Title: Lyrical

Summary: Just a little piece brought on by Josh's 'Wild Thing' comment in 'Inauguration: Over There.'

Rating: PG (really!)

Spoilers: Anything up to and including 'Inauguration' is fair game

Disclaimer: The West Wing and the characters are the intellectual property of Aaron Sorkin, et al. Needless to say, I’m not included among the 'et al'. This story insofar as it stands apart from the series belongs to me.

Archival Permission: It will be on my website (quid-nunc.tripod.com). Please ask before posting anywhere else.

Authors Notes: Dear Goddess, please tell me this isn't songfic . . .

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She'd been humming – almost inaudibly, but constantly. It was driving him crazy.

She'd been humming as she straightened her desk, humming as she dug through the file cabinet to procure the very information he needed, humming as she typed on the computer, humming as she walked to lunch.

He'd also noticed that she was smiling. A soft, omnipresent grin accompanied her humming and drove him to the brink of distraction. Clearly, his assistant was happy.

It wasn't that he begrudged her her happiness. It was that he wanted to spend all his time sharing in it. Watching her, he got nothing else done.

Finally, he could take no more. Emerging from his office, he leaned against the doorframe to ask, "Did you have a good time last night?"

The humming stopped. She turned to face him, her movements slow and languid without seeming deliberate. "Yeah . . ." Her eyes dropped to the floor, though a small smile still graced her lips. "It was great, Josh; I had an amazing time."

She flushed, almost as though she were recalling some private sybaritic rite, and his collar felt suddenly tighter. Clearing his throat, he informed her, "You've been humming."

"Oh?" She seemed startled, and then slowly began to realize. "Ohh . . . yeah . . ." Her blush deepened.

"Oh . . ." he echoed. Then, placing a finger under her chin, he tilted her head up so that she had no choice but to look him in the eye. "What's the song?"

Lowering her eyes again, she mumbled a response so low that he couldn't make it out.

"What was that?" he repeated and again steered her face toward his.

"Wild Thing," she finally admitted with a sigh.

He stood there, as flattered and embarrassed as she by the admission. Apparently taking his silence for confusion, she began to tunelessly sing the lyrics. "Wild thing . . . you make my heart sing . . . you make everything . . . groovy . . . Wild thing, I think . . ."

As she sang, his hand slowly made its way from her chin to her cheek. Her voice began to quake, as his fingers played over the fine hairs on the back of her neck. Finally, before either of them realized what was happening, he cut her off.

His lips met hers in a kiss that was both uncertain and assured, a resolution of everything that had happened up to that point and a promise of much more to come. He continued to caress the sensitive skin at the back of her neck while his tongue traced the full contours of her lips.

She responded, opening her mouth and clutching at his shirt trying to draw him closer. Finally, slowly, reluctantly, they broke apart. Her eyes were glassy and her breathing unsteady. Conscious suddenly of both his surroundings and his position, he asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah . . ." She was looking him in the eye now, confident and assured in a way she hadn't been only moments before. Sliding her hands down her chest as she stepped away from him, she repeated, "Yeah . . . I'm great."

He chuckled lightly, sharing in her joy. "Well, you're a LOUSY singer."

"I never claimed I wasn't," she countered with a mock pout.

"That's true," he agreed. Casually, he picked her hand up and began to run his thumb over it. "So how does the rest of the song go?"

"Wild thing . . . I think I . . ." She paused, swallowing hard. Then, with a deep breath started again, "Wild thing, I think I love you . . . but I wanna know for sure. . . Come on . . . hold me tight."

With a smile he brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. "Maybe your singing's not so bad after all."

Uncertain of where to go from there, he took a step back until he was once again in his office and she in the anteroom. "No, he repeated, not bad at all."

She took a step closer until she was poised right on the dividing line between the two rooms. "Thanks. I'll get back to work now unless you . . ."

"Wait . . ." He stepped back out of his office. "CJ told me about this new restaurant in Georgetown. Do you want to try it out tonight when we're done?"

Her eyes brightened. "You and me in a real sit-down restaurant - not take out?" Dimples played in the corner of her mouth. "I can't wait."

"I can't either," he agreed. "I can't either."

He stood in the doorway waiting until she was seated back at her desk, and then turned back to his office. "Wild thing," he sang under his breath, "I think I love you."

END