Where We Go From Here

Title: Afternoon and Night (1/1)

Title: Afternoon and Night (1/1)
Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17
Archive: If you have some of my other stuff, feel free to have this too. New archives - drop me a line first.
Pairing: Donna/Leo
Summary: Donna and Leo spend a Sunday together. (sequel to 'In Need')

Disclaimer: Characters from "The West Wing" don't belong to me. Instead, they are the sole property of Aaron Sorkin, Warner Brothers Television and NBC.

Much thanks: To all the people who sent me feedback on the first two stories. I didn't think anyone would go for this pairing, but I guess I was wrong. Sometimes it's so good to be wrong. :) Please prove me wrong again. (That was, btw, a desperate plea for more feedback.)

Notes: Written in Donna's POV.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Sunday**
**1:54 p.m.**

I'm going to see Leo today. This is only the third time that we've actually planned to see each other. The third time that could technically be called a 'date.'

I'm still not sure what to call the first two times we were together. Unplanned, to be sure.

But this was planned. He asked me here. We've really made up our minds to give this a chance.

It's been difficult finding time to see each other. I'm busy trying to run Josh's life; he's busy dealing with things that are even more arduous.

But we've managed to eke out some time for each other.

Time like today.

He didn't go to work today. He stayed home so he could spend the time with me. Granted, today is Sunday and not technically a workday. But he's been known to work many a Sunday, so I do consider this special.

He's mine for the day, barring a crisis. Knowing my luck, there probably will be a crisis - but I don't have to deal with that now.

It's a little before two when I arrive. I have on one of my favorite dresses: it's light and short - but not too short. Perfect for a nice spring day like today. And, I should note, very easy to take off.

I have such a dirty mind sometimes.

I knock on the door. Leo answers.

He's wearing a T-shirt and jeans, which surprises me at first. I've never seen him wear anything besides a suit or, when the occasion calls, a tuxedo. I have seen him *out* of a suit, which is another thing entirely. It never even occurred to me that Leo would own jeans. But he does. And he looks damn good in them.

"Hey," I say with a smile.

"Come in," he says as he moves back enough to allow me inside.

I take his invitation, slightly brushing up against him as I move in.

He closes the door behind me. "You look wonderful," he says.

"You don't look too bad yourself," I reply. "Come here," I say as I grab his shirt and pull him toward me.

Our lips meet tentatively at first, but he quickly relaxes against me.

"Happy you didn't go into work today?" I ask.

"I'll admit I'm not depressed about it," he says with a genuine smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**2:44 p.m.**

We're sitting on the couch watching television - well, not *really* watching. Watching implies that I really care about what is on. I don't really. It's just background noise during my time with him.

He flips through the channels quickly - nothing seems to catch his interest. None of it catches my interest either.

I lean towards him a little, and he puts his arm around me.

I smile a little, until I realize that he's just passed by one of the greatest shows ever made.

"Hey! Put that back on!" I protest.

"What?" he replies.

"Knight Rider."

"Knight Rider?" he returns skeptically.

"It's very underrated," I say.

"Isn't that the one where the car talks?"

"Plenty of great films and television shows feature talking machinery," I say in defense of my own taste.

"Okay," he replies simply as he turns the channel back to 'Knight Rider.' That was a surprisingly easy victory. Deep down, a Hasslehoff fan lives inside all of us.

It's then that the phone rings.

I'm startled at first. What if some sort of crisis has arisen? As I said before, that would be just my luck.

"I'll be right back," he vows as he gets up. He picks up the phone. "Hello?" Pause. "Hey, Mal."

He takes the phone in the kitchen as he continues the conversation.

I sigh a little, feeling relieved. Nothing horrible could've happened, or Leo wouldn't have seemed so calm.

Hmm. Mallory.

If there's one person whose reaction I fear, it's hers.

I know she won't be happy; I can almost see her head exploding.

But I don't have to worry about that for the moment.

He returns to the room a few minutes later. "The talking car still on?"

"Yes. And I think you should give it a chance."

"I am giving it a chance," he replies. "I haven't thrown the TV out the window." He sits back down and moves his arm around me once again. I settle back towards him.

"You wouldn't put innocent people at risk like that," I respond playfully as I run my hand across his abdomen.

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see what the car says," Leo retorts.

"What did Mallory say?" I ask.

"Nothing much. She wants me to go out to lunch with her and her new boyfriend."

"New? What happened to the hockey guy?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "They broke up. She didn't tell me why."

I pause for a moment. "Leo, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"When we tell Mallory about us, do you think her head will explode?"

"Hopefully not." He sighs. "But probably."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**4:05 p.m.**

"So, tell me something I don't know."

He looks at me strangely for a moment. "Well, the President was giving me a lecture on the history of underwear--"

"I'm sure that was fascinating--"

"It wasn't--"

"--but I was thinking of something more personal."

He shrugs. "You know things about me."

"I want to know something new," I say. "Although the fact that the President lectures you on the history of underwear is a fascinating tidbit," I add.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" he asks.

"Okay...What about your parents?" I throw out.

"My mother had a heart attack five years ago."

"And your father?"

"He's been dead for years," Leo replies. "I'm going to get a soda. You want anything?" he changes the subject abruptly.

"No, I'm fine."

He exits into the kitchen, and I'm left wondering if there's something more to the story of Leo's father. I think there is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**6:02 p.m.**

He's making dinner for me. I've never had a man make dinner for me. Well once, my old boyfriend Larry - who will always be known as 'Dr. Free Ride' - made a TV dinner for me. But that doesn't count because: 1) all he had to do was shove it in the microwave; and 2) he was a jerk.

Even if he was making the most incredible food ever consumed, he would still be the guy who caused me to drop out of college, screwed around on me, and did a lot of other horrible things that I don't even feel like getting into.

But I'm getting off the point.

The point is that Leo is making me dinner. It's nothing extravagant - just some pasta and Prego. But he's making me dinner.

I really can't stress how sweet this is.

Leo brings in the food with a warm grin across his face. "I think it should be okay," he says. "There aren't many ways to screw up spaghetti."

"I'm sure it's great," I reply with a smile.

It just occurred to me that I have a really great boyfriend.

Oh.

It just occurred to me that I have a boyfriend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**8:11 p.m.**

It's after dinner and we're back on the couch. His hands are gently moving through my hair.

"I never realized that you were such a master chef," I say.

"I can boil water with the best of them," he declares with a touch of sarcasm.

"Uh huh," I say as I draw him into a kiss. I pull back after a moment, moving a finger down his chin. "I'll be right back." I get up, removing myself from his arms.

"Where are you going?" Leo inquires.

"Not too far," I reply as I cross to his CD player. I pick a random CD and put it in. The music is just what I was looking for: soft and romantic.

I hold my hand out to him. "Dance with me," I say.

He looks a little hesitant, but he takes my hand without protest and moves towards me. I throw my hands around his neck and let my head rest on his shoulder. He rests his hands at my hips.

We begin to sway to the music - we're no Fred and Ginger, but I think we do okay.

His hands move to my back, gently rubbing me through the thin fabric. I sigh a little at the contact as I sink deeper into his arms.

The music fades into the background as my senses focus on him. How he feels; how he smells. I flick my tongue at his neck, tasting the sweetness of his skin. He responds by brushing his lips against my ear.

"I don't think we're going to win any dancing contests," he whispers.

"Don't be so modest," I reply with a smile. "We're great."

I move my head off of his shoulder so my eyes can meet his. He's smiling at me. I love when he smiles at me. It makes me feel so warm.

"You're just optimistic," Leo replies.

"And that's one of my many charms," I retort.

"Yeah," he agrees. He moves one of his hands off of my back and brushes my hair away from my face. His fingers caress the side of my neck.

"Yeah?" I r. "W. "What are some of my other charms?" I graze my lips against his cheek.

"There are too many to mention."

At first, I honestly think he's joking. It sounds false somehow; maybe part of me thinks he can't actually be that enamoured with me. But there's an utter sincerity to his voice and eyes that let's me know he's serious.

"Yeah?" I say. "I can understand why you would say that," I add with a sly smile. "Men across the nation are ready to fall at my feet."

"Yeah," he affirms. This time, it's his lips that brush across my cheek.

I tilt my head, willing our mouths to meet. Our lips barely touch at first; it could almost seem accidental, but we are both aware of our intentions.

I'm not sure whose lips press against whose first; who is the first to slide their tongue into the others' mouth. It's one of those incredible moments in which the order of things is trumped by the sensations they cause.

We're not swaying anymore. We're still - I don't want to move and break any part of our contact. I can feel one of his hands on the side of my face; the other one travels downward to my ass. I moan my approval into his mouth.

Leo responds by lifting up my dress just enough to slide his hand down the back of my underwear.

I break off the kiss, letting myself fully react to the feel of his hand against my bare skin. "Leo," I mutter breathlessly.

"Yeah?"

"That feels nice," I reply.

I kiss him lightly as I let my hands travel away from the back of his neck. I run my hands down the front of his shirt, stopping at his waist. I tug the shirt out of his jeans and move my palms up his chest. I take his nipples in my fingers and squeeze them slightly.

"How does that feel?" I ask him.

"Nice," he replies softly.

I push up his shirt; he has to take his hands off me in order to take it all the way off. I let the garment fall to the floor.

I draw his face back to mine, moving my mouth tenderly against his. His arms wrap around my waist, gently guiding me closer to him. There's barely any space between us. And that's how I want it.

"Donna," he pants, his breath hot on my cheek.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"You feel nice," he says huskily.

Somehow, the languorous pace of the low music invades us as we begin to sway again. My hands rub his shoulders, and I can feel the core of tension that lingers deep within him diminish slightly.

I look into his eyes, and I can briefly see it. The wondering - wondering why I'm with him, why I want him. The categorization of every that could go wrong - why it could end, and end badly. Why us being together is a bad idea. There is usually a moment when I can detect his doubt.

But it fades. For whatever reason, he's decided that it's worth it. That I'm worth it.

I know that he's worth it.

We drift to the bedroom together. It doesn't even seem like we're walking, for some reason. Maybe we're dancing.

I part from him slightly, just enough to successfully slide my dress over my head. Leo's lips roam tentatively down the sensitive flesh of my neck as his hands travel to my back. He unhooks my bra, but the closeness of our bodies keeps it from falling to the ground. I move away from him again, letting my bra slide away. I push down my panties, letting them join my other undergarment on the floor.

"By current standards, it seems like you're overdressed," I whisper playfully as I tug on his jeans.

He apparently agrees with me, for he unfastens the top button and slides down the zipper. I join him in pushing the clothes off and assist him in kicking the garments to the side.

I lie down on the bed. He lies down next to me, resting on his side. He kisses me as his hand caresses my breast.

"Ah," I breathe. Our mouths part, but the distance between us is minimal. "Nice," I utter as he moves his thumb around my nipple. He lowers his mouth to me, gently nipping on my tender skin.

"Leo," I sigh as my heart begins to beat at a rapid pace. "Come here," I say as I grab the sides of him and pull him on top of me.

I arch myself to him, deliberately rubbing my sex against his.

He groans softly as he moves his hand between my legs to touch me intimately. I gasp as his fingers make contact with my clit, touching it softly but effectively. "Now," I mutter. "I want to feel you now."

He obliges, sliding himself into me in one hard stroke.

"Leo," I moan. "That feels very nice."

He smiles a little as he moves his hand upwards again, feeling my side. He sinks deeper in me as he presses his body harder against mine.

"Very nice," I affirm as I wrap a leg around him, pressing up on him as insistently as he's pressing down on me.

He kisses me softly before he pulls back slowly and thrusts into me again.

I look into his eyes, and I see it. It's a different it than before. This time, it's intensity. It's desire. This is how he always looks when he makes love to me. It's as if he wants me completely - as if he's been waiting for this forever. It makes me feel incredible - and it's one of the reasons that being with him feels so good.

His hands move to my hips, his fingers lightly dancing over my skin as he continues his movements. I clasp my hand over his, slightly digging my fingernails into him. Leo moves his hand so our palms can touch. We interlace our fingers, clasping our hands together. I have to let him push my hand into the pillow above our heads to retain my grip on him.

"Leo," I moan as he plunges a little deeper into me.

"Donna," he replies as breathlessly.

"Better than nice."

My other hand moves to touch his chest, feeling the sweat that's shimmering on his skin. I grab onto his back, pulling him even closer to me.

He smoothes hair out of my face, brushing his lips against my forehead as he pushes into me again.

"Oh God," I cry. I can feel myself on the cusp. "Faster," I plead.

He hesitates a moment before he begins again, his pace quicker.

"Yes," I gasp. It only takes a few more thrusts for the orgasm to crash over me. I tighten my grasp on his hand - so tight that I'm almost afraid I'm hurting him. But my fears are allayed as his grip tightens with mine. I moan deeply as I buck my hips against him.

He pushes back at me forcefully as his palm presses against mine. He shifts his weight a little, pulling away from me slightly. It's the smallest of distances, but I still resent it.

He slams back into me one last time, releasing everything that had been building up inside him.

He rolls off of me, taking my hand with him. He kisses my palm before grasping my hand tightly again. I turn onto my side and rest my head right by his on the pillow. He lets his other arm slide around me, his fingers dancing across my spine.

He turns his head a little to look at me. "Nice?" he asks softly.

"Yeah," I return quickly, my breath still a little ragged. "You could say that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**11:49 p.m.**

We lie in bed for a long while afterward, speaking in hushed tones, softly touching each other in the darkness.

The time after, I think, can be just as good as the sex. There's something intimate about it. Basking in the radiance of making each other feel incredible, smelling the lingering aroma of sex. With the wrong guy, this time can be horrible and awkward. With the right guy, it can be incredible.

With Leo, it's incredible.

"How can you have had that many majors?" he asks as his fingers move up and down my arm.

"It was only five majors and two minors," I reply. "I was interested in many things."

"But that's about five interests too many."

"Did you know what you wanted to do with the rest of your life when you were eighteen?" I retort.

"Yes," he replies.

"Well, you're a freak then," I reply as I slide my foot against his leg.

"I'm not the one who loves the talking car show."

I pinch his side.

"Ow! Fine, it's extremely underrated."

"Right on," I reply, victorious.

"Right on?"

"'Mod Squad' reruns."

"I'm still the strange one?" he asks skeptically.

"Yes."

"Alright."

"Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"Why does the President know about the history of underwear?"

"I don't know. And I don't think I want to know."

"Okay." I pause for a second. "Leo, if I asked you something, would you promise to answer me?"

"Sure."

"What happened to your father? I felt like there was something more to it..." My voice drifts off. "You don't have to, though," I add.

"No, you asked, I'll tell you." His face is only illuminated by the faint glow of the outside streetlights. I can barely see him. But I can hear him. His tone is oddly matter-of-fact when he says it. "He killed himself. He came home drunk one night, fought with my mother. Then he went out to the garage and shot himself in the head."

I'm speechless for a moment. "I'm sorry," I say, feeling a little lame as the words drop out of my mouth.

"It was probably for the best," he replies.

I turn fully on my side to face him. "Leo," I say softly.

"You know, I was always afraid of being like him. And I almost was him."

"You're not him."

"I know that now," he replies. "I know that."

It's now that his eyes meet mine. In the faint light, I can still see the history that lies within him; all the things that I don't know about. All the fear and pain that invaded his life. But, by whatever miracle, he overcame that. I know it's a struggle for him, but he's been winning.

If he hadn't pulled himself out of the darkness, I would never have had the chance to know him like this. I wouldn't have known how he's remarkable in so many different ways.

"Come here," I say softly as I pull him into an embrace.

The contact is as much for me as it is for him - maybe even more so. I need to know he's actually there. That we have this chance. That we're not letting it slip away.

His lips brush against my neck as he relaxes into my arms.

We've found this chance.

I'm not letting it go.

"Leo," I say softly.

"Yeah?"

"This feels nice," I say as we ease into each other's arms.

"I know," Leo replies.

THE END