Muffins, Bagels and Baby Names. Chapter 1: It's positive

Disclaimer: Not mine. They're Aaron Sorkin's and WB's. They rock. I just write fanfic. Blame feedback on the bossa nova.

I just finished watching Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip and amongst other things I think I might speak for a few people when I say that the way we saw portrayed the relationship between Jordan and Danny Tripp was the way we all secretly wished we could've seen Josh and Donna develop. Just to satisfy our sad romantic sensibilities...
So this story is a Josh/Donna heavily borrowed and inspired by Jordan/Danny. It's not a crossover, just a borrowing. You'll recognize some elements form Studio 60. Bear with me... It's gonna be BIG romance.

Spoilers: Studio 60 and West Wing series 1-4 (minus Amy).

Chapter One: It's Positive.

Donna's POV:

I'm sitting on the edge of my bath tub. It's not a particularly great bath tub. Frankly, its a bit small for my tastes. I'm a tall woman, so I have to curl my knees up to fit in it, which kind of defies the point of taking a relaxing bath. Although I do use a deliciously scented bath creme with Dead Sea minerals which is really great for my alabaster skin. Which almost makes me feel like my bathtub is a luxurious place to be. Anyway. I'm getting distracted. The fact is, the last thing I'm thinking about right now is my bathtub, my bath creme, what kind of day it has been. My mind is pretty much focused on one thing. Only one thing. And it's scaring me so much.

The hand holding the small stick is trembling. I'm supposed to wait two minutes for the result, but I've been holding this stick in my hand for at least ten minutes. I'm too scared to look. I'm kinda nauseous. My roommate is out of town today and right now I'm not sure if I'm grateful of that, or if the idea of being alone here terrifies me even more than the potential result of this pregnancy test.

I never though I was that kind of girl, I'm not that kind of girl. I mean. I'm not a nun, I'm not the Catholic schoolgirl fantasy Josh seems to imagine I am. I've had a couple of flings. Sometimes you just want a nice night with a sweet guy and it doesn't necessarily go anywhere. But I'm careful. I'm not a cheap, easy date.

So here I am with a pregnancy test in my hand and I can't even remember what the hell the guy was wearing.

It was that kind of evening. It had been that kind of month. After weeks locked in the White House, working all hours, running after Josh, running after anyone else who needed to be run after. Late nights, stressful meetings. The President had gone off on one of his tangents and decided he wanted to change Constitutional law because of a documentary he'd seen on the History Channel and suddenly we were all on diets of caffeine and stale donuts and couldn't remember if it was 12 midday or 12 midnight. CJ had bags under her eyes that even a tube of Lancome touche éclat couldn't hide. Toby couldn't even smile at a Yankees win and Sam had stopped smiling altogether.

Adam Hamilton, a commercial lawyer from a downtown firm who I'd met several times my local coffee house, had asked me on a date and the idea of an evening of relative normality, a nice drink and decent meal outside of the four walls of the White House seemed as idyllic as three weeks on a caribbean island.

It had also... well... been a while. God, how embarassing. It's not something I'd normally talk about. But hey. That's the way it is. Plus Josh had been really Deputy Downer all week. All month it seemed. Not that, you know, I take it personally. But who am I kidding., Of course I do.

This is Josh. And I lost it for him bad ages ago. But that was a no go area. SO you move on. Or at least try. Try's a big word. Adam... was all about me trying...

And here I am. THe condom burst. It was accidental. I had protection, I had everything planned. We'd eaten at Carluccio's. I took the arugula and pinoli salad. Adam had salmon. We had a bottle of Syrah and coffee with liqueur. He was charming, witty, chatty. When he asked me up to his apartment for another coffee I said yes without a care in the world. determined to try to move on, to forget the month, to move beyond the closed, claustrophobic world I'd been stuck in the last weeks.

Coffee was sex. It was good. I'm not going to lie. BUt I spent most of it with my head somewhere else. You all know where. It was exactly what I needed. Until it was all over and Adam pointed out that the condom had ripped.

Was I on the pill?

Tired and nervous I lied. Me. Donna Moss. Who never lies. I looked him right in the eye, with ten million scenarios rushing through my head, none of them good and suddenly realised, however enjoyable a night it had been, I couldn't handle intimacy and confessions with this man. This charming, witty, polite and completely average stranger.

So I lied.

Yeah Adam, it's ok. I'm on the pill. Don't worry. No risks. - a small laugh- we're covered...

Here I am. Edge of the bath. Nausea fogging my thoughts. The damn stick is blinking pink.

Oh lord.

It's positive.