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TITLE: Witless:  An Innocent Kiss
AUTHOR: Ryo Sen (winemaxf@y...)
SUMMARY:  A companion piece to Jo March's "An Innocent
              Kiss."  What was Josh thinking?
SPOILERS: "In Excelsis Deo"
ARCHIVE: Sure, just let me know where it is so I can
              come and visit it.
DISCLAIMER: These wonderful and well-written
              characters are Aaron Sorkin's.  Okay, fine:  Warner
              Bros, too.
THANKS:  To Jo March, for her amazing writing, her
              generosity of spirit, and her quick and encouraging
              beta services



Witless:  An Innocent Kiss
Ryo Sen


Here's a little known fact about me:  I love Christmas.  

There are, of course, certain traditions that leave me 
utterly lost.  For example, what's up with the creepy, 
molded plastic, lit-from-the-inside Santa Clauses?  And 
why can't I have candy canes any other time of the year?

But for the most part, I can't get enough of Christmas.  
The gift-giving.  The loving your fellow man.  The 
presents.  And especially the mistletoe.  

Being Jewish, I wasn't exposed to the wonder that is the 
mistletoe until I was fourteen.  Janine Cunningham 
enthusiastically introduced me to the tradition at her 
Christmas party, and I have been taking full advantage 
of it ever since.  

I have to admit, though, I've never had quite so much 
fun under the mistletoe as I did this year.  Of course, 
the increased quality of the mistletoe experience had a 
corresponding increase in hellish consequences.  But I'm 
getting ahead of myself.

So it's Christmas Eve, and Donna, who was a big ball of 
girlish emotion after endlessly listening to Perry 
Cuomo's Christmas album on her headphones, accompanied 
me to the Mural Room to listen to a boys' choir.  And 
while I admit I was expressing my love for my fellow 
woman--in a purely holiday-cheer kind of way--with an 
arm slung around her, Donna's absurd susceptibility to 
Christmas carols (her words; I call it sappiness) played 
a large part in the ensuing mess.

So we're listening to some tunes and Donna looked up at 
me with those big, teary eyes and did that smile she 
does when she's really happy, and I'm suddenly having 
completely inappropriate thoughts about my assistant.  
That, paired with the fact that we were about to witness 
an incredibly annoying weatherperson dressed up in a 
cheap red velvet suit, precipitated our abrupt 
departure.

I pulled Donna down the hallway, arguing pleasantly over 
the relative merits of Christmas and Channukah (and 
noting with amusement her attempt to pronounce it 
correctly).  Then we reached the bullpen.  And our 
drunken coworkers.  Singing.  Badly.

I shot Donna a look, "I'm going to go out on a limb here 
and say that somebody spiked the eggnog."

In inimitable Donna fashion, she headed straight for the 
punchbowl and poured herself a cup.  She knocked it back 
with disturbing ease, then nodded. "You're right."

"You know, Donna," I said.  "It's eggnog, not coffee."

"Meaning?" she prompted, with a dubious look.

"Meaning that it wouldn't be establishing any sort of 
precedent if you'd actually brought me a cup too.  It's 
not like I'm going to expect you to bring me eggnog 
every morning."

"It's a slippery slope, Josh," Donna shrugged.  "Eggnog 
on Christmas Eve, coffee on weekdays; before I know it, 
you're expecting me to show up at your place every 
morning to fix your breakfast."

"You've had worse ideas," I grinned.

"Josh, get your own damn eggnog," Donna tossed over her 
shoulder as she walked away.

Gotta love the respect with which I'm treated by my 
assistant.  I wandered over to get my own damn eggnog.

CJ tapped my shoulder, "Josh, are you sure you should be 
drinking that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you not remember last year?" CJ asked.  

"Not this again--"

"Oh, right," she gave herself a playful smack on the 
forehead.  "You don't remember.  Because you and Sam 
snuck away to the Reflecting Pool to go ice skating.  
While extremely drunk."

"I have no recollection of that," I answered.

"And yet there was photographic evidence of it," she 
noted.  "Evidence of two senior staffers of the 
President-elect breaking several laws."

"CJ--"

"It was so picturesque, too," she continued, ignoring my 
protests.  "The blanket of snow on the mall, you and Sam 
in your mittens and mufflers, the dopey, alcohol-induced 
grins, and, oh, yeah, the open bottle of wine you were 
swigging from."

"It was empty," I argued.

"Because you drank it all and then puked at the foot of 
the Washington Monument," CJ countered.  "Which I also 
had photographic evidence of before I burned the 
negatives."  

"Isn't that a crime?"

"What?"

"Destroying the evidence."

"That's not the point."  She refilled her glass.  "One 
cup, Joshua."

"Yes, Mom," I called after her.  

Then I noticed the gaggle--including, I noted with some 
irritation, Donna--surrounding the new guy from Human 
Resources.  I felt a surge of brotherly protectiveness 
and headed off to the rescue. 

"That is your name, isn't it?" the new guy was saying as 
I reached the group.  "Donna?"

"Donnatella," I said.  Not in an obnoxious way.  Just, 
you know, making it clear that he'd better back off or 
we'd have to throw down.  

"Donna," she said, with what looked like a thankful 
glance at me.  "My name's Donna."

The new guy--his name is Ernie; need I say more?--was 
giving me a look.  Trying to figure out if he'd be 
stepping on my toes if he kept hitting on my assistant.  
I was giving him a look, too.  One that said:  Step.  
Off.

"Ernie," Donna said.  "Ernie, this is my boss, Josh 
Lyman."

"Donna," I said.  "We have that thing."

"What thing?"

"That work thing."

"Christmas Eve, Joshua."

"Government business, Donnatella."  Trump card.  

Of course, there wasn't really much work to be done, but 
I thought I'd give her an easy out.  Donna narrowed her 
eyes, then turned and walked away.  I shot Ernie a 
warning look and followed her.  

After giving Donna a much-needed lesson on guys on the 
make, I paused in the doorway of my office.  

"Is that all?"  Donna stood right in front of me, arms 
crossed.  "Because if there isn't any real work to do, 
I'm going back to where people are having actual fun."

"No, that's pretty much it.  Now that I've successfully 
defended your virtue, you're free to leave."  I 
retreated to my office and was halfway to my desk when I 
noticed it.  

A sprig of mistletoe hanging precariously from my 
ceiling.  

Now, who could possibly have put that there?  I have my 
share of admirers in the office--most of whom are drawn 
to my sharp wit and winning smile--but I figured I 
should narrow my list to those who had motive and 
opportunity.  In other words, the female half (I hoped) 
of the support staff involved in decorating the office.

Let's see... that'd be Ginger and Margaret and Bonnie 
and Donna--

"Should I call maintenance?"  

"What?  No, it's--" I tore my gaze from the mistletoe 
and glanced over at Donna.  An interesting thought 
occurred to me.  "What do you have there?"

"Your Christmas present," she entered the office and 
handed me a small box wrapped in silver paper.  At least 
it wasn't that heinous designer paper with bells and 
plant life and small woodland creatures.

"You bought me a Christmas present?"

"Yes, Josh.  It's traditional to exchange gifts at 
Christmas.  You didn't get me skis, and I got you this."

I made short work of the paper and the box, which left 
me holding a fancy-looking bag of coffee.  I think I 
gave the coffee a puzzled look.

"Well?"  Donna asked.

"Coffee?" I asked.  "You gave me coffee?"

"Not just any coffee.  This is a very special gourmet 
blend."

"I give you a rare book, and you give me coffee?"

"It's the thought that counts, Josh."  She had her 
wounded face on.  

"I'm almost afraid to ask what you were thinking."

"That now you can't say I never bring you coffee," she 
said, with one of her delicate smiles.  See why I 
couldn't function without this woman?  She's sweet, 
she's thoughtful, she keeps me in line.  She's sometimes 
completely unreasonable.  "Also," she added, "that I 
could have bought you a very nice coffee press if I made 
more money."

I ignored the sudden, inexplicable urge to hug her.  "So 
the hidden meaning behind this gift is that you want a 
raise?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it a hidden meaning, Josh."

Fair point.  I put the coffee on the desk beside me.  
"If you ever got that raise, would you actually bring me 
coffee?"

"Only in your dreams."

I grinned at her.  My occasional dreams involving Ms. 
Donnatella Moss never involved anything as banal as 
coffee.  

"Okay," I said, "we had the carolers, the visit from St. 
Nick cleverly disguised as a morning news show 
weatherman, the drunken revelers at the office Christmas 
party, and the gift giving."  I took a step closer to 
her.  "What's next?"

"Well, we could watch 'It's a Wonderful Life,'" she 
suggested, "but I have a plane to catch in two hours."

"What about mistletoe?" I prompted.

"Mistletoe?  What are you talking about?"  She gave me a 
confused look.  I didn't buy it for a second.

"Mistletoe," I rattled off, "a plant traditionally used 
as decoration during the Christmas season. In European 
folklore, mistletoe was believed to bestow fertility and 
to be an aphrodisiac.  Which, you'll admit, is a useful 
combination.  The tradition of kissing under the  
mistletoe was originally associated with the Greek 
festival of Saturnalia and later with primitive marriage 
rites.  The Scandanavian tradition holds that mistletoe 
represents peace; enemies could stand under the 
mistletoe to declare a truce," I raised my eyebrows, "or 
married couples could use it to kiss and make up." 

"Josh, I'm impressed," Donna said.  "Seriously."

"You don't work for Jed Bartlet this long without 
picking up some useless bits of trivia."  I pushed the 
sudden, disturbing image of Jed Bartlet grinning proudly 
at me out of my head and concentrated on Donna.  "So, 
Donnatella, should we move to the mistletoe portion of 
the evening?"
        
"Josh," she said, moving closer.  "The tradition 
requires catching someone underneath the mistletoe," she 
said, from directly below it.

The crafty little minx.

I smirked and pointed out her handiwork.  She glanced 
up, looked shocked, and I took that opportunity to plant 
one on her.  A brotherly kiss, to be sure.  I had no 
intention of... well, of anything except expressing my 
appreciation for her person in a non-verbal way.  I gave 
her a sweet, chaste, close-mouthed kiss.  

Until her hand landed on the back of my neck and she 
made this amazing little sound.  Suddenly, we were 
kissing.  Donna and I were kissing, and we were 
surprisingly good at it.  Not awkward like during most 
first kisses, where you're trying to find the right 
angle, the right amount of aggression.  This kiss 
just... worked.  

Unfortunately, we were interrupted just as it was 
getting interesting.  I belatedly heard the door open, 
and Donna jerked away from me.

I quickly removed my hand from her hair.  "Jeez," I 
said, spotting CJ in the doorway, "doesn't anybody in 
this building ever knock?"

"I've said it before," CJ replied, "but I think it bears 
repeating:  Boy, are you stupid!"

I scrambled for an answer that wasn't defensive.  "That 
may be so, but we were being stupid in private until you 
barged in."  Okay.  So much for not sounding defensive.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" she 
demanded.

"Nothing," I sputtered, pointing up at the damn plant.  
"Mistletoe.  Friendly kiss."

"Right," Donna nodded beside me.

"Friendly, my ass," CJ snorted.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" I demanded.

"Driving Donna to the airport," CJ answered.  "And she 
told me to meet her here."

"What?" I turned on Donna.  "You told her to meet you 
here?  Are you insane?  Are you actually an insane 
person?"

"Me?" Donna gaped at me.  "You were the kisser; I was 
just the kissee."

"Oh yeah?"  I wanted to point out that I wasn't running 
around hanging mistletoe over her desk, but I figured CJ 
was pissed enough without knowing this was premeditated.  
I may have missed a small portion of the conversation, 
having retreated behind my desk to think.  

"It was just a little kiss, CJ," Donna pointed at the 
ceiling.  "There's mistletoe, see?  It was perfectly 
innocent."

"What I saw sure didn't look innocent," CJ replied.  She 
had her arms crossed and that pissed-as-a-wet-cat look.  
I was a tad frightened.  "It looked like full-blown 
tongue hockey."

"And the pot calls the kettle black," I pounced.  Hey, 
it's kill or be killed sometimes.

"What?" CJ and Donna rounded on me.

"So I kissed Donna," I shrugged, doing my best 
impression of carelessness.  "Under the mistletoe.  On 
Christmas Eve.  Big deal.  It didn't mean anything."

"What do you mean it didn't mean anything?" Donna 
interjected.  

Here's where I experienced the first inkling that I may 
have made a slight tactical error.  But I ignored Donna 
and focused on CJ.

"And, yes, we're co-workers," I continued.

"You're her boss," CJ said.

"Yes.  We work together.  It's not like there's a 
conflict of interest involved."  I crossed my arms.  
"It's not like she's a reporter and I'm, you know, the 
press secretary."

"This is about you and Donna, not me and Danny."

"But it could be."

"Are you trying to blackmail me, Josh?"

"No," Donna said.  "No, he's not.  No one is 
blackmailing anyone.  It was just an innocent kiss."  
She glanced at me with this hurt look.  "And apparently 
it was completely meaningless."  

Oh, shit.  

I lifted my hand, but Donna ignored me and turned back 
to CJ.  "And nobody knows about it except the three of 
us.  Disaster averted.  Now if you two will stop arguing 
about it, CJ can drive me to the airport."

I tried again, "Donna--"

"Trust me, Josh," she avoided my eyes.  "You really 
don't want to say anything else right now."  

I watched her departure in shock. 

CJ gave me an imperious look.  "No more drinking, Josh," 
she commanded, then stalked after Donna.

***

Two and a half cups of eggnog later, I was feeling no 
pain.  I wasn't feeling much of anything, actually.  

Sam found me sprawled on my office floor, examining the 
carpet with a strange fascination.  Somehow, he managed 
to manhandle me up into my chair.  

I leaned back and blinked up at the mistletoe.  "That," 
I told Sam, "is the spawn of Satan."

Sam's brow furrowed, "The mistletoe?"

"Yeah."

"Is the spawn of Satan."

"Yeah."

"I'm just saying, isn't the spawn of Satan usually, you 
know, a mammal?"

I regarded him blearily for a moment.  "You sound like 
Donnatella."

Sam looked amused.  "How much have you had to drink, 
Josh?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" I tried to stand 
up and be righteous in my anger, but my legs had other 
ideas.  I fell back into my chair.  "I'm not drunk."

"Right," Sam grinned.  

"And I did not kiss Donna," I said.  "So just ignore 
what CJ said."

Sam was staring at me with an odd look, "What CJ said?"

"Yeah," I nodded for what seemed like hours.  "What CJ 
said about seeing me kiss Donna.  I didn't.  And it was 
her fault anyway."

"Whose fault?"

"Donna's," I explained, exasperated by his inability to 
follow my flawless logic.

"CJ said you kissed Donna, but you really didn't, and 
it's all somehow Donna's fault?" he asked.

"Yeah."  My eyes slipped closed and the room tilted 
slightly.

"Josh?"

I opened one eye.  

Sam leaned on the desk, his face close to mine, "Please 
tell me you didn't hang mistletoe in your office so you 
could hit on your assistant."

"Did not."

"Cause that's not exactly something Leo would condone."

"Shit," I sat upright, nearly smashing my face into 
Sam's.  "Did CJ tell Leo?"

"Josh," Sam straightened and shook his head.  "I don't 
think CJ's told anyone."

"She told you."

"No, she didn't."

I gave him a puzzled look.  "Then how do you know?"

"You told me."

I tried to go back over our conversation in my head, but 
couldn't quite follow it.  I flopped back in my chair.  
"Whatever."

My phone rang.  I fumbled with it for a moment, then 
answered, "Josh Lyman, deputy chief of staff and 
despoiler of virgins."

"I'm not spoiled," said a familiar voice, "and I'm 
definitely not a virgin."  

I grinned stupidly, "I thought you weren't speaking to 
me."

"I'm not," Donna answered.  "Except in my official 
capacity as your assistant."

Official capacity.  Right.  And if Donna was already at 
the airport, that meant CJ was on her way back.  Which 
meant I had a finite amount of time before CJ arrived to 
rip me a new one.  My alcohol haze faded slightly.  
"Then in my official capacity as your boss, tell me what 
you got on CJ."

"What?"  Donna squeaked.

"I figure it was a nice long car ride; and you're doing 
the whole Thelma-and-Louise, men-are-scum thing," I was 
on a roll.  I should drink more often.  "She let some 
juicy little tidbit slip. Something we can use against 
her for the next few years.  It's about Danny, isn't 
it?"

"Joshua Lyman," Donna used her peremptory tone, "there 
are days when I am ashamed to admit I know you."

"Come on; what did you get?" I wheedled.  "Cause I was 
thinking of getting the IRS to investigate whether her 
goldfish constitutes an illegal gift, but I might be on 
shaky ground there."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"You think?" Donna asked sarcastically.

"Donna, you must have got something."

"Yes, I got a very long lecture about why you were at 
fault."

"Me?" I sputtered.  "If I'm going down on this, 
Donnatella, I'm taking you with me."

Sam chuckled and took the receiver away from me.  He 
clicked on the speakerphone and said,  "Under the 
circumstances, Josh, that last sentence was quite the 
unfortunate choice of words."

"Sam?" Donna asked, her voice all tinny.  "What are you 
doing in Josh's office?"

"I'm providing comfort in his time of tribulation.  And 
can I just say that I'm totally behind the idea of you 
two crazy kids finding love?"

"Oh god, no!" Donna said.  "Josh, please tell me you 
didn't tell Sam."

"Okay, I won't tell you," I replied, a little irritated 
by her horrified tone.  It was all her damn fault, 
anyway.

"Josh," Donna asked, "how much eggnog did you drink 
after I left?"

"Three cups."  So I rounded up.  I'm sick of being 
labeled a lightweight when it comes to drinking.  I'm a 
politician, dammit!

The room lurched to the left.  I groaned and put my head 
down on the desk.  Sam and Donna were having a hard-to-
follow conversation about coffee and the Post, so I 
ignored them and thought about ways to keep CJ quiet.

I may have dozed off for a moment, but Sam's whining 
brought me around.  I rolled my head sideways and 
yelled, "I wanna talk to Donnatella!"

"Josh, you're on speakerphone," Donna said patiently.  
"I can hear you just fine."

"I think I'm drunk, Donna."  Not exactly a brilliant 
opening salvo.

"Yes, Josh, you are.  You have a very sensitive system."

"I was not drunk when I kissed you."  Did I just say 
that?  Was that me? 

"Okay," Donna said.  

"Cause I just wanted to clarify that."  No, I didn't.  I 
really didn't.  Why am I still talking?  Why is Sam 
standing there grinning and letting me talk?

"Okay," Donna said again. 

"And you did too kiss me back," I pointed out.  "You 
were not just the kissee."

I paused to think over what I'd said and realized it 
could give someone who didn't know better the false 
impression that I had a thing for Donna.  Which I 
didn't.  I wanted to say something sensitive, something 
that would express my deep and genuine friendship with 
Donna, while emphasizing that any romantic feelings she 
may have towards me are unrequited.  

"I do not love you, Donnatella Moss," I said.

And that, boys and girls, is why Joshua Lyman is not 
allowed to drink heavily.  

"I don't love you either, Josh," Donna answered, 
punctuating her statement by hanging up abruptly.

"Wait," I said.  "I meant--"

"Josh," Sam gave me a sympathetic look.  "She hung up."

I stared up at him, "Did I just say--?"

"Yes," he answered.

I digested that for a moment.  "Donna's gonna kill me."

"Yes," he said.

I dropped my head on the desk again, suddenly nauseous.  

I heard my office door bang open.  "Joshua," CJ said.

Sam gave me a pat on the back.  "I think CJ's going to 
kill you first."

"Leave me alone," I whimpered.  "I'm drunk."

CJ slammed her hand on the desk by my head.  "What did I 
tell you?"

I propped my chin in my hand and mumbled, "You told me 
not to drink."

"And what did you do?"  She had her arms crossed and was 
looking very fierce.

"I only had two cups."

Sam grinned, "I thought it was three?"

"Traitor," I muttered.  "CJ--"

"Don't even try it, Joshua," she cut me off.  "I 
reminded you of the Monument scandal."

Sam gave me a little wave, and turned to leave, "I 
believe that's my cue to leave."

"Sam," CJ raised her voice.  

Sam halted midstep.  "Yes?"

"Get your ass back here."

"Okay," Sam slowly turned back to face her.  "Can I help 
you in some way?"

"I'm holding you responsible for this," she said.

"Me?" Sam gaped at her.  "How am I responsible for Josh 
kissing Donna."

"She kissed me back," I interjected.

"Shut up," Sam and CJ said in unison.

"Fine."  I dropped my head back into my arms.

"You're not responsible for that," CJ said to Sam.  
"You're responsible for this."

"I'm not his babysitter," Sam argued.

"What did I tell you last year?"

"CJ--"

"What did I tell you, Sam?"  CJ interrupted.  "Didn't I 
say, 'Make sure Josh doesn't do this again, Sam?'  
Didn't I say, 'Who knows what trouble he'll get into 
next year?'"

"Yes," Sam admitted.

"So?"

"So what?"

"So why am I trying to have a very important discussion 
with a very drunken Josh right now?"

"I got here after the three cups of eggnog."

"Two and a half," I mumbled.

"Josh," CJ warned.  

"I'm just saying," I said, stupidly.

"Now is really not the time for you to nitpick, Joshua," 
CJ said.  "Because I assure you, the press corps is not 
really going to care if it was two or three cups of 
eggnog; I'm guessing they'll be more interested in you 
groping your assistant in your office."

"I did not grope," I pushed myself into a sitting 
position.  "Let me make it clear that there was no 
groping."

"And let me make clear that I'm going to kill you if 
anyone finds out about this," CJ said.

The way I was feeling, she wasn't going to have to kill 
me.  And I really shouldn't have sat up so quickly.  Sam 
took a good look at me and jumped into action.

He got the wastebasket in place just in time.  

I hate Christmas.

***

The next few days were surprisingly without conflict.  
Probably because I spent Christmas day in bed moaning 
and wishing for a quick, painless death.  But still.

I think it's safe to say the storm had all but blown 
over.  Sam was out of town.  CJ was still subjecting me 
to the occasional lecture on my misogynist tendencies 
and what she termed my overwhelming ego, but that wasn't 
actually all that unusual.

And had my assistant been around instead of off 
gallivanting with her family, I'm sure the sticky 
situation would have disappeared around the same time as 
my hangover.

So I slept through my alarm on the 2nd.  Which was 
really not my fault.  Donna is supposed to call me if 
she gets in to work and I'm not there yet.  But given 
that she was in Chicago...   Let's just say I got to 
work a bit late.  

And since he played such an integral role in the 
disaster, I should point out that Sam had arrived back 
in D.C. the night before.

Anyway, because I wasn't there on time, I missed the 
conversation CJ and Sam had in Sam's office.  A 
conversation that, regrettably, widened to include Toby 
when he walked in looking for a draft of a speech.  
Neither CJ nor Sam realized that Toby hadn't even been 
at the White House on Christmas Eve to witness the...  
Well, he didn't know about the thing in my office.

Until they told him.  

That's the part I'm not sad about missing; apparently 
Toby made many, many disparaging remarks about my 
"womanizing," and my "sleazy persona that is 
inexplicably charming to women."  All the while praising 
Donna's virtue for resisting my evil clutches for so 
long.  

Like I said, I'm quite glad I didn't have to sit through 
yet another scolding from Toby.

But, oh, how I wish I'd gotten to work before the three 
stooges headed for the staff meeting.  These are three 
of the most brilliant people in the country.  They're 
supposedly concerned about a possible P.R. nightmare, 
yet they discuss the situation while walking through the 
halls of the West Wing.  How bright is that?

As a result, I arrived at the staff meeting with no clue 
that Leo had overheard CJ, Sam, and Toby discussing me 
and Donna.  The meeting, needless to say, did not go 
well.

"Nice of you to join us, Josh," Leo sniped as soon as he 
saw me. 

"Sorry," I said, fussing with my damp and quite unruly 
hair.  "I had a thing."

CJ and Toby nodded their hellos, while Sam pursed his 
lips and tilted his head towards Leo.  I got the feeling 
he was trying to tell me something, but my synapses 
weren't firing correctly.

"You had a thing?" Leo asked in the tone he gets just 
before he goes in for the kill.

"Yeah," I said.  

"Who was it this time, Josh?"  Leo crossed his arms and 
glared at me.

I was beginning to get the picture.  "Leo--"

"No, really," he interrupted.  "I'm curious, Josh.  Are 
you going to work your way through your entire support 
staff, or have you started in on someone else's?"

I was starting to get pissed.  "Leo, don't you think 
that's a little out of line?"

CJ, Toby, and Sam edged away from me.  

Leo took a step forward.  "Excuse me?"

"I just meant--"

"You and your assistant are playing tonsil hockey in 
your office in the White House and I'm out of line?"

CJ stepped in.  "This is serious, Josh."

"I'm aware of that, CJ," I snapped.

"Then act like it," Leo commanded.  "I don't know what 
I'm supposed to do with you, Josh."

"Nothing.  You don't have to do anything.  There was 
mistletoe, Leo," I said with what may have been a 
slightly inappropriate grin.  "It was just a friendly, 
Christmas kiss."

"You're Jewish," Leo said flatly.

"Donna's Presbyterian," Sam offered.

Leo glared at him for a moment, "Thank you, Sam."

"No problem," Sam retreated behind a nearby chair.  

"Leo," I said.  "I don't see what the big deal is."

"Josh," Toby said.  "This is serious.  What if the press 
stumbled upon that... that prurient scene?"

"Prurient," I repeated.  "It was just a simple kiss."

Leo glared at me.  "It was completely inappropriate, 
Josh.  And I've got to tell you, I'm not looking forward 
the conversation I'm going to have with Donna."

"Wait a second," I said, shaking my head.  "What are you 
talking about?"

"You can't think this will go unpunished," Leo answered.

"Unpunished?  You're going to punish us?" I sputtered.  
"For a holiday kiss behind closed doors?"

"This is serious, Joshua," CJ said.

"What about Danny and CJ?"  My attempted misdirection 
earned me a frightening scowl from CJ.  

"What about me and Danny?" CJ stepped right into the box 
and swung for it.

"I couldn't care less about CJ and Danny," Leo said.  CJ 
looked shocked

"Why don't you care about CJ and Danny?" I asked.

"Danny doesn't work for me," Leo said.  "I can't fire 
him."

"You can't fire Donna, either," I said.

"Oh, but I can."

I stood and stared at Leo, but couldn't seem to come up 
with anything to say to that.  CJ, Sam, and Toby seemed 
similarly struck dumb.

Leo sighed, "Look, I don't want to fire Donna--"

"You can't fire Donna," I repeated.  "Leo, you can't."

"What am I supposed to do, Josh?" Leo threw his hands 
up.  "This is serious."

"Could we please pick a new phrase?" I asked.

"Would you prefer that I fire you?" Leo bellowed.  
"Because I'm really not in the mood for your 'wit,' 
Josh."

"Leo," Sam said.  "No one needs to be fired--"

"Sam," Leo rounded on him. 

Sam shut up.  

Leo turned back to me.  "I'm not sure what kind of 
options we have here, Josh."

"You can't fire Donna."  I seemed to be stuck on that 
phrase.

Leo stared at me for a moment.  "When does she get 
back?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Be in my office at 8a.m. Tuesday morning.  Both of 
you."

"Leo--"

"Enough, Josh."  Leo turned to Sam.  "What else?"

***

It's amazing what kissing someone can do to your 
awareness level.  

I ducked out early on Monday--after hiding out in my 
office for the better part of two days--and headed for 
the airport.  I hate the airport.  I find the whole 
dropping-people-off and picking-people-up thing to be 
torturous and unnecessary.  You get a car, they drop you 
off and pick you up curbside; no parking (for $5 per 
hour), no slogging through crowds of post-holiday bad
cheer.  No fuss.

But for reasons I didn't care to examine too closely, I 
felt some strange obligation to collect Donna and see 
her home.  These occasional surges of protectiveness are 
a pain in the ass.  (You'll notice that I have, as a 
result of the events of Christmas Eve, lopped off the \
descriptive "brotherly," as that would be... well, just 
wrong.)

I got to the airport early, for once, and tried to look 
casual.  How this could be accomplished while awaiting 
the post-kiss arrival of my assistant, I'm not sure.  
But I settled on the Starbucks kiosk and spent an 
Inordinate amount of time debating the pros and cons of 
a double espresso. 

Good thing to forego the caffeine rush, because the 
sight of Donna walking towards me set my nerves 
jangling.  She looked appropriately wrinkled after
her flight, but she was still luminous.  I swallowed 
hard and said, "Donnatella Moss."

Donna started and looked my way.  She gave me the once-
over, "Josh, what are you doing?"

I grinned at her and grabbed her overnight bag. "Picking 
you up at the airport."

After dissuading her of the notion that I was there to 
kidnap her and take her to the office, Donna started to 
get the picture.  She gave me her worried face.

"Promise you won't get upset?" I asked, stupidly.

"Josh, I've gone way past upset already."

And the thing was, she had.  She had that little furrow 
between her eyes, and the corners of her mouth tilted 
down.  I hate when she's upset.

"Well," I said, trying to figure out how to break it to 
her gently.  "Sam was telling Toby about--about the 
thing that happened Christmas Eve.  And you know how 
preoccupied they get.  So I guess they weren't paying 
attention to where they were going or who was behind 
them and, well," I shrugged, "Leo sort of overheard."

She stopped walking abruptly and clutched my arm.  "Leo 
knows?" she asked her voice oddly high and shrill.

"Yeah."  I turned to her.

"Leo McGarry?"

"Do you know another Leo?"

"Leo McGarry our boss?"

"Well, technically Leo's my boss," I smiled, amused in 
spite of myself.  "You've got to get clear on this whole 
chain of command thing, Donna."

"Leo knows."

"We've established that.  It's time to move on and 
develop a strategy."

"Josh, there is no strategy," she was using that 'don't 
mess with me' tone.  "You kissed me--"

Why did she keep saying that?  "You kissed me back," I 
pointed out.

"That is so not the issue.  You kissed me.  Leo knows.  
We're screwed."

I grinned down at her, "Now that's what Sam would call 
an unfortunate choice of words."

"This is serious, Joshua."  Donna was definitely not 
seeing the amusement.

"Yeah, that's what Leo said," I answered, attempting to 
be more serious.  "And Toby.  CJ said it twice."

"Which is when you mentioned Danny."

"Yeah, I think she's kind of pissed."  

"Josh," Donna said, "just tell me about the message on 
my answering machine."

"Oh, that's from Leo.  He wants the two of us in his 
office at 8 a.m. tomorrow."

Donna aggressively pushed her way through the doors and 
sucked in a breath at the cold air.  "I can't believe 
this."

"Can't believe what?" I asked, pulling my jacket a bit 
tighter around me.

"This," she said, waving her hand around in the space  
between us.  "It's insane."

I paused for a moment, a little shocked by the niggling 
disappointment her words generated.  "You're right."  I 
gestured to my car.  "I'm over there."

***

After I dropped Donna at her place, I didn't really want 
to go home.  I conveniently remembered the VAWA2 bill 
sitting on my desk and headed for the office.  

Two hours later, I was ready for bed, if not death.  But 
the thought of heading out into the bitter cold and
driving all the way to my apartment was too much.  
Instead, I slipped next door and bunked out on CJ's 
couch.

Which is where she found me the next morning.

"Joshua."

I rolled my head sideways, but the abused muscles in my 
neck protested sharply.  I moaned.

"Joshua, get up."

"CJ," I mumbled.  "What time is it?"

"Six fifty-eight."

"A.m.?"

"Yes," CJ poked me.  "Get up."

I carefully levered myself upright and squinted in the 
bright light.  "Is today Tuesday?"

CJ shook her head, "Yes, Josh.  And you'd better 
convince Leo to keep Donna here."

That woke me up.  "He's still thinking of firing her?"  
I rolled my shoulders a bit to work out the kinks.

"Yes, you misogynistic jerk."

"CJ--"

"Seriously, Josh, what did you think would happen?"

"I didn't--"

"Exactly," CJ interrupted.  "You didn't think.  The  
thing with Mandy was bad enough, but she wasn't your 
subordinate.  I knew it would only be a matter of time 
until you compromised one of your staffers; I just 
didn't think it'd be Donna."

"I wasn't compromising anyone, CJ, and I think you're 
making too big a deal out of this."

"Oh, right," she glared down at me.  "I must be
overreacting.  Maybe it's my time of the month."

"When, exactly, did this turn into the battle of the 
sexes?" I demanded, pushing myself up onto my feet.  

"In case you hadn't noticed, Joshua, it's been a battle 
of the sexes since that punk Adam blamed everything on 
Eve."

"I thought you were Catholic, CJ."

"Yeah," she said with a small smile.  "But I've always  
been partial to Lilith."

Finally, a truce.  I hate fighting with CJ.

"Joshua," she warned.  "You're a man.  This will work 
oout fine for you Donna is a woman and your subordinate.  
She's going to get lambasted in the press."

"For the forty-eighth time, the press doesn't know about 
this.  The press isn't going to know about this," I 
yelled.  "No one will be lambasted in the press."

"The support staff knows, Josh," CJ said quietly.  "How 
long do you think it'll take for the press to catch a 
tip?"

I stared at her.  "The support staff?"

"Yes."

"They know?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I don't know, Josh.  Just trust me on this."

I sank back down onto her couch.  "Shit."

"Yes."

CJ let me sit in her office for a few minutes, then 
kicked me out so she could get to work.  I headed for 
the coffee pot for some artificial pep.  

"Josh," Sam called.

I poured a cup.  "You want some?"

He shook his head.  He was smiling.  

"What's with you?" I growled.  I think my grouchiness 
was understandable under the circumstances.

"It's a beautiful day, wouldn't you say?"

"Sam--"

"The way the sun is sparkling off the snow, the 
unnerving lack of traffic on the Beltway, and all the 
little birds chirping--"

"There are no birds, Sam."

"There could be birds."

"It's 47 degrees outside," I said.  "The birds are in 
Florida."

"But still," he said.  "It's a beautiful day."

I glared at him for a moment and headed for my office.

"Seriously, Josh," he said, following me.  "I am filled 
with glee."

"Why are you filled with glee?"  I flopped into my 
chair.

"It's a beautiful day."

I glared at him.  He grinned back, gave a little wave, 
and turned to leave.  He stuffed his hands in his 
pockets and started whistling "Hello, Young
Lovers."

"Sam," I yelled.

He turned back and gave me an innocent look.  "Yes?"

"You're not at all amusing."

"Sure," he nodded.  And began whistling again.

I dropped my head onto my desk and contemplated suicide.  
Problem is, I really dislike guns, blood makes me 
lightheaded, I'm not particularly fond of heights, and 
I'd probably be too altered after swallowing one valium 
to get the rest in my mouth.

"Joshua," said a familiar gruff voice.

Of course, a quick stab to the correct artery and I 
could...  Oh, the room is spinning.  I jerked upright 
and opened my eyes wide.  "Toby, please, not you, too."

"What?"  He frowned at me.

"Don't give me a lecture, or call me sexist, or whistle 
stupid songs at me."

He regarded me in silence for a long moment.  "Commerce 
bill," he said.  "I'm looking for the briefing memo."

It took me a moment to switch gears.  I dug through a 
pile of crap on my desk and produced the memo.  "Here."

"So here's an interesting idea," he began.

"Oh, come on, Toby," I propped my chin in my hand.

"No one around here wants to lose Donna."

"Toby."

"But I haven't seen anyone crying over the idea of your 
being fired."

"Toby--"

"With her..." he paused, "charisma, I think Donna would 
make an excellent Deputy Chief of Staff."

"That's ridiculous, Toby.  Donna would never stay here 
without me." 

"You should really take a look at what you're paying 
her, Josh."

"Toby."

"Just a helpful suggestion," he said, backing out of my 
office.

I checked my watch and tapped my fingers on my desktop 
impatiently.  Where the hell was Donna?

"You're wearing that to the meeting with Leo?"

I looked up to find Donnatella Moss, sleek blonde hair 
pulled back demurely and dressed to kill in a fitted 
black suit and heels with those little strappy things on 
them.  With a glance down at my crumpled suit, I could 
see her point.  Of course, the upshot of my disheveled 
appearance was that no one would ever believe a woman of 
her caliber would look twice at me.

She gave me some more shit about my appearance, and I 
filled her in on the morning's events.  Specifically, 
that CJ, Toby, and Sam were getting varying amounts of 
enjoyment from our predicament.

Donna tried to joke with me, but she looked scared.  
Paler than usual, which I honestly hadn't thought 
possible before that morning.  I walked over to her, and 
it didn't occur to me until I was standing in front of 
her that our position was eerily familiar.  Luckily, the 
mistletoe was long gone.

Donna looked up at me, "Josh, how much trouble are we 
really in?"

I couldn't resist; I touched her cheek for a brief 
moment and smiled down at her.  "I'm not worried," I 
said.  "I figure nobody here is going to be stupid 
enough to let you go, and they know you won't stay 
without me."

"They do?  Who told them that?"

"I may have suggested something along those lines 
yesterday."

"So what you're saying is that your fate is in my 
hands?"  She gave me the beginnings of a smile.

"I wouldn't go that far," I said, relieved she seemed to 
be calming down; she kept arguing with me, which is 
always a good sign.  I grinned and ushered her out of my 
office.  "You're a hard woman to live with, Donna Moss."

Of course, the closer we got to Leo's office, the more 
nervous I became.  Donna might have calmed down, but I 
was still worried about Leo's decision.

The staffers stopping midsentence to stare at us as we 
passed did nothing to quell my nerves.  "Why do I get 
the feeling I'm about to face a firing squad here?"

Before Donna could answer, Margaret jumped up and gave 
her a bear hug.  Margaret pulled back and seemed about 
ready to cry, "I blame myself."

"Now there's a strategy," I said.  "Let's blame 
Margaret.  Why are we blaming Margaret?"

"The mistletoe in Josh's office," Margaret said.  "I was 
spreading holiday cheer."

I gaped at her for a moment.  Margaret put up the 
mistletoe?  Margaret?  Donna * didn't * put up the 
mistletoe in my office, the implications of which are 
staggering.

I realized that both Donna and Margaret were staring at 
me, waiting for a response.  "You couldn't have put up a 
wreath?" I asked weakly.

Donna punched me softly in the arm and reassured 
Margaret that the blame rests solely on me.  "Because, 
you know, Josh has never needed any help being a jerk."

"Excuse me?" I said.  "Can we just review events here?  
I think I've mentioned before that I was not acting 
alone."

"Josh," Donna said, looking stricken.  "Shut up."

I shut up.  

And fidgeted.  I am not a patient man.  Had I lived in 
the days of horses and carriages, I'd have hurled myself 
underneath a train to put an end to all of the waiting 
around.  It's inefficient.

It's also a spectacular tactic to use against an 
opponent.  I'd used it many times myself, and so had 
Leo.  He'd just never used it on me before.  It was 
surprisingly effective.

Once he finally deigned to admit us to his hallowed 
chambers, he made us stand in silence before him.  Which 
is also surprisingly effective.  And his glare is 
terrifying.

In fact, had he not spoken when he did, I might actually 
have exploded.

Finally, Leo cracked.  "Just what the hell is going on 
with you two?"

"Nothing," I answered too quickly.  "There is nothing 
going on between us."

"Are you sure?"  Leo looked utterly unconvinced.  
"Because that's not the story I heard from Sam."

Damn Sam and his big, gleeful mouth.

"Sam just misunderstood something I said."  

Leo raised an imperious eyebrow.  "That's not the story 
I heard from Toby."

"Toby wasn't even there," I waved off his comment and 
looked to Donna for help.  She remained mute beside me.

"You do understand that this is the White House, don't 
you?" Leo asked.  "We are supposed to be held to a 
higher standard of conduct here.  You can't be 
consorting with every pretty girl who works for you, no 
matter what the circumstances.  If the two of you can't 
work together professionally, you're not going to be 
working together at all."

"You know," I said with irritation, "I'm not completely 
sure that's fair.  I mean, we're two consenting adults.  
Suppose we wanted to--to--"  I made a strange gesture 
with my hand.  "Well, just suppose.  What gives the 
federal government the right to tell us we can't?"

"This is about political perceptions, Josh," Leo 
answered.  "You of all people should understand that."

"Yeah, well, I don't," I said.  "Cause if you want to 
talk about perceptions, what's it going to look like 
when you fire Donna because we're having an affair?"

Leo eyes widened and he yelled, "You're having an affair 
with Donna?"

"Hypothetically, Leo," I clarified.  "Hypothetically."  
I was suddenly wondering how far I could push him before 
he fired one or both of us.  Unfairness in all its forms 
makes me crazy.  When I have a personal stake in the 
outcome, it drives me right around the bend.

"Because I thought this was about you kissing her.  If 
I'd known things had gone that far--"

"Hypothetically," I repeated.  Donna remained silent.  I 
began to worry about her; why wasn't she speaking up for 
herself?

"I'm not sleeping with Josh," Donna said, a bit too 
emphatically, if you ask me.  "I have never slept with 
Josh.  I don't want to sleep with Josh.  I never will 
sleep with Josh."

I was momentarily taken aback with her bluntness.  I 
expect nothing less from her under normal circumstances, 
but when her honesty is aimed at me, it's slightly 
disconcerting.  

Leo jumped right in.  "So there's nothing going on here, 
Donna?" he asked.  "Josh isn't taking advantage of you?"

"Well, sure, but that's what he does." 

"That was certainly helpful," I said, sounding bitter 
even to myself.

"I don't mean sexually."  Donna ignored me, using her 
earnest face on Leo.  "There's nothing going on 
sexually.  I don't even like him half the time."  

First the Margaret thing, and now Donna telling my boss 
what an ass I am.  This meeting is not good for my ego.  

"You're sure about this?" Leo asked.  "Because I gotta 
tell you, I've wondered about you two myself."

I could feel my face scrunch up in shock.  "You have?"

"Yeah, sometimes you two act like you're already 
married."

"We do?" Donna asked.  She looked about as dumbfounded 
as I felt.

"Sometimes," Leo said.  "And if that's where things are 
headed, you can't work together.  Not in this 
administration.  We could always find another job for 
Donna, but not as your assistant."

"That is not fair," I said, about to list several 
relevant facts to back up my claim.  I made the mistake 
of pausing for breath.

Donna jumped in, "It's also not an issue."

I chose to ignore her statement.  "Donna is the only 
assistant I've ever had who can keep me on track.  I'd 
fall apart without her.  I couldn't function.  I--"

Leo shook his head.  "I'm getting very mixed signals 
here."
 
"No," Donna said.  "No mixed signals.  Josh is just 
being Josh; you know how hostile he gets.  There's 
nothing going on."

"You're sure?"  Leo looked at me.  "Cause I keep hearing 
subtext."

"There's no subtext," I said quietly.  "Leo, you can't 
split us up."

Leo stares at me for a moment, then nods.  "All right," 
he said.  "For now.  But consider yourselves on 
probation."

After a disjointed conversation with Margaret about CJ's 
magic work with the staff rumor mill, we were dismissed.  
We fled Leo's office before he could change his mind. 

"Probation," I scowled.  "I feel like I'm in junior 
high."

"It's not a big deal," Donna said.  She appeared to 
believe it, too, which did little to improve my mood.

"I think it could be unconstitutional," I said.  "Get me 
everything you've got on--"

"Josh, forget it," Donna interrupted me.  "It's not like 
we're--"

"I know, but if we were--"

"But we're not," she said again.

"I know, Donna," I said, ignoring my sudden shortness of 
breath.  "But if we were, it would be unfair."

"But we aren't."  She gave me a determined look.  "And 
we won't."

I know what that look means.  It means Donnatella Moss 
has decided on a course of action, and come hell or high 
water, she'll stick to it.

I let the subject drop.  But that night, after Donna 
left for the evening, I started to do a little bit of 
research on the White House code of conduct.  There are 
some interesting facts in there.  Facts I tucked away 
for later.

You know, just in case.

THE END