t h e . l e a s t . y o u . c o u l d . h a v e . d o n e

The Least You Could Have Done
[by victoria p.]

Rating: PG

Summary: "You owe me a lot more than a sandwich and a cup of coffee, especially if you want me to work tonight."

Notes: Thanks as always to Jen, Pete/Melissa, Dot, and Meg. Written for Becky, who requested "Josh Lyman. A 1972 Chevelle SS. Frustration."

Date: March 17, 2004

Josh slung his garment bag over his shoulder and flipped open his cellphone. "Donna!" he yelled before she could even speak. "I am at the airport, but there is no car service here."

"No, Josh, the car service was there at five-fifteen, when you were supposed to land. If you choose to change your reservations and take a later flight without telling me, then the car service waits one hour, charges us exorbitant wait fees, and leaves without you."

"Donna." He winced. Even he could hear the whine in that one. "I can't deal with a cab right now."

"I know."

She sounded awfully loud.

"Turn around, Josh."

He turned and she was standing there, hair pulled into a ponytail, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and holding a small sign that said, "Lyman."

He laughed and tried to offload his luggage onto her, but she'd already begun walking, long legs eating up the distance to the parking lot.

His shoulder was almost numb and his back was aching when she stopped in front of a rusted old Chevelle SS that may have been blue. Maybe. Once. Thirty years ago, when it was new.

"What the hell is that?"

"My car died, and my upstairs neighbor lent it to me."

"Your upstairs neighbor owns a junkyard?"

"Josh--"

"Donna. That thing is more rust than car. You can't honestly expect me to ride in it."

"If you say you're a very important man who helps run the government, I will kill you right now and laugh all the way to jail."

She inserted the key and started jiggling it in the lock. He tried again. "Donna. You could have just sent another car."

She muttered something that may have been a curse, jiggled the key again, then yanked open the door. "Get in."

"What about my bags?"

"Throw them in the backseat. There's no key for the trunk."

"There's no--"

"Josh!"

"Okay."

He waited until they were out of the airport to speak again, though he fidgeted whenever she sped up or came too close to the car in front of them.

"You could have just sent another car," he said finally.

She didn't say anything for a long moment, then, "They wouldn't take you. They asked me not to call for you again."

"What?"

"They said you were too demanding, and that you always keep the drivers waiting and make them make extra stops, then refuse to sign the voucher."

"I do not!"

"Josh."

"Well, maybe I do."

"Josh."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Josh shut up.

They were nearing the White House when he said, "Wait. Stop at the deli. I need a sandwich."

"You need a sandwich."

"Yeah, and maybe some coffee, too." He fumbled in his pocket for money. And she glared at him. "What?"

"You want me to double-park, run out and get you a sandwich and some coffee?"

He pulled out another ten. "You can get yourself something, as well. We've got a long night ahead of us." He thought for a moment. "Given your history with parking tickets, it's probably better if you find a space."

"Don't try to be funny."

"I'm not trying--"

"It shows."

"I am funny."

"No, you're really not."

"Donna, are you gonna tell me what's wrong or are you gonna make me guess?"

"If I thought you had a chance in hell of guessing, I'd make you, but since you don't--"

"Did you have a date tonight?" He looked at her clothes and shook his head. "No, that can't be it."

"I was off today! It's Saturday, and I was off all day! Until I got a phone call from the car service asking where you were and why you hadn't been on the flight you were scheduled to be on! I was taking a bath, Josh! A nice, hot bubble bath. It was very relaxing. Until the phone rang. And rang. And rang. I knew I shouldn't have answered it, but I did. Because I am obviously an idiot."

He shifted nervously, but she just kept talking.

"And then I had to borrow Mickey's car and head out to the airport, because you weren't answering your phone, so I had no idea which flight you were on or why you didn't call to tell me you'd changed it!"

"You were worried." He smiled and was going to gloat, but she cut him off.

"I was, but now I'm just pissed off. You owe me a lot more than a sandwich and a cup of coffee, especially if you want me to work tonight."

"Donna--"

"You could have at least said thank you."

"Tha--"

"Don't even bother now."

***

On Monday morning, when Donna arrived, there was a bouquet of flowers on her desk, along with a mocha frappuccino and a blueberry muffin.

The card on the flowers said, "Thank you."

It was a start.

end

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Disclaimer: All West Wing characters belong Aaron Sorkin, John Wells and others who aren't me, etc. This piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.