Mother Knows Best
By: Elizabeth Bennet
Spoilers: None, so far.
Rating: PG, to be very safe
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of NBC, Aaron Sorkin, or whoever.
I'm not writing this for profit in any way, shape, or form, but simply
because I'm obsessed with this great show.
Notes: This is my first fanfic that I've actually been brave enough to send in.
Thanks are due to my dear friend "Dana K. Anderson" (don't you
just love pen names?), who gathered the courage first. (By the way, I'm
the one who thought up the basic idea for "Ladders, Black Cats, and
Love," but she wrote it in her own special way. Don't get mad, Dana!)
Thanks also to my many other friends who just roll their eyes when I start
obsessing over the newest WW episode, also, I despise the genius who decided to
show baseball over this week's NEW WW episode. What will I do? Also,
sorry about how stupid this title is, but I have title block!
Josh was slowly, methodically snoring. His head
was rested against three or four very important files, and his cheek was pressed
against a very expensive pen. He had been averting national disasters all
morning and now, in his darkened office, he was taking a break.
In the hall, Donna's phone rang. She
tore her eyes away from her book ( a tome filled with useless facts about
unknown places), and answered her phone.
"Josh Lyman's office." During the resulting
conversation her eyes grew wide, and she said "You must be kidding' at least
three times. She hung up the phone and rushed into Josh's office, throwing
open the door.
Josh looked up, bleary-eyed.
"Josh, I just got a call from security."
"There's a woman who wants to see you."
"Well, she claims to be your mother."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Umm..." Josh rummaged through his desk drawer
for awhile before pulling out a snapshot. "Here's a picture of my mom. Go
check it out."
"Josh. You're sending your assistant with a
snapshot to I.D. your mom and welcome her to the White House."
"I have complete faith in you, Donna."
Lyman impatiently stood in the main foyer to the West Wing, tapping her heel and
talking to the Secret Service agent that was detaining her.
"My son is the Deputy Chief of Staff. You
can't just take my word?"
"Ma'am, we have to take propor security measures."
"Fine." She sighed, rolled her eyes, and surveyed
the foyer for any signs of intelligent life other than the dark-suited men and
women rushing back and forth. Presently she spotted a young blond woman
wearing a pink sweater, who looked quite worried. The young woman asked a
question of a nearby Secret Service agent, and he pointed in Mrs. Lyman's
direction. The young woman glanced at something in her hand, then walked
up to Mrs. Lyman.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Lyman?"
The young woman extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Donna
Moss, Josh's assistant."
"Hello. I hope you're going to let me see
"Of course. Follow me, please."
Mrs. Lyman's eyes widened a little as she caught a
fleeting glimpse of the organized chaos upon which her son thrived. Soon
Donna came to a stop outside a door, and opened it, revealing a harried-looking
Josh frantically cleaning off his desk. Startled, he looked up.
"Josh! My baby! It's so good to see you!"
"You too, Mom." They embraced, while Donna
watched, smiling, from the door. She gently closed it, and sat down at her
desk, picking her book up again, but not concentrating. Instead, she found
herself thinking about how sweet Josh was to his mother, and for that matter, to
her, and his eyes, and his hair, and his smile, and his annoying little habits,
and... . <Donnatella Moss! Stop thinking like that! He's your
It didn't help when Josh leaned out his door, and,
grinning, invited her to come to dinner with him and his mother. And it
didn't help that she, unwisely, perhaps, agreed to come.
Lyman was leaning back in Josh's chair, while Josh stood and paced.
"So, Joshua, are you going to take me out to dinner
"Of course, Mom."
"You should invite Donna. She's so
"What was that for?"
"It's just -- you don't know Donna very well.
She's annoying, and overbearing, and she thinks she's always right, and
she has all these annoying habits, like starting our day with unknown facts, and
she's smart, and pretty, and..."
Mrs. Lyman raised her eyebrows. "And... ?"
Josh's eyes widened. "Perfect."
"Josh, you better invite her to dinner."
"You better talk to her."
six, Josh, Donna, and Mrs. Lyman (who asked Donna to call her Lydia) were
on their way to dinner. Josh chose a nice restaurant with lighting that
wasn't too dim. Donna and Lydia got to know each other a little better
over bowls of steaming pasta, and after they'd all enjoyed delicious chocolate
delicacies of some kind, Lydia strategically excused herself to the ladies room,
winking at Josh.
Donna looked to Josh inquiringly, while Josh cleared his
throat and stared at his empty dessert plate.
"Ahem. Donna, the thing is--"
"Don't do that."
"Don't do what?"
"The submissive thing."
"I'm not doing any submissive thing."
"Okay, listen, Donna. The thing is, I think .
. . no, I know ... or rather, I am... "
"Spit it out, Josh."
"Donna, I'm in love with you."
Donna looked surprised, to say the least.
"Donna, if you don't feel the same way, I can, I
mean, we can forget this ever happened. You can transfer, I'll make sure
your new job pays more, you'll never have to look at me again," Josh
babbled while Donna leaned closer, "I mean, I don't want to ruin our
friendship or anything, God, Donna, you're my best friend--" He was
silenced by Donna's lips pressing against his own.
She drew back and smiled. "I love you too,
Josh. I always have."
When Lydia returned to the table, she was greeted by the
sight of Josha and Donna both grinning like fools. Their chairs sat closer
together and Lydia could tell that they were holding hands under the table.
"Well, I'm ready to go." said Lydia.
"Me, too." replied Josh.
stopped at Donna's apartment building to drop her off, and Josh walked her up.
Lydia sat in the passenger seat of Josh's car, waiting. She saw a
light go on in one of the third-floor windows. The silouhette of a
long-haired woman and a man who was a little taller, with wild hair, could be
seen. The couple embraced, their lips met. Lydia smiled. Another
job well done.
Well, what do you think? Mail comments, etc. (even flames, if you're
gentle) to email@example.com