Atlantic City

Summary: Josh, Donna, CJ and Toby take a weekend trip to Atlantic City. Nothing can go wrong there, right?

Author's Notes: This has a total of 14 chapters. I don't think you need to know anything other than that.


"We shouldn't do this."

"Of course we should. You know you want to do this."

"Of course I want to, but we're going to get in huge trouble when they find out."

"Yes, but won't it be worth it?"

"Yeah, but you should know right away, I'm blaming it on you."

"I wouldn't expect anything different."

"Ok then, let's do this."


I wake up, groggy and hung over like never before. The room's spinning and the light just beginning to stream in through the window is blinding me. And my stomach. I'm not sure I've ever felt this sick in my life. How many did I have? And at what point did I switch from wine coolers to tequila?

I pry my head off Josh's chest and try to keep my eyes closed as I sit up. Well, that's not working, so I plop back down on him and try to stop the nausea from turning into vomit. Because quite frankly, if I do vomit, it wouldn't be polite to do it on my boss. That would just be….

Josh? My head is on Josh? Why is my head on Josh? I jump up, which causes the spinning to speed up and my stomach to all but hurl, and stare down at a sleeping, drooling, snoring, Josh. What in the hell am I doing in bed with Josh?

My first thought is to panic. I got drunk and slept with my boss? How cliché. And what's worse is that I don't remember any of it. How many times have I dreamt of sleeping with Josh, and this is how it happened? On a weekend trip to Atlantic City while drunk out of my mind? In my dreams, it always happens in one of two ways. A - we finally confess our undying love for one another, date for one to two weeks, have "the" talk, dance in his living room to old Beatles songs, and then spend hours learning each other's bodies, tasting every inch of each other, and making love until the sun comes up the next morning, then read the paper, drink coffee, and sleep the day away in each other's arms, or B- one night while working late at the office, we get into an argument and I turn to leave but just as I get to the door, he reaches out and slams it shut, pushing me against it and devouring me with his mouth while I frantically undo his belt and push his pants down around his ankles, wrapping my legs around his waste and biting down on his shoulder to stifle a moan as he enters me. But this? Drunk and unmemorable? This, I've never dreamt about.

I have to get up, but the room is spinning so much, I'm not sure I'll be able to walk. And at this point, I'm willing to pay upwards of $200 for some Tylenol. I try to focus, and my eyes drift once again to Josh. He's sound asleep. What am I going to do? If he was as drunk as I was, which he no doubt was, I might be able to sneak out of here and get back to my room, and he might never remember that we… After all, I don't. But if he does remember and we don't talk about it, it'll be a disaster, and I can't be immature enough to let that happen. No, we're going to have to discuss this like adults; Josh is just going to have to pretend to be one.

I get out of bed ever so slowly and stumble into the bathroom, where I hope Josh has ibuprofen in his toiletries. Yes! I find the bottle and take three. As I open my mouth, my breath nearly knocks me out cold. Whoa. I look around for a minute and then use his toothbrush. I know it's gross, but I've slept with him, we've already shared bodily fluids. And that just pisses me off. I can't even remember how he kissed? I've always imagined that we'd be just awesome at that, what with the bantering and all.

I stare at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth. Man I look like crap. My hair's tangled and has… what is that… confetti in it? Mascara's smeared under my eyes, making me look a little bit like Elvira, but without the boobs. My shirt has some sort of stain on it, and it's twisted around… wait a minute. My shirt?

I look down to see that I'm fully dressed. I know, maybe I should've noticed this before, but I don't think you're quite grasping how horrible I feel and how foggy my mind is right now. Anyway, I'm wearing the shirt I wore last night and a pair of what I guess is Josh's sweats. After sex, I got up and got dressed? Maybe we ordered pizza and stayed up talking? Was it bad sex, and I felt the need to get dressed afterwards to cover it up as much as possible? And why am I wearing my socks again? Did I have sex in socks? Please tell me I didn't have sex wearing socks.

I wash my face and use Josh's brush to brush out my hair, which combined with brushing my teeth, almost makes me feel like a person again. Almost. Then I stumble back into the bedroom and put the bottle of pills and a glass of water on the nightstand next to Josh. He'll no doubt need them. After that I look around the spinning room at my pants, neatly folded over a chair with my bra draped over them, my shoes, purse, and all my jewelry except my ring on the table next to the chair. So apparently it wasn't "barely make it in the room, ripping clothes off each other, leaving a trail from the door to the bed" sex.

I sit down on the chair and look over at Josh, still sleeping in bed. Now that I really look, he's wearing a shirt as well. Damn, how bad was it? Did he put pants back on too? I should check. What? I should. Anyway, I figure if he's not wearing pants, I slept with him; I should at least get to check out the merchandise. I stand slowly back up and walk over to his side of the bed, pull the covers back a little and looked down to see if he's wearing anything… on the bottom half. He is. He's wearing pajama bottoms. Hmm…I could see him putting his boxers back on, but plaid pajama bottoms? What the hell's going on?

I stand there for another minute, looking between him and my pants, and then I start to assess other things. And by other things, I mean my body. There's no discomfort. None. And I don't feel the slightest bit sticky. I know that's gross, but I'm doing an assessment here, I need to be thorough. I walk back into the bathroom and lift my shirt up over my head. No scratches, no marks, no hickeys, nothing. I put my shirt back on and walk back into the bedroom, taking in Josh again. No marks on what I can see of him either. Hmm… is it possible that we didn't have sex?

Well, what do you know? I didn't sleep with Josh. This is good news. Don't get me wrong. I'd like to sleep with Josh someday, but not like this. No, this is good. There will be no awkwardness, no talking about it, no pretending it didn't happen.

I walk back over to my pants and feel through the pockets for my room key. Not there. I look through my purse. Not there either. I sit on the chair and call down to the front desk.

"Good morning." Oh wow. He's way too chipper.

"Umm… hi." My voice sounds disgusting.

"How may I help you?" You can start by talking quieter.

"What time is it?"

"5:05, ma'am."

"Oh, I lost my room key and I need another one," I manage to growl out.

"Certainly. What name is the room under? I'll have one waiting for you down at the front desk."

It actually takes me a minute to remember. "Moss. Donna Moss."



"Ma'am, you cancelled that room last night."


"According to the computer, you cancelled that room last night."

"No I didn't. I checked in yesterday afternoon."

"Yes ma'am. According to this, you cancelled your room last night and had us move your things into Mr. Lyman's room."

What? "What?"

"Mr. Josh Lyman. The room you're calling from."

"I know where I'm calling from," I spit out at him. "But I did not cancel…" I drift off as I see my suitcase and duffel bag sitting on the floor in the corner.


"I'm sorry. I cancelled my room last night, you said."

"Yes, for the rest of the weekend. We moved your things to Mr. Lyman's room. Do you need another?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I'll call you back."

"Yes, ma'am. Have a nice day."

"Thank you."

Ok, what in the hell is going on? I think for several minutes, but I simply can't put my finger on why I cancelled my room and had my things moved in here. Was I trying to save money? And if I was, why didn't I have my things moved to CJ's room? She's here. So is Toby, although I can't imagine bunking up with him for the weekend. And speaking of CJ, I don't think she's going to like that I'm staying with Josh for three nights. Hell, I don't think she'd like it if I stayed with him for three hours.

And did Josh agree to this? Did the hotel over book? What is happening? I need sleep. I can't think about this right now. I need to go to my room and go back to bed. But I can't go to my room and go back to bed because I apparently don't have a room anymore. Which means if I'm going to sleep, I'm going to have to do it there. On that bed… with Josh. That can't be a good idea.

It takes me all of a minute to decide screw it. Not literally. I mean, I need sleep, there's a king bed directly in front of me, I've been sleeping in it for the last few hours, and good idea or not, I'm getting back in it and going back to sleep. I'll figure all this out in the morning. Josh can help.

I grab a t-shirt from my bag and change out of the stained button-down shirt I'm wearing, and then I crawl back into bed, staying on my own side. We don't need anymore of me draping myself over my boss. I mean, yes, it was comfortable, yes, his chest is strong, but he's bound to wake-up some time today, and we're going to have enough to figure out. We don't need to be focused on how well our bodies molded into one another or how completely normal it felt to be holding onto one another, or how great his hand felt in my hair. No, we don't need to focus on that at all.

Just as I'm thinking this, Josh rolls over in his sleep and wraps his left arm around me from behind. Now here I am, focusing on how well our bodies mold into one another, how completely normal it feels being held by him, how great his hand feels resting against my stomach, and how warm his breath is on my neck. Didn't I just say we didn't need to focus on this type of stuff?

I should do something. I should squirm, jar him just enough to get him to move, but I'm focusing on all that stuff I'm not supposed to be focusing on, and we've already discussed that I'm not thinking all that clearly right now. Plus, with the headache and all…

So I lie still and start to drift off and suddenly something hits me. Something I noticed earlier but didn't really notice, notice because of the nausea, headache, panicking at the thought of sleeping with my boss thing. Did you pick up on it? …My pants are neatly folded over a chair with my bra draped over them, my shoes, purse, and all my jewelry except my ring are on the table next to the chair.