Title: Blaming Sam (Part1/7)
Author: Sassy Susan
Category: Josh/Donna
Rating: PG-13 for abit of swearing. But nothing major.
Summary: Donna's hungover and Josh is not a happy bunny. But it's all Sam's fault anyway.
Spoilers: Some little ones for season 2 and some very vague ones for season 1
Disclaimer: Norman and Shelley are mine, Josh, Donna and anyone else from the west wing are not. Not making any money from this.......yada ya, you know the drill.
Archive: If you want it you may have it but let me know where.

Feedback: Want some! It's very encouraging
Notes: This is my 2nd fic and the sequal to 'Norman, 20 Minutes and Knocking Out Sam's Teeth'. After my rather cruel ending everyone was screaming for the next part. So, fearing a mob of angry readers at my front door, I wrote it.
And also a huge a thankyou to Abby who agreed to beta this fic, despite my appauling abuse of the english language.
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I wish I could have a bigger hangover than this.

Yeah, sounds weird to me too.
I's not something everyone wants when they wake up feeling like crap after almost a whole bottle of vodka.
But of course not everyone had the night I did.

Not everyone went on a blind date with a guy that, if God had any sense of justice, would have been locked up for being an obnoxious jerk long ago.
Not everyone then came home to the a partial, yet equally scary phone call with Sam Seaborne.
Not everyone listens as your boss's best friend mistakenly relays to you that said boss might be in love with you.

Of course, not everyone probably staggers into the kitchen, slides down the refridgerator and proceeds to pour neat, cheap and crappy vodka into their system.
And I highly doubt that everyone else is the assistant to the Deputy White House Chief of Staff.

Therefore, I wish I had a bigger hangover now.
Not enough to put me in a coma, just enough to erase the memory of the last 24 hours from my mind.

However, I also wish I could summon the will and strength to turn my body, or at least my head.
That way I won't be keeping my face pushed into the pillow.
That way I won't be suffocating myself.
Coffee, aspirin and a sense of well-being would be good too.

And for the love of all things sacred will someone please have the marching band lined up and shot!
Y'know, the one playing in the living room?
Or is that in my head?
It's hard to tell at times like this.

"Donna?"

Shelley.
Shelley, Shelley, Shelley.
This is all your fault.
You did this to me.

"Get out."

Ok, I know for a fact that came out as 'Gwessshen oret' so now I have to move my head.

"What?"
"I said get out."
"Hungover?"
"Get out."
"You brought this upon yourself Donna."
"No. You did. Get out."
"Excuse me? Did I sit and force the alcohol down your throat? No, I don't think I did."
"Get out."
"What happened?"
"You happened. You and your whole blind date.....thingy."
"Thingy?"
"Get out."
"You didn't like Norman, did you?"
"Give her a prize."
"Why didn't you like him?"
"I met him."

She obviously never met him either.
If she had, knowing Shelley as I do, she would've gone and brought savage rotweilers to rip Norman's throat out if he ever came near me or our apartment.
Hey, if I don't get a good explaination from Sam I might do that anyway.
Yeah, I'll just give them Sam's scent on a cloth and wait for them to bring back his vocal chords.
Of course, I don't even have to get the dogs.
CJ might do it on request.

Or maybe I'll just take a tip from Toby and shove the end of Sam's tie into the paper shredder.
Funny story.
But better for another time.

"Fine, but it's almost 7 Donna."
"Get out."
"Ok, but we're gonna have a long talk later about how this is not my fault."
"Get Out!"
"I'm going. But Donna, if you find a strange man walking about our place don't freak out. That's Dave."
"Who's Dave?"
"A guy I met last night."
"Slut."
"Assistant."
"What happened to Tom?"

The fact that she shrugged just then should give you an indication on what Shelley is like with men.

"Ok, now get out."
"Later."

I could call in sick.
But then I'd only get Josh calling every 5 minutes.
'Donna, where's the file?'
'Donna, I can't find the thing.'
'Donna, the temp's a bitch.'
'Donna, Sam and I almost burnt the White House down.'

Sam.
Yes, I think we all know whose fault this really is.
Although, he isn't making it easy for me.

So far I have established that, in Sam's world, there are reason's stating that Josh is in love with me.
That's my boss, Joshua Lyman, is in love with me, Donnatella Moss, but this is Sam.
Let me remind you that Sam is the one who 'accidentally' managed to sleep with a hooker, but unless, he was drunk, high or making it up I don't think he was talking about anyone else.

Ok, I'm thinking I should go in to work today.
If only to avoid constant harrassment and to see the look on Sam's face.
First, let's buy some time, because there is no way I can stagger in like this in about 45 minutes.

"Shelley."

She heard me.

"Shelley."

I know she did.

"Shelley."
"What? Donna you're still in bed."
"I know, that's why I was calling."
"Phone Josh yourself"
"Shelley"
"No."
"PLEASE."
"Do it yourself."
"Please, look, my legs won't work, my lungs are crushed and my head feels like someone stuck a fork in it."
"Donna, please. Visuals."
"Please call him."
"Ok, what shall I tell the big boss man."
"That I'm not well and I'll be in late."
"Ok, I'm going."

Ok, so I have a little more time before I have to face, what looks to be, the day from hell.

I'm blaming Sam.

 

 

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