TITLE: Window Shopping

AUTHOR: Demon Faith

CATEGORY: J/D, Donna POV, Post-ep: 100,000 airplanes

SPOILERS: General for seasons 1 and 2. Detailed from 100,000 airplanes.

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: Donna explains the dangers of window shopping.

DISCLAIMER: They are not mine, but je les aime!

AUTHOR’S NOTES: When watching this episode, the particular scene described was one which had me gasping and just basking in the HOT that is Joshua Lyman. So, I mused, what if Donna had seen this...? Hence, this fic was created.

Windows are very dangerous things. Life would be so much better if humankind had simple placed multiple pinpricks in each wall, to allow in light but no view. Views are not to be allowed.

Oh, for sure, views are excellent – amazing, breath-taking, beautiful – yes the danger of views – and, by association, window shopping – is that you may see something you desperately want but absolutely cannot have. The sight of the unobtainable leads to ideas and thinking – which all of human experience has taught leads to no good.

Here is a proven example – let this be a lesson to you all.

I was quite happily walking down the corridor. I knew something was up – Josh was fidgety, and it wasn’t due to the presence of some whinging six-year-old brunette. There was a meeting about the ubiquitous Thing, and I walked past the Roosevelt Room, to see Sam, CJ and Toby slip inside. There was a look of impending doom on their faces, a look that was becoming more frequent, and I felt I needed to be kept informed. Josh would be dealing with this latest Apocalypse, and I had to keep on top of Josh.

NO! NOT LIKE THAT! Ah-hm, where was I? Ah yes, the meeting about the Thing. Well, I saw Josh go through the door, and he listened for a while, then made a bad joke. I couldn’t hear a word, but I could see the rolling of eyes and sense the mental groaning.

Then, it happened.

Josh took charge. He straightened his spine, he puffed up and he defended himself. I looked at him, pressing my hand against the glass, and I wanted to tell him that when he had that look of utter conviction, I wanted him like I’ve never wanted him before. He spoke, his body radiating confidence and authority, the bearing of someone with faith in himself and his decisions.

It was miraculous to me. Post-Rosslyn, he was a ghost, a shadow of his egomaniacal self. Then, the PTSD at Christmas, a weekend of watching him and holding him so tightly I thought we would break. He regained some of his ‘Joshity’ again, and then the MS scandal hit us, with the death of Mrs Landingham. He shattered again, and I only just help him together, his Band Aid and his salve. That’s my role in this pantomime of government – glorified duct tape.

When I saw his eyes afire and his pride reasserted, it was like a prayer answered. And it was damn hot.

He finished, and I saw a flicker of Leo and President Bartlet – the potential for great leadership – and damnit, I should be First Lady, not Amy ‘don’t talk to me’ Gardner. That thought was all it took. I was beyond sane, across the line, descending into Hell – plain gone. I ran to his office, breathing heavily. I waited, my heart pounding.

He entered. Shutting the door, he didn’t see me at first. Then, he turned and looked at me. Before he could move, I pounced forwards, pressing him against the door and kissing him. And, Ladies and Gentlemen, there is Heaven in Josh Lyman’s lips. Though, if any of you try and prove it, I may have to kill you.

When we remembered ourselves – with shirt buttons undone, I might add – Josh took one look at me, and frowned.

“Am I about to get fired? Cos, y’know, I was just in Leo’s office and...”

I slapped him for that. He just grinned and took hold of me, plundering my mouth with his. An effective tool for silence.

After the second round of really hot kissing, we slid down against the door and he pulled me against him.

“So, I’m not getting fired?”

“No, you were just...hot.”

I could sense his raised eyebrow, and elaborated, tangling his fingers with mine.

“In the Roosevelt Room – I saw you. You were...amazing.”

He turned my head with his fingers, and looked into my eyes. I knew what he was going to say.

“I need to stop this, Donna.”

I got up, and left through the Lobby door, my clothes immaculate. I walked blindly, until I was inside an office. CJ took one look at me and hugged me.

“I’ll kill the bastard,” she muttered.

Josh has not yet suffered an excruciating death, but I feel I have. I told CJ everything, and she told me to continue my work. I did just that, then disappeared early. Which is why I am here, in my bathtub, soaking happily. Well, I was, until the doorbell sounded. I buzzed them up, whoever they were, threw on a robe and opened the door, to see Josh, brandishing flowers and coffee. He stepped inside, set down the coffee and flowers, and resumed the kissing. Somehow, the door was pushed shut, with me against it, and my robe was discarded.

Finally, I stopped him.

“Why are you here?”

He looked at me blankly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, with as much authority and dignity as one can muster whilst standing naked in the hall.

Josh was not, however, concentrating on my words, which was predictable. He had a look on his face, and a small smile sitting on his lips. It was adorable, and too flattering for words. He held out his arms, and I fled into them. He whispered to me, “I love you” and that was it. No explanations – just his conviction, just the force of his energy aligning to a goal. There is nothing to say to that.

So, the coffee’s cold now, and the flowers are wilting, but I am in my cooling tub with a very hot Deputy Chief of Staff. Maybe, window shopping ain’t that bad after all.