Title: Testing the Water

A/N- takes place after Undue Influence, but before Sneaking In. (Other stories by me)

Disclaimers: Not mine. Not at all.

Feedback: please oh please

Testing the Water

Chapter One: Getting My Feet Wet

I think it was the little smiley face that made me shout "No!" and fling it across the bathroom. And I know it's just some kind of cruel irony, the universe's little joke on me, that made it ricochet off the tile, bounce into the tub and slither down the drain. And that's why I am currently probing the drain with a pair of tweezers, because the last thing I want to do is to explain to a plumber that there is a pregnancy test stuck in the bathtub drain.

I blame Annabeth.

If she hadn't been sick two weeks ago I would have stayed in Washington.

It would have been Annabeth , not I who accompanied the first lady to Paris.

It would have been Annabeth , not I who stepped off the plane behind Mrs. Santos.

Annabeth, not I who smiled and waved to the President, and Josh.

And you see that's where it really all fell apart, because I thought it would be cute and sweet, and really it was undeniably hot and lustful, and you'd think I'd know stuff like that by now, but I guess I don't.

There were about two seconds of pure surprise on his face before it got dark and steamy, and I know the First Lady noticed because I could see her lips twitching. And that's something you need to know about Helen Santos. She enjoys watching her husband's COS go right off the deep end…which is probably why she suggested I should keep this visit as a surprise in the first place.

All I could do was try not to look him in the eye and I was only moderately successful.

The afternoon was interminable because it was filled with photo ops and meetings, and the only time we had a chance to talk was right at the airport, where the press was all over the place, so all I got was a quick and chaste kiss, and "This is a surprise." And all he got was "Annabeth has the flu," along with a smile and a glance through my eyelashes, which was enough to tell me things were going to get interesting later.

We were in the limo with the President and the First Lady, so there wasn't a lot of conversation… well there was a lot of conversation, but it was all… you know… about nothing, and the whole time Josh held my hand and stroked his thumb over my knuckles, and every time I caught his eye I felt like I was going to catch on fire.

Then there was an interminable state dinner with both the President and the Prime Minister, and at least someone had pulled whatever strings they needed to seat me beside Josh, but it's not like there is any private time during an event like that, and other than the fact that I don't think his hand left my leg for more than about two seconds, we didn't really have much communication until the reception when we danced. Probably much to close for propriety but by then we didn't care.

"This is nice…."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"You did that."

But you see that's when the surprise part of this little plan reared its ugly head because neither of us packed condoms. Well in my defense Josh usually looks after that kind of stuff, and in his defense he wasn't expecting me to show up and oh hell… it was a stupid gamble and if you know anything about Josh and gambling you'll know that he has crappy luck, and I guess so do I……

All of which brings me to today, and the mood I'm in. The little smiley face was really the last straw.

Why did I buy that particular one? .… I mean a nice pink line would have somehow been easier to take, but I just grabbed the first one I saw at the drugstore because Washington is kind of like a small town, and I really didn't want anyone who knew me to see me, and god knows I didn't need the shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste or tampons that I added to the basket as camouflage. Especially the tampons, as it turns out.

This can't be happening. We're only a year and a bit into the term, and even though we've talked about kids it's only been in the theoretical sense, like someday, or when… then…I mean we haven't even talked about getting married… not that I don't want to,… but I'm not really sure Josh wants to, …..it just didn't seem to matter that much until….Dammit. I like the way we are now….. and I mean, I'm not sure when we'd have time to plan anything and…Oh my god! It just slipped farther down the pipe.

I keep trying to form a coherent thought but my mind is in panic mode, and I can't seem to think things through clearly.

The internal monologue has been brutal, because let's face it, I'm more than thirty now, and even though part of my brain is shrieking 'No! I don't have time for this right now' the other half is calmly saying, 'Well, if not now, then when? You can't wait forever.' And truthfully I know this is happening regardless because… well, because it is, dammit….Because choice is also the right to choose yes, and even if the timing's not great I just don't know when it will be any better, and I can't even imagine… you know… not my child, not Josh's child… not just because it's inconvenient.

Oh god…. thoughts keep flying through my brain, and I can't seem to get a grip on that slippery little plastic thing.

What's Josh going to say?

What's the First Lady going to say?

What's my mother going to say?

My mother's going to ask if we're going to get married?……and what's the matter with me, don't I know how to use birth control?..... and do I want to come home?…because even though it's been ten years she still doesn't understand that this is my home, and truth be told she's not that fond of Josh anyways, so this would be just another way of pointing out that he's not that great a choice for me….like there was ever really any other as far as I'm concerned…

The truth is the only person I know that I'm sure will be unreservedly happy is Josh's mom. If it didn't feel like such a huge betrayal I'd phone her before I tell Josh.

Telling Josh….right…. The next step.

Right after I get this thing out of the drain.

I'm running over wording in my head… trying it out… and since I can't really figure out how I feel about this whole baby thing myself, it is totally beyond my capability to figure out how he's going to react.

Do I say we?

Do I say I?

Do I start with 'Remember two weeks ago in Paris when I said I was pretty sure we were okay even if we didn't have a condom'……

And then I hear his key in the lock, and front door open, and I just have time to realize that explaining to a plumber is really the second last thing I want to do, before he yells "Donna?" and the words "In here.." fly out of my mouth.

Although really, what else am I going to do? Say nothing while he prowls the apartment calling me and checking every room as I frantically explore the bath tub drain?

I don't think so.

I look up and he's leaning against the doorframe with a quizzical look on his face.

"Anything I can help you with?" I ask.

"I was about to ask the same," he grins.

"No. I think I'm good."

"I think you're very good," he shoots back and I find myself wondering if dimples are a dominant or recessive genetic trait before I realize it.

"Dammit" I say as the test wand drops a little farther down.

"Something in the drain?"

"Ah.. yeah."

"What?"

"Um… a thing"

What kind of thing… oh"…. and I realize that he's seen the box on the edge of the counter, and suddenly it's very quiet.

"Donna?"

I look up at him.

"Did you actually, you know, use it before ah..." he gestures at the tub.

I nod slowly.

"And?" he prompts.

"There was a little happy face on it."

"Happy face meaning good?"

"I guess that depends on your point of view." I say falteringly.

"Donna, for the love of God, yes or no?"

"Yes?" I say hesitantly

Spontaneously he breaks into a smile, and I just have time to take a deep breath for what feels like the first time in about an hour before he hauls me up out of the tub and kisses me so long and hard I almost faint.

Which makes me think he's okay with this…

Well that's one thing I can stop worrying about, at least.

And then in the back of my conscious mind I hear a little rattling sound as the test wand slips down beyond reach.

TBC