Title: The Room or Terms of Endearment
Author: coffeeplease
Rating: MATURE (sex talk, innuendo)
Category: futurefic, comedy with some serious
Spoiler Info: Everything up to "Tomorrow"
Disclaimer: WB, NBC, John Wells, Aaron Sorkin.... owners. I just lease
and try not to stain the carpet. Lawsuits don't look good on me.
E-mail address for feedback: jamhandy1@yahoo.com
Archiving permission: Sure, just tell me first
Notes: Thank you everyone who has ever given me feedback. You'll never
know how much I appreciate it. Let me know what you think of this one.


He was sitting at the kitchen table, in his t-shirt and boxers,
staring at the dirty dishes in the sink. Donna's slippers made a soft,
swishing noise as she entered the kitchen. She leaned against the wall
and watched him.

"You're not going to do those at three in the morning, are you?"

"No." He shifted in his chair and looked at her. "I think we should
just throw those out and buy new ones."

He gave her a weak smile.

She smiled back, lolling her head. "What's up?"

"One of those things..."

She nodded, accustomed to what 'one of those things' meant: something
in the situation room, something he couldn't talk about and something
that was keeping him awake at nights. He couldn't solve it and he
couldn't talk about it with her. So he would sit up at their kitchen
table and stare at dirty dishes.

Maybe it wasn't healthy, but she understood. She understood because
the situation room meant, much of time, someone in the world was dying
or being hurt. And Josh always wanted to stop people's misery and
sometimes he couldn't.

She walked over to the table and sat down across from him. "Do you...
need alone time?"

He shook his head and covered her hand with his. "No. I've spent the
last hour brooding. I can brood now with company."

"Kay. 'Cause I'll leave you alone if you want it."

"I don't want it... do you want a beer, though? I need something to
get me back to sleep."

"Sure." She smiled softly and nodded. He went to the fridge and pulled
out two Sam Adams, opened hers and handed it to her. She nodded her
thanks.

He took a long sip, leaning against the fridge. "I wish I could tell you."

"I know."

"No, I really wish I could tell you. I think you'd be able to help me,
you know? At the very least, help me feel better about it." He took a
big swig.

"Well, I'd like to think I can help you feel better without knowing."

"You do." He said softly, looking at her. "But still... unlike many in
the situation room, you have a heart and a conscience and I could use
someone like that in there."

"The President doesn't have a heart or a conscience?"

"He does. No, you're right, he does. But it's not enough. He's able
to..." Josh stopped for a second, pulling on the label of the beer. "I
just have to learn not to let these things get to me. I mean, what do
I care about people halfway around the world? Why should I get upset
about what I can't change?"

Donna looked down at her beer. "Yeah, keep things at arm's length?"
She looked up at him with a small smile.

He walked over to her, his eyes sad and his smile haunted. He grabbed
her shoulder, massaging it. "Yeah. Yeah, you and I... we're not so
good at that, huh?"

She let out a small laugh. He kept touching her shoulder, smiling at
her. He continued talking. "I think the electorate should be
frightened that you and I have such power. You especially. You get all
weepy."

"When do I get weepy?" She made a face at him and took a gulp of beer.

"You do. You know, when I'm not around. You watch 'Steel Magnolias'
and eat bonbons." He tickled her shoulder a bit.

She shook her head. "I'm not the one who cried when Debra Winger died
in 'Terms of Endearment'."

"Okay, one, that was over twenty years ago and I was much younger.
Two, I went to that movie with a girl I was trying to get and she
wanted to go. I'm agreeable like that. And three, I was a bit drunk
when I saw it. I should never have told you about that." He stopped
touching her shoulder. "When did I tell you that?"

"Just now."

He sank down in the chair next to her. "See, I shouldn't be in charge
of things. A bonbon eater and you outsmarted me."

"One, I don't eat bonbons on a regular basis and two, with what time
do I sit around in a fluffy bathrobe and watch 'Steel Magnolias'?"

"I never said fluffy bathrobe."

"You were thinking it."

He smirked. "Maybe I was." His face turned serious. "I waited my
entire life to be in that room."

"I know."

"I worked hard to get to that room. You know; you were there. I mean,
you know you make a difference as a deputy but you still want that
chair. You still want to be the guy the guy counts on."

"And you're doing a great job."

He took a sip of beer. "You're biased."

"I would tell you if you weren't, Josh."

"I know. But you're still biased."

She drummed her fingers on the table. "I don't think it was any easier
for Leo, or for CJ, Josh."

"Maybe it was worse." He looked at her with a bit of light in his
eyes. "They didn't have someone to come home to at night. You know,
someone to not share their day with."

"This is sharing your day."

"I want to tell you things--"

"I know." She interrupted.

"How can we..." He stopped for a second, putting a fist on a table.
"Sometimes it's hard to sit in that room and think we ever have the
upper moral hand in anything. There's so much cold-blooded
calculation, Donna. And halfway around the world, entire villa-- bad
things happen because someone in the situation room of the White House
said the cost to America would be too high. That we had more urgent
priorities elsewhere."

He stood up quickly, the chair almost toppling over. "And when they
say more urgent priorities, they mean that those places... those
places have nothing we want. 'Too bad that your atrocity isn't
happening in an oil-rich country, we can't help you.'"

She closed her eyes. "I know. I mean, I don't know, but I know. If
that makes any sense. I agree with you."

"I thought if I got in the room, I'd be able to do something." His
voice was defeated, sad and almost depressed. She stood up, unsure if
he wanted physical comfort.

"You are doing something, Josh. You're doing a lot."

"It feels like I'm treading water."

Donna put a hand on his on arm. "It felt like that when you were deputy, too."

He looked at her. "But I had no idea how deep the waters actually were."

She moved her arm from his arm to his shoulder. He rested his head on
her shoulder. "Ignorance can be bliss, huh?"

His voice was so low she could barely hear it. "You were able to sleep tonight."

She couldn't say anything to that, so she didn't. Just kept him hear
her physically, hoping to give him some strength. These days drained
him and she knew she'd read, someday, about whatever bloodbath that
was occurring or going to occur and remember holding him in the
kitchen.

He made a face and pulled away slightly. "You think Leo... ever felt
bad? About the things he couldn't change?"

"He wasn't about to show us if he did. Just like you don't show Sam or
Bram how disturbed you get."

"Right. You're the only one I let see that I'm weak."

She pushed his shoulder and smiled at him. "You're not weak. You're
human. And I think Leo and President Bartlet were troubled by things.
As is President Santos. You aren't alone in feeling impotent."

Wrong choice of words. He leered at her comically and she rolled her
eyes. "Come to bed, baby, and I'll show how far from impotent I am."

He couldn't help but smile at his own ridiculousness. She made a face.
"Ew. You called me 'baby.'"

"I've called you baby before."

"Only when we're having sex. And come to think of it, it's a bizarre
thing to call a woman... why do you men do that?"

"Cause... it was in a Ronettes song, okay? And The Supremes... and all
those groups. And those were all chicks advocating it."

"Okay, using 'chicks' to defend 'baby'... probably not your greatest
argument there."

He smiled and walked over to the table to get his beer. "Well, I guess
it all has to do with birds."

She smirked, hoisting herself on the counter. "You know what else goes
with this whole barnyard animal theme, don't you?"

"Yes and speaking of words one of us uses an awful lot during sex--"

"And every time I'm praising it!" She grinned. "Besides, it turns you on."

He passed her beer to her. "So much for the innocent farm girl."

She pushed her lips together and squinted her eyes. "Would an innocent
farm girl offer to blow you in the limo on the way to the Inaugural
balls?"

"Inaugural balls?" He laughed at her and took a big sip of beer.

She laughed into her beer. "Sorry. It's late."

He took another drink of beer. "I'm the one who took it to the gutter."

"Yeah, but I'm never far behind you."

He smiled at her. "That's what I love about you. You're just as filthy
as me." He walked over and put his arms around her waist, coming
between her knees. "And you watch 'Steel Magnolias' and eat bonbons
all day, baby."

"It's not bonbons, it's Cheetohs. And don't call me baby."

He leaned in to kiss her. "So that's why the apartment has all that
orange dust."

He kissed her and she put her arms around his neck. "Are you feeling
any better... baby?" She smirked.

"Hey, don't call me baby. I'm twelve years older than you."

"So I can call you old man?"

"I think not." He became serious. "I'm trying to keep my mind off it."

She nodded.

"Because I can't do anything," he continued, running his hands up and
down her back. "I wish I could. It seems like I should be able to do
something. I'm in the room."

"The room isn't everything. The room can't stop life and death. It
can't stop all the evil that happens in the world."

Now he nodded. "I just know that in 1937, there were people in the
room. And someone said, we can't help the Jews. It's not in our
interest or we don't want to start a war or the cost to America would
be too high. And they said it for years."

She looked deep into his eyes. "I like to think we've learned
something since then."

"Sometimes I don't think we have," he whispered.

"Well... you're in the room. And maybe today you couldn't stop
whatever is happening or whatever is going to happen. Someday, you
will, though. Someday you'll be able to save that village."

He closed his eyes. "Villages. Thousands, Donna, thousand of pe--"

"Josh, I can't know."

"Yeah." He rested his forehead against hers. "You will. And you'll be
disappointed with me."

"Never. Never, okay, Josh?"

"Okay," he kissed her again. "I just disappoint myself. This isn't
like not getting a bill through Congress. The consequences are much
worse."

"I know. And I'm here. And I will be up with you every night when you
can't sleep or I'll give you space when you need it."

He gave her a very serious look. "Now there's the real reason why I
love you." He said softly, pushing a strand of hair away from her
face.

"I love you, too. My little bonbon."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, my sugary sweet yet steel magnolia."

"Sugar and sweet mean the same thing."

"They do not. One is a substance and the other is a flavor."

"But as adjectives, they're the same." She slid off the counter and
they began to make their way to the bedroom.

He turned off the kitchen light and took her hand. "I guess. Of
course, you would know all about sugar with your bonbon eating."

"You want me to eat your bonbons?"

"I'd like you to attend the inaugural balls, yes."

"You mean attend to them, right?"

"Whatever you say... baby."