Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: just about everything up to Noel, just to be safe - heavy ITSOTG

Summary: another New Year's story. Would have posted it sooner, but I was
on vacation. This story is a stand-alone (as yet, anyway. . .). I'm trying
to reexamine the whole Josh/Donna thing, since I'm thinking in my other stuff
they may have jumped to a romantic thing too quickly. Well, we'll see.



The White House was decorated almost as lavishly for the New Year - the
official start of the new millennium, no matter what some might say - as it
had been for Christmas. The only difference was that a certain
low-visibility psychologist had met with the President and his senior staff,
and there was a conspicuous absence of music at the festivities this year.
There was a band playing in only one room of the White House party, a room
with a heavy door that could be kept closed if necessary. Needless to say,
no one actually discussed this measure. No one discussed a lot of things.

The reason for all this care and discretion was at ten PM on December 31st
sitting behind his desk reading, his tuxedo half on, the sleeves rolled up,
and his tie sitting on his desk next to a stack of documents. He was
engrossed in his reading and had been absently running one hand through his
already wild hair for several minutes. He didn't even notice when his door
swung open and someone entered in a rush of swishing crinoline.

"Josh?"

He looked up, distractedly. "Hey there, CJ."

She looked at her watch reflexively even though she knew the time. "It's
ten. The party's starting."

"I guess the President'll kick my ass if I'm not there, huh?"

CJ smiled. "You don't stop wrinkling that suit, Donna's going to kick your
ass."

With a sheepish grin he stood, revealing that he was wearing jeans instead of
the bottom of his tux. "See? Wrinkle-free."

She tilted her head to the side in that endearing way she had. "You were
wearing your tux pants earlier," she guessed.

There was no point in denial. "Yeah."

"And you rolled all over the place and got them wrinkled."

"Yeah."

"And Donna took them to iron."

"Yeah."

CJ broke into melodious laughter. "You'll come to the party as soon as you
get your pants back?"

"I'll be there."

"Good." In his doorway she paused for a moment. "Josh. . ."

He looked up from where he had just picked up another document. "Yeah?"

She changed her mind - they had all night, after all. "Never mind. I'll see
you at the party."

"Yeah." He was already not paying attention to her anymore. She swished her
way out of the office and down the hall.

The next time he heard a rustle of skirts in his office he did look up,
sensing that his pants had come back.

"We're late," he said without prelude.

"Better late than wrinkled," his assistant replied, unfazed. She shook his
pants out and laid them across the desk. "Dress."

He eyed her for a moment and she quickly turned around, staring carefully out
into the bullpen.

"You want to close the door, at least?" he asked, already unbuttoning his
jeans behind the desk.

"Close the door so you can get undressed with your assistant?" she replied.
"I think not."

"You could leave," he pointed out fruitlessly. He knew she would stay, if
only to torture him.

"If I leave you'll sit down and go back to work and we won't hear from you
again till tomorrow."

Grumbling but fully aware that she had a point, he slipped on the pleasantly
warm pants and fastened his black cummerbund over them. "All clear," he
announced.

She spun around and glared at him. "Well, thank God you're wearing a jacket."

"What?" he asked innocently.

She stalked over to the desk and grabbed one arm, unrolling the sleeve as she
talked and trying to tug the creases out of it. "You don't roll up the
sleeves of a tux, Josh."

"I do."

She rolled her eyes. "Cufflink."

"Desk."

She deftly fastened the cuff of the sleeve and turned her attention to the
other one. "And what have you been doing to your hair?"

He raised his free hand defensively to his head. "Nothing?"

"Bad guess." She released his arm with a little more force than necessary
and grabbed his tie from the desk, fastening it around his neck with a fervor
that nearly choked him. "Move a second, there's a brush in your desk."

"Donna, I am not letting you fix my hair," he protested even as he moved so
she could open the drawer.

"Sure you are," she replied easily. "'Cause you look like Janis Joplin."

"I always liked Janis," he said as he bent forward obediently so that she
could better reach his hair.

She stepped back, tapping the brush against her chin. He spread his arms and
grinned charmingly at her. "Okay?"

She sighed. "Close enough."

He rolled his eyes in a pretty good imitation of her earlier expression and
shrugged into his black jacket. "CJ was just here to hurry us up."

"To hurry you up, you mean," Donna replied. "I hope you told her she looked
good." At the expression on his face she sighed again. "Josh. . ."

"Donna. . ."

"Women need stuff like that, Josh," she chastised, gathering up her wrap from
the chair where she'd dropped it earlier, when she took his pants. "CJ's
your friend."

He was not quite as much of an idiot as she thought, and he caught what she
wasn't saying. "Donna."

"Yeah?" She turned in his doorway to look back at him, and for a moment he
was so struck that, ironically, he forgot what he'd been about to say. She
was wearing, not the greenish dress she'd worn to the Congressional party,
but the deep wine-colored gown she'd bought two years ago for the Inaugural
Ball. She'd thrown the sheer silver wrap around her upper arms, leaving her
shoulders bare and glowing white against the dark straps of her gown. Her
hair was down and the sides twisted back from her face - he thought he
remembered seeing it that way at Christmas as well - and the light from the
hallway shining into the dimmer office made it glow a rich gold. She looked
like a Victorian princess, radiant and graceful and very, very young. He
smiled. "You look beautiful."

"I wasn't -"

"I know." He waved away her comment with one hand. "Hang on, I'm coming
with you."

In the hall outside his office he turned to her and held out his arm
formally. He'd never done anything like that before - six days ago on the
way to the hospital she'd taken his arm, but he'd never offered it before.
The pleased glow that spread across her face almost matched her dress.

Her color deepened further at the pleasure of walking into the New Year's
party on his arm, as people turned to look at them. With a great deal of
self-control she managed to look as carefully blank and calm as always, as if
she were just arriving at a party with her boss.

You are just arriving at a party with your boss, she reminded herself. For
pity's sake cut it out. All this holiday cheer was making her positively
maudlin.

Once in the room Josh left her to go and greet CJ and the President, who were
standing together by a fireplace chatting with someone from the Department of
Labor. Donna wandered over to find Sam, who was standing alone near a
leftover Christmas tree. Even though he and Sam were in effect best friends,
at these functions Josh often clung to the President or Leo and CJ and Toby
usually hung out together (pretending, of course, to hate each other the
whole time). Sam didn't always fit in with the older staff. As a result,
when Margaret wasn't there (and she hadn't arrived yet) he had become Donna's
unofficial party buddy - that is, until CJ needed him to pretend to talk to
her.

"Hey," he said as she approached. "You look great."

Donna beamed. Sam could always be counted on. "Thanks. So do you." Could
be counted on, and looked incredible in a tux. Not that Josh didn't, but Sam
was pretty.

And gentlemanly. He held out his hand and squeezed hers briefly, then
reached behind him and handed her a glass of champagne.

"Starting a little early, aren't we?" Donna asked dryly, but she took the
glass from him anyway.

He shrugged. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

She raised an eyebrow, but before she could ask she saw CJ smile at Josh
across the room and look reflexively down at her dress. "Way to go, Josh."

"What did he do?"

Too late Donna realized she's spoken aloud. "He finally managed to
compliment CJ."

"He does that all the time," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, at random times on ordinary days," Donna returned. "But put her in a
dress and it's like she's not even there."

"I wonder why that is," he replied thoughtfully.

She took a long sip of her champagne. "I think he's immune to women in
formal wear."