Archive of Our Own

It's hard to say who really was the one who pushed them over the edge into something more. Ever since Rosslyn, there's been something simmering, something brewing under her skin that makes her feel like her cheeks are lit on fire any time Josh notices that she put more effort into her hair that morning. It makes her skin feel three sizes too small whenever she's able to successfully banter with him, and it makes her hands tremble when she does up his bowtie, and it severs the already-tenuous connection between her mouth and brain — which causes her to continue talking and talking and talking, because if she's talking to him, then she has an excuse to stay in his office.

She knows what it sounds like. It's not a crush, though. It isn't.

Because it can't be.

Because crushes have the potential to turn into something more, and this can't. This simmering thing that's taken root under her skin needs to be taken off the burner.

The issue is that Josh has control of the pot and the burner, and he likes his food overcooked.

There's a brief reprieve every time he's out of the office on business for an extended time. Or, when she's fallen into a work groove and her mind is distracted (except it's work-related, so her mind is always half a step away from falling over the edge into thoughts about Josh regardless of the topic she's writing the umpteenth memo about). She can't seem to scrub it out no matter what she does (there was an attempt at scourging her soul with the steel wool of Cliff Calley, but instead of removing the dirty parts on her heart it just scratched her to her core), and she's running out of options that aren't on the "quit her job" branch of the problem-solving tree.

***

They've just won re-election (no thanks to the very nice lady from the Treasury department who made sure Bartlet got Donna's vote), and Sam just entered an election, so the Hawk and Dove is a welcome hug for everyone. Donna shrugs off her coat at the door, the generated body heat from the other patrons quickly overpowering the residual chills in her bones. She scans the crowd, her eyes flicking disinterestedly over the tables of strangers until she catches a glimpse of CJ's immaculate bob leaning forward over a drink.

Her feet carry her through the throng, and she finally gets a hand on CJ's shoulder. At the touch, she whirls around, and an excited shout leaves her mouth: "Donna!"

There are two empty, still-sweating glasses on the table in front of her, a third in her hands, mostly empty. CJ stands and throws her arms around Donna, holding them together with the kind of barbarian strength only the drunk possess. Donna tries to hug her back as much as she can with her arms pinned to her sides, and after CJ pulls away, she turns to say "hi" to everyone at the table.

There's Charlie and Sam; heads bent together at the end of the table as Sam gravely informs Charlie of something important. Toby is at his usual perch at the end, a single glass of whiskey set primly in front of him (though based on the way his head is slightly bobbing, Donna'd be willing to bet that glass has been refilled a few times).

And across from the only empty seat at the table sits Josh. He beams (actually beams) at her over his beer, and she doesn't even try to stop her returning smile. She gives him a little wave before she turns to get a drink of her own, and after a lengthy wait at the bar, she takes her tequila shot like a champ, grabs her martini, and heads back to the table while taking a few healthy slugs.

The drink slides down her throat easily, the slight burn offsetting the glow starting up in her chest as she nears the table. She slips into her seat as CJ gestures angrily about some shit a reporter tried to goad her into saying earlier that day, and she feels a nudge under the table against her ankle.

Her eyes turn over the table and she sees Josh smirking at her from behind his beer bottle. She nudges his ankle back, and turns to listen to CJ, although the only information being processed and actively remembered by her brain is the warmth of Josh's ankle through two layers of fabric.

They stay dormant against each other, and she lets the weight of his touch keep her from floating into the sky.

***

Something about that ankle touch seems to have unlocked some part of Josh that craves touching her. They were already very touchy-feely prior to The Ankle Incident, as she's taken to calling it with her friends, but some sort of dam was broken that night, and now Josh seems to be touching her with more regularity. A hand on her shoulder when he hands her things, or firmer pressure from his hand on her lower back, or…

However, Josh refuses to make any sort of move, and Donna's sick of standing at the precipice, so when Bonnie sets her up on a blind date on Christmas Eve, she gladly accepts. She mentions it to Josh that afternoon in passing, and when she's called to his office later as she's about to leave, she feels a familiar, slight irritation course through her.

And then, one of the most confusing conversations of Donna's life happens.

"What did you mean when you said it's not what it looks like?" It's been itching at her all night, and she's drunk, but not on wine.

"Your date's already at the restaurant?"

"Yeah, probably."

"I'll get his number from Bonnie and apologize."

"What did you mean?"

"I meant that I wasn't keeping you here on purpose."

What? "Why would I think you were doing that?"

"I wasn't."

"Why would I think you were?"

He pauses.

Is he going to…?

"I don't know. It was just something I said."

And damn it, he looks so earnest and apologetic that she just…she wants to cross the desk, jobs be damned, her career be damned, just to put her lips on his and have her way with him. The way he's looking at her, she thinks that maybe he'll finally come around the desk and kiss her, the way she's thought he's wanted to for weeks.

Before she can move the moment breaks, and then Leo gets her a ride on the news chopper, and she accepts. She needs to get away from this uncertain thing between them, because the more she thinks about it and tries to piece together the hidden meaning the more the headache behind her eyes builds. As much as she wants to stay, to force Josh to sit with her and talk, she's just...she's tired of the uncertainty, so anything that looks remotely concrete enough to cling to she'll accept. She gets to the restaurant and the date's nice, the guy's nice, but Donna knows.

She knows that the reason she just can't let herself fall into this guy is because she's already fallen.

**

Just before Bartlet's second inauguration is when everything falls to shit.

Donna's walking down the hallway with Bonnie and Ginger on their way back from their semi-regular Friday lunch, and they detour through the communications bullpen to harass Carol into wine and crackers that night.

"Come on, Carol," Ginger says, leaning over her desk. "I know you want to come over."

"It's not that I don't want to, it's that I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have to be here at six tomorrow."

They all goggle at her. "Six!?" Gingie scream-whispers in horror.

"Yeah." She rolls her eyes. "On a Saturday."

"That's horrifying," Donna says because at least Josh doesn't do that.

Well. He doesn't do it often.

"Oh, it's disgusting," Carol says.

"You know, sometimes I feel like I'm treated like cattle," Bonnie snickers, unwrapping the Snickers bar she grabbed from the vending machine by the Mess. "'Go here, do that, say whatever,'" she mimics, rolling her eyes.

"A circus animal," Ginger supplies helpfully. "Like one of those monkeys on a unicycle on a tightrope."

They all laugh. "I'm so sorry to interrupt," comes a voice behind them, "I have an appointment with CJ Cregg?" They all turn and part to let the woman through to Carol, and they disband on their merry ways.

None of them think about their gathering until Toby comes into the Ops bullpen and slams a folded copy of the Chronicle on her desk. "What the hell is this?" he asks, eerily calm.

Donna hesitantly reaches out to grab the paper and opens it to the column circled in orange highlighter. She scans the headline, White House Staffers Are Treated 'Like Cattle', by an anonymous guest columnist, and she feels the blood drain from her face as she reads their jokes from the other day splashed across page three. "What…?" She can feel her fingers start to shake, and she sees Bonnie slink up sheepishly behind Toby.

"Who said this?" Toby repeats, and Donna starts panicking because they all did, but the article framed it as only one of them. "I want an answer! Fox News's already gotten a hold of this, and it's starting to make the news stations." She's trying to figure out what the best course of action is, and what Bonnie might have already said to him, and and and…

She isn't even thinking when she blurts out, "It was me. I said it." She reasons that if any of them are going to get shit for it, she can at least deal with it the best.

Bonnie's eyes widen in shock as Toby's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "You said this?"

"Yes." Fuck.

"You said that we treat you like cattle?"

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "Yeah. I made an off-handed comment, and it must have gotten picked up."

"You don't talk like that in the White House. Donna, you of all people should know that." She feels ill; she does know better, but of course, she can't really claim that when she's also claiming to have said something that goes directly against it.

"I know."

Toby looks at her with a shrewd eye, and he nods. "Okay. I'm going to need to talk to Josh."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

He knocks on Josh's door and slips in. Bonnie scurries up to her desk just as Donna buries her face in her hands.

"What the hell, Donna!" she hisses. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"I don't know!" she wails quietly into her lap. "Because I'm an idiot?"

Bonnie huffs and shakes her head. "Donna, you realize that you can lose your job over this, right?"

"Do you think I don't know that? It just happened, I don't know." She breathes deeply for a second. "Should I start packing my box now?" She jokes weakly, and Bonnie seems to be able to read her mind because she comes around and coaxes Donna up and into a hug. She exhales shakily, and she hears Josh's door open behind her.

"Donna!" he calls, and Bonnie gives her a squeeze before pushing her off to her fate.

Is this what it feels like to walk to your own execution?

She enters Josh's office and sees Toby in his visitor's chair with Josh sitting ramrod straight in his chair, his face twisted up in an expression Donna's never seen before and hopes she never has to see ever again. "Did you say that quote?" Josh says quietly, and she can't get a read on the look in his eyes.

"Yeah, I did." She stays silent, letting her confession hang in the air like a summer haze.

"Did you mean it?"

She stays silent for a minute, letting him hang in limbo before—"Yes."

Josh looks pained, almost sick, and Toby says, "You do realize this is a government job, right?"

"I'm aware."

She looks coolly at Toby, and he stares back at her, unwavering. "Okay. Fine. We're going to talk to CJ, and then you can talk with Josh about the future of your position, seeing as you so clearly hate it," Toby says, and he gets up and opens Josh's door. She looks back at him, and his eyes stay fixated on a spot above her head.

***

A few hours pass, and Josh hasn't left his office, nor has he called Donna into it. She's really starting to panic now—is he finding her replacement as she works? Putting out the word in Washington that Donna Moss is a college dropout who will stab you in the back even after giving her everything she has? Oh God, is she going to even have a career after this?

Her head is spinning, and she can't really breathe, much less focus on the environmental brief that she's supposed to be summarizing for Josh. She leans over it and stares blankly at the page, hoping that she's able to at least look like she's doing work. Toby and CJ have been filtering in and out of the bullpen, and she can feel their eyes boring into her as they pass. The shame grows; she didn't even say the damn quote, and now she's the pariah.

Her suffering is put to an end around five, when Josh bellows her for through the now-open door. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself; she's strong. People get fired from jobs all the time, it's not that big of a deal. She'll be fine.

She gets up and makes the walk a second time, her head high; if she's leaving the White House today for the last time, then at least she can say she made a difference in Bartlet's first administration. If she has to tune out of politics for the next four years to avoid the faces of her former colleagues, then that's what she'll do. Maybe she can get in on a local campaign and—

She reaches the door before she can think too far into the future, and she's ushered in by CJ, whose face is giving nothing away. Damn it. Sitting in the office is Josh and Toby, and standing in the corner are Carol, Bonnie, and Ginger.

"You didn't say the quote," Toby states, his face coolly impassive.

She blinks and looks at the gaggle in the corner. Ginger nods almost imperceptibly, and Donna feels the tension she was holding seep out of her feet and into the floor. She turns back to Toby. "No, I didn't."

"Then why did you say that you did?"

Her head snaps to Josh. He's looking at her like she betrayed him personally, which in a way, she sort of did.

"I…" There are so many eyes on her, and she can't breathe all of a sudden. She tugs at the collar of her shirt, trying to get the neckline away from her windpipe. "I don't know, I…"

Toby stands and gently guides her to his chair; she's suddenly so glad for Toby's understated ways of helping. She wipes her clammy palms on her pants legs and takes the time she's being given to compose herself. In, out. In, out. She's okay, she can do this.

"I knew that...I knew that I could handle whatever came after. I...I didn't want to put the girls through it if they didn't have to."

"But we said it," Ginger bursts out. "Not a single word in those quotes came from your mouth, you shouldn't have to—" She stops when Toby puts a hand up.

"While that was a noble thing you did, you can't stay in this role."

"What?" She looks to Josh, who's studying his office door with great fascination. "Why not? I didn't say the quote, why do I have to leave?"

"Because you've outgrown this role," Josh says quietly, his face twisted up in that expression from earlier. "You deserve better than just being my assistant." He still won't look at her.

"What…" She expected to be fired and now she's being promoted?

"How would you feel about being Deputy Director of Research?" Toby asks, his eyes showing the smirk his face won't emote.

"What?" she asks again. Her head is spinning, unable to really process the events that just took place.

"Donna, the quality of the stuff I've seen you do for Josh…" Toby smiles and shakes his head. "You've basically been doing the same job for Josh that you'd be doing for me. The difference is, I'm a much better boss than he is," Toby teases, and Donna sees Josh roll his eyes.

"I don't really know what to say."

"You could say yes," CJ coaxes her.

She wants to, but she needs to see Josh. She stares at him, waiting to see if he'll even look at her, and finally, he wrenches his eyes away from whatever point he was focusing on. His eyes are dark and unreadable, and she wondered when she stopped being literate in his expressions. She raises her eyebrows, trying to see what Josh is thinking; there's a small part of her that hopes that he'll ask her to stay, but that part is quickly diminishing as he silently gazes at her.

And then she realizes what she's seeing; he's pulling away. She can see the walls going up, the mocha warmth retreating back into him, and the realization rips an icy dagger through her chest. He thinks she's leaving him, and so he's going to close her out before she can plant her roots. The desire to cry, to fall to her knees and beg him—for his love, his affection, his friendship, anything he'd give her—almost overwhelms her.

Her brain shuts down again, just like when Toby confronted her this morning, and she decides screw this. "I'd be honored to take the job," she says and turns to Toby with a smile.

"Congratulations," he says and sticks his hand out. She smiles back. "You want to start tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?!" she and Josh exclaim in unison.

"Yeah. Why not? The position's still unfilled, and we need someone to do it." He shrugs. "New administration, new beginnings."

"Uh…" she turns to look at Josh again. "If you need me, I'll stay until you find a replacement."

Josh waves her off, looking nonchalant to anyone but Donna. "Nah, it's fine. I can manage here without you for a week or two." At this, everyone's eyebrows skyrocket to their hairlines. Josh takes in their skepticism and starts strategizing. "I can pull someone from the temp pool for a bit," he hedges, and when no one's expression changes, he rolls his eyes with a huff. "Whatever. Go...research, or whatever it is Toby will have you do."

Everyone else, seemingly satisfied with how that went, files out the door, the assistants offering their congratulations and well wishes. Soon, much too soon, it's just her and Josh.

"So…" she starts, shutting the door behind everyone. "What just happened?" She adds a chuckle at the end, attempting to chip through the fortress that's now encasing Josh.

His jaw jumps and his lip curls, and then some sort of tether in him snaps. He stands from his desk and starts pacing around his office. "What happened? I should be asking you that!" He's getting worked up quickly, and now she's starting to get worried when he can't even rant his way into his point.

He stops suddenly, going stock still, and he turns around to look at her. "I just…" He looks at her, really looks at her, and she feels herself responding in kind. After a moment, he huffs and shakes his head, a smile crossing his face. "You're just so..." His smile turns bittersweet. "Well, I guess today is our last day working together."

And that's when Donna crashes.

A hand flies up to her mouth as the lump that appears in her throat spills out, and the tears start flowing before she realizes she's even crying. "Oh my God," she chokes out, the enormity of what just happened cresting over her.

"Oh, no, Donna…" he says awkwardly, fidgeting behind his desk like he wants to come over to her. "Don't cry, please…"

"What just happened?" she repeats through her tears. "Deputy Director of Research?"

"Hey, our titles match!" He says hopefully.

"Josh! I didn't want to...I don't…"

"Do you not want the job?" he says instantly, concern etching his face.

"Yes! I mean, not...in this way. I don't know, Josh, a lot just happened, I don't know what's going on. I mean, I don't even know what a Deputy Director of Research does!"

"We'll get you a job description, I'll have Toby send it over."

"What time is it?"

Josh checks his watch. "Six-fifteen."

"Can I just...can I just go home? Please?"

Josh's face falls, and he looks impassive again. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah." He smiles sadly. "You can go home."

Donna kind of wishes her last day working for Josh Lyman would have ended differently; she would get him coffee one last time and finally confess her feelings. He would get Josh about it, and then he would take his head out of his ass and finally ask her out on a date he wouldn't sabotage. Instead, she's silently crying while packing up her desk as Josh sits behind his closed office door.

**

The next morning she dresses warmly, and instead of meeting Josh at the White House that morning she meets Toby, who shows her to her desk in her own office, and then she's rushed back outside to watch President Bartlet get inaugurated. She stands with Carol, Ginger, and Bonnie, exactly how they all did four years ago, except now their fresh-faced optimism has been replaced with the confidence of the experienced.

Well. Maybe for the other girls; Donna's a bit over her head right now. After all the pomp and circumstance, everyone files in, and she catches sight of Josh heading back to the Ops bullpen. Her first instinct is to walk alongside him and start filing through all the phone messages he received during the Inauguration alone until she remembers she's not his assistant anymore.

She had spent most of the previous night reading and rereading the job description, but luckily it's straightforward once she gets rolling. Around lunch, there's a knock at her door, and she looks up to see Josh standing in the doorway sheepishly.

"Hi," he says quietly, and Donna sits back in her chair to properly look at him.

"Hi," she replies in kind.

"I, uh...I wanted to see how your first day was going." His fists couldn't be jammed further into his pockets if he tried, and his shoulders are hiked so far up she wonders if he'll even be able to hear her response. Something in her shifts off-balance; since when did the two of them get so awkward?

"It's fine. A bit much, you know, adjusting so quickly, but…" she trails off and shrugs helplessly.

Josh shrugs nonchalantly. "Nah, it's nothing you can't handle." The plain way he says it causes her breath to hitch, and his gaze flicks around her office quickly before he looks back at her. "Looking forward to tonight?"

"Oh." The balls. "Right." She clears her throat. "I'm not going."

This seems to stun Josh out of the guarded headspace he was in before. "What?"

"I'm not going."

"You're not going?"

"How many times do we need to say that I'm not going? That's three."

He rolls his eyes. "Why not?"

"I just...I can't go! I don't deserve to go! It's the first day of the administration, and I've already caused a scandal—"

"You didn't cause a scandal, what on earth—"

"—People think I said it!"

"Donna, you know better than that, and anyone who speaks to you for more than a few minutes would figure that out."

"I left my job overnight, Josh, there's no way the press hasn't gotten wind of it."

"It's not related!"

"It literally is."

"It's not related to them," he adds helpfully, waggling his brows. Once he realizes that this approach isn't getting him to his goal, he lets his face relax into something softer as he sits back in his chair. "You gotta come, Donna." She tries not to immediately catalogue the way he says it and fails miserably, the way that phrase curls out of his mouth is now forever seared into her brain.

"I've made up my mind, Josh. I'm not going. I'm going to get ready and then sit on my couch and drown myself in wine."

He looks upset, the soft look on his face earlier falling into a pained grimace. "Donna, come on—"

"Josh."

He just looks at her, and she looks back, trying to put the words she doesn't know how to say on her face. "Okay," he says softly. He stands and gently taps her desk. "I'll see you later." He leaves without looking back.

**

Donna's watching the clock tick on the wall morosely as the night wears on, the first ball had started about half an hour ago. She sadly sips at her wine as she imagines the splendor of the night, mentally following the motorcade's whereabouts. The thought of showing her face at the balls makes her squirm; sure, the people who really need to know what happened now know the truth, but she's still got a stain on her reputation that she'll have to work twice as hard to buff out.

There's chatter on the street below her apartment and some garbled yelling. She finishes her glass of wine and turns the idle television off. There's suddenly a soft patting coming from outside, and she furrows her brow. She can't imagine what the hell that sound is, but then it's answered for her when there's an explosion of snow against her window, causing her to jump about a foot into the air. More follow, and her brain makes the mental connection of why that garbled yelling sounded familiar.

She rushes to the window, their yelling starting to get sort of obnoxious, and flings it open. When did these guys' aim get so good? she stews as she dodges more snowballs.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Get down here, now!" Josh yells back at her, and there's Toby and Danny and Charlie and Will, and Donna's suddenly even more mortified.

"Keep your voice down!" she screams, hoping to maybe get it through Josh's alcohol-thickened skull (because he's absolutely at least a drink and a half in, which is equal to four drinks for people without his delicate balances).

Fine. "I'm coming." She flicks off her light and locks the door, and makes her way outside.

Josh's face lights up when he sees her, and once his eyes flick to her bare shoulders, he's removing his coat, rushing over the snow and ice to drape it over her shoulders. "You came out here without a coat?!"

Again with the yelling. "I need you to keep your voice down."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Lie."

"The other assistants' careers are—Bonnie's got connections at the NOW, Ginger's—"

"What about your career? Throw yours away for theirs?"

"We didn't..we weren't on the record when we said it...I think a reporter had just walked into CJ's office foyer right after we said it, that's probably where it was overheard."

"But why lie?"

"I panicked, I wasn't thinking—"

"There's a list of things you didn't think about—including your job, what the President thinks of you—"

"Does he know about this?"

"He's about to." Her stomach drops, and she wants to start freaking out, but her train of thought is quickly derailed as the look on Josh's face morphs from accusatory to something almost akin to wonder. She looks him over: curly hair, wild from the wind; his eyes, bright and dancing now; the dimple making an appearance as his smile grows. "You look amazing," he says simply, and the look on his face when he says it…

Her mouth curls at what that could mean, but she panics again and decides to put the rest of Josh's motley crew out of their misery. "Hi guys!" she calls to them, and they all greet her back. "I'm so sorry about this."

"Don't worry about it," Toby shrugs, and Donna blushes a bit at her now-boss, shrugging off her apology.

"It was stupid, but it was menschy," Danny pipes up.

Josh rolls his eyes and makes a spectacle of turning around, his movements exaggerated in the way that always makes her laugh. "Hey! Hey, hey—good cop, bad cop!" Good cop, bad cop? What exactly did Josh have planned for this conversation?

"Sorry, it was stupid," Danny shrugs.

Her eyes move from Danny to see Will standing awkwardly in the headlights. "Hey Will...you and Toby wrote maybe the greatest speech I've ever heard."

Will looks bowled over at her words. "Thank you...very much."

Josh turns back to her, and suddenly the other four men are gone. "We're going to a ball," he says softly, and she knows that he knows that he's won her over, because she'll be damned if she doesn't go after all of this.

"Balls are fun."

"We're actually going to eight of them."

"Eight times the fun," she parrots back.

"I was actually the one who hit the window," he brags, because, of course, he's bragging. "The others went to school on my throw."

"Go!" Toby shouts from behind him, and Josh turns and offers her his arm. What else can she do but take it? He leads her over towards the cab, and she smiles at the sight of a coat-less Charlie.

"How are you doing, Charlie?"

"Well, I'm going to win Zoey's heart from Jean-Paul." Wouldn't be the only heart won over tonight, she thinks wildly.

"Excellent."

"Because he may be good-looking, and rich, and well-schooled, and French royalty, you know, and live basically in a castle, but…" his face goes slack as he processes all the adjectives he just said. "Oh, God," he finishes faintly.

Toby rolls his eyes. "This is what I've been telling you. In the car," he commands, and everyone else piles into the car. Josh doesn't move, and he turns to her.

"Josh…" the warmth in his eyes as he looks at her gives her the courage to continue. "I'm sorry. Seriously. I've never lied to you before, and it won't happen again."

His face is impassive, and she worries that he's going to shutter himself inside again. "You're going to have to sit on someone's lap," he says seriously before his dimples pop out, and she finally lets herself grin back at him the way she's wanted to ever since he handed her that Bartlet for America badge.

"Okay."

***

It's after the eighth ball that she finally gets another moment alone with Josh. He escorts her outside, a hand resting firmly against her lower back, and the champagne fizzing through her veins pushes her to lean into his touch. His fingers scrunch a little in recognition, but they don't move, content to lay down where they are.

The cab he hails seems promising; the two of them squish into the backseat as the snow starts to really fall around them. Josh gives the driver her address, and they make it about a quarter of the way before the driver is cursing loudly and pulling them over.

"What's going on?" Josh asks. The hand that had been mapping the surface of her knee pauses in its movements. Donna wants to listen, wants to make sure she understands what's going on, but the heat of his hand is an effective distraction against the very important information she should be processing.

"The engine, it's overheating!" the driver shouts, and Donna's eyes shift to the front hood of the car, which has smoke lightly pouring out of the sides. He glides the car to a stop on the side of the road, and Josh tugs Donna out of the car. She lets him, content to let Josh keep gripping her wrist like this.

"You know," she says after they stand on the side of the road for a few minutes, watching the driver whip out a cell phone, "We aren't too too far from my apartment. Let's just walk."

"Are you sure?" Josh asks, surprised, turning towards her with his eyebrows at his hairline. His expression almost immediately drops into a smirk. "Can you even make it home in those heels?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, I can get home just fine in these." She starts walking then, but she's stopped when Josh doesn't move and lets herself get tugged back towards him. "What?"

His smug smirk has taken on a softer edge. "Nothing, just...nevermind." He shakes his head and follows her, his hand slipping down the inside of her wrist to intertwine their fingers. Her breath catches; is this finally…? She shakes her head at herself; they've done this intimacy song and dance so many times before, and it's led nowhere, so what's making tonight any different?

They make their way down the street, and Donna starts regretting suggesting walking home. Her feet are getting colder and colder by the minute, and Josh's coat can only do so much. She tries to hide her shivers as best as she can. One of them gets by her, though, and Josh just looks at her out of the corner of his eye. He miraculously doesn't say anything, though, which is odd. Normally he'd be gloating in victory the second he noticed her discomfort.

A particularly strong gust of wind sneaks its way up and around her body, stinging her face. She sucks in a breath against the cold slicing down to her bones, and she can't help the full-body shiver. Josh sneaks closer and wraps an arm around her waist, his hand resting on her hip and his thumb running over her hip bone. She can't breathe anymore, really, because what on earth is happening right now? Is this just because he's drunk and she's here? Is this some weird sort of platonic ritual Josh made up and will ignore in the morning like he usually does when a line is crossed?

She's pretty sure he's not wasted, but the alcohol has definitely worn down whatever walls Josh puts up. Donna lets her own crumble, the champagne that's still fizzing through her blood knocking down her already-weak walls, and she lists into him. She thinks of what they must look like; stumbling down the street in each other's arms, his coat around her shoulders, the smiles she knows are plastered on their faces…

She normally hates walking home, but right now, she'd walk to the ends of the earth if it meant staying in his arms. The street stretches on ahead of them for what feels like forever. Ahead of them, the light changes from green to yellow to red. Josh's eyes travel up to the red light, and he stops suddenly. Donna stops and turns to look at him, the red casting a glow over his face. "Josh?"

He's stock-still, staring at the light with something akin to reverence, and Donna's afraid that he's having a nutty because he is definitely not mentally with her right now. "Donna…" he breathes, his eyes skipping down from the traffic light to her, roving her face with the same reverence as before. Her heart catches in her throat; she's imagined this exact situation so many times before, but now that she's faced with the possibility of it actually happening, she's speechless.

He turns her to face him, his hand grazing along her hip under the jacket and curving over the top of her ass. She gasps, her hands folded underneath the coat's edge to keep it over her shoulders and rendered useless. His other hand comes up to cradle her face gently. He's just staring at her, periodically broken by the small clouds he's puffing out.

Before she can properly lean in, Josh is touching their foreheads together instead. His breath is shaky, exuding the nervousness she's sure he's feeling. Something in her says to let him stumble through this on his own, so she does and just closes her eyes and lets herself breathe him in. "I was waiting for a sign," he whispers, pulling her impossibly closer. "Some sort of...reason to tell you."

Her heart drops in anticipation, the butterflies in her stomach threatening to overtake her and float her away into the sky. "Tell me what?" she whispers instead, resting her head more heavily against his.

"That I…" he trails off, and the hand against her face is starting to tremble now, and she's pretty sure it isn't from the cold. He inhales and exhales again, and oh God, he's so nervous. She wants to spill, to let herself fall into him.

"That you…" she leads, trying to help him along and let him know she's on the same page.

He breathes out again, both hands framing her face now. "You said you wouldn't stop for red lights," he whispers. "I need to know what that means."

That conversation never left her brain: calling Josh better than her old boyfriend, the way he looked so smug about it but masked it under indignation, the complete confidence with which he knew she knew he would drop everything if she got hurt. It had swirled in her head for weeks. Her hopes of him making any sort of advancement died as quickly as they came, and she settled back into their usual pattern.

She breathes in, the air biting the back of her throat, and she realizes with sudden clarity that it's now or never. "It means that you're the most important person in my life," she murmurs back, trying to step further into his space. "Both professionally and personally."

"That's the thing," he whispers. "Toby reminded me of something today."

"What's that?"

Josh inhales sharply. "I'm not your boss anymore."

Her heart sinks. "Yeah, Josh, I know."

He huffs. "No, that's not…" He pulls back to bore his eyes into hers, and she stares back into his dark gaze, putting everything she has into it. "I can finally do this." Suddenly their heads are tilting, and their lips are slotting together, and she's never been this happy in her life.

Their lips connect in a few soft kisses, Josh's tongue sneaking in to tease its presence before retreating. Donna has tricks of her own, but her brain is mostly consumed by cataloguing the feeling of finally getting to kiss Josh.

His hand at her waist and the hand at her jaw gently guide her where he wants her, slightly bent backwards over his forearm by the sheer force of finally, his hand migrating from her face to entangle his fingers in the hair at the base of her skull. Thank God, no one seems to be out and about at midnight on a now-Monday morning because they're able to get away with necking in the street for longer than Donna would have ever thought.

Josh is the one who pulls away, gasping against her forehead. "God," he grates out, and he removes his hand from her hair to wrap it around her shoulders and hug her to him. She lets him hold her and tucks her face into his neck.

"Thank you," he whispers to her.

"Josh, I've wanted you to do that for a while," she finally confesses, pulling his jacket tighter around her. "The pleasure was all mine."

He grins. "Can I walk you home?"

He can do more than walk. "Sure."

He takes her hand, and they walk the final few blocks to her apartment in delighted silence, reveling in the ability to simply clasp hands.

"Thanks for walking me home," she says lowly when they get to her door. He ushers her up her steps, and they hover in the doorway as he fishes her keys out from his pocket.

"Well, I wasn't going to let you walk alone!" he says indignantly, and she smiles up at him.

"You know," she starts and walks her fingers up his chest. He inhales heavily and watches her hand. "I think you should walk me up to my apartment. My roommate isn't home tonight, and I want to make sure no one's gotten in."

A bald-faced lie and she's pretty sure Josh knows it, but it was the best way she could think of to tell him that her roommate isn't home without just flat-out telling him. His eyes move from her fingers to her face, their gaze heavy, surrounding her like a thick blanket. He reaches up and wraps his hand around hers, stalling the progression of her fingers across his chest. "You live on the second floor," he grates out. "No one could have gotten into your apartment."

Men. "Fine. My roommate is not home, I am wearing a beautiful dress, and you are no longer my boss," she says, trying to tell Josh to just come upstairs with her, damn it.

His eyes search her face for a moment more before he turns her hand over to drop her keys into her palm. She grins at him, and he smiles back, the weight of what they're about to do settling on them like a fog. Donna unlocks the front door, and Josh's steady presence as he follows her up the stairs and into her apartment is what propels her to drape his coat over the back of her couch. He's standing awkwardly by the door, his hands suddenly, awkwardly jammed into his pockets.

"Josh," she murmurs, reaching a hand out to him. "Come here."

He stares at her apprehensively for a moment before he edges across the room and takes her hand. She swipes her thumb across his knuckles, and he really does look dashing in the yellow glow of her living room.

"Now what?" he whispers, barely audible over the hum from her heat.

"Well," she says back, raising her voice a tad more than his, "normally this is the part where you kiss me again."

He grins, his dimples popping out as he extracts his hand to wrap it around her waist. His other hand comes around to rest on her ribs under her arm, and she gasps a bit at the heat she can feel through her dress. She rests her hands on his shoulders and tilts her head to let him kiss her. He kisses her with long, sucking kisses, his tongue teasing her lips before darting back. Her mind starts getting ahead of her at the other things they could be doing with their mouths and she pushes forward into him. He moans as her tongue finally connects with his, and they make out in her living room for a few minutes. Josh's hands are roaming now, the one on her ribs slowly making its way inwards until his palm is covering her breast. His other hand is dropping dangerously low, his fingertips laying over the top of the curve of her ass.

"When I said you looked amazing, I meant it," he whispers into her mouth, causing her to whimper. He takes that opportunity to stick his tongue back into her mouth, his hand finally curving around her ass and squeezing.

Donna tears her mouth away to rest their foreheads together. "Are you gonna act on it?"

"'Act on it'?" he scoffs into the space between them. "If I was acting on what I want to do to you...what I've wanted to do to you all night…"

"What's stopping you?"

His hands squeeze her where they lay. "I don't know where to start." He noses down below her ear and sets up camp at the spot that causes her to groan softly.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," she murmurs, and Josh pauses to inhale deeply.

"Quid pro quo?"

"Something like that." He huffs out a breath and continues his gentle worship of the sensitive spot he's discovered. His hands continue their rhythmic squeezing, gently kneading her into a ball of putty. "I'll—I'll start," she gasps.

"By all means." Okay, he's way too coherent. She decides to rejoin the party and runs her hands down his chest and around his waist.

"Well, part of me wants to just have you throw me onto the bed and get your mouth on me," she starts, keeping it vague. She's rewarded with a rumbling groan. "But a bigger part of me wants to throw you up against the door and suck your dick."

"God," he moans and she finally feels his erection against her hip. He rubs against her for a minute at her encouragement, weaving her fingers through his hair and scratching the way he's told her he likes. He's starting to tense steadily under her hands as he works himself up.

"I would stop before you came," she continues unsteadily, "because I'm not going to bed tonight until you fuck me—" She's cut off as Josh drags his face up to kiss her again, his hands leaving her breast and ass to start scrambling around at her neckline.

"Where's the damn zipper?" he grumbles, tugging haphazardly at everywhere but the zipper.

"Let's worry about yours," she shoots back and pushes him backwards. He stumbles a little and she puts her hands on his hips to guide him back to the door. He whooshes out a breath as he exhales on impact, and Donna's sinking to her knees in front of him.

"Donna, you really don't have to—"

"You want me to." It's not a question.

He looks at her for a beat. "It would be nice," he hedges.

"Okay, then I'm going to," she says simply and reaches up for his zipper. His hands are clenched at his sides, and she reaches up to take one. "Are you sure?"

"I just…" he looks down at her, his gaze the heaviest she's ever seen. "I'm afraid of losing control," he admits softly. "I mean, I'm not going to go all caveman on you," he adds hastily, his face twisting up in a grimace, "But…"

"You won't lose control," she says confidently. She's never been more sure of anything in her life. "It's just me."

"It's not just you!" he sputters, and as much as Donna would love for him to expand on that, she decides that that conversation can wait a few minutes.

"We're talking about that later," she threatens with a raised brow, and leans in and finally pulls down his zipper. She takes him out of his boxers and starts pumping him slowly, learning the shape of him and how he likes to be stroked. He's steadily breathing through his nose, his hips twitching when he can't control them. "Josh…" she whispers. "You don't even know…" she leans in and finally takes him into her mouth. Josh moans, one of his fists gently banging the wall behind him.

"S-Sorry," he grits out and gently pats the wall where his fist made contact. She responds by pulling back to suck at his head. She flicks her tongue against his slit and his hips jump. Donna tries to move with him but his dick ends up going further down her throat than she expected, and she has to pull off to cough for a second. "Sorry!" repeats again, looking agonized, and come on.

"Josh, it's fine," she gets out, still pumping him slowly. "It happens." She goes back down on him, using her hand to get what her mouth can't, and she runs her other hand up and over his hip bone. He's still way too tense under her, and not in the fun way. "Josh babe," she says, the endearment clunkily rolling off her tongue, instinct warring with unfamiliarity, "You gotta relax."

He's still breathing heavily. "I'm trying," he groans.

She reaches up to just pull his pants down, and the sight of his tuxedo top almost untouched but his pants around his ankles forces a laugh out of her. "Oh my God, take your jacket off at least."

Josh chuckles as he kicks his pants and boxers off his ankle and starts taking his shoes and socks off as Donna takes the quick reprieve to kick her shoes off as well. His jacket joins his pants on the floor, and Donna steps forward to undo his tie. She flattens it against his chest before sinking down again. "Let's try this again," she murmurs, and starts sucking him in earnest. Whatever wall Josh had built up in his head seems to have been knocked down because his hand winds through her hair, resting there gently as the other rests on her shoulder.

She looks up to see his head thrown back against the wall, thrusting shallowly into her mouth as she continues to bob. A warmth unfurls in her chest as the sight of Josh mid-sex; the rogue blush dotting his cheeks, his hair wild from their kissing earlier, his eyes closed and mouth opened in ecstasy.

Donna decides to wake him up a bit and focuses back on the head, this time making sure to do that thing with her tongue that's gotten her great results before. Josh responds as expected, a moan being ripped from his chest and his thighs tensing under her hands. He's letting out a groan on every exhale, and he's suddenly pushing at her forehead.

She pops off quickly as Josh's fists start clenching and unclenching. He seems to be composing himself, so she gives him a minute. His erection is flushed, a drop of precum slowly collecting at his slit. His breathing slows and he finally opens his eyes, and once he gets a look at her on his knees he slams them shut and starts breathing again.

"Gimme a sec," he growls out. "You gotta stand up, Donna, I can't look at you on your knees again."

She smirks and stands, and he opens his eyes again and spins her around. He finally finds the zipper and tugs it down before pushing the top of her gown off her shoulders. He runs his hands over her shoulders and biceps, gently mapping the geography of her back. He presses against her back, the buttons down his front digging into her spine.

Josh's hands make their way over the top of her breasts, kneading them gently. He pinches her nipples between his fingers, continuing to play with her like a toy. "This is probably the hottest thing I've ever seen," he mumbles into her ear. She just lets her head fall back onto his shoulder, content to let him continue his ministrations.

Donna rolls her hips back into him, his dick nesting between her asscheeks. She hums contentedly as his hand continues to roam. "The hottest thing you've ever seen?"

"Are you kidding?" He nudges his hips forward, and the heat of his cock against her sex yanks a gasp out of her. "I think I'm the luckiest son of a bitch this side of the Potomac." His hands start applying more pressure, squeezing more brazenly, causing Donna to sigh.

His right hand spreads and moves down her torso. He circles her belly button, dipping in before grazing down her happy trail to sneak into her underwear where there's an absence of hair.

"You shave down here?" He ghosts his fingertips over her folds, avoiding pressure where she wants it most.

"Not regularly," she gasps.

"So…did you shave just for me?"

"Always so humble."

He pinches her inner thigh. "So you didn't shave just for me."

"Who says I shaved for anyone at all?"

"I think you shaved for me."

"I didn't shave for you, Josh."

"So you shaved 'for someone,' then," he says, pretending that he wasn't right. "Awfully presumptuous."

"I…may have hoped."

He gently circles her clit with the pad of his middle finger, teasing it to hardness. "You're so soft down here," he whispers. Donna punches out a groan into the side of his face.

"Bed—Bedroom," she gasps, and Josh lets her go to step out of her gown pooled on the floor. She picks it up and turns in just her underwear (a lacy yellow number, one of her more expensive pairs) and thigh high hose, and Josh grips her hips to nudge her back towards her room. They stumble in and Josh kicks the door shut behind them.

Her dress goes flying towards her laundry basket as Josh takes her back in his arms. He enthusiastically wraps her up and drags her to the bed. She's tossed onto her bed, and she props herself up on her elbows and spreads her thighs. Josh stares at her hungrily, crawling slowly up the bed.

"You're so…" he's quiet, staring at her from between her legs, his face even with her knees. He skims his hands up her left leg and hooks his fingertips in the top of her hose to slide it off. He discards it on the ground, and then looks up at her and kisses the knob of her ankle, then her calf, then the inside of her knee. Once he reaches her joint he starts gently licking and sucking a line up her inner thigh before he laves at her over her panties.

She gasps at the unexpected sensation, one she's imagined so many times in so many ways, but it's as fleeting as the flashes she's created before; he moves on to roll her other hose down and repeats the same treatment to her leg. Once he reaches her sex he hooks his fingers over the waistband of her panties and slowly, reverently draws them down.

There's something incredibly vulnerable brewing in his eyes as he looks at her, before his eyes flick up to her face and the look gets heavier. "You're so…" he says again, leaning in to kiss her softly, the gentle heat and soft pressure of his face against her center driving her wild.

"So what?" she garbles out.

"So…impeccable."

"That's a lot of syllables."

"You deserve them all."

"I promise, 'sexy' is fine," she gasps, trying to goad him to kiss her again.

"But you're just so much more than just 'sexy'," he says indignantly.

"Can we do this after you've made me come?"

He's speechless after that, and she lifts her head to make sure she hasn't broken him only to watch him lower his head to her and take her clit into his mouth. She arches into it and her hands weave into his hair, holding him to her.

"God," he hisses out, his hands roaming, one coming up to play with her now-slick folds and the other ghosting up the inside of her thigh. "You don't even know, Donna, how badly I've wanted to…"

"Yeah?"

He sucks for another few seconds while his fingers finally enter her, and the feeling settles something inside her head, connecting some neurons or sending brain signals or whatever it is that's making her feel like this.

"I've had a feeling you'd love this," he says, the mortifying wet confirmation of his fingers toying with her soundtracking the filth spilling from his mouth. "I knew you'd love having someone licking you like this, someone who really knows you, you know?"

Donna gargles out a responsive noise.

"Yeah, you know." He licks her luxuriously, slowly, enjoying the taste and feel of her under his tongue. "I've wanted to do this forever."

Donna wonders when Josh got the script that has the dialogue that goes straight to her cunt, because there's no way he knows what she likes to hear that quickly. "Yeah?"

He responds by taking her clit into his mouth, flicking with his tongue and coordinating the curl of his fingers and ah, hell. She can feel herself hurtling towards the edge much quicker than she expected.

"Josh, I'm—" she gasps before she tips over the edge, and he stills his fingers to massage her as she convulses around him. She throws her head back when Josh doesn't let up his suction, and the continued stimulation builds the pressure in her pelvis until suddenly it lets up and there's something splashing against her leg, and oh, God, did she pee on him? Josh moans loudly into her core and he pulls back.

"Fuck me," Josh breathes out quietly after a moment, staring at her opening twitching beneath him. He lifts his head to make disbelieving eye contact with her. "Where did that come from?" She can see the liquid dotting his chin, and she shifts her hips and winces at the feeling of wetness underneath her.

"Was that—?"

"Pee? No."

"So I—?"

"Yeah, you did."

"Oh."

"'Oh'? You squirted on my face, a welcome surprise by the way, and all you have to say is 'oh'?"

"Uh…" She's still trying to get her brain back online, but something about her reboot must show in her face because the smug, amazed look on Josh's face immediately falls into deep concern. He quickly makes his way back up her body and lays on his side next to her.

"Donna?" he says softly, ghosting his hand across her stomach before settling it on her opposite hip. "Talk to me, please."

"I don't even know what to say," she breathes out on a laugh, and the slight, building tension deflates as Josh breaks into a grin. "I mean, that was…incredible."

"Incredible?"

"Oh, God, don't—"

"So you'd say that was, what, a top 10 orgasm?"

"Why did I think telling you that would be a good idea?"

"Don't avoid the question."

"Fine. Top 10, but the bottom 5."

"What?" he squawks.

"I've had a lot of orgasms, Josh," she says primly, poking at his bowtie that he's still got draped around his neck.

His face goes stony for a moment. "I know."

"You—oh, God, sorry," she winces. "Let me rephrase it; it was the best orgasm I've ever had with another person."

"Damn straight," he mutters and leans in to kiss her. There's something hot about her tasting herself on his tongue, a lick of heat zinging through her sex. His hand moves from her hip to splay over her ribs, tugging her upper body towards him. He has some calluses on his hand, and they scratch at the soft skin on the side of her breast. "Do you have any…?"

"Yeah…yeah, hold on."

She pushes herself up and shifts to grab a condom from her bedside table. When she turns back Josh has shifted up the bed with her and is staring at her hungrily. She hands him the condom, and as he fiddles with putting it on she rolls onto her stomach and pushes up onto her knees. She leans forward on her elbows, and next to her Josh notices her positioning and freezes.

"Earth to Josh."

"Sorry," he says absently, his eyes fully locked on her ass. He knees over behind her, and she loses sight of him but she can feel his gaze on her cunt like a blanket. He moans softly, a hand coming up to palm one of her cheeks. He kneads it a little and then brings up his other hand to play with both, before he spreads her wide and holds her open.

She can feel the cool breeze against where she's wet. This position is one she rarely does, because she doesn't like showing off the way getting taken from behind makes her go wild, but she trusts Josh with this.

"Baby," he murmurs, and his hands leave her asscheeks before there's some rustling. Donna turns over her shoulder to see him staring, disbelief etched across his face as his eyes tear away from the juncture of her legs. She smiles softly at him and turns back around, arching her back and angling her hips up.

"Let's go," she says simply, and she feels Josh's hands parting her again, then the sudden warmth on her opening as his thumbs dip in to spread her further.

"I'm…thank you," he says dumbly behind her, and she wants to snicker at him but he's lining himself up and then suddenly he's breeching her. A moan is wrested from the back of her throat and she drops her head to rest her forehead against the pillow. Josh's hand is frantically petting at her upper body, trying to comfort her but the tackiness from the sweat on his hand is just kind of pulling her hair.

"What are you doing?" she gasps.

"Wha—?"

"Stop doing that with your hand, what are you doing?" She lifts her head again to look behind her to see Josh looking down at her, dumbfounded. They make eye contact as the lights behind his eyes come back on and he shakes his head a bit.

"Hoo, sorry," he says on an exhale, "lost my head for a second." He smirks again. "You're driving me out of my mind." He leans forward over her, his hips stilled. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, are you okay?"

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

Now it's her turn to smirk. "Cat got your tongue?"

"It's about to," he says and he pulls out quickly to lean in and lick up her center. She collapses forward onto her elbows, already more turned on than she's ever been. Her hips are tilting themselves, trying to find whatever angle works best to get his mouth back on her. He fastens around her clit again, pulling her towards the edge before pulling off with a wet kiss.

"Come on—" Donna moans, thumping her pillow with her fist until she's cut off with a squeak as Josh pulls her hips up and back and finally, finally enters her again.

They moan in unison, Josh collapsing forward over her back again as he starts thrusting his hips shallowly to ease into her. Her hands are gripping the pillow above her head as she's turned her head to the side, and Josh covers the back of her hands with his as he readjusts his knees for better leverage. There's some shifting as they get comfortable, and once Donna's ready she rolls her hips and moans softly. Josh rests his forehead against her temple and starts moving. Despite their best efforts he still can't get a solid rhythm, thrusting in fits and starts.

"Get off me and do your job," Donna pants, and she feels Josh smirk into the back of her neck.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hey!" she objects as Josh pulls away to kneel up. "I'm not a ma'am, I am still a miss."

"I did mean that in a sexual manner, hope that was clear. I didn't meant it like the drive-thru burrito boy does—"

"We suck at this."

"I'm having a good time."

"We're in the middle of having sex and we can't shut up long enough to actually have it."

Josh thrusts a few times, successfully shutting the two of them up until…

"You gotta—can you get on your back?"

"My back?"

"Your damn mattress is too soft, I feel like I'm slipping."

"Huh, never heard that complaint before," Donna mutters to herself as Josh pulls out of her and she turns onto her back. He lines himself up again and thrusts. He bottoms out quickly, and he gets a hard, fast rhythm going as he drops his forehead to hers.

She's not going to think about it too hard, but Josh is…really, really good at this. He's angling his hips to connect them at an angle she can feel in her toes, and the hand not supporting his weight has found its way to tease her breast. He rolls her nipple between his fingers, and the sharp pinch stands out against the sensation coming from between her legs.

"Touch yourself," he whispers into the scarce space between their lips, and it's not a request. She gasps, the motion causing her lips to ghost over his. Donna gently circles her clit and once she finds a good spot she starts rubbing in earnest to try to relieve the pressure building in her pelvis. They stay like that, propped against each other, the pressure of each other's lips a barely-there reminder that the other is just as affected.

"I'm—" Donna chokes out after a minute, a white-hot heat building deep within her cunt and spreading out like wildfire. Her legs start spasming as she races towards the edge, their lips catching as they vocalize their pleasure.

"Come," Josh whispers, and Donna's vision is whiting out as she crests over and falls. A moan tumbles from her lips with every spasm and she hears Josh start moaning uncontrollably as his thrusts lose their rhythm and then stop altogether. He buries his face in her neck, still breathing hard, and he gently pats her hip before pulling out.

He disposes of the condom as Donna stands to go to the bathroom. She holds out a hand, and Josh looks at her without a single clue as to what she wants. She scrunches her fingers. "C'mon. I have a toothbrush for you."

His face brightens considerably once he has confirmation he's staying the night and he takes her hand, giddy. They make it to the bathroom, and Donna notices—"Hey, you're still in your shirt?"

Josh blushes. "Yeah. It's…" His face twists up for a second, unreadable, before it falls in defeat and he drops his head. "My scar."

"What about your scar?"

"It's not…y'know. Sexy."

"You think I care if your scar is sexy?"

"I don't know!" He throws his hands in the air. "It's not some handsome face scar that makes me look

"Josh, I saw it through every stage of healing. At this point 'not open' is sexy enough for me."

"Donna," he whines, and she takes pity on him by breaking eye contact to go rooting in her cabinet for his brush.

"It's really fine, Josh."

"I mean…I'll let you see it right now if you want."

Donna pauses. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She finds his toothbrush and pulls out from the cabinet to look at him.

"You sure?"

Josh's eyebrows raise along with the corners of his lips. "Are you sure?"

She rolls her eyes at his expression of false vulnerability. "Piss off. Show me."

He grins at her confirmation, and then it drops as he lifts his hands to his collar. Josh unbuttons his shirt slowly and methodically, his eyes not quite meeting hers as he shrugs his dress shirt off, standing in front of her in only a white t-shirt, and if this were happening under literally any other circumstances she would have probably burst out laughing at the reverse Chippendale dancer outfit.

It's not any other situation though. This is probably the most vulnerable she's ever seen Josh: he looks so old under the weight of what he's been through, yet it's offset by the young, scared look in his eyes. She wants to cradle him, stroke his face and his hair and never let anything bad happen to him again because God, he's been through enough. She doesn't. Instead she stands rooted to the spot in front of the cabinet above her toilet as Josh strips in the doorway. He takes a deep breath and finally looks her in the eyes before lifting his hands to the back of his collar and goes to lift his shirt off in one smooth motion.

Three things happen all at once: Josh's head gets stuck in his collar somehow, Donna's razor hanging in the shower clatters to the ground causing her to jump with a gasp, and her phone starts ringing.

Josh is muttering words so foul she's sure his mother would have immediately shoved a bar of soap in his mouth had she heard him, his hands now stuck above his head as he shimmies around. It's so delightfully unsexy that she laughs brightly as she deposits the toothbrush on the sink and slithers around him to go check the phone. It's a number she doesn't recognize, so she lets it ring, and the phone stops to reveal that the heat had stopped running at some point, leaving them in pin-drop silence. Josh has managed to finish getting his shirt off and she forgets how to breathe as her eyes come in contact with his chest.

The scar is both bigger and smaller than she thought it would be: whenever she would take the time to wonder how it must look now, she could only really picture a vague idea. Sometimes she got as far as the color it would be (still a little pinker than the skin around it, but it would have mostly faded to a shade resembling natural), but if she tried to go deeper it just felt…off. Almost like it was too personal to even think about. She borderline-hysterically notices that yes, she was right about the coloring.

She absently wanders back over to where he's silhouetted by the yellow bathroom light. He's still, silent; the only movement besides his breathing is the cautious darting of his eyes. Her hand rises and gently follows the scar down his sternum. The uneven bumps rise and fall under her hands like a vinyl record, the story of his tragedy and his courage playing out on his chest.

Her eyes travel downwards and catch on a small pucker of skin under his ribs and…oh. The surgery scar was the one she had prepared for, the one she had built walls for the emotions she'd have, but the actual bullet hole…she can't stop the tears from spilling over as her fingers travel over to skim the skin.

Josh is still silent but he's relaxed a bit since she touched him. At her tears, however, he tenses back up but still doesn't move as she stands and cries in front of him. She's glad he gives her the space to process the revelation of getting to gently stroke the spot where his death was almost guaranteed. After a moment of feeling the different highs and valleys of the scar she turns to Josh. His face is unreadable, his eyes dark with emotion. His hands come up to circle her waist and she doesn't hold back the gasped sob she lets out when their skin touches.

She rests one hand on his scar and lets the other bury into the hair at the nape of his neck. He rests his forehead heavily on hers and she surges forward to kiss out the words she just can't say. Their lips connect in a kiss that leaves her breathless, as chaste as it is. She keeps the kiss going, kissing him again and then again before she rests against him, their lips just barely touching. His breath ghosts along her lips as he pants with her, his hands squeezing her waist gently and pulling her into him.

"You're incredible," is all she can manage to whisper, moving her hand to gently run the pad of her thumb over the ridge.

He shudders out an exhale."I think," he whispers into her lips, "that we should go to bed." She can feel him bumping into her hip and she grins.

"Already? Round two?"

He grins back against her mouth. "Darling, we barely finished round one; this can wait until morning." Josh unfortunately steps back and into the bathroom. "I'm beat, and we have a busy day tomorrow."

They brush teeth side by side in the bathroom, and Josh drops his toothbrush in the little cup right next to Donna's instead of putting it back in the cabinet. Her heart shouldn't constrict at the sight, except it absolutely does. She exits the bathroom after him to see him bent over in front of her door, snagging his pants from earlier, and the sight actually does send her into hysterics. She braces against the back of the couch as Josh haphazardly covers himself with his pants to make her laugh (he knew it would), and then follows her into the bedroom.

She sets her alarm for 6:30 and slips under the covers. Josh gets into the other side of the bed and situates himself on his back before he lifts his arm in invitation. Donna accepts happily and plasters herself to his side.

She hums. "You're much more comfortable than I thought you'd be," she says while throwing ar arm and a leg around him.

"You've thought about me?" She can hear the question under the bravado.

"Of course. I thought that you would be a walking space heater."

He laughs. "How does reality hold up?"

The exhaustion of the past few days hits her like a truck suddenly, and she sinks down into him gratefully. "Much better," she mutters.

Josh must be feeling the same way because the hand tracing shapes on her shoulder stops moving and falls to the mattress behind her. "Yeah."

They fall asleep together, and when Donna wakes up five minutes before her alarm to find Josh face-down with his head buried under his pillow, she has what feels like a prophetic vision: years of waking up like this, whether it's to a busy day running the country or a lazy day in bed. And when her alarm does actually go off, and Josh's head pops up from underneath the pillow with an undignified snort, she laughs a little too hard at his confused face as he realizes that no, he didn't actually go home last night. She can't help it though: she's just discovered the rest of her life.