Work Text:
It was infuriating, really, how married they were without being married at all.
She had corrected him, No, it's you who can't read in a moving car, and then immediately thought, Why the hell do I know that?
It was an innocuous detail, to be sure. Maybe it wasn't even that bizarre for her to know. It was more about the great totality of her knowing. He gets motion sick if he tries to read in a moving car, but airplanes are fine. His mother's birthday is March 27th. He likes his burgers burnt because he ate an undercooked one once at a roadside diner, and threw up all over his sister on their family trip to the Grand Canyon. He sleeps on his stomach, though there were months when he couldn't.
She never called him her "work husband," a term she found insufferable, though it was likely more true for them than for most who used it. He was just her husband. Never out loud, of course, just sometimes in her head she thought it and knew it was true. Her husband, without any of the perks of marriage. Just this all consuming knowing. This intimacy so deep it was hard to remember sometimes where she ended and he began - did she really even like club sandwiches, or had she just eaten the other half of his for so long she grew to enjoy them?
Then there was that mortal fear for his wellbeing, which she kept somewhere under her ribs on good days, and right in her jaw on bad ones. That was her chief wifely duty.
Intimacy of the most delirious kind. But no sex, it should be noted.
Infuriating.
What was even more infuriating was that she knew him so well that it was nearly impossible to be mad at him. She had been pretty successful all day in being pissed at him - but, not to give herself too much credit, he had also been pretty successful all day in being really fucking annoying.
Yet even as he was ordering the cab driver to stop - barely waiting for the motion to cease before tumbling out the door into the rain (he'd never put his seatbelt on, despite her reminder) - he was shrugging off his suit coat and handing it to her.
"It's raining," she said rather pointlessly.
"Here," he said. As Toby slid out behind him, apparently equally intent on raising her blood pressure, Josh added, "You can ride the rest of the way. But take it, it's really coming down."
She rolled her eyes skyward, in the direction of the now truly torrential downpour, and pulled out her wallet to pay the driver. Then she ran after him, because she always did.
She threw the stupid, soaking peace offering back at him the moment they were inside - much good it did her.
Twenty minutes later, the three of them collectively seemed to stop watching the TV in the lobby at the same time. The coverage of the tragedy was by then going in loops, as the flow of information had stalled. It was surreal - there was nothing for them to do. No speech for Toby to write, no meeting in the Oval for Josh to get to. Not even anyone they could call.
Toby retired to the bar, no longer caring how wet he was. Josh went in search of a snack, or something - by that point Donna wasn't really listening to either of them. She went to ask at the front desk if they happened to have chargers that might work for any of their cell phones. They didn't.
Josh reappeared from his mission, and held out something to her.
She frowned. It was a grey Indiana State University sweatshirt. She glanced in the direction he'd come from, the little attached convenience store. She supposed it made sense to stock souvenirs, being so close to the airport.
"What?"
"Your teeth are chattering."
She furrowed her brow. The chill of the air conditioning, combined with her wet hair, was indeed getting to her. "Did you pay for this?"
He rolled his eyes. "With an extremely damp stack of cash, yes."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Do you want it or not?"
She snatched it out of his hands irritably. "Fine."
"You're welcome."
"Don't start with me."
He put his hands in his pockets, looking sleep deprived and still soaked. "I'm sorry about jumping out of the cab. I didn't mean you had to follow me."
She ignored him as she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, but was actually pleased that he apologized at all. He was in rare form today, and she half expected he wouldn't even notice he was being insufferable.
"This sweatshirt is a size large." She said, not quite ready to reassure him. "Do you think that I'm large?"
He gave her an unamused look. "I just happen to know that's how you prefer your outerwear."
Maybe if the intimacy had only gone one way - if she was simply a particularly devoted assistant, who knew his ins and outs. Tuned to you, she'd said once. But no. He had to notice when she was shivering, and know exactly what size sweatshirt to buy her.
Her stupid, infuriating husband who wasn't her husband at all. Though maybe she did get to enjoy some of the perks of marriage.
He wasn't good with Donna being mad at him. Especially when she was right to be mad at him, which was all the time.
He could feel her eyes on him as he and Toby started talking to the man at the bar, but when he turned around her head was still bent over the condolence letters, scribbling away. Somehow that was worse. Like she wasn't even surprised by his antics anymore.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her there, concentrating with perfect intensity on a task he hadn't even asked her to do. She didn't even work for Toby, and there she was writing on his behalf, too. He was struck again by the boundlessness of her heart. Leave it to Donna to find something actually helpful to do, despite being states away from work, with no means of communication or technology. She was certainly fairing better than Josh, who was just spinning his wheels at this point, feeling utterly out of place without his pager and his stacks of briefing memos.
She'd always been resourceful. He supposed that she had to be, in her job. He couldn't think of any other person who could've walked into his absolute wreckage of an office in Nashua, with no prior knowledge, and immediately seen a path through the chaos. Before she'd even met him, it was like she was reading his mind, filling in the gaps.
And it wasn't just in work, he knew. Maybe it was the late hour, the lack of sleep - hell, maybe it was none of those things and he always felt this way, somewhere under all the layers of misdirection - but he was overcome with tenderness for her. Her increasingly fluffy hair, her hunched shoulders in that sweatshirt that was definitely worth the twenty bucks if it kept her warm.
She hadn't just waded into the job and held his office together with scotch tape and sheer force of will all these years. She'd also held him together the same way.
When they finally announced the flight was canceled, not simply delayed, Donna was actually relieved. They were all falling asleep at the table by then, though Josh and Toby were making a good show of pretending to talk about college affordability. Donna went to ask for another room, for herself ideally - and hopefully with a Queen bed. Those two could take the twin beds in their original room - they deserved it.
But no such luck.
"I'm sorry, we've filled up."
"At... midnight?"
"With all the flights being canceled, you can understand..."
She brought the bad news back to the boys, and she could tell that despite the brave faces, neither was pleased.
"We'll just stay up, then."
"Yeah, it's no problem. We'll just keep hammering out the college plan, and..."
"Will you two give it up?" She said, exhaustion and annoyance dripping from her tone. She thought briefly, for the second time that night, about the fact that technically either of these men could fire her if they wanted to. She decided again that she didn't care. "You're practically asleep. There's two beds, so what? Someone will sleep on the floor. Don't be stupid. You're not going to be any use to anyone once we get home if you're nodding off at your desks."
And miraculously, they weren't as dumb as they looked. They followed her doggedly to the elevator, and once inside, they broached the topic of the beds.
"Okay, so, two beds." Josh started.
A beat passed in silence, then all three spoke at once.
"Toby should get one," Donna said, at the same time that Josh said, "Donna should have one," and in the same moment Toby said, "I should get one."
Josh shot him a look. "I was going to offer to sleep on the floor before, but now that you've said it-"
"I'll sleep on the floor, Josh." Donna said tiredly.
"Oh no, Toby's taking the floor."
"I was just practicing the age old art of calling dibs. Sorry you didn't think of it."
"He has seniority." Donna reminded him.
"Actually, you're right." Josh leaned back against the wall of the elevator. "He's elderly. He can take a bed, he's gotta protect his back."
"Not actually that much older than you, Lyman."
"Okay, but you clearly are."
"Based on what?"
"Um, the calendar?"
"The calendar." Toby repeated, chuckling. "You know what-"
"No, you know what?" Donna interrupted as the doors opened. "You're both old to me. Can you shut up now?"
Fired at any moment, surely. Good thing she was impervious to at least one of them.
They filed into the hall, and Josh mumbled, "I'll take the floor."
She was too tired to argue. "Yeah, okay," she said as she slid the key card.
Josh was just sitting down on the floor when Toby spoke from his chosen bed, which was closest to the door. He was unbuttoning his top few shirt buttons, looking at neither of them. "Listen very carefully, now. I'm going to sleep."
Donna, whose legs were already under a pile of blankets on the other bed, gave him a wry look. "Okay."
"I'm saying, I bought these earplugs, I bought this sleep mask, I'm going to sleep."
"I'm happy for you."
"So whatever happens on that other bed, in the middle of the night, because the floor is too hard or whatever excuse - it's not my business."
"Toby..." Josh started to suspect what he was talking about. Of course, information was traveling rather slowly to his brain given his current stretch of sleeplessness.
"It's not my business, and I won't make it anyone else's business."
"Toby." Josh said again, warningly this time.
"I'm saying, that thing with the two of you that we don't talk about? We can keep not talking about it. I prefer it that way."
Was it that obvious? Josh wondered. Of course it was, the answer came back to him immediately. It had always been The Thing. The Josh and Donna Thing, which was a thing even when they weren't talking about not talking about it, or talking about it in whatever weird sideways manner they were trying out that month. "Are you dating your assistant?" He really shouldn't be surprised anymore.
Toby was the one who had told Donna about the President's MS, because he knew Josh would need her. An overreach at the time but ultimately helpful. It hadn't occurred to Josh that Toby might not merely have noticed The Thing, but actually formed an opinion on it.
"Great." He heard Donna say, but didn't risk looking at her face. "Except, we're just going to sleep. And Josh is staying on the floor."
"That's certainly preferable. I'm just saying."
"Well, could you stop saying?" Josh said, a bit more harshly than he intended. "So we can, you know, do the aforementioned sleeping?"
"Great. Fine. Goodnight."
"Night."
"Hit me if the wake up call doesn't make it through the earplugs."
"Oh, rest assured, I'll hit you."
Josh was struggling to fall asleep, and not just because he was sharing a room with his coworkers - and one coworker in particular. He had sort of automatically set himself up at the end of her bed, though he realized later it might've made more sense to sleep between the beds. He thought of the image of him sleeping at her feet, like a dog, and almost woke her up to tell her because he knew it'd make her smile. He really wanted to make her smile today, but he hadn't managed it yet.
He wasn't actually sure if Donna was asleep yet or not. He was hyper-aware of her movements, but couldn't tell if she was tossing and turning or just shifting in her sleep. Unlike Toby - he was pretty confident the older man was out like a light. He wasn't snoring yet, but his breathing was deep and even, and he hadn't moved once.
Josh envied him. It actually wasn't the bizarre personal situation, but the actual physical conditions that were keeping him up. Most days, his right side was pretty forgiving, despite the long hours at work and on his feet. But the nonstop public transit, the hard hotel floor... His whole side, from his hip to shoulder, was aching in a way it hadn't in more than a year.
He tried sleeping on his stomach, but it hurt too much. He tried his left side, but it just wasn't comfortable. His back? Worst of all, somehow. He was just rotating for seemingly the fifteenth time, irritably flipping his pillow, when he heard her call out to him softly.
"Josh."
"Sorry." He said impulsively, sure his constant shifting had woken her up.
"Come get in the bed."
His breath caught. Surely she didn't mean...? "I'm fine."
"You're sore. I knew I shouldn't have let you take the floor."
"It's really not that bad."
"You're going to be in a lot of pain in the morning." She said. "Just come get in bed, okay?"
"Donna, seriously. It's yours. Least I could do after what we've put you through today."
She was quiet for a moment. "I didn't mean we should swap."
"Wait..."
"I'm saying, come get in bed."
He sat up to look at her. She lifted one side of the covers invitingly.
He would be an incredibly stupid man to turn that down. Equally stupid to get in bed with his assistant? Maybe. He'd much rather be that kind of stupid, though.
She should've known he wouldn't be able to sleep. Sleep evaded him on the best nights, and this certainly wasn't one of those. She'd seen him shifting uncomfortably on the train, in the cab. At the bar she noticed him wince and clutch his side briefly. She almost said something, but knew he wouldn't want her to bring it up in front of Toby. He hated to have anyone see him as vulnerable.
She heard him exhale irritably, almost a sigh, as he turned over yet again. She shouldn't have let him take the floor, but it was no use arguing with him once he'd made up his mind. There was simply no way he would've let anyone else sleep on the carpet while he took a bed - even Toby, as much as they'd been ragging on each other lately.
The thought softened her irritation. She listened to the sound of Toby's breathing, making sure he was asleep, and made her decision.
"Josh."
"Sorry."
Sorry? He really could be so sweet sometimes. "Come get in the bed."
He practically collapsed into the bed beside her, and she flipped the blankets over him. She could feel his reservation, the imaginary line of demarcation that he didn't let himself cross. He was nearly falling off the edge.
"Better?" She asked.
"Yeah." He lied.
"You can come a little closer, you know."
"I really don't think I can."
"I don't bite."
"Not exactly what I'm worried about."
She made what little room she could, and he advanced just slightly. Why they'd settled on face to face for their positions, she had no idea. But then, maybe there really weren't any better options.
He was watching her apprehensively, with those big brown eyes that she tried so valiantly to ignore most of the time. "What?"
"I really am sorry, about earlier."
"It's fine. Thanks for the sweatshirt."
"No, I mean, about me and Toby. This whole... thing. You were right, at the bar."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yeah, I could tell my point really stuck when you went over and started talking Bartlet to that guy, with the daughter."
He swallowed. It was strange, the way she could see the movement in his throat so clearly. "I don't know, Donna. I don't know how to talk about anything else."
"Sure you do."
"It's just how I frame everything. It's... I can't turn it off anymore."
"I don't think that's true."
"But I know that you're right. I might not be able to... get there, to think like you do, but that's what I have you for. To remind me."
They were a little closer to each other, now. Like they had magnets somewhere in their bodies - chests, maybe. "That's what you have me for?"
"That, and, um, a million other things."
"Right." She bit her lip, smiling just a little. "Now that's more like an apology."
"You did great work today."
"I know."
"Right."
"I forgive you, Josh, okay? Really, I do. Now let's just... get some sleep."
"Yeah, okay. I'll try."
Amy had asked him once, "Have you and Donna ever slept together?"
She had rapidly learned that where Donna was concerned, if she wanted any real information, she had to ask him very direct questions. Questions narrow in scope, which could be answered with a yes or no.
Even then, he still managed to evade her. "Are you dating your assistant?" The answer should've easily been no, but instead it was, "She's my assistant."
When she asked him if they had slept together, near the end of their relationship when every word was loaded, it would've been so simple to just say No. Maybe even, No, of course not, how could you think that?
But he didn't say that. In his ever enduring wisdom, he said, "Define slept together."
Sometimes, Josh felt he could benefit from a press secretary to help him navigate the waters of his personal life, as well as his professional one.
It had slipped out before he could consider the ramifications. The thing was, they had slept together. Strictly slept, of course, but they'd shared a bed more than once. During the early days of his recovery, Donna had always made up the couch like she was going to stay there, but more often than not she fell asleep beside him. She never wanted to be more than arm's reach from him in case he needed something, and he would admit that he preferred it that way, as well. The nightmares were less frequent when she was there.
Amy never asked, Has she ever seen you naked? But if she had, he might've said, Define naked.
Completely nude? Of course not. But she had changed the bandages on his chest, occasionally. When he was first home from the hospital, and couldn't do it himself. When his mother was catching one of her rare moments of sleep, or cooking yet another casserole in the kitchen.
The first few times, her hands had trembled. But eventually she did it with quick precision, careful concentration. It reminded him strangely of the way she tied his bow tie for events.
"Your hands are cold." He said once. They always were.
"Sorry." She said sheepishly. "I'll be quick."
"No, uh. It actually feels kind of good." He said before he could stop himself. Because it did, especially on his still angry, swollen incision line. She had just looked at him, then gently pressed her palm on top of the bandages. He exhaled slowly, surprised at the sudden coolness and relief.
"Free ice pack," he joked, trying to break through the tension. She smiled.
And really, had he ever been more naked than in that moment?
Amy had also never asked, Have you ever kissed Donna? But if she had, he might've said, Define kissed.
Because there was this one instance, back on the first campaign, when they'd gotten some promising polling numbers in. And he had pulled her toward him for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Physical affection was abundant on the campaign trail, so it wasn't too out of the ordinary - he was pretty sure Leo had even kissed him on the forehead once, after a debate victory. But on that particular occasion, she turned her head unexpectedly, and he ended up kissing her on the mouth. Kind of. Maybe one-third on the mouth.
Not a big deal, really. Except for the fact that he thought about it, replayed it even, every day for a month. And most days after that. The way that corner of her lips had felt.
If Amy had ever asked, Are you in love with Donna? He would not have said, Define love. He wouldn't have needed her to.
"What are you thinking about?"
There was actually a moment when she knew. Maybe it had been creeping up on her for some time, but there was a singular instance that made it undeniable. And it wasn't one of those big moments, like when she found out he was shot, or when he put himself on the line to resolve the situation with Cliff. It was before all of that. It was just another little moment - an odd moment in a long series of odd moments.
They had only been in the White House for a few months by then - it might've been March, or April. And she was on her way to work, while also talking to Josh on her cell phone. He had the annoying habit of mentally starting the workday as soon as he woke up, so he would often call her while he was making coffee or getting dressed. He'd then tell her about something she needed to add to the schedule for the day, or some information he wanted her to get together. She felt sometimes that he treated her like human sticky notes. And remind me to...
She had managed to finally get through to him that she preferred to wake up slowly in the morning, letting her mind gradually return to the earthly realm as she showered and did her makeup and whatever else to prepare for the day. This mostly meant that he kindly waited to call her until she was likely to be leaving the house - though sometimes he didn't make it until then.
Regardless, that morning she was on the phone with him, talking about some report he wanted her to look at and condense before his 10am with Senate leadership.
"And make sure you put the numbers up top, the really shocking ones. Milton is a numbers guy, and I think the only way I'm going to get it through his thick skull that we can't-"
His voice was suddenly drowned out by a car horn. A car horn that she also heard, right outside her own car. "Josh, where are you right now?"
"I'm walking to work, why?"
She craned her neck, looking outside her car in all directions. She finally saw him, on the sidewalk, pushing through the throngs of people. The sight of him was bizarrely endearing. His appearance was slightly rumpled, despite the fact that he hadn't even gotten to work yet. His familiar backpack slung over one shoulder, a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. That determined look on his face as he walked faster than everyone else on the block, hardly aware of his surroundings.
"Oh, I see you!"
"What?"
"I see you! I'm in my car, look to your... right. And ahead a little." She watched as he did multiple full 360 turns, right there on the sidewalk. She laughed.
"I don't see you."
Impulsively, she started honking her horn, jarring multiple pedestrians and probably several drivers. "Come get in! I'll give you a lift."
"Oh my god, is that you honking?"
"Yes!" She rolled down her window and waved at him. He finally saw her, and his eyes lit up. By then, people were starting to honk at her, because she had stopped just before an intersection. "Get in!"
"You're crazy. You're going to cause an accident." He called loudly enough for her to hear in person, snapping his phone shut.
"Then hurry up!"
He yanked open her passenger door and tumbled inside, barely closing it behind him before she sped off.
"You're a road hazard, Donnatella Moss."
"Good morning to you too."
He couldn't keep the smile from his face, and neither she could she. "Good morning."
And they rode the rest of the way, only a few minutes, like that. Grinning like idiots, exhilarated by the chance encounter. As if they hadn't just seen each other eight hours before. As if they weren't about to see each other five minutes from then. As if they hadn't already been on the phone. Those extra few moments in her car were just so damn exciting.
Oh no, she thought suddenly as she hung up her coat, Josh still teasing her about her spectacle in the intersection. Oh god, oh fuck, she thought, because she knew then. And there was nothing she could do about it.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked, jolting him out of his train of thought. He realized suddenly that her eyes were open, too, gazing warmly into his. Just a moment ago he was sure they'd been closed.
"Amy." He blurted, and knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say. Almost as wrong as Define slept together. She was very careful not to show any hurt on her face, but he knew her exceedingly well. "Well, not like-"
"No, I get it." She said, painfully neutral. "It hasn't been that long since you broke up, I'm sure you miss her."
"I don't."
"I'm saying-"
"Donna, I don't miss her." He said firmly. "I was just thinking about this one time when she, uh, asked me if we'd slept together."
"She asked..." Donna was brought up short. That was rare. "We, like, you and me?"
"Yes."
"Oh." She blinked a few times. "Well, what did you say?"
"I said..." He winced. "You're going to love this. I said, 'Define slept together.'"
"Josh."
"Yeah."
"Josh, you didn't."
"I did, actually."
"You didn't!"
"Not my best moment."
"I'll say!" She laughed, really laughed. "I mean, wow, that's right up there with the secret plan to fight inflation, in the ranking of the absolute dumbest things you've ever said."
"Would you keep it down?" He whispered, but was actually glad to see her enjoying herself, even if it was at his expense. "Yes, it was stupid."
She finally settled down, trailing off into giggles. "Well, what did she say?"
"I mean, I explained it. Kind of. I tried, but... I don't think we ever really smoothed that whole thing over. Just sort of mutually decided not to bring it up again."
They were closer, by then. Her arms were bent in front of her, gently touching his chest. His own folded arms were dangerously close to her abdomen. The lights from the parking lot filtered weakly through the smallest cracks in the blinds, so that he could just see the outline of her smiling face.
"I feel I can ask, now that you've broken up..."
"Yeah?"
"She hated me, didn't she?"
"Oh, with a burning passion."
She didn't stop smiling. "Yeah, I kind of suspected."
"I don't think it really had anything to do with you."
"I actually think it had everything to do with me."
"What I mean is, everyone likes you. It was just the situation."
"What situation would that be?" She asked softly.
He struggled for an answer. "You know. How close we were. Are."
"Mm." She kindly didn't prod him further. "Sure. Probably didn't help that I'm drop dead gorgeous."
"Definitely didn't."
"I was kidding."
"I wasn't."
He did kind of miss Amy, actually. Not the relationship, but the distraction. He had realized in recent months, guiltily, that he had been using Amy more than he knew. All the long days on the plane, in the car with Donna, in adjoining hotel rooms, their near constant togetherness - he found himself wishing he still had someone to relieve the tension with. Someone other than an extra long shower every night.
He hadn't done it on purpose, when they were together. He really hadn't. But sometimes, after he'd spent the day having one of his drawn out, teasing arguments with Donna - stamps, foreign aid, taxes, whatever it was that day - he would think, Wow, I want to have sex right now.
What he hadn't realized until after the breakup was that he'd never actually thought I want to have sex with Amy right now. Really, anyone would've been fine.
And what he certainly hadn't done on purpose was think of Donna during his nights with Amy. But that didn't keep it from happening sometimes, despite his best efforts. He would close his eyes, and suddenly those little moments from the day would take on new life in his mind. The way she had moaned - really, there was no other way to describe it - when she took a bite of his cheesecake in the mess. The way her shirt had ridden up, just a little, when she was shelving one of the binders in his office.
When he opened his eyes, he would be kind of surprised to find Amy there. And not pleasantly surprised.
He put it down to their constant proximity. It was normal, right? For there to be some - okay, a lot - of sexual tension? The kind that kept him up at night, and was only getting worse after nearly four years? That was a question he didn't even dare ask his therapist, because he was pretty sure the answer would've been a resounding No.
Speaking of proximity, their current situation wasn't doing him any favors. Neither was his train of thought, which kept getting stuck on all those little moments that had infiltrated his time with Amy. With many women over the years, if he was being honest. It was worse than usual, because she was right there, literally laying beside him. He could smell her shampoo, even her sweat.
Oh no. Oh god, this was not happening.
She really had moaned when she ate that cheesecake, it was worth noting. And he had been sure it was for his benefit.
"We're pretty cramped, huh?" Donna observed, pushing determinedly past the fact that he had called her gorgeous.
He laughed, and he was sure it was more high pitched than usual. "Yeah."
"Here, I'll turn around. Might be better."
"No." He said, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. "No, that's um, fine, really, it's-"
But it was no use, she was already deftly flipping onto her other side, not even tangling the blankets. And she had landed quite, quite close to him.
"See, now our knees aren't-"
He tried valiantly to back up, but he wasn't fast enough. "Seriously, it's-"
She kind of nestled backward, trying to find where he was so she knew her limits. And she definitely found him - or rather, one part of him found her. "That's - Oh."
It was terrible, but the first thing she did was laugh. She was just so damn surprised. She laughed, a loud, strangled laugh, before she remembered their current situation and reverted to stifled chuckles. Josh tried to create what little space he could between them, then went deadly still behind her. She was pretty sure he was even holding his breath.
"I'm sorry," she choked out between laughs, "I'm sorry, it's not funny."
"Okay," he started, voice low and embarrassed, "See, I really didn't think this day could get any worse. Yet somehow, it wasn't the train taking off in the wrong direction, but this moment, right now, that's cemented this as the worst day of my life to date."
"I'm sorry," she attempted again to get her laughter under control. "I'm just... wow. Surprised, I guess."
"Good thing I'm resigning tomorrow. Yup, first thing when we arrive, handing in my resignation."
"Josh."
"I'm glad you're finding this so amusing. I'm gonna go get back on the floor, where I belong."
"Seriously, stop." She reached an arm behind her and stayed him where he was. "I really am sorry for laughing, it's just... the timing."
"The timing?"
"It's just that earlier," she started to explain between her tapering giggles, "I was thinking about how married we are. But, annoyingly, married without any of the fun parts, like sex. And here we are, not a few hours later, and..." She laughed again, then listened briefly to the silence behind her. "You're not laughing."
His response surprised her. "You were thinking about how married we are?"
She hesitated. Maybe she shouldn't have said that part quite so casually. "Well, yeah. I definitely feel like your wife sometimes. Like I know everything about you, like... I don't know. Like we're that close."
"Really?" He asked, and he genuinely sounded surprised.
"What, you never feel like that?"
He considered the question. "No, honestly."
She bit her lip. "Forget I said anything."
"But we could be married, if you want."
"But we could be married, if you want." He said before he could stop himself.
It was true, what he'd said. He really never had thought of her like his wife. Marriage, in his mind, implied a kind of sedate domesticity, and... there was nothing about his relationship with Donna that wasn't new and exciting. Even after the handful of years he'd known her.
But that didn't mean he didn't want to keep it going forever. He knew Donna had meant it in the bickering, old married couple way, but when she said 'your wife,' he could suddenly see it. Her wearing a white dress and walking down the aisle toward him, beaming. Him spending the holidays with her massive family in Wisconsin, being force fed those terrible cookies her mother made. The house in the suburbs, the 2.5 kids, the whole nine yards. None of it seemed so bad when she was the other person in the scenario.
It was almost like he'd been imagining it all this time.
"Seriously, screw DC, let's fly to Vegas and get it done tomorrow."
"Josh." She admonished him, and he knew she thought he was joking. "That's not funny."
"I wasn't kidding."
"Yes, you were." She said sternly, and he realized that he might've actually hurt her by appearing to take the matter so lightly. Not that he was taking it lightly, but he could see why she might think so.
He relented with a sigh. "Alright, I'll stop."
"Thank you." She said primly. "I'm ready to go back to making fun of you, actually. I was briefly merciful, but it's passed."
"Hold on. You said, earlier, without any of the 'fun parts, like sex'."
"I... did I say that?"
He nodded, directly into her hair. He lifted himself up slightly on one elbow to get a better look at her. She noticed, and sent him a frown. "So, you think it'd be fun?"
"I meant in general. In general, sex is supposed to be one of the fun parts of marriage. Or so I've heard."
"Right. Okay, sure, in general." He continued staring at her, and watched as she valiantly fought against a smile.
"Right." She bit her lip, her eyes bright with suppressed mirth. "Though I suppose..."
"I suppose..." She said slowly and deliberately as she started pushing backward toward him on the bed. "I suppose it could be fun, in our specific case."
She was rewarded with his startled inhale as she made contact with him. And, of course, with the immediate physical reaction the contact caused.
"You're..." He spluttered, completely breathless. "You're-"
"Take your time." She said sweetly, purposefully moving her hips. She was almost glad she had sleeplessness to blame for her current delirium - was this really happening? She wasn't even sure which one of their pulses was pounding in her ears. He tried and failed to contain a groan, and she in turn tried to pretend the sound didn't practically send her into a different plane of consciousness. She was getting kind of breathless, too.
"Mm, sorry, what was that?" She tried to keep up her coy, cavalier tone.
"You're killing me." He managed to say, sending a shiver all the way down to her toes.
"I can stop, if you'd like."
"No." He said immediately, one hand sliding over her hip. "I mean... You don't have to."
"Okay," she practically squeaked, by then losing nearly all control of her vocal chords.
He seemed to notice the change in her tone, and leaned over her shoulder to look at her, smirking. "Oh, just okay?"
She didn't quite manage to glare at him. She was sure that even in the dim light, he was able to see her furious blush. Or feel it, at least, radiating through the inch between their faces. "Okay," she repeated, her voice wavering.
"You think you're so funny."
She bit her lip, considering. Breathing shallow, she answered, "Actually, I wasn't kidding at all." Before she could decide against it, she turned to face him, throwing one leg around his waist and pulling him flush to her.
"Actually, I wasn't kidding at all." Suddenly she was facing him, pulling him toward her. He didn't need any more invitation than that, grabbing her chin and kissing her firmly.
As much as his body was telling him to absolutely go for it - to shove his tongue down her throat, to pull her hair, and of course, to remove some of their pesky layers of clothing - what little mental clarity he had told him to hold back. After all, he would never get to kiss Donna for the first time again.
Despite his intentional reservation, the second kiss wasn't quite so innocent. The third kiss definitely wasn't, and the fourth...
At some point he had rolled on top of her, and she was biting him a little, and he was thinking God, why the hell did I buy this woman more clothing earlier?
"Okay." She broke away from him suddenly, practically panting. "Okay, we have to stop."
His heart was hammering in his throat, but he knew she was right. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." He gently rolled them back onto their sides, trying to slow his breathing.
"This..." She gestured vaguely, "Isn't happening in a twin bed in Indiana, with Toby Ziegler sleeping five feet away."
He winced. He had completely forgotten that Toby was even in the room. "Good call."
"But..." She reached out tentatively, as if she was afraid that any more contact might cause them to relapse. "Hopefully, this... can happen sometime."
He grinned, and couldn't help leaning forward to give her a chaste - okay, relatively chaste - kiss. "Sometime soon?"
She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help her smile. "Sometime after we've both caught up on sleep."
"Oh, I don't know if I'm ever sleeping again."
"Mm." She gently ran her thumb across his cheek. "Sorry to have gotten you all worked up again."
"Yeah, let's go ahead and pretend it's just me who's worked up."
She ignored him. "Think pure thoughts. Completely sanitary, un-salacious thoughts."
He drew a blank. "Like what?"
"Like, I don't know, the fact that Toby Ziegler is five feet away?"
He gave her an appalled look. "Okay. Yeah. That did it, thanks."
"Good."
"Did it for you too, I'll take it?"
"Oh, I don't know." She regained some of her teasing tone. "Toby's an attractive sort of man."
"Hilarious. Just hilarious." He said sarcastically, and reached around to squeeze her ass for good measure.
She let out a sound that was kind of close to a squeal, and all his efforts to calm down enough to sleep were undone.
"Really just self-sabotaged there, huh?" She noticed.
Toby, he reminded himself, Toby is literally right there. "Shut up."
She sighed contentedly, shifting just a little closer to him. "Okay. Sleep."
"Right." He closed his eyes determinedly, though the image seared into his mind was all her. And, strangely, it was real this time. "Sleep."
He sensed some lingering hesitation from her, and a moment later heard, "You really would've gone to Vegas?"
He grinned without opening his eyes, tightening his grip on her. "In a heartbeat. Just say the word."
Toby woke up half an hour before their morning alarm, his back killing him. He was disoriented at first by the silence and the pitch black, before his memories became clearer and he reached up to take his sleeping mask off. He blinked in the dim room, thin streams of light from between the blinds allowing him to get his bearings. 4:59, the bright green hotel clock read.
He glanced over at the other bed, and immediately rolled his eyes. They'd talked such a good game last night about Josh spending the night on the floor, as if Toby was an idiot. Which, when it came to matters of the heart, he usually was... but he wasn't blind.
Perfectly contained in their twin bed, Donna was facing him, fast asleep, and Josh was curled completely around her, an arm around her waist securing her to him. His face was buried in her hair, and was she... holding his hand?
Toby snorted and made a gesture of incredulity to no one in particular. After briefly debating tossing a pillow at them and shouting "Caught ya!", he decided it would ultimately be less awkward for everyone if he simply pretended not to see anything. That was what he had promised, after all.
He stretched his back, irritably, then replaced his sleep mask and laid down. He mercifully allowed them the extra thirty minutes of sleep, and after the alarm went off, he even gave them a good thirty second buffer to disentangle themselves before he pulled his sleeping apparatuses off.
Charitable of him, yes. But so help him god, if the two of them kept on not talking about The Thing after this, he was personally staging an intervention.
After they arrived back at the White House - at long last - Josh agreed to only work until lunch, then head home to rest. He'd be lying if he said his compliance wasn't at least partially motivated by the conversation he'd had with Donna shortly after they got back.
He closed his office door behind her, then leaned against it with what he was sure was an incredibly stupid grin.
"Yes?" She prompted, folding her arms. She was playing it cool, but her mouth was turned up at one side.
"That incredibly long bath you mentioned earlier... think I could join you?"
She lost the battle against the smile. "Wouldn't you like to take me on, I don't know, a date first?"
"Well, I wanted to take you straight to Vegas, but you said no."
"Josh."
"Alright. Dinner. Let's do dinner."
"Okay. That works, gives us time for a nap."
"Us?" He repeated eagerly. "Like, together? Sure."
"That's not what I..."
"That's actually perfect, because we already know we sleep so well together."
When Donna emerged from her bath - which was not actually that long, because she half feared she would fall asleep and slip under the water - she was unsurprised to find Josh out cold in her bed.
She had barred him from joining her in the bath, holding onto their plan for an actual date. But she hadn't been able to turn down the prospect of napping together, especially not after he looked at her the way he had in his office. So sweet and worn.
She chuckled to herself, walking around the perimeter of the bed to put on some lotion before joining him. He'd certainly made it seem like it would be impossible for him to sleep, what with "all the tension," but he looked perfectly at ease, sprawled face down on her bed.
She crawled in beside him, and though she almost didn't want to disturb him, she couldn't resist nestling in close. Without opening his eyes, he turned to face her and wrapped one arm around her, murmuring something incomprehensible into her neck.
"Mmhmm." She said reassuringly, smiling widely as she settled down in his embrace. "It's okay, just go back to sleep."
Her stupid, infuriating husband, she thought fondly as she drifted off.