Better Said
Rating: PG
Pairing: Will/Donna
Word Count: 995
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: Written for the LiveJournal FirstLines1000 Challenge #14
There are
some things better left unsaid. Will knows this, so
just as he knows that honesty is always the best policy, there are times when
he keeps his mouth shut, is less than honest with people.
Like, for
example, when he doesn’t tell the utterly charming Donna Moss that he is
utterly charmed by her, partly because of the fact that they work together;
also because he’s pretty sure that the utterly charming Donna is utterly
charmed herself, by the somewhat less than charming Josh Lyman, and that’s not
something that Will even wants to think about getting in the middle of.
So he talks
to Donna, works alongside her, even on occasion sharing meals with her in the
White House mess, and as he gets to know her better, he finds himself even more
captivated by her. He doesn’t tell her so though, tells herself that he is
happy with simply being her friend.
He does
that until the day that he’s talking about his plans for the weekend, about how
his father gave him tickets for La Boheme
at the Kennedy Centre on Saturday night. Donna’s eyes instantly get all wide
and dreamy and she sighs, says that she loves the opera, that
she’d love to see it, and the words are out before he can stop himself.
“Come with
me.”
Her already
wide eyes get wider, and she shakes her head quickly from side to side, and she
stutters something about how she wasn’t hinting, how she didn’t mean to be
forward, and he knows from experience that if he doesn’t stop her then she’ll
keep babbling for hours. So he holds up a hand, says her name firmly a couple
of times before he can get a word in.
“I know
that,” he tells her. “And frankly, I’d love the company.”
She looks
hard at him, as if to tell if he’s lying, and then she smiles the most
beautiful smile he’s seen in a long time. “I’d love to,” she says.
Later,
Elsie is furious at him, because it was her ticket that she gave away, but when
she hears that Donna is accompanying him, all is forgiven.
Even if it
wasn’t though, Elsie’s ire would be worth the sight of the Donna that answers
the door when Will arrives at her place. She is wearing a long black cocktail dress,
something strappy and slinky, her hair pinned up in an unspeakably elegant
style and she looks nothing less than ravishing. Which it takes him several
attempts to stutter out, but from the grin on her face, she appears to think
his lockjaw is cute, which is lucky for him.
Ravishing
as she looks though, Donna still is apprehensive when they arrive at the
Kennedy Centre, looking at the other women there, some of whom are clad in far
more decadent style than she, but to Will’s eyes, none of them can hold a
candle to her, and, emboldened by her arm in his, he tells her so, receives
another one of those blinding Donna-smiles for his troubles. They chat over a
drink before the show, and when they take their seats, Will know he should be
looking at the stage, but he’s more interested in Donna’s reactions, in the
obvious enjoyment she’s deriving from the spectacle. And at the end, when he
hears her sniffling quietly, when there are tears shining in her eyes, he hands
her over his handkerchief, a gesture that makes her cheeks flush pink as she
accepts it, mouthing “Thank you,” before dabbling carefully at her eyes.
When the
play is over, he gives her a few moments to compose herself, then
they walk back out into the lobby, where he helps her on with her coat before
they walk back to his car. He tries not to notice that she seems to be holding
on to his arm a little tighter than she was earlier on, tells himself that it’s
because of the cold, because she’s tired, perhaps a little unsteady on her
feet.
He fails
completely.
How he
manages to drive safely back to her place is a mystery to him, but he makes it,
and she turns to him, asks him up for coffee. He demurs at first, because it is
late and they have to be up and in the West Wing in a few hours, but she
insists and she gives him a pleading look and he can’t say no to her.
So he goes
up to her place and sits on her couch and drinks her coffee as cats crawl all
over him, and she apologises profusely. He finds it funny though, tells her
that he doesn’t mind, and he honestly doesn’t, because he’s sitting with her
and there is nowhere else he’d rather be.
When it is
time for him to go, he stands at her front door as she hands him his coat, and
he wonders what to say, something honest, yet not honest enough to clue her in
on his real feelings for her. He finally settles for “I had a really good time
tonight Donna,” wincing when he hears how trite it sounds.
Donna
doesn’t seem to find it trite though, because she looks down, then up at him through her lashes, hands joined behind her
back, a funny little smile on her face. “So did I,”
she says, then there’s a pause. “Except…”
He frowns,
tilts his head curiously. “Except what?”
Another pause. “Except this.” With that, she leans forward,
presses her lips to his, and before he can think about it, he is kissing her
back, wrapping his arms around her, and he doesn’t let her go, not that night,
and when she is sleeping in his arms, when he looks down at her, he marvels
over how this all started, with a simple unthinking question.
There are
some things, Will knows, that are better left unsaid.
There are
some that aren’t.