SUMMARY: Written in exchange for Jo March's generous donation to tsunami relief. As requested, campaign-era J/D.

DISCLAIMER: They belong to Aaron Sorkin.

THANKS: To Em and Marguerite for the beta and encouragement.

***

Josh scrubbed a hand through his hair, half-asleep as he reviewed the latest list of donors to the Bartlet campaign.  Thankless job, but someone had to catch the potential PR disasters, and who better than the guy who'd spent part of his time in Hoynes' office looking for questionable donations to other Senators to leak to the Post?

"Josh?"

Blinking tiredly, Josh leaned back from the spreadsheet and fixed his gaze on Donna.  "You're still here?"

The edge of her mouth lifted in amusement.  "Looks like."

"I thought I sent you home hours ago," Josh commented, taking a moment to rub his eyes.  He shifted in his chair, groaning as muscles that spent too damn long in one position protested the movement.  It occurred to him that Donna hadn't answered, and he glanced back over at her.

She was hovering in the doorway to his office, hands clasped together just below the badge she wore religiously, even when the Governor -- the President-elect, Josh corrected himself -- was out of state.  Donna met his gaze and gave him a nervous smile.  "I was talking to CJ.  Do you have a second?"

Slightly apprehensive, Josh nodded.  "Sure."  He studied her.  "You can come in, you know."

Donna moved toward the guest chair, then gave him an irritated look.  "I just cleared this off this morning," she admonished, lifting an uneven stack of file folders off the seat and placing them on the old-fashioned heater.

Josh raised his eyebrows.  "I'm not Smoky the Bear or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's a fire hazard."

"The heat's off for the night," Donna answered.  "I'll move them before I leave."

"Okay," Josh agreed, a little distracted at the part about the heat.  "Do they always turn the heat off after eleven?"

"After nine, actually," Donna explained.  "You haven't noticed that it gets cold at night?"

Josh shrugged.  "I thought it was psychosomatic."

"No."

"Oh."  Josh glanced over at the heater.  "We're in New Hampshire in winter and they choose to turn the heaters off at night?"

"Yes."

"Night's the coldest part of the day," Josh pointed out.

"As little sense as that made, yes, night is the coldest," Donna agreed.  "But this is an office building.  No one's supposed to be here at night."

"Campaigns aren't--"

"Nine-to-five," she interrupted with a small smile.  "Believe me, I know."  Donna looked down at her hands, picking at the edge of her badge for a long moment.  "I wanted to talk to you about -- about what happens now."

"What happens now?" Josh repeated doubtfully.  "Now as in now?"  He tapped his desk calendar, but when he looked down, he was pointing at next week.

"No."  Donna met his gaze.  "Now as in now that we've won the election."

Josh grinned outright.  "I never get tired of hearing that."

She smiled back.  "Or of saying that."

"Either way's good," Josh agreed.  It still surprised him some days.  They'd won.  They'd actually won.  The country had managed to see past the mud slinging and the doublespeak and had elected a genuine leader.

It still gave him the chills.

"So," Donna said slowly, "that brings me back to my question."

"Of what happens now," Josh surmised.

"Yes."

"Well, now we get to do interesting things like pick Cabinet members and plan a really big party."

Donna shook her head a little, but she was smiling.  "Josh."

"Probably you and CJ will be put in charge of the party, what with you being women and all."

Leaning towards his desk, Donna snagged a pencil and tossed it at him.  "You're not funny."

"Well, I don't go to open mic night at Caroline's or anything," Josh conceded with a smirk, putting the pencil back into its holder -- a mug featuring campaign buttons from the past forty years.

Donna gave him an exasperated look.  "Would you be serious for five minutes?"

"Probably not."  Donna didn't answer immediately, and the silence started to dig under Josh's skin and make him uncomfortable.  "Donna?"

"CJ offered me a job."  The words tumbled out in a rush.  "At the White House, I mean," she clarified.  "Once we get there.  Not now."

Josh blinked.  "What?"

Donna shifted, folding her hands carefully in her lap.  "I'm considering working for CJ once we get to the White House," she said.  "I think--"  She paused, tilting her head a little, her confident tone giving way to something far more tentative.  "I think it might work out for the best.  With, you know..."  She took a breath.  "With us."

Josh let the words sink in for a minute, ignoring the expectant look on Donna's face while he processed what she really meant.  "You think it might work out for the best," he repeated slowly.

Donna watched him closely.  "Yes.  For us, I think it might--"

"You mean for you," Josh interrupted, instantly and unexpectedly furious.  "You think it would be better for you to go work in Feminista Central once we get to the White House, and screw the guy who took a chance on you in the first place.  He's a pain in the ass to work for anyway."

Eyes wide, Donna shook her head.  "Josh, no--"

"No, it's fine.  I get it."  He stood abruptly, his chair squealing in protest.

"You're misunderstanding me," Donna said, jumping up to face him.  "Josh, would you listen--?"

Josh paused in the doorway and looked back at her.  "Did you really think I'd have you going on coffee runs in the White House?"

She looked stricken, her face pale, one palm pressed to her chest.  "Josh, no. I never thought that.  That's not what this is about."

"No, I know what this is about," Josh told her.  "You can't stand working for me for any length of time.  Hell, you already left once.  At least this time you're leaving me for another job, instead of another guy."

Donna watched, openmouthed, as he stormed off.

***

Josh really hadn't intended to confront CJ.  He wasn't big on confrontation outside the halls of power.  Give him an entrenched Republican Senator or a know-nothing freshman Congressman and he'd go crazy.  But confronting someone he'd come to think of as a friend?  Not high on his list of things to do on a wintry New England night.

But if CJ was poaching Josh's assistant, well, maybe they weren't friends in the first place.

He found himself outside CJ's makeshift office before he had much time to consider what he was doing.  Fortunately, she was still there, one hand rubbing her temple as she pored over newspapers from arcane places like Boise, Idaho.  When she looked up and saw him hovering, she smiled and pulled her glasses off.  "What brings you to the public relations side of the office?  I thought I told you that you aren't allowed over here."

Josh fought a smile, still too angry with her to allow her to charm him.  "You told me I'm not allowed to talk to the press.  Listen--"

"Well, if you hadn't planted that ridiculous potato story--"

"It was true," Josh argued, momentarily caught up defending his political honor, "and the potato people of Idaho had a right to know!"

"Josh, it cost us two percentage points in Ohio, a state we actually won, albeit by a tiny margin--"

"CJ," Josh interrupted, his tone hard.

She leaned back in her chair, fixing him with a studious gaze.  "Josh," she answered evenly.

"I'm not sure what the rules are in state-wide campaigns in California," he began, "but on national campaigns, it's not considered appropriate to poach personnel from people on your own damn team."

CJ crossed her arms, one eyebrow lifting as she let him rant.

Josh paced in a tight circle, skirting around the precariously balanced pile of papers near the wall.  "I realize that the pool of capable talent around here is quite remarkable, compared to the Hollywood rejects you were working with, but you don't just swoop in--"

"I didn't," CJ interrupted coolly.

Josh stopped short and turned to face her, adopting his most intimidating posture.  "You didn't offer my assistant a job?"

The withering expression on CJ's face probably should have scared him.  "I didn't swoop in," she corrected, tapping her purple pen on the desktop in an impatient beat.

"But you did offer her a job," Josh surmised.  "That's great, CJ.  Way to build team morale--"

"We're not playing soccer," CJ fired back, tossing her pen down and pushing the papers away.

"And thank God for that," muttered Josh.  He really hated soccer.

CJ leaned forward, leaning on her elbows and folding her hands together as she studied him.  "Did you really think that nothing would change?"

"Of course not," he answered defensively, crossing his arms.

"We won, Josh," CJ pointed out.  "We already built the team capable of doing it and we did it."

"Winning a campaign," Josh began, "is not even the halfway point, CJ.  We've got to schmooze Senators and update our files on lobbyists and--"

"You think I don't know that?" she interrupted, finally beginning to sound angry.  "I may not have your national experience, Josh, but I have more than a rudimentary understanding of what happens when campaigns turn into administrations.  And I have quite a good idea of what happens when the press scrutiny turns from the glowing aftermath of glory to the unending search for something scandalous.  So don't talk to me like I'm some new kid on the block, all right, Josh?"

A little taken aback, Josh held her glare for a long moment, then let out a breath and leaned against the doorjamb.  CJ was right, to an extent.  She'd earned her stripes on this campaign, and he had no right to talk to her like she was some country bumpkin.  Which was more than a little beside the original point.  "You can't have her," Josh declared softly.

CJ didn't answer.  She stood, groaning a little as she straightened, and rounded the desk, leaning one hip against her visitor's chair.  "Josh, Donna came to me.  She asked me if I thought I'd have room for her in my office.  No, wait--"

Josh stopped, stiffly, in the doorway.  "What?"

"Josh, I--"  She made a frustrated noise.  "Would you turn around?"

He considered being stubborn, but slowly turned to face her.  "Happy?" he asked in a petulant tone.

"Not particularly," CJ answered, and Josh could tell he'd angered her quite a bit with his outburst.  "I'm not enamored of being insulted by a colleague over a misunderstanding."

His interest piqued, Josh took a small step closer.  "Misunderstanding?"  Because if Donna wasn't going to go work for CJ, he'd be able to forget this unpleasantness with no problem.

CJ tilted her head, watching him.  "You said that I can't have Donna."  Josh nodded, and she continued, "I want her to work for me because she's bright and funny and efficient."  CJ stepped forward, placing her hands on Josh's shoulders, forcing him to look at her.  "Maybe you should consider why you want her."

The words hit Josh hard enough to leave him breathless.  How he wanted Donna?  He didn't want Donna.  Did he?  Could CJ possibly mean--?

But she was already halfway across the office, moving toward the coat rack.  "CJ," Josh called.

She turned and gave him a smile.  "Figure it out yourself, Josh," she called.  When she reached her jacket, she wound her scarf around her neck, muttering about crazy East Coasters and why anyone would possibly choose to live on the side of a damn mountain.  Pulling her hat down over her ears, she glanced back over at him.  "Oh, and Josh?"

"Yeah?" he asked, still a little dazed.

"You should really apologize to Donna."

He startled.  "How do you know--?"

"Obviously she tried to tell you something and you completely overreacted," CJ answered.  "And knowing you as I do, I'm sure you said at least one truly idiotic thing that requires an apology."

Josh remembered what he'd said to Donna with a wince.  "Yeah," he answered softly.  "Thanks, CJ."

Laughing, she headed for the door.  "You owe me, mi amor."

***

Josh was more than a little shocked to realize that his hands were shaking.  He was standing outside of Donna's hotel room, the one he'd been subsidizing, unbeknownst to her, since her return from Wisconsin and Dr. Free Ride.  And as he lifted his hand to knock, he noticed the shaking.

It didn't help soothe his already jangling nerves, but Josh did his best to ignore the trembling thing and knocked authoritatively on her door.

Moments later, he heard movement, then Donna's voice:  "Who's there?"

"It's Josh."

Silence.  Then, "I don't want to talk to you right now."

"Not even if the talking includes an apology?" Josh asked.

Donna gave a derisive snort.  "Please don't tell me you expect me to apologize for--"

"I was going to apologize," Josh interrupted.

After a moment of hesitation, she sounded uncertain when she asked, "You were?"

"Yes."  Josh shifted impatiently.  "I don't really do my best work through the peephole, Donna, so if you could--"

The chain slid off, and then Donna was opening the door.  She wore her pajamas already, an oddly endearing combination of a faded University of Wisconsin t-shirt and plaid flannel pants.  Donna moved back from the door.  "You can come in if you'd like."

"I would," Josh answered, moving tentatively inside.  He glanced around, taking in the differences.  He'd been in her room before, but only a couple times.  Also, the bed had always been safely made, not like now, with the blankets pulled back, exposing rumpled white sheets and a worn paperback facedown on the pillow.  "Um," he said, a little thrown by the inappropriate thoughts those sheets incited.

Donna slipped past him and settled on the edge of the mattress, near the foot of the bed, and why the hell hadn't he sprung for a room with furniture besides the damn bed?  Donna raised an expectant face to him.  "You were going to apologize?"

"Oh."  Josh nodded stupidly.  "Yes.  I apologize."

Donna's eyebrows lowered and she started to glare.  "For what?"

"For being an ass," Josh explained.

Slowly crossing her arms, Donna gave him a blistering look.  "I'm afraid you're going to have to be much more specific."

Josh took two steps and leaned back against the low bureau.  "I overreacted to the CJ thing."

Donna nodded.  "You did."

"I don't think I really..."  Josh paused, taking a deep breath.  What if CJ was totally wrong about this?  What if he'd misread CJ's implications in the first place?  Josh was a master at understanding the subtleties behind who voted yea or nay on an obscure amendment to the 4,000 page appropriations bill, but his understanding of women left a whole lot to be desired.  The latest example of that particular blind spot would be Mandy's abrupt departure from the campaign, but Josh suspected he shouldn't really be thinking about Mandy right now, considering the impure thoughts he was having about--

"Josh?" Donna prompted.

When he glanced down at her, she was starting to look a little uncomfortable.  "I didn't understand what you were saying," Josh explained, the words tumbling out.  "I mean, I understood what you were saying, but I didn't understand why you were saying it until I talked to CJ.  Not that CJ really said anything, but she implied -- and I could be wrong about this -- but she implied that you weren't looking to work for her for purely professional reasons."  Josh stopped and gave her an expectant look.

Donna merely looked puzzled.  "Are you calling me unprofessional?"

"No!"

"Because after the Feminista Central crack--"

"No, no, no," Josh interrupted, speaking quickly to cut off the coming explosion.  "I'm saying maybe there were personal reasons behind your decision."

Donna's anger melted, and she glanced away.  "Oh."

Josh waited, but she didn't seem like she was going to add anything.  "So?" he prompted.

"So what?" she answered, giving him an annoyed look.

"So," Josh shrugged uncomfortably, "are there personal reasons?"

Donna shifted, crossing her legs and wrapping her arms around her midsection.  "Josh, maybe this isn't the best time for this."

He gave a frustrated groan.  "Thing is, I'm not entirely sure I know what this is."

Donna held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded curtly.  "Well, that answers my question."  She stood abruptly, gesturing to the door.  "Maybe you should go."

"Donna, no," Josh protested, moving to block her way.  And suddenly they were very close, and Josh couldn't remember what he'd been about to say.

Her breathing slightly erratic, Donna looked up and met his gaze.  She lifted an eyebrow in challenge and asked, "Are you sure you don't know what this is?"

Josh reached for her, his hands still shaking absurdly as they landed on her waist.  "Not sure I could name it," Josh answered, his voice sounding oddly rough to his own ears.

Donna's hands landed on his biceps, and she swayed a little closer to him.  "We don't have to name it," she answered, those bright blue eyes looking expectantly at him.

And Josh held his breath and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.  The kiss was explosive, and it lasted forever, and when he came back to reality, they were clasped together, his hands low on her hips holding her close.  Her fingers were digging into his shoulder blades, and when she opened her eyes, she was smiling.

"Wow," she said.

"Yeah," he answered, sliding one hand up her spine, pulling her closer.

Donna looped one arm around his neck and leaned up to kiss him again.

"Okay," Josh said, breaking the kiss with more than a little reluctance.  But they needed to get a couple things straight.  "You're going to work for CJ."

Laughing, Donna agreed, "I thought you might come around to that point of view."

"Definitely," he mumbled, kissing her some more.  Because kissing her was something he wanted to do a lot more of, as soon as possible.  He turned them, pressing her against the wall, running his hands over every inch of her he could reach.

"Josh," Donna murmured into his neck.  "When do you think I should change jobs?"

Josh slid his hands under the hem of her shirt, groaning a little at the feel of her warm skin under his palm.  "Do we have to decide this right now?" he asked a little desperately, moaning when he felt her hands fumbling with his belt.

Donna's hands skimmed up his chest, and then she pushed him abruptly away.  "I don't think it's appropriate to do this if we're still working together."

Belatedly, Josh realized he still had his hands out there, hanging in the air between them, and he dropped them to his sides.  "What?" Josh asked.  Because he was a little bit past comprehension right now, and she couldn't possibly have said--

"We should wait," Donna answered, drawing his attention to those swollen, delicious lips.  "It would be unprofessional."

Josh blinked.  "You're fired," he said, and reached for her again.

"Hey!" Donna squeaked, barely eluding his grasp.  When he turned, she was standing beside the bed, one hand on her hip, the other playing with the bottom edge of her t-shirt.  "I'm pretty sure firing me to get me to sleep with you is against the law."

Josh couldn't stop staring at her breasts.  "No, firing you because you won't sleep with me is against the law."

She snapped her fingers and pointed to her face.  "Up here, Josh."

Flushing, he met her gaze.  "Sorry.  But you've got great breasts."

Her alabaster skin turned a really alluring shade of pink.  "I don't want you to fire me."

Josh groaned, looking down at the hideous carpet as he attempted to get himself under some sort of control.  He closed his eyes, telling himself to count to ten.  Or possibly a thousand.  Whatever worked.

"Josh?" Donna asked.

"Yeah?" he muttered, still wrestling with his self control, but he could hear the sound of fabric rustling and her moving, and that wasn't helping his state of mind, because now she was half-naked in his imagination, and God damn she was beautiful.

"Josh," she repeated.  "Look at me."

If he were less of a man, the sound he made then might have been called a whimper.  He opened his eyes and looked up, and then he stopped breathing.  Because she was holding her t-shirt in her hand, and she really did have beautiful breasts, and she was smiling at him.  "Josh?"

"Yeah?"

Her smile widened.  "I quit."

"Thank God," Josh muttered, and then he tackled her.  He had his mouth on her breastbone before he looked up and said, "Effective immediately, right?"

Donna shifted beneath him, tugging his face back up to hers.  "Yeah," she said, kissing him sweetly.  "Effective immediately."

THE END

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