SUMMARY: Songfic challenge. I think the title pretty much sums it up for me. ;) No spoilers.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. If they were, I'd be pissed if someone did this to them too. ;)
THANKS: To Jo and Em for laughing in all the right places. Note: It's been suggested that I warn y'all not to consume beverages or, really, anything whilst reading this. I don't want to be arrested for death-by-fanfic. ;)
***
~ I was hanging with the fellas Saw you with your new boyfriend, it made me jealous ~
So I was hanging out with Toby and Sam at a bar. Sure, it was the middle of the day and three high-ranking members of the President's staff had more important things to do than bond over beers, but we were at a bar anyway. Maybe we had, you know, a work-related reason to be there. We were, perhaps, meeting with an important Senator about a thing. A political thing.
In fact, the bar was in a trendy part of town. It was attached to the newest 'hot spot' for the Washington elite, which is why we were going to meet an important Senator about a political thing in the middle of the day. Took all three of us, too, for reasons beyond my ken.
Anyway, we were discussing the bill, and then I noticed Donnatella Moss gliding into the restaurant, dressed in a simple, but very elegant black dress that I didn't remember her wearing at the office. Probably because she wasn't, and the dress was a convenient way to make me suddenly realize my undying love for her. After all, she looked totally hot and, really, it's quite plausible that I'd see my assistant and friend of three years in a hot little number and fall passionately in love.
At any rate, she was on the arm of some stuffy politico in really bad clothes. I've never been one to pay too much attention to people's clothes, provided they're, you know, wearing some, but for reasons passing understanding, this guy's really bad clothes caught my eye. I'm talking a brown suit with a blue tie, and then black shoes. Mismatched color schemes are so last season. I don't know how I know that. It's not like I sit around and read In Style, but somehow, I seem to possess information about the latest fashions.
Anyway, Donna's date was ugly.
He was also a Republican, or so I remembered Donna telling me. It was interesting how the sight of an ugly, poorly-dressed Republican yutz could inexplicably turn a self-assured, incredibly bright, and handsome Democrat into a puddle of insecurities that more closely resembled a high school student. But for whatever reason, I was jealous.
And then I heard the song being played over the bar's sound system, an incredible piece of music by my favorite boy band, 'N Sync. I immediately shushed Toby and Sam--who were discussing the political thing with the Senator--and listened to the lyrics.
~ I was hoping that I'd never see you with him But it's all good, 'cause I'm glad that I met him 'Cause now I know the competition's very slim to none ~
With a vapid grin in place, I abandoned Toby, Sam, the Senator, and the political thing, and rose to my feet. Those 'N Sync-ers weren't just talented singers, their lyrics were instructive! My competition--if you can call a poorly dressed, ugly-ass Republican competition--really was slim to none.
I'd always dreaded the day that I would see my Donna with another man. I don't know why, since I appear to be completely clueless about her, I have no actual romantic claim on her to speak of, and I've never said anything to her about my feelings. Still, I inexplicably decided that I have the right to get jealous.
Besides the mismatched clothes, the ugly factor, and the party affiliation, I had to make very sure that my boys were right about this loser. And because the lyrics to the song wouldn't fully apply until I actually, you know, met Donna's date, I set off in their direction.
'Cause 'N Sync told me to.
~ And I can tell by looking that he's not the one He's not the type you said you liked His style is wack, clothes are bad ~
"Josh."
Sam caught up with me halfway to Donna's table. I tried to shrug him off, but he wouldn't be deterred. "Sam, he's not her type. His style is totally wack."
I wasn't quite sure what 'wack' meant, but if it's good enough for 'N Sync, it's good enough for an articulate, thirty-seven year old politician, right?
Sam seemed to understand. "Yes," he nodded. "And his clothes are bad. He's definitely not the one."
I gave him a rather odd look. Not because he suddenly sounded like a boy band member (because, really, have you looked at Sam? He should be in a boy band with those almost girlish, unthreatening good looks), but because he agreed with me about the wack factor but was still holding onto my arm. "Then why are you trying to stop me?"
"Stop you?" Sam gave me a befuddled look. "Oh!" He let go of my arm. "No, I'm not trying to stop you. It's just that there's this office pool, see, and if you declare your undying love for Donna in the next five minutes, the President will win."
I stared at him, unable to believe that the collection of brilliant political minds in the White House had nothing better to do than sit around and place bets on their coworkers' relationships. It seemed like something straight out of X-Files fanfiction, but I merely shook my head. "The President's involved?"
"Yes, and you know how he gets." Sam rolled his eyes, and I nodded. He had a point. President Bartlet just loved meddling in the private lives of his staffers. Because he wasn't busy running a country or anything.
Sam brightened. "On the other hand, I think he'll give you two crazy kids his Presidential Blessing if you ask nicely."
"Is there such thing as a Presidential Blessing?" I wondered. I knew I didn't pay enough attention in law school, but I didn't remember anything about the president being empowered to give an Official Nuptial Blessing.
"Well..." Sam hesitated, taking a moment to review the duties bestowed upon the Chief Executive by the Constitution. "Not as such, no."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Not as such? Have you been hanging around with Ainsley?"
Sam blushed a little. "No. It's just there was this song, and it really hit home with me, and--"
I gave him an understanding look. "Was it an 'N Sync song?" God, those boys and their songs were just everywhere I turned, touching lives, warming hearts, making people shake their groove things at inappropriate times.
"No," Sam frowned. "Backstreet Boys."
I shook my head, disappointed in Sam's apparent wack-ness. "The Backstreet Boys are so over, Sam. Their latest single isn't even being picked up on U.S. radio." And I should know, considering I had all the presets in my car tuned to KISS-FM. Screw NPR; I need my boy band fix!
Sam crossed his arms. "I still like them better."
"Boys," Toby interjected, striding up to us with that familiar glower in place. "What are you bickering about?"
"Backstreet Boys versus 'N Sync," I explained.
Toby gave us both a pained look, pressed one palm to the side of his face, and said, "This is really what you're arguing about?"
"Yes."
"Boy bands? Really?"
"Yes."
With a long-suffering sigh, Toby said, "Boy bands are over. It's all about Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears."
~ Come on, girl, let him go I want you back ~
Toby and Sam wandered off, still arguing over boy bands versus slutty young songstresses, and I turned back to Donna.
It's almost unbelievable, the way those 'N Sync-ers were able to describe my situation so perfectly, given that they'd never met me. Well, I mean, technically, I've never actually had Donna, but that didn't stop the song from being so incredibly perfect. In fact, I felt like Donna was mine in my heart and soul, and always had been. Even though that's actually kind of a creepy thought, besides which I'd only met her three years earlier. Didn't matter--she'd somehow been destined for me since the beginning of time. I bet 'N Sync has a song about that too...
But that was something I could explore when I got back to the office and my 'N Sync CD collection.
And so I strode purposefully to the table, feeling quite confident.
~ Call me a hater, if you want to But I only hate on him 'cause I want you ~
"Donna, who's the gomer?" I asked, hatin' on him, 'cause I wanted her.
Donna didn't look impressed at first. Obviously, she wasn't paying attention to the lyrics. "Josh, what are you doing here?"
"I had a meeting with the Senator. About the thing."
"Right," Donna nodded, understanding immediately what I was referring to, even if I didn't. She always was more organized than me. "But why are you here?"
I pointed at the speakers embedded in the ceiling, trying to draw her attention to 'N Sync and their worldly wisdom.
Donna glanced up reflexively, then gave me a strange look.
I broke down and said it out loud. "You shouldn't be here with him." This time, I pointed at the Republican, who looked back at me, perturbed.
"Josh, I'm on a date. You're my boss--"
"I'm more than a boss to you, Donna," I told her sweetly, ignoring the fact that I rarely, if ever spoke sweetly to anyone. "And you're more than an assistant to me. You always have been."
She gave me a skeptical look. "When did you start talking like this?"
"It doesn't matter," I answered impatiently. Those teen singing sensations sure understood the inner workings of the hearts of middle-aged political operatives. It was almost spooky. "I'm only hatin' on him cause I want you."
~ Say I'm trippin' if you feel like But you without me ain't right (ain't right) ~
"Josh," Donna said, sounding like a fourteen-year old trying way too hard to be cool, "you're trippin'."
I wonder when she started talking like that--I guess we're both just out of our heads with love. That or she's drawing her inspiration from 'N Sync songs too.
"No," I told her. "I'm not."
"You are."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am--"
"Please," interrupted the wack-ly dressed Republican. "Would you two stop bickering like an old married couple?" His eyes widened. "Oh, god. You two are made for each other, aren't you?"
Donna and I locked gazes, and our souls forged a connection. Which isn't nearly as painful as it sounds. It doesn't involve superheated metal or hammers either, just purple prose.
"Yes," I told her. "We are made for each other. Because you without me just ain't right."
"Ain't right?" Donna echoed, grinning.
I shrugged and gave her a boyish grin. "It's true."
~ You can say I'm crazy, if you want to That's true-- I'm crazy 'bout you ~
"Josh?" Donna looked at me, her eyes full of girlish emotion.
"Yes, my love?"
"Josh, you're crazy," she told me. Then she gave her ugly Republican an uncertain look. The other man remained oddly quiet throughout my conversation with Donna. I suppose he recognized the alpha male when he saw him. Him being me, you understand.
"I am crazy." I grinned at Donna as I took her hand. I knew exactly what to say. The words written by a cynical music executive and sung by a group of manufactured pop stars were exactly what I needed. "I'm crazy 'bout you."
"Oh, Josh," she said, and then she leaned forward and kissed me. I felt our very souls quake in their little soul-shoes, and then I could see the future.
We would be married in the Rose Garden, the President giving my beautiful Donnatella away. She'd wear a gorgeous dress--a Vera Wang, perhaps--and an opaque veil, and she'd promise to love, honor, and obey me. And then she'd welcome my manhood into her love channel, and we'd raise three beautiful children together: Joanie and Claudia, the twins, and their little brother, Leo Noah.
I pulled back and looked into Donna's eyes, and I knew she'd seen the same thing. I could tell by the way her lower lip trembled, and a single teardrop balanced precariously on her long, lush lashes.
"I love you, Donna."
"I love you too, Josh."
And we lived happily ever after.
THE END
Author's note: God, I need to go jump off of something tall.
Lyrics copyright 'N Sync, I'd guess, or whoever wrote this bit of tripe in the first place. :)