NOTES:
Author: Yana
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: ITSOTG, plus minor ones through the end of
Season Three
Disclaimer: The characters herein don’t belong to me.
I’m just borrowing them.
Archive: SotU, yes. Others please ask.
AN: All the fortunes mentioned here are ones I’ve actually
received from actual fortune cookies. (Sometimes I keep them to see if
what they say really happens. :))
PROLOGUE:
At first, she hadn’t realized that she’d been tied up. Her routine had narrowed to half a dozen mundane tasks: go to work, shop for groceries, clean the apartment, cook dinner, have sex with partner, go to sleep. It took her a long time to notice that there was absolutely nothing else in her life.
When she did finally realize what her life had become, she wondered if she wasn’t being naive or suffering from delusions of grandeur for wanting more than a home, a job, and a smart, successful boyfriend.
It wasn’t until she tried to break her routine that she found she couldn’t. He’d bound her up in so many ways, with so many cords: making her feel guilty, making her feel like a lazy dropout, making her feel unworthy of love.
She struggled, of course, because somewhere inside she knew she was none of those things, and when she fought too hard, he cut her leash.
Intellectually she knows what happened, but she never remembers actually doing any of the things she did in the few hours after he dumped her. She must have been thinking, though, because she’d packed up every single thing she’d bought for the apartment, sweet-talked the landlady’s husband into giving back the postdated checks she’d issued for a year’s rent, then broken the framed picture of them on the bed, leaving glass shards all over the bare mattress.
She’d driven her overloaded car around for hours before heading to her parents, who quickly took her in.
When she finally managed to struggle free of all the bindings he’d wrapped around her, she trembled as she looked down at the tangled mass of knots that was her life. The knots overwhelmed her for a few days and she just sat, staring into space, wondering where and even how she should start to unravel them.
Finally, she took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and reached inwards, looking for the first, most important thread to untangle.
Merit.
Whatever she did next, she wanted it to be worth something.
She clutched tight to that idea, that thread, and started pulling. She
pulled the thread with her as she loaded up her car again, and let that
thread gradually tug its way out of the mass of knots as she towed the
whole mess behind her to New Hampshire.
******
“It is much easier to be critical than to be correct,” Donna read out loud.
“In bed!” Margaret exclaimed.
Donna winced noticeably, then tried to cover her reaction with a weak grin. Her new friend was obviously trying to cheer her up. It was just unfortunate that even the slightest sexual innuendo made Donna tense right now. Margaret couldn’t know that when she’d left the campaign and gone back to him, he’d said he’d made a mistake, but his actions had made it clear that he only valued what he could get from her: money, a home-cooked meal, and most importantly, a place to keep his cock warm. She shivered, wondering how she’d let herself be used like that.
Margaret noticed the shiver. “Are you cold?” she asked. “Not that I could find a thermostat in here,” she gestured around the cheap motel room, “even if I wanted to. You want the bed?”
“No, I’m fine.” Donna managed a stronger smile and tried to redirect her attention. “What does yours say?”
Margaret cracked hers open and frowned.
“What?” Donna pressed, trying to tease her friend.
“It says, ‘Learn Chinese--Delicious: Hao-chi...’”
“In bed,” Donna offered weakly.
“Yeah, I guess...”
“Why don’t they ever say things like, ‘You will win a million dollars next week’?”
“At this point, I’d settle for ‘You will get a raise next week,’” griped Margaret.
Donna chuckled. “At this point, I’d settle for, ‘You will be put on salary next week.’ Wait, change that. ‘You will be put on salary this week, with pay retroactive to the beginning of your employment with the campaign.’”
A closed look came over Margaret’s face and she didn’t smile at Donna’s joke.
“What?” asked Donna, her laughter subsiding. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to...”
“What have you heard?” Margaret interrupted her.
Donna frowned, searching her mind for anything that might seem relevant. “About what?” she asked, puzzled.
Margaret suddenly sat back. “Nothing,” she said, her face impassive.
“Margaret...” Donna paused as the pieces started to fall into place. Then the penny dropped, and her mouth fell open. “They aren’t.”
Margaret didn’t say anything, but she tried and failed to keep a stern look on her face.
“They are?” The excitement rose up from her gut and took hold of her vocal cords. “YES!” She threw her arms up in the air, then wrapped them around Margaret and tackled her, sending them both to the floor.
“They are?” she asked again.
Margaret nodded, still a little stunned to be laying under Donna, and hugged her back. “You deserve it. You’ve been working harder than...”
“YES!” she shrieked again, hugging Margaret once more.
Margaret gave up any pretense of being serious and professional and started laughing out loud at Donna. Donna pulled her to her feet and hugged her again.
“Donna...” Margaret choked out between snickers. “You absolutely can’t tell anyone. You can’t let anyone know you know. Josh wants to tell you himself.”
Donna pulled back, trying and failing to smother her grin. “Okay,” she agreed.
“I’m serious, Donna.” Margaret’s laughter subsided as she recalled Josh’s voice arguing in Leo’s office. “He lobbied hard for you. He wants to be the one to give you the news.”
Donna cleared her throat and tried to get her unbridled joy under control. “Right. I will.” Exuberance welled up in her again, though, and she let out a whoop and started bouncing around the room.
“Donna!” Margaret’s face was worried.
“Okay.” Donna took a couple of deep breaths. “I can do this. I took drama, remember? Now. When he gives me the news...I don’t want to just say, ‘Oh, Josh, thank you!’...I have to put on a good show, so that he gets his money’s worth...”
“Just don’t jump him and throw him to the ground,” Margaret said drily.
Donna snickered. “He’d probably get the wrong idea, huh?”
“And Mandy would have your ass in a sling....”
“YES!” Donna shrieked.
“What?”
Donna leaned in close and murmured delightedly, “Mandy’s leaving.”
Margaret drew back. “Seriously?”
“You’ll probably get that tomorrow. It was the last thing she did tonight before I left.”
“So, Josh...”
“It’s not just him,” Donna said hastily. “She’s pissed at everyone.”
“Wow.” Margaret’s eyes went round.
“Yeah,” Donna agreed with a little grin.
Margaret let out a whoop. “YES!” She grabbed Donna and bounced up and down as she hugged her.
The motel room door opened. “Donna, I...” Josh took in the scene of the two assistants embracing. A smirk appeared on his face. “I hope I’m not, uh, interrupting anything...”
Donna and Margaret let go of each other, Margaret straightening her clothes, Donna rolling her eyes. “No, Josh,” she said. “What do you need?”
The smirk lingered on his face, but he let the matter drop. “Margaret, Leo needs you. You,” he directed his gaze at Donna, “I need you to come with me. There’s that cow thing tonight...”
“The fall fair dance...” Donna corrected him.
“Right. And we need some candid shots of Bartlet staffers getting down to country music.”
Donna grinned. “I’m photogenic,” she stated.
He grinned right back. “I know you are.”
She freshened her lipstick, ran a brush through her hair, and let him usher her out the door with his hand on the small of her back. Though she tried to keep from smiling like an idiot for no apparent reason, her heart was dancing inside her chest, as though a knot inside her had pulled loose and unraveled.
She took the end of the thread and ran with it until it stretched out straight in a long, taut line.
******
“‘The skills you have gathered will one day come in handy.’ Tell me,” President Bartlet took off his glasses and looked up at the senior staffers sitting around the table in the Roosevelt Room, “when do you think I’ll be able to apply these skills?”
Margaret glanced at Donna, catching her eye on purpose as the two assistants stood against the wall, and Donna knew she was adding the words ‘in bed’ to the end of the President’s fortune. She smothered a smile at that, then smothered another one at Toby’s dry reply.
“Patience, sir, something better’s bound to come along after November.”
“Toby, you know that doesn’t sound particularly optimistic on your part.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Just for that, what does your fortune say?” The President fixed Toby with a stern look.
Impervious, Toby cracked open the cookie, sighed, and tilted his head to the side in resignation.
“Come on, Toby, don’t keep us waiting...”
Toby read it out seemingly against his will. “It says,” he paused to sigh again, “‘Happier days are definitely ahead for you, struggle has ended.’” He crumpled the fortune up in his hand and the President chuckled.
“Well, your fortune is optimistic, even if you’re not. Sam, what about yours?”
Sam peered at the little slip of paper again. “‘Sometimes travel to new places leads to great transformation.’”
“Ah. Cryptic. Save that one. CJ?”
CJ put on her glasses. “‘Love is a present that can be given every single day you live.’” She smiled, and the President smiled back.
Margaret whispered the words ‘in bed’ in Donna’s ear, then ducked quickly out of the room. Donna had to hide her laughter by coughing behind the files she was holding.
“Donna!”
She fought down a blush and answered in an innocent tone. “Yes Mr. President?”
“Where’s Josh?”
“He called, sir, and he’ll be here soon. His meetings ran longer than expected.” That at least was true. Though he’d been late for the meetings in the first place because he’d been at Amy’s, arguing. Donna knew that because every now and then during the argument he’d call Donna and get her to look up some obscure factoid, then start in on Amy again, hanging up without saying goodbye. Between phone calls, she wondered idly if Amy was calling her own assistant for information, and, if that was the case, whether it would be quicker for everyone concerned if Donna just called Amy’s assistant to trade factoids directly.
The President fixed her with his piercing gaze, which she had long ago learned how to meet steadily. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “Come sit down, take notes. You can fill him in afterwards. Want his garlic shrimp?”
Surprised, Donna smiled at the President, then at Sam as he handed her the carton. “Thank you, sir.”
She kept her head down, taking notes rapidly as the meeting progressed. About an hour in, having covered all the other items on the agenda, CJ asked for clarification on something Josh had been looking into.
“Donna?” she asked hesitantly. “Do you know?”
Clearing her throat, Donna took a deep breath. “Yes. The way the report is worded...” She launched into a brief explanation.
CJ frowned. “You’ve read all this?” she asked when Donna finished.
“Yes.” Backwards and forwards: she’d pored over it for hours; the index cards she’d made to brief Josh were still clipped to the file she had with her.
CJ asked another question, then Toby, and suddenly she wasn’t a passive observer anymore. The discussion swirled around her and she found herself answering as clearly and concisely as she could.
Then it happened. “Donna,” the President said. “What would happen if I turned this proposal down?”
Caught up in the rhythm and flow of the discussion,, she responded without thinking, outlining the points she’d read and giving what she thought was the logical conclusion.
He asked for other opinions, many of which were similar to hers. “Well,” he said finally. “I think we’re done here.” The other staffers had begun to tidy their papers and push their chairs back when Josh burst in.
“Josh!” The President welcomed him with a stern look.
“Yes sir. I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Well, we’re actually finished. But you read Brant’s report. What would happen if I don’t do what he says?”
Josh didn’t hesitate, launching into an argument that was, though more eloquent, essentially identical to Donna’s.
When he finished, he looked around the room, puzzled at the faint smiles on the other staffers’ faces.
The President grinned. “Somehow, I knew you were going to say that. Thank you everybody.”
“Thank you Mr. President.” The staff rose as he left the room.
“Donna?” The others began to file past Josh out of the room. CJ made a point of squeezing her shoulder and throwing her an approving smile before she left.
“He asked, I answered,” Donna said, making a few last notes on her pad.
The two of them were left alone. “Donna,” he said again.
“Yes?” She gathered her things and faced him.
“He asked?”
“Yes.”
“You answered?” he pressed.
“It wasn’t like I had a choice.”
“Okay.” He opened the door for her.
“Okay?” she asked, not believing he was going to let the subject drop.
“Of course. I trust you to know when you’re out of your depth.”
She stopped walking and turned to him. “I wasn’t out of my depth.”
“I know.” He didn’t smile, but he put his hand on the small of her back and guided her down the hall, giving her side a little squeeze.
She didn’t need to smile or bounce around in delight the way she had that first time, in the motel room with Margaret. In the last four years she’d pulled apart a huge mess of tangled knots, not just the ones she knew about, but also ones she hadn’t even known she had until they unraveled in front of her. She’d stretched her threads out in long, ordered lines, twisting each one to make it stronger.
This time, though, the little jolt of pleasure she felt when she untangled a knot was different. She didn’t realize why until later.
She’d run out of knots.
This last thread--once it was pulled free, she had nothing left to work on. She was intelligent, desirable, compassionate, and savvy enough to advise even the President of the United States once in a while.
She toyed with this last thread for a while, seeing how far her ambition could stretch it. She wondered how long she could hold on to this thread, and what she would do when she couldn’t.
******
“‘Lucky numbers 4, 8, 13, 18, 29, 30.’”
“Josh! It does not say that!” She leaned towards him on the couch and tried to snatch the fortune away from him.
“It does too! Hey! Sticky hands off my couch!”
“You really are turning into a grumpy old man,” she complained, wiping her hands on a napkin.
She noticed he flushed when she said that and pressed her advantage. Lunging for him, she grabbed the fortune out of his hand.
“Hey!” he shouted, tackling her. He misjudged her position, though, and ended up rolling them both onto the floor.
“Ow,” she groaned.
“Sorry,” he said. “Wait a second. I’m the one who should be moaning in pain. You started this!”
“And you’re the one who pulled me down on top of you.” She squirmed a bit to get comfortable, taking pleasure in his wince. “You must enjoy the punishment.”
He grinned. “Well, if you’re offering...”
She smiled back, and the energy between them suddenly changed. Her lips tingled and a little twist of excitement suddenly wrapped itself around her sex. Aroused, she shifted her hips and saw that he too was all of a sudden aware of their position on the floor. The slow growing length of his cock responded, pressing against her thigh.
He tried to dismiss it, but she didn’t let him. Framing his face with her hands, she lowered her lips to his and kissed him.
Electricity shot through her mouth, down her throat, into her gut, and she pulled back. He looked as adrift as she did, as unsure of what to do next. Then his hand came up, pulled her down to him, and they kissed again.
He took his time exploring her mouth, and she let him, following his lead. When she tried to take control again, they rolled across the floor and bumped painfully into the coffee table. Laughing, she pulled him up and led him to his bedroom. When he looked as if he might make a last-minute protest, she wrapped her arms around him and tumbled them both onto the bed.
He groaned in mock pain and she offered to kiss it better. He hesitated, but she didn’t want to think about consequences and didn’t want to take no for an answer if she could possibly help it. He was here, under her, aroused, and the look in his eyes was even more intense than the dreams she’d had about him. The need inside her was like a hammer against her ribs. Determined to bulldoze over his doubts, she slipped her hands up under his shirt and began to stroke the firm, lightly furred skin of his chest. Her fingernails traced his nipples delicately and he groaned again, this time with arousal.
She worked his shirt open and lowered her mouth to his chest, sucking and licking and kissing every inch of him, not letting this opportunity to taste him pass her by. She got him out of his pants almost as quickly, but before she could lower her mouth again, he flipped her onto her back and started undoing her blouse.
He took over then, stripping her of her outer clothing rapidly, then going back to take his time with her underwear.
It was about the time her bra came off that she lost conscious control of what she was doing. His mouth had roamed over her breast and fastened on her nipple, and he suckled her as his hands slipped into her panties. She bucked up against him and his hands obliged, pressing her mons, stroking her, penetrating her.
She came once under his hands before his mouth headed south to do the same thing again. Impatient to have him inside her, she tried to pull his head away, but he slipped out of reach. He seemed to know that she wanted to take back control of the encounter, because he mumbled the word “Later,” against the soft surface of her belly.
She responded, moaning, “Now,” but he ignored her. He settled himself between her legs, lifting them so they draped over each of his shoulders, then grabbed her wrists and pinned them on either side of her. She couldn’t grasp him, couldn’t guide him when he dipped his mouth between her thighs, but the first touch of his tongue had her crying out in amazement. His lips moved over her surely, and when her hips thrust up against his face, he obliged her by quickening his movements. She found she couldn’t hold back, screaming his name over and over as his lips on her clit and his tongue deep inside her pushed her over the peak again.
He finally pulled away when she quieted, rummaging around in his bedside table for a condom. She’d been impatient before, but now the two quick orgasms he’d given her left her energized. Grabbing him, she rolled him onto his back and ducked her head down to take his erection in her mouth. The silky strands of her hair brushed across his thighs and groin, and she let him wind his fingers through it. As her tongue caressed him, she noted the things that made him groan, the things that had him tightening his grasp in her hair. Deciding it was his turn to lose control, she increased the suction on the tip of his cock until he began to shout for her.
She stopped then, long enough to roll a condom on and position herself over him. His eyes opened, meeting her gaze, and he lifted his hands to hers. She grasped them tight, squeezing them and loving the feel of him squeezing back. Slowly she sank down to complete the connection, easing him inside her slick opening, letting him gradually fill her, then stretch her, as his length invaded her body.
Once they were connected, the urgency she’d felt earlier overwhelmed her. She clamped her inner muscles around him and knew suddenly that he was desperate too. Leaning forward, using their connected hands for support, she began to rise and fall, letting her walls caress him, sinking down hard to take him all the way in, then rotating her hips as she drew herself upwards so that she could feel every inch of his cock.
He let her keep control, his eyes never leaving hers as she moved faster and faster on top of him, until all her finesse was gone and it was just her body and his body, slamming together over and over and over again.
She came suddenly with an involuntary sob, the ripples inside her pulsing like a strong, steady heartbeat. When she managed to look at him again, his gaze met hers steadily. Determined that he would find the same intense release she had, she started riding for him, as hard and fast as before.
He didn’t stay still now, he lifted his hips to meet hers and she took her cue from his movements. His hands had never let go of hers, but now they guided hers to her hips. She let him grasp her, push her down on him when he thrust up, and his finishing strokes took him deeper into her than she’d thought possible.
She could feel him quake underneath her and inside her as his orgasm exploded in her depths, and she gazed into his entranced face as he found release, crying her name.
Then his head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closed, and his fingers, still entwined with hers, went limp. After a moment, she lifted herself off him gently, and he rolled over to dispose of the condom.
Their eyes met again as he turned back towards her, and she realized that she couldn’t read his expression. Her gut suddenly twisted with anxiety. She felt bereft, unable to reach backwards towards her familiar threads and unwilling to take a step forward by herself.
She worried about knots.
Now that it was over, she wondered if what they’d just done hadn’t left her with a big new tangle of threads to unravel.
Then he pulled her towards him and held her close, mumbling endearments
in her ear, and she couldn’t resist him. Wrapping her arms around him,
she nestled herself against his body. She decided that if worse came to
worst, at least she’d untangled knots before.
******
“What did it really say?” she pressed.
“Donna...”
“Hey, I just said I was hungry. You were the one who brought all the food into the bedroom.”
“If my woman is hungry, she gets food.”
“And fortune cookies!” she cried, grabbing the unopened one and trying not to read anything into the phrase ‘my woman.’ She cracked it open and read the fortune.
“What does it say?” he asked with a small smile.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions under control, and answered casually, “‘Including others in your life will bring you great happiness.’”
He grinned. “I think you already knew that, right?”
Blinking, she looked up from the slip of paper. “Yeah.”
He leaned towards her, his brow creasing with concern. “Donna, you do know that, right?”
“Know that...” Her eyes drifted back down to the fortune.
His hand came up to cup her face. “Know that we’re going to be happy together.”
She finally met his gaze and saw the emotion there. A smile spread across her face. “We’re going to be very happy,” she agreed.
He kissed her then, and she deepened it, her arms stealing around him. He started to push her down to the pillows again.
Suddenly she yelped. “Watch the Guy Ding!”
He looked down at the offending carton and grumbled, “It has too many vegetables anyway.”
She moved the food off the bed to the relative safety of the floor. “When I get done with you, you’re going to wish you ate your vegetables.”
“Really?” He started pushing her back down.
“Oh, yeah. Hey,” she held her hand up to stop him from kissing her, “what did your fortune say?”
He sighed and gave up. “‘Age can...’”
She snickered.
“See, this is why...” He gave her a long suffering look.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to pull a straight face and failing.
He threw her a you’re-not-fooling-anyone look and reached for the piece of paper. He cleared his throat and read, “‘Age can never hope to win you while your heart is young.’”
She just grinned.
“Don’t say it,” he said.
“Say what?” she asked, reaching down to grasp his semi-hard cock. “This kind of proves that you’re not old.”
“That’s not my heart,” he pointed out.
“I never was that good at biology.” She gave him a little squeeze.
He groaned and pulled her hand away. Placing her palm over his heart, he let his fingers twine with hers so that they could both feel it beating steadily.
It sped up when she leaned in and kissed his mouth softly. Looking up at him, she began, “Josh...”
“You keep me young,” he said.
She smiled then. “And you keep me happy.”
This time he did roll her under him, letting his hands find the most responsive places on her smooth skin. “Keeping you happy. I can’t think of a better goal in life.”
“I think I can devote myself to keeping you young,” she agreed, lifting her hips to brush against his groin. He was still chuckling as his mouth sank down, parting her lips, and she welcomed him into her again.
******
At one time she’d believed that if she ever let go of the threads, she’d be totally lost. That didn’t happen.
Everything she’d accomplished--whether it was finding a job that had merit, or confirming for herself that she was sexually attractive, or being able to accept--finally--the approval of her colleagues for her hard work--had become second nature.
The threads still traveled with her, no longer a tangled mess but instead flying in orderly lines, streaming out behind her like a long train, following wherever she went.
For a moment, she thought she was free.
She took time to survey her work, examining the threads, marvelling at how each stretched out along the path her life had taken. As she studied them, though, she realized that they weren’t all flying free.
Some of them had--not tangled, exactly, but entwined themselves with other threads that weren’t hers. She realized that she wasn’t as free as she’d thought.
She followed these new threads down to their end, to see where they had come from. When she finally understood who she had become tied to, though, she wasn’t afraid.
Because he was tied up as surely as she was. And because their threads,
entwined together, made a long, strong, straight cord.
THE END