All characters belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, Warner Bros., & NBC. The chicken song comes from The Golden Girls. Standard disclaimers apply. Please send feedback.

Written in response to this challenge:
1. One scene
2. Someone laughs
3. Someone cries (not a woman)
4. There is a kiss


Shenanigans
Violet


"Gonna stuff a chicken," Donna sang.

"Gonna stuff a chicken...." C.J. echoed.

"Like my mama taught me."

"Like my mama taught me...."

"Gonna take the chicken down to Mississippi!"

C.J. stared at Donna for a long moment. "Okay, no."

"Sorry," Donna said sheepishly. "My grandmother always used to sing that."

"Was your grandmother a good cook?"

"Not particularly, no."

"All right, then." C.J. poked at the bird's naked flesh. "This is the last time I'm ever doing this."

Donna brushed a few crumbs off her hands. "Stuffing chickens?"

"Cooking for them." She cast a derisive glance in the direction of the door to Sam's living room.

"Well, we did lose the bet."

"Yes," C.J. said. "But I don't think it was really fair. There was more snow around my car than Josh's car."

"Well, Josh's car is bigger than yours."

"But Josh had the biggest shovel!"

"That's what the ladies tell me," Josh said from the doorway.

C.J. glared at him. "What are you doing back here?"

"Gloating," he said, with a grin. "Also, looking for something to drink."

"There's soda in the fridge," Donna told him. "Help yourself; I've got raw meat all over my hands."

Josh opened the refrigerator and frowned. "This is Diet Coke."

"So?"

"Sam!" Josh yelled through the door. "You drink Diet Coke?"

"So?" they heard him reply.

"So, what, you're too delicate for the real stuff?"

"Too much sugar," Sam called. "Bad for your teeth."

"He's nuts about dental hygiene," C.J. said wryly.

"He's nuts," Josh agreed. "He's rooting for Duke."

"Since when do you care about college basketball?" Donna wondered.

"Since I discovered that Sam gets all huffy when I root against his team." Josh leaned out the doorway again. "Devils suck!"

"Go to hell," Sam replied cheerfully. "We're up by twenty!"

"Never again," C.J. told Donna. "I don't care if they starve."

Josh turned around again. "What smells good?"

"Victory!" Sam shouted.

"Dinner rolls," Donna said.

"Can I take one?"

"Not until--hey!" She reached out to slap Josh's hand as he snatched a roll from the tray.

"Don't touch me. Your hands are covered in raw meat." He took a bite from the roll and smirked. "This is good."

C.J. whirled around threateningly, her eyes flashing. "Out!"

Josh stepped back. "What?"

"Out! Out of this kitchen! There's cutlery in here, you know, and other sharp instruments, and if you don't get out right now, I'll find new ways to use them! Go!"

"C.J.?" Donna ventured.

"What?"

"Do you know you're holding out that potato like it's a hand grenade?"

C.J. stared down at her hand and furrowed her brow in distress. "This is not my day," she said wretchedly.

Josh and Donna stared at her for a moment, and burst out laughing. C.J. looked furious for another few seconds, and then her own giggles bubbled over.

"I'm sorry," she managed, once she had caught her breath.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman with a root vegetable," Josh said.

"I mean it, Josh. There has to be some peace in here."

"He can help," Donna said. "He can do the onions."

"He can?"

"I made him help me cook sometimes," she explained. "Last summer."

C.J. handed Josh a knife. "Chop."

"You know, I think I'd rather go watch the game."

"Chop, or you're going to wind up eating giblets."

Josh placed an onion on the cutting board. "You know, we won the bet fairly."

"I'm still not convinced," C.J. said, as she opened the oven.

"There may have been some shenanigans going on there," Donna agreed.

"How can you say that? Toby was an objective judge."

"That's what bothers me. Toby's not an objective anything."

"You're just a sore loser."

"And do you really want to eat what these two would cook?" Donna pointed out. "I mean, Josh learned how to handle onions, but I don't think--"

"Three from downtown, baby!" Sam yelled in the next room.

"I don't think it would be a total success," Donna concluded.

"I could handle it," Josh said. "You taught me the Mississippi chicken song and everything."

"And that makes you the Iron Chef?" Donna asked.

"Like you're Julia Child?"

C.J. set the oven timer and rinsed her hands in the sink. "Okay. That's that. I'm going to sit down."

"Be careful out there," Josh told her. "Sam's a rabid fan."

"So's the President," C.J. answered over her shoulder. "At least Sam can't order me to sing."

Josh chuckled. "We should do this more often."

"No, we shouldn't," Donna said. "People can get sick of each other when they spend too much time together."

Josh began to slice the onion. As his knife bit into the layers, he winced at the powerful scent. "Donna?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you get sick of spending too much time with me?"

He turned to look at her. Her eyes were watering from the smell, but she was smiling. "No."

"Not even when we've been at work for eighteen hours and you tell me I smell like a rhino?"

"A sweating rhino," she corrected.

"Right."

"A little bit."

He blinked the tears out of his eyes. "Oh."

"Josh?" She stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "I don't get tired of you."

"Yeah." Josh beamed and reached out to squeeze her hand.

She yanked it back. "Raw meat, remember?"

"Right." He dabbed at his eyes with the end of his sleeve.

"On the other hand, C.J. might get sick of you," Donna said.

"You mean she might attack me with a potato."

"Or even a carrot."

"I'd better watch my back." He stepped away from the counter. "Onions are done. I'm gonna go watch the game."

"Okay."

He paused on the threshold, looking back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. "You lost the bet fair and square," he said loudly.

"Shenanigans," C.J. called from the couch.

"We are the champions!" Sam declared, over the sound of cheers from the television.

Donna laughed as she reached for a dish towel. "Yes, we are."


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