TWW FIC: The Movement You Need
Title: The Movement You Need
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Josh/Donna
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. Make love, not lawsuits.
Summary: Election Day memories surface a year later.
Author's Note: Post-series. 200 words. Many thanks to my beta, spyglass_. For scullyish, who asked for "U is for Understated" in the alphabet meme. (Not only did this story seem to shape itself after the prompt sparked an initial idea, but it refused to limit itself to a true drabble. So, a double shot for you.) Feedback and concrit is love.
A sharp November wind twisted past the magnolia trees in Lafayette Park and sliced into Donna's coat as she hurried north, the White House at her back.
Josh stood beside the arrow-head fence, his face raised to the equestrian statue in the center of the square. He blinked at the monument--Andrew Jackson, a Major General, thirteen years before his block of cheese. Josh spoke before she slowed to a stop. "I thought you went home."
Her mouth twitched with a sad, sideways smile and her emotions split in different directions as year-old memories finally surfaced--the first warm, naked press of his body, a wordless race through Methodist Hospital, an eruption of cheers in the crowded war room.
She reached up to smooth flyaway locks of his hair. "I thought I'd wait."
"I can't believe it's--" He paused to swallow as he met her eyes. "Been a year."
She wanted to ease him into bed in the stillness of their home, draw him close, and soothe away his guilt and grief with her touch. Wanted to tell him that she loved him. But for now, she stood silently beside him, squeezed his hand, and turned to shield him from the wind.
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Josh/Donna
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. Make love, not lawsuits.
Summary: Election Day memories surface a year later.
Author's Note: Post-series. 200 words. Many thanks to my beta, spyglass_. For scullyish, who asked for "U is for Understated" in the alphabet meme. (Not only did this story seem to shape itself after the prompt sparked an initial idea, but it refused to limit itself to a true drabble. So, a double shot for you.) Feedback and concrit is love.
A sharp November wind twisted past the magnolia trees in Lafayette Park and sliced into Donna's coat as she hurried north, the White House at her back.
Josh stood beside the arrow-head fence, his face raised to the equestrian statue in the center of the square. He blinked at the monument--Andrew Jackson, a Major General, thirteen years before his block of cheese. Josh spoke before she slowed to a stop. "I thought you went home."
Her mouth twitched with a sad, sideways smile and her emotions split in different directions as year-old memories finally surfaced--the first warm, naked press of his body, a wordless race through Methodist Hospital, an eruption of cheers in the crowded war room.
She reached up to smooth flyaway locks of his hair. "I thought I'd wait."
"I can't believe it's--" He paused to swallow as he met her eyes. "Been a year."
She wanted to ease him into bed in the stillness of their home, draw him close, and soothe away his guilt and grief with her touch. Wanted to tell him that she loved him. But for now, she stood silently beside him, squeezed his hand, and turned to shield him from the wind.