It had been a long, long night.

Josh was expected to brief Leo about low-income housing subsidies
at 9 AM the next morning, which wouldn't be a problem, except that
Health and Human Services sent the records he needed to the wrong
office (how was that even possible, he wondered, when you worked in
the West Wing, and the matter wasn't corrected until hours later.
Too many hours later.

And as a result he and Donna were pulling what looked to be an all-
nighter as they attempted to decipher reams of bureaucratic mumbo-
jumbo in the dimly-lit confines of his office. The clock was inching
up on 3 AM and he could sense they were nearing the finish line, but
they weren't done quite yet. Everyone else had gone home hours ago,
having had something that almost resembled a regular work schedule
today. Everyone but him. It was making him exceedingly cranky.

And he knew, he knew, that he was taking it out on his assistant.
And he couldn't seem to stop himself.

That had been happening more and more as of late, his taking his
frustrations out on Donna. He could be wrong, but he suspected
she was starting to get just a teeny tiny bit tired of it.

A heavy binder slammed down on the desk in front of him, narrowly
missing his fingers.

Just a teeny tiny bit.

"Are you going to tell me what this is or do I have to pull an
Amazing Kreskin?" he asked.

"It's the 2002 numbers you asked for."

The worst part was, he had no idea why he was doing it. If he
thought about it really hard, it was possible he'd be able to
trace the beginning of his pattern of behavior back to her
dalliance with a certain NSA military aide, but he refused
to believe that could actually have anything to do with it.
He was above that sort of thing.

Donna bent over to gather up some files, placing her rear end
directly in his line of vision. He shifted in his seat. Yep.
Completely above it.

He opened the binder and skimmed the numbers, which at this
point fairly danced before his bleary eyes. "I need the
cumulative number for deferred assistance grants."

"I know, it's right there."

He blinked down at the page. Numbers swam. "I don't see
it."

"Try again," she said, an edge in her voice.

He slammed his palm down on the binder. "I don't see it,
Donna."

"It's right in front of your face, Josh," she said, and he
could see spots of pink forming on her cheeks. At least he
wasn't the only one pissed off around here.

"I don't care, I'm not seeing it. Maybe the fact that I'm
stuck here at three in the morning due to the staggering
incompetence of federal employees, when instead I should
be at home sound asleep, recharging my valuable mental
batteries, has something to do with my not being able to
see it."

She sighed in frustration. "Stop yelling. Look, it's right
here." She came around behind him and reached over his shoulder
to point to the relevant statistic. Her golden hair brushed
against his cheek, her scent filled his senses, and when he
turned his head ever so slightly he saw that her blouse was
gaping open just enough that he could see the top of her white
lace bra.

He took in a sharp breath and sat very very still.

She must have sensed his change in attitude, because she
froze too, her hand poised in mid-air, her hair almost
curtaining her face. He could swear her breathing had
grown just the slightest bit ragged. "Josh," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said in a hoarse whisper. He could feel her
breath on his face.

She turned her head toward him a fraction of an inch so that
their noses brushed.

And then his lips were against hers and they were kissing.

He and Donna were kissing and christ I shouldn't be doing this
and when her tongue found his he made a girly sound in the back
of his throat and he reached up to touch her face and --

And then they were standing on opposite sides of the room,
staring at each other in disbelief. He had no idea how he'd
gotten there.

Donna touched her lips with trembling fingers. "What just
happened?"

"I don't know."

"That was weird."

"Really weird."

"I'll say."

"We shouldn't have done that."

"No."

They were both breathing hard, eyes locked. Josh sniffed,
loudly. Damn sinuses. He took a hesitant step toward her.

And then they were kissing again, and instead of being weird
it was the most natural thing in the world, and he couldn't
imagine why they hadn't done it a million times before.

"Wow," he whispered when their lips parted. He was holding on
tightly to her waist, and he didn't even remember her wrapping
her arms around his neck, but there they were. Her fingers
smoothed the hair at the back of his neck and he couldn't remember
ever being so turned on in his life.

"Wow," she echoed.

"Donna, I --"

"I mean, wow. I don't think I can do this," she said, and
broke the embrace. "Not when - not when you've been such a...
a jackass."

"The hell?"

"You heard me." She straightened her blouse, smoothed her skirt,
didn't meet his eyes. "You've been a real jerk to me lately, Josh
Lyman, and if you think I'm just going to forget all of that because
of your questionable charm and your misleading insouciance and your
exceedingly soft lips..." She trailed off, jutted out her chin.
"Well, then you've got another thing coming."

Insouciance? "Look -" He reached for her, clasped empty air.
"I will concede that maybe -- okay, it's entirely possible -- I've
been a first-class jackass."

"Blue ribbon at the state fair."

"But admit it, Donna, you kinda like it."

She shook her head and started walking away. "Josh -"

He fairly skipped after her as she headed for her desk. "Come on,
Donna, admit it. You find my occasional - my rare -- bouts of
boorish behavior endearing."

"No, I really don't." She stopped at her desk and sifted through
file folders, not looking at him.

"Yeah you do."

"No, I don't." She slammed a folder down on the desk, stared at
it for a moment, then raised her head to look at him finally.
"Josh." Her face softened. "Joshua. You're confusing jackassity
with confidence."

"Jackassity? Is that even a word?"

"Would you let me finish?"

"I'm just saying-"

"Shut up, Josh."

He shut up. Never let it be said I am not a generous person.

Donna took a deep breath. "From the day I met you, you were
pompous and arrogant and obnoxious as hell. But a lot of that --
well, some of that anyway - was clearly just bluster, a fancy
cover-up for this certain, steady...confidence that you have.
You're good at what you do, Josh, and you know it."

He preened.

She raised a finger. "Okay, see that? Jackass."

He cleared his throat and slumped. "Sorry."

"Confidence, the quality of being sure of yourself, can be a
very attractive thing, Josh. When you walk into a room...you
command attention. Because you are so sure that you deserve to
be there, that people should listen to what you have to say.
And - a lot of the time, anyway -- you're right. And that's
attractive." She paused. "When you're not being a jackass."

"Right."

"And, well...okay, cockiness can be sexy sometimes, too." She
rolled her eyes. "And god knows you have cockiness to spare."

"Sexy? Really?" He knew he was grinning, but he couldn't stop it.

"Yeah. Don't let it go to your head. It's a Han Solo thing."

"Harrison Ford, huh?" I like the sound of that. He stepped
closer to her. "I'm going to kiss you now, Donnatella Moss, and
you are going to kiss me back."

"Feeling cocky?" she asked, but she didn't move away from him.

He shook his head. "Not cocky," he whispered. "Just sure of myself."
He snaked his arm around her waist.

She kissed him back.

The making out went on for a while until Josh started to push Donna
up against the ridge of her desk, his hands moving over her skirt in
a definite northerly direction, ruching the material up around her
thighs.

"Josh."

"Yeah." He was concentrating on kissing her neck, which was taking
a lot more thought than he would have expected. It was a very, very
nice neck.

"We're in the middle of the bullpen."

"Yeah, I know, it's kind of kinky but I like it."

"Josh." He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "Anyone
could walk in on us."

"Donna, it's three in the morning on what was a slow day for everybody
in the White House except for us. There's nobody here to walk in on
us. Even the cleaning staff has gone home to bed by now." He grinned.
"Which isn't such a bad idea, come to think of it."

She extricated herself from his embrace and slipped off the desk.
"It's not just that."

"What else is there?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I won't sleep with my boss."

"Fine. You're fired."

"Josh -"

"I mean it. You're too good for this job anyway. We both know that
you've been too good for it for years now. We'll find you something
else, something you like, someplace where your boss won't make you
crazy." Someplace where your boss will be able to keep his hands
off of you.

"Now you're babbling."

"I'm aware of that." He stepped toward her, she stepped back.
"Donna - we can do this. I can do this. I can figure this out."
He spread his arms wide. "You're talking to the person who calculates
the myriad potential responses a cranky Congressman might make to a
piece of legislation we're pushing before he even steps into the room
to take the meeting."

"I'm also talking to the person who didn't know the difference
between a koala bear and a panda."

"Point taken." He swallowed. "But you're also talking to the
person who really wants to be with you right now."

Her eyes flickered. "Only right now?"

He shook his head. "Always." Did I say that out loud?

She smiled, and he smiled back, feeling downright giddy. "Well,
when you're not making fun of me, anyway," he added.

"But how often does that happen?" she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

"Hardly ever," he lied.

"Exactly." She let him draw her closer, and he started to believe
that maybe this would go more smoothly than he had any right for it
to. "But before you make any drastic decisions, you should consider
carefully whether you really mean what you're saying."

Oh for the love of -- "What are you talking about?"

"About firing me. Are you sure you would want to do that? Is it
worth it?"

"Is it worth it? Don't you think I would trade you in as my
assistant in a -- a nanosecond if it meant I could have you as
my lover instead? What kind of a cretin do you take me for?"
He winced at the sound of his voice cracking.

She looked at him pointedly.

Pause. "Yeah, don't answer that."

"Mmm."

"Can we --" He reached out, touched her hair. "Maybe I have no
right to ask you this, but can we ignore all that just for tonight?"
He let out a short, abrupt laugh. "For what little of tonight is left?"

"Why?" she asked sharply, but he could see that she was weakening.
"So you can take what you want and then pretend it never happened
later?" Now she was baiting him.

Take the hook, Lyman. "No." He met her eyes. "So I can take
you home and ravish you until the sun comes up and damn the
consequences."

She blinked quickly, and a smile played at her mouth. "Okay then."
She grabbed her purse and made to leave.

His jaw dropped.

She turned to look at him. "Let's go, Josh, we don't have much
time until sunrise."

"Right." He ran to his office, grabbed his backpack, and hurried to
catch up with her as she made her way to the exit.

"Am I still fired?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Only for tonight." He grinned. "I'll hire you back in the morning."

They went back to his place, taking both cars so they could go to
work separately in the morning. Like the kiss, it felt awkward at
first, but quickly became easy, natural. Sure, there was the part
where Josh tripped over his pants because he was trying to get them
off so fast, but aside from that, it was nearly effortless. Her
body beneath his - and on top of his, and beside his - felt just
like he'd dreamed it would, and when he came (the first time), she
held on to him tight and whispered his name in his ear and he knew
everything would be just fine.

"It's entirely possible that we are the whitest couple in the history
of the world," he said later. They were lying in bed, the early
morning sun filtering through the windows of Josh's bedroom, light
blue sheets covering and uncovering intertwined parts of their bodies,
pale skin against paler skin. "We're like porno for albinos."

"Wasn't that the name of a band?"

"Close enough."

She propped up on one elbow and looked down at him. "You know
what's weird?"

He pulled his gaze up from her breasts. "What?"

"This doesn't feel weird."

He propped himself up as well so they were eye to eye, although he
privately admitted to preferring the eye-to-breast vantage point.
"I know."

"Isn't that weird?"

He smoothed her hair away from her face. "Since when have you ever
done anything in a way that would not be construed as weird?"

"You're hoping I didn't notice that you just said 'you,' there,
and not 'we,' aren't you."

"Yes."

Donna pulled back and flopped down on the bed. "People are going
to talk about us."

He laughed. "Donna, I hate to break it to you, but people already
talk about us."

"Yes, but before they were wrong! Now they'll be right. It's not
fair."

"Fair? What is this, junior high? Should I pass you a note during
recess?"

"Shut up." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"You've been saying that to me an awful lot lately. Very insubordinate behavior."
It was a joke of course, but he regretted the words as soon as they came out of
his mouth. Shit.

He could practically feel the sheets freeze beneath him. "Well,
Mr. Lyman, I'm nothing if not your assistant."

"Donna-"

She leapt out of bed, taking the top sheet with her and wrapping
iit around her body. He suddenly felt like an idiot lying there
naked. He grabbed a pillow to cover himself so they'd be on equal
footing. So to speak. "Donna, you know I didn't mean it like
that."

"See, that's just the thing, Josh. You did mean it like that."

"I didn't!"

She took a deep breath. "Yes, you did. Maybe not deliberately, but
let's face it, at the most basic level you think of me as your assistant."
She rolled her eyes. "God, I *am* your assistant. It's not like I
can really blame you."

"You're not my assistant right now," he said carefully, not wanting
to set her off any further. "I fired you, remember? Right now you're just....
you're just the beautiful woman in my bed.

"Or, you were, anyway."

He chanced a look at her and she was doing her damndest not to smile.
That's more like it. "I'm sorry," he said entreatingly. "If you
come back to bed I promise to make it up to you."

She gave in to the smile, took one step toward him. "How?"

"I think I've already demonstrated a couple of ways I can do that."

She rolled her eyes again but dropped back on the bed and unwrapped
the sheet from around her slim form. He crawled underneath the blue
cotton, sliding his hands around her waist, pulling her to him.
"Cocky," she said.

He began kissing his way down her body, taking his time about it.
"Let me show you why," he murmured against her skin.

"We should really go to the office at some point," she observed a
short while later.

"What time is it?" He poked his head out from underneath the sheets,
wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Seven-thirty."

He groaned and let his face fall onto the mattress. "Dammit. I
gotta see Leo at 9."

"I know."

"There's still work to do on that briefing."

"I know."

He mulled over the situation. "You know, if we showered together
I bet it would save us some time."

"That's your stellar plan for preparing a briefing for Leo in half
the time you actually need to do it?" she asked.

"Conservation of natural resources is endorsed by the Bartlet
administration," he said solemnly.

"Josh, you cannot possibly be foolish enough to think that our
taking a shower together will save time, as opposed to leading to
even more time wasted on other recreational pursuits."

Wasted? He sat up in bed, put his feet on the floor. "So what
you're saying is we don't have time for sex in the shower."

"That's what I'm saying." She embraced him from behind, dropped
a kiss on his bare shoulder. "But if you're lucky maybe that's
something we could do later."

He perked up, in more ways than one. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Later. I am a man of iron will. No problem." Right.
"So...does this mean I should hire you back now?"

She sighed into the crook of his neck. "If you want to get that
briefing done in time, you probably should."

He turned at the waist, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed
her slowly, thoroughly. When he finished, he said softly, "Donna
Moss, would you do me the honor of working for me today?"

"Yes, Josh Lyman, I will." She bit her lip. "But this is just
a temporary solution, a band-aid. We need to figure this out, Josh."

"I know." He placed a kiss on her forehead. "We will."

They looked at each other for a while, until Josh finally dragged
himself up and toward the shower. "You want to shower here or at
your place?" he asked, scratching his abdomen.

She started to scrounge around for her various garments that had
been so hastily discarded the night before. "I might as well go
to my place, change my clothes. Make sure you put on something
other than what you were wearing yesterday, please?"

"Yeah." He opened the bathroom door, paused to look back at her.
"This is gonna work, Donna. I promise."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

He nodded. "Good."

"I'll see you at the office."

"Yeah."

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

She slipped on her panties and reached for her blouse. "That was
amazing, by the way. Maybe you have a right to be cocky, about this
one thing."

"I don't think cocky is the word you're looking for, Donna." He
paused, taking one long last look at her before he had to get ready
for work. "I think the word you're looking for is 'happy.'"

Her answering smile was brighter than the morning sunlight streaming
through the windows.

end.