------------ Title: The Gentle Art of Head Wounds Author: Bramble Rating: PG-13 Category: J/D Summary: "So," I start casually. "Josh is meeting Amy Gardner for drinks." Spoilers: BTSotU, TWaH, TWoQ. Feedback: More fun than a slinky. Disclaimers: Eh, AS owns them. Notes: It's fluffy and light, really, I guess I just had the urge to write something not very serious. And thanks to Kim for the 'Special Ed'. This post-ep stands alone and is not related to any other post-eps. * * * "Sam?" "Yeah?" He looks up and catches my eye. "You're still here?" I ask rhetorically, walking in and sitting in one of his guest chairs. "Yep, I'm saving the sea otter from a dismal fate," he says proudly. "Excuse me?" "Well, I'm being their spokesman here. Or trying to," he adds in a mutter. "Ah, you like doing that. The spokesman part." "I do." "So," I start casually. "Josh is meeting Amy Gardner for drinks." "When?" "Oh, now." "Oh?" He replies, not bothering to look up at me. "Yeah, she called him today. Invited him for drinks." "Well, it is perfectly acceptable for a woman to ask a man out now a days." "Oh, yeah. It is. When she called, she asked to speak to Special J." "Who's that?" Sam asks, finally looking up again. "That's what I said. Apparently, that's Josh." "Special J?" he repeats, looking confused. "Yeah, that's what she calls him, which is funny because he hates nicknames, anyway...Special J, that sounds...really stupid..." I trail off, before adding, "the Special makes him sound retarded." "When I was in high school, there was a guy we called Special Ed." "Was he mentally retarded?" "No," Sam answers. "Just really stupid." "See?" Sam nods and then looks back down. "What are you working on?" I get up and try to read what he's writing over his shoulder. "Donna, I..." he guards his papers protectively with his hands. "I can't work with someone looking over..." "Oh, sorry." I go back over and sit down as he sighs quietly. "Why are you even still here? I would think you'd take advantage of Josh leaving early." "Well, I had some stuff to finish." "Shouldn't you go finish it?" "I did." I finished it an hour ago. Since then, I've re-organized my desk and Josh's table, cleared out his inbox, and read through Margaret's secret stash of Cosmopolitan magazines -- I even took all the quizzes. Apparently, I'm an exotic, sultry, sex goddess hiding under a slightly girlish and shy disguise, who needs a career change and a new shower massage. Oh yeah, and I'd make a great spy and/or a pastry chef. Oh god, maybe I should go home. "Why don't you go home then?" He asks, looking slightly puzzled. "Yeah," I shrug. "I could do that." But I don't, instead, I look around his desk and see a slinky. I grab it and start slinking it back and forth between my hands. "Where'd you get this?" He smiles. "It's not mine. Larry left it in here yesterday." "Want to see how many steps we could make it go down out by the..." "Donna, I'm kind of busy now," he interrupts me, then studies me for a minute. "You hungry?" "Why?" "We could go grab some dinner," he starts, giving me an odd look. The kind of look you give when you're trying to make someone feel better. Why is Sam trying to make me feel better? Do I need to feel better? I feel fine. "I thought you were busy? What about the poor sea otters? Don't they need your help?" "Ah, they'll still be around when I get back -- they're a deceptively hearty little species despite what the EPA says." I feel my forehead crinkle. "Why do you want to go eat?" "I don't know...you look...hungry?" He states, but it comes off sounding a lot more like a question. "I do?" "Maybe. I just thought, you know, I mean...are you okay?" "Why wouldn't I be okay?" "I don't know. No reason, you're fine," he answers quickly. "I am," I get up. "Maybe I will just go home now." "That's a good idea," he agrees, looking pretty relieved. "Right. Okay. Night, Sam." "Bye, Donna," he calls after me. I turn around and stick my head back inside his office. "And thanks for the dinner offer," I add and he gives me a smile, before looking back down again and getting back to his hearty little otters. * * * "Hello?" "Hi. How you doin'?" Greets me from the phone. "Josh?" "Yeah." I look at the clock, 11:48. "Where are you?" "I just got home." "Oh." That's late. When Cliff and I had drinks, I was home by 11:00 -- you know, I'm just mentioning that for comparative reasons. "So. I have a question," he starts off and I brace myself for whatever ridiculous query Josh felt the need to phone me this late about. "Yes?" I sit up a bit in bed. "Amy asked me out tonight..." "Yes." "And then she paid. Does that mean something? I mean, in a something-I-should-know-about-women way?" "Did she buy you dinner too?" "Well, appetizers. Yeah." "Hmm, she might be trying to purchase your favors," I throw out, trying really hard not to laugh. Silence. "Josh?" "I know I've said this before, but I think it bears repeating -- you're an hysterically funny person," and his tone indicates, that he really doesn't think that at all. "Yeah," I agree. "I really am." Fortunately, I think I am. A funny person, that is. "Seriously, Donna, does this mean something?" "Seriously, Josh, she wants you to owe her." "Sex?" He squeaks. "Perhaps. What else have you got that she might want?" "Okay, you know what? I think I'll figure this out on my own." "No you won't." "I won't?" "No, tomorrow you'll go ask Sam and when he has no clue, you'll try to ask CJ, but you'll chicken out when she glares at you after you preface your question in some completely inappropriate way." "Are you going to start clucking at me now?" "Nope, I'll wait until tomorrow to do that when you spend the rest of the day hiding from CJ and her glares." There's a pause. "Do you think Sam will be more helpful than you're being?" "Maybe. He did date a prostitute for a while," I deadpan. "Okay, see, I'm not sure what the hell I was thinking here, calling and asking for your assistance." "I'm not sure either, since it's not in my job description to assist you with your dating dilemmas." Ouch, that came out a little harsh. "That's never stopped you before," he responds quickly and just as heatedly. That's never stopped you either," I point out. There's an uneasy silence and then, "So, did you finish that thing?" "Yeah, it's on your chair," I answer, not mentioning all the other things I did at work tonight while he was out being all -- Special J. "What are you doing?" "I'm in bed." * * * "Me too, " I respond, stretching out a bit, glad that I was able to save the conversation from going someplace stupid. "You should ask Sam to tell you about his friend Ed tomorrow," Donna suggests, making me think she's going to be losing me soon. "Who's Ed? Larry's Ed?" "No, Sam's Ed. From high school. Ask him, it might help with your dating issues," she says, as I try to figure out if she sounds upset or not. Or what the hell she's talking about some guy named Ed who went to high school with Sam for. I think she should be upset that I had a date. I was gone for nearly five hours with Amy -- appetizers were involved and everything. And apparently, Amy is trying to barter for my very in-demand, sexual favors. "Amy's a very attractive woman," I throw out, for some reason that escapes my better judgment. There's a brief silence. "That's right. I met her last year at that embassy party. She is, Josh." I swear that came out in a weird voice. Huh. Okay, let's try this. "I'm gathering rosebuds, Donna. I'm wooing. Women like to be wooed." "Good, Josh. And actually, she's wooing. Or buying, you know, with potato skins and nachos." "Actually, we ordered brie en croute. That's when..." "I know what that is," she says snippily, cutting me off. "Okay, I was just letting you know. There were also crab cakes involved...and fancy imported beer." "So you're an expensive call boy." "I prefer high-priced male escort," I shoot back. "She's going to woo you and then throw you away when you've outgrown your tawdry use." "That would work -- isn't that my usual dating modus operandi anyway?" I hear a distinct huff on the other end of the phone. Yep, something's going on with her and I'm thinking she might be bothered by my sudden social life. Which is interesting, since, on occasion, I might have found myself a bit bothered by her dating habits. Not jealous...*bothered*. I blindly reach up and feel around for the latest issue of George that I left on the shelf of my headboard, but instead of the light magazine, my hand bumps into something else. The next thing I know there's a large thumping noise, accompanied by a sharp pain in my forehead. "Josh?" "Oh god," I manage to mutter, lifting the heavy book off my head. "Josh? Are you okay?" "Yeah, I just, uh, knocked a book off my headboard and it hit...me over the...head." Right on the head. Oh crap, that's almost funny -- in a freakish sort of way, of course. "You're okay?" She repeats, sounding more concerned. "Ah, yeah. I gotta go." "Need to get back to your street corner?" She teases. "Yeah, see you tomorrow," I hang up before she can say anything else, then I look at the book. How apropos. It's my old social studies textbook -- no wonder it hurt so much, that thing weighs a freakin' ton. * * * "Donna!" Nothing. "Donna!" Finally she pokes her head in my office. "God, hold your horses, Josh. What?" "My head hurts." "Josh your head is fine." "I think the bump is getting bigger." "I doubt that." "I could have been killed, by my massive head wound." "Your head is very hard -- I think you would have been fine no matter what." I run my hand through my hair. Ow! God, it really does hurt. "Donna, seriously, it's growing. What happens when you get a concussion? Does the wound get bigger?" She makes a face, then walks over to me and for a moment, I think she's going to hurt me, but when she lays her hand up on my head it's just as gentle and soft as the earlier two times I made her feel it. "Josh," she sighs. "Your bump feels the same." "Are you sure it's not bigger? It feels bigger." "It's not bigger," she answers, pulling her hand off me, after running it through my hair quickly, and then lets it drop down and rest on my shoulder. "Okay, but what about a concussion?" I ask, looking up at her, grinning just a bit. "Have you fallen asleep since you hit your head last night?" "Yes." "Did you wake up?" I look around. "Am I really here or am I just dreaming this?" She rolls her eyes at me, but now she's smiling too. "Josh, if you woke up this morning, you don't have a concussion." "Are you making that up?" "No." "Could I see some references, please?" "Josh!" "Donna! References! Unless you've completed medical school in the last few days, get on the Web and just give me some proof that you know what you're talking about." "And then you'll shut up about your head wound?" "Massive head wound, mind you and yeah, I'll shut up about it then." "Fine," she turns and heads out, as I reach for the Advil she brought me earlier and swallow two down with my lukewarm coffee. * * * "So, Amy Gardner asked you out for drinks last night," Sam says out of nowhere and the slinky stops in my hands, mid-slink. I hadn't even gotten to the point of asking him anything yet -- I was still deciding on how best to introduce the topic in a way that wouldn't make me seem that clueless. Because, really, if I'm going to Sam for advice on women, well, I'm a bit clueless. "What? How do you know about that?" "Donna told me." "When?" "Last night." "Huh," I answer absently, not quite sure what to make of this information. I turn around to make sure his door is shut. "What'd she say?" "Nothing much, just that Amy calls you Special J," and here he stops to make an amused face. "And that she asked you out for drinks last night." "She does and she did." "Have a good time?" "Ah, yeah. So, what else did Donna say?" He gives me a curious look. "She thinks Special J is a stupid nickname." I shrug my shoulders. "Well, yeah. What else?" "She was...fidgety." "Fidgety? What the hell does that mean?" C'mon Sam, I think, repeatedly tapping my foot on the floor, give me more than that. Suddenly the door bursts open and Larry walks in. "My slinky -- I've been looking all over for that!" He comes up to me and holds his hand out expectantly. "What?" "Josh, you have my slinky." "Oh! yeah, here, here," I stop playing with it and give it to him. "Sorry, I forgot I was holding onto it." He starts to leave. "Oh, Donna says you have Leo in ten minutes and that you shouldn't be late or you might end up with more head wounds," he pauses. "What does that mean?" "Nothing," I answer quickly as he leaves, shutting the door behind him. "Head wounds?" Sam asks. "Oh, I just dropped a book on my head last night and Donna's pissed because I made her research concussions this morning. Anyway, so she was fidgety, you say?" "Yeah. Look, Josh?" "What?" He stares at me for a second. "Is something going on?" "What? What do you mean?" "Nothing," he pauses. "Nothing, really. It's none of my business." "Okay." "You know there are rumors about you and Donna, right?" He asks a second later. "Yeah." "They are just rumors, right?" "Of course they are," I answer back. He smiles. "Yeah, I knew that." "Yeah. Okay, I need to get in to see Leo and," I start to get up. "So, I'm just going to go do that. Oh, I'm supposed to ask you about an Ed?" "Ed? Larry's Ed?" "No. Your Ed, you knew him in high school?" "Oh yeah," he grins. "Special Ed. What about him?" I shake my head. Yep. Hysterical, she is. "Never mind." "'Kay." On the way back to my office I stop and find myself watching Donna fill out some reports. She doesn't see me and I have a few seconds to just observe her. She's got her head down while she writes something out at her desk and she's biting her lip gently, the way she does when she's really concentrating. Amy's wrong -- she's not cute at all. She's really very beautiful. And my assistant. When I get into my office there's a post-it on my chair. Amy called while I was with Sam. I push that to the side, over by the phone, and grab the folder with the numbers Leo wants. But before I leave, I take two more Advil -- I have a feeling I'm going to need them. * * * The End.
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