Rating: PG
Pairing: Donna/Will
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo (http://helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: Will can't sleep
Author's Note: For the LiveJournal First Lines1000 "It shouldn't be this hard" challenge, and for MichelleK, who ordered.

It shouldn't be this hard. Will's been the President's Deputy Communications Director for two years by now, and in that time, he's written countless remarks, hundreds of speeches, including an Inaugural address, not to mention two speeches dealing with the kidnapping of the President's daughter. He knows the President's speech patterns, knows exactly what words to put in his mouth, knows what pauses to put in there too, and he's at the stage in his career where when he puts fingers to keyboard, it's the President's voice he hears in his head, not his own.

None of which is helping him now.

"Why are you up?"

The voice behind him makes him jump, makes him immediately close the screen of his laptop. He knows it's a futile gesture, that she knows exactly what he's doing, and when he turns towards her, sees her standing at the kitchen door, arms crossed over her chest, one eyebrow raised, the same look he's seen her giving Josh a million times, he knows he's in trouble.

He's in trouble, but he's also too frustrated with the speech to try to flirt his way out of it. So instead, he goes for honesty. "I couldn't sleep," he says flatly, gesturing at the laptop.

A broad smile spreads across her face, and she takes a step towards him. Flirting evidently not beyond her, she all but purrs, "I could have helped you with that."

The effect her words have is exactly the one she was probably hoping for, because he chuckles, shaking his head. "I didn't want to wake you," he tells her, also honestly. "Josh has been working you too hard."

She's beside him by now, looking down at him, her hip brushing against the table. "You want to tell him that?" she questions, rolling her eyes.

"Pass." His answer is instinctive, because there's no way he's going to complain to Josh about how he treats Donna, the other man not being the most ardent proponent of their relationship, for reasons that Will prefers not to think about.

Pushing the thought aside, he pushes his chair back a little, and turns to her, reaching a hand up to her hip, the blue terrycloth robe rough against his palm. Grinning, she takes his wordless hint, arranging herself so that she's on his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck. He takes a moment to admire the sight of her smiling face, then leans forward, burying his head in her neck. He feels her take a deep breath, her sigh moving through his hair as one of her hands moves down to his back, the other fingering the hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Come back to bed," she murmurs finally, and while it's more tempting than he'd ever admit to anyone, even her, he lifts his head, looking balefully at his computer.

"This speech is never going to be ready," he decrees, and is considerably affronted when she chuckles.

"How many times have you said that?" she asks, and he's got to admit she has a point. "You'll write better after some sleep," she continues, and that makes him look up at her, lifting an eyebrow, mimicking her look from a few minutes earlier.

"That's not what you were offering earlier," he reminds her, and she affects innocence, literally batting her eyelashes at him.

"Me?" He'd take her more seriously if one hand hadn't slipped down his side and up under his T-shirt, tracing patterns there.

"You," he says firmly, fighting fire with fire, his hands moving around to the sash of her robe, easily undoing the loose knot there. He's not in the least bit surprised when he finds nothing underneath but smooth alabaster skin, nor when she winds her arms back around his neck, pressing herself against him.

"Just because I hate waking up alone…" she murmurs, and a pang of guilt, as well as something else, washes over him, and he doesn't reply, suddenly finds the texture of her robe far more interesting than her skin, the computer screen, anything else around him. She must see that, because she straightens, says, "Hey," in a very work-like Donna-voice, and tilts his chin up, making her look at him. "I was kidding you know."

He does know that; it's just that sometimes, he also knows that many a true word is spoken in jest. "I'm sorry," he sighs, not sure if he's talking about the speech, or about her, and she shakes her head, her clear blue eyes filled with sympathy.

"There's nothing to be sorry for Will," she tells him, and when he doesn't say anything, she continues, insisting, "I understand what you're going through… I work there too."

She's right, and he knows it, but he sighs again anyway. "It's just…" He sighs again, shakes his head. "It shouldn't be this hard," he finally whispers.

Her lips curl up in the tiniest of gentle smiles. "Well, you know what they say," she replies, and he frowns up at her, silently requesting elaboration. "If it was easy, anyone could do it."

A small smile comes to his own face. "That's one of my dad's favourite sayings. He usually finishes it off with 'some things are worth the trouble'."

She shrugs. "He's a very wise man you know."

Her voice is dry, and he reaches up, brushing her hair back from over her shoulder. "And you're a very wise woman."

"I am." Her eyes dance, and he smiles, a real, wide smile.

"And modest with it."

"Well, that was what first attracted you to me, right?"

"Among other things."

"Like my wisdom?"

He brings his lips to hers. "That too."

When she breaks the kiss, she eyes him seriously. "You know what my next suggestion, as a wise woman, is?"

He doesn't have to think for long, or even at all. "That we go back to bed?"

She stands, extends a hand. "I thought you'd never ask."