#I was stressed a mutual reblogged Tessa and Scott doing Moulin Rouge at PyeongChang and I am weak ok

[aerielz]

Oh please could you do “just take my hand” for j/d?

Last one was so angsty I decided this one would be just straight up post-canon fluff!

The night is cold, but pleasant, and he’s enjoying himself, which is not as much of a rare occurrence as it used to be. Relaxing still doesn't come naturally, and Josh figures perhaps it never will. But he’s learned to push aside the press, and the threats, and the pressure, and congress. It's there, in his pocket, a phone call away. But for now, it is tame.

At this moment all that worries him is the air of amused understanding Toby has about him.

Donna walks ahead of them, almost bouncing on her feet, leading the way across Central Park to some place Josh’s not sure what it is, and Toby watches as her giddy form guides them to… wherever. He keeps glancing between the two of them, something clearly on his mind.

Up until Josh can’t take it anymore.

“What?,” he asks, eyes darting to Donna, mirroring Toby, as some structure starts to become clear.

Toby just shakes his head.

“What?”

“I’m just surprised you’re okay with this.”

Josh shrugs, legitimately confused. “With what?”

“You really don’t know,” Toby lets out a genuine laugh, “Your obliviousness truly is dumbfounding.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?,” he answers, just in time to look up and see what it is that they’ve been approaching all along. “Oh.”

They catch up to Donna at the edge of an ice skating rink, as she’s hooking her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the both of them to the woman behind the counter.

“Oh,” he repeats.

It’s a big and loud place, not packed, by any means, but it is tourist season: there's enough of a crowd inside the rink to lose someone in, and families and couples stand outside, too, just as entertained to watch as the ones inside are to skate. The harsh lights that light up the attraction mark a big spot in the night, making it stand out from a great distance.

It’s an impressive feat that he managed to completely miss it.

“Why did you think we were coming to the Park at this hour?,” Toby asks.

Josh takes a second. Shrugs. “Sightseeing?”

“Without an agenda…? Her?,” he points to Donna.

If she’s offended by the take, she doesn’t let it show. Donna doesn’t even turn around — she just hands the woman in front of her a few bills and thanks her when she motions for them to enter a waiting area.

Toby follows Donna into it, and Josh stays where he is, brow furrowed in a grimace.

He opens his mouth to protest, but closes it immediately.

If he thinks about it, it was rather obvious, wasn’t it? It’s entirely expected that she’d drag them into this along with her — it’s Donna, they’re in New York in the middle of winter and she’s asked him for skis that one Christmas, for crying out loud —, it’s not like it’s a stretch.

If it’s her leading the way, he’ll follow. He doesn’t care where they’re going anymore. But it’s not his blind trust in her that takes him further this time, it’s her excitement about the whole thing. There’s something different about it, something he can’t quite grasp. Josh can understand how he got himself into this position. What he can’t understand is why, when he looks at her, he sees her face light up like Time Square.

She sits down at the bench and takes off her boots to put on the skates with an ease that spells practice, and Josh observes her motions, a tad mesmerized, following suit even if the familiarity in her gestures is something he can't copy. It’s just tying a shoe, but he feels like he’s fumbling.

Donna enters the rink tentatively, but quickly glides away from the edge, gaining an easy confidence in her footing far faster than Josh would think was possible. She’s out a few feet, being soon joined by Toby, before realizing he’s not beside her. She angles her body sideways and skids to a halt, looking back to wait for him.

It's his first mistake, really — having waited for her to look back. He should've just gotten it over with while she was distracted, but, alas, now he has a proper audience.

Josh takes his first steps into the ice with way too much confidence and both his legs decide to go opposite ways, sending his butt to the ground.

Donna’s eyes widen. She tries very hard not to smile.

(And fails.)

“Oh my god, you can’t ice skate,” Donna glides back to the entrance and bends down to help him get on his feet, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were making it seem easy, I thought it couldn't be that hard."

"You've never done this before?,” Toby says from beside Donna.

Josh shrugs, taking Donna's hand.

"I don’t understand, you're from Connecticut.”

"What, and that’s a requirement, now?,” He has a good grip on Donna's hand, but he can't decide how exactly to stand up. Josh tries putting both his legs under himself, and they won't stay put where he wants them, sliding everywhere no matter what he does, “Jesus, why do people think this is fun?!"

“I don't know, I’m having quite a lot of fun,” Donna teases.

“Yes, but you're a sadist,” he replies.

“She's a masochist, is what she is,” Toby chimes in, taking enough pity on him to help, “Nothing else explains willingly being around you for this long.”

With Toby pulling him by his other hand Josh finally finds enough purchase on the ice to more of less stabilize himself on the blades.

It's a fragile balance. To say the least.

“Oh, god, I’m gonna die,” he all but gasps, tightening his grip on Toby's and Donna's arms, “I’m gonna die or— or— I’ll fall again and then someone’s gonna go over my fingers and. I don’t know, chop them off. Look at these things, they're deadly.”

“They're rentals, they're blunter than Lou on a Friday night at the podium,” Donna remarks.

Josh looks at her, “Bringing Lou into this will not make me feel any safer.”

“What were you doing your entire childhood?,” Toby asks.

“Studying.”

“That’s just sad.”

“Yeah, well, I know that now.”

“It takes a while to get used to it, but it's not that hard,” Donna says, “Just… baby steps.”

Both Donna and Toby let go of Josh and he stays upright, which, as far as the three of them are concerned, looks like progress.

He tries to take a step and his balance fails him, again, having him make a wild grab at whatever’s closest.

He ends up throwing his entire weight on Toby, who says, “Or perhaps just… try to stay upright for a couple minutes, you know, get used to that.”

“Well, you do it, then, if it's so easy.”

“I am doing it, in fact my ability to stay on top of ice skates is the only thing separating you from certain death, right now.”

“Listen—”

“God, you’re both insufferable,” Donna complains.

Josh disengages his grip on Toby’s arm and defiantly leans away, falling to the other side, instead, to the safety of the rails, “—I'll need five minutes tops, you'll see, I'll be skating circles around you—”

“You wanna spend the time we have on ice arguing, fine,” Donna continues, “I'm gonna try something else.”

“—I'm adaptable, it's my whole thing. Tell him, Donna.”

He turns to her for support and it's just in time to see her floating away from them.

The annoyance he feels at the insignificant betrayal doesn't survive watching her as she skates, though.

Most of the people doing rounds around them look clumsy and unsure on the ice, but Donna looks like she’s home. There’s a unique freedom to her movements, a confidence, that looks good on her. She has the turn of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like she does when she convinces senators to shut up and listen, but it’s lighter, here. She leans her body away from the railing to take a turn and it’s almost like there’s not a single tense muscle on her body, like she’s gliding without any effort.

Josh stays where he is, gripping the guard rail with both his hands, watching dumbly as she does not much else then make a full turn around the rink. When she’s not too far away from where she started, Donna diverts to the center of the ice, where there’s no one and the ice is even. She brings her feet closer together and her arms closer to her chest, which sends her body into a slow spin around its own axis. It’s not fast, but it’s graceful, and she looks focused on her own movements, enjoying each second, purpose behind every move — like when she kisses him, when she unbuttons his shirt, when she’s drawing her own name out of his lips.

The comparison is a little out of place, and makes him blush, but the truth is that Josh knows her joy like he knows his own. Both are, after all, intimately connected. So as he watches Donna’s happiness from afar, he lets himself feel it, too.

His mouth hangs open, when she comes closer to where he is with Toby.

"How did you—” he says, a dumb smile on his face, “How come I didn’t know you could do that?”

He sounds giddy, almost innocent in his laughter. Donna’s cheeks burn red with the effort and the effect of his gaze.

She shrugs, and turns around to face him, ”You never asked.”

“I’ve known you for eleven years. We’ve been married for two of those, how come I didn’t know you can figure skate, this is ridiculous.”

“I can’t figure skate, Josh, it's just really basic stuff.”

“You should’ve shown me this when we met, I’d have married you on the spot.”

“Would’ve shaved off six months tops,” Toby chimes in.

“I’m serious.”

“We work every waking hour, Josh, not a lot of skate rinks open at three in the morning in DC.”

“We met in New Hampshire, there’d have been a lake. Or. Something.”

“Honey.”

“I’m sorry, I’m... processing.”

“It’s not anything impressive.”

“From where I’m standing it looks pretty fucking impressive.”

“Can't believe I'm saying this,” Toby says, “But I'm with Josh in this one.”

“You're not helping, Toby. C'mon, it's really easy,” she extends Josh a hand, “I’ll show you.”

“No, I,” Josh gives her a nervous laugh, “I think I’m fine here.”

“Come on,” she insists, “Take my hand.”

He’s curious enough to consider, but, still… “You really think that’s a good idea?”

“You wanted to be a ballerina, there has to be some sort of body awareness in you.”

“You do know I never took a single ballet class, right.”

“Just take my hand,” she insists, “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Yes, take her hand, Josh,” Toby says, and his is the face of a man who knows he's about to have an inordinate amount of fun at the expense of someone else. “You're going to be absolutely fine.”

Josh gives him a look, to which Toby's smile just widens.

That silent and childish challenge is more than enough to convince Josh to actually do it. He takes a deep breath and leans away from the railing, taking both of Donna's hands, one in each of his.

“Oh, god.”

Donna brings him closer to her and grips him at the elbows, so they're more safely linked. She sinks the brakes in the ice and pushes back and takes him with her when she slides back.

“Oh, god. Oh, God, Oh god,” Josh keeps saying.

“You’re stiff as a plank, you’re gonna break something,” she says, laughing.

“Oh, God, I’m gonna break something.”

“No — oh my god — here, just—,” Donna takes one of her hands away from his elbow.

“Donna—”

“Shh, just calm down. Look here, look at me,” she says, gently laying her hand over his cheek, “Josh?”

He looks up, locking his eyes to hers.

“Just keep looking at me, okay?”

He nods, a bit frantic.

“Just relax, honey,” she says, moving her thumb over his skin.

It’s like each stroke removes something from him, something that should never have been there in the first place. The tension in his jaw instantly vanishes. He breathes a little slower.

Donna smiles, her eyes still on his, and slides her hand down, over his neck. He releases the tightness there, too.

They’ve been here before, they both have this program down pat.

When he had panic attacks in the middle of the night, a decade ago, she’d calm him down like this. She couldn’t call him honey back then, and he didn’t know she tasted just as sweet, but the routine is the same. It's Donna gliding her fingers over his skin, giving him something to focus on, taking him out of his head.

Following this practiced dance of their own creation, Donna’s hand slide down again to his chest, his heart right below her palm under layers of clothing. Josh’s entire upper body relaxes.

Less rigid, he feels less like he’s about to topple over. He can focus on the cutting winter wind on his face instead, then; and this nice sensation under his feet that's almost like floating, which is the closest he'll ever be to flying.

It's a clumsy taste of a freedom she knows a lot better than him, yes. But a taste of it, regardless.

He feels more stable, more confident, and she notices it.

Josh is not paying attention to it enough to know how she does it, but whatever it is, it sends them both spinning, like she did before. It feels good. He can almost pretend he knows what he’s doing. Josh laughs, and he's not sure why, or where it came from, but he knows it's the right thing to be doing right now.

Snow starts to fall over them, showering them in white very lightly; very slowly. Flakes dust Donna’s hair and the harsh white lights of the rink hit her from behind and cast a halo around her frame — she looks downright angelical, it’s absolutely ludicrous. He can't stop smiling.

When they come to a halt, Josh pulls her closer, touching his forehead to hers.

He thought the ridiculous part of being in love with her had been over years ago. So naive of him.

“Not so bad, huh?,” she whispers.

Her nose is cold when he kisses it. Her lips too. He lingers, her face touching his, and feels the space between them warming up.

“You’re both disgusting.” Toby screams from not very far.

Donna kisses him, this time, and he takes her bottom lip between his. There's nothing else beside the feeling of her, then, that tentative way Donnatella Moss— not being a fan of this sort of public display of affection — nibbles at his own lips, as if she doesn't have his ring around her finger.

Josh never feels his phone vibrating in the pocket of his coat. Not then, and not five minutes later when it rings again.

He’ll only remember it exists after he takes it out of his pocket when they're back in Toby’s guest room. Donna is pulling a fluffy, horrid, Christmas sweater over her tank top when he notices the screen cracked beyond repair.

“That wasn't like that this morning, was it?,” she asks, noticing it too.

“Yeah, no. I think repeatedly falling on my butt this evening has something to do with it, though.”

“There has to be some place that can get it fixed, we can ask Toby.”

He thumbs the glass and watches the mess of lines and lights flicker under the pressure. There's nothing recognizable coming through.

He shrugs. “You know how the Secret Service is with these things.”

Donna comes behind him to put her arms around his midriff, watching him play with the useless cellphone over his shoulder.

“What if it's some sort of national emergency?,” she asks.

“Sam would've called you and asked for me,” he says, “Or just let you solve it. God knows by now everyone knows you can do this better than me.”

“Damn right I do,” she plays along, kissing the nape of his neck and getting a hum of appreciation out of him, “But, seriously, honey—”

“It's our weekend off,” Josh says, turning around to pull her into his arms properly, “I have other priorities.”

He can tell she's trying to hide her relief, but Donna melts against him, a little, and a smile tug at the corner of her lips as she rests both her hands against his chest. He can still feel the lightness of watching her do spirals or swizzles or whatever-the-hell-those-were-called — can still taste that freedom he found in her smile.

(A couple of years in, but they’re both still getting used to this. To the enormity of this thing they do, and the things they’re building together, which, somehow, feel bigger.)

“I'll get it fixed when we come back home,” he tells her. Donna nods, fits herself in his embrace. “And then we'll find you some skates, and a rink, and you'll show me exactly what it is that you've been hiding from me all these years.”