Josh lathered shampoo into Donna's hair, scritching at her scalp until she was practically purring. She closed her eyes in rapture. "Did you ever hear from Dixon?" he asked.

"Yeah. He's on board with HR475," she said. The steady pounding of the shower -- the showerhead was currently on the "pulse" setting -- beat against her chest; Josh's skin was warm and wet against her back.

"Excellent," he murmured, moving his soapy hands down to her shoulders, gently massaging her skin. "I should give him a call tomorrow."

These long, lazy Sunday showers spent re-hashing the week had become something of a ritual for them; they did some of their best talking standing under the spray. His hands roamed over to her front, then cupped her breasts, soapy palms grazing her nipples. She bit her lip and arched back against him. Sunday showers had benefits other than the conversation.

"What about Johannsen?" he said as he rolled one of her nipples between his slippery fingers.

"She's leaning toward it," Donna said, her ability to concentrate rapidly eluding her. "Josh."

"Yeah," he whispered, sliding one hand down between her legs.

"Is this your idea of foreplay, you sickie? Interrogating me about the Congresspeople I spoke to this week? And telling you things about them I probably shouldn't be telling you?"

"Are you complaining?" he asked mildly as he stroked her clit.

Her breathing grew more shallow; he adjusted her stance so that the pulsing water from the showerhead needled down on the nipple he wasn't currently pinching. "Oh my god..." she managed.

"I take that as a no," he said, and she could hear amusement in his voice. He continued to stroke her at a steady pace, matching the rhythm with his fingers around her nipple. She could feel his hard cock pushing at the small of her back, and she pressed against it, making him groan.

All too soon she felt the familiar pressure rising inside of her, swirling in her abdomen and fluttering up into her throat. "Josh," she cried as she came, leaning back into him, trusting him to keep her upright until the spasms subsided.

When it was over, he turned her around so that her head was beneath the spray, and she tilted her head back, rinsing the shampoo from her hair. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, gasping for breath in the steamy air of the shower. She felt Josh's mouth on her breast, hissed as his teeth nibbled at the sensitive flesh. She rinsed the remaining suds from her hair and then lifted his head so she could kiss him on the lips, stray water spattering into their mouths as their tongues tangled together.

"Sit down," she whispered when their lips parted. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but obeyed her, taking a seat on the wide corner where the tub met the wall. Donna got down on her knees on the hard porcelain, positioned herself between his legs, and took his cock into her mouth.

There was nothing quite like the sound of his strangled groan as she enveloped him with her lips, she reflected in amusement. She swirled her tongue around his engorged tip, then slid her mouth up and down his shaft, sucking lightly with each withdrawal. He rested his hands on the top of her head, tamping down her wet hair. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, saw that his head had dropped back against the tile, his eyes closed, his mouth open, and she shivered in pleasure at the sight of him surrendered to her. She removed her mouth right before he came and replaced her lips with her hand, pumping him to completion, watching the white stream jet onto his stomach.

"You are really, really good at that," he panted, blinking and swallowing rapidly as he tried to pull himself together.

She stood, ignoring her aching knees, and helped him to his feet. He kissed her thoroughly, easing them back under the spray, and his hands reached down to cup her behind.

All in all, Donna thought as she kissed him back, she definitely preferred dating Josh to working for him.

*****

"What does your week look like?" she asked later. She was lying on her couch, her feet in Josh's lap as they each read part of the Sunday Post, CNN running quietly on the television in the background. They hadn't quite made the move to living together, each of them reluctant to give up that last piece of independence, but they tended to spend the weekend at Donna's, mainly because she had more food in the house.

Josh took a sip of coffee and glanced over at her. "My week looks like the vote," he said. "But at this point I think we're only two votes down, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem."

"Is someone going to be getting the band gazebo speech?" she asked dryly.

He grinned. "Come on, you love that speech."

"I loved that speech six years ago. It's getting a little old, Josh. You need new material."

"I'll get some new material when the old material stops working." He paused, something on the editorial page catching his eye. "What are you up to this week?" he asked absently.

Donna threw aside the Metro section and reached for the crossword. "More lunches with Congresspeople. Putting things together for the fundraiser. Oh, and I'm having lunch with Margaret on Friday."

"You're coming to the West Wing?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm picking her up. Why?"

He shrugged. "No reason. It'll just be nice to see you around the office."

"Funny, I don't think you ever expressed such a sentiment when I actually worked there."

"I thought it was implied."

"Yeah, subtlety's always been your strong suit," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You're mocking me now, that's very cute."

"What's an eight-letter word for intractable?" she asked, ignoring him. "I think it starts with 'ob,' but 'obstinate' doesn't fit."

"Obdurate," he said automatically.

"Indeed."

She didn't look up from the puzzle, but she could tell he was trying to figure out whether she was still mocking him or not. She decided to let him wonder.

*****

"Hey," Josh said a few days later, smiling up at Donna in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you today."

"I told you I was having lunch with Margaret," she chided from where she stood in his office doorway.

"Right. I forgot," he said.

"I'm shocked. Except, you know, for the part where I'm not."

He grinned and rose from his chair, walked over to her. "C'mere," he murmured, pulling her close.

Donna extended her leg back and closed his door with her foot before lifting her lips to his. It wasn't their first kiss in his office, but every time it happened she still experienced the same thrill, a sense of being illicit even though it was perfectly kosher for them to be together now.

"We still on for tonight?" he asked when the kiss ended.

"We'd better be, I think I spent half my weekly salary at the Whole Foods yesterday."

"Whole Foods?" he said, pained.

She snorted. "Don't worry, Josh, you'll still be eating something that had a mother."

"Okay."

"The question, of course," Donna said as Josh started kissing her neck, "is what time to expect you."

He pulled back, looked at her. "Seven o'clock," he said firmly.

"Ha!"

"Okay, eight."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Nine?"

"Why don't we hope for nine," she said. "Just keep me posted."

"'kay."

She gave him another quick kiss. "I gotta go. Margaret's waiting for me."

"I'll see you tonight," he said as she opened his door again. "After all, it's a Friday. What could possibly keep me here later than nine?"

"I cannot believe you just tempted the fates by saying that, Josh!" she whined. She barely resisted the urge to stamp her foot.

"Donna, I think we established a long time ago that the fates don't need any excuses to mess with me as often as possible." He grinned. "Go on, I'll call you later."

"Fine." She paused. "I went shopping at that lingerie store you like yesterday," she said, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"I will be there!" he said, so she threw him one final smile and left for lunch.

*****

When Josh finally arrived at Donna's apartment a little after midnight, he was greeted by the sight of one place setting on her small kitchen table, a single extinguished candle serving as a mute rebuke for his lateness. "Donna?" he called out. No answer. He put down his coat and messenger bag, then made his way to the bedroom, from which he could hear the muted sounds of late night television. He pushed the cracked door open wide and saw Donna, lying on the bed in a white lace slip he hadn't seen her wear before, surrounded by paperwork and sound asleep.

He shut off the television set and sat down across from her on the bed, then reached out to stroke her hair. "Donna," he whispered.

She stirred, opened her eyes. "Hi," she said sleepily.

"Hey."

"I must have fallen asleep," she mumbled.

He looked over the papers blanketing the bed. "Yeah. Congressional transcripts work better than Sominex."

"Evidently." She reached out and stroked his arm. "What time is it?"

"Little after midnight."

"I'm sorry. I was trying to wait up for you."

"Donna, I'm not sure you're the one who should be apologizing right now."

She pulled herself to a sitting position, and he forced himself not to watch the way her slip rode up her thighs as she did so. "I saved you some food. You can just stick it in the microwave."

"Thanks." He paused for a beat. "I'm really sorry, Donna. Trolling for votes wound up going to the very last minute --"

"It's okay, Josh," she said. "You called, you had to work late, it's fine. I used to work there too, remember? I know these things happen." She stretched, and her breasts strained against the white lace.

He gulped. "Well, I'm sorry in any case, because I was really looking forward to tonight."

"Me too. Did the vote pass?"

"Yeah, it did, just barely."

"Good." She poked him with her foot. "Go heat up your food and then come eat in here. You can fill me in on your day."

He glanced at the clock. "It's late, are you sure...?"

"I'm sure. It's Friday night." She smiled up at him. "Go get your food."

He kissed her on the forehead before heading to the kitchen.

After he ate and they watched some Conan O'Brien, he made love to her vigorously, not only because, well, he enjoyed doing so, but to help make up for his absence at dinner.

Judging from her reaction, it made up for a lot.

*****

"It's loverboy on line one," Randy sang out a few days later, from the vestibule outside Donna's office at The Polaris Project.

"How many times have I told you not to call him that?" she yelled, then reconsidered. "Or at least say it to his face so I can have the satisfaction of seeing him be embarrassed."

"Whatever. He's on the phone."

Donna picked up the receiver. "Josh?"

"Was he calling me loverboy just now?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. What's going on?"

"I can't make it tonight."

"Oh." She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Haffley's just plunged us into another p.r. disaster and it looks like we're going to be here late tonight strategizing a response."

"I understand."

A pause on the other end of the line, then: "Hey, why don't you come by the office after work? Everyone will be here, I'm sure they'd love to see you."

"I...while you're brainstorming ways to piss off members of Congress? That just doesn't seem appropriate, Josh."

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry about the movie."

"It's okay," she said.

Another pause. "Is it really okay, or are you just saying that?"

She smiled into the phone, determined to keep negative emotion out of her voice. "It's really okay, Josh. It's just a movie. I'll find someone else to go with me."

"Okay."

Silence. She could hear him breathing on the other end.

"Could I..." he started. "Could I come over anyway, after I'm done here, even if it's late? I'd, uh, like to be with you tonight. And then I'd be there in the morning."

She grinned. It was just like Josh to stand you up and then say something so sweet you wanted to see him anyway. "I think that could be arranged," she said.

"Great. I'll see you later."

"Bye." She hung up the phone and stared at the receiver for a while. "Hey Randy, you want to see a movie tonight?"

*****

This time, when Josh arrived at Donna's apartment a little after two AM, she was already under the covers with the lights out. He undressed quietly in the dark and slipped into bed beside her. The movement woke her and she sleepily said his name.

"It's me," he whispered. She reached for him and he pulled her into his arms, her head resting on his chest. "Sorry to wake you."

"'S okay," she mumbled. She caressed his chest with her hand. "Everything go okay tonight?"

"Yeah. I'll fill you in in the morning." God, she felt so good snuggled up against him, wearing those silk boxer pajamas he liked so much, but he didn't want to keep her up even longer. Although from the way her hand was starting to move more and more boldly over his body, maybe she wouldn't mind. "Donna, you should go back to sleep," he said, hoping she'd disagree with him.

"Don' wanna," she said into his chest. And then she started kissing him there, her tongue flickering over one nipple, and he heard himself groan.

"If you insist," he whispered. He pulled her up so that he could kiss her on the lips, then slid one hand under her silk boxer shorts, making her buck against his palm. When she was breathing hard and making small sounds in the back of her throat, he withdrew his hand from between her legs and helped her slip off her boxers, then she did the same to his. She straddled his hips and sank down onto him with a satisfied sigh. He unbuttoned her pajama top as she started to ride him, exposing her breasts to his touch. He pinched her nipples as he thrust up into her. They set an urgent, almost rough pace, Donna bouncing energetically atop of him, the mattress squeaking loudly beneath him, until they both came in a frenzy of shudders and moans.

Right before Josh fell asleep with his arms wrapped around Donna, he wondered when his luck was going to run out.

*****

"Can I have some of your fries?" Donna asked a week later, reaching over to snag one before he could answer.

He raised an eyebrow. "As if I could stop you?"

"Just trying to be polite."

"And failing miserably."

She stuck her tongue out at him, but didn't really mean it. It was a Friday night, it was only eight o'clock, and she and Josh were enjoying a casual dinner at an Irish pub near his apartment. Following dinner they had plans to watch a Pedro Almodovar flick on DVD, have sex until all hours, and then sleep in tomorrow morning.

When Josh's cell phone rang, she realized she'd known all along that it was too good to be true.

"Okay," he said, finishing up the call. He hung up, looked at her with apology in his eyes. "I have to go back," he said. "There's a hostage situation in Lebanon."

"Oh my god," she said, alarmed. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"I'd like nothing better, but no, you shouldn't," he said. He took out his wallet and threw some bills on the table. "I don't know how long I'll be."

"Right." She tried really, really hard to keep disappointment out of her voice, but the look on his face let her know she hadn't been entirely successful.

"Hey, this could end very quickly," he said. "You never know with these situations."

"Sure," she said, not believing him. She was pretty sure he didn't believe himself, either.

He got up and leaned over to kiss her briefly on the mouth. "Go on ahead to my place," he whispered. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

She nodded and watched him go, then sighed and grabbed his plate so she could pig out on the remainder of his fries.

*****

This time, when Josh got home around three, Donna was in his bed, but she didn't wake up when he joined her there.

*****

When Donna did awaken in Josh's bed the next morning, she found him snoring lightly beside her.

She blinked at him, surprised that she hadn't heard him get in the night before. She must have been out like a light, exhausted from a full work week, to have not even stirred from her slumber when he got home.

She got out of bed and went to the bathroom, and when she came back, he was awake and sitting up in bed.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning." He watched her walk back to the bed. "You're wearing my Mets t-shirt," he observed.

"Yes, I am."

"I love it when you do that."

"I know," she said smugly. She slipped in beside him and let him pull her close. "What time did you get in last night?"

"Around three, I think," he said to the top of her head.

"You could have woken me," she said.

"I didn't want to bother you," he said. "I thought at least one of us should get a good night's sleep."

"What happened with the thing?" she asked.

"A Delta Force team was able to get the hostages out with no casualties," he said.

"Thank god."

"Yeah." He stroked her arm. "I'm sorry about cutting dinner short," he said.

"Don't worry about it."

"I am worrying about it. In fact, it worries me that you're not worrying about it."

She pulled back to look at his face. "You're making even less sense than usual."

He didn't meet her eyes. "How long have we been...whatever this is that we're doing?"

"Dating?" she asked dryly. "Almost three months now." Two months, twenty-three days, and sixteen hours, to be precise, but who was counting?

"And during that time, how many full evenings have we been able to spend together?"

"Five," she said promptly, then felt bad when he winced. "Uh...I think."

"See, this is around the time when you're supposed to start getting on my case about never being around," he explained.

"Really."

"Yes."

"According to whom?"

"According to every woman I've dated since getting involved in politics."

"Well, there's a statistically significant sample," she grumbled.

"It makes sense, Donna. I'm constantly canceling, re-scheduling, leaving you stranded..."

"Hold on a minute," she said slowly, trying to process this nonsense. "Are you saying that it bothers you that I'm not giving you a hard time about your schedule? That you're worried because I'm not riding you the way your ex-girlfriends did?" She pulled out of his embrace completely and stared at him, feeling her cheeks flush with anger. "Your capacity for egomania is truly awe-inspiring," she said.

It looked like he was starting to realize he may have made a mistake. "I'm not saying I want you to yell at me --"

"That's too bad, Joshua, because it's looking pretty likely that that's going to happen," she yelled at him.

He rubbed his face. "Can we just pretend I never said anything?" he asked plaintively.

"I don't know. Can you accept the fact that some women, namely, you know, me, are well aware of the demands of your job and don't sit at home alone bitching and moaning that you're not here to bless us mere mortals with your manly presence?"

He cocked his head. "That's never really occurred to me before."

"No kidding." This, she reflected, is the problem with falling in love with an arrogant son of a bitch.

"You know what this means, don't you," he said, mischief in his soft brown eyes.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

He raised himself up and tugged at her legs, pushing her down on her back, then slid his hands underneath her -- his -- t-shirt. "It means I have to work twice as hard to make sure you miss me when I'm not here." She watched in mute astonishment as he gently spread her thighs and lowered his head to her sex.

How am I supposed to argue with that? she wondered, lifting her legs and placing her feet on his shoulders. She closed her eyes as his mouth worked between her thighs. "You don't fight fair, Josh," she whispered, her hips starting to rise and fall in time with the attentions of his tongue.

His response was to double his efforts, and her resulting crashing orgasm obliterated all thoughts of strife from her head.

*****

"Have I told you how fabulous you look tonight?" Randy asked.

"Only three or four times," Donna said. She smoothed her palms against the pink shift with black piping and hoped Randy was telling her the truth when he said that she looked "fashionable as hell" and not like she was channeling Jackie Kennedy. At least her new black Stuart Weitzman strappy sandals went a long way toward boosting her confidence, even if the cost had busted her budget. "Any sign of him?" she asked her assistant hopefully, casting her gaze around the impeccably manicured garden.

Randy's dark eyes clouded. "No," he said, clearly in a snit.

Donna nodded and tried not to emulate Randy's ire. This was the Polaris Project's first major fundraiser since she'd been brought on board, and as it was primarily aimed at members of Congress, she couldn't help but feel, as the Project's congressional liaison, that the entire evening was a reflection on her and her abilities, as irrational as that might seem. They were an hour in to the festivities and her date still hadn't shown up. She knew he must have a good reason for being late, but she also knew that he had known how important this evening was to her.

"Well, let me know if you see him, or if he calls," she told Randy, making her voice as breezy as she could manage. "I'm going to corral the Weissengers and hit them up for some trust fund money." She made her way through the verdant sea of topiary and garden lights, and had nearly reached the newest generation of Weissenger brats when Randy ran up to her, out of breath and holding out her cell phone.

"It's him," he said, and handed her the phone.

She took it from him, dreading what she was going to hear on the other end of the receiver. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry," Josh's familiar voice said in her ear.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"I'm still at the office. I'm doing my damndest to get out of here, but the President's decided at the last minute that he wants to add some language to the waste disposal bill, and guess who got that plum assignment."

"So what you're telling me is that you're standing me up for garbage," Donna said. Randy dramatically put his head in his hands.

"Well, when you put it that way..." Josh trailed off, sighed. "When is this thing over?"

She checked her watch. "In three hours. Two and a half."

"I'll be there before then. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Josh," she said softly.

A pause on the other end, then: "Yeah," he said. "But I promise to do my best."

"Okay." She hung up, then blinked rapidly to hold back tears. She would not cry over something as stupid as her boyfriend being late for her party.

"Let me guess. Work," Randy said, holding his hand out for the phone.

"Josh has a very important job," she snapped as she gave the phone back to him. "When the President of the United States asks you to stay late, you stay late." And she meant it. After all, that used to be her life, too. She understood.

And in some strange way, that made it all the more difficult to endure.

"I still need to talk to the Weissengers," she said. "If anyone is looking for me, that's where I'll be." She strode back off into the crowd, head held high.

*****

He made it thirty minutes before the fundraiser officially ended. Most of the guests had departed by that time, and Donna was holding court among a group of young non-profit staffers who were eagerly devouring stories of the Bartlet White House. Donna was just finishing up her story of President Bartlet's 34th radio address take when Josh appeared on the periphery of her vision. "I'm sorry guys, would you excuse me?" she said, leaving them to continue gossiping on their own. She walked slowly over to him, noting that he at least did not appear to be wearing the same suit he'd worn at work all day.

"How angry are you?" he asked from under a pool of moonlight that cast dark shadows on the planes of his face.

She sighed. "I'm not angry, Josh, just disappointed." She gestured toward the bar. "Do you want a drink?"

Relief colored his expression. "Yeah," he said. "A drink would be great."

She took his arm and they walked through the garden toward the red-jacketed bartender. "This is a great space," Josh observed.

"Isn't it? It's usually rented out for weddings, but I didn't see why it couldn't be used for this kind of function too," Donna said.

"So how did it go?"

She paused to consider. "It went well, I think. We raised about 5% more than we'd been expecting, which isn't a huge windfall, but more than enough to justify our efforts." Her boss, Winnie Goldblatt, the Project's Director, had taken Donna aside earlier and commended her on a job well done, and she smiled at the memory. "Winnie was pleased."

They reached the bar and Josh ordered a scotch straight up. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a dollar bill, which he stuffed into the tip jar, then took a swig of the amber liquid. "I'm glad," he said. "I know I didn't tell you this often enough when we were working together -- well, according to you, there are many, many things I didn't tell you often enough -- but I'm proud of you."

"I always knew when you were proud of me, Josh," she said quietly. "You didn't have to say it."

"Yeah, but I probably should have."

"Probably."

He knocked back the rest of the scotch and shuddered as it went down his throat. "And I should have been here for you tonight."

"Josh, the President asked you to do something for him. I know as well as anyone that you don't say no to that."

He looked down at the empty glass. "Yeah. I serve at the pleasure of the President," he murmured.

She stepped closer to him, took the glass from his grip and set it back on the bar. "So how about later," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, "you serve at the pleasure of me instead."

He smiled a little at that. "Your pleasure is my pleasure," he said with a glimmer of flirtatiousness in his eyes.

"Take me home and show me," she said, finally kissing him for the first time that day.

*****

When Donna woke the next morning, Josh's side of the bed was empty. She pulled herself up to a sitting position, yawning widely, and rubbed her eyes as she fought to clear sleep from her head. The aroma of brewing coffee filled the apartment, cluing her in to Josh's whereabouts. He entered the bedroom a minute later, clad in boxers and a faded t-shirt, and holding a mug of coffee in each hand.

"You're up," he said.

"You're observant."

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and handed her one of the mugs. "I woke up about an hour ago," he said. "I was really keyed up for some reason, couldn't stay in bed."

"You could have woken me," she said, taking a sip of coffee.

He shrugged.

"Do you have to go in today?" she asked.

"Yeah, but not for a couple of more hours," he said. "Got a meeting with Berryhill at one."

"Good. That's plenty of time for me to have my way with you again," she said playfully.

He grinned and leaned in for a kiss. "Drink your coffee first," he murmured against her lips. "I want you wide awake for that."

"Yes sir," she said, obediently taking another swallow.

He got up from the bed and started pacing aimlessly around her room, taking frequent sips from his own coffee mug. He paused in front of her pink and black dress, which she had draped over a chair the previous night before hopping into bed with him. She furrowed her brow as he watched him. He seemed lost in thought, and he tentatively reached out and touched her dress as if afraid it would burn his skin. "Josh?" she prodded.

He snapped out of it. "Yeah," he said. "Sorry. You know...I just remembered. I have a...thing, before my meeting with Berryhill. I should go. "

She blinked at him in confusion. "Okay," she said. "If you're sure."

He ran a hand through his hair impatiently. "Yeah. I have to go," he said, setting down his coffee mug and hastily gathering his clothes from the night before. "I'll call you later." He gave her a quick peck on the lips and fled the bedroom before she could form another complete sentence. A few minutes later she heard the apartment door close.

What in the world, she wondered, sitting in bed dumbly, her coffee growing cold, had just happened?

*****

Donna didn't get an answer to that question any time soon. Josh didn't call her that night, or the next day, either. She considered calling him, then decided that if he was having a nutty, maybe he needed a chance to work it out for himself. But after the fourth day had passed without hearing from him, she didn't particularly give a damn if he wanted to talk to her or not. She waited until she got home that evening, settled herself comfortably on her couch, took a deep breath, and dialed his work number.

"Hey," he said when he answered the phone.

"Hey yourself," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well," she said, trying very hard not to sound like the Nagging Girlfriend, "when I didn't hear from you for a few days, I got concerned."

There was a pause. "Sorry," he said. "I, uh, didn't mean to worry you."

"Josh, what's going on?" she asked.

"Nothing. I'm just busy."

"You're always busy, Josh. That doesn't usually stop you from talking to me."

"I said I'm sorry," he said defensively. "Don't get all 'little woman' on me, okay?"

Donna's eyelids fluttered in surprise. "Wow," she said. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that if that's all right with you."

"Whatever," his voice said abruptly in her ear. "Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

"Josh --" she started, but he had already hung up. She stared at the receiver in shock. No one knew better than she did that Josh Lyman could be a world-class jerk, but this -- this was unprecedented, at least in her experience. Maybe she was getting some insight into how he and Amy had self-destructed after all. Or Mandy, for that matter. Or any woman he had dated since getting into politics.

Wait a minute. Any woman he had dated... Her gaze traveled over to her pink dress, which she had picked up from the dry cleaner earlier that evening.

"I'm gonna kill him," she muttered, not sure whether to laugh or cry.

*****

"Josh," Donna called, knocking more forcefully on his door and raising her voice. "Josh, I know you're in there. Open the door."

The door finally opened and Josh squinted blearily at her in surprise, wearing his standard sleepwear of boxers and a t-shirt, his hair sticking up in all directions. "Donna, it's two in the morning," he said.

"I wanted to make sure you were home," she said. "Can I come in?"

He let out a harsh breath of air. "Looks like I don't have a choice," he muttered, and ushered her inside.

Once Donna had entered the apartment and Josh shut the door behind them, she grabbed him and kissed him for all she was worth. He was unresponsive at first, frozen beneath her touch, but soon enough he was kissing her back fervently, wrapping his arms around her.

She finally pulled back from him, and he looked at her dazedly. "What was that for?" he asked.

"That," she said, taking off her coat and throwing it on his couch, "was to show you what a world-class idiot you are."

"I commend you on a suitably Donnatella Moss method of conveying that piece of information," he said.

She folded her arms over her chest. "Josh. I'm not leaving you."

His entire body jerked at her words. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about what you've been doing for the past few days. I'm talking about the aggravating, but in hindsight not entirely unpredictable, way in which you are doing your best to sabotage this relationship."

"Don't be even more ridiculous than usual," he said, but she could see the guilt in his eyes.

"I don't know if you remember this, Josh, but I once referred to your dating style as bumping into girls sideways and waiting for them to break up with you. I guess I am now experiencing the singular pleasure of your employing this strategy even more aggressively than usual."

"Donna --"

She held up her hand. "I'm not finished. You see, Josh, despite your brilliant political mind, you made a major miscalculation in your crazy scheme. You neglected to factor in just how well I know you. I am intimately acquainted with your patterns of behavior. I'm well versed in your tactics. If there was a university course in Josh Lyman 101 -- and believe me," she said, pointing her finger, "the very thought of that sends chills of fear down my spine -- I would be the one person on this planet most qualified to teach it. All of which is my long-winded way of saying knock it off."

"It might help if you explained, you know, what the hell you're talking about," he said, trying to slip back into their old patterns.

"I'm talking about you purposely acting like a jerk so that I'll break up with you sooner rather than later," she said.

He looked at her, sighed, rubbed his forehead. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"It's what I know you're doing. You're so convinced that you're going to lose me because of a deficiency on your part that you're aggressively trying to push me away in a pre-emptive strike." She softened her voice, needing to get through to him. "Josh. I love you."

He absorbed that for a moment. "I know you do," he said finally. "That's what scares the hell out of me." He moved to the couch, sank down onto it, his hands on his knees, not looking at her. He looked very old, suddenly. "Everyone I love leaves eventually," he said. "Whether I want them to or not."

She sat down next to him but didn't touch him, not wanting to crowd him. "I don't plan on going anywhere," she said.

He did look at her then, and she was taken aback by the stark pain in his soft brown eyes. "Donna, don't you get it? It doesn't matter if you plan to or not. I'll still lose you, one way or another. I guess...I guess I was thinking that if you left now, you'd still have time to find somebody else. Somebody who isn't, I don't know, cursed, or whatever the hell it is about me that ruins everyone I touch."

Her throat closed up; nascent tears burned her vision. "Don't you think that should be my decision?" she asked. "You're not cursed, Josh. You're just an idiot sometimes. A sweet, overly sensitive idiot who's had to suffer too much pain in his life, but an idiot nonetheless."

She could see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm trying to figure out whether that was supposed to make me feel better," he said.

"I'm not sure myself," she admitted with a tentative grin.

He shook his head ruefully, and she took the opportunity to cover his hand with her own. "We're not boss and assistant any more, Josh. We're equals. And that means you need to treat me like an equal in this relationship, which includes allowing me to make my own decisions about whether I want to stay, or go, or any combination of the two. You have to trust me."

"I do trust you," he said reflexively.

"Then you have to trust me to be with you. You have to trust me to understand that you have a job that requires you to work late and miss parties and movie dates. You have to trust me when I say that your job is a part of what I love about you -- a major part of why I fell in love with you in the first place. And, maybe most importantly, you have to trust me to call you on this stupid crap you're trying to pull. Because if I don't, who else will?"

He was silent for a while, turning it all over in his mind, staring down at their entwined fingers. "You're right," he said, and his entire body seemed to relax a fraction. "I haven't been fair to you. I'm just, you know...maybe, just possibly, there is a chance that I'm the tiniest bit scared."

"You think?" she said teasingly.

He ducked his head in chagrin. "I've never been in a relationship this serious before, Donna. Whenever I think about it too closely I start to freak out."

"I'm not exactly the poster child for successful long-term relationships myself," she said dryly. "But I have to believe that what you and I have is different from my dalliances with Republicans, or your ill-advised liaisons with women who were completely wrong for you."

"My ill-advised liaisons? You're one to talk."

"Josh, you're changing the subject," she said.

"I'm doing my best, yes."

She dropped her chin and bit the inside of her lip. "You're maddening," she said.

"I know," he answered, and his voice was slightly hoarse.

She looked back up at him, met his eyes. "Guess it's a good thing for you that I'm so hopelessly in love with you, then," she said, trying to inject a playful tone into her own voice.

"Yeah," he said seriously. "Yeah, it is." He leaned in and kissed her, his hand coming up to rest against her cheek, his tongue slipping tentatively into her mouth. She kissed him back, putting all her support and assurance into it, and when they finally parted they were both a bit winded.

"Make love to me, Donna," he whispered, his breath soft and warm on her skin, and she couldn't remember him ever asking that before. "Please?"

"You're begging now?" she said flirtatiously. "I think I like that." But she kissed him gently, placing her hands on either side of his head, then moved her lips over his face, bestowing feather-soft kisses on his nose, cheeks, eyelids, forehead. He relaxed even further under her touch and let out a vulnerable, barely audible sigh.

"Let's go to the bedroom," she said in his ear. "I want to do this properly."

He wordlessly let her lead him by the hand to his bedroom, where she stripped him of his t-shirt and boxers and eased him down onto the bed, then removed her own clothing, letting the garments fall in a careless puddle at her feet.

She covered his body with hers, leaning in for a kiss, then pulling away and making her way down his body with her lips. She nibbled at his collarbone, bathed his nipples with her tongue, caressed the solid muscle of his biceps. Her hardened nipples grazed against his well-defined chest, his firm abdomen, and they both gasped with pleasure. She tongued his navel, then drew the sensitive skin near his hipbones between her teeth, and he shuddered under her touch.

When she took his cock into her mouth he let out a ragged exhalation of air and clutched at the sheets beneath him. He hardened even further as she sucked him, rock hard beneath velvety skin. She made a satisfied sound deep in her throat and began to gently run her thumb up and down at the base of his shaft.

Josh groaned and gripped her upper arms, pulling her back up toward him. She lay down next to him and they each turned on their sides, facing each other, Donna wrapping one leg high around his waist as he eased himself inside of her.

Side by side. Equals, she thought, as he thrust into her. She bit her lip, tasted a moan. Their closeness in height meant that their faces were only inches apart, and their mouths met again and again in greedy kisses, pulling away periodically so they could take deep, gulping breaths. His eyes searched hers with an intensity that took her off guard, and she wondered if he was able to find what he seemed to be looking for so desperately.

He pulled her more firmly against him, increasing the pace of his thrusts, and the slight shift in position resulted in a new delicious friction against her clit. She closed her eyes and ground herself harder against him as the pressure built inside of her.

"Are you close?" he whispered.

"Yes..."

"Say my name," he urged her. "I want to hear you say my name when you come."

"Josh," she muttered, even though she wasn't quite there yet. His hand moved to her breast, fingers closing over her nipple, and that was just enough to send her hurtling over the precipice. "Josh," she said again as she fell, as the convulsions overtook her, as her last vestige of control shattered into a million pieces. "Oh, god, Josh Josh Josh Josh Josh --"

"Donna," he said reverently, and then with a few more frenzied thrusts he spilled into her with a rush of warmth. "God I love you," he whispered as he subsided, his head resting against hers.

"Remember that," she said. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer. "Remember that the next time you think about doing something stupid."

"Okay," he said, pressing his lips to her neck.

"Okay." She ran her fingers through his hair soothingly, feeling protective all of a sudden. Her complicated, mercurial man. So strong and so broken all at once. "Go to sleep," she whispered to the top of his head. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"And after that?" he murmured, already drifting off into slumber.

"And after that too," Donna assured him.

They slept.

End.