an unholy mess of a girl. (corleones) wrote,
an unholy mess of a girl.

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fic: you came on like a punch in the heart.

you came on like a punch in the heart.
west wing.
josh/amy. 544 words. for martyr4mylove4u. they weren't unromantic; there were just better ways to spend the time. title from "jesus of the moon" by nick cave.

They move in circles.

He keeps coming back to the same spot. She keeps running from it.


She corners him at the end of a meeting. He’s been a half mess since Donna left.

“You know, J, I think you should get a dog.”

“Is that so?”

She kisses his cheek.

“You look like you could use the company.”

All the President’s men; read lonely hearts club.


The first time they got drunk together was in college, it had already started then (for him anyway, he thinks) something about the way her wrist turns when she slams down a shot glass.

That girl’s got a mouth on her and sometimes, that’s all you’ll ever see.

“The point, Joshua, is not get drunk but to be drunk.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

She laughs.

It’s a damn pretty mouth.


They meet up in Canada once. She is writing a book.

“This is your vacation?”

“This is my vacation.”

“A little sad. Couldn’t get anyone to go with you?”

She tips her head to one side. They are not thinking of warmer places.

“I figured I’d pick someone up when I got there.”

He smirks.

“That’s very nice, Joshua.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t think you’ll have much luck.”


“No. I’ll send you a signed copy, shall I?”

“Am I in it?”

“Why would you be in it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be in it?”

“You’re not in it.”


“You’re not in it, J.”

“I don’t want a copy then.”

She laughs. It is loud.

“You’re such a child.”

“I am—“ He breaks off. She is still smiling.

“Maybe you’re in a page.”

“I’d like to read it.”


They weren’t unromantic.

There were just better ways to spend the time.


“How’s the carpenter?”

“He’s a—“

He waves his hand in front of her face.

“That was rude.” She sips her drink. “He’s married now.”


“Yes. Oh. Exactly.”


She kisses him.


Her legs are draped over the bed. She is wearing one of his shirts.

“The secret is to not care.”

“Really, now.”

“Yes. Don’t care about anything.”

She has a glass of wine in one hand. He leans forward, takes it from her.

She likes to gives lessons like this. Share her wisdom.

“Secret to what, exactly?”


No one laughs. Happiness is a weak joke around their parts.


“What happened to Donna?” she asks, soft.

“What do you think happened to Donna?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked.”

“Donna left.”

“I figured.”

Her mouth brushes his ear.

“I still think you should get a dog.”

And then she leaves.


Something about the way they do things.

Even sex feels like a race.


“If I got married—“

It has roughly the same sound as “If I died”. They’ve done that one before.


“Would you come?”

“That depends, who are you marrying?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“Then why ask?”

“You could be my best man.”

“Definite possibility, Joshua.”


He doesn’t get a dog. She gets a dog. He never gets a dog.

“Lonely, Amy?”

“Only when I call him Josh.”

He doesn’t guess it’s all that often.


Fifteen years. Damn, they’re getting old.

“Hey, stranger.”

Circles, he said. Circles.
Tags: ship: josh/amy, tv: west wing

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