Lessons

by: Allison

Character(s): Josh, Donna, CJ
Pairing(s): Josh/Donna
Category(s): Romance
Rating: YTEEN
Summary: A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well.

I can do this. This cannot be difficult. After all, I've been with just me and the senior staff and no other assistants before. Of course, at that time I had an acknowledged function, even if it irritated them at times - I was there to take care of Josh. Now I'm just - here.

"Donna!" Well, CJ looks happy to see me. That's something. "Come in, come in now, please, I didn't know there were this many college football teams in the country."

I laugh as she guides me inside. "I may never forgive you for going away yesterday," she continues. "Family or no family, me and three guys - anyone and three guys - alone on Thanksgiving with a television involved is horrifying."

I laugh again because it's what I'm expected to do. I know she's trying to put me at ease.

I didn't actually go all that far away yesterday, and I wasn't with my family, but I didn't want Josh to feel bad (that is assuming of course that he would have felt bad anyway). I actually drove to Richmond to have Thanksgiving dinner with a friend from college and her husband and some guy she invited for me to meet. Yeah. You can say that again. My life is sad.

But now CJ is dragging me into her apartment, and while Toby barely gives me a cursory glance and a wave between plays, Sam yells, "Hey Donna, Happy Thanksgiving" (he really is cute in that little boy kind of way), and Josh - well, Josh just kind of lights up and holds out an arm for me. I'm not quite sure where he expects me to go, since he's sitting on the very edge of the couch, but I'm not complaining. I go and lean on the arm long enough to hug him, and then I stay there with my arm stretched across the back of the couch behind him because I can't think of anywhere else to go. If I lean one inch too far I'll fall in his lap.

Yes, I know. You really don't have to say it.

Thankfully I'm distracted by CJ, who's asking me something about men and sport-watching behavior, and I'm terribly gratified by the way she drops an arm across my shoulders as she walks past me. Sam asks for the remote to check on another game and I pass it to him, and he asks me whether my brother played football, and we get into an argument over whether Eastern or Midwestern teams are better, and it's a good ten minutes before I realize that I'm arguing with the Deputy Communications Director in the Press Secretary's apartment, and I don't feel at all out of place anymore. And then Sam gets up to get more chips and Josh slides over into the middle of the couch so I can sit next to him, and as I tuck my feet up under myself he turns to look at me and we share a smile that makes my stomach drop. Sam comes back and shrugs at the lack of space on the couch. CJ's sitting on a loveseat with her long legs stretched across it; Sam goes over and calmly lifts her legs so that he can sit, replacing her feet in his lap. Then somebody scores and we women are reduced to background, but not entirely - Sam tries to jump up and cheer but realizes he's trapped, so he settles for patting CJ's ankles apologetically and waving his other arm in the air like a maniac. Josh punches Toby in the arm, but his other hand reaches over to pat my knee gently. It's a don't-worry-I-haven't-forgotten-you're-there gesture, and I smile. I've been doing that a lot tonight.

When the football games are finally over we click on a terrible eighties movie and sit around laughing at the hair, the clothes, the music, and the cheesy dialogue. When Sam and Toby start arguing over the finer points of the Michael Jackson look, Josh leans over and whispers to me, "Aren't you glad you work with the smartest people in the country?" I laugh, but whisper back seriously, "Then what does that make me?" The conversation around us fades into the background as we look at each other, and then he grins and says, "Smart." I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Okay. As long as I'm not the ditzy blonde college dropout who answers his phone. Because you know, I worry sometimes.

No one trickles out of this party; at eleven Toby decides to leave and we all follow. I notice that both Sam and Toby take CJ's hands on their way out. Josh hugs and kisses her (after the others have stepped out into the hall), and before I can turn away and duck out CJ reaches over and pulls me into an embrace. I'm surprised, but I hug her back. Josh has hung back to walk me out, and I'm surprised again. But not nearly as surprised as I am when he walks me to my car and kisses my cheek before watching me get in and drive away. And I really wish he wasn't watching because I'm actually shaking and I can barely get out of the space. I'm a terrible parallel parker in any case, and this isn't helping.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And then we have the State Dinner.

And not just any State Dinner. We're apparently still placating the Icelandic ambassador, and the Icelandic ambassador is apparently a fabulous dancer. So, this will be a State Dinner with dancing. Right. Excellent.

We've been working all day, so a half hour before the dinner starts Margaret and I are still in the bathroom trying to apply makeup. We've both managed in a remarkably small amount of time to pin our hair up and make ourselves presentable - at least, presentable enough for our role on the sidelines. Basically our job at these things is to watch our bosses and make sure they don't need anything. I'm not talking scotch on the rocks here, we do have some dignity. But we carry their pagers, deliver messages, and basically watch them mingle. This is usually a painful affair and I'm not really looking forward to it.

But on the other hand, I look great. We look great. With Margaret's red hair and her long satin green gown, and my fair hair and dark blue gown, we look like sisters from a fairy tale. We giggle like high schoolers going to the prom as we brush on just enough makeup to keep ourselves from looking overworked and under-rested - which is difficult because we're, well, overworked and under-rested.

"Margaret? You in there?" Josh's voice echoes through the heavy bathroom door. Margaret gives me a confused look and yells back, "Yeah, Josh?"

"Leo needs you. Something about a printer cable?"

Her eyebrows lift and she laughs. "Oops." To Josh she calls, "Right there!"

"Donna with you?" he calls back.

"Yes!" I reply.

"Everybody decent?" he asks, as he opens the door and comes in.

"What would you do if we weren't?" Margaret demands.

"Take Polaroids," he teases. "Leo's imploding."

"Right." She gives me one last guilty grin and exits hastily.

I feel him looking at me. What is he doing in the women's bathroom, anyway? Admiring the scenery?

"You're gapping there in the back," he says finally. That's all he can say?

"I know," I grumble. "I forgot to get Margaret to pin the straps for me. I guess I can just leave it."

"No, you can't," he says, demonstrating a frightening understanding of women's clothing. "Because if the dress shifts about a tenth of an inch it'll be just a little too low in the front and I don't think we need to placate the Icelandic ambassador that badly." Before I can object he's grabbing the safety pins off the sink. "Turn around."

I give him my best hands-on-hips, what-do-you-think-you're-doing look. "I don't think so."

"I won't stab you," he promises. "Come on, guys know how to pin stuff. I do it all the time when I'm missing shirt buttons."

"Well, that explains a lot," I crack, but I really don't see a choice - I can't flash the ambassador - so I turn around. He pulls me toward him with the strap of my gown - just like a guy - but then I can't exactly complain because he slips his hand down between the dress and my back to keep from poking me and all I can concentrate on is his hand on my skin. He's done both sides before I notice and he pulls at them cautiously. "How's that?"

"Fine, I think," I manage to say.

He turns me around and eyes my chest critically. I'm about to protest when he nods and says, "Yeah, that's fine. You won't be indecent." And while I'm recovering from that one he stands back and adds, "You look great. Ready?"

Okay.

So, have you ever seen a whole lot of people at a party, all of whom know half of the room and none of the other half, mingle effectively? Now throw dancing into that mess. Cause see, the problem is, generally you prefer to dance with someone you know, but the whole point of these things is to suck up to the people you don't know, most of whom don't actually speak English.

The senior staff is no exception. They're basically rotating through the Icelandic delegation, while taking turns escaping to dance with Mrs. Bartlet and CJ. I think the President threatened them with death by trivia if they attempted to sit any dances out. This is painful to watch.

Except I catch sight of Josh and CJ, who have managed to steal one dance together. They look relaxed for the first time since we walked into the room. She's wearing heels with her formal attire, so she has a good couple inches on him, but she's leaning her head close to his and they're laughing. His arms are around her casually, comfortably, and they're moving like people who have been dancing together for years. The President and Mrs. Bartlet are the same, but the vibe is completely different - you would never suspect Josh and CJ of being in love, but it's unmistakable with the Bartlets. I sigh out loud, and Margaret gives me a funny look. I grin and nod toward the President and First Lady, and she smiles sentimentally and nods back. See, women understand these things.

The song ends and the orchestra gears up for another one. Sam leaves the Icelandic woman he's been dancing with (awkwardly, I might add) and joins Josh and CJ and the three of them head in our direction. They're about eight feet from us when a Congressman from somewhere grabs Josh's arm and asks, "Josh? Do you have a minute? I'd really like to get your thoughts on 916."

Josh blanches, and then he looks up and meets my eye. He turns back to the Congressman and says, "Bob, it's a party. We can talk about 916 any time this week you want, but right now I'm going to dance with my assistant." He comes toward me with his hand outstretched. Okay. Interesting development.

Margaret gives me a little shove and I glare at her before stepping forward to take his hand. He closes his fingers over mine, brushing his thumb across my knuckles, and leads me toward the floor. The President heads in our direction, and a panicked Sam and CJ step instantly into each other's arms. Josh and I both laugh, and the President gives them a half amused look and turns away.

We stop in a good place and take up a very proper dance position, my right hand on top of his left, my left hand resting on his shoulder, his right hand high on my waist. Behind me I hear Sam say, "I always loved you in this dress, CJ. I bet all those people at the Kennedy Center loved it, too. Ow!" Even without looking I can tell she smacked him. My eyes meet Josh's and we laugh, and that makes everything a little less awkward. We start dancing a little too formally, but that changes as we both relax a little. It occurs to me that his nervousness is probably a compliment. He could be comfortable dancing with CJ because there was no tension between them, nothing at stake. I don't know if there's anything at stake for him here, but it certainly feels like it.

I lift my hand from his shoulder to rub at my eye, careful not to smudge my makeup. "Tired?" he asks. I nod slightly and he pulls me nearer, coaxing my head down onto his shoulder, and then I realize that asking if I was tired was just a convenient excuse - and I really don't care. He carefully places our linked hands on his shoulder, leaving mine there so that he can wrap both arms around me. I feel his hands on my back and can't help stepping a little closer. I have the distinct feeling that we're veering dangerously close to the edge of propriety here, but I can barely summon up the strength to care. He holds me close until the orchestra finishes the piece, and, wonder of wonders, when we step back from each other there's no awkwardness, no uncertainty. He takes my hand and leads me over to where Sam and CJ are still fighting over whether her announcing that she's good in bed is worse than hugging a call girl in public. Looking over my shoulder, I'm stunned to see Leo leading, of all people, Margaret from the dance floor. She looks a little flushed, and they're walking with an unusual amount of distance between them. That's something I'll have to ask her about tomorrow.

For now I'm going to let myself smile, and laugh, and enjoy the fact that Josh's arm is still around my waist.

Have I mentioned that nothing ever goes the way I expect? Just when I think the interesting part of the evening is over, the 916 Congressman, Bob something, comes back. He gives me a look that I quite frankly don't like the feel of, and asks Josh, "So this is your - secretary, did you say? Where did you ever find her?"

I resent the implication, clear in his tone, that Josh hired me for less than professional reasons. I can tell from the look on her face that CJ resents it on behalf of women everywhere, but she chooses to let Josh answer. I only hope he gives the right answer, because in our heels she and I are both bigger than he is.

"No, Bob," he replied, stressing the use of the name rather than the title. "You must have heard wrong. This is my assistant, Donnatella Moss. She's been with us since the campaign, and I kept her on because I needed someone to do my research for me." Take that, Bob. And I love when he uses my whole name.

Bob hasn't quite gotten the point yet. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Moss. So you and Josh have been together long, I gather?"

I draw myself up to every inch of my height. "I started for President Bartlet in New Hampshire," I say, both stressing the fact that I work for the President and de-stressing my relationship with Josh.

It works. He falters a little and says, "Well, I guess we'll get together later, Josh."

I don't notice until then that after that conversation Josh still has his arm around me, but I notice it now because it tightens convulsively as he mutters, "Sure. You can arrange an appointment through Leo McGarry's office."

Not through me. He's trying to keep this guy away from me.

Josh is protective. Of me.

For those of you who are keeping count, I'd say we can call this Lesson 4.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

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