Title: Adi˘s Mi Hermano by Bramble Rating: NC-17 Archive: Sure, but let me know. Summary: "...I'm getting on that plane tomorrow and I'm going to France -- to eat ‚clairs, drink wine, and make sweet love to my woman!" Spoilers: Through Season 3 Disclaimers: Not mine. Date: 06/07/02 Notes: Helps if you've read: President Bartlet's Great Pumpkin, as this occurs in that AU (the Frenchie-verse?), although, it's probably not necessary to get the gist. Pix and Kim contributed some of the funniest parts of dialogue in this -- there's no way it ever would have been finished so quickly without their input and ideas :) * * * January, 2007 * * * He was on his way to Sam's because, Josh concluded, drinking alone was pathetic. Drinking in front of Sam -- mildly amusing for some reason. On the cab ride over, Josh thought about what he missed the most. The way she smiled at him in the mornings, leaning over his shoulder, so that her hair brushed against him. Or maybe it was the way she knew what he needed, before he even knew he needed anything. No, it was the way she smelled. The pretty fresh scent of her skin, and the heavier musky scent lower, when she was aroused and naked, rolling on his bed with him. As they turned a corner and he looked out the window, studying the sights they drove past, he thought it could be the way she'd held him after they got back from the hospital that night last October, when it had all started. How Donna had promised him that it would be okay, that everything would be okay and how he had completely believed her without any question at all. Josh frowned when he realized that after more than eight years, it was nearly impossible to narrow it down to just one thing -- it was everything. "We're here." "Huh? Oh, yeah," Josh grabbed a twenty out of his wallet and gave it to the cabbie, reaching for the paper bag encased whiskey bottle before he got out. He made a point not to stumble or sway, because he didn't want to look drunk. He also tried not to think about the mess at his place that he had left without cleaning up. Of course, he was six years older and wiser now, so this time, he had just thrown a glass against the wall. * * * "Josh, who did you call? Did you call..." "Better than that," Josh said, tossing Sam's cordless on the couch cushion next to him. Sam walked the rest of the way out of the bathroom and towards Josh were he sat, swaying slightly and playing with a folded, slightly crumpled, blue piece of paper in his hand. "Better?" "Yes. God, Sam, I don't know why I didn't think of this before. I could have gotten sleep all this week." "What?" Sam asked, staring at him. "I just bought a plane ticket," Josh proclaimed proudly, waving the paper in the air. "A plane ticket." "Yes. On Air France. First class. Guess where I'm going?" "Ah, France?" Josh nodded. "The fares were cheaper on other airlines, but fuck it, if I'm gonna do this, I should do this right. Don't you think?" "Do *this*? What is *this*?" "Go after Donna." Before Sam could answer, Josh started talking again. "Did you know she was taking French classes at night? Brushing up on...God, I should have figured it out before she even told me. I could have...But I just thought it was cute. I mean, it was great she was doing that, from like an educational perspective, but then she'd..." Josh smiled unfocusedly, and his whole face softened, "conjugate verbs for me sometimes, when we'd..." he noticed Sam's confused stare. "Never mind." "Josh..." He held a hand up. "Don't even try to talk me out of it. It's non-refundable. By this time tomorrow, I'll be in Paris." In what was becoming a predictable pattern, Sam opened his mouth, but Josh kept going. "Or, maybe I'll still be on a plane. Huh. Okay, so," Josh looked at his watch, "If it's midnight here, what time is it in Paris? Like, five AM? Six AM?" He looked around. "You don't have those time zone clocks here, do you? You should get some. Anyway, I leave at one something DC time, and then I fly for, maybe seven hours..." "Josh, we have to go to work tomorrow. You know, in the White House. You can't go to Paris." "No, but I really can. It's not Air Force One or anything, but it's like...like my big, white, French horse in the air. Wow, Sam, that sounds really romantic," Josh grinned. "It's old school." Sam ignored that whole explanation, mainly because he didn't even begin to know how to address it. "Josh, are you serious? It's only January 7th, we're not done yet." "I am," Josh affirmed, pouring a few more drops of alcohol into his glass and then putting his watch down next to it. "I quit." "You quit?" "Yes." "So, you can just give this up? Just walk away?" He asked incredulously. Josh smirked and then kind of hiccupped. "Sam, I'm 45 years old, I have PTSD, a sleeping disorder, a possible ulcer, and I've been shot," Josh paused dramatically to take a large gulp from his glass. "And now I'm done. Done! There's nothing you or anyone else can do to stop me. I'm getting on that plane tomorrow and I'm going to France -- to eat ‚clairs, drink wine, and make sweet love to my woman!" Then Sam watched as his friend slumped over to the side and promptly passed out on the couch, the blue paper in his hand fluttering down to the floor, almost in slow motion, like some kind of black and white, art-y film. "She's not really your woman," he pointed out to the snoring figure. He figured that fact could be repeated tomorrow, along with a few others. But just in case Josh was still adamant about this scheme in the morning, Sam picked up the paper with his flight information, and put it on the coffee table next to Josh's discarded watch, his wallet, and his Visa gold card. Then as an afterthought, he wrote down the phrase "Where's the bathroom" in French, next to what he assumed was Donna's address -- despite Josh's insistence that French was one of those languages that 'anyone could pick up'. * * * Sam watched as his friend hung up the phone, with a slightly less excited look on his face than the one he had worn the night before. "Holy fucking hell." "What?" "I spent," he expelled a sigh before continuing, "over six thousand dollars on the ticket. Six thousand non-refundable dollars." "Well, it was with less than twenty-four hours notice and first class. That can be expensive." "Yeah, but I can't even -- it's Air France. I mean, if I exchanged it for anything, I'd have to go to France." "You thought it sounded more romantic, and well, French, last night," Sam supplied helpfully, filling Josh in on the details of his airlines choice. "I think there should be some sort of screening guideline where airline personnel make sure you aren't shit-faced before they ask for your credit card number. I think that'll be my last policy suggestion memo as Deputy Chief of Staff." "What?" Josh shrugged. "I guess I'm going to Paris." Then he put a hand to his head. "God, do you have aspirin? I feel like my head's gonna implode." "You're serious?" "About my head? Yeah," he looked at his watch. "I've got a few hours before I have to be at the airport. I should probably tell the President or something." He looked at his watch again. "Crap. Maybe I'll call him from the plane. I should go home and take a shower -- grab a few things. Do whatever it is you do before you drop everything and run off to a foreign country." "You realize we have a week left." "Think they'll fire me?" "You're going to Paris?" "Yeah." "And your plan is...what?" "I don't know, maybe I'll find an apartment near where she lives and leave flowers on her doorstep every night until she realizes how I feel about her." "You're going to stalk her?" Josh scowled. "It's called wooing, Sam." "It's called stalking, Josh!" "I have to try. I...I fucked this up from the beginning. And if I'm going to be pre-disposed to trying to fix everyone else's mistakes, I might as well apply my disorder to my own screw-ups." "Besides," he continued, "if it were stalking, I wouldn't have her address and phone number. She did actually let me know that, so, she must expect me to contact her at some point." "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure she was thinking of a card or something, not you, hung over, on her doorstep less than a week after she left." "We've been sleeping together," Josh confessed suddenly. Sam looked confused, until Josh clarified, "Donna and I, for the last couple of months." "Oh." Sam's eyes widened. "Yeah." "And she still left to..." Sam started. "Yeah." "Oh." "I don't think," Josh rubbed his forehead. "I don't think I handled this very well." "With Donna?" Sam asked cautiously. "No, with Vern in the mail room. Yeah, of course with Donna. I mean, the timing was...bad. It started right after Leo's stroke." "Oh," Sam repeated. Josh looked at the wall for a second to get a handle on everything before continuing. "And we never really talked about anything, or why we were...together. We just were. So, I thought when we left the White House we'd still..." "Be together?" "Yeah." "Did you let Donna know that?" Josh scowled at him. "No. Obviously not," he sighed, his voice dropping a few levels. "And now she's in Paris." "Don't want to give it another week? You know, wait 'til we leave officially? Give yourself and her, a little more time to..." "No. I really don't. I can't." "So, you're just going to Paris to eat ‚clairs, drink wine, and make sweet love to your woman, huh?" Sam questioned, a small smile forming on his face. Josh made a snorting noise that made his head hurt. "God, Sam, could you sound any more like a girl?" * * * "Sir, I'm turning in my resignation." He could hear a small pause and mentally filled in the President's grimace himself. He imagined that Charlie was striving to look like he was anywhere else at that moment. "Josh, you want to come in and talk about it?" "I'd love to, but that's not possible." "Josh, I am still your President for eight more days, and when I make requests..." "Sir, I know. I do. But I really can't come in." "Really." Coming from the President, that wasn't an inquiry. "I'm currently in a first class cabin on an Air France flight to Paris." "Really." If he weren't drunk, Josh reflected, this would be a lot worse. Thankfully, seeing that he'd still been a bit intoxicated from the night before, all it really took was one glass of champagne to reactivate last night's whiskey. "Sir, we have, like a week left. We're lame ducks. All I'd be doing is packing my office and figuring out what job offer to take. I'm not leaving at a bad time. And..." he trailed off, wondering if the President would understand. "CJ's gonna handle the departure, I know, and...I've got to do this." "Overcome with a burning desire to go to the Louvre?" Josh thought he detected some laughter in the President's voice. "Something like that, yeah." "Well, tell Donna I said hello, and we'll figure out how I'm going to make you pay for this when you come back." "I will, sir." He hung up the phone, not sure what blew his mind more: that he had just resigned from the one thing he had spent his whole life working toward, or that he had done so while half-cocked on booze at 10,000 feet altitude. Then he sat back in the big chair, and giggled about the phrase half-cocked for a few minutes, while he waited for Simone the flight attendant to start serving the meal. * * * "So, Josh, you know who you should really call?" "All the people who ever harbored the erroneous idea that I was a selfish bastard incapable of love?" Josh asked, looking out the airplane window and deciding flying commercial wasn't really that bad. He'd also decided that whoever invented the plane phone was just the coolest person ever. "Ah, well, not exactly. But, I was thinking of Donna." There was a pause while Josh savored a bite of his coq au vin, then washed it down with some more complimentary, first class champagne. "Why would I call her?" Back in DC, CJ slowly banged her head lightly against her desk. "Seriously, CJ, don't you think that would ruin the surprise?" "Yeah. This will surprise her, all right." "Right. So don't call her and tell her I'm coming or anything." "Josh..." "Look, I know what I'm doing." "You do? Because, really, you never..." "Yes," he insisted, cutting her off. "I do. I'm going to make sweet love to my woman, and by the way, that's Sam's line, which is why it sounds so effeminate but," Josh shrugged, hoping she wasn't listening to him on her speakerphone, "it fits." "Okay. Should I mention that phrase if I get a question about your resignation?" "I've done that before, you know." "What? Resigned?" "Made love to Donna," he blurted, finishing his champagne. "'Cept, I'm not sure she knew that that's what it was, which is why I'm going to Paris in the first place." Simone flitted by and refilled his glass for the fourth time, while he listened to the deadening silence in his ear. "Did you hear me?" "Are you telling me that..." "Yep. I am. I love Donna and have expressed this in a physical manifestation...of my love. For her. Nakedly. And expertly. A great many number of times." "You are so lucky you're over the Atlantic right now, Lyman," she growled in his ear. "God, do you really think I'd bring that up if I wasn't? I mean, sure, I'm drunk, but I'm not insane. You're quite the scary and tall woman, and really, who knows what you could actually shove up my ass if given real incentive," he said, then paused thoughtfully. "You know, I'm not even sure I'd let Donna do something in there, that's kinda...I don't know. I'd have to think about that, although, it's probably okay if you love each other." "Josh?" "Yeah?" "If you ever speak to me about what you have done with your ex-assistant *nakedly* again, you will no longer have an ass with which to offer up as a symbol of your love. You got that?" "You bet, Claudia Blue-Jean," he agreed, not very scared of her threats from his spot in seat 2A, well within sight of the champagne bucket. Suddenly, a nicely-scripted dessert menu printed on heavy, cream-colored card stock was placed in his hand, as his champagne flute was topped off. "Hey CJ, what should I get for dessert? Mousse de chocolat or a pear-maple tartlet?" "CJ?" * * * "Yeah," came the gruff greeting in his ear. "Hey. Guess where I'm..." "Ten thousand feet up, about five hundred miles from the coast of Greenland," Toby snapped. "Okay, you know, you're the first person who hasn't been impressed that I'm flying to Paris." "You've made an impression. Rest assured." "That's not all I'm going to do." "No?" Josh wasn't expecting Toby to ask, or even sound interested, so when prompted, he was eager to share his plan. "No. I'm going to find Donna." "Josh, that would sound a lot more impressive if I didn't already know that you have her address." "Toby, I'm going to find my woman..." Josh started, because the more he thought about it, the more *right* it sounded, just him running through a crowd in Paris until he got to Donna -- his woman. "Which, again, seems like the easy part when you know where she is," Toby insisted. Josh's fantasy dissolved, which was a pity because he had just gotten to the part where Donna was deciding that she needed to be naked with him. He sighed as his image of an increasingly-unclothed Donna by the Arc de Triomphe faded from his brain. "I'm going to just tell her, she's not allowed to leave me like this. If she thought she was breaking up with me..." "Breaking up with you? When were you two ever together?" "After Leo," Josh answered, honestly surprised that Toby hadn't picked that up from his super-special CJ-ESP. He stopped for a moment. "Hey, Toby, does CJESP stand for something, like a committee or something?" "No. So you were..." "We were. I was. I am. We still are. In love, I mean, I think maybe she thinks it was just 'cause of the Leo thing, but that's a misconception on her part." "And now you're flying over to Paris to correct a misconception." "I'm flying over there to eat ‚clairs, drink wine, and make, in Sam's words, sweet love to my woman." "After you correct her perception about whether or not she's actually your woman." "That will take minutes," Josh predicted, draining his glass again. "Okay. I have to go tell Sam to never use the words 'make sweet love' in any context." "Wait, wait, wait." "What?" "Any advice on what happens after I...?" "After you tell her she's your woman, or after you, you...follow up? I don't understand." "No, after that. How do I make sure that..." "I don't know," Toby said curtly. "I'm not the one to ask. You love this woman, you figure it out." "Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting, you're divorced. You couldn't keep your woman either." When Josh started singing, Toby held the phone out away from his ear, his eye catching an intern passing by his office. He waved him in and handed him the phone. "Here. Pretend you're me." The intern shrugged. "Okay." "I'll warn you, he's singing." "What's he singing?" "When a Man Loves a Woman," Toby answered, beating a path to his office door. "Oh, I love that song." "Yeah, but it unfortunately sounds like the Michael Bolton cover." * * * "Love really is a wonderful thing," Josh told Toby/the intern. "Excuse me, what are you doing?" The intern, Mike Wampo from the University of Iowa, spun around. "Oh, hey, Mr. Ziegler gave me his phone, to talk to this messed up dude who's singing." "What?" Ginger asked, grabbing the phone. "Hey, it's all yours. He sings really badly." "Hello?" "Ginger?" "Yeah. Josh?" "Yeah, hey, it's me, Josh. I just wanted to say goodbye." "Okay," she answered. "I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors." "Oh...that's so sweet. Ginger, before I go, I want you to know you've been like a brother to me." "You mean a sister?" "Yeah, that too." "Good bye, Josh." "Adi˘s mi hermano. That's french for goodbye my brother." "Josh, that's Spanish." He shrugged. "It's a romance language. Have I told you yet? I'm going to France to..." "Make sweet love to your woman," Ginger finished up. "We know." Josh decided to wonder exactly who constituted we at a later date. "So? So? Romance language, romantic intentions. See, it's all related, Miss..." "Drop a postcard," Ginger said and hung up, just as Josh was about to call her 'Miss Ginger-Cranky-Pants the Second'. It was about that time when Simone showed up with the coffee. * * * End Part I Title: Adi˘s Mi Hermano by Bramble Rating: NC-17 Full info in Part I Part II * * * "No, no, really, I'm glad you called," Donna said groggily into the phone. She was still half-asleep, having gone to bed about an hour earlier. She yawned, only remembering to cover her mouth halfway through. "So, how's Paris?" Margaret's voice asked nervously in her ear. "Dark." "Oh! It's late isn't it? I'm so sorry, what time...?" Donna looked over at the clock on the wall, squinting. There was just enough light coming in from the window and the cafe across the street for her to make out the hands, "About midnight. But that's okay. Really, I'm glad to hear from you. How's everything in DC?" "So, here's the thing," Margaret whispered urgently, appearing to ignore Donna's question. "I mean, I just wanted to...you should know about..." Her tone changed and took on a serious, urgent edge. "Donna, I need you to listen to me very carefully..." But then...nothing. Well, there was something -- it sounded like some sort of a struggle. Muffled noises and heated mumblings and Donna strained her ears, her eyes widening, as she tried to make out what was going on. Was someone being assassinated? "Margaret? What's happening? Margaret? Should I call the secret..." "Hey, Donna." "Sam?" "Yeah. It's me. Ah, how's everything in the city of lights?" "What's the matter? Where's..." "Your apartment's in Marais, right? That's one of my favorite sections of..." "Sam," she interrupted. "What's going on? I heard..." "Oh nothing. Everything's fine. And normal. Completely normal. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here. Nope. I just needed to talk to Margaret for a second." "Oh, okay. Are you done? Because I think she wanted to tell me something. It sounded important." "No. No. She doesn't. She needs to type something up for the President. I came to tell her that. So, I guess we'll talk to you later." "Uh, okay," Donna said, somewhat confused. "I guess." "You should get some sleep," Sam told her, then added, "You're probably going to need it." With that, he hung up, leaving Donna sitting there, dial tone buzzing in her ear. "Well," she said to the empty room. "That was weird." * * * Her hand slowly reached again for the ringing phone. "Hey, Donna," CJ said, sounding entirely too cheerful. "CJ...hi. Are you on Sam's phone or something? Did you hit a button?" "No. I was just here in the office..." "Because it's still a reasonable hour there." There was a small pause, and CJ said sheepishly. "That's right, you're six hours ahead." "It's past my bedtime in Paris." "Oh, this'll be *good*," CJ murmured. "What?" "Um...so, Donna. You talk to anyone from the White House recently?" "Sure," Donna replied. This was an easy one. "Margaret. Well, and then Sam too." "Oh. So you know already." Donna could hear CJ muffling the phone and saying faintly, "Toby, I think she knows already." "Ask her about the phrase," Toby's voice came back, muffled. "The phrase?" Still muffled. After a pause, CJ said, "Ohhhh. Yeah." She picked up the phone. "Hey, it's still me." "I gathered that," Donna said, sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. She made a mental note to move her bed closer to the phone jack in the morning. "I don't suppose you've got any plans to *make sweet love* to anyone in Paris." "If I did, do you think I'd be on the phone right now?" Donna heard the muffling again as CJ said to Toby, "Apparently she *doesn't* know." "Then you better not..." Toby mumbled something Donna couldn't quite make out. "Know what?" Donna asked, frowning. "What?" She wondered if this all seemed so confusing because she had only managed to get about a half an hour of sleep since Margaret's call, or if CJ was, in fact, making absolutely no sense at all. "Nothing," CJ said quickly. "We were looking for a memo Sam typed earlier. We thought -- nothing. Hey, have fun in Paris." "I will," Donna promised sleepily. There was a click, and she was left sitting on the phone and listening to the hum of the line again. * * * Donna was dreaming. She was taking a final...well, she was supposed to be taking a final, but instead, she was walking around Montmartre naked, except for a beret. And she couldn't understand French anymore. A taxi cruised by her, honking loudly. Then it honked again. Donna's eyes fluttered open and she heard the phone. "Oh. You have got to be kidding me," she mumbled, lying there. But it just kept ringing. It was a very annoying ring. Sighing, she got up and walked over, sitting down on the floor and propping herself up against the wall to try and get comfortable. She was getting answers this time, damn it. "What could any of you possibly want now?" "Donna? Look, I'm...you have to come get me. Please? Hell, I can't believe I...You have to come get me," he pleaded again. She blinked, then tried to take a deep breath. "Simone kept making me drink all this coffee and then there was turbulence, so after we landed, I had to...But the bathrooms here are...God, I had totally forgotten that. That's so uncivilized. And then the nuns came in and..." "Josh?" She sat up more, her eyes snapping fully open. "I don't feel so good," he whispered. She ignored that. "What do you mean, come get you?" "At. The. Airport. Charles de Gaulle," there was a pause, then a whimper, "Please?" * * * "You've said like ten words to me since you picked me up," Josh said to her, then added, "and yes, I do realize that five of those words were, 'Just don't say anything, Josh." He had respected her request on the ride back, but now, following her up the stone steps, he apparently was going to start planning whatever excuse he had concocted on the plane ride here. "Josh, you just can't," she stopped, making a guttural, disgruntled, Marge Simpson-like noise as she unlocked the door and stormed in. When she didn't slam it in his face, he quickly followed her inside the apartment. Donna spun around, throwing her keys in an Eiffel Tower coffee mug on the shelf. "Josh, you can't be here. You can't just follow me halfway across the world because you miss the convenience of us," she shouted. "This is my new life now!" She watched his face fall. "What? I knew you didn't understand...Donna! I'm hung-over as all hell, the flight was a nightmare -- I flashed a nun in the bathroom! I accidentally peed on my shoe! And you're telling me I'm here because I think..." He made an exasperated strangled sound and yelled, "This is so not convenient! We have been nothing but inconvenient! And I know what you think," he accused, practically pointing a finger at her, "you think this is because of Leo." Josh halted his words abruptly and they both stood there facing one another. His expression changed, becoming much less angry and much more sad. "You think we started because of what happened to him and because I was so upset, and I'll be the first to admit that you probably had a lot to do with getting me thru it but...I'm not here because...and that wasn't why..." He looked down at the floor and she wondered if perhaps this wasn't the discussion they maybe shouldn't have had in DC. Then she buried those feelings down further because he just couldn't do this in all of two minutes. Not when he had had over three months to do it before she'd left DC. She looked on as Josh scrunched his eyes shut before continuing, "I miss *you*. You've been gone a week and my bed doesn't smell like you anymore and I can't sleep at all now. And this is not convenient," he whispered insistently. "I'm here because I can't not be here. I can't not try to...and because I love you. Most importantly because I love you. And if I was better at this, you'd already know that for sure and..." Josh choked back an exhausted sob and Donna felt her own eyes start to tear up, her chest and throat getting all heavy. "And if you don't love me or want me to be here, say the word, I'll get on a plane and go. Right after I throw up. But I love you so much and we are quite possibly the most inconvenient thing that's ever happened to me, but also, most definitely the most treasured thing I've ever had. And I've felt like that for a while and I had to try to make you know that," he swallowed a gulp of air. "Donna," he took a step forward which she matched slowly, "You have to know that." When she didn't answer he said, "I want you to be my woman again. Because you were." He was almost crying, and she wasn't too surprised to find herself sniffling as well. This didn't fix everything, she thought, but it did change things. Then something he had said earlier registered. She frowned. "You peed on your shoe?" "The nun scared me, in the airport bathroom, and I was in the middle of..." he answered with a relieved, tentative smile. "Josh, you need to take your shoes off. I'm renting and..." They both looked down as he kicked them off quickly. "I can stay?" "You're asking? Not just assuming?" "Yes. Definitely. I'm asking." "I'm not going back to DC. I'm staying here. I'm doing this." "I know. I want you to. I didn't come here to get you to come back," he rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "Besides, I'm uh, not sure I could go back to DC right now, after the, ah, flight and all." "You didn't come here to get me to go back?" Donna asked, not even wanting to know what he had done to make it questionable as to whether or not he could go back to DC. "No," he insisted. "You look like crap," she commented, before taking a deep breath. "Okay, this is completely not the way I visualized this going last night." "So I take it flashing the nun wasn't part of your plan," she cracked. When he didn't laugh, she added, "You need to take better care of yourself. I worry about you." "I will. I promise. Can I stay?" He had never said goodbye, she reminded herself, but then thought it was probably because he never meant to let her go. Donna nodded slowly. "And you love me?" "Yes," Donna walked forward and wrapped herself around him and whispered shakily, "I love you," as his arms tightened around her, she started crying. "Of course I love you." "And you know how much I...?" "I know." They stood together like that a few minutes until she got her emotions under control and broke the silence. She turned her face away from his chest and rested it on his shoulder. "But there are going to be some rules." "Okay," he replied into her hair. "I don't care. Just don't leave me ever again." Donna hugged him tighter. "The first rule is you get into bed and get some sleep while I'm at class today. When I get back we'll order in something healthy for lunch and go over the rest of the rules." "Okay," he paused, not wanting to let go of her yet. "Can we get ‚clairs? I think I remember wanting an ‚clair." It was quiet for a second. "Oh god...‚clairs...Donna? Would I completely ruin the moment if I said I thought I was gonna barf?" * * * She keyed the lock and let herself back in. She'd only had time to crawl back into bed with Josh for about two hours before having to get up to make an early seminar at the Sorbonne's Art and Archaeology Center, on the other side of town, across the Seine. Her apartment wasn't the most commute-friendly for classes, but she had fallen in love with it, regardless -- it had character and warmth and it just felt right. In the end, she hadn't cared about the longer metro time or the inconvenience at all. Kind of like something else she had fallen in love with, she thought, pushing the door open. "Hey." He was standing there in the sparse living room, a towel strung low on his hips, his hair still a bit wet from a shower Josh had evidently just taken. "You look better." "I feel much better. You look awful," he told her. "Some freakish, nun-flashing pervert called me at 4:10 and made me come get him at the airport this morning." "Wow. Sucks for you." "Not really," she smiled wearily. "You're tired," he grabbed her hand and tugged. "Yeah." "You're going to bed." "I should study." "You should, but nap first." "Nap first, then rules, then study," she said, letting him lead her back to the bedroom. "Fine. Nap now, though." "Fine." She reached up and started unbuttoning her shirt when he gently pushed her hands away. "Let me." "Okay." Her shirt quickly hit the floor and he started unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, tugging them down her hips. She listened to the faint noises from the street outside and closed her eyes. Donna felt his hands brush against her breasts, undoing the front clasp and separating the material of her bra, sliding the straps off her shoulders and down her arms. She let her head fall back a bit as he pulled her underwear down. "Bed," he whispered, his breath warm and soft against her skin. "Mmmmm..." Josh pulled the covers back and guided her down, but she surprised him by grabbing his hand, not letting him walk away. "You're tired." "I don't care," she responded, reaching for his towel. Once that was on the floor, she added, "You don't look like you care much either," as she eyed his erection. "I always care," he said sincerely, climbing in next to her. "Let me. Just lay back and close your eyes," Josh directed next, stretching out beside her and brushing his lips against her jaw line, as a soft palm slid across her chest. Donna took a deep breath, losing herself in the feel of his warm hand cupping her breast. She gasped when his lips latched onto an earlobe, and he sucked gently, fingers playing lower, pinching her nipple with a tenderness he usually didn't employ. "Ohhhh." "I want this to be like how I feel about you." Her eyes snapped open and she saw him regarding her intently. "Josh?" "Shhhh. I want to do this right," he said, caressing her body, as his hand moved down over her stomach. He stopped to tease her belly button, before sliding down to rest on her mound, the tips of his fingers easing lower. "You've never done it wrong, Josh." "But I could have done it better," he replied, before leaning down to meet her lips. * * * What started gentle and slow began to get more urgent. His fingers pinched her nipple a bit tighter as she moaned, Josh's lips replacing that a few seconds later. She laid back, focusing now on the sounds of her own heavy breathing, letting her eyes fall shut, gasping when the other finger, the one playing with her clit, sped up. "Donna," he said, lifting his head up. "I want to je mangez your..." She lifted her own head slightly. "Josh, that's so not right." "You're correcting my French now?" He teased. A finger down below slid inside warm wetness, followed by another. Moving in and out slowly as her hips started to twist. "Oh, god. No. Je mangez away," she managed as his lips worked their way down, his tongue working against her folds until she cried out. Josh grabbed her hips and tugged, so her thighs wrapped around his head, making her come soon after, licking her clit faster and faster. Her eyes were still closed when he kissed her, settling his body down on top of hers. She swallowed hard. "Now." It was such an erotic experience, she decided, not seeing, but just feeling...listening. "Now?" he whispered in her ear, while she felt his hands back down there, speading her thighs wider apart. She lifted her pelvis up to try and meet him, feeling the head of his cock push against her. She moaned, as he slid in inch by inch, until he was buried deep inside, holding still as he rested his weight down on top of her more fully. When she moved her hips forward and wrapped her legs around his waist, he went in even deeper, making them both gasp. Josh started with long, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in, shortening them up as he increased his speed and Donna started moving her hips to meet him. He was going in so deep she swore she could feel it all over her body -- even down to her toes. When a hand moved over her belly and back between her thighs she opened her eyes, surprised to see him looking right at her. "Kiss me," she requested, as the soft pad of his finger rubbed against where she was the most sensitive. His tongue met hers as he pushed more and more weight down on her, speeding up, making her legs shake. When he lifted his mouth from hers, Donna's breath came in short gasps, the tremors starting to build in intensity. She started to come again just as Josh's eyes closed, his mouth opening with the start of his own release. * * * "Josh?" "Yeah?" "You're going to stop being so attentive and sweet soon, right? 'Cause it's kinda freaking me out," she said, giving a sleepy grin, enjoying the post-coital glow of being made sweet love to. Josh smiled and brushed his calf against hers. "Yeah. I'm almost done." "'Kay," she snuggled into him, closing her eyes. Then opened them again. "You have to find something to do here." "I will." "Besides sit around and eat ‚clairs all day, I mean." "Yeah, I'd get sick of that after a few months," he joked. "You know, if the word ‚clair alone didn't make me sick." "Josh, I'm serious. I'm going to be busy. I'm taking classes." "I know. That's so hot. I'm dating a French school girl." When she didn't laugh, he added, "Donna, don't worry. This is your thing. That's fine. I'm totally supportive," he smiled, then the metaphorical light bulb switched on above his head and his eyes lit up. "I'll assist you." "Oh, good god," she muttered. "No! This'll be cool. I can like quiz you and stuff. Oh! I know, I can be like this stern headmaster that makes sure you score well on your tests...or else," he leered, raising an eyebrow suggestively in her direction. "No." "Fine. I'll, ah, write my memoirs then." "Your memoirs?" "Yeah." Donna didn't look very convinced but she was too tired to argue. She turned on her side and he spooned into her. "Oh, hey, will you at least help me find a Kinko's tomorrow." "I'm not sure they have Kinkos here, Josh." "Le Kinkos then," he smirked, bumping his pelvis lightly into her backside for emphasis. "Why?" "I have to fax my actual resignation in." "You resigned?" She twisted to look at him. "Well, uh, Donna, it's only January 8th, I had to resign." "Oh, Josh." "No, it's okay. I wanted to. Besides, I have something to fax to Sam also." "What?" "Just some guidelines for sub-leasing my apartment." "Guidelines?" "Well, more like a short questionnaire." Donna made a face. "What? Just a few fill-in-the-blank questions. Okay, and a couple multiple choice ones," he paused. "What? It's not like there are any essay questions or anything." * * * It was late morning and the apartment was quiet, the dull, cloudy sunlight hitting a new Chagall print, _The Birthday_, taped up on the wall. After six sudden short rings of the phone, Donna's voice filled the small room. "Bonjour. S'il vous plaŚt partir un message et je retournerai votre appel. Merci!" *Le Beep* "Hey...Donna? It's Sam. I was wondering if Josh was there, 'cause..." There was a flutter of papers and an exasperated sighing sound. "He faxed me something and...Josh? Okay, you do realize I can't actually have prospective sub-leasers vetted, right? Seriously." "And this questionnaire? Uh, I don't think I'm gonna hand this out. Besides, I think I found someone -- an intern, so, actually, I guess he's already been vetted. That should make you happy. His name is Mike. He's here from Iowa, working in communications. Anyway, that's all. I hope everything is...you know." There was a pause. "Oh. Yeah. We should talk about a certain catch phrase that's been attributed to me around here, because, really? It's not so much mine as it is yours. Yeah, so, I guess you're the one that sounds like a girl." Another pause. "Oh, Donna, I didn't mean anything bad by the 'girl' thing. I was just repeating something Josh had said. Besides, I'd think you'd be used to those sorts of comments by now." "Okay. Bye...I mean, well, Au revoir, I suppose." * * * The End. Feedback? Oui! (bramble_garden@yahoo.com)