Title: Surprises
Category: Josh/Donna
Rating: R (edited version)
Summary: "He has no idea what the hell he's doing and
it scares the crap out of him."
Spoilers: Nothing specific, takes place during the
first year of Bartlet's second term.
Author: Bramble

* * *

He sits at his desk and tries to concentrate on the
issue paper he's going over. It's 11:30 PM and this is
the last place he wants to be. That thought makes him
laugh because this is the only place he ever thought
he wanted to be.

The only reason he's still here is that Leo needs this
by tomorrow. Well, that and the fact that he could be
home in ten minutes if he ran. He knows this because
he timed it a couple of months ago.

His new assistant is efficient and funny. She's got a
wicked sense of humor that makes even Toby laugh.

Josh hates her. Well, no, not really. She's nice --
she's fine. He's just partial to his last assistant.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?" His head shoots up to see Sam standing lazily
in his doorway.

"You're still here?"

"Yeah. This thing. I gotta..."

"Do it in the morning."

"Yeah. I should, huh?"

"You should," Sam agrees, giving him a knowing smile.

"Yeah."

"How's...?" Sam leads into the question.

"Good. Really good."

"Samuel Norman...?"

"Not a chance," Josh answers back, breaking into a
grin.

Sam shakes his head and smiles, backing out of Josh's
doorway, throwing out, "Go home..." over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. I know," he whispers to his once-again
empty office.

* * *

"So, um, how long...?"

"Two minutes," Donna answers softly, her voice full of
nervousness.

They sit through about thirty seconds of uneasy
silence as they wait on his couch at 6:00 AM -- it's
still a bit dark outside and she has to turn on a lamp
so they'll be able to see the results.

"So, I meet with Adams at 3:00 today?"

"3:15."

"It got pushed back?"

"Yeah."

"Donna?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?" Josh asks.

"Whatever you're going to say. Don't. We don't know,
it could very well be negative."

"Yeah." Then a second later, "Donna?"

"Josh?" She responds tiredly.

"Nothing."

"No. What?" Her tight-lipped expression softens as she
turns to look at him.

"It's going to be okay."

"Is it?" Her voice cracks for the first time since
telling him she was late while they were still lying
in bed earlier.

"Yeah."

"Are you lying?"

"I don't think so. Not intentionally," he adds after a
second, taking her hand and holding on to it for the
next minute while they wait for the home pregnancy
test results.

He thinks about all the sex they've had in the last
six months and has a brief flash how they spent the
night, two weekends ago. He'd playfully tied her
wrists together with his neck tie and tickled her
until she was gasping for breath and laughing. She
stopped doing both when he moved down a bit lower --
she'd moaned out his name then.

After he had unbound her, they'd actually fallen off
the bed in their haste to connect with one another,
and had ended up just staying on the floor and doing
it down there.

He'd kissed the faint rug burns on her knees the next
morning and gone out to Starbucks for coffee to bring
back while she stayed in bed and read the paper,
circling all the right-wing op-ed pieces for him.

He wonders if that was the night she got pregnant,
because in his mind he's already gone through the
worst case scenarios and figures they've been too
lucky.

This is the Karmic justice. You hide a secret
relationship in the White House for six months without
problem, only to be foiled by the fact that the pill
isn't completely, one-hundred percent effective.

And now, on top of everything, he feels weird about
having tied up a pregnant woman.

"Well," Donna exhales, as they both stare down at the
two pink lines on the end of the stick in her hand.

"And that means...?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Okay."

"You have a meeting with Leo in half an hour. You need
to leave."

"It could be wrong," he throws out quietly.

"Sure," she sets it on the coffee table and continues
to stare at it.

"Donna. We need to..."

"You need to get to work. I'll be in a few minutes
behind you."

"Yeah?" he says, grabbing his backpack, still looking
at her trying to gage her reaction. He's dismayed to
find that he can't. He has no idea what she's thinking
and that really bothers him.

"Sure," she says again.

"You'll be right behind me?" He asks and even he has
to wonder what he's really talking about.

"Yeah," she nods as he walks out, locking the
apartment door behind him.

Later in the day he catches her bent over her desk and
going through some papers.

"Why can't we?" He asks from behind her.

"You want bullet points?" She replies, not looking at
him.

It's late and the bullpen is nearly empty, and he's
spent the whole day following her form around the
office with large, uncomprehending eyes, trying to
imagine how she'd look with an extended belly.

"No. I just...I was thinking. I'm not talking work --
I'm talking us. I mean, why not? Really. Why not?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know."

"Look at me."

She stops what she's doing and turns around to face
him.

"Yeah?"

"I think we could do this," he says with the same
determination he used to make Govenor Bartlet a
President.

When they get back to his place that night he picks up
the pregnancy test while she's in the bathroom and he
stares at it for a long time.

He hopes this is the right decision.

* * *

"Wow."

"Josh."

"Wow."

"Joshua," she sighs, trying to act offended but he
knows she's not.

"They're big."

"Josh!" She's laughing and blushing now and he thinks
she's never looked more beautiful. No woman has ever
looked more beautiful. He should tell her but before
he can she's kissing him.

"Let me see again," he requests, smiling broadly,
after pulling away and waiting for her to lift her
shirt up one more time.

"Ta-da," Donna sings out, revealing her bare breasts
for him.

"That just happened, like over-night. That's really
neat."

"You, are a man of great verbal skills," she deadpans.

"Donna, they've been...super-sized," he adds with a
playful leer, ignoring her dig at his vocabulary.

"Dork," she comments, grinning at him.

"Can I...um...take 'em out for a spin?"

"Okay. Well, the phrasing of that question just
disturbs me," she manages to get out before giggling.

"Please?" He asks wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"You do realize they're not for you, right."

"Sure. I'll just warm them up, you know, break them in
for the kid."

"Josh, you can't break them."

"I'm not going to break them," he grins, reaching out
to wrap his palms gently around her now-full breasts.

"Do I need to know anything?"

"Like what?" She opens her eyes to regard him oddly.

"I don't know. I mean, is anything going to come out
at me if I squeeze them?"

She shakes her head no after laughing and doesn't even
bother to try and hide her amusement as he walks her
back to the bed.

They watch themselves make love in the dresser mirror
because it seems more real that way.

* * *

He's had almost four months to get used to his new
assistant, Keri.

Josh thinks coming to work isn't quite as fun as it
used to be. He's started leaving the office for lunch
now -- the last couple of days he's made sure Keri's
left a block of free-time between 1:00 and 2:15 in the
afternoon. She gave him a fawning, girly look when he
asked her to keep that time open and it made him feel
like an idiot. But he really doesn't care that much.

"Are you leaving?" CJ walks into his office, tossing a
file folder on his desk.

"For a bit, yeah," he shoves some papers into his
backpack.

"Bringing Donna lunch?"

"Yeah."

"Josh, you really are sweet sometimes."

"Claudia Jean..." he starts.

"No, Josh. This is really sweet. I mean, I never would
have thought...," she pauses. "I think I'll put this
in my 2:00 press briefing."

"Are you enjoying this? The mocking? I expected more
from you, CJ."

"No you didn't."

"No. Not really," he grins before explaining
sheepishly that, "Donna misses the food in the mess."

"Uh-huh. It's still sweet Josh. Really, it's adorable,
actually," she comments, continuing to tease him.

"It really isn't. She's bigger than me now, CJ -- she
could crush me like a bug if I don't do her bidding,"
he jokes, smiling.

"Ow!" he rubs his arm where she just hit him. "You
know, one of the enjoyable aspects of Donna spending
the last month at home is that I don't get smacked in
the office anymore."

Even though Donna had been working over in the First
Lady's office since they starting telling people,
they'd still managed to spend some time together at
work. He feels weird not having her closer during the
day, even if she used to hit him on the head after
he'd say something that irritated her.

CJ just smiles at him on her way out, adding, "You may
be sweet, but you'll always need to be smacked,
especially in the office."

* * *

It's been nine hours since lunch and the thrill of
pulling an 'all-nighter' isn't really thrilling
anymore.

He has no idea what the hell he's doing and it scares
the crap out of him. He's pretty sure she's flying as
blindly as he is.

Again -- that kind of freaks him out, he thinks at
least one of them should have some sort of clue about
this thing they've started.

Hell, their two name choices so far are 'Rico Suave'
and 'Donnatella, Jr' -- "But it would be so cool. I
could just yell 'Donnatella!' and be surprised at
which one of you shows up."

Yeah, they have to start taking that more seriously,
he thinks as he smiles to himself.

He's definitely freaked, but, he also thinks somewhere
deep down, that it's going to be okay.

All he wants now is to go home and find her on the
couch waiting for him, maybe sleeping with the
headphones resting on her stomach while she plays ABBA
for the baby -- Donna claims 'Dancing Queen' is the
kid's favorite song.

He can't believe he's now a man that finds spending an
evening listening to bad, Swedish rock bands, watching
a woman's stomach for signs of movement...well,
thoroughly enjoyable.

He imagines when he gets home tonight he'll have to
help her up off the couch, calling her 'Tubby' as he
does so. She'll bat him on the head like she used to
in the office and they'll fall asleep listening to the
other's steady breaths.

Yeah, screw the position paper, he's going home.

Because it's not anything he ever thought he wanted --
and now it's the thing he wants the most of all.

* * *

The End.