Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"...A person with ADHD has the power of a Ferrari engine but with bicycle-strength brakes.”

- "ADHD 2.0"
Edward M. Hallowell, M.D. & John J. Ratey, M.D.

[Yo, this whole last year was a shit show
Just findin' out now what I didn't know]

Donna is frowning in concentration as she reads through (surprisingly quickly) a book that had appeared on her desk a day after a cryptic comment from Ainsley: 

"I think I'm starting to understand a lot of what goes on around here."

Donna has started to feel that way, too, and she's not sure how to feel about that, as she gets deeper into something entitled "Driven to Distraction." 

"...These people are on the go, Type A personalities." Well, of course. Everyone has to be like that to do any of our jobs around here. "Thrill seekers. High-energy-, action-oriented-, bottom-line-, gotta-run-type people." She'd nodded along quite unconsciously. 

..."Their moods can be quite unstable, going from high to low in the bat of an eye for no apparent reason." She snorts delicately, but apparently loudly enough for Josh to glance up from what he's working on, give her an inscrutable look, then go right back to what he was doing. 

"...They daydream a lot." Well wait just a minute there. Was this supposed to be about me or my boss? Now she's not so sure who or what Ainsley was getting at. But it sure is describing...well, just about everyone in their inner circle. And possibly Ainsley, too, if she's being honest. 

"They can be irritable, even rageful, especially when interrupted or when making transitions." Toby...but also the President. She also glances almost guiltily at Josh again. 

Working with...for, whatever...Josh since actually being in office has been illuminating in far too many ways. One of which, apparently, enabled her to have this sort of psychic ability to be the only person to know instantly when he was lying, when he was depressed, and, apparently, the signs of PTSD. It seemed bizarre that she should be more tuned in than others who maybe had more experience with these things, but then again, proximity goes a long way. 

[Seems like each time when I get low
I place blame everywhere that it shouldn't go
And that's what's keeping me up
Fallin' apart, man, I keep it a buck
You still act like I'm holding you up
I still feel like I'm totally nuts so...]

Sometimes they talked well into the night, too personal without really being personal (somehow), sometimes it was all silent communication, but she was good with it. It was a calm in the eye of the storm, working so closely with someone who seemed to be on a similar wavelength, who didn't look at her like she was an extraterrestrial. Maybe more like a sibling instead of a different species. And who just walked off (most) non sequiturs like they were nothing. Mostly. 

"How do you change subjects so fast? I mean it, how do you go from a nuclear test ban treaty and a lame duck congress to OSHA?"

There probably were a few people (like Mandy, probably) who were completely baffled by their weird secret shorthand. Not everything needed to be spelled out. That just slowed things down. And it was honestly just better that way, a lot of the time. Mostly. 

Sometimes Josh is the slow one, she thinks petulantly.

"That sounds stupid."

"It was a better-organized thought when it was in my head."

Not just that, but they were surrounded by equally nerdy, weird, bouncing brains. She could recognize and appreciate that they had their shorthand, while Josh and Sam had some other one. 

It was a minor miracle, really, to have all these people in one place. And now Ainsley is trying to pathologize that? Well, maybe not. Maybe the point was to explain why they were not like those Other People, and why that was okay. 

[Hey, at least in my mind
I'm feelin' like I'm the hero that saves me
There, I hold my head high
Get everything right
Delusional maybe]

Someone like Ainsley might say Donna scammed her way into her job. She maintained that she was just brave and clever enough to prove her potential. 

[Tell me what I should have said and I'll pretend to know that
Things come out my mouth that I should probably learn to hold back]

"Lady, the god you pray to is too busy being indicted for tax fraud." Donna didn't see it live, and when Sam played it back for her the first time, she didn't quite stifle the snicker that she nearly choked on. Sam gave her a quick smile and said, "Oh, whatever, it's just us, let it out. I almost hurt myself trying to hold back in front of Leo earlier." 

[Why do I expect to have the patience that I don't have
Over and over, expecting a different result, yeah]

"You're not gonna do this."

"I talk to reporters all the time."

"You really don't want to do this."

"Let me tell you something, mi compadre. You guys have been coddled. I'm not your girlfriend, I'm not your camp counselor, and I'm not your sixth-grade teacher you had a crush on. I'm a graduate of Harvard and Yale and I believe that my powers of debate can rise to meet the Socratic wonder that is the White House press corps."

[I keep tellin' myself to stop caring
'Cause they live for keepin' me staring
And they'll drag it on to make me respond
To get more retweets and more sharing]

"Uh, long story short - you're going to be reading a bit today about your secret plan to fight inflation."

On occasion, Donna has to flee to Sam's safer (like 99% of the time) shores to just be able to have an absurd conversation that won't be shot down immediately. Or just to gossip about a certain someone who shot her down just a few too many times that day. When he'd asked why in the hell Josh would be hiding behind doors to relax, she almost spit out her coffee that she had just taken a careful sip of, perched on the edge of Sam's desk. He just chuckled cheerfully, obliviously, knowing there was a good story coming his way soon enough. After she'd explained what she was able to piece together, Sam's first response was to actually choke a bit and spray water on his carpet. Half a second later, he was all boyish concern: "Oh no, you could've broken his nose!"

Donna just chuckled and shrugged. "But the important thing is, I didn't." She sipped at her coffee a bit more, calming a bit, as she surveyed the man behind the desk. "Sorry?"

"Why would you be-"

"Well, I'm 1000% certain you would have heard him from here and come running anyway, but on the off chance you didn't materialize in about three seconds, I'd be forced to follow along to try to somehow mop up the trail of blood leading to your office." Sam snorted, but then chuckled softly. Donna's smile softened as well. 

"CJ called us Fred and Ethel."

Donna just nodded sagely. "Of course she did, Ethel."

['Cause I'm too alive for bad fucking vibes] 

She can always tell what writing mood Sam is in by the music. Josh can, too, and though they've never discussed this, she can just tell they've reached similar conclusions separately.

Need something steady but not frantic? Janet Jackson. Very specifically, "Rhythm Nation." Intense focus needed? New Order. Intense and passionate? Metallica. Anything with a steady, pounding beat, seems to be...regulating. Meditative. It's only afternoons like this, when nothing is on fire, there are limited people running around through their bullpen, that the music drifts through small speakers or boomboxes, competing for attention of anyone who is unfortunate enough to have to scurry back and forth between Josh and Sam's offices. 

This particular afternoon, Sam is doing his lurking thing, but then thinks better of it and steps in to ask something. He gets as far as opening his mouth, but frowns, somehow without managing to fully shut it, when the song coming from Josh's desk flips over to fast, chaotic drumming, and even more chaotic sampling. He simply shuts his mouth and walks away. Probably not the day for him to lean in to the chaos. Josh watches this happen in silence, then shrugs and goes about his business. Donna sighs and goes back to reading. 

Donna's just glad Josh is allowing music back in his office again at all. It seems like progress. It's been especially fraught because normally...before...his idea of calming, regimented music, was more like the Doors. She has no idea how that stresses Sam out more than Metallica, but it seems to be the organ being too chaotic or something...she only catches bits of conversation. She eventually asks the question Sam is too afraid to:

"Doesn't this sound more like sirens than a cello does?"

"Yeah but...the beat, you guys." 

She's fussing around the files while the guys sit in their relative bubbles, and fully gets that sometimes it's motivating to have a silent partner to work beside...that's kind of how her buddy-ship with Ainsley started, after all. She and Sam both seem distracted and trying to ignore it, though, by Josh (quite unconsciously, no doubt) singing softly under his breath. "The old get old and the young get stronger, may take a week and it may take longer...they got the guns but we got the numbers...gonna win, yeah, we're taking over..."

Hyperfocus...she snorts aloud again, thinking of CJ and Sam's jaunts of learning all sorts of random facts about whatever the fascinating (to them) topic is for that moment. 

"ADD people love bottom lines...It's always, 'Get to the point'; 'What's the next show?'..." ("What's next?" Donna's brain helpfully supplies.)

"Oh my gawd," Ainsley blurts, right in the middle of their discussion the next week about the book, the State of the Union, and whatever else comes up. "Can you believe this, what Samuel Seaborn says to me as I'm in the middle of being on TV...he says 'Just remember, you're a blonde Republican girl and nobody likes you.'" Donna covers her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her startled laugh. "Yeah, yeah, but did he have to hit girl so hard? Like he has to remind me that's the biggest of those three problems..."

Donna suddenly feels like the floor has fallen away. "I uh...wait, what?"

"You are no good at playing dumb," Ainsley scolds, rolling her eyes. "What what? Which part of my insinuations are supposedly confusing you? Hell, if he'd just added 'short' to my list of failings, that probably would've blown out all plausible deniability. Not that there is any."

Donna clears her throat and starts not-so-subtly packing up. "Speaking of which, I should probably head back-"

"Speaking of what?" Ainsley asks slowly, low and shrewd. Shit. "You just fucked up, Moss." 

"Oh get off my back, detective," Donna huffs. The other (much shorter, thankyouverymuch) blonde smiles all plastic and syrupy-sweet and stands as well. 

"I'll come with you! You know, back to your office. Where your boss is, who is as not-blonde, Republican, female, or short-"

"Only you said short!" 

"-As could be. Ohh, what else could Sam have disliked about me...Ooh, I know! Too Christian! I wouldn't know a good bagel if it bit me in the ass! The lawyer thing is a wash..." 

Ainsley was on a roll, entertaining herself far too much as she trailed along after Donna, clearly looking for any excuse to get out of her cave of an office. 

“I just think he doesn’t know how to interact with someone who’s shorter than him,” she announces after two endless minutes of comfortable silence. Donna snorts. “I’m serious. He respects you because of the heels. He can’t cope with being taller than someone.”

“Well, he’s got to be taller than someone,” Donna muses, but she sounds unsure.

“Leo doesn’t count.” 

“Well…he's not…that much shorter than Josh."

“Oh yes he is. Definitely enough to count." After a moment, Ainsley smirks. "I'll bet Sam likes that." 

[I don't need the manager, no Karen
'Cause what's wrong, it seems so apparent] 

Sometimes, Donna hears things. Sometimes those things make her (silently) slap her own forehead and dash off without ever making her presence known. She doesn't know what's being discussed or admitted or whatever...phrasing...is what she thinks as she just reroutes and decides she doesn't want to know. She really, really doesn't. Except she kind of does, and doesn't know if Josh really knows how the phrasing sounds, but for once she can't get involved. There's no way it could help. So, she flees. It's better for everyone that way. 

"Thirty-two states have passed laws banning same-sex marriage; the states are doing a fine job protecting themselves from a 'radical social agenda' without a federal shield."

"Josh..."

"I like you guys that wanna reduce the size of government: make it just small enough so it can fit in our bedrooms."

Apparently, Ainsley hears things, too. Maybe. Or maybe she just has a hunch. They're probably both right about their hunches, but she can't talk about that.