Today

It's her hand on your shoulder that brings you back from the edge of nothingness. The gaping void of loneliness mixed with the almost unbearable weight of the world. And every time she's touched you the past few weeks, those feelings have dissolved into laughable ghosts of the past and you're okay again.

You close your eyes for half a second and breathe, relieved at still having her lying beside you. Not that you expect her to leave. Not after everything you've been through together. But still, the thought lingers.

You roll over to face her and she smiles, eyes sparkling. You smile back and stretch your neck forward to kiss her lightly on the lips. "Morning."

"Morning," she replies. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm," you sigh. "Better than yesterday I guess."

"Worse than tomorrow," she counters with another smile.

"Yeah." You walk your fingers up her bare arm and slide them through the silky hair at the nape of her neck. The past week the stress you've been feeling has been hovering at levels similar to those just before the election. You're pretty certain that you've been able to hide your panic from everyone except for Donna. But then again, you could never hide anything from her.

"What's the time?" she yawns.

"Just after six."

"When did you wake up?"

"Couple minutes ago." She raises her eyebrows with skepticism and so you reluctantly admit, "'Bout an hour I guess. I stayed in bed this time though. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Not much chance of that with you tossing and turning. You're not the type of person who can keep still."

"It doesn't help that you've stolen my side of the bed."

Donna smiles and stretches her arms above her head, kicking the comforter off. "This is my side, Josh. We flipped for it while on vacation and I called it and I won. The left side is my side."

"Donnnna," you whine as she stretches again, lifting one leg into the air and rolling her ankle around. The smooth skin of her thigh captures your attention for a few seconds but then you go back to complaining. "I really would sleep so much better on that side."

"Tough," she replies callously with a smile as she stretches the other leg. You reach out and slap the underside of her thigh and she drops her leg and rolls over to face you again. "Did you just hit me because I wouldn't give up what I won fair and square?"

"Yes."

"I'm not giving up my side."

"I don't think it's fair."

Donna shrugs. "Okay, how about I move back into my apartment?"

"You're going to kick Treasury Girl out in the middle of winter, in the middle of a snowstorm?"

"It hasn't snowed for days, Josh! And could you stop calling her Treasury Girl, she has a name."

"It's start with a P, right? Patty... Peggy...? Uh..."

"Penny."

"Yes, Penny!" you exclaim. "You think it's a good idea making a crazy woman like her homeless?"

"She's not crazy she's just... jumpy. Anyway she'll be homeless in a few months when my lease is up," Donna shrugs. "And then so will I."

You shake your head. "No you won't, you're living with me."

"I'm staying with you until-"

You inhale sharply. "Until when? You're planning on leaving?"

Donna rubs her hand gently on your chest which does wonders in slowing your erratically beating heart. "Half my things are still in storage, Josh. The rest is lying around your apartment in boxes. To me, that isn't living together, it's just... crashing."

"Okay then how long are you planning on crashing for?"

"I haven't decided," she grins. "But if you keep complaining about me stealing your side of the bed which, by the way, you try and steal back every single night-"

"Is it wrong for me to want to be near you?"

She grins again. "If by near me you mean smother me with your arms and legs and entire body, yes, it's wrong."

"You should have told me you didn't like it," you mutter and roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling.

"You know I like it so stop trying to make me feel guilty." She props herself up on an elbow and gently tickles your chest with her fingertips and you reluctantly look back at her. "You can snuggle me all you want, but I won't give you your side back."

"One day you will."

She shakes her head. "I really won't."

"Even though I can't sleep because I'm on the wrong side?"

She reaches over and runs the tips of her fingers through your hair. "Josh, it isn't the side of the bed that's causing you to sleep badly so don't give me that pathetic, hangdog face."

"Yeah." You run your hand over her shoulder, curling a finger into the strap of her camisole. "I'm sorry if it bothers you."

"The nightly attempts to suffocate me to death in my sleep or the nightly tossing and turning that wakes me up?"

"Both."

"It's okay," she smiles, but her eyes are filled with concern. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine. Great," you smile, but it's forced and you know she won't buy it. "Fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's good over on this side of the bed, Donna. Just losing my mind is all."

"We need to find something to relax you when you get this stressed so you don't go into a sulk and hide in your cave. Something that isn't sex with me because we won't always have time."

"A cave," you mutter. "What are you talking about?"

"It's from a book I'm almost positive you've never read so I'll let you borrow my copy one day. We just need to find you something so you can calm down."

"This book thinks I live in a cave. I'm a caveman."

"No!"

"Since you're here, you know what would relax me now?" You pull the strap of the camisole down her arm, revealing a perfect, creamy breast, then stroke a finger across her nipple. To your delight, it tightens immediately.

"Josh."

You play with her nipple a little more. "Mmm?"

"We don't have time."

"Yeah, we do," you nod and wriggle closer. You kick the comforter further down the bed and hook your leg over her hip, pushing yourself against her.

"Josh!" she scolds but makes no attempt to push you away. Encouraged, you remove your hand from her breast and pull the hem of her camisole up. She shifts on the bed, allowing you to pull it all the way up over her head.

She lets you kiss her again, her mouth warm and yielding beneath yours, and then you kiss down her neck and over her breast. You tease the nipple gently with your teeth and her back arches, pressing the fullness of her breast into your mouth.

"We don't have time," she murmurs again as your leg pulls her closer and she rolls to sit on top of you. She yanks you up and you kiss her hard on her mouth and she presses herself down on the erection straining to find its way out of your boxers.

Your hand is just about to slide into the top of her panties when her cell phone rings and she rolls off you and grabs it from her nightstand.

"Hello?"

You wriggle across the bed and curl your legs around her waist, leaning against her bare back. You run your hands over her stomach and down to the waistband of her panties but she quickly pushes you away.

"Hang on a second." She covers the mouthpiece of the phone and glares at you over her shoulder. "Please don't do that to me right now."

"Who is it?" you whisper, sucking gently on the soft skin just behind her ear. "Just tell them you'll call them back."

"It's my father, Josh, and I'd prefer you not to be trying to have sex with me when I'm talking to him."

"Oh." You stop fondling her breasts and wrap your arms around her stomach, resting your mouth on her shoulder as she speaks to her father, the man who can't decide if he hates you for being with his daughter or loves you for finally being with his daughter.

She speaks to him for several minutes and then ends the call and drops the phone back on the nightstand. She moves to get up but you pull her backwards so you're lying on the bed with her on top, both of you staring up at the ceiling, and you wrap your legs around her hips and stroke your fingers lightly across her stomach.

"What did he want?"

"He wanted nothing, Josh, he just rang to tell me he loves me and he and Mom are proud of me."

"I'm proud of you too." You tighten your legs and she reaches up behind both your heads to stroke your hair again so you stop playing with her stomach and focus again on her breasts which, to you, look lonely and rejected. Begging to be held.

"Do you ever clean this ceiling, Josh?"

"What?" You gently pinch a nipple and slip your other hand into her panties to stroke her lightly. She twitches in your arms and then points upwards.

"It's dirty."

"I don't care if it's dirty or not, Donna, because I'd prefer to care about getting these off you." You push her panties down but she sits up, breaking from your embrace, and slides off the bed.

"I need food and if you wanted to have sex you should have jumped on me when I woke up and not waited until now. You want a bagel?"

"No." You kick your boxers off and stretch out fully on the bed, linking your hands behind your head, giving her your best come hither smile.

She rolls her eyes. "Put it away, Josh, and get in the shower."

You hear her trying to restrain her laughter as she leaves.

Disorganization

"You're not dressed yet? We're going to be late!"

"We're not going to be late, Josh."

He fiddles aimlessly with the toilet paper, unsnapping and resnapping the spring tube from the wall, while you dig around in the basket on the floor trying to locate your eyelash curler.

"I thought you were more organized than this, Donna. Or did that skill mysteriously vanish when you stopped working for me?"

"Shut up," you mutter. "I'd be better organized if there was room in here to actually put things away."

Josh looks around the small bathroom and shrugs. "It's fine!"

"It's not fine, Josh!" You kneel on the floor and use both hands to search. "Half my bathroom stuff is in a box in the closet by the front door."

"Well then you have too much bathroom stuff, Donna," Josh decides. "Get rid of some of it and you'll have all the space you need."

Your hand closes around the eyelash curler, hidden underneath a loofah sponge, and you get to your feet and glare at him.

"A woman can never have too much bathroom stuff, Josh. And stop playing with that because you're going to break it."

"No, I'm not." To prove his claim he snaps the spring tube again and it bounces out of his hand and flies across the bathroom. You both stare at it for several seconds before he says, "It didn't break."

You sigh and face the mirror to finish applying your makeup. Josh wanders across the bathroom and retrieves the spring tube, silently clicking it back into place, and then stands behind you to watch as you curl your lashes.

"Can't you find something else to do?" you mutter.

"I like watching you."

You squeeze the curler around a set of lashes. "You've been watching me for nearly a decade, Josh. Haven't you had your fill now?"

"No."

"You're bothering me and I'm going to go slower because of it."

"You're being childish now," he smirks back.

"We've barely been apart for the past six weeks and you're starting to drive me crazy."

"No, I'm not."

"One day you will and I won't be responsible for my actions."

"What actions would those be?"

"Well, I have one where I randomly backhand whoever is hovering behind me." You sweep blush over your cheekbones, smiling as you see him step back half an inch. "That's better."

"I think that we need a better system, Donna."

"Like?"

"By the time I'm dressed and ready to go you're still fussing with your makeup."

"Fussing?'

Josh frowns. "It's a word."

'I know it's a word. It's just not one I've ever heard you use before."

"What? So I have a limit on words now?"

"Josh it takes me longer to get ready in the morning. You're lucky that you're so naturally beautiful and fresh when you wake up while I, on the other hand, am not."

"You don't need all this stuff to be beautiful, Donna," he says quietly and you press your lips together to stop the embarrassed smile that always appears whenever he compliments you. "And we'd have a lot more room in here if it wasn't lying around," he adds.

Your smile vanishes and you give him a glare. "You haven't had a women stay over for more than a couple nights before I came along, have you, Josh?"

"Nope. You're the lucky first."

"And lucky last. Josh, you need to accept that fact that some things are different when there's a woman full time in the house. Underwear hanging in the bathroom. Fashion magazines on the coffee table, ice cream in the freezer."

"Why ice cream?"

"Comfort food. For when we have a bad day, when our boss is being a bastard. When our boyfriend is being even worse."

"Well I'm not your boss anymore and I don't think Mrs. Santos will give you such a hard time."

"Yes, but you're my-"

"I will try very hard not to do anything that will cause you to run for the ice cream."

"Thank you."

"Can I ask you something? Why can't you apply mascara without opening your mouth?"

You stare at his reflection in the mirror. "What?"

"You did that eye and you opened your mouth while you did it. Why?"

"Well," you pause for a second then slowly do your other eye. "Well," you say again, eyelashes now equally blackened. "I think it's a matter of balance."

"Maybe your mouth is open because you're thinking about kissing me."

"No."

He grins. "Or doing other things to me."

"NO!" you roar, throwing your mascara into a random box with slightly more force than necessary.

"If you complain tomorrow that you can't find that, you know it's your own fault. You have too much stuff!"

"Is there a reason why you're trying to annoy me?"

"Because it's fun." He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pressing his mouth firmly to yours. His tongue strokes your lips and slides inside for a quick taste before he releases you and smirks.

You try to ignore the slight dizziness that always comes upon you when his mouth touches yours and say, "I like my stuff and if there's no room to organize my stuff, it's hardly my fault if we're late because I can't find my stuff. And if you think kissing me like that-"

"You think I was kissing you because I wanted sex?"

You turn back to the mirror and check over your reflection one final time. "Yes."

"If I wanted sex I would do this," he says, pressing his body against your back and wrapping his arms around your waist. "And then I would do this," he adds and his hands slide up your bare stomach to the clasp at the front of your bra. "And then..." he trails off and flicks open the clasp, quickly covering your breasts with his hands. He pushes his hips against you.

"And then we would be late not because of my inability to find my stuff, but because of your inability to control your libido," you huff. "I'm not having sex with you now, Josh. You'll have to wait until we get home tonight."

You turn and squeeze past him to go back into the bedroom, reclasping your bra as you give him a glare. He smirks back and sits on the bed, watching as you pull on a pair of pantyhose. "Are you sure you have nothing else you need to do before we go?" you ask, stepping into a skirt and zipping it up.

"I just need my scarf and coat and I'm ready," Josh confirms. "My bag is all packed and by the door."

"Gloves?"

"I don't need them, it's not cold enough."

"Fine. What about your Blackberry?"

"Uh..." he scrunches his face up, thinking. "Okay, so I have one thing to do." He climbs off the bed, mussing up the comforter in the process, and bounds down the hall. You slip on a pair of shoes and then bend down to remake the bed, tucking the edges neatly back under the mattress as he gallops back to the bedroom.

"You're not dressed yet?" he whines. "Come on!"

"Josh it'll take me thirty seconds to put on my shirt and jacket and if you can keep quiet for those thirty seconds, I will-"

"What?" he interrupts excitedly.

"Not slap you."

"You're so mean to me. And you're wearing all one color? Really?"

"I'm trying to match you in monotones, Josh."

"How flattering for me," he says smugly. "But you're wearing brown-"

"Maroon."

"Maroon, and I'm wearing black and my blue scarf. And you're going to be wearing your girly pink one."

You pull on your jacket and button it as you leave the bedroom. "How very gender colored we'll be. Where is my girly pink scarf?"

"Treadmill." Josh pulls the scarf from the handle bar of the treadmill and lifts your hair to drape it around your neck. He busies himself tying it into a knot and then pushing down into your jacket, spending more time than you think necessary smoothing it down over your breasts, until you cover his hands with your own.

"We don't have time."

"Yeah. I know," he sighs sadly.

Time

"Josh?"

You jump as Donna touches your arm. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you nod, almost hysterically. "Yep. Fine."

"Sure?" Her hand squeezes lightly at your wrist. She smiles brightly but her eyes are filled with the same concern you saw in them this morning.

You exhale loudly. "No. No. I think I'm going to be sick."

Her hand tightens and she tugs you away from the window overlooking the Capitol steps. You can see thousands of people milling around, shaking hands, settling into seats. This is it.

"Come on, Josh, let's take a little walk." She pulls you down a corridor and shovels you into a side niche away from passersby.

"Donna, I appreciate the sentiment, especially after you very cruelly denied me this morning, but right now is not the time!"

Donna gives a frustrated sigh and leans against you in the niche, holding you firmly in place with her body. "Just because we've done other things on other walks, Josh, doesn't mean we will always do those things."

"How am I supposed to know the difference?" you complain. "Every other time you've dragged me off on a walk during the past month, we've ended up having sex. We've practically christened every room in the OEOB."

"There are a few we've missed," she says innocently. "And there are a couple hundred in the White House that-"

"Can we just not think about that right now? Please?"

She fakes shock. "Josh Lyman, not wanting to think about sex? I'll remind you of this the next time your voice gets that little catch and your hand starts creeping up under my skirt."

You sigh and rest your head back against the wall and close your eyes. "What am I doing here, Donna?"

"You're about to inaugurate a new President, Josh. About to start another eight years of making the country, and the world, a better place."

You scrunch up your face and swallow the lump that's been growing in your throat the past few hours. "Donna."

Her hands slide up your arms and rest lightly on either side of your neck. You open your eyes and look into hers, bright and blue and full of life. Her hair is soft and loose, falling lightly onto her shoulders and you reach for a strand and rub it between two fingers.

"He-"

She nods. "I know."

"He should be here, Donna," you choke out and she nods again.

"I know." Her fingers stroke your cheeks, palms caressing your jaw and she pulls you forward and brushes a soft kiss across your lips. She rests her forehead against yours and you close your eyes again, inhaling the smell of her fruity shampoo.

"It's-"

"It's not your fault," she interrupts. "Stop thinking like this, Josh. It's never your fault. Everyone who matters to both of us is here, either in person, or in spirit."

You shake your head and she leans back. Her hands clasp your face and she stares firmly into your eyes. "Everyone. This is your triumph, Josh. This is your day. We're standing here because of what you decided to do."

"We," you correct her. "What we decided to do. And I'm not just talking about this new Administration."

She smiles shyly. "We're a good team."

"We are," you agree and kiss her again. Her arms slide around your neck as you deepen the kiss, and she leans against you. Her body is warm and soft as you slip your hands into the sides of her coat to stroke her lower back.

"I am so very proud of you," she whispers against your ear when you break the kiss. "We're all so proud of you."

"I know."

"I'm still here," she reminds you, her breath warm on your skin. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest and you tighten your arms around her back. "And I'm not going anywhere for a very long time. Unless," she adds, "you complain again about me stealing your side of the bed. Or if you use all the hot water up again. Or if you-"

"Stop it," you wheeze, the pressure in your chest having an effect on your ability to breathe.

"I'm trying to make you smile, Josh," Donna says gently. "So you don't pass out."

"I know and I love you for it, but can you just tell me a stupid joke instead?"

"Okay, a priest, a rabbi and a-"

"Hey, hold on," you interrupt quickly. "I..."

"What?"

You stare at her. "I just realized what I said."

"What?"

"That I love you."

"Oh that, yeah." Donna adjusts the scarf around her neck and smiles at a passing usher who does a double take when he sees the two of you pressed against the wall underneath the giant wooden arm of a Native American statue.

You wait until he's out of earshot before you whisper, "Have I ever said that before?"

She scrunches up her face, trying to remember. "Maybe not? Have I ever said it?"

"Shouldn't it be the kind of thing one remembers?"

"Yeah it kind of is," she nods. "Huh."

"I just have to sit down for a second." You pull her out of the niche and you both sink down onto a nearby marble bench and stare into space. After a few seconds you pick up her hand and stroke your thumb across the back of it.

"It's also kind of weird," you admit quietly.

"Loving me?"

"No... well, yes, I mean, not loving you but..."

She grins. "Josh."

"You wanna help me here?"

She squeezes your hand. "I know what you mean."

"It's just something I've never said before."

"Really?"

You sigh and shove a hand through your hair and she reaches up and pats it back down. "Well I say it to Mom. And Dad and... I guess, Joanie." You close your eyes and swallow the lump in your throat.

"What did I say before about everyone being here?" Donna reminds you quietly.

"I know." You swallow again and then look at her. "It's not an easy thing to say, Donna. Putting yourself out there. You feel vulnerable hoping the other person feels the same, afraid they don't. I've never said it before to someone..." you clear your throat and look down at the patterns on the marble floor, "to someone who I knew could break my heart."

Donna squeezes your hand again and rests her head on your shoulder. "It gets easier."

"Have you said it before?"

"Yes, I'm not as emotionally stunted as you. Or maybe I'm not as smart as you because every single time I've said it I have had my heart broken."

"I don't know about you being stupider than me," you say. "Because what I've said is kinda out there now and you're not saying anything back. Do you think you can help me here because I'm feeling a little naked and exposed."

"Why does telling me you love me make you feel that way?" There's laughter in her voice which makes you feel both worse and better at the same time.

"Because you didn't say it back," you mutter under your breath, hating the fact that you sound so pathetic and needy but still desperate for her to put you out of your misery.

Donna sighs and lifts her head from your shoulder, and you look up at her. "You know what I feel, Josh, do you want me to say it?"

"I don't want you to say anything, Donna. I guess you... do?"

"I do, Josh," she says quietly, her voice soft and breathy, her mouth curving into a wide smile. "Of course I do."

You exhale in a rush, and slump your shoulders, the tension of the past few hours completely vanishing. "How much longer were you going to leave me dangling out there?"

"I already knew you loved me, Josh, and that I loved you. You didn't?"

"I guess I know you love me... it's just nice to have it, you know, verbally confirmed. Especially since it was my first time saying it. And I'm only saying that if you do love me it would be nice to hear you say it too. Occasionally."

"Okay." Amused, Donna smiles at you, and you groan.

"I'm the woman in this relationship, aren't I?"

"I think you are."

"I guess it's a good thing this has happened because I'm definitely not worrying about what's about to happen out there when, in here, I'm feeling more than a little emasculated right now."

She leans over again and presses her lips to yours, slipping her tongue into your mouth, kissing you until you growl softly. You slide one hand up her thigh to the waistband of her skirt, curling your fingers into the belt but she pushes you away.

"You're very much a man to me, Josh," she whispers. "And it's time."

"Yeah," you choke, partly because you're still dizzy from the taste of her mouth, partly because this is it.

You both stand and walk back down the corridor towards the doors to the dais. You pause by one of the windows and look out and Donna reaches up to adjust the scarf around your throat. She gently runs the tips of her fingers through your hair and smiles proudly. "This is it," she echoes your thoughts.

"Yeah." You stare through the window at the gathered assembly.

"We've done this before, you know," she reminds you. "Twice. Do you remember? We got through it then."

"Yes. But it wasn't like this. Not in charge. Not together. Not like this," you repeat. "This is a whole new ball game."

Donna stands beside you and stares out of the window as well. "You think it's going to be different?"

"Yes. It's going to be a lot more difficult."

"And it's going to be a lot more fun," she adds, pulling on her gloves and then sliding a hand into yours. "We're going to have fun."

"Yeah."

"And we're going to get through it."

"Yeah."

She turns you away from the window and smiles again, her blue eyes sparkling. "You did good, Joshua Lyman. This is your moment."

You smile back at her and squeeze her hand. "Our moment," you correct and you both step outside into the cold January air.

Redecorating

"Your office is bigger than mine!"

"Bigger isn't always better," you smile wryly, looking up from the several thousand paint sample cards strewn across the table and the floor. "And I think it's about the same size as yours."

"I think it's important we measure just to make sure," Josh insists, pacing in long strides across the carpet.

"I think we've already measured what's important, Josh," you tease. "Hello, by the way."

"Hi," he mutters. "Fifteen, sixteen."

"Stop measuring!" you yell, annoyed that he's now pacing his steps in the other direction as well.

"Fine, okay." He wanders over to the windows behind you and pushes aside the gossamer curtains. "When did it start snowing?"

"It's snowing?" You peer past him and watch the flakes swirling around in the wind. "Wow, it's coming down pretty hard."

"Yeah. Haven't you looked out here today?"

"I've been busy," you explain. "No time."

"Well, you have a better view than me."

"You think you're going to have any spare time at all to stop and stare out of your window?"

"No."

You smile at him. "Come help me pick a color scheme."

Josh pulls out the chair next to you and pushes aside the fifty or so color cards in your maybe pile, knocking a few to the floor in the process. "You're decorating? That's your busy?"

"Yeah. Helen is spending the day with Miranda and Peter and told us to do whatever we wanted and since I've been given an office and a budget for decorating that office, I'm picking paint colors. But, you know," you look around at the wall, "I think I like the reds. It's warm and cozy."

"The wood is nice," Josh agrees and then adds, his voice quiet but firm, "Donna, you can't call her Helen."

"No, it's okay, I can," you nod, rejecting a stack of cards all in similar hideously green shades. "She nixed the Ma'am and then nixed the Mrs. Santos. Helen or nothing, she said and so we decided that Helen was the best way forward. Obviously, in public, officially, I'll call her Mrs. Santos or the First Lady, but in private-"

"Why?"

"She's my age, Josh," you explain. "And she seems to think I know more about her job than she does so she's adamant that we're on equal footing name wise."

"You do know her job better."

"We'll see. I think I'm going to keep the wood in here. But I need some rugs. And a sofa. You think there's room for a sofa?"

Josh touches your arm and you look at him. "You do know her job better, Donna. God, you knew my job better than me most of the time."

"Only because you made me do everything."

"Only because I knew you could do everything," he corrects softly and you look up from your cards and smile at him and he pulls a long, slim box wrapped in shiny paper out of his jacket pocket. "Here."

You take the box, festooned with balloons and the words Happy Birthday, and raise your eyebrows at him. "Thanks, but it's not-"

"It was the only paper I could find," he explains. "And it's just something I got for you to, you know, celebrate your new job. Which, apparently, comes with a huge office. God," he looks around again. "It's really big."

"Stop talking about my office," you mutter as you pull the paper off the box and open the lid. "It's a name plate."

"It's a deskbar, actually, do you like it?" he asks excitedly as you pull the heavy stone bar from the box. "It's made from granite and they etched your name and title on there with a laser. And then they filled the etching with molten silver."

You stare down at your name and title scratched in silver letters into the rock. "Red granite."

"Yeah," he says proudly. "I thought it was appropriate."

"I'm still an assistant though."

"What?"

"Donnatella Moss. Assistant to the President and Chief of Staff to the First Lady."

Josh looks confused. "That's your title."

"I thought I'd escaped the assistant part of it. I was Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff, then I was Assistant to the Russell Campaign, then I was Spokesperson for the Santos Campaign and I finally lost the Assistant title."

"You get a Chief in there. And this time you're an Assistant to the President. But you can call yourself whatever you want, Donna. I just-"

"I love it," you interrupt him, blinking away the beginnings of tears. "I love it, thank you."

"What is this habit you have of crying every time I give you something?"

"I'm not crying," you shake your head. "I'm just... moistening my eyes." You put the deskbar down and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he hugs you tightly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he whispers into your ear. "You deserve it."

You release him and lean back in your chair picking up the deskbar again. "Yeah."

"You don't think you do?"

"I don't know," you mutter. The weight of the rock in your hands is physical. The knowledge that you've finally reached a step in your career where you're spending the next eight years an office you're pretty sure you don't deserve, and yet know you deserve nothing less, is not physical but a lot heavier. "Sometimes I think that I only have this job because of you."

"You do!"

"Great, thanks, Josh," you sigh. "If my self esteem wasn't already rock bottom that sure would have sent it there."

He shakes his head. "I don't mean that way and you know it. You want to know why you have this job? Because you got into your car one day and drove to find something better. Me."

"Mmm, so really what I'm skilled at is being in the right place at the right time?"

"And knowing how to do your job and actually being good at it!" he exclaims. "You deserve to be here, Donna, and you got here because you're smart."

Pleased at the compliment, you smile at him. "Okay, okay. What about this?" You hand him a card with five similar shades of dark blue.

"Which one?"

"Any of them."

"I like this one," he points. "And, yes, I think you should get a sofa and some rugs in here and make it cozy and comfortable."

"That's right, you finally have a sofa in your office!" you exclaim. "No more having to crash on Toby's when you're too lazy to go home at night."

"I promise you I will never be too lazy, or tired, to go home and sleep in the same bed as you. I can't promise I won't be too tired to have sex but I'll always be there to suffocate you."

"Except when one of us is in another state or country with our respective bosses."

"No, Leo didn't really travel," Josh replies.

"Lilly did, and Max and Amy," you remind him. "Helen's got a few things she needs to attend in California in a few weeks and I'm going with her."

"You are?" Josh splutters. "When were you going to tell me this?"

You shrug. "It's still not fully confirmed. Why do you look so shocked?"

"I just... it'll be the first time we've been apart since we... got together. And, uh... no sex."

"I'm going to miss you too," you grin. "Do you want me to call you every night?"

"It's not the same," he sulks, flicking a few paint cards across the table. "How long will you be away?"

"Four days."

"No sex for four days!"

"You coped for years without having sex with me; you can go without it for four days."

"I really can't."

"Okay, when I call every night because you're missing me terribly we can... you know, on the phone."

"What?" You raise your eyebrows suggestively and Josh brightens a little at the idea. "Oh. I never thought of that. Have you done that before?"

"Yes, with-"

"I don't want to know."

"I didn't think so," you grin.

"I have to go," he says, checking his watch. "I have a meeting in the Sit Room and then about a million memos to review before tomorrow. Come get me when you're ready to go?"

You nod. "Murray's picking up our clothes now so, I guess, six?"

"Sounds good. Murray?"

"My assistant. Deputy. Same thing I was to you for yea- what? Stop frowning, he worked on the campaign, Josh, you don't remember him?"

"No."

"He worked with Lou."

"Donna, I don't understand why you're upset that you're still an assistant and also don't think you deserve your job but you're fine with having an assistant of your own who you send out to get your clothes."

"What can I say," you shrug airily. "I'm a complicated woman."

"That's for damn sure. Wait, Murray Wilson?"

"Yeah."

"The short young guy with the overbite?"

"Yeah."

"That's okay then," Josh exhales with relief and, when you roll your eyes, he quickly adds, "He's good at his job!"

"You're so transparent, Josh. Why don't you just say you don't want me working ten hours a day with someone young and gorgeous."

"Why do I need to say it when you already know it?"

"I'd just like to remind you that I fell in love with you and you were not young and-"

"Hey!" he scowls and you amend your comment.

"You were young and sexy and I honestly don't know why I waited so long to jump on you."

Josh grins. "That's better. And I like Murray now I remember him, and I am also in no way threatened by him."

"Good because I'm keeping him. He brought me lunch today. Sushi. I didn't even have to ask," you say proudly.

"It took me a long time to train you to get me lunch and even then you still gave me dirty looks."

"You have to train 'em while they're young and eager."

"You were young," he says, his voice suddenly deep and rumbly. He leans forward in his chair and pulls you into his arms and kisses you softly. "Young," another kiss, a little harder this time. "Eager too." You loop your arms around his neck and kiss him back and he murmurs, "Don't fall in love with him just because he brings you lunch," into your mouth.

"I won't," you whisper back. "I'm the type of girl who falls for her boss."

"Don't fall for your current one," he adds and you kiss him again and smile.

"I got what I wanted. I'm done now."

"Good for me." He gives you a final kiss before letting go and pushing back his chair. "Six?"

"Six," you confirm. "Say hi to everyone in the Sit Room for me."

Josh mock salutes you as he leaves. "Have fun with the big office."

"Yeah," you sigh, looking around the bare room. "I don't think I can do this, it's just-"

"You can, Donna," Josh says firmly, leaning against the doorframe. "I really gotta go but you're going to be great at this job, just like you were great at all the others."

You smile at him. "No, I meant the decorating. The wood is nice but I think I need some plants to balance it out," you decide. "Flowering ones."

"You need a fridge too."

"Definitely," you agree.

Josh grins. "And some pictures of me to put on the mantel and your desk."

"So everyone knows I'm a taken woman?"

"Yes," he says and gives you a little finger wave as he leaves. "Don't you forget it."

Dressing

"Hi there."

You look up from the pile of papers already messing up your desk to see Donna, lounging in the doorway of your office, dressed for the Inaugural Balls in a floor length sheath of grey silk that hugs her breasts and hips.

"God. Hi... wow."

"I take that as a compliment," she smiles as she shuts the door behind her and holds up a dry cleaner's bag. "Your tux."

"Can you hang it on the closet door? I have to just finish reading this memo."

"Okay." She swishes across the floor, her dress clinging in all the right places and your jaw drops as she turns her back to you. Her very naked back.

"Memo's done," you squeak, leaping up from your chair and practically tripping over your feet to get to her. "This is a great dress."

Donna turns around and smiles. "You like?" She does a little spin and the silk swirls around her ankles. "Jane made it for me."

"I love Jane!" you exclaim. "Jane is... who, exactly?"

"Zuzu's daughter." She smoothes her hands down the front of the dress and then pats her hair, fastened in a knot at the back of her neck.

"Right, because of course you give your kid a normal name when yours is so-"

"Josh."

"Sorry, can you... uh, spin again? Slowly?"

She smiles and very slowly turns around again. The dress is fastened in a halter around her neck, the sides barely touching her own sides, plunging down to meet in a v shape just beneath the small of her back.

"Wow."

"You already said that," she laughs.

"It bears repeating. Wow. I mean, from the front, with your hair up and the dress all grey and debutantish you look sweet and innocent, fresh off the Wisconsin milk cart."

"Hey!" She turns back to you and glares. "Debutantish is not a word."

"Whatever," you blow her off, and wrap your arms around her waist, settling your hands in the deliciously naked curve of her spine. "But from the back... wow."

"Think of a new word please."

"Amazing," you breathe and she smiles softly and you kiss her, stroking your tongue across her lips, matching the stroking your fingers are doing on her back.

"Do we have time to-"

"No," she says firmly, "we don't. Get dressed."

"You smudged your lipstick."

"You smudged it," she accuses and opens the closet to check her face in the mirror stuck to the back of the door.

"I'm pretty sure we have the time," you reply as you pull off your jacket and tie.

"No we don't. You think I should cut my hair?" She plays with the knot, patting it one way and the other as she stares at herself in the mirror.

"No. I absolutely do not think you should get your hair cut."

"Why?" She closes the closet door and sits on the edge of your desk, watching as you unbutton your shirt. "I always wondered what I would look like with short hair."

"Because if you had short hair then I couldn't lift it up and kiss the back of your neck. And I couldn't play with it in bed. Or run my hands through it when you go dow-"

"Josh!" she splutters. "Shut up."

"I like your hair long, Donna," you sigh. "I like you the way you are. If you ever want to change anything, you have to ask me first. Better yet, since I'm going to say no, just don't change."

She bends down to pick up the shirt from where you've tossed it on the floor and starts folding it neatly. "Everyone has to change, Josh. It's human nature to change, to strive to better ourselves." You shuck your pants and leave them on the floor as well and she sighs and picks them up too. "Stop that."

"Bettering yourself does not include cutting off your hair. And stop telling me not to throw my clothes on the floor of my office."

"You think Leo ever threw his clothes on the floor? Or CJ?"

"They might have," you say belligerently and Donna clucks her tongue at you.

"Should I go get Margaret and ask her?"

You shake your head violently. "No! No, don't get Margaret."

"Oh my God," Donna starts laughing. "You're still afraid of Margaret?"

"I am not afraid of Margaret, Donna. I was never afraid of Margaret. I just don't want Margaret to see me in nothing but boxers and socks."

"Why not? You're pretty sexy in boxers and socks. Especially socks that have a hole in the big toe."

You look down at the hole and your toe poking out, and frown. "Oh. Have you got a spare pair with you?"

"Why would I have your spare socks, and where, if I did have them, would I put them?" Donna runs her hands down over her breasts. "This dress has no pockets."

"You always used to have socks for me, Donna. Can you please stop touching your breasts?"

"Sorry," she smirks. "Just illustrating the lack of space under here for anything but me and my skin."

"Stop it! And get me some socks!"

"Joshua!" Donna hisses, her voice suddenly filled with anger.

"I'm sorry. You just... always had socks for me. And ties and spare shirts and whatever I needed, you had right there and I never had to ask. You just gave it to me. And I... I miss that."

"Would you rather I be your assistant again?" she asks quietly. She doesn't look at you, instead focusing on picking invisible pieces of nothing off her dress.

"Donna." You're pretty sure you're going to burn in hell for all the times you've hurt her by being your normal, moronic self.

"Sometimes I hate you, Josh." Her voice cracks slightly and she rubs a hand across the back of her neck and looks up at you. "Sometimes you say the worst thing you could possibly say because you never think before opening your mouth."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and gather her up in your arms. She presses her face into your chest and sighs and you rub a thumb gently down her spine. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I know you didn't."

Your other hand strokes the tiny strands of hair that have come loose from her knot. "I don't want you to be my assistant."

"I know you don't."

"And I don't want you to think you have to have spare socks for me," you add. "But I'd like to think maybe you'd want to have spare socks for me. Because you, you know... love me."

She groans. "You're so, just..."

"I know."

"It's why I can't hate you." Donna pulls away from your embrace and smiles.

"Yeah," you sigh happily. "I know that too."

"Get dressed. Put up with the hole in your sock tonight and this weekend I'll teach you how to darn it over."

"Can't I just have new socks?" you whine and pull the dry cleaners plastic from your tuxedo pants. "I like new socks."

"No."

"But I always got new socks before."

"I bought you new ones because I knew you'd complain about having to fix the holes in your socks. They were perfectly good socks apart from odd holes here and there so I just stole them, fixed them and used them for myself. I've been wearing your socks for years, Josh. They're perfect."

"You wore my socks?"

"Yes. You had good socks, Josh. I haven't bought socks for myself since I started working for you."

You zip up your pants and reach for a white dress shirt starched to within an inch of its life. "So why can't you just have these and buy me new ones."

"Because that's not how things are going to work anymore."

"I figured." You button the shirt and then ask, "Did you steal anything else from me?"

She shrugs and wanders over to the dry cleaners bag and pulls out a cummerbund. "Couple t shirts. Some old boxers that you hadn't worn in ages and so I didn't think you'd miss."

"You raided my closet!"

'You never gave me a raise!" she counters. "Lift your arms." You obey and she wraps the cummerbund around your waist, fastening it in the back. "I needed casual clothes for home and I was being creative in getting them."

"Stealing."

"Oh please, like you ever missed those clothes. I gave them a good home. They were my pajamas."

You regard her thoughtfully as she finishes playing with your belt. "That's kind of hot."

"I know it is."

"You're kind of hot too," you add and she grins.

"I know I am." She smiles coyly and runs her fingers lightly over your chest and you grab her arms and push her backwards until her ass hits your desk and she's lying on the stack of memos, the full weight of your body holding her down. One hand grips the back of her neck as you kiss her desperately, the other gropes wildly for the hem of her skirt, trying to get underneath.

You stop kissing her for half a second to ask, "How the...?"

"It took you nine years to get into my panties, Josh and it doesn't bode well that you're still having trouble despite the fact I'm not wearing any right now."

"You have miles of fabric down here and nothing up top and, hang on... nothing? Nothing actually underneath?"

"Panties don't work well with this dress. I get a line. And I can't wear a bra with it either and I'm not having sex with you here." She pushes you off and sits up, readjusting the bodice of her dress. "Anyone could walk in."

"So we'll lock the doors."

"Yeah, Josh, go ahead and try locking the President of the United States out of anywhere."

"Donna, this President has no problem having sex with his wife to the point where they actually break furniture so I don't think he's-"

"Please don't even think about finishing that sentence. But please could you finish getting dressed? We have to meet the motorcade in twenty minutes."

You sigh dejectedly and grab your tuxedo jacket from Zuzu's bag and she starts talking again about her hair.

"What if I came home one day and it was short?"

"Firstly," you begin, as you button your jacket, "you're assuming, quite incorrectly, that I'll be home before you."

"Why wouldn't you be home before me?"

"Because I have a harder job than you." Donna huffs loudly and you quickly add, "I take that back." She stares at you for a minute and you sigh loudly. "Yeah, I fully expect to pay for that later."

"Damn straight. What you're telling me is if I came home one day having changed something about my appearance you would unequivocally hate it."

"Yes."

"You'd think I'd look bad?"

"Yes... no... um, okay stop giving me that look, just give me a few seconds to figure a way out of this."

She settles back on the edge of your desk and nods. "Sure."

"Okay... it's not that you would look bad, it's just that you're beautiful and... perfect the way you are now!" You grin triumphantly and fold your arms, silently daring her to find fault with your compliment.

"So what you're saying, ultimately, is that I couldn't possibly ever look any better than I do right now?"

"Yes," you sigh with relief and nod. "Yes."

"So it's all downhill from here?"

You drape your bow tie around your neck and staqre at her for a few seconds before you smile winningly. "Can we stop talking about this now? Forget this conversation ever happened?"

"Sure."

"Except we won't, will we?"

"Nope. It will be brought up again at some point."

"You bet."

She raises her eyebrows at you and reaches for the ends of the bow tie. "Do you need..?"

"Yes please." You lift your chin and she busies herself fitting the silk under the collar of your shirt.

"I'm pretty sure you know how to do this now, Josh." Her fingers are gentle on your throat as they carefully knot the tie in just the right way.

You smile and decide to let her in on your secret. "I always knew how to do it. I just liked having you do it for me."

"Oh?"

"I liked you standing so close that I could smell your hair and I liked your fingers on my neck. And how you were so careful to get it just right and perfect for me. Just the way I wanted."

"Oh." She gives you same embarrassed grin that she always gives whenever you compliment her.

"But now I'm allowed to do this too." You run your hands down her back to tickle the curve of her spine then slide them up into the edges of her dress to cup her breasts. "And this." You pinch lightly at her nipples and her hands falter on your tie for half a second before she clears her throat and smiles.

"You could have always done that you know," she says, giving your bow tie a final finishing pat. "There you go."

Feet

"You two looked cute out there," you grin at Josh as he waves goodbye to Miranda who's now being whirled across the dance floor by her father.

"She's a good kid," Josh smiles. "Even if she was so heavy I think she broke my feet."

You slap his arm lightly. "You didn't say that to her did you?"

He rolls his eyes. "Of course not, Donna. But you try having a seven year old kid stand on your feet while dancing."

"Think of it as good practice, Josh," you shrug and, at his suddenly nervous expression, smile and add, "for when I step on your toes as you try to prove you're not as uncoordinated as the entire universe thinks you are."

"She didn't think I was that bad, Donna."

"That's because she has a crush on you, Josh."

"She does not!" Josh stares across the dance floor at Miranda who waves happily at him. "Okay well if she does, and I'm not saying she does, only if... can you blame her?"

"No I can't. But I'm not happy she got to dance the first dance of the first Ball when you promised it to me," you complain, allowing a little hint of faux sulkiness into your voice.

"Really?" He's pleased at your confession, a typically smug grin spreading across his face. "You're jealous?"

"Maybe."

"Perhaps if you hadn't gone off to talk about work with that Congressman, you might have gotten the first dance."

"He accosted me, Josh! What was I supposed to do? Tell him that no, Mrs. Santos wasn't interested in what he had to say when I knew very well that his priorities are fairly high on her agenda?"

"You put work before me, Donna," Josh sulks back at you. "And I was lonely and I knew if I started drinking you'd beat me up so I danced with Miranda because her father said she wanted to dance."

You snort back a laugh. "You were commanded to dance with the President's daughter?"

"I wasn't commanded!" Josh grumps. "He pulled me aside and said that Miranda had told her mother that she wanted to dance with some grown up people. He said she was too shy to ask. And he left it at that. So, yes, not a command but you don't say no to the President even if it's not in the form of a question."

"That's really the most adorable thing you've ever done, Josh."

"It's not," Josh mutters, ducking his head to hide his pleased grin. "I can think of far more adorable things I've done and I'm pretty sure they've all had something to do with you."

"You asked her to dance, Josh. And you let her stand on your feet." You squeeze his shoulder. "She's going to go home and for the rest of her life remember that the first time she danced with a man who wasn't her father, she was wearing a beautiful blue dress and had her hair in curls, and he let her stand on his feet, and he smiled at her and didn't make her feel like a silly little girl."

Josh stares at Miranda giggling as her father lifts her up and swings her around. "Really?"

"Really. Women never forget their first dance with a real man."

"Would you care to dance with this real man then?" Josh asks, holding out his hand.

"Why, yes," you nod, "I believe I would."

You join the other couples on the dance floor and he wraps one arm around your waist, hand resting lightly on your lower back. The other hand curls into yours as you lean close to him and start waltzing.

"Who was the first man you danced with?"

You close your eyes for a few seconds, remembering. "He was my best friend's older brother. He was in college and I was seven."

"This older men thing is a trend, then?"

"You're not that old," you tease. "At least compared to some of the other men I've liked."

Josh raises his eyebrows and his hand squeezes yours tighter. "And who might these men be?"

"None of your business! You still want to know about my first dance?"

Josh nods. "Yes, tell me about the man whose feet you crushed."

"Just for that, no." You kick his shin lightly and he groans. "Why do you make me hurt you, Josh?"

"Because I know you'll feel guilty later and make it up to me."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No," you sigh, and rest your chin on his shoulder. "Unfortunately, I do not." You sigh softly and then say, "You know, this is the first time we've danced together."

He shakes his head. "No, it's not."

"Yeah," you insist, "it is. Together I mean."

Josh thinks about this as he navigates you around the ballroom. "As Josh and Donna?"

"Right."

"Not Josh and Donna."

"Nope."

He thinks a little more and then grins. "The Josh and Donna who are living together and having sex several times a day."

"Yes. That Josh and that Donna."

"Not the Josh and the Donna who worked together." Despite his deadpan face, his voice has a little giggle in it and you can't help grinning.

"They still work together."

"Okay," he corrects himself, "The Donna who used to work for The Josh who was in love with her for years before he finally wised up and asked her to take a vacation with him." He waggles his eyebrows as he says vacation and you snicker.

"Yes, The Josh who, if he doesn't stop referring to himself in the third person, will not get to see The Donna naked ever again."

"The Josh does not accept that The Donna means that as an actual threat but The Josh realizes he is starting to sound ridiculous and so will stop referring to himself as The Josh." He grins. "I just wanted to be absolutely clear on which dancing Josh and which dancing Donna we were referring to."

"Us," you say quietly. "You and I, Josh. We've never danced before as us. With the whole room watching and not actually wondering if we're doing what we shouldn't be doing behind closed doors."

He looks around at the guests, some of whom are dancing, some chatting, some watching you both dance. "I'm a little disturbed that you think all of DC was wondering if we were having sex the past nine years."

"Not all of DC," you admit. "But there were rumors. You know there were."

"So what?" he laughs. "They know what we're doing now and they're all jealous."

"Of?"

"That you snagged the most eligible bachelor in politics. And I snagged the most eligible bachelorette."

You smack his shoulder blade. "Please don't call me that!"

"Old maid?" he offers. "Ow! Get off my foot!"

You glare at him and he grins sweetly and strokes your bare back. "Okay, let's not talk about what other people think of us and get back to talking about dancing."

"Fine."

"I'm pretty sure we danced while we were on vacation."

Despite having done so for the past five minutes of dancing, you find you can't ignore the people watching you and so focus on Josh's face instead. "No, we didn't."

"No, I think we did," he insists. "Stop staring at me like that!"

"Sorry."

"Didn't we go to that tropical dance-a-thon thing?"

"Nope. We were going to go but you saw me in my grass skirt and bikini top and decided that staying in the hotel room would be better."

Josh bobs his head happily. "Oh, yes. Not that I was going to let you drag me there anyway, but that was a good skirt. Spiky, but good."

He grins as he remembers and you can't help laughing as well, recalling him burrowing his head under the skirt and ending up stabbing himself in the face with the sharp fronds. "It's a shame I had to rip that skirt to get it off you though."

You pat his shoulder sympathetically. "I can still hula for you without the skirt, you know. Naked works just as well."

"Naked is just fine with me." His eyes light up and he nods. "Just fine."

"I thought so."

The band ends the waltz and switches to Benny Goodman and Josh grins excitedly at you. "Let's give them something to talk about." He flicks his arm out and you spin around and under and laugh at his uncharacteristic exuberance.

"See, I can dance!"

You laugh again. "Jitterbugging is not dancing, Josh. It's just moving quickly to music and throwing your limbs in all directions at the same time."

Dancing

Donna's leaning against you and you're both swaying slowly, despite the fast song the band is playing. "I said no before, Josh. If you even think about dipping me you better think again."

"I won't drop you," you insist. "I promise!"

She shakes her head firmly. "I swear to God, Josh, if you drop me I will make you pay for the rest of your natural life."

"I don't doubt it at all."

"I mean it. If I end up on my ass in front of my entire staff, with my dress above my head, you will never, ever be allowed to touch me again."

"I won't drop you," you grumble. "Come on, it's the end of the night. The last Ball! Let me prove to you that I can do this."

"Why do you need to prove it?"

"Because you think I can't dance!"

"I know you can't dance. You can, however, sway very well and since swaying with you is something I like doing, I don't need you to prove to me you can do all the other stuff."

You frown at her. "Please?"

Donna sighs loudly and tips her head to the side. "Tell me why you really want to dip me?"

"Because I think that our last dance tonight should be romantic and all that other flowery stuff, and dipping is part of that."

"Josh."

"Fine. Sam bet me that you wouldn't let me dip you because you were afraid I would drop you. Not that I would drop you, but he seems to be on the same 'Josh is an uncoordinated loser' bandwagon as, apparently, the entire universe."

"And how much do you get if you convince me?" she grins. "Come on, 'fess up."

"Hundred," you admit. "Which you can have."

"What else will you pay me to do?" You open your mouth but she interrupts with a grin. "I already do that for free."

"Come on, Donna. He's been all smirky the entire night. And this is the last Ball and I refuse to lose to him."

"You drop me, you lose me."

"You're lying."

"Yes. But your life won't be easy from now on."

"Like it has been so far?"

"Stop complaining and dip me before I chicken out."

You spin her slowly around and then, pressing your hand firmly against the bare skin of her back you bend her backwards, dipping her low to the ground. Her knee slides automatically up against your thigh and you smile softly at her. "See? Not too bad, right?"

"Right. Except now everyone's watching us and we look like we're having sex."

A wolf whistle pierces the air and you pull her back up and make a face at Sam. Embarrassed and flushing bright pink, Donna laughs and presses her face into your neck.

"Pay up, Lyman."

"When we get home," you promise as you both start swaying again. "Money and sex."

"That's something every girl wants to hear." The band switches to a new song and Donna makes a face. "But 'Leave Your Hat On' is not something every girl wants to hear."

"Do you think this is their song?"

"Whose?" Dona shimmies away from you in time to the band, her dress swirling around her legs as you draw her back into your embrace.

"The President and the First Lady's."

Donna shakes her head with a wry smile. "No, Josh, I don't think this is their song."

"Why?"

Donna twirls under your arm and then back again. "This isn't a song a couple choose to express their love and devotion. It's not really a romantic song."

You think about that for a few seconds, letting Donna control the dance movements. You don't mind because she's better at the faster stuff than you, but then she attempts a twirl under your arm and nearly rips it out of its socket. You yank her against you and wrap your arms around her waist, holding her tightly.

"Should we have a song?"

She grins widely. "Do you think we need a song?"

"I don't know," you shrug. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Have a song and a special spot under a tree or by a lake? Call each other by cute, nauseating nicknames?"

"For what purpose, Shmoopsy?"

"Shmoopsy? What the hell is a Shmoopsy?"

"It's a cute, nauseating nickname," Donna explains. "Isn't that want you want?"

"I don't know!" you exclaim. "Just, don't call me that again. Ever."

"Okay!" She grins and slips her arms around your neck, pressing herself against your body and murmurs into your ear, "But you think having a song is going to make us feel differently about each other?"

"No of course not. I just though, you know, it was what was supposed to happen. In a relationship. Steps and things? To show we're moving on."

"A song doesn't do that."

"But when you hear it, isn't it supposed to reaffirm your love and commitment to one another?" You rub your nose against the soft skin by her ear, inhaling the dying scent of her perfume.

"Believe me when I say, Josh, that a song has no effect whether a relationship lasts or not. And when you're screaming profanities at your ex boyfriend at three in the morning, the last thing on your mind will be a song."

"You did that?"

"I speak from experience."

"I'm sorry," you murmur, tightening your grip around her waist.

"All a part of growing up," she says matter of factly. "You have to have the bad things to appreciate the good."

"I know. What do you think our song would be, Donna?"

"It would not be Tom Jones telling me to have sex with him while wearing a hat," Donna laughs. She pulls away from you and twirls around, her dress once again billowing as she spins. "Why would anyone have sex wearing a hat?"

She twirls back and grins, and you dip her low to the ground and ask, "Would you have sex with me wearing a hat?"

"Nope."

You pull her back up and frown. "Why?"

"Because you'd look ridiculous in a hat." She wraps her arms around your neck and slides her fingers into your hair.

"I mean you. You're wearing the hat, Donna."

"Why would I want to wear a hat to bed?" she asks with a smile, tickling your head gently. "Hats are for outside."

You dip her again, just because you can, and because you like the way her breasts move when she's upside down. "I think you would look good in a hat and nothing else. Especially if it's my Mets cap."

"Josh, not even you look good in that cap."

You left her up again, grinning at the bounce of her breasts under the silk. "Don't insult the cap, Donna. Mike gave me that cap. He signed his name and everything."

Donna makes a noise halfway between disbelief and amusement. "No he didn't. You had me write to his agent, begging for something to make you feel special."

"Yeah but he could have sent me a bumper sticker or something equally plebian."

"So you think a baseball cap makes you special?"

"Yes."

"So you think he still would have sent it to you had you not worked for the President?"

"Okay, maybe not." You try a bit of fancy footwork but she refuses to move with you so you go back to general swaying. "Will you wear my Mets cap tonight?"

"No."

"You're absolutely no fun at all."

She shrugs, drops your hand, and slides both arms around your neck, pressing her entire body to yours. She rests her lips against your ear and whispers, very quietly, "Would you call me fun if I had sex with you wearing just stockings and heels?"

"God." Your mouth is suddenly as dry as the desert. Her mouth, in contrast, is hot and moist as she flicks your earlobe with the tip of her tongue.

"You know how easy this dress comes off, Josh? There's a knot and a tiny hook underneath. Flip that open and bam! Naked."

"Stockings and heels?" you choke out.

"Naked apart from silk stockings and these heels. You know my stockings have lace at the top?"

You shake your head. "I remember you on my desk. I remember you saying you weren't wearing panties. I do not remember the lace because I couldn't get under your dress."

Her teeth bite softly at your earlobe. "I wasn't lying."

"God," you splutter, your brain on the edge of short circuiting. "How is it I spent these nine Balls talking to random people and not actually dragging you into a dark room and taking advantage of you and your no panties?"

"Because we wouldn't have been able to get away without people grabbing us. As evidenced, every time we tried to get away from people, other people did grab at us."

"Why are we still actually at this Ball then? It's the end of the night!"

She moves back slightly, putting an inch or so between your bodies. "Because, apart from the President and First Lady, you and I are the only two people who would be missed immediately."

You slip your fingers further down her back into the curve of her spine and run them across the silk edge of her dress. "Half the guests have left already, Donna. No one will care if we go."

"We need to do proper goodbyes. Shake hands. Pose for more photos. And please will you get your fingers out of my dress. I do not want to open the paper tomorrow and see a photo of you with your hand literally on my ass."

"You won't literally see it on your ass because it's inside your dress on your ass. It's not the same thing."

"Take it out," she hisses. "Or you won't feel it again for a long time."

You sigh and roll your eyes. "All day long you've been threatening that I will never see you naked, never touch you, and never have sex with you again. You think it actually means something to me, Donna? There's no way you'll carry out those threats."

"You know, it's no fun anymore now I actually managed to get you into bed," she sulks. "What am I supposed to threaten you with?"

"I can think of a few things but I won't mention them because you, being you, would actually use them against me." You dip her one final time, holding her down low. "I want to take you home now, Donna."

"Okay," she whispers, and her eyes sparkle and her mouth curves into that perfect smile that always hits you like a bullet straight into your chest.

Steps

"I could put some shelves up."

You lift your head from his shoulder and stare at him. "What?"

He nods enthusiastically as the car slows for a red light. "I could put some shelves up. And maybe another cupboard."

"In the bathroom?" You can't keep the laughter out of your voice and he glares at you.

"What?"

"You can't put up shelves, Josh."

He scowls, his eyes narrowing, and says, "I could too put up shelves!" His voice is stubbornly childish and it makes you grin wider. "Stop it! What's so hard about getting some wood and nails and hammering some holes in walls?"

You shrug. "There's nothing especially hard about it, no. Where would you hammer the holes?"

He scrunches up his face for a few seconds and then smiles triumphantly. "Next to the cabinet on the wall. Either side. You could put all your girly bathroom stuff on them. That way you could stand in front of the mirror and not have to reach very far."

"There are tiles on the wall, Josh. You think you can bang a nail into a tile?" You run your hand lightly along the inside of his thigh and he glares at you.

"You think you feeling me up will make me forget about putting up shelves?" The light changes and the Secret Service driver jams his foot on the accelerator. The sudden motion pushes you against Josh again and he slips his hand around your waist, fingers stroking your hip. "I'll get a drill thing."

"A drill thing will split the tiles, Josh. Do you know anything about home renovation?"

"So I'll just jimmy the tiles off the wall! You're making this harder than it needs to be," he whines.

You smile sweetly at him. "And after you jimmy the tiles off the wall you're going to find a stud, right?"

Josh groans but there's a teasing glint in his eye. "What the hell do I need a stud for? I told you I could do this! I don't need some sexy hard bodied man wearing nothing but low slung jeans and a tool belt messing around in our bathroom."

You press your lips together to keep from laughing at him. "A stud in the wall, Josh. The beam that runs vertically inside the walls to hold the house up. You can't just screw things randomly into the wall and assume they'll stay there when weighed down. The shelves need something to hold on to. And sexy young handymen only exist in movies. We'll be lucky if we get someone whose pants cover their entire ass."

"That's a visual I don't need when I'm about to have sex with you," Josh mutters. "Okay so I do know what a stud is but how do you know so much about it?"

"Asses or shelving? You think all I know is how to type and file?" you snipe, slightly annoyed that while he has no idea about this stuff, he seems to think you shouldn't know either. "I read books, I watch HGTV, I'm not just a pretty face!"

"You're also a pretty body too," Josh leers. He grabs your wandering hand and moves it further up his thigh. "And you're a tease."

"It's not teasing to start what I plan to continue once we get home," you argue and pull your hand away. "I just don't want to go too high because we're not really alone here."

He exhales sadly and whimpers a little. "Fine then, we'll talk about the shelves. How do we find the stud? I'm being smart and assuming we can just bang on the wall and if it doesn't sound hollow-"

"You need a stud sensor," you explain. "And a spirit level. And a proper drill, drill bits, maybe a little screwdriver. And you need to stop trying to find your way into this dress because, as I said, we're not alone."

"Sorry." He yanks his hand back from its attempt to find its way up under your dress. "Even though George can't see or hear us."

"I don't care, Josh. I'm not going at it with you in the back of a car driven by the Secret Service. No matter how discreet they are."

"You're no fun."

"There you go with the fun again. I'm fun. I'm considering letting you put of shelves even though you have absolutely no ability to function like a man should in that area."

"Why are you insulting me? I'm trying to do a nice thing for you, Donna. I'm trying to be the man here. You have stuff. Stuff need shelves. Ergo, Josh make shelves," he smirks.

You have the urge to both slap the smirk off and also kiss it off but you settle for smirking back at him instead. "This is the whole caveman thing, right?"

"Right."

"I don't think cavemen said ergo."

Josh shrugs. "Until you find me a caveman who can say otherwise, I am going to assume they said ergo."

"You're crazy."

"I know, I've been told that once or twice in my life. But it's why you love me."

"Maybe," you grin. "But the minute you knock a hole in the bathroom wall is the minute I stop loving you."

"See that's another threat I don't believe, Donna."

"Hmph." You turn your face away and stare out the window but continue to rub your hand gently at his inner thigh to let him know you're not that mad.

"We could knock down the wall into the bedroom and make the bathroom bigger."

"What!" you splutter. "You went from putting up shelves to knocking down a wall and extending the bathroom into our bedroom which, by the way, will go where exactly?"

"It can stay there," he explains. "All we need is a bed and we're fine. Half the time we don't even need that." He smirks at you and you shake your head.

"No, Josh. No. Where are we going to put our clothes?"

"We can put them in the closet by the door after we move your stuff into our new, huge bathroom."

"I can see you've put a lot of thought into this."

"I'm good at organization."

"No you're not, Josh. It's not going to work. We need that closet for our coats and those skis you absolutely insist on keeping even though I've never seen you ski once in the entire time I've known you."

"That's because I haven't had the time."

"And you think you're going to have it now?" you scoff. "But there will come a time when I have to punish you for having skis and never buying me any, and taking me skiing. And we're getting rid of the treadmill because neither of us have the time or energy to use it and it's so old I don't think it even runs on modern electricity."

"Maybe I'll take you skiing one day."

"Really?" you brighten. "When?"

"When we're not so busy," he grins and you resist the urge to hit him. "Once we get rid of the bathroom stuff from the closet we can hang our coats in there. And now we have permanent offices, we can finally move the file boxes stacked on the treadmill. That'll work."

"No it won't," you sigh sadly. "Because it all hinges on us knocking down the wall in the bathroom which we're not going to do. And we just went in a big circle there. Why have spent the last ten minutes talking about making the apartment better?"

"That's what you're supposed to do. In a relationship."

"What is it with you and what you're supposed to do in a relationship? Did you do all these steps in your other ones?"

"No. Maybe that's why they didn't last?"

"I don't think having no space in the bathroom was the reason, Josh." You raise your eyes curiously at him. "What's on your mind?"

"We should move in together," he blurts out quickly. "Properly, I mean. Since your lease is up and you're not going to renew it-"

"Who says I won't renew it?"

"I say and so do you, so stop being so stubborn. We need a new place that's big enough for all our current stuff and any extra stuff we happen to accumulate."

"What kind of stuff are you thinking about?" you ask, hiding a smile.

"Just... stuff. And before you ask why I'm suggesting this, I don't know. I think it would be the next step is all. A place together. With both our names on the mortgage."

You raise you eyebrows. "We're getting a mortgage now? Both of us? Together?"

"Well yeah. Something with our names on it. Something that says something."

"Something that says we're going to be in debt for the next thirty years to a bank? You'll be close to eighty when we finally pay it off."

"God," Josh chokes and he scrabbles desperately at his scarf. "When did I get so old?"

"You were running the country and so was I. I got old too, Josh." He sighs loudly and you add, "What are you getting so worked up about? It's your idea!"

"I just thought..." he mutters, his voice cracking over the words. "You don't think we should?"

You stop stroking his thigh and pick up his hand instead and give it a gentle squeeze. "Josh, where is all this coming from?"

"Nowhere," he insists. "I'm just, you know... thinking."

"Are you asking me to get a mortgage with you for any other reason than we need more space?"

He pauses and then says, "No," but it's that one second of scared silence that tells you so much more.

"Josh, a mortgage is no guarantee of the future. Just because my name is on it now doesn't mean it'll stay there. It won't stop me from leaving you even if I do love you now."

"I know that," he blurts out. "I know!"

"Josh." You pull his hand away from his neck and squeeze it tightly. "I'm only saying it means nothing." You sit up fully and clasp his face in you hands forcing him to stare you straight in the eye. "I. Am. Not. Going. Anywhere."

His breath rushes out and he closes his eyes. "Okay."

"Okay. I want to live with you, Josh, instead of just crashing at your place because there's someone living in mine. What I don't want is for you to think that we need a mortgage just so I won't leave. Because life doesn't work like that and, really, you're being stupid."

"I know."

"You realize what's happening right now? This is what we didn't talk about on vacation because we were too busy having sex and eating fruit from each others bodies. The stuff that we both decided not to talk about because seeing each other naked all the time was enough to deal with."

"I know."

"This is because of today isn't it? This is about telling me you loved me and my job taking me places without you, and your socks and eating healthy and putting up shelves because that's what you do when you want a future with someone."

"Yes," he says, very, very quietly.

You stare at him, comprehension dawning. "And it's about Miranda dancing on your feet."

"It's about someone who might..." he squeaks, "someone who might... look like..." he closes his eye for half a second, "you, Donna. Dancing on my feet." He clears his throat, "I'm sorry. I don't know how to do this."

"You've said that before, Josh. You think I know how to do this?"

"You're better than me," he says sadly. "And you're not so pathetic that you're the girl in the relationship."

"It's not pathetic to be the girl, Josh." You stroke his inner thigh again and he shudders. "Believe me when I say I don't think of you as a girl at all. And since we're both too in love to survive without each other," you say firmly as you snuggle back down into the seat and let him wrap his arm back around you, "you should shut up about pieces of paper and we should just start talking frankly to each other. You want to buy a home with me?"

"Yes, I think I do."

"With a garden and a picket fence and a couple bedrooms for... whatever people might stay with us?"

"Maybe."

"Can you tell me when you think we'll have time to go looking for a house now we're both staring at eighty hour weeks for the next eight years?"

"We have assistants."

"Josh, I kinda always hoped that I would pick my first home by myself. Or with the man I loved."

"Want to look this weekend?"

You smile into his chest. "Okay." The car turns a corner and you snuggle against Josh again, slipping your arms into his coat and around his waist. You lie your cheek on his warm chest and close your eyes and he kisses the top of your head.

Snow

It takes you both fifteen seconds to run from the car up the front steps of your building and in those seconds it begins to snow again.

Donna pauses on the top step and turns away from you, facing the street, holding out her arms.

"What are you doing? It's freezing. And snowing!"

"It's snowing," she says, her voice hushed and filled with joy. "Come on, Josh."

"Come on where?"

"Enjoy this moment with me?"

You shiver pathetically as she stares up at the dark sky. "I'm really, very cold."

"It was snowing when you brought me home last time. And the time before that. You walked my to me door and said good bye, you would see me at work in the morning."

"Yes, and then you went into your warm building and I got back into the warm car. The keyword being warm here, Donna."

She turns and gives you a stern look. "For a guy trying to be all romantic and mushy lately, you are sorely missing the point."

"Which is?"

"This isn't the same as the other times. Sure, you picked me up both times and we went together. There was dancing, and schmoozing, and swearing in of Presidents. You took me home," she pauses and sticks out her tongue to catch a snow flake. It drops on the tip of her nose instead and she blows it off and smiles.

"And you said goodbye and left. Sometimes I want scream because of how long it took us. But, you know, we weren't so stupid, Josh. A little slow, perhaps. But we got here in the end."

She looks at you and smiles softly and you open your arms and pull her tight against your body. Her head snuggles into your neck and she kisses your jaw, just above the edge of your scarf.

"What's stupid, Donna, is that we're standing out here freezing to death when we could be inside our warm apartment. Together. Naked, in fact."

"Okay, yes, that's a little dumb of us." She pulls away and bends down, scooping a handful of snow into her glove. "Four years ago you nearly killed me with a snowball."

"I did not! That was Danny. Or Charlie. I can't remember but it wasn't me because I have excellent aim," you insist, nervously eyeing the lump of snow resting in her gloved hand. "Don't."

"Did I ever thank you for rescuing me?"

You stamp your feet to keep from turning into an icicle. "You needed rescuing?"

She lifts her arm and throws the snowball, hard, across the street. It vanishes into the blackness and you breathe a tiny sigh of relief. "Not really. But there might have been a few seconds where I was a child again and felt like a princess imprisoned in a tall tower being saved from a fate worse than death."

"So I'm your Prince Charming."

"Sometimes, Josh, you can be very charming." She smiles at you and stares up into the sky, letting the snow float down and land on her face again. "And sometimes-"

"Yes, I know about the other times, you don't have to remind me." You wrap your arm around her shoulders and look up at the stars. "Can we please go inside now?"

"You just want to have sex."

"Yes, and if you don't come inside right now I am going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you in."

"Is this the whole caveman thing again?"

"This is the whole freezing my ass off, desperate for an orgasm thing."

"You're an old man, Josh, there's no way you could lift me up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She looks at you and grins tauntingly, and you grin back and bend down. She screams when you grab behind her knees, flipping her up into the air and over your shoulder but the scream dissolves into laughter. You slap her ass but she pinches you in retaliation. "Stop it! Where are the keys?"

"In your backpack," she laughs, and there's scrabbling around behind you before she reaches her arm back and dangles the keys at you.

You fit them into the lock and push open the door, kicking it behind you with a foot. Snow falls onto the floor of the foyer as you walk towards your front door, holding Donna firmly on your shoulder with an arm wrapped around the back of her thighs.

As you unlock the door to your apartment she pinches you again and you drop her down, kick the door closed, push her hard up against it and kiss her.

She gasps but the sound is muffled by your mouth on hers, her tongue already seeking out yours. You pull the clip out of her hair and it tumbles onto her shoulders. The snowflakes peppered randomly on her hair melt on your fingers, shocking bits of cold contradicting the warmth of her skin.

"You're amazing," you whisper against her lips. "And beautiful. There's no way you could be more beautiful than you are right now and don't take that any other way than me giving you a compliment because you're so damn beautiful."

She pushes you away and smiles as she reaches behind her head to undo the halter tie of her dress. It slithers down over her breasts, stomach, legs, and she's naked before you, dressed only in heels and sheer stockings.

"I'm cold," she whispers. "Come with me." She takes your hand and steps out of the puddle of silk on the floor, and leads you down the hallway to the bathroom. Your eyes are focused on the gentle sway of her ass, and the pale lace tops of the stockings circling her thighs. Your ears can hear nothing but the echo of her heels on the wooden floor and your own ragged, desperate breathing.

She flicks on the bathroom light, turns and tugs at the knot of your bow tie. It gives way under her fingers and she drops it on the floor then quickly divests you of the rest of your clothes. She kicks off her shoes and peels off her stockings and reaches for you again.

Her skin is cold against yours, her nipples hard on your chest and you slip your palms down her back and hold her firm against your erection.

"Shower?"

"Okay." She turns it on and climbs into the tub and you climb in behind her and she adjusts the temperature while your run your hands over her breasts and down over her stomach legs. She inhales sharply as your fingers slip between her thighs.

"Turn around," you command, blinking the water from your eyes.

"Really?" she grins. "Where is this current obsession of yours to have sex this way coming from?"

"Because I can touch you in all the good places and I can kiss the back of your neck while I'm doing it, and I'm growing very fond of a particular little spot just under your hairline."

Donna smiles again and turns her back to you, lifting her wet hair from neck. "This one?" She rubs her index finger over the tiny mole just off center that you noticed a few weeks ago and fell straight in love with.

"That's the one."

"Okay." She looks over her shoulder at you and quirks an eyebrow and you grin back and push her against the tiled wall and nudge her thighs apart with your knee, pushing your erection between her legs. She reaches down and guides you inside until you're fully pressed up against her and completely filling her as well.

She braces one forearm on the wall while you sling one arm low around her belly, the other hand once again slipping between her legs to play with her. You stroke her gently, your fingers twining with hers as she pushes back against you, matching your thrusts as you both find a rhythm comfortable enough to avoid losing your balance in the tub.

You rest your head on the back of her neck and the shower beats down on both of you. Her body is hot and slippery in your arms and you increase the speed of your hips and fingers until she comes loudly. The noise echoes around the small bathroom and you pull out and push in with deep, strong strokes until you come as well.

After a minute or so you're soft and you slip out and she turns and wraps her arms around your shoulders and buries her face in the crook of your neck. Silently, you stroke her back as you hug each other tightly, the water washing the day off you.

"We need to buy a house with one of those huge corner tubs," she says after a few minutes, "so we can have sex in the bath."

"We're going to have sex while having a bath?"

"Yes."

"How does that work?"

"You've never had sex in water before?"

"Nope, can't say I have... uh, have you?"

"Sure, lots of times."

"I don't want to know."

"Okay," she whispers. "I still want a big tub."

"Okay."

You fall silent again and she snuggles closer, tightening her arms around your shoulders. The water beats down and you hold her close as you stand in the shower, both your bodies leaning against each other for support.

"Can I ask you something?" you whisper.

"Sure."

"If I were to ask you something, at some point, um... a question, nothing important really although it is... uh... how should I do it?"

Donna squeezes her arms tighter across your back. "How should you do what?"

"Ask the question."

"Depends on what the question is."

"Well it would be the well... the question...uh... the big... one?"

"Ah." She lifts her head from your shoulder and smiles, water splashing off the tip of her nose and you can't resist kissing it.

"Should there be some special way I ask it?"

"What do you mean?"

You wrinkle your forehead trying to figure out how to explain what you mean. "If I did it wrong would you hold it against me?"

"Josh you've done a lot of things wrong and I've never held a grudge!"

"Yeah but you've punished me for the things I've done wrong."

She grins. "Well that's just for my own amusement, I never really hated you."

"That's good."

"How can you really hate someone that you really love?" she adds. "It doesn't matter how you ask it, Josh. Even if you screw it up with your usual monumental stupidness, the answer'll be the same."

"Right, good to know," you nod. "Uh, the answer will be what I think, right?"

She smiles. "Have I ever said no to you before?"

"Yes! This morning in the bathroom you said no to sex-"

"Because we had no time," she interrupts. "We really didn't have time today, Josh, and you know it."

"Fine, so forgetting about sex, what about the many, many times in the years I have known you that you have refused to do things I asked?"

"Did I ever say no when it mattered?"

You reach up and push a lock of hair, plastered to her face by the water, behind her ear. "No. Except for sex which matters a hell of a lot."

"Josh."

"I'll do it right," you promise quietly, and she smiles and rests her cheek on your shoulder again and you drop your head down to kiss the spot on the back of her neck.

Night

He's perched on the edge of the bed, checking his Blackberry, when you switch off the bathroom light and enter your bedroom.

"What if we got some of those things you put together yourself. Bookshelves or something from Ikea? Just as an interim until we find a bigger place? If we moved the bed closer to the window we could put move the dresser over there and then move the bookcase by the bathroom door and you wouldn't have to have your stuff all over the place."

"You think you can put together one of those bookcases?"

"They have instructions right?" He puts down his Blackberry and raises his eyebrows at you. "I can read."

You climb into bed next to him and grin. "They actually have pictures, Josh."

"Even better. I'm good with things like that."

"You're really not. What's an Allen key?"

"I know it's a screwdriver thing and I'm just trying to help you out with a place to put your stuff so there's no need to mock and ridicule me," he mutters as he picks up the alarm clock. "Just tell me that you want to do it yourself."

"I'll show you how to do it, Josh. You want some relationship steps? Shopping and putting together kit furniture is a good one."

"Okay as long as you don't give me the history of the Allen key while we do it. What time is Senior Staff?"

You pull the sheets up and snuggle down into the soft mattress, "Whatever time you want, Josh. You're the boss."

"No, I meant you," he smiles. "Mine is at seven."

"Oh. Well, Annabeth and I are meeting at nine and then we're going to see Helen at ten. So I don't need to be up until, I guess, eight."

"Don't think that just because you're no longer working for me, it means you can sleep in," Josh teases as he returns the clock to the bedside table.

"Don't think that just because I don't need to get up until eight that I won't end up waking when you do," you throw back at him. "You're not exactly quiet when you're crashing around half asleep."

"What makes you think I'm not doing it on purpose just to wake you up?" he smirks.

"Because you're not that devious first thing in the morning, Josh," you smirk back. "Or that mean."

"Point," he concedes. "You can sleep in if you want."

"No, I'm not sure I can trust you with the coffee maker. Or even if we should change the system."

"I maintain that my last coffee maker was on its final legs, Donna," Josh says quickly. "It was always going to explode, no matter who was using it."

"Perhaps," you nod. "But, no matter how tired I was, I would have remembered that it needed water in it, thus avoiding the exploding."

"Can we change the subject, please?"

"Fine."

"Since you have free time then you should come to my Senior Staff. You have the right to, you know, even though Mrs. Bartlet's staff never did. You can see how they're run so you know how to run your own?"

"Josh, how many times did I fill in for you during Leo's meetings because you were off somewhere else?"

He's silent for a few seconds, thinking, and then he smiles and says, "Okay, how about you come to the meeting so you can tell me afterwards how much I screwed it up and how to make it better?"

"I could do that," you agree and bounce your head on the pillow a few times to make a comfortable dent. "Mmm, this feels good."

"The bed?"

"Yes," you sigh happily and give him a smile. "There's nothing like falling into bed after a long, tiring day at work."

"Technically, you didn't work today."

"I danced, though," you say through a yawn and, when he shifts closer to you on the bed, snuggle your head into the curve of his shoulder. You close your eyes as a wave of exhaustion hits you and you yawn again, then say, "And schmoozed. Oh, and, I don't know... swore in a new President!"

"Yeah," Josh says softly. "Yeah." His free hand slides up your arm to stroke your neck. "We both did that, Donna. And... well..." he trails off.

You open your eyes to look at him. "What?"

"Thank you."

"For?"

"Helping to get to this point. Another eight years. You know."

You smile at him. "I had a good day today. I decided to stay with the wood look in my office. Annabeth and I are going to a nursery next week to find some plants. I picked out a sofa."

"Sofa bed?" Josh asks, failing to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"No. But it's leather." You dance your fingers over his bare chest. "Easy to wipe clean."

His eyes widen. "Big sofa?"

"Big enough for both of us," you grin. "When, you know, we get tired and have to sleep over."

"Or need a nap during the day?"

"Did we ever have time for a nap during the last Administration?" you laugh.

"Well," he says, his voice suddenly low and rough. "I should have made the time for you."

"Josh." You stare at him for several seconds, and then smile. "We're doing okay now."

"Yeah, I think I was pretty good at making it up to you in the shower," he grins. "We could do it again now if you want?"

"Shut up, we'll have sex in the morning."

"I should set the alarm five minutes earlier. So you can't claim we don't have time."

"Five?" you splutter, and slap him on the side of the head. "Ten if you want an orgasm as well."

He starts laughing, and grabs you, pulling you against his chest. "Ten then. And since we're probably only going to get ten minutes free a day for the next eight years, we'd better get good at it."

"I think we're very good at it already," you smirk. "Or at least, I am."

Josh grins. "Only because you're doing it with me."

"Want me to slap that big head of yours again?"

"No," he whines, "I want you to kiss me."

"Okay," you smile, and he pulls you closer. He tastes of toothpaste, fresh and clean, and you sigh into his mouth as his tongue strokes your lips.

When he leans back, he says, "Ten minutes?"

"Fifteen," you reply. "So I can kiss you for awhile. I like the kissing."

"Me too." Josh reaches up to grab the alarm clock. "Twenty?"

"Okay." You reach over to flick the bedside light off while he changes the time, then roll onto your side, facing away from him. Within seconds, his arms are sliding around your waist, and his mouth is on the back of your neck, kissing your skin.

His legs slide against yours and you curl up together in exactly the same way you do every single night because he can't help touching you and because you don't want it any other way. He kisses you a few more times, open mouthed, damp explosions on your neck that tickle and make you shiver.

"Stop it, Josh, we have five hours before we have to wake up."

"'Kay," he acquiesces. "G'night."

"Night."Josh rests his head in the crook of your neck and you feel his gentle breaths on your skin and you close your eyes and let the warmth of his body seep through yours. The bedroom is cool, but you're cozy under the sheets with him snuggled up behind you, and you sigh contentedly.

"You never told me about your first dance," he whispers.

"Oh. His name was Angelo," you whisper back. "I was seven and my best friend, Sylvia, and I were trying to teach ourselves how to dance and he was home from college lying on the sofa and laughing at us."

Josh kisses your neck again and murmurs, "That's not nice."

"Sylvia told him to shut up or she would tell her mother but I remember that I walked over to him and challenged him to prove that he could dance himself before he was allowed to laugh at us."

"I love young Donna Moss," Josh chuckles. "What did he say?"

"He jumped up from the sofa and taught us how to waltz. I stood on his feet because he said that was the best way to learn how to move." You close your eyes in the dark and remember. "He smiled at me. And then he bent down and gave me a kiss on my cheek and said that I was the best girl he'd ever danced with."

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know. They moved away and we lost contact. But I never forgot that day," you whisper to him. "I was wearing a pink gingham dress and my feet were bare. It was my first dance and my first kiss even if it was just on the cheek. He wasn't a member of my family and he was gorgeous and he didn't treat me like a child."

"That's a good memory, Donna."

"You don't forget the first man you dance with just like you don't forget the first dance with the man you want to spend the rest of your life with."

"That's me, right?"

"Yes."

"Just checking. You should look Sylvia up sometime."

"Maybe," you yawn. "Night, Josh."

"Night." He kisses your shoulder and you close your eyes letting the pull of sleep lull you into oblivion. You're on the verge of passing out from exhaustion when Josh speaks suddenly, whispering "Thank you," and jerking you back to consciousness.

"You already thanked me," you reply groggily. "Go to sleep."

He rests his mouth on the curve of your ear. "I didn't. Or, I mean, not for what I wanted to thank you for."

"Mmm?"

"Thank you for helping me," he whispers.

"You're welcome."

Josh rubs his nose against your ear. "I haven't finished. I just... thank you for... for finding me in New Hampshire. For staying as long as you did." You smile into the darkness as his arms tighten around your waist. "And for coming back.... and for loving me."

"Not like I had a choice," you smile again. "I needed a job."

He growls and you dissolve into laughter as his fingers wiggle across the ticklish spots on your ribs, and you turn your face to kiss him until you're both breathless and you can't ignore the call of sleep any longer.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow the alarm will buzz loudly and, still half asleep, she'll kick him, and he'll change the station to NPR and then spoon up behind her and they'll both have mutually satisfying orgasms and she'll yell at him for using up all the hot water, and he'll yell at her for burning his bagel. They'll drive to the White House and kiss for a few minutes standing in the foyer of the West Wing before she goes one way and he goes another.

Sometime after that they'll find a home with enough room for her bathroom stuff and enough room for his still unused skis and soon he'll ask her that question in just the right way and she'll say yes because she was never going to say no. He'll never take her skiing and she'll never forgive him for that and they'll fight and argue and snark at each other constantly but they'll never mean what they say and they'll never go to bed angry. He'll always hold her when they sleep.

And sometime in the future, when neither is ready but neither would have it any other way, there will be a daughter. And one day they will see her dancing on the feet of someone and they'll remember today and smile.

So the story goes.