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An Innocent Kiss by Jo March Disclaimers, etc., in part one.
Margaret and Kathy asked me to help with the decorations for the office party, but instead I let Josh talk me into going to hear the choir. Looking back on it, I realize this was my first mistake-ducking out on my responsibilities like that. If I'd been helping set things up for the Christmas party, I wouldn't have been standing next to Josh, listening to carols and getting all emotional. Plus I would have known where the mistletoe was. And believe me when I tell you that I would never have put mistletoe in the middle of Josh's office. Whose idea was that anyway? Everyone knows that mistletoe is supposed to go in public spots, so you can have a perfectly innocent kiss with witnesses. And without tongues. But instead of turning the bullpen into a winter wonderland, I was listening to these boy sopranos singing about heavenly peace and holy nights and it was all I could do to hold back the tears. Tears, I might add, that had nothing to do with the use of phrases like "incredible smile" and "joy in my life" in a certain book. Nor did my feelings have anything to do with the fact that Josh's arm was around my waist. Josh touches me like that all the time, and I can honestly say that it didn't effect me any more then than it ever had before. Can I just point out here that there was nothing inappropriate about this? It's not like Josh was leading me off into the supply closet or something. We were standing right there with President Bartlet and Leo, after all. If there had been anything inappropriate about Josh holding me, don't you think the President of the United States or the Chief of Staff would have mentioned it? So you see, it was all perfectly innocent. Okay, maybe he was pulling me just a little closer than normal and maybe I was aware of the fact that he's a man and kind of attractive in a quirky way. And I could smell his cologne, which I happen to know is very expensive and appealing because it's what I gave him for his birthday last year. But mostly it was innocent. Well, except for the fact that I started thinking about how I shouldn't think about how Josh just has this intensity about him that makes you think he'd be an incredible lover and it's been more than a year since I… Where was I? Right. The choir. The music. Al Roker as Santa. Jose Feliciano. Well, Josh and I left after Jose Feliciano and before Al Roker. I don't remember deciding to leave, but Josh still had his arm around me and I didn't realize where we were headed until we were halfway there. "I have never understood the more subtle nuances of this holiday," Josh said. "Mixing elves and reindeer with the birth of the Messiah, for example." "Comes from your being Jewish, I suppose," I replied. "And do you even know what Chanukah is?" "Chanukah," I answered, taking care to imitate the slightly gutteral sound on the "Ch" the way Josh does, "also known as the Festival of Lights, is a Jewish holiday commemorating the rededication of the Jerusalem Temple by the Maccabees. Chanukah is observed by lighting candles for eight nights as a way of thanking God for delivering the few and the weak from the hands of the numerous and the powerful." Josh looked impressed, as well he should. "Where does a Presbyterian get that kind of knowledge?" "Stewart Goldman. Boyfriend. Freshman year of college. I considered converting for a couple of months." "What happened?" "Alan Davis. Sophomore year." By then, we were back at the bullpen. Margaret was attempting to lead everyone in "Deck the Halls," and I could suddenly understand Josh's aversion to Christmas carols. I counted eighteen singers in at least seven different keys. And none of them were on the same verse. "I'm going to go out on a limb here," Josh said, "and say that somebody spiked the eggnog." I decided to test his theory and poured myself a cup. "You're right." He put on his offended face. "You know, Donna, it's eggnog, not coffee." "Meaning?" "Meaning that it wouldn't be establishing any sort of precedent if you'd actually brought me a cup too. It's not like I'm going to expect you to bring me eggnog every morning." "It's a slippery slope, Josh. Eggnog on Christmas Eve, coffee on weekdays; before I know it, you're expecting me to show up at your place every morning to fix your breakfast." "You've had worse ideas." "Josh, get your own damn eggnog." He went toward the eggnog, and I went off to talk to Ernie, this new guy in Human Resources. Despite his first name, Ernie is awfully good looking. I mean, you hear a name like Ernie and you expect a guy to be about 5'5," weigh 250 pounds and live in his parents' basement. I don't know where Ernie lives, but he looks like a young Robert Redford. Seriously. "And will your wife be coming to the party later?" Bonnie was asking him. She and Ginger were practically draped over the poor man. Not what you'd call subtle, but they seemed to be getting their point across. "I'm divorced," he said. "That's so sad," Bonnie said. Of course, she was grinning rather widely, which ruined the effect. "And you're going to be all alone over the holidays?" I didn't plan to enter the conversation. I figured Ernie had enough problems trying to choose between Bonnie and Ginger, not to mention that both Kathy and Nancy were heading toward us. And anyway Ernie's too blond for me. I mean, our kids would be albinos. You have to take these things into consideration. But that didn't mean I couldn't appreciate him. Like a work of art. Michaelangelo's David springs to mind. But then he moved closer to me (almost stepping on Ginger's feet, I might add). "What about you?" he asked. "What are your plans for the holidays, Donna?" I was momentarily speechless, which Josh would tell you does not happen often. "Huh?" Ernie looked at me like he was confused. "That is your name, isn't it? Donna?" "Donnatella." Only two people call me that, and my mother was miles away in Chicago. Sure enough, I turned and saw Josh standing behind me. I turned back to Ernie. "Donna. My name's Donna." Ernie had that look. You know, that look men get when they're trying to decide if you're with someone else. I hate that look because when they do it, they're not even looking at you; they're looking at the other guy for permission. "Ernie," I said. (In my experience, it helps to say a man's name at a time like that; it helps refocus his attention on you. Of course, sometimes you need to say it twice.) "Ernie, this is my boss, Josh Lyman." "Donna," Josh said. "We have that thing." "What thing?" "That work thing." "Christmas Eve, Joshua." "Government business, Donnatella." So off we went, back toward Josh's office. "I swear, Josh, if you think I'm going to work on Christmas Eve…" "We're not working. It was just a clever way to get you out of an awkward situation. Don't bother to thank me." "And I would be tempted to thank you because…?" "Because I got you out of that awkward situation." "You mean that awkward situation where I get to talk to a good-looking single man who seems interested in me?" "He's not single." "What are you talking about?" "He's married." "He said he was divorced. I heard." "Right. Because, you know, men never lie to beautiful women." "He works in Human Resources. How would the deputy chief of staff know his marital status?" "It's my job to know these things." "I've actually read your job description, Josh." "All right. It's one of those things men know." "Generally, it's women who pick up on those subtle nonverbal cues that give away a married man on the make." "This isn't about nonverbal cues. This is more like 'takes one to know one.'" "You're not married." "I have, however, been on the make." "It's that kind of reasoning that almost lost us the election." "If you're going to bring up the Ohio primary again, that was Toby's fault." "So you keep insisting. You're wrong. You're also wrong about Ernie." "Ernie? You're seriously thinking of going out with a guy named Ernie?" "I am not--" "And look at him. Do you have any idea how blonde your kids would be? We're talking albino here." "Okay, now that's just weird." "What?" "I thought the same thing. The albino kids." "So you know I'm right?" "I didn't say that. Although it is possible you're not entirely wrong." "Well, as long as you know." "Is that all?" I asked. "Because if there isn't any real work to do. I'm going back to where people are having actual fun." "No, that's pretty much it. Now that I've successfully defended your virtue, you're free to leave." So Josh disappeared inside his office, and I sat down at my desk. I could have gone back to the party, but I know Josh. I know that he probably really was going to work. And that would mean he'd come looking for me eventually with some quasi-emergency, it just made more sense to stay nearby. That was when I remembered that I hadn't given Josh his Christmas present. So I grabbed it out of the bottom desk drawer and went into his office. He'd taken off his jacket and was standing transfixed in the middle of the room, looking as though he expected the ceiling to fall on him. Again. "Should I call maintenance?" I asked. "What? No, it's--" He looked at me as though he'd just had some sort of revelation. "What do you have there?" "Your Christmas present." "You bought me a Christmas present?" "Yes, Josh. It's traditional to exchange gifts at Christmas. You didn't me skis, and I got you this." Now I went to a lot of trouble wrapping that gift. I spent two hours searching for just the right wrapping paper-snowflakes on a silver background; Josh would have hated the Currier and Ives print I used for my family's presents. And there was this elaborate white bow that I spent another hour getting just right. I shouldn't have bothered. Josh tore it apart quicker than my seven-year-old nephew tears into a new batch of Pokemon cards. "Well?" I asked. "Coffee? You gave me coffee?" "Not just any coffee. This is a very special gourmet blend." "I give you a rare book, and you give me coffee?" "It's the thought that counts, Josh." "I'm almost afraid to ask what you were thinking." "That now you can't say I never bring you coffee. Also that I could have bought you a very nice coffee press if I made more money." "So the hidden meaning behind this gift is that you want a raise?" "I wouldn't exactly call it a hidden meaning, Josh." "If you ever got that raise, would you actually bring me coffee?" "Only in your dreams." He smiled. Josh, I must admit, has a great smile. He has a number of great smiles. I know; I've catalogued them. My personal favorites are the "I just said something clever" smirk and the "I know something you haven't figured out yet" grin. This was the latter. I should have realized then that I was in trouble. "Okay," Josh said, "we had the carolers, the visit from St. Nick cleverly disguised as a morning news show weatherman, the drunken revelers at the office Christmas party, and the gift giving. What's next?" "Well, we could watch 'It's a Wonderful Life,' but I have a plane to catch in two hours." "What about mistletoe?" "Mistletoe? What are you talking about?" "Mistletoe," he recited. "A plant traditionally used as decoration during the Christmas season. In European folklore, mistletoe was believed to bestow fertility and to be an aphrodisiac. Which, you'll admit, is a useful combination. The tradition of kissing under the mistletoe was originally associated with the Greek festival of Saturnalia and later with primitive marriage rites. The Scandanavian tradition holds that mistletoe represents peace; enemies could stand under the mistletoe to declare a truce or married couples could use it to kiss and make up." "Josh, I'm impressed. Seriously." "You don't work for Jed Bartlet this long without picking up some useless bits of trivia. So, Donnatella, should we move to the mistletoe portion of the evening?" "Josh," I said, moving closer-just to make my point, you understand-"the tradition requires catching someone underneath the mistletoe." He grinned again and pointed up. That was when I saw the mistletoe directly above my head. And then suddenly Josh had his arms around me, and we were kissing. As kisses go, this was nice. Sweet. Completely appropriate. No tongues. Well, not at first anyway. I don't know exactly how it happened; I'm not even sure who started it (though I'm willing to bet it was Josh), but, yes, tongues did become involved. This is not to imply that it was one of those sloppy, groping kisses where you feel like your date is examining your mouth for gold filings. This felt the way talking to Josh feels-fun and exciting and like I just don't want it to end. I heard the door open, and we looked over to see CJ standing there. Josh let go of me rather abruptly. "Jeez," he said, "doesn't anybody in this building ever knock?" "I've said it before," CJ replied, "but I think it bears repeating: Boy, are you stupid!" * * *
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