There were, Donna decided, worse aspects of her job than
having to attend a Rock the Vote event.

Sure, technically she was here for work, but she was getting
to enjoy an all-star lineup of musical acts, an open bar, and,
for the last hour at least, Josh's undivided attention. Not
exactly any reason to complain, even if it was a Friday night.

She and her boss occupied a table near the back where they
had been trading stories over beer about horrific high school
faculty members. Donna currently had Josh trumped with her
tale of Mrs. Levy, who once gave a student detention for having
the temerity to cry out when she was stung by a bee during math
class. She came very close to making Josh snort beer out of
his nose with that one, but fell just shy of success. No matter,
she thought confidently, the night was young, and high school
had been a very bad time.

Carlos Santana was currently on stage, performing his current
hits and some of the classics. Donna had earned a sour look
from Josh when she mentioned that her favorite product of
Santana's was his line of shoes. (But they really were some
nice shoes, and not outrageously priced, either, especially
if you could catch them on sale.) They were at least able to
agree that the man could play a decent guitar.

After serenading them with a couple more overplayed top forty
hits, Santana and his band changed gears and shifted into a
Latin-flavored number with a sexy merengue beat, and Donna
nodded approvingly. Moments later CJ breezed past them,
dragging Sam by the hand behind her. "Come on guys, the
dance floor is calling!" she shouted at them as she and the
hapless deputy communications director whizzed by. Sam threw
them a feeble look over his shoulder before CJ pulled him
into an embrace and started doing the two-step. Donna
absently wondered which one of them was leading.

As she watched her friends gamely try their best on the
dance floor, she realized that she would love to join them
out there, but she couldn't imagine that Josh would indulge
her in any activity in which he might intentionally embarrass
himself (as unintentional embarrassment was, of course, par
for the course for Josh Lyman). Maybe she could find another
willing partner somewhere around here...

"Do you wanna dance?" Josh asked.

She turned to him, surprised, and hesitated before answering,
not sure if he meant it or was just trying to be polite.
"Only if you want to," she said, plucking self-consciously at
her lightweight blue sweater.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Donna. Do you want to dance?"
He enunciated each word carefully, letting her know that he
really was more than willing to oblige her if she would just
give him a straight answer already.

She broke into a grin. "Yeah."

"Then let's go." He stood up and offered her his hand, and
they made their way out to the dance floor, not too far from
CJ and Sam, but at a safe enough distance that they would be
out of the danger zone if CJ decided to kick things into high
gear. Josh placed his free hand on Donna's hip as she placed
his on his shoulder, and then he began to lead her into a merengue.

Donna looked at him, startled. "You can dance."

"Yes," Josh said smugly.

"I mean...I knew you could dance, as in, sway side to side
with a girl without humiliating yourself unduly, but I didn't
know you could do actual, you know, steps."

"Well, after the first couple of state dinners I realized it
might be best to be prepared in case the Venezuelan ambassador
asks you to dance," Josh said. He shrugged. "I might have
taken a couple of lessons."

Her eyes widened. "You took dance lessons? You? How did you
sneak this past me?"

"It was just a couple of classes," he said defensively. "I
did it on the weekends and didn't tell you about it. You don't
know everything I do, Donna, much as you delude yourself
into believing otherwise."

"Well, don't you just keep unfolding like a flower," she
quipped. He really was moving quite well, she admitted to
herself. His steps were surprisingly graceful and the way
his hips were moving in those jeans was starting to become
a bit distracting. Whatever he paid for the lessons, it
was evidently worth it.

They stopped talking for a while, concentrating on the dance
and enjoying the music. Donna was pleased to discover that
they danced well together; but then, they were so attuned to
each other's rhythms on a daily basis that she wasn't really
surprised. And yet, as the music continued, it dawned on
Donna that she was keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Josh's
collarbone, not looking him in the eye, and wondered why she
was being so silly, acting like an erstwhile wallflower at
the prom. So she raised her head and met his gaze and felt
a shot of desire jolt through her body when his soft brown
eyes looked right back at her. Oh yeah, that's why I was
doing that, she thought ruefully. She was suddenly extremely
conscious of the warm weight of his hand on her waist, of
the solidity of his shoulder beneath his black knit shirt,
of the way her fingers were intertwined with his. She opened
her mouth to say something, something stupid and frivolous
to break the mood, but nothing came out. And then he
twirled her.

She spun, delighted, and went back to him easily, resuming
their dance. He gave her a wide smile and did it again.
This time she heard CJ let out an approving whoop from behind
them. Donna laughed and when she returned to Josh's embrace
it seemed that they were standing even closer together than
they were before. She could feel the heat from his body
mingling with hers and she marveled yet again at the way
their bodies moved in perfect synchronicity.

She could only imagine how that kind of harmony would translate
in the bedroom. She gave a delicious shiver at the thought.

His brow creased. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said quickly. "You're a good dancer, Josh."

"You're not too bad yourself. Wanna try a dip?"

"Uhh..." Before she could say that probably wasn't a very
good idea, he did it. She dropped down, her hair grazing
the floor, and then he lifted her back up again, strong hands
supporting her waist. When she came back up they were
practically on top of each other, their eyes locked and their
lips tantalizingly close. And this would be why I didn't
think a dip was a very good idea, she thought. I've seen
these movies. She looked down at his lips and tried not to
think about kissing them.

"Donna," he said thickly.

"Yes?" She was relieved she was able to keep a tremor out
of her voice.

Just then the song ended, and the mood was broken. They
reluctantly moved apart and joined the crowd in applauding
the band. The next song was a fast disco number, and in
unspoken agreement they left the dance floor as quickly as
possible. A glance behind her told her that Sam was not
quite so lucky.

"You want a drink?" Josh asked. She nodded and followed
him over to the bar, where he ordered them two more Bass
ales.

"Donna," said a familiar voice from behind her. She turned
to see Cliff Calley standing there, smiling and holding a
Heineken.

"Cliff," she said, stunned. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Rock the Vote, Donna, not 'Rock the Democratic Vote,'"
Cliff said dryly.

"Right. So...how have you been?"

"I've been good. How about you?"

"Good," she repeated. She hadn't seen Cliff since their
clandestine meeting in the law library about Leo, and without
the urgency of that particular situation, she realized she
had nothing left to say to this man.

Just then Josh nudged her and handed her a pint glass. "What
are you doing here?" he said to Cliff by way of greeting.

"It's Rock the Vote, Josh, not 'Rock the Democratic Vote,'"
Donna said, and couldn't decide how she felt when Cliff
smiled even wider.

Josh grunted, shifted an inch closer to her, and continued
to stare Cliff down. Donna experienced a slight flutter in
her stomach as she realized she was witnessing Protective
Josh in overdrive. Cliff, for his part, looked from her to
Josh and back again, and suddenly seemed to wish he was
someplace, anyplace else. "Okay, well...it was good to see
you, Donna," he said uncomfortably. "See you around."

"Yeah," Donna said, and watched him go, feeling a topsy-turvy
mixture of regret, wistfulness, and anger. Then she turned
to her boss. "You're such a jerk sometimes, Josh."

His eyes widened in disbelief. "I'm a jerk?"

"He was just being polite, and you turned all Captain Caveman
on him."

"After what he did, you're actually defending him?" he yelled,
his voice going up at the end.

"I'm not defending him, I'm just willing to extend him some
common courtesy."

"That's your wholesome Midwestern upbringing playing with your
mind. I, on the other hand, have no such need to be generous,"
he said sourly.

"Fine," she snapped. Why was she giving him a hard time about
this?

"Fine."

Pause. She could feel Josh staring at her, but refused to
look his way.

"Why are you giving me a hard time about this?" he asked.

She sighed, feeling the fight go out of her. "I don't know.
I guess unexpectedly running into an ex at a party tends to
put me a little on edge."

"And just how often does that happen, Donnatella?" he asked
in an attempt at playfulness.

She glared at him and took a healthy swig of beer. "Once is
too often," she said.

"Fair point." He looked down at his beer, then back at her.
"You want to get some air? There's a patio in the back."

She shrugged. "Couldn't hurt." She let him guide her through
the crowded room, his hand at the small of her back, until they
reached the back exit that took them outside onto the small
tiled patio, populated by a dense cluster of smokers and an
overdressed woman chatting into her cell phone. They sat down
on a dark green wrought iron bench far enough away from the
smokers that they wouldn't need oxygen masks to carry on a
conversation.

Josh took a gulp of beer, leaned back, and looked up at the
sky. "Nice night," he said.

"Yeah," she said, keeping her head down.

"Donna."

"Yes?"

"Don't let him ruin your evening. 'Cause I'm pretty sure you
were having a good time tonight before you ran into Alex P.
Keaton back there."

She had to smile at that. "I suppose I was. A little. When
you weren't stepping on my toes, that is."

He smirked. "Nice try. I think we both know you were more
than a little impressed by my suave moves on the dance floor."

"Well, gosh, as long as you're not going to be insufferable
about it," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I am never insufferable," he said immediately. "Merely
challenging."

She let that slide, since something else was prodding at
her brain. "Josh?"

"What up?"

"Okay, first," she said, raising a finger, "never say
'what up' again."

"I'm trying to connect with the young people," Josh said
huffily.

She tilted her head. "I don't think sounding like their
hopelessly out of touch middle-aged dad is going to accomplish
that."

"Whatever," he mumbled. "Were you going to ask me something
or what?"

"How far would you have gone for Leo?" She felt her heartbeat
speed up a notch, shocked with herself that she had actually
asked the question. You know, out loud.

"What do you mean?" he said neutrally.

She knew he was only pretending not to understand, but she
spelled it out for him anyway. "When you thought something
bad was going to happen to Leo during the hearings, I know
you were trying your best to prevent it. I'm asking you how
far you would have been willing to go to protect him, if push
had come to shove."

"Why are you asking me this?"

Damned if I know. "Because," she said doggedly, "you
participated in arguably illegal behavior to cover for me
with the Cliff diary fiasco, and using my shrewd powers of
extrapolation, I can only shudder to think what felonies you
would have committed in order to protect Leo. I guess I'm
just worried that you might go so far to protect us that you'd
end up doing irreparable harm to yourself. Him," she amended.
"I meant, to protect him. Leo."

He looked at her strangely. "First of all, I would do anything
it took to protect the people I care about and damn the consequences,
and I think you already know that about me. Second of all, what
makes you think I would do anything for Leo that I wouldn't also
do for you?"

Her mouth fell open, and she scrambled for words under the
directness of his gaze. "Leo's...the chief of staff. He's
like a second father to you. He --"

"All of those things are true," he said impatiently. "But
what makes you think your worth to me is less than his?"

"That's not what I was saying," she stammered.

He shook his head and looked down at his beer. "I'd do whatever
it took," he said stubbornly. "For Leo, for Sam, for the
President -- for you."

"Maybe that's what worries me," she whispered. "I don't want
you to ever jeopardize yourself or your career for me. I don't
ever want to be the reason for something that could hurt you."

He was studying her face now, as if looking for clues to
decipher her true meaning. "You're not just talking about
the diary, are you," he said softly.

"Josh, I --" she started, but faltered when he reached up
to gently push a strand of hair out of her face.

"Some things are more important than politics," he rasped.

She realized he was staring at her mouth, and she couldn't
seem to tear her gaze away from watching him watch her lips.
"Do you mean that?" she asked.

He nodded with something akin to realization. "Yeah. Yeah,
I do." She held her breath as he tentatively placed his hand
against her cheek, and leaned in to kiss her --

"There you guys are!" Sam said brightly. "I finally managed
to escape CJ and was looking for accomplices to help me hide."
He paused, taking them in. "I'm sorry, was I interrupting
something?"

"No," Josh said quickly, pulling his hand away from Donna's
face and putting both hands on his pint glass, which he kept
in his lap. "Have a seat."

Sam sat down on the other side of Josh, oblivious to the
tension in the air, and started nattering on about the
impressive revitalization of Carlos Santana's solo career.
Donna chanced a look at Josh, to find him looking back at her.
He smiled.

She smiled too, realizing as she looked into his eyes that
whatever they had been about to do, wherever they had been
heading, wasn't lost to them forever -- merely postponed.
And that was okay. It turned out there was no way Cliff
Calley was going to ruin this evening for her, after all.

"Sam," she said, interrupting his tipsy monologue, "don't
you think that a large measure of Santana's current success
can be attributed to the youth-friendly and innovative artists
that he teamed up with for this particular venture? Was this
album truly an artistic renaissance, or ultimately just a
good marketing plan?"

"It's funny you should mention that, Donna," Sam said,
"because..."

He started rambling on about CD sales and demographics
and the inequity of the Billboard system, and she couldn't
help but grin at him as he earnestly held forth. She really
did love these boys. Some, she reflected, looking at Josh
again, more than others.

Josh caught her looking at him and surreptitiously reached
down and laced his fingers through hers, hiding their clasped
hands on the bench between their bodies. She squeezed; he
squeezed back. They continued to hold hands, fingers firmly
intertwined, as Sam chattered long into the night.

end.

P.S. The bee/detention story is true, although names have
been changed to protect the guilty.