drops of jupiter (in her hair)
pairing: josh lyman x seaborn!reader
summary: the first time josh lyman meets you, he helps you out, makes a fool of himself, and promptly falls head over heels for you — and learns he still has so much farther to fall.
a/n: ive been watching the west wing for the past few months and it's actually a little embarrassing how much josh lyman has charmed me. About 26 years too late but hey better late than never. idk if anyone will read this but honestly i don’t care i needed to write something for him or I would’ve perished. this has been sitting in my google docs for a while but i just decided to chop off the unfinished parts and throw it out into the wild lol. enjoy
wc: 2.8k
warning(s): pretty much all fluff/banter and josh lyman being josh lyman
“You’re gonna drill a hole into those floorboards.”
You blink and look at the man speaking to you. He’s leaning against the side of a desk, sleeves pushed up to his elbows with a slight smile. His eyes drop down to where your heel is rapidly clicking against the floor.
“Sorry,” you say, allowing a similar expression to curve your lips. You make the conscious effort to hold your foot still.
“Oh, I’m sure they can take it,” he says. “Heels much sharper than yours have traveled these hallowed halls.”
You laugh, and he smiles. You appreciate this stranger going out of what you assume is a very busy day to make you feel a little better.
“I’m just a little nervous,” you explain. “I’ve never been in the White House before.”
His eyebrows rise. “Really? The way you’re dressed, I almost assumed you worked here.”
Your smile grows a bit. “That’s very kind, sir. But I’m just meeting someone today.”
He waves his hand. “Please, call me Josh. And I’ve got a free second,” he adds. “I could take you wherever you need to go.”
“That’s awfully nice of you.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m an awfully nice guy.”
“Don’t lie to the poor girl, Josh.” A blonde woman wearing slacks and a smart blouse hands a folder to him. “You’re mean. Very mean.”
“Thank you, Donna,” he says wryly. “I’m a delight.”
“You sure are.”
“Get Hoffenmeyer on the phone, will you?” he asks. “I need to get him to smooth something over with some of his staffers.”
Donna nods and picks up the phone once she gets to her desk. You raise your eyebrows and look at this Josh guy.
“You have an assistant?”
“Isn’t she great?”
“Just looks like you’re important around here,” you say. “It doesn’t sound like you have time to give a tour.”
He waves his hand. “It wouldn’t be a tour. I’d just be your escort from point A to point B.”
“And you think I need an escort?”
“The White House is very big,” Josh says. “People get lost here all the time. Just yesterday, the president took a wrong turn on the way to the Oval Office. He was rerouting for an hour.”
You laugh, and yet again his lips quirk at the sides when you do. You think he likes making you laugh.
That smile of his is cute, though. He can try to make you laugh as much as he wants if you get to keep seeing it.
“Anyways, who are you trying to see? I can get you there lickety-split.”
You open your mouth to answer, then you spot someone behind him and light up.
“He actually just got here,” you say. You mean to call for him, but he spots you first and completely reroutes.
Sam exclaims your name, and you stand up as he nears you and Josh. You full on grin as you embrace each other.
“Are you wearing that cologne I got you?” you ask.
“Of course I am,” Sam says. “You got it for me.”
“Three years ago on Christmas.”
“I was doing some reorganizing and found it again,” he defends. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to see you,” you say. “Why else would I be here?”
“To turn in a job application?”
“Sam.”
“The White House hires a lot of interns—”
“Sam.”
“—and the jobs here are much more lucrative than whatever you’ve been doing—”
“Sam!” You finally manage to stop him and you laugh, tilting your head. “I came here to give you something, but if you’re gonna be like this, I’ll keep it for myself.”
He perks up and smiles. “You got me something?”
“Mom got you something,” you correct. “And since you never have any free time, she gave it to me last time I was home so I could give it to you next time I was in the neighborhood.”
“Why are you in the neighborhood?”
“I’m on my way to New York for an audition,” you say. “I thought I’d stop by.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me you were here?”
“Well, I had other things—”
“I’m sorry,” Josh interrupts, and both of you glance back to see him still standing there. “Did you say Mom? As in, a mom you both share? As in—”
“How rude of me,” Sam says, and he gestures at Josh with one hand. “This is Joshua Lyman, deputy chief of staff here at the White House. Josh, this is my sister—”
You cut him off to say your own name, and you hold out your hand to Josh. It takes him a second to process the words, but when you give him a knowing smile, he nods and shakes it.
“A pleasure to meet you,” you say. “But it does sound like you’re way too important to be giving me a tour.”
Sam looks between you two. “You were going to give her a tour?”
“I was going to escort her from point A to point B.”
“I was already at point B,” you say wryly. You point your thumb behind you at the sign on the wall. “Sam’s office is labeled.”
“…Right,” Josh nods. “I just didn’t know you were going to see Sam.”
“That’s because it’s none of your business,” he says helpfully. Sam touches your shoulder and gestures with his head. “We can take a second in my office.”
You nod and follow him, and pass one last look at Josh before your brother closes the door. He’s watching you the whole time, an unreadable expression on his face.
It makes you smile.
-
The second the door closes, Josh screws his eyes and groans.
“Donna?”
“Yes?”
“I’m locking myself in my office,” he says. “Don’t let anyone in.”
“But I have—”
“I don’t care,” Josh interrupts. “No one in but the president. And Leo. And maybe Toby, and CJ and— ” He stops himself and opens his eyes, then shakes his head. “No one but the president.”
Donna gives him that smile she does when he’s acting crazy, but Josh doesn’t care. He shuts himself in his office then collapses into his chair.
Of course you’re Sam’s sister. The most beautiful woman he’s ever seen just waltzes into his life, and all he can do is drop a few kitschy one-liners before you waltz right back out of it.
Josh resists the urge to slam his head against his desk. Brain damage might make this all easier to deal with, though.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he says out loud, because someone needs to tell him. Josh just met you and he’s already pining for you? He really needs to get out of the office more.
A knock on his door snaps him out of whatever insanity he’s worked himself into. Donna walks in before he even answers.
“Congratulations on your promotion, Donna.”
“What?”
“I said no one but the president,” he says. “You’re here, so you must be the president. Congratulations on the groundbreaking achievement.”
“I’m your assistant,” she says. “Your rules don’t apply to me. Besides, Hoffenmeyer’s on line three.”
Josh frowns. “Who?”
“The deputy secretary of education,” Donna explains. “You asked me to get him on the phone, which is what I was telling you earlier before you so rudely interrupted me.”
“Right.”
He goes silent again, and Donna stares at him.
“…Do you want to talk to him?”
“Of course I do.”
“Are you gonna pick up your phone?”
“Of course I am.”
“Are you go—”
“I flirted with Sam’s sister,” Josh blurts out.
Donna stops in her tracks. “You flirted with Sam’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“Sam Seaborn’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn?”
“Yes.”
“Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn’s si—”
“Donna!”
“I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “That’s who that woman was?”
“Sam’s sister,” Josh nods.
“Did you know she was Sam’s sister before—”
“Before I embarrassed myself in front of a beautiful woman, my coworker, and a beautiful woman who just so happens to be my coworker’s sister?” Josh glances out the window and wonders how far of a fall it would be. “No.”
“Then Sam can hardly blame you,” Donna says. “He’s not exactly a paragon of virtue when it comes to this.”
“That doesn’t matter, Donna.” Josh decides that it’s not far enough to kill him on impact and looks back at his assistant. “All that matters is Sam saw me flirting with his younger sister. As far as he’s concerned, I should be stoned in the town square—nay, drawn and quartered.”
Donna grimaces. “I like you better as a whole person.”
“Thank you,” Josh says dryly. “What would I do without your support?”
She shrugs. “Be drawn and quartered in the town square.”
He sighs as he sits back up, fixing his posture. “That might still be on the agenda. They’re talking right now—it’s the only thing saving me from Sam reaming me out.”
“That might also be on the agenda,” Donna says. “You’re still on to tag team Nykan over lunch.”
Josh groans and rubs a hand down his face. “If I throw myself out the window right now, will the drop kill me?”
“I’ll go double check your reservation,” she says instead.
“Drawn and quartered, Donna!” he yells as she leaves. Josh tosses his pen on the table in frustration and leans back in his chair.
Of course the one time he decides to flirt with a visitor, it’s the sister of his best friend and trusted colleague.
Maybe Sam will be rational about it. After all, he has some kind of thing going on with Leo’s daughter, and he’s still standing. And for God’s sake, Charlie is dating the president’s daughter.
Josh is a grown man with a great job, and you’re a grown woman in your own right—not just a Seaborn, and not just Sam’s sister. Frankly, it’s insulting to reduce you down to just being Sam’s sister. If anything, Josh is supporting you by daring to flirt with you.
He groans again. It’s going to be a long day.
-
The next time Josh runs into you, he doesn’t expect it. Impressive, he knows—especially considering he’s thought about you most days since he met you.
He’s having dinner with some seedy senator at an even seedier restaurant, but Josh has learned to meet these people on their home turf. It might be easier to tip them over if they’re already off balance, sure, but it’s also a hell of a lot easier to make them angry.
In Dillson’s view, Josh is totally out of his element. When you think you’re above your opponent, confident to the point of egomania, you tend to be a little sloppier. Why put up your strongest fight if you’ve already got it in the bag?
But he’s late. Of course he’s late, because when has a man’s word ever meant anything in politics?
Senator Dillson is late, so Josh is having a drink at the bar. Two, actually, as he pushes his empty glass forward and taps on the countertop.
“What’re you having?” the bartender asks.
“Bourbon on the rocks,” Josh intones. He checks his watch and grimaces. “Make it a double.”
He’s getting sick of waiting, but they need this vote. Besides, Leo asked (told) him to do this. He walks out of this bar, he’s walking out of his job, too.
“Rough day?” she asks as she places a new glass in front of him.
Josh huffs a dry laugh. “Day’s not even halfway over yet.”
The liquor burns his throat going down—but it’s nothing compared to the jolt that goes through him when he glances up and sees you.
You have that knowing glint in your eye, and Josh coughs as he tries to recover.
“The hell are you doing here?” he wheezes. He can already picture the headlines: Josh Lyman chokes to death in front of the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. Too long for a headline, some part of his brain says. The other part thinks he actually is dying.
“Are you okay?” you ask instead.
“Fine,” Josh rasps. You hand him a glass of water and he takes a big enough swig to clear his throat. One more cough, then he’s good. He thinks.
“What are you doing here?” he repeats, this time a touch more composed.
“I work here,” you say dryly.
“I’ve been here thirty-five minutes,” he says. “The last bartender was remarkably more… male than you.”
“You’re here at the shift change.”
“I’ve been here many times at the shift change,” Josh says. “You’ve never been the one to take over.”
You shrug. “That’s because I’ve only been working here a week.”
“Why are you working here?” he asks, because apparently he has to lead this conversation if he wants any actual answers. “You said you were just passing through on your way to New York.”
“I decided to stay in DC for a bit,” you say.
“Really?”
“Yes,” you nod. “I want to be closer to my brother.”
Josh laughs, and you give him a look. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because all Sam does is work,” he says. “You’re about as close to him in California as you are in DC.”
“Well, I’ll find a way to change that,” you say. “A friend of a friend knows the owner, and he hired me on the spot.”
Josh hums. “Can’t imagine why.”
“How very demeaning of you,” you say wryly, and you walk down the line as someone else flags you down.
Josh takes the moment to glance at the door, then glance at his watch. He’s giving Dillson five more minutes before he calls Leo and tells him it’s a bust. Then he glances back at you and your brilliant smile capable of lighting up this dingy bar, effortlessly charming as you talk with a customer, and decides he can give it ten.
He occupies himself with his bourbon, trying not to watch you the whole time you’re working like some creep, but eventually you come back his way.
“Sorry about that.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Josh says. “You’re at work.”
“I’m sorry our conversation got interrupted,” you clarify. “I’m having a good time talking with you.”
Josh smiles. He can’t help himself. A part of him, a very loud part of him, wants to do whatever it takes to please you—but another part of him seems keen on ruining it.
“Why are you staying, though?” he asks again. “Sam said you were on your way to DC for an audition. You’re… an actress?”
You scoff. “Don’t say it like an insult.”
“I’m not!” he exclaims. “It’s just… not what I expected.”
“You barely know me,” you say wryly.
Josh glances away as he tugs at his collar, but he still sees in real time when it hits you.
“Ah,” you drawl. “It’s not what you expected from Sam’s sister.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
“You can hardly blame me,” Josh defends. “He went to Princeton and Duke, he’s a lawyer— he works in the White House, for God’s sake!”
“And I’m just a bartender trying to make it to Broadway,” you say blithely. “Is that what you were getting at?”
“There’s just a little bit of disparity,” he says.
“Well, you were more than happy to flirt with me when you didn’t know I was a bartender.”
“I was more than happy to flirt with you when I didn’t know you were Sam’s sister,” Josh corrects. “That’s a very important part of it. It’s very important that you know that.”
You raise an eyebrow. “So you were flirting with me.”
Of course I was, Josh wants to say, and I obviously still am. Is it working?
“Don’t play that game with me,” he says instead, which is arguably much more stupid. “You let guys flirt with you for a living.”
You tilt your head. “Another demeaning comment. Is this how you treat all the ladies?”
“You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What way did you mean it, then?”
Josh is wracking his brain trying to respond in a way that won’t offend you when your eyes dart up, and you let out a lackadaisical welcome in—he turns only to see that he’s been saved by the bell.
“Senator Dillson,” he calls out, and the man looks up. “Pick any table, I’ll be with you in a second.”
The senator nods, and when Josh looks back at you, you’re already staring at him.
“Duty calls,” you say.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he insists. “I just meant—”
“I know,” you interrupt.
Josh stares at you for a good five seconds, and you don’t waver. Eventually, he sighs and downs the remainder of his drink in one go. The liquor burns less than your gaze. He fishes two twenties out of his wallet and tosses it on the bartop.
“Thanks for the drink,” he says, and he walks away before he can embarrass himself further.
Getting a moderate to vote in their favor is easier than not embarrassing himself in a conversation with you, he thinks idly. He resists the urge to look back.
I need more west wing content. Specifically Josh Lyman
