Donna was kissing him. She shouldn't be, she was in a fragile state and what if she was just kissing him because she needed to feel something, anything, like he did when he kissed her?
Then he realized he was kissing her back, that despite the fact that his head was full of logic and righteous indignation because, after all she had refused his kiss and he was a damn fine kisser, that despite all of this he was kissing her, ardently, his hands sliding up her waist and the underside of her breasts, and he wondered why it was that he hadn't allowed himself to do this before. There was a reason. A multitude of reasons, yet he couldn't remember a single one.
She moaned into his mouth and he forgot about recalling those reasons, he cast them away, cast everything away except for the incredible woman in his arms right now, and she swung her leg around to straddle his waist. He was lost and he couldn't say that he honestly cared.
He continued to kiss her, touch her, try to remember everything about her, because there was a very good possibility that this would never happen again.
He was damn well going to enjoy himself, even if they were making out for all the wrong reasons.
Well, he wasn't. She probably was, though.
She was an amazingly good kisser. He had a feeling she would be. He imagined, and had imagined for a while, that she would be a fantastic kisser and he was always pleased when he turned out to be right.
He wondered how far he should let this go. He wanted to let this go all the way, he had dreamed of letting it go all the way, but what he wanted to do and what he should do were often two very different things. He should tell her to stop, that if she was going to make this decision, she was damn well going to do it because she wanted him and not for any other reason. He should tell her that there was going to be hell to pay. He should tell her that he was in her same position a week ago, wanting so desperately to lose himself, to forget that he was shot and he hurt and he had scars now.
So far what he wanted was winning out, he wasn't breaking the kiss but letting it go on for as long as she wanted. He was running his hands through her hair. He was wondering if he'd be able to carry her to his bedroom.
He wanted to kick himself for thinking so much about this-he finally had Donna kissing him and here he was not enjoying the moment like he should, but debating with himself on whether or not this was what he should be doing!
She slowed the kiss from the passionate onslaught, finally leaving her lips to hover above his.
"I wanted to forget," she whispered.
"So did I," he whispered back.
"I wanted to kiss you back," she continued. "When you kissed me a week ago. I wanted to kiss you back but I couldn't."
He nodded. "I know. I didn't take offense."
Donna smiled. "Yes, you did. I wounded your ego."
He smiled back at her, relieved that they were able to smile after this. "Not a lot. It'd take a lot more than your valiant attempt to resist my kiss to completely destroy my ego."
She rolled her eyes. "I don't think an atomic bomb could destroy your ego."
He nodded. "Probably not."
They both realized at the same time that she was still on his lap and it was too easy to just stay as they were, with his hands on her hips. She cleared her throat, sliding off his lap to her previous spot next to him, the memo glaring at them from the floor, as if the eyes of Leo, CJ and the entire administration were looking at them accusingly.
"We shouldn't."
"No. I mean, yes, we shouldn't. I mean-"
"I get it."
"You're Deputy Chief of Staff."
"And you're my assistant."
"It would kill the administration."
He turned to look at her. "Would it?"
Her eyes widened. "Of course it would."
"CJ could spin it. She's smart."
"Josh, we both know how ridiculous this job can be. You really want to give our relationship a death sentence before it's begun?"
He ran his hands through his hair. This had the potential to be one of those conversations, the ones where no matter what he said it was the wrong thing and he still wondered how in the hell women were able to do that.
"Of course not," he said. He was really rather pleased with his answer. It was just ambiguous enough that he wasn't digging a hole and he was pretty sure it was the right answer. It was the truth, at any rate.
"Besides, what would happen if it didn't work out? It'd be a mess, Josh. We can't do this." Donna had begun to pace the length of his living room, almost frantically.
"This," she gestured between them, "can't happen."
"What? Taking one step forward and then two steps back? Kissing each other when we feel like we have nothing left to lose and then acting like everything is just the way it should be once we're back to normal? Pretend that we're not hurting so much that we both about to break?"
"Yes."
He hadn't expected that answer. He had hoped instead that it would be like the movies, that she would wrap her arms around him and they would kiss and then curtain would go down.
"What do you expect to get out of this, Josh? What do you want? Are we supposed to heal each other and make it out like some lame movie? Are we supposed to walk into the West Wing together and just ignore all the stares? Am I supposed to not hear it when people call me a whore? Should I just ignore the fact that you're a workaholic and I won't ever see you outside of the office? Am I supposed to just smile and swallow after we break up and I have to schedule time for you to see your new girlfriend?"
"No," he told her.
"You're supposed to tell me when these people obviously forget who I am. You're supposed to remind everyone that no one gave you your job except for yourself. You're supposed to drag me out of my office come hell or high water and accept my apology of flowers when I forget. You're supposed to be there and remind me every single day like you have for the past four years why every woman I've ever dated just ends up an ex-girlfriend." He rushed over to her, taking her face in his hands.
"You're supposed to remind me why I come to the office every single day. You're supposed to make me contemplate the many uses for my desk and how none of them have to do with work. You're supposed to make me smile when I want to scream and remind me that I'm not a god when I demand the finest muffins and bagels in the land."
She smiled a little through her tears. "It's a perk of the job."
"See? Who else is going to go up against me and tell me that I can't have the finest muffins and bagels in the land?"
"Please don't leave me, Donnatella," he whispered.
"Oh, Josh," she cried, throwing her arms around him.
They stayed like that for a while, standing, their arms around each other.
"I couldn't leave you," she said into his shoulder. "You wouldn't last ten minutes."
He smiled into her neck. "No, I wouldn't," he answered truthfully. "Come on," he told her. "Let's watch some TV before passing out on the sofa."
"Josh! You can't do that! The doctor said you have to sleep on your back, so your lungs can heal."
"Are you going to stay and make sure that happens?" he asked her, desperately hoping the answer was yes.
She smiled. "Of course."
His smile matched hers. "Good."
She made him do his breathing exercises at the commercials. For once, he didn't complain, after everything they had both been through, it would just be cruel for him to bitch at her tonight. It was a little easier, just a little. It didn't hurt as much.
"You didn't complain. Are you okay?" she asked him.
"Yeah. It didn't hurt as much," he told her semi-truthfully.
"Good, good," she said. "I'm really happy for you, Josh."
"Thanks," he told her.
They sat on the couch together, watching the news.
"It's getting late," Donna murmured.
"You can go, it's okay," he told her quickly.
She blushed. "Only if you want me to," she said to the floor.
"I don't want you to," he told her, the conviction in his voice making him embarrassed. But he slept better, knowing that she was around, that she was near him. Otherwise he wasn't able to sleep.
"Your place is nearer to work anyway," she told him.
He smiled. "You just want to spend the night," he teased. "I'll have you know that I don't put out on the first date."
She raised her eyebrows. "Has it been so long since you've been on a date that you've forgotten what a date is?"
"It's been a while, but I still think I remember a thing or two," he told her.
She laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."
He stood up, stiffly, and winced. "Go ahead and find something to change into. You can't possibly sleep in a skirt."
She nodded, going into his bedroom. "Do you have any preference what I take?"
"Not really." Honestly the thought of you in any of my clothes is enough.
She changed into a pair of shorts and one of his old Harvard t-shirts. He suddenly had a new appreciation for Harvard College t-shirts.
"Mind if I use the bathroom really quick? I desperately need to wash my face."
"Yeah, go ahead."
"You know," he called through the door a few seconds later. "I'll need you to make sure that I'm lying on my back, you know, make sure I don't crush my lungs or anything. I'd hate to not follow doctor's orders."
She opened the door, then continued washing her face. "And what makes you think that I put out on a first date, Joshua?" she asked his reflection.
He thought she was being serious until he saw the smirk on her face. "Hey, you're my nurse, right? You promised the doctors I'd do everything they said. Besides, I'll be the perfect gentleman."
"Well, you are injured. I don't think you could do anything in your condition anyway," she teased.
"I thought I proved you wrong earlier tonight?" he asked her innocently.
She only smirked and splashed water on her face. "Get into bed, you look exhausted."
He did as he was told, trying to remind himself that this was simply for medicinal purposes, that he really shouldn't read anything into this. The kiss was just out of desperation, just as it was a week ago for him. It was nothing, he should forget about it. They weren't dating, they were friends.
Yeah.
She laid on top of the covers next to him, on her back, just as he was.. They sat in silence, in the dark for a while and sleep was threatening to come to him.
"Just so you know," she said into the darkness. "That kiss was really nice."