss the words, but the shiver that they induce leaves me motionless.

"Josh… Shut up and kiss me."

I can't help it. I do exactly as she asks.

And I know without a doubt, those words and this kiss will haunt me forever.

" Shut up and kiss me."

Post Script: I stopped watching the show over two years ago, and decided to finish this story with the voice I started it with. I realise that The West Wing will have developed Josh & Donna in ways I'm not familiar with and so this story will most likely not match the characterisation that you see now.

But I hope you still enjoyed this.

A special thanks to Brandy for reading and providing assurances when they were needed.

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