Chapter 4

He's unsettled by the awkward pauses and strained conversations between them. Lunch was stressful for both of them; a rollercoaster ride of anger, friendship, defensiveness, trust, and confusion. But it wasn't fun or easy or flirtatious, and if he's being honest with himself, it hasn't been for a few months.

She's on edge around him; not quite sure how to act now that she's resigned. He thinks she feels better that it's out there and that he's still speaking to her, but she seems too be waiting for the other shoe to drop at the same time. And it will drop, he knows. It will drop heavily if he can't convince her to stay with him. Whether that's her fault or not he's still not sure, but her concerns are valid. If she leaves, that other shoe will drop.

Which is probably why she's hiding the fact that she's considering or has accepted Will's offer. He's glad she's hiding it, because it's helping his plan, but it's also making the stress between them that much worse. She doesn't like to lie to him; it's not in her nature, and he can see her unease around him as she omits it from their conversations.

For the briefest of seconds, he thinks maybe this thing isn't worth trying to fix. They've always hurt each other, and while most of the time it's been an accident, it hasn't made the pain any less. Maybe they'd be better off just cutting ties and going about their own lives. It would hurt like hell for a while, but then maybe he'd just go numb. But the thought of her out of his life, even as brief as that thought is, makes him absolutely sick. He doesn't want to know the man he'd be without her in his life.

They need to laugh, he decides around seven o'clock, when he's sitting in his office thinking of ways to get ?xml:namespace prefix st1 ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" / Santos elected president. He's certain now that Santos is the right man, and he can't help smiling when he realizes that the final push came from Donna. Which is just another reason he can't let her go, of course. Her real value to him is the way she thinks; innocent idealism mixed with the political knowledge she's learned from him over the years. Will won't understand that value.

He sighs and puts down his pen, then stands and goes out to check on her. He feels the need recently to make sure she's still there. He walks out of his office and to her partition, watching her work. He knows she knows he's there, but she finishes up what she's doing before speaking to him while still looking at her computer.

"I called Congressman Santos' office. He's is in Houston for the holidays."

He takes a few steps inside her area. "When's he coming back?"

"January tenth."

"The tenth?" he asks unbelievably.

She spins slowly around to face him. "Congress is in recess, Josh. This is his vacation." He rolls his eyes and she shakes her head. "Please don't lecture me on congressional recesses," she says with a slight twinkle in her eye.

"I'm not!" he defends loudly. Except that yes, of course he is. "It's crap, Donna. Recess is for elementary school, not Congress. The president doesn't get recess. Why the hell should…" he trails off at the look of amusement on her face, entranced by the dancing in her eyes. It changes as she notices him staring transfixed at her, and she holds his gaze for a second before looking away. One of them always looks away. "Anyway," he says, looking at his own shoes. "I need him here. He's got to declare by the fifteenth."

She nods and spins back to face her desk. "Which is why you're flying to Texas tomorrow; I'm looking for flights for you."

"Texas," he whines, looking up and walking around to the front of her desk. He hates Texas. They never win Texas.

"Yes, Josh," she says while clicking away at her mouse. "The evil state of Texas. Isn't it worth it if he stays in the House?"

"I thought you said the Senate."

Her head snaps up to his. "Really?" she asks hopefully, a huge smile on her face.

"We'll see," he says noncommittally. That's not the plan, but convincing Santos to run for Senate was actually a very good idea; it's what he would do if the vice-president wasn't Bingo Bob or if Baker was still in the race. Santos could use a few more years of exposure; that's going to be the hardest part of the race. "I need to work on the details in the morning. Make sure we get an afternoon flight."

Her eyes widen and he's glad to see excitement in them. "We?"

"You know more about him than I do," he says, nodding. Her smile widens and he thinks again that they need to laugh. "Get your coat; let's get dinner."

"Dinner?" she asks, as shocked by the request as by the change of topic.

"Yeah."

"But we had lunch," she reminds him.

He shrugs. "So now we'll have dinner." He doesn't give her time to answer, just walks towards his office to pack his book bag.

They arrive in Houston the next night at nine after spending the day putting together an eight point plan to get Santos to the Senate. He's mentally changed each of the points to fit a presidential campaign instead of a senatorial one, plus added one more to it; Donna and him.

He's going to have to tell her, and fairly soon. He can't blindside her in the man's house; she'd never forgive him for making her look like an idiot. And he wants them to go in together as if they could do it; as if the two of them could make him president. He doesn't want Santos to doubt her abilities because he didn't prepare her for what was going to happen. And he doesn't want it to look like he's bringing her along for the ride. She's ready to do this on a real level with him..

They grab a quick dinner and it's the easiest meal they've had together in months. He wonders if she even notices that they've had five meals in a row together. After dinner, they take a cab to their hotel and when she looks at him strangely as he takes her suitcase from her and rolls it into the hotel, he can't help thinking that he can be a real bastard sometimes.

They're in the elevator when he remembers that it's four days before Christmas and he hasn't gotten her anything. Unlike last year, she didn't try to slip in her own gift when she was doing his gift shopping and he realizes it's probably because they weren't in a good place three weeks ago and she probably didn't think he'd get her anything at all. For some reason that thought hits him hard and it takes him a moment of deep breaths to find his voice again.

"Are you going home for Christmas?" he asks, looking at the elevator door.

"I haven't decided," she says almost reluctantly. "It's on Sunday, so I could go home Saturday for a quick trip, I guess."

The elevator stops and the doors open onto the third floor. "The day after tomorrow? Flights will be expensive."

She shrugs as they walk down the hallway towards rooms 329 and 331. "Things have been kind of… up in the air. I didn't know what my schedule would be like."

He looks at her questioningly but she's looking straight ahead. And then it hits him; she thought she might have a new job by now. "Well…" he says, trying to recover. "If you decide to go, you can take Monday off."

She glances over at him. "Thanks," she says with a small smile. She stops at room 329 and pushes the keycard into the slot. "Mom's been complaining that I haven't been home all year and she hasn't seen me since…" She stops suddenly, her hand on the doorknob. They both know when the last time her mother saw her was.

There's an awkward pause; this was a bad conversation to have. Things had been going better and suddenly there's silence. He can actually hear the breath she takes, and then she turns around with a plastered on smile. "You take this room," she says, holding the door open for him.

He walks inside and she hands him the keycard. "Thanks," he mumbles, dropping it onto the dresser.

"I'm just gonna…" she gestures over her shoulder and he nods. "Do you need me…"

"Nah," he says without looking at her. "We'll start early tomorrow."

She nods and it's a few seconds before he hears the door click shut.

He stands there for a minute, staring at himself in the mirror but only seeing her in a hospital bed. He remembers how worried he was that he'd lose her, how grateful he was when he found out he didn't. In a way, he thinks, he's going through it all over again.

He finally drags himself away from the mirror and checks the clock on his cell phone. It's almost midnight, and he figures he might as well get some sleep before tomorrow, which is going to be a big day. He's got to convince a man who wants out of politics to run for president and a woman who wants to move on to stay with him.

He strips off his suit and puddles around in his boxers and t-shirt, brushing his teeth and washing his face. He's still thinking of Christmas, and it occurs to him that it's Thursday, and if they get back to DC late Friday night and she leaves the next morning for Wisconsin, he won't be able to get her a gift before she's gone. He's never done that before, given her gift to her after the holiday. That doesn't seem right for some reason.

Last year, they spent Christmas together. She came over to his place early that morning and made a turkey with stuffing and green beans. He helped by making cranberry sauce, or at least opening the can and slurping it out onto a plate, and then CJ, Toby, and Carol had come over with pumpkin pie and wine. He and Toby spent most of the day making fun of them for their Christmas traditions but still ate more than everyone else, and at one point that evening, when he was loading his dishwasher and Donna was wrapping up leftovers, he'd had to actually remind himself that she'd be going home that night instead of to bed with him.

He walks out of the bathroom and yanks back the covers on his bed. He hasn't given any thought to how he'll spend Christmas. It's not a holiday to him, so he doesn't really care all that much, but the president usually makes them all take the day off and nothing's ever open, so he's got to make some sort of plans or he's just a loser with no friends like he was two years ago when Donna was at the Washington Inn.

He thinks for a minute that he should just let her go to Wisconsin and not say anything. She could use the break and he's sure her family would love to see her. But he finds himself walking out of his door and to hers anyway. When he knocks and she answers, her face is scrubbed clean and she's wearing a t-shirt and boxers. He winces a little bit, wondering what gomer she got them from, but puts it quickly out of his mind.

"Do you need something?" she asks, not at all surprised to see him.

"If you decide not to go, we could do something," he says, already mid-conversation in his head.

"What?" she asks, staring at him in confusion.

"To Wisconsin," he clarifies, walking past her into the room without invitation. "If you don't go, we could do something. Some movie theaters are open and we could make dinner and I don't know… watch football."

She's still holding the door open, but she lets go of it and turns towards him. "Oh…"

"You don't have to decide right now," he hastily adds. "I just… if you don't want to fly… for two days…" He tries to act casual and hopes he's making more sense out loud than he thinks he is. "We could… I don't know. I had fun last year."

She walks up to him. "I think Toby's spending the day with Andi and the twins, and Carol and Ginger are both going out of town. I don't know about CJ…"

"Yeah, well…" he says, looking away. "It was just a thought. You probably want to…" he stops, catching a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror and staring at it. Standing close to each other in front of the bed in their pajamas. This is what families look like, he thinks.

"We'd have to get a fresh bird."

His eyes squint and he looks at her. "What?"

"We couldn't thaw a frozen bird out in time. We could get Cornish game hens maybe, if it's just going to be the two of us."

He nods distractedly and looks back at the mirror, enthralled by the site of them.

"And no football. Basketball maybe, if there's a good game on. What are you…" She turns her face and they're both looking at the mirror. "What are you looking at?"

He's quiet for a second. "Us," he says softly. "Look at us."

"What about us?" she asks, and he wishes she didn't have to. That she could see what he sees.

He doesn't answer, just reaches out and lightly trails a few fingers down her arm to her hand, hooking his middle finger around her index finger. She doesn't say anything and he wonders if she can see it now.

He moves his gaze up in the mirror; she's biting her lower lip and staring intently at their hands. He moves his thumb slowly, let it graze back and forth over the hand he's holding, and she slowly lifts her eyes until they meet his in the mirror.

He's been tempted to kiss her before. There's a list a mile long in his mind of times he almost did; dancing at the first inauguration, outside her apartment the night of the second, their second Christmas together, when she woke up in Gaza, when she woke up in Gaza again, at a state dinner when she told him that women can get out of hand, their second anniversary… but he never expected that the time he wouldn't be able to stop himself would be while they're both wearing pajamas in a Comfort Inn in Houston.

He kisses the very corner of her mouth first. They're facing the mirror instead of each other, so it's an awkward angle. He keeps his eyes open and locked with hers, which get larger and larger as he leans in. But even the corner of her mouth is soft and warm and amazing. When he pulls slightly back, she turns her head with a questioning gaze, but he doesn't give her a chance to voice the question before leaning in and kissing her again.

This time he closes his eyes so his entire focus can be on her lips. Her bottom lip naturally sticks out a little farther than her top, he notices, which makes it perfect to graze with his teeth. He touches the tip of his tongue to it next and she sighs and brings a hand up to his shoulder. His own hand comes up to her face, cupping her cheek and chin and feeling for the first time just how smooth and soft her skin is, but his other hand remains locked with hers between them.

When she tilts her head and slips her tongue into his mouth, he groans desperately. This has been too long coming and he can't for the life of him figure out why he's never done this before. The hand on his shoulder slips up around his neck and into his hair, and her fingernails scratch at his scalp the slightest bit.

When they come up for air, she pulls back and looks at him with wide eyes. Her tongue snakes out of her mouth a licks away the moisture left on her lips and suddenly he can't look away. His middle finger is still wrapped around her index finger and he can hear his own breathing and all he can think about is doing that again. And again and again and again.

She glances down at the dresser they're still in front of, and then back up at him. He smiles a little at her, the smile that usually gets him out of trouble, and she smiles back while rolling her eyes slightly. Then she leans in and kisses him again.

Five seconds later she's trapped between him and the dresser.

A minute later they're both missing their shirts.

An hour later, he's asleep, wrapped around her naked body.