Title: The Greatest Gifts
Author: juxtaposed ([email protected])
Disclaimer and other info in part 1
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have Donna in my apartment for the first time in months, and I have no idea what to say to her, no words to express how amazing it was to kiss her, how beautiful and vulnerable she looks curled up on my leather sofa.
"You, uh, want some coffee?" I ask at last, flushing slightly at my choice of opening.
She looks up at me, seemingly grateful that I've broken the ice. "Maybe just some water?"
"Water it is." I head into the kitchen, and come back with two glasses in hand. She takes the one I hand her, but doesn't drink it. She shakes it slowly, rattling the cubes against the glass. I sit down on the chair next to the couch, waiting. Usually, I'm an impatient man. But, when it comes to Donna, I'll wait forever if I have to.
"Josh, why did you say those things about…about noticing me?" she asks quietly, still staring into her glass.
A thousand responses flash through my head. Most of them flippant, typical of the banter Donna and I have shared over the past few years. But this moment doesn't call for banter. It called for honesty, and that's something that I've never been good at, especially with Donna. Years of hiding my want for her, of teasing her about her boyfriends to cover up the fact that I'm jealous. Honesty doesn't come naturally to me now.
But I sense that at this moment I have two choices. I can blame what I said on alcohol and a red dress, and then Donna would get up and walk out the door and I would never see her again. Or, I can tell her the truth, and then Donna might get up and walk out the door, but then she might not. So, really, I have only one choice.
I moved over to sit in front of her on the coffee table, plucking the glass from her hand and sitting it to the side. She is still looking down, the absence of a glass in her hand leading her to pick at a tiny snag in her dress, anything to avoid looking at me.
"Donna," I whisper, surprised at the husky sound of my own voice. When she looks up at me, her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "I said those things because they are absolutely true. I don't notice anyone but you. I haven't for the last three years. How could I?"
She closes her eyes, sending two tears sliding down her cheeks. I'm afraid to touch her. I have no idea what she’s thinking. So I sit here, watching her cry and feeling like an idiot. 'God, she hates me. She tolerating me so I won't fire her…'
I close my eyes, trying to think of how to apologize, which is why I’m completely unprepared when she kisses me. This kiss is all softness and light and teasing. She pulls back slightly, nibbling a little on my lower lip. I pull my mouth from hers and push her back into the couch, nearly straddling her, and dip my mouth to neck, tasting her skin.
"Mmmhhhh…” she sighs softly, tipping her head back, giving me better access. I run my fingers up and down her arms, kissing my way across her collarbone, and back up her neck, nipping the underside of her jaw softly before finding her mouth again. Her hands come up to fist in my hair, and suddenly the kiss becomes hard and urgent, her tongue thrusting and dueling with mine.
I pull back slightly, breathe deep, bringing my fingers up to stroke her cheek, watching her eyes open. “I must say, as much as I’m enjoying this, I wouldn’t call it talking.”
She grins lazily. “Isn’t this better?”
“Vixen. You’re a siren sent to lead me astray.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Lead you astray? I rarely lead you anywhere, Josh. More like I drag you kicking and screaming.”
“I refuse to respond to that.” I swing a leg over, landing next to her on the sofa. I lean back, motioning to her to join me.
“Because you know I’m right.” Without hesitation she slides down next to me on the sofa, head on my chest and one arm around my waist.
“Why’d you kiss me, Donna?”
I see a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Which time?”
“Either. Both.”
"I kissed you because you said you noticed me. You noticed me the way I notice you every single day."
I bring a finger up to stroke her cheek, still damp from her tears. “So kissing me makes you cry? This isn’t good for my ego, you know.”
"Josh, you have an ego the size of Hoover Dam. Christ, cut me some slack. I’ve spent two years telling myself you were a pompous womanizing jerk just so I could go into work with you every day and not spend every hour wanting you. I’ve spent three years dating men who treat me like shit because the one man I want I can’t have. So when he finally tells me he wants me, what do you think goes through my head?”
I shake my head, guilt creeping in that under the banter and bluster, I never knew what Donna felt, how much she was hiding.
“We’re sitting there in the cab, and I’m convincing myself that you really don't give a shit about me, that it was just beer and this dress, and…well, that despite what you said, you did just want to fuck me and send me home. You said yourself that I have shitty taste in men. I always convince myself at the beginning that they'll be different, and they never are."
I swallow hard, more sad for her than mad for me. That she could think that about me, knowing me as she does, just shows the kind of men she's used to.
I lift her hand from where it lies on my chest and kiss her palm. "I'm different."
"I know," she whispers simply. "I just figured I could never have you, so I had to convince myself you weren’t."
We’re lying here, fully dressed on my couch, and I’ve never felt so intimate with a woman before. I realize Donna has laid herself open to me, given me the gift of her thoughts and her trust, and I have nothing to give her back.
I look down at her, smile at the look of contentment on her face. She looks like a woman relieved of a giant burden. Being secretly in love with Josh Lyman can really put some stress on a girl.
Then it hits me. She never said she loved me, only that she wanted me. Being a man, I well know the world of difference between those two statements, and I begin to think maybe I’m wrong about everything, what she wants...
Her hand is sliding across my chest, her fingers searching through the fabric. She stops when she feels the puckered scar that crosses my chest, and my breath catches.
“You know, no one has seen it since I left the hospital,” I whisper. Even when Donna stayed with me, I never let her change the bandages. I hate that damned scar. It always reminds me of a time when I was weak and out of control. I’ve never wanted anyone to see me that way, especially Donna.
But my vulnerability is all I have to offer her.
She leans up on one elbow, slightly over me. “Then, I guess it’s about time someone looks at this monstrosity. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” She raises that eyebrow again before bringing her mouth down to meet mine.
One of her hands slips into the collar of my shirt, her fingers running over the tendons in my neck before sliding down to find the buttons of my shirt. The first two slide out and her hand slip inside, fingers finding the raised skin.
She pulls back, her eyes come up to meet mine. I bite my lip slightly, but I look down at her unflinchingly, letting her see in my eyes whatever she is looking for.
She comes to a decision, somehow knowing what I need, even though I have no idea what I really expect of her. Her fingers slip two more buttons from their holes, pushing the shirt apart all the way to where it is tucked into my jeans, moving to straddle my lap as her hands come up to caress my shoulders and her lips touch the skin just above the mark. She begins kissing her way slowly down the scar, all the while running her fingers over my shoulders and neck.
I’m transfixed, my hands fisted at my side, letting her touch me. My body is rigid, every nerve ending tuned to the feel of her mouth. Of all the reactions to this evidence of my frailty that I could have imagined from her, this was the least likely one. I'd expected teasing, sadness, fear, avoidance, but not this quiet reverence.
She reaches the bottom of the scar and moves up over me, her mouth finding the hollow at my throat, licking my skin, hair tickling my bare chest. I’m still motionless as she lays back down beside me, and pulls my shirt closed over my chest, looking up at me shyly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
I regain my breathing, and pull her up to meet my mouth. "I love you," I whisper against her lips, giving her the last gift I have left.
She seems to understand what I can’t put to words. "I know." She buries her face in my neck and wraps her arms around my waist.
******************************
And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it every day
And I know that I am
The luckiest...
******************************
-FIN-
home