TWW FIC: Mistaken Identity
Title: Mistaken Identity
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Josh/Donna
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. Make love, not lawsuits.
Summary: After her date, Donna approaches Josh with a pressing question.
Author's Note: The Portland Trip missing scene. 900 words. Many thanks to my fantastic betas, scullyseviltwin, damelola, and tosca1390. For magisterequitum. Happy very, very belated holidays! Feedback and concrit is love.
Donna took one step toward the exit before she stopped and turned back, spying Josh in the uneven light and shadow of the corridor. His compliment still echoed in her head-- You look really great in that dress tonight--and she smoothed the fabric over her hips as she called after him. “Josh?”
In the hall, he reversed course. “Yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. He tapped the door frame as he shuffled toward her, focused and unusually attentive.
“Do you--” She interrupted herself with a shaky laugh, distracted by the surge of nervous heat across her face. Earlier, she had pushed her oyster crackers around the surface of her soup for a half-hour before she realized that Todd had abandoned ship. Her encounters with Leo and Ainsley had only fanned the disappointment that, despite Josh’s kindness, still stuck to her insides like overcooked oatmeal. “You have to promise not to laugh at me, Josh, because I know how you can be, and it’s hard enough under the best of circumstances.”
“Was there an actual question in there? Because, if there was, I missed it,” he said, tilting his head as he squinted at her.
“Do you--do you think I’d look good with red hair?”
Josh’s body relaxed, his shoulders curving into a natural line as he snorted and smiled, all at once. “Are you serious?”
“I was thinking, you know, maybe it’s time for a change,” she said, keeping her tone as light as possible. “Something to differentiate myself. God knows there are enough long-haired blondes around here, confusing everyone.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She sighed, a soft bluster that lifted a lock of hair away from her cheek. “You know, Josh,” she said. “For someone who’s supposed to be one of the best and the brightest--”
“Donna, I’m about twenty minutes away from crashing on CJ’s couch, so if you have a real question--”
“Do you think Ainsley and I look alike?” she blurted, words and frustrations tumbling out with one breath.
He stared at her, shifting his weight as he rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers. “What?”
“Do Ainsley and I look alike?”
His brow furrowed. He shook his head, blinking at her. “No. No, she looks like--”
“What?”
“A Republican.”
“Josh.”
“Who thought you looked alike?”
“No one,” she said, dismissing the question with a flip of her hand.
The lines in his forehead deepened. He searched her eyes, studying her before he spoke. She could practically see his mind at work. “Did someone say you looked alike?”
“No. I only asked because”--she swept her hair away from her face and adjusted the straps of her purse-- “I was curious. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Forcing a tight-lipped smile, she turned for the door. “I’m just going to call a cab and--”
“He did.”
Full of weight and certainty, his voice fell on her ears and froze her like a paralytic . She stood under the hot wash of light in the lobby, her muscles rigid, her fingers curled around the hem of her coat sleeves. As she met his eyes, another wave of heat crashed over her face, so warm that it made her wonder if her face were as red as her dress. “Josh,” she whispered, an obvious, undisguised plea.
“It was him. Whoever he was. Your date.”
“Todd.”
“When he asked you out, he thought he’d landed a date with Ainsley. Right?”
Glancing at the floor, she tried to laugh, but the sound came out like a breathless hiccup. “I guess if I’m going to be mistaken for anyone, the new White House superstar isn’t so bad.”
It was as if Josh hadn’t heard her. “And when he realized you were you,” he said, gesturing toward her, “he left.” He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “He walked out on you, didn’t he?”
Thorny, prickly shame bubbled up her throat and blocked her breath. A swell of tears stung her eyes, and she blinked against them, fending them off before she lifted her head. “I’m not sure if he was more disappointed that I’m not a Republican, or that I’m not an easy ticket for a photo op.”
“Well,” he said, offering her a lopsided smile. “He obviously doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
She tried to ignore the pull of affection in her chest--not the first for him--and she crossed her arms over herself, struggling to squash the feeling. When her gaze drifted from his eyes to his mouth. His lips were still curved with a lazy smile, parted and relaxed, like they would be easy to kiss. Snapping her mouth closed, she blinked and rooted herself to the marble tile. She swallowed against words, inappropriate words, and grounded herself--righted herself.
She managed a genuine, grateful smile. “Thanks,” she whispered.
He held her gaze for a moment before he stepped away from her. As he backpedaled toward the hall, he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I have to meet with Leo.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“See you tomorrow.”
She stood silently and watched him until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Later, with a soft smile and a steady exhale, she opened her fist above her kitchen trashcan and dropped the torn tag from her dress on top of the pile.
Author: shutterbug_12
Characters: Josh/Donna
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Only borrowing. Make love, not lawsuits.
Summary: After her date, Donna approaches Josh with a pressing question.
Author's Note: The Portland Trip missing scene. 900 words. Many thanks to my fantastic betas, scullyseviltwin, damelola, and tosca1390. For magisterequitum. Happy very, very belated holidays! Feedback and concrit is love.
Donna took one step toward the exit before she stopped and turned back, spying Josh in the uneven light and shadow of the corridor. His compliment still echoed in her head-- You look really great in that dress tonight--and she smoothed the fabric over her hips as she called after him. “Josh?”
In the hall, he reversed course. “Yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. He tapped the door frame as he shuffled toward her, focused and unusually attentive.
“Do you--” She interrupted herself with a shaky laugh, distracted by the surge of nervous heat across her face. Earlier, she had pushed her oyster crackers around the surface of her soup for a half-hour before she realized that Todd had abandoned ship. Her encounters with Leo and Ainsley had only fanned the disappointment that, despite Josh’s kindness, still stuck to her insides like overcooked oatmeal. “You have to promise not to laugh at me, Josh, because I know how you can be, and it’s hard enough under the best of circumstances.”
“Was there an actual question in there? Because, if there was, I missed it,” he said, tilting his head as he squinted at her.
“Do you--do you think I’d look good with red hair?”
Josh’s body relaxed, his shoulders curving into a natural line as he snorted and smiled, all at once. “Are you serious?”
“I was thinking, you know, maybe it’s time for a change,” she said, keeping her tone as light as possible. “Something to differentiate myself. God knows there are enough long-haired blondes around here, confusing everyone.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She sighed, a soft bluster that lifted a lock of hair away from her cheek. “You know, Josh,” she said. “For someone who’s supposed to be one of the best and the brightest--”
“Donna, I’m about twenty minutes away from crashing on CJ’s couch, so if you have a real question--”
“Do you think Ainsley and I look alike?” she blurted, words and frustrations tumbling out with one breath.
He stared at her, shifting his weight as he rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers. “What?”
“Do Ainsley and I look alike?”
His brow furrowed. He shook his head, blinking at her. “No. No, she looks like--”
“What?”
“A Republican.”
“Josh.”
“Who thought you looked alike?”
“No one,” she said, dismissing the question with a flip of her hand.
The lines in his forehead deepened. He searched her eyes, studying her before he spoke. She could practically see his mind at work. “Did someone say you looked alike?”
“No. I only asked because”--she swept her hair away from her face and adjusted the straps of her purse-- “I was curious. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Forcing a tight-lipped smile, she turned for the door. “I’m just going to call a cab and--”
“He did.”
Full of weight and certainty, his voice fell on her ears and froze her like a paralytic . She stood under the hot wash of light in the lobby, her muscles rigid, her fingers curled around the hem of her coat sleeves. As she met his eyes, another wave of heat crashed over her face, so warm that it made her wonder if her face were as red as her dress. “Josh,” she whispered, an obvious, undisguised plea.
“It was him. Whoever he was. Your date.”
“Todd.”
“When he asked you out, he thought he’d landed a date with Ainsley. Right?”
Glancing at the floor, she tried to laugh, but the sound came out like a breathless hiccup. “I guess if I’m going to be mistaken for anyone, the new White House superstar isn’t so bad.”
It was as if Josh hadn’t heard her. “And when he realized you were you,” he said, gesturing toward her, “he left.” He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “He walked out on you, didn’t he?”
Thorny, prickly shame bubbled up her throat and blocked her breath. A swell of tears stung her eyes, and she blinked against them, fending them off before she lifted her head. “I’m not sure if he was more disappointed that I’m not a Republican, or that I’m not an easy ticket for a photo op.”
“Well,” he said, offering her a lopsided smile. “He obviously doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
She tried to ignore the pull of affection in her chest--not the first for him--and she crossed her arms over herself, struggling to squash the feeling. When her gaze drifted from his eyes to his mouth. His lips were still curved with a lazy smile, parted and relaxed, like they would be easy to kiss. Snapping her mouth closed, she blinked and rooted herself to the marble tile. She swallowed against words, inappropriate words, and grounded herself--righted herself.
She managed a genuine, grateful smile. “Thanks,” she whispered.
He held her gaze for a moment before he stepped away from her. As he backpedaled toward the hall, he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I have to meet with Leo.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“See you tomorrow.”
She stood silently and watched him until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Later, with a soft smile and a steady exhale, she opened her fist above her kitchen trashcan and dropped the torn tag from her dress on top of the pile.