~~~~~

Hey, Chief
Josh and Donna, G, Pre-administration
By MichelleK

"Donna, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, chief." Josh stares at his new assistant. "Boss-man. The Big J. Lyman of the Day. J-Man!" He seems to like none of them. "Uh... Guy Who Gave Me Job?"

"Donna?"

"Yes?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's a thing. A nickname thing so we can bond and..." She tilts her head. "I'm trying too hard, aren't I?"

"Honestly? Yeah."

Donna sighs. "Damn it."

"Look, it's okay. You're doing fine. Just... call me Josh."

She nods. "Sure. What was the favor?"

"Um... I forgot."

"It was the nicknames that distracted you, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

~~~~~

Sam
By Keladryb

He didn't turn on the lights as he walked in. He sat in the dark and wished he still smoked because it would be something to do with his hands. He closed his eyes and remembered his first cigarette, stolen from his father when he was fourteen. He took one drag and coughed and coughed and it tasted like ash and shit and he was about to drop it to the pavement but then there was Dad. Sam still remembered the sting of palm connecting with cheek.

He wonders if his mother slapped him when she found out about her.

~~~~~

West Wing, ensemble
By Jo March

"Tell me again why we're in CJ's office feeding turkeys."

"It's tradition." Josh's words were addressed to Evan, but his body language proclaimed his fear of Evan's wife. Or maybe it was anticipation of Donna's reaction to her husband's behavior that caused Josh to peep out the half-open office door at random intervals, shoulders hunched over as if to ward off the verbal attack that would surely follow if his practical joke as discovered too soon. After one year with the reunited Bartleteers, Evan still wasn't sure he had all the nuances figured out.

What he did know for sure was that Claudia Jean would not find the sight of a turkey perching on her expensive new sofa amusing.

Evan turned to the sanest of the co-conspirators for clarification of Josh's statement. Toby, sitting behind CJ's desk, cigar in hand, explained. "The press secretary selects the turkey to be pardoned."

"And lead the children in song," Sam added. Of the five men gathered in CJ's office, Sam was the only one actually engaged in feeding the animals. Jesse, it seemed, was almost as befuddled as Evan by the evening's transition from "let's watch football" to "let's trash CJ's office."

"You do know that CJ's no longer President Bartlet's press secretary, right?" Evan asked. Who knew? Given the amount of beer they had consumed, it was possible that Sam and Josh at least might have forgotten the last few years.

"True," Toby agreed, "but that's hardly a reason to allow a good tradition to die."

Josh turned away from the door, a look of glee spreading across his face. "She squeals when she sees the turkeys," he explained. "Every year."

"She also jumps," Sam added. Evan found this statement somewhat ironic, considering that Sam had done some impressive jumping of his own when one of the turkeys�Josh insisted on calling it "Troy"�had attempted to bite the hand that was feeding it.

"A six-foot-tall woman jumping." Josh's face lit up at the memories of Thanksgivings Past. "It's quite a sight."

"Still," Toby pointed out, "there will be retribution."

Sam stopped feeding the turkey he called "Eric" and stared at his friends. "Retribution will be swift," he agreed. "And terrible."

"Humiliating," Josh added. "Deeply, deeply humiliating."

"And it lasts," Sam nodded. "CJ's retribution lasts for weeks."

"So does Donna's." Josh sat down beside Troy abruptly, as though the thought of Donna's wrath was too painful to contemplate standing up.

Toby, on the other hand, sighed, rose from his chair and announced that it was time to return the turkeys.

Jesse looked as surprised as Evan felt. "Return them? After all the trouble we had getting them here?"

Sam and Josh, too busy chasing Eric and Troy around the office, didn't reply. Toby, however, nodded somberly.

"This too," he explained, "is part of the tradition."

~~~~

Drawing Comparisons
Line of Fire, Roy/Bambi
Spoilers: The Senator
By helsinkibaby

She thinks about it late at night, when the stars are twinkling down at her as she sits on the fire escape after another long day. That�s the time when it�s quiet, when she can let herself breathe, and not think about the struggle of making a new life while trying to keep the old secret.

On those nights, she thinks about her old life, whoring body and soul in Richmond, Virginia, about how different it is to her new, student life at a community college in suburban Maryland. She thinks about her old apartment, spacious and roomy and beautifully decorated, and she casts a glance over her shoulder into her new. There�s not enough room to swing a cat, and she�s on the top floor of a building where the elevator more often than not doesn�t work, but damn if she doesn�t love it here.

She loves everything about her new life, even if she does sometimes forget to answer to her new-old name, Bernadette (because no-one ever really believed that Bambi was the name on her birth certificate.)

She doesn�t remember her old life fondly, there is no hint of nostalgia there, but sometimes, just sometimes, she looks up at the stars and remembers the last night of her new life, the night of her twenty-first birthday. Of the perfect day that preceded that night, Roy �buying� her for the day, treating her like she was a real person, not some hour-long roll-in-the-hay.

She remembers how kind he was to her, even after the horrible things she said to him, and she remembers the look in those eyes of his when he told her that he wouldn�t kill her father, not because her father didn�t deserve to die, but because she didn�t deserve to have that on her conscience.

She remembers how gently his lips first touched hers, how gentle he was throughout that night, and she remembers that her twenty-first birthday, despite having had sex with five hundred and seven men, was the first time she�d ever known what it was like to make love.

Late at night, on her fire escape, when she thinks about her old life and her new, she knows that she wouldn�t go back, not really.

But sometimes, when she thinks about him, about that night, she wonders.

~~~~~

Gilmore Girls
Luke/Lorelai
By Dianora

He woke up naked, feeling slightly ill and more than a bit disoriented. "What the hell happened last night?" he muttered.

Lorelai stirred beside him. "Tequila. Showgirls. Boobies." She said the words as if she were moaning them aloud during a particularly gruesome nightmare.

"Right." It was starting to come back to him � the two of them doing tequila shots every time they saw Elizabeth Berkley's breasts. Needless to say, they'd gotten very drunk very quickly, culminating in their having what Lorelai termed "hot dirty kabuki sex" on her living room floor.

Which was now very uncomfortable underneath his ass. "Coffee?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Coffee," Lorelai moaned.

He pulled himself up, wincing, and searched for his boxers.

~~~~~

West Wing
CJ/Danny
By Kelbelle

"You know, I could have sworn I had coffee in here somewhere,� he said when he came back into the bedroom after a fruitless search of his kitchen cabinets.

�It�s okay. There�s a machine in my office, not to mention the Mess and the fifteen Starbuck�s between here and there.� She ran her fingers through tangled hair and made a mental note to start carrying a clip in her briefcase.

�You won�t have time to go home and change.�

�Wouldn�t be the first day I wore the same suit two days in a row.�

�It�ll be the first time I know why.� He grinned.

C.J. shrugged into her suit jacket and the dropped a soft kiss on his mouth. �Try not to be late for my briefing, Fishboy.�

�Wouldn�t miss it for the world.�

~~~~~

West Wing
Josh/Donna
By smut_queen

"Donna, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, sure," she breathed against his ear. It didn't help his predicament at all.

"You gotta stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"That, that thing. With your mouth."

"This?" She took his earlobe into her mouth again, suckling gently before releasing it.

"Yeah," he squeaked. "I'm trying not to ruin these pants."

"Ruin them," she whispered, as she gripped him through the cloth. When her tongue slid over his skin, he gasped and climaxed.

~~~~~

West Wing
Josh/Donna
By austin360

Josh walked into his office after a meeting on the hill to find Donna crouched on the floor behind his desk.

"Donna, what are you looking for?"

"My earring."

"Why?"

"I lost it."

"Why?"

"The back slipped off, and my earring fell off my ear and into my blouse and then I shook out my blouse so it could fall out, and it fell out and now I'm looking for it."

"It...fell into your blouse?"

"Yes. God, Josh. Put your tongue back in your head. Jesus."

"Donna!"

"Ah-ha. Found it."

~~~~~

West Wing
Josh/Donna
By Yana

She thinks about it late at night, when the stars are twinkling down at her as she sits on the fire escape after another long day. When you're staring into an infinite void, the future and past can easily overwhelm you.

The past: when you juggled wildly with live ammunition and absolutely knew it wouldn't explode in your face.

The future: certainty that you've been eluding fate.

She doesn't consider the time in terms of months or years or Presidential administrations--she thinks of the past and future in the seconds of a moment.

The past: seeing a flash of arousal in his eyes, feeling her heart race, sensing his short breath as they drew closer and closer...madcap, carefree, live ammunition.

The future: the moment when she'll need to pull away. Make sure the door was closed. That her hair isn't mussed, that her lipstick isn't smeared. That he can still look her in the eye.

The stars twinkle down and she wonders if she can just freeze herself in that infinitesimal time period called "now". Paralyzed, staring at the stars, moving neither forward nor backwards.

Then the arms close around her waist and gets drawn back into present she'd never created.

~~~~~

A Spot of Travel Scrabble
West Wing, Will/Zoey
Spoilers: Up to Constituency of One to be on the safe side.
by helsinkibaby

They were lying on his hotel bed, making out like teenagers. And while it wasn�t like he wasn�t enjoying it � he most certainly was � there was still a section of Will�s brain that was devoted to listening for noises outside the door, sure that someone was going to come bursting in, wondering what the hell he was doing.

A little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Elsie � and the fact that any part of his subconscious sounded like his sister when he was in a situation like this was, frankly, quite troubling to him � reminded him that it wasn�t as preposterous as it might sound, that there were, in fact, quite a number of people who would love to see (well, maybe not love, but have a certain interest in) what was going on here.

The Secret Service were, of course, top of the list, followed closely by the President, then the press.

And then Charlie.

It was the thought of his friend that made him pull his lips away from hers, but his hands wouldn�t be moved from the smooth skin of her hips. Resting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes, his deep breath turning into a sigh as her fingers threaded through the hairs at the nape of his neck.

�Will?� Her voice, when she spoke, was soft, hesitant. �What�s wrong?�

Slowly, he opened his eyes, discerning instantly that her face was as nervous as her voice. �Nothing,� he said, his hand cupping her chin. She nudged against it, like a kitten snuggling up for warmth, her eyes never leaving his, and she couldn�t miss the thrill of arousal that shot through his body. �And everything.� She didn�t blink at the qualifier, and he just about kept back a sigh. �Zoey� you know this is a bad idea, right?�

He expected her to get angry. He expected her to act hurt. He didn�t expect her to nod calmly, to say, �I know.� Just like he didn�t expect her to continue, �I know all the reasons why we shouldn�t do this� but I also know that I don�t want to stop.�

�Neither do I.� The words were out before he had time to think about them, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing her again, also without having to think about it.

If he had have had time to think though, he still would have come to the same conclusion. Whatever the problems inherent in pursuing a relationship with Zoey, and they were legion, a part of him had fallen for her the first time he�d spent any real time with her, when they were talking about her kidnapping so that he could write a statement for her. A friendship had begun, Zoey appreciating that Will was one of the few people in the West Wing who didn�t remember her in high school, who treated her as a grown up, Will admiring how she could still laugh, could make him laugh, despite everything she�d gone through.

They�d been friends for months, but nothing had happened between them until today, in a hotel room in Los Angeles, she there accompanying her father, him accompanying the Vice-President on a fund-raising trip. One minute, they�d been laughing over a set of Travel Scrabble, the next they�d been horizontal on his bed, hands scrabbling at one another�s clothes.

All in all, Will decided, he knew what he�d rather be doing.

~~~~~

The OC
Ryan/Seth, Ryan/Others
By Shoshannagold

He woke up naked, feeling slightly ill and more than a bit disoriented. The room was dark, and smelled of cigarettes and whiskey. There was a body beside him, pressing into him, and, as he looked up, he realized that there was sleeping people piled all over the room. He pulled away from the arms encircling him, and stepped out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxer shorts. The window was open, and he made his way to it, stepping carefully over prone forms in various stages of undress.

He sat on the window seat, and inhaled deeply, the fresh air so much sweeter for all the smelly bodies crowding his room. His cell phone and cigarettes were on the desk, within arms reach, and he leaned over and snagged them. Lighting up, he pressed one on his memory dial.

Seth�s voice came over the line, clear and bright despite the obvious noise of a party behind him. �Ryan, dude. How�s Princeton?�

He looked at the booze-soaked bodies sprawled around his room; the over-flowing ashtrays beside them; the cute, naked.brown-haired guy taking up his bed. �Lonely,� he said finally. �It�s lonely. Seth, I�m sorry.�

~~~~~

West Wing
Josh/Donna
By lemon_lyman

He watched her through half-closed lids as she walked into the bedroom wearing and over-sized t-shirt. There was nothing sexier than her wearing his clothes. Except maybe her out of his clothes. He let out a small chuckle at the thought.

She heard it. "Josh, we've had four hours of sleep in the last 40 hours. Quit thinking about me naked and move your ass over so I can sleep."

"But you like my ass."

"I like your ass on your side of the bed. Or naked. The latter doesn't apply right now so start working on the former."

"I can make the latter apply," he smirked.

She hit him the face with a pillow. He moved over.

~~~~~

Different Shirts
Sports Night, Dan/Natalie
by helsinkibaby

He watched her through half-closed lids as she walked into the bedroom wearing an over-sized t-shirt. �Thief,� he muttered sleepily, any rancour that might have been in his tone belied by the smile on his lips.

�You want me to take it off?� Natalie teased, crossing to the mirror as she rubbed a towel over her hair, examining with a critical eye how the shirt fell to just above her knees, the faded Baltimore Ravens logo across her mid-section. �Cause I gotta tell you Danny, I think it looks better on me��

�No argument here,� came the reply she was expecting. �Though if you want to take it off��

Grinning, Natalie shook her head, damp tendrils of hair flying back and forth. �Nah,� she said. �I like it.�

Dan�s smirk, although tired, was nothing short of salacious, but despite the words, the intent behind them, she knew he�d be asleep by the time she finished brushing her hair. She�d found him asleep on his office couch before they went home that night, and he�d hardly said two words on the way home, most unlike Dan. He did, however, have enough energy to assure her, �So do I,� before his breathing deepened and evened out, sure signs that he�d fallen asleep.

Shaking her head fondly, Natalie returned her gaze to the mirror, taking in both the shirt she was wearing and the smile on her face, and she wondered anew at how things had changed.

This time last year, she was in another man�s bedroom, in another man�s clothes: white dress shirt, blindingly white material, the equally pristine collar stiff against her neck.

This shirt is faded grey cotton, well worn and well washed, falling in soft folds against her skin, comfortable and wonderfully warm, trapping the heat of her body, returning it tenfold.

Different shirts for different men, she thinks.

She loved dressing up in those high heels, but after a while, they began to pinch. And while dress shirts looked good, felt good, they were a lot of effort to maintain. She�d loved Jeremy, loved him more than she�d ever loved any man, but eventually they�d had to admit that they just weren�t suited for one another.

Dan was different. Friends first, they�d fallen into dating without even being aware that that was what they were doing, and it had only been the looks and questions from their friends that had made them assess their behaviour, realise that somewhere � neither of them knew where � their feelings had changed, matured into something more precious than either of them had ever experienced before. It had surprised the hell out of Natalie, because her love life up until then comprised of jerks and Jeremy, men who had pulled her this way and that until she was dizzy. She�d thought that love had to be complicated, had never known that it could be as easy and comfortable as a faded old t-shirt.

�Nat? You ok?�

Dan�s sleepy voice made her jump, and she realised that she�d lost track of time, had just been standing there, staring off into space. �I�m fine,� she told him, dropping her hairbrush onto the dresser as she turned to face him. �Just thinking.�

He nodded, rolling over onto his side, lifting up the covers. �Come to bed,� he mumbled. �It�s lonely over here.�

�Well, we can�t have that now, can we?� she teased, crossing the room and climbing in beside him. Once there, his fingers found the hem of the t-shirt, his intentions obvious, and she surprised herself, and him, by shaking her head. �No� I like it on.�

He blinked, eyes very awake suddenly, but he didn�t argue with her, especially not when she pressed herself against him, laying her head on his shoulder. �OK�� was all he said, and she shrugged with one shoulder.

�I like it on,� she repeated, feeling vaguely silly for making a thing out of it, feeling something else entirely when his hands smoothed down the material, lingering around her hips, his thumbs making sweeping strokes there.

�I like it on you,� he whispered against her hair, and she smiled, completely relaxed.

�Well, that�s good then,� she told him. �Now, go to sleep.�

He chuckled, but he didn�t have to be told twice, was asleep in seconds, his chest rising and falling steadily under her ear.

Natalie would have taken the time to study him, to savour the moment, but seconds later, she was asleep too.