Chapter 5

He knows she's awake; according to his calculations, she has been for at least ten minutes. Her back is against his chest and their legs are tangled and he felt the very second she woke up, because her entire body stiffened against his. He kissed her shoulder, but she moaned and tried to relax her body, and she's been pretending to sleep ever since.

He wonders if he should get up or at least remove his right hand from the underside of her breast. Maybe that would make her more comfortable. Or maybe it would make her think that he's gotten what he's wanted and is moving on with the day. He doesn't know much about this sort of thing; Amy and Mandy weren't cuddlers and other than the two of them, he'd be hard-pressed to remember the sleeping habits of any of the other women he's been with.

He settles for moving his hand down her stomach a little bit and moving his thumb back and forth gently over her oh so soft skin. He always knew it would be soft; there's something about the paleness of it that has always seemed so fragile. But he had no idea just how soft. She's like those old oil paintings he studied in Art History; the ones where the woman was pale and willowy and naked except for the white sheet draped over her lap. Except that those women were rounder where Donna is thin and curvy in the sexiest way imaginable.

It takes a minute, but he does feel her body relax more. He kisses her shoulder again and smiles against it when she sighs. He takes his other hand out from underneath his pillow and carefully sweeps her hair away from his neck, then kisses her there and behind her ear; her body relaxes even more.

He doesn't want this to turn into sex. It's a thought he can barely comprehend having, but instead of continuing with the kissing, he tightens his grip on her and buries his face into her neck, inhaling the scent of her mixed with him. "Morning," he mumbles.

She hesitates for just a second before replying in kind.

"Hungry," he asks quietly.

She shakes her head. "No…"

She trails off, uncertainty still lacing her voice. He backs off her a little bit. "What?"

She turns her head and looks at him, then over at the bathroom. "I need to…"

He finally gets it and smiles. She tries to smile back, but it's still unsure, so when she sits up he leans over and kisses her. She startles, but after a moment of his persistence, tilts her head and kisses him back, letting go of the sheet she was holding against her chest and letting it pool around her waist.

When they part a moment later, he kisses her eyelids and whispers good morning to her again. She smiles brighter then and kisses him chastely before getting out of bed and walking naked into the bathroom.

Once the door's closed behind her, he sits up against the headboard and reaches for the television remote on the nightstand. He finds CNN rather easily and alternates between watching it and the door she just went through. He's amazed at how easy this feels to him; how right. As if waking up next to her was an every day occurrence. He's still not sure why last night was the night he changed things, but he's unwilling to question it now. He wants this, has wanted it for longer than he probably knows, and at this point he's just glad he has it.

When she comes out of the restroom, she grabs his t-shirt off the floor and slips into it, then starts digging around her small suitcase for clothing. "What time are we going to the congressman's?"

He watches as she pulls out a pair of white lacy underwear, then an equally lacy bra. It's distracting, but he pushes the sight out of his mind and turns off the television. "About that…" She turns around and looks at him and he pats the bed. "Come sit with me," he says with a smile.

"I was gonna shower."

He smirks. "You weren't going to model the lingerie for me?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "In your dreams."

"Many of them, yes." He gets serious again. "Come sit with me."

She squints her eyes a bit, then puts down the bra and underwear and walks to the bed, sitting on the edge of it and facing him.

He takes a deep breath. "I'm not going to ask the congressman to run for the senate." The hurt in her eyes is sudden and immediate, and she looks down at the bed and fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt. "It was a good idea, Donna…"

"Don't," she says, cutting him off. She looks back up at him. "You don't have to placate me; it's your decision."

He reaches over and takes her hand. Hers is stiff in his, but she doesn't pull away. "It was a good idea," he repeats more adamantly. "It's what I'd recommend to him if I didn't need him for more."

She's quiet for a second, then takes her hand from his and starts to stand. "I need to shower; then I'll change the proposal from senate issues to house issues," she says, suddenly very professional. She walks back to her suitcase and picks up the bra and underwear, as well as a shirt. "Although… he probably doesn't need a plan for that. He's done it twice."

"I don't want him to run for the house either," he says, standing up and searching around for his boxers. He slips them on quickly and walks up to her. "I want him to run for president and I want the two of us to run his campaign."

She stills, then snaps her head in his direction. "What?"

"You were right," he says with a smile. He's excited now and can barely keep from bouncing on the balls of his feet. "He's ready for more. Let's make him the president."

Her eyes widen and she stares at him before looking down at her wringing hands. The silence drags on for several seconds before she speaks. "Josh, I accepted a position…"

"Unaccept it," he says shrugging. "Tell Will you found a better candidate. The right candidate."

"I can't just…." She stops and looks at him again. "You know Will offered me a job?"

He half smirks. Of course he knows. "Yes."

Her eyes narrow. "You know Will offered me a job?" she asks in an angrier voice.

"Yes," he says again.

"How long have you known?"

"It doesn't…"

"How long?" she asks through gritted teeth.

He pauses a beat. "Since Tuesday. He came to me. I was in the mess, and…"

"And you…" she turns and takes a few steps and then turns and looks at him again. "You came up and told me to research the three of them."

There's no use lying about it. She knows him and she knows how he works; he's not surprised that she's putting it together. "Yes."

"So that wasn't for your benefit. It was for mine."

He holds up a hand. "Not completely."

She turns and walks to the other side of the room while talking. "I can't believe this. You knew I was going to work for the vice-president, so you had me prove to myself that he…" she stops talking and walking at the same time.

"Shouldn't be president, yes," he says unapologetically. "Russell can't beat Vinick. Russell shouldn't beat Vinick."

She turns around and looks at him. "He can," she denies. "He just needs…"

"I've worked for the wrong guy, Donna. Trust me on this."

"You mean follow you on this," she spits out. "You mean continue to be your lap dog while you..."

"I'm not asking you to be my assistant. I'm asking you to do this with me."

"No, you're telling me to."

"No, I'm…"

"Yes you are," she yells, cutting him off. "The job I've chosen isn't good enough for you…"

"The job you've chosen isn't good enough for you," he argues back, his voice raising for the first time.

"That's not your decision to make!"

"Donna!" he shouts, his arms flying out to his sides. "I'm offering you something better; something you can believe in."

She spins around and walks away again, pacing in front of the restroom. "I should've known you'd try to keep me from leaving."

He puts his hands on his hips defiantly. "You did know. That's why you didn't tell me about Will's offer."

She spins to face him and starts to argue, but stops before anything comes out and looks over at the bed. He watches as she stares at it, and wonders if she's thinking the same thing he is; that ten minutes ago the world was perfect and now they're screaming at each other. He takes a deep breath and looks around the room. He's standing there in his boxer shorts while she stands ten feet from him in his t-shirt. This isn't how this morning was supposed to go.

"Donna…" he says quietly, walking up to her.

"What would you do to get me to stay?" she asks in a monotone, almost dead sounding voice without looking up from the bed.

He shrugs. "Whatever I have to, I guess."

She turns her head slowly, looking at him, and for the first time he can see tears pooling in her eyes. No, not at all the way this morning was supposed to go. "Including sleeping with me?"

He's confused for a second, and is sure his face shows it. "No," he says adamantly when he figures out what she's getting at. "That's not…"

"It's not?" she asks with a harsh laugh. "Not even a little?"

"No! How you could you think that?"

She throws her hands up into the air. "I don't, Josh, let's see. You spent eight years doing nothing. Nothing, Josh! I resign and suddenly…"

"There's nothing sudden about this and you damn-well know it," he says, pissed off now.

She lifts her hands to her face, covering it completely. "I don't know anything," she mumbles into her hands.

"You know me," he spits out. "And you know I'd never do that to you. How could you..." He stops and shakes his head. He can't be around her right now. He turns and grabs his keycard off the dresser, then walks to the door. When he opens it, he looks back at her and sees her shoulders shaking.

"You can be mad at me, Donna. You can be mad that I didn't tell you I was considering asking ?xml:namespace prefix st1 ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" / Santos to run. You can be mad that I didn't tell you I knew about the job offer. Hell, you can even be mad that I assumed you'd choose to work for someone who should be president over someone who shouldn't. But you can't be mad about last night. You're not allowed to be mad about that."

He hears her crying just as the door closes behind him.