Upon hearing a knock outside his office, Josh raised his head. "What's up?" he asked, as Lou let herself in.
"I've got something you're not going to like," she replied, apprehensively taking a seat.
He sighed. "What is it?"
"We need to map out where the Congressman is going to go after the funeral."
"What does that matter?"
"I'm not talking about after the actual service, I'm talking when the proper send off is complete."
"Yeah," Josh said, shifting in the seat behind his desk.
"I know you're not exactly thrilled about the idea, and that we won some time so that we can afford to stay here for a little while, but you've gotta realize that Vinick has spent the past few days campaigning while we've been waiting for Leo's family members to get to Washington from their various places across the globe. This election's going to be damn close, Josh, and we can't just stay here, stuck in neutral."
Josh waited a minute to respond while Lou took a deep breath. "Okay. I know we need to get back out there."
She did a double take. "You're agreeing with me?"
"Yeah. I am."
"Well," she said, standing up, "that makes things an awful lot easier. I'm going to be working with Annabeth and Bram to figure things out in the conference room, and it'd be a lot easier if the master of ceremonies were there too."
Josh raised his eyebrows. "By that do you mean the Congressman, or me?"
"You. You're the master of ceremonies right now. Santos is only the prized attraction."
"Nice way to put down the future leader of the free world."
"Don't jinx it. And, I'm a great communicator. Show up in ten, okay?"
"Yeah," replied Josh. He rocked back in his chair, pondering things – and such. He had realized that since certain events had occurred, his mind – which used to be grossly populated with all things political – had grown into an intellectual field of varying interests.
And by varying interests he meant Donna.
Well, actually, it wasn't just all Donna. She was, of course, the main reason for the change of disposition, but Josh also had other thoughts and feelings, most of which were cerebral chests designated for worrying about loved ones.
So, except for Donna, worrying, and a newly discovered adoration for Super Pretzel (microwavable soft pretzels – seriously, how had he with his bad eating habits missed this stuff until now?), the brain still held the political minefield that had been residual for – oh, who really knows how many years now. But, the importance of the growth of the Donna section was immeasurable. No longer a location of unrequited love and desire, nor hurt and anguish over events he didn't even quite understand, he thought of her often – maybe a bit too much – and marveled at the fact that the woman who had been his sanity for so long was now living her life completely intertwined with his – for the most part.
Determining that a two-hour work period clearly equated a two-minute conversation with his infatuation, Josh stood up from his desk and went to hunt the woman down. The romp in the marshland for the duck turned out to be relatively short and easy, as Donna was sitting at her desk, blonde hair covering the jet black phone receiver held to her ear. He approached carefully as to not startle the objective – and listened to her shut down some dumbass reporter. That's my woman, he thought to himself. Reaching slowly, he put his hand on her shoulder, and she swiveled in the chair to face him, greeting with a grin.
Eyes fixed on Josh, Donna finished up the conversation. "Once I know more, I'll be sure to give you a call," she said quickly, placing the phone down behind her without breaking eye contact with Josh – and missing the base a few times. "Hi."
"Hi," Josh smiled back.
"How's your morning been?"
"All right. There's a big meeting in the conference room. We're strategizing." Josh leaned against the side of Donna's desk.
"When does it start?"
"It's already in progress. I'm supposed to make a guest appearance, star that I am."
"Superstar," Donna remarked, taking her hand to reshape her hair and clearing her throat to add a certain element to her next statement. "So," she looked around to see if anyone was listening, "you're saying that we can have a little chatting time."
He grinned mischievously. "Yes."
"Okay. Let's go outside."
The eyebrows rose. "Outside?"
"It's nice out. There's nothing nicer than a crisp, cool, October morning."
"Yeah, because people who like 70 degrees and pure sunshine are just crazy."
"The sun is out."
"But it's not 70 degrees."
Donna sighed. "Oh, for the love of God, get over it. We're going outside," she commanded turning to put on her coat.
"Hey, no need to get upset," responded Josh, raising his arms for protection from any incoming blow.
She turned and faced him with slow, dramatic fluidness. "I'm not upset," she replied calmly. "But I want to get outside for a little while, so let's go!"
------
Somehow, Josh managed to find the ability to quickly put on his coat and step outside of the headquarters with Donna. It probably – no, it definitely wasn't the most proactive thing to do nearing the end of a Presidential campaign, but Josh knew that Leo would tell him that it was okay to go outside and take a walk. It wasn't as if Josh had skipped work often in the past, well, decade.
The two took up their usual andante tempo, but Josh knew that there was something different about it now. In the past they had walked together as boss and assistant, and now – well, they were still technically in the boss-inferior relationship, but it wasn't as scandalous now as it had been. But would it have been that scandalous?
Josh and Donna had prowled the streets of D.C. in the past, but they never had held hands. The amount of times he would have given anything to grab one… honestly, people didn't give him enough credit for his exercised self-control; he was at the very least god-like. Now, however, the temptation was even worse.
They weren't public. Not yet. To be announcing a long awaited relationship finally blooming in the wake of a tragic death would appear as callous to most people. Josh had a sneaky suspicion that everyone back from the "good old days" would probably approve of it, however.
He wanted to walk down the street and hold her hand.
Comfortable silence enveloped their journey – which Josh didn't know where would end – but it didn't matter so much. Donna was sensible enough—
Pulse racing.
Take a breath.
In, out, in, out…
She had jumped over the line.
Josh looked down at his left hand.
Yeah. That was Donna's right hand, covered in her (really soft and fluffy, he had discovered the other day) brown gloves around his. His wide eyes turned up to glance at Donna's face. It took a beat until she locked eyes with him again, and simply smiled.
"Uh, you've – you've advanced our relationship," he managed to get out, swallowing halfway throughout the sentence.
"Yes."
"Are you sure it's okay to be holding hands in public?"
"I deal with the press."
"And you're sure it's okay."
"I don't give a damn."
Well, that settles matters, Josh thought, turning his head away. He glanced back at Donna however, as she squeezed his hand and gave him another smile.
Josh swallowed again. "Is it bad that I'm scared?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head. "No. So am I."
"But you – you just – you made a move."
"Yeah."
"But I thought you were scared." Donna stopped walking, and Josh turned to face her after walking two paces ahead. "What?"
"It's scary," she said glancing at the pavement of the sidewalk and back up at Josh.
"I know, I just said that."
"But it's right."
Something was up. Donna seemed to be reassuring – herself? What?
"You and me?" Josh asked.
"This isn't going to end." For some reason, Donna had just arrived at the station. She and Josh were together, and it was scary, and it was uncertain. An epiphany it was.
"You and me?"
"If you think that we should stop this, though, you've got to tell me now."
"God, no. No. I don't want to," he replied earnestly.
"This is it for me, Josh. It's you or I'm done."
The hamster in Josh's head had begun to run on its wheel at a rapid pace. Josh was dizzy. 'This is it for me, Josh. It's you or I'm done.' She had spoken cataclysmic words.
It was times like these – well, not like these times happened too often, but it was times like these that Josh had discovered he would lose the power of speech. His brain was on overload, so many words for emotions and feelings all trying to spill over the floodgate. Luckily, his lips, though stolen of speech, still possessed other abilities.
Josh grabbed Donna and pulled her close to him, kissing her right on the sidewalk, in front of whatever-the-hell reporters who could be walking around. He pulled away to rest his forehead on hers. "Yeah. This is it," he sighed, pulling his head away from hers. "I'm not getting any younger and there is no knuckleheaded excuse in the world that could make me put you and me on the shelf."
"Okay," she replied, quietly, obviously somewhat shaken.
Josh pulled her in for a hug, closing his eyes while he wrapped his arms as tightly as possible, then taking one away to stroke her hair. "I'm sorry. I kind of just turned the tables on us."
"You mean, turning me into the emotional wreck?" she laughed into his shoulder.
"Yeah," he smiled, stepping back to look at her and see she had begun to cry, "but you're never an emotional wreck."
"I'm a rock."
Josh laughed, remembering the conversation that had brought some light into one of his top ten darkest days. "Yeah, but we never specified what kind."
"No," she sighed, wiping underneath her eyes with her gloved hands.
He grasped her open hand and began to walk once more. "I don't know where we're going right now, Magellan."
"I was just going to walk down two blocks and circle back to headquarters."
"Okay. Let's go. We actually have to go back and, you know, win the right to govern the country for another four years."
She laughed. "It's somewhat shocking that the American public let you be the puppeteer behind the federal government."
"And to imagine they're potentially putting me in power for a total of twelve years." He paused a beat. "Are you going to stay over at my place tonight?" he asked, switching gears in one move.
"Yeah," she replied.
Josh kissed the top of her head. "Good." He took a deep breath, internally debating whether or not he should do it right now. It wasn't as if they needed candlelight and fireworks to say it – and she had already been crying. "Donna—"
She stopped and turned towards him. His voice had barely been a whisper. The tone he used when he was scared and things were going badly. "What?" she asked, audibly concerned.
His eyes rolled to the ground and up to the sky, as he chuckled saying, "I know that this isn't exactly the most romantic of situations to be saying this, but I've gotta—"
"What, Josh?"
"I love you," he said, his face utterly and completely serious. "It's been eight years, a few days, and way too long. I just – had to say it. I'm sorry if—"
Donna put her hand to his face to get him to stop rambling and to capture his brown eyes with hers. She couldn't say it without them. "I love you, too."
Josh's visage didn't change. He still looked as bluntly serious as he did when he admitted his affection. Donna worried for a minute – it wasn't as if she had done something wrong, though, right? What she didn't know was that it was just the classic lack-of-speech syndrome that she, out of all people, brought upon him the most. All doubts of her actions were erased when he started kissing her again, this time with far more passion. This is, was, and would be a defining moment in their relationship.
And, in true Josh-and-Donna fashion, it hastily occurred in the middle of the work day, without the champagne and strawberries. It was a moment that paralleled a Christmas where skis were desired, and binders predictably falling off shelves some time after that. Little things and little times that wouldn't be presumed to be important by the average person.
And anyway, who wants to be a stereotypical, made-for-the-movies couple? Love is whatever works. So, if the first time that word is said is during a ten-minute escape from the office on a street in D.C., so be it. Nothing is normal. Nothing is strange. Screwing the status quo is a damn good time.
Maybe it had taken them a few years too long – but it didn't matter. They had done it right.
At last.
Donna pulled away first, clearly leaving Josh wishing for more. She stared at him for a minute, holding on to the last thousandths of seconds of the moment, and then changed gears. "Okay. We've got an election to win."
Feet glued to the sidewalk, Josh's jaw dropped when Donna began to walk off. Had they not just, like – he didn't know – done something really important that needed immediate discussion and reflection? Then Josh remembered: these flirtatious games defined their relationship.