A/N: Hello, fellow travelers on this grand Mariokart's-Rainbow-Road-esque journey we call life! What-ho, my good chaps!
This is a little thing I've started, that I'm interested in pursuing it if you all are interested in reading it.
Go on and admonish me for starting another story, what with the fact that I've already got a million other things to work on. I deserve it, and have appropriately punished myself already. "Bad Dobby!"
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this mildly angsty thing, set mid season 5(ish).
Rating: T
Reviews: Oh, you know I'm an attention-seeking little bugger. My reviewers are my loves.
Disclaimer: I henceforth proclaim that I do not own any of these characters. I mean, who'd want 'em, anyway? So lame. I don't even like them. That's why I write about them so frequently.
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"You're not being very helpful, you know."
"Hmm?" He jerks upright, guiltily breaking his train of thought. He smiles dryly. "To be honest, I'm having trouble remembering what I was supposed to be doing."
She pouts indignantly. "You're supposed to be double-checking the guest list."
"Why?"
"Invites go out this month, and I want to make sure I've got everyone."
He gazes down at the paper in his hand for the first time since she'd delegated it to him. "You put the President on the list?"
She shrugs. "I put a question mark."
"The President can't just show up to the wedding. It's not that easy. There's gotta be secret service, a huge venue, people vetting the guests..."
"I know that." She mutters, looking down at the carpet. "But... He told me he wanted to come."
His expression softens. "I'm sure that he does, Donna."
She smiles slightly. "Okay. It was stupid. Any other problems with the list?"
"I, uhh, don't think so." He doesn't recognize half the names.
"Okay. Do you want to look at color schemes?"
He groans, sinking back against the couch cushions. "Why did I agree to this?"
She looks up at him with a quaint smile. "Because you love me."
He opens his eyes tentatively. She's looked away from him already, a testament to the fact that she'd made the comment in passing. Her hair shades her face in a golden curtain, and she's sprawled awkwardly on the carpet, gazing with undue intensity at what could very well be napkin samples. There's a faint, purplish ink smudge under her left eye.
He has trouble disagreeing.
Josh clears his throat. "Still. I mean, I didn't have anything better to do?"
She peers back up at him absently. "Obviously not."
"That's pretty sad."
"Yeah." Her hair swings back with a flourish as she raises herself to her knees. She shuffles toward him with a card in hand. "Hey, tell me what you think of this calligraphy."
"Donna, I really don't know shit about calligraphy-" he whines even as he allows her to hold it up for his viewing. She props her elbows on his knees, waiting expectantly for his feedback on the menial detail.
"I, umm, it looks good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, very..."
"Classic? Sophisticated?"
"Those were precisely the words that came to mind."
She rolls her eyes, knowing that he's just humoring her. "Okay."
"They go out next week?"
"Yeah, they gave me a lot of samples, so I just have to decide on one and they'll print them all out."
"Okay."
"I think I like this one."
"Okay."
With a hand on the coffee table, she raises herself off the ground and flops down beside him on the couch. She holds the sample invitation at arms length, admiring it. "Don't the names just look lovely?"
Josh stays silent, not sure if he can mindlessly give her affirmations any longer. He stares at the names, coupled together that way, and his chest aches. He tries to summon his usual strength to give a sarcastic reply, Yeah, Donna. Just lovely.
But in his tired haze, the smell of fresh-printed bridal magazines rising up in mocking around him, her shoulder pressed against his... He can't summon anything but the truth.
"It should be me."
Her excitement falters, her outstretched arms dropping just an inch. "I... What?"
To his surprise, he has no inclination to retract the statement. "It should be me. You should be marrying me."
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3 months prior.
"Hey, Josh."
"Hey." He doesn't look up from his computer screen at her greeting, expecting her to have just poked her head in for a moment upon arrival. It's only after he feels her presence lingering in the doorway some thirty seconds later that he glances over at her. "You need something?"
"Oh, no, I just..." She closes her eyes for a moment, the barest flicker of anxiety. When she opens them, it's with a cheerful smile. "I brought you some coffee."
"You... What?" He swivels his chair around, wondering if he'd heard correctly.
"Yeah." Not looking at him, she sets the offering carefully on his desk. It's not crappy office coffee, either, it's from the shop down the street.
"Okay, what's going on here?"
"Oh, nothing, I just thought I'd... It's no big deal." She shifts uncertainly from foot to foot. He notices that she's still wearing her coat and purse; she hadn't even stopped by her desk yet.
"Yes, it is."
"No, it isn't."
"Is too."
"I'm just being nice, Josh."
"Yeah, that's pretty suspicious."
She glares at him. "Very funny."
"I thought so." A slight smirk of superiority begins to form on his face, and he reaches out to take the cup. "Thanks, though."
"No problem."
It's as he takes his first sip that he remembers. The coffee tastes more bitter, suddenly. "Oh, how was your thing last night?"
"It was great." She says immediately. Her cheeks take on a tinge of red, and she's still not looking at him. He realizes that she'd been waiting for him to ask. "It was really great."
"That's good." He says, as nonchalantly as he can manage. "How's Scott?"
"He's great." She replies quickly. "He's really great."
"Donna?"
"Mm?"
"Has your vast vocabulary suddenly contracted to the words really and great?"
"He proposed." She blurts out suddenly. "He, uhh... Scott proposed."
It takes a moment for this information to sink in. It feels almost as though someone has put his stomach inside a barrel and then dropped it off a cliff; he braces himself for the jagged rocks below. "He... What?"
She bites her lip nervously. Her eyes, shining, betray the smallest glimpse of happiness. "Scott proposed last night, after dinner."
His mind reverts to the usual defenses, his heart hiding somewhere behind them. "Well, Great Scott!"
A slight smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, I... It was pretty surprising."
He seizes on this. "Yeah. You guys haven't been dating that long, can't believe he'd pull that one out so soon."
He can't see her left hand. It's in her coat pocket.
She narrows her eyes. "It's been a year, Josh."
"It... Has?" It can't possibly have been that long. It was only yesterday that she'd been dancing so close to him at the inaugural ball, that he'd been so sure if he just did something, did anything... She needs to move her hand.
"Yes, Josh." She sounds annoyed now. "I told you, we were going out last night to celebrate our anniversary."
But he hadn't done anything. He couldn't make himself move, couldn't uproot years of dancing at greater distances, couldn't risk the idea that he might be the only one hearing the music.
"I mean, but still." He back pedals lamely. "A year is still a pretty short time, don't you think? Poor guy's getting ahead of himself."
"A year is a pretty long time. Some people get married after three months." She juts her chin out challengingly. She'd moved her hand; her arms are crossed now. Had he missed it? He feels sick.
"Yeah, but do you know what kind of divorce rates those people have, Donna?" He shakes his head scornfully, standing and brushing past her.
"Well, then it's good he waited a year. Where are you going?"
"I, uhh, need to see Sam." No he doesn't.
"He's not in yet."
"I'll talk to Toby about it, then."
"A year is a long time, Josh."
"It's really not. You need more time to get to know each other." He roots through the filing cabinet with the utmost conviction.
"I don't think you're the best judge of my relationship, Joshua Lyman."
"I'm just sayin'..."
"I wasn't asking your permission." Her voice is deadly cold. He doesn't turn around.
"Great, I wasn't giving it."
"I said yes, Josh."
"You did?"
"I did."
He ceases to move before eventually turning to face her. Her arms are limp at her sides, much like his. On her left hand, a diamond ring laughs at him in the bright bullpen lights.
"You, uhh... You've thought about it?"
She purses her lips, gaze falling to the floor. "Why can't you just be happy for me?"
His arrogance falls fast. This is Donna, this is his best friend, this is... This is the woman that he loves. He closes the distance between them in three strides, pulling her roughly into a hug.
"I am. I'm sorry. I am."
"Okay." She replies in a small voice, unconvinced.
"You know I just want you to be happy."
Her taut form loosens a fraction, and her arms wrap around him. "Okay."
"He's a lucky guy, Donna."
"Thank you."
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It's only after what he guesses is about a minute of silence that he steals a glance at her. She's chewing her lip, brow furrowed.
"Donna-"
"Don't." She shakes her head slightly. "Just... Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't do this, okay?"
"Don't do what?" He's not trying to be a prick, he really isn't. He's just so utterly unsure, he's trying to find some modicum of safe ground to plant his feet on.
She rises from the couch quickly, not looking at him. "We'll just pretend you never said anything, and-"
"I don't want to pretend that-"
"Well, tough!" She raises her voice suddenly, heat rising in her face. She takes a deep breath, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't know what you're saying."
He stands as well, indignant. "I know exactly what I'm saying, Donna, and if you think I haven't-"
She merely shakes her head again, almost frantically. "You don't know. You have no idea. You're tired, you're-"
"I'm thinking pretty damn clearly, actually. I'm not pretending that I never said that, because it's just about the only thing I've said about your bloody wedding that I actually mean."
The silence sits heavily.
"So... You don't like the calligraphy?"
He looks at her incredulously. "You're making jokes right now?"
She shrugs plaintively. "Better than crying."
"Why would you..." He trails off, before deciding to play along. "I like the calligraphy fine, Donna."
"Well... that's good." She replies helplessly, looking very much like a toy boat on the open sea. These were uncharted waters.
"It's the name next to yours that I've got a problem with."
"Is it misspelled?"
"Donna-"
"Don't." She crosses her arms, drawing quick, shallow breaths. "Stop it, Josh, don't finish another thought. I'm getting married, to Scott, in six months. I don't want to hear it, okay?"
"Would you prefer I wait until the minister says speak now or forever hold your peace? Because I will, if it'll float your boat. Might be a tad bit of a press debacle, but-"
"I would've preferred you'd said it when I was single!" She shouts back. Realizing her mistake, she back pedals rapidly. "I mean, I wish you hadn't said it all, but-"
"If I'd said it before, would you be marrying Scott?"
"That's not the point!" She glares back. "I'm getting married to a man that loves me, I'm happy, I'm committed, and the notion that you could just swoop in and make me abandon all that-"
"That's not what I-"
"Contrary to what I'm sure you've concocted in that twisted mind of yours, you aren't the be all end all of my life, Josh, and I'm not about to drop everything just because you think you've had some sort of revelation!"
He stands there, watching her shout, and all he can feel is a dull ache in center of his chest. Could this have gone more badly? "It's not, a, umm, revelation."
"What?"
"It's not a revelation. I've been in love with you for a long time."
"God dammit, Josh! Can you hear yourself? I'm engaged. I'm engaged."
"So, the time constraint for me to get my shit together became a bit more prevalent-"
"Well, you missed it. The deadline. You're too late."
"Donna-"
"We're done here. It never happened."
"But-"
"Forget it."
Flustered, Donna turns and begins haphazardly stacking the bridal magazines and various other wedding planning paraphernalia that she'd had spread around her. Josh stands stock still, wondering how irreparably he'd broken them this time. He attempts to hold it together with his bare hands.
"I'm sorry."
Body going rigid, she pauses. It's a moment before she unfreezes, letting out a low sigh. "For what?"
He catches a faint smile aimed in his direction, albeit a tad forced. She's accepted the olive branch.
"Hey, Donna? You here?"
Neither of them had noticed the door opening.
"Yeah, in the living room!" She calls out, turning to Josh wordlessly. He's almost certain that he sees something like guilt in her eyes.
"Hey, baby."
Scott's voice makes Josh cringe, and he turns his head uncomfortably as he kisses the woman he'd confessed his love to not five minutes prior.
"Oh, hey Josh." Scott tilts his head at him quizzically.
"Scott." He dips his head in greeting, and doesn't raise it as he heads for the door. "I was, just, uhh, leaving."
"Oh, well it's good to see you."
"Yeah, yeah, I'd stay, but..."
"Subcommittee on foreign oil tomorrow." Donna supplies easily. Josh pauses in the living room doorway, looking at her. He watches her wide eyes, her hand on his arm. "That's what we were working on."
"Sounds important."
"Oh, important and weighty and all those other arduous things that we do in the White House." Josh waves a hand dismissively. "I'll see you around, Scott."
"You too, Josh."
He heads for the front door.
"Josh?" Her voice comes out with the sheerest amount of desperation, which he might not have noticed had he not turned to look at her seconds later.
"Yeah?"
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah."
TBC