"Has he seen it yet?" CJ asked as she passed Donna's desk in
the early morning. The press secretary had her copy of The
Hill in one hand, a venti Starbucks latte in the other, and looked
like the proverbial cat who'd just snacked on a canary.

Donna looked up from her computer. "I don't think so. You
haven't heard him screaming yet, have you?"

"Good point." CJ stopped, put down her coffee, and opened
the magazine to the piece on Donna. "It really is a fabulous
picture of you," she said.

"Thanks," Donna said shyly. "I still think this whole thing is
ridiculous, but --"

"Hey," CJ interrupted her. "Don't knock it. When I made the
list, I ate out for free in this town for about three months."

"Really?" The prospect of free food made Donna's mouth water.

"Everyone wants to be seen with the beautiful people, Donna,"
CJ said, batting her eyelashes. "And I should know."

"Don-na!" came a strangled scream from Josh's office.

"I think he saw it," Donna murmured. Josh appeared in his office
doorway, a copy of The Hill in hand. "Yes, Josh?" she asked
innocently.

"You're on the list," he croaked.

"What list is that?" she said absently, pretending to look through
a file. CJ smothered a grin and took a sip from her coffee.

"The 50 most beautiful people on Capitol Hill," he said. "You're
number 27."

"Oh, that," Donna said with false nonchalance.

"Isn't it great?" CJ said.

"You knew about this?"

"Of course I knew about it, Josh," CJ said. "I wouldn't be doing
my job if I didn't, now, would I?"

"How come nobody told me?" he demanded. "I should have been
informed of this! I should have had, I don't know, approval or
something!"

CJ rolled her eyes and stepped closer to him. "What's the big deal?
I was in it one year, Sam was in it the year before that...I don't
remember you pitching a fit then, although don't think I've forgotten
about the ribbing I took from you for weeks afterward, you big baby."

"That was different! You and Sam weren't my assistant! Besides,
that’s -- I knew about you and Sam in advance," Josh sputtered.
"Why didn't you tell me about this beforehand?"

"Because I knew it would be much more fun to ambush you with
it and watch you squirm," CJ said.

Josh set his jaw. "No, seriously, CJ. Why didn't you tell me?"

CJ regarded him with heavy-lidded eyes, and Donna had to work
really hard to suppress a childish giggle.

"Because it's much more fun to ambush me with it and watch me
squirm," he said faintly.

"You got it Sparky." CJ slapped him on the arm with her copy
of the magazine and strolled away, putting Donna back into Josh's
line of vision.

Donna could feel him looking at her, but she pretended to be absorbed
in her work, fingers flying over the keyboard, as Josh sauntered over
to her desk.

"So," he began.

"So," she responded, eyes on her computer monitor.

He opened the magazine to her entry, cleared his throat
obnoxiously, and started reading. "'Do the congressional
elite need to meet quite so frequently with Deputy Chief
of Staff Josh Lyman (who, some would say, should have
his own mention in these pages)...' Hey!"

"I was waiting for you to notice that part," Donna murmured.

"If 'some would say' I should be in here, why am I not in here?"
he pouted.

"Maybe they were taking both looks and personality into account
when making their decision," she said.

"You may have a point there," he conceded under his breath,
then kept reading. "...meet with Josh Lyman...or are they just
looking for excuses to interact with his stunning and statuesque
assistant?' 'Stunning and statuesque,' I like the alliteration there,
that's a nice touch."

"Well, I've always been in favor of accuracy in journalism,"
Donna said.

Josh ignored her and continued. "'With her ethereal good looks
and sunny personality, Moss is a serene and inviting oasis amidst
the usual west wing chaos.'" He snorted. "'Serene.' Clearly, they
don't know about the incident with the falling Chinese satellite."

"That was a legitimate concern!" Donna protested. She got up
and started rummaging through a pile of files on her side table,
not really seeing anything, just trying to look as uninterested as
possible in his little performance.

"It was a legitimate concern only to Donnatella Moss," Josh
corrected her. "To everyone else it wasn't even a blip on the radar."

"Go away from me," she grumbled. "I have work to do."

"Fine," he said. "I need that memo on trade sanctions."

"It's coming," she said. She glared at him as he went back into
his office. Jerk. He hadn't even mentioned the picture.

It was a damn good picture of her, too.

*****

"I'm going to lunch," Donna announced later from Josh's office
doorway.

"Can you bring me back something?" he asked, not looking up
from his newspaper.

"No, I can't. I'm not going to the mess, I'm going out. To an
actual restaurant. With another person."

He eyed her over the edge of the paper. "Who?" he asked
belligerently.

"David Patterson."

"David Patterson? Minority leader chief of staff David
Patterson?"

"Yes."

"What the hell is he doing taking you out to lunch?"

"It seems my picture was in a certain magazine today,"
Donna said stiffly. "He wants to take me out to lunch to
congratulate me."

"He's taking you out because some people at a magazine
think you're pretty?"

"Actually, I think he's taking me out because the article makes
me sound like I have actual responsibilities around here and
therefore might have something meaningful to contribute to
a luncheon conversation," she snapped.

"You do have actual responsibilities around here, when you
choose to perform them," he said.

"Whatever." She folded her arms over her chest. "Am I
allowed to leave, boss?"

"Be back in an hour," he said, and went back to his paper.

She turned to go, paused, then turned to face him again.
"Besides, would it be so difficult to believe that he might be
taking me out because he thinks I'm pretty?"

"I don't care why he's taking you out as long as you're back
in an hour," Josh said.

She bit her lower lip. "Fine."

"Good."

"And I'm not bringing you back anything!" she shouted as
she walked away.

*****

"I need you to do a job on this one, Josh," Leo said as the two
men made their way up from the mess, where they'd shared a
quick working lunch.

"Not a problem," Josh assured his boss. He raised his chin in
acknowledgment to Will, who was walking quickly in the opposite
direction, no doubt on some sort of meaningless errand for Bingo Bob.

"Hey, congratulations to Donna!" Will yelled as he rushed past.
"Tell her I think it's very, very cool. Not to mention well-deserved."

"Uh, will do," Josh said.

"What was that about?" Leo asked as they continued on their way.

Josh sighed. "Donna was in that...that thing The Hill does
every year. The 50 most beautiful people in government."

Leo shook his head. "The stupid things people get worked up over
instead of, you know, running the country, never ceases to amaze
me."

"Tell me about it," Josh said, rolling up the manila folder he
gripped in one hand.

"So did you get her flowers?" Leo asked as he pushed his way
through a pair of swinging doors.

Josh was so taken aback he took the brunt of the doors right in
the chest. "Oooof. What?"

"I don't know, don't you get women flowers when that kind of
thing happens to them?" Leo wondered.

"You just said it was stupid."

"Sure, I think it's stupid, but women probably don't. I've never
been good at figuring out these things. Ask Margaret, she'll be more
than happy to enumerate my deficiencies in that department."

"I'd think that being in the magazine would be reward enough," Josh
said. "Flowers?" He jerked his head derisively. "I'm not going to
get her flowers. That's ridiculous."

"Whatever," Leo said, already moving on to other things in his head.
"Call me after you talk to Skinner."

"Yeah."

*****

"How was lunch with Dapper Dave?" Josh asked as he strolled
past Donna's desk.

"It was lovely, if you must know," she said. "And you'd better
get used to it, because I have two more lunches lined up already
for next week."

He paused on his way into his office. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." She looked at him levelly, and he just knew that she
was daring him to make a snarky comment.

He refused to take the bait. He was, after all, the Deputy Chief
of Staff. He was above that sort of thing. "Okay," he said
breezily, projecting, to his mind, the convincing air of a man
supremely unconcerned with his assistant's lunch schedule. He
slapped the doorjamb with the folder he was carrying and went
into his office, where he stared off into space for about a minute
and then left again. "I gotta see CJ," he called to Donna on his
way down the connecting hallway.

CJ was sitting at her desk, going through the wires, when Josh
barged in. "Hey. You're gonna get a question about Libyan trade
sanctions," he said. "We'll have an answer for you tomorrow,
just put them off if you get it today."

"Okay." When he didn't leave, she looked up from her reading
material. "Was there something else?" she asked.

"Should I...ah, forget it," he said, and turned to go.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"You suck at playing coy."

He stopped, sighed, looked down at his shoes, then back up
again. "Should I -- I don't know, get Donna flowers or
something?"

She raised an eyebrow. "For being included in the magazine?"

"Yeah."

CJ took off her glasses, put them down on the desk, and considered
the question. "It would be nice," she said finally.

"But is it necessary?"

"No, Josh, I don't think it's necessary that you get Donna flowers.
If you're only going to get them because you think they're necessary,
you probably shouldn't get them at all."

"Right." He turned to go again. "But you're saying it would be nice?"

"Yes," she said in exasperation. "Now leave me alone, some of us
have real work to do. And let me know when you have something
on the sanctions."

"Okay."

Sometimes, Josh reflected as he made his way back to his office,
having a woman as your assistant was more trouble than it was worth.
If his male assistant had been included in the magazine, he would
have razzed him about it mercilessly for about a week, and then let
the matter drop. Why was it different because Donna was a woman?

Because you think she's beautiful too, you jackass? the voice inside
his head wondered. He told it to shut up and went back to work.

*****

"And the way your hair picks up the light is gorgeous," Margaret
said.

"It does look pretty good," Donna conceded. Margaret was hunched
over Donna's desk, the two of them skimming through the pages of
the magazine, but Margaret kept on returning to Donna's photo,
much to Donna's chagrin.

"And where did you get that top?" she asked.

"It's just DKNY," Donna demurred. "I got it on sale." Her spidey
sense tingled, alerting her to her boss' presence. "What can I do
for you, Josh?" she asked without looking over at him.

"I need you to get Matt Skinner on the phone," he said from his
doorway.

"I told you earlier, his assistant said he wouldn't be back for another
hour," Donna said.

"Oh. Yeah. Never mind."

"Isn't this a great picture of Donna?" Margaret asked him, holding
up the magazine.

"Yeah," he said shortly, and retreated to his office.

"He's grumpy today," Margaret observed.

"When isn't he grumpy," Donna said sourly.

"He doesn't get enough bran in his diet," Margaret pronounced.

Donna blinked. "Okay."

Margaret went back to flipping through the magazine, and Donna
wondered where Leo was that Margaret was being so unusually idle.
"I'm surprised Mrs. Bartlet hasn't ever been in here," the redhead said.
"I mean, think about it, she's gorgeous."

"It is surprising," Donna said absently, trying to get a spreadsheet
done.

"They're probably just afraid of the president's reaction," Margaret
said. "He'd buy up every copy they printed just so he wouldn't have
to tolerate the idea of other men ogling his wife."

"He probably would," Donna agreed.

"Think of the foul mood he'd be in, convinced that all of Washington
was mooning over the First Lady," Margaret continued, babbling on
carelessly. "He'd be snapping at Leo, which means Leo would snap
at me, which means I would have to start drinking even earlier than
usual..."

"What?" Donna said, her head jerking up.

"Just seeing if you were paying attention," Margaret said matter-of-
factly. She put down the magazine. "Although it's true that the
president would be snappish. I'm just saying. I'll see you later," she
said.

"Later," Donna murmured. Something was prodding at the back of
her brain, but she couldn't quite grasp it.

"Donna!" Josh yelled from the depths of his office. "What did you
do with that briefing memo for the Vice President?"

"Don't yell," Donna said, getting up from her desk and walking over
to him. "You probably buried it under something."

"You think?"

Donna rolled her eyes and sifted through the pile on the right side
of his desk. "It's right here," she said, pulling the paper out from
the stack. "You put all the trade sanction stuff on top of it."

"Thanks," he muttered, taking it from her. She stared at him until
he looked up. "What?"

"Why are you mad at me?" she asked.

"I'm not mad at you," he said defensively.

"You're mad about something," she said. "And I can't help but
think that somehow, you're angry with me for being in that
magazine."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed.

"I don't think I'm the one being ridiculous. I think you are."

"Donna, I'm not angry that you're in the magazine. I'm glad
you're in the magazine. In fact, I'm thrilled. If it makes you happy,
it makes me happy. How's that?"

"You didn't even say anything about my picture," she pointed out.
"It was professionally taken and everything."

He gestured futilely with his hand. "I think it's a very nice
picture," he said, his voice going up just a little.

She sighed in exasperation. "Whatever."

"Donna --"

"You don't think I deserve to be in there, do you," she said.

He gaped at her. "Donna, I --"

"Admit it, Josh. You don't think I deserve to be on that list.
The pitiable Donna Moss, everyone's favorite little Midwestern
girl, pat her on the head and give her a biscuit. Well, you know
what, Josh? I don't care what you think. Sure, the whole thing
is a stupid, meaningless empty gesture. But it's my thing.
And it makes me feel good about myself. And I won't let you
ruin it for me." She winced at the whine in her voice, could
feel her cheeks burning, could sense that she was dangerously
close to being even more out of line than usual, but she just
didn't care. This was one thing that Josh Lyman was not going
to dump all over, not if she could help it.

Josh opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Shut the door,"
he said quietly.

"With me on the other side?"

"No, with you on this side," he said. "Shut the door."

She did as she was told, then leaned back against the closed
door, her arms folded over her chest, and waited for him to
speak.

Josh hunched forward slightly, his hands drumming nervously
on the desk, seemingly running a million different lines of thought
through his head. Finally he leaned back in his chair and let out
an exasperated sigh. "First of all, the idea that I don't think you
deserve to be on that list is ludicrous. Of course you're a beautiful
woman, Donna. And I think I've made it pretty clear for the entire
time that we've known each other that I think you're a beautiful
woman. In fact, when have I ever given you any indication that
I don't think you're a beautiful woman?"

"Today, for starters," she grumbled.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.
"Then allow me to set the record straight, here and now. You,
Donnatella Moss, are a beautiful woman. Distractingly so, if
truth be told."

"You're damn right," she said automatically, then the last bit
sunk in. "Really?"

"Really," he said, nodding.

"Okay. Well, good," she said, partially mollified. "But then
why have you been such a pain to be around today?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess...maybe I just don't
like the idea of sharing you with the entire readership of
The Hill. Maybe I don't like the idea of every single guy
in Washington, and more than a few married ones, suddenly
calling you up and asking you out to lunch."

"Why not?" she prodded.

"I don't know," he repeated, then shrugged. "I just don't like it.
I don't know why. Considering my past patterns of behavior,
I don't see why that should surprise you."

"I guess not," she whispered, and wondered wistfully if he was
ever going to just come out and say it.

Josh gave her his best puppy dog face. She did her best not to
fall for it, failed as usual. "So are we good now?" he asked.

"I guess so," she said. "I just wanted you to be happy for me,
Josh. That's all."

"And I am," he said. "Honest."

He smiled, and she couldn't help but smile back, and suddenly
everything really did seem okay after all. Damn him anyway.
"I'm going to go back to my desk."

"Okay," he said. She opened the door, was about to leave,
when Josh spoke again. "Hey, Donna?"

She paused. "Yes?"

"You look gorgeous in that picture," he said. "Seriously.
You look...you look amazing."

She smiled again, feeling as if it would split her face.
"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

"Congressman Skinner should be back in his office by now,"
she said. "I'll get him on the phone for you."

"Thanks," Josh said. "And...don't worry about needing to take
lunch out of the office next week, or whenever. Have fun."

She smiled her thanks and left to place the phone call.

*****

"Delivery for you, Donna," the mail clerk said.

Donna looked up to see a glass vase filled with flowers in a
riotous assortment of colors. "For me?" she said in confusion.
"Are you sure?"

"Your name was on the messenger slip," he said. He
handed her a clipboard which she signed to show receipt
of delivery, and then he placed the vase on her desk.
"Enjoy."

"Thanks, Mark," she said, her eyes fixed on the lavish
arrangement. She found the card nestled in between a
cluster of daisies, and opened it curiously.

"To the most beautiful woman in Washington," she read
aloud. "From someone who doesn't tell her often enough."
She looked up to see Josh standing by her desk, watching
her with a smug expression. "From you?" she asked in
surprise.

He nodded. "Congratulations, Donna," he said softly, and
leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. She gaped after him
as he walked away. The imprint of his lips tingled on her
skin.

End.