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WIP Amnesty, Day 15. Last Call.
This is the rest of a bit of West Wing crackfic that I began in April, back during Finals when I was feeling West Wing-obsessed and a bit crazed.
The beginning is here
And this is the rest of what got written:
Three Feet Tall and Naked
"Look," Donna said, dividing an exasperated look between Sam, standing at the side of Josh's desk, and Josh, still peeking at her from behind it, "I have to go! There may be a secret stash of children's clothing somewhere in the White House, but I don't know where it is, and I don't think you want me to go find a tour guide and ask, do you?"
Josh ducked his head, shaking it slightly.
"Anyway, Sam's here," Donna added, stealing a quick glance to see how he'd take being drafted; he still looked shocky and disoriented, so she suspected he wouldn't put up a fight. "And I'll be right back, I promise."
Josh's head jerked up again, and his eyes narrowed. "Did you tell Sam so he could babysit me? You think I can't be left unattended for five minutes, just because--"
"Josh, I never think you should be left unattended, even when you're not three feet tall and naked. Why else was I here when you emailed me?"
Josh went on squinting at her, and Donna stared back, and then Sam cleared his throat and said, "He's not actually naked."
Donna had to stare at Sam for a couple of seconds before she processed that, and then she looked back at Josh. "Good. Do you want to come out from behind your desk and let me see how tall you are, then?"
Josh straightened up enough that she could see the tops of his tiny squared shoulders, his adult-Josh-sized undershirt sagging off one side. "No," he said stubbornly. "You can see how tall I am from there."
Donna sighed, leaned forward and slapped the screen of his laptop shut. Josh flinched but stood his ground, and she knelt down in front of the desk to get a better angle on how much taller than it he was: maybe six inches, give or take. "Three and a half feet," she announced. "But don't blame me if your footie pajamas don't fit right."
Josh's eyes went panicked-wide for a second, and she realized that maybe she shouldn't be giving mini-Josh as much crap as the regular sized version. Then his arm came up over the desk, one tiny finger pointing, and he said, "If you come back here with footie pajamas, you're fired."
"Yeah," Donna said, smiling and ignoring the finger as she leaned toward him across the desk, "you try that, big guy. Open your mouth."
Josh leaned back slightly from the desk. "What?" His voice went even higher when he was frustrated; it was kind of cute.
"Open your mouth," Donna repeated. "I want to look at your teeth and see how old you are."
He leaned forward again, glaring. "I'm not a horse, Donna."
"No, you have to be at least five feet at the shoulder to be a horse. Now open your mouth, Josh, and let me see which molars you have."
Josh let out a huffy little sigh and opened his mouth, tipping his head back and sticking his tongue out. He had twenty pearly-white baby teeth, no six-year molars in sight. Donna stood there, frowning and staring into his mouth, until he tried to say something without closing it, his tongue waving all over the place. "Anh Ah--"
"Shh, Josh, hang on. I'm still looking."
She kept staring for another solid minute before Sam gave it away, not converting his laugh to a cough quite fast enough. Josh snapped his mouth shut and his head down, and said, "You're just fucking with me now, aren't you?" It sounded so strange coming out of a pre-schooler's mouth that Donna couldn't really hold back a laugh, although she tried. Sort of.
"If you'd come out from behind the desk, you could probably kick me in the shin," she said.
Josh went on glaring at her for a second, and then turned sideways, took a quick darting step to get in front of Sam and, apparently, kicked him. Sam jumped back, and his strangled laugh turned into an indignant, "Ow! Hey!"
Josh disappeared back under the desk, and Donna patted the surface of it hard enough for him to hear underneath. "You boys have fun, now, and I'll be back soon."
She couldn't see Josh, but Sam's glare was plenty. Donna took off and didn't look back.
***
Sam stood staring at the opening under the desk. Josh had moved far enough underneath that Sam couldn't see him from here, and the ache in his shin suggested that Josh wouldn't welcome him coming closer. He could hear small sounds. Josh was fidgeting under there. Sam stuffed his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels. He opened his mouth to ask Josh to hang on while he went and got his laptop, and then winced and shut it again. This was the only crisis he was dealing with today.
Sam looked around and then turned his back, leaning against the edge of the desk. "Donna brought you a granola bar, if you're hungry. It's next to your laptop." He listened carefully, staring at the wall and thinking pointlessly about how much this wasn't in his job description, the long list of people more qualified to deal with the Deputy Chief of Staff being three feet tall and hidden under his desk. Behind him, there was the small sound of foil tearing.
After a moment, the small high voice he couldn't believe was Josh's when he wasn't looking said with its mouth full, "She brought me this before I threatened to fire her, didn't she."
"Yes, she did," Sam said, turning his head a little; not far enough to see Josh, but far enough that Josh would realize he was about to look.
The foil crinkled some more, and then Josh said, "You can turn around, Sam."
Sam turned around and got his first clear look at Josh, standing behind the desk, swimming in an undershirt. It was falling off one shoulder, the collar gapping away to reveal an ugly bright pink line on Josh's chest. Sam said, "Josh," and braced a hand on the desk. He couldn't take his eyes off the surgically-straight column of puckered skin.
Josh looked down at himself, and then back up at Sam with a slight frown. "It's just--it's the scar, from Rosslyn, it's." Sam looked away, because he couldn't get his face under control. He'd never seen Josh's scars before; it had never occurred to him before this second how careful Josh had probably been to make sure of that. The scar looked grotesque on a child's body. It looked grotesque on Josh's body. "It doesn't hurt," Josh muttered, but by the time Sam looked back at him he was turning away, ducking back under the desk.
"Josh," Sam said helplessly, but Josh reappeared right away, swathed in a wrinkled dress shirt, flapping around as he tried to get his hands clear of the sleeves. "Josh, here, let me do that."
Josh looked up at him, hesitating for a second, and then nodded and raised his arms. Sam came around behind the desk and quickly rolled the sleeves back, and back and back and back, until Josh's hands were revealed, fingers spread. He looked only at the shirt, or the top of Josh's head, and not at the scar Josh was trying to conceal. Josh did up the buttons himself, from the collar button on down to the bottom, and the tails of the shirt fell to his shins, leaving only his feet bare.
"There," Josh said, with a forced-looking smile. "That's better."
Sam smiled back, and didn't look anywhere below Josh's eyes.
***
Josh sat perched at the front of his desk chair with his hand on the desk, idly swiveling himself back and forth. Sam was sitting in the chair off to his left, not doing anything, which was kind of unnerving. Josh wanted to open up his laptop and try to do some of the work he'd meant to come in this morning to do in the first place, but his hands didn't fit the keys anymore, didn't seem to know how to do what he wanted; just typing and sending a short email to Donna had been insanely difficult, and he didn't want to try anything like that with Sam sitting there watching.
He looked around his office, trying not to catch Sam staring at him. It looked different, bigger and brighter and vaguely foreign. He swung himself to the right and pushed off, spinning his desk chair around completely, and Sam almost jumped out of his seat. Josh laughed for the first time in--he couldn't remember how long--and Sam met his eyes and smiled as he settled back into his seat, slouching a little this time.
Josh squirmed around to stand up on his chair, leaning against the back and peering up through the closed blinds toward the overcast sky, trying to swivel the chair by swinging his weight back and forth. It worked all right, but not really well. He was seized suddenly with the sense memory of swings, swinging up and back, up and back, hands clinging to the chains, legs pumping into the sky, and he wanted to-- No. God, no. He wasn't actually a kid, he couldn't do this. He had to focus. This was going to be a huge headache for everyone, he had to do what he could to prepare...
Josh rubbed a hand over his face, turned around and sat down again, avoiding looking at Sam. He opened his top desk drawer and stared into it instead, wondering if his cell phone would be easier to operate with smaller fingers. He could send text messages, maybe. He stared down at his coat, trying to remember where his phone was even as he tried to imagine what useful message he could send to anyone from it.
He could probably manage MTING CNCLD NO PANTS. Useful, in a sense, but CJ wouldn't appreciate the questions about him drunk-dialing congressmen. He'd have to let Donna take care of canceling his appointments, if this didn't un-happen by Monday. He tried not to think about that possibility, about two days in this body, about--
He was tired, though; his eyes stung and he couldn't stop thinking about it all of a sudden, panic clutching at his throat like it hadn't in more than a year. He could feel Sam watching him, and kept breathing, kept still, waited it out. He wanted to crawl under the desk again, but then Sam would know, and he didn't want Sam knowing.
Josh sighed and didn't rub his eyes. He picked up a box of paperclips instead, dumping them out on his desk. He had to focus to make his small, clumsy fingers link them together, and it kept him from thinking about anything else for a little while.
***
And, ahem, without going into a lot of detail, because I just found the chat transcript last night and fell dangerously in love with the whole story all over again: There are wacky hijinks, Josh gets all the hugs and cuddles you ever thought Josh Lyman might need, Leo gets to be Josh's dad really kind of for real, Sam and Donna get very close while dealing with Josh... and then Josh gets better! And there is Sam/Josh/Donna and Leo still ruffles Josh's hair sometimes (and Josh still calls him Dad sometimes) and everyone lives extremely happily ever after without any ill-advised moves to California. Or heart attacks. The end!
And that's it for WIP Amnesty, everybody! Thanks for being patient with me--and thanks for being so generous in your feedback to permanently unfinished stories--and I will now resume being quiet and working on something I do plan to finish. Someday. *g*
The beginning is here
And this is the rest of what got written:
Three Feet Tall and Naked
"Look," Donna said, dividing an exasperated look between Sam, standing at the side of Josh's desk, and Josh, still peeking at her from behind it, "I have to go! There may be a secret stash of children's clothing somewhere in the White House, but I don't know where it is, and I don't think you want me to go find a tour guide and ask, do you?"
Josh ducked his head, shaking it slightly.
"Anyway, Sam's here," Donna added, stealing a quick glance to see how he'd take being drafted; he still looked shocky and disoriented, so she suspected he wouldn't put up a fight. "And I'll be right back, I promise."
Josh's head jerked up again, and his eyes narrowed. "Did you tell Sam so he could babysit me? You think I can't be left unattended for five minutes, just because--"
"Josh, I never think you should be left unattended, even when you're not three feet tall and naked. Why else was I here when you emailed me?"
Josh went on squinting at her, and Donna stared back, and then Sam cleared his throat and said, "He's not actually naked."
Donna had to stare at Sam for a couple of seconds before she processed that, and then she looked back at Josh. "Good. Do you want to come out from behind your desk and let me see how tall you are, then?"
Josh straightened up enough that she could see the tops of his tiny squared shoulders, his adult-Josh-sized undershirt sagging off one side. "No," he said stubbornly. "You can see how tall I am from there."
Donna sighed, leaned forward and slapped the screen of his laptop shut. Josh flinched but stood his ground, and she knelt down in front of the desk to get a better angle on how much taller than it he was: maybe six inches, give or take. "Three and a half feet," she announced. "But don't blame me if your footie pajamas don't fit right."
Josh's eyes went panicked-wide for a second, and she realized that maybe she shouldn't be giving mini-Josh as much crap as the regular sized version. Then his arm came up over the desk, one tiny finger pointing, and he said, "If you come back here with footie pajamas, you're fired."
"Yeah," Donna said, smiling and ignoring the finger as she leaned toward him across the desk, "you try that, big guy. Open your mouth."
Josh leaned back slightly from the desk. "What?" His voice went even higher when he was frustrated; it was kind of cute.
"Open your mouth," Donna repeated. "I want to look at your teeth and see how old you are."
He leaned forward again, glaring. "I'm not a horse, Donna."
"No, you have to be at least five feet at the shoulder to be a horse. Now open your mouth, Josh, and let me see which molars you have."
Josh let out a huffy little sigh and opened his mouth, tipping his head back and sticking his tongue out. He had twenty pearly-white baby teeth, no six-year molars in sight. Donna stood there, frowning and staring into his mouth, until he tried to say something without closing it, his tongue waving all over the place. "Anh Ah--"
"Shh, Josh, hang on. I'm still looking."
She kept staring for another solid minute before Sam gave it away, not converting his laugh to a cough quite fast enough. Josh snapped his mouth shut and his head down, and said, "You're just fucking with me now, aren't you?" It sounded so strange coming out of a pre-schooler's mouth that Donna couldn't really hold back a laugh, although she tried. Sort of.
"If you'd come out from behind the desk, you could probably kick me in the shin," she said.
Josh went on glaring at her for a second, and then turned sideways, took a quick darting step to get in front of Sam and, apparently, kicked him. Sam jumped back, and his strangled laugh turned into an indignant, "Ow! Hey!"
Josh disappeared back under the desk, and Donna patted the surface of it hard enough for him to hear underneath. "You boys have fun, now, and I'll be back soon."
She couldn't see Josh, but Sam's glare was plenty. Donna took off and didn't look back.
***
Sam stood staring at the opening under the desk. Josh had moved far enough underneath that Sam couldn't see him from here, and the ache in his shin suggested that Josh wouldn't welcome him coming closer. He could hear small sounds. Josh was fidgeting under there. Sam stuffed his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels. He opened his mouth to ask Josh to hang on while he went and got his laptop, and then winced and shut it again. This was the only crisis he was dealing with today.
Sam looked around and then turned his back, leaning against the edge of the desk. "Donna brought you a granola bar, if you're hungry. It's next to your laptop." He listened carefully, staring at the wall and thinking pointlessly about how much this wasn't in his job description, the long list of people more qualified to deal with the Deputy Chief of Staff being three feet tall and hidden under his desk. Behind him, there was the small sound of foil tearing.
After a moment, the small high voice he couldn't believe was Josh's when he wasn't looking said with its mouth full, "She brought me this before I threatened to fire her, didn't she."
"Yes, she did," Sam said, turning his head a little; not far enough to see Josh, but far enough that Josh would realize he was about to look.
The foil crinkled some more, and then Josh said, "You can turn around, Sam."
Sam turned around and got his first clear look at Josh, standing behind the desk, swimming in an undershirt. It was falling off one shoulder, the collar gapping away to reveal an ugly bright pink line on Josh's chest. Sam said, "Josh," and braced a hand on the desk. He couldn't take his eyes off the surgically-straight column of puckered skin.
Josh looked down at himself, and then back up at Sam with a slight frown. "It's just--it's the scar, from Rosslyn, it's." Sam looked away, because he couldn't get his face under control. He'd never seen Josh's scars before; it had never occurred to him before this second how careful Josh had probably been to make sure of that. The scar looked grotesque on a child's body. It looked grotesque on Josh's body. "It doesn't hurt," Josh muttered, but by the time Sam looked back at him he was turning away, ducking back under the desk.
"Josh," Sam said helplessly, but Josh reappeared right away, swathed in a wrinkled dress shirt, flapping around as he tried to get his hands clear of the sleeves. "Josh, here, let me do that."
Josh looked up at him, hesitating for a second, and then nodded and raised his arms. Sam came around behind the desk and quickly rolled the sleeves back, and back and back and back, until Josh's hands were revealed, fingers spread. He looked only at the shirt, or the top of Josh's head, and not at the scar Josh was trying to conceal. Josh did up the buttons himself, from the collar button on down to the bottom, and the tails of the shirt fell to his shins, leaving only his feet bare.
"There," Josh said, with a forced-looking smile. "That's better."
Sam smiled back, and didn't look anywhere below Josh's eyes.
***
Josh sat perched at the front of his desk chair with his hand on the desk, idly swiveling himself back and forth. Sam was sitting in the chair off to his left, not doing anything, which was kind of unnerving. Josh wanted to open up his laptop and try to do some of the work he'd meant to come in this morning to do in the first place, but his hands didn't fit the keys anymore, didn't seem to know how to do what he wanted; just typing and sending a short email to Donna had been insanely difficult, and he didn't want to try anything like that with Sam sitting there watching.
He looked around his office, trying not to catch Sam staring at him. It looked different, bigger and brighter and vaguely foreign. He swung himself to the right and pushed off, spinning his desk chair around completely, and Sam almost jumped out of his seat. Josh laughed for the first time in--he couldn't remember how long--and Sam met his eyes and smiled as he settled back into his seat, slouching a little this time.
Josh squirmed around to stand up on his chair, leaning against the back and peering up through the closed blinds toward the overcast sky, trying to swivel the chair by swinging his weight back and forth. It worked all right, but not really well. He was seized suddenly with the sense memory of swings, swinging up and back, up and back, hands clinging to the chains, legs pumping into the sky, and he wanted to-- No. God, no. He wasn't actually a kid, he couldn't do this. He had to focus. This was going to be a huge headache for everyone, he had to do what he could to prepare...
Josh rubbed a hand over his face, turned around and sat down again, avoiding looking at Sam. He opened his top desk drawer and stared into it instead, wondering if his cell phone would be easier to operate with smaller fingers. He could send text messages, maybe. He stared down at his coat, trying to remember where his phone was even as he tried to imagine what useful message he could send to anyone from it.
He could probably manage MTING CNCLD NO PANTS. Useful, in a sense, but CJ wouldn't appreciate the questions about him drunk-dialing congressmen. He'd have to let Donna take care of canceling his appointments, if this didn't un-happen by Monday. He tried not to think about that possibility, about two days in this body, about--
He was tired, though; his eyes stung and he couldn't stop thinking about it all of a sudden, panic clutching at his throat like it hadn't in more than a year. He could feel Sam watching him, and kept breathing, kept still, waited it out. He wanted to crawl under the desk again, but then Sam would know, and he didn't want Sam knowing.
Josh sighed and didn't rub his eyes. He picked up a box of paperclips instead, dumping them out on his desk. He had to focus to make his small, clumsy fingers link them together, and it kept him from thinking about anything else for a little while.
***
And, ahem, without going into a lot of detail, because I just found the chat transcript last night and fell dangerously in love with the whole story all over again: There are wacky hijinks, Josh gets all the hugs and cuddles you ever thought Josh Lyman might need, Leo gets to be Josh's dad really kind of for real, Sam and Donna get very close while dealing with Josh... and then Josh gets better! And there is Sam/Josh/Donna and Leo still ruffles Josh's hair sometimes (and Josh still calls him Dad sometimes) and everyone lives extremely happily ever after without any ill-advised moves to California. Or heart attacks. The end!
And that's it for WIP Amnesty, everybody! Thanks for being patient with me--and thanks for being so generous in your feedback to permanently unfinished stories--and I will now resume being quiet and working on something I do plan to finish. Someday. *g*