Work Text:
Josh is perched on the edge of his desk, when Margaret comes in with a handful of documents for him to read. It looks like he hasn’t moved in the ten minutes since his meeting ended. He’s staring at a spot on the floor. Margaret can’t tell if he’s concerned or deep in thought or spaced or shocked or something .
“Josh?”
“Hmm?”
“You ok, Josh?”
“Yeah, When’s my next thing?”
“2pm. You want lunch?”
“Sure. I, uh, need a walk.”
“Ok, I'll have something here when you get back.”
“Thanks.”
Margaret wonders what happened at the meeting. It had been senior staff, aides and a couple of Joey Lucas’ team. No one else had walked out quite so affected, but something had happened. A “walk” for Josh usually meant he needed to talk something through with Sam or Lou. But she feels that this time he is headed for the East Wing.
Josh meanders to her office; a tense, pensive look on his face. Several staffers notice and know instinctively to avoid interaction. He loosens his tie a little as he approaches her closed door. Her assistant’s desk is unmanned. It feels unlikely she is in a meeting but he knocks nevertheless.
She beckons him in with muffled words, mouth full of salad. She is sitting at the table by the window, shoes off, feet curled under her. Take out containers of soup and salad, napkins and disposable cutlery are laid out before her.
“Hey,” she greets him. She spears salad onto her fork. “How was your morning? Did you get lunch yet? This soup’s great.”
She happily munches on, as he gingerly approaches her. From the corner of her eye, she can see the tension in his frame. Something is up, and since he hasn’t come in all guns blazing with whatever it is, it’s likely to be uncomfortable for him. Possibly personal.
Donna is content to wait this out without making an effort to draw the problem out of him. She is more comfortable letting Josh take the ball in his own court, now they are together. He needs to be a grownup when he has a concern. And judging by his shoulders set by his ears, there is something on his mind. She switches to the soup and looks expectantly at him. He flashes glances at her but looks mainly elsewhere round the room.
“Uh, Margaret is getting me something from the mess.”
He watches his toes as he rolls back and forward on the balls of his feet, agitated. She sips at the soup and sits back in her chair.
“We had the big polling hoo-ha.”
“Ah, a hoo-ha.”
“It’s not good, Donna,”
“That's hardly news, Josh. We’re in a third Democratic presidential term in a row. Blow back at the midterms is going to be inevitable and painful.”
“Oh yeah. Considerably worse than expected. A war in Afghanistan not proving a vote winning strategy either.”
“Sure.” She waits. She’s curious as to why he seems to be wound up about this; the predictable obstacles everyone associated with this administration was aware of.
“They did some early polling on re-election.”
Donna’s curiosity is satisfied just a little; Josh is spiralling over the administration’s potential one-term duration. But why this savvy and seasoned political player is dwelling on this isn’t clear.
“Joey Lucas is looking at re-election numbers in year one? Well, that was a colossal waste of time. Should have pulled out a Magic 8 ball instead. We can’t tell anything right now, Josh. You know that.”
“Yeah, but that’s not it. Results were abysmal by the way, but that’s not it.” He stares out the window. “I was hearing these awful numbers, and I was thinking, I’m not sure I want to be involved in campaigning next time.”
Donna freezes. Josh is thinking about his own duration in the administration? About making career moves? About leaving Matt Santos? She straightens herself in the chair slowly, pulling out the leg curled under her. She almost holds her breath, waiting for him to continue.
“I think I need to decide what’s next, Donna.”
He keeps his gaze beyond the window, as Donna tentatively replies.
“What’s next is whatever you want, Josh. DC is your oyster. I didn’t expect you not to want to bat for the President though, tough as it will be. Because this work is who you are. It’s what you’ve put your heart and soul into for so long.”
“Well, it might not be all of who I am, and my heart and soul could take a breather some days. The thing is Donna, it’s not what’s next career-wise that has me thinking, though it’s all connected. It’s what’s next for me personally.”
He moves his gaze to the table in front of her, still not able to look her in the face. He takes a deep breath.
“It has hit me like a ton of bricks today, but I think my next big thing might be a family.”
He pulls his hands out of his pockets and swipes them over his face and into his hair. He can’t believe he said it. Barely an hour after the thought assembled in his head, he made it solid and real and spoke it out loud. He braves looking at her.
The wide-eyed surprise, her utter stillness is not unexpected. This is big for Josh. He has decided on the next big step in his personal life, without a conversation or probing or prodding. Donna expected to initiate the “where are we going” conversation over Thanksgiving; they will be a year together around then. Or ten years, if you loosen the criteria for what “together” means.
But Josh has already decided. They stare at each other a moment, both waiting for her response. The frozen features crack.
“You are an odd creature, Josh Lyman. You went into a meeting on polling numbers and came out broody? What the hell?”
“Yeah, I just... I just can’t see a 2 nd term for us right now. And I find myself ok with that. I imagined what I might be doing during a re-election campaign in 3 years’ time. It wasn’t campaigning for re-election. Turns out there are other things I want to achieve. And as of an hour ago, I can picture them. Actually picture them. Turns out they’re not so career centric.”
“An hour ago,” her eyes still wide, searching his face for clues to how this is all happening now and at this wild speed.
“Maybe it’s been subconsciously brewing for a while... god I don’t know, Donna. But it crystallized for me this morning. Change is a-coming and I can imagine what’s next. And I want that.”
Donna’s surprise abates a little, but she still rakes her eyes over his face to try and read his mind, as her own catches up with the implications of what he was declaring, what he was asking of her.
His shoulders relax, hands go back in his pockets. It’s done; he spilled his guts, and she hasn’t run out screaming or sliced him in two with an instant denial or refusal. He continues to roll back and forward on the balls of his feet. Now, it’s more a gesture of anticipation than tension. His gaze is now soft and warm as he waits for her to untangle her thoughts.
“I guess we need a conversation, in that case,” she says slowly. “Presumably many.”
“I agree. I think I can be done by 9 this evening.”
He’s ready to talk tonight? She wonders if words can cause whiplash.
“Oh. Sure. Me too, I’ll call you at 9?”
“Great.”
“Great.”
Donna feels a smile creep slowly across her face. Josh mirrors her, dimples deep. He steps in front of her, leaning down to face her. He kisses her gently and presses his forehead to hers.
“Great.”
He bounds out, leaving Donna to smile softly at her office door for a full minute before resuming her lunch.
The soup, though now almost cold, is somehow even more delicious.