Chapter Text
INT. DONNA'S OFFICE
"This is obscene."
At the sound of his voice, Donna turned from the table. She'd been bent over her purse, extracting the personal items that she would need for the long evening ahead.
"What?" With trepidation, she glanced down at her clingy, slightly revealing gown. "Me in this dress?"
That got Josh to focus his attention on Donna for the first time since entering the room. What he saw made him forget about the obscenity; the expression he now wore could only be described as awed. It was a moment before he found a stable voice. When he did, he took pains to say the right thing. He settled on a slightly breathless, "You look beautiful."
It must have been the right thing, because at his compliment, Donna's face softened into a bashful, yet pleased, smile. Choosing the right dress had not been easy; she'd spent much more time on the First Lady's attire than her own. In addition, even though her budget was bigger these days, there was still a budget. But budget or no, she was happy with her choice. The color was a deep raspberry and the fabric a shimmery jewel tone. It was cut on the bias with spaghetti straps that crisscrossed over a great expanse of silky alabaster in the back. In front her cleavage was generous, yet tasteful in a sexy way. Or at least, that's what she'd been told. And what she'd told herself.
"I'm gonna be the guy with the hottest date at the balls." Josh was now apparently recovered enough to smirk.
She found a smirk of her own. "So obscene is good?"
"What?" Josh asked, forgetting his graceless entrance moments earlier. He hurriedly shook his head when he realized how she'd taken his comment. "Oh… no… I meant this office. This office is obscene."
He made an exaggerated show of trying to make his way towards her across the somewhat vacuous space. "Who are you sleeping with that you got the biggest office in the building?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" She replied with a randy quirk of her eyebrow. "Martin in Mansion Management is pretty cute."
"Seriously, it's bigger than the Oval."
"No, it's not."
"Might be; I'd like to see the square footage. It's at least bigger than my office."
With a theatrical sigh she replied, "Yes, it's almost twice as big. Must mean I'm twice as important as you."
Josh had finally come to stand right in front of her. She leaned in as if she was going to kiss him, but instead reached around and slipped her hand in his pocket, depositing her compact and other essentials. She had a small evening pouch, but he was so much more convenient.
"Hey!" He complained when she stepped away without kissing him, and then eyed her suspiciously. "What's in it for me if I carry your… gear all night?"
"If you're good, a surprise."
"Really?" He perked up at that suggestion, but was still somewhat wary.
"Let's just say I'll make it worth your while." She leaned towards him, intending to give him the kiss she'd deprived him of moments earlier. But before her lips reached their destination, her progress was stunted by a knock at the open door.
"You know, we're in the White House now, and I'm not sure that's a White House-approved activity. I'm learning there are a lot of rules about what you can and can't do in this place."
Josh straightened up at the presence of the smirking First Lady. Everyone was full of smirks tonight. Hardly surprising, considering the jovial mood around the building. "Good evening, Ma'am," he greeted Helen. "You look nice."
"’Nice’?" Helen asked, obviously unimpressed by the compliment. "This is a John Diego original. John Diego originals are not ‘nice.’ They're extraordinary. Or at least, that is what I was told when I was encouraged to pick one of his designs."
Befuddled, he searched for a response while Donna tried not to smile beside him. Just as he was opening his mouth to reply, he was saved by the bell, so to speak. His beeper sounded and he immediately reached for it. The beeper was new. Official White House issue. Glancing at the display, he grimaced slightly and then met Donna's eye. "Hmm… I gotta…" he motioned towards the door. "I'll meet you… uh… what entrance is the motorcade at again?"
"Meet us in the Oval; Matt wants to propose a toast before we leave," Helen interjected before Donna could answer. Josh nodded and was out the door.
CUT TO:
INT. WHITE HOUSE, WEST WING HALLWAY, SAME TIME
"What are you wearing?" Otto asked as he met Lou in motion and began walking in the same direction.
"What do you mean, what am I wearing? What does it look like I'm wearing?" Lou asked defensively, a newly-formed sneer marring her formally attired countenance.
"You look like you're wearing a dress," Otto replied, keeping pace with her as they moved through the Communications bullpen.
"That's because I am wearing a dress."
"I've never seen you in a dress before."
"I wear dresses." She proclaimed as she tucked her hair behind her ears. They could talk her into a dress, but they weren't going to talk her into putting her hair up in some frou-frou chignon. Or whatever it was called when they spackled your hair to your head.
"I don't think so…" Otto shook his head skeptically.
"Well…" She shifted uncomfortably, obviously ill at ease in the dress, but unwilling to admit it to her Deputy and one-time lover. "We're going to the balls. I've been told a gown is mandatory at a ball, or did you forget why you're dressed like the maître d' at a Mr. Steak?"
"No, I haven't forgotten," he replied excitedly and straightened his posture in his tuxedo.
"Don't look so eager, these things suck."
"You're jaded."
"And you haven't reached puberty. Trust me, they suck."
"Do they suck even when you're the guest of honor?"
"You're not the guest of honor there, Squirt."
He smartly ignored the dig. "No, but I'll be with the guest of honor. Have you ever gone to one of these things with the guest of honor?"
"Can't say that I have,” she replied.
"Maybe it won't suck being on this side of things."
"No, we're going to nine balls over the course of four hours. Each will be hot and crowded—by definition, that sucks."
Otto looked defeated as they rounded the corner to the Oval Office. "Well, when you put it like that…"
She stopped in front of Ronna's new desk and turned to face him. "And what do you mean, you don't think I wear dresses? I wear dresses."
"When?"
"I wore one…" She came up with a blank. "Prom. I wore a dress to prom."
"When was that?"
"1986," she replied somewhat triumphantly.
"1986?" He snorted. "In 1986 I was-"
"In diapers?" Lou deadpanned while adjusting the skirt of her dress.
"I know you like to make age jokes at my expense, but you do know I’m actually 28?" He defended vigorously.
"Whatever you say there, Beav." She continued to fidget in her dress just as Bram walked up. "Ahh, and here's Wally."
Bram looked confused and Otto ignored the joke. "So you wore a dress to prom two decades ago. I stand corrected. Obviously, you wear dresses all the time."
"Did I miss something?" Bram asked somewhat cluelessly, but was ignored by the sparring twosome.
"What is it with you and this dress; is it a bad dress?" She asked, and then, not waiting for an answer, entered the open door to the Oval.
"No…" Otto shook his head as he motioned a bemused Bram into the Oval after her. As he followed, he muttered under his breath, "It's not a bad dress at all."
CUT TO:
INT. WHITE HOUSE, EAST WING HALLWAY, A MOMENT LATER
"I hate you."
"Ma'am?" Puzzled, Donna glanced over at her boss as they headed towards the West Wing. "You hate me already? This is only our first day."
Helen chuckled at that and shook her head. "You get to wear the incredibly sexy dress, while I'm stuck in something my mother-in-law wouldn't be caught dead in." Helen motioned to her gown, which was a sparkly ice blue and had a full skirt to the floor. "In fact, I've seen her dress for tonight, and it is sexier."
While the First Lady's gown was strapless and quite fitted through the bodice, any potential sexiness was lost because she also wore a long-sleeved bolero-type jacket of the same material. Her hair was in a French twist, while Donna's hung loose and sexy down her back. "Was this a conspiracy? You get to wear that dress and I'm in 30 pounds of heavy silk taffeta? Because you were the one who kept pushing dignified."
"Ma'am, I was there every time one of the fashion magazines or tabloids tore apart what Mrs. Bartlet wore to occasions such as this. Which was… well… every formal occasion she ever attended. You can't go wrong with dignified, especially your first time out of the gate. You look fantastic, and maybe we can ease you into semi-sexy by our first State Dinner."
"But you can look sexy now?"
"No one cares about me. Trust me; no cameras will be aimed in my direction tonight." Donna chuckled, before reassuring her, "You look lovely."
Helen just crooked an incredulous eye at her as they continued walking, so Donna repeated more emphatically, "You do! You look lovely. But don't worry. All of America knows you have a thong on under all that dignity."
Helen stopped in her tracks and turned her laser-like gaze on her Chief of Staff.
Donna grimaced and turned back to face her. "I'm sorry, are we not laughing about that incident yet?"
At Donna's expression, Helen did burst out laughing. "No, we're laughing about it. We’re definitely laughing about it. Come on, let's go have a toast." Helen turned down a new corridor.
"Whoa," Donna called out at the retreating First Lady's form. "Where are you going?"
She pointed ahead. "To the Oval."
"If you go that way, you'll end up in the Steam Pipe Distribution Venue."
"The what?"
"Not the Oval," Donna clarified for her.
"This place is impossible. And there I was, getting all cocky because I made it from the Residence to the East Wing with the help of only two of the house staff."
Donna chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it by the next State of the Union."
CUT TO:
INT. OVAL OFFICE
"A momentous evening, indeed," Matt Santos boomed as a steward handed him a glass of champagne. Helen and Donna entered the Oval to find Lou, Sam, Bram, Otto, Lester and Ronna already gathered in their finery. Their entrance was greeted by a boisterous chorus of hellos, and the room crackled with excitement.
"Champagne for the lovely ladies." Sam handed both Donna and Helen a glass of bubbly as they entered.
Donna beamed at him. "Thank you, Sam. You look very handsome tonight."
He straightened his bow tie. "I try."
"And you look nice," Donna said enthusiastically as she came to stand next to Lou.
"I look like Carrie's about to enter the gym and do her worst," Lou retorted as she continued to fidget in the deep purple gown which was draped by a wrap that covered her tattoos.
"Carolina Herrera does not make prom dresses." The almost exasperated way Donna said it made it clear it wasn't the first time they'd had the conversation.
Lou scowled at her. "I thought you found this for me on EBay; we don't even know it's a real Carolina… whatever."
"You think I'd have you spend five hundred dollars on a fake," Donna questioned pointedly.
Lou was about to further comment on the prom-y nature of her maybe-designer dress when she was interrupted by the President. That was probably for the best.
"Where's Josh?" Matt asked loudly as he took inventory of the room.
"He'll be here in a minute, sir. I'm sure he'd want you to start without him," Donna encouraged.
He nodded and then raised his glass. Everyone else followed suit. "I just wanted to thank all of you for your incredible hard work through the election and transition, and tell you to enjoy yourselves tonight, heartily, because tonight we celebrate, but tomorrow the real work beg-"
"Mr. President." Matt was interrupted by Josh as he entered the Oval from the Chief of Staff's office.
At Josh's grim expression, the President lowered his glass of champagne. "What is it, Josh."
"Sir, at 6:22pm Eastern Standard Time an OH-58D Kiowa Warrior scout helicopter went down approximately 35 kilometers west of Khan Tangiri Shyngy while on a reconnaissance mission near the Chinese border. Rescue missions are underway, but the Army pilot and the three rangers who were with him are all presumed dead."
The mood in the room shifted in an instant. Smiles became masks of professionalism as everyone changed gears. The President stared at Josh with a slightly stunned expression. He paused a split-second, unsure what he should ask first. It was Helen who beat him to the punch. "What does this mean?"
Josh's voice was grave. "It means we have our first casualties in Kazakhstan."
SMASH CUT TO OPENING TITLES